Fifteen

Rylee paced the confines of the house. The carbine in her hands felt heavy, like an anvil around her neck. Illogical as it was, she stopped to peer out each window, her gaze scanning for a familiar rider. Again and again, disappointment scored along exposed nerves when she realized that there was no one.

“What in hell is keeping him?” she fumed to the dog who lifted her head and woofed softly.

Matthew’s weak, pained moans drifted from the bedroom. Each hiss grated along her already frayed nerves. The pounding in her head hadn’t eased. The ache had merely settled behind her temple to throb with each beat of her heart. Fear and unease tightened her flesh until it felt too tight, too confining.

With a strangled curse she turned and hurried back to her bedroom. Pushing the door open she stepped inside. Matthew lay on her bed, the stark white bandages on his chest already tinged with red. Rylee rested the gun against the wall and hurried to wipe the sweat and blood from her patient’s body.

“Shh, easy, Matthew, you’re safe for now. Joe’ll be back with the doc and he’s gonna fix you up right. I know I ain’t no hand with a wound such as these. Just try and rest.” She prattled on, her hands trembled badly enough she could barely hold the cloth.

“Thirsty,” Matthew whispered.

Rylee got to her feet and grabbed for the cup and pitcher on her nightstand. She poured the liquid with an unsteady hand, most of it spilling out over the runner. Holding Matthew’s head against her shoulder, Rylee let him sip at the tepid fluid until he’d quenched his thirst before she eased him back onto the bed.

Every muscle tightened with pain-filled clarity at the soft sound from beyond her window. She grabbed her gun and hurried over. On the horizon a shape was gradually taking form and her stomach clenched. A shaking thumb pulled the hammer back on her rifle as she shot a glance at the man in her bed.

Without a word she slipped from the room and down the hallway, anger and fear ripping at her mind and body. Rylee stopped next to the living room window and stared out.

Her grip tightened on the repeater when she spotted the rider coming from town. She watched the powerful animal’s strides devour the ground beneath him. The horse raced up the drive, the echo of his hoof beats filling the air and she shifted. Leaving the window, Rylee hurried to the door and slipped out, the rifle heavy in her hands as she realized who it was.

Cursing herself at the relief flooding through her, Rylee set the rifle down on the porch and watched Tom pull up sharply in the yard. He looked tired. A shadow of a beard darkened his face and circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. But to her, he’d never looked better. She knotted her hands into fists to stop herself from running to him and crying like a baby.

“Joe told me what happened.” Tom hurried toward her, taking the three steps in one stride. “Are you okay?” His fingers wrapped around her upper arms.

The warmth of his touch seared through her defenses. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. There was concern and something else in his eyes, something she hesitated to name. It would do no good to act like some silly girl before him. What could come of letting him know how much of her he had?

“I’m fine.” Rylee hoped he wouldn’t hear the relief in her voice. “Matthew isn’t so lucky. They stabbed him. I guess they didn’t want your boys warning me.” Rylee turned away from him, hoping he hadn't noticed the tears in her eyes. She felt bereft when his hands dropped. Every muscle, every nerve screamed at her to just melt into his embrace. With a harsh curse she reached for the door handle.

~ * ~

“Roy’s gonna get a posse together, track down your horses,” Tom stated as he stepped inside a few inches behind her. “He’ll—”

“Where’s Doc Morgan?” Rylee hurried down the hallway, her shoulders tense and hunched. “Why didn’t Joe get him to come out here?”

“He’s delivering a baby,” Tom explained and stepped into Rylee’s bedroom. Memories hit him hard. The feel of cotton sheets as they slid over his body, the warmth of a touch along his flesh. Sweat and heat that rolled over him like a cascade of water. Ruthlessly, he shoved them aside to turn his attention to his employee.

The first thing that struck him was that Matthew had lost a lot of blood. The white sheets on her bed, the blankets balled and tossed aside, were scarlet. Long thin crimson strips of what he supposed were once white material bound Matthew’s chest. The knots were streaked red and white like peppermint sticks in the mercantile. Tom struggled to keep his breakfast down as the hot smell swamped him.

Rich and coppery, the pungent odor of blood filled the small space. With it came the cloying aroma of sweat, and death, hanging on the fringes of the room. Tom wondered how the older man was still alive and shot Rylee a glance. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s still breathing.” Rylee shrugged, her arms wrapped around herself. Her face was pale, her eyes downcast. “I’ve got the wagon. We could take him to town.”

