Charlene Sands (15 page)

Heaton didn’t appear surprised. “I’ve heard word of your intentions.”

“How the hell did you hear about that?”

“Well, uh…” Heaton rose from his seat and stared out the window behind his desk. He had a garden and iron bench seats outside his office. Vines climbed a trellis, and greenery surrounded the area like a private little alcove. The austere room Clint had been ushered into spoke of great wealth with rich furnishings. No doubt his father had paid David Heaton quite handsomely, seeing as Hayworth holdings provided more than half of the town’s income. “Let’s just say I make it my business to keep informed.” He turned from the window. “Your father was a friend, Clint. I’ve known him for years. He wanted—”

“Don’t tell me what a great man he was.” Clint rose and put his hat on, lowering the brim. “I’ve heard it all before. But you didn’t know the real Hoyt Hayworth.”

“Maybe I did, Clint. Maybe you’re just going by a hurt youngster’s image of his father. Have you given yourself a chance to know him as the man he was?”

“My father is dead. And what’s done is done.”

“Are you having any luck convincing his widow to sell?”

Clint took in a quick breath, staring at the attorney.

“She won’t. She was loyal to him. Hoyt trusted her.”

“We’ll see.”

“I wish you the best, Clint.” He put out his hand. Their business had concluded.

Clint shook his hand. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be rendering your services once I get my hands on the other half of the Double H.”

Heaton shook his head, looking chagrined, and Clint left his office and headed for home.

He’d found out what he needed to know.

And he hated the road his suspicions had taken him.

Clint exited the barn, keeping an eye out for signs of Sonny or Greta. He’d been dogging them for the past three days. Normally, seeing them in a heated argument, as he had that afternoon, wouldn’t have caused him any alarm. Greta had a temper. She was accustomed to things on the ranch running a certain way. The same could be said for Sonny. He was as devoted to the Double H as Hoyt had been. Though Sonny didn’t rile easily, when he did, grown men on the spread shuddered. He and Greta had been known to get into it a time or two.

But what got Clint thinking were the guilty looks on their faces and the way they’d clammed right up the minute they’d noticed him approaching. He wished he had concealed himself and listened in on their conversation.

Since then, he’d resorted to walking quietly into a room or listening to conversations before winding around the corner of the house or barn. He hadn’t caught them in anything suspicious since that afternoon.

Unexpected thunder blasted in the distance, and Clint lifted his eyes skyward as he walked across the yard to the house. Blue skies gave way to treacherous, fast-approaching gray clouds. That booming sound meant trouble. Clint turned on his heels and ran to the bunkhouse to gather up the few men who weren’t out on the range. He burst open the door catching three wranglers resting on their beds, and one playing cards. “Storm’s coming,” he called out. “Let’s get the horses inside.”

In a flurry of bunkhouse activity, boots, hats and slickers were tossed on and gun belts fastened. Clint led the men to the corrals. “Get them all in the barn and stables! The storm’s gonna be a soaker!”

Clint worked with the men as lightning struck in the distance and thunder boomed again. Rain poured down, the drops fat and hard as they landed on his body.

“We need more lead ropes!” he called out. “They’re getting jumpy.”

Clint calmed and soothed each skittish horse. He worked his way through the corral, slipping a rope over a horse’s head and walking him over to a wrangler before relinquishing the rope.

By the time the last horse was ushered into the barn and stables, everyone was soaked to the bone. “Good job. We got them all.”

Flashes of lightning sparked in the dark, gloomy sky. Clint turned his attention to the horse alone in his own corral.

They’d gotten all but
one.

Sunset kicked up a big fuss, and Clint wanted to get him out of that corral to safety. He approached the gate and eyed the obstinate creature.

“You gonna get him, Mr. Hayworth?” Randy asked.

“I’m gonna try.” He entered the corral holding a looped lasso in his hand. “Keep the gate open a bit and be ready to slam it shut in case this doesn’t go well,” he told Randy.

Black clouds filled the sky and rain poured down with no letup. Clint walked slowly toward Sunset, rain sliding off his slicker like a waterfall. The horse reared and bucked. “Easy boy,” he called out, raising his voice over the thunder and sheets of rain.

Sunset reared up again, frightened and obstinate and angry. Then he charged. With nose down and intent on his purpose, he barreled forward, aiming for Clint.

Clint turned on his heels and ran. “Shut the gate!”

Randy hesitated just long enough for Clint to run out before slamming the gate shut. Both men secured the gate, leaving the frustrated palomino to pace and prance on the other side.

