Deborah Camp (31 page)

“A handsome character?”

“A dumbstruck character who was moony-eyed over a girl who didn’t know what she wanted until it was too late.”

Cassie tilted her nose in haughty censure. “I don’t read nothing but the Bible.”

Rook looked at her with raised brows. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

Cassie reached out and whipped the shovel from his grasp. “Let’s get to work. I’m tired of yammering with you about nothing important!”

Rook laughed and followed dutifully behind her. He liked walking behind her, he mused. More to the point, he liked her behind.

“Cassie, do you still hate me?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You called me ugly.”

“No, I didn’t,” he objected, stopping to help her adjust the wick on one of the lanterns. “I said you were poor and unschooled. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to show such bad manners by saying it out loud to my face!” She snatched the lantern from him and hung it on a nail jutting from a support beam. “You hurt my feelings, and there weren’t no call for it.”

“You’re right. There
wasn’t
any call for it.” He smiled apologetically when her gaze ripped through him. “Sorry. Correcting you has become a habit I enjoy.”

“Well, I don’t enjoy it.” She grabbed a pickax and swung it viciously against the rock wall to vent her anger and hurt feelings, as she had been doing all day. She’d cried her eyes out the night before; she felt as if her world
had collapsed. She hadn’t cried that hard when her pa died. It just seemed that so many troubles had converged on her all at once, like a pack of wolves, circling and taunting her until she wanted to beg for a swift end to it all.

“Cassie?”

“Huh?” she grunted, not in the mood to talk.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone else about what your pa said about this mine. And that includes your one true love.” The latter sentence was uttered with heavy sarcasm.

“Why not?”

“Because it might have been what caused that hole in your father’s back.”

She dug a rock out of the wall and then let the pickax swing at her side. “That’s crossed my mind, but I don’t know who Pa woulda told ’cept for me. His onliest friend was Jewel.” She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, remembering her surprise when she’d discovered that Shorty had paid a visit to a lawyer. “ ’Course, Pa did some surprising things sometimes.”

“Like what?” Rook asked, pausing in his work to squint through the smoky light at her. A dingy, threadbare scarf covered her lovely hair. Her white oval face seemed to float like a small moon in the dim twilight of the mine.

“Like having a will drawed up.” Her gaze slipped sideways to his. His reaction was slow, but it was all she expected. Interest lit up his eyes and parted his lips. “I went into town that day by myself to talk to the lawyer that done it. He says it’s legal and makes me the owner of the property and everything on it once the taxes are paid. They’ve been paid for this year already.”

“That’s good. Shorty didn’t tell you he’d filed a will?”

“Nope. Never mentioned it. He had it done a couple of months before he was shot.” Her brows lifted in speculation. “That’s right peculiar, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it was premonition.”

“Premo—what?”

“Maybe he felt something … had a sixth sense that his life would soon be over.”

“I think it’s right peculiar. Pa could hardly see beyond his own nose. I don’t think he had six senses. I doubt if
he had more ’n a couple.” She looked daggers at him when he laughed. “You think I’m funny? Am I showing how unschooled I am again?”

“Oh, hell’s bells, Cassie, give it a rest.” Acute irritation thrummed in his voice. “I’ve told you I’m sorry I hurt you by what I said, but the point was well taken. I think there’s more to Rutledge than meets the eye. Did he come around here before Shorty died?”

“Nope.”

“So he’s a buzzard who smells easy pickings?”

“He is not! He came out to pay his respects. He said he’d had his eye on me for a spell, but Pa kinda scared him off. Pa could act downright loco at times.” She dropped the ax and rubbed the calluses on her hands. “Besides, what would he be wanting that I’ve got? He’s rich. All I’ve got is this land, and it ain’t worth much.”

“And this mine.”

Apprehension ran like a cold finger down her spine, but she shook her head in urgent denial. “No. Boone don’t know nothing about the mine. Everybody in these parts thinks me and Pa was plumb crazy for working in this hole, and I’m inclined to think they was right in thinking so.”

“Well, indulge me and promise that you’ll keep this mine and what your pa said about it under your head scarf.” He tugged at the triangle of material, making her smile a little. “Promise?”

