When Love Comes (13 page)

“Neither did I,” Amanda said, too emotionally exhausted to mince words, “but I never thought I’d be in a position of having to support the family, trying to hold it together, when you were doing all you could to tear it apart.”

“I have never, I
would
never, do anything to hurt my children. Their happiness has been my only desire in life.”

“No, Mother. Your primary desire in life has been
your
happiness. If it had been otherwise, you’d have more interest in this ranch you badgered Papa to buy than in all the furniture and other stuff you forced him to drag from Mississippi. He was happy running the saloon and the diner, and we had enough money to live comfortably, but that wasn’t good enough for you. He had to have a respectable job so you could be a social force in Cactus Bend.” She drew a shuddering breath and went on before her mother could interrupt
her. “Well, you have your ranch, which none of us knows how to run, but Papa is dead, Gary has left home, and I’m forced to work in the saloon you hated, being gaped at, pawed at, and slavered over by strangers, so you can stay here and dust furniture. Yet you want me to turn away the one person who’s volunteered to help me.”

“His face is horrible.”

“No, it’s not. It has more character than any man’s in Cactus Bend.”

“And he’s a crook. A thief.”

“He’s not that, either.”

“Then how do you explain his trying to force us to give him money?”

“He didn’t.” Her head was throbbing so she could barely think. She had to go to her room before she said something truly awful. “I have a terrible headache, and I’m too tired to think. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.”

Amanda looked her mother square in the eye. “When you spend the whole day in the saddle, then work all evening in the saloon, I’ll listen to anything you have to say. Until then, I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”

Amanda practically ran to her room, closed the door, staggered over to the bed, and collapsed on it. It didn’t matter that she’d forgotten a lamp, that the only light in the room filtered through the lace curtains at the window. She welcomed the darkness because it closed out the world around her, a world that was growing increasingly beyond her ability to control or understand.

She didn’t know what had caused her to speak to her mother like that. She ought to apologize now, but it would have to wait until the morning. She had more important things to think about, like why had Broc kissed her, and why had she kissed him back?

Because she wanted to.

The truth was frightening in its simplicity. Why had she wanted it? How did she expect
or hope
Broc would respond? Worse yet, what was she going to do when they came face-to-face in the morning? What would he expect of her now?

She was overwhelmed with questions she’d never asked about Broc or any other man. She didn’t have answers to them because she’d never thought of them before. But she’d allowed him to kiss her, she had kissed him back, so some part of her mind must have been thinking about it.

She rolled over and sat up. She heaved herself off the bed and walked over to the window. If she looked sharply to the right, she could see the black hulk of the bunkhouse silhouetted against the velvet sky. What was Broc doing? What was he thinking? Was he wrestling with the same questions, or did he chalk it up as just a kiss, roll over in his bunk, and sink into a sound sleep? She wondered if he had planned the kiss, or if it had been spontaneous, something he wanted to do but wouldn’t have done if he’d had time to think about it.

She turned away from the window and began to undress. The simple, familiar, oft-repeated motions served to soothe her spirits and calm her tumultuous thoughts. By the time she crawled between the sheets she was able to think more clearly.

She’d been attracted to Broc from the beginning. There was something about him that made him stand out from other men. His scars made him different. They told her he was a man who had made his peace with what could have been a life-changing tragedy and didn’t intend to let it determine the course of the rest of his life. They told her he was a man who had the courage to face the world knowing a large part of it would be repelled by him.

But his disfigurement was only part of what made him a man who captured her attention. There was the other side
of his face that spoke of the man who had honor, integrity, dignity, generosity, kindness, and a willingness to help whenever he could, to share his knowledge without expecting payment in return. Even before tonight, he’d been a man who had exceeded her expectations in every way.

Tonight she’d realized her admiration for Broc had turned into something much warmer and more serious. She didn’t just admire him. She liked him. She liked him a great deal. She liked him so much she wondered what she would do if he never came back.

Amanda came awake slowly. With her eyes still closed, she stretched lazily, enjoying the warmth of the bed and a sense of peace and well-being. That vanished as soon as she remembered the events of the night before. Eyes open now, she could tell from the amount of light coming in her window that she had overslept. She scrambled out of bed and practically threw herself into her clothes. It took several minutes to brush her hair and pin it atop her head so it would fit under her hat. Next she put away her nightclothes and made up her bed. Looking around to make sure her mother would find nothing to complain of, she left her bedroom and hurried to the kitchen.

“Mama said to let you sleep all day if you wanted,” Eddie announced the moment she entered the kitchen.

Her mother didn’t look up from where she was scrambling eggs. Food warming in pots on the stove and bowls covered with towels revealed that her mother had everything ready to serve the minute the men arrived. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her mother didn’t turn around. “You can pour the milk instead of Eddie. He has to call the men. If they don’t arrive soon, the eggs will be cold and the biscuits will burn.”

