Angel Creek (23 page)

Sometimes she thought about riding up to the
Double C and telling him that she had changed her mind, that she was willing to marry him if he was still interested. She would play the scene through in her mind right up to the part where he accepted; then her pride would reject the idea, and she knew she would hate herself if she did it. She had always planned to live alone, enjoyed living alone. She still did enjoy her life, but for the first time she wanted more.

She wanted Lucas. It wasn't just physical, though she yearned for the smell and touch of him, for the release given by his driving possession. She wanted more. She had never had an entire night with him, only a few stolen hours. She had never faced a dawn after sheltering the dark hours in his arms, or watched him shave. She wanted years of thunderous arguments; living with a man like Lucas would keep her on her toes. He would ride roughshod over a woman who didn't stand up to him. It was a kind of strength she had never before seen in a man; she was used to doing the intimidating. Lucas not only matched her, he gave her an unspoken compliment by not holding himself back as if she were a frail flower who would collapse under the storm of his temper.

If he married her in order to get Angel Creek, she would have those years she coveted, but she wouldn't have his love, and she wouldn't have self-respect.

Yet she loved him, and he needed her. Rather, he needed her land.

She looked at her garden. The plants were strong and green, just beginning to bear fruit with the long summer weeks of ripening ahead. Despite the lack of rain they were flourishing, fed by the creek that kept the rich soil moist.

Perhaps Lucas could move some of his cattle into the valley. A fence could be built around the cabin and garden to protect them. He couldn't bring the cattle over the pass, but it would only take a couple of days to bring a herd around the base of the mountain. She saw no reason why he wouldn't agree to the plan; the cattle could even winter there.

If necessary, if he refused to accept the favor, she would sell Angel Creek to him. It would be like selling part of her heart, but she couldn't stand by and let his cattle die when she had the means of preventing it.

Accepting that was a blow that made her eyes sting as she looked around at her home. Saying that she loved it only scratched the surface. Over the years as she had worked the soil, coaxed life out of it, she had found a contentment that went deeper than love. It wasn't just the satisfaction of making things grow, it was everything about Angel Creek, the utter perfection of it. Her soul had taken root there, sinking deep into the earth. She could live in other places, but none would ever be like this, where she so completely, overwhelmingly
fit.

Yet for Lucas she would give it up.

He had such big dreams, such towering ambitions. He'd achieve them, too, if the Double C survived this drought. Colorado was on the verge of statehood, and he was on the verge of putting his plans into action. He deserved the chance to do it. Men like Lucas were different from other men; he was a leader, a man who got things done.

She had never been to the Double C, never been up to the narrow pass Lucas used to enter the valley. Except for her trips into town she hadn't strayed from
Angel Creek since the day her family had first settled on it. Even if she had been familiar with the way to the Double C she wouldn't have gone, for the mere fact that she had visited Lucas Cochran would be so out of character for her that immediately her relationship with him would have been suspected. Regardless of that, she would go to the ranch and tell him her decision.

After all, it was the way she lived that had necessitated secrecy, for anything less than a spotless reputation would have endangered her. A woman alone couldn't take too many precautions. But if she lived in town, she wouldn't have to be so careful. She and Lucas could be discreet about the extent of their intimacy, but they wouldn't have to conceal their relationship entirely. That was assuming, of course, that they would even have a relationship after Lucas had gotten what he wanted from her, namely Angel Creek.

It was afternoon, and the sun was searing when she finished her chores and went inside to wash off in cool water. Now that she had faced what she had to do in order to live with herself she was restless, filled with impatience to get it over with. Maybe Lucas would accept her offer to graze his cattle in the valley, and she wouldn't have to uproot herself. If he insisted on buying the land, she wanted to get it over and done with, like a dose of bitter medicine.

After washing she changed into clean clothes and stood for a minute looking around. The next couple of hours would decide if she lived here or not, and for a moment the idea of leaving was so hard to bear that she let her head drop forward as she fought tears.

