Deborah Camp (44 page)

“Hey, Charlie!” He lifted a hand in greeting. “Going somewhere?”

“This is for the boss lady.” Charlie looked past him toward the cotton field. “She was here just a minute ago. Some cowpoke from Hathaway Hill came for her.”

“And she was going off with him?” Grandy asked as panic set in.

“Sure. Looks like she already did. She was out there picking cotton, but I don’t see her now.”

Grandy grabbed Charlie’s sleeve. “What did the man say to her?”

“Said that Theo Booker was shot down by Duncan and was dying. Said that Booker wanted the boss lady to come to him.”

“Christ Almighty.” Grandy went to the wagon and reached under the seat for his gun and holster. He strapped it on and then took ownership of the saddled horse, sticking his boot in the stirrup and flying up into the seat. “How long have they been gone?”

“No more than a few minutes, I guess. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” Grandy wrapped the reins around one hand and turned the horse toward Duncan’s place. “I just left Theo Booker in town. Tell Perkins and Lefty to ride over after me, then you saddle up and go fetch Doc Pepperidge. He’ll be needed.” Grandy pressed the horse into a canter. “Somebody’s going to die.”

Flicking the ends of the reins against the gelding’s neck, Grandy issued a sharp “Ya-ha!” and the spirited roan lengthened into a sprint across the prairie. Grandy bent low over his neck, smelling the horseflesh and playing out one scene after another in his mind. He refused to think he might be too late because he knew that if Zanna were dead, he would have felt it as he would his own death. She was alive, but in what condition? Was that bastard trying to … ?

He shook his head clear of the vile images and talked the horse into an even faster race. Duncan must have gotten wind of Theo’s irrational plan, Grandy thought, and gotten this harebrained idea. Damn if it hadn’t worked.

By the time he reached the entrance to Hathaway Hill, Grandy was as cold-blooded as a rattler. He saw the man standing outside the barn and knew he’d find Duncan and Zanna inside. Just like that bastard to lure her into the barn, he thought as he reined in the gelding.

He didn’t recognize the man keeping guard, but the man evidently recognized him. The stranger made a move for the gun strapped to his side. Grandy acted instinctively. His own gun was in his hand and he’d fired it before the other man’s gun could clear its holster. The bullet slammed into the man’s shoulder, pitching him backward so that his head banged against the barn door.

Grandy swung a leg over the horse and dropped to the ground, gun ready, but no one else was about. Eyes trained on the door, he started forward and opened the barn door.

Having heard the gunshot, Duncan grabbed Zanna by the wrist and hauled her up to stand in front of him. Using her as a shield, he aimed his own revolver at the slowly opening door. Zanna gathered her breath, thankful for the timely interruption, but afraid for whoever was entering the barn.

“Watch out,” she yelled. “Duncan has a gun.” Her arm was twisted behind her and up so that her shoulder socket screamed with pain. She bit her lower lip and tasted her own blood. Duncan settled the tip of the gun barrel against her right temple.

“Don’t be stupid,” he growled near her ear.

Grandy stepped into the barn, his own Colt leveled at Duncan. Zanna closed her eyes fora moment and tried to think what to do. Not Grandy, she thought miserably. Please, God, not Grandy. Take me, but not him.

“Let her go,” Grandy said in blood-chilling tones. “Face me like a man, Hathaway.”

“Get back on your horse and get out of here or I’ll kill her!”

“No, you won’t. I’ll put a bullet in your brain first.”

“I swear,” Duncan said, pressing the tip of the barrel into the soft skin of her temple.

“Let her go, you bastard!” Grandy’s features contorted in rage. “I’m going to kill you! You hear me?”

“I’ll kill her first.” Duncan thumbed back the trigger.

“No!” Grandy held up his other hand, palm out, in a placating gesture. “Don’t!”

“Put your gun down!” Duncan ordered, his voice rising with hysteria.

“Okay … okay!”

“No, don’t,” Zanna said. “Let him kill me. He won’t get Primrose because I’ve had a will drawn up that leaves everything to you.”

“You’re a liar,” Duncan said, giving her arm a wrench that speared her with hot pain.

“It’s the truth,” she said, panting for breath. “I knew we’d end up like this, so I fixed it so that you wouldn’t get Primrose. It goes to Grandy.”

“Then I’ll kill him after I kill you,” Duncan said, laughing under his breath and fanning her with his stale breath.

