Tangled Past (13 page)

He slid out of the saddle with a groan and led Thunder to the barn. His arms felt like lead weights when he lifted the saddle from the gelding’s back. He gave his horse a quick rub down and tossed some oats in the bucket and eyed the water. “That’ll have to do you for now, boy. I’ll send someone in to make sure you’re looked after proper later.”

With a pat to the gelding’s rump, he staggered out of the barn and headed to the house. He’d not even opened the screen door when the scent of cinnamon and apple wafted from the hallway. Perfect, Sarah was making another of her apple crumbles. He wrestled off his boots and followed the delicious aroma to the kitchen.

His hand was on the door when Nate’s voice reached him.

“You have magic hands, Sarah.” Nate groaned, a deep rumble rich in contentment and…satisfaction? “Yeah, right there, that’s the spot. That feels so good.”

The last time he’d heard that pitch to Nate’s voice had been when they’d been… No. Sarah wouldn’t be doing that to Nate. Would she? Had they been having an affair right under his nose?

Sarah’s “You’re as hard as a rock” had him shoving open the door and stomping into the kitchen only to have to pull up. Nate sat in a chair while Sarah stood behind him. Massaging his shoulders.

“Hey, Jackson.” Nate closed his eyes as Sarah dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Darn it, woman, you’ve got strong thumbs.”

Sarah smiled at him, a completely innocent smile that told him how glad she was he was home. Well, shit. If that didn’t make him the biggest horse’s ass around.

“I kept your dinner warm.” She patted Nate’s shoulder then moved to the stove. As she passed him, she reached up on her toes and gave him a kiss. “Why don’t you get washed up and out of those clothes? By the time you get back, I’ll have it all set out for you.”

Washed and changed. He looked down at his hands and saw the dirt on them, compared them to Nate’s clean hands. Cow shit and dried blood from the steers he’d castrated clung to his pants, while Nate looked like he was ready to go to church.

What the hell was he doing here?

He grabbed the pail of water she kept warm on the stove and carried it to the bedroom. With a curse at himself, he slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and undid the buttons, not caring that he was a bit rough on them. He should care, though. If he tore one, Sarah would be the one who would have to sew it back on.

Damn it, he wasn’t cut out to be a husband.

A slow thumping up the stairs warned him that Nate was headed his way.

It pained him to watch Nate limp into the bedroom. Nate used to be agile. Strong. Vibrant. Now he had to rely on that damned set of crutches Doc Shaw set him up with. It wasn’t fucking right.

“Nothing was going on between us, Jack.”

He turned his back on Nate, concentrating on pouring water from the pail into the ewer. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to bullshit me. You thought Sarah was cheating on you with me when you walked into the kitchen. I saw it in your face.”

Jackson braced his arms on the table and hung his head. “When I was coming down the hall, you sounded just like you did when I…when we…”
fucked
. Except it hadn’t been fucking with Sarah. Or with Nate for that matter. “I couldn’t figure out if I was angry at her for being with you, or angry at you for being with her.”

“She’s your wife. You have a right to be protective of her. There’s no shame to that.” Nate leaned against the door. “What’s going on between you two, Jack?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been damned ornery lately.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
You
.
Sarah. Running the damned ranch. Finding the rustlers.
Calving. Castrating. Coyotes.
“Not to mention I’m damned tired.”

“Too tired to trust your wife? You think I can’t see that you two hardly talk lately, let alone that you two ain’t makin’ that bed of yours squeak anymore?”

“I’m workin’ my ass off trying to keep this ranch together, damn it.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate everything you’re doin’ for me, but you should be payin’ more attention to your wife, Jack. You’re drivin’ her away. Makin’ her feel unappreciated. Women like her deserve a soft word here and there. A wildflower or two by her plate or on her pillow. Like you used to do.”

But he’d left one for her just the other…shit. When was the last time he’d brought her a flower? “I don’t have a lot of time to mollycoddle her. She knows I love her.”

“Does she? You tell her that in words?”

“She knows it.”

Nate
hmm
ed. “Sarah thinks you don’t love her because you ain’t turnin’ to her anymore, Jack. She thinks you prefer me and resent her.”

