The Coyote's Cry (13 page)

“I might, if you ever really talked to me.”

Bram had long dedicated himself to avoiding a conversation like this one with Jenna. It was heading in a dangerous direction, and he knew that if he ever started spilling the truth of his feelings for her, he might never stop. He couldn't let it happen.

“Jenna,” he said pleadingly, and laid his hands on her thighs. “Tell me you can forgive me.”

Even knowing that he had completely ignored her last remark, she found that his big hands touching her totally turned the tables. It wasn't fair that she melted at the contact, but she didn't know how to combat that sort of power.

In the back of her mind were Moselle and GrayEagle Elliot and the fact of the Comanche blood that she was so certain flowed in her own veins. She would give almost anything to tell Bram all about it, but if he ever fell in love with her, she wanted him to love her for herself, not because she had suddenly discovered that a pint or so of Comanche blood mingled in her body with that of so many white ancestors.

No, she couldn't tell Bram about it any more than she
could tell her father. They were both so ridiculously prejudiced that it was a wonder she loved either one of them.

And yet she did, and if Bram would just once say something real and meaningful to her, and she could love him openly, her life would be truly complete.

“Why would you care if I forgave you or not?” she whispered, praying he would stop measuring their worth as human beings through the screen of racial prejudice.

“Why would I care?” he repeated with a frown. “Why
wouldn't
I care? I need you here, Jenna.” He leaned forward and slid his hands up to her waist. “I need you,” he whispered.

Her pulse rate quickened. She needed him, too. Without dissecting his simple message for hidden meanings, she shut her eyes and savored his nearness, his scent. In the next instant she felt his lips brush hers, linger on one corner of her mouth and then the other. It was a sensual kiss, and all of her vows to keep Bram at arm's length completely disintegrated.

She put her arms around his neck and parted her lips for his next kiss. He didn't disappoint her, and when their lips met this time the kiss turned hungry almost at once. They quickly became frenzied with desire and tried to undress each other.

But she was wearing slacks, he was still in uniform with all that leather stuff—including his gun—around his waist, and everything was a hindrance to lovemaking, even the badge on his shirt.

He got up, pulled her to her feet and said two words. “My bedroom.”

She almost went. She was so close to going that she started to take a step. But then the reality of their relationship—or rather, their
non
relationship—struck full force, and she dug in her heels.

He looked at her questioningly. “No,” she said. “We can't keep doing this.”

If he said right now, “But I love you, Jenna,” she knew that she would follow him anywhere, be it his bedroom or the moon. But he didn't say it, and her heart broke into a dozen pieces one more time.

“You're right,” Bram said, and though he felt a lot more like punching himself than acting all noble about this rebuff, he told himself to be glad that one of them had a little sense. He obviously had none where Jenna was concerned, but did he have to keep proving it over and over again?

Disgusted with himself, he said, “I'm not through working yet today. I'll see you later.” He walked from the room, and a second later Jenna heard the front door open and close.

“Sure you will,” she said with a sob she absolutely could not hold back.

Bram had only one good thought during his drive back to town. At least Jenna hadn't packed her clothes after his rude and completely unreasonable outburst in the kitchen.

 

Bram hadn't had to go back to work at all, but he didn't have to rack his brain to find something to do to kill a few hours. He visited the homeless shelters and talked to anyone who didn't try to slink out of sight when they saw him walk in.

Even the ones who weren't afraid of the law claimed to know nothing about John Doe's death at the old depot, so Bram was making very little headway with the case.

He was about to give up and leave the second shelter when one of the volunteers who kept the place running motioned him over. The volunteer was a woman, around sixty, Bram figured, with a round, friendly face and short gray hair.

He followed her into a storage room, where she switched on a ceiling light and closed the door. “I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with those fellows out there,” she said. “Have you ever run across a guy named Tobler? I think that's his last name, but I've heard him called Toby, too. He's short—around five-four, I'd guess, and sort of pudgy. A nasty sort with a big mouth. He comes here every so often and I doubt that anyone's glad to see him, 'cause most everyone avoids him, or tries to.

“Anyhow, he was here a few nights ago. I was on my knees behind that long buffet cleaning out some drawers when I heard Tobler's voice just on the other side of the counter. He was telling someone about a gun that he'd found and pawned. Would that have anything to do, do you think, with that poor fellow who died near the old depot?”

“It might. What's your name?”

“Lily. I'm here almost every day. Got nothing better to do, and most of the people who come in here are in genuine need of a helping hand.”

“Well, it's folks like you that keep these shelters open, Lily. Would you happen to have any idea where I might find this Tobler or Toby or whatever his name is?”

“Not a clue. They come and go, Sheriff, and it's a rare day when I recognize any of them on the street.”

