|
"Forbidden Harvest isn't your typical romance. In fact, it goes farther than that genre ordinarily allows, breaking barriers that true romances generally frown upon. Marshall has written a no-holes-barred western with a sizzling romance built in that is a refreshing change from bashful vixens and predictable plots. Marshall's characterization is superb as she introduces you to each personality. The plot is well-laid out and the ending is suspenseful and perfect for the story. Its subtle darkness is enticing rather than offensive. For anyone who likes an intriguing and different love story, Forbidden Harvest will appeal to you." Carolyn Hanna, The Waldron News
Forbidden Harvest
By
Marion Marshall
© copyright Linda Slater 1998
Cover art by Tara Lynn
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Dottie Blackmon for her unfaltering belief in me and for her friendship over the past forty years. Like Katie Wainwright in this book, she is a woman of outstanding grace, perception, and courage.
CHAPTER ONE
MONTANA TERRITORY
1874
Katie shuddered as the stranger's shadowed form materialized in the doorway, his face hidden in the shadows. She caught only a fleeting glimpse of his eyes as he came closer. She backed away further into the small unfamiliar room, but there was no escape.
He was closer now, but still he did not speak. He had no need. It was very clear to Katie what his intentions were. She shuddered again, not from fear, for although he was a complete stranger, she wasn't afraid. The shudders were generated from the excitement building inside her, growing with every silent step the stranger took as he neared the tiny cot where she cowered, waiting.
He reached the cot, staring down at her. He did not speak nor smile nor make any menacing gesture. While she watched, hypnotized by this queer inability to move, he reached down and gathered her into his arms. His mouth crushed hers, bruising her lips, grinding, demanding, yet strangely sensual.
"No, please...." she murmured when at last she found an opportunity to tear her lips away from his. "I'm married. I--I can't do this."
"Liar," his voice taunted softly between warm exhilarating kisses that rained seductively across the damp velvet of her throat. "You want it too, that's why you led me here. So just shut up and enjoy it. Worry about your conscience later."
His voice was husky, vibrating with passion. It seemed to come from far away. Katie couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The world and her responsibility to her family and the vow she'd made to God that she would never let this happen slipped into the distance with every plundering kiss this shadowed, dangerous man took from her.
She answered his fevered kisses with total abandonment, matching him caress for caress, muted whisper for muted whisper, tearing at his clothing and her own until their damp, passion fueled bodies were intertwined on the narrow cot. Her back arched to receive him completely. Her nails raked his shoulders while her breath came in labored gulps. Her body seemed to devour him, eagerly, desperately seeking to find gratification from the burning inferno she had become.
Reason was gone. She was consumed with desire for this man who had ignited the long cold ashes of sensuality within her. He was right; she would feel guilty later, go home to face Matt and try to act like nothing had happened. Later she would go to church and beg God's forgiveness for this terrible weakness. Later....much later.
Her body was on fire. The stranger's expert touch was bringing her closer and closer to deliverance. Her heart pounded like thunder in her chest, her legs wrapped around him to bury him deeply inside her. At the moment of perfect consummation she opened her eyes to find him staring down into her closed eyes. There was a pleased, almost amused expression on his face, at least what she could see of it in the heavy shadows, but in the depths of his eyes was a warmth that filled her with satisfaction.
Those beautiful, strangely colored eyes revealed so much yet said nothing. Even in the throes of release her brows wrinkled in wonder. Those eyes, where had she seen them before? Why did they seem familiar?
Then he was moving away from her, replacing his clothing and turning to leave without saying a word. Katie raised onto one elbow to reach for him but he was out of reach.
"No, don't go!" she pleaded. "Not yet! Please, don't go!"
"Katie! Wake up, Katie!"
She snapped back to consciousness instantly, jerking upright in bed, drawing gulps of air into her parched lungs. Turning her head quickly, she saw Matt's worried face, then felt his great brawny arms close around her, pulling her back down onto the damp, tangled sheets. He cradled her trembling body in his arms, smoothed her hair and crooned softly to calm her fears.
"You were having a bad dream again, Katie," Matt said gently in his deep resonant voice as he rocked her. "That's the third one this week. Want to tell me about it?"
Katie shook her head and bit her lips in shame. Her eyes blurred with guilty tears as she clutched him frantically. "I..I can't remember it, Matthew. It's gone now," she lied softly.
