Yet the strings were being pulled again.By another Randall.
His gut tightened, and he hurt beyond healing.He was determined, though, not to show it.He forced his fingers to take a piece offish and eat it.He had to rebuild his strength.Perhaps it was his physical weakness that made him so vulnerable.
He noticed she hadn’t taken a bite, despite the fact that she had been the one who’d complained about hunger earlier.She sat there like a statue, staring into the fire.
“Eat,” he commanded more curtly than he intended.
“Another order?”Her voice was strained, and he knew she had heard him and Ben talk.Christ, what had she expected?That he would drop everything because of a … kiss?
“Call it that if you like,” he said, forcing indifference, masking the despair he felt.
“You aren’t going to stop, are you?”she asked suddenly.“And you’re going to destroy yourself as well as … my father.And probably your friends too.”
“I’m already destroyed, lady,” he said harshly.
“Only if you believe it,” Shea said, her words trembling.
He laughed bitterly.“Do you think anyone would hire me?Do you think any community would ever accept me?And that a woman would look at me twice after seeing that brand, look without repugnance?”
“Yes.”Her voice was soft but forceful.
He turned and looked at her, his lips twisted in a cynical smile.He didn’t try to mistake her meaning.“Up here, when we’re alone, maybe.For a few moments.Because you’re scared and lonely and there’s no one but me.But in town?How would you introduce me to friends?The outlaw?The ex-convict?A man who betrayed his uniform?A man so treacherous and vile, he was branded so everyone would know his dishonor, his shame, no matter how long he lived?Tell me, Miss Randall, would you really look then?”
There was a long silence.Her gaze met his, and he saw tears glisten in her eyes before she gave him the same answer as before.“Yes.”
“You’re a liar, Miss Randall,” he said coldly, and stood.“You’d better eat.”He didn’t wait for an answer.He walked stiffly, every movement a supreme effort.He hoped like hell there was some liquor in the stable.He couldn’t stand seeing those damn tears.No one had ever cried for him.
But he knew he was right when he’d said any feelings she might have would disappear quickly enough when she was free.
He found Ben, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he filled a feed bucket with grain for the horses.
“I’m more thirsty than hungry,” Rafe said.
“I can tell I’m going to have to make another little pack trip into Casey Springs.”Ben grinned knowingly.“That whiskey’s going down fast.”
“Go to hell, Ben.”
“Friend, something tells me you’re already there.She is rather pretty.More than pretty, really,” Ben said as he fumbled in his saddlebags and brought out a flask.
Anguish ran strong and deep in Shea.She knew now that Rafferty Tyler would never give up his vendetta against her father.He would destroy himself and everyone around him first.
You’re a liar.She would never forget the rage with which he’d hurled that accusation.
No doubt he thought he had reason.He believed her father was guilty of something much worse than merely telling what he thought was the truth.That meant he thought her father had lied, had deliberately sent an innocent man to prison and worse.
Shea couldn’t accept that, couldn’t accept the fact thatanyone would do that, much less the man she believed to be her father.Nor did it fit with the picture painted of Jack Randall by people in Casey Springs.
She had to get away.She had to find out for herself.
Above all, she had to escape from Rafe Tyler and all the tumultuous emotions he evoked in her.Or he would wound her as fatally as he himself had been wounded.
She ate because she had to eat.The fish, which had smelled so good minutes earlier, was now tasteless to her.Only through sheer will was she able to finish a portion of what lay on the plate.She left the remainder for the two men, placing it on the stump, then went inside.
The cub was snoring gently in the corner.She wanted to touch it, to touch anything to keep at bay the aching loneliness she felt.But she didn’t want to wake the cub when it was sleeping so peacefully.She found another candle and lit it and just watched the bear.
She felt something at her feet and looked down.Abner had his paws on her boots, looking around with those bright eyes.She picked him up and cradled him, her index finger running down his back, which she knew he liked.“Abner,” she whispered.“Now why were you named that?”It had such a whimsical touch from a man who allowed himself no whimsy.
The mouse made little squeaking noises.“You’ve been ignored,” she observed.“Hungry?”
