Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) (6 page)

“You're not making any sense.”

He shook his head. “Even if we were the same back then, and we weren't, you're a respected lady now. Hell, the town's named after you, Ruth!”

“No, it's named after the man who took me in and adopted me despite not wanting me.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

He studied her, but she had learned long ago how to hide everything she did not want to discuss behind a façade of polite disinterest. He surrendered on a sigh. “Marry the sheriff. Have ten kids. Forget about me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don't know why you want to deny that what we have is special. But deny it all you want. What's between us is too powerful to go away. Ever.”

Before he could divine what she was about, Ruth kissed him, using what little she knew, combined with everything she'd learned, to pour all that she felt into him.

For a moment, he resisted, his body rigid, his mouth stiff and tight. But when she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, teased the corners, too, then feathered her fingers into his hair and cradled his head between her hands, he relaxed, bit by bit, and soon he was kissing her back.

She tried to be gentle, but what she felt was not, and the kiss deepened, becoming more than their first kiss had been. Because Noah knew he kissed
her;
this time he could not deny it.

Ruth reveled in the proof that he desired her as much as she desired him. And maybe desire could turn to love.

Maybe.

So Ruth devoted her attention to their all-important embrace. At first, Noah did not touch her, squeezing his hands together in his lap as if to keep some part of himself under control, and that would not do.

She moved closer, her breasts pressing against his bare skin until his warmth seemed to seep through the excessive layers of her clothes. He groaned, the sound a delicious vibration against her lips and her chest, then wrapped his big hands around her hips and held on.

Ruth did nothing but kiss his mouth and touch his hair. To be truthful, she wasn't exactly sure what else to do. One of her most vivid memories of Noah was waking up with her cheek against his chest, his arms holding her safe and tight. Although the peace she'd experienced then still existed, at the same time she felt anything but peaceful.

Back then he'd smelled of winter wind and summer salt. He still did. If she put her cheek against his chest now, she would be unable to stop herself from tasting that scent, tracing her tongue over the glorious expanse of muscle, flesh, and bone. She wanted to open her mouth and take part of him within.

Insane longings bubbled inside her, and if she acted on any one of them, he would push her away. She wasn't so foolish as to believe he'd lost his head as much as she had. Though she wanted to kiss him until the night blew away, Ruth broke the embrace before Noah could.

Eyes closed, lips wet, he was so beautiful that tears burned in her throat. Not wanting him to see how much he affected her, she inched away. His fingers clung to her hips, then slid free as she stood and turned.

“Think about that while you sleep, Noah. I know I will.”

She retreated before he could reply. As she put on her coat she heard a thud, as if a fist had slammed into the wall.

“Damn it!”

Ruth's smile of triumph warmed her as she rode home beneath the waning Kansas night.

***

Noah had to get out of here before he did the most foolish thing he'd ever done in a lifetime of foolishness.

If he stayed, she'd seduce him. Noah scratched his head. Who'd ever believe that naive, virginal Ruth would have the power to seduce a man such as he?

Noah had lost his virginity long before he'd met her. His innocence had died even before that. He'd had women so beautiful that a man dared not close his eyes lest he miss a moment. He'd slept with women so skilled, they were worth three times what he paid them. So why did Ruth tempt him as no other woman ever had?

Because he was more depraved than even he would have believed. He never would have figured himself for a despoiler of innocence. But the way he felt now, so on edge he might explode, his skin humming wherever she'd touched, his belly aching with the need to bury himself inside her and never let her go—that's just what he was.

A slithering, sneaking serpent come into Ruth's precious garden.

She thought she loved him. He could see it in her eyes. Noah rubbed his head some more as the voice of a little girl came out of his past.

I know I love you.

She'd been the first person to say those words to him. Other women had said them since. But Noah never had; Noah never would.

Those words were special. Magic. They bound folks together. For always.

He could never bind anyone to him that way. Because if he truly loved them, they deserved better than him.

Ruth certainly did.

He'd kept her from saying the words tonight. He wouldn't be able to keep her from saying them forever. Once said—between a man and a woman this time instead of a boy and girl—they would take on a life of their own and bind Ruth to him even more strongly than before.

On the basis of a childish half-promise, she'd waited for him ten years. If he wasn't careful, she'd keep waiting. And while the thought of any other man touching her made Noah see red waves of fury rolling before his eyes, the thought of her being alone forever made him angrier still. She needed someone, and that someone could not be him. Staying would not only be foolish but suicidal.

Noah didn't mind dying, but he didn't want to die in front of Ruth. He especially didn't want Ruth to know the truth.

