Sweetwater Seduction (35 page)

One thing led to another and pretty soon she had his shirt open and was sucking on one of his nipples. It was his own groan of pleasure that brought him back to his senses. He stood up and she fell off his lap and the only reason she didn't end up on the floor was because she had a good grip on his hair.

“Ouch!”

She let go, but by now she was getting mad. “What's wrong with you?” she demanded, the shape of her mouth, her eyes, even her eyebrows all announcing her confusion.

“Noth—”

“Don't tell me nothing, Felton Reeves. Because something sure as hell is the matter with you tonight! Now spit it out.”

He forked his fingers through his tousled hair and said, “I gotta talk to you.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “So talk.”

“Maybe you better sit down,” he said.

“Get on with it!”

“I've been courting a woman in Sweetwater and I'm going to marry her,” Felton blurted.

Darcie turned completely white, and he really thought for a moment she was going to faint. He got her to sit down on the bed and pushed her head down between her knees. “Take a deep breath,” he said

She fought the hand he was using to hold her head down, and when he let go and she came up, he wasn't sure whether it was all that blood that had rushed down into her head or just plain fury that had her so red in the face. That wasn't so bad. What really worried him was that her eyes were kind of watery, and she had her jaw clamped tight, like maybe she was trying not to cry. He didn't know what he was going to do if she cried.

“Do you love her?”

That question surprised Felton, and before he could think of the right answer under the circumstances he said, “Of course not!”

“Then why are you marryin' her?”

That question put him in deep trouble. But he figured after everything he had been through with Darcie he owed her an honest answer. “Because I'm starting a new kind of life in Sweetwater, and I want a respectable wife to help me fit in.”

“Did you ever think maybe I hoped someday to start over too?”

He shrugged. “I never thought about it much.” And that was the truth. But maybe he should have. “You can still do it,” he said.

“Not without you,” she said flatly. Then she sighed and slumped onto the foot of the bed. “I guess I was just kiddin' myself.” She looked up into his eyes and he felt his stomach sink clear to his knees. “I was hopin' . . . I kept thinkin' all this time . . . that you were puttin' that money away for us . . . that you were plannin' to take me away from all this. . . .” She gestured around the too-littered room, with fingers wearing too many rings. “That was pretty stupid, huh?”

She rose and walked over to the dressing table, sat down in front of the mirror, and began to take out the pins that held her coal-black hair in a mass of too many curls. “I want to be respectable too,” she said. “I was hopin' that in Sweetwater, with us legally married and all, I could start over and be somethin' . . . I don't know . . . maybe better than what I am.”

She turned and tried to catch his eyes again, but he kept them on the floor. “I know how you feel about this place, about how I dress and such like, and I made up my mind that when you proposed and I had that new chance, I'd change. I'd be more . . . better . . . than I am now. But I see that was just some fairy tale I was makin' up for myself.”

She smiled faintly. “I can't hardly blame you for grabbin' at a chance for what I've always wanted myself, can I? But I think you better leave now, Felton. And I don't think you better come back here anymore.”

“Darcie, I—”

“Unless you're goin' to tell me you've changed your mind, I don't want to hear it,” she said in a voice that waver

He grabbed his hat, buttoned his shirt, and stomped his feet down into his boots, not stopping until he had the door open and was halfway out. The hell of it was, after hearing what she had to say, he was damn close to saying he
had
changed his mind. But out of the corner of his eye he saw a garish stack of ostrich-feather headdresses that no decent lady would be seen dead wearing. If he took Darcie with him, it would mean bringing the past along. He wanted a clean break. A new life. She had said she didn't blame him. And he would have to be satisfied with that.

“Good-bye, Darcie.”

“Good-bye, Felton,” she said. “I hope you have a grand new life.”

As Felton rode west toward Sweetwater he had a lot on his mind. He had done what he had set out to do. With Kerrigan so suspicious of how he made his money, it was best he put Darcie Morton behind him. He supposed it was excitement over his “grand new life” that had him feeling so sick to his stomach. He had no explanation at all for the lump that stayed in his throat the whole damn way home.

Chapter 15

A man's eyes will tell you what
his mouth is a'feared to say.

K
ERRIGAN FACED THE ROOMFUL OF RANCHERS IN
O
AK
Westbrook's study and admitted, “I don't have proof that'll stand up in court, but I have a pretty good idea who's stealing your cattle.”

“Is it nesters?” Oak demanded.

Kerrigan took off his hat and rolled the brim in his hands. His lips twisted wryly. “Well, yes and no.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“Not the one you wanted, I'm sure,” Kerrigan said. “But that's all I'm willing to say right now, except you won't be losing any more steers.”

