Heart of the Hunter (8 page)

“And?”

“Nothing happened. He just stood there like we were old
friends.” Lee shook his head. “It was the damnedest thing.”

And that wasn’t all of it, Lee thought, bemused. The black
had whickered at him like he was glad to see him.

“Maybe he just got tired of fighting,” Kelly suggested.

“Yeah, maybe, but…”

“But?”

“An outlaw like that doesn’t just give up overnight.”

“It hasn’t been overnight,” Kelly pointed out. “You’ve been
trying to break him for the last two weeks.”

“Yeah,” Lee muttered in agreement, but he didn’t sound
convinced.

“More coffee?”

“Thanks.” Lee watched Kelly cross the room, admiring the way
she filled out her Levi’s, the feminine sway of her hips. For a moment, he
wondered if she’d been riding the black, but quickly dismissed the idea. The
horse would have chewed her up and spit her out.

Kelly refilled Lee’s cup and then her own before she sat
down at the table again.

“So,” Lee said, his hands folded around the mug, “now that
we’ve got two horses, what do you say we take the day off and go for a ride?”

“A ride? Where?”

He shrugged. “Up in the foothills, maybe. Pretty country up
there. Lots to see.”

You don’t know the half of it
, Kelly thought.

“What do you say?” He lifted the cup to his lips and took a
drink, watching her over the rim.

“It’s gonna be hot again today. I’d rather ride along the
creek bed, maybe take a dip.”

A flicker of disappointment shadowed his eyes and then was
gone. “Sounds good.” Rising, he drained his cup. “I’ll saddle the horses.”

“And I’ll pack a lunch. Ham sandwiches okay?”

“Fine.”

Kelly stared after Lee as he picked up his hat and left the
room, shaken by the feeling that he knew about the gold.

She’d have to be careful, she thought, and then wondered if
maybe she should just fire him and be done with it. She considered it for a
moment and then decided that if he was really looking for the gold, she’d be
better off to let him stay where she could keep an eye on him.

An hour later, they were riding side by side along the
narrow creek that flowed down the south side of the mountain and meandered,
snakelike, across the southern portion of the Triple M.

Kelly had ample opportunity to observe Lee, since he had his
hands full keeping the stallion under control. The horse might be saddle-broke,
but he was still green. And young. He shied when a rabbit skittered across
their path, bucked when a jay flew out of a tree, wings flapping loudly.

Kelly shook her head when the stallion bucked again, this
time because he’d seen his shadow. Leaning forward, she patted Dusty on the
neck, grateful she was mounted on a reliable old gelding instead of a
high-spirited young stallion.

Lee was grinning when, a few miles later, he drew rein in
the shade of a cottonwood tree.

“He’s a great horse,” he exclaimed.

Leaning forward, he stroked the black’s neck affectionately,
thinking that maybe he hadn’t made such a bad bargain after all.

Dismounting, he turned to help Kelly from the saddle. It
shouldn’t have meant anything when his hands circled her waist. He was, after
all, only helping her dismount, but she felt the heat of his hands penetrate
her shirt, searing the skin beneath.

He felt it, too. She saw it in the brief flare of surprise
in his eyes, heard it in the catch in his breath.

A muscle worked in his cheek, as if he were keeping himself
in tight control, and then he swung her out of the saddle. Her hands rested on
his shoulders, feeling the play of powerful muscles beneath her fingertips as
he lifted her from Dusty’s back.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, he released her and
took a step backward.

Kelly stared up at him. They weren’t touching anymore, but
she was acutely aware of the male scent of him, of the remembered touch of
rippling muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. His eyes were black.
Dark. Hypnotic. Somehow warning her away even as they burned with unspoken
desire.

She was plagued by a fierce urge to caress his cheek and see
if she could wipe the bitterness from his face; instead, she slipped her hands
into her pockets. But, try as she might, she couldn’t draw her gaze from his.
It was like being caught in a whirlpool, being sucked deeper and deeper in
black water until she was helplessly caught.