She might be his angel, but some things were too much for even an angel to forgive.

Noah decided right then and there that no matter how much it hurt, no matter how weak he was, no matter if he died out there alone on the prairie, before another day was through, before another kiss, another touch, before too many words bound her closer to him, he would leave this place and hurt her a little bit now rather than destroy her completely later on.

***

“Would you stop that infernal singing?”

Ruth glanced up in surprise. She'd been peeling apples and thinking of Noah, counting the hours until she could slip back to him. “Was I singing? I hadn't realized.”

Tildy scowled as she stirred a pot of applesauce. The scent of apples, sugar, and spice hung heavy in the room. Christmas still lived in the air.

“I dare say, if you aren't singing, you're humming today. It's unlike you.”

Tildy was right. Ruth couldn't recall ever being lighthearted enough to sing or hum as she went through her day. For the past ten years she'd been waiting for something. Now that something was here.

Tildy still waited for an explanation. Ruth smiled, then shrugged. “I'm happy.”

The old woman grunted. Though she had a heart as big as her hips, her usual demeanor was one small step above cranky. Ruth liked her, anyway.

Tildy had been the one to hold her when her mother died. Father had been indisposed—for several weeks. The few times Ruth had been ill, Tildy had put a cold cloth on her brow and fed her broth and bread. The woman was the closest thing to a mother that Ruth had ever known. But she wasn't exactly warm or tender.

“Does your happiness have anything to do with a man?”

Ruth dropped her paring knife into the bowl of apple peels. “Man?” she asked as she picked peels off the hilt. How much did Tildy know? And how?

“You know. Fellas. Boys, but bigger.”

“I know what a man is, Tildy.”

“You could have fooled me.” Tildy slammed the wooden spoon against the corner of the pot, making Ruth start. “You gonna marry that sheriff without even meeting any other men?”

Leon.
Once again, she'd forgotten all about him. How was he faring on his quest to capture Billy Jo Kansas? Was he safe? Warm? Near or far? She hadn't thought about Leon since . . .

Since Noah had kissed her.

She'd told Leon she'd consider his offer. She'd told her father the same. But the fact that she hadn't considered Leon much at all as soon as Noah fell back into her life made Ruth reconsider a whole lot more than Leon's proposal.

“Meeting other men isn't easy in Kelly Creek,” she answered. “Father scares most of them away before they even say hello.”

“He wants you to marry the best man for his job.” Tildy put her hands on her hips and narrowed her sharp gray eyes on Ruth's face. “But marriage is serious business, missy. You'd best remember that you'll be the one in the man's bed, bearing his children, washing his socks, cleaning his house.”

“What have you got against Leon?”

Tildy shrugged. “Nothing in particular. Just seems your father thinks he's the best choice out of nothing much. That's not a good recommendation for a lifetime with a man. I should know.”

Ruth studied her a minute. Was that why Tildy and Tim had the marriage that they had? Each was the best out of nothing much? From what Ruth had seen of their marriage, she'd rather live alone.

“Take my word on this,” Tildy admonished. “The sheriff is a good man. But he's far too concerned with Kelly Creek, just like your father. You deserve a man who's far too concerned with you.”

Ruth had thought the same thing herself. “A man like that would be almost like a miracle.”

“Miracles happen.” Tildy's face went dreamy.

“And when they do, you grab them and hold on to them tight and never, ever let them go.”

Ruth was suddenly certain Tildy had loved once and been loved in return. She was equally certain that Tildy's one true love had not been Tim. Or at least she hoped not, for that would not bode well for love.

The housekeeper blinked, and the faraway gaze disappeared. “What did you say when the sheriff asked you to be his wife?”

“That I'd think on it.”

The housekeeper
tsked
and shook her head. “If you have to think on it, then you shouldn't bother. The only man you should marry is one you can't bear to live without. Wait for that man, Ruth. He'll be worth it. I swear.”

Ruth stood, wiped her hands on a towel, and handed the bowl of apples to Tildy.

“Where are you going?”

“For a ride.”

Tildy nodded. “Need to think a bit?”

“I guess not.”

As it wasn't a holiday or the Lord's day, her father would be at work until long after supper was done. Tildy had her applesauce; Tim had departed for town. There was nothing to stop Ruth from going to Noah right now. Why had she waited?

Shortly thereafter, Ruth let herself into the farmhouse. As she ran through the kitchen, her heart already in the room with him, her mind, just a step behind, registered the stove cold and the lamps dark. It was almost as if—

Ruth's gaze went to the bed.

