Kid Calhoun (38 page)

“Why not?”

“She’s an outlaw.”

“Bullshit.”

“I … I’m a wandering man.”

“Not since you inherited this ranch you ain’t,” Shug snapped back.

“Claire—”

“You told me yerself Claire’s got her an Apache buck. She ain’t comin’ back here. Window Rock is yours now, Jake. Your travelin’ days is over.”

Jake rubbed a hand across his bristly chin. He hadn’t shaved last night because Anabeth had wanted to feel his beard against her skin. Later he had found a cool cloth and soothed the redness on her breasts and belly, her throat and chin. She had only laughed and enticed him to leave more of those same marks on her inner thighs. Just thinking about it made his groin tighten.

“That girl deserves to know you ain’t gonna run out on her,” Shug said, still ranting.

“No female is going to throw a rope on me,” Jake retorted.

It was the vow he had made to Sam, and he realized as he said it that it was already too late. He was hogtied good and tight.

Anabeth hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. And she was sorry now she had. She had tried to convince herself that because she cared for Jake, he would learn to care for her. But he had just made it woefully plain he was never going to let go of the past.

Jake heard a small gasp behind him and turned to find Anabeth standing there, her face bleached white, her eyes two deep pools of pain.

“Don’t worry, Jake,” she said bitterly. “I won’t tie you down. When spring comes you won’t have to worry about me holding you here. I’ll be gone.”

“You can’t take that baby away from his pa!” Shug said.

“Shug, you promised not to tell!” Anabeth’s stricken eyes searched out Jake’s face to see his reaction to the news he was going to be a father.

He looked horrified.

Jake turned fierce eyes on the foreman. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

“That girl’s gonna have your baby, that’s what!”

“Not his—mine!” Anabeth said.

Jake’s gaze swung back to Anabeth like a baited bear torn between two attacks and not sure which one to defend against first. He felt trapped by the circumstances. Because Shug had forced him to see the truth about something he had suspected, but avoided facing. Because he had hurt Anabeth by refusing to admit the depth of his feelings for her. And because she was an outlaw wanted for murder, and he had sworn to bring her to justice. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Jake grabbed Anabeth by the shoulders and shook her hard. “You listen to me,
Kid
. And listen good. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’ll go where I damn well please! And you can bet it’ll be somewhere the law will never find me.”

Jake saw the tears welling in her eyes. It tore him up inside. “Go on back to the house,” he said in a voice laced with anger at himself and frustration with her. “We’ll talk more about this later, when I can think straight again.”

“I won’t change my mind, Jake.”

When she was gone Jake propped his elbows on a stall door and dropped his head into his hands. “How the hell did this happen?”

“What you been doin’ in that big bed every night?” Shug asked.

Jake groaned. “I should have known better than to get involved with a woman who rides on the wrong side of the law.”

“What’s that yer sayin’?” Shug asked. “That girl loves you to death. She’d walk through fire for you.
She ain’t the one shovin’ you away. Seems to me it’s t’other way around.”

“How can I get her to stay?”

“Tell her you love her,” Shug said flatly.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Because he was afraid to admit just how much in love with her he really was. Because she had him tied up in knots. Because he loved her enough to compromise everything he had ever believed to make an outlaw his wife. But he’d be damned if he let her leave him!

Because Jake had ordered her there, Anabeth purposely avoided going back to the house.

“Come on, Blackie,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She headed for the giant willow that overlay the stream at the bottom end of the valley. She had found it to be a cocoon of peace in what had become her hectic life. The leaves were nearly all gone, and it wouldn’t be long before the tree was bare. But for now, there was still some shade, the rustle of the leaves above, the crackle of the leaves below, and the burble of the water not far away.

Anabeth pulled her knees to her chest—as best she could with the bulge in her stomach—then laid her cheek on her knees and stared at nothing. The tears dripped sideways across her face and off her nose. Dog whined and licked the salty wetness off her face.

Anabeth hid her face in her skirt. She couldn’t even wear her Levi’s anymore, since they didn’t fit around her waist. “What am I going to do, Blackie?” she asked. “What am I going to do?”

