Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(27)

Rachel placed a hand over her stomach where it twisted with worry. She didn’t think Caleb Beckett was the type of man who would pull a midnight run, but obviously her ability to judge men had failed. Her marriage was a stark reminder of that.

“Maybe if I catch him a fish he’ll come back. Foster said he’d take me out to the creek today.” Ethan’s hopeful smile broke her heart. The boy had lost too many people in his short life. It made her angry to think Caleb had made an impression on him in such a short time and that he could become another name added to the list.

“Put your dishes on the counter and go find Foster. I’m sure we would all like to eat a nice big fish for dinner tonight.” It was as noncommittal an answer as she could give. She didn’t have the heart to watch the crestfallen expression on Ethan’s face if it turned out Caleb didn’t return.

The very thought left her as boiling hot as the chili simmering on the stove in front of her. She gave it a vigorous stir. If he had left for good, what did that mean for them? Would he drift to other parts and sell the land to someone else, or gamble it away as Robert had? Then what? Would another stranger ride in one day, deed in hand and run them all off the land?

She had assumed he would be true to his word, a mistake she’d made all too often. What made her think she could trust the word of a man she knew nothing about? He had drifted into town with Robert’s body after riding into Laramie to play a game of cards. He had no apparent past and did not seem overly concerned about where he spent his future. An air of danger pulsated from him, and she suspected he was a man with something of a murky history. Everything else remained mired in mystery.

The way her body responded whenever he came near was the biggest mystery of all.

Even now, remembering the way he had looked down at her in the bunkhouse, the way her skin sizzled where their bodies brushed together—

“If he does return, you should marry the man on the spot,” Freedom said, kneading another section of dough.

Rachel’s hand slipped from the spoon. It continued to spin around the pot of its own accord. She stepped back, the heat from the stove causing her skin to flush.

“I should what?”

“Marry the man.”

The idea left her sputtering. “I...I know nothing about him.”

Freedom shrugged, as if that were inconsequential. “Maybe so, but he didn’t send you packin’ and that speaks good to the man. Shows more consideration than that dead husband o’ yours, God rest his useless soul. Did he make any untoward suggestions about you earnin’ your salary by layin’ on your back?”

“Freedom!” Heat pooled low in her belly, then lower still at the suggestion. Rachel stalked to the counter and grabbed the dirty dishes, moving them to the sink, anything to keep her mind away from the images Freedom’s words conjured in her mind. Maybe it was better Caleb had disappeared, after all.

“Don’t you ‘Freedom’ me. A strong, strappin’ man like that is bound to have needs. But if’n he didn’t ask you to fill them then that says something positive to his character. Still, I’m guessin’ he wouldn’t be indifferent. He’s got needs, you need a place for yourself and the boys. Seems a natural fit to me.”

Rachel scrubbed hard at the oatmeal caked to Ethan’s bowl and wished even harder that Freedom would stop talking. Each word she spoke made the images in Rachel’s mind even clearer until she ached in places she had long forgotten existed. She had put her own needs so far down on the list they’d fallen off completely. She’d simply stopped thinking about them. But, in the span of two short days, Caleb had managed to resurrect them with a vengeance. It embarrassed her how little it took. A brief glance, an accidental brushing of bodies.

Embarrassment turned to disgust. No matter how hard she’d tried to stop the feelings from coming, they would not be squelched. Well, maybe some things were just born into a body, but that didn’t mean she had to act on them like Mama had. She was a stronger woman than that, and while she might have a far sounder reason than Mama ever had for prostituting herself, she still possessed too much pride to fall so low.

“I could not possibly marry the man, Freedom. It’s a ludicrous idea and not one I care to entertain, thank you.”

“Don’t see why not. You could do a lot worse. Hell, you already done a lot worse.”

Rachel scowled at the reminder. She’d married Robert young, too young to know enough about men to judge his true character. She would not make the same mistake again.

Freedom dropped the dough into a pan and turned, brushing the flour from her hands. She fixed Rachel with a hard stare. “I know it sounds crazy, and I know there be a hundred reasons not to do it. But simple fact is, you’s got nowhere to go. At least if you marry Mr. Beckett you got yourself a home and the boys got some stability.”