“Oh, no.” Her voice, filled with tears, bereft of hope, whispered about the bedroom.

Slowly, she crossed the floor and sat in the chair. Her hand shook as she reached out, smoothing her fingers over the empty bed.

The sheets were cold. He'd been gone awhile. Why was she so surprised? Why did it hurt so much?

Rising from the chair, she sank down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow where he'd slept. She smelled snow and salt; she remembered Christmas past and present.

What had Noah said?

Marry the sheriff. Have ten kids. Forget about me.

According to Noah there would be no Christmas future—for the two of them at any rate.

Ruth's head lifted. She was getting mad, and she discovered that anger felt a whole lot better than sadness.

Marry the sheriff? After talking with Tildy, she didn't think so.

Have ten kids with another man? Not hardly.

Forget him? Not in this lifetime.

Ruth punched the pillow, then threw it against the wall, slammed the bedroom door, kicked the table on the way through the kitchen, and stalked outside.

She rarely got angry. In the orphanage she'd been taught to obey and endure. Once in Kansas, she'd been so afraid of being sent away, she'd never raised her voice or stomped her foot. But right now, Ruth wanted to howl like a wolf, scream like the wind, pound against the ground with the force of a hailstorm, wreak devastation upon all that she saw like a plague of grasshoppers.

The wind chafed her heated face. She squinted into the breeze. The land all around her was gray brown and hard with winter frost, flat as Kansas could be. Nothing moved except . . .

To the west, a speck that might be a man on horseback or a stray cow. Who knew?

Ruth didn't care. She filled her lungs with the ice of winter, threw up her hands to the steadily darkening sky, and shouted, “I'll wait forever for you, Noah Walker. Do you hear me? Forever!”

The wind tore the words from her mouth and flung them across the abandoned prairie.

Chapter Five

Forever. Forever. Forever.

How could a word echo across a flat, open prairie? Perhaps it merely echoed in Noah's beleaguered brain.

He slumped against Dog's neck, holding on to the warm animal as the chill wind whispered through his hair and down his back. He'd wanted to be away before Ruth discovered him gone. He hadn't quite made it.

If Ruth had seen him, she'd be racing in this direction. Forcing himself to sit up straight, he tensed at the thought of kicking Dog into a run. The big bay could outdistance anything on four legs, but Noah didn't know if his body could bear the jostling. Just walking this far had so tired him that sweat dampened his clothes and dripped down his face.

Noah glanced at the farmhouse, but Ruth rode in the opposite direction. Despite her shout, she had not seen him. Which made Noah pause instead of going on. Had she merely been shouting her anger fruitlessly? Or making another vow?

He was leaving in order to free her, as she'd once freed him, from ties that were far more binding than a rope. But if those ties still bound her despite his desertion, was he freeing her at all or merely making her prison more bleak?

Noah rested his head against Dog's neck once more. The horse pranced, anxious to be off. Dog loved to run almost more than he loved Noah.

“What should I do, big guy?”

The animal snorted, his breath creating a cloud of steam about his nose.

“She still thinks I'm her hero. But then she doesn't know the truth. If I told her, that would change her mind. But if I told her, then I'd have to kill her.”

Noah laughed, a bit hysterically, he thought. That's what Dooley always said whenever anyone figured out who they were.

“Old Dooley is dead, so to hell with him.” Noah laughed again. He was quite a cheery fellow today. Must be due to blood loss. “I'm sure it was to hell that Dooley went.”

Dog lowered his head, then raised it as if agreeing with all that Noah said, which was why Noah did an awful lot of talking to his horse. Dog was a very good listener—much better than any human—and a truer friend Noah had never found. The animal usually gave excellent advice, too.

“It would never work. The lady and the thief.” Dog huffed. Noah rubbed the horse's neck. “Or you think perhaps the princess and the groom?”

His pal neighed, loud and emphatic. The sound made Noah's ears ring. But it also made him think about what he'd just said. He straightened in his saddle too fast, and the world spun, then dipped.

“Whoa,” he murmured, both to himself and to Dog. “That's it, big guy, You're right again. If she won't believe what I say, she'll have to believe what she sees.”

Noah pointed Dog's nose in the direction of Kelly Creek.

By the time Ruth returned home after discovering Noah had left her again, her anger had faded, leaving tears in its wake. She crawled into bed and stayed there until the next morning.

Then she stayed there some more.

Tildy, worried by Ruth's uncommon mood swing, checked on her regularly until Ruth snarled that she wanted to be alone.

“Ah, so it's like that.” Tildy patted Ruth's feet. “A bad month, is it? Well, you just lay there, missy, and rest. I'll bring you some tonic, and by tomorrow you'll be fit and happy, I swear.”

