Thunder Horse Redemption (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Pierce lay awake into the night, kicked back in the recliner in the Carmichael Ranch living room. His thoughts hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned to the badlands. All centering on Roxanne, her bright auburn hair and incredibly blue eyes.

Two months had done nothing to shake her from his thoughts and dreams. Being with her again only reawakened the longing, making it stronger than before. If he’d thought he could just walk away from her, he’d been wrong.

He must have slipped into a troubled sleep, because the sun rising up over the horizon spilled into the living room of the ranch house, nudging him awake.

Shouts outside had him up and moving across the floor to peer through the window at the rear of the house.

The ranch hands had their horses gathered in the barnyard and were climbing into their saddles. Toby glanced toward the house, said something to Abe and nudged his horse, sending it forward.

Pierce shoved his feet into his boots and his arms into his shirtsleeves, buttoning as he strode through the house to the back door.

Toby arrived on horseback at the back porch as Pierce stepped out.

“Would ya let the boss know we’ll be rounding up the cattle in the north pasture?” The horse danced sideways and Toby pulled the reins tight before continuing. “No need for Miss Carmichael to get out this mornin’. We can handle it.”

Pierce nodded at the boy. “Good, because she’ll be staying around the ranch house today, helping me with repairs.”

“I will?” a voice said.

Pierce didn’t have to turn to know Roxanne stood behind him. “She will.”

Toby glanced from Pierce to Roxanne, his cheeks reddening. “Either way, we’ll be back around sunset.” He turned and rode away at a swift trot.

Pasting a smile on his lips, Pierce turned to face Roxanne.

Her curls lay around her shoulders, tousled as if she’d just risen from bed. She still wore the T-shirt and sweats from the night before. Twin flags of color rode high on her cheeks, and her blue eyes practically snapped at him. “Look, cowboy, this is my ranch and I’ll call the shots.”

He saluted and strode past her into the house. “Then call them. I have work to do in order to make your house temporarily livable.”

She grabbed his arm as he moved past. “And I have cattle to round up. No cattle means no lights or payday.”

“Like the cowboy said, they have it covered.” Pierce held back a grin as he played his trump card. “Do you want Jim to come home to all this smoke damage? Might give him a coronary on top of his other injuries.”

Roxanne let go of his arm, her eyes narrowing. “No, of course I don’t want that.”

“Right, then I’ll need a hand getting it all cleaned up and ready. I’ll bet the hospital will cut him loose this afternoon. He’s bound to hear about what happened—can’t expect the ranch hands to keep it to themselves—but if we clean up the worst of it, then we might be able to calm him down. But we’ll need to have the place ready or he’ll try to ride out after the bad guy himself.”

Her gaze shifted to the window, her fingers twisting a long strand of hair. “I hate it when you’re right.” The stiffness leached out of Roxanne’s body. “Since you’re so smart, you can cook breakfast.”

“I can handle that.” He went one way, Roxanne the other.

In the kitchen, Pierce found the skillet and rummaged through the refrigerator for eggs and ham.

By the time Roxanne emerged in a clean pair of jeans and a faded and wrinkled chambray shirt that was two sizes too big for her, Pierce had omelets on the table.

“I loaded the washer with my smoky clothes. Remind me to switch the loads before I head out to the roundup. Mmm, that smells good.” She pulled up a chair and lifted a fork, digging in.

Pierce loved that about Roxanne. She wasn’t a girlie girl who picked at her food. She rode hard, worked harder and ate to keep up her strength. Add to that the pale face of an angel and auburn curls a man could lose himself in and…

Pierce swallowed hard and reined in his thoughts and desires. He wouldn’t get much done at this rate.

They passed the meal in silence.

As soon as the dishes were cleared, Pierce headed for the barn, collecting hammers, nails, plywood and a circular saw.

When he returned, Roxanne was busy scrubbing the soot off the walls with a vinegar-and-water solution. She’d stripped the bed and tossed the sheets and the damaged quilt into the laundry room.

“You don’t waste time,” he commented.

Without pausing, she quipped, “Got cattle to get to the market.”