Eddie happily abandoned his task and bounded through
the door before his mother could change her mind. The fact that her mother had made biscuits signaled to Amanda that her mother was still angry with her and had responded to her criticism by preparing an enormous breakfast.

“I didn’t mean to lose my temper last night,” Amanda said to her mother’s back. “I was tired and upset.”

Her mother looked at her over her shoulder. “I thought you were too mature to let being tired and upset cause you to say things you don’t mean.”

Amanda took a deep breath to steady her hand as she poured milk into a glass. “I apologized for losing my temper, not for what I said.”

Any thawing in her mother’s expression stopped immediately. “I see.” She turned back to the eggs.

“I’m not sure you do.”

“I’m not stupid, Amanda.” She scraped the eggs onto a serving plate. “I can understand things that are said to me.”

“All I was trying to say was that we need to work together to make this ranch a success and to find a way to get Gary to come home.”

Her mother placed the eggs next to one of the bowls and opened the oven to check on the biscuits. “I had thought that in my declining years I wouldn’t have to slave the way I did when your father and I first got married, but I see that is not going to be the case. I will never be a burden to my children.”

Amanda didn’t know where to start with that statement. Her mother had never had to do any real work until the war broke out. Even then, Amanda, who had just turned eleven, was drafted to help her mother. By the time they moved to Texas, Amanda was doing most of the cooking while her mother concentrated her efforts on caring for all the fine things her parents had left her.

“Things haven’t worked out as planned,” Amanda said. “Papa’s dying was just the first upset.”

“I never thought he would leave me,” her mother said with a sob.

“He didn’t want to.” Amanda felt like an idiot stating the obvious. “He loved you very much.”

Her mother smiled wistfully, and it was easy to see the beauty that must have enthralled her father twenty years ago. “He called me his gardenia. He said its fragrance made him dizzy the way holding me in his arms did.”

Amanda couldn’t imagine her practical father saying such a thing, but he had been deeply in love with her mother. That was the kind of love Amanda was looking for. It was one reason she continued to turn down Corby’s offer of marriage. She had no desire to—

The back door opened and Eddie bounded in, followed by Leo and Andy. “Broc says he’s going into town for breakfast. Can I have his biscuits?”

Broc stuffed his last shirt into his saddlebags. The only decision left to make was whether to stay in Cactus Bend or go back to Crystal Springs and start his jail sentence early. Either prospect was depressing, but he might as well get it over with. He wasn’t doing any good here. Amanda didn’t need any more trouble to deal with. He tossed his saddlebags over his shoulder and turned to leave the bunkhouse. He’d already tied his bedroll to the saddle. He stepped through the doorway and almost ran into Amanda.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but each time he saw her affected him more powerfully than the last. He should have left before breakfast. Now he was going to have to do the one thing he wanted to avoid: explain his behavior last night.

The explanation was simple enough. He had fallen in love with her.

Amanda backed up a couple of steps and held out a folded piece of paper. “This says you’re quitting. Why?”

“After last night, I thought it was the best thing to do.”

“You think leaving me to try to figure out how to run this ranch on my own is the best thing to do?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of town. “You figure leaving me to keep struggling with Oscar’s piano playing is the best thing to do?”

“You can hire someone to teach you, and Corby can hire someone to play for you.”

“The men reacted to
your
playing and singing, not someone Corby might hire. There’s no one else with that kind of talent in the area. And you were going to stay here long enough to teach me about running the ranch.”

“Anybody can do that.”

“Carruthers wanted to hang you for working for me. Do you think anybody else is going to risk that for the few dollars I can pay?”

“But I kissed you last night.”

“It was just a kiss.”

For a moment he couldn’t catch this breath. What did she mean it was
just a kiss
? Did she mean it was so unimportant she’d already forgotten it? Did she mean she remembered it but didn’t expect it to happen again? “A cowhand can’t go around kissing his boss.”

Her gaze intensified. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

Was she laying a trap for him? He’d already quit. There was nothing else she could do except get the sheriff to chase him out of town.

“I think about you—about kissing you—all the time.” There. Now she knew how he felt.

Her gaze fell to the ground. “So you
do
want to kiss me again?”

He was sure he couldn’t be hearing her correctly. Was she trying to lead him deeper into a trap, or was it possible she hadn’t disliked being kissed? “It would depend on whether you wanted me to.”

“Kissing the foreman wouldn’t be a proper way for a boss to act, would it?”

“I don’t know that I would say it was improper, but it’s not usual.” He wanted her to look up so he could see what was in her eyes, but she kept her gaze averted. He dropped his saddlebags, stepped over to her, put his hand under her
chin, and lifted her head slowly. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you?”

“I didn’t dislike it.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to kiss you?”

“If you want to.”

