Charlene Sands (6 page)

He sat lazily on the chair assessing her, watching her with probing eyes. She turned around to attend to the fry pan, confused by the intensity of Bodine’s direct gaze. Jittery, Emmy clammed up and concentrated on the meal she was preparing.

He was quiet for a time and she hoped he had fallen asleep again. She needed time to sort out her befuddled thoughts. She was inexplicably drawn to him. Yes, he had saved her life and maybe that was part of it. Confident and sure, Bodine was short on talk, tall on actions. He was handsome; there was no denying that. Longish dark hair curled at his nape and eyes the color of storm clouds captured attention without a spoken word. High cheekbones and a full mouth, covered now with almost a week’s growth of beard, Bodine was a man like no other she’d met.

It was silly of her to entertain such notions anyway. Emma was on a mission to find her father. She had set goals for her life. She didn’t need to daydream of something that would never be.

“Where’d you get such a voice?”

Emma turned sharply and stared into the chest of the man she’d saved, his shirt unbuttoned enough for her to see the crisp hairs on his skin and the strength of his throat. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she swallowed. “My mother. She had a gift and it seems she passed that on to me.”

Bodine cocked his lips up. “So it seems, so tell me what—”

“No. I won’t say another word about myself. Bodine, I know nothing about you. Nothing. Other than that you walked into Hurley’s saloon very late that night and came to my aid.”

Bodine’s mouth twitched. “I haven’t had much chance to talk lately.”

“I would guess…you don’t much like to anyway.”

“You’d be right.”

“Are you hungry? Bacon and biscuits are ready. I…attempted a pie.”

Bodine lifted a brow. “Pie? Thought I smelled something sweet. Didn’t know if I was dreaming.”

Emma admitted with some chagrin, “Might have tasted better in your dreams. I made do with what I could find. Sit down and we’ll eat.”

Bodine didn’t sit, but helped bring the food to the table. “You don’t wait on me, Emmy. I can fend for myself.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Emma said without compunction. “But you’ve been injured and need your rest. Beside, it gives me something to do.”

She poured coffee and set one steaming mug across the table. Both sat and Bodine lifted the mug to his mouth, while Emma cradled her mug to warm her hands. The air inside the cabin had grown more frigid as the evening wore on.

Bodine glanced out the window, watching snow fall steadily. “Hasn’t let up much,” he stated. “Seems to me, both of us are gonna need something to do, lest we—”

His gaze swept over her and her heart thudded in her chest. His scrutiny was entirely too unnerving. Emma gulped. “We?”

“Go stir-crazy.”

Emma dug into her meal feeling his regard on her. Needing a distraction, she asked him the question that had plagued her the most. “Bodine?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s Josh?”

“H
ow in hell did you know about…” Then he stopped as realization dawned, and his angry tone mellowed some. “My fever.”

Emma shrugged, hiding her surprise at his heated reaction. “You had nightmares. I’d sing them away when I could.”

Bodine stroked his beard. “I remember. Thought I was surely meeting my maker. Your voice soothed me, chased away the demons.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

He nodded. “You did.”

“Will you tell me who he was?” Emma implored, keeping her tone gentle. “Please.”

Bodine took a deep swallow and hesitated for a drawn-out moment. “He was my brother. He’s dead.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Bodine. How did he die?”

Pain crossed his features and he sat ramrod still. His voice, though, held strong emotion. “He was murdered six weeks ago. Took a bullet meant for me and died a few hours later.”

A lump formed in Emma’s throat. “He was murdered?” She saw Bodine’s face close off as if unwilling to let the memory hurt him any longer. Instead, she witnessed his staunch look of determination.

“Rusty Metcalf, the bounty I’d been dogging for weeks shot him in cold blood. Josh was coming out of the mercantile in town. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“But why shoot your brother?” Emma asked, puzzled. “If you were after Metcalf, seems he’d be on the run.”

“I tracked him just short of Cedar Flats where Josh lived. I spent the night at my brother’s ranch. Metcalf must have gotten wind of it. Thought he could turn the tables and get rid of me.”

“But he mistakenly shot your brother?” Emma asked, wondering at the world of guilt Bodine must be carrying.

Bodine closed his eyes briefly. “Josh was my twin.”

“He looked just like you?”

Bodine sent half a smile. “He’d joke he was the good-looking brother, but yeah, we looked alike.”

Sorrow gripped her and she reached for Bodine’s hand. His eyes flickered from the contact and he stared at her.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

He slid his hand over hers and stroked her gently one time before reaching for his coffee mug again. That slightest tender touch sent shivers up and down her body and made her heart race.

“I won’t rest until Metcalf is dead.”

Emma’s soft feelings for Bodine evaporated and she shuddered inwardly. She spoke with quiet reproach. “You plan to kill him?”

