The Wrangler (16 page)

The noose snapped tight around his neck, cutting off air. The rope hauled him up by the neck along the ground. First his head lifted up, then his shoulders, his body. His boot heels skidded in the dirt, dragging. The rope serrated his skin, pressing against his windpipe, his lungs already bursting with the need to breathe. His neck bones screamed against the strain.

"What are you boys doin'?" Steeled horse shoes drummed, echoing against the side of the barn. "You'll kill him."

"That's the idea." Deter's words faded into nothing as the entire world drained of light and color, became shadows and darkness. Agony rocked his body as his feet left the ground and he was swinging. Swinging.

"What are you doin', sheriff?" Deter's fury sounded distant, as if from a different world.

Dakota felt a yank on the rope and he hit the ground with bone-bruising force. Flat on his back, he gasped for breath. Desperate, he yanked the noose looser. Couldn't seem to draw in anything more than a trickle of air.

"He's gonna die for what he done to my girl." Deter's grief blended with blind rage, his voice joining with others. Men shouting with fists raised, and a gun fired toward the sky.

"We do this right." The lawman's rough grip hauled Dakota onto his feet. "The judge hasn't left with his regiment yet. I'll haul him to town, lock him up and the boy'll get his hanging come morning."

"That ain't right." Deter raged. "He doesn't deserve to live another minute. I want him to suffer before he dies."

"He will. Believe me." The sheriff dragged him up and gave him a shove. Dakota stumbled forward, hit the ground, felt the lawman's boot in his side. "I'll make sure he pays."

"Monster," a woman's voice, half insane with grief, shrieked from the front yard.

Monster. Dakota bolted awake with the heart of the nineteen-year-old boy he'd been beating in his chest. Only a memory remained of that young man. Soft, trusting, naive. He'd spent days in a dank block cell certain folks would calm down and realize they had the wrong man. He could never commit such a heinous act, he who could not raise his voice much less a hand to a horse. How could they think he had committed such an atrocity?

Yet the label had stuck. Monster, they'd whispered in the tiny county courtroom. Monster, they'd chanted when he'd been led in shackles from the jail. Monster, they'd screamed, throwing rocks and spitting at him. He'd been sentenced to prison instead of death, the judge had been merciful, while somewhere in that crowd lurked the man who really was a beast.

Some things scarred you, made a wound that never fully healed. Dakota rolled onto his side, punched the feather pillow Kit had lent him his first night here, and closed his eyes.

Instead of sleep, all he saw was the image of a sleepy Tennessee town where he'd settled after the war, and the disgust lining the faces of the family who'd given him a job in their dairy. When rumors of his past reached their ears, they felt betrayed. They'd shared meals with him with their youngest daughter, only thirteen, in the home. Monster, they'd raged at him. They'd fired him and he'd been chased from town, the sheriff in the lead.

The sheriff. Dakota opened his eyes. No use trying to sleep. He grabbed his belt and holster, strapped it on and slipped outside. Cool night air met him. He stared up at the stars, grateful for the wide open space, his freedom and the peace surrounding him. Somewhere an owl hooted. The wind sang through the grass. No sign of predators or trespassing humans near, but he ought to check. He rubbed his eyes, crossed the creek, scanned the landscape.

Quiet everywhere, the house was asleep. The canvas walls and roof puffed gently in and out with the night breeze—Mindy and Fred had nailed up the canvas after supper. He thought of Kit sleeping, her dark gold eyelashes curled against her cheek, tucked on her side, dreaming dreams of wild mustangs.

He'd kissed her. Big mistake. There was no other way to look at it. She hadn't looked at him since she'd left his arms.

And he couldn't blame her. He made his way along the shadows of the cottonwood grove, remembering how she'd broken the embrace. They'd ridden in silence the rest of the way home, stopping only to watch a small band of ragtag mustangs as they bounded across the road.

He rubbed the back of his neck. The nightmares were coming back, a sign he couldn’t ignore. If he wanted to escape his past one day, then he couldn’t stay here and risk Beauregard recognizing him.