Ruth doubted she'd ever be happy, but if pretending to be indisposed in a female way earned her peace, quiet, and a day to mourn, she'd keep her mouth shut. She even drank Tildy's tonic of witch hazel, bayberry, and ginger in a glass of hot milk, though it did no good, since she wasn't really sick except at heart.

Ruth extended her “illness” another day. By then, however, Tildy started to hover and make noises about a doctor.

When Ruth's father came into her room and demanded to know how he was going to manage the New Year's party on his own, Ruth dragged herself upright and soldiered on.

New Year's Eve had always been Ruth's favorite night of nights. Because for that one night, in front of a crowd, her father treated her as if she were a princess—his princess—his heiress, if not his heir. Someone to be valued and displayed.

Even though New Year's Day brought a return to the way things always were, for that one night Ruth felt special. The party would fill her with food, drink, and false cheer, and amid the crush of guests she would not ring in a new year all alone.

Last-minute preparations occupied Ruth's mind. The arrival of out-of-town guests filled her daylight hours. The only time she remembered Noah and ached was in her sleep, and there was nothing that could be done about that. A woman dreamed what she dreamed regardless of how much it hurt.

December 31 arrived quickly, considering.

At eight o' clock in the evening, Ruth put the finishing touches on her hair, then stepped back to assess the effect in the mirror. She'd smoothed the red mass away from her face and covered most of the vulgar color with a chignon to match her new silk dress. The spring pink contrasted sharply with the autumn of her hair, which appeared garish in the candlelight. But her eyes shone bright green, like new grass across the prairie, and the cut of the gown emphasized her full breasts and slim waist.

“You'll do,” she told her reflection. “Well enough.”

“Ruth?” Her father's voice drifted from below. “The first guests are arriving.”

Ruth stuffed her feet into dainty, high-heeled satin slippers that matched her ensemble and hurried down the stairs to join her father at the door.

She awaited his reaction to the dress he had chosen. As usual, the quick frown, the flick of his gaze toward the picture of Susan, then a carefully blank countenance returned to her, stripped away all of Ruth's confidence.

“Don't slouch” was his only greeting.

Ruth snapped her shoulders back and met the first guests with typical false brightness. The stream of arrivals was steady. Last year, Tim had been unable to handle the volume himself, and many of the men had stood outside in the cold to help. Her father had been furious that his guests had been made into grooms.

Amid a tiny lull, Ruth asked, “Did you get some help for Tim?”

“
Yes.
You were ill, and I didn't want to bother you. Found a man in town. He's been of great assistance to Tim with the party, and he's very handy, too. Tim's had a hard time keeping up with the repairs, but this man seems to know a little bit about everything.”

Ruth opened her mouth to ask the name of this great help and where he'd come from so fortuitously, but at that moment two families from Kelly Creek tumbled inside, and she was occupied steadily from then on.

The house filled with voices, laughter, and music. Tildy had outdone herself with the food and the drinks. The party was a crush. So many folks in one place heated the air to an uncomfortable level. Ruth opened the windows, and music spilled into the night.

She danced with a prominent political leader from Kansas City, then the undertaker of Kelly Creek, a young officer stationed at Fort Leavenworth, and any number of illustrious sons whose fathers banked funds with hers.

James and Deanna Harker arrived late, and Ruth hurried to welcome Leon's parents, embarrassed she had not even thought to seek word of him before now.

Mrs. Harker pressed her cheek to Ruth's. “We're sorry to be late, but we'd hoped Leon would come home in time to join us.”

“Is he all right?”

“We haven't heard a word since he left.”

Considering the Harkers owned the general store, through which all news passed, that meant there was no news to be had.

Ruth could not recall Leon's ever being away from Kelly Creek this long. He must be miserable. “Who's minding the jail?”

“His cousin,” Mr. Harker replied. “Clemson.”

“He's seventeen,” Ruth pointed out.

Mr. Harker shrugged. “He was the only one left. Every man of decent age went with Leon. We need to get this Kansas Gang now, before they ride any farther west, before they decide to shoot up Kelly Creek and take all the money from your daddy's bank. If there's any chance of catching the bastards—”

“James!” Mrs. Harker elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“Pardon me, Miss Ruth. If there's any chance of catching Kansas and the rest, Leon will stay out there until it's done. He's that kind of man.”

“He is. Though I'm sorry he won't be here to dance with me at midnight,” Ruth lied.