“He’s spooked,” Randy said. “You almost didn’t make it out. He woulda crushed you.”

“The storm’s not bothering him.” Clint eyed the horse, understanding his frustration. “He wasn’t after me.”

“He wasn’t?”

Clint shook his head. “He saw his chance for freedom. He wasn’t about to pass it up.” Clint placed his arm around the young ranch hand’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get inside. Sunset’ll just have to last out the storm.”

Randy nodded and headed for the bunkhouse, and Clint went in the back door of the house. He shook off his rain slicker and hat and left them on a hook in the kitchen to dry before climbing the stairs to his room.

He peered out the window as lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the sky in an eerie blaze of light. Clint glanced down to the corral, wondering how Sunset fared.

“Son of a bitch!”

The palomino was gone, the corral gate open.

He and Randy had secured that gate good and tight just minutes ago.

Clint retraced his steps and donned his hat and slicker quickly. Within minutes he’d saddled up and taken off on Midnight in search of the palomino.

He had no doubt in his mind that someone had deliberately let Sunset out of the corral.

“You’re a fool for chasing that stallion in the storm.” Tess sat on the edge of Clint’s bed, dabbing at his bloodied face none too gently with a cloth.

“You nearly shot me,” Clint said, allowing Tess to tend to his wounds, eyes twinkling. He enjoyed this little scene too much, she thought.

He’d nearly been crushed when Midnight lost her footing in the storm. From his accounting, horse and rider went down together, Clint barely escaping the full impact of his mare’s weight.

“You were making enough commotion downstairs for ten men, Clint.”

“You could’ve shot my head off, pointing that gun, calling me out.”

“Good thing I recognized you when I did.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Clint rested back on the bed, his shirt open and hanging loosely from his shoulders, his muscled chest bloodied where he’d been injured. Her heart sped being this close to him again. Her frustration rose, as well, realizing that he could have been crushed under his own horse tonight. Nothing was simple with Clint. He always seemed to evoke a wide array of emotions in her.

He stared at the ceiling. He spoke quietly through tight lips, his controlled anger evident. “Someone let Sunset out of the corral. It was deliberate. I’d just left him and saw to that gate myself. Someone’s trying to upset the balance here. They’ve got you so jumpy you’re picking up a weapon to defend yourself.”

Tess had known moments of panic when she’d heard those noises downstairs. She’d been worried about the ranch and the acts of sabotage lately. She’d grabbed Hoyt’s gun, ready to protect herself, refusing to be caught unaware ever again.

When she’d seen Clint at the base of the stairs, struggling to climb them, she’d taken quick action and helped him to his room. She’d helped him take off his wet shirt, removed his boots and gotten him on the bed.

She couldn’t bear seeing him bloodied and banged up. The thought of what might have happened to him frightened her more than any acts of sabotage.

In that moment she knew what he meant to her. She knew how much she cared for him. And her feelings for him only irritated her.

“Well, you should’ve known better, racing out in that downpour.” She dabbed roughly at a gash on his shoulder.

“Ouch!”

She smiled. “Sorry.”

He smiled back. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“And you sound like a baby.”

Clint grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull away. Their eyes locked in the dim lantern light. Her heart raced. He laced their fingers and tugged her closer. She went willingly, softening to him, remembering her fear when she’d thought him seriously injured.

“I’m a man, Tess.” He pulled her closer yet and brought her mouth to his. “Kinda hard not to notice with your hands all over me.”

Surprised, she tried to pull away, but he caught her, easily wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her, and whatever fight she had left inside vanished.

She couldn’t deny Clint. Not anymore. She loved him.

He brought her over his body, sprawling her atop him, and kissed her again. She felt his need, the length of his hardened shaft pressed between her legs.

There was no mistaking his desire. He’d proven his point and Tess was glad of it.

He drove himself deep into her mouth and continued to kiss her until all the breath swooshed out of her.

“I need you, Tess.”

She closed her eyes. She’d never heard those words spoken with such clarity, with such honesty. She’d never believed them more than she did now.

“I need you, too,” she whispered.

“Undress for me,” he said. “Let me see you.”

It all seemed so right. So natural. She set aside her unease and rose from the bed, the hungry gleam in his eyes encouraging her. He rolled onto his side, braced his head in his hand and waited.

The house was quiet but for rain, softer now, pitter-pattering on the roof. Tess could hear her heart beating against her chest. Pounding. Pounding.