"Was it the same dream again?"
She nodded her head against the warmth of his chest. "Yes, the same dream, always the same."
"Well, don't worry about it, Katie. It was only a dream," Matt assured her with a yawn over her head.
Katie nodded again as she bit her knuckles to keep back the tears that stung her eyes. She was afraid suddenly, very much afraid. "I know, Matthew," she whispered against his chest. Her voice was so soft he could not hear the words. "It was only a dream, but that's what scares me so. My dreams always come true."
CHAPTER TWO
From the moment the Wainwright family entered Hopkins' store the following morning, Katie was consumed with anxiety. Riding into town beside Matt and the children, she had seen the tension growing between the band of farmers and Fletcher's men.
It had been like this for weeks now, the whispered remarks, the sly threats, the open contempt with which the cowhands viewed Matt and the others like him. The Montana territory was building toward a confrontation between the small group of farmers and Justin Fletcher. The tension had never been so great as this bright May morning.
Katie shepherded eight year old Dane and six year old Glenna into the store behind Matt, realizing with an anxious glance that they were the only farmers in the place. Matt ambled toward the counter to discuss when a long due shipment of wire would be arriving, pausing momentarily to give Katie a reassuring smile.
She forced a smile to her stiff lips, then glanced around again. To her dismay, she saw a handful of Fletcher's men seated at a card table in the rear of the store pretending to play a hand of poker.
Hopkins' was a combination general store and saloon, one of the few businesses in Breckenridge so there was no choice of where to purchase goods. But lately, coming to town was a harrowing experience. Everyone expected a spark to ignite the tense situation into open warfare so Katie could not help the uneasiness that filled her at the sight of Fletcher's riders.
Her attention was drawn to the second table at the rear of the building. A man was seated there alone. He was obviously not one of Fletcher's men, Katie realized at a glance, for he was not dressed like the others. No spurs, no chaps, no sweat stained hat, just a dust covered shirt and brown leather vest that told Katie he had traveled a long way. His face was shadowed by his hat, his eyes downcast while he toyed with a half empty glass of whiskey on the table before him.
As though he felt her staring, the man looked up directly into Katie's eyes. At that distance Katie could not see his features clearly, but their gaze held for a moment before she realized she had been staring at him and quickly made herself busy with her shopping.
Several minutes passed while Katie made her purchases and brought them to the counter. Matt leaned against the counter top, talking quietly with Hopkins while helping the children decide which kind of stick candy they wanted.
Abruptly Katie noticed the townspeople in the store had become very quiet. Turning, she realized the eerie silence was due to the approach of Fletcher's men from the rear of the store. One of them, a lanky kid with red hair and freckles named Wade Haskell, strolled past her to brace himself in front of Matt.
The others stood back grinning, nudging each other in anticipation. Katie knew there was going to be trouble, but the cowboy addressed Matt before she could speak.
"Wainwright, if I was you, I'd just forget about that shipment of barbed wire you're lookin' for."
Matt's patient face remained calm. Only his coffee colored eyes moved, scanning the situation, assessing the odds, sizing up his opponent. "You're not me," he said evenly.
"Mr. Fletcher ain't gonna let you go stringin' no barbed wire, Wainwright," the cowboy continued boldly. "No sir, it'll be a waste of time for you to go to all that bother. Ain't gonna do you no good."
"Justin Fletcher doesn't tell me what I can do on my own land," Matt replied.
"Your land?" Haskell sneered. "Wainwright, that farm of yours has been Fletcher land for fifty years. You'd be wise to take your family and get off it before somebody gets hurt."
"Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of what's mine." Matt's level voice was firm, confident. Those qualities made the cowboy's fingers itch even though Matt was not wearing a gun.
Matt Wainwright stood six feet five and weighed two hundred and forty-five pounds. He was all muscle and although at forty he was several years older than Wade Haskell, the cowboy knew he was no match for Matt's formidable size and strength.
Haskell's hand dropped to the butt of his pistol. He watched Matt, expecting the big man to back down, and was surprised when it didn't happen. When it became apparent that Matt wasn't going to fold and slink away, Haskell motioned for assistance from his companions.
Matt was between Katie and the doorway, his back to the rear of the room. He was not in position to see the other man, the one who had been sitting alone, rise and move toward the counter. He did not take an active role in the confrontation, but rather leaned against one of the supporting beams in a casual manner while observing the situation.
