Untethered (37 page)

“Who?” Heath asked.

“Oh, nobody,” Cricket sighed. As she gazed up into Heath’s handsome face, she felt like snow that had lingered too long in spring—felt as though every little fragment of her was melting into a warm, delirious puddle.

Heath’s grin widened as he studied her from head to toe a moment—from windblown hair to bare feet. Only then did Cricket remember just how tousled and unpolished she must look.

Self-consciously she ran her hand through her hair. “I must look a sight,” she mumbled, glancing down at her bare feet and ankles and wincing with humiliation.

“Indeed you do, Magnolia,” Heath chuckled. “Quite a sight,” he added as he unexpectedly slipped his hands under her arms, pushing her back against the wall of Mrs. Maloney’s house. “Just like a ripe sweet cherry…tempting and ready for pickin’,” he mumbled as he pressed his mouth to hers in a moist, wanting kiss.

Cricket felt her boots slip from her hand as she met his kiss with pure as much wanting as with which it was applied. Her arms rested on his shoulders as her hands found the softness of his hair, knocking his hat from his head to tumble to the ground and join her discarded boots.

Heath crushed his mouth to hers, sending every sense she owned whirling into blissful oblivion. Yet she owned one final thought that was not of him and his hot, moist, impassioned kiss—and she breathed, “Heath…it’s still daytime…and very light outside.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he said as he placed a soft, wet kiss to her neck just below her ear.

“But wh-what if someone happens by and—” she whispered.

“Quit talkin’, woman, and kiss me,” he playfully growled as his mouth returned to hers, raining such a rapturous passion over her that all thoughts of anything but him were banished from her bliss-filled body, mind, and heart.

Heath knew now there was no resisting this girl—especially when she appeared in any way more vulnerable and inviting than she usually did. When he’d come upon her barefoot and windblown outside of Maymee Maloney’s house, every ounce of self-restraint he’d owned the moment before had vanished. Well, almost every ounce of self-restraint.

Magnolia
Cranford
was like some peddler’s tonic claiming to cure all ills. Only his sweet little blossom-bottomed lover wasn’t a bottle of mixed watered-down whiskey and rosewater perfume. Cricket really did cure all ills—all Heath’s ills anyway.

He deepened their kiss, an unquenchable thirst for her nearly overtaking him. He could never kiss his fill of her—never satisfy the need to have her soft, curvaceous form against his. She smelled of flowers and grass—and fresh sheets on a summer bed.

“Heathro
Baptis
t
e
Thibodaux
!”

Maymee Maloney’s scolding and very maternal exclamation startled Heath enough that he stepped back from Cricket.

“You drag that girl in here if you plan on makin’ love to her like that in broad daylight!” Mrs. Maloney ordered. “What’re you tryin’ to do? Start a scandal? For pity’s sake, boy! Seek out some privacy next time.”

Heath laughed, “Yes, ma’am,” as he swooped Cricket into his arms and hurried up the back porch steps into Mrs. Maloney’s house.

Dropping Cricket’s feet to the floor just inside Maymee’s kitchen, Heath smiled and winced when the old woman firmly slapped him on the seat of his pants and said, “Use your brain next time, honey.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, gathering Cricket into his arms and against his body, however.

Cricket was blushing. She knew she was because she could feel the heat on her cheeks. Yet Mrs. Maloney was someone she could trust—someone Heath could trust—and she began to fight her bashfulness.

“Now I’m givin’ you children ten minutes alone in my kitchen,” Mrs. Maloney said, resting one hand on her hip and wagging an index finger with the other. “Ten minutes and not a second more.” Turning toward the parlor, she left them then, calling, “Ten minutes, Heathro! That’s all you have, so do your best with the time given you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Heath mumbled as he gazed into Cricket’s eyes—his own blue eyes smoldering with desire.

“What do you mean pouncin’ on me like that?” Cricket giggled as she allowed her arms to slip over his broad shoulders. “You about scared me to death.”