“Kelly…” Her name whispered past his lips, a prayer and a
groan combined.

She blinked at him, unable to speak for the fierce pounding
of her heart.

He shook his head, his face twisted with pain. “I don’t want
to hurt you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m no good, Kelly. Tell me to go, now, before it’s too
late for both of us.”

“It’s already too late.”

She spoke without thinking and knew that no truer words had
ever been spoken. Right or wrong, she was drawn to this man in ways she could
not fathom or explain.

Lee shook his head in denial. He didn’t want to care for
her. He couldn’t care for her. She was a white woman, his enemy. He had come
here to steal from her, to take what was rightfully his, not to become
infatuated with sky-blue eyes and pretty pink lips.

He swore under his breath as he read the wanting in those
same blue eyes. How could he steal from this woman? She was so innocent, so
trusting. And yet that gold was his. His grandfather’s grandfather had been
killed on the mountain that rose behind Kelly’s house, killed by a pair of greedy
white men…

Lee frowned as a distant memory niggled at the corner of his
mind. McBride…

“You don’t happen to have an ancestor named Charlie McBride,
do you?” he asked.

Kelly nodded, wondering at his sudden change of topic. “I
saw his name on a genealogy sheet once. He was born back in 1854 or 1855, as I
recall. Why?”

Lee shook his head. Charlie McBride had been one of the
white men responsible for the death of his grandfather’s grandfather, Blue
Crow.

He felt a rush of adrenaline. He was on the right track. The
gold was here, in the mountains, as his great-grandfather had told him so many
years ago.

“Lee, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He tried to ignore the hurt, the confusion, in her eyes. In
the old days, she would have been his enemy. He would have thrown her across
his horse and carried her off into the mountains. He would have made her his
woman, willing or not. He would have buried himself in her pale flesh and
exorcised the demons that haunted him.

He felt his blood heat at the mere thought of possessing her.
For a moment, he was tempted to forget everything…the silent festering wound
that Melinda’s betrayal had left in his soul, his determination to have the
gold, to forget everything but the woman standing before him.

He glanced at the black stallion. It would be so easy to
grab Kelly, throw her on his horse and run like the devil. But where would they
go? In the old days, they could have lived off the land. He could have taken
her far away, hidden her, kept her until he tired of her. But not now. Sooner or
later they’d find him and he’d be back in jail, or dead.

A twinge of unease made Kelly take a step backward. A moment
ago she had thought Lee was going to kiss her. Now he looked as if he were
contemplating what it would be like to slit her throat, or worse. Unwanted came
the memory that he had been accused of rape.

“Maybe we should go home,” she suggested.

“No. Come on, let’s take a walk.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Side by side, they walked along the winding creek. Willows
and cottonwoods grew in scattered clumps. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze.
Birds flitted from branch to branch, or dusted themselves in the sandy soil
along the creek bank.

Once, Kelly’s hand brushed Lee’s. It was as if a spark of
electricity arced between them. When it happened again, she came to an abrupt
halt.

Lee…

He didn’t say anything, only drew her into his arms and
kissed her. His lips were firm and warm, asking but not demanding, entreating,
hopeful. Of their own accord, her arms twined around his neck and she pressed
against him, hoping to ease the ache that was spreading through her, an ache
made stronger by the probing fire of his tongue.

The strength seemed to be draining from her legs. She was
aware of Lee’s arms around her, slowly pulling her down until they were
kneeling on the grass.

“Kelly…” He groaned softly. “Kelly, tell me to stop.”

“I can’t.”

She leaned toward him, her breasts pressing against his
chest as her lips sought his again.

His hands slid down her back, drawing her hips to his.
Kelly’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the evidence of his desire. Her
head fell back, giving Lee access to her neck, and she shuddered with pleasure
as she felt his mouth glide over the sensitive skin of her neck, behind her
ear, at the pulse point in the hollow of her neck. She was tingling with
delight, burning with need, as her restless hands explored his arms, his
shoulders, his back. She pressed her hand to his chest and felt the rapid
beating of his heart.