She lifted her hand and unfastened one button, then another from the high-neck collar of her dress. When all the buttons were undone, she stood there unsure. Then she mustered her courage, drew a breath and slipped the gown from her shoulders. It fell at her bare feet. She stood in her flimsy chemise, unable to meet his eyes any longer.

Clint lifted from the bed. He faced her, winding his hand around her neck, bringing her close. “Lord, you’re still so
innocent.
” He kissed her tenderly. “And beautiful.” He pulled pins from her hair. The tresses fell onto her shoulders.

There was something she couldn’t fathom about Clint tonight. He was playful and sweet and so unlike the man who’d first barged into her sedate life on the Double H.

He slid the chemise down, and when it caught at her slight hips, he hooked his thumbs and guided it down. She broke out in goose bumps from his gentle, searing touch.

He worked his hands up to her waist and then stepped back, looking into her eyes. “You belong with me.”

Tess melted inside. She felt the same. She finally
belonged.
It was what she’d wished for as a young girl. She’d wanted to belong
somewhere
and know that she was cared for. Maybe loved. She’d wanted a place to call home. She dared to hope that she’d have that home now, with Clint.

“Yes, I belong with you,” she said softly.

Clint’s gaze flowed over her bare body. She witnessed appreciation in his eyes and tenderness as he caressed her with a look. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

He shook his head as if not believing.

Tess touched him, a light feather touch on bruised skin. Then she kissed his chest where her fingers had just been. The pleasured sound he made filled her heart with joy.

He wound his hands in her hair, pressing her to him. He kissed the top of her head, her forehead, and drizzled kisses down her cheeks. He found her mouth and claimed her again in a long, slow, earth-moving kiss that brought hot streams of heat below her waist.

He cupped her derriere and pressed his manhood to the juncture of her legs. Her breasts crushed against his chest. He groaned and lifted her up quickly, setting her carefully on the bed.

She ached for him. She belonged not only
with
him but
to
him. She lifted her gaze and saw raw, unbridled need in him.

He lowered himself down and brought them both…
home.

C
lint liked waking up with Tess in his arms. She lay curled up against him, her sweet-smelling hair fanning over his chest. Mornings like these were rare. Seldom did he ever share the morning with a woman.

It was different with Tess. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was standing in the way of what he wanted most in life—to settle an old score with his father. He should resent her.

Actually, he had. When he’d first stepped foot on the Double H after a ten-year absence, he’d held nothing but bitterness and resentment toward her. He’d been certain she was a happy widow, relishing her newfound lavish life and glad the old man was dead. She had power now and more money than any man in the entire state of Texas.

She had it all.

Or so he’d thought. Then he’d seen her in the meadow giving her full attention to Laura’s baby, cuddling the child to her chest, holding her with loving arms. He’d seen her kindness for Pearl, a near stranger, and her outrage at Pearl’s cruel husband, Ralph. He’d learned of those women’s meetings she insisted upon having, and even though he thought her efforts futile, he had to admire her gumption for trying.

She wasn’t a woman who settled. She seemed to want to change things…for the better.

Clint winced at the thought.

Was
he
one of the things she wanted to change?

When she stirred and made little throaty sounds, Clint smiled, grateful for the distraction. He wouldn’t think about Tess’s motives any longer.

“Morning, honey,” he said, lifting her hair to kiss her long, slender neck.

She purred like a kitten and rolled over to face him, her eyes sparkling. “Clint,” she said lazily, “is it morning already?”

He nodded, enjoying the crush of her generous breasts against his chest. “The birds are catching worms.”

She gazed into his eyes, biting on her lip. “We should get up. I should go back to my room. What must Greta think?”

“Greta? There isn’t a thing that goes on around here that she doesn’t have an opinion on.”

Tess pursed her lips into a deep frown. “That’s exactly why we shouldn’t—”

He kissed away her words. Her lips were warm and ripe and moist. Clint kissed her again, cupping her head in his hands. “Don’t worry about Greta.”

“I do worry. She
wouldt
not approve,” she said, feigning Greta’s deep German accent.

Clint grinned.

“It’s just that she disapproved of me marrying Hoyt. She didn’t accept me. After he died that didn’t change. But I think…that maybe she has accepted me now.”

Clint stroked her arm, allowing her softness to seep into his palm. “We have a few minutes before the crew wakes up looking to fill their bellies. I don’t want to waste the time talking about Greta, do you?” He pulled the sheet down slowly and looked at her in the morning light, his heart clenching and his need for her strong.

Her face flamed crimson, but she shook her head. “No,” she said. “Let’s not talk at all.”

