The past three days had been the worst in her life.
“Candice, get off,” Jack said again, in a clipped tone she was becoming too familiar with and hated.
Candice slid off the black stallion. “What—what are we doing?”
He was wearing the battered rawhide hat, and he touched the brim briefly with one finger, a clearly embittered expression on his face. “You know the way.”
Her heart twisted violently with understanding—and then began a wild, rapid pounding. “Jack! You’re leaving?”
“That’s right. It will only take you half an hour to make it down.”
She grabbed the horse’s reins. It could not end this way. It couldn’t. “Wait.”
He smiled mockingly. “For what? A fonder farewell? Let go of the reins, Candice.” His tone had become a warning.
“Oh, God, Jack!” she replied, reluctantly dropping the leathers. “When will I see you again?”
“In hell, I imagine,” he said, turning the black.
She ran alongside him. “I’m not going to see you again, am I?” She panted.
“No.” He suddenly looked down at her, his gray eyes icy cold. Candice started to cry. His expression tightened and the black moved into a lope. Candice stumbled slightly, sobbing now, and watched the horse and rider disappear back over the ridge.
She sank onto the ground. She grabbed her knees and sobbed. She rocked and let the anguish and heartache flow. After a while the tears lessened, and the wails ceased, and she wiped her eyes, sniffling. But the sense of loss did not go away. It was potent and stabbing, and nearly unbearable.
She still didn’t understand how he could turn from her so completely and abruptly the night before they’d left camp —when he had told her they were married. He had not thawed for a single instant since then, and now he had her believing he truly couldn’t care one way or another about her. Had it all been nothing but a lark for him? While she was willing, she was useful—and once she was no longer willing, she no longer mattered? She didn’t want to believe it, but after the past few days she had no other choice.
Oh, God.
The day they left the Indian camp they’d ridden all day in silence. Candice had attempted, finally, to initiate a conversation. She was met with such rude rejection she hadn’t tried again.
The nights had been the same. He limited his words to orders, like “Start the fire,”
“Clean the game.” He never looked at her. When it was time to sleep he threw the blanket at her and slept alone, across the fire from her.
It had been that way for three days and three nights.
Candice sniffed again and wiped her eyes and got to her feet. Maybe it was better this way. It would have been dangerous for him to take her all the way back to the High C. This way she could really lie and say she’d escaped her captors a while ago, shortening the time she had supposedly spent in the camp. Yes, this way was better. In time she would forget Jack Savage ever existed.
And she knew she didn’t believe that for a second.
She started down the slope, trying not to think about that cold bastard. And to think she had once thought he was warm and loving. Had that tender side of him really existed, or had she imagined it? Instead she focused on her story. And her objective of finding a husband.
She remembered Judge Reinhart’s rejection of her because she had danced with Jack at the barbecue. She decided he was out of the running. She was sure she could persuade Tim McGraw to court her, get him to come around if he was still upset about her dancing with Jack. And if not … there was no shortage of men. The sooner she was married respectably, the better off she’d be. But why wasn’t her heart in this?
It was like the sun had gone out of her life.
It took her more like an hour to reach the ranch. The going was slow, treacherous with rocks and spiky cactus, and she had to keep an eye out for rattlers and copperheads. Once she was out on the flat the sentry saw her coming, and his cries rang out. The heavy wooden gates opened and a rider came out. It was one of the hands.
There was no mistaking his wide-eyed expression. “Miss Carter?”
Candice braced herself reluctantly and thought that the sooner she got out of her buckskins, the better. “Please, Willie, let me up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and he swung her up behind him.
He dropped Candice in front of the house. “Everyone’s out looking for you, ma’am. They been gone for days, so I imagine they’ll be back soon to change horses.”
“Thank you, Willie,” she said, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly weary. She wanted food, real food, and a bath.
