The Circle Eight: Caleb (9 page)

He cleaned the blood from her stomach, sides and her lower belly. For that he had to unbutton her trousers, amused by the men’s drawers she wore. She was the only woman he ever met that tried her best to look like a man.

The shadow of her pussy hair came into view and he jerked, jarring her. She moaned and he stopped, frozen in place with guilt. She didn’t wake up, which was lucky for him. He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, then finished cleaning her as quick as he could.

The bandages were easy compared to the rest of the clothing foolishness he had waded through to get her cleaned up. Her wound looked clean, with barely any blood leaking from the tight stitches. He secured the bandage and then sat back, sweating as if he’d run around the Garza house a few dozen times.

Rory Foster had turned his life sideways in the single day he’d known her. She would be dangerous to be around for a long time, not that he had any plans to.

He glanced around the small room they were in and there was little to see. A small washstand sat against one wall, a pitcher sitting on top that he had used to fill the basin with clean water. There were a few nails in the wall but nothing hung from them. If he could find that boy he’d seen earlier, he might be able to ask him if there were any female clothing to be had. Yet the hallway was as empty as the room.

Without any other options, he would have to use his clean shirt. It’s what he would do for his sisters, that was the only reason. Rory meant nothing to him, no matter how intense their time together had been.

He took off his shirt and managed to get her arms in the sleeves and button it up. Although Caleb was a big man, the buttons strained against the large breasts that were now unfettered. He licked his lips as he looked down at her, his masculine senses pulsing with awareness. If he were honest with himself, her breasts were lovely, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. They had also been inches from his face. Damned if his dick wasn’t joining in the fun by twitching along.

He refastened her trousers, then arranged the blanket over her. Sweat rolled down his bare back and he decided he needed to wash himself up now. He threw the pink water out the window into the darkness of the night, then rinsed it with a bit more before he was satisfied. After he poured fresh water into the basin, he used a clean rag to wipe himself down.

Although the water was tepid, it felt good. His stomach was tied into knots over the last twelve hours. What he really needed was a whiskey, a bottle maybe. He also hadn’t eaten in hours, which had to be the reason he was shaking.

A breeze blew through the open window and his skin pebbled. He closed his eyes and let his body cool down. Whatever happened, he had to leave the Garza ranch as soon as possible. Staying with Rory might have been more dangerous than digging for information on the patron.

“What am I going to do with you, lady blacksmith?”

“Do with me?” Her voice was husky and startling. “What have you already done to me, you son of a bitch?”

Chapter Four

Rory’s gut burned as though she had caught on fire again. It took her a few minutes to focus and realize where she was and what happened. The ranger had been washing up, the lines of his half-naked body were beautiful—honey-colored skin stretched over muscle, bone and sinew. Mother Nature had created a gorgeous creature, one who had brought darkness to her corner of the world. If he hadn’t come to her property, she wouldn’t be lying there in agony, nor would she be wearing someone else’s clothing.

It took her a full minute to realize not only was she wearing a different shirt, but her bindings were gone. Gone! What the hell had the ranger done to her? She tried to move but the pain stole her breath and she closed her eyes again until the wave passed.

“What am I going to do with you, lady blacksmith?”

“Do with me?” Her anger with the man was alive and well. “What have you already done to me, you son of a bitch?”

He whirled around, his eyes wide. “You’re awake.”

“You’re observant.” She narrowed her gaze. “What have you done with my clothes, all of them?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed and his gaze flitted to the floor. “The doctor and I had to cut everything off you. The blood had soaked through most everything. I, uh, we left your trousers on but they’re in need of a lot of soap and water.”

“You stared at me naked?” She wasn’t about to let him off easy. No sir. He was the cause of her pain and he was going to pay for it.

“I didn’t stare. I helped the doctor and cleaned the blood off you.” His jaw tightened and she knew he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Whose shirt is this, Ranger?” She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

“Mine. I couldn’t leave you, ah, without something to wear.” He pointed to a bloody ball of fabric on the floor. “I need to rinse out my other shirt.”

She remembered how he had used it to staunch the blood from her wound. He had sacrificed both shirts for her. Rory didn’t want to feel grateful to him. After all, he had destroyed her clothes. Plus he had seen her naked, which bothered her more than the clothes. Her breasts were the bane of her existence, always in the way and bothersome. Men constantly stared at them when she was a teenager, never taking her seriously as a blacksmith. She bound them, cut her hair and wore trousers. From then on, they considered her neutral and her business picked up.

Now Caleb had seen her secret, viewed her at the most vulnerable moment possible. She was sick to know she was unconscious the entire time too. If she had a gun, she might have shot him for it. All of that discomfort was on top of the burning pain in her side and stomach. If she didn’t know what misery meant before today, she knew it now.

“The doctor wanted to give you laudanum but I told him no.” Caleb met her gaze from across the small room. “I thought it should be your choice.”

Rory stared at him, surprised by his considerate gesture. “I had laudanum once when I broke my arm. It made me puke for days.”

A silence settled, the sounds of the ranch disappeared. With each moment that passed, the air grew awkward and uncomfortable.

“I treated you like you were one of my sisters and only did what I had to do.” He looked down at his feet. “The doctor was gone by the time I cleaned you up and put the shirt on.”

She didn’t know whether to be horrified she was alone and naked with him or glad it had only been him. “I kind of remember the doctor. He had white hair.”

“Yup, he knew what he was doing to. With seven, er, six brothers and sisters, our housekeeper Eva has a hand at doctoring us up. She had to, considering the amount of cuts, bruises, broken bones and gashes we all had.” It was the most words he’d spoken to her. She wondered if he was nervous. How curious that would be.