After all this time being on his own, he didn't know if he could let anyone in. He'd been shutting everyone out for so long.

He made a circuit through the neighboring meadow, stopping to watch the rise with the tracks, but he found no one watching. He wasn't surprised. It was probably Tannen, and he'd likely already figured out what he needed to know. Dakota sat on the crest, taking in the view of the tent on one side of the yard and the new holding corral on the other. Pretty easy to guess what she was planning for the land.

Too bad he didn't have the two hundred she needed to pay off Tannen and be done with it. As long as there was a threat, Dakota had to stay. Considering he'd kissed her, he couldn't imagine staying would be easy.

Darkness bled from the sky. Birds were waking, a deer and her twins froze and watched him fearfully until he turned away. An owl winged by on her last flight of the night with a field mouse gripped in her talons. When he looked up, Kit stood down below staring at him, hands on hips, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders, watching him with the same wary look the mama deer had given him.

He stared down at the ground between his feet and tried to brace himself. Sounded like she was headed his way.

"You're up early." Her light yellow calico skirt swirled into view. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No." If he met her gaze, then likely he would see something he couldn't bear to. "Have a lot on my mind."

"Me, too." She eased onto the grass beside him and pulled a hair ribbon from her pocket. "I've been having nightmares since the fire. I keep reliving it. The smoke, the fear. I'm afraid of losing everything again."

"Understandable." He wanted to put his arm around her, but didn't. He wanted to comfort her, but he'd done enough with that kiss.

"I have nightmares about Tannen, too." She blew out a sigh and tied back her hair in a single ponytail. "After last night, I have another reason why I'm not getting sleep."

"The mortgage payment?"

"No. You."

"Me?" He knew this was coming. He broke off a stem of grass and stripped the seeds from it, let them go in the wind. "How mad are you?"

"That's a difficult question to answer." She snapped off a blade of grass too, swirled it in her hands. "I've never been kissed before."

"It's not fair that I was your first." He swallowed hard, head bowed, cords standing out in his neck.

"Why did you do it?"

"Carried away by the moment." He shrugged, fell silent for a beat and brushed a daisy's petals with a knuckle. "Maybe I was carried away by feeling, too."

"Was it from seeing the horses?" she asked, afraid of his answer. The only men who'd ever been interested in her were poker buddies of her father's. Some much older, some close to her age, but none of them could ever interest her. She'd seen too much of her mother's life struggling to hold the family together, and doing the same herself for the last nine years. A man you couldn't count on, a man who lost grocery money on what he was certain was a sure bet, no, that wasn't the life she wanted. She'd seen so much of it, she'd forgotten that decent men existed. Strong men, responsible men.

But why would Dakota be interested in a girl like her? She picked off a few more grass seeds from the stem, aware of her hands callused from wielding a hammer and saw.

"It wasn't from seeing the horses," he said quietly, barely audible.

The backs of her eyes stung. "Then I guess I'm not mad."

"I apologize for being carried away." He sounded choked, maybe embarrassed. "Your first kiss ought to be with someone important to you. Someone you're sweet on."

"That's the problem." She dropped the bare grass stem and watched it fall to the ground. Heart pounding, she didn't know if she had the courage to open up.

"I'm sorry, Kit." He sounded tortured. "I shouldn't have done it, especially since I feel for you, and I—"

"I am sweet on you," she interrupted. There. The truth was out.

"You are?" Shock made his voice gruff and his eyes as dark as night.

"Believe me, I'm as appalled as you are." She tried to shrug it away, making light of it was easier, and she hoped he could hear what she didn't say.

"That's what I am, appalled." His tone warmed, as tender as his kiss had been. "There are things you don't know about me, things I can't talk about."

"You're not alone. There are a lot of men like that around here." Maybe most men were running from something or another, trying to forget, trying to hide, trying to start fresh. "But you're a good man, Dakota, and I'm a hard judge."

"I know, but you don't have all the facts." He stared at the horizon. "That's why it can't happen again."

"Right, well, that's smart." Disappointing, but smart. "We have a working relationship."

