Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(19)

A cold, animalistic anger clenched its sharp claws around Caleb’s chest. Would Kirkpatrick expect her to pay off her debt with her body? The very thought rankled him in a way he couldn’t shake. She deserved better than that.

“I could pay the debt—”

“You’ve done quite enough already, thank you. I don’t want or need your charity.”

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. She may not want it, but they both knew she needed it.

“Do you have family?”

“Just the boys. Robert’s parents passed away several years back.”

“And your own people?”

Her features tightened. “Dead as well.”

Just his luck. Rachel Sutter had no one to turn to.

Save for him.

The weight of obligation settled on his shoulders like a yoke.

They rode in silence. Caleb tried not to think about the woman sitting beside him or how things were about to change for the both of them, whether they liked it or not, thanks to one man’s greed and desperation. There had been no reason for Sutter to put his ranch up that day, but the fool wouldn’t listen to reason. Now, here they were, trying to sort through the consequences. The buckboard crested a hill and in the distance he could see a small home. So small Caleb wondered how everyone fit inside. It must have made for some cramped quarters.

Over to his right, a short distance away, were a few more outbuildings placed in what could only be described as a haphazard manner that made little sense. It was as if no forethought was put into where things should go. He noted a barn, two tiny cabins, one close to the house, the other closer to the barn, and a larger cabin further up the rise. As they drew closer, he picked out a chicken coop, a corral and a freshly tilled garden. Closer to the house, a gnarled oak crept upward toward the midday sky, the first hint of buds dotting its branches. Come summer, with the leaves in full bloom, it would cast a welcome shade across the narrow porch lining the front of the house.

Despite the odd configuration of buildings, it was a pretty spot. Homey.

He didn’t belong here.

Next to him, Mrs. Sutter stiffened, the movement bringing her leg against his. A shock of sensation shot through him. He bit down on the sudden rush of unwanted desire. He should have taken care of that in Laramie, but Caleb had never developed a taste for whores. And he hadn’t the time to find himself a lonely widow.

Until now.

But this widow was strictly off limits.

“Company?” He nudged his chin in the direction of the black horse tethered next to the porch. Something told him his day was about to become even more complicated.

Mrs. Sutter spoke through gritted teeth. “Shamus Kirkpatrick.”

It said a lot about the man that he had the audacity to show up the day after she’d buried her husband.

“I could ask him to leave if you—”

She cut him off, a frantic edge to her voice. “Don’t say anything about the deed. Please. The boys don’t know yet, and I need time to figure out how to tell them. I know this isn’t any of your concern but...” She sent him a pleading look. “Please.”

He stared at her a moment, an unwanted need to protect her welling inside of him. He knew he would regret getting involved, but he couldn’t tell her no. Not when she was looking at him with those soulful dark eyes and one of her hands rested on his arm, a fact he was pretty sure she was completely unaware of.

“Reckon I could do that.”

Mrs. Sutter glanced down at her hand and snatched it back, curling the fingers into her palm and resting it against her belly, holding it in place as if she were afraid it might reach out voluntarily and touch him again.

“Thank you.”

Caleb nodded and pulled up on the reins, irritated with his reaction. The absence of her touch was far too noticeable. When they reached the house, he set the brake and jumped down from the buckboard, patting Jasper’s rump as he passed behind him. He’d kept Jasper tied to the back of the wagon for the ride up, letting the draft horse he’d purchased in Laramie do the work of pulling them. By the time he reached Mrs. Sutter, she was about to jump down. He reached up and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her to the ground.

“I don’t need—” She didn’t have time to finish her reprimand before her feet hit the ground.

“Nothin’ wrong with a man helpin’ a lady down.”

She glared at him. It disturbed him how much he enjoyed it. So much so, he let his hands linger at the curve of her narrow waist. Once again he was struck by how small she was. One stiff mountain wind and she’d all but blow away. Yet he had no doubt her deeply rooted resilience would beat back the wind until it regretted ever making the attempt.