Authors: Deborah Camp
A movement beside her whirled her about to stare, wide-eyed, into the dark brown, dilated eyes of Eller Hawkins. Disheveled and filthy, his hair stuck to his scalp in greasy ropes and blood caked his shirt collar and one sleeve. He wrapped his grubby fingers around the bars and pressed his face against them so that his nose stuck out between two of the iron rods.
“I’m sorry for what happened to Hollis,” he said in a rush. “I wasn’t aiming for him. I had nothing against him. Honest, I didn’t. My quarrel was with that red-skinned savage who raped my wife, but your crazy brother stepped right in front of me just as I yanked on the trigger. Wasn’t anything I could do! It was like he wanted to die. I swear it!” His gaze lifted and she knew he squinted at Callum. “I was there to settle a score. Your Injun pal messed with my wife. Nothin’ but scum!”
“You speak of yourself?” Banner inquired, almost sweetly, almost taking the sting from her words. Enough so that confusion brought a scowl to Eller’s face. “For that’s what you are. Scum.”
“Banner, listen to me, I swear—”
“No, you listen to me.” She leaned closer, drilling him with her eyes. “And don’t you dare speak my name again. I don’t want to hear it coming from your lying mouth.” She clutched at her purse to keep from raking her nails down the sides of his face and driving her thumbs into his eye sockets, which would have given her infinite pleasure. His lips thinned to a line of aggravation at being issued orders by her. She put every ounce of venom she could inject into her next words. “I have come here to look you in the eyes and tell you that you shall receive no mercy from me. You have taken from me something precious that can’t be replaced – my belief that good will ultimately defeat evil – and for that I deeply, truly hope you greatly suffer and burn in hell.”
His eyes widened fractionally as if he were surprised by her verbal slap in his face, but then they hardened, shining bright with malice. Giving a sniff of contempt she turned on her heel and walked stoically back into the sheriff’s office, but she paused just past the threshold to look over her shoulder at Callum.
He stood in front of the cell, staring at his cousin. She heard Eller say something with a whine in his voice, but she couldn’t catch the words. Probably asking Callum to help him out, hire an attorney, or vouch for him at the trial. Callum took a step closer, angling his face up to the bars. His voice was strong and each word as clear as a bell, spoken through gnashed teeth.
“Go fuck yourself, cousin.”
Her heart sang even as her cheeks reddened. She lifted gratitude-filled eyes to Callum as he took her by the arm and led her from the building and out into the sunlit streets of Denton.
On the ride back home, they spoke occasionally and of nothing important. Comments about the size of Denton, the herds of cattle they spotted along the way, and the cattle market and spring roundup. No words were wasted on the prisoners bound for Fort Worth, although Banner knew they were both thinking about them and what had landed them in dank, stinking cells and the resounding judgement of death that awaited them.
Seven men had been arrested and carted to that Denton jail. Seven men known by almost everyone in and around Piney Ridge. Murderers and cowards, every one. Once they had been taken away, it seemed that a weight had lifted from the town. Certainly, there were still folks who brandished their fists and cursed every skin darker than pale and each body that had worn a blue coat. Their thirst for retribution would never be quenched. For now, though, the nights were not filled with dread and terror.
At midafternoon, they stopped for a few minutes to share ham sandwiches and applesauce. Callum drank from a canteen. Banner watched the slow up and down flex of his throat muscles. He offered her some water and she accepted, the rim of the spout warm from his lips.
“I didn’t know what you were going to say to him,” he said, suddenly broaching the subject they had been dancing around. “But what you did say shocked the hell out of me.”
She raised her brows at him. “Did it?”
He nodded. “I should be used to being surprised by you, I guess.”
She swiped crumbs from the modest black ruffles on her bodice and skirt. “You disapprove?”
“No.” He capped the canteen and wedged it back behind the seat. “Did it give you some peace? A measure of satisfaction?”
She paused to contemplate that. Did it? Was the burden lighter, her grief diminished, her world any less bleak? She was shaking her head before she even knew it.
“No?” He shrugged. “Didn’t think so.”
