Charlene Sands (5 page)

Clint had been glad to go. His relationship with his father had deteriorated. He began to believe every wrenching story about his father’s business manipulations and ruthlessness. He’d seen firsthand how his father’s faithlessness had torn his mother up.

He recalled those early days on his uncle’s horse ranch outside of Houston. Loneliness had followed him everywhere. He’d missed the Double H and just about everyone on the ranch
but
his father. He’d retreated from those emotions, finding solace working with wild horses, and after some years Clint had became foreman. He had a knack for taming wildness from animals most thought uncontrollable. He’d calm their rebellious spirit and gain their trust. Some said it was a gift, and Clint couldn’t disagree. He felt a connection to them, he shared a quiet calm that the animals picked up on. At times he understood them even
more
than he understood himself.

And now he was back here at the Double H and hoping to gain the ultimate revenge on his father—but first he had to convince his beautiful widow to sell him the land.

One way or another, Clint would find a way to free himself of this place and return to his home in Houston, leaving his old, bitter memories behind for good.

In the morning Clint found Greta in the kitchen, making up a breakfast tray. He grabbed a Berliner, took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, the taste reminding him so much of his youth, when Greta would sneak away several pastries just for him. It’s a wonder he didn’t wind up as round as a potbellied stove.

“Morning, Greta,” he said, taking a seat and watching the cook spreading strawberry preserves on a thin slice of bread.

“
Goodt
morning.” She looked up from her task to meet his eyes. “You want breakfast?”

She poured steaming hot tea into a cup and set it on the tray.

He lifted a second Berliner and took a bite. “I
have
breakfast.”

Greta smiled, her light brown eyes crinkling at the corners as she waved her hand in the air. “That is not breakfast. A big man
needts
a big meal.”

“Later.” He glanced at the tray she had made up. “Is that food for Mrs. Hayworth?”

She nodded.

Clint finished off his second pastry and rose. “I’ll take it up to her.” He reached for the tray.

Greta grabbed his arm and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t cause trouble for the missus.”

Surprised, Clint looked down at the diminutive woman wearing a stern expression. “You don’t make her feel welcome here. So why are you worried if I cause her trouble? I didn’t think you cared about her.”

Greta’s expression changed from stern to thoughtful. She shrugged. “For Hoyt, I do this, but is not
goodt
to let her know that. She is new here…she
needts
to be strong now.”

Even in death, his father inspired loyalty. Clint ground his teeth. “I’m making no promises,” he said to Greta. When her face registered disappointment, he winked, and she took a relieved breath.

“You are a
goodt
man, Clint.”

“We’ll see, Greta.”

He took the tray and headed upstairs. When he reached Tess’s door, he knocked.

“Who is it?” Her voice was stronger than yesterday.

Clint shouldered the door open and entered her bedroom. He wanted to see for himself how she’d fared last night. He’d found her yesterday out in the field and he’d brought her to safety. The healer in him would do the same for anyone, he told himself. He’d never preyed on an injured adversary; he wanted her strong and on equal terms when he fought her for his birthright.

Tess sat upright on the bed in a light-colored nightgown, her long hair falling in waves onto her shoulders. A quick assessment told him she’d recovered well. She appeared rested. If it wasn’t for her reddened face, no one would know she’d been injured yesterday.

“What are you doing here?” She scurried for her robe at the base of her bed the moment she spotted him.

With a quick grin, he set down her tray. “I see you’re moving better today.”

“I’m not used to men barging into my room.” She put her arms through the sleeves of the robe, and he noted her careful movements. She must be aching by now. That toss from Maple would have left bruises and sore muscles.

“Aren’t you?”

She took a deep breath, her annoyance evident from the scowl on her face.

“Greta made you tea and toast.”

She looked at the tray he’d set on the table beside her bed. “I’d planned on going down for breakfast this morning.”

“It’s too soon for that. You should stay here this morning. You’ll be stiff as a straw broom no matter what you decide, but you need to rest some more.”

“I feel—”

“Like you just fell off a horse?”

“I didn’t
fall
off.”

Clint shrugged and walked over to the window to stare outside to the ranch below. Already the crew was up; the smithy’s fires were burning, the ranch hands rising for their morning meal. Everyone worked together to make the Double H a smooth-running operation. The land spread for miles, the herd ten thousand strong. Today they’d be branding some young steers, marking them for identification.

