32

Murdock Ranch

LATE SATURDAY NIGHT, MAY 1, 1909

The screen door squeaked softly as Jake pushed through to the front porch, then shut behind him with a quiet slap of wood on wood. The wicker chair he dropped onto creaked a protest. He barely registered the latter sound, he’d heard it so often. With a sigh of pleasure, he swung his stocking-clad feet atop the porch railing, making himself comfortable. Except for the usual nocturnal rustlings and calls of distant night creatures, the house and surrounding ranch were quiet. Just the way he liked it. Weary of wrestling his sheets, he’d come downstairs to see if a drink and a dose of the early spring night air might help him relax. His body was bone weary, but his brain was more awake than a kid before the county fair.

He shouldn’t have grabbed Hattie that way yesterday. It was a tactical error. What was it about her stubborn anger and sassy mouth that made him lose all reason? He didn’t think of her as a little girl anymore. Hell, he hadn’t for a long time. So, when she’d thrown his old threat of a spanking in his face, it had been like waving a flag at a bull. He hadn’t even tried to resist the overpowering urge to demonstrate just how adult he considered her. Still, he couldn’t blame her for being angry. You don’t treat nice women like that. He had no excuse.

But, damn. This timetable shit was a helluva lot harder than he’d figured it would be.

When Hattie left Mattawa for school, Jake tried hard to put her out of his mind. It was all he could handle dealing with his grief over the deaths of Jane-Ellen and his baby. Disgracefully harder was the guilt clawing him for not being able to repudiate his rampant desire for Hattie. The same damn desire that laid waste to his control a mere two days after his wife’s death.

But Hattie’s departure had left him hollow. And rather than diminishing, the pain of her furious leave-taking and her refusal to see, write, or talk to him had spread like cancer inside him. A situation not helped when he’d tried to see her at school on a trip to Seattle and the matron informed him it was against school policy to allow males to visit a student unless specified by the student’s parent or guardian. A list his name was not on.

Not being able to see Hattie on that trip gutted him. It also made his guilt over her not coming home for holidays, or for so much as a visit since she’d left, worse than it had been before. He knew damn well Augusta, Mirabel, and Doc missed Hattie, too, and Jake didn’t doubt for a minute her absence was his fault. It didn’t seem to matter that he didn’t live in town. Evidently, Hattie had no intention of coming back to Mattawa as long as he was anywhere in the county.

Guilt or no guilt, however, it didn’t erase the way Hattie had responded to him that night up in her room. No way in hell had he been able to forget the hot sensuality of her in his arms.

He’d thought, given time, she would forgive whatever it was he’d done so wrong. But she hadn’t written him and she wouldn’t talk to him when she called. All news of her had come to him secondhand through the letters Hattie sent to his mother. And as the end of her schooling grew closer, he’d begun to feel desperate. What if she never came back at all? That was when he’d talked to Aurelia Donaldson. And in exchange for her help, he had made a promise.

“Ideally, we try to hire male teachers,” the older woman had told him as they sat in her dimly illuminated, heavily furnished parlor. “Once a woman marries, she is, of course, disqualified from teaching. And in the past few years we’ve seen far too many of them come and go. Now, as you clearly know, the positions are available. But your request goes against every decision we’ve recently approved. You’re asking me to hire not one, but two young women.” She lowered her lorgnette and looked away with a sigh. “That’s going to be difficult to get past the rest of the board.”

“You owe it to her.”

Aurelia’s head snapped around and she raised her lorgnette to look down her nose at him in her most imperious manner. “Do I?”

Jake met her gaze levelly. “Yes. The whole damn town does.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “I’ve discovered she is an incredibly sweet child. I never gave her credit for that in the past. Her outspokenness and the way she ran around with the Marks boy led me to believe she was a hellion.”

