Tangled Past (12 page)

But that left him trapped in this damned room, watching the hands going about their business in the yard. He should be out there, helping them. Instead he was sitting here on his ass in what had once been the parlor but was now a makeshift sick room, forced to endure the parade of well-wishing neighbors.

It was bad enough he was forced to use a goddamned chamber pot, but it was fucking embarrassing to have to call upon Sarah or Martha to help him sit up to use the damned thing. Though neither of them had questioned his request, Jackson hadn’t spared his laughter at his confession he couldn’t take a piss unless he had at least one foot flat on the ground.

His anger didn’t dissipate until he heard Sarah’s soft footsteps in the hallway. She stopped in his doorway, her tongue caught between her lips as she balanced his lunch tray. “Are you hungry?”

“I sure am. If you’ll join me.” He squirmed back up on the pillows. Damn it, how had he managed to slide down this far again?

“All right.” She set the tray across his lap and sat down in the chair beside his bed. “If you eat it all, I have a surprise for you afterward.”

While he ate, they talked of decisions that had to be made about the ranch. She didn’t always agree with his decisions, but he’d learned in the past weeks that when she didn’t, he did well to listen to her well-thought-out arguments. While he’d learned she hadn’t had much book-learning, she understood the needs of a ranch, and its hands.

More than anything he liked her innate dignity, accepting his decisions even when they didn’t agree. The times he changed his mind to her way of thinking were more telling. Where some people might have not let him forget it, she smiled, nodded and moved on to the next topic.

Damn, Jackson was a lucky man to have found her as a wife. Irritated at the thought, he put down his utensils. “There, I’m done.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow but picked up the tray and left without another word. Moments later he heard a strange sound rumbling in the hall.

“Ready for your surprise?” Sarah called from the hall, sounding way too cheerful for his present state of mind.

“Unless it’s a new leg that’ll let me get up off my as—behind, no.”

“Maybe I should have Mr. Evans take this back then.” Sarah appeared in the doorway with a wheelchair that reminded him once again of his new status as resident cripple.

“I ain’t usin’ that thing.”

Her lips pursed and she tilted her head. “Very well. If you like staying in that bed all day with nothing to do and no one to talk to, that’s up to you.” She strode across the floor and grabbed the chamber pot from the shelf beside his bed, placing it on the top of the dresser as far from him as it could be without taking it out of the room. “If you need to use this, you’ll have to crawl over and get it yourself or wait until I’m done with the laundry.”

Which meant he’d have to hold it until noon. Or later.

Considering his bladder was already whining at the idea of the damned pot being across the room, that might be tougher than it sounded.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Borrowing the chair? You know Jackson arranged it a couple days ago. He told you about it at dinner last night.” Which they’d eaten in his room as usual in their attempt to keep him company.

“No, I mean blackmailing me. You gave me a big glass of apple cider with my breakfast this morning, twice the size of what you normally bring. And let’s not forget those three cups of coffee you’ve poured for me already. You’ve planned this.”

“It’s not good for you to lie in bed all day feeling sorry for yourself. At the very least you’ll get bedsores. Besides, the fresh air will do you good. It’s a beautiful day today.”

“It’s not like I can go out walkin’ now, is it?”

“No, but you can sit on the porch while I’m doing the laundry.”

“What the hell am I gonna do while I’m sitting watching you work?” Blast the devil, he sounded like a petulant child, but she didn’t have a clue what it was like for a man to be so helpless, so reliant on others. There were chores to be done, animals to care for. He hadn’t missed how Jackson fell asleep over his dinner most nights. Or how the bedroom next door resounded from Jackson’s snores, and not from the rhythmic thumping he’d grown used to hearing.

“How about keeping me company?” Sarah said quietly. “With Miss Martha off visiting her daughter, you’re the only person I have to talk to during the day.”

Her straightforward request accentuated how different she was from Eliza, who would have whined to get her way. It wasn’t as if it was a great chore to watch her. She was wearing one of the dresses she’d made from the fabric she’d purchased when he’d taken her to town. Forget all the bows and geegaws adorning Eliza’s dress, Sarah’s plain gown was understated elegance. Or maybe it was the woman wearing it that brought the elegance to the gown. He tried to picture Eliza waiting on him the way Sarah did, and failed.

