Fires of Paradise (9 page)

"Probably only ninety, Grandpa."

Lucy lifted the hem of her skirts and ran.

Derek was preoccupied in the south paddock, and this was her chance. She was going to find out why he was here. She had a terrible suspicion. No one must see her, of course, but all the hands were still out on the range. She darted onto the porch of the whitewashed bunkhouse with the bright red door and paused, panting. She heard footsteps and froze. The door opened, and she came face-to-face with Wally. "Miss Lucy!" "Wally!"

"Howdy, gal. What are you doing down here?"

Lucy thought fast.' 'Grandpa asked me to come and check on the new hand, to see if he needs anything. He's hurt."

"Yeah, guess so. He's inside." Wally gestured and waddled off.

Lucy took a breath. Then, trembling, she stepped inside. With five bunk beds pushed up against the walls of the house, ten cowboys could bunk here comfortably. A round table with five chairs was in the center of the room, an iron stove with two more chairs in a corner. Another corner housed a sink and mirror, and a bathroom with showers was to the left. All the hands ate together in a communal dining room in another building. The DM had about fifty men and boys employed on the premises. This did not include the help up at the house, or those employed in the iron mines, the freight lines, the oil well, or in the many Bragg-owned businesses in town.

Any concern she might have had for her enemy's injuries vanished the moment she saw him.

He was grinning. Like a lion licking his chops. Shoz sat at the table, his booted feet kicked up on the top, a cigar in his mouth, coffee in his hand. He'd obviously heard her outside. He set the mug down.

Lucy saw that they were alone. He didn't look ill. She glared at him and slammed the door shut, advancing toward him. "What are you doing here!"

His feet hit the floor with a thud. "Hello, princess. Real sympathetic woman, aren't you?"

"Go to hell!"

"I don't doubt I will. No tender inquiries about my poor battered face?"

"None! How dare you! How dare you!" Lucy cried.

"I dare pretty much what I please, Miss Bragg."

His snide tone wasn't lost on her. "How dare you get a job here! I told you to leave town!"

He caught her hand and his smile reappeared. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled her toward him, and then she was in his lap.

"Let me up!"

His arms went around her, holding her flush against him, her legs dangling over the side of the chair. She wore pretty little orange booties with a dozen pearl buttons. "Nobody tells me what to do," he said, as if she weren't struggling wildly.

"You took the money!"

He stared at her mouth.

She stopped wriggling. Her heart pounded against her breast. "You want more."

"Yes," he said softly. "More, a lot more." His hand slipped into the nape of her hair, which was pinned up. Abruptly the huge mass came spilling down. Lucy didn't move. Beneath her buttocks, she felt him—all of him.

"But not money," he said.

His tone was low and sexy. His gaze was utterly compelling, mesmerizing. It took a great effort for Lucy to tear herself free of the spell he'd cast, but she did, lunging to her feet.

She stumbled away from him. "You have such audac-ity."

He smiled, enjoying his power. "You'd like it if you let yourself, honey."

It was a battle, and she had almost given him a victory. "And what if I tell my grandfather that you grabbed me?"

"And what if I say you came here, looking for me—and that we're
old
friends?" he replied coolly.

There was no mistaking what he meant. It had been her horrible suspicion all along. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To blackmail me. Isn't it?"

He squinted at her, his bruised face not revealing anything.

"There's no other reason for you to be here," Lucy accused. "You're a monster. A despicable, low-down monster. ''

"You didn't seem to think so the other night. Not the way you were carrying on."

He would, of course, bring up that one damn indiscretion; he had not one shred of decency. She glanced wildly around, but no one was outside listening; they were still alone.

"You seduced me!" she cried. "I was upset, stranded, without a protector—and you seduced me!" "And you liked every moment." "I want you off of this ranch." "I'll bet you do." "How much more do you want?" He kicked back the chair furiously. Lucy jumped backward. She rushed for the door when she realized he was coming after her. The look on his face told her she was in

dire jeopardy.

"I don't want your goddamn money!"

She rushed outside.

"Run!" he flung after her. "Run as far as you can, Miss Bragg! But it won't be far enough, and you damn well know it!"

Chapter 12

Shoz had moved to his bunk. He'd taken the upper one even though the bottom one was free, because he didn't want his ability to move to be restricted. Now he sat on his bed, back against the wall, one knee up, listening to the sounds of the ranch hands outside approaching the bunk-house.

The door opened and the men started filing in. Six of them, mostly young cowboys between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. They all regarded him openly, with more than unabashed curiosity, as if looking at a rare reptile in a zoo. Shoz steadily stared back. No one said hello. He hadn't expected them to. Instead, they all exchanged "what's this?" glances.