She’d never felt like this before. It was frightening,
exhilarating.

He fell back on the grass and drew her down on top of him,
his mouth covering hers. She felt the rumble of a groan in his chest and
wondered if he was experiencing the same exquisite pain she was.

She wanted him, wanted him in a way she’d never wanted any
other man. Wanted him in the most elemental, primal way that a woman could want
a man. But, more than that, she wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to make a
home for him…

She drew back so she could see his face, not knowing that
her thoughts were as transparent as a pane of new glass.

With an oath, Lee sat up and then stood up, carrying Kelly
with him. Gently, but deliberately, he put her feet on the ground, removed her
arms from his neck.

“We’d better head back, Miss McBride,” he said, his voice as
hard and cold as winter ice, “before one of us gets into trouble.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and
started walking back to where they had left the horses. How easily she broke
through his resolve! How quickly she made him forget Melinda and all that
happened afterward.

He shook his head ruefully. Some men had a weakness for
firewater. He seemed to have an incurable weakness for women who were sure to
cause him nothing but trouble.

Swinging into the saddle, he renewed his determination to
find the gold and get the hell out of Cedar Flats.

Chapter Eleven

The man seated behind the desk drummed his fingers
impatiently. “Well, Trask, what have you learned?”

“Nothing, boss. Roan Horse spends all his time working
around the ranch, patching up the roof and fixin’ the corrals. When he’s not
fixin’ the place up, he’s working with a black devil horse. If he’s searching
for the gold, he’s doing it at night when we can’t see him.”

“And the woman?”

Trask’s companion shook his head. “She rarely leaves the
house. They went on a picnic.” He shrugged. “Maybe all that talk about Indian
gold is just that, talk.”

“When I want your opinion, Bradford, I’ll ask for it. In the
meantime, I’m paying you two for information.”

“Yessir.”

“Next time I see you, you’d better have news. I’m getting
damned tired of all this waiting around.”

“Maybe we can stir something up,” Trask mused.

“Do that. Now, go on, get out of here. And don’t let anyone
see you leave.”

Chapter Twelve

Kelly stood at the kitchen window watching Lee put the last
coat of paint on the barn. Two days had passed since their ill-fated ride. Two
tension-filled days. Lee had avoided her except at mealtimes and then he had
been sullen and withdrawn.

She’d been tempted to take her meals in her bedroom, but had
refused to let him chase her out of her own kitchen. If he didn’t like her
company, he could take his meals in the barn!

Dragging her gaze from his sweat-sheened back and quietly
cursing the fact that he rarely wore a shirt when he worked, she studied the
barn. He’d done a good job, she couldn’t fault him there. The freshly painted
white trim made a vivid contrast to the dark brick-red paint. As soon as he
finished the doors, the barn would be done and he’d start on the house.

Kelly wrapped her arms around her waist. She should let him
go, she thought. He had warned her that there were wild animals prowling around
and that they weren’t all four-footed. She wondered suddenly if he’d been
warning her against himself.

She had no doubt that Lee Roan Horse could be a dangerous
man. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to steal her heart.

At five, he opened the back door and informed her that he
was going into town.

Startled, Kelly had no time to do more than nod before he
was gone.

The rest of the day seemed like a week. She hadn’t realized
how accustomed she’d become to Lee’s company, how often she’d looked out the
window to see what he was doing, until he wasn’t around.

At loose ends, she wandered through the house, seeing things
she hadn’t really paid attention to before, like the old photograph of her
grandparents in the spare bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she studied the couple in
the picture. Her grandfather was sitting in a straight-backed chair, his
expression solemn, a black bowler hat balanced on his knee, but it was her
grandmother’s image that drew Kelly’s eye. Annee McBride stood slightly behind
her husband, one hand on his shoulder.

Kelly stared at the photo, wondering why people in old
photographs never smiled. Had life in the old days been that hard, or was it
simply “not done”? What had it been like, living back then, when women were
considered nothing more than property, like a man’s horse, when they couldn’t
vote or wear pants or do any number of things that women did today?