The Circle Eight: Caleb (32 page)

BOOK: The Circle Eight: Caleb
3.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

More than that, of course, she wanted to keep Caleb. He hadn’t spoken to her since they arrived at the Armstrong farm. She would tell herself it didn’t hurt her feelings, but that would be a lie. His behavior had been erratic and she heard Hannah complaining about his cussing in front of the twins.

Rory didn’t know what she would do after they returned to the Circle Eight. She would find a way to get a new mule and make her way back to the forge. No matter what the Republic of Texas said, she had nowhere else to go. A blacksmith was a profession she could take anywhere, but she didn’t want to wander or find a new place to be.

If she couldn’t have Caleb, then she would return to what she had before. Perhaps luck would be on her side and she could take back her business without the government noticing. Although in truth, she didn’t expect it.

The hours passed slowly, leaving Rory to her thoughts. It wasn’t pleasant. They whirled around and around, making her sick and dizzy. When the ranch came in to view, she breathed a sigh of relief. Helping out the Grahams with supper would take her mind off her uncertain future and the husband she wouldn’t call her own, the children that would never exist.

Self-pity was not palatable and Rory was tired of it. She jumped out of the wagon after it stopped to help unload it. Matt walked out of the barn wiping his hands on a rag. Rory had to look away when he greeted his daughters and wife. Their love for each other was pure and sweet, too beautiful to watch.

Caleb got down and waited until Matt stopped long enough to notice him. “You about done?”

“No, I’ll never be done.” Matt grinned.

“Did you get everything taken care of?” Caleb’s gaze slid momentarily to Rory, then skittered away.

What was going on?

“We did and you owe me a hell of a lot of sh—dirty jobs and sweat to pay me back.” Matt tipped his hat to Rory with a secret smile on his face before he scooped up his girls and carried them to the house. They squealed the entire way, their mother shaking her head and chuckling as she followed at a more sedate pace.

Catherine rode toward the barn, no doubt to groom the horse she insisted on riding. Eva left with the Elizabeth and Rebecca, chattering on about supper. That left Rory alone with Caleb. She turned to escape, to follow everyone into the house when his voice stopped her.

“Please don’t go, Aurora.”

“Why not?” Her hurt still burbled inside her.

“I need to show you something and ask you a question.” He held out his hand. “Please.”

She didn’t remember the ranger using his manners before, and he had rarely said please to anyone, much less her. Rory had the choice to follow him, take another chance with her heart. A last chance. She tended to hit back when she was hurt.

Yet the honesty in his beautiful eyes told a story. Her heart did a funny flip and she took his hand. This was it. The last time she would take a chance on Caleb Graham. He smiled, a beautiful grin that took her breath.

“This way, honey.” He walked her around to the side of the barn, to the grassy area that led to the creek.

She liked holding his hand more than she should. The warm, wide palm, the calluses, the sweet way he held her hand as though he would hurt her. She was a blacksmith and had as many calluses as he did. It was another piece of the puzzle of whatever he was up to.

They walked around to the back of the barn and she stopped in her tracks, overcome and overwhelmed.

Somehow in the short time they’d been gone, Caleb’s family had retrieved her anvil. It sat in the middle of a newly cleared back stall. A stone forge had been built, its mortar still wet from whomever had built it. Her hammer and tongs lay on top of the anvil, while the rest of her tools from home were lined up against the stall door. Her leather apron hung from a nail on the wall.

Her throat closed with emotion and she fought like hell not to cry. He had done this. Caleb had made arrangements to make a place for her. He reached in and pulled out a sign that had been painted with whitewash to read “AURORA’S SMITHY.”

She burst into tears.

Caleb looked horrified and she shook her head. It took another minute of snuffling like a foolish female before she found her voice.

“I can’t believe you did this.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I had to show you I love you. Words weren’t working. I want to marry you, Rory, stay here and make babies with you. I want you to be a smithy and be happy here.”

She stared at this man, who had been an arrogant ass pushing her off her land. So much had changed in a few weeks, she had changed. No longer the blacksmith who hid behind the fire, existing but not living. Their relationship had been fraught with arguments, danger, injuries, intense emotions and in the end, love.

“I can’t have babies.” A sob worked its way up her throat.

He pulled her into his arms and she breathed in his scent, the now familiar smell of the man she loved. “I don’t care. We can adopt some babies then. Or spoil our nieces and nephews then send them home to drive their parents crazy.”

She laughed against his shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

He leaned back and cupped her face, his kiss softer than a spring breeze. “I’ve never been sure of anything in my life until now. Until you. This is where I belong, with you, on the Circle Eight. I quit being a ranger before we went to Olivia’s. I’m going to go back to ranching and sleep every night beside a wife I love. Aurora Foster, will you marry me?”

Rory looked into his eyes, and saw the love and hope shining there. She had nothing to lose but so much to gain.

“You don’t mind that I swing a hammer?” She had to ask or she would regret not doing it.

“I love that you swing a hammer. Your body is beautiful to me, sleek and muscled. Enough to make me hard all day every day.”

She barked a laugh. “Jackass.” He was crude but he was hers. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Thank God.” He squeezed her so hard, she didn’t know where he ended and she started.

Joy bubbled up inside her, that elusive emotion she had never found. Who knew the appearance of a pushy Texas Ranger would change her life forever? She closed her eyes and held onto her love, her life.

The blacksmith and the ranger found what they had been looking for in each other’s arms. Love, respect and joy. Another circle joined in the circle of eight.

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Beth Williamson, who also writes as Emma Lang, is an award-winning, bestselling author of both historical and contemporary romances. Her books range from sensual to scorching hot. She is a Career Achievement Award Nominee in Erotic Romance by Romantic Times Magazine, in both 2009 and 2010.

 

Beth has always been a dreamer, never able to escape her imagination. It led her to the craft of writing romance novels. She’s passionate about purple, books, and her family. She has a weakness for shoes and purses, as well as bookstores. Her path in life has taken several right turns, but she’s been with the man of her dreams for more than 20 years.

 

Beth works full-time and writes romance novels evening, weekends, early mornings and whenever there is a break in the madness. She is compassionate, funny, a bit reserved at times, tenacious and a little quirky. Her cowboys and western romances speak of a bygone era, bringing her readers to an age where men were honest, hard and packing heat. For a change of pace, she also dives into some smokin’ hot contemporaries, bringing you heat, romance and snappy dialogue.

 

Life might be chaotic, as life usually is, but Beth always keeps a smile on her face, a song in her heart, and a cowboy on her mind. ;)

 

www.bethwilliamson.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Other books

The Fata Morgana Books by Littell, Jonathan, Mandell, Charlotte
Waiting to Believe by Sandra Bloom
The Unwilling Earl by Audrey Harrison
SevenSensuousDays by Tina Donahue
Redoubtable by Mike Shepherd
Cartwheeling in Thunderstorms by Katherine Rundell