Chapter 14

Jonas Harper felt every one of his forty-two years as he led the spirited sorrel gelding into the fragrant barn and lit the kerosene lamp that hung from the rafter. Yellow light spilled across the straw-strewn floor, illuminating the large well-equipped stable. He rubbed a hand tiredly across the back of his neck.

It had been a long day, spent branding and earmarking the late spring calves. His foreman, Cal Stembridge and most of his men were gone from the ranch, driving the herd south to Fort Sumner and the Bosque Rodondo for sale to the Navaho and Apache reservations. So Jonas had worked hard alongside his small crew of ropers and dallymen. But his muscles were complaining from the work. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He worried about that as he slid the heavy saddle off his gelding and led it into the freshly strewn stall.

The order and cleanliness of the barn suited him. He'd worked hard for this, had built his ranch with his own sweat out of nothing more than dirt. Now it boasted one of the finest haciendas in the territory and stock barns to make the wealthiest Eastern landowner jealous. Through sheer determination and know-how—and an economy hungry for cash—he'd acquired almost as much land as Manuel Delgado or Fernando Ortiz, two of the largest of the old Spanish land-grant owners in the territory.

Only two things were still missing from his life: a woman to share his bed and an heir to take it all over when he died. Elda, his wife of eight years, had died three years ago, giving birth to their fourth still-born child. She'd been a fragile city-bred woman, like his sister, Nora. Not at all suited to the hardships of territory life.

When he set his sights on finding a new wife, his first requirement was that she be young enough for childbearing, white-skinned—he'd be damned if he'd leave all this to some half-breed greaser brat—and accustomed to the rigors of New Mexican life. That the flaxen-haired Elizabeth Honeycutt fit perfectly into all those requirements and had extraordinary beauty as well, only made Jonas want her more.

He had fantasized for months about her lying beneath him on his bed, her golden hair wrapped around him as he plunged himself into her ripe softness and got her belly hard and swollen with his seed.

Jonas felt himself grow hard just thinking about her. He decided to seek out Maria tonight, the Mexican whore who worked in his kitchen. She was a lusty one, more than happy to take care of his needs. But every hand on the ranch dipped into her honey pot from time to time and that dulled the pleasure he took from her. It wasn't like having a regular woman in his bed, one he could call his own. He wanted Elizabeth there and he meant to have her. She'd be so grateful to get out of that shack she and her boy lived in she'd...

The scent of burning tobacco cut off the thought and a shuffle of straw behind him sent Jonas spinning around. In the shadowy light, Trammel Bodine leaned casually against the stall door. The tip of his cigarette glowed red in the dark. It took a minute for Harper's heart to settle back into place. Bodine's long, aquiline features were accentuated by the pall of shadows cast by the lantern light and by a two-day growth of beard.

"Bodine, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Evenin', Harper." He grinned broadly, blowing a smoke ring that drifted lazily toward the other man.

Harper yanked the cigarette from Bodine's mouth and put it out in the water bucket in the corner of the stall. "Are you trying to burn my barn down? Nobody smokes in my barn."

Bodine threw his hands up in front of him. "Okay, okay. Don't get yer dander up."

Harper pulled the headstall off his horse, clapped it on the backside and sent it toward the manger already filled with hay. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at Elizabeth's."

"Yeah, well, there's been a change in plans."

Jonas's gaze narrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means she cut me loose today."

"She fired you?" Harper exploded. "Hell and damnation! For what?"

"It ain't my fault," Bodine argued, setting his jaw so the lean muscles there bulged. "It was that bastard Whitlaw. Somehow, he had it all figured out how I been fixin' things to go wrong on her ranch. Flat out accused me of it in front of everybody."

"And she believed him?"

"I told you she has eyes fer him. Hell," Bodine grumbled, "if she was a chicken she'd a bought a bag of feathers from him. She swallowed the story lock, stock and barrel. Only thing Whitlaw could prove was that I'd been up in the loft goin' through his things."

Harper raked his fingers through his graying hair. "Damn it!" He paced back and forth for a few seconds before turning back to Bodine. "Did you at least find out who he was—what he wanted—like I told you to?"

"Yeah, but that ain't important no more."

Harper narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? You just got through telling me—"

"I mean Whitlaw ain't gonna stand in the way of your courtin' the Honeycutt woman from now on, that's what."

Harper stared at Bodine for a long moment. "You mean he... left Elizabeth's?"

Bodine smiled coldly. "You might put it that way. I like to think that I discouraged him like you told me to. Permanent like."

A cold sensation crept up Harper's spine and settled in the pit of his stomach. "You... killed him?"

"He had it comin'," Bodine said, rubbing his sore neck. "He tried to kill me first."

Harper leaned a flattened palm against the fragrant barn siding. "God Almighty, I never told you"—he swallowed hard—"to kill him."