“I rode out there yesterday looking for clues.” He turned to find her eyes on him. “Didn’t find much of anything.”

“I know. Sonny told me. Why are you so interested?”

“I got an investment in the ranch.”

“You’re planning on destroying it.”

He couldn’t deny that fact.

“What about all the people working here? Have you given them any mind at all?” Tess asked.

“They’d be well compensated. They’re good men. I’ll make sure they leave with a full purse and new employment. It’s not about money.”

She spoke with rising dismay. “You’re right. Because as long as I’m alive, you’ll never get my half of the ranch. I won’t allow you to destroy my home.”

“
Your
home?” Clint’s jaw tightened.

“The Double H
is
my home. Whether you like it or not.”

He glanced at the tea and toast she hadn’t touched and remembered Greta’s concern. “Drink your tea.”

Her face took on tones of crimson that compared to a startling sunset. “I won’t have this argument with you again.”

“You won’t have to as long as you know where I stand. I won’t change my mind.”

“I won’t change my mind, either.”

Clint strode to the door, then turned to see her face flaming. Pretty soon she’d be healthy enough for the fight he’d wager. He looked forward to it. “Put some cool water on your face. Your cheeks are burning.”

“Get out, Clint.”

Clint grinned and strode out the door before she could toss the hot teacup at him.

T
ess hated to admit that Clint was right. After he left her room, she rose to dress and found the task more than daunting. She’d never been a wilting flower, but she was sore in places she’d never have guessed, and her body rebelled at being put through that torture. Her legs screamed when she tried to step into her gown, and after accomplishing that feat, she had one heck of a time lifting her arms into the sleeves, twisting her body so that she could pull the gown up.

“Lord above,” Tess said finally, once the gown was on, but for the buttons on the back. She couldn’t imagine trying to reach for those and she wasn’t in the mood for Greta at the moment, so calling her was out of the question. “I’m just not thinking,” she muttered before she let the gown fall to a puddle at her feet.

A blouse and skirt would have been easier to master, but by then most of Tess’s energy was sapped and she felt every movement she made twofold.

Instead of retreating back to bed, she slipped her arms carefully into her robe and walked to the window, opening it and breathing in fresh, warm morning air.

From her bedroom she could see most of the ranch below—barns, stables and corrals. The windmill sat at the right of her view, and close by the water tank piped in fresh water to the kitchen and bathing areas. Hoyt had seen that the Double H had every updated convenience one could have this far west.

She’d been content here when Hoyt was alive and now she’d grown to love her home. She took pride in the Double H and looked upon its upkeep with responsibility and an unexpected protectiveness.

She watched the men gather in the branding area as one young heifer after another was marked with the Double H brand. The scent of scorching hide and the squeals of the calves fighting for freedom had always made her cringe. Hoyt had taught her that ranch life wasn’t delicate or easy, and Tess eventually had understood the necessities of growing such a powerful empire.

When Clint came into her line of focus, she thought to close the window and turn away but instead was mesmerized by his appearance in the branding arena. He bent by the calves, stroking their heads, appearing to calm them before the hot iron seared their skins.

She couldn’t hear Clint’s words, but she saw a difference in the young calves as he held them down and she also witnessed the awe of the ranch hands seeing Clint’s effect on the animals.

At one point he looked directly to her room, and their eyes met, as if he knew she’d been watching him. Her first instinct was one of retreat, to close the window and turn away. But she’d never cower to him, so she stood at her window in full view to meet a grin that seemed to split his face wide-open.

“Hoyt,” she whispered, “you’ve got one infuriating son.”

She turned away and gave up her fight to stay awake. Her bones ached badly and rest was truly what she needed. Lying in that twisted position on the ground yesterday for Lord only knows how long had drained her of energy.

She closed the thick silk-lined curtains and the room darkened instantly. Retreating back to bed, she lay down, shutting off her mind and hoping when she woke she’d feel a little better.

For most of the day she dozed on and off, only rising once to eat the meal that had appeared by her bedside. No doubt Greta had served her supper, but she’d never seen the German woman enter her room.

After eating half the food on her plate, a few slices of beef and vegetables, Tess drifted off again, her mind woozy and her body still in need of rest.