"We have more than that." He turned to her, midnight eyes unguarded, all shields down. "I trust you, Kit. Really trust you. That's something I haven't done in a very long time."

"I know how that feels, because I trust you, too. I never thought I'd actually ever say that to a man."

"I saw that quiver of fear. You can put your trust in me. It's okay." He plucked the daisy bobbing in the grass in front of him and handed it to her. "I won't hurt you. Ever."

"I believe that." She took the flower from him, her faith in him shining in her gaze, unwavering. It meant so much, he had to look away.

The prairie stretched out all around him, silent and waiting. No wind tussled the miles of wild grasses. Wildflowers hung their heads as if in prayer. The first hint of light clung to the eastern rim of the world in a soft haze of gold. Birds stopped their singing and fell silent, as if in reverence. The last, tenacious stars struggled, winking out one by one.

Even the stray band of mustangs stood to watch the coming sun. Finally, the golden ball burst above the horizon, giving light and warmth and color. Green and gold fields, brilliant wildflowers, mellow blue sky. He felt the first cheerful beams of sun on his face and felt a light inside him dawn.

Hope.

"It's gonna be hard not to kiss you again," he confessed.

"Very hard." The corners of her mouth tilted upward, like a dare. "Good thing we'll be too busy to think about it."

"Right. Lots of work to do." He leaned in, captivated by her mouth, the way her lips moved. "There'll be no time."

"Exactly."

"You wouldn't want to kiss me anyway," he said.

"That's right." She looked as sweet as the daisy she held. He'd never wanted anything more.

"Maybe one more, for old time's sake." He gave her satin ribbon a tug, and her hair fell free, bouncing over her shoulders and breasts.

He should stop while he could. He should walk away and tend to the horses. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and cradled her head. Her mouth parted just a hint, in an invitation he could not deny. He covered her lips with his and this time kissed her the way a woman should be kissed. Deeply and passionately, so she would feel how he burned for her. Tenderly, so she would know his heart.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding on. A tiny moan escaped from her throat, and she opened up to him. A slow sweep of his tongue was all it took for him to moan, too. When he tore his mouth from hers, he was breathing hard, desire strummed through his veins and he leaned his forehead to hers, lost in her. He didn't know where he ended and she began.

"Not bad for a second kiss." She smiled up at him. "That one will be memorable, too."

She was his undoing. He should pull away, but instead he took her hand in his.
Hold her now,
he thought,
while he could.
"You don't want to get tangled up with me, pretty lady. I'm not the kind of man who's good for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." She hopped to her feet, her dress shivering around her willowy form. "The sun's up, the horses need to be picketed."

"That's my job." He climbed to his feet, too. About a dozen mustangs were grazing in the distant corner of Kit's land. He wondered where the black stallion and his herd were. He wanted to be ready when they came back this way.

"Then I'll get breakfast. I'll bring a cup of coffee out to you." Kit didn't take a step. Her feet didn't move. "Blue likes you to hold his bucket for him when he eats his grain. He doesn't like it on the ground."

"I noticed. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."

"Kit!" Fred's boyish voice echoed across the yard. "There you are! Whatcha doin' up there?"

"I'd better go." At least they hadn't been caught kissing. It was their last kiss, after all, for old time's sake. It wasn't as if it would become a habit. Especially with Dakota warning her off.

"Hey," his deep voice called. "After breakfast, meet me at the corral."

"I'm afraid to ask why." She turned around, walking backward.

"I want to see how good you are with a lasso." He towered above her on the ridge with the rising sun at his back. "It's time for the next step in your plan."

"Great." Her plan. She'd momentarily forgotten it. Thanks to him. She headed down the slope, wondering what was wrong with her. This was not the time in her life to be distracted by a handsome wrangler. Too much was at stake.

Even when she tried, she couldn't focus on anything but the man behind her. She felt his presence like the sun on her back. No matter how much distance she put between them, his closeness remained. A place in her heart had filled with him, glowing with a brightness that outshone everything.

 * * *

"That's better," Dakota called to her in the midmorning sun. "Good job."