Sundown (13 page)

“Let’s have it, Mamie girl.”  He whispered gently.  Temporarily forgetting his troubles concerning his brother, he focused on the foal which was about to enter a new world.

After supper, Jake and Trig washed up, planning to head into town, while Jude ate with Sam at the dining table sipping coffee and listening to the women chatter. 

Jude smiled.  They got along well, Arabella and Jenny, almost like sisters.  He was relieved his sister-in-law had finally found a companion, someone she could confide in.

“Do you think he’s ready for his supper?”  Jenny wondered aloud, looking back at Jude.

“He won’t leave the barn, not with the mare foaling.”  Jude returned, looking out the window toward the barn.  With a firm voice, he almost laughed.  “It’s probably best if you take a plate out to him.”

Jenny shook her head. 

Thinking for a moment, she smiled.

“Bella, would you do me a favor?”  She pitched her voice.  Looking over her shoulder, she nudged her head toward the dishes still waiting in the water.  “Jude can help me with the dishes.  Why don’t you take a hot plate out to him before he withers away?”

Arabella stiffened.

She did not like the idea at all. 

Bray Hanly was rude and an insufferable man.  Besides this, he was a complete mystery to her, which made her feel extremely uncomfortable.  Nonetheless, she did not want to offend her host.  Reaching for the warming plate sitting on the potbelly stove, she managed to issue a plucky smile.

“Don’t worry, Bella.”  Jude laughed.  “His bark is much worse than his bite.  If he gets out of hand, just do what I do.  Recite a few passages from the bible, and that should set him on the defensive.”

The barn was dim, but Arabella still managed to see by shards of light, which seeped through uneven slats within the building wall.  As soon as she adjusted her eyes, she spotted the glow of candlelight coming from the second stall. 

Tiptoeing across the barn floor, she nearly gasped at the sight before her.  There in the stall was a young foal attempting to stand on its hind legs, while its mother gently nuzzled and nickered at her young.

At first, she did not see him. 

Standing just behind her, he hid in the shadows.  When she peered over the railing, his voice startled her with its sound of wonder.

“She’d imprinting the foal.”  She heard him explain.  “You best stand back, and watch from here.  Let nature take its course.”

Arabella turned her head.  She could barely make out his face, but she could see the whites of his eyes glittering with content.  Heeding his advice, she slowly stepped back, easing into the shadows, she soon forgot her mission. 

Utterly fascinated, she watched as the newborn foal finally wobbled onto its hind legs, shakily at first, but then soon overcame its weakened stance, and began to strut around the stall as if were already a prized black stallion.

“That a boy.”  He murmured.

“He’s beautiful.”  She gushed, turning her chin up at him.  She could now see the outline of his face, the refined contours of a chiseled jaw line.  He had full lips, perfect in symmetry to a curved nose, and she marveled at the pleased smile in his eyes.  No longer was he a brooding, inconsolable man, but breathtakingly handsome, almost flawless.

“He needs a name.”  Bray replied, stepping out of the shadows, and into the light.  As he drew near, Arabella held her breath.  There was something in the way he moved, which triggered an unnamed emotion.  Suddenly nervous, she held out the warming plate to him.

“Jenny sent me to give this to you.”  She remembered, looking away from the outline of his powerful shoulders, she diverted her curiosity.  “You’re right, the foal needs a name.  Do you have one in mind?”

When he reached for the plate, his fingers barely brushed her hand.  Alarmed by the thrilling sensation she drew back.  She knew he did not miss the dazed expression, which overtook her face.  Embarrassed, she quickly turned away.

“Jet.”  He stated, his voice smooth, yet urgent, which made her stop from wanting to escape his presence.  Instead, she looked back at him, cocking her head to one side.

“Jet?”

He smiled at her childlike puzzlement and then nodded. “Like the gemstone.”

“I think it’s a beatific name.”

