Defiant (35 page)

Wade wasn't going to help him, and Jeff felt pride surge inside him. His friend obviously felt he could handle it, that he was a good enough horseman now to pull his own weight. Jeff tightened his legs around King Arthur and the horse moved forward, nickering in protest but doing as told. A new kind of confidence seized him. He grinned up at Wade, and received a small half smile in return. Despite the smile's small size, Jeff felt as if he'd caught the granddaddy of all trout.

Jeff waited until that afternoon, until after they had stopped to rest the horses and eat some more of the dried meat. Then, as they started again, he felt confident enough to maneuver King Arthur and the trailing horses behind Wade Foster and his mother, forcing them to ride together.

Part of him concentrated on the lead rope, part of him on the two people in front of him. Wade's body had stiffened. His ma's back was so straight, Jeff thought it might break. Jeff wanted to kick them both. Instead, he just waited.

Why did she have to look so goddamn pretty?

Wade thought about Jeff's question last night.
Was she as pretty as Ma?
Of Mary Jo's expression when he hadn't really answered.

God, she was beautiful, but he didn't have the right to say it.

And he could never compare the two, Chivita and Mary Jo. Chivita was what he had needed ten years ago, a soft, gentle acceptance of what and who he was. She'd never asked for more than affection, had never asked questions, had never searched inside him.

Mary Jo would always search inside him and couldn't help but be appalled as to what she found. She was passionate in all things, while Chivita had been … quiet and undemanding. He had no doubts that Chivita had loved him, but she'd never demanded his heart and soul, and Mary Jo would never take less, no matter what she said. And his soul already belonged to the devil.

But now she looked so damned irresistible. That auburn hair was caught again in a long braid that hung down her back, little curly tendrils escaping and framing her face and those green changeable eyes. He couldn't believe that she didn't realize how completely desirable she was, how lovely when her lips smiled and her eyes sparked and her face lit up with that indomitable spirit that never ceased to amaze him.

She'd needed reassurance last night, and he couldn't give it to her, because it would reveal how much he really did care, how much he wanted to risk everything to stay with her and Jeff for weeks, months, years. It wasn't his to risk, though. Kelly's appearance had demonstrated only too well how fragile his existence, and identity, was. He wasn't going to brand Mary Jo as wife to a killer, a marauder, a war criminal.

Still, he couldn't help responding as she gasped in sudden delight at a doe and its fawn standing, suddenly alert, in tall grass on a ridge not far from them. Their scent must have been downwind, for now the doe did sense their presence, arching its graceful neck before turning and sprinting away, the small fawn behind it.

Her eyes smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. Her face had softened, her lips creasing into a delighted smile. He had noticed before she loved young things. She should have had more children, a lot more. Maybe the sheriff—

The thought was a godawful one. Unaccustomed jealousy ran through him like snake's poison.

“They're beautiful,” she said, breaking the awkward silence that had accompanied them most of the morning.

He nodded, not speaking, that snake poison cutting off a civil response. He heated with anger at the very thought of her with anyone else, of her having a child with someone else.

Her back stiffened again, and she bit her lip, her face flushing a little under the golden glow dusted there by the sun. She turned her head away.

Clearly, he'd hurt her, and he couldn't bear that. “Mary Jo?”

She looked back at him.

“Don't ever lose that … joy.” He didn't know why he chose that particular word. It wasn't one he usually used. But it was what he wanted to say. She had a quiet but heartfelt appreciation of life that was almost hurtful for him to see.

She seemed as stunned as he felt, then gave him a searching look. “Are you ever going to let yourself have any?” she finally said.

The question ripped into him. He'd never thought he had a choice. Joy, happiness—whatever you called it—had been torn from him when he was fifteen, when he'd found his family slaughtered. Subsequent events, both of his own making and of others', had robbed him of any capacity to bring it back. Once you'd experienced murder and terror, and participated in it, there was damn little left of the soul. Joy required a certain amount of innocence, and he had none. Oh, he'd had moments of pleasure, particularly recently when he'd made love to her. But joy? That was gone forever, like so many other things. But he didn't want her to lose it. Or Jeff his wonder of all things new and different. Christ, he couldn't bear that.