"See, I don't remember it that way. I remember you wanted him dealt with. I dealt with him. My way."

"I said to stay within conscionable limits, you fool!"

"Ah, see, there's the basic difference between you an' me." Bodine's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "Good Lord didn't saddle me with a conscience. But I figure that's why you hired me for this job. 'Cause you didn't have the stomach for it yerself. Ain't that right?"

Jonas stared at him disbelievingly. He suddenly felt himself sinking into the mire of his own well-laid plan. "I paid you to convince Elizabeth to marry me by making it impossible for her to manage that place on her own—to see she didn't meet that contract she needs so badly. But I didn't pay you to kill anyone. Now, by God, you've botched that job and implicated me in a murder."

"I done my job, just like you asked. The way I see it, with Whitlaw and me gone, her choices just narrowed down to one. You. Ain't that what you wanted, Harper?"

"Hellfire and damnation!" Harper paced restlessly, but he grudgingly admitted the hardhead might be right. "Are you sure he's dead?"

Bodine pulled Chase's engraved Colt pistol from his belt. "The coyotes are fightin' over what's left of him by now. You think he would'a parted with this willingly?"

"Put that thing away! Did anyone see you?"

He snorted. "Nobody saw me, but Whitlaw. But it's a fact, we didn't part on the friendliest of terms. There's a fair chance the law might try to match me with the doin' of it. But nobody's likely to find his body 'til I'm long gone and there ain't nobody to connect me with you. Unless, of course, you don't see this thing my way."

Harper's black eyes leapt to Bodine's. "Your way?"

"It's gonna be my neck ridin' under a cottonwood limb if I get caught. The money we agreed on at the start of this job ain't gonna be enough. I figure I need some more to get out of the Territory for a while 'til things cool down."

Sweat trickled down past Harper's ear. "How much more?"

"Five thousand should just about cover it."

Harper let out a snort of disbelief. "You're insane."

Trammel's smile faded and he took a step toward the older man. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just crazy enough to tell yer little blond-haired widow what you been doin' to win her over."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If I don't get what I came for, it ain't a threat—it's a promise."

Jonas curled his hands into tight fists. "You little bastard. I paid you well for this deal. You've got no right to blackmail me for your mistakes."

"When you play dirty, you get dirty, Harper. Just ain't no way around it. You keep the money in your house?"

"I don't keep that kind of money around," Harper denied, straight-faced.

"Bullshit," Bodine barked. Cocking Chase's gun, he aimed it at Harper. "Everybody know's you don't hold no cotton with banks. I ain't playin' games here Harper."

Harper stared at the gun and thought briefly of the one still strapped to his thigh. He had no chance of getting the drop on this bastard now. "All right. There's no need for that. I'll get it for you. You wait here."

Bodine grabbed his arm and pressed the barrel against Harper's throat, a wild look lighting his eyes. "Do I look stupid to you?" He slipped Harper's gun from its holster and stuffed it into the back of his belt. "I ain't waitin' anywhere's fer you. We're a-goin' together."

Heat lightning lit the eastern sky, illuminating the way back to the house. They passed beneath the expansive adobe archway that led to the outer courtyard of the fine rectangular-shaped hacienda. The mica-specked sand that made up the adobe's smooth outer layer glittered and winked in the moonlight.

The prospect of imminent death heightened Harper's senses and cleared his mind. It had been a mistake to get involved with Bodine in the first place. When you play dirty, you get dirty. That was right. He felt irreconcilably dirty now, his good intentions turned into something else altogether. It was he who'd been stupid to trust Bodine with Elizabeth. He'd kill him for this. Someday, he'd kill him.

* * *

Nora was walking into the parlor with a cup of tea when Jonas came out of his study with the stranger and led him to the ornately carved front door. The two were exchanging quiet words she couldn't quite hear. Suddenly, the stranger turned toward her and caught her watching them. Though a hat shaded most of his face, she saw his mouth curve into a slow smile. The man's insolent gaze traveled the length of her before he slipped out the door into the darkness.

Nora frowned. The stranger had looked familiar somehow and though she couldn't place him, she knew she'd seen him before. His look had sent a chill right down to her toes. She clamped a hand on the throat of her thin cotton wrapper and watched her older brother shut the door. He turned back to her slowly, his expression clouded with anger and something else that kept him from meeting her eyes.

"Jonas?"

He brushed past her. "Did you save some supper for me?" he asked abruptly.

"Of course," she answered, following him toward the kitchen. They passed through the well-appointed dining room with the lace-covered mahogany dining table and sideboard they'd had sent West from New York. Beneath their feet, a colorful rug imported from Persia cushioned the cold earthen tiles.

"I saved you a plate," Nora said, reaching for the plate she had warming on the black iron stove that heated the corner of the kitchen. "You were very late. I didn't even hear you come in."

