Rebecca glared at Bess. “I’ve managed.”
“Nearly broke your neck last month. You scared ten years off my life.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. “When the rain stops, I’ll get up on the roof and have a look.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Rebecca was quick to say. The last thing she wanted was to be in Cole McGuire’s debt.
Cole hung his coat next to Rebecca’s shawl. “Seeing as I’ll be staying awhile, I’ll need something to pass the time.”
Bess grinned. “We ain’t never had a man around here and we could use the help.”
“I don’t want a man around,” Rebecca snapped.
“You’ve got one now,” Cole said, his words bursting with unspoken meaning.
“Bess, I’ll bring my clothes down presently,” he said as he strode out of the room, his boots squishing with each step.
“H-he’s in-incorrigible,” she stammered.
Bess gestured toward Rebecca’s soaked dress. “Get over here by the stove and take that dress off. I’ll get you a blanket.”
Rebecca’s fingers trembled as she undid the row of tiny buttons that trailed down between her breasts. More chilled than she realized, she breathed a relieved sigh when she peeled the garment from her shoulders and let it slide over her hips. Her chemise, transparent now, clung to her body like skin. Modesty aside, she stood next to the cookstove and opened the cast-iron door. Her body mopped up the welcome heat as she waited for Bess.
Bess returned in two shakes, a calico patchwork quilt in hand. “Mac’s stirring from his morning nap.”
“I’ll get to him.” She wrapped the soft cotton around her shoulders. She shivered.
“He can wait a minute or two more. I want to know what happened outside. Cole McGuire looked like he could spit nails.”
“Everything’s fine. I’ve just got to be strong and wait him out.”
“You wait him out? Honey, you’re gonna lose that battle. That man had the devil in his eyes. He ain’t leaving this place any time soon.”
“I will wait him out.” Rebecca clutched the folds of the blanket closer together. “Now I have to get upstairs.”
Without waiting for Bess’s response, she fled up the darkened back staircase. Her bones ached from fatigue and cold. Mac’s giggles greeted her when she reached the top landing. She padded across the pine floor to his room and peeked around the door.
Mac sat in the middle of his cot playing with a toy ball. So innocent. She wanted to pull him close and savor the feel of his small body against her. If keeping him safe meant damning her own soul, then she’d gladly pay the price.
Rebecca tiptoed away from the door. She guessed she had ten minutes before Mac grew bored with his toys and came looking for her. Just enough time to change her clothes.
She’d go into town today and find Mrs. Applegate. Once she’d assured herself that the women had spread the word about Cole, then she could breathe a sigh of relief. If no one talked, Mac would stay safely with her.
When she turned, Cole was staring at her. He’d moved quiet as a cat in his stocking feet. Wearing dry pants and a worn black cotton shirt, he’d pushed his wet hair from his face with his fingers.
His gaze flickered to her bare shoulder. “You look like you’re in a big rush.”
“Mac will be up and about soon.”
He glanced toward the nursery door where the sound of Mac’s giggles trickled out. “Sure.”
She moved to step around him. “If you’ll excuse me…”
Cole manacled his long fingers around her wrist. His hold was gentle but unbreakable. “I’m not a monster, Rebecca.”
She stiffened. “I never said you were.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re just like everyone else in this town. You hear the name Cole McGuire and your next thought is trouble.”
“No, that’s not true.” Or at least, it hadn’t been until Mac.
A shadow crossed his eyes. “I remember when you first came to White Stone. It was a crisp spring afternoon. Your pa had finished building his house and he’d finally sent for you.”
Rebecca remembered that day. She’d been ten years old and hadn’t seen her pa in over six months. She’d been so excited to see him that she’d taken extra care that morning when she’d dressed, making sure the bow of her pinafore was extra crisp. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“I was sitting on the steps outside the saloon,” Cole said quietly. “Your pa was right anxious to see you and he’d nearly worn a rut in the street for all his pacing. I was green with jealously because my own pa had run off before I was born.”
She didn’t speak, too afraid the torrent of emotions inside her would spill free.
“I was angry that you had your pa and I didn’t. So, I picked up a rock and tossed it on the rump of a horse standing near you. The bay bucked and kicked up clumps of dirt that splattered your dress. You started to cry and I started to laugh. Do you remember what you said?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She thought back to the ruined dress and the tarnished homecoming. “I said you were hateful.”
“The instant I saw the misery in your eyes, I knew what I had done was cruel.”
She conjured vague images of a gangly boy who never smiled. “I stopped blaming you when I saw where you lived and heard what your mother did. No child should live like that.”
