Lone Calder Star (23 page)

"This is something I've wanted to do," Quint admitted, "almost from the moment I laid eyes on you."

"What stopped you?" But Dallas knew she had, at least in the beginning. A man worth having needs encouragement, and she hadn't shown him any, even though the attraction had been there from the start.

Quint raised his head, his fingers tunneling into her hair as his gaze wandered over her face in a kind of visual caress. "It didn't seem fair to get you caught up in this battle with Rutledge." He smiled crookedly. "Then you went and involved yourself anyway. I'll never forget how you stormed out here that day."

She remembered it, too-the fury, the frustration, and the anguish-but for an entirely different reason. "Why did you kiss me that day?" Needing to renew contact with him and shut out the fear, Dallas rubbed her lips over his chin, ignoring the scrape of his whiskers.

"I don't know," Quint murmured. "I guess I was hurt and mad. Anger was all I ever seemed to arouse in you, and I wanted exactly the opposite."

"You definitely got your message across ," Dallas declared. "Coming out of nowhere like that, it scared me a little."

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It still did when she tried to think beyond this moment. But there would be time enough to consider what tomorrow might hold. It was enough to savor the here and now.

"I knew I'd scared you with that kiss. I-"

"Shhh." She pressed two fingers to his lips. "None of that matters. Not now."

Her lips were quick to take the place of her silencing fingers. His arms tightened around her as his mouth opened moistly on her lips, taking them whole.

Everything quickened and rose inside her, blood rushing hotly through her veins and all her senses sharply intensifying. The invasion of his tongue brought with it a bold sensuality and something else-a kind of keening sweetness that had its own brand of glory. Dallas arched closer to the hard length of his body, letting it burn its impression on her.

Desire and discovery reigned, making them both oblivious of the muffled slam of a door and the faint thud of footsteps across the porch. They were absorbed too much in each other and the power of what they shared.

On the porch, Boone cast a backward look at the charred remains of the round bales and the fire-scorched landscape that stretched beyond it. His glance lingered there. He derived a sense of satisfaction from knowing that it had been his hand that caused all this devastation.

He felt strangely empowered by the sight. It was there in the gleam of his eyes when he turned back to the door.

The screen door squeaked in protest when he opened it. As he lifted a hand to rap on the door, Boone automatically glanced through the windowed upper portion of the door. He paused at the sight of the pair, locked in an embrace that could only be described as passionate. The gleam in his eyes took on an interested glitter.

The voyeuristic side of him was tempted to watch, aware that, in Echohawks place, he would be tuggnig of the redhead's clothes and spreading her across the kitchen table in another minute.

before his imagination reached the point where Echohawk plunged into her , irritation surfaced that he hadn't suspected that there was that much wildness beneath the Garner woman's cool poise.

Boone rapped sharply on the door and watched them pull away before giving the knob a turn.

As he stepped inside, the two separated to face him. Echohawk's expression instantly hardened at the sight of him while Dallas stared at him in open shock. It. Boone rather liked the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

Echohawk never gave him a chance to speak, demanding, " What are you doing here, Rutledge?"

"Max asked me to come." Actually he had ordered him, but Boone wasn't about to admit that.

"We heard about your fire last night." He let his glance stray over his shoulder to the door's windowed top and the blackened area visible beyond the ranch yard.

' It burned a big chunk of your range. Looks like it must have covered a good three or four hundred acres."

"Closer to five," Quint confirmed, his gaze never losing its steely look.

"That much?" Dallas murmured in surprise, slashing Quint a look of concern.

Boone ignored that, his curiosity shifting to something else. "What about your cattle? Did you suffer any losses there?"

"Considering the last fire crew pulled out less than twenty minutes ago, I haven't had a chance to check on the stock. But all the gates were open. As long as they weren't trapped against a fence, they should have been able to escape the flames."

"You never know," Boone said, deliberately countering Quint's optimism. "Cows can be dumb creatures, especially when they panic. And a fire would cause that. As dry as it's been around here, I'm surprised we haven't had more fires. It wouldn't take much of a spark to ignite one, and once it starts burning, it can spread rapidly."