“I thought so.”  He replied.  Setting his plate down on top of a nearby stool, he moved toward her.  His sudden encroachment made her
edgy, and without thinking, she quickly backed away.  Leaning over the railing, he stared at her thoughtfully. “You’re a skittish one, aren’t you?”

Arabella fixed him with a sheepish smile. 

Slowly, she stepped forward.  Resting her elbows over the railing, she tried to recapture her
poise.

“Sometimes.”  She replied honestly.  “I suppose it depends on the person.”

“Are you suggesting I make you nervous?”  He asked his voice sounded soft, and effortlessly seductive to her ears.

“Perhaps.”  She murmured.  “But you’re not exactly the friendly kind.”

Arabella held her breath.  For the first time, she witnessed him truly smile.  The contrast between his olive skin and a flushed set of pearl-white teeth made her look away. 

“So how friendly are you and the Parson?”  He asked his eyes suddenly turned
daunting.  Slowly, like a lissome cat he leaned in close, so close she could smell the earthy scents of spicy aftershave, and polished leather.

“You mean, your brother.”  She returned with an arched brow.  She callously hinted upon his use of his brother’s given name.  “Judas?”

Swift like a snake, he struck her arm with precision, grasping like a vice.  In one swift motion, she was in his arms. Capturing her lips, she felt his hands rove through her hair.  He held on until she fell weak in the knees.  Slowly, his kiss turned gentle, like a loving caress, and then he pulled away. 

Arabella stood stunned, and breathless.  With chest heaving, and ire growing despite her own denial, she lifted a hand, and without pause, sent it reeling across his face.

“Your brother is my friend, and he would never consider taking advantage of me as you just did.”  She heaved.  Backing away, she turned for the door and then boldly met his eyes before departing. “You have trespassed lips that belong to another.  I assure you this will never happen again.”

Luke stood staring at the door feeling the sting of her retaliation.  He knew Arabella was right.  Something in him wanted to run after her, to tell her the truth, everything.  Yet, he knew it was no use.  The damage done, she unwittingly hated him, and deservedly so. 

It did not take long for him to hear the jolt of a wagon, and the rattle of wheels.  The sound of Arabella rambling out of his life set him into a reckless surge.  Running a hand through his hair, he almost laughed at his impossible situation.  She had not a clue the man she loved was right beneath her nose.

“What was that all about?” 

By the tone in Jenny’s voice, he would say his luck was not getting any better.  When he looked up, he found his sister-in-law staring at him in a matter he had never seen.  Eyes drawn back and lips puckered, she crossed her arms and persisted.  “She tore out of here like the hounds of hell were nipping at her backside!”

“Calm down.”  Luke muttered, tossing his hat to the floor.  “We had a few words.  That’s all.”

“You chase her down and give her an apology this instant.”

“I’ve already done enough damage for one night.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes even more.  “What do you mean?”

Luke tossed his arms into the air. 

“I kissed the living hell out of her.”

Jenny straightened her back. 

“You did what?”

“You heard me.”  He groaned, knowing very well Jenny hid an amused smile behind her incensed creased lips.  “I couldn’t help myself.” 

“I hope you haven’t ruined our friendship because of your foolishness.”

Jenny did not say another word.  She turned and stormed out the barn door just like the two visitors before.  Leaning over the railing, he took one last look at Miss Mamie and her foal.  Right as rain, the two were bonding as nature intended.  Satisfied, he reached for the plate Arabella had brought him and dug into his food nearly devouring his meal.  He closed his eyes not realizing just how famished he had been.  As with his desire for Arabella, he felt a hunger he could not satisfy, while knowing he could not hold her the way he wanted to. 

He knew there was only one solution.  In the morning, he would head out with the boys, and remove himself from a prison of constant pining for a woman he could not have.  First, he would ride into town and pay Belle one last visit.  Maybe then, he could forget about the sheriff’s daughter.  Shaking his head, he let out a whitewashed sigh, and scoffed at himself.  He was better off just riding straight for the border.

