Deborah Camp (42 page)

“I’m fine,” she said, patting his back consolingly. “Duncan was just here.”

“What?” Theo swayed backward to look her in the face. “He had the audacity to come here?”

“Yes. He acted as sinless as an archangel. Grandy chased him off at gunpoint.”

“Good for him!” Theo’s smile was brief when he noticed there was no joy in it for Zanna. “What’s wrong? What’s troubling you?”

“The same old thing. Duncan.” She shrugged off Theo’s hands and moved a little ways from him. “I’m afraid he’ll destroy the one thing I have left.”

“The land, you mean?”

“No. I mean Grandy. He’s agreed to stay with me for the time being, but I’m afraid he’ll push Duncan too far and Duncan will kill him.” Emotion choked her and she had to take a couple of deep breaths to open up her throat and relieve the stinging in her nose and eyes. “I couldn’t bear that, Theo.” She looked at him, needing his compassionate understanding. “I love him. You know that.”

“Yes, dear, I know.” He moved into the shadows where she stood and took her in his arms. “But Adams is a man of resources. He can take care of himself.”

“Not against Duncan. He thinks Duncan is just a man, but you and I know he’s more than that. He has the heart of a devil.”

“Zanna, Duncan
is
just a man. An evil man, yes, but a man nonetheless. I believe Adams can handle him.”

“I don’t. Grandy doesn’t understand the depth of Duncan’s evilness. I’m terrified that he’ll underestimate Duncan and end up …” She shuddered and Theo’s arms
tightened around her. “Duncan burned the house down. You know it was he.”

“Yes. I know.”

“It’s a miracle that Grandy and I weren’t destroyed with it. We were trapped. Grandy opened a window and got us out just in time.”

“Zanna, let’s sit down. I want to talk to you about something.” He led her to low bench and sat down beside her. “My sister’s husband is quite ill.”

“Oh, no.” Zanna squeezed his hands. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know exactly, but there seems to be no cure. He can’t keep anything down and he spits up blood. He’s very weak and the doctor gives him little hope. My sister has three little ones, you know. Two boys and a baby girl.”

“How will she manage if he dies?”

“That’s what I want to speak to you about. I’m certain her husband will be dead and buried by fall.” He shrugged. “Probably long before that. He looks to have only a week or so left. I’ve told my sister that I’ll move to Dallas and live with her as long as she wants. I’ll relocate my practice and help support her and the children. I’m going to start making arrangements immediately.”

“You’re … moving,” Zanna said, nodding that she understood but feeling empty inside. “Of course, you must. Your sister needs you. You’re such a good man, Theodore.”

“I don’t mind going except that I’ll be leaving you. Zanna, for the last time, won’t you come with me? If you don’t see a certain future with Adams, then divorce him and marry me. I’ll find a house in Dallas near my sister’s place and we’ll all be fine. I’m a good provider.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.” She squeezed his hands again. “But you do what you must. I’ll visit you in Dallas and you’ll always be welcome here.” She looked around at the stables. “I hope to build another house someday.”

“If Adams leaves you, then you must promise me that
you’ll move to Dallas. I couldn’t stand thinking of you out here all alone—Duncan’s victim.”

“I won’t become anyone’s victim, Theo. I promise you that.” She smiled sadly. “But I hate to hear of your sister’s problems. Is there anything I can do for her? What if I butcher one of the steers and send her some meat?”

“That’s kind of you, but she’s being looked after. She has friends and in-laws. And she has me. You’re the one who seems to be alone.”

“I’m not, Theo. I have my ranch hands.”

“They’ve never been there for you, Zanna.”

“But they seem to be standing beside me now. And I have Grandy.” She looked toward the open stable doors and sighed. “I just pray that Duncan doesn’t take him from me, too.”

“He won’t,” Theo said. “I promise.”

The bunkhouse was male territory and Zanna felt completely out of her element in it. But it had a roof and plenty of beds, so she made do.

