Sagebrush Bride (11 page)

His mistake, but he wouldn’t make it again.

“I wouldn’t try that again,” Cutter warned. A
chill hung on the edge of his words, and his eyes held hers “As it is, you’re
damned lucky you’re a woman.” Despite his outward calm, there was the threat of
violence in his voice.

Faced with his anger, Elizabeth looked suddenly
ashamed of her childish outburst. “Just how far have we come?” she asked
grudgingly, straightening her spectacles.

For the longest moment, Cutter couldn’t bring
himself to respond to her simple question.

He oughta turn back now and take her high-minded
self back to Sioux Falls. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. In spite of
his anger, he just couldn’t, and his displeasure over the fact burned in his
gut.

“Like I said before, too far to turn back. If I’m
not mistaken, that’s Indian Creek up ahead. You can come along with me, or run
back home with your tail tucked between your pretty little legs. Either way,
it’s your decision, but if you choose to go home, you go it alone.”

The change in his demeanor was frightening.

Gone was the imperturbable cad. In his place was
someone else entirely. The other provoked her, infuriated her, but she’d never
hesitated to respond in kind. This man, she was unsure of. Still, she reminded
herself, he was Jo’s brother. Jo wouldn’t have let harm come her way—not
even by way of her baby brother.

“How do I know what you intend, Mr. McKenzie? You
might be a raving lunatic, or bent on murder, for that matter.”

His dark, enigmatic eyes revealed nothing. He
nodded slowly, lips thin with displeasure. His hand held her arm, squeezing
firmly but painlessly. “True enough. But don’t you think that if I’d aimed to
do you harm, Doc... I’d have done it long before now?”

His silky tone mesmerized her. Unable to tear her
gaze away, she swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but he shook her
suddenly, startling the words from her tongue.

“Look,” Cutter said, before she could gather her
thoughts. “You don’t know me all that well, that’s true enough, but I’m willing
to help you for nothing—Christ knows why! You can’t say the same for
someone else,” he said bluntly. “You can’t even count on help for pay, because
who’s to stop them from taking your money and tossing up your skirts, just for
the hell of it? Maybe even putting a knife between your pretty little shoulder
blades, at that—to guarantee your silence?”

His intent was to tell her the brutal
truth—all of it—even if it spooked her.

To Cutter’s way of thinking, Elizabeth needed a
little dose of fear to make her understand this wasn’t a Sunday picnic she was
planning.

Her eyes went wide as his grip tightened upon her
arm. She fidgeted, trying to ease his hold, but he never gave an inch.

“Stop... please—stop!” she cried out.
“You’re hurting me!”

“Good. Am I frightening you, too? Sure as hell
hope so!” His free hand found its way into her tousled hair, his fingers
curling around the back of her neck to secure her as he finally released her
arm. He touched a loose tendril, examining it, then winding it carefully about
his finger. His eyes glinted dangerously. “Because I’d hate to see this—”
he tugged at it softly, bringing her closer, so that their lips were separated
only by a whisper “—dangling from a scalp belt.”

Forcing her attention away from his lips,
Elizabeth grimaced, meeting his angry gaze.

“And you don’t take scalps?” she asked with more
calm than she felt, and then she shriveled suddenly as an odd look passed over
his features—pain, if she didn’t know better—before his jaw turned
taut and his eyes grew harsh.

He released her abruptly, and she nearly fell off
the horse. She had to reach out and catch his shirt to steady herself, but his
gaze never wavered. His expression was cold and proud.

“I’m riding into that town,” he said, his voice
soft but daunting. “And you’re coming with me, Doc. You take tonight to think
about whether you’re wantin’ my services or not.” His eyes were black,
sparkling with fury. “Then... bright ’n’ early tomorrow mornin’, I’ll expect
your answer. It’s up to you. I don’t aim to force you, Lizbeth—or beg,
either. It’s purely your decision.” He leaned backward, reaching into the
saddlebags, groping blindly, never taking his eyes from hers as he brought up a
small pouch and pressed it into her hand.

No sooner had she accepted it when he lifted her,
turning her around to face away from him. Too stunned to speak, she explored
the pouch with her fingers without opening it. Coins. He’d given her money.

“I can’t accept it,” she told him.

“Take it up with Jo,” he said. And then, reaching
over her, he gathered up the reins, leaning briefly against her back. She
flinched, sensing his anger in every rigid plane of his chest.

“If in the morning my answer is still no?” she
prompted, her shoulders lifting slightly, her expression wary.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the top of her
ear as he spoke, his tone lacking in emotion. “Then I’ve said all on the matter
I aim to. If you don’t have the good sense to say yes, Miz Bowcock... I don’t
care to see you again. Use the money Jo gave you to buy yourself a ticket
home.” Having said that, he touched his spurs to his horse, and it lunged
forward.

Elizabeth’s hand swept out to catch her spectacles
as she was hurled back into Cutter’s chest. She cried out at the impact.
Cutter, on the other hand, never so much as grunted as his body absorbed the
blow without yielding an inch.

It
had been hours now since Elizabeth had finished her bath and put out the lamp,
but still she was unable to fall asleep. Her poor eyes felt strained from long
hours of trying to keep them shut. With a groan, she pressed her fingers to her
lids, massaging them gently.

Why couldn’t she go to sleep?