If he were white, they'd have said hello and offered him smokes and whiskey and invited him to join in the game of cards that was now about to start at the center table.

He had another headache. It wasn't a good feeling, not being in the best of shape, knowing he could not handle a situation the way he normally would. Not that there would be trouble here. He knew a man like Bragg made rules that were not broken. The men might not accept him or like him, but they wouldn't start anything.

It was unnaturally quiet in the bunkhouse. The hands, all six of them, began a game of five-card stud, pulling up an extra chair from in front of the stove. The lone chair left there seemed annoyingly symbolic. Shoz lay back on his bunk, hands beneath his head. He wondered how a man like Derek Bragg could be related to a spoiled brat like the princess.

"Hello," Miranda said, smiling, stepping within. A tray was in her hands with a big bowl of steaming soup, a cloth napkin, silverware, and a covered breadbasket. Shoz could smell the chicken from across the cabin. A Mexican woman followed her with a plate of cookies—he could smell them, too, still fresh from the oven.

A chorus of greetings came from the cowboys. Miranda looked from them, seated around the table, to Shoz, who was now sitting up on the bunk. She turned to the young woman behind her. "Maria, put the cookies down for the men, and thank you."

Maria did so and left.

Miranda approached Shoz, inspecting him from his head to his toes, not critically, just thoroughly. Shoz stiffened in astonishment when he realized what was happening. She had come to bring him soup!

"Hello," she said. "Derek didn't tell me that the new hand was the man who gave the girls a ride."

Shoz just looked at her.

"I brought you some homemade soup; it cures just about everything." She smiled warmly and set the tray down on the lower bunk. "Would you mind coming down here, young man? I want to look at your eye, and more especially your head."

Shoz blushed. It had been years since he'd done so. He slipped off the upper bunk, still dwarfing the tiny woman. "I'm fine, ma'am," he said awkwardly.

She was already gently probing the back of his head. He winced. "Oh my, what a lump. You will not work for a few days," she said. There was no question that that was an order, one Shoz knew was not refutable.

But he tried. "Ma'am, really, I'm fine, aside from having a small headache. I can pull my weight around here." He flashed her his rare, disarming smile.

"If you are too proud to stay abed, you can help me up at the house with some
very
lightweight chores. Don't argue with me, young man," she said as Shoz began to protest. "Even my husband knows better than to argue with me," she added softly. "Turn your head."

He did. Her touch was as soft as the petals of hothouse flowers. Shoz didn't move while she touched his face, inspected his eye, and clucked with regret. It had been so long. She was treating him exactly the way his own mother would, and for some unfathomable reason, it brought a lump to his throat.

She picked up the tray and pushed it into his hands. "Now. Eat the soup, all of it, get into bed and rest. Tomorrow report to me at the house at nine, no earlier. I will tell Jim you'll be working for me for a few days." She patted his arm and turned away.

She said a few words to each of the cowboys before she left. Shoz gazed after her.

"Someone's got it made, don't they?"

"Yeah, a little tap to the eyeball an' you get to laze around the big house all day! Want to give me a shiner, Lew?"

"Laze around the house all day! What I wouldn't give to be up there next to Miss Lucy!"

At least two groans greeted this remark.

Shoz was expressionless. He set down his tray, walked over to the table, and reached between two of the men for a cookie. He popped it into his mouth and chewed it with relish. Then he took another one. "You want a shiner," he said, "I can give it to you. No problem." He smiled, his good eye as cold as steel.

Thereafter they ignored him. Which was just as well. He ignored them, too.

"Lucy, why didn't you tell me Shoz was the one who brought you and Joanna to Paradise?"

Lucy swallowed. How had he found out! She had been summoned by her grandfather, and now she darted a glance at Miranda. "It didn't seem important," she said lamely. Had Shoz revealed this information? She was sure he had, just as she was sure that he was playing with her like a cat with a mouse. Why else would he be here if he didn't want money?

"What are you hiding?" Derek asked. "Today you acted like you'd never seen the man before."

"I didn't say I didn't know him, Grandpa." Lucy flashed a smile. "I just didn't tell you because it didn't seem important. But really, you should know, he's one of those vagrant tramps, not at all the sort you should employ here on the ranch."

"You should not judge people like that, Lucy," Miranda said firmly. "Especially not a man who was nice enough to give you a ride when you desperately needed it."

Lucy's mouth was set in a firm line, but she said nothing. How was he worming his way into their esteem? It was unfair—it was incredible!

"If he was unemployed, it wasn't his fault," Derek said. "This depression has been ruining hundreds of thousands of good, honest workers. And honey—" he patted her arm "—now he's got a job, so you can't go calling him a tramp."

