When The Heart Beckons (39 page)

You and me
. His heart contracted at
the words. He’d give a lot if only there could be a you and me.

“I’m just like him. Too damned much like
him. When I still lived at home, in the years before I ran away, we
butted heads every single day. Both of us ornery and stubborn as
hell, determined to do things our way and no one else’s, ready to
push aside anything that got in our way. Do you understand? We
fought, because we were exactly alike. Maybe you don’t know me well
enough to see it, but it’s true, you’ll have to trust me on
this.”

“I trust you on everything.”

He scowled at her in exasperation. This
wasn’t going the way he’d expected. Instead of looking concerned
and arguing with him, she was just sitting there, so calm, so
steady and strong and beautiful, like some kind of fire goddess
with that hair of hers shimmering down around a face that was damn
near bringing him to his knees.

“Annabel,” he began again desperately,
“listen. I made up my mind a long time ago when I first heard that
my mother took her own life that I would never inflict my damned
domineering McCallum ways on any woman. I wouldn’t want to cause
any woman the kind of pain my mother must have gone through at my
father’s hands. I vowed to myself I wouldn’t ever marry, or let
myself ... get close to anyone ... that I’d never have more than
the simplest of physical relationships with any woman, no ties, no
feelings between us ... nothing....” His voice trailed off. “What
are you doing?”

It was obvious what she was doing, she was
coming toward him. Her body naked and exquisite, gleaming golden in
the soft dying embers of firelight, her hair cascading around her
shoulders and breasts, she was coming toward him deliberately and
sexily, with love and acceptance in her eyes.

“Stop being so damned silly,” she told him
gently, and thrust herself up against him, her arms snaking like
silk around his neck. “You’re a good man, Cade McCallum. No, you’re
a wonderful man. And I’m not the least little bit afraid of you.
I’ve never been afraid of your father either—I happen to think he’s
a lovable old coot, even if he is somewhat garrulous—oh, Cade,
haven’t you seen by now that I adore the McCallum men? Every single
one of them—especially ...” Her tone grew huskier, filled with musk
and promise, as she touched her mouth to his.

“Especially you.”

“But ...”

“No buts.” She was sliding her hands across
his shoulders now and then his back, her fingers sculpting
sensuously over the rock-hard muscles. She was intoxicating him
with her charm, her open, giving smile, and the pure lushness of
her body, doing wild things to his gut as well as other parts of
him. “Whatever happened between Ross and Livinia, and we don’t know
anything for sure, it has nothing to do with you and me.”

Those words again. Cade gritted his teeth as
her nearness threatened to annihilate all his defenses in a
shattering roar.

“And even if you are a trifle ...
bullheaded—well, so am I. And I think you’ve seen that I don’t
exactly wither under fire. In fact, I told you once that I come
from equally tough stock—and I do. Nothing about you scares me.
Except,” she said, and the truth shone plain in her eyes, stabbing
straight into his heart, “except the possibility that you might
turn me away.”

“I should,” he groaned, his muscles still
clenched tightly as she drew his head down toward hers.

“No. You love me and I love you. For once in
your life, Cade McCallum, just follow your heart.”

Follow your heart. It sounded so simple ...
but ... if he ever hurt her ...

And then he saw the love blossoming in her
eyes, a love that was strong and deep and filled with compassion,
and she was in his arms, soft and sweet and trusting, and he
suddenly knew that she was already in his heart, embedded there
like emeralds in the dark soul of a mine, a part of it, now and
forever, and somehow, that she belonged there.

“Annabel, this is loco ... I never thought
... oh, hell. What are you doing?”

She was stroking him, teasing him, arousing
him even more than he already was, if that was possible, and her
gray-green glance sparkled up at him, with love and mischief and
promise.

“Quickly, my love,” she urged, a smile
dancing across her face as she began to kiss his mouth, his chin,
his chest, his shoulder. “Red Cobb might well be here soon and
...”

“You’re the most loco woman I ever met. You
love living dangerously, don’t you?”

“Just like you,” she gasped back as he
picked her up and carried her back to the blankets, determination
and anticipation stamped upon his lean face. He lowered her gently
but hurriedly to the ground, and grinned as she reached for the
trousers he’d donned only a short time ago.

