Pete (The Cowboys) (20 page)

Much to her surprise, Anne realized she’d never thought about having children.

“I bet he’s a wonderful lover,” Dolores said. She’d paused in her washing. “Not that I’m asking you to tell me anything.”

But Anne could tell Dolores was hoping she’d tell her everything. Wouldn’t she be surprised—no, shocked—to learn Pete hadn’t done anything more intimate than wash her back?

“We haven’t talked about children yet,” Anne said.

“You’d better do it soon. With you young and him healthy—well, you know what to expect.”

“I’m sure we’ve got plenty of time.”

“I’ll bet you’re pregnant right now.”

“I’m not.”

“How can you be sure?”

She couldn’t admit Pete hadn’t made love to her, not even once. “I’m sure I’ll feel something.”

Dolores laughed. “You’ll feel something all right, when you take one look at your breakfast and run straight for the sink.”

“Are you sure you’ll need extra help?”

“Certain.”

“I’ll talk to Pete.”

But not right away. Not until there was a reason to bring up the subject of babies.

Pete released the horse’s foreleg and eased back into the shadows. There was so much moonlight tonight, he had to take extra care not to cause the horses to make any unusual noises. If one of the men should come out of the bunkhouse, he’d see Pete in a matter of minutes. He had an excuse prepared as to why he should be wandering about the corrals, checking the feet of every horse on the place, but it would be better if he didn’t have to use it.

He hadn’t found either of the horses ridden by the men who’d shot him and killed Peter Warren, but that didn’t really surprise him. He didn’t think the killers or their horses were at the ranch house. He believed the three of them were playing a game of cat-and-mouse. They wanted to kill him, but they couldn’t get close because they thought he would recognize them.

He’d been keeping an eye out for those distinctive hoof marks, but it was hard to look for hoofprints when he was in the middle of a crowd and didn’t want anybody to know what he was doing. That was why he’d decided to do it in the middle of the night when he had the time to make a careful and thorough search. Now that it was done, he’d be glad to get to bed. He was so tired, he was yawning.

He was certain there were other horses on the ranch he hadn’t seen, probably even ranch hands who bedded down in line cabins because it was too far to make the long ride in each day. It was a shame he couldn’t pin the crime on Belser, but Eddie swore Belser never left the ranch, that he hadn’t seen him with anybody who wasn’t a Tumbling T hand. Pete was certain Belser had somehow found and hired two men to do the killing, but he couldn’t figure out how he’d done it.

Belser had come back from Big Bend drunk. Or as drunk as a man could be after a six-hour ride. Fortunately, Anne had gone to bed. If Belser had said anything more to hurt her feelings, Pete would have thrown him out of the house right then and there. Pete had let Belser go to his room to sleep it off, but the man would pack his belongings and leave first thing in the morning. He had enough to worry about without having that coyote snapping at his heels all day.

Pete carefully worked his way through the herd. He had to get back to the house without being seen.

Back to bed with Anne.

It was a good thing he was going on roundup. He didn’t know how much longer he could sleep in the same bed with Anne without touching her. He’d thought knowing she was married to another man would help him keep his distance. If that failed, his conscience wouldn’t let him take advantage of her knowing he meant to leave the minute he found his money.

But he’d been wrong. He’d gone from one piece of folly to another, taking her to town with him, buying her clothes and turning her into a beauty, touching her skin until he thought his body would explode. Now it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. If things got any worse, he’d have to come up with some reason why he had to sleep in a separate bedroom.

But he couldn’t think of an excuse that anyone would believe.

He had to keep reminding himself what Isabelle would do to him if she ever found out. That was it. He had to remember Isabelle. Surely it would be harder to take advantage of a woman, no matter how beautiful, with his mother looking over his shoulder.

Anne woke up with a start. It was all she could do to stifle a scream. Her heart beat so rapidly that it hurt; her breath came in short, sharp gasps. The dream had been so real, so terrifying.

She’d dreamed Pete was an imposter, that he’d killed Peter and was trying to kill her. She’d tried to hide from him, but he always found her; she’d tried to run from him, but he was faster; her dress caught on a branch, and she fell down. Belser and Mrs. Dean laughed at her. The sheriff refused to help. Eddie and Dolores couldn’t reach her. She was alone and helpless. The closer he came, the more horrible Pete looked, the more his face resembled some terrible animals. She started to scream and scream and—

Then she woke up.

The relief was tremendous. As horrible as it was, as terrified as she still was, she was awake, safe in bed with Pete. Remembering his warning never to touch him while he was asleep, she whispered, “Pete.”

She got no answer.

“Pete, please wake up.”

Still no answer.

She fumbled in the drawer beside the table until she found a box of matches, and struck one.

There was no one there. Pete wasn’t in bed.

Then she remembered he’d said he and Eddie might be up a long time talking about the roundup. Quickly, before the match could burn her fingers, she lit the lamp she kept beside the bed.

The clock across the room said 2:37
A.M.
She wasn’t certain she’d wound it properly, but she could hear it ticking. Pete shouldn’t be up this late. He’d never be able to get up in the morning. He was working too hard, probably determined the ranch wouldn’t fail like his hardware store. She’d go down and make him come up to bed. He wasn’t going to fail this time.

She found her slippers and put on a robe.

Belser’s door was closed. So he’d come back. She had mixed feelings about that. She felt bad about firing him. She probably would have let him stay if Pete had let her. At the same time, she was glad Pete had insisted Belser leave. He would never accept Pete’s ownership of the ranch. She didn’t want her children being brought up with stories of how their father had cheated Belser out of his rightful inheritance.