Then a sound made her lift her head, listening. That sounded like cattle bawling. And thunder; she thought she heard thunder. Hope rising, she went to the window and bent to look out. Not a cloud in sight. The bull and both cows were placidly grazing, but she still heard cattle bawling, or something that sounded like it.

She stepped out on the porch, her head tilted to the side as she listened curiously. Her gaze settled on a cloud of dust that was rising above the trees, and she stared at it blankly for a moment before an expression of horror crossed her face. She darted back inside, got the shotgun, and crammed her pockets full of extra shells.

The first of the cattle came into view. Knowing she didn't have a moment to waste, she put the shotgun to her shoulder and fired just over their heads, hoping to spook them the other way.

The cattle milled around in confusion, excited by the smell of water but nervous at the boom of the shotgun. She shot the other barrel and quickly reloaded, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she felt sick. If the cattle got into the garden, they would destroy it.

“Put the shotgun down,” Kyle Bellamy yelled. He rode toward her, a rifle in his hands. “The cattle are going through here.”

“Not on my land,” she replied fiercely. The valley was narrow, and the cabin was close to the mouth of it; he'd have to herd the cattle right between the cabin and the barn, and the unprotected garden was right behind the cabin. What the cattle didn't trample, they'd eat.

The herd hadn't turned. She fired again, and this time she aimed low enough to hit the cattle. At that distance the buckshot stung without doing a lot of damage, and the cattle bawled in panic, turning sharply away from both the noise and the pain. The leading edge of the herd turned back into the others. She shot a fourth time, and they began bolting.

A rifle cracked, and the wood behind her splintered.

She dodged back into the cabin and slammed the door, hurriedly ramming shells into the shotgun as she did so. With a quick swing of the barrel she knocked the glass out of the window and shot again.

Cursing with every breath, Kyle shot back. “Get the cattle!” he yelled at his men. “Goddammit, turn them around.”

Some of the men were already trying. Others had drawn their pistols at the sound of gunfire. They all knew about the Swann woman, knew she tended to greet people with a shotgun. She'd even peppered a few men who'd tried to keep company with her, the bad-tempered bitch. She shouldn't treat people like that. If the boss was intending to give her a taste of her own medicine, that was fine with them. Sporadically at first, then with increasing regularity, they began shooting at the cabin.

Luis reined his horse off to the side, his lean, dark face taut with anger and his hand on his pistol butt. He didn't know what the hell had gotten into Bellamy, but he didn't intend to make war on a lone woman.

He was good with a pistol, but not good enough to take on twenty men in a blood lust. For a split second he considered killing Bellamy, then realized that
wouldn't stop it. He didn't have a lot of time to get help before the sons of bitches either killed the woman or overran her cabin and raped her; he'd seen enough blood lust to know that it wouldn't make any difference to them which it was.

The cattle were stampeding wildly, panicked by the gunfire, maddened by the smell of water. A thick cloud of dust billowed over everything, cutting visibility. Luis went with the cattle, yelling to agitate them even more, then finally broke free to turn his horse toward Prosper.

He rode the animal hard even in the heat, and it was white with lather by the time he reined it to a halt in front of the marshal's office. He jumped down, his booted feet thudding on the sidewalk as he shoved the door open. The office was empty.

The most logical place to look was the saloon. If the marshal wasn't there, someone would likely know his whereabouts.

But the marshal was nowhere in sight when he entered the saloon. “Where's Marshal Cobb?” he asked of anyone in the saloon.

“Don't rightly know,” a man said. Luis recognized him as a shopkeeper.

“I thought I heard he's visitin' his daughter up Denver way for a few days,” another said. “You got trouble?”

“Bellamy's trying to run his cattle into the Swann woman's valley,” Luis said curtly. “There's shooting going on, and it'll be either a raping or a killing if it isn't stopped.”

Everyone in the saloon was silent. Luis looked around at the men, but none of them were jumping to
help. “Since the marshal's gone, are any of you willing to help that woman?”