“The men will handle it.”

“It takes more hands than their four pairs and I’ve only got two more days to get the job done.”

“Or what?”

“I miss the sale.”

She started to say more but clamped her lips shut and went back to work on the walls. Making her way around the room, she cleaned the walls and then started in on the ceiling.

Pierce knocked the remaining shards of glass out of the window frame, careful to collect all the pieces and put them in a box to be recycled later. He cut a square of plywood out of the scrap he’d found in the barn and fitted it into the window, nailing it to the window frame, finding it strangely sad when the board blocked his view of Roxanne. Up until that moment, they’d been working quietly together, neither speaking, but for Pierce’s part, he didn’t feel it was an uncomfortable silence. He liked being around her. The woman wasn’t afraid of work, whether it was washing walls or roping steers.

After returning the tools and remaining supplies to the barn, he entered the house through the back door.

Roxanne’s voice drifted through the hallway from the ranch office. Her tone was one of distress.

His need to protect this woman pushed Pierce forward. He stopped before the door, out of sight but within listening range. Guilt over eavesdropping gnawed at his gut, but the need to help won out.

* * *

R
OXANNE
HAD
BEEN
ELBOW
deep scrubbing the walls and the ceiling when the phone in the office had pulled her away from her task.

She’d answered the call, thinking it would be the hospital with news of Jim.

“Ms. Carmichael?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Mr. Palmer from the First Bank of Medora.”

“Hello, Mr. Palmer.” Her stomach twisted into a knot and she sat in the chair behind the desk, bracing herself for what came next. “Did you get my application for the line of credit loan?”

“We did, and we’ve reviewed it.” He paused. “I understand you’ve had some problems out there at the ranch.”

“Nothing major,” she lied.

“We received word that your foreman is laid up in the hospital with multiple injuries and is unable to perform his duties.” The man paused waiting for her to confirm or deny.

“And?” Roxanne asked, her voice terse.

“We also heard there was a fire and some damage to the ranch house last night.”

Roxanne wasn’t surprised. News traveled fast in small communities. She’d bet good ol’ Deputy Duncan had passed on that little tidbit. If not, perhaps the dispatcher had shared the only incident on a boring night over coffee at the diner.

Her patience wearing thin, she cut to the chase. “I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer, I have a busy day ahead. Is there a point you’re trying to get to?”

“Ms. Carmichael, in light of the recent events, the bank executives and underwriters have reviewed your request for the line of credit and have determined you to be high risk.”

Blood drained from Roxanne’s head and a ball of lead settled in her belly. “High risk? What does that mean?”

“That you are too much of a risk to loan the money to.”

“I’ve always made my mortgage payments on time. I’ve never declared bankruptcy. I’m good for it. I just need a temporary loan until I can get the cattle sold.”

“We understand, but in your case…”

Roxanne rose from the desk chair, blood boiling, her fingers clenching the handset so firmly her knuckles turned white. “In my case I’m a woman running a ranch in a typically male environment. Well, Mr. Palmer, let me tell you—”

Keep your cool,
her inner common sense implored.

Roxanne caught herself before she spewed all her frustrations out on the telephone. She clamped her tongue between her teeth so hard she could taste the coppery flavor of blood.

Clearing her scratchy throat, she started over. “I’ll be in town soon to discuss the situation with the bank president. Have a nice day,” she ended, forcing the words between clenched teeth.

“That won’t be necessary—” Mr. Palmer started.

“Oh, yes it will. Thank you, Mr. Palmer.” She hit the end button and threw the phone across the room. It hit a shelf full of books then crashed to the floor and broke in half, the plastic pieces falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

Roxanne turned toward the French doors, staring out into the bright sunshine, and wondered how the sun could keep shining so optimistically when her world was falling apart.

“Anything wrong?” Pierce’s voice cut through her thoughts, reminding her that she had more than a couple of unresolved issues in her life, her ranch finances and the attacker being two, Pierce Thunder Horse making it three.

With her back to the infuriating man she planted her hands on her hips. Her heart thumped hard inside her chest, feeling like it might explode. “Have you stooped to eavesdropping now?”