Browsing among the cots, she learned more about the men on her ranch. Lefty’s bunk was surrounded by boots because he had a knack for repairing them. Packsaddle Bill was a checker champion and a checkerboard was always set up at the foot of his bunk. Donny whittled and his handiwork was all over the bunkhouse—wooden deer, horses, dogs, and birds. He gave Zanna a dog and bird and promised to carve a horse for her. Jack, the blacksmith, collected knives and owned more than fifty in all shapes and sizes. Butch, the cook, decorated the wall behind his bunk with pictures of women, all lush-lipped and well-endowed. He tore down a couple of the more suggestive ones when Zanna spotted them upon her arrival. A guitar and a banjo leaned against the wall beside Perkins’s bunk, evidence of his musical talents.

The stack of books beside Charlie’s bunk came as a complete surprise to Zanna. He urged her to borrow any
she wanted, so she delighted in choosing
Wuthering Heights
. It amused her to think of gruff, swollen-bellied Charlie reading such romantic tales, but she was glad of it since the reading helped her while away the evening hours when the men sat around the table for some serious poker playing.

While the bunkhouse was foreign territory to Zanna, it was Grandy’s kingdom lost, kingdom found. He held court at the round table, clearly the crown prince of poker.

He sat with elbows propped on the chair arms, leaning back in negligent superiority, one eyebrow cocked in a pleased expression that never altered, whether he had a winning hand or not. Zanna was transfixed when he was the dealer because magic seemed to spark from his fingertips. His hands moved with such grace and speed that it boggled the mind and delighted the eye. The way he shuffled the deck was a sight to behold. The cards fluttered and snapped into place, one on top of the other in neat order. Grandy could play them like an accordion, letting them string from one palm all the way down to the other. With the merest flick of two fingers, he sent cards sailing across the table to stop just short of the edge, directly in front of the intended player.

His own cards he held in the shape of a fan in one long-fingered hand, but he looked at them once and then folded the fan and set it facedown on the table, never to be consulted again until a card needed to be discarded from it or added to it.

He didn’t win every game, but he lost only enough to keep hope in the other players’ hearts. Five of a kind, royal flush, straight flush, or full house were his usual fare. The other players moaned, but congratulated him with grudging respect. After all, when in the presence of a prince, one had to bow down or be damned.

Peeking over the top of
Wuthering Heights
, Zanna watched the games from time to time, secretly thrilled by Grandy’s expertise. When Charlie and Donny said they’d
have to call it quits because they were tapped out, Grandy smiled and waved aside their bad luck.

“Nonsense, men. This is a friendly game, isn’t it?” He looked at the coins piled in the middle and stacked at his elbow. “Let’s play for matchsticks. Hell, this is just to take our minds off our problems. Nobody’s here to get rich.” He picked up a stack of coins and dropped it between Charlie and Donny. “There. Don’t spend it on women unless it’s to buy them perfume and candy.”

The men laughed. The game commenced again with less stress and more laughter all around. Zanna hid her pleased smile behind the book. So proud of him she was ready to burst, she put the book aside and left the bunkhouse for a look at the starry night. Puffs of gray clouds raced across the sky, caressing stars and stroking a sliver of white moon.

She walked until she could see the cotton field, a blanket of white against the dark night. Grandy was anxious to pick the cotton, grumbling that there was so much to do and that everything needed to be done at once. She smiled, remembering when every chore brought a scowl and growl from him. His feelings for this life had changed, she knew, but she also knew he looked as happy as a cat when dealing cards. After the cotton was picked and life settled again into a comfortable rut, would he still be satisfied on Primrose, or would his memories of the riverboats and gambling halls grow stronger and sweeter?

If she were a betting woman, she’d bet he wouldn’t last another six months.

The flare of a match spun her around. Amber light illuminated Grandy’s face as he waved the match out and cast it aside. White smoke curled from the cigarette as he exhaled and came closer to her.

“Is your poker game already over?”

“No, we’re taking a break. Stretching our legs and answering nature’s call.”

“I see.” She nodded toward the field. “Doesn’t the
cotton look pretty against the dark horizon? Like a gathering of ghosts.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured, coming up behind her and enveloping her in his embrace. The smoke from his cigarette, dangling between two fingers, wafted up and made her cough. He tossed it aside and bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. “Doc Pepperidge was right. You
are
a survivor. Your house burns down and what do you do? You come outside to admire the cotton field.”

