Bittner, Rosanne (45 page)

John
watched little Tex, astounded at the turn his life had taken. He straightened,
putting on his hat. "I'll get us that room." He walked to the door.
"I love you, Tess." He looked back at her, realizing he meant the
words more deeply than ever before.

"And
I love you, John Hawkins." How wonderful to be able to say it with true
meaning.

John
left, and Tess closed her eyes, thanking God he was back and unhurt. She could
hear him talking in the other room, heard raised voices as he walked outside.
The whole town was in an uproar, many of El Paso's citizens ready to hang
Caldwell, Higgins, and Dunlap on the spot, or so Mary had been telling her.

One
thing was certain. John Hawkins knew how to smell out trouble and kick it out
into the open. He'd done it again, and this time he'd brought his man in alive.
The Texas Rangers were losing a good man, but he was hers now, and they weren't
getting him back.

Birds
sang sweetly, and Tess breathed deeply of the warm morning air. Three-month-old
Texas still slept soundly in the small bed Harold Jeffers had made for him,
with special wooden sides to keep the baby from falling out of it. The bed had
been presented by the townspeople for John's work in finding the true culprit
behind a good deal of the cattle rustling in the area. They had also
volunteered to come here to the farm and help raise a barn and house.

They
had worked incredibly fast. The barn was finished, and John was out there right
now with a stallion he'd captured a few days ago. Chickens pecked away at feed
Tess had scattered for them earlier, more wild horses grazed in a fenced area,
and cattle grazed farther out in a field. Tess stood on the porch of their new
house, which still needed some finish work, but was livable.

She
had never felt more content. The horrible past was truly behind her, and she
was a far different woman than the Tess who'd been abducted a year ago.

John
was a good father, much more attentive and helpful than she ever dreamed a man
like that could be. He'd taken to ranching as easily as breathing, and he fit
right in out here.

Jim
Caldwell and Casey Dunlap would be hanged in Austin. Sam Higgins was in prison
for several years. Tess often prayed for Harriet, understanding how the woman
must be suffering. No one in El Paso had heard from her. The Caldwell ranch was
up for sale, the transaction being handled for Harriet by a local land agent.
John intended to buy part of it.

Tess
never dreamed life could be so perfect, and it struck her only then that it had
been exactly one year this month that her farm was attacked and burned. She'd
been dragged off, to later be rescued by the mysterious and violent John
Hawkins. Little did she know then the kind of man he really was. The thought
spurred her to walk across the yard to the barn, which still smelled like fresh
lumber.

"Whoa,
boy."

The
words came from John, who was working with the stallion in a double-wide stall.
Tess noticed he'd managed to get a rope bridle over its ears and into its
mouth. The horse was a beautiful animal, coal black, and wild... wild like
Texas, wild like John Hawkins could be at times. "That stallion reminds me
of you," she said, walking closer. The stall gate was open, and the horse
whinnied and reared. Tess held her breath while John hung on to the rope.

"Stay
back," he told her.

Tess
watched him, first stern and commanding, then talking gently in Spanish to the
horse. The stallion finally calmed down.

"I'll
be riding him within a week," he told her. "But mostly I'll just
graze him and use him for stud service."

She
thought how John fit this kind of work, seemed to love it. Because of the heat
he wore only his denim pants and weathered boots today. He was shirtless, and
she watched the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back as he worked with the
fiercely strong horse, man against beast, both stallions, both wild, both
loving freedom yet willing to be tamed. John gently removed the bridle, then
slipped out and shut the stall gate.

"Let's
just hope he doesn't kick it down," he told her. He walked to a bucket of
water and drank some, then took the ladle and poured some over his hands.
"And how does that horse remind you of me?" he asked, taking down a
towel to dry his hands.

"I
think you know," she answered. "He's strong and sleek, beautiful and
wild."

He
looked at her and grinned. "Now you're embarrassing me, Mrs. Hawkins."

"You
love it."

"Do
I?" He walked closer, pulling her into his arms. "I know that I love
you."

She
reached around his neck. "It's been a year, John, since we met. A whole
year."

He
kissed her hair. "I thought about that myself this morning. One year ago I
was a restless, wild Texas Ranger who didn't care if he lived or died, and who
thought he had no real happiness in his future, certainly not love."

"And
I was a married woman who..." Her smile faded as she studied his dark
eyes. "Who never really knew what it meant to be married."

He
leaned down and met her mouth, then swung her up into his arms and walked into
a stall with her. She let out a little scream when he tossed her into the hay.
"John! What are you doing?"

"This
is a brand new stall, fresh, clean hay, never had a horse in it yet."

She
watched him come toward her. "John Hawkins! It's ten o'clock in the
morning! I have chores. The baby will wake up from his morning nap anytime,
and... and someone could come."

"Let
them come. This is our land, our house, our barn, and you're my woman. I want
my woman."

"Here?
Now?"

He
crouched over her, pushing up her dress. "Here. Now."

She
put her hands against his chest. "John—"

He
answered with a searching kiss, deep, lingering, demanding. He moved his lips to
her neck.

"John,
we can't—"

"Yes,
we can. We can do anything we want."

She
felt her drawers being slipped down, felt straw against her bare bottom.
"John Hawkins, I thought you were becoming more civilized."

"I
am. Look around you. We have a home, a baby, a ranch. Isn't that civilized
enough for you?"

"You
know what I mean." She drew in her breath when he yanked the drawers
completely off and moved between her legs.

"I
know exactly what you mean. I guess you'll never civilize that part of me,
except that I won't ever share it with any other woman but you."

She
thought about Jenny, all the prostitutes to whom he'd probably given great
pleasure. The thought of it brought her secret jealousy to a boil again.
"You'd better not," she told him.

"Why
would I need to? I am married to the prettiest redhead in Texas." With
that he slid into her almost unexpectedly. Tess closed her eyes and sucked in
her breath with the pleasure of it. He pushed deeper, and she found herself
meeting his rhythmic thrusts with wanton eagerness. This was like him,
unbridled, spontaneous. She was instantly lost in his kisses and caresses, his
exotic, intimate invasion. There was nothing left to say, and she had no
protest left in her.

Outside,
on a rise overlooking the farm, a small band of Mexican bandits sat studying
the ranch, the horses, and cattle.

"I
say we take the cattle, see if there is a woman down there and see what else
might be valuable to us," one of them said.

Their
leader shook his head. "I was asking around in Juarez. They say the Texas
Ranger called John Hawkins lives here." He looked at the first man who had
spoken. "Do you wish to ride against John Hawkins? Try to take his
woman?"

The
first man frowned, studied the ranch a moment longer. "We will go
somewhere else."

The
leader grinned and turned his horse. They rode away, leaving the ranch, its
horses and cattle—and John Hawkins's woman—behind.