Secretly Theresa let the bounty hunter in through her cabin’s bedroom window in Turner Hill. The man named Bodine had come to rescue the young girl he’d been hired to protect, Emma Marie Rourke. The girl had been playing a dangerous game with Theresa’s outlaw brother, Rusty, trying to secure her release, and Theresa knew there’d be trouble. Rusty wanted the bounty hunter dead and he’d use an innocent young woman to his gain. He’d tricked Emma Marie into coming here, and Theresa knew the young woman was as good as dead, as well.

Rusty held Emma Marie tight. “I’ve got a gun pointed at the little lady’s head,” he said with a mean look in his eyes. “I’ll shoot her.”

“You won’t get the chance,” Bodine said. “Your men are in custody. The marshal and his deputies are right outside the door. You hurt one hair on her head, you’re a dead man. Now drop the gun and turn around.”

Rusty hesitated and Bodine cocked his shotgun. The chilling sound stopped Rusty instantly. He dropped his weapon.

“You gonna shoot me when I turn around?” Her brother’s voice sounded faint and weak.

“Maybe,” Bodine said between tight lips, his whole body trembling with hatred.

Rusty fell to the floor, great sobs escaping his throat. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded, his back still to Bodine. “I’m begging, don’t shoot!” Then with one swift, unexpected movement, Rusty grabbed a knife from under the rug and turned quickly, ready to throw the dagger.

Theresa lifted her revolver and squeezed the trigger. She couldn’t let him kill again. She couldn’t. Her brother fell forward with the knife still clutched in his hand, a look of shock on his face before he keeled over.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Tess cried, waking up startled, her body shaking. “Couldn’t let you kill again,” she pleaded in the dark. “I couldn’t let you hurt anyone else.” She thrashed back and forth, reliving that horrible scene. Disoriented, with those vivid images still playing in her head, slowly Tess regained some composure. She reminded herself that her brother had had no remorse, no humanity in his soul. Her brother had killed and would have killed again if she hadn’t stopped him. She had saved two innocent lives that night.

But sometimes she’d think of Rusty in their youth, when their father’s ways hadn’t yet turned her brother mean and cruel. She’d think of him innocently playing outside, racing off to hide, hoping she wouldn’t find and tag him in their silly game.

When she thought of him that way, her heart ached so much it sickened her for the loss of their youth. Those bittersweet memories lingered, and, sadly, Rusty hadn’t been that lovable boy for very long.

She’d had nightmares before she’d married Hoyt but not since. Not until tonight. After she’d seen Clint.

She wouldn’t credit him with too much. She’d taken a terrible fall yesterday. Maybe the trauma to her head and body had caused these hurtful memories to come back.

Memories she’d never forget.

Tess left her bed and poured rose-scented water onto a cloth. Dabbing her face and neck, she refreshed herself with the cooling water and the floral scents. Still reeling from the nightmare, she paced the floor. Night had descended onto the ranch, and all was quiet but the pounding of her heart.

She found resting today had eased her achy limbs and restored her energy. Wide-awake now, she opened her curtains, and moonlight streamed inside, illuminating the room enough for her to dress into a skirt and blouse easily. Pulling her hair back in a yellow ribbon, grabbing a shawl and tidying herself a bit, she exited the room and strode down the stairs.

Restless now after spending the entire day sleeping on and off, she didn’t know what she wanted to do or where she would go. She only knew she needed some fresh air.

Wrapping her shawl around her tightly, she walked out the front door and her attention was immediately drawn to the water tower. She heard strange noises coming from that direction. Tess struggled to determine the cause of those sounds, and when she couldn’t rightly figure it out, she grabbed a lantern from the house and headed that way.

She walked past the quiet bunkhouse, past the stables and beyond that, where only the muffled sound of Bucky Shelton’s sheepdog’s snoring reached her ears.

From behind, a gloved hand covered her mouth. Startled, she stiffened with fear.

“Shhh,” the man whispered in her ear, grabbing her around the waist and moving her across the yard, back toward the barn.

Tess kicked him in the shins and he muffled a vile curse. Once he got them both to the side of the barn, Clint pressed up against her back, refusing to let her see him. “Quiet, Tess. It’s Clint. Now I’m gonna let go and you can turn around. I need you to listen. Agreed?”

She hesitated, then nodded, her body shaking.