She looked around her large, elegant parlor. “I began to realize I may have misjudged her when Jane-Ellen died. Doc told me the lengths Hattie went to in order to make his daughter comfortable. And her letters have brightened this old woman’s life. She has an honesty that tickles me—she doesn’t give a fig about my money or the power I wield in Mattawa. Why, she actually wrote me a letter specifically to disagree with a decision about which I had written her. Her argument made sense, too.”

Jake smiled wryly, knowing Aurelia had most likely first been offended, then been delighted by Hattie’s effrontery. But he sobered quickly. “Offering a position to her friend is the only option I can think of to guarantee having Hattie come home.”

Aurelia’s face softened. “Yes. Her letters are full of Nell.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” he pressed.

Her lorgnette had lowered, but Aurelia brought it up again to peer at him. “Why is it so important to you, Jacob?”

Jake hesitated. Then he admitted with stark honesty, “Hattie’s special. You’re just beginning to realize it, but I’ve known it from the minute she first stepped off the train in ninety-nine.”

He thrust his fingers through his hair. “I used to be special to her, too, Aurelia, but when she left here she was furious with me. I think I know why, but if it’s what I believe it is, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

He shrugged, then admitted, “I can’t tolerate the way things between us stand much longer. She never writes to me, she doesn’t ask about me in her letters to Mother, and she’s refused to talk to me the few times she’s telephoned when I’ve been at Mother’s house. God only knows where she may accept an offer of employment. It could be anywhere in the state, and I will never know for certain what I did to make her cut me out of her life. I need the chance to know.”

Aurelia looked at Jake sitting there, determined and ruthlessly honest as he stated his case. He was at ease in the stiff, formal ambiance of her home. He’d arrived unannounced in the parlor where few guests ever dared drop by uninvited, and she admired his boldness. She liked a person who knew what he wanted and was unafraid to go after it.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll get it by the board. And I will do my best to ease her reemergence into Mattawa society. In return, I want your promise you will give me a year’s worth of work out of the girl before you go interfering in her life.”

It had seemed a simple request to honor at the time.

Jake became aware of his feet slowly turning into clumps of ice. The days had been lengthening and they’d enjoyed a few days in the high sixties. But when the sun went down, the temperature dropped a good twenty degrees and evenings quickly grew chilly. The night sky was clear and black, with stars thick, brilliant, and low overhead. Jake dropped his feet to the porch floor, threw back the remainder of his wine, and surged up out of his chair.

He had his boots in his hand and was reaching for the screen door when he heard the jingle of a bridle. Rubbing one stockinged foot against his shin to restore a little warmth, he hesitated, listening hard. There! There it was again, and now he heard a quiet clip-clop of shod hooves as well. Stepping into a shadow, he searched the road for the source of the noise.

Hell, it was Saturday night—no doubt one of his men was returning to the bunkhouse after a night at Bigger’s Saloon or Mamie’s cathouse. And yet—

This had a feeling of stealth at odds with the habits of his men. Regard for others’ sleep wasn’t a general consideration when they were liquored up and racing up the road, anxious to grab a few hours’ shut-eye before having to roll out of bed again to start another workday.

Jake used the marginally successful warming motion on his other foot. Whoever it was definitely seemed to want anonymity. The rider kept to the shadows and avoided the areas where starlight cast skeletal fingers of illumination. It wasn’t until the horse walked out of the lane and into the stable yard that Jake recognized it. And knowing the horse, he knew the rider.

Anger rose in him like the creek during flooding season. Swearing beneath his breath, he yanked on his boots and vaulted the porch railing. He was across the yard seconds after the stable doors closed behind Hattie and her horse.

Hattie hummed to herself as she loosened the cinch beneath Belle’s stomach. She didn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. After nights dreaming of racing her horse, she’d finally been in a position to do so. It had been everything she imagined it would be, too. Her nerves had settled and those nameless, relentless urges, which lately had increasingly plagued her—were gone. She felt wonderful.

Until the door slammed open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jake demanded.