She looked at him for a few moments, then nodded as she gave in to her desire to please him, which, despite all that had happened between them, was still strong.

“Good.” He dipped his head and changed the subject again. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“No, I guess not.” She wanted to, but she couldn’t. Cassie started to bend over and pick up her ax, but Rook lowered his head swiftly, like a bird of prey, and his mouth captured hers. She was helpless, frozen by mindless relief. She’d wondered if he’d ever kiss her again; then she’d wondered why she cared. But she did care, and that bothered her. She cared about Rook even though he’d called her terrible names, laughed at her, and teased her. She
cared for him because, deep down, she knew he cared for her just as much.

He drew away first and smiled tenderly at her. Cassie’s heart skipped a beat, and she was glad of the poor lighting that concealed her rosy cheeks and pink neck.

“I don’t hate you,” Cassie whispered; then she retrieved the ax and began hacking away at the dirt and rock. It was a full minute before Rook finally stopped looking at her and started working again.

What had held his gaze for so long? Cassie wondered. What had he seen in her that had kept him motionless for that heart-stopping minute?

An hour before dusk Cassie and Rook emerged from the mine, both with dirt-smudged faces, arms, hands, necks, and every other patch of exposed skin. Rook took out his handkerchief and wet it with water from the canteen, then ran it around his neck and scrubbed his face.

“Cassie, you’re killing me,” he groaned; but there was a smile in his eyes. “I don’t ever remember working so hard.”

“It’s good for you.” She drank deeply from the canteen and was glad to breathe in air that wasn’t heavy with dust. “The mine used to be my enemy, but lately it’s become unfinished business. I feel like once that mine is worked I can get on with life without Pa.”

“What’s that boarded-up place way in the back?”

“Oh, that’s where the mine stops. Pa said that was where somebody once started to cut into the hill, but gave it up causen’ it was useless. That old hill is nothing but granite and mud.”

“Amen to that.” He tied his handkerchief around his neck and stretched lazily. “Why was the mine your enemy?”

“It took Pa away from me. Me and Pa used to have a garden and chickens and even a milk cow, but he let everything go once the mine got hold of him.” She glanced contemptuously at the entrance. “I hated the place. Still do, sorta.”

She jerked involuntarily as Rook draped a casual arm
around her shoulders, but he ignored her reaction and kept his arm where it was.

“Life hasn’t been easy as pie for you, has it?”

“Nope, but I’m not complaining.”

“You’re too tough to complain, huh?”

“Nope, I’m just thankful for my blessings.”

“Which are?”

She had to think a few seconds before she found one. “I’m healthy as a horse.”

Rook smiled and shook his head in wry admiration. “You don’t believe in flattering yourself, do you?” He left her side and began gathering up the shovels and lanterns and putting them in the wheelbarrow.

“You going to take a bath in the creek?” Cassie asked, realizing that he’d left Irish back at the house after their noon meal and hadn’t brought extra clothes the way he usually did.

“No, not tonight. I’m going to wash off at the pump and have supper before I drop dead.”

“You’re welcome to use the tub out back,” Cassie said, moving with heavy steps along the path that would take them home.

“Let’s use it together,” Rook said and chuckled when Cassie took a playful swing at him. “I’ll wash your back and you can wash mine.”

“Hush up about such things.”

“Oh, Cassie. You’re such a proper little girl.”

“I’m not a girl!”

“No, thanks to me.”

Cassie glanced sideways at him. “You saying that a female isn’t a woman till she’s been with a man?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s a pile of of sh—”

“Uh-uh, Cassie. Ladies don’t speak of such things. Romeo would be shocked to hear you utter such filth.”

She clamped her lips together, realizing he was right. Boone would be all bug-eyed if he heard her talking like this. She had to watch what she said around Boone, but she could say whatever she liked to Rook and he didn’t so
much as bat an eyelash. Her pace slowed and her thoughts turned inward.

Around Rook she could be herself. She didn’t feel the need to impress him or be something he wanted her to be. It would be hard to say anything that would shock Rook. He’d heard it all before. She was Cassie and he liked her that way—bad language and all. But when she was with Boone she felt as though she were walking on eggshells, always afraid she’d say the wrong thing and make him look at her in that pinched way he did when he would suddenly seem to see her as an ill-mannered country bumpkin. Boone said he loved her, but Cassie didn’t think Boone even knew her.

