Deborah Camp (24 page)

“Aha!” She pointed an accusing finger at him and narrowed her eyes to slits. “I knew it! I tried to make myself believe you were so sweet to me last night because you liked me, but a corner of my mind kept telling me you were just trying to butter me up.”

“Don’t point at me,” he said, batting aside her hand. “Makes me nervous, and last night didn’t have anything
to do with me going with the other men. I didn’t even know they were getting ready to go to market until this morning.”

“But you knew they’d be going pretty soon. You’ve been around ranches enough to know that!”

“Well, what if I did? What’s wrong with me wanting to break out of this prison?”

“This isn’t a prison, but I can arrange to have you put in one if you insist on disobeying me.” The flames of anger flickering in his eyes told her she’d chosen the wrong words.

“Disobeying you? You even talk to me like I’m your little boy.”

“I don’t think of you in those terms.” She folded her arms at her waist and turned aside. “I’ve never thought of you like that.”

“How do you think of me?” He rested his hands on her shoulders and bent his knees to catch her downcast eyes. “Hmmm? Do you trust me?”

“Trust has nothing to do with it.”

“I think it has
everything
to do with it. You don’t think I’ll come back after we get the cattle to market. That’s what you’re worried about, right? You’re afraid I won’t be around to add to the lessons I started last night.”

“L-lessons?” She jerked her chin at him. “Now who’s treating whom like a child? I wasn’t aware I was in school last night. Will I be given an exam at some later date? If I fail it, does that mean you’ll have to discharge me from your institution of higher learning or will you merely give me a warning and—”

“Whoa up,” he said, giving her shoulders a shake. “Lord, when you get wound up, you go off like a top.” His smile was meant to cajole. “
Lessons
was the wrong word, okay? I think we both did some teaching and some learning last night.”

She softened, although she was still wary. “I’m sorry, Grandville, but this is upsetting me.”

“It’s upsetting business, but it doesn’t have to be. Once I’m gone, you’ll probably be glad I’m not underfoot.”

Zanna shook off his hands. “You … aren’t … going,” she said slowly, deliberately.

He released a stream of swearwords as he spun around, whipped off his hat, and flung it into the dirt. “Why not? Give me one good reason why I can’t go to market.”

“Because I don’t want you to go,” she said, her tone placid in comparison to his growling defiance.

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“I don’t have to give a reason. You signed a contract that states—”

“Screw your contract, lady!” He thrust his face so close that she could count his lashes.

“Fine.” Drawing herself up, she tried not to show how deeply he’d hurt her. “The men can drop you off at the sheriff’s when they ride through Scyene. It shouldn’t take long for him to notify the Texas Rangers to come and get you for a hanging.”

“You’d let me hang after last night?” He squinted one eye as if she were a many-faceted diamond he was studying up close.

“Last night did not cancel or abridge our written agreement,” she stated with cool disdain, becoming more and more convinced that last night hadn’t been a revelation for him, but merely a way to get around her iron rule.

“You’re one hard case,” he said, his tone flat. “How could you bed a man you don’t trust?”

“Don’t you dare doubt my motives or my feelings! You just wanted to soften me up so that you could—”

“I’m no miracle worker, honey. It would take one to soften
you
up.”

Zanna drew in a sharp breath, feeling as if Grandy had slipped a knife between her ribs. He grimaced and the meanness went out of his face. He picked up his hat, hit it against his leg to dislodge the dirt, and put it back on with careful, concise deliberation.

“Zanna, I didn’t mean that. You know I was just talking angry, not truthful. Hell, I knew I’d say something to hurt you if I didn’t shut my trap. Let me go with the other men. You don’t want me hanging around here making you miserable, do you?”

She held her chin up high as she strode past him toward the house.

“Zanna! Suzanna!” His voice stung like bees. “Damn you! I’m going, whether you like it or not! Tell the goddamned sheriff and see if that stops me! Damn you, Zanna! Damn you for making me escape instead of letting me go!”

A chorus of birds aroused Zanna. She uncurled her body from the rocker and looked sleepily around her bedroom. The morning light hurt her eyes. Her muscles ached from her awkward position in the rocker. When had she fallen asleep? she wondered. The last she remembered, it had been a few hours before sunrise.

