Kaitlin's Silver Lining (18 page)

Farley smiled,
caressing her soft skin. “Then know I had nothing to do with those articles,
love. It is by sheer coincidence the rumors spread here work to my advantage.”

“Give me your word,”
she whispered.

“On my honor as the
next governor of the newly formed state of Colorado, I give you my word,” he
answered. Her small sigh of acceptance was all the invitation he needed. He
pulled her into his arms, sealing his lie with a kiss.

Twenty
Four

A kick to his side
had Bryce scrambling to awaken. Groggy, he looked up into the barrel of a
twenty-two-gauge shotgun. Slowly he lifted his head, holding up his hands to
indicate his unarmed status.

“Get up, you mangy
cur. The Sarge don’t appreciate squatters.” The man shook the gun at Bryce,
indicating he should rise.

Bryce wiggled out
from under the bedding he’d laid out in the front room. His bare feet met the
cold wooden floor, and he shivered. He wanted to glance over at the bedroom but
feared the gesture would alert this man to Kaitlin’s presence.

A noise caught his
attention, and he whirled his head in the direction of the bedroom anyway.
Kaitlin staggered through the door, prodded by the tip of a gun wedged against
her back.

She blinked, staring
at Bryce, and her lips spread into a wide smile. “Red? I would have figured you
for a gray flannel pair, Bryce.”

He felt the blood
rush to his face, and he was sure the color of his skin matched that of the
red, long-handled underwear she’d been referring to. Although her riding habit
appeared crumpled, she looked well rested. She must have slept in the clothes
she’d worn yesterday.

“Come here, missy,
while Will searches through your man’s things.” The outlaw waved his gun,
indicating she should step away from Bryce’s makeshift bed.

Bryce watched as Will
patted down his bedding. Grinning, Will lifted the Colt .45 from under the
blanket. “Lookee, here, Johnny Boy. He’s toting a mighty fancy gun for a
squatter.”

“I think we have a
bit of a misunderstanding here. We’re not squatters.” Bryce kept his eye on the
wavering gun, frustrated by his inability to protect Kaitlin.

“Maybe, maybe not.
But you were trespassing on Sarge’s land. He don’t cotton to strangers much.”

Ah. These hombres
hadn’t happened upon them by accident. They’d been sent as the welcoming committee.
Bryce gave Kaitlin a pointed look. “Maybe now would be a good time to explain
to me who Sarge is.”

Kaitlin shrugged.
“He’s of no consequence to me.”

“Kaitlin.” Bryce
narrowed his eyes in warning. Her stubborn attitude wasn’t helping matters.

“What now, Will? Are
we gonna shoot ’em?”

Will squeezed his
mouth into a grim line and closed one eye. Bryce shifted nervously. If it were
only him, he’d make a lunge for Will while the man relaxed his guard.
Unfortunately, he had Kaitlin to worry about. Such action would likely get one
of them shot if not killed. Patience. He needed to remain calm, waiting for the
right opening that would guarantee a favorable outcome for both of them.

“Reckon Sarge will
wanna look ’em over. He tol’ me once to bring any vagrants to him personally.
Come on then. March on outta here.” Will motioned for Bryce and Kaitlin to exit
the cabin.

“You don’t mean to
parade me about in my long johns, do you?” Bryce balked at the command. If he
meant to deal with this Sarge character in a way that demanded the man’s full
attention, he needed to present an authoritative picture. Red-handled long
johns just wouldn’t do.

“Please, Will. It
will be in everyone’s best interests if you allow Bryce to dress.” Kaitlin
voiced her request in a more gentle voice.

Johnny chuckled.

Will scratched his
chin. “It is a mite chilly outside, what with that new cold front movin’ in.
Course, a brisk ride in your undies might teach you better than to trespass
where you’re not invited. Nah. I think he can meet Sarge just like he is.”

They were both
marched outside and instructed to mount up. Bryce limped to his horse, the cold
making his bare, right foot more uncomfortable than usual. The thin flannel
wasn’t enough to guard against the bitter northeasterly winds. Above them, a
dark gray-green seized the sky, an ominous forewarning of bad weather to come.

While they rode, he
tried to think about who Sarge might be to Kaitlin. The pondering helped take
his mind off his shivering limbs.