Tom noted a fine tremble that raced over her body and sighed. “Knowing Doc, he’ll head for my place first. I’d prefer to leave him here...” He walked over to her and lifted a hand to her shoulder, not surprised when she flinched away from him. “Sally’s pretty good at patching the boys up. She’ll take good care of him.”

Rylee shot him a look filled with a jumble of emotions. Fear laced through him at the confusion and pain in her gaze. He started to reach out for her again, offer her comfort with a touch, but let his hand drop back to his side. She'd made it clear she didn't welcome his gestures. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Roy’ll get your herd back and—”

She shook her head and spoke in a flat tone. “It doesn’t matter now.” Rylee inhaled. A distant look crossed her face that made him more than a little uneasy. “I’ll hitch up the team. You can take the wagon and send someone over with it later.”

“Rylee I’m not going to leave—”

“I’m sure I can find some padding and extra blankets for the wagon. Matthew needs to be as comfortable as possible. Jostling him too much isn’t good.” Rylee brushed past him and stalked out the door.

Tom stared after her, his mind tangled with confusion. Pride had always kept Rylee from showing weakness. With all the tension lately, he admired her pluck, but this was ridiculous. Her silent, distant approach to him burned like the fires of hell when he remembered the passionate woman who came apart in his arms. The nights they’d lain together tangled in white sheets, skin sweat slicked and desire thick between them haunted him waking or asleep.

He thought of their last exchange, of the way Rylee pulled herself away from him. She’d put a wall up, one he wasn’t sure he could get around. What had caused it, why had she become so self-aware? “Damn woman,” he grunted and with a final glance at the sleeping man in her bed, he turned and strode after her.

“Okay, Rylee, this is getting out of hand.” Tom stomped toward the corral. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say.” Rylee ducked beneath the belly of the far horse and pulled the belly band up. She hooked it into place and moved to the collar. “I’ve got the wagon full of straw. It’ll help keep him still while you’re driving.”

“Matthew’s strong. He’ll pull through. I owe you for takin’ care of the wound.” Tom was amazed at the stilted conversation, at Rylee’s coldness. “But that doesn’t fix the problem.”

“Nothing to fix.” Rylee paused, her arms crossed over the back of the gelding. “I don’t see any problem.”

“I do,” Tom retorted. “You’re shutting me out.”

“Beggin’ your pardon.” Rylee sneered, “I didn’t realize that you wanted anything more than—”

“Don’t say it.” Tom pointed a finger at her. “I never took you for granted, Rylee, you won’t let me.” He cursed at the way his voice broke, but refused to back down with the stakes so high.

“All things considered, I’d say you’ve got no right to say anything. Now if you’ve a mind to discuss your hired help that’s fine. I’m not—”

“Damn it, Rylee, will you stop!” Tom shouted and turned at the sound of hoof beats. He swore profusely as he recognized Roy and a few of his deputies. “Looks like Roy’s here,” he muttered and stalked away. With each stride toward the local law, his fury and aggravation grew. How dare she accuse him of wanting anything but her best interest? What gave her the right to justify shutting him out of her life?

You sure that’s the problem? Annoying and far too often right, his conscience whispered. Or is it that you’re just now noticing what’s been in front of you all along? “Shut up,” he grunted to himself. He waved at Roy who pulled up in front of the house and dismounted. “Roy.”

“See she ain’t shot you yet.” Roy chuckled as he glanced across the yard to where Rylee was finishing hitching the wagon up.

“It was a near miss,” Tom drawled, his gaze focused on her as she ignored the men in her yard. She worked quickly, with more skill than some men, as she prepared the wagon. His eyes traced over the contours of her body. A powerful longing settled in him. He needed her, and he was determined to have her.

“I figured I’d have a look at the tracks. I have your permission to go up into the canyon?” Roy played with the rein in his fingers, a frown puckered his brow.

“Hell, Roy, you don’t have to ask. If that’s where the tracks lead, go on up. Just take care. Those men are dangerous.”

Roy nodded. His eyes cut to Tom, a calculating look in them. “You thinkin’ on who might be doing this?”