“Well, sorry about that, sugar,” he said, still grinning at her. “Here…let me offer my sincerest apologies, Miss Blossom Bottom.”

Cricket giggled as Heath’s lips toyed with hers a moment. He kissed her lightly over and over again, and she knew he was teasing her.

“I’m still waitin’,” she whispered as he paused, simply staring at her.

“For what?” he asked.

“That apology you promised to offer,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, that,” he mumbled as his mouth claimed hers at last.

And claim her mouth he did—over and over and over—until all too soon Mrs. Maloney simply walked back into the kitchen, taking an apron down from the apron hook on the wall and saying, “All right. Ten minutes to the tick.” She looked at Cricket and winked. Then, turning her attention to Heath, she said, “Now Magnolia has jam to put up with
Ada
, and you’re supposed to be fixin’ that stall door in my barn, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Heath said, releasing Cricket. Instantly she felt cold and disappointed.

“Run along, Magnolia,” Mrs. Maloney encouraged. “You don’t want
Ada
to think you’re holed up somewhere with Heath here havin’ his way with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cricket giggled. Quickly she raised herself on the tips of her toes and stole one last kiss from Heath. “Thank you,” she told Mrs. Maloney, kissing her affectionately on one cheek before she raced out the kitchen door, retrieved her shoes and stockings, and hurried home.

Maymee arched one eyebrow as she studied Heath. She couldn’t suppress a knowing grin, and Heath asked, “What?”

“What?” Maymee exclaimed, slapping Heath on the seat of the pants again with the large wooden spoon she was holding. “Why don’t you just tear the girl’s clothes off and—”

“Don’t give me any more ideas, Maymee,” Heath teased. “I’ve already got too many of my own.”

Maymee shook her head, laughing. It was going to be very interesting to watch—to see just how long Heath would take before approaching Zeke Cranford about courting Cricket. She sighed, somehow blissful in her own right at knowing Cricket was in love with Heath, and Heath with Cricket.

Yep. It was going to be mighty interesting indeed.

❦

Heath was distracted as he rode Archie toward home that afternoon—distracted by wondering how on earth he was going to keep his hands off Magnolia Cranford long enough to court her properly. And that was
if
Zeke Cranford agreed to let him do it. Yep, Hea
th was dangerously distracted. It was why he didn’t know he was in trouble until he heard the cocking of several rifles.

Snapping to attention, he glanced around to see Wyatt Stanley, Lash Martin, and Tyler Waller holding rifles on him. He knew Wyatt was a pain in the hind end, but he hadn’t ever heard of Lash and
Tyler
causing any trouble.

“What’s this?” Heath asked as his hand slowly slid to his hip.

But Wyatt stepped closer to Heath. “Don’t do it,
Thibodaux
,” he threatened. “Lash!” he ordered. “Shoot his horse if he makes another move for his pistol.”

Heath frowned and held very still. “What are you boys doin’?”

“Savin’ this good, God-fearin’ town from the likes of pond scum like you!” Wyatt growled. “Now get down off that horse and lead him on back to the church house.”

But Heath paused, saying, “Now look here, boys…I don’t know what in the hell is goin’ on, but you can’t just—”

“I said, get down off that horse and lead him back to the church house,
Thibodaux
!” Wyatt shouted. “Believe me, after knowin’ all that you’ve done to that poor girl…I’m just lookin’ for a reason to blow a hole in your head big enough for me to spit through.”

“What girl? What are you—”

Archie reared, almost throwing Heath when Wyatt fired his rifle over Heath’s head as a warning.

“All right! All right!” Heath growled as he dismounted and patted Archie’s jaw to soothe him. “But you better have a damn good reason for holdin’ a rifle on a Texas Ranger, Stanley.”

Lash frowned. “I thought you said he weren’t a Ranger no more, Wyatt!” he spat.

“He ain’t,” Wyatt assured him. “He quit after he lost those other girls last year.”

“Texas Ranger is a callin’ for life, boys,” Heath informed them. “Papers and badge…they don’t expire.”