The house looked eerie in the dark, lamplight casting long, ominous shadows that jumped and swayed with every step she took. She told herself she was spooked because of the dream, that nothing could possibly happen to her as long as she was in the house, certainly not with Eddie and Pete still up.

But long before she’d crossed the huge living room, Anne knew there was nobody in the office. The door stood ajar. No light came from within.

Pete was gone.

She told herself not to be foolish. He was here. He had to be. She just had to think where. In the kitchen. He and Eddie probably got hungry. Or wanted more coffee. Relieved to have found the answer, she turned and hurried to the kitchen.

Empty.

Panic threatened to overcome her determined effort to remain calm. She whirled and ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall toward the room where Eddie slept. She stopped. She didn’t need to wake him up. She could hear him snoring softly. She wasn’t alone. Everybody else was here except Pete.

Where was he?

Her first impulse was to wake Eddie and tell him something had happened to Pete. Instead, she backed away from the door, turned, and headed back toward her own bedroom. She didn’t know what Pete might be doing, but she was certain he’d be furious if she woke everybody up and started a search for him.

She returned to her room, closed the door, and got back into bed. Where was he? What could he be doing? Why on earth would he be out in the middle of the night? He never would have done that when he was a boy. He didn’t even want to sit on the porch after dark. She was glad that had changed. She liked sitting out at night and watching the stars.

But an uneasy feeling started to grow inside Anne all over again. Pete had changed an awful lot. She had liked the changes. She had been happy he’d grown into a man capable of handling his inheritance. She had thought several times it was a shame Uncle Carl hadn’t lived to see that Pete had turned out a whole lot better than he’d ever thought possible.

But now, even though she tried to push the thought away, she couldn’t rid herself of the dreadful suspicion that maybe Pete had changed too much. Maybe it wasn’t possible for a man to learn to be so completely unlike himself in ten years. Nobody else thought he could change. She wondered again if he might have made up that story about failing in business in Illinois. She didn’t know why he would have done something like that, but maybe he’d done it to make Uncle Carl think he’d turned out to be just as much of a failure as Uncle Carl expected. Instead he’d gone to Texas and learned to be a cowboy so when he inherited the ranch, he’d know exactly what to do.

That would explain all that business about Isabelle and Jake. It would also explain why he could do everything better than anybody else.

Only one thing was wrong.

If he’d gone to Texas, how had he sent all those letters to her from Illinois? Why did the letters she’d been getting over the last ten years sound like the Peter she knew before, not the Pete who was her husband now? Had he done that intentionally, fooled her, too, so nobody would know what he was doing?

It answered everything perfectly. As long as she could believe it, she wouldn’t have to doubt Pete. She could go on loving him, depending on him, enjoying being treated with kindness and thoughtfulness. She could look forward to a future as the cherished wife of a powerful rancher, as the mother of sons and daughters who would be just as wonderful as their father. She would never have to worry about having nowhere to go, about being ignored and despised because of her Indian blood.

But what if that weren’t true?

She didn’t even want to think of that. The possibilities were too numerous, too dreadful. If that were true…

She heard the faint sound of a footstep in the hall. Very quickly she turned out the light and slid down into the bed.

Moments later the door opened. She knew without looking that Pete had entered the room in stocking feet. She lay perfectly still while he tiptoed around to his side of the bed. She could barely hear the sound of his clothes as he carefully slipped them from his body. She felt the bed give as he eased his weight down onto the mattress. He gradually got fully into bed and pulled the covers over him. She felt his head relax into the pillow. A soft sigh escaped him.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

Chapter Eleven

“I thought you’d be asleep hours ago.”

He sounded startled, as if someone had sneaked up behind him and yelled
Boo!

“I was. I had a bad dream.” She struck a match, lighted the lamp, and turned toward him. “I went downstairs looking for you, but you weren’t there. Eddie’s been in bed a long time. I know because I heard him snoring. Where have you been?”

“Outside checking the horses.”

“In the dark?”

“It’s not dark with all that moonlight. You can see practically as well as day.”

“You used to be afraid of the dark.”

“I wasn’t afraid.”

“You didn’t like it.”

“No kid likes the dark. I was just brave enough to admit it.”

Nobody else had called it bravery. His father had been angry, his uncle disgusted. His brother had laughed. “How did you get over being afraid of the dark?”

“Working at night loading wagons, delivering stuff, walking home after I closed the store. Half the time I’d get to the store before the sun came up.”

Why was it that perfectly reasonable explanations didn’t seem enough anymore? She had no reason not to believe him. He didn’t hesitate when she asked questions. He didn’t seem upset or angry or even wonder why she wanted to know where he’d been. He’d probably jumped when she spoke because he’d expected her to be asleep and her voice coming out of the dark startled him.

“Why couldn’t you check on them in the morning?”

“I need to do other things in the morning.”

“Let Eddie do it.”

“I like to do things like that myself. Then I know the kind of mounts we have and what I can expect from the riders.”

“How did you learn so much about horses?”

“I told you, my friend from Texas. I spent a great deal of time with him. He taught me a lot.”

“You said you went to Texas?”

He hesitated. “I hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“Why?”

“That’s how I lost the store.”

“Then why did you go?”

“I knew Uncle Carl had to leave me the ranch because there wasn’t anybody else. I wasn’t coming out here to let him make fun of me again. I wanted to know what to do, to be nearly as good as Uncle Carl was. Only he died before I could show him. I went back to Illinois to try to save the hardware store, but it was too late.”