“You’re not one to talk much in nearly any situation.”
He gave a half-smile. “Silence can be a speech.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, good-naturedly. “I don’t regret speaking my mind to him. I wanted him to hear me. But nothing has changed. Hollis is still gone and I am left alone.”
“You’re not alone, Banner.” There was an edge to his tone.
“I have no family, Callum.”
“Not by blood. But you can have family by choice. You can have what’s left of my family.”
She looked away, seized by acute feelings that she didn’t know how to handle or from whence they’d come. The landscape fogged with a sudden onslaught of moisture that she blinked away, stunned by the swiftness and keenness of the emotions welling inside her. Emotions she wasn’t equipped to handle. Not now. Not yet.
“Banner?”
“We should get on, shouldn’t we?” She tugged on the rim of her bonnet. “It’s getting late and colder.”
He didn’t move for a few seconds. Her pulse boomed in her ears and she wished she could jump from the buggy and run. Just run. Finally, he took up the reins and the horse and buggy moved smoothly along the road. They lapsed back into smothering silence.
It was the longest buggy ride she’d ever undertaken.
The days drifted one to another like clouds across the sky. January gave way to February and then March barged in, full of wind and bluster, but occasionally bringing with it the faint scent of spring. Early wildflowers popped up on the wet ground. Migrating birds returned to the Texas prairie. Young bulls and foals snorted and kicked their back legs, feeling the first stirrings of their destiny.
In February, Banner insisted on staying in her home in the evenings. However, Callum insisted that someone be there with her. That job eventually went to Flint Harper. He stayed in the tack house next to the barn where there were a couple of bunks and a small heat stove. Friendly, with a quick wit, he was one of Banner’s favorite cowhands. In the evenings he bunked down either in the tack room or in the barn. Most nights Banner could hear him strumming on his guitar. Sometimes he would sing, usually something about red-headed gals who danced in saloons and stole a man’s heart.
Life went on. Life without Hollis.
Often, Banner would stand in his room and let tears dampen her face. She would run her fingers over his poetry books, his pillow, his shirts hanging on a wall peg. In his room, she felt less alone.
The days were tolerable because she kept busy. Sundays were a strain. She had chores to do, but she kept stumbling into the ghosts of Hollis and her other lost brothers and of her father and mother. They were all over the homestead. Everywhere she turned, she could recall something they said or did. She saw their smiles and recalled snatches of conversations. By evening, she was desolate and lonely. She understood more keenly than ever how Callum felt.
As for Callum, he invited her to go into town with him and to church and sometimes she went. Gradually, her heartache lessened until she could get through the day without thinking of Hollis not being around, but Callum kept his distance from her – emotionally. She wasn’t sure if she’d changed, he’d changed, or they were both in different places. She wasn’t sure of anything except that she missed his touch and the way he used to look at her. So, she was eager for his company that Sunday evening to go over plans for the market. He’d arrived an hour after sundown, his hair windblown and his face slightly reddened by the damp, raw weather.
“It’s blowing up a storm,” he said, removing his coat and hanging it on a peg by the door. His hat quickly followed it. He eyed her. “How are you? Did you eat something?”
“I’m well, thank you, and I had an egg sandwich.”
“That’s all?”
“And a glass of milk.”
“And?”
Her gaze dropped to the rolled papers in his hand. “And that’s enough for me. Come into the kitchen and let’s see what you have there.”
###
An hour later, Callum hunched closer to the oil lamp on the kitchen table to study the map he’d spread out there. He turned up the lamp’s flame so that he could see the trail he’d marked on the parchment.
“The market price has ticked up some. Sam Furness was in Kansas last week and he said cattle are more in demand now than before the war and the buyers are willing to pay for prime beef.” He glanced up at Banner. She’d gone quiet.
He couldn’t figure out her mood – or any of her moods lately. She wasn’t as sad as she had been. Going to Denton had actually been good for her spirits. But she wasn’t all the way back to that exciting, simmering place they’d been before Hollis died. He’d watched for any sign that she might be wanting his attentions again and hadn’t seen any. As for him? He was miserable. Wanting her with every breath. Needing to touch her, to know her in every way. Even now he had to rip his gaze from her lovely face because he felt the ever-present stirrings inside and the thickening of his blood.