She’d been removing her saddle, but startled by Jake’s arrival, she lost her grip. The saddle tumbled to the stable floor, making Belle sidestep nervously. Hattie grabbed the reins and patted the mare’s glossy brown neck in reassurance. “Easy, girl,” she whispered. “Eeeeasy, now.” She looked over her shoulder at Jake. Clearly, from the tone and volume of his voice, he was furious. Seeing his face merely confirmed it. “Will you kindly lower your voice? You startled me to death and you’re upsetting Belle.”

Muscles in Jake’s jaw jumped ominously. “Oh. Well,” he said through clenched teeth. “We mustn’t upset Belle.”

She shrugged.

Jake did a slow burn while Hattie ignored his sarcasm and hefted her saddle onto a railing as though this were a perfectly acceptable time of night to be performing her post-ride chores. She put the rest of the tack in the tack room, then reached for a brush and quickly groomed the mare. Finally, she tossed a blanket over Belle and led her to a clean stall.

Jake watched every move through narrowed eyes. Hattie’s appearance was quite the change from the spit-and-polish schoolmarm she’d shown the town since her return to Mattawa. He inspected her loose, wild hair spilling over her shoulders, breasts, and back. And while Hattie was covered in a respectable blouse, split skirt, and boots, she wore no corset. Displaying every bit of sensuality she’d suppressed these past eleven months.

What the hell was going on here? The instant she reemerged from the stall, he pushed off the post he’d leaned against. In two giant strides, he stood in front of her. “Now,” he said with implacable command, “I want to know what the hell you were doing out on a horse on a deserted country road in the dead of night.”

Jake’s tone made her hackles rise, but Hattie resisted her immediate inclination to respond in kind. “I was riding,” she said and congratulated herself on her neutral tone of voice.

“No shit,” he replied, making her promptly bristle. If he was going to spout obscenities, he could just . . .

“Well, gol-ly,” he drawled with heavy-handed mockery, “I wonder why I didn’t figure that out for myself?”

Taking exception to his country-bumpkin sarcasm, she whirled away.

Instantly, his hand clamped down on her wrist and she was whirled right back. “Where the hell you think you’re going?” he demanded, his voice rough and his hayseed impersonation forgotten.

“In the house,” she snapped. “I don’t have to put up with this from you.”

“Ah now, that’s where you’re wrong,” he disagreed smoothly. “You don’t appear to get the big picture, Big-eyes. I’m not offering you a choice here. I’m bigger than you, so until I say otherwise, you’re not going anywhere. Not until I get to the bottom of this.”

“To the bottom of what, exactly?” Hattie planted her free fist on a round hip, impatiently shaking her hair behind her shoulders as she stared up at him. “Is there supposed to be a mystery? I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a ride.” Her chin jutted toward the rafters. “Nobody was hurt by it.”

Involuntarily, his fingers tightened around her wrist. “Which makes you damn lucky! It’s Saturday night, or had you forgotten? Payday for every cowboy and farmhand in the county. There are any number of drunks out at this time of night, making their way back home. They would just love running into a tasty little tidbit like you.”

Hattie tried unsuccessfully to yank her arm free. Nerves finally soothed were once again jinglejangling, and the darn unable-to-scratch itch in that embarrassing spot between her legs was back with a vengeance. “Darn you, Jake! Why do you have to ruin everything? All I wanted was one midnight ride. I’ve been dreaming of this for months.” Her frustrated gaze met Jake’s irritated dark hazel-green eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away.

Neither, from the looks of things, could he.

“It’s really none of your business,” she finally said, “but I’ve been so restless lately. My nerves have been so on edge I can’t bear it. I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it myself, but what I do know is the one thing that’s helped me through too many sleepless nights is the thought of racing Belle.” She shifted in agitation. “Well, tonight I finally had an opportunity, and it was wonderful until you had to go rain on my parade. I was nice and calm and tired enough to sleep. In short, I felt magnificent.” Her blood ran so thick and fast under her skin, she’d put money down her freckles were drowned beneath the red bloom on her chest, throat, and cheeks. She tried once more to tug her captured wrist free, but he held it firmly. “Now you’ve got me all riled up again, and I’ll probably never get to sleep.”

