Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(51)

“Alright then.”

Caleb’s hand slid away and he stood, taking with him the warmth of his touch. Her skirts slid back into place. It frightened her how much she wanted him back, to tell him everything in her heart and mind. She’d already lost so much. She didn’t know if she had it in her to risk losing anything else. She’d given her heart once, and it had ended badly. What made her think this time would be any different? That if she gave him her heart and her body he wouldn’t one day decide he’d had enough and ride out of town as suddenly as he’d ridden in?

“I’m sorry. It’s just—”

But he had already turned away, settling his hat on his head.

He paused at the door, tilting his head slightly in her direction. “I’m goin’ for a walk. Lock the door behind me and get some sleep. We’ll ride back to the ranch in the morning.”



Despite the late hour, there was still plenty of activity in town, centered mostly around the saloons. Tinny music and raucous laughter spilled out into the street. Caleb headed in that direction. It had been a long, hard day and he desperately needed a drink.

He couldn’t return to the hotel, not yet. If he did, he’d drive himself crazy, thinking about what had almost happened and how much he still wanted it to, never mind the consequences.

Rachel Sutter had become a fever in his blood. Walking the streets afforded little relief from the feelings she aroused in him. He’d spent the past two weeks trying to avoid her at all costs, then turning around and coming up with any excuse to be near her, until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.

What had he been thinking? He had no right to kiss her, to touch her, let alone anything beyond that. She had no idea who he was, the things he’d done. If she did, she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her, and she’d be right to do so. He should have kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself. But Lord have mercy, resisting her took a will stronger than he possessed. Every ounce of his being wanted her in every possible way. And not just physically. The more he learned about her, the stronger his need grew to gather her in his arms and keep her safe from harm. To hear her stories and tell his own. To look toward the future instead of trying to run from the past.

But the past always caught up with him. It had with Marianne, and eventually it would this time. Once Rachel knew the kind of man he truly was, she would want nothing to do with him. In the end, maybe that was for the best, but for now, he needed to figure out how the heck he was going to keep her safe from Kirkpatrick and find a way out of their current predicament.

Without succumbing to these feelings she evoked.

Caleb pushed through the doors of the Jeweled Ace saloon and was greeted by the hum of a crowd, punctuated by low male voices and the occasional bawdy laugh from one of the women hoping to entice a patron to the rooms upstairs. He walked up to the bar and motioned to the man behind it wiping down glasses.

“Whiskey.”

A few seconds later he stood nursing the glass, staring down into its amber contents and wondering how much he would have to drink before his current troubles floated away.

Do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires!

Caleb scowled at the sound of his grandfather’s preaching voice, slamming the contents of his drink back and enjoying the slow burn as it slid down his throat and warmed his belly. He ordered another, out of spite more than anything else, and maybe the slim hope that enough whiskey would curb his thoughts of Rachel, if only for a little while.

“Weren’t you supposed to be passing through?”

Caleb toyed with the refilled whiskey glass, turning it around before sliding a glance to his right. Shamus Kirkpatrick leaned casually against the bar as if he owned the place.

Caleb ignored him and turned back to his drink. He didn’t answer to the likes of Kirkpatrick.

His silence did not deter the man. “Where you been keeping yourself?”

Caleb took a slow draw on the whiskey, trying to ignore how much he wanted to pound the last breath out of the man who had made Rachel’s life a living hell.

Kirkpatrick snorted. “You think I can’t find out? Ain’t nothing in this town I don’t know about.”

“Then you don’t need me to fill you in.”

Kirkpatrick smiled, but Caleb read the menace in his cold eyes. It didn’t worry him. Kirkpatrick wouldn’t do anything rash. Not here, not with witnesses.

He wasn’t that stupid.

“What is it with you and the Widow Sutter?” Kirkpatrick’s smile turned into a thin, reedy line. “You’d best not be settin’ your sights there. Woman is all but spoken for. Has been for a while.”