“We’ll have to hire a trail boss and let him hire the men he’ll need,” he said, getting back on track. “Or I could talk to Jeb Poindexter over at the Lazy J. He’s already taken on a trail boss and we could use the same one and let him and his bunch drive both herds to market.” He glanced up again to catch Banner’s reaction and gauge which idea she liked best. From her blank expression, he surmised that she didn’t give a hoot or holler for either. “You listening?”
She blinked at him. “Yes.”
“You have an opinion?”
“No. Not really. I’ll leave it up to you.”
He sprawled in the chair and grabbed the aggravation she’d stirred up in him by the horns. “No you don’t.” He pointed the lead pencil he held at her. “We’re partners, so speak up.”
“I haven’t ever done this but once before.”
He flung the pencil onto the map. “We have important work ahead of us. We’re taking cattle to market in a few weeks. We have to hire people, buy supplies, get the herd ready, settle on a price we want to get for them, and a peck of other problems to sort through. You’re grieving. I know how that feels, and you know that you have to force one foot in front of the other and make one decision after another. That’s how you soldier through it. So, you want to hire our own trail boss or not?”
Thunder grumbled and the first sheets of rain slapped against the windows. She looked at the map. Lightning seared the sky, casting white light into the rooms for a few seconds. That’s when he saw it. Her slight frown of annoyance. Her furtive glance, seeking, questioning, and sad around the edges. What did she want? What did she need from him? He decided to nudge her and see which direction she went.
“Never thought of you as a quitter. A coward.”
Her gaze swung up to his, fast like an uppercut.
“Watch your mouth, Callum Latimer!” She pushed up from the chair by planting her fists on the table top. She didn’t yell the warning. She hissed it like a pissed-off cat.
“Or what?” he challenged with a sneer. “You gonna cry – again?”
Her golden eyes went wide, danger gleaming brightly in them. “I’m not crying. My mind is – well, on other things.”
“What things?”
“My place in the world.” She shrugged and sat back down, almost as if in defeat.
“Come back to the ranch and stay there with me and Pa.”
“I can’t do that, Callum. I shouldn’t have stayed there as long as I did. I’m a single woman and that house is where two unwed men live.”
He narrowed one eye and bit his lower lip to keep from cussing at her. “When did you start to give a good damn what other people think about you?”
She offered up another sad smile. “I’ve always cared and that’s why it always hurt so much when people said ugly things about me and my family. I only
said
that it didn’t bother me because I didn’t want anyone to know that their opinions mattered.”
That stung. Stung so much he winced. This girl had such grit. Insults had rained down on her like the sheets of it falling outside and they’d drenched her down to her soul. He and his family had been part of the deluge. He’d always feel shame for it, especially since he’d come to know the pure beauty of her.
He could marry her.
The solution zipped through him like a charge of lightning, tensing his muscles and flaming in his heart. The proposal burned on his tongue, but he kept silent because he knew she’d think he was asking her out of pity. Sure, he felt bad for her and wished he could help her through this wretched time in her life. He admired her. He desired her.
He loved her?
The question hung in his mind for a few seconds before the answer came to him in a rush of honeyed emotion.
Hell, yes! He adored her.
But was now the time to tell her? He realized she was talking and he’d missed most of what she’d been saying.
“. . .do this by myself.”
“Do what by yourself?”
She flung out her arms. “
This!
This ranch! I can’t do this on my own. I could go on cooking and cleaning for you until I find other work, but I can’t keep this ranch.”
“We’re partners. I’ll keep the ranch going.”
“No.” She shook her head and that sadness was back in her smile. “We can’t go on like that.”
“Why not?”
She stared at him in a way that challenged him. “You know why, Callum.”
Damn, if she wasn’t beautiful with the lamplight flickering in her eyes and gilding her high cheekbones. “I still can’t buy your ranch.”