Jake went very still. Christ. Of course. It explained everything: the lack of foundation garments, the tangled hair. The meaning behind her words struck at a vital hidden nerve deep inside him and he forgot his anger, his good intentions, and every previously given promise. Slowly, he reached out and tunneled the fingers of his free hand beneath the thick wavy hair at the nape of her neck. It flowed through his fingers with crackling vitality. “I know what you need to take care of those restless urges,” he whispered roughly as his fingers tightened on her neck and the wrist he still held, exerting pressure to bring her closer. “And, Big-eyes, it isn’t a horseback ride.” The corner of Jake’s mouth tipped up as Hattie’s eyes grew round . . . and aware.

Oh my God, oh my God. Hattie wondered if Jake could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He looked as if he knew the effect he had on her. And, good God Almighty, his voice. It was as raspy as a cat’s tongue, licking a message up her spine. She shivered beneath the goose bumps cropping up in the wake of the ghostly communication.

She could read Jake’s intent in his eyes and instinctively, knowing if he kissed her she’d lose all will to resist, she ducked her head. Why hadn’t she run for safety the moment she realized she was alone with him? Now it was too late. Jake’s hand twisted in her hair, wrapping it around his fist, and tugged, forcing her head back until her neck arched. She closed her eyes against the helpless longing assailing her as his head lowered.

His mouth was urgent and hot, and it rubbed her lips apart before she knew what was what. She was conscious of the roughness of his stubble abrading the soft skin around her lips. But when his tongue slid across her teeth and plunged, wet and determined, into the recesses of her mouth, all rational thought dissolved. He released her wrist and her freed hands twisted in the material over his chest, using it as leverage to pull herself up on tiptoe. Pressing herself against him. Striving to get closer.

Hattie reveled in the low sounds rumbling in Jake’s throat and in his rough-skinned hands sliding down her back until his calloused fingers gripped her resilient bottom. He pulled her up, and as her feet left the ground, instinct had her spreading her legs, then clamping them tightly around his hips as he backed them into an empty stall. Without releasing her or breaking their kiss, he scraped clean straw into a pile with the side of his boot. Then his legs folded and he knelt with her still astride his lap.

An unidentifiable unit of time later, Jake broke the kiss, plunging his fingers into her hair and holding her head erect as he kissed his way down her throat.

Hattie’s response was unthinking and incontrovertible. Clutching Jake’s shoulders, she moaned her pleasure and tilted her pelvis to feel more of the hard heat barely nudging that space between her thighs.

Then before she could string two thoughts together, her blouse was on the stable floor, her chemise was pulled down around her waist, and Jake’s mouth was moving with damp suction over and between her breasts. His hands pushed her loose-legged split skirt high up her legs. Warm, hard, fingers gripped the back of her thighs and paced her slow, mindless rocking motion, rubbing her back and forth against the warm thickness straining behind the fly of his pants. Hattie’s head dropped back and her eyes slid closed. She panted softly between parted lips.

Jake pulled his face from Hattie’s lush cleavage and looked at her. His breath hissed sharply between his teeth. Oh God, if he didn’t have her soon . . . Leaning over, he eased her onto her back atop the piled straw. Kissing her from throat to waist, he wrestled off her skirt and her cotton step-ins, leaving her wearing a twist of material around her waist, polished riding boots, and white stockings held up by the pink garters above her knees.

Jake kicked off his boots and only managed to get his pants as far as his knees before lowering those same knees between her thighs. Holding himself in one fist, he watched as he rubbed his erection between the soft, giving folds of Hattie’s pretty cunny.

Oh Jesus, Jesus, she was so wet. Hunching over, he pulled a distended nipple into his mouth and milked it with eager lips. A small moan rattled in the back of her throat and her legs parted. Carefully, he aligned his cock and pushed with slow care, mindful of her virginity.