“Cassandra,” Rook said, in a soft singsong voice that made him sound as if he was far, far away. “Where are you?”

“I always try to be a better person than I am,” she murmured to herself.

“What?” He leaned forward to peer into her face. “Listen, Cassie. You’re a good person just the way you are. Why should you want to change?”

“You’re all the time telling me I talk bad.”

“No,” he said, patiently correcting her. “I think you could use better grammar, but that’s not saying you aren’t a good person. Cassie, you’re one of the best women I’ve ever known.”

“Is that so?” she asked, smiling at his admission. “I think you’re buttering me up.”

“That sounds tempting.” His smile was deliciously wicked. “I’ll race you home, and the last one there has to butter up the other one.”

“You wish!” She laughed and ran ahead toward the cabin; then she picked up speed when she sensed that Rook was in hot pursuit.

Feeling the brush of his fingertips down her back, Cassie darted toward a tree and ran behind it, stopping to peek around the trunk as Rook came to a sudden halt and whirled to face her.

“I’m going to catch you,” he warned, holding up his hands like claws.

Cassie laughed. “If you catch me, you can keep me!”

She squealed with delight as he lunged for her. While he was off balance, Cassie left the safety of the tree and raced across the clover-strewn grass, making a beeline for the watering trough. Reaching it a dozen strides ahead of Rook, she dipped her hands into the cold water and flung them out toward him, spattering him with the sparkling drops.

Her prank made him laugh but didn’t deter him. He sprang forward, hands outstretched, and Cassie barely eluded him. She shrieked again and ran around to the front of the house. Just as she reached the steps, Rook’s fingers closed around her waist, and then his arms imprisoned her from behind. He lifted her so that her feet dangled inches from the ground, leaving her to kick futilely. Her hands covered his arms at her waist and she squirmed against him, but to no avail.

“Uncle,” she said, laughing and breathless.

“I’ve caught you,” he said, his breath warming the side of her face. “Can I keep you?” His lips brushed across her cheekbone as he set her on her feet again.

“Do you want to?” Cassie asked, turning in his arms and looking up into his eyes. Her throat constricted painfully as she waited for his answer.

“Do you want me?”

Her heart squeezed up into her tight throat. “I asked you first.”

His gaze searched her face, missing nothing. His eyes were an earthy color of brown that made Cassie want to smother him with kisses.

“If I really had you, I wouldn’t ever let you go,” he said, carefully and slowly as if he wanted her to grasp every syllable and its meaning. “If you were all mine, Cassie, I know I’d be a better man.”

Her lips parted, but she could utter no sound as sweet emotion blocked the words she would have spoken. She smiled, feeling the smile tremble uncertainly on her lips; then she turned and went up the steps and across the porch.

You don’t love Boone
, a voice whispered in her ear.
You love Rook and you ’re plumb crazy if you let him get away!

“Cassie?” Rook spoke behind her, a note of confusion in his voice.

“Come on in,” she said, pausing long enough to glance over her shoulder and give him a smile of encouragement. “The chase is over, I reckon.”

He was beside her in two strides, and it seemed only natural that his arm should slip around her shoulders. She went in ahead of him, but he kept his hand on her shoulder, and they moved together into the dim interior of the cabin. Then they became aware that the air inside had a different quality, a different scent than it usually did. Their steps faltered at the same moment as they both sensed the charged atmosphere. Rook’s hand tightened on Cassie’s shoulder as her brain began to catch up with her other senses. At first she stared stupidly at the men sitting at her table, but then her mind cleared completely as she found herself face to face with the man she’d seen in the “Wanted” poster. He didn’t look
that
much like Rook after all, she thought. There was an evil cast to his face that hadn’t shown in the poster, and the scar along one side of it was yellowish. He was holding her shotgun and whip.

“Hello, brother,” he said, and his voice was nothing like Rook’s. It was scratchy and hollow-sounding, as if it were coming up from a well.

Cassie looked to Rook for comfort, but what she saw in his eyes frightened her more than the shotgun pointed at her. Fear was plainly etched on his face, and his throat flexed as he swallowed hard.