She sat up straight and stretched her arms over her head, then gathered her shawl more tightly around her and went to the window where the birds were perched in the sycamore branches. The sun was well up in the sky. She yawned, taking a deep breath that cleared her mind and sent an alarm through her. It was morning, at least two hours past sunrise. Glory be!

The purpose behind her night vigil slammed into her mind. She’d been afraid to sleep because she’d been certain Grandy would try to escape during the night. A feeling of doom coated her in sticky sweat as she raced from her bedroom, through the house, and out the front door. She hadn’t undressed last night, because she figured she’d have to confront Grandy and she wanted to do that fully clothed. A wind was kicking up from the north, loosing dust devils and tumbleweeds and wrapping Zanna’s long skirts around her legs so that she almost tripped twice on her way to the bunkhouse. The world seemed full of noise as the wind shook treetops and whistled around the buildings.
Everything seemed to be in turmoil, matching her state of mind.

No one was in sight. Panic pushed her heart into her throat as she rounded the side of the bunkhouse. A whimper of relief escaped her when she saw the chuck wagon and horses—hitched, saddled, ready to go. Countess, Grandy’s choice, was among them. She leaned weakly against the animal, holding on to the saddle horn for support.

“You’re still here, still here,” she murmured, taking a few moments to gather her senses and readjust her thinking. There was still time to stop him. But how? Ordering him to stay hadn’t worked. Giving herself to him the night before last hadn’t anchored him. So what? What was she to do? How did a woman entice a man to stay put?

She leaned her forehead against the saddle, feeling the build-up of tears behind her eyes. Duncan would know, she thought. He’d know it was market time. He’d know she would be here alone. Word would reach him. Duncan knew everything.

A gloved hand landed on her shoulder and Zanna screamed before she could stop herself. She whirled to see Grandy’s disconcerted scowl.

“Grandy!”

“Who else?” He glanced at his saddled horse. “I’m going.”

“No.”

“Get out of the way.” He looked around, indicating the other men who were preparing to mount up. “Don’t make a scene, Zanna. Just let me get on my horse. Let me leave with a little dignity.”

She clutched at his rawhide vest and pressed close, her voice pitched for him alone. “Grandville, I’m begging you. Don’t leave me.” Tears blurred her vision and she gathered the rawhide into her fists and clung to him. “Do you hear me? I’m begging,
pleading
with you. You begged me once, remember? You begged me and I caved in and
worked the field by myself. Please, Grandville. Do this for me. Stay with me.”

His hands came up to cover hers and he looked away as if the sight of her tears disturbed him deeply.

“Grandy?” Zanna’s voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. “I don’t want to put you back in jail. I don’t want to see you swinging from the end of a rope. We’re friends. You said we were friends. Be my friend, Grandy,
Please
.”

“For the love of God, Zanna, stop this.” He tried to loosen her hold, but she clung to him. He sighed and looked around helplessly, feeling the stares of the other men. “Zanna, let go,” he ordered, his tone steady and dead-set. “Do you hear me?
Let go
.”

Something in his tone convinced her she should obey. Her hands fell away from him. Her chin slumped to her chest, tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks.

“You go on without me, boys,” Grandy said, removing his hat and gloves, then running a trembling hand through his hair. “I might catch up with you later. Get top dollar, Perkins. Those steers are fat and sassy.”

“Will do.” Perkins climbed into the saddle and signaled the other men to follow suit. “We’ll be back in a few days.”

Zanna nodded, unable to speak as she struggled to keep from sobbing with relief. She listened to the jingle of spurs and harness bits, then the rumble of hooves, but she didn’t look up. She sensed that Grandy was waving to the men, his back to her, his face toward the open spaces for which he longed so desperately.

Grandy grabbed the dangling reins and led Countess over to the hitching post.

“I imagine those men are wondering about you and me, don’t you? I imagine they’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“What’s th-that?” Zanna asked, still not able to look at him.

“That you’re so afraid of being out here alone that you’ll
sell your pride right down the river. They’re probably wondering—just like I’m wondering—what kind of fear would make a proud woman like you plead with a scoundrel like me. If you’re so damn scared to live here, why the hell don’t you sell out and leave?”