“Give us some names and we'll go string up the varmints,” one of the ranchers said.

“When I have the proof I need, I'll bring them in and turn them over to the law,” Kerrigan said.

“Sheeeit,” Cyrus muttered. “What do we do now? I can't stand any more waiting. My wife is driving me nuts!” He scratched the bald spot on top of his head. “I don't like bringing this up, but I gotta ask, Kerrigan. You had any luck seducing that Miss Devlin?”

Kerrigan was struck dumb for a moment. If he said the word, he would have his thousand dollars and the ranchers would very likely have the lever they needed to end the sexual boycott Miss Devlin had instigated. But he found even the mention of Eden's name in such a conte distasteful that it was all he could do not to grab Cyrus by the throat and throttle him.

There was no way Kerrigan could voice his change of heart about seducing Miss Devlin without the need for explanations he would rather not make right now. And it could do Eden no good for him to lose his temper with Cyrus. When he opened his mouth, all that came out was a curt, “I'm making some progress.”

“You got a
pretty good idea
who the rustlers are,” Cyrus mimicked. “And you're
makin' some progress
with Miss Devlin. But that don't solve my problem. I want my wife back
now
!”

“I have a suggestion about that,” Kerrigan said.

Suddenly he had the full attention of every man in the room.

“Oh, yeah?” Cyrus asked suspiciously. “This better not be some
maybe it'll work
kind of idea, Kerrigan, because this is one time when all I want to see is
results
.”

“You'll get them,” Kerrigan promised. “But it means talking with the nesters.”

In an instant Oak was on his feet and nose to nose with the gunslinger. “What the hell is this all about? If we'd wanted to talk to those no-good, sodbusting yokels we could've done it six months ago. We're paying you good money to—”

“You're paying me to make sure you don't lose any more cattle,” Kerrigan said in a dangerously quiet voice. “And I'm doing my job. But you have some other matters that need to get settled. As I understand it, the nesters have claimed all along that they weren't the ones rustling your cattle. They were telling the truth.” He paused to let that sink in and continued, “Did you ever stop to wonder who might be ruining the nesters' crops and cutting their fences if you weren't doing it? Or why?”

Kerrigan let them stew on that for a while.

“I suppose you have an idea who the culprits might be,” Oak said.

“The same gang who's responsible for the rustling,” Kerrigan answered promptly.

“That don't make no sense,” one of the ranchers said.

“Sure it does,” Kerrigan contradicted. “When did the nesters first start fencing off water?”

“Must've been about nine months ago, in the spring,” Oak figured.

“What reason did they give?” Kerrigan queried.

“They claimed they were retaliating for us cutting their fences and running our cattle on their land,” Oak said, a note of wonder in his voice as he realized what he was saying.

“And when did the rustling start?” Kerrigan asked, once again tracing the history of unrest in Sweetwater.

“Right after that, I guess.”

“You all say you didn't cut any fences, or burn any homes. They all claim they didn't rustle any cattle, or shoot your son. And it seems nobody on either side killed Pete Eustes. So that leaves some third party doing all kinds of mischief,” Kerrigan concluded. “And keeping both sides suspicious of each other so no questions get asked or answered.”

“I'll be damned,” Oak said, slumping back into his desk chair. “I'll be damned.”

“I still don't understand your point,” Cyrus said. “What has all this got to do with getting my wife back?”

“What I'm saying is that somebody has been playing you ranchers and nesters against one another like a fiddle and getting away with it. Maybe if you got together, you could talk out some of your differences. Once you aren't at each other's throats your wives will have the peace they want. And you'll have your wives back.”

“That still leaves us with rustled cattle,” Oak pointed out.

“You probably won't get back what you've lost,” Kerrigan said. “Chances are the cattle have been sold and the money spent. But if any cash is still around, if it can be recovered, I'll get it back for you. That's what you hired me to do. As for getting the nesters to take down those fences around the water holes, seems to me that could be negotiated between you and them. After all, until nine months ago everything was working out all right.”

“Does this mean you aren't going to seduce Miss Devlin?” Cyrus asked.

Kerrigan was upset that the subject had come up again, but managed to answer in an even voice, “If your negotiations with the nesters turn out successfully, it won't be necessary.”

“How soon do you think you can set up a meeting?” Oak asked.

“To tell you the truth, I've already spoken to Big Ben Davis. How does a week from today sound?”

“Sheeeit!” Cyrus shouted. “That sounds just fine!”

Miss Devlin could hardly believe what her pupils had told her Monday morning. The Association's hired gunslinger had arranged a meeting between all their fathers to be held at the town meetinghouse. It was exactly what Miss Devlin had hoped for—a chance for a peaceful solution to the trouble in Sweetwater. But she wanted a little more insurance that the meeting wouldn't turn into a brawl than Kerrigan's claim that he would keep the peace.