While Katie watched in fearful fascination, the man carefully, deliberately placed his right hand on the butt of his gun. Now that he was closer Katie could tell he was a stranger, probably just passing through, for his clothes were covered with dust and his lean tanned face bore several days growth of beard.
He was tall, around six feet one, with broad shoulders and a powerful, well muscled body, but while Wade Haskell saw the warning in his movements, Katie was suddenly not afraid. He meant Matt no harm. On the contrary, he was giving the cowboys a subtle, but very clear warning. A warning Katie saw Wade Haskell recognize with one glance.
The cowboy's face went slightly pale as he licked at his lips for a moment while he sized up the stranger. The man's face bore a calm, almost bored expression, but the way his eyes maintained a steady exchange with Haskell's and the way he wore his gun low on his hip, tied down with a black leather thong told the cowboy he knew how to use it.
Haskell read the message the stranger was sending him clearly. He cleared his throat, then swung his attention back to Matt. "You've been warned, Wainwright. Whatever happens now will be on your head. Remember that."
With a furtive jerk of his head to his companions, he hurried past Katie through the store into the street. When Katie looked back at the stranger, he had re-taken his seat in the rear of the store.
He was sipping at the whiskey as though nothing had happened, but when he felt Katie's curious gaze, he looked up beneath the shadow of the dark hat to meet it. He made no acknowledgment of interceding on Matt's behalf, just a barely perceptible nod before dropping his attention back to the drink in his hand.
Moments later after Matt had loaded his family and supplies into the wagon and driven up the street, the stranger finished his drink and left the saloon. The group of cowboys gave him a wide berth as he gathered up the reins to a weary black stallion tied in front, but their angry conversation reached him clearly.
Without any indication that he noticed or cared what they said, he urged the black into a canter, heading up the street. He glanced back over his shoulder at the end of the street. His lips tightened into thin lines when he saw the band of riders mount up and turn their horses in the same direction the Wainwright family had taken.
The man reined the black around, changed direction, and propelled the animal into a dead run as he cut through the edge of town. In seconds he was in open country flying along the trail through the prairie.
Matt Wainwright looked back when his young son informed him of the rider who was rapidly approaching. By the time Matt had pulled the team to a halt, the man had reached them. He met Matt's startled gaze squarely while motioning behind him.
"Mr. Wainwright, those men you tangled with in town have decided to even the score. I'd advise you to get your family behind the wagon." He nodded toward the carbine resting at Matt's side. "Can you use that?"
Matt glanced at the gun, then back at the stranger skeptically. "Only for hunting. I've never lifted a gun to another human being and I have no intentions of starting now."
A slight cynical smile touched the man's face, then it was gone, replaced with indifference. "Well then, Mr. Wainwright, you better get ready to die because those men don't have your ethics."
Matt's heavy brows drew together in concern. He stared at the man for a moment, trying to decide what to do. "How do I know you're telling the truth? You could be one of Fletcher's men too, for all I know."
"Mr. Wainwright, if I was one of Fletcher's men wanting to kill you, you'd be dead."
His voice was calm, level, and the ring of truth in it made Matt think. "How do I know you can be trusted?"
Impatience flashed across the man's dark face. He turned in the saddle, listening intently for the sound of approaching riders, then looked back at Matt.
"You don't, but you've got less than a minute to decide, Mr. Wainwright. By that time eight men are going to be on top of us. Now make up your mind. Are you going to fight or not?"
Matt's eyes flashed to Katie's troubled face, but she was staring up at the man on the black horse. After exchanging a long silent stare into the fascinating pair of eyes beneath the dark brimmed hat, she put a shaky hand on Matt's forearm.
"He's telling the truth, Matthew. You can trust him."
It was an odd thing to say, the man thought to himself, but it sent Wainwright into action. For such a big man he moved with amazing speed, leaping down from the seat to lift both his children out, one under each arm. Katie jumped out behind them and knelt beneath the wagon, holding the children close.
By the time Matt had jerked the rifle from its place in the wagon, the band of riders was upon them. They came in fast with guns drawn, like a cavalry charge, yelling at the top of their lungs.
While Katie watched from beneath the cover of the wagon, the stranger on the black whirled the animal around, pulling the rifle from the boot on his saddle at the same time. Without taking time to aim, he fired from the hip, flipping the lever of the Winchester .44-.40 so quickly the resulting shots seemed like echoes of the first rather than separate rounds.