“If I have to, yeah.”

Admittedly, Emma didn’t know much on the subject of bounty hunters, but she was reasonably sure they didn’t always kill their bounties. They caught them and brought them to justice whenever they could. Emma thought about her father. Was he still an outlaw and what was the nature of his crimes? Surely, not murder, like Metcalf. If her grandmother had been honest, then her father had been a thief and his worst crime had been stealing her mother’s heart. “And what if you don’t
have
to?” she asked. “Would you take him alive?”

Bodine stroked his beard again, running his hand down his face several times. “Take him alive? He’s meaner than a wild dog, Emmy. He’s already killed three men and he’s wanted in two states besides California. I doubt he’ll lift his arms in surrender.”

Emma feared for Bodine’s safety, though she thought him capable of protecting himself. It was just that…she cared for him, perhaps more than she should. “He’s dangerous.”

“It’s a dangerous job, but I’m careful and good at what I do.”

Then a thought struck and Emma looked at the shoulder she’d tended, trying to visualize the injury again through Bodine’s wool shirt. “He was the one who shot you, wasn’t he?”

Bodine winced. “I tracked him thirty miles outside of Cedar Flats and almost had him. But it was too soon after Josh’s death. I let my grief get in the way. Next time, it’ll be different.”

Again she shuddered at Bodine’s determined tone and the coldness in his eyes when he spoke of his brother’s killer. “You’d be chasing him right now if it wasn’t for me.”

He blew out a breath and admitted, “Actually I’d planned on healing up some with a bottle of whiskey and a wo—” He stopped up short and if Bodine could possibly look chagrined, it was at that moment. He darted his eyes away to look out the window. “No matter.”

Color rose to Emma’s cheeks as she took up the dinner plates. “I see.”

And the irony struck her immediately. Bodine was healing now, snowbound in a cozy cabin with a jug of whiskey and a
woman.

Only, it was clear Emma couldn’t entice a man like Bodine. Yet, for a quick, foolish moment, she wished she could be exactly the kind of woman he needed.

“I’ll take the chair tonight,” Bodine said, grabbing the saddle blanket. “You get the bed.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, prepared for this argument. She’d witnessed the resolute look on his face as he tossed the blanket onto the big hide-covered chair. “Bodine, I’m half your size and—”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said with slight amusement, sending her another one of his lazy looks that took her in from head to toe. His scrutiny made her edgy, even if it were more lighthearted than before.

“Don’t be smart, Bodine.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I plan on arguing. The chair fits me better than you. I can curl up and be fine.”

His amusement faded quickly and Emma received a dose of Bodine’s temper. “No. You’ll freeze your behind off out here.”

Emma’s ire rose, too. She didn’t appreciate his stern tone, as if he were reprimanding a child. She guessed it was cabin fever, but it felt real good to lift her voice and release her frustration. “Well! You just speak your mind, don’t you?”

“Don’t know any other way.”

“You’re still healing. You need a good night’s rest. It’s ridiculous for you to sleep away from the fire tonight.”

“Damn it, Emmy. I slept on the chair this afternoon.”

“Yes, you did. And you were twisted up and uncomfortable.”

“And you’d sleep that way, too, only you’d be frozen as well!”

Emma closed her eyes. She’d never met a more stubborn man. It was clear that Bodine was accustomed to getting his way, but she couldn’t back down. Whether he thought so or not, he was still weak, and she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep knowing he was cold and achy all night. “This is all very simple.”

“Simple?” Then Bodine’s stormy eyes brightened and he lifted his mouth into a cocky grin. “Well, I won’t let you sleep on the chair and you won’t let me, then what are you saying?” He softened his tone. “You want to sleep in that big bed with me, Emmy?”

“That’s not the worst idea in the world!” Realizing what she’d declared, she slapped her hand to her mouth, aghast.

Bodine raised a brow and took a step toward her.

Emma backed up, gazing into Bodine’s silver-gray eyes. “No, no. I mean to say…we’ve slept in the same bed…before. But that was when you were injured. I wasn’t hinting at anything…I’m sure I’m not…uh—”

“Relax, Emmy. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Emma should have been relieved. Instead, she felt the injured one now. “I…don’t?”

Bodine shook his head. “You sleep with a man, you’ve got to be willing to pay the consequences.”

Emma bit her bottom lip and couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant.

“’Course, the consequences are entirely pleasant.”

“Pleasant?”
Emma’s heart raced. She stared at his chest, recalling the lean, hard muscles, the power and strength he’d held even in his injured state. To touch that smooth bronzed skin with desire rather than fear for his life, Emma would be willing to pay the consequences for one night with Bodine.

When he peered into her eyes, she wondered if he could see the debate going on in her head and the newfound yearnings she hid deep in her heart.