“You’re the damndest woman I ever met,” he
said tenderly, while at the same time pushing her down onto the
blanket with ruthless haste.

“And you’re the most splendid man,” she
breathed, her eyes widening as he moved atop her and spread her
legs with his thighs. “Cade, we do have time for this, don’t you
think? I mean if Cobb walked in here now ...”

“We’d both die happy.” His eyes gleamed into
hers as he lowered his head to her breast and then neither of them
thought about Red Cobb again.

P
uffy white clouds
dotted the new-washed morning sky as Red Cobb spotted the plume of
smoke curling up from the canyon gorge.

A campfire? Could she have somehow survived
the storm, found shelter, and now started a campfire? No, it was
probably someone else—maybe, he thought, his eyes glinting at the
possibility, Brett McCallum, or even Steele. One or both of them
might have come looking for her, and maybe they thought a campfire
would draw her. Or him ...

It could be a trap
, he thought, his
nerves tightening.

Well, we’ll just see
, he thought,
heading his horse down a scrubby ravine that would lead him toward
the curling wisp of smoke.

It was still early morning, and his head
hurt from all the whiskey, but not much. He’d slept well, snug in
that cave, wishing he could have had her already, but knowing it
was only a matter of time.

He’d catch her today, and he’d teach her the
cost of crossing Red Cobb.

He stopped well short of the campfire and
left his horse among some cottonwoods, then crept closer on foot. A
smile cracked across his face as he saw her, sitting there in that
ragged green dress, looking not nearly so fine or uppity now. She
was huddled on the cold ground, trying to warm herself against the
morning chill by sitting close to the flames. She was eating some
berries she must have found there in the canyon, and she looked
hungry and lost and utterly vulnerable.

His pulse quickened with raw lust. This was
going to be sweet, so sweet.

“Morning, bitch,” he greeted her, stepping
out into the rocky clearing with a wide grin on his face. “Sleep
well?”

She looked up and straight at him, appearing
not the least bit startled. Or scared. She eyed him coolly. Why the
hell wasn’t she screaming, or trying to run?

She did scramble to her feet as he
approached, but she didn’t look scared, and she held her ground.
She was calm as a Sunday school teacher, but her eyes held a
burning anger that made him stop in his tracks for a moment, then
he caught himself and came on.

“Did I sleep well?” she repeated in a tone
that was almost amused. “Not as well as you’re going to.”

He halted again. An inkling came to him
then, a cold nausea-inducing hunch which made him shift his gaze
swiftly around the clearing, but he saw nothing, just trees and
rocks and scrub.

“You’ve caused me a hell of a lot of
trouble, you bitch,” he muttered, “but you’re going to pay for it
now. Don’t even think about running because I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

Brett McCallum stepped from behind a tree,
his gun drawn and cocked and pointed at Cobb’s chest.

“No sudden moves,” Roy Steele said quietly,
materializing from behind a rock just behind the woman, and Cobb
stared at him in amazement and dismay.

“You.” His voice shook a little. He wasn’t
apprehensive—no, he was furious, furious with them and with himself
for falling for their trap. “I’m going to kill all three of you,”
he announced, absolute certainty in his eyes.

“First you, Steele, and then McCallum. And
then the woman. When we’ve finished some other things,” be added
with a hoarse laugh. “She and I have some unfinished fun and games
to attend to ...”

“Shut up, Cobb.” Steele moved three quick,
easy strides toward him, his body superbly graceful beneath that
shining sun.

“You’re not going to do anything to anybody.
Your time is up.”

“You think so? Steele, I’ve been waiting for
this day—itching for this day. I can’t wait to kill you. I’m sick
to death of people wondering who’s faster, always mentioning your
name when they mention mine. I’ve been meaning to settle the
question once and for all ... but I had a job to finish first.”

“I know. Me.” Brett McCallum sounded every
bit as cool as Steele did, Cobb thought in amazement. Somehow he
had expected something different, a scared, green kid, a city
greenhorn he’d have to taunt and force into a showdown. But this
dark-haired young man with the blazing blue eyes and the gun held
in a steady hand was no tenderfoot.
Not that he’s a match for
me
, Cobb told himself quickly.
But it’s strange, he’s not
what I expected, not what I was led to expect ...