If there was one
subject that Luke knew best, it was women.  He had a knack for attracting them, just like flies.  Where one he would swat, another came humming along, annoying the hell out of him.  On the other hand, members of a different species, the lovely
Apoidea
appealed to his fine taste.  He preferred the honeybee, buzzing around him like a golden siren, looking for sweet nectar. Slowly, he tipped his glass of whiskey and smiled.

“Do you have a name?”  He leaned over, his sea-spent eyes danced beneath the candlelight as he sampled ample décolletage.  Leaning back, he tipped his hat and allowed her to see his illuminated face.

“Annalise.” 

The woman smiled back at him, her interest apparent.  Curvaceous in a flowing crimson gown, her firebrand hair, which she artfully piled above her head, showed off a creamy neck.

“My but Miss Belle has certainly upped the ante of late.”  He murmured with appreciation.  Though she was exceedingly striking, he suddenly realized the young woman lacked a little something.  He could not put his finger on it, but he soon guessed it was in her eyes.  Dark, and soulless, she seemed lost in her make-believe element. He had seen her kind before, a damsel in distress, and in need of rescue.  The last time he fell for this sort of ruse, he had learned a hard lesson.  Taking another sip, he threw back his head and downed the rest of his liquid fire. 

“Nice knowing you darling.”

Standing to his feet, he turned his back on the woman, and ambled toward the barkeep.  Throwing a coin on the counter, he called for one more.

“Look at what the cat dragged in.”

The feminine voice, made him pause.  Soft and sultry, she purred with confidence.  He had only met one woman with such vocal finesse.  Turning around, he let his gaze fall on an extremely beautiful face.  All at once, a tumult of raw emotion ransacked his
middle.  His guttural instinct whispered to walk away, but the searching look in her lovely baby-blue eyes made him wonder. 

“Do I know you?”  He asked satirically. 

“Better than most.”  She returned, lifting her chin.  “More than anyone, I guess.”

“What do you want?”

“This is no way to talk to an old friend.”

“Old, you’re not, but friend?”  He spurned eyeing her with wary appreciation.  Giving her a hard black layered look, he threw back his whiskey, and then unceremoniously thumped his empty glass on the counter.  “I seriously doubt it.”

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?”

Luke laughed with insipid candor. 

“Not only are you beautiful, but you’re sadly astute.”  He jeered.  He quickly reached for a cheroot, and ignited the matchstick beneath his boot.  He lit the long tobacco stem, and fanned the flame. Taking a long puff, he breathed in, and studied her closely.  He then narrowed his eyes and exhaled, letting the smoke spiral between them.  “Don’t waste your time, sweetheart. I don’t have a damn thing left to say to you.”

“You think you’re something, don’t you?” 
Rosanna
Putnam lifted her chin, with eyes aglitter, she laughed at him.  “Why honestly Luke, cavorting with the sheriff’s daughter is not the wisest decision you’ve ever made.”

He straightened.  With lightning speed, he clamped his hand around her arm, yanking the woman directly in front of him to within inches of his face. 

“Speak.”

“Folks in town talk.”  She said, shrugging her shoulders, she furrowed a pair of neatly arched eyebrows, dramatizing her
discomfort.  “You’re hurting my arm.”

“And what do they say?”  He asked, letting go.

“What they’ve always said.” 
Rosanna
countered.  Rubbing her arm, she pursed her lips and covertly whispered.  “They say the Shelton gang held up another stage, but this time they took a woman hostage.”

“And?”

“What do you think?”

Rosanna
’s gaze suggested triumph.  Rather than succumb to the urge to choke the impudent woman for her brash regard he wisely chose to drop the subject and started a new one.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Away.”  She simpered.  Avoiding his
gaze,
she shrugged her shoulders.  “I had a brief stint in Denver.  If you recall, the memories weren’t exactly pleasant here.”