Always You (15 page)

“Get some shut-eye, Melora.” For all the matter-of-fact brusqueness in his voice, he might have been talking to Zeke or Ray or his brother Jesse. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his features as unreadable as weathered granite.

“It’s been a long day.”

The door closed behind him.

Weak in the knees, Melora sank into a chair. That man...that impossible man...

She couldn’t even formulate one coherent thought describing what she thought of him.

But she knew one thing. She wished she could bite off her tongue. Alone in the kitchen, with the coyotes howling mournfully in the hills, Melora stared at the closed kitchen door for a very long while.

Two days later Louisa Holden was up and scampering about as good as new and begging her brother Cal for permission to go to the O’Malley family’s barbecue.

“Who are the O’Malleys, Lou?” Cal questioned her as he chopped wood out behind the barn, and Louisa, stringing dandelions together for a bracelet for Melora, paused a moment in her work to regard him witheringly.

“They’re the nicest people around. They have five kids and a big farmhouse and Lara O’Malley is my dearest, bestest friend in the world, and her pa gave me a ride to town in their buggy and brought me three whole pieces of licorice when I only asked for one and—”

“When’s the barbecue?” Cal interrupted, pausing with the ax in midair as he saw Melora rounding the corner of the barn, coming toward them, carrying two glasses of lemonade.

But Louisa never noticed and kept rattling on, intent on her plea. “Tonight. Please, please, please can we go? There’s going to be pies and cakes and lemonade and—”

“Speaking of lemonade, I thought you two might be thirsty,” Melora interrupted as she reached the little clearing that Cal had already piled high with lumber. She handed a glass of the cool concoction to Louisa and was rewarded by the girl’s squeal of delight. Squaring her shoulders, Melora turned to Cal.

“Would you like some?” she asked formally.

He gave her a curt nod.

Trying not to stare at the hard muscles in his chest and forearms as he stood before her shirtless, wearing only his pants and boots, Melora reached toward him with the glass.

Unfortunately, he reached toward her at the same time and their hands collided, sending some of the lemonade sloshing over.

“Ooops, sorry,” she gasped as she relinquished the glass.

Cal shrugged. “No harm done. There’s still plenty left for a thirsty man.” To her shock he suddenly seized her hand, held it up, and licked the cool drops of lemonade from her fingers.

“Delicious.”

Louisa laughed out loud. Cal gave her a wink

But Melora stood still as a statue, heedless of the warm sun blazing down on her, of the scent of pine and autumn leaves and mountain air drifting around her. Her fingers felt on fire every place his tongue had swiped. She felt her face flaming. And of course Cal noticed, since he noticed everything.

He gave her a slow, lazy grin, and then he lifted his glass in a silent salute and gulped down the lemonade.

Melora didn’t know quite what to do. She found herself at a loss.
Good Lord,
she thought, abruptly dropping her still-burning hand to her side with a stiff movement,
you’d better stop going all agog every time you come within ten feet of Cal Holden.

This was getting to be ridiculous. She’d never gotten weak in the knees over any man before, but ever since that night when he’d walked out on her in the kitchen, some evil witch must have put her under a spell because she kept losing her train of thought when he was near. She kept wanting to follow him around like a puppy and wanting to make him notice her.

And at the same time she refused to let on one inkling of how she felt. She had too much pride actually to throw herself at a man, any man, and she certainly wasn’t going to make a fool of herself over a man as infuriating and uncooperative as Cal Holden.

Yet...

Men are trouble, plain and simple,
Melora scolded herself angrily. And after the fiasco of her poor judgment concerning Rafe Campbell, she’d be wise to stay away from
every
man —for the rest of her life.

It had shaken her deeply to learn that as far as men were concerned, she wasn’t as clever or infallible as she’d always thought she was. Common sense told her to steer clear of anyone wearing breeches, to remain an independent, wary-eyed spinster for the rest of her days, but common sense couldn’t keep her eyes off Cal when he cleaned his guns, chopped wood, or played the harmonica.

Of course Cal paid no attention whatsoever to her. Since that night when he’d laid bare the ugly story of Rafe Campbell, he’d been the one steering clear. Unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to her, he ignored her. Unless they bumped into each other, he hadn’t touched her. Most of the time he seemed so busy and preoccupied she might have been invisible, a ghost flitting around the rafters of the farmhouse, real only to the children.

So what had that meant when he’d had the audacity to lick the lemonade from her hand?

