The Circle Eight: Caleb (6 page)

“Son of a bitch.” He whistled and Justice stopped to look at him. The horse threw his head back and whinnied. “Get back here.”

With apparent reluctance, the gelding trotted back to Caleb. It seemed the blacksmith wanted to play games. He could play too, only she wouldn’t like his games. The warning of riding with her belly down on his horse wasn’t an idle one. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

“You’re making this harder on yourself.” He spoke to the air around him, knowing she was nearby and listening. Why else would she have released the horse? “I will take you off this property one way or the other.”

It was an implied threat. A ranger had to make plenty of hard choices but he would never cross the line and kill a woman. Unless she was shooting at him and even then, he would aim for a leg or a shoulder. The vivid memory of his mother’s body still haunted his dreams. There was no excuse for what had been done to her—Caleb would not join the ranks of men who murdered women. Ever.

“The Republic has plans for this patch of land, Rory.” He waited for the backlash for using her nickname again but only the wind spoke to him. “If it isn’t me, then it’s a group of rangers or possibly troops.”

He had no idea if that was true or not but it sounded good. All he knew was Texas claimed it when Lowell Benson died and now this woman claimed to be his daughter. Or at least he thought she did.

“This land belonged to Lowell Benson, not Foster. You might claim this land but you don’t appear to have a legal right to it.”

Again the wind was the only thing that answered him.

“I will sit right here and wait on you, Rory. I’ve got a lot of patience. Had to with four sisters.” He picked a likely spot to camp beneath a big oak tree right in front of the smithy.

Sooner or later, she would return. If he was right, the woman cared a great deal about her business and the building it sat in. She wouldn’t let it be destroyed by the untended fire inside or the voluminous amounts of smoke leaking from its closed hatches.

All he had to do was outwait her.

The afternoon crept by while he waited, poking around her things. He knew she watched him but he couldn’t spot her. Damndest thing ever. To find a woman like her was like a punch to the gut. She unmanned him with her frank and sneaky ways.

He would have shot a man in the leg. A flesh wound of course, but it slowed them down. No way he could do that with a woman. It went against all he’d been taught. Even if she cussed and swung a hammer, she was a female and deserved a measure of chivalry, or a flavor of it anyway.

When she sat down beside him, he had to tell himself not to react. It was damn hard. She was warm, hot even, with a firm body he could clearly see outlined in the trousers she wore. They were pulled tight on her ass and hips. There was a hell of a lot more curves than he expected.

“I’m sorry I pulled that dirty trick on you, Ranger. I was angry. Still am.” Her tone was honest but tight with that anger she professed to.

“Understandable, but I’m an officer of the law for the Republic. I could arrest you for assault.” He would do no such thing. It would embarrass the hell out of him but she didn’t need to know that.

“Facing a dangerous person like me must be exhausting.”

A chuckle crept up his throat and he managed to swallow it. “I have my fair share of perilous situations in this job, Mrs. Foster. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

“Hm, I’m sure that’s true.” She didn’t sound as though she believed him. “I have a proposition, Ranger.”

For a moment, perhaps two, he wondered if her proposition involved naked bodies and the promise never to tell what they’d done. Hot, sweaty bodies in the tall grass, firm curves and an afternoon of pleasure he would never forget.

“I want you to leave and forget you found me. Tell the government they made a mistake and this land belongs to me.”

His fantasy about her curves in his hands was gone in a puff of reality. “Pardon?”

“The way I see it, you can’t admit I bested you and I have nowhere to go. Leave now and no one has to know.” She had a smug expression on her face, as though she had solved both their problems with her foolish notions.

“You didn’t best me.” He crossed his arms and gave her his best lawman stone cold stare.

“Yep, I did. You just don’t have the balls to admit it.” She got to her feet and brushed her trousers off. His gaze slid to that posterior, its round shape giving him all kinds of ideas of how it would feel if he took her from behind.

Caleb was surprised by the direction of his thoughts. A few days ago, he had Mary in his lap, her tits in his face. Yet he hadn’t had one thought as lascivious as what had rolled through his head about the lady blacksmith. Maybe he should have found his pleasure with sweet Mary and he wouldn’t be twisted up about Aurora Foster.

“I’ve got balls, big ones. You wanna see them?” He reached for his trouser buttons.

She held up her hands. “I’ve seen enough men’s balls to last me a lifetime.” Her eyes widened after the words fell out of her mouth, then, to his amusement, she blushed. That’s when he noted her amber eyes, a deep shade that shone in the speckles of sunlight coming through the leaves.

“You’ve seen plenty of men’s balls then?”

“No, but more than I ever need to see.” She backed up a step. “Now I need you to leave.”

“I ain’t going without you. I will make sure you leave this property, pack up everything and find a new place to live.” He gestured to the house. “I’ll help you pack up.” It was kind of him to offer, even she had to admit that.

“I’m not leaving.” She backed up two more steps. “And I can guarantee you won’t make me.”

He chuckled. “You can’t guarantee a damn thing, Aurora.”

“You do not have my permissions to use my given name.” She was now ten feet away from him and from the looks of her, ready to run like a rabbit.

“Don’t disappear again.” He still didn’t get to his feet, confident whatever she did, he would be victorious in this little skirmish. Hell, he was an ex-soldier and a Texas Ranger. One lady blacksmith was no match for him.

“This is my land. It belonged to my father and now it belongs to me. You cannot make me leave.” She reached the fifteen foot mark and he moved to stand.

Quick as lightning, she was gone into the shadows with nary a puff of dust to give away she’d even been there. He stared at the spot, stunned by the speed at which she moved.

Damn. This was going to take a lot longer than he thought.

