The Law and Miss Penny (26 page)

"It doesn't matter who found it, Artemis."

"Found what?" Cain wanted to know as he approached them.

Mariah gave a little jump. "Oh, ah—it's nothing." Realizing that Artemis was incapable of coming up with a reasonable story, she turned to Cain and flashed him a bright smile. "He forgot that he asked my dad to groom Big Red for him. Zack found a stone bruise when he was cleaning his hooves."

"Th-that's right," Artemis said, proud of himself for understanding what Mariah was trying to do. "I'm gonna stay right here and soak Big Red's foot so he'll be all better."

The mud bath she'd given the animal had included his three white socks. Mariah narrowed her gaze toward Artemis as she said, "I don't think that will help much. In fact, he could be a problem on the show circuit. You might want to consider leaving him behind and getting a new horse in Silverton."

Artemis didn't know what he should agree to at this point, but the thought of saying good-bye to the horse filled him with sadness. "I'll think on it some."

Cain, who hadn't missed the way the young man's expression fell, stepped forward. "Why don't you let me take a look at him. Maybe it's not as bad as we think."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Mariah splayed her fingers against Cain's broad chest, and then whispered under her breath, "I think he'd feel better about it if we let him care for the horse himself."

Artemis sensed that things were taking a turn for the worse. He quickly ducked around the gate, catching the latch behind him, and then made a great show of examining one of Big Red's hooves.

"Just holler if you need any help," Cain said, leaning across the stall door.

At the sound of his previous master's voice, Amigo raised his ears and nickered softly.

The call stirred something at the back of Cain's mind. He looked in at the horse, cocking his head and wondering what it was about the animal that seemed so familiar. The sorrel nickered again, this time tossing his brick-red mane. "Easy, big fellow. You think you know me?"

"Ah, Cain?" Mariah, said, tugging on his sleeve. "Zack needs your help with the mules, remember? Artemis has things under control here."

"You're right." Speaking louder, he said, "Don't hesitate to call me if you want some help, son."

As Artemis glanced back to say thank you, he saw Cain reach across the opening and rub Big Red's forelock. When he brought his hand away, particles of dark red dirt rained down on Artemis's head, and the marshal's fingers were streaked with mud. Feeling like his Adam's apple had swollen to twice its size, Artemis rolled his eyes toward his new hero, and gulped.

Mariah, who'd also noticed the mess, held her breath.

Cain stared down at his hand, shook his head, and then said to Artemis, "Maybe you ought to groom that animal again while you're at it, son. Looks to me like he's been out rolling in the mud."

Less than an hour later, the troupe, minus Artemis and his "crippled" horse, were well on their way out of Durango. The sky looked multilayered, teal-colored below the noonday sun, followed by a royal blue-black strip, with a pale periwinkle-blue tint hugging the horizon. Ahead of the medicine wagon and supply cart, the San Juan mountain range loomed in the distance, one red-cliffed mountain peak rising above another to what seemed like infinity.

Cain waited until they'd gotten beyond the edge of town to point at the box wedged between his and Mariah's feet. "Why don't you have a peek at my new hat?"

Mariah, who'd been marveling at the way the verdant tips of the giant ponderosa pines seemed to fringe the spacious blue sky overhead, leaned down and picked up the box. She casually flipped the lid off and glanced inside, expecting to see another version of the big white hat that he'd lost near Bucksnort. Instead, her gaze met a luscious confection of lavender lace, black satin, and lemon-colored plumes.

Momentarily stunned, she finally said, "Wherever did you get such a lovely bonnet, and whose is it?"

Slowing the mule so he could observe her full reaction, Cain said, "I bought it for you, princess. Do you like it?"

"Oh, Cain—oh, Lord." Mariah lifted the hat from its nest of wadded paper as if it were some great treasure. "It's absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Put it on. I can't wait to see it on you."

Mariah gazed at the bonnet, guiltily chewing the inside of her lip. She didn't deserve such a gift. She knew Cain's finances well enough to realize that buying the bonnet had made it impossible for him to replace the preacher's hat he abhorred with something more suitable.

She lowered the frothy bonnet back into the box. "You'll never know how much this means to me, but I can't accept such a gift."

"Why not?"

"For one thing," she said, gazing longingly at the hat, "as Princess Tanacoa, I can't even wear this in most towns, and certainly not often enough to warrant the expense. You have to take it back."

"Not on your life. We're heading for Silverton day after tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"I can't think of anything I'd rather do than escort you in that hat out of the Strater Hotel and down Main Avenue the morning we leave to catch the train. You'll not only be the most beautiful woman walking the streets of Durango, but the most fashionable. By God, if you don't wear that hat for me, I will."

He hadn't laughed after he said those final words, because he meant them. She mattered to him. Up until that moment, Mariah thought she'd fully understood what love meant. Now she realized she hadn't even gone below the surface of it. Love was more than a warm feeling in the pit of her belly whenever Cain touched her, and much more intense than the lurch her heart made each time he came into view. Love was all-powerful and all-consuming.

That was how she felt about Cain, and whether he felt that way about her didn't matter at the moment. The kind of love she had for this man stripped her to the bone, exposed her raw and bare, yet strangely enough, made her proud to be so naked to the world. She wanted to stand up and shout "I love you," longed to hear her voice echo the phrase through the majestic pines. She mouthed the words, but didn't say them. She knew they were best left in her mind.

Filled with a kind of love she'd never dreamed she could feel, and with a deepening, ever-stronger sense of belonging to this man, she loosened the ribbons on her serviceable black bonnet, removed it, and tossed it into the back of the supply wagon. Then she fit the new hat to her head, swiveled toward Cain, and asked, "How does it look on me?"