“If you’re smart, you’ll throw down your gun
right now,” the woman said and she sounded so sure of herself that
Cobb wanted to kill her right then. “At least then they’ll let you
live. Not that I care,” she added with a shrug. “You’re a worthless
piece of vermin if I ever saw one, but decency means we must take
pity on you and at least give you a chance.”

“He doesn’t deserve a chance, Annabel, not
after what he did to you.” Brett studied the red-haired gunslinger
contemptuously. “You’ve been looking for me, Cobb. Well, I’m
here.”

“Sorry, but you’ll have to wait in line.”
Steele never glanced aside, but spoke with quiet firmness, his
level gaze fixed intently on Cobb’s flushed, ever-darkening
countenance. “And when I’m finished, Brett, I reckon there won’t be
enough left of him for you to do anything but spit on.”

“You’re wrong, Steele,” Cobb rasped out, and
for all the fact that he was angry, frustrated, and humiliated at
having been taken by surprise, there was no fear, only supreme
confidence in his words and tone. “You’re old, and you’ve lost your
edge, if you ever even had one. I’m gonna send you straight to
hell, and these others after you ... if you’ve got the guts to take
me on one at a time.”

“Annabel, get out of the way,” Steele
ordered, his eyes still riveted calmly on the other man.
Obediently, she moved toward Brett, standing motionless at his
side, giving the two gunfighters a wide berth.

“Anytime you say,” Steele drawled
coldly.

Sweat poured down Cobb’s face. But it had
nothing to do with fear—only excitement, anticipation, the chance
to meet the ultimate challenge. Even if Steele did kill him, he was
determined to bring his enemy to death with him. “One thing you
should know first, Steele,” he barked. His lips twisted with the
taunting words. “Your ladyfriend, Lily, back in Eagle Gulch—I
killed her. She gave me some bad information and I had to come back
and beat the truth out of her, and I reckon I got a little carried
away. I told the doctor she hit her head when she tripped and fell,
and he signed the death certificate as an accident.” Cobb guffawed.
“No one in Eagle Gulch had the guts to call me a liar.”

Something lethal flickered then behind
Cade’s steady gaze, and his body grew more tense, like the muscles
of a wolf before it springs upon its prey. There was an intent in
his eyes, the same perilous intent in Cobb’s as they stared at one
another.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, the
clearing exploded with movement. Cobb and Cade went for their guns,
drawing in a lightning flash that dazzled the eye, and then
gunshots exploded, ringing through the walls of the canyon. Annabel
grabbed Brett’s arm and cried out as blood blossomed across Red
Cobb’s shirtfront. He fell to his knees and tried desperately to
lift his gun arm. Blood was pouring down his chest.

Cade shot him again.

This time Cobb hurtled face forward onto the
rocky ground, and lay there twitching while a pair of eagles soared
overhead and Cade watched with merciless eyes.

Annabel closed hers. When she opened them,
Cobb’s body was still, and there was no sound or movement, only the
blood and the acrid smell of gunsmoke, and the cry of the eagles
high, high above.

* * *

Moonlight bathed the Rivers’ porch in a
pearlescent glow as Annabel peered out the parlor window at Cade
and Brett. They were lounging against the porch railing, talking
quietly, and she studied them for a moment, reflecting on how alike
they were, and how different.

Earlier she and Conchita had washed the
supper dishes together and put them away, while Adelaide swept the
floor and hummed under her breath. Dinner had been a feast of spicy
beef and tortillas, fried chicken and refried beans. It had been a
celebration, for now the Rivers family and the whole valley was
free of the Lowry Cattle Company’s tyranny. But the adobe ranch
house was quiet now, for Tomas and Adelaide had gone to bed, and
only Conchita sat with some mending on the sofa in the parlor.

“It is a lovely night—why don’t you go
outside and sit with them,” Conchita suggested as Annabel hesitated
by the window.

“I think I will.”

The older woman rose with slow dignity and
smiled at her guest as she gathered her mending into a woven
basket. “I am going to bed. For the first time in a long time I
believe I will sleep well. With Lowry dead, his men will scatter
and we will be left alone. At least for a while.” She paused as she
saw the book in Annabel’s hand, and noticed the odd, excited
expression on her face.