"It was no accidental sparkthat started this one." The flat, hard hard statement teetered close to
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an accusation.

Boone feigned surprise. "How do you know that'"

"About the same time I discovered the fire, I saw a man running away." Quint paused.

Something that wasn't amusement curved his mouth. "I even managed to get off a shot at him."

Surprise splintered through Boone at the news that it hadn't been old man Garner wielding the shotgun. The discovery that it had been Echohawk rankled.

But Boone had played too many hands of poker to let his reaction creep into his expression. "I hope you hit him."

"Unfortunately he was out of shotgun range," Quint replied.

Boone knew better; he had the bandages on his back to prove it. "Too bad. The sheriff might have had a chance of catching him then. Now he'll have to make do with just a description of your arsonist. You did get a good look at him, didn't you?"

Quint cocked his head to one side. "Is that why Max sent you over here? To find out if I got a good enough look at your man to identify him?"

Boone shook his head and smiled broadly. "You've got us all wrong. I think you've been listening to her grandfather too much," he said, indicating Dallas with a nod. "That isn't why I'm here at all."

"Then why are you here?" Dallas said in quick challenge, using anger to mask the fear that lurked around the edges.

"Because Max learned that the fire destroyed your hay," Boone replied smoothly. "Along with passing on his regrets for the loss of it, I'm to tell you that we're sending some hay to tide you over until you can get more delivered."

"That's generous," Quint murmured dryly.

"In Texas, neighbors help neighbors," Boone responded, shrugging it off while secretly relishing the irony of the gesture.

On the heels of his remark, there was a movement in his side vision. Boone glanced around as Empty Garner padded into the kitchen in his stockinged feet, looking all mussed and sleepy-eyed.

" Any thime a Rutledge helps a neighbour, you can bet he'll stab him in the back before he's done." The accusation was accompanied by a layer of loathing. "Don't let him fool you," Empty said, the warning to Quint. "Him sending you over hay, it's all for show and to fool people into thinking he didn't have anything to do with your hay getting burned."

"His motives for sending it don't really matter," Quint replied with a touch of grim resignation.

"We need the hay."

"Echohawk is more pragmatic than you are, Garner," Boone observed with a complacent smile.

"He knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth."

The old man snorted. "Might be smarter if he did. Look what happened at Troy."

Boone gave him a puzzled look, failing to make the connection between Troy and the Trojan horse. Rather than admit his lack of knowledge, he switched back to the original subject. "Like I said, we'll be bringing the hay over some time today." He paused a beat. "I can't say for sure when it will be, but probably this afternoon. You might want to let Dallas know where you want it stored. That way you won't have to hang around here waiting for it to show up. I imagine you have a lot of other things you need to get done."

Quint made no reply to that, saying instead, "I'll expect to receive a bill for the hay."

Boone shrugged his indifference. "If that's what you want."

"I do."

Boone reached behind him for the door. "Let us know if there's anything else we can do to help."

"It'd be a big help if you'd just leave the Cee Bar alone," Empty retorted. "But it's not likely you'll do that."

Boone shot a look at Dallas as he opened the door. "I'll be seeing you."

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When the door closed behind Boone, Dallas turned away in agitation, fighting the turmoil inside, angry and scared both at the same time.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Rutledge sends over hay thats been treated with something that will make the livetock," Empty grumbled behind her.

"He wouldn't," Quint stated. "Not on hay that could he traced directly back to him."

"Maybe not," Empty conceded with reluctance. "Where'd I put my damned boots?"

"I think you left them in the bathroom," Dallas answered. "At least they were there when I took my shower."

"That's right. I forgot I took them off in there," he murmured. "I would've remembered if I hadn't got so mad at how righteous that Boone was acting. Hell, he just came over here to look at the damage and gloat."

He all but stomped out of the kitchen. Dallas glanced after him. There was a light touch on her shoulder, and she turned with a jerk, finding herself the subject of Quint's probing gaze.

