Against the Rules (22 page)

“You went into the stable?” he barked, heaving himself up on his elbow and wincing at the pain the movement caused him. Red fires were beginning to burn in the dark depths of his eyes, and suddenly she felt chills running down her back. He was more than angry; he was maddened, his fists clenching.

“Yes,” she admitted, feeling tears form in her eyes. Hastily she blinked them away. She wasn't a child to burst into tears whenever she was yelled at. “The flames hadn't spread beyond the tack room, thank God, but the horses were frightened and—”

“My God, woman, are you stupid?” he roared. “Of all the reckless, half-witted things to do...!”

She
was
stupid, because the tears rolled down her cheeks anyway. “I'm sorry,” she choked. “I didn't mean to let it happen!”

“Then what did you mean? Can't I let you out of my sight for a minute?”

“I said I'm sorry!” she gasped at him, and suddenly she couldn't stand there and listen to the rest of it. “I'll be back later,” she sobbed. “I have to send someone to town for more tack.”

“Damn it, come back here!” he was roaring, but she scooted out the door and slammed it behind her. She slapped at the wetness on her cheeks, then went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face until most of the redness had faded. She wanted nothing more than to hide in her room, but pride stiffened her back. There was work to be done, and she wasn't about to let someone else shoulder the burden for her.

CHAPTER 11

Someone had notified Lewis, and the pickup came tearing across the pasture and slid to a stop in the yard. Lewis was out of it in a flash, taking Cathryn's arm in a hold that was painfully tight. “What happened?” he asked, tight-lipped.

“The tack room caught on fire,” she said wearily. “We got it before it spread, but the tack is ruined. All the horses are okay.”

“Hell,” he swore. “Rule will be fit to be tied.”

“He already is.” She tried to smile. “I told him a little while ago. Fit to be tied is putting it mildly.”

He swore again. “Have you found out how it started?”

“The trash can caught on fire somehow; it looks as if the fire started there.”

“Who's been in the tack room this morning? More importantly, who was in there last?”

She looked at him blankly. “I don't know. I hadn't thought to ask.”

“When I find out who's responsible he can start looking for another job. No one, but no one, is supposed to smoke around a stable.”

It seemed to Cathryn that no one would ever admit to smoking and causing the fire, but from the determined expression on Lewis's face, someone had better confess or everyone was in trouble. She found that she couldn't summon enough energy to care. She looked around vaguely, noticing that Ricky hadn't cared, either; she was walking to the house, twisting her hair up and pinning it carelessly on top of her head.

The stench of smoke still lingered on the hot, breezeless air, keeping the horses restless. Dull thuds reverberated through the stable as the nervy animals kicked at the stalls that held them. Everyone was kept busy trying to calm them and keep them from injuring themselves. Cathryn gave up trying to keep Redman settled down and led the big horse out of his stall, walking him around and around the yard. Part of his trouble was that he wasn't used to being cooped up, but with Rule out of commission no one had been giving him the exercise he thought was rightfully his.

Suddenly a ride seemed like just the thing. Cathryn was on the point of calling for a saddle when she remembered that there were no saddles left. She leaned her face into the horse's muscular neck and sighed. A day that had begun so delightfully had turned into a nightmare, and it seemed that there would be no escape from it.

Lewis was systematically questioning everyone who worked on the ranch, but Cathryn realized that the fire in the trash can could have smoldered for some time before actually blazing, and there were a lot of hands who were still out on the range, having left early that morning and not planning to return until dusk. She beckoned Lewis over to her. “Please, let it wait until later,” she requested, then explained her reasoning to him. “We've got a lot of work to do right now. We have to notify the insurance company and I'm sure they'll want to do an on-site inspection.”

Lewis was too sharp-eyed for anything to be hidden from him for long. He took a long, hard look at her and his stony expression softened slightly. “You've been crying, haven't you? Don't let it get to you. The fact that there was a fire at all is serious, but the damage could have been a lot worse.”

“I know,” she said tightly. “But I should have checked everything and I didn't. It was my fault that it got as out of hand as it did.”

Lewis took Redman's lead rope from her hand. “Your fault, hell! You can't be expected to poke your nose into every corner—”

“Rule would have spotted it.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it because she was right. Rule
would
have spotted it. Nothing about the ranch escaped his notice. Lewis scowled as a thought struck him. “What did Rule say?”