The oncoming riders scattered, circled for another attack, but it didn't take them long to decide they were out gunned. They had expected surprise and numbers to be their advantage, not an entrenched rebuff. They turned to flee without hitting anything but air, but their opponent was more successful. When they scurried back to town to lick their wounds, three of them lay dead in the settling dust.
As the hoofbeats died into the distance, Matt rose from his position behind the wagon to walk forward to inspect the bodies. He turned back, pale and shaken. The man on the black horse dismounted and pushed his hat back while Katie and the children hesitantly came out of hiding.
"That was some shooting, mister!" Dane exclaimed with wide eyes.
"Dane, hush!" Katie scolded as she pulled the youngster back before he could escape to look at the bodies.
"I'm sorry you and the children had to see that, Mrs. Wainwright."
His voice was respectful, almost soft. Katie kept staring at him, unable to break the contact with those clear fascinating eyes that were now visible beneath the brim of the dark Stetson. The man's brows raised in puzzlement at her strange behavior, but he did not have time to dwell on the curious way she was looking at him because Matt had returned.
"Dane's right, that was some shooting," Matt said quietly. "Three dead and you weren't even aiming. That's better than good."
The man shrugged as he turned to slide the rifle back into place on his saddle. He would have mounted and ridden away without further conversation had not Matt stepped forward and thrust out his hand.
"I probably owe you my life, mister. Thanks. My name's Matt Wainwright."
The man turned from the horse and slowly took Matt's offered hand. "Mine's Tulane."
Matt's face instantly paled, then he continued shaking his benefactor's hand. "The Tulane from the 2nd Cavalry, Arizona Territory?"
"That's right," Tulane answered curtly. His voice tightened but his features were unchanged except for a hard glint that flickered in the depths of his blue-gray eyes
"That explains the shooting," Matt remarked without appearing to notice the thinly veiled guard Tulane had thrown up around himself. "I imagine a man doesn't live long in Arizona without learning to shoot like that, what with all the Apache trouble."
"That's mostly over with now," Tulane replied in a less strained tone.
It seemed to Katie that he let out a sigh of relief when Matt did not comment further on his identity. She wondered why the man's name had obviously rung a bell with her husband when she had never heard it. Still, she had the uneasy feeling that they had met somewhere. She racked her brain trying to place him but was at a loss to remember having ever seen him before today.
She was roused from her thoughts when Matt turned to her and brought her forward with the sweep of one brawny arm. "This is my wife, Katherine, and my son Dane, and that little princess hiding behind her mother's skirt is my daughter Glenna."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Tulane said politely to Katie as he tipped his hat. Turning his attention back to Matt, his face sobered, his gaze holding Matt's squarely. "Mr. Wainwright, you've got a real nice family. Maybe you ought to give a little more thought to Fletcher's threats. If this incident is any example, you could be putting them in real danger by staying around."
Matt's face tensed as his big shoulders squared beneath the flannel work shirt. "Tulane, I bought my farm from Ben Fletcher six years ago. I paid good money for it just like my friends and neighbors did and it'll take more than a polecat like his dandified son to run me off it."
For an instant Tulane almost smiled at Matt's flare of temper, but then his face became solemn again. He turned and mounted the black stallion in one fluid motion, then reined the animal around so he was facing Matt. Even on foot Matt stood above eye level with the horse. His face was set, determined.
"Then I hope you're prepared to pay the price, Mr. Wainwright, because it'll be a high one. Probably higher than you could imagine."
"What do you mean by that?" Matt questioned. Though Tulane's voice was firm, Matt heard no threat in it.
"Because Fletcher's hiring someone to kill you. Did you know that?"
Matt's heavy brows arched in surprise. "No, but it doesn't surprise me much. He said he'd do whatever was necessary to drive us off the land and hiring a gunman is something Justin would do. This man he's hired...do you know his name?"
"How would I know that?" Tulane countered.
"You know a lot about this situation, Tulane," Matt replied firmly. "A lot more than you're admitting. And you involved yourself in my problems when it's no concern of yours. I'm curious just how much you really know about Justin's plans."
Tulane seemed to reflect on Matt's insightful observation for a moment, then gave a slight shrug. "Eight against one didn't seem like very fair odds to me. That's all. Nothing terribly hard to understand about that."