He felt the muscles tensing in his face.

“Wade?”

There was such concern in her voice, he wondered what his face was showing. He hoped to hell it didn't reveal everything he was thinking.

“We need to move faster,” he said curtly, “if we're to reach the ranch by nightfall.” He nudged his horse into a slow canter, hoping it would silence her questions and his own unwanted answers.

They reached the Circle J at dusk. Tuck was pumping water for the water trough and his face lit up as they approached. Mary Jo saw his gaze move from one to the other, and rest on Jeff, a smile on his face.

“An old codger stopped by to tell us you found Jeff, but it sure is good to see for myself,” he told Mary Jo, who reached him first. Wade had gone directly to open the corral gate.

Mary Jo dismounted wearily. Jeff, she knew, should be even more tired. “He's fine. Tired. We all are.”

“I'll take care of those horses. Looks like a fine lot.”

Mary Jo looked toward the string. “It is.”

“Are they broke?”

She nodded again. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“That sheriff was here asking for you yesterday. I wondered if I should tell him about your boy being missing, but that old man said it was best not to say anything. I wasn't sure, but I just said you were off buying horses.” He looked anxiously for approval.

“You did just right,” Mary Jo said, profoundly thankful for Tuck's unsure discretion. Matt had never said much about the Utes, but she could only suppose he felt like others in the community: the Indians should all be moved away, far away. He would probably have taken an armed posse up into the mountains and God knew what would happen. She wondered if there was anything she could do to change opinions. She knew she would try.

“Anyway, ma'am, we took care of everything. Ed's out looking after the cattle. There was a lion come down from the hills and killed one of the younger beeves. Ed's out hunting for it now.”

Jeff had dismounted and was walking unsteadily toward them, his face dusty and tired. Mary Jo wanted to grab him and hustle him off to bed, but you didn't do that with a man, and Jeff had come close to becoming one in the past few days.

Tuck seemed to recognize that. He thrust out his hand. “Good to have you back, Jeff.”

Jeff looked sheepish. “I'm sorry for causing so much trouble.” Then he looked toward the house. “Where's Jake?”

“We had to keep him locked up. He kept trying to go after you. He's in your room. Didn't want you to come home and have him gone, and the barn just wouldn't hold him. Hope you don't mind none.”

Jeff gave him a grateful smile and started for the house, the exhaustion disappearing in eagerness.

Mary Jo thanked him with a smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Both you and Ed.”

“No need for that, ma'am. We like this place. I'd better go help with the horses.”

She nodded and headed for the house. She'd fix something quick for supper. She hoped Wade would join them, but she doubted it. He'd been silent all afternoon. She wished she hadn't asked him that question about joy, and yet his comment had been so wistful, so unusually personal for him.

Jake was on his back, baring his stomach for scratching, his left leg moving ecstatically, and his tail thumping the floor, as Jeff rubbed him. Growls of pleasure met her, and she smiled. It was a ridiculous sight. Jake's tail moved faster as he noticed her, and his growl became a whine of welcome.

She stooped down and rubbed his ear. “We're glad to see you too, Jake,” she said, and was answered by another fierce growl.

Jeff buried his head in the dog's fur and Mary Jo thought, and not for the first time, how much Jeff needed more human companionship. She wished he had a brother, or two. Maybe a sister.

But that thought hurt. It was too unlikely. She went to the kitchen and used the kitchen pump to wash her hands then checked the food shelves. There were canned tomatoes she'd brought from Texas, beans she'd harvested from their garden before the flood. Potatoes from town, and eggs from their chickens. That would have to do. She was too tired to make bread or biscuits.

“Jeff. Take Jake and see if the men want to join us for supper. In about an hour.”

He nodded, and started out. He turned. “How long will Wade stay?”