“Life must go on,” she said, sighing expansively. “But I miss my things. I feel as if I have no past now … no tangible objects from which to draw memories. No photos. No trinkets. No sentimental treasures.”

“Maybe it’s good that you’re being forced to start over—from scratch.”

“Maybe.” She turned around in his arms. “I’ve always fancied what you must have looked liked as a riverboat gambler and I was given a glimpse of the real thing tonight. Oh, how dashing! There must be a string of beautiful women all along the river who speak longingly of Grandville Quincy Adams.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Your imagination flatters me.”

“You miss it, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Your life! The gambling, the women, the river. You must miss it horribly.”

“Not really.”

She examined his serene expression, but sensed something more powerful beneath it. His words had disguised the real truth, she thought.

“I’m going into town tomorrow for lumber. We’re going to build you another house.” He dipped his head and lowered his brows in a sudden frown. “I can’t have you sleeping with all these men. It’s indecent!”

“Yes, I must guard my reputation now that it’s been righted.” She smiled when he shook his head in confusion.
“When your sentence was revoked and you were no longer a hanging husband, I became a solid citizen again.”

“That’s right, I reckon.” He shrugged, obviously finding it unimportant. “About the house … how many rooms do you want? What about the henhouse?”

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she admitted, moving away from him to where she could see the charred columns of brick chimneys. “I liked the covered walkway to the henhouse. As for rooms … maybe three bedrooms this time.” An inner voice called her a foolish, wishful woman and she gave in. “No. How silly. What will I need with so many bedrooms? One will do.”

“Are you feeling sorry for yourself, lady?”

“No.” She tipped up her chin before facing him again. “I’m merely being realistic.”

He chucked her playfully under the chin. “I use to hate the way you jerked up your chin, but now I think it’s the cutest thing about you.”

She smiled, finding it difficult to be realistic or solemn when he was in such a charming mood.

“Three bedrooms,” he said. “I think you’ll need them. A larger front room, too, and a big old kitchen now that your cooking is legendary.”

“Oh, how you go on,” she scoffed, flapping a hand at him which he grabbed and brought to his lips. “Grandville …” She sighed again, melting under his touch. “I worry so about you.”

“Worry? About me? Why?”

“Because I fear you’ve underestimated Duncan. He’s not so easily discouraged. He ran today, but that’s only because he was outnumbered. He’s the sort of man who’ll pick his time and strike when you least expect it.”

“I know. I remember the fire in the field, the stampede, and the house fire.”

“But today when you shot at him …”

“You don’t think he deserved that?”

“Of course. He deserved to be blasted out of the saddle.
I’m just saying he’ll not forget that. I’m sure he’s made a vow to himself to kill you.”

“Let him try.”

“No!” She grabbed handfuls of his shirtfront and shook him. “Don’t make such brash challenges, Grandy!
That’s
what worries me. As much as I’d like to think of you as invincible, you’re not.”

“And I’m not helpless,” he reminded her gently, covering her fists with his slightly callused hands. “Duncan has set his last fire, honey. I’m not going to look for trouble, but I’m not going to hide from him either. I swear, Zanna, the next time he rides onto this property, I’m going to shoot him. He’s been warned.”

“Grandy, if you do that, you’ll end up in jail.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think the men here will testify that I was in my rights. Haven’t you noticed, Zanna? Your hired hands are not just working here anymore. They live here. This is their home and they’re sworn to defend it and you.”

She looked toward the bunkhouse door as his meaning dawned on her. “They have acted different lately …”

“The days of being deaf, dumb, and blind are over, Zanna.”

“And Doc Pepperidge apologized for ignoring my troubles while I was married to Fayne.” She tapped her fists lightly against his chest. “But I decided that his apology was your doing. Can I assume that the ranch hands’ change of heart can also be linked to you?”

He shrugged, noncommittal.

“Grandy, you’ve been so good to me,” she said, rising up on tiptoe to kiss the scar on his chin. “And I’ve been horrible to you.”

“How’s that?”

“You know …” She fingered the buttons on his shirt. “I didn’t tell you about your sentence being overturned. I can never forgive myself for that.”

“Forgive yourself,” he said. “I have.”