When The Heart Beckons (32 page)

But there was business to be done
tonight—the deadliest, most serious type of business. The
distractions of Miss Brannigan’s hair, eyes, figure, perfume, her
low-pitched voice, and sunlit smile, her intelligence and character
could prove his undoing as well as Brett’s, and that of the Racing
Rivers Ranch.

He had to think about the Rivers family,
about that boy Tomas who kept watching him alertly from the corners
where the children played. Tomas was waiting for the chance to do
something to avenge his father’s death.

And it was almost time.

* * *

“Brett is handing Conchita and Adelaide
glasses of lemonade over by the window,” he said quickly, as he led
her past one of the long trestle tables covered with Calvin Lowry’s
finest imported linen.

“Hurry and warn him which men to keep an eye
on.”

Before she could agree, Cade was gone,
stalking across the parlor. Though Annabel kept her face schooled
into an expression of sedateness as she made her way toward Brett,
she still tingled everywhere Cade had touched her during their
dance.

She pushed Cade from her mind as she gave
Brett the message, and eagerly sipped the lemonade he handed her in
return. Together, she, Brett, Adelaide, and Conchita surveyed the
room, and she subtly pointed out to each of them which cowboys
appeared to be in Lowry’s employ.

Conchita nodded when she was finished. “Yes,
we know some of them. But he has added on several men since he
started acquiring additional property. Men with reputations for
being quick with a gun, and not particular about when they choose
to use it.”

“She means men who will shoot first and
apologize for any ‘mistakes’ later,” Adelaide piped in caustically.
Though Brett held a small straight-backed chair for her to be
seated, she resolutely shook her head and insisted that she
preferred to be on her feet when she was in enemy territory. “Soon
as bullets start to fly, young man, I want to jump ahead of the
crowd and see everything that happens. After what Lowry did to my
son, it’ll do my old heart good to see him bleed all over his own
damned floor.”

Brett nodded, but Annabel saw that he looked
worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“I sure hope Cade knows what he’s doing
here. There’re a lot of them, and not too many of us.”

“We have to trust him,” Annabel replied
softly, turning as she spoke to scan the parlor for some sign of
Cade and Lowry. “I’ve only known him a short time, but I would
trust him with my life and more. As a matter of fact I’ve already
done that,” she reflected with a faint smile, “and he took very
good care of it.”

“That hombre in the green vest just slipped
out onto the terrace,” Brett said suddenly, his fingers closing
around her arm. “I’ve got a hunch something’s up.”

“Then we’d better stroll out there and see
what it is.”

They left Conchita and Adelaide and threaded
their way through the throng of people crowded around the trestle
tables bearing refreshments. Outside, the wide terrace was ablaze
with flickering yellow torches and festooned with gay silk
streamers and overflowing baskets of flowers. A few couples
snuggled or flirted in the shadows, as far from the light as they
could manage, or huddled close together upon the long stone bench,
but mostly the terrace and surrounding garden appeared
deserted.

“Where’d that damned fellow go?” Brett
fretted. “Let’s hurry toward the stables and the corrals and see if
we spot him.”

“All right, but we’d better hold hands and
try to appear like we’re just slipping away from the party so we
can be alone together.”

If only it were true
, Annabel
thought, as his hand comfortably gripped hers. For some reason,
despite the fragrant beauty of the night, the velvet darkness of
the sky, the sheer romance of being out here alone with him, her
pulse didn’t quicken at all as they made their way past the gardens
toward the dark outline of the hacienda’s outbuildings. Her skin
didn’t even grow warm at his touch.
What is wrong with me?
she thought in disappointment, and more than a little puzzlement.
Suddenly she understood. The inherent dangers of this night were
blotting out any inklings of romance.
It’s only to be
expected
, she told herself in annoyance.
There are more
important things going on than your feelings for Brett.

They had gone far beyond the torchlight, and
as they walked in silence the soft, flower-perfumed darkness closed
down around them. As the house and the lights and the music
disappeared farther and farther behind, Annabel’s tension
mounted.