"We had a lot more mavericks than we expected this season. We're still not finished with the branding." He settled himself at the small wooden kitchen table with his food.

Nora sat tentatively beside him. "Jonas, who was that man?"

"Nobody." Harper stared at his plate of food.

"He couldn't very well be nobody," she persisted. "I saw him with my own eyes. Who was he?"

Harper's fork hesitated on its way to his mouth. "Just a cowboy lookin' for work."

"At this time of night?"

"He was just passing through."

"Did you hire him?"

"No." His fork twisted in his beefy hand. His agitation was growing.

"I'm glad. I didn't like the looks of him."

"You forget about that man," Jonas nearly shouted. "Forget you ever saw him. You hear me?"

Nora stared at Jonas, shocked by his harsh words. Then she tipped her chin up in anger. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you can speak to me the way you did Elda, Jonas. I'm here at your invitation and I can go back to Richmond the same way I came. I won't be talked to as if I haven't a brain in my head. If you're hiding something from me, I have a right to know what it is."

Jonas pounded his fist on the table, making the silver rattle. "Damnation, woman! It's no wonder you're still a spinster. No man would put up with that mouth of yours!"

Nora colored deeply and drew her lips into a thin straight line. "Fine. If that's how you feel, I'll be packed and gone by—"

"Nora..." Jonas's chair scraped against the tiled kitchen floor and he stopped her with one hand.

She flashed a furious, wounded look at him.

"I didn't mean that," he told her with a sigh. "Forgive me. It's been a trying day and I'm afraid I took it out on you. You know how much I appreciate your coming here. I don't know what I would have done this past year without you." His black eyes appealed to her. "I don't want you to go. I'm sorry."

Silent, Nora stared at the floor. She'd never heard Jonas apologize to anyone before and the gesture softened her anger. "You're right, you know. I'm twenty-four years old. I am a spinster. And sometimes my mouth goes on ahead of my brain."

Jonas shook his head. "You've got more between those ears than any other woman I know. Elda, God rest her soul, had half your brains and none of your looks. Any man would be lucky to have you."

She forced a smile. "I have the children I teach. That's enough. I'll be going out to see Tad and Libby tomorrow, by the way."

Jonas stiffened at the mention of the Honeycutts. He turned away and sat down to his food again. "Give Elizabeth my best."

"I will." This time Nora let his curious unease pass, determined not to stir the waters again. Jonas hadn't yet explained who the stranger was, nor why he'd gotten so angry about him. It was probably just as Jonas had said; he was overworked. Still, that man's presence had made her uncomfortable. She decided to keep her eyes open to be sure he didn't come back.

* * *

Only death could account for the cold that penetrated him like fingers of ice, Chase decided foggily; as his eyes opened to utter darkness. He must be dead.

Why else would he be sucking in dirt with every breath?

A low moan issued involuntarily from somewhere deep in his chest when he lifted his head and turned his cheek slightly to one side. He pressed his lips shut and tried to swallow. His mouth felt like a dried-out tumbleweed and his throat flat-out refused to cooperate. But he was much relieved to find himself on top of the soil, instead of underneath it. He suddenly craved a long, slow pull of forty-rod whiskey....

A puff of warm, moist air whuffed oddly against the fingers of his outstretched right hand. That strange sensation was accompanied by a demonic kind of snort close to his ear. Unnerved by the sound, Chase cautiously turned his head and chanced a look up. He could see nothing of the beast save a pair of Satanic-looking wide-spread eyes glinting in the darkness. But he could tell the creature was large... huge... the color of night.

Pain seared into his shoulder and side like a hot poker, repaying him for his sudden movement. Chase let his eyes shut again, allowing the blackness to obliterate the horrific vision.

Damn. He'd died and gone to hell.

* * *

The wheels on her buckboard spun over the rocky soil in a whooshing, rhythmic tempo as Libby urged the team down the two-mile rain-rutted lane to Three Peaks, concentrating on their clackety-clack sounds that broke the stillness. It was early. The morning sky still boasted the dusky rose blush of sunrise. In the endless pastures surrounding Harper's hacienda, cattle still lazed in the long tufts of grass and blue-green chamisa where they'd spent the night.

Libby had no worry about the decorum of the hour. She knew Jonas would be up, tending to business by the time she arrived. And once he learned her purpose in coming, she doubted he'd be offended by her visit.

She flicked the reins over the mare's back and swept a hand over the fine clair de lune-colored muslin gown, tugging at the lace-trimmed neckline. It felt strange to be corsetted and flounced. Uncomfortable, in fact. The last time she'd worn a dress, it had been her black widow's weeds for Malachi's funeral. But widow's weeds seemed somehow inappropriate today, considering her intent.

Tiny mother-of-pearl buttons marched up the front of her bodice and along the outsides of her sleeves from elbow to wrist. They seemed to be choking her. It was more likely resolve that was caught in her throat, she decided, but she'd made up her mind and there was no changing it now.