“I understand. Toby said he pawned the gun? We've checked the pawnshops several times.”

“Well, he probably lied about that. That's the kind he is.”

“Do you know the name of the guy he was talking to?”

“No, and that was the one and only time I've ever seen him. We have lots of those, Sheriff. They're passing through on their way to only heaven-knows-where and stop in for a hot meal and sometimes a shower and a cot for the night. Then they're gone.”

“But Tobler sticks around.”

“Oh, he's hung around Black Arrow for at least a year. Between you and me, I think he's involved in the drug trade. I have no proof of that, you understand, but it's still my belief. I'm surprised you don't know him.”

“Maybe he's smarter than he looks, Lily. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Not at the moment, but if I see or hear anything else about a gun…or if Tobler should happen to drop in…I'll give you a call.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the information.”

Bram left the shelter, at long last harboring a ray of hope about the old depot case. He drove directly to the station and processed an APB—all-points bulletin—with Tobler's name and description, and an order to bring him in for questioning so every deputy would be on the lookout for him.

Bram cruised the town's darker streets before going home again, checking alleyways and the places where some of Black Arrow's more disreputable residents hung out. Water sought its own level and so did criminals. Bram had no pity for lawbreakers, especially ones who trafficked in drugs or abused children. Those were the two deadliest sins as far as he was concerned and, sadly, they were the crimes that were the most common, even in a nice little town like Black Arrow.

Finally, of course, Bram had to go home. He was so tired that his eyes were threatening to close on him.

Driving between town and the ranch, Bram saw on the windshield the first raindrops of the storm he'd known was on its way. They slid down the glass and looked like tears to him. Like Jenna's tears.

A sorrow of such mammoth proportions struck him that he nearly drove off the road. He turned the wheel just in time and finally had to face what he'd been doing to him
self. To avoid Jenna, the only woman he would ever love, he'd been working himself into an early grave—which would result in permanent avoidance, all right.

He clenched his jaw so tightly that his back teeth ached. He would
never
have Jenna, and he could count what blessings he did have from now till the day he died and still be miserable. Oh, he could make do. He'd still work, still raise horses, still attend family functions and still act as though he was glad to be alive and breathing Oklahoma air. And Jenna would eventually meet the right man, get married and have kids. If they ran into each other they would say hello and how are you and goodbye.

How would he bear it?

Grim-faced, he drove into his driveway, parked and went into the silent house. With barely a glance toward the master bedroom, where Jenna lay warm and silky and sleeping, he went to his own room, undressed and crawled between the sheets.

He had thought he would go out like a light. But he lay there listening to the rain on the roof and thinking of Jenna for a long, long time.

I
t was early, the house was quiet, and Jenna woke up with one thought clear and vivid in her mind.
I've had enough!

It was all about Bram, of course. She would do her job and give Gloria the best possible care and encouragement, but from this moment on Bram Colton was a big zero to her. If he dared to touch her again he was going to rue the impulse. Never mind that she always kissed him back; he had no right to kiss her in the first place. What did he think she was, a toy to play with when he was in the mood and then ignore until the next time his blood heated up?

Last night he had backed off the second she had told him no. At least he knew what the word meant, which was a point in his favor.

But in her estimation, any of his other good points had nothing at all to do with her. He didn't need her in his life, it was that simple, and it was time she relegated any and all romantic nonsense about Bram to the trash can, where it belonged.

Of course, if she told him what she'd discovered in the old courthouse books…

But then her dad would be hurt, and despite his many flaws, he was still her dad.

No matter how hard she tried to reconcile her hopes and affections with the realities of her life, she always ended up on the same old merry-go-round, Jenna thought disgustedly, and threw back the covers to get up.

It was close to ten before she finished with her patient's morning schedule. Gloria had been gently bathed, fed and medicated, and she was awake but resting. It was time for Jenna to tend to her own bodily needs; a little breakfast was in order.

She went to the kitchen, ran water into the teakettle and placed it on the stove. Then she heard a sound and froze. Someone was in the house!

After a long moment of spine-tingling fear, Jenna regained her wits. She was hearing the shower in the second bathroom, the one Bram used. Hadn't he gone to work before dawn this morning? He was
never
home at this time of day. Was he ill? Had something happened to keep him in bed this late?

Jenna's heart began pounding, and that infuriated her. Envisioning Bram naked in the shower was lunacy. Hadn't she just vowed to forget the man, to put him out of her thoughts forever?

“You fool, you fool,” she whispered, and went over to the table, weakly sinking onto a chair. Fat lot of good any common sense she might actually possess did her, when all Bram had to do to remind her of his strong, hard body and exquisite lovemaking was to take a shower. She loved him and she might as well face facts: nothing was ever going to destroy that love, not her vows, not his emotional cruelty.