He glanced at her,
surprised to see her sitting rigid and unsmiling in the saddle. She wasn’t
happy to be so summarily ordered about, but what had she expected? Whoever
Sarge was to her, he’d sent several letters requesting, no, demanding her
return to Oresonville. If not someone intimate, Sarge had to be a relative. He
wanted to ask her again but knew she wouldn’t answer him. She must enjoy
keeping him in suspense. It had become a game for her. His teeth clattered
uncontrollably, and he wrapped one arm around his middle to stave off the cold
while guiding his horse with the other hand.

By the time they
reached the main house, the tips of Bryce’s mustache were frosted with granules
of ice. His skin had a blueish cast, and his toes tingled. Stiff limbed, he
dismounted, cussing the stubborn witch who’d kept silent through the long ride.
He stifled a cry of pain when his bare feet kissed the snow-laden ground. If
not for Kaitlin, he’d be sipping hot coffee by a campfire instead of freezing
his ass off at the point of a gun.

“Gosh, Will,” Johnny
exclaimed. “The least you coulda done was let the man have his boots. His poor
toes look frostbit.”

Bryce’s body rattled
with uncontrollable shivers, and his teeth chattered. Too cold, he failed to
comment on Johnny’s observation. Thankfully, he still had feeling in his feet,
so he didn’t think they were frostbit yet.

“Come on, you two.
Get on inside where Sarge can have a look-see at his newest squatters.” The
hard edge of Will’s gun dug into Bryce’s back.

Bryce stopped
walking. “You—you stick that th—th—thing in my back one more time, boy, and
I’ll r—ram it down your throat. I’ve been mighty patient, but after r—riding
almost naked in the dead of winter for n—no reason I can see, I’m not feelin’
very tolerant. In fact, as soon as I w—warm up some, I might have to take out
my poor h—hu—humor on your hide.”

Will removed the gun,
and Bryce followed Kaitlin inside. Warmth invaded his skin, and he sighed when
his feet connected with the woven rug that covered the wood floor. Rich,
polished mahogany paneled the walls, and a doublewide set of stairs led to a
second floor. The impressive foyer reminded Bryce of the Double S but was more
elaborate. He wished he could see Kaitlin’s face. She’d been so quiet
throughout the ride. Noting her clenched fists, he reached for her hand. She
swiveled her head toward him, her skin bleached by—fear? He tried to give her a
smile of reassurance, but he was still peeved at her unwitting part in their
current predicament.

She continued looking
at Bryce when they were directed into the study. A large man occupied a seat
behind the desk, his face buried in a set of ledgers. Without glancing their
direction, he snarled, “What is it, Will? I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Yes sir, I can see
that, but me and Johnny Boy caught us a couple of vagrants. They made use of
the honeymoon cabin. Moved in like they planned to stay.”

The man’s eyes
snapped up and caught Bryce’s gaze straight on. “That right, boy?”

Bryce took exception
to being referred to as boy. He was twenty-nine, a seasoned cowboy. He stood a
bit taller, staring the older man down. Kaitlin squeezed his hand so hard he
thought she’d cut off the circulation. He allowed the familiarity, enjoying the
notion she needed him, even if for only a brief moment.

The man swung his
gaze toward Kaitlin, and Bryce knew the very minute recognition shone in the
man’s face.

“Katy?”

Kaitlin didn’t nod,
didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge the man in any way. She just stood in mute
defiance, and crossed her arms against her chest, dropping Bryce’s hand in the
process. He mourned the loss of contact but understood her need to assert her
independence.

“Goddamn it, girl.”
He leaned across his desk. “You’ll speak when spoken to, or so help me,
I’ll...”

“Beat me? Yell at me?
Belittle me in front of the hired hands?”

He shook a finger at
her. “You watch your tongue, girl.”

“Kaitlin? Who is this
man?” Bryce asked again, hoping this time she would tell him the truth, though
he suspected he already knew.

“The man who sired
me.”

“Your father?”

“No. Don’t ever
confuse one with the other.” She kept her eyes trained on Sarge. “A father is
someone who loves and nurtures his children. Sarge here is a cold-hearted ogre,
a man not fit to have children, let alone raise them.”