She was nearly to the house when she saw Nora standing in the lane, waving to her. Libby took a deep, fortifying breath and returned the gesture.

"What a wonderful surprise! Jonas didn't tell me you were coming to call this morning." Nora ran up to greet her.

Libby pulled the mare to a stop, wrapped the reins around the brake handle and climbed out of the buckboard, holding her skirts out of the way with one hand. "Jonas didn't know I was coming by. In fact, I didn't even know it until last night. I hope it's not an inconvenient time."

"Oh, heavens! We're up with the chickens around here," Nora said, waving off Libby's worries. "But I was going to come to your place today myself, for Tad's lessons. Just yesterday, I received that new McGuffey Reader I told Tad about. I was getting ready to come when I saw your buggy burning a path down the lane. Look at you," she said, eyeing Libby's dress. "You look just wonderful, Libby. I can't remember the last time I saw you in such a pretty gown."

In any gown, Libby thought, tugging at the neckline again. She knew that, coming from Nora, the comment wasn't meant as a criticism, so she didn't take it that way. Pressing her cheek to Nora's, she gave her a warm hug and an extra squeeze for courage.

Nora pulled back and looked squarely at Libby. Her clear brown eyes reflected her concern. "Is anything wrong, dear? You're not ill, are you? You look a bit pale."

Nora's concern made it difficult for Libby to keep tears from forming in her eyes, but she blinked them back ruthlessly and managed a wan smile. "I'm perfectly fine. Nothing's wrong, Nora. I've just come to my senses, that's all."

Nora's eyebrows took a dip. "Come to your senses? Are you sure you're well? I have a pot of sage tea brewing. Won't you come in and have a cup with me?"

Tea sounded wonderful and Libby was tempted to accept the opportunity to delay. But she couldn't. "I... I'd love to Nora. But I really came to talk to Jonas. Is he... home?"

"He's still inside, finishing his morning coffee. He's just about to head out to the range to finish the branding with the men. He's been so out of sorts lately. I'm sure your coming will cheer him up. C'mon, I'll take you to him." Nora gestured to a sun-browned cowhand who was on his way to the barn. "Missouri, see that Mrs. Honeycutt's horses get watered."

The bowlegged man nodded and shifted the wad of tobacco around in his mouth. "You want me to unhitch 'em, too?"

"No," Libby answered, too quickly. "I won't be here that long."

The inside of Harper's home was as grand as the outside. Thick adobe walls—whitewashed and pristine—kept the hacienda cool. Colorful calico strips protected them from floor to shoulder height. Jonas Harper's success was reflected in his dwelling, from the rich carpeting that covered the floor, to the fine furniture, imported from the East, that filled its rooms. A grand piano took up one side of the common room. Libby's fingers' brushed the fine, ebony wood as she followed Nora through the house.

Harper's coffee cup rattled in its saucer when he looked up from his copy of the New Mexican Weekly Gazette and saw her standing in the dining-room doorway. He shot to his feet. "Elizabeth."

She managed a tremulous smile. "Good morning, Jonas."

"What... what a surprise." Pleasure and shock registered in his dark eyes. And something else was there, too. It made her distinctly uncomfortable, though she couldn't put her finger on it. His gaze quickly traveled down the length of her, taking in the blue-gray gown she wore. "Come in. Come in. You look lovely, my dear. A dress? To what do I owe this honor?"

Libby cleared her throat and glanced at Nora.

"Won't you join me for a cup of coffee or tea?" he asked. "Have you eaten yet? I can have Soo Ling bring in something for you."

"Thank you, but no. I'm not hungry." The truth was, she'd been unable to stomach the thought of food before coming here. Now, she just wanted to get this over with. She gazed at Jonas unsure how to begin. He frightened her just a little, though she couldn't say why. Perhaps it was the determined light in his dark brown eyes, or the self-confidence he exuded.

For a middle-aged man, he was in remarkably good shape; no paunch softened his middle, though his barrel chest made him appear larger. Only a hint of gray streaked his hair and beard and he was strong. A self-made man. She didn't now feel any attraction toward him in spite of his earnest pursuit. In time, perhaps that would change.

"I... I have something I need to discuss with you, Jonas." She glanced again at Nora, hoping she'd be able to talk with him in private. As close as she felt to Jonas's sister, she had no desire for her to know the cold details of the conversation they were about to have.

Nora smiled and touched Libby's arm, taking the hint. "I'll leave you two to talk. I'll see you when you're finished, Libby."

Jonas motioned Libby to a chair and she perched upon the edge of it, nervously fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt.

"What can I do for you, Elizabeth?" he asked. Leaning back in the leather-backed chair, he sipped his steaming coffee.

"I've come"—Libby cleared the resistance from her throat—"to accept your proposal of marriage."