Was he baiting her, trying to annoy her, or something else?

You could never tell with Cal. That was the problem. He was impossible to read. Just now he set down his glass of lemonade and hefted the ax again. Melora grew breathless at the sight of all those rippling muscles.

“So, Lou, you really want to go to this barbecue?” he said just as if Melora weren’t still standing there in the hot sun, the sleeves of her flannel shirt rolled up, her hands now resting on her hips.

“Yes, Cal, I surely do, and I want you to go too, and Melora. The O’Malleys invited our entire family.”

“I’ll have to think about it, Lou.”

“But, Cal,” she whined, her lower lip pushing out in a childish pout.

“Listen, Lou, don’t argue with me about this. You know the rules. Go find Jesse and send him up here to talk to me. Then I’ll let you know.”

When the little girl had trotted off in search of her other brother, Cal chopped two more logs into eighths before he wiped an arm across his sweating forehead and set down the ax.

“It could be risky going to a barbecue tonight,” he said at last. Melora had picked up the dandelion bracelet Lou had dropped and was fitting it around her wrist.

“Why?” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, though in truth she was startled that Cal was broaching this topic with her. This was the first time they’d exchanged words alone since the night she’d discovered the truth—the truth about him and about the man she’d been planning to marry. Every other moment they’d been surrounded by the rest of the Holden family, as rambunctious and mischievous and close-knit a family as Melora had ever seen.

That was just as well. Since she was in a state of confusion, for the first time in her life doubting her own perspicacity, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with him—or with any man.

She’d been taken in by a con man. She’d fallen in love with him. And now that she knew the truth, was she heartbroken, devastated?

No.
She was furious. Furious with Rafe Campbell and furious with herself for falling prey to him.

She didn’t understand herself.

And there was something else, something equally perplexing. She had feelings for this lean, bronzed man, who moments ago had chopped wood with such easy grace and strength, sweat glossing his chest and arms like dew on a tree trunk. Strong feelings. She wasn’t ready to explore them, but they were there, as heady and mysterious as smoke from a woodfire.

She didn’t understand them, and she didn’t want to pursue them. But over the past few days as she’d been watching Cal, watching him with his younger siblings and as he worked in the barn and around the farm, she no longer saw her kidnapper, a stubborn, ruthless enemy. She saw a relaxed, efficient man whose chestnut hair continually fell forward over his eyes, a man who gave good-natured piggyback rides to Louisa and Will, who played the harmonica at night before the parlor fire while Cassie sang along, a man who worked hard without complaint for endless hours on the farm.

She saw a man who could make children smile, a man who had held her during a thunderstorm and somehow managed to soothe away her terror. A man who cared for his family and bore the same fierce pride in his family name as she did in hers.

She saw a man whose kisses made her burn, even when she was betrothed to another, a man whose touch seared her, whose rare smile filled her with unexpected delight.

But she didn’t want to think about Cal. She couldn’t afford to, not now when she was so confused about her gullibility in falling for Rafe Campbell, so anxious to settle her score with him and get home to her sister and her ranch.

She became aware that Cal was speaking to her and forced her attention back to his words. “There’s a chance someone could recognize me at the barbecue or even in town—though I have to admit, it’s not all that likely. Most of the wanted posters you saw were distributed while the posse was after us. After my escape from the jail, there were some others sent across Arizona and New Mexico, but they don’t seem to have gotten as far as Wyoming and South Dakota territories yet. But there’s always a chance. Still, it’s a small one,” he admitted with a shrug. “And it sure would make Lou happy to go.”

A barbecue. It sounded wonderfully normal, wonderfully festive and appealing. With pies and cake and dancing and laughter. Such an ordinary event, but one that seemed highly unusual these days.

Life hadn’t been ordinary since the moment Cal snatched her from her bedroom. The very idea of the barbecue made her eyes sparkle, yet there was another danger for the Holden family to consider.

“What about the possibility that Campbell might already be in Deadwood?” She stooped to pick up another dandelion to add to the bracelet. “Isn’t it a risk for any of us to go about right now anywhere? It would certainly spoil your plan if he spotted you—or me—or found out about the children. Can you imagine what would happen if he somehow turned up at that barbecue and saw us dancing together, talking? I mean,” she added hastily, turning the brilliant pink of the wildflowers still straggling on the hills as he turned to stare at her, one brow lifted. “I mean... assuming they
had
dancing there, and assuming you asked me... and assuming I agreed and—”

“You like to dance, Princess?”