“Seven or six?” She frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember how many, or are you lying about your family?”

His expression changed in an instant. His jaw tightened and his eyes hardened. “I suppose I had that coming. There are eight of us, but my youngest brother was kidnapped five years ago, the same day my parents were murdered.”

Rory forgot about her own problems in the face of his bald statement. What must it have been like to not only lose your parents, violently, but to lose a brother? She didn’t think it possible to empathize with the ranger, but she’d been wrong. Losing her parents had been agony, but they had died in a house fire, a senseless accident. Caleb had lost his to someone else’s evil deeds.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was softly spoken but she meant it. Hopefully he could see that.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about but I appreciate the sentiment.” He looked away, his throat moving as he swallowed. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten since breakfast. My belly is rubbing on my backbone.”

The abrupt change in subject was understandable. No doubt the topic of his family tragedy made him uncomfortable. She would have trouble talking about her parents’ deaths too.

“I don’t know if I’m hungry but I’m definitely thirsty.” Her mouth tasted like dirty water, something she wasn’t going to share with him though.

“I am going to see if I can rustle up some food and drink.” He pointed at the basin. “There is a bit of water in the pitcher but there isn’t a cup to use.”

She shrugged. “I can drink from the pitcher for now. If you find the kitchen, Bernadette is the cook. She usually has goat milk, which I would want. It’s Friday so it’s tortilla day too.”

He started. “Tortilla day?”

“She makes tortillas once a week. I try to make all my deliveries on Friday because she makes the best tortillas in Texas.” Sleep tugged at Rory and her eyelids weighed at least five pounds apiece.

“Best tortillas in Texas.” Caleb repeated what Rory said, his brow furrowed. He stared off into space, and she wondered where he’d gone.

“Ranger?”

He cleared his throat and brought the pitcher. “I’m going to go find a place to rinse out my shirt and then find the kitchen.”

Up close, he took her breath. She watched his muscles ripple as he lifted the pitcher to her mouth and held her neck so she could drink. The water leaked out from the sides of her mouth but she barely noticed. Caleb Graham was stunning. She hadn’t been in such close proximity to a man since Horatio died, much less a half-naked man.

“Rory?” He frowned. “You still there?”

She yawned to cover up the foolish reaction to his good looks. “I’m tuckered out. I think I need to sleep.”

“Probably the best thing. How’s the pain?”

The pain? She had forgotten all about it for that brief snatch of time he was within inches of her. The ranger was a human pain cure.

“Bearable.” She shrank back into the pillow, needing to breath, to get a little distance between them.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He got to his feet, his expression concerned. She didn’t want to think the ranger was concerned about her. He was the enemy, the man who came to throw her out of her house, out of her business. It didn’t matter if he’d saved her life. He was not her friend nor was she ready to throw her anger with him away simply because he was godlike beautiful.

No, sir, Rory was not done fighting Caleb Graham.

Caleb closed the door behind him and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Rory had looked at him as though he’d been a meal and she was starving. It made his body tighten and his gut flip flop. For a second or two, he thought about kissing her, licking the water from her chin.

Absolute lunacy.

He walked down the dimly lit hallway into a large open area that held a huge table with at least a dozen chairs. Garza never did anything small scale. Caleb wound his way around the table and into the next hallway. There were glass chandeliers with golden glass hanging and the ceiling had to be twenty feet high. This house was truly more of a palace than he first suspected.

The hallway led to the kitchen. It was another enormous room with not one but two stoves on one side, plus what appeared to be a bread oven beside them. An island with a stone top, bigger than the dining room table, dominated the center of the room, holding a flickering lantern. Two wooden sinks were separated by a large counter of six-inch-thick wood. A pump handle sat on the right-hand sink, which meant no water hauling was required.

A doorway on the left opened up to a pantry the size of the bedroom Rory currently slept in. From what he could see, shelves of staples, along with barrels of others, filled the pantry. Ham hocks, bacon and other meats hung from hooks in the ceiling.

This was a kitchen large enough, and stocked enough, to feed an army. A big army. This was ten times as much food as the Grahams ever hand on hand for a ranch of twelve people. How many men did Garza have on his payroll? Caleb had suspected the man was up to something and this kitchen proved he was on the right track.

He went to the sink with the pump handle and proceeded to rinse out his shirt. At this time of night, there was no one there to help him, or yell at him, for using it. It took a good ten minutes to get the worst of the blood off. It would be stained for sure but he might be able to wear it in the morning if it dried overnight.

Caleb squeezed out the excess water then shook the shirt. It looked horrible but it would have to do. He laid it on the side of the sink and then went in search of food. The pantry was certainly the place to find vittles.

He found a container with the famous tortillas and took a stack, then pulled a can of peaches and a can of beans. That should be enough. He wrapped the tortillas in a cloth and tucked them in his pocket, then put the cans in his other pocket.

As he was about to grab his shirt to leave the kitchen, he remembered Rory’s request for goat’s milk. There had to be some sort of cooling system in the kitchen, given the amount of money spent on the house, he had no doubt Garza kept his dairy cool to last longer.

Caleb turned around and noted a small door in the corner beside the bread oven. He walked over and unlatched the small handle and pulled it open. Cheese and buckets of milk with cheese cloth over the top filled the small steel-lined cabinet. Cool air washed over him and he wondered how they kept it cold. He took a bucket, found a glass on the shelves above the sink and poured a nice full drink. As he put the bucket back in its place, curiosity got the best of him and he squatted down to peer inside. Huge chunks of ice lay beneath burlap sacks, wisps rising from them. There had to be two dozen chunks of ice. Big ones. There didn’t appear to be anything Garza did in small measure.