Lash looked a little rattled, but
Tyler
and Wyatt glared at him, and he leveled his gun at Archie once more.

“Back to town, Ranger Thibodaux,” Wyatt demanded. “Texas Ranger or not, you’re gonna do right by that girl.”

“What girl?” Heath shouted. “What in the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“The preacher will explain when we get back,”
Tyler
said. “Now shut up and walk that horse, mister.”

Angry, but not angry enough to get himself shot for a reason he didn’t even know, Heath stormed back toward town, leading Archie.

“Two weeks,” he mumbled to himself. They’d turned on him in only two weeks. But he shrugged—for he’d seen people turn on a Ranger they felt indebted to in less than that. Still, two weeks wasn’t very long. Some folks in Pike’s Creek must have mighty short memories.

❦

“And then he says to me,”
Ada
continued, smiling at Cricket, “he says, ‘
Ada
darlin’…when I kiss you, I swear I hear a heavenly chorus start into singin’!’
”

“Really,
Ada
?” Cricket asked, giggling.

“Truly, Cricket,”
Ada
confirmed.

Cricket sighed with con
tentment. “I just never knew Daddy was so romantic like that.”

“Well, most men aren’t very affectionate in public,”
Ada
explained. “But I think your daddy’s maturity and wisdom give him the confidence to know how important it is to a woman that her lover isn’t embarrassed to let people know he loves her.”

“Daddy’s always been smarter than most folks I’ve known,” Cricket confirmed.

Ada
giggled. “Except for when it comes to tellin’ his daughter how babies are made.”

Cricket and
Ada
both burst into laughter—mirthful at the thought of Zeke Cranford weaseling out of telling Cricket the whole truth of it.

Their laughter was instantly exchanged for startled gasps when Maymee Maloney suddenly burst in through the kitchen door.

“Magnolia!
Ada
!” she panted as she leaned against the wall. “Oh, you have to get on over to the church now! Right now! They’ve got a gun to his head. And you know how stubborn that boy is…as stubborn as any leathery old mule I ever did see! They’ll shoot him! Or hang him! I’m convinced they will!”

“Who?”
Ada
asked. “Who will they hang?”

But even before Mrs. Maloney said his name, Cricket knew who.

“Heath
Thibodaux
!”

“Heath?”
Ada
breathed. “Well, why on earth would someone want to be hangin’ Heathro Thibodaux?”

Maymee, still struggling to catch her breath, wagged a finger at Cricket. “They think he…they think he…that he bedded Cricket while the girls and Heath were captive. Reverend Stanley is demandin’ Heath makes an honest woman of her.”

“What?” Cricket squeaked in disbelief.

“Well, I have had enough of this…this horse manure!”
Ada
said, wiping her hands on her apron, untying it, and tossing it to the table. “And why on earth do these things always happen when Zeke is gone from home?”

Cricket paused for only a moment—only long enough to decide she couldn’t afford the time it would take to put on her stockings and shoes.

“Cricket!” she heard
Ada
holler as she bolted for the door. “Cricket, wait!”

But Cricket was already down the porch and into the street on her way to the church house. As she neared it, she could see Archie tethered to the hitching post out front.

She patted his warm muzzle as she passed him, mumbling, “It’s all right, Archie. Don’t you worry.”

The scene that met her when she stepped into the church was something right out of a nightmare! There he stood—Texas Ranger Heathro Thibodaux, right there in front of the preacher’s podium—with Wyatt Stanley’s rifle muzzle pressed against the side of his head.

Ann and Marie were crying as they stood listening to Vilma screaming at her father.

“You’re so arrogant, Daddy!” Vilma cried. “Wyatt’s a liar! You know he is! He’s been lyin’ since the day he could talk. So why are you believin’ him now? Why? I’ve told you the truth of it! Heathro Thibodaux did nothin’ to deserve this! And neither did Cricket…and I think you know it. I think you’re just mad, insane with anger and wounded pride because Heath was right about where those outlaws had taken us! This is just your vindictive, angry soul and—”