Patricia Potter (28 page)

“I’ve never seen anyone less an invalid.”

He stilled. “You’ve seen me when I’ve had attacks of malaria.”

“You believe Marisa is too shallow and too selfish to love you then?”

His eyes grew even darker. “Marisa is a lot stronger than people believe.”

“She’s just selfish, then?”

“How can you say—” He stopped, finally realizing what Willow was doing. “I won’t expose her to it,” he said.

“And you call me stubborn,” Willow said in disgust.

“You’re changing the subject, as always,” he retorted. “We were talking about you.”

“You
were,” she pointed out.
“I
want to talk about Marisa.”

He grinned suddenly. “I might listen to you if you listen to me.”

Willow glanced at him suspiciously. It sounded to her like a very bad bargain. Sullivan would get the best of it. But perhaps he would start thinking seriously about Marisa.

“I might
consider
it, if you will,” she said. “And in the meantime I have to get home.”

Sullivan frowned. “You will be careful?”

“I’ll be very careful. And you’ll be at the meeting tonight?”

“You know about the meeting?”

“I guessed.”

“One thing about you, Willow, you’ve certainly increased the number of town meetings since you arrived.”

She grinned. “You’ll defend me as usual?”

He shook his head. “This time…”

“Thank you, Sullivan,” she said as she climbed onto the buggy seat, obviously ignoring his reservations. “You’re a good friend.”

He stared at her with frustration. “I don’t know…” But he was speaking to empty air with a mouthful of dust, and he hoped like hell he was wrong about the heartbreak he thought she was courting.

M
ARISA BIDED HER
time nearly all day Monday. It seemed as if she was never left unguarded. Cady was her only chance for escape, and she could never find him alone.

She fumed and worried and paced nervously.

Everything was changing for the worse. A whole new breed of men was taking over Newton. The gunfighter Saturday night at the dance. Lobo. Keller. Men with hard eyes and cold voices. And her father was responsible for bringing them there.

She had to find out why.

Again she thought of Lobo. An ambush. She really shouldn’t care. He was one of them. But for some reason she did. Perhaps because of Willow. He had, after all, apparently taken up Willow’s cause. Though why, she couldn’t figure. He hadn’t seemed interested when she had talked to him when he’d first come to Newton. He had scared her as much as Canton had at the dance.

But an ambush. The thought of her father being involved in one hurt to the core. Whatever else he’d been—hard, often ruthless—he’d always been honorable.

And if she told Lobo or Willow about a planned ambush, would the man named Lobo come after her father in retaliation? Could she ever live with that if he did?

Sullivan. He would know what to do.

She tried several times to go to the corral, but each time she ran into Keller or one of the other new hands she was afraid she couldn’t manage. She didn’t like the speculative way they stared at her. Even Lobo hadn’t leered at her in that knowing, waiting way.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that she found her way open. Willow would have left the schoolhouse for her ranch, but Sullivan would be there unless he was away on a call. Please, she prayed to God. Please let him be there.

Fixing her most innocent expression in place, she wandered down to the barn. Cady was there, mucking out the stalls.

“Miss Marisa,” he said, his hand touching the brim of his hat in respect.

“Good afternoon, Cady. Isn’t it a lovely day. Just perfect for riding.”

“Now, Miss Marisa, you know your father’s orders.”

“Of course,” she said, “but I’d hoped you could go with me. Just for a little while,” she wheedled.

He’d never been able to resist her, and he couldn’t then. Marisa felt only a twinge of guilt as Cady saddled her horse and helped her up into the saddle.

“Where to, Miss Marisa?”

“Toward town,” she said.

He looked doubtful for a moment, then shrugged as she gave him her most pleading smile.

The day was bright. The sky was a clear blue, and the land shimmered under the sun. She knew she should hope for rain; they all needed it, particularly those who didn’t have access to the river. All the streams had dried up, and the few farms in the area were suffering. Still, since she could do nothing about creating rain, she would enjoy these minutes of freedom. She didn’t know whether she’d get out again after the day’s adventure.

Nearly halfway to town Cady started protesting. But she flashed him a smile. “I need to see Dr. Barkley.”

His mouth instantly pursed into concern. “Somethin’ wrong?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Just a headache. I thought he might have a powder.”

“But your father…”

Marisa merely spurred her horse ahead, setting a pace that made talking nearly impossible. She continued it until they reached Sullivan’s office. She didn’t wait for Cady to help her dismount. She slid down on her own.

“I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” she said, and hurried toward Sullivan’s office, opening the door without knocking, and closing it before Cady could enter.

Sullivan looked up from a chair, where he was sitting, reading a book, and his face looked both concerned and delighted when he saw her. “Anything wrong?”

“Everything,” she said, moving toward him, her gaze on his face. She reached out a hand to him, and he took it, holding tight.

“Tell me.”

Doubt suddenly assailed her. Was she betraying her father? Or would she be betraying others if she didn’t warn Willow?

“It’ll be all right,” Sullivan said in the deep voice that was at once assuring and strong. “Whatever it is…”

And then she was in his arms, feeling as if she belonged there. He was holding her tightly, his strength radiating into her. She remained still for several minutes, wanting the comfort, the instant, sure knowledge that Sullivan could work everything out.

His hand soothed her hair, and then moved to her chin, bringing it upward until her gaze once more met his. “What is it?” he repeated.

“Is it true…that…that the man named Lobo has gone over to Willow?”

“Yes,” he replied grimly.

“Why?”

He tensed. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I did.”