"And what about Fletcher?"
"He's hired two men to kill you if they can't drive you out. One's Jake Stoddard."
"And the other?" Matt persisted, scowling.
"The other's changed his mind."
It took a minute for Katie to realize what he meant. By then he was moving past Matt. Suddenly she leaped forward to catch the bridle. The big horse snorted and slung his head in alarm, dancing backwards until Tulane reined him around.
Katie was still holding the bridle, unaware that she had moved from the spot by Matt's side until the curious way Tulane's brows raised made her realize what she had done. Fully embarrassed and feeling foolish, she let go of the bridle and stepped away. "It will be dark in a couple of hours. Come home with us for supper. You can spend the night too. I'm sure you'd like a hot bath and some good food."
"That's not necessary," Tulane said politely.
"But it is," she contradicted quickly as a blush crept into her cheeks. "You risked your own life for perfect strangers today. The least you can do is accept the offer of our hospitality."
Tulane studied her quiet, understated beauty in silence while he debated with himself. He could have made five thousand dollars by disposing of Matt Wainwright with one simple bullet. Instead he had put himself on the opposite side by coming to the farmer's aid.
That put him at odds with Jake Stoddard, he thought grimly. That was nothing new, was it? He and Jake had been at odds with each other since the war.
He observed the midnight blue eyes of the delicate, feminine woman in the gingham dress. Blue was certainly her color, he thought, mildly surprised at himself for even noticing how the baby blue dress set off her enchanting blue eyes and glowing complexion. Katie Wainwright was probably close to his own age of thirty-five, he judged.
Her honey-beige colored hair was swept up into a French braid in the back, and he wondered fleetingly how she would look with it loose and flowing softly around her shoulders. Then he shook himself mentally, grinding his teeth in irritation. The last thing he needed was to admire how beautiful Katherine Wainwright was, he reminded himself sharply. Yet it was impossible not to see the beauty in the lush curves of her body or the sensuality in the depths of those luminescent blue eyes.
"All right, Mrs. Wainwright, if you insist," he was surprised to hear himself say. "I'll be along in a bit, soon as I've taken care of this," he added with a gesture at the three bodies in the trail.
"I'll give you a hand."
"That's not necessary, Mr. Wainwright. It's better if you take your family on home."
Matt nodded. "Fine, fine, we'll be expecting you then," he boomed in a hearty voice. "Just continue on this trail about five more miles, Tulane. Turn right where the river bends. You can't miss my place."
Tulane nodded almost absently, for his eyes were still locked with Katie's in a strange mystical way. He saw a fearfulness flash through her, momentary yet very powerful.
She bit her bottom lip in child-like bewilderment while she stared into his expressive mosaic eyes.
His eyes were a combination of silver gray and azure blue, always changing, always different, but frighteningly familiar. She forced herself to look away, wishing so simple an act would break the spell she was under, yet knowing in her heart that was asking too much.
How could it be, she thought and suddenly knew that her worst fear had been realized. Tulane was the man in the dreams that haunted her sleep, refusing to let her rest, tormenting her with sensual needs that were foreign to her.
So why, knowing that this dark, dangerous stranger was the same man who lifted her to unbelievable heights of ecstasy in her dreams, did she insist he come home with them for supper? That was like inviting the wolf into the chicken coop, she thought incredulously.
Still, when she glanced back into his face momentarily before he tipped his hat politely as he moved past her, she felt exhilarated, like a girl again. There was no mistaking the curious admiration in his eyes just now. He was as intrigued with her as she was with him, but there was also an underlying sense of safety, as though her family had just been placed under the wing of a guardian angel.
It was a strange combination of emotions, she thought in confusion. She knew this man was dangerous. The three dead cowboys he'd left in the dirt was evidence of that. From his appearance and the ease with which he handled himself, it was obvious he was accustomed to violence and did not fear it.
She also suspected that he was the second man Justin had sent for with the intention of running them off their land, until something changed his mind, made him take their side against Fletcher. She wondered what had brought on this change of intention, but she was only fooling herself, she thought anxiously. She knew what had changed Tulane's mind even if he didn't.
That was what frightened her. She believed with all her might that her dreams never lied, but while Tulane's presence might a hardship for her battered emotions, he was just what they needed to keep Fletcher's hounds at bay. Now if she could only convince Matt so he in turn could convince Tulane.