Cain whistled long and low. Without benefit of a mirror, she'd set the bonnet on her head at a slight angle—certainly more of one than the designer had in mind, he suspected—and the effect was startling. The bright colors were perfect for her, the yellow in particular, which accentuated the shiny ebony of Mariah's hair and startling amethyst shade of her eyes. The thing he liked best, though, was the sauciness of the hat and the way it made her look: irascible, mischievous, and even a little bit naughty.

Since he had firsthand knowledge of how downright naughty Mariah could be, Cain's voice dropped to a low growl as he said, "It's a damn good thing your parents are just ahead of us. That's how good you look to me right now." He patted the seat beside him. "Move a little closer."

There was barely enough from for the two of them as it was, but Mariah snuggled herself up tighter against his thigh and looped her arm through his. "Better?"

"As better as things can get for now, I suppose." He gazed into her eyes, gripped with a savage and possessive kind of joy. God, but she was beautiful, Cain thought, proud to call her his own. And then just as suddenly, it occurred to him that it was possible he didn't have the right to think of her in that way. Or the freedom.

"Is something wrong?" Mariah asked, seeing his changed expression. "You suddenly look so... so unhappy."

Cain transferred both reins to one hand, freeing himself to slide an arm across Mariah's shoulders. "I'm not exactly unhappy, princess. Unworthy, is what I was thinking."

"Of what?"

"Of you." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You deserve so much more than I can give you right now."

"But—but that's ridiculous. You've given me so much already, made me feel so..." She blushed and let the sentence die in her throat. "I'm perfectly content the way things are."

"I appreciate the sentiments, Mariah, but I'm talking about the future."

And to continue with talk like that, wouldn't he just naturally want to bring up the past? Not if Mariah could help it. She forced a laugh. "Please, Cain. I really don't want to think or talk about the future. I like things the way they are right now. Don't spoil our lovely drive."

He glanced ahead at the small dust cloud traveling down the road in front of them, picking out the bright red door at the back of the medicine wagon. Zack and Oda wouldn't much care for the way things were right now, lovely drive or not. No self-respecting family would. He'd promised himself he would have this talk with Mariah, and have it he would. "The last thing I want to do is spoil the day, but it's time we talked about the future, princess. Our future together."

Had he said our future? What exactly did he mean by that? Surely nothing so permanent or extraordinary as—

"I'm talking about... marriage." There. He'd finally said the words he should have said three nights ago. Feeling reckless, he continued. "And, eventually, I expect you'll want a family somewhere down the road."

Beside him, her heart thundering, Mariah nearly swooned. Having accepted the situation as impossible from the beginning, she had never allowed herself so much as a small daydream about this moment. Now that it was here, she didn't know whether to shout her joy from the highest Rocky mountain, or throw herself from it in despair. She wanted nothing more than to be his wife, but Cain couldn't marry her. Not as Cain Law, a man who didn't exist, and not even as Morgan Slater, a man who'd most likely been claimed long ago by the woman in the watchcase.

Aware only of Mariah's pensive silence, not her distress, Cain went on. "I do realize that before we can make any firm plans, I've got to get the mysteries of my past cleared up. Wouldn't you agree?" Cain glanced at her, noticing a peculiar glaze to her normally bright eyes. "Mariah? Are you with me?"

Her tongue, feeling twisted and fluttery in her mouth, couldn't seem to choose the correct words to form a sentence. Mariah didn't know what to say. She smiled at Cain, her expression a little tight, a little too animated, and gave him a jaunty nod instead.

Determined to get at the truth about his past, Cain didn't notice anything amiss in Mariah's reaction. He was filled with the fire of self-discovery. "Something's gnawing at me inside, and until I get it out, until I truly know who I am, I can never be completely yours. I thought it might help if we start with my childhood. I know that my father Thomas had red hair and wouldn't let me have a dog. What can you add to that?"

Guilt was weighing Mariah down, but for this question, she had an answer that was nothing less than the truth. "I don't know your father or any of my mother's other brothers. Her family shunned her when they discovered she was expecting me. I've never met any of them."

"I'm sorry, princess. I forgot about that."

"You've forgotten a lot of things since you were injured, and that's why we shouldn't be talking about the future."

"I don't follow you, princess."

"How can it be any plainer?" she said, speaking out of the pain in her heart instead of the logic of her mind. "For all we know, you already have a wife. You don't have any business proposing to me."

Cain laughed. "That's ridiculous. Wouldn't your family know if I was married?"

"I—ah..." She paused to take a long breath, trying to clear her mind and resume the role she'd chosen to play. "I told you already that you weren't very communicative about your past when you joined the show. We know virtually nothing about you before that."

His mouth fell open, not so much at her words, but at the ominous ring in them. "And you think it's possible? You believe that maybe I do have... someone else somewhere?"

Thoughts of the woman in the locket again filled Mariah's head, and she knew she couldn't lie to him about that, no matter how hard she tried. She looked away and offered a tiny shrug.

Was it possible? Is that what he felt clawing his gut, fighting to rise to the surface of his consciousness? A woman he'd forgotten somewhere along the way? A wife? Surely he'd have had some sense of her, some little twinge of guilt about her—if not now, certainly on the night he'd made Mariah his own.

Then, as if beckoned by those thoughts, the woman appeared in his mind: blond, petite, fragile. He squeezed his eyes against her image, but it only grew stronger. Robin's-egg blue eyes, skin so fair it was nearly translucent. And frail. She was very, very frail. His wife? Or someone else? He called to the woman in his mind, thinking that her name might automatically form on his lips, but she faded away, folding herself back into the dark cloak of his forgotten past.

Shaken in ways he couldn't begin to fathom, Cain's movements were deliberate as he removed his arm from Mariah's shoulder and took the reins in both hands. All ten of his fingers were trembling, he noticed, even though this section of road was relatively smooth.