“I keep remembering the time I met him. He was rude and…even nasty, but he didn’t…make me cold like some of the others.”

“He’s a strange man,” Sullivan said. “Chad practically worships him, and even Esteile tolerates him.” He was quiet for a moment. “God knows I don’t understand him or why he helped Willow when he was supposed to be working for your father. And I don’t know why Willow trusts him as much as she does.”

“And you don’t?” Marisa asked softly.

“Can’t say that I do. No matter what he’s done for Willow, he’s trouble, Marisa. Pure and simple. And I don’t think Willow has any idea how much.”

Marisa bit the corner of her lip. “Father’s men are going to ambush him. I heard them talking.”

Sullivan groaned. “Willow said your father’s men tried to burn down her barn last night. It’s starting, Marisa, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“I know,” Marisa said. “I heard them talking, and I tried to leave to warn Willow, but…my father won’t let me ride alone anymore.”

Sullivan’s mouth became even grimmer. “How did you get here?”

“Cady,” she said. “He’s outside now, probably having fits.”

He nodded slowly. He’d treated Cady’s back problems.

“I didn’t think Papa would go this far,” Marisa said in a sad, soft voice.

Sullivan’s arms went around her and tightened, and her head settled against his heart. She took comfort in the quiet, steady beat, in the whisper of his warm breath across her cheek. She looked up, and their eyes locked, his steady gray ones worried but also filled with protectiveness.

“I wish I knew why,” she continued. “Then maybe I could do something.”

“I don’t know if anyone can do anything now,” Sullivan said slowly.

“But do
you
know why?” she insisted. “I know it has something to do with my mother, but that’s all.”

Sullivan tightened his grip. “All I know is he blames Gar for your mother’s death.”

“What should we do about Willow and…that man? The ambush?”

Sullivan hesitated. “We have to warn them.”

“Do you…think he might go after Father?”

“I won’t tell him who’s behind it. Just that I heard some men talking about killing a famous gunfighter. God knows, that’s an occupational hazard for someone like him. From what I’ve heard of the man, it’ll be enough information.”

There was a knocking on the door. “Miss Marisa!” Cady’s voice was loud and insistent.

Sullivan raised an eyebrow.

“I’d better go,” Marisa said, her voice wistful.

Sullivan held her tight, looking down into misting brown eyes.

“Miss Marisa!”

“I have to go,” she whispered again. “But I’m going to try to talk to Gar Morrow. Maybe there’s some way we can stop this.”

“Not if the drought continues and Gar uses Willow’s land,” Sullivan said bleakly. “I don’t know if anything could stop it then.”

“Sullivan…?” There was a soft, pleading note in her voice, and it was all he could do not to lean down and kiss away the worry on her face. But he feared starting something he couldn’t stop. And then he recalled his earlier conversation with Willow. Was she right?

He couldn’t resist any longer. He lowered his head, and his lips touched hers lightly. Feeling her response, he deepened his kiss, and he tasted the exotic blend of hunger and innocence. Her mouth, her lips, her body, felt so good against his. Soft and yielding. He felt things he hadn’t felt for years, excitement and desire and wondering delight. There was a deep ache in his loins, a stirring of something more than desire, of the need to have and protect and cherish and love. He had been alone for a long time and, because of the malaria, had long ago abandoned once-cherished thoughts of a wife and children. Now fierce and raging in their strength, they flooded his consciousness, drowning everything else, every reservation he had. There was only sweetness, such incredible sweetness, and his need for her.

“Miss Marisa!”

The pounding on the door was even louder, more insistent, and Sullivan knew in a moment the door would fly open. He reluctantly took his lips from Marisa’s mouth and stepped back. “You’d better go,” he said.

Her eyes were shining, her lips pursed seductively, red and swollen from his kiss. She looked so lovely, and there was a certain awe in her face, all directed toward him. “We’ll talk later,” he said softly.

She nodded and stepped away as the door opened and Cady stood there, his face red as he glanced from Sullivan to Marisa. She saw understanding dawn on Cady’s face, then sympathy.

“We better go, Miss Marisa,” he said slowly. “Your father will be as mad as a pricked wild hog.”

Marisa nodded slowly as her gaze met Sullivan’s. There was something different about his eyes. There was promise there. Despite everything, she felt a glow inside, a happiness that countered all the worry and fear and apprehension of the past several days.

“Everything will be all right,” Sullivan said. “I promise.”

And Marisa knew that it would. She looked up at the gentle eyes and strong face, a face lined with pain that made it only more dear to her, and she felt safe and wanted. She felt she could do anything, be anything for him.

She nodded, her eyes saying more than words could. She, too, was making promises.

He smiled, and she thought the whole world was shining.

Then Cady’s hand tugged hers, and they left. Only then did her eyes survey the street, the strange faces, the increasing number of men. Only then did she see their measuring looks, and was jolted back to reality.

17

E
stelle watched the two men from the ranch-house porch.

Both Brady and the newcomer were working on the barn doors. The building appeared almost complete now.

Strange how comforting the newcomer’s presence was. She had been frightened the first time she saw him, the day he had rescued Sallie Sue. But later, though he was silent to the point of rudeness, there was something about him that she trusted.

He was an outsider, too. She had recognized that right away. He looked on others with wariness. And she recognized something else, a friendlessness that was so much a part of her until Willow came into her life.

It was odd that she could feel sympathy for a man, for an outlaw, for that’s what she understood he was. Well, she had walked outside the law, too, not from choice, but from necessity, and she wondered if he also had had no choice.