“I'm sure he's sorry, too, dear.” Mrs. Harker patted Ruth's arm. “But by next year you'll be married. Then you can dance every night at midnight if you like.”

Ruth blinked. “I—ah— You see . . . Well—” She snapped her mouth shut, stumped.

Leon had told his parents that she'd accepted his proposal this time around. She sighed. What should she say to them? That she didn't love their son? That she loved a man who had run off and wasn't coming back? That she'd rather wait forever for a ghost than make a good life with a dependable man?

Foolishness, Mrs. Harker would say, and she'd be right. But that didn't make Ruth want to marry Leon any more now than she had any of the times he'd asked.

“What were you saying, Ruth?”

“Nothing. Have a nice time.”

The Harkers moved off toward the buffet table.

Ruth looked out the front door and into the starlit night. She was glad Leon wasn't here. Even though she'd danced in the new year with him for the past several years, the thought of doing so again only made her want to cry. She wanted to dance at midnight with Noah and no one else.

But when the last dance came—Ruth glanced at the clock in the hall—and it would come very soon, she'd have to dance with someone.

The far-off neigh of a horse brought an interesting notion to mind. She'd have to dance with someone . . . unless she hid in the barn.

Her gaze on the room, Ruth sidled toward the open door. She slipped onto the porch. Cool, fresh, free air surrounded her. Music filled the night. She picked up her pink skirts and hurried across the yard, expecting someone to shout her name any moment, call her back, make her stay.

But no one did. She reached the sanctuary of the barn and slipped inside.

The place was full of horses, but Tim was nowhere in sight. As Ruth leaned against the door, struggling to catch her breath while her corset threatened to press every last bit of air from her lungs, a man came in from the corral, pausing in the open doorway on the opposite side of the barn.

The man wasn't Tim.

The room spun. Ruth feared she was dreaming again.

She must have made a noise, because his head went up. He stared at her down the length of the barn. Although his face was in shadow, Ruth would know him anywhere.

“Well, Princess, what brings you down to the barn with the grooms?”

***

Noah had been working as Robert Kelly's groom for the better part of a week, and not once had Ruth graced the stables. Since the entire purpose of this exercise was to show her that a princess did not mix with a groom, he shouldn't have been surprised that their paths did not cross.

Yet he was.

He'd been wondering how he was going to prove his point if he never saw her, and then there she was, the provocative catch of her breath making him think of days beneath the sheets and sex beneath the stars.

“What are you doing here?” Her face full of joy, she started toward him.

Her breasts nearly spilled from the low-cut neckline of a horrible pink gown. Pale skin flushed a more becoming shade than the dress; a dew of sweat made the ripe mounds glisten in the lantern light. The cold blue stone nestled at the cleft; her chest rose and fell too fast, hypnotizing him when he needed to think clearly.

Instinctively, Noah stepped back. This was not going at all as he'd planned. Nothing had lately.

“You'd better stay by the door, Ruth.” He pointed back where she'd been, and his hand shook. He dropped the offending appendage and stuffed it into the pocket of his only pair of pants. He wanted to touch her with that hand—touch her and a whole lot more.

She faltered to a stop halfway between Noah and the door. “Why?”

“The barn is filthy, Princess. Your slippers will get ruined.”

She scowled, lifted first one foot, then the other, and tossed her shoes back the way she'd come. “There. Now my slippers are safe.”

Barefoot, she advanced.

Her slippers might be safe, but he wasn't. The sight of her without shoes, and barely any dress from the waist up, was the most dangerous thing he'd ever known.

“You'll freeze,” he said, fighting the urge to pick her up.

“I'm quite warm enough.”

She came so close that her dress swirled about his ankles. Noah looked down, over the brilliant swell of her breasts, past her cinched waist, beyond the bell of her skirts, to the horseshit on his boots, which was now all over her hem.

He stumbled back, and she caught his arms. “Where are you going?”

“Y-your dress. It touched me, and now it's ruined.”

“To hell with the dress, Noah.” She threw up her hands. “I have ten more. What are you doing here?”

She had ten more. That truth reminded him of exactly
what
he was doing here. “I'm the new groom, Princess.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth thinned. “Quit calling me Princess.”

“Why? It fits so well.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't I?”

He was here to show her the truth. Just because he wanted to touch her face, kiss her hair, nuzzle her neck, run his tongue along the slope of those perfect breasts, then lay her down in the hay to—

Damn!
Noah took a deep breath and plunged forward with cutting words. “I've been working here nearly a week, and I've never seen you once. And why should I? You're the princess. Why would you be in the barn with the grooms? Why
are
you in the barn with the grooms?”