“Couldn’t help overhearing. Is the bank giving you troubles?”

“No. Everything is perfectly
fine
.” She pushed through the French doors and out onto the porch, needing to get away from him, from the banker and from everyone who pulled at her.

The thickheaded man didn’t get the hint. He followed. “If you need a loan, I’m sure the Thunder Horse Ranch can front you the money to tide you over to the sale.”

She spun to face him, closing the distance to stand directly in front of him. “Get this straight, Mr. Thunder Horse, I. Don’t. Need. Your. Money. Or
anything
else from you.” She poked his chest with her index finger on every word. “Not now, or ever.”

He captured her wrist and held it, his black eyes so intense she felt them burn a hole right through her. “Are you that proud you’d risk losing everything you’ve worked so hard for just to save face?”

“I don’t want to rely on you or any man. I can do this on my own.”

“Damn it, Roxy, you’re making it hard for me to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t want you to come back into my life.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad. I’m here and there’s not much you can do to make me go away until this mess is resolved.”

She stared up into his eyes, all the heat of her anger making her breathe hard, her chest rising and falling, pressing against his arm with each time she inhaled. As angry and frustrated as she was with him, it was still hard to fight her body’s natural instinct to lean in closer to him.

His dark gaze bored into hers, sucking her into that black abyss. He seemed to be struggling, too. “I didn’t want to come back into your life, but you make it hard for me to resist.”

They were so wrapped up in the electric connection between them that the sound of a horse’s hooves didn’t register until the beast whinnied and snorted.

Roxanne glanced up, her eyes glazed, barely able to focus on the man astride one of her horses.

Ethan sat in the saddle, his hands gripping the reins, his eyes narrowed and, if Roxanne wasn’t mistaken, angry.

She pulled away from Pierce and ran a hand through her hair. “What is it, Ethan?”

He hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching around the leather straps in his hands. “I came back for some more fencing supplies to repair the corral.”

Roxanne frowned. “You know where they are.”

“Right.” He nudged his horse with his heels and the animal leaped forward, heading for the barn.

If not for Ethan’s interruption, she might have thrown herself at Pierce. What was wrong with her?

“Roxanne—” Pierce’s hands rested on her arms and he tried to turn her to face him.

She shook free of his grip and stepped out of reach. “I need to get out on the range and help with the roundup. We’re done here.”

* * *

T
HE
NOTE
OF
FINALITY
IN
her voice made Pierce let go.

Roxanne reentered the house, picked up her cowboy hat and hurried toward the barn.

Torn between leaving and following her, Pierce made the only decision he could. He followed, jogging toward the barn, worried that she’d get so far ahead of him that he wouldn’t be able to catch up or find her. She was still in danger, the target of an idiot bent on some evil revenge or something equally insane. He hadn’t figured it out yet, but he needed to soon.

At first he’d thought maybe it was something to do with the horses or the canyon. But with the attack moving to the ranch house, it looked more and more like Roxanne was the target, not the wild horses of the Dakota badlands or anyone within the vicinity to the canyon. Narrowing down the targets should make it easier to find the attacker, but in spite of that, Pierce couldn’t claim to be pleased with the latest piece of the puzzle.

At least out on the open range, he’d see a threat coming at them from a long distance away.

Pierce swung by his pickup and grabbed the rifle and scabbard he’d loaded in the rack behind the backseat. If there was trouble ahead, he wanted to be ready.

Roxanne led her mare from the barn, the saddle hanging loose on the mare’s back. She tied the animal to a hitching post and cinched the girth.

“What horse do you want me to ride?” Pierce asked.

“None,” Roxanne answered through gritted teeth.

He shrugged and entered the barn, gathered a lead rope and came back out to the pen where the horses gathered, hoping for a snack or a bale of hay to munch on.

He selected a large black gelding, snapped the lead on his halter and opened the gate to bring him out.

By the time he’d captured his horse, Roxanne had the bit between her mare’s teeth and was buckling the bridle behind the horse’s ears.