She heard Dog’s growl, and when she reached out, she felt the hackles on his neck standing straight up. She raised her head and found herself looking
straight into the eyes of Wat Rankin. And the bore of a Colt .45.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’ve been watchin’ this place. Where’s Claire Chandler?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re talkin’ mighty big for an outlaw with a reward on her head.”

Anabeth’s eyes went wide as Rankin pulled a
WANTED
poster from his pocket and shook it out in front of her.

“I figure if you don’t lead me to that gold, I can always shoot you dead and turn you in for that thousand-dollar reward.”

Anabeth blanched.

“I see I’ve got your attention now. You and me are goin’ on a little trip, Kid.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Dog growled and bared his teeth.

“Call off your dog, or this time I’ll kill him,” Wat warned.

“Your gun is making him nervous,” Anabeth said.

Rankin slipped his gun into the leather holster. “I won’t be needin’ a gun, will I, Kid?” He folded the poster and put it back in his coat pocket.

“It’s all right, Blackie,” Anabeth said. Dog sat down beside her, but he never took his eyes off Rankin.

“I was real surprised when you didn’t tell that Ranger where to find the gold,” Wat said.

“I didn’t tell him because I don’t know where it is.”

“I don’t believe for a second that your uncle didn’t tell you where he put that gold. Now you’re goin’ to come with me—”

“Where was it you had in mind to take Anabeth, Mr. Reardon?” Jake asked.

Rankin turned stunned eyes toward the Ranger,
who had appeared without warning. Wat had no idea how much of the conversation Jake Kearney had heard, but he took the chance that it wasn’t much. He threw a warning glance at Anabeth and said, “I was just invitin’ Miss Calhoun to come for a ride with me.”

“Anabeth isn’t going to be doing much riding. She’s expecting a child. My child.”

“My congratulations,” Rankin said.

“If you’ve come about the note—”

“What note?” Anabeth asked.

“Mr. Reardon loaned Sam some money. Claire hasn’t been able to pay the note because Sam’s gold was stolen by the Calhoun Gang.”

“Where is Mrs. Chandler?” Rankin asked.

“She’s visiting friends down in Texas,” Jake replied smoothly.

Rankin frowned. “I understand there’s been some delay locatin’ the gold. I suppose seein’ as how we’re neighbors I’d be willin’ to let things slide till spring.”

“That’s mighty generous of you, Mr. Reardon,” Jake said.

“Call me Will, please. I’m not goin’ to be around much till then—spring, I mean. I’ll be leavin’ now.” He turned to Anabeth and said, “Trust I’ll see you again soon.”

Anabeth stayed mute until Rankin had ridden away. To do otherwise was to provoke a confrontation when Wat Rankin knew his enemy and Jake Kearney did not.

As soon as Rankin was gone, Anabeth jumped up and threw herself into Jake’s arms. “That was him!”

“Who?”

“Rankin. Wat Rankin. That was him.”

Jake grabbed Anabeth’s shoulders and forced her to arm’s length so he could see her face. “Will Reardon—”

“—is Wat Rankin!”

“Son of a bitch,” Jake said.

“My thoughts exactly,” Anabeth said vehemently.

“Why didn’t you say something? Why did you let him get away?”

“By the time I got the words out of my mouth, he would have drawn his gun and killed you.”

Jake grabbed her by the wrist and began marching back toward the ranch house. “You don’t leave the house anymore without me knowing where you are,” Jake said. “And you keep Blackie with you at all times, understand?” He shoved her inside the front door, kissed her hard, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going after that bastard, Rankin.”

“What about me?”

“You wait here until I get back.”

“I want to go with you.”

Jake came back and pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “You can’t, Kid. Don’t you see. You have someone else to think about now.” He curved his palm over her rounded belly. “Promise me you’ll be here waiting for me when I get back.”

“You’d believe the word of an outlaw?” Anabeth asked.

“I’d believe you.”

Anabeth’s heart missed a thump. “All right, Jake. I’ll be here. But you be careful.”

“I’ll watch my back, Kid. You just take care of yourself and the baby.”

He kissed her hard once more, and then he was gone.