CHAPTER THREE
"Who is he, Matthew? Who is Tulane?" Katie asked her husband when they continued their journey toward home. "How do you know him?"
"I don't know him, Katie," Matt answered quietly after a backward glance to see if the children were listening. Satisfied they were occupied with other things, he bent his head closer to hers to explain.
"I've never met him before today. I just know him by reputation. He's a hired killer, Katie. He sells his gun to the highest bidder. He's quite well known in the southwestern part of the country."
"A hired killer?" Katie echoed. "Then Justin did hire him."
"Or tried to," Matt corrected with a tight grin. "I don't know what changed his mind about working for Justin, but I sure am glad he did. He's a very dangerous man. I don't like the idea of having him around the children."
Katie patted Matt's arm. "You needn't worry about that, Matthew. No matter what he is or what he's done, he means us no harm. Especially the children."
Matt grinned at her fondly, then took the reins in one hand so he could wrap the other arm around her slender shoulders and draw her closer on the wagon seat.
"You're sure of that, are you?" Following her affirmative nod, he gave a short nod. "All right, if you say so I believe it. You've never been wrong about these things yet, have you?"
"No, Matthew, and I'm not wrong about Tulane. His coming to us is a blessing. You'll see," she predicated. "We've been praying for some way out of this trouble with Justin Fletcher and I believe God has answered our prayers."
"With a hired gunman? Somehow I doubt that God wants us to kill Justin to solve the problem, Katie."
"Perhaps not," she agreed quietly. "But Tulane could certainly even up the odds."
"Katie, are you suggesting we hire Tulane?"
Katie nodded. Seeing Matt's quick disapproval, she lifted a gentle hand to touch his lips. "Hear me out, Matthew. I'm not suggesting we hire him to kill Justin Fletcher, but for our protection only. We're entitled to protection, aren't we? We know there won't be any from the law. It's up to us and we've just been handed the means with which to do it. We'd be fools to turn it down."
"Even if I agreed with you, Katie, we don't have the money it takes to hire a man like that. Good protection, to use your terms, isn't cheap."
"It wouldn't hurt to discuss it with him, would it?" Katie persisted with a wise smile.
Matt studied her, then a warm smile flashed to his face. "I have a feeling that you already know what the outcome of that discussion will be, Katie, my girl. However, if the subject should arise at supper I might propose the idea to him. Just in theory, of course."
"Of course, Matthew," Katie agreed with a warm smile as she snuggled closer to his side. Protected from Matt's sight by his massive shoulder, she shuddered as the smile quickly disappeared to be replaced with anxiety, anxiety caused not by the thought that Tulane might turn down Matt's offer, but rather created by the knowledge that he would accept it.
She wanted the farm and those of their neighbors safe from Fletcher, but how long could she pretend these unfamiliar stirrings of desire did not exist? It was a no-win situation it seemed, but after a glance at the children, she was certain it was a chance she had to take if they were to salvage anything at all. It was worth any risk because she was suddenly absolutely certain that Matt's life depended on it.
Later that afternoon, Tulane emerged from the room in the barn where Matt had shown him he could put his things before washing up for supper.
Katie wondered at first if this was the same man who had come to their aid earlier. As she filled the basin beside the kitchen door with warm water, then waited for him and Matt to wash their hands before entering the house, she was amazed at the difference a bath, shave, and a change of clothing had brought about in the man.
In place of the rough beard was a lean, ruggedly handsome face; dark-skinned with high cheekbones and a classic nose. His mouth was full, but the lips seemed tight, as though he was on guard all the time. He had a distinctly sensual face, she decided uneasily, due mostly to the gray-blue eyes that revealed a good deal more than he intended.
As he bent to wash his hands in the warm water, Katie managed to smile in
greeting. "You look refreshed, Christopher. I hope you like fried chicken."
Tulane's dark head snapped up in surprise, his gaze searching her face. Then realizing what she'd called him, her cheeks colored slightly.
"I hope you'll forgive me for being so forward. Does my using your Christian name offend you?" she murmured.
He shook his head, but the surprise on his face brought a chuckle from Matt as he handed Tulane a towel. "No, ma'am, it just surprises me a little. Not many people know my Christian name. It's been a long time since I've heard it used."