“You still won’t win. If Grandy dies, Primrose goes to the ranch hands with instructions they are to sell it and divide the shares. They can sell it to anyone except you. That’s what my will states. You’ll never get Primrose, Duncan. Never.”

“You’re a lying bitch!”

“Go ahead, Duncan,” she said, smiling with cold malice. “Put me out of my misery. I’ll go with a smile on my face because I’ve got the last laugh. You’re the joke, Duncan. You’re nothing but a big joke.”

Sensing his moment of indecision, she took full advantage of it. Moving with lightning speed, she drove her free elbow back into his ribs and one of her boots heels into his right shin. His grip loosened and she ducked. A roar filled her head as she dropped to the ground. Another blast echoed in the rafters and ricocheted between Zanna’s ears. Realizing she was free of Duncan, she crawled toward the barn door where Grandy had been standing. Whistles and ringing buzzed in her head and she looked at the world through glazed, water-filled eyes.

Suddenly Grandy’s face was level with hers. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear anything. The noise! The ringing! The buzzing! Where was it coming from? she wondered, shaking her head and covering her ears with her hands. Grandy gripped her wrists and pulled her hands away from her head. His lips moved again. She heard nothing except the rumble. No voice. Nothing, but the roar … distant now … fading. Was that a voice? A whisper?

“… all right? Talk to me, sweetheart. Can’t you hear me? Don’t you know me, darlin’?”

“Grandy …”

“Damn, will you look at this?” He pressed his thumb against her chin to turn her head. “You’ve got powder burns on the side of your face. Lord have mercy. He almost killed you, didn’t he? If you hadn’t ducked when you did …” He shuddered and hauled her into his arms. “Christ, Zanna! I’d rather be dead than live without you.”

“I heard that,” she murmured, smiling faintly and then sucking in her breath when she smelled blood. Looking down, she saw Duncan lying right next to her feet. His dead eyes stared up at her and his body leaked thick, crimson liquid. The ground soaked it up and the hay turned brown with it.

“Did you really leave Primrose to me?” Grandy asked.

“No.” She tore her gaze from Duncan’s lifeless form to the liveliness in Grandy’s eyes. “But it would have been a good idea if I’d thought of it before Duncan put that gun to my head. I was just trying to shake him up enough to get away.”

“It worked. Are you all right?”

“Yes, but my head’s aching.”

“I bet it is. Duncan squeezed off a shot that sailed just above your pretty head.” He embraced her again, holding her close and swaying to and fro, seized with joy. “He’s dead, honey. He can never hurt you again.”

“Never,” she said, beginning to shiver as shock clamped down on her. “Take me home, Grandville. Take me home to Primrose.”

July and early August made the Texas landscape sizzle, but it didn’t keep the men on Primrose from working day in and day out to build Zanna’s new house. Within a scant three weeks, the main room and one bedroom were finished. Two more bedrooms, a dining room, and a kitchen
would be completed by early autumn if Perkins and the others had anything to say about it.

The front door with its oval insert of frosted glass arrived at midmorning and Grandy had it on its hinges by early afternoon. The summer sun beamed through the glass, sending out rainbow lights. Grandy opened the door and swept his arm across his body.

“Madam, would you like to be the first to pass through?” he inquired of Zanna.

She moved up the three porch steps, then turned to examine them with admiration. This porch was larger than its predecessor. Grandy had built a big swing, which swayed at the far end. The rocker Donny and Packsaddle had built waited for an occupant.

“Now that it’s ready to live in, I’m suddenly at a loss,” she said, hesitating. “It’s so grand … so beautiful. I don’t feel as if it’s mine.”

“It’s yours. All yours,” Grandy assured her, pulling her across the threshold into the sparsely furnished front room. “Of course, it needs a woman’s touch. Curtains, rugs, pillows. That sort of thing.”

She shook her head, feeling like a stranger on foreign soil. “I think I should stay in the bunkhouse until I can purchase a few more items. A sofa, a few more lamps. Oh! I’ll need a sewing machine. I certainly can’t waste money on store-bought slipcovers and curtains. I’ll have to make them myself. I’ll set up the machine in the bunkhouse and—”

“Zanna,” Grandy said, cutting through her nervous monologue, “what’s wrong? We’ve been sweating bullets for weeks on this place. From sunup to sundown, we’ve done nothing but build this house and make it liveable for you. Now you’re saying you’d rather stay in the bunkhouse? What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“I don’t know,” she said, laughing lightly at her own peculiarities. “I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to having
people around. I like living with the men. Living alone isn’t as blissful as it once seemed to me.”