“He had quite a lot to say,” Cathryn replied cryptically, giving him a painful smile.

“Such as?”

In spite of herself those stupid tears began burning in her eyes again. “Do you want to start with the insults, or go on to the central theme?”

“He was just mad,” said Lewis uncomfortably.

“I'll say!”

“He didn't mean it. It's just that a stable fire is so serious....”

“I know. I don't blame him.” She really didn't. His reaction was understandable. He could have seen a lot of what he had worked so hard for over the years go up in smoke, and his beloved horses would have died a horrible death.

“He'll cool down and apologize to you. You'll see,” Lewis promised.

Cathryn turned her eyes up to him in a doubtful gaze and he began to look sheepish. The idea of Rule Jackson apologizing was almost more than she could imagine, and evidently Lewis realized that, too.

“If it's anyone's fault, it's mine,” Lewis sighed. “I should have been here, but instead I was—” He stopped abruptly.

“I know.” Cathryn studied the tips of her boots, not certain if she should say anything else, but the words bubbled out. “Don't hurt her, Lewis. Ricky's stubbed her toes on a lot of rocks, and she's just not able to handle any more hurts right now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could only hurt her if she was serious; she's not. She's playing with me, using me as entertainment. I know that, and I'm playing along with her.
If
I decide to put my foot down, she'll be the first to know. But for now I'm just not ready.”

“Are men ever ready?” she asked a little bitterly.

“Sometimes. Like I told you before, women are a habit that's hard to break. It's the little things that get in a man's blood, like the smell of a hot meal when he comes dragging in, or the back rub, the laughter, even the fights. It's really special when you can have a roaring argument with someone and know that they still love you.”

Yes, that would be special. And what was really painful was to have a roaring argument with a man you loved but whom you suspected of not loving you in return. Every angry word from Rule tore into her like a knife.

“Take Ricky,” Lewis drawled. “She's been married twice, but all she's ever been is a decoration. Nobody has ever needed her; she's never felt useful. Why do you think she hangs around and works with the horses? It's the only time she's actually doing something productive. What that woman needs is a man who'll let her take care of him.”

“Are you that man?”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, and that's another habit that's hard to break. Who knows? Would you mind if I was?”

Cathryn looked up at him, startled. “Why should I mind?”

“I've got a lot of rough edges, and I've seen a lot of trouble.”

She had to smile. “And started your share of it, too, I'll bet.”

He started to smile too; then the sound of a car caught their attention and they turned to look at the vehicle coming up the road. “Who's that?” she asked, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she stared at it.

After a moment Lewis growled, “I think it's that Morris fellow.”

She muttered an uncomplimentary word under her breath. “He's certainly pushy enough, isn't he? He doesn't like to take no for an answer.”

“I wasn't sure that no was going to be the answer,” said Lewis laconically, looking down at her.

“Well, it is,” she said forcefully. She couldn't say just when she had decided. Perhaps she had always known that she wouldn't be able to sell the ranch. Too much of herself was bound up there to contemplate selling it to some stranger. She was tied by both the past and the future to this piece of Texas.

“Redman's settled down,” Lewis observed as Ira Morris got out of his car. “I'll take him back to his stall.”

She stood waiting for her unwelcome visitor, keeping her expression carefully blank. “Mr. Morris,” she said in a neutral tone.

“Mrs. Ashe. I heard in town that you'd had some trouble out here this morning.” His cold eyes darted over the stable, and Cathryn was amazed at how quickly the news had spread.

“Did you come out to see if you might want to withdraw your offer?” she asked sweetly. “As you can see, the damage is minor and none of the horses were hurt; however, I'll save you any additional time and trouble by telling you straight out that I won't be selling the ranch.”

He didn't look surprised; he merely looked determined. “Don't be so hasty with that decision. You haven't heard my offer yet. When people start talking actual dollars and cents, a lot of them change their minds.”

“I won't. I was born in that house, and I plan on dying there.”

Totally ignoring her, he named a sum of money that would have staggered her if she had been wavering in her decision. As it was, she wasn't even tempted. She shook her head. “Not interested, Mr. Morris.”

“You could live in comfort for the rest of your life with that much money.”

“I live in comfort now. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. Why should I throw that away for money?”

He sighed and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Think about it. A house is just a house. A piece of land is just a piece of land. There are other houses, more land. This kind of life isn't really suited to you. Look at you. You've got big city written all over you.”