Jake tracked Wat Rankin/Will Reardon as far as Santa Fe. There the trail disappeared. He stopped at the Town House to ask questions and saw Sierra Starr. When she invited him upstairs, he declined.

“So she did hogtie you,” Sierra said with a chuckle. “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”

Jake managed a chagrined smile. “It’s not at all bad,” he confessed. “I’m going to be a father.”

“Congratulations,” Sierra said. She gave him a kiss on the mouth, then leaned back and looked at him. “You’re hogtied, all right. Look, you’re not going to find Rankin before winter sets in. Why don’t you go home where you belong?”

Sierra’s suggestion made a lot of sense. Jake missed Anabeth. And Rankin wouldn’t go far. He would stay where he could keep an eye on Kid Calhoun. Which was another good reason for Jake to stay close to home.

“Good-bye, Sierra,” Jake said.

“You’re leaving now?”

“Yeah. I’m going home.”

As the weather turned colder and the foliage clothed itself in yellow and gold, Claire acknowledged that her life was full of good things. A boy who needed her. A man who wanted her. But like all humans, she wanted what she didn’t have. She wanted White Eagle to acknowledge her as his mother.

It wasn’t going to happen.

She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. That it was enough to know Jeff was all right. But it wasn’t enough. There was a constant ache in her throat, a powerful constriction that made it difficult to swallow whenever she saw him playing with the other Apache boys.

She tried to hide how she felt from Wolf, but he knew. Whenever he saw her watching White Eagle he would find something for her to do—a buckskin shirt that had hardened in one spot and needed to be softened with a rough rock, or a basket that needed to be repaired with pitch from a piñon tree. But he never
asked her to stop caring. He seemed to understand that she could not.

The day came when the Apache moved their village down out of the high mountains to escape the harsh cold and deep snows of winter. They rebuilt their homes in the lowlands, taking care to make sure they were concealed as well as possible among the hills and rocky habitat.

Claire was surprised to discover that White Eagle’s family had selected a site for their wickiup not more than two hundred paces from her own front door. Now she came into contact with her son every day. He Makes Trouble began to spend more time with White Eagle and his friends.

The boys didn’t harass He Makes Trouble, although Claire kept a close eye on them for fear they would. She soon relaxed her vigil as the days wore on and nothing more serious happened to He Makes Trouble in his play with the older boys than a skinned knee. It never occurred to her that anything was amiss when the older boys—eight-, nine-, and ten-year-olds—decided to go swimming and invited He Makes Trouble to come along.

Claire was occupied collecting the mesquite beans that were now ripe in the lowlands and merely waved as He Makes Trouble trotted away toward the spring-fed pond. She had learned from Night Crawling how to grind the beans into flour using a mano and metate, a sort of stone mortar and pestle. The flour was then made into something that looked like a pancake. Or the beans were cooked and mashed into a kind of mushy gruel. Or the whole beans could simply be cooked and eaten with seared meat—only it was necessary to spit out the seed coat when the bean was eaten.

Her mind had quickly wandered from He Makes Trouble to thoughts of her nights with Wolf. He came
to her every night that he was not away from the village. Because he had to hunt and because he went on raids, he was often gone for a week at a time. When he returned, he sought her out—whatever time of night or day—and took her to his pallet.

Claire had begun to look forward to those moments when he took her into his arms. She tried not to think of Sam, tried not to feel as though she was betraying his memory. Sam would have wanted her to be happy. And she was happy, more so than she could ever have dreamed possible. Because she was in love.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened. She only knew that her feelings of admiration for the Apache had become something considerably more. And she fell more in love with him every day. She worried about him every time he left the camp, especially after Wolf told her one night about his fight with a soldier. The Blueleg had fisted his hand in Wolf’s hair so tightly that the Apache couldn’t get it loose.

“I thought I would have to cut it all off to get free!” Then he winked, as though it was a huge joke.

Only Claire didn’t find the thought of Wolf in such danger at all funny. The story had made her blood curdle, and she gave him the sharp side of her tongue.

He had gotten angry then. “I am a warrior and must fight my enemies,” he said. “I will not be made a coward by a woman’s fears.”