She bit her lip. “Why, yes. I rather enjoy it—with the right partner.” Melora gathered her composure enough to throw him an airy look. “And you?”

“Don’t care much for it. Reckon I just never found the right partner.”

He was staring at her so intently she felt the hot color deepen in her neck and cheeks. “Well, you told Dr. Wright I was your wife,” she said slowly, “so if we went to the barbecue and if there was dancing and if Dr. Wright was there—”

“I’d have to dance with you.” Cal finished helpfully.

She gave a light shrug. “There’d probably be no way around it.”

“Probably not.”

“Well, I’d hate to put you through having to dance with the wrong partner, so—”

“Whoa. Hold on there a minute, Melora.” He pushed his hat back on his head and came toward her, his chest glistening in the full, hot sun. “Who said you’d be the wrong partner?”

“Who said I’d be the right one?” She’d managed to counter him, forcing herself not to stare at his chest, or his broad shoulders, or the muscles bulging in his arms. Instead she met his eyes, those vividly intent eyes that looked as if they could see right through her without any effort at all. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to torment you by forcing you to—”

“It would be torment, all right,” he muttered.

She went stiff as a rail. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.”

“Yes. Never mind,” Melora spit out. “Because we’d best not go. If Campbell is anywhere in these parts—”

“It doesn’t appear that he is.” Cal turned away from her and reached for his shirt, which had been thrown down in the grass. He used it to wipe the sweat glistening on his face and neck. “I rode into Deadwood early this morning and checked at the hotel where he’s supposed to wait for instructions. He hadn’t checked in yet.”

“Arid just what are you going to do when you’ve got him where you want him?” Melora hoped her tart tone disguised the fear she felt—fear for Cal, not for the man she’d once planned to marry. “A gunfight?” she demanded, a shade too shrilly. Her golden brown eyes flashed like bronze coins as she studied him. “That won’t clear your name!”

He regarded her calmly. “Much as I’d like to shed Campbell’s blood, I’ve got a better plan than that.”

“What is it?”

He gave her a long look. “I’m going to get him to confess in front of a very important witness.”

“Who?” Her heart beat faster as she followed him. He walked a few paces away, pausing beneath a tree to scan the granite-hilled horizon. “Who’s your witness?”

“Ever hear of Federal Marshal Everett T. Brock?”

“Of course. My father spoke of him.” Twisting the dandelion bracelet around and around her wrist, Melora watched his face. “My father said he was as fine a lawman as ever lived. Honest, with good horse sense and a brilliant knowledge of the law. Why?”

“Brock is retired now. Lives in Deadwood. I mean to find him, tell him the whole story, and see if he’ll cooperate when I set Campbell up. If I can get Campbell to confess in front of Brock—” He turned sharply as a twig snapped behind them. Jesse was coming toward them, wearily carrying his hoe.

“How many families do you think will be attending this O’Malley barbecue tonight?” Cal asked his brother.

“Six, seven. Mostly the nearest neighbors this side of the gully.” Jesse tipped his hat to Melora, then surveyed Cal with hopeful eyes. “Can we go?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Jesse gave out a whoop. He grabbed Melora’s arm and spun her around in a quick do-si-do. “You’ll go too, won’t you, Melora?” he asked as she laughed. “Maybe I’ll even save you a dance.”

“Thank you very much, that would be delightful. But I won’t be attending the barbecue.”

“And why the hell not?” Cal swung toward her, his jaw taut.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” She shrugged. “I’d look silly going to a party in your flannel shirt and pants,” she said with a rueful grin. “And my riding habit won’t do either. So—”

“Hold on.” Cal barred her way as she started back toward the house. “What about the rest of those clothes you’ve been carrying in your trunk all across Wyoming? You must have had some dresses packed for your honeymoon.”

She flinched at the word.
Honeymoon.
To think that she’d been planning her honeymoon—looking forward to it—with a murderer and a rustler. It took an effort to answer Cal steadily.

“Silks and satins. Far too fancy for a family barbecue. It’s all right, Cal. I was just teasing you before about dancing and everything. I don’t mind staying home, and you can just tell Dr. Wright if he’s there that I’m under the weather because of my ‘condition.’” She shrugged again. “My evening will be better spent composing a letter to Jinx. I need to let her know that I’m safe. Perhaps you would send it for me next time you go into town?”