Rory climbed up on the roof of the smithy and across the branches of the oak tree until she was perched above the ranger. He hadn’t even thought to look up because she was female. Ha! She’d spent her entire life climbing this particular tree and knew it as well as she knew the forge. Wearing trousers had advantages she hadn’t thought of and climbing trees was one of them.

Sitting up there in the branch wasn’t so bad, although she would have to come down. She hadn’t thought through her hiding very well and had no food, no water, no blanket and no privy. One of the four would drive her from the tree. Right about then, the privy was the likely winner. Her bladder spoke to her, told her it would appreciate relief shortly.

Damn.

She thought he would take time to search the area around the house and then give up. But no, not this ranger. He confined his search to the buildings then sat down pretty-as-he-pleased under the very tree she hid in. Damn ranger had no common sense. Weren’t they supposed to chase their quarry? What kind of ranger sat down and waited?

Perhaps if she hadn’t released the horse, he might have left. It was a childish thing to do but it gave her a peculiar sense of satisfaction to do it. The horse was stunning, more perfect than any equine she’d ever seen. Considering she had farrier duties on a regular basis, that was saying something. He was smart too, listened to his master and returned with only a whistle.

She envied the ranger for what he had. A steady job, an excellent horse, and four sisters. Four! Without siblings to play with, Rory had been a lonely child. Her parents had tried for more and the failure had weighed heavily on them. Her father had wanted a son to teach his trade to and had settled for a daughter instead. It didn’t matter. When Rory showed aptitude, he taught her everything he knew. She was grateful to him for that. Otherwise she would truly be adrift in the world.

Rory tried to imagine what it was like to have four sisters and failed. It was usually quiet around her, except for the noise she made with hammer and anvil. No chattering girls, no squealing, no laughter, nobody. Envy pinched harder and she looked down at him sourly. He was probably bossy with his sisters too. Heavy handed and arrogant, that’s what he was.

She would wait until he fell asleep, no matter what her bladder insisted upon. Then she would sneak down and take care of him. How, she didn’t know, but she had hours to find out. It was only the afternoon. The next eight hours would be time enough to figure out how to outsmart Caleb Graham.

Rory didn’t remember giving in to sleep but she woke in a split second when she fell out of the tree. Her first thought was he would laugh since her grand plan to outsmart him was foiled by her own foolishness. Her second thought was she might die at his feet when she stopped falling through the branches. It was an ignonimous way to die and she resented herself for letting it happen.

One broken branch speared her side, piercing the skin. She screamed as agony shot through her. By the time she hit the ground, her body ached from slamming into the hard oak. Blood poured from her side and she knew she was in serious trouble.

Caleb jumped to his feet the moment the first tree branch broke. He expected her to jump on him while he slept. What he didn’t expect was her to come slamming down out of the tree, screaming like a banshee and bleeding like a stuck pig.

“Son of a bitch!” She rolled to her side. “Goddamn fucking tree!”

Caleb was momentarily nonplussed by the cussing. Then he found his common sense. She had fallen a good twenty feet or more and needed help. He crouched beside her and waited until she stopped to take a breath. She even threw out a few curses he’d never heard.

“What happened?”

“I fell out of the tree, you jackass.” She pressed her hand to her side. Fresh blood oozed through her fingers.

“I realize that, Rory. What happened to your side? Was it a weapon?” He didn’t want to touch her until she was aware of what was going on. Right now she was still ranting and caught up in the shock of falling.

“Damn branch gouged me. I think I left a few important parts up there too.” She finally looked at him, her face a mask of pain. “I’m hurt really bad.”

“I can see that. Will you trust me to help you?” He held up his hands. “I promise not to hurt you on purpose.”

“This is your chance to bring me in belly down, Ranger.” Her voice was rough but her meaning clear.

“I won’t bring anyone in like that. You have my word on my mother’s grave.” His mind flashed to the idyllic spot beneath the big trees in the yard at the Circle Eight, where both his parents rested side by side. She must have seen something in his face because she nodded.

“It hurts. It hurts worse than anything I’ve ever done, even burning myself on the forge.” She loosened her hands and blood flowed steadily from her side.

He got to his knees and took a closer look at the wound. It was a jagged hole at least an inch in diameter with bark and dirt caught in the gore. She had to be in agony.

“I need to rip your shirt to get to it.” He needed to warn her.

“Rip it to shreds, just help me.”

He tore the shirt open until he could see more clearly. The blood wasn’t gushing but it was definitely still coming out in a steady stream. He pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the wound. She groaned and bit her lip.

“We need a doctor. That wound has to be cleaned and stitched. And we need to check for other damage inside.” He squeezed her hand. “Is there a doctor in town?”

She shook her head. “No. The only doc within fifty miles lives at the Garza hacienda. It’s about ten miles north of here.” She winced and sucked in a shaky breath. “You don’t have a shirt on.” Her gaze traveled his chest and it made him want to go find a new shirt. It was the pain making her act that way, nothing more. There wasn’t a possibility there should be anything between them. They were on opposite sides of the law and that was the end of it.

“Do you think you can ride ten miles?” He didn’t want to move her, but if he left her here, she might die before he could return. The possibility was real enough to make his blood run cold. Her antics in the smithy and the tree weren’t supposed to result in a life-threatening injury. Fate was a fickle bitch.

“I’ll do whatever I have to.” She waved a bloody hand in the general direction of the smithy. “First make sure the fire is low enough not to flare up and open the windows to air it out.”

He frowned at her. “You want me to take care of your business before I save your life?”

“That building is my life.” A few drops of blood stood out on her cheek like macabre freckles.

“Fine, but I won’t be as careful as you. We’re getting on Justice and riding for the Garza place.” He put her hand on the shirt. “Hold the pressure here while I do your bidding.”