Rebecca’s family.
Cole had been an outsider all his life, but he was never more aware of it than he was right now. He wasn’t a part of Rebecca’s family. Seeing her with the children made him yearn for his son all the more.
Wade strode up the front walk, his chest puffed out like a proud peacock. He carried a bunch of wilted columbines in one hand and peppermints in the other. He climbed the front steps and kissed Rebecca on the cheek as if he owned the place.
Rebecca laughed at something Wade said. Her voice was clear, intoxicating. It irritated him that she encouraged the attentions of a man twice her age. But it irked him more that he cared.
Damn.
Why did he care what happened to her? And why did it matter that this poor excuse for a town was dying?
The whys didn’t have answers and likely they never would. The plain truth was that he did care about Rebecca and White Stone.
Two days ago he’d met with Gene Applegate and the other members of the town council. He’d presented the idea of reopening the Lucky Star, reasoning that if they all pooled their capital, they could have the mine reopened in a month.
In the past, none of them would have given him the time of day. But they were desperate to save their town and would make a deal with Lucifer if necessary. They promised him an answer tomorrow.
Mac’s childish squalls broke Cole’s train of thought. He looked up in time to see Wade hoist the boy up on his shoulders.
Cole swung the ax blade over his head and drove it into the wood with a loud whack. The log splintered in two.
Rebecca’s head turned at the sound. Their gazes locked. A primal urge welled inside him. She was his! He longed to reach out and touch her, to pull her in his arms and savor her scent.
Yesterday, he’d tasted her passion, but instead of feeling satisfied he was ravenous for more. He wanted to strip away her modest dress and see her naked body beneath his. He wanted her to scream his name as he made love to her. He wanted Rebecca!
As if sensing his thoughts, a fine blush colored her cheeks before she looked away. She smoothed unsteady hands over her skirt before she offered a faltering smile to Wade.
Cole tossed the blade aside. Rebecca was always out of his reach.
“You look to me as if you could spit nails.” Bess emerged from the back door, dressed in a freshly pressed black dress with a wide-brimmed bonnet. She carried a glass of lemonade in her lace-gloved hands.
Cole accepted the glass without comment and drained its contents. The sour-sweet liquid cut through his thirst and eased the pounding in his head. “Thanks.”
“You best get dressed if you’re gonna make the picnic in time.”
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Not in the mood for a party.”
Cole watched Wade, Rebecca and the children start down the hill toward town. He scowled.
Bess’s gaze trailed Cole’s. “Cagey old coot thinks he wants children,” Bess said. “Thinks a younger woman can give him back something he lost long ago.” A touch of sadness shrouded her words.
“He’s welcome to her.” Cole didn’t sound convincing.
“Liar. You’ve got eyes for Rebecca.”
Cole thrust the glass back in Bess’s hand, embarrassed his emotions were so transparent. “I damn well do not.”
“Your problem is that you’re too young and proud to admit you’ve got feelings for her.”
The sheriff pressed another light kiss on Rebecca’s cheek. He offered her his arm and she took it. Cole gritted his teeth.
“If you’re smart you won’t let her slip through your hands.”
“I can’t hang on to someone I’ve never had.”
Bess shook her head. “I think you’re a fool but you do what you please. But I ain’t too young or proud to go after what I want.” She handed the empty glass back to Cole and started toward town.
He stared at the glass. He’d felt at a disadvantage ever since he’d returned.
Ten years ago when he’d rode out of town, he’d sworn to make a success of his life. And by God, he had. He’d traveled from Virginia to Mexico, fought renegades and argued with generals. He had gained a reputation as a risk taker and a man who got the job done. He wasn’t wealthy, but he’d saved a small fortune from his military pay and he had his sights set on the Lucky Star. He was a success by any man’s standards.
And there’d been women—officers’ daughters, ladies of quality—who had had an eye for him.
Yet, even the military, promises of California gold or other women could never erase the memory of Rebecca.
Music and the hum of voices floated from town. There’d be dancing and likely Rebecca would be a popular partner. In a town with so few unmarried women, it was a marvel she’d remained unwed these last two years. No doubt she’d be the belle of the party and every eligible bachelor in the territory would have his hands on her today.
His fingers clenched around the glass.
Over his dead body.
* * *
The fiddle player struck up a lively tune and the crowds broke off into couples to dance a jig.