The warmth in her eyes should have been a sufficient answer, but Broc needed words, something concrete he could point to when he was shaken by doubt. “Look at me. Are you sure you want a man with this face to kiss you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

He didn’t know whether she was trying to be kind or simply didn’t have the courage to say what was in her mind, but he couldn’t let her stop there. He knew what he looked like. He saw his face every time he looked in a mirror, passed a store window, saw his reflection in still water. “Look at me. How can you say there’s nothing wrong with my face? Half of it is destroyed.”

“But the other half is beautiful.”

“I don’t come in separate halves. You can’t take one side and ignore the other.”

“It was just a kiss, Broc. That doesn’t require a pledge of lifetime commitment.”

He knew it was unreasonable, but that was what he wanted. “You’ve never given me a reason to think you’d welcome a kiss. And with this face…” He let the sentence trail off.

Much to his surprise, Amanda stepped closer and placed her hand on the left side of his face. He had to fight the impulse to pull away. No woman had ever touched his scars.

“To me this is a testament to your bravery. It took courage to fight in the war, but it took even more to make peace with the terrible thing that happened to you.”

She gave him too much credit. For a long time he had been bitter. In the days after he was shot, he prayed he would
die. It was the fierce love and unyielding support of his friends that had enabled him to come to terms with what had happened to him, but he still wasn’t beyond bitterness or anger. Every time someone turned away from him or flinched at seeing him, he was angry all over again that for the rest of his life he would be judged by one side of his face rather than the rest of him.

It was the reason he’d never gone back to Tennessee.

“Last night was more than just a kiss. I was attracted to you the first time I saw you. The more I’m around you, the more I like you. I’ve wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to tell you I enjoy being with you.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Because I look like this. Because your mother and brother think I’m a crook.”

“I don’t understand about the debt, but I don’t think you’re a crook.”

“Why?”

“Crooks and thieves don’t act the way you’ve acted.”

“I could be working for you so I could steal your mother’s silverware.”

Amanda laughed and some of the tension between them eased. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting that horrible stuff.”

“It’s silver, and many people lost everything in the war.”

“Did you lose everything?”

“I had no material possessions, but I lost my career on the stage. It was the only way I knew to make a living.”

“Now you know all about ranches. Will you stay and teach me what you’ve learned?”

Broc felt tension crawl along the back of his shoulders. “If I stay, I’ll want to kiss you again.”

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t mean I’ll just
want
to kiss you. I mean I’ll
need
to kiss you.”

Amanda’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s okay.”

Broc couldn’t believe she really meant what she said, but now was a good time to find out. He moved closer, slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist even when her breasts came in contact with his chest. Slowly, still afraid he might be asking more of her than she was ready to give, he lowered his head until their lips met.

Her mouth was as soft and sweet as he remembered. He had lain awake most of the night reliving their kiss, trying to imprint on his mind every moment, every sensation, every feeling. Now he didn’t have to try to remember because he would never forget this kiss. He hadn’t acted on impulse. His thought processes hadn’t been suspended. He had approached this as a test, but once their lips met, all that mattered was holding Amanda in his arms and kissing her.

He had kissed many women during his days on the riverboats, young women and not-so-young women, eager to indulge in a moonlight tryst with a handsome actor. Some had been beautiful, several rich, others amorous—some rich, beautiful and amorous—but nothing had affected him as powerfully as this simple kiss from Amanda, because she was kissing him back with as much purpose and vigor as he was kissing her.

It was enough to make a man lose his moorings and start imagining that anything might be possible. To hold her, breathe in her scent, feel the heat of her body against him, was more intoxicating than the finest cognac. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too soon, but—

“Why are you kissing Amanda?”

Eddie’s voice cut though the bubble of unreality around them like a knife through soft butter.

“Mama said Amanda has to come to breakfast. She said if she had to cook it, Amanda had to eat it. I thought you were
going into town,” the boy said to Broc. “I asked Mama if I could have your biscuit. She said she was going to give it to the chickens. I don’t like chickens. I don’t want to give them your biscuit.”

Amanda had busied herself straightening her clothes and schooling her expression to impassivity before she turned to face her brother. “I was just trying to convince Broc to stay here rather than go into town.”

Eddie looked uneasy. “Do I have to kiss him if I want him to stay?”

Amanda put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, but Broc let his roll out without restraint. “No,” he said when he caught his breath, “but it would be nice if you asked me to stay.”

“Mama doesn’t want you to stay,”—Eddie hadn’t yet learned that some things were better left unsaid—“but Leo and I do. I don’t count Andy.”

“I’m going to stay, but I’ll have to leave soon.”

“If Amanda kisses you again, will you stay longer?”

Amanda blushed and giggled.

“We’ll have to see,” Broc said. “Now I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your mother you saw me kissing Amanda.”