She rolled over and lay on the bed, waiting for him, her expression shy. Every nerve in his body went still. He’d never seen anything more beautiful or wanted anything more. Clint covered his body over hers. She reached up and brought him down to kiss his lips, her hands wrapping around his neck, her fingers thrust in his hair.

Her passionate responses created an essential need within him. He had to have this woman. She’d reached deep inside and touched him in ways he would have never fathomed. There was a certain innocence about her. How could he have missed it? How could he have been so damn wrong about her? Now all he wanted was to make up for lost time and take this to wherever it would lead them.

There was no time for the slow, steady, torturous buildup of desire. He’d taken her twice during the night. Her body was attuned to his. He knew her now and she knew him. She was ready to accept him.

He urged his shaft into her, driving deep, and his low guttural groan of their joining was more than pleasure and need. Raw emotion and powerful senses slid over him. The impact stunned him. His thrusts fiery and his demand great, he plunged inside. She took him in fully, gazing at him with clear blue eyes, and breathed his name in an urgent whisper.
“Clint.”

Nothing in his life had ever been this good. This innocent. This sweet.

She renewed him and made him whole again.

Tess Morgan Hayworth. The last woman he’d have thought could ever affect him this way. She rained on his fiery existence and washed away every last remaining burning ember.

He moved with her, fast and furiously. The bed creaked and the mattress bounced. Tess took his thrusts, arching up and rising to meet him. She moaned with satisfied sounds. Her completion came with hard, tight spasms of release.

“Tess!” He couldn’t hold back another second. He lifted her hips and spilled into her, claiming her again and again with untamed, feral force. His climax came powerfully, a wild drive of completion.

With his body sated, his heart racing, he lowered down and kissed her, stroking through her hair, whispering his pleasure, still deep inside her.

She accommodated him so naturally. She fit him perfectly. Clint reveled in the gift she’d given him. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune, coming back here, meeting her and, for once, seeing his future clearly.

With Tess in it.

He rolled off her and lay by her side. Massaging her silken skin absently, he thought he’d like to wake up every morning this way. “Wish I didn’t have to get up.”

“Mmm.” She rested her head on his shoulder. She was spent and sated and he wanted to keep her that way. “You’re not going after that stallion again, are you?”

Clint didn’t want the reminder of what had occurred last night to mar this waking time. Nothing had been settled. There was still a threat out there, and whoever was guilty wasn’t letting up. “No, I think the palomino is long gone. Only horse I couldn’t tame.”

“You told me people don’t change their nature. Maybe that’s true of some animals, too.”

He stroked her arm, both of them gazing at the ceiling. “I hadn’t come across a one yet that didn’t respond to me.”

“Maybe you’re losing your touch,” she said, teasing.

He looked into her smiling face. “If you think that, give me a minute. I’ll prove you wrong.”

She shoved the pillow in his face and laughed, a sound he rarely heard. “Oops! Sorry, Clint.”

He pushed the pillow away and grinned. “You little tease.”

“There’ll be no more proving anything today. I’ve got to get dressed.”

She rose from the bed, but he grabbed her wrist before she could get away. She landed on the bed on her knees, blessedly naked before him. She’d gotten over her shyness with him. He sucked in a breath. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Into town.”

“Oh, yeah?” He slid a finger down the valley between her breasts. Her nipples hardened. “Bet I could make you change your mind.”

She gazed down at him with a tilt of her head. “Maybe you’d like to come with me?”

Hell, he didn’t want to spend a minute in or out of his bed without her. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged and took both of his hands in hers, her eyes intent on his. “We’re having a little memorial for…Hoyt today. At the cemetery.”

Clint dropped her hands and shook his head in disbelief. The irony struck him. He’d bedded his father’s widow last night. He was probably falling in love with her even though she stood in the way of his plans. He still didn’t want any part of the ranch. He wanted no part of Hayworth holdings. He had a home in Houston. He had etched out a good life there.

But he wanted Tess. He’d planned on convincing her to sell him the ranch, break up the empire and leave with him. Did she think he’d change his mind because of their hot, passionate nights together? He’d once believed that about her but no longer. She wasn’t the conniving bitch he’d once thought she was. And even though he trusted her now, he wouldn’t change his mind about his father. “Why?”

She pulled the sheet from the bed and covered herself. “The headstone just arrived. A few of us thought the memorial would be a nice way to say a final goodbye.”

“I said my final words to him ten years ago.”

She didn’t argue the point, which surprised him. “I understand.” Despite her words, she registered disappointment, her lips pursing into a little pout. She dressed quickly and left the room.