"What's wrong?"

After a quick, stiff shake of her head, she sighed in frustration. "Boone. The Rutledges." Her voice was tight with the bitterness and anger. "Somehow, in some dirty underhanded way, they always get what they want."

"Not this time." The calm certainty in his voice brought a twist to the line of her mouth.

"I know you think it will be different this time, but it won't," Dallas said. "They don't care how long it takes. That's the advantage they have. And during all that time, it will be just one hassle on top of another. Machinery sabotaged, hay burned, hired men scared off, cattle auctions rigged, credit refused. And that's just a small part of the trouble they'll cause. How long do you think it will take before the Calders decide this ranch isn't worth all the trouble and grief it's given them and throw in the towel? One year? `Two? Five?" she challenged, pain and anger mixing together. "I had a front-row seat when they broke my grandfather-broke his heart and his spirit. I don't want to see that happen to you."

"It won't, Quint insisted, smiling, in easy assurance.

" Fight to the bitter end, won't you?" Dallas saw it in his face. That knowledge only added to the turmoil ripping through her.

" Why ?" she demanded in frustration. "It won't change anything I know this is your job, but you'd be better off to convince the Calders to cut their losses and unload the ranch now."

" That will never happen." Some of the gentleness went out of her. espression, his features setting in resolute lines.

" In time it will. The Calders won't have any choice." Her statement was forceful in an attempt to press home the reality of the situation to him.

A coolness entered his gray eyes. "You don't know the Calders."

"Neither do you," Dallas countered with impatience. "You said yourself that you've only worked for them a few months."

Quint never blinked an eye. "I'm a Calder; that's how I know. My grandfather is Chase Calder,"

he stated and moved past her.

For a split second Dallas was too stunned to react. Turning, she reached for his arm, stopping him before he could leave the room.

"I'm sorry." The phrase came automatically to her lips.

But Quint was unmoved by it. "About what?" he challenged cooIly. "That I'm a Calder?"

"I wasn't referring to that at all," Dallas denied, annoyed that he would even think she was.

"Then what?" he repeated, but never gave her a chance to respond. "When you threw your lot in with the Cee Bar, you said it was because you didn't want to see the Rutledges win. And here you are, trying to convince me to give up. I think you need to make up your mind whose side you're on."

His point was inarguable, but it stung. "Just because I don't want them to win, it doesn't mean that I don't think they will. And I take back my apology. Whether you like it or not, I'm not sorry
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for anything I said. For your information, I care what happens to you!"

A sudden smile curved his mouth, and that intimate light was back in his eyes. "You did make that very clear a few minutes ago," he murmured and cupped a hand to her check, stroking his thumb across her lips and igniting a fresh disturbance.

"Quint," she began, only to hear the solid thud of approaching footsteps signal her grandfather's return to the kitchen.

Regret flashed in her expression at the inopportune loss of privacy, and she stepped back, away from his hand.

"We always seem to get interrupted," Quint murmured. A wry smile tugged at a corner of his mouth as he brought his hand down to his side.

Dallas nodded in agreement a second before Empty Garner appeared in the kitchen doorway.

He paused at the sight of them and directed a frowning glance at Dallas.

"How come you're still standing around? I thought you'd be fixing this poor man some breakfast by now." Empty gestured at Quint. "After working all night, he needs some food in his belly."

Seizing on his suggestion, Dallas walked directly to the refrigerator. "Over easy on the eggs?"

she asked over her shoulder.

"Sounds fine," Quint replied and started toward the kitchen table.

The action drew a quick frown of disapproval from Empty. "Don't you think you better put a shirt on first?" To his old-fashioned way of thinking, a man didn't sit down to eat half clothed.

"You're right," Quint agreed with a faint trace of chagrin.

Empty watched him leave the kitchen, then headed for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

In the true, asbestos-mouthed tradition of a longtime cowman, he downed a healthy swallow of the hot liquid, then turned a curious eye on Dallas when she set a carton of eggs and a package of bacon on the counter next to the range top.