“I think you got that backward.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “She knows about us, Nate. She knows what we are. What we’ve done. She ain’t touched me or let me touch her ever since you got sick. Hell, she sleeps as far away from me on the bed as she can.”

He missed the gentle touches she used to give him, the passion she’d displayed in their bedroom, the way he’d catch her looking at him—usually his ass—when she thought he wasn’t watching. So she still made his chili just the way he liked it, and picked out the pieces of tomato in his salad before she served it to him. That was just her being her. “Can’t say as I blame her, I guess. Not many women would respond well to accepting that their husband’s a…” He forced the word out, hating to hear it out loud. “…sodomist.”

Even though she’d reacted with more grace than he’d dreamed possible, every day he came home wondering if he’d discover she’d moved out. If he’d wake up to a lynch mob.

“So you think she’d be better off with some other fella?” Nate raised an eyebrow in question.

“You know she would be.”

“So who should she be with? That Hasley fella back at the McLeod’s?”

“No!” Shit, he still had to tell Sarah about her brother’s fate. Didn’t that make the day fuckin’ perfect?

“Junior Turner then. He’s single and lookin’ for a woman to help him run the mill. She’d have a good life with him.”

Jackson sneered. “Turner’s twice her age and three times her weight. If he makes it another ten years before he drops from a heart attack, he’ll be lucky. Then where would she be?”

“How about Butch Panola?”

“Too short.”

“Cooter O’Brien.”

Jackson’s lip curled into a sneer. “He smells like pig shit even after he’s washed.”

“How about Nate Campbell?” He thumped across the room, stopping to lift one of his damned sticks to poke at Jackson’s chest. “Would I be good enough for her, Jack? A cripple who’s forced to rely on others to keep his ranch runnin’ smooth?”

Jackson closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest to whisper, “You know you would be.”

“Even though I’ve had a man for a lover?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re better than me.”

“No. I’m not.” Nate shifted his weight to one crutch, and let the other drop against the bed. His hand free, he brushed his fingers over Jackson’s cheek and cupped his jaw in such a tender gesture it about undid Jackson. “Don’t you see? If I deserve a woman like Sarah, then so do you. Why can’t you get that through that pigheaded skull of yours?”

“Because I love you, too,” Jackson whispered. “I know it ain’t right that I feel like this for another man when I’ve got a wife. I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t turn off what I feel for you like I can blow out a candle.”

“You can’t deny what you are, but you can’t punish Sarah for it either.”

“I ain’t punishing her.”

“No? You obviously respect her if you’re worried about her like this. And I know you sure as hell enjoy Sarah when the two of you are in bed together.”

“Of course.”

“Then why the hell haven’t I heard the two of you rockin’ this old bed since this—” Nate gestured to his leg, “—happened?”

“I told you.” He stared at the wall over Nate’s shoulder. “She’s disgusted by me, Nate. She pulls away whenever I touch her. I won’t force myself on her.”

“You don’t have to force yourself. You have to prove it’s her you want, not me. Women need to know a man finds them desirable. Hell, you’re the one who taught me that.” When Jackson didn’t answer, Nate shook his head. “What’s the matter, Jack? Can’t get it up around her? Because I can. Hell, I have a hard-on at least three times a day around her. Do you know how many times I’ve had to pretend I’m having a nap so I can give myself a hand-job to ease the blue balls I’ve been getting lately?”

“That’s enough.” He’d be damned if he’d explain how he’d jerk off watching her sleep, swamped with guilt both for wanting her and for wanting Nate. But hearing that Nate had been thinking of her the same way was too much.

Nate stepped closer, until they were nose to nose. His eyes were narrowed and his lips thinned in the way that Jackson knew meant he was peeved. “Maybe I should go out there and seduce her in front of you. Show her at least one man in this house would enjoy her beneath them.”

“The hell you will. Crippled or not, I’ll beat you to an inch of your life.”

Nate stepped back with a smug look on his face. “Well, it’s about fuckin’ time.”

Jackson blinked. “You don’t like Sarah? That was all an act to make me jealous?”