But as they neared the corrals, there was
still no sign of the cowboy in the green vest.

“Brett,” Annabel said softly as she peered
all around and still saw no one, “will you tell me one thing?”

“If I can.”

“Do you know why Red Cobb is after you?”

He scuffed his boot in the dirt beside her.
“Beats me. I never met the fellow. But all of the sudden, somewhere
in the middle of Arizona, everyone who hears my name is whispering
that this gunfighter is hunting for me.” He shrugged. “I figured if
he caught me, that would be just fine. He’d put me out of my
misery.”

“Brett!”

He shook his head. “Annabel, I’ve been just
plain miserable since that meeting with Boxer.”

“I know, I can well imagine. But everything
isn’t hopeless, you know. You must talk to your father, tell him
everything, and find out the truth about all this.”

“Maybe I’ll do that. If we get out of this
alive.”

She touched his sleeve. “I know why Cobb is
after you. He was hired—by a man named Lucas Johnson in St. Louis.
Have you ever heard of him?”

Brett looked thunderstruck. “No, by God.
Never met any such fellow.”

“Well, I wired Mr. Stevenson with the
information, and he should be conducting an investigation right
this very minute. Brett, I have one more question.”

He laughed, sounding more like his old self
than he had all day. “You always do.”

“Why did you sign on to help Conchita Rivers
in this fight? I’m not saying it isn’t a fine and noble thing to
do—I believe it is. She’s in the right, and she needs the help of
as many decent and brave people as she can find, but ... you’d
never been in a gunfight before, or ... killed anyone or ...
anything like this. Why did you agree to something so
dangerous?”

“When I met up with Conchita I was about as
low as a man can get. I guess it didn’t matter to me that I might
not live long if I took on her fight—I guess you could say,
Annabel, that I would have been more than willing to die and never
have to think about ... anything again.”

“Brett, no. Oh, no, I was afraid of that.”
She stopped beside him, and without thinking threw her arms around
his neck. In the dimness she could still make out the dismal
expression in his eyes.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to
your mother. Don’t you see that? And even if what this Frank Boxer
said is true, or partly true, the fact that you’re not Ross
McCallum’s own son doesn’t matter. He raised you as his son—and he
loves you as his son, Brett. I can vouch for that after having
observed the two of you for years in that house. I know that Ross
loves you as much as any man ever could love a son—and I think,”
she added, taking a deep breath, “that you should show a little
backbone and hightail it back there the moment this fight with
Lowry is finished so that you can work things out with him. And
warn him about what Boxer is up to—because I know he never received
your letter. And there’s something else you should know, Brett.
Ross has been ill. His heart ...”

“What?” She saw the shock cross his face.
“What happened?”

“He’s been under a doctor’s care. His
businesses have been suffering, and now that I think about it, I
wonder if Boxer doesn’t have something to do with that.”

Brett’s eyes narrowed in the darkness. “I
don’t understand. You say he never received my message. But I left
it with Derrickson, with very clear instructions about ...”

He broke off, suddenly glancing down into
her face with a strange expression, seemingly aware for the first
time of her arms around his neck. “Annabel, let me ask you
something,” Brett said slowly. His own arms came up to tentatively
encircle her waist.

“Why did you come after me? I know it wasn’t
just because you were being paid by the Stevenson Agency.”

“N-no.”

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?
After all, you’ve risked your life to come west alone to find
me.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” she
parried, hoping desperately she would not have to confess the truth
to him now, not yet, and at the same time, trying to calm her heart
which had begun to flutter because he was holding her so closely,
so gently ...

And his beautiful eyes were so intent and
searching upon her face that she thought the breath would burst
inside her lungs.

“I would. But ...” He hesitated and then
brought one hand up to cup her chin. “I have to confess something.
Dear as you are to me, Annie, I never before noticed how damned
pretty you are. Or how your eyes light up when you talk, or the way
your hands move so gracefully when you talk....”