“Nate?” she asked.

Besides, if he had to stare at the ceiling for one hour more, he’d be ready to be committed to an asylum. “Sorry. Let’s get me in this contraption then.”

She stood beside the bed, sliding an arm around him as he attempted to straighten. He couldn’t stop his groan when her breast pressed into his side.

“Are you in pain?” She’d turned her head to ask the question, leaving her mouth inches away from his. All he had to do was stretch over and close the gap. Touch his lips to hers. Taste her.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“No.”
Liar.
This case of blue balls he’d been fighting was gonna kill him as surely as any infection. “I hate havin’ to rely on a woman to get me into a goddamned chair.”
I want to roll you onto my bed and get you beneath me.
He closed his eyes, reminding himself she was Jackson’s wife, not some whore at the local saloon. But damn it, she smelled so sweet, and it had been so long since he’d had any sort of relief in that area.

He was panting and exhausted by the time she wrestled him into the chair, but he was upright and felt halfway human for the first time in a coon’s age. “Have the Rangers been around at all with news on those rustlers?”

“You’d have to talk to Jackson about that.”

There was something in her tone, a hardness bordering on bitterness. “What’s going on between you two, Sarah? Did you have a fight?”

“It’s not important.”

“The hell it ain’t.” He couldn’t stop the anger welling inside him. His fingers clamped around the arms of the chair. “Jackson loves you, Sarah. And I thought you loved him.”

She waited until she’d pushed him over the threshold and onto the porch before she answered. Once she’d set the brakes, leaving him in the shade, she leaned against the railing. “He loves you too, Nate. And you love him.”

He’d wondered when she’d get around to that particular subject, Martha having given him a heads up weeks before. The only thing he found surprising was how long it had taken for her to voice her concerns about Jackson’s and his unnatural relationship.

You love him
. She’d said it as a statement, not a question, her voice holding no sense of betrayal nor the hurt she might be feeling. He struggled to find an answer that would be honest. One that would not deny the truth of her words, or belittle the fears she must have.

“You know he’s been faithful to you since you two have been married. You have no reason to question his fidelity.”

“I know.” She twisted her fingers together. “I love him, Nate. So it’s difficult knowing he’ll never love me the same way.”

If he’d been capable, he’d have gotten out of the damned chair and held her. Comforted her. Shook some sense into her. “Jackson loves you too, Sarah. He’s not a man of many words. He’s more a man who lets his actions speak for him. I can’t think of another woman he’s ever brought flowers.”

That example caused the tips of her lips to quirk up for a second. Unfortunately, the smile quickly disappeared. “I never meant to come between you two that night.”

“We both know that. Jackson doesn’t blame you any more than I do. You may have saved our lives in ways you will never imagine.”

“Then why hasn’t he touched me since you had your accident?”

He barely heard her whispered question, but her anguish was clear. “It’s calving season, Sarah. He’s plumb tuckered out.”

“You’re right. I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” Her spine straight, she left him on the porch as she set to her chores. Everything she did was done with a quiet determination and dignity.

While neither Jackson nor he had set out to find a wife, Jackson had lucked out. Sarah was the type of woman any man would be proud to have by his side.

Ever since they’d had news that Missy Parker’s dress had caught fire while she was doing the laundry, Jackson had insisted Sarah not wear her crinoline when she was doing the laundry or tending the stove, a fashion Nate heartily approved. But as he watched her, he realized he’d have to rethink the wisdom because when Sarah bent down to the basket of wet clothes at her feet, the fabric pulled tight, accentuating every curve and crevice of her ass. Nate’s cock stiffened again, leaving him decidedly uncomfortable. It didn’t ease a whit when she reached up to hang one of his nightshirts on the clothesline, the sun slipped from behind the cloud, and turned her calico skirts near transparent.

There was no way in hell he’d be able to wear that nightshirt without thinking about her washing it. Hell in a handbasket, now he’d have a hard-on every damned night.