"It seems rather foolish to keep calling us Mr. and Mrs., Tulane. I'm Matt and this is Katie," Matt suggested with a grin. He glanced at his wife mischievously while she took the towel from Tulane and folded it neatly. "One thing you'll have to get used to around here, Tulane, is that Katie often knows things without any explanation. It's a little strange at first, but you'll get used to it."
Tulane's gaze flashed from Matt back to Katie, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the blush on her cheeks. "You mean you just knew my first name? You've never heard it before?"
"I'm afraid so," Katie admitted, embarrassed. "Matthew's right about that. I often know things I can't explain. I just know."
Then before he could respond, she turned into the house and indicated the chair at the opposite end of the dining table from where Matt was taking a seat. Tulane took the chair and waited, instinct telling him the Wainwright family always said grace before meals.
When the blessing was offered in Matt's deep sincere voice, the family began to eat. While enjoying crisp fried chicken with all the trimmings, Tulane made a subtle inspection of the Wainwright home.
In addition to the kitchen, he could see a large parlor dominated by a gleaming cherry wood piano. Peach floral chintz curtains fluttered at the open windows in the parlor as the late afternoon sun sank behind the horizon. The wing chairs and camelback sofa were of good quality, the needlepoint rug on the floor obviously a labor of love.
From the soft muted color scheme to the heavy cherry wood furniture and blue and white willoware china, the house reflected Katie's personality and charm. It was a comfortable home, Tulane decided immediately. Once the first awkward moments had passed he gradually relaxed to let himself really enjoy the delicious food and pleasant surroundings.
Dane and Glenna had already eaten and been put to bed he discovered, finding himself a bit disappointed. When the meal was finished Katie rose to take the dishes, leaving him alone with Matt.
Matt offered a box of cigars. After Tulane accepted one and lit it from Matt's match, he leaned back in the chair and waited for his host to speak.
"What did you do with the bodies?" Matt asked, trying to appear casual.
"I took them to town, left them with the undertaker. I expect Fletcher knows about it by now."
Matt fidgeted in his chair, then glanced toward the kitchen window where Katie was washing dishes. He felt uneasy, awkward, and wished she would hurry up and join them. "I hate guns…violence," he muttered, more to himself than Tulane. "I fail to understand why men can't solve their problems in peaceful ways instead of always reaching for a gun."
A half smile touched Tulane's lips when Matt's coffee colored gaze paused on the gunbelt that rested around his waist. He knew the gun made Wainwright uncomfortable.
"Most men find a gun quicker than a lot of meaningless small talk," he commented dryly.
"Greedy men like Justin Fletcher maybe," Matt grunted between puffs on the cigar clamped between his teeth. "Tell me something, Tulane. Why did you kill those men today? You're an excellent shot, it wouldn't have been hard for you to just wound them. You didn't have to kill them."
Tulane shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes narrowed. He got to his feet and walked to the front door that stood open to catch the last rays of the dying sun. As Katie dried her hands on a dish towel and turned to enter the parlor where Matt had led Tulane, she caught sight of the gunman filling the doorway with the evening darkness beginning to creep into the room. He turned back to answer Matt's question, appearing not to notice her presence, but Katie shivered in spite of herself.
Standing in the open doorway in the gathering darkness, he looked exactly as he did in her numerous dreams; dark, forbidding, yet oddly exciting.
"Would you merely wound a lobo wolf?" Tulane was asking Matt.
"There's a big difference between a man and a wild animal," Matt grunted in reply.
"Is there? Not in men like Fletcher or the men who ride for him. I learned a very long time ago that when a man shoots at you, you kill him before he gets off a second shot."
Tulane's voice was cold, hostile, his eyes bright with hidden thoughts as he drew on the cigar, then exhaled heavily.
"Katie thinks I should offer you a job, Tulane," Matt said with a faint smile as he glanced at his wife coming into the room to perch on the arm of his chair.
Tulane's dark brows rose in surprise. "Doing what, raising wheat? That's not exactly my line of work," he grunted.
"No, Christopher, farming was not what I had in mind," Katie said confidently. "I thought we might persuade you to stay on here to protect us from Fletcher." She paused, watching his face intently, then gathered her wits and continued. "You've already made an enemy of him by siding with us today. If you stay around, it won't make Justin very happy."
"You want me to kill him?" Tulane asked her softly, smiling at the shock that leaped into her face.