Disbelief warred with excitement inside her.
This was happening, it was really happening ... everything she had
hoped for and dreamed of. Brett was looking at her in a way he
never had before. There was a tightness in his body so close to
hers, and his hand beneath her chin felt warm, possessive.
He’s
going to kiss me
, Annabel thought with a whirl of joy.
Right now, this very minute, Brett McCallum is going to kiss
me....

He lowered his lips to hers. In the
distance, the muted sounds of the fiddlers and of humming
conversation and laughter pierced faintly through the peace of the
night, but here by the corrals, with only the velvet sky, the
clouds, and the humid, musky darkness all about them, it was richly
quiet. Annabel let herself go. She gave herself up to the sweet
pressure of Brett’s mouth on hers; she unleashed all the ardor
she’d ever felt for him, and pressed against him, her arms snaking
needfully around his neck.

At last. At long, long last.

I
t was a slow and
dreamy and tentative kiss.

When finally Brett lifted his head, and took
a deep breath, Annabel’s eyes remained closed until she felt him
watching her. She opened them then and peered at him. She struggled
to hide the confusion she was feeling.

“Again,” she whispered, a catch in her
throat, and standing on tiptoe, touched her lips to his.

This kiss was not as long as the first, nor
as searching and dreamy. In fact, Annabel broke it off quickly, her
fingers moving to her lips in shock.

“My God,” she whispered, stunned.

Before Brett could say anything, the sound
of low voices reached them, and both at once darted behind a piñón
tree.

They saw the four cowboys then. They emerged
from the shadows behind the barn, and the man with the green vest
was one of them.

“We have to move closer,” Annabel whispered,
and started forward, but Brett tugged her back.

“You stay here, Annabel. I’ll go.”

“Don’t be a pea brain. Come
on
.”

And with the faintest rustle of her silken
skirts, she edged forward under cover of the creosote bushes. To
her relief, Brett gave up the argument and followed at her heels,
moving as stealthily as she.

Fortunately, the darkness hid their progress
and they were able to creep within a dozen feet of the cowboys.
They ducked down behind a clump of mesquite and strained to
hear.

“... and the boss wants me to wait for
supper to be served before picking the fight with McCallum. So
nobody do anything before that. Got it?” The cowboy in the green
vest, a rangily built older man wearing a gray Stetson, stared
around the circle of faces.

Beside him, a black-garbed cowhand took a
puff on a cigarette and exhaled loudly. “Sure you can outdraw that
frisky young squirt, Hank? He looks pretty dangerous to me.”

Loud guffaws greeted this sally. Hank
chuckled. “With my eyes shut, I reckon,” he drawled.

“Remember, when everyone is gathered around
watching, the boss is going to act like he wants to make peace
between me and the kid. But no one’s going to listen to him—you got
that, boys?”

“Yeah, we got it,” the men all muttered.

“Then, while everyone—including Steele—is
busy watching what’s going on, you three will take a little target
practice at Steele when he’s not paying attention.”

The men laughed softly among themselves.
“With no one afterward being able to say exactly how that hombre
got plugged,” the black-garbed man added, and squashed his
cigarette under his boot.

“I reckon I won’t have seen anything.” The
tallest cowboy, long haired and rail thin, gave out a low
whoop.

“Listen, up, Pete,” Hank interrupted him.
“When Steele and the McCallum kid are both dead, Lowry will give
the Rivers woman one more chance to sign over the ranch.”

“Why the hell bother?” Pete demanded. “Why
don’t we just sneak onto her place tonight and set it on fire? She
and her family have already caused more trouble than everyone else
in the valley put together. It’ll be easy as cake—with their place
gone, they’ll be more than ready to hightail it out of the valley
...”

His words were blown away by a sudden sharp
gust of wind. Thunder followed, rolling across the sky. Someone
else said something Annabel couldn’t make out, and then the group
started walking back toward the house.

Annabel and Brett shrank back into the
darkness, scarcely daring to breathe as the cowboys passed close
enough to touch. Alone in the shadows once more, with only the hum
of insects disturbing the silence, the two stared at each
other.