Her head came up. “I won’t
ever
do that.”

“Then get used to the fear, darlin’. I’m not going to be joined to you at the hip.” He looked out over the flat land again and heaved a sigh. “Zanna, I’m the kind of man who would rather leave his hide on a fence than stay in a corral.”

“But I need you. I’ve given you a good home, haven’t I?”

“That’s not the point. I don’t like being led around on a short rope. Why don’t you get Booker to come out here and stay with you? I know he’d be tickled pink to oblige.”

“I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“But you don’t care if you get me in trouble?”

“You can handle yourself. Theo can’t.”

He touched his jaw where the skin was still faintly blue from the print of Theo’s knuckles. “There’s more to this than meets the eye.” He started for the house and she followed. “It’s like when you’re fishing and something is stealing the worm off your hook. The fellas fishing alongside you keep saying it’s little bait-stealers, but you get this feeling that it’s a big, old catfish. You just know there’s something mighty big under the surface, no matter what anybody else says.” He held open the front door for her, letting her precede him. “You sat up all night waiting for me to light out, didn’t you?”

“I …” She turned to face him, shaking her head, but unable to come up with a lie.

“Don’t bother denying it. I peeked in on you before sunrise and saw you sleeping in the rocker. And those circles under your eyes didn’t get there because you slept like a baby.” He hung his hat on a peg and went toward the kitchen. “I’ll listen, if you want to talk.”

“You’re staying?”

“I didn’t say that. Right this minute I’m getting me a drink of water, then I’ll sit down and hear you out, and then I’ll probably mount up and try to catch up to the other men.”

Zanna paced, holding herself in check, telling herself she could force him—somehow—to stay. If she had to, she’d get the sheriff to track him down. A deal was a deal. She wouldn’t let him break his word just because she was falling in love …

“Zanna? Who’s out there?”

“What? Who?” Zanna shook her head, knowing that her face was pale and her eyes were wide with shock. Where had that thought come from? she wondered. Why would she think to herself that she was falling in love with Grandville Adams? It wasn’t true. She tried to laugh. Of course it wasn’t true. How foolish! How stupid! How—

“Duncan.”

“What?” She flew to the window to stand beside Grandy. Duncan was tying up his horse and coming up the steps to the porch. “My God! What’s he doing … He must have seen the others riding off and he thinks I’m here by myself.” She backed away from the window as Duncan’s shadow passed over it. A chill seized her, making her shiver. Duncan knocked at me door. Zanna lifted her hands to her lips, pressing her knuckles to her mouth to keep from crying aloud.

“Open up, Suzanna. I know you’re in there. Open up or I’ll knock this damned door down.”

Grandy waited for Zanna, but when she made no move toward the door, he rolled his eyes and threw it open. Duncan’s smirk fell from his thin lips and he narrowed his eyes in a menacing frown.

“Where’s Zanna?”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered by you.” Grandy was pleased to see that he had about two inches of height on Duncan. He grinned, glad he could finally look down at
the man. “I thought that horse grew out of your straddle, Duncan. I figured you two might be like those Siamese twins I’ve heard about.”

Duncan tucked his gloved hands into his belt and screwed up one eye. “Listen here, boy, I’m a man of few words. When I say ‘Git,’ I don’t expect to see nothing but a puff of dirt where you were standing. So
git
before I have to run you over.”

Grandy flicked his gaze over Duncan, sizing him up and then cutting him down. “I’m a man of few words, too. When I shake my head like this”—he demonstrated, wagging his head—“it means I’m not going anywhere.”

Zanna smiled against her knuckles and the love she’d been denying filled her until she was momentarily lightheaded. She moved to stand beside Grandy, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and making both him and Duncan glance at her in surprise.

“What do you want, Duncan?” she asked, calm and self-assured now that she was holding on to a man who wouldn’t back down to a snake like Duncan Hathaway. “You’re interrupting.”

“I’ve come to talk to you about something,” Duncan said, ignoring Grandy now that Zanna had come out of hiding. “I’ve got something to ask you.”