Frowning, she turned away from him. “I know.”
He reached out and gripped her chin, pulling her face around to him again. “I want to kiss you right now.”
Surprise lit her face for a second and then she sighed expansively and her eyelids drifted down. “Then do it.”
He was up out of the chair and had her in his arms so fast that it startled both of them. She gasped, stiffened, clutched at his shoulders, and then melted against him. Callum sealed his mouth to hers, tasting her as his hands roamed over her back, the sweet seductive curve of her spine, and the fullness of her hips. He felt her tremble and then open her mouth for the stroke of his tongue. She wound her arms around him, holding him against her, making urgent, hungry sounds as his kisses grew less frantic and more seductive.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing as if they’d been chasing rabbits. She smiled at him and naughtiness danced in her eyes. Then she nodded at the question he hadn’t asked, but they both knew needed answered. He bent and lifted her up into his arms, his lips still plucking feverishly at hers as he carried her into her bedroom. He’d been here before and had left unfulfilled. He didn’t want a repeat of that, so he sat her on the bed and stepped back from her.
“Do you want me to stay here tonight?”
She raised one brow. “Won’t your father wonder what’s happened to you?”
He raised one brow. “My father knows I came here tonight and that I’m grown. And that I’ve been chasing after you for months now.”
“Chasing me?” She leaned back on her stiff arms. “Have I been running? Seems like I’ve been right here. Haven’t hardly been off the place except when I’m at your house.”
“I know you’ve been hurting.”
She nodded, glancing away from him. “Yes. It’s lonely.”
He knelt in front of her, wedging himself between her legs and wrapping his arms around her hips. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her thumbs lightly stroking. “It doesn’t have to be. Neither one of us needs to be lonely.”
She sat straighter and her gazed at him as if she were seeing things that weren’t there before. She raked her fingers through his hair. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And the bravest. Have I ever told you that? I should have.”
The feelings he felt for her the formed words for him. “I love you.”
She jerked back a little, clearly shocked. “What?”
“You heard me. You love me, too, don’t you?”
“Callum, I . . .” Her eyes grew luminous. “Yes. I love you.”
He was surprised by the way his heart expanded. He had thought – had hoped – she loved him, but hearing her confess it flooded him with longing. “So, what are we going to do about it?” He grinned, enjoying the way she was trying not to beam at him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before. Have you?”
“No. Never.” He kissed her lips gently as he reached down and caught the hem of her skirt, then slowly inched it up her slim legs. “I have an idea, though. Let’s make love.”
She clamped her hands onto his, stopping his progress. “Just like that? Those words make it right and proper?”
“Those words make me want to kiss every sweet inch of you and make you mine.”
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed
us.
” She ran the tip of her tongue across her lower lip.
Callum groaned, every inch of him reacting to that simple gesture. “So have I, but I didn’t want to be disrespectful.”
“I know.” She traced a fingertip along his shirt collar and down to the first button. With a flick of her finger, she undid it. “And I appreciate that.” She grinned. Even laughed under her breath as she undid the next one and the next. “But you’ve made your point and we’ve waited long enough.” Parting the fabric, she pressed her mouth hotly against his chest and tongued his skin. He thought he might die.
“Good God.” He groaned and clamped his hands on either side of her head to bring her delicious mouth back up to his. “I want you, Banner. Hear me?” He kissed her again and again until he felt her catch fire. “I need you.”
He moved up, forcing her to lie back, and then he settled himself on top of her. She was soft and pliant. Her hair spilled onto the patchwork quilt, a riot of dark brown silk. “Be mine, Banner.” He took her mouth again, caressing her tongue with his until her moans reverberated in his head. “Marry me.”
Her body bucked under his and she gathered handfuls of his hair so forcefully that he winced. He stared down into her wide eyes, feeling as surprised as she looked.
“What did you just say?”
“Marry me?” Asking it instead of demanding it felt better. In fact, it felt right. Right as rain.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Even as she spoke, she released another of his shirt buttons.
He chuckled and rubbed noses with her. “Your kisses have drugged me? Is that what you think?”