Sarge bounded to his
feet and slammed his palms flat on the table. “By God, that’ll be enough. I’ve
waited years for this reunion. I won’t let you ruin it with your petty little
insults.”

“I love you, too,
Sarge.” Her sarcastic words made her father visibly flinch.

Sarge started to say
something but must have thought better of it, for he suddenly turned his full
attention to Bryce. “Explain this man to me, Katy.”

“He’s my bodyguard.”

At that, Sarge smiled
derisively. “I couldn’t have picked out a better one for you myself. He looks
mighty tough in those long johns. You sure he doesn’t mean anything else to
you?”

“Of course. He’s also
a mighty fine lover.”

Bryce resisted the
urge to drop his jaw. From the lips of the starched lady he knew, her comment
came as quite a shocker. He knew what she was about, baiting her father like
that, but he didn’t like being used in this manner. Her suggestive remark could
land a noose around his neck or a ring on his finger. Marriage, he wouldn’t
mind, but not at the end of a shotgun.

“Set him straight,
Katy, or I will. I won’t have you lyin’ to your father,” Bryce growled. He
realized his mistake almost immediately. He’d used his pet name for her, the
same nickname Sarge had used, instead of her formal handle. Ever since that
kiss, he had difficulty thinking of her as a Kaitlin. To him, she was his Katy.

“I haven’t lied.” She
shrugged, and a lock of brown hair fell across her forehead. “I didn’t say you
were my lover. I said you were a fine lover.”

“Which you wouldn’t
know unless you had first-hand knowledge, which you don’t. Not that I wouldn’t
mind a romp in the hay with you, but, darlin’, I don’t feel like getting’ shot
for a pleasure I haven’t yet experienced. Therefore, to my way of thinkin’ the
lie was implied.”

At that point, Sarge
busted out laughing, clearly amused by this brief exchange. Bryce smiled. He
could see the humor from her father’s point of view. It wasn’t every day a
daughter discussed quite openly with her father the nature of her non-sexual
relationship with a man.

When his laughter
subsided, Sarge came around the desk and studied his daughter with a critical
eye. Bryce would have compared the man’s examination to that of a horse buyer
looking for a prime bit of horseflesh. That he was also subjected to such close
scrutiny, made his skin crawl. Bryce shifted nervously on his bare feet, but
winced when he put more weight than he’d intended on his right foot.

“Want to check my
teeth, too?” Bryce finally asked, disliking the silence that seemed to stretch
endlessly.

“Nah, I think you’ll
do right nicely. Right nicely indeed.” Sarge turned to Johnny Boy. “Find a room
for my daughter upstairs. You can put Bryce in the bunkhouse, and see that he
has some clothes once you get him there.”

“No.” Kaitlin stated
firmly. “We won’t be staying here.”

Sarge’s shaggy brows
came together in a fierce frown. “You are here and by God, you’re not leaving
again until we clear the air.”

“I have no intentions
of leaving, but I refuse to stay in your house. We’ll make do in the honeymoon
cabin.”

“I won’t hear of it.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“As a matter of fact,
I can. I won’t have you staying on that worthless piece of rock.”

“But it’s my piece of
rock, my land. I applied for that homestead. I gave it five long years of sweat
and tears. As far as I can tell, it’s still mine.” A stubborn tilt to her head
dared her father to disagree. Bryce knew that look well. His money was on
Kaitlin.

“You don’t never
learn, do you, girl?” Sarge ran a calloused hand through thinning gray hair.
“You couldn’t make a go of it then, and you can’t now.”

“I don’t intend to
make a go of it.” She shook her head. “I’m going to stay there for a week, long
enough to convince you I’m happy in Denver where I am.”

“I offered to buy
that hunk of land from you.” Sarge sighed. “The offer still stands.”

“Why? As you pointed
out, it’s worthless. Nothing grows there. There aren’t enough trees to market
lumber. With no range grasses to speak of, it won’t support cows through the
long winter months. The ground is too hard to farm a decent crop. What would
you gain if you bought it?”

“I would help you out
of a bind.”

“I don’t need or want
your help.”

“I expected you to
have more sense.” Sarge’s frustration was tangible, a living, breathing thing.
“Damn fool female.”