"No, of course not! Only protect us from him. The law won't touch him no matter what he does. We already know that. He's determined to drive us off our land and as you saw today he'll go to any lengths to get what he wants."
"You said you bought this land from his father," Tulane said to Matt.
Katie sighed with relief when he turned his attention from her. She drew a deep breath as she unclenched her hands, not realizing she had balled them into fists until that moment.
"Yes, and paid a fair price for it too," Matt was saying. "I have a proper deed, so do all the others, but now the government says it's not worth the paper it's written on."
"Why's that?"
"Justin's paid off the officials in Helena, that's why," Matt growled. "The past two years have been hard on him, Tulane. The drought all but ruined him. Then last winter we had more snow than usual. When it melted this spring, it overflowed the river banks, made it change course."
"And your farm sits right in the bend of the only water supply big enough to water his herds now. Right?"
Matt nodded in agreement. "That's it exactly." He rose to his feet and made an uneasy gesture with his big hands. "I'm no gunman, Tulane, you saw that for yourself. If you hadn't taken my side those men would've killed me today.
"Look, I don't want you to kill anybody. But you must see that I'm no match for Fletcher's gunmen. I'm not afraid to die. I'm not even so worried about myself, but I am worried about Katie and the kids. This job Katie mentioned would be protecting them, that's all."
Tulane smiled thinly and exhaled. He studied Matt's broad, honest face for a moment, then let his gaze drift back to Katie. She sat on the arm of the peach colored chair gripping the back so tightly her knuckles had turned pale.
"Matt, you don't hire a killer and then tell him not to kill. If I were to consider this job it would have to be on my terms."
"Which are?" Matt asked, surprised the gunman would even consider the idea.
"I'll protect your family, Matt, if that's what you want. But if I have to kill Fletcher or Stoddard in the process, I don't want any guilty remorse from any of you. I'll do what you want, but I'll do it my own way."
His voice was calm, as though he was discussing the weather, soft, without emotion.
Matt considered his statement, staring into those smoky eyes without flinching. "What's your price?" he asked slowly with an uncomfortable glance at Katie.
Katie felt Tulane's gaze touch her briefly even though she would not look up. "A warm place to sleep and Katherine's good cooking seems a fair price," he said with a half smile.
Matt looked surprised as he exchanged glances with Katie again.
"That's all?"
Tulane nodded as the last embers of sunlight caught the lighter streaks in his deep mahogany hair. The tight lines in his face eased when he smiled. "To a man who hasn't had either one for a long time, it sounds like a lot."
Katie was both relieved and fearful as Matt and Tulane shook hands to seal the bargain. Then Matt's face became serious, almost uneasy. Tulane waited for him to speak, but Matt seemed unable to voice his questions.
"Go ahead, Matt, ask me about Arizona. That's what is on your mind, isn't it?" he prompted in a strange, quiet voice that made Katie's head snap up in curiosity.
"I don't mean any offense, Tulane," Matt stammered, red-faced now. "But since you'll be around my wife and kids a lot in the next few days, I feel like I ought to...Well, what I want to know is...the stories about you...they say that you..."
Tulane's eyes became bleak, his lips twisting into thin lines of contempt. "That I what, Matt? Killed my wife? Yes, it's true. I killed her, but not for the reasons you might think."
The coldness in his voice made Katie shiver, but she felt the pain behind his words. She rose quickly to her feet and crossed the room to lay a quiet hand on his arm. She felt him tense when she touched him, then saw the bright light of despair flicker, then fade in the depths of his expressive eyes.
"It's not important, Christopher," she heard herself say in a soothing tone. "What is important is that you're here. Without you to protect Matthew and my children, we wouldn't have much hope. So you see, what happened in the past doesn't matter to us. It's the present that is important."
Tulane stared at her in silence, unsure if he had heard her correctly. Studying those clear blue eyes, he saw the sincerity beyond the surface, the gentle warmth of this woman who it seemed could look right past the barriers of arrogance and coldness he threw up around himself.
He drew away from her hand on his arm, suddenly uneasy in her presence. He hadn't been this touched by a woman in a long time. It was a feeling he did not know exactly how to deal with.
"Thank you, Katherine," he said in a very soft voice. "I won't let you down."
Katie met his intense gaze squarely for the first time, lifting her head and forcing a smile to her stiff lips. "I know you won't, Christopher. I have every confidence in you."
|