There was no barrier to impede his progress. He sank into her in one smooth, gliding thrust. Stilling, he stared at her in shock. Who—?

Hattie’s eyes were closed, her expression lost in wonder. He wanted to know who she had given her virginity to; he needed to love her; he—

Oh hell, he couldn’t deal with this right now. Hattie’s face was flushed with desire, and her beautiful eyes were prominent even behind closed lids. Her teeth were startlingly white against the natural red of her lower lip. And inside, surrounding him, she was hot and wet and, God, so unrelentingly tight. He couldn’t look at her, could not feel her sheath gripping him, and still be expected to think. Slowly, carefully, he began to move. He brushed her nipple with his lips and felt her contract around him. Oh hell, yes. Later. Hands planted on the dusty floor next to her shoulders, elbows locked, Jake slowly thrust in and out of her.

Hattie had never dreamed anything could feel this good. Her legs spread farther and her hands reached to grip the backs of his thighs, her fingernails sinking into the muscles standing out in hard relief. Little whimpers issued from her throat as something deep inside of her began winding more and more tightly.

Then . . . Hattie had no idea if it was the sounds, or the sight, or the feel of her woman parts wrapped around his man part that got to Jake. Whatever it was, it seemed to push him beyond all restraint. His straight arms unlocked and his chest suddenly crushed her breasts. His body was clearly in control now, his hips moving fast and rough, slamming into her.

Hattie hadn’t connected this emotion erupting between them with her rape. But with Jake’s sudden weight pinning her down, the sweet, exciting feelings his touch garnered were abruptly buried in an avalanche of terror. She couldn’t breathe. Dear Lord, she was suffocating and there was material against her breasts, in her mouth . . . just like That Night. Worse, once again there was a pounding, pounding, pounding between her legs. The lack of pain didn’t register, only the abrupt violence of his movements.

“No! No, stop it!” She began to fight him, her hands trying to push him away, her fingernails reaching for his eyes.

Jake was stunned by her sudden attack, by the tears standing in her eyes and the stark terror where only moments ago there had been desire. His body was a senseless beast knowing it was seconds away from a climax and had no desire to follow his command to pull out of her. But, Jesus, that look on her face! Gritting his teeth, he jerked back.

“Oh God, oh fuck,” he said as he pulled out. But he wasn’t completely free when he started to come. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered as he ejaculated some of his seed in her before fully extricating himself to spill the rest on the ground. He shuddered as every bit of his strength drained from him and sat back heavily on his heels, his head hanging in shame.

Next thing Jake knew, he was lying on his back, looking up at Hattie, who had kicked him there. He didn’t think he would ever, as long as he lived, forget the look in her eyes as she scrambled away from him, hitching up her chemise and snatching up her skirt and blouse.

He’d never seen such terror or disgust in his life. She stepped into her clothes but didn’t take the time to fasten anything, holding the skirt’s waistband closed with one hand and the button placket to her blouse bunched together in the other. She headed for the door.

He wanted to stop her, to find out what the hell had gone so wrong. He wanted to know why she’d been so willing one moment, so frightened the next. He wanted to stop her for a hundred good reasons. But mostly to apologize, to say he was so sorry he didn’t stop the very instant she got scared.

Instead, he was appalled by the words that left his mouth even as they halted her flight. “Who did you give yourself to before me, Hattie?” he demanded. White-hot jealousy, that anyone could have seen her, felt her, the way he had, ate at him. But, God, why did those particular words have to come out now?

Hattie whirled in the doorway. Her face was stark white, lacking even the minutest drop of color. “Give myself?” she said in a low, rusty voice. “I didn’t give myself, you sonovabitch. I was handed over on a silver platter. The man didn’t ask, and I didn’t offer. He took.”

Jake jerked in shock. But before he could say a word, she was gone.