“What I have all over me, Mr. Morris, is dust. Texas dust.
My
dust. I lived in Chicago for several years, yes, but there wasn't a day that I didn't think about this ranch and wish that I was here.”

Without a single change in his expression he raised his offer.

Cathryn was beginning to feel harried. “No. No. I'm not interested—at any price,” she said firmly.

“You could travel all over the world—”

“No!”

“Buy jewelry and furs—”

Goaded almost beyond control, Cathryn clenched her jaw. “I don't intend to sell,” she said stonily. “Why can't you believe that?”

“Mrs. Ashe,” he warned, “if you're trying to force me to raise my offer again, it just won't work. I've talked with your Mr. Jackson and he gave me a fair idea of what this stud is worth. I'm in the market for horses and I like the idea of owning my own stud; not only that, but I was given to understand that you'll be returning to Chicago soon.”

Cathryn was so stunned that she almost lost her breath. She grasped his arm. “What?” she gasped.

“I said I talked to your manager. You told me yourself that he knows more about the horses here than anyone else, so he was the logical person to ask. He also told me that you'd probably be leaving.”

“Just when did you talk to him?”

“Last night. On the telephone.”

The guest room had a telephone jack in it, so she could only suppose that someone had carried the phone into the room for Rule to use. But why would Rule tell this man anything? He was dead set against selling the ranch...or was he? What was going on?

“Just what did Mr. Jackson tell you?” she demanded.

“We didn't talk long. He merely indicated to me that he thought you were returning to Chicago and would sell if the price was right, and we discussed what that price should be. Going on the information he gave me, I think my last offer is more than fair.”

Cathryn drew a shaking breath. “Well, he was wrong in his thinking, and so are you!” She was so upset that she was trembling, and she wavered between fury and tears. Just what was going on? She didn't know what game Rule Jackson was playing, but she was going to find out before another minute had passed. “The answer is no, Mr. Morris, and that's my final answer. I'm sorry you've wasted your time.”

“So am I,” he said tightly. “So am I.”

She didn't wait to see him leave. She turned away and almost ran to the house, her entire being concentrated on reaching Rule and finding out what he had meant by telling Mr. Morris that she would sell. Was he trying to make her leave? No, he couldn't be! Only last night he had made love to her as if he couldn't get enough of her. But...
why?

She brushed past Lorna, not even seeing her, and flew up the stairs, her feet barely touching the steps. Without warning she threw open the door to Rule's bedroom.

At first the tangled bodies on the bed didn't make any sense to her and she stared at them blankly; then realization sank in and she had to lean against the doorframe to keep from collapsing to the floor. Of all the shocks she had sustained that day, this one was the worst. This one hit her in the stomach and drove all the breath from her body. This one tore at her insides, draining the blood from her face. Ricky was on the bed with Rule, her arm under his neck, her mouth glued to his while she writhed on top of him and her hands stroked his hard-muscled body. Her blouse was open, hanging half out of her jeans. Rule's hand was tangled in her hair.

Then the horror faded from Cathryn's mind and she saw the scene clearly. Rule wasn't holding Ricky's head to him; he was pulling back on her hair in an effort to free his mouth from her determined assault. Finally he managed to force her away, and he muttered, “Damn it, Ricky, would you stop? Leave me alone!”

Rage exploded through Cathryn's veins. She wasn't aware of crossing to the bed. A red mist swam before her eyes, blurring her vision as she grabbed the collar of Ricky's shirt and hauled her bodily off Rule. Fury gave her strength that she had never before known she possessed. “This is it,” she ground out, the words rough as sand as she tore them from her constricted throat. “This finishes it.”

“Hey!” Ricky squealed as Cathryn slung her around to the door. “What do you think you're doing? Have you gone crazy?”

Without a word, so angry that she couldn't say anything else, Cathryn dragged the other woman through the door and slammed it shut behind them, not hearing Rule's hoarse cry for her to come back.

The banisters of the staircase beckoned madly and the temptation was sugar sweet, but at the last moment a small piece of sanity returned and Cathryn refrained from simply dumping Ricky down the stairs. Ladies didn't do things like that, or that was what she told herself as she forced Ricky along the hall at a trot, handling the young woman with as much ease as if she were only a child. Ricky was yelling and wailing loudly enough to wake the dead, but Cathryn drowned her out with a roared, “Shut up!” as she rushed her into Ricky's own room.