The teakettle whistled and she got up and made a pot
of tea. She eyed the coffeemaker and then sighed and made coffee for Bram. She was too darned softhearted, she knew. She should have let him make his own coffee.

But she'd never been anything but softhearted, and she wasn't apt to suddenly turn cold and hard at thirty, even if she would be a heck of a lot more capable of dealing with Bram if she did.

She was eating toast with her tea when Bram walked in. Jenna thought she might die on the spot; he was just too gorgeous in his crisp, fresh uniform, with his face all shiny and his hair still damp from his shower.

“Morning,” he said without really looking at her.

“Morning,” she replied. “That's fresh coffee. I just made it.”

Bram turned and looked directly at her, realizing that she was drinking tea, yet had made him coffee.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling guilty because of her kindness. This was how their mornings would be if they were married, he thought while pouring himself a cup of coffee. She would have her tea, but she would go out of her way to make his coffee. And then they would sit across the table from each other and talk about yesterday and the day ahead, eat breakfast together and…and—

Cut it out, you damn fool!
Bram drank his coffee standing up, leaning against a counter.

“Aren't you going to eat anything?” Jenna asked.

“I never eat when I first get up.”

“I…I've never known you to sleep so late. You're not ill, are you?”

“I'm not ill. I was just so knocked out when I went to bed that I didn't wake up at my usual time.” He took another swallow, then added, “But sleeping in was all right this morning. I have to talk to Gran. Is she awake?”

“She was about ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

“I'll go and check on her.” He topped off his cup and took it with him.

Jenna mourned her defenselessness after he'd gone. He didn't even know the power he had over her. Oh, he was probably relatively confident of his sexual appeal to women in general, which was all she was to him—a woman in general. It hurt like hell to acknowledge, let alone dwell on.

But how could she not know where she stood with Bram? Sure, he would make love to her. He'd probably go to bed with her every darned night she was here, if she let it happen. But sex—even incredibly good sex—wasn't love, and love was what she really wanted from him.

Jenna refilled her teacup, lifted it to her lips and wondered why Bram was going to attempt conversation with his grandmother. If Gloria had taken any steps to better her condition, she might be speaking with some clarity today. Instead, the few times she actually tried to say something, it came out so garbled that Jenna rarely comprehended even a syllable.

Bram had moved a chair close to the bed. He held his coffee cup and smiled at his grandmother. “Are you feeling any better, Gran?” She merely looked at him. “Gran, something funny is going on and I have to talk to you about it.” Her expression never changed, and Bram took a breath, got rid of his cup and then closed his big hand around one of hers.

“Gran, did you ever know any Colton other than the one you married?” To his astonishment, Gloria's eyes widened and she moved her head on the pillow to signify “no.” Bram got that message clearly and was elated that he had succeeded in gaining her full attention. Possibly arousing her curiosity, as well.

“Let me explain, Gran. A guy named Rand Colton came to my office and introduced himself. He and another man
I haven't yet located have both been asking questions all over town about the family. About you, Gran, in particular. According to Rand, there's a mystery in
his
family regarding some old envelopes, supposedly sent by you to Rand's grandfather. Gran, I know you never liked talking about the past. I recall getting curious at times and asking questions that you never quite answered. I respect your right to privacy, but this thing with a stranger named Colton has me spinning. Gran,” Bram said gently, “I have to know if there's any truth to his story.”

Gloria's mouth moved spasmodically. She was trying to talk! Bram leaned down and put his ear close to her lips. The sounds Gran made weren't words, he realized, but she was trying so hard to get something out that he didn't move away from her.

And finally, after numerous attempts, she said something he
did
understand. “Truth…find the truth.” And then another few words came through. “For…you kids.” She heaved an exhausted sigh and shut her eyes.

Bram slowly sat up and pondered what Gran had said. And she
had
spoken, she really had. But what “truth” was he supposed to unearth, and
what
was for “you kids”?

Another mystery, Bram thought with a deep frown. Well, he'd accomplished one thing, anyway. Gran didn't know Rand Colton, if that was really his name, and Bram wasn't going to waste any time “searching family trees” with the guy, as he'd suggested. Bram had too many other, much more serious things to concentrate on than that.

Although when he
did
have some time he would try to figure out what Gran had meant with the few words she'd struggled so hard to impart.

None of it made a drop of sense to Bram, and he doubted that he'd ever get to the bottom of it. Although if Rand Colton kept pestering him, and that other guy kept nosing into Colton family business, they were both apt to
end up cooling their heels in the county jail. Besides, Rand's projection of complete shock when Bram had asked him if he'd tried to burn down the courthouse might only mean that the guy was a good actor.