Lucy managed a weak smile.

"What do you think of Shoz, Derek?" Miranda asked.

"I think he's stubborn as a mule with mettle made from steel. I think he's got a chip on his shoulder bigger than all of Texas. He sure as hell has too much pride for his own good. And I'm sure he's one hard worker."

Lucy turned away, toying with some porcelain and bric-a-brac on a side table.

"They don't accept him, you know," Miranda said. "They were all playing cards and he was sitting by himself, looking so proud and so alone."

Derek frowned. "I can only make the rules, sweetheart, I can't change men's minds."

"I hate prejudice," Miranda said fiercely. "And hypocrisy. They condemn him—while every one of them knows you are half-Apache yourself."

"It's because I look white," Derek said easily. "Besides—" he grinned "—I pay their salaries."

Lucy decided she just couldn't listen to any more. "Would you mind? I'm going upstairs to read."

Shoz trudged up to the house the next morning just before nine. He'd been up for hours, but hadn't dared go sooner, for fear of disturbing Mrs. Bragg. He had his hands jammed in his pockets, feeling foolish. The sun beat down on his back, blazingly hot already, and humid. It was going to be a bitch of a day.

He knocked on the front door and was greeted by Miranda

herself.

"Prompt," she remarked, her eyes twinkling. "Good morning, Shoz. How did you sleep?" She was already moving briskly down the hall, and he followed, remembering to take his hat off just in time.

He said, to her tiny back, "Fine, thank you, ma'am."

She pushed through the door to the kitchen, where lunch was already being prepared for the family. Maria was drying the breakfast dishes, another girl was cutting up a chicken. "Coffee?" Miranda asked.

"I already ate, ma'am."

She shoved a bowl of pea pods into his hands. "Then you can shell these," she said, moving to a dicing board, where she rapidly began slicing carrots.

He blinked. Shell peas? She wanted him to shell peas? He felt foolish enough, and now he felt all of ten or twelve. She glanced at him. "You do know how, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, hanging his hat on a peg on the wall. He began shelling peas.

Everyone worked in silence, Maria humming a pleasant tune. It was quiet and comfortable and comforting in the kitchen. Miranda reminded him of his mother, although they were nothing alike. Candice was much younger, for one, and tall and voluptuous and blond. But it went beyond the physical differences; Candice was softer, gentler. It didn't matter; he got the same warm feelings from Miranda that he got from his own mother. It was very disconcerting, yet very soothing, too.

Miranda finished dicing and left the kitchen. Shoz kept shelling the peas, somewhat clumsily. When he heard a gasp, he looked up to meet Lucy's surprised gaze. All he could think of was how idiotic he felt to be caught shelling peas.

Lucy glanced at Maria and Anna, then stepped closer, furious. Her voice was barely a whisper. "What are you doing in
here?"

He gestured to the bowl. "What does it look like?"

Lucy looked over her shoulder toward the open doorway where her grandmother had disappeared. Both Maria and Anna were now regarding them with avid curiosity. "Come outside with me," she ordered in a low voice.

Of course, the two maids could hear every word.
"Anything
you
want,
Miss Bragg."

She hurried to the back door, then held it open, making sure he preceded her. In the backyard she grabbed his arm and dragged him behind some bushes.

"Can't wait to get me alone?" Shoz grinned. "Can't wait to continue where we left off yesterday?"

Her hands flew to her hips. "You know I can't wait for you to ride out of Paradise—and out of my life!"

"Am I in your life?"

"Oh!
You know I didn't mean it that way!"

"You did," he stated, his eyes smoky. "You sure as hell did."

"Think what you want—you will anyway," Lucy cried. "First you stay in town, then you come to the ranch, now you're in the
housel
What are you doing? What do you want?"

Shoz smiled. "Better control that red temper, princess, or someone will hear you, and you're going to have a lot of explaining to do."

She clenched her fists. She knew he enjoyed annoying her, that he did it on purpose, and she should refrain from taking the bait. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

She looked at him. His low, sexy tone did just what he wanted it to do, it sent a tingle along her spine and raised some vivid, hot memories. She took a breath. "Did you tell Grandpa that it was you who brought me and Joanna to town?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Someone did!"

"Take my advice, princess, and calm the hell down. The only one who's going to reveal your deep, dark secrets is you, yourself."

She looked at him.

He jammed his hand in his back pocket and came out with a folded note. "Here." He shoved it in her hand. "Something you seemed to have forgotten in the Governor's Suite a couple of days ago."

Lucy glanced wildly around, afraid someone had heard. She looked at the paper; it was her banker's draft. And when she looked up, he was gone, striding back into the house. The screen door banged shut behind him.