She had sent each pupil homea note suggesting that the wives of the ranchers and nesters accompany their husbands to the meeting, and if the negotiations were successful, that they celebrate with a party and dance. That way the meeting would provide an opportunity for reconciliations not only between ranchers and nesters, but between husbands and wives.

Eden expected Kerrigan to object to her initiative, so she wasn't surprised by the knock on her front door. But it was Sheriff Reeves who stood there with a light dusting of snowflakes on his hat and coat, waiting to be invited inside.

Miss Devlin smiled a welcome. “Hello, Felton. Please come in. Have you heard the good news?”

As she helped him off with his coat he said, “I heard there's going to be a big town meeting next week. But whether it'll be the answer to everyone's prayers—I have my doubts.”

“Don't be such a pessimist,” Miss Devlin admonished, then instructed, “That's a person who always looks at the dark side of—”

“I didn't come here for a school lesson, Miss Devlin.”

“Of course not. Well, I have every confidence that the meeting will—”

“That ain't—isn't—why I come—came,” Felton said, running a finger around the buttoned neck of his striped shirt, which had gotten tight all of a sudden.

“Oh.” Miss Devlin settled herself on the sofa beside the sheriff.

Felton nervously shifted away from her, putting as much distance as possible between them. “Miss Devlin . . .”

Eden examined Felton's agonized expression. “Whatever it is, Felton, it can't be that bad, can it?” she asked with a whimsical smile.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his reservations. He thrust a ring box in her lap and said, “Miss Devlin, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Miss Devlin stared at the ring box with eyes that soon glazed over. Here in her lap was a wish come true. She should have been overjoyed. So why did she feel sick instead?

You have to tell him about Kerrigan.

Eden had forbidden herself to think about what else she was giving up when she offered her virtue to the gunslinger, because she had never expected it to matter. She had never really expected to get this proposal. Now that she had it, Eden wasn't entirely sure she wanted it. Which was a good thing, because she couldn't accept Felton's proposal without confessing that he wasn't getting the prim and proper spinster lady he had been led to expect.

Tell him about Kerrigan.

It occurred to her that she should at least pick box and look inside. When she opened it, she saw a tiny diamond in an elaborate, ostentatious gold setting. “Why, it's . . .” She forced herself to finish, “. . . lovely, Felton. Thank you.”

She glanced up at him, and there was such a miserable look on his face that she was taken aback. If he wasn't happy about marrying her, why had he asked? Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “Why do you want to marry me, Felton?”

“Why?” His wide blue eyes filled with panic before his gaze shifted away. He had been thinking a lot about what Darcie had said, and it worried him how close he had come to changing his mind about marrying Miss Devlin. He had decided the best thing to do was to get himself committed, and that way he couldn't back out. Here he was, giving her a ring and having a devil of a time explaining why he wanted to marry her.

“I want to marry you because I think you'll make a good wife, Miss Devlin, and a good mother for my children,” he said at last. Of course he had said
good,
but he meant
respectable
. Which Darcie wasn't. Which was why he was marrying Miss Devlin instead of the woman he loved.

Eden was afraid to ask Felton whether he loved her, because she was afraid he would admit he didn't. What if he asked her if she loved him? What right did she have to judge his motives for marriage, when hers weren't so lily white. “And I'm sure you'll make a good husband, Felton,” she murmured, returning the compliment. “And a good father.”

“Does that mean you're saying yes?”

His eyes were bleak but determined, and she couldn't look at them without feeling distraught. Even if Kerrigan finally offered marriage, it would be a mistake to accept him. He was like Sundance, the kind of man people called in when they needed help and then couldn't wait to see the back of when their killing had been done for them. She could never be happy living like that again.

Eden stiffened. Until this moment, when she had to make a choice, she had been able to hide from the awful truth. Now it reached out to grab her with a force that left her reeling.

I love Burke Kerrigan.

She loved a man just like her father. Deeply. With her whole heart and soul. Loved him so much that if anything ever happened to him, it would destroy her. The way Sundance's death had destroyed her mother. She simply could not afford to repeat her mother's mistake.

Eden stared at Felton's ring in its red velvet setting. She would never experience the ecstasy of loving with Felton. But she would never experience the agony of losing him, either. And if she was determined not to marry Kerrigan, this was her chance to have the things she had always wanted: a stable home and a husband and children. Eden couldn't throw that chance away just because she didn't like the looks of the ring her future husband had chosen . . . or the expression in his eyes when he had proposed . . . or because she was no longer coming to him untouche