Tom shrugged and pushed thoughts of his tattered relationship with

Rylee aside. “Ain’t got nothing so I’m not about to open my mouth. I’ve got some ideas but I want proof, both for you and her.” He gestured to Rylee who glared at them with icy disdain. “She deserves that much at least.” Tom clapped Roy on the knee. “Come on, you can help me get Matthew into the wagon. I’m gonna take him over to the house where Sally can fix him up.”

Roy glanced from Tom to Rylee and back before he dropped the rein. “Son, something tells me that the gates to hell are about to open and you may not like the result.”

Tom snickered. “Who said they haven’t already opened?” The jingle of the wagon as it rolled toward them drew his attention for a moment before he led the way into the house. With a look from Roy, his men dismounted and followed them inside. Together the men hefted Matthew’s considerable weight and carried him out to the wagon. Once they had him laid out on the blanket-covered straw, Tom wiped his forehead. “I’ll meet you at the ranch house.”

“Sounds good.” Roy mounted up and kicked his mount into a high lope. His deputies followed wordlessly, concern in their expressions as they rode past the wounded man.

“I’ll see you get your wagon back,” Tom declared. He shifted from one booted foot to the other, his hat in his hands as he stared out past the woman staring back at him. His throat tightened, forcing him to swallow past the lump before he could speak. “Rylee, I uh—”

“Whenever you can get it back is fine,” she replied and walked into the house. The soft click of the door shutting on him was loud in the silence.

Tom stared at the closed door for a moment before he turned back to Matthew and the wagon. He could deal with Rylee and the tangled mess later. The pained wheeze of the man lying behind him made the decision for him and he shook out the reins. “Giddup.” With a groan, the heavy wagon lurched forward, rolling up the winding dirt path.

~ * ~

Rylee stripped the sheets and pillows from her bed with vicious motions. The sound of the wagon rolling by struck her and she glanced out the window. Tom sat straight on the seat, his hands loose and easy on the reins. A rifle peeked out over the edge of the seat next to him, and his side-arm bulged beneath his shirt.

Exhausted, she sank onto the edge of the bed, unmindful of the tangle of bloody fabric in her grasp. The desire to crawl into bed, to seek refuge in sleep was powerful. It called to her, beckoning with each indrawn breath, but she refused. Sleep meant dreaming and she didn’t want to dream about him. She didn’t want to remember the nights spent in his arms, the shame and pain of knowing that there was nothing more than lust to their clandestine meetings.

Slowly, a lone tear escaped her control to trail a scalding path down her face. As it dripped onto her hands a dam burst within her. Carried away on a flood of emotions, Rylee slid off the bed to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. Like a woman possessed, she curled into herself, into the pain, and cried.

Her tears spent, Rylee stared hard at the rough wall across from her with unseeing eyes. The pain had been washed away, leaving her numb to everything but a sick sensation in her stomach. Shadows crept across the floor, each one drifting lazily over her still body.

Cold and wet, the gentle nudge of Duchess's nose against her cheek pulled at her mind. She glanced at the dog out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “Why does it have to be him? Where did I go wrong, huh?”

The dog huffed in seeming encouragement and lay down. Rylee wrapped an arm around the warm, furry body and curled tighter. “I don’t understand any of this, girl. I haven’t dammed any water, or damaged anyone’s livelihood so much that they’d want to hurt me. This is my land and I’m not gonna run from it. Still, I’d like to know who wants me out of the way so badly. Damn that man’s hide! Why can’t he just stay gone? Why do I let him in? Let him past my defenses?”

As though echoing her confusion, Duchess whined softly.

Rylee nuzzled into the dog’s warmth. “I’m tired. Tired of fighting. I can’t fight him and me both. I want him, I need him, but not without the rest of the package. I’m such an idiot,” she grumbled with a shuddery breath. “The biggest idiot this side of the Rockies. Momma would roll over in her grave if she knew how foolish I’ve been.”

Her fingers tightening in the long, soft fur, Rylee closed her eyes. “I’ll think of something tomorrow. Some way of keeping him out of my life and off my land.”

If only you could think of some way to get him out of your heart, her inner voice laughed. You love your enemy, and there ain’t a darn thing you can do about it.

“Oh, yes there is.” Rylee smothered a yawn. “I won’t love him. I hate him.” The sun-warmed floor beneath her lulled her. As she slid deeper into sleep, soft, warm laughter drifted through her mind. Her heart knew it was useless to fight it. Her mind simply had to catch up.