Bram sat back and, with heartfelt sorrow, watched his grandmother sleep. Seemingly overnight she had changed from a strong, independent, active woman to a frail, helpless little thing. It hurt terribly to see her like this, and when he felt the powerful suction of unbridled grief pulling him down, he got up from the chair, took his cup and quietly left the room.

He returned to the kitchen, where Jenna was rinsing the few dishes she'd used and putting them in the dishwasher.

“Was she awake?” she asked.

“Yes.” Bram waited until Jenna had finished at the sink, then rinsed his own cup.

“But you didn't get her to talk clearly enough to understand what she said, did you?”

“I heard a few words.”

Jenna looked at him. “You did? What did she say?”

“Something about finding the truth.”

“Those exact words?”

“Yes.”

“Bram, that's wonderful! I try every day to get her to at least attempt speech, and I get nowhere. How did you get her to at least try to talk?”

He didn't want to discuss it. It was probably all utter nonsense, anyway. “I don't know why she would talk to me and not to you. I have to go to work now. See you later.” He was just beyond the kitchen doorway when the phone rang. Turning back, thinking the call was for him, he heard Jenna answer.

“Colton Ranch…oh, hello Dr. Hall,” she said. “All right…Richard. Apparently this isn't a professional call.” After another pause, she stated, “Oh, I can't. I'm sorry,
but I really can't leave her at night. I know I've been refusing my Thursdays off, but I've developed a true bond with Gloria and I hate leaving her with any other nurse.”

Bram leaned against the wall next to the doorway and listened. Dr. Hall, that jerk, was trying to talk Jenna into leaving Gran with someone else and go out with him! Bram's hands curled into fists as jealousy nearly ate him alive. He could not stop himself from peering around the doorway to see what expression was on Jenna's face.

“Well, yes, after I leave here I suppose we could have dinner together,” Jenna said, and accidentally turned just enough to see Bram watching her. And listening! “Richard, I have to say goodbye.” She quickly put down the phone, and just as quickly Bram walked away.

She was angry enough to not let him get away with this, and she ran after him. He was in his bedroom, securing his leather belt with all its paraphernalia—including that big holster and gun—around his waist, and he glanced at her when she appeared in the doorway.

But instead of the fury that had brought her from the kitchen, which she'd planned to unload on Bram for eavesdropping on a personal conversation, she found herself apologizing and trying to explain Richard Hall's call. She made a mess of it, too, stumbling over her own words.

Finally Bram shrugged and said coolly, “You're entitled. Don't sweat it.”

Jenna was stunned and then angry again. “Are you as rude to everyone else as you are to me? I'm entitled to have friends? How generous of you to say so.”

“Well, you weren't getting very far with your explanation and so I thought I'd help you out.”

“You thought nothing of the kind! You saw another opportunity to make me miserable and you took it!”

“Jenna, that's not true.” Bram finished with the buckle on his belt and then stood looking at her. Why were they
constantly at each other's throats? “Damn it, I wouldn't hurt you for anything. Don't you know that?”

“And I would know that because…?” Doubt and disdain were clear on her face.

Bram clenched his jaw, rebelling at the ridicule he heard in her voice and saw in her expression. “It's either something you know or you don't. Obviously you don't.”

“Obviously! And just remember this, you…you jerk! There are many,
many
things about me that
you
don't know!”

“The only things I don't know about you are things I don't
care
to know.”

“Oh, really,” she drawled sarcastically. “Your ego can't deal with reality, can it? To maintain your swelled head you have to believe you're the only man who turns on a woman who just happens to turn
you
on!”

“That's absurd. You're talking nonsense and I don't have time to waste. I have to go.” Bram moved toward her. “Are you going to move on your own or do I have to move you?”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“Oh, for hell's sake,” Bram muttered, and put his hands around her waist with the intention of lifting her off the floor and setting her down anywhere but in the doorway.

But it didn't turn out that way. Without even a glimmer of forethought, he pulled her up against him and began kissing her. “Jenna…Jenna,” he said yearningly, hoarsely, between kisses that got hungrier by the second.

And fool that she was, she kissed him back…again. She leaned into him and kissed him with as much fervor as he was kissing her.

And then, just like that, he let go of her. Jenna reeled as he strode out of his room, anger clearly visible on his face and in the set of his shoulders.

It was too much for her to take. She had kissed him
back instead of saying something scathing to make him rue the day, and she'd been so sure she could deal with his next pass!

She couldn't just stand there and despise both of them as she was doing, she realized, and she took off running, pulling open the front door just as he was driving away.

“I hate you!” she yelled.

 

Bram heard her, and he drove to Black Arrow and the sheriff's station with the heartbreaking phrase
I hate you
repeating over and over in his head, along with enormous amounts of self-disgust. Why wouldn't Jenna hate him? He wasn't particularly fond of himself these days, and God knows he hadn't been treating Jenna in the way she deserved.