“Aw hell, Jack. Make no mistake, I’d have Sarah in my bed in a heartbeat if I thought I had a chance. But you know I’d never touch her. She’s yours. Which is why I figured it was damn well time you realized it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think she’d feel the same way about me. Besides, it’s better for her this way.”

“I’m really getting tired of you thinking you know what’s best for me,” Sarah stated from where she stood in the doorway.

Both men turned to face her, Jackson quickly averting his gaze while Nate smiled and held out his hand.

“What is it that you’re worried about, Jackson? That I’m going to run screaming into town? Denounce you for loving your best friend?” She advanced on him, skirting Nate, whose grin broadened. “Do you think I despise you? Because I don’t. I love you, Jackson. I worry about you. Both of you.”

“Then why have you been turning away from me?”

“The last three times we’ve—” Her gaze flitted to Nate. Devil take her, she was not going to blush. They’d been discussing her openly, so why should she act like a wilting violet? “—done our marital duty, I’ve been the one reaching out to you. So I figured it was your turn to take the initiative for once. When you didn’t, well, I figured you thought you’d done your duty to me and were wishing you could go back to the way things were.”

“You turned me down last time I tried.”

“If you’d cared to ask after me, you might have realized I was having my womanly time.” Heat bloomed into her face. Did they really need to discuss such a delicate matter in front of an audience? “But that was five weeks ago, Jackson. What’s your excuse since?”

Nate positioned his crutches. “You two need privacy so I’m gonna get out of your way, but I expect to hear that old bed creakin’ by night’s end with you two doin’ your
marital duty
, you hear?”

His chuckle faded down the hallway.

Jackson rubbed his forehead the way he did when he had a headache. Between that and the dark circles beneath his eyes, some of Sarah’s anger washed away.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. When you turned away, I figured you were disgusted by the thought of someone like me touching you.”

“I’ve never been disgusted with you. I just…” The heat rose in her face again. “I’m still not used to talking about my monthly with you.”

“And I ain’t used to having to worry about a woman’s time, either.” He released a long slow sigh. “Can we chalk this up to my pride gettin’ in the way as usual? I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t. It ain’t like I’m normal husband material.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah, heck, what I’m trying to say is, will you forgive me?”

“If normal husband material is a man like Billy Anderson, whose wife has to hide any money she earns so he can’t gamble it away, or like Missy Taylor’s husband, who beats her black and blue whenever he gets liquored up, then I think I got the better end of the bargain. And yes, I forgive you.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not sure that being compared to a deadbeat or a drunk is a compliment.”

Sarah wished she could curse as well as Jackson. “I apologize. They were bad examples. Perhaps Miss Martha’s husband Abner might be a better one.”

“Now there’s a cold fish who’s never given me the time of day.”

She tried to come up with other examples, but for the life of her she knew few other couples as happy as she’d been these last six months. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re a good man, Jackson. You’ve been a good husband and a good friend.” She lowered herself beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ve never regretted marrying you. And I appreciate how you’ve been faithful to me even though I wouldn’t have been your first choice.”

His sigh came from deep down. “And I’ve never regretted marrying you. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I am capable of loving a woman. Of loving you.”

She went still. No one had ever said he loved her before. Was Jackson saying it now? She wondered how she could ask without embarrassing either one of them when she realized his breathing had evened out. The man had fallen asleep sitting up.

Chapter Eight

A door slammed downstairs. Jackson opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight streaming across the bed. Sunlight? It had been dusk when he’d come home and made a complete horse’s ass of himself. He’d been talking with Nate…no, Nate had left. He’d been talking to Sarah.

He’d apologized. Hadn’t he? Had she accepted it?

He turned his head to find her side of the bed empty. Damn it. That it was bright meant he must have fallen asleep and slept the whole night through. A quick check beneath the sheet she’d pulled up over him revealed that she’d managed to undress him, no easy feat because he’d not awoken to help her. That he could remember.

Outside a horse whinnied—Bandit calling to one of the mares, from the sounds of it. Soft footsteps down the hall warned him of Sarah’s approach. He frowned when the footsteps went past the bedroom. “Sarah?”