“Hell, no!” Eddie exclaimed. “She’d have a conniption fit.”

Broc was able to contain his amusement, but Amanda was overcome with a very undignified fit of giggles. “Go back and tell your mother we’ll be in shortly.”

“Can’t. She said I was to come back with Amanda, or I wouldn’t get any breakfast. I gotta eat so I can grow big enough to beat up Gary.”

“Okay.” Common sense told Broc not to be foolish, but he couldn’t extinguish the tiny flame of hope that his future might not be as bleak as he’d always imagined it would be.

“Do you think these are some of the one hundred cows you said we’re missing?” Amanda asked Leo.

“I don’t know,” the boy replied.

“What do you think?” she asked Broc.

After two days’ hard work, they’d finished the rough tally of the cows on their range. When they came across cows belonging to Carruthers or Sandoval, they’d hazed the cows back to their own range. They’d been in the process of returning a cow to Carruthers’s range when they noticed a Lazy T cow and calf. When they went to chase that cow back to their range, they found another. That had led to another until they had found five, two of them with calves by the stud bull.

“It’s hard to say,” Broc said. “We’re still fairly close to your range. They could have wandered this far on their own. If you really have lost over a hundred cows with calves by your stud bull, then my guess would be that they were stolen. It sounds like someone was choosing which cows he wanted.”

That’s what she thought, but she’d hoped Broc would tell her something different.

“I don’t see how there could be rustlers around,” Leo said. “Sandoval or Carruthers would have lost enough cows to be suspicious.”

“It’s hard to know when you have so much land to cover,” Broc said.

The glance he sent Amanda’s way told her he was thinking what she was thinking: this was no common rustling operation. Whoever had taken the cows had concentrated on the Lazy T herd, with special attention to calves by the stud bull.

“What do you think we ought to do?” she asked Broc.

He took a moment to survey the prairie that stretched before them. “There are so many trees on Carruthers’s land, it’s hard to tell if there might be more Lazy T stock there.
Why don’t you and the boys take these cows back while I look around?”

“If Carruthers finds you, he’ll kill you,” Andy said.

“He’s in town interviewing drovers to take his herd to Abilene. Sandoval, too. I heard them talking about it last night.”

Amanda was feeling exhausted from working on the ranch during the day and in the saloon every night, but the men had responded well to her performing with Broc. Every time Corby saw a man who usually went to another saloon, he rushed over to tell her. She suggested that he add a dollar to her night’s pay instead, but he wasn’t that grateful.

“Andy and Leo can take the cows back,” Amanda said. “I’ll go with you.”

Broc tried to talk her into going with the boys, but she refused. She didn’t think it was good leadership to ask people to take risks she wouldn’t take herself. That was no way to build loyalty or respect, and being a woman in a man’s world, she needed a lot of both.

“Be careful,” Leo said as he and Andy were getting ready to leave. “Even if Carruthers is in town, his men could cause trouble.”

“We’ll be okay,” Amanda assured him. “I’ve got Broc to watch out for me.”

She didn’t know how much faith Leo had in Broc’s ability to protect her, but Andy’s sneer implied he didn’t have any.

“You really think I’ll watch out for you?” Broc asked after the boys had left.

“You’ve been doing it for close to a week. I don’t know why you’d stop now.”

Broc grinned in a way that had come to be very special to her. “Then let’s go. You look for cows, and I’ll watch for Carruthers’s men.”

It was hard to think of cows when she was with Broc. The
last two days had been wonderful and terrible at the same time. She found it hard to believe how much she liked being with him. It didn’t make any difference whether they were in the saddle, taking care of their horses after a long day, talking about problems over a meal, or working together in the saloon. Being with him was like being with a part of herself. That is, if she could discount the growing physical attraction.

She couldn’t.

Her mother still sulked when she had to be around Broc, but Amanda was finding it increasingly difficult not to show her growing attraction to him. Especially when he kissed her, which he did as often as he could manage to be alone with her for a few minutes. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought to find these isolated moments. The hard part was keeping them short to avoid suspicion. How could she have known that being wrapped in Broc’s embrace, being kissed by him, would be something she’d want to do as often as possible? She hadn’t wanted to kiss or be held by Corby or any of the other men she knew. She’d been uninterested in men for so long, she’d begun to wonder if she was too coldhearted to fall in love.

All that had changed with Broc. They worked together nearly all day, but that wasn’t enough. When she wasn’t with him, she was thinking about him. When she was sleeping, she dreamed about him. When he talked to her about the ranch or the cows, it was all she could do to keep her mind on what he was saying. She didn’t understand why any woman would notice his scars when there was so much more of him to appreciate. She felt herself grow warm remembering some of the dreams that had been inspired by his strong arms or powerful thighs. Why would any woman care what kind of clothes he wore when they clothed a body that seemed perfect in every way?