Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(58)

As if realizing he’d get no further information on that matter, the sheriff returned to his original line of questioning.

“What can you tell me about Sinjin Drake?”

Caleb schooled his reaction to the hated name. “Nothing.”

The sheriff smiled. “Nothing? You sit at a card table with one of the fastest draws and sharpest shooters this side of the Mississippi and you got nothing to say about the man?”

Caleb shrugged. “What did your man have to say about him?”

“Not much. Yet. He sent a telegram. He’ll be back in a day or two with a full report. I expect by then he’ll have plenty to say.”

“Well, good luck,” Caleb said, not really meaning it. He walked to the door and opened it. Recognizing the dismissal, the sheriff followed, stopping at the threshold.

“Just so you know, I happen to care a great deal about Rachel Sutter, and I’m not going to take too kindly to someone steppin’ in and causing her grief. She’s had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

Caleb wanted to tell Donovan he had no intention of hurting her, but that was a promise he couldn’t make, no matter how much he wanted to.



“Where’d the money come from?” Kirkpatrick demanded. “I don’t give a lick what cockamamie story that outlaw told Henry Little. Robert couldn’t win himself a card game if you stacked the deck in his favor and tried to lose.”

Rachel glared hard at Shamus Kirkpatrick. Her mind reeled as she took in what he had told her, caught between anger and relief. Her debts were paid off. She was free. At least of Shamus. But by doing this, Caleb now left her indebted to him.

“What makes you think he’s an outlaw?”

“I recognize the type. Now, where’d the money come from?”

She didn’t press Shamus further on his assessment of Caleb. Though she didn’t believe him an outlaw—what kind of outlaw didn’t wear guns?—she knew there was something dark in his past, more than he had already told her.

A part of her wished she could have seen Shamus’s face when the news was delivered.

The other part remained angry as a hornet’s nest at Caleb for going behind her back. Maybe she was better off owing him than Shamus, but it didn’t lessen the impact that he hadn’t even thought to consult with her. He’d just gone ahead and made the decision as if she had no stake in the outcome. At least Caleb had nothing to threaten her with. He already owned her land. She had nothing left to lose.

Memories of last night flooded her mind. How desperately she had wanted to experience his touch, his taste, the pleasure of being in his arms. She’d offered herself to him, and he’d turned her down. Rachel swallowed hard. There was still something she had left to lose, something far more personal than her land. But at least it would only be she who suffered, and not her family.

“It’s none of your business where the money came from,” she said, pulling her thoughts away from last night. “All that matters is my debt to you is paid. You’ve got nothing to hold over me now.”

“Don’t I?” Shamus straightened and smiled—a cold, calculated stretch of the lips that reminded Rachel of a rattler about to strike.

Her heart stilled. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

But it was too late. She’d pushed too far. Triumph sparkled in his pale blue eyes, eyes so much like Brody’s it shot a chill straight through her. Any understanding she had garnered with respect to her mother’s actions dissolved in that moment.

“Did you hear?” Shamus asked, his smug grin growing wider. “I hired me a new ranch hand last night.”

“No...” But the word changed nothing.

“Seems Brody takes bein’ the man of the house serious-like. Wants to prove himself. Said you needed the money and I paid a good wage.”

Ice crystallized in her veins. “You leave him be.”

Shamus shrugged. “Wasn’t my doin’, darlin’. He came to me of his own free will looking for honest work. Who am I to turn the boy away? Seein’ as he’s my son and all.”

Bile rose in her throat. This wasn’t happening. For Brody’s entire life, Shamus had denied his birthright, though he made enough veiled threats to let her know he was well aware of her brother’s parentage. Now, when she had nothing left to fight with, no one left to turn to, he struck. And hit his mark with deadly accuracy.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

She clenched her teeth. “The ranch.”

He shook his head. “Price has gone up.” His gaze traveled down her body, leaving a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You know, you look a lot like your mama.”