A guarded expression fell across Grandy’s face as he ambled around the front room, studying it as if he’d never seen it before. He stopped in the center and stared at the floor.

“I’m glad the house burned down,” he said in his whispery, parched voice. “There were too many awful memories for you in it. There’s no bloodstain here.” He pointed at a place just beyond the toes of his boots. “You can start with a clean slate, Zanna. This isn’t the house that Fayne built. It’s
your
house.” His brows met in a fretful frown. “Be happy, honey.”

She crossed her arms, moving her hands up and down them as her own feelings came into focus. It wasn’t the house. Her uneasiness had nothing to do with leaving the companionable bunkhouse. It was Grandy. She had a roof over her head again and his obligation was over. For weeks now she had sensed a new restlessness in him. He played poker most nights with the other men and Zanna couldn’t help but wonder if his spirit was yearning for another life away from Primrose—away from her. Building the house had kept him anchored, but without that chore Zanna wondered how long he would stay with her.

“I thought you’d be tickled pink to move in here and have some privacy,” he said. “It’s been almost a month since you’ve been able to take a bath and dress without making an announcement beforehand, shoving us out of the bunkhouse and barring the door to keep us out.”

“It will seem so
quiet
in here,” she said. “Like a tomb.”

“To tell you the truth, I figured I’d be moving in here with you and we’d make lots of noise together.” He smiled and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe I was being a mite uppity to think you’d let me back into your bed after all this time.” He turned sideways, placing his face in shadow. “I know we haven’t been real close since
Duncan died, but I figured it was because we were never alone. Living in the bunkhouse and working side by side with the other men …” He shrugged again and sighed. “I don’t know. Talk to me, Zanna. What are you feeling? What are you thinking?”

She smiled, pulling one of her new handkerchiefs out of her pocket and twisting it as her mind floated like a fleecy cloud. “I’m thinking of the first time I saw you.” She laughed, enjoying the memory and holding it close to her heart. “You looked dreadful! And you were so rude! But there was something … something in your eyes that made me want to reach out to you. What did you think of me then?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I suppose I just thought you were crazy and that I’d give you the slip as soon as your back was turned.”

“You were thinking of escaping?”

“Yes.”

“But I kept throwing obstacles in your path,” she said, tying a knot in the handkerchief, then pulling it loose. “Being such a good-hearted man, you stayed because I needed you. Even getting so little in return, you stayed. I find that remarkable.”

Farewell hovered in the air, seizing Grandy’s heart. He studied her lifted chin, her direct gaze, her stiff spine. She could have been carved from marble, she was so straight and regal. Only the glitter of her emerald eyes and the fretful motion of her hands gave her away. She was a beautiful woman, he thought, admiring the lines of her body and the fall of her calico skirts. But his dream of being her man was unraveling. Was she giving him the boot? Why? What had he done to deserve her cold shoulder?

“Zanna, are you getting around to throwing me off your land?” he asked when she seemed lost in thought.

“Throwing you …” Her mouth dropped open. “Of course not! Whatever gave you … Grandy, you know me better than that.”

“Do I? I wonder. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind instead of dragging me down memory lane?”

She stared at the handkerchief as she knotted it, twisted it, untied it. Grandy reached out and plucked it from her hands. “Tell me!” he ordered.

“You don’t have to wait until my back’s turned!” she blurted out. “You can leave, Grandville. I won’t stop you this time. You’ve done enough for me.” A sob clutched her throat. Another few seconds ticked by before she could speak again. “I’ve felt your restlessness of late.” Her voice grew steadier, then wavered on the verge of tears. “I’ve watched you practice your poker trade night after night. Don’t you think I’ve sensed your need to get on with your life? I’m letting you go, Grandy. I want
you
to be happy.”

“Listen to me,” he said, grabbing her hands and holding them tightly. “I’m not the same man I was months ago when all I could think about was getting away from Miss Prim Rose. I don’t want to leave. If you’ve sensed restlessness, it’s because I don’t know where I stand with you anymore. I thought you loved me, but lately you’ve been so distant. Ever since I shot Duncan, you’ve been different around me. I thought maybe you wanted me to leave so you could run Primrose by yourself.”