“I don't know, love,” she said.

“He likes you,” Jeff said wistfully. “Maybe you can get him to stay.”

“I don't think so,” she said softly.

“But why?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I just think he's very sad about his family and wants to go back to the mountains. He belongs there.”

“We could go there, too.”

“Come here, Jeff.”

He left the door and approached warily. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him to her. “He's already given us lovely presents,” she said softly. “And now you have to let him do what he thinks he must.”

“You don't want him to go, either,” he accused.

“No,” she said. “I don't want him to go.”

“You can make him stay.”

“I don't want to make him stay,” she said. “He has to want to stay.” She could tell by his face he really didn't see the difference. One day, he would.

“I love him,” Jeff blurted out, his face suffusing with embarrassment and frustration.

I do, too
. But her hands just tightened around him. “Then you have to let him go.”

His face clouded, but he didn't protest anymore. He gulped once, as if to hold back unmanly tears, then wriggled away from her touch and fled out the door, Jake limping behind him.

Wade helped Tuck water the new horses and told him a little about each one. One was gentle, one cantankerous. The pinto was smarter than the others, the black had more endurance. He took care of his own big gray, then went into his room at the back of the barn.

God, he was tired. He'd had little sleep during the last three days, fighting his attraction to Mary Jo, battling his need for her. Tomorrow he would find Kelly again, see what was happening, hoping against hope that Kelly and his cutthroats would ride out once Shepherd appeared.

He had some dried meat left and he ate that on the side of the cot and gulped some water he'd taken from the pump. He quenched the kerosene lamp and lay down, expecting to go to sleep almost immediately. By all rights, oblivion should have come easily. But his mind wouldn't stop.

There was a knock, and he swore to himself. He leaned over, struck a match, and lit the lamp. “Come in.”

Jeff entered hesitantly, but Jake didn't. Despite his still healing leg, he moved swiftly over to Wade and put his big, ugly head on Jake's knee, looking at him imploringly.

“He missed you,” Jeff said.

Wade tried to glare at the boy. “Is that what you came over to tell me?”

Jeff ignored the glowering expression. “No, Ma wants to know if you'll come over for supper.”

“I already ate.”

Jeff's face fell a mile.

Wade felt the size of a flea. He tried to smile. “You did real good today.”

Jeff looked up at him. “But you didn't need me at all, did you?”

His voice was so woeful that Wade realized how important being needed was to him. But above all, Wade owed him honesty. “I could have made it by myself,” he said quietly, “but you did make it easier. I won't lie to you about that.”

“You don't lie about anything, do you?”

Wade had to smile at that. “I've been known to do that.”

“But not about important things?” Jeff's earnestness sliced through Wade. He hadn't lied to Mary Jo and Jeff, except about his true name, but neither had he told the truth. It was a fine distinction he didn't like, and they didn't deserve.

He put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and his voice was harsher than he intended. “I'm not a hero, Jeff. I'm not even a good man. Sure, I've lied. I've lied and I've killed, and I'll probably do it again.” He looked down at his arm. “If I can.”

“But you had a reason. Ma said so.”

Christ, but Wade wanted to shake that hero worship out of Jeff's eyes. He didn't deserve it and he was damn scared one day Jeff would learn how undeserving he was.

“Your father was a hero, Jeff,” he continued slowly, hoping it was true. “I'm a rotten substitute.”

Wade wasn't sure how far Jeff's chin could fall, but it was pretty damn close to the floor now.

“Jeff,” he said quietly. “I wish my boy had grown up just like you. You're one hell of a kid. But I'm no good to anyone and I never will be.”

“That's not true,” Jeff burst out angrily.

“Jeff, listen to me. I'm the worst possible thing that can happen to your mother. To you.”

“I would have died if you hadn't been here.”

“No you wouldn't. You went to that stream because you were angry at me, and then you followed me up into the hills to prove something to me. You never would have been in danger, were it not for me. I won't let that happen again, dammit.”