She
wanted to... desperately. And she’d tried absolutely everything, from
regulating her breathing to conjuring dreams, but always her thoughts returned
to Cutter.

Certainly
it wasn’t that she was waiting to hear his footsteps pass her door on the way
to his room. She wouldn’t hear them anyway, she thought irately. The man was so
agile on his feet. Really, he was probably already fast asleep next door,
dreaming peacefully, without the least thought for her.

How dare he invade her thoughts so thoroughly!

They’d
ridden into town, neither of them having spoken another word, and had gone
directly to the only hotel Indian Creek had to offer. Cutter had remained long
enough to procure for them two of the only three rooms available, then had left
her completely to herself.

Where
he’d gone to, Elizabeth didn’t know, but she’d not seen him again, regardless
that the town was so small as to be virtually nonexistent. From what she’d been
able to tell, Indian Creek consisted of but a small hotel, a bank, three
saloons—three, mind you; not one, not two, but three!—a general
store, selling everything from boots to bacon, which also doubled as a post
office, and a small livery. She’d purchased a pair of men’s denims at the
general store, only because that was her only choice. It didn’t matter, because
nobody but Cutter would see her anyway.

She’d
not come across a physician’s office, or a drugstore, and she had to wonder
what the townspeople did, if anything, for medical aid. All in all, Indian
Creek was less than impressive, and it was no wonder she’d never heard of it
before now, despite the fact that it wasn’t so very far away from Sioux Falls.

She
hadn’t dared to go out for long, but because it had been so early in the
morning when they’d arrived, she couldn’t very well have simply shut herself up
in the stale-smelling room she now occupied. The first thing she’d done was to
ferret out a meal, which she’d then consumed with all the finesse of a ravenous
wolf. Once her hunger was appeased, things hadn’t seemed quite so bleak, and she’d
spent the remainder of the day patronizing the meager shop.

She’d
purchased the men’s britches, justifying it with the fact that her skirt was
torn. Besides that, she told herself, her cumbersome skirt would be too
unmanageable on horseback. And then she’d bought a few other necessaries...
until finally it had dawned on her that she’d already made up her mind,
purchasing items for the journey as she was. While her conscious mind had been
cursing the man to perdition, her unconscious had long since decided to accept
his offer.

Little sense that made.

And
that brought her to another question entirely. Why had Cutter offered his
assistance in the first place? What were his motives? He’d said that he’d done
so for his sister. But that in itself didn’t quite make sense.

Her
brow furrowed softly. Cutter McKenzie was all wrong for the position. Nothing
had changed. He still wouldn’t do as a husband. And yet... he’d made plenty of
sense this morning. Who else could she trust? It wasn’t a matter of choice; she
needed, more than anything else, to get and raise her sister’s precious little
girl. She loved helping others. It gave her such a warm feeling inside, and
that was why she’d wanted so desperately to become a physician, but something
elemental was missing from her life... something that left her empty and aching
during the lonely hours. What it was, she couldn’t say, but like a beacon in
the night, her niece drew her.

To
her dismay, so did Cutter.

I’d have noticed you.

His
silky whisper came back to haunt her. Would he have? she wondered.

But
did it really matter?

No!
she berated herself, shutting out his voice.

With
a frustrated jerk of the thin coverlet, she turned to glare at the door. She’d
intended to tell Cutter tonight that she’d accepted his proposal... so they
could get an early start in the morning. But at this rate, she wasn’t even
going to be able to open her own eyes before noon—blasted man!

At
last, footfalls sounded just outside the door, stopping just beyond it, and
without thinking, Elizabeth tossed the covers aside and leapt out of bed,
forgetting her spectacles in her haste. Within seconds, she had her ear pressed
to the door. The voices were muffled, but she could still make out Cutter’s
unmistakable drawl.

“Sorry,
sweetbritches... not up to snuff tonight... Here, take this…”

Elizabeth
bit her lower lip, trying to comprehend what it was that she was hearing.

“Course
ya are, Cutter, honey,” came a sultry female voice. “And I know just the
thing,” the woman purred. “Don’t want your money... keep it... this one’s... on
me.” There was a deep, tortured moan, and a thump, as something or someone fell
against the door.

Her
door! They didn’t even have the decency to fall against Cutter’s door! It had
to be hers, didn’t it?

“There
now... see how easy that was?” the hussy said.

“Now,
Bess... Bess. Aww hell, Bess... ” Cutter ended his complaint with a moan, the
sound low and tortured.

Her
heart beating like a tom-tom and her mind reeling, Elizabeth pressed her ear
closer to the door. Hearing nothing more, she stooped down frantically to peer
through the tiny keyhole. She knew it was wrong to spy, but she couldn’t keep
herself from it. In the darkness, she could see nothing, and it frustrated her.

But,
oh, she could hear them well enough—scuffling noisily against her door!

It
would serve them both right, she thought crossly, if she just snatched the door
open and exposed the two of them in the midst of their... of
their—whatever it was they were doing!

But of course, she wasn’t jealous! How ridiculous!

She
and Cutter were supposed to be traveling as man and wife. Weren’t they? If
Cutter thought for one moment that she intended to sit back and allow him to
bring home women like... like... like
Bess
,
he’d best think again! How dare he humiliate her like this!

“Come
on, now, Bess... do you have to do that here?” came Cutter’s muffled, flimsy
rejection. “Bess... ”