He laid his hands on her shoulders. Energy surged through his palms, making her knees turn to mush. “I think you’re still judging me for those very reasons. You and everyone else in town see only the boy who got into too many fights and stirred up trouble every chance he got.” He captured a stray wet curl that had escaped her chignon. “I’m a different person now.”
The truth begged to be told. Was she being unfair to him?
“I’ve got plans to move to California. I want to stake a claim and put what your pa taught me about mining to good use.”
California! It was over a thousand miles of hard traveling away. No. No. No!
Maybe he wasn’t trouble. Maybe he could be a father to Mac. But Rebecca couldn’t let him take Mac that far away. She pulled away from him. “I wish you the best, Cole, truly.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m asking this one last time, Rebecca. Tell me what you know.”
Mac cried out to her. “Mama!”
She stared at the nursery door. “I don’t know anything.” Have mercy on my soul.
He grabbed her by the arm, his fingers biting into her skin. He jerked her close to him. “If I find out you’ve been lying to me, I promise you I will make you pay, Rebecca.”
She broke free and fled into the nursery afraid to think or move. Her heart slammed against her chest.
Rebecca had trapped herself with her own lies.
Chapter Six
Cole bit back an oath, scooped up his hat and stormed down the stairs and out the front door. The rain had cleared. The cloudy haze had split to reveal a blue sky. A dewy film clung to the leaves and the streets had turned to a muddy quagmire.
Cole had given Rebecca ample opportunity to tell him what she knew about his boy. Hell, he wasn’t asking for much.
Damn Rebecca! He’d gone out of his way to be thoughtful concerning her feelings, but she kept holding back.
Double damn him for caring that she didn’t trust him. He smacked his fist against the porch railing.
If he had a lick of sense he’d shake every last grain of truth out of her. But, blast his hide, he did care.
Cole wanted Rebecca to trust him. He wanted her to recognize him for the man he’d become—a man worthy of her confidence.
But when he looked into her light-blue eyes, he saw only fear and distrust. She was afraid of him and she wasn’t going to tell him anything.
Well, by God, there was more than one way to skin a cat. From his pocket he pulled out a battered watch and snapped it open. Ten-fifteen. Dusty wouldn’t be meeting him at the Rosebud for nearly two hours, which gave him ample time to st
art nosing around. If Rebecca wouldn’t talk to him, someone else would.
Cole dug his heel into a warped floorboard on the porch. “I tried to be a nice guy, Rebecca.”
He put on his hat and strode down the steps toward town. Thick mud caked his boots, but his gait was sure and purposeful. He’d talk to every person in town if that’s what it took. And if no one talked, they’d learn that Cole McGuire could stir up a lot more trouble now than he ever did before.
He’d just reached the inn’s picket fence when he saw Sheriff Wade striding toward him with Dusty in tow. He held the boy by his collar, forcing him to take three steps for each one of his.
Dusty wore a panicked expression even as he kicked and squirmed each step of the way. “Let me go, I ain’t done nothing wrong, Sheriff.”
“Hush up, boy. We’ll just see what you been up to and ain’t.” Sheriff Wade’s dented tin star caught the sunlight and his round belly jostled as he dragged the boy down the rutted path.
Cole thought back to his own youth. Whenever there’d been a speck of trouble, he had been the one they’d come looking for, whether it was stolen apples or missing money. Wade hadn’t been the one looking for him in those days, but that didn’t stop him from resenting the man.
Cole stopped at the fence, his hand resting on twin pickets. “What seems to be the problem, Sheriff?”
The old man halted and spat. He wore a clean shirt, had trimmed his beard and the strong smell of bay rum wafted around him.
“You’re just the one I’m looking for.”
“That so?”
Dusty squirmed against Wade’s meaty hold. “Tell him I ain’t been looking for trouble,” he shouted.
“Hush boy,” Wade warned. “Or I’ll jerk a knot in you.”
Cole’s fingers bit into the pickets. “No need to be rough with the boy.”
“Rough’s about all he understands.”
“I’m asking you real polite. Let go of him.”
Challenge flashed in the sheriff’s old eyes as he tightened his hold on Dusty. “He’s been hanging around the livery. Likely he’s looking for trouble.”
Dusty wrenched free of the sheriff’s grip. The old man lunged toward him, but the boy skirted out of his reach, hopped the fence and took his place behind Cole. “The livery’s where I sleep. I weren’t doing nothing wrong.”
Wade opened the picket fence. “It’s high time I took you back to your pa’s place.”