***

“What’ll happen to them, Zack?” How was Jackson going to tell Sarah that her brother had been arrested? Or that her stepfather had gone missing? She’d probably want to head back there, but there was no damned way he could leave the ranch, not with Nate housebound.

Giving Jackson a curious look, the Ranger struck his match on the sole of his boot. He took his time lighting his cigar, waiting until he’d blown out a long stream of smoke before he answered. “They’re bein’ held until the circuit judge arrives—that’s a week Monday. But I have to say, it don’t look good for either McLeod or Hasley. Last rustlers facing the judge had their necks stretched, and those fellows had only rustled twelve cattle.”

“What about Josiah McLeod? Where’s he at?” Jackson scrubbed his hand over his face, not caring that the dirt would mix with the sweat. If he was lucky, it would keep the swarms of mosquitoes away until he could get home. If he never heard another whine of one of those bloodsuckers he’d be happy.

“He wasn’t on the ranch when we found the cattle. We tracked him to a local whorehouse, but he was gone by the time we arrived. We’re keeping an eye on his place to see if he shows up. If he does, he’ll be sharin’ the cell with his son. Thing is, we may have to ask your wife to swear out a statement as to what she heard them discussing.”

“She won’t have to testify in person?”

Zack frowned. “Probably not, but it depends upon if they hire a lawyer.”

“But the cattle were found on McLeod’s property.”

“Not exactly. They were on government land adjoining his ranch. Someone had put up barbed wire around it to keep the herd contained, but as I said, we can’t prove Josiah had any knowledge of it since it’s at the far end, and it looked like the fencing was fairly new.”

“So it’s possible he’d claim he hadn’t ridden out that way lately and didn’t know it existed,” Jackson finished.

“You’ve got the right of it. Either way, we caught Walt red-handed, so he’ll soon be dancin’ at the end of a rope. As for Hasley, he’s claiming innocence. But since we caught him changing the brands, we’ve got the goods on him. So he’ll swing too.”

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “Considering how they treated Sarah, I can’t say I’m upset at their end.” Of course, it might be different for Sarah. “What about our own troubles? You get a lead on who stole Nate’s cattle yet?”

The trouble Bobby Lee Culpepper had summoned them about had turned out to be a cut fence and fifty missing cattle. If Hasley and McLeod hadn’t already been locked up, he might have suspected them.

“Nope.” With a curse, Zack slapped a mosquito on his arm then took another drag on his cigar. “We’ve stepped up our patrol of the area, and our guys are keeping an eye out for strangers or cattle whose brands may have been tampered with, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope that you’ll get ’em back.”

“I guess that’s as much as I can ask.” But damn it, he hated having to leave it in others’ hands, even if those people were Rangers as capable as Zack Barnett and his men. Besides, the cattle had probably long since been slaughtered and served up as some easterner’s dinner.

“Yup. The good Lord knows we don’t need any more vigilantes and their lynchin’ parties. In the meantime, you should get home and get some sleep. You look like you’re ready to drop out of the saddle.”

He must look rougher than he thought. Truth be told, he was having a bucketload of problems keeping his eyes open. “Had some coyotes attacking the herd. Between them and the branding and castrating…”

“Yup. Another reason I prefer to be a ranger instead of a rancher.” A cloud of Zack’s cigar smoke looped and swirled around his head before it dissipated. “How’s Nate doin’ these days?”

“Better. He’s out of the damned wheelchair and up on a pair of crutches, but the doc ain’t sure his leg’s ever gonna be as strong as it was before.”

“At least he still has it. That’s somethin’ anyway.” The Ranger slowed his horse as they approached the road to town. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything more. Either about the rustlers or your wife’s folks.”

Zack turned his horse, leaving Jackson to continue toward the Circle Star. He didn’t remember closing his eyes until he realized Thunder had stopped walking and had to open them. Damn it if he wasn’t in the yard by the barn. Scout, his favorite sheepdog, had already settled down on the porch in his favorite spot.

Shit, he really must have been tired to have fallen asleep on the horse for those last two miles.

Where the hell were the Simons boys? Why couldn’t they have been here waiting to take his horse? All he wanted was a hot meal and a soft bed. Was that too much to ask?