Eyes shifted away. For the most part the men in the saloon at that time of day were townsfolk, merchants and clerks. They hadn't cleaned their weapons in years. If a bunch of rowdy cowhands had gone wild, they weren't going to stick their noses into it, at least as long as it stayed out of town. It wasn't like Dee Swann was a friend or anything; she always kept to herself.

Ranchers would have had weapons handy and been willing to help, but there weren't any ranchers in the saloon. They were too busy during the day doing what they could to keep their cattle alive. Luis turned away in disgust, his dark eyes going cold.

“Wait,” Tillie said, hurrying toward him. She stepped out on the sidewalk, her hand on his arm. She looked pale. “Lucas Cochran on the Double C will help.”

“She doesn't have that kind of time,” Luis said harshly.

Tillie's brown eyes were huge and anguished. “Then you go back and help her, and I'll ride to the Double C.”

Luis gave a brief nod, already turning away. “You'd better hurry.”

He cut overland, pushing his tired horse hard and coming in from the side. He could still hear gunfire, which meant that the woman was holding her own. Despite his grimness his mouth twisted in a grin. She must be a real hellcat. A woman like that deserved all the help she could get.

He left his horse and worked his way the last
hundred yards on foot, choosing a thick stand of trees for cover. Bellamy and his men had pretty well settled in their own cover and were taking their time squeezing off shots at the cabin. Some kept trying to work their way around and catch her from behind, but the cabin was in a large clear area, and there wasn't a lot of cover for them to use. The woman was a good shot. She was using a rifle now and was moving from window to window.

Luis considered his strategy. He didn't care about keeping either his identity or his position hidden; his only objective was to help the Swann woman prevent them from overrunning her cabin, or maybe turning the cattle back onto her land. It might even help if Bellamy's men knew he was helping her; though he had lived a calm life in Colorado, his skill with a pistol was well known. It might make some of them reconsider if they knew he was waiting for them.

Time was both their ally and their enemy. If he and the woman could hold off long enough, the Double C men would be able to get there. If aid didn't arrive by nightfall, then Bellamy's men would be able to reach the cabin undetected.

With that in mind, he cooly began choosing his targets. His purpose wasn't to keep them pinned down, but to rebalance the odds in his favor as much as he could. If a man was dead or severely wounded, then you didn't have to worry about him even in the dark. His mouth moved into a thin, cold smile. Hell, he'd spent enough time in Colorado anyway.

Tillie didn't take the time to change into riding clothes or to ask permission to borrow the nearest
horse. By the time Luis was galloping out of town in one direction she was galloping in the other. Her garish short skirt made it possible for her to ride astride, though her legs were bared from the knee down. She glimpsed several shocked faces as she raced out of town but didn't spare a thought for the picture she made.

Her heart was pounding as hard as the horse's hooves on the packed earth. Oh, Kyle! she thought. Why had he done it? She would have lent him the money; no one would ever have known, and he could have kept his ranch, kept his dream of being a prosperous, respected rancher. Now he had attacked Dee Swann, and the townspeople would never forget, never accept him. It didn't matter that he had done it out of desperation; he would be condemned. And if Lucas Cochran didn't get there before Dee was raped or murdered, Kyle would be hanged.

The saddle leather rubbed raw patches on the insides of her tender thighs, but she didn't dare slow down, not when every minute counted. It would take Lucas a long time to get to Angel Creek anyway, maybe too long. At least Dee had Fronteras helping her now—unless they were both killed.

The horse began to tire. Panic welled up in her, but she refrained from kicking the poor beast. If she killed it by running it too hard in this heat, she would never reach the Double C in time. But the urge to hurry beat within her like bird wings until her head echoed with the refrain,
Hurry, before it's too late.
Too late for Dee, too late for Kyle . . . too late for herself.

Then she saw the ranch buildings. The Double C
ranch house was two-storied, with a white-columned porch wrapped all the way around it. She didn't pull on the reins until she reached it, and the exhausted horse stumbled clumsily.