Rebecca stood next to Bess and the children, her foot tapping. She felt out of place at the festivities. Like a forgotten china teapot, she had been left in the cupboard too long and now had been dusted off and put back into service.
Three years had passed since she’d attended one of the Fourth of July festivities. She’d stayed cloistered alone in the Shady Grove, not always happy but safe from men like Curtis. Then Cole McGuire had arrived and changed everything. His presence had turned her well-ordered life upside down.
She remembered the day Curtis had arrived in town on the stage as if it were yesterday. He’d worn a fine suit made of rich dark wool and a brocade vest that shimmered in the noonday sun. His lace-trimmed cuffs brushed the tops of smooth hands, accentuating their long lines and grace. He had dark hair, combed back with precision and a fine wide-brimmed hat that shadowed vibrant gray eyes.
He was nothing like the clumsy town suitors. She had been drawn to him from the instant she’d seen him strutting out of the Rosebud.
Curtis had flashed her one of his heart-stopping smiles and lazily made his way over toward her. They’d talked and she danced with him three times, which had sent the gossips’ tongues wagging. But Rebecca hadn’t cared. He was handsome, and so charming.
He’d said he was a scout for the railroad and that he wanted to make a home in White Stone. As they’d finished their third dance he’d even whispered that he was half in love with her.
And dear Lord, she’d believed all his lies.
But he was a con man. He’d known who she was before she’d first laid eyes on him. Curtis had had a talent for sniffing out money. He knew her father, the richest man in the district had just passed away, and that she was alone and wealthy.
Thanks to Curtis, she’d learned a lifetime’s worth of lessons. But she was no longer a silly girl, hidden from life by an overprotective father, ripe for a man like Curtis.
“Ah, Rebecca,” Gladys Applegate called. Behind her stood Olivia and Prudence. Mrs. Applegate glanced quickly from side to side. “I don’t see any sign of Mr. McGuire.”
Rebecca’s stomach clenched. She remembered the way he’d looked at her before she’d left the inn. The raw longing in his eyes had startled and excited her. “I don’t think he’s coming.”
“He has stopped asking questions about his son,” Prudence said proudly.
“No one has said a word,” Olivia amended.
“He’ll forget about the boy soon enough,” Mrs. Applegate said. “He’s got his own future to think about.”
If success was within Rebecca’s grasp, then why did she want to weep? “I suppose.”
“Rebecca.” Cole’s clear voice glide
d over their heads. She stiffened, turning slowly to face him. Her jaw dropped, as she stood with the other three ladies in stunned silence, staring at Cole.
Cole had combed back his dark hair still damp from his bath. He’d shaved, which had sharpened the jagged planes of his face. Everything about him, from his newly purchased white shirt buttoned up to his throat, to the snug denims to the tips of his rugged boots spoke of power.
The other women stared wide-eyed at Cole.
“Dance with me,” he said.
Rebecca shut her mouth. “I’ve got Mac to watch.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Applegate can keep an eye on him for a minute or two.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
Mrs. Applegate’s cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. “Of course you could. Dance with him.”
“But Ernie is getting me punch.”
“He’ll find you soon enough,” Mrs. Applegate said. “Dance with Cole.”
Before she could come up with another excuse or figure out Mrs. Applegate’s change of heart, Cole took her hand in his and tugged her through the throng of people. Wade stared at them with his mouth agape, two cups of punch in his hand. Bess was at his side smiling her approval.
Cole pressed his hand into the small of Rebecca’s back, guiding her to the grassy area, matted down by the dancers. The fiddlers played a fast-paced reel, but Cole expertly steered Rebecca into the center of the dancers.
The high-stepping jig made it impossible for Rebecca to talk as she concentrated on the dance. Twice she stepped on his toes. Cole led her through the moves.
“Let me lead,” he whispered in her ear.
“Easier said than done.”
Slowly, she began to relax. It had been so long since she’d danced. It felt good to move, to be held in a man’s arms. She felt as if she were sixteen again.
She’d just gotten accustomed to following his lead when the music stopped. But Cole didn’t release her. Instead he held her hands in his. Breathless, she looked past him to check on Mac. He was playing happily with two sticks by Mrs. Applegate’s feet.
“He’s a fine boy,” Cole said. His gaze had trailed hers.
Rebecca’s defenses slammed into place. “Yes.”