They had gone outside, and she had taught him a few steps.He was a quick pupil, and the smile that had appeared so rarely came more easily.
That had been the beginning.Then he’d sought her out.They’d gone for rides on several of the occasions when she’d visited the Circle R with her father, and she’d grown to like him more and more.She even enjoyed their moments of silence, because there was never awkwardness, only a warm companionship.He never said much about himself, or his past, although once he’d mentioned the war.
And every time she saw him, her heart and senses started spinning out of control.When he kissed her, she felt as if she owned all the stars in the universe.But he puzzled her.Her eyes told her he cared, so did that lazy smile of his, but he never said anything, never promised anything, never asked anything of her.He always held a part of himself in check.
She’d never seen him as tense, though, as he was now, as he had been since he brought Shea Randall to the ranch, and uncertainty and jealousy ate away at her.There had been an intensity in the way Clint had regarded Shea, a personal interest that he couldn’t hide.
The silence between them now made Kate feel as if he were moving away from her.
“Shea Randall is very pretty,” she finally said, seeking a reaction.
Clint glanced over at her and shrugged.“Is she?”
Kate stiffened at the artificial indifference in his voice.There was an undercurrent there, and she wanted to cry.She knew then she hadn’t really accepted his words the other night.Something would keep him from leaving.Someone could stop those tumbleweed feet.
She glanced over at his face.It was hard and set.She swallowed, afraid to say anything that would distance him even further.Feeling very much alone and miserable, she rode to the boundaries of her father’s ranch, to where she could see the lights shining in the house, and stopped, turning to face him.
“You don’t need to come any farther,” she said in a strained voice.
“I want to,” he said.
“I think,” she said, “you should return to the Circle R.She might need you.”
“Kate,” he started, then stopped.A muscle moved slightly in his cheek, and his hands tightened on the reins.But just as she thought he might say something, he nodded, turned his horse, and rode back in the direction of the Circle R.
Shea slept on and off in the chair in Jack Randall’s room.A dimmed oil lamp sat on a table in a corner.She continuously fueled the large fireplace, waking every several hours as the room chilled, telling her additional logs were needed.
He had come to consciousness several times and, though he recognized her, he remained confused about the events surrounding his injuries.But there was no doubting the sincerity of his pleasure that she was there.
No matter how she tried, she simply couldn’t equate this man with the one Rafe and Clint portrayed with their dislike.Though he was obviously in pain, Jack Randall’s eyes twinkled when he looked at her.His hand was warm when he touched her, his clasp warm and welcoming.She couldn’t stifle her love, which had risen almost automatically.If he had turned from her, perhaps it would have been different.But he’d embraced her with unquestioned affection.
She wanted to ask him about Rafe.She had to know the truth of what happened ten years ago.But then she would have to admit she knew Rafe, knew he was in the mountains nearby, and there was no reason for him to be there unless he was a hunted outlaw.
And so she huddled miserably in the chair between spurts of sleep, wishing she knew Jack Randall better, wishing she knew what he would do if he were aware of the truth of the past few weeks.
She didn’t hear Clint return and wondered whether he had gone up into the mountains to talk to Rafe.She hoped so.She wanted him to know about the posse.She wanted him to live.
Jack Randall moved restlessly in the bed, and Shea tried to shake off the weariness drugging her.She moved over to him and touched his face.It was dry with fever.
She wet the cloth in the cool water on a table next to the bed and bathed his face.
He muttered some words she couldn’t understand, and she leaned down to try to hear.“I won’t … let you.… No.”His movements became frantic.She leaned down, pressing on his good shoulder, trying to wake him.
His eyes finally opened, and he stared at her as if he’d seen a ghost, and then recognition came.“You … look so much like your mother.”He sighed, and quieted.
Shea rinsed his face with the cloth.“Do you remember anything more?You were saying a few words.”
“I don’t remember,” he said, but his voice lacked assurance.
“Try,” she insisted.“The sheriff is forming a posse.They don’t know who they’re looking for.”She paused a moment, then continued with determination.“Your friend … Mr.McClary … is also missing.”
He moved, and pain rippled across his face.Guilt stabbed at Shea.She reached for the laudanum, poured some in a glass, and held it to his lips.
“Don’t leave,” her father said.“Please don’t leave.”
She knew he didn’t mean now.He meant ever.He wanted her.Rafe didn’t.It should be simple.But it wasn’t.
She ached for Rafe Tyler.Her heart ached for him, and her mind and her body.She kept seeing him in her mind’s eye.She tried to force him out, tried to replace his face with that of this man she’d searched for, this man who had given her life.