Once he released her slightly, she whirled around, yielding the lantern like a flaming weapon. He caught it before she could knock him upside the head. Grabbing her wrist, he wrestled the lantern free and doused the light rapidly. “Damn it, Tess!” He’d muffled his voice, but couldn’t bite back his temper.

“What are—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shhh!” he whispered. “There’s someone out there by the water tower, and I’m damn sure they weren’t relieving themselves up against the post. I don’t know who or what, but I planned on finding out before you came trotting outta the house, scaring them off. Now are you gonna quiet down?”

Her eyes flashed blue lightning. Then she nodded.

He took his finger away and stared at her. All he could see was the outline of her face and the glow of anger in her eyes. But he could smell the scent of flowers, soft and light, wafting up and chasing away harsh barn odors.

He braced his hands on the wall on either side of her, trapping her there until he was sure they were both safe.

“I heard sounds from the water tower, too,” she whispered.

“I saw you heading there. Whoever it was is most likely gone by now.”

Her chest moved up and down and she trembled, but Clint only felt the press of her breasts on him. His groin reacted instantly. Tess Morgan Hayworth was a beautiful woman, and even though they were adversaries, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her.

He supposed he should back away, but when had he ever intentionally backed away from a pretty woman?

“Scared?” he asked.

“Should I be?” she whispered back.

Clint’s brows rose and he smiled. She clearly hadn’t gotten his true meaning. He looked at her mouth, set in an alluring pout, and considered his options. He should kiss her into oblivion and be done with it. Ease his powerful curiosity some. “I think so.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone…
anymore.
”

He lowered his head, ready to prove her wrong. She
should
fear him. She should be wary of his intentions.

Just as he brought his lips to hers, she shoved at his immovable chest. “No,” she said softly, without much resolve.

Clint lifted a hand to her delicate throat, caressing the skin there with a finger and wishing he’d taken off his work gloves. “Are you sure about that, Tess?”

She swallowed, her throat moving up and down, and he caught the hesitation in her eyes. “I’m sure…let me go.”

He lifted his hands from her and backed up a step. Though she spoke decidedly about not fearing anyone, Clint didn’t believe her. She’d been hurt and she’d been frightened in her life. He admired her struggle for strength, but he hardly believed that she feared no one.

Those scars didn’t heal easily or quickly.

Clint knew that for fact. “Go back inside. I’ll check out the water tank.”

“No,” she said, and he heard the stubborn tone in her voice. “I’m going with you. It’s my ranch, too, Clint. I need to know what’s going on.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me.” He grabbed the lantern, turned it back on and took her hand, leading her briskly toward the windmill and the tank of water that supplied the house and ranch.

Even before they arrived there, the damage was clearly apparent as they sidestepped watery puddles forming at their feet. Water had seeped out of the tank by three punctures made in the huge metal barrel. It had taken someone a good deal of effort to etch out a depression and poke the large holes.

Clint left Tess standing just a few feet away and made a closer inspection, using the lantern to illuminate the area. “Someone knew what they were doing. They poked enough holes to empty the tank in just a few minutes. These metal tanks aren’t easy to repair. It’d take a few months to get a new one from back east. I’ll get the smithy on it first thing in the morning. He’ll patch it, but I don’t know if it’ll hold.”

“Who would do this?”

Clint turned to look at her. “My guess is that someone is sabotaging the ranch.”

“But why?” Then a light flickered in her eyes. “You were the only one out here. And you came upon me so quietly that I never heard you. For all I know, you were the one poking those holes.”

“And why would I do that?” Clint’s sharp reply only brought on more suspicion.

She took a step toward him, unmindful of the water spreading out across the yard, muddying the ground and dirtying up her skirt edges and boots. “To wear me down. To make things hard around here. It’s no secret you’re out to ruin the ranch.”

“I plan to sell off the land, not destroy it.”

For a second he might have convinced her, but then her blue eyes narrowed on him, and she gave him a shake of her head before she turned and walked away.

“Hell.”

With hands on hips, Clint watched her leave. He shouldn’t care that someone was sabotaging the ranch, if that were truly the case, but there was something niggling at him. He didn’t like being made a fool. He didn’t appreciate being tricked and he wasn’t entirely sure that lives wouldn’t be in danger. Tess’s fall yesterday wasn’t an accident. He was convinced there was more to that story, but he couldn’t figure it out just yet.