Leaving Clint alone to stew on his conflicting thoughts.

Clint stood in the shadows behind a tree, quite a distance from the memorial service held on the slope above the plot of land designated solely for Hayworth family members. The headstone was large, detailed with bronzed lettering, with room enough for added names of family members when the time came.

His mother’s name held no place there. And Clint would hold no place there. It could very well be that Hoyt would be the only name on that headstone for eternity. His plans for a Hayworth legacy wouldn’t come to pass. Clint took some solace in that.

Dressed in black, Tess took her place on the rise. The “few” she’d spoken about had turned out to be almost half the residents of Hayworth, as well as Sonny, Randy and few ranch hands who weren’t on duty this morning. He listened to a dozen townsfolk say their piece about Hoyt.

One man stepped up. “Mr. Hayworth gave me a chance when I first came to this town. I promised him a hard day’s work and I delivered. He would come to me and say he was proud of my dedication. I’ll never forget his generosity.”

Then another said, “When my girl took ill with the fever, Mr. Hayworth saw to her doctoring.” A young girl set a batch of wildflowers on his grave and said a prayer. “My Jenny is fifteen now and doing good.”

“He wasn’t an easy man to know. He was a fierce competitor,” one of the local ranchers added, “but we respected each other. He was fair, and that’s saying something since he owned almost every business in this town.”

Sonny came forward next, speaking of his employer Hoyt, who had become his very close friend over the years. He spoke of his mother, Melody, of Clint and then about the years Hoyt had sacrificed building the Double H and the town of Hayworth. “He was hard-nosed at times, with the determination of ten men. He was fair to most. He tried real hard to be a good man. He loved this town. He loved his ranch. He loved his family, most of all. He once told me everything he did was so his family would have something solid to hold on to once he was gone.” Sonny teared up a bit. “Hoyt and I grew old together. He and I, we had our share of disagreements, but I’m proud to say he was my best friend.” Sonny stepped away on shaky legs.

Clint watched and listened, his nerves grating. He disregarded everything Sonny had to say, placing no credence in his teary-eyed statements. Sonny had been a loyal employee and had helped build the empire in the early days, but his father had made no provisions for him in his will. Now Clint wasn’t sure about Sonny’s true intentions.

Clint surmised the people at the memorial were all beholden to Hoyt in some way. They’d come to make a show before his widow. They’d come to butter her up. He knew for a fact that Tobias Lockhurst, the rancher making his claims, had had dealings with Hoyt and secretly despised him. The others, too, had something to gain by being here.

Clint couldn’t abide this service or the need for the memorial. When the testimonials ended, Tess stepped up, speaking softly. He strained to hear her.

“Thank you all for coming to this little service. Hoyt would have appreciated knowing you held him in high regard. As his wife, I can tell you I didn’t know a more decent, respectable man. He was a dear person, a fair businessman and a generous man. He was my friend as well as my husband. But I will say that Hoyt was often misunderstood. As he grew older he sought to clarify misconceptions surrounding him. Yes, he’d made mistakes, but I haven’t yet met a person who has not, at least once, made a bad decision. Hoyt will always hold a special place in my heart. I will always think of him fondly, with love.”

Clint ground his teeth. Tess’s admission, her undying words of admiration for his father, made his blood boil. He’d only come to keep a watchful eye on her. Too much had happened on the ranch lately. Though he’d convinced her otherwise, he wasn’t entirely sure Ralph Cowper would heed his warnings from the other day. Men that desperate often reacted rashly.

Clint wasn’t about to let Tess go into town by herself today. This time he hadn’t followed her out of suspicion or jealousy. She must have had a good reason for meeting with Tom Larson that day, though she hadn’t spoken of it and he hadn’t asked again. But he sure as hell couldn’t stand by her side and listen to the claims of loyalty to his father.

He’d come here only to see to her safety.

After the memorial ceremony, Tess stayed on a bit to lay flowers on Hoyt’s gravesite. To speak to him silently. To pray that Clint would cease his vendetta and come to live at the ranch peaceably.

She walked back to town alone. She thought she’d check in on Laura and hold Abby for a while. She never could get enough of loving that little babe and she prayed Laura’s moody bouts had quieted some.

Hayworth thrived. Tess enjoyed seeing the crowded streets, people walking with determined steps to their destinations, storefront neighbors sweeping out their shops and conversing with each other. Cattle pens filled daily with beeves ready to make their way to market. Ranchers crossed the streets for shaves, haircuts and a drink from the saloon.