He grabbed the saddle blanket and then took her hand. “C’mon, Emmy. Let’s go to bed.”

Emma stood by the bed watching Bodine throw three split logs onto the fire. Only sparking flames lit the room, casting him in a golden glow.

“You getting in or what?” he asked, his back to her as he poked at the flames one more time.

“I…suppose so.”

“Well,
suppose
quicker. Take off your clothes and climb in.”

Heart pounding, Emma sat on the bed and removed her shin-high boots. Next came her dress. With trembling fingers, she unfastened the buttons and let the garment slip down. She whisked it up and folded it, the ripped dress nearly as hopeless as her own unguarded feelings. She set the dress onto Big Ed’s night table and tucked herself under the buffalo robe. All that covered her bare body now was a thin cotton chemise.

“I’m in, Bodine,” she said. Then, more bravely, she asked. “Are you coming…to bed?”

“Me?” Bodine’s voice held surprise.

She peered over at him, watching him rise from the hearth and stride toward the bed. He looked down at her and lifted his lips in half a smile. “That an invitation?”

Emma closed her eyes briefly, dying of mortification. Would he make her ask? Would she finally know now what it meant to lie with a man and have him claim her body?

This wasn’t in her plans. She had never figured on Bodine. But he was here. He’d saved her. And she’d saved him. And if given only one chance with a man like Bodine, she simply couldn’t squander it. Not when his touch unnerved her so. Not when his arms around her made her feel like a woman through and through. “W-what if it is?”

Bodine sat down on the bed and removed his boots. “Well, that’d be real nice, Emmy. But what of the consequences?”

Emma kept her voice steadier than her quaking body. “You mean…the
pleasant
ones?”

“No, Emmy. That’s a certainty. I’m meaning the others.”

Through the firelight, his gaze bored into her.

“Oh, um, I’m willing to pay them.”

He considered her for a long moment. Her eyes flickered, unable to completely meet his stare. He leaned down. Emma’s nerves tightened. And when he touched one finger to her lips his eyes never left hers as he drew in a full breath. “And I can’t let you.”

He rose then, grabbing the saddle blanket, and hurled it to within a few feet of the fire. There, he settled down with his shotgun at his side and turned his back on her.

Her only consolation was the look of regret she witnessed in his eyes right before he left her.

The notion would keep her warm throughout the night and chase away the remaining remnants of her humiliation.

Bodine tossed and turned, thrashing at the blanket. “Don’t take Josh! Take me! Damn it…take me. You’ve got the wrong man!” The plea left his lips, waking him from a horrid nightmare that was always the same. Bodine opened his eyes to a reality that wasn’t much better than his dream. Josh was dead, that hadn’t changed. But this reality meant he’d hunt down his brother’s killer or die trying.

Sweat poured from his brow. His heart raced. He found himself on the floor by the fireplace, the embers a dismal glow of light. And then there was a woman, a small delicate girl with dark hair flowing down her back, wearing only white cotton. Her skin glowed softly as she set another log on the fire.

He sat up. “Emmy?”

She turned to him, her eyes big and soulful, welling up with tears. “You had another nightmare, Bodine.”

“They’ll stop once I catch Metcalf.”

“Will they?” She appeared older and wiser now with the doubtful look she sent him. “And what about now? How can you sleep with this…this vengeance eating at you?”

“Sleep isn’t necessary. Capturing Metcalf is.”

“Bodine,” she whispered, and when she spoke his name so gently, he lay back down.

“Go back to bed, Emmy.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, then took up half the blanket and lay beside him.

Bodine couldn’t have her sleep with him, not when he was feeling too much on edge, too dangerous for her own good. “Not here, Emmy. Not next to—”

She put a finger to his lips and began to sing, making him forget the argument he had on the tip of his tongue. Her voice soothed him and the mesmerizing tone had him reaching for her, holding her loosely beside him. She had a voice that could heal, a balm that could ease the anguish in his soul. Bodine listened and closed his eyes, yet he was fully aware of the woman beside him, the state of her undress.

She made him forget about Metcalf and Josh and the revenge he had to carry out. She made his breathing slow to normal and his body calm. But she also made him aware that she was not just a slip of a girl, but a woman whose voice touched him in ways he couldn’t fathom, whose eyes enticed him when he least expected it and whose body, though small and delicate, fit her perfectly.

Heaven help him.
He
wanted to fit her perfectly. He wanted to peer into those expressive eyes, touch her shapely breasts, enter her body and hear that beautiful voice cry out in passion.

Bodine turned onto his side, bracing his hand to his head and, propped up, he continued to listen. Unmindful of the words of the ballad, he heard only the candor in her voice, the honesty with which she sang, the confidence she had when she lifted her voice in melody.