Authors: Connie Mason
“Sweet Jesus!” Jim mouthed with suitable shock. “We had little time for talk, but he mentioned no such thing to me. You must realize, of course, that the marriage is hardly legal.”
“I’m not stupid, Jim. I know Colt was more or less forced to participate in the joining ritual. I have no false expectations where Colt is concerned. I took care of myself before and will do so again.”
“If I have the story straight,” Jim said with a lazy smile, “you were in trouble when you and Colt met.”
Annoyed, Sam nodded. Of course Jim would know about that fiasco. “The money was returned,” she snapped.
“I wasn’t accusin’ you, Sam,” Jim returned. “I was tryin’ to prove a point. It’s difficult for a woman on her own.”
“I have Will,” Sam said stubbornly.
“A half-grown boy.”
“Nevertheless, we’ll manage.”
“Marry me.”
“I… can’t. You’d better leave, Jim.”
Disappointed but hardly defeated, Jim acquiesced. “The last thing I want to do is anger you. But don’t think I’ve given up. If I thought Colt wanted you I’d back off gladly. But I’ve known him too long, been privy to the workin’s of his mind too many years not to know that he neither wants nor deserves your love.”
He left then, leaving Sam with an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Everything Jim said was true. And it hurt—hurt dreadfully. It stung to think that her Indian blood made her good enough to bed but not to wed. Perhaps she should consider Jim’s proposal, Sam thought despondently. Soon everyone would know she was expecting Colt’s child. Then what?
It had been nearly two months since their joining ceremony in Black Bear’s camp, and there was still no sign of her monthly flow. Since the onset of brief bouts of morning sickness, Sam was convinced that Colt’s seed had taken root in her womb on their wedding night. That’s why it was imperative she leave the ranch before anyone found out. Though Colt didn’t want her he’d feel obligated to support her and their child. But Sam didn’t fancy being kept for that reason. She’d starve before accepting charity from a man who felt nothing for her but lust.
As the days sped by, Calvin Logan fumed over Jim Blake’s lack of communication. Vern was the recipient of the lion’s share of his anger.
“Dammit, Vern, what could that man be doing out there all this time?” Calvin raged as he paced his office. “Surely he’s found out something by now.”
“We shouldn’t have hired the man without askin’ more questions about his past,” Vern acknowledged irritably. “I’da sworn he was a drifter on the run from the law, but looks are often deceivin’.”
“We had no choice,” Calvin growled crossly. “Once the Crowders left the area, we needed someone. Blake happened to be handy. But I certainly expected to hear from him before now.”
“What are we gonna do, Daddy?”
“Nothing, for a day or two. If we still haven’t heard from him by then, you ride out to the Circle H and arrange a meeting. Let him know we’re not too happy with him. Time is running out. The railroad men will be here soon and I hate to lose the profit I could make on the Howard place. If things go my way I’ll be rich beyond my wildest dreams.”
Vern’s brows drew together in a scowl. “What about me?”
“You’re a disappointment to me, Vern,” Calvin remarked hurtfully. “I want grandchildren and I won’t get any as long as you keep fooling around with that whore over at the Palace. You lost Samantha Howard by playing coward. The whole town knows you for what you are.”
“Would you prefer I lost my life because of that woman?”
“It might have been a blessing,” Calvin muttered beneath his breath.
“Daddy!”
“Oh, hell, Vern, you’re all I’ve got so it looks as if I’m stuck with you. Just don’t disappoint me this time. Find out what’s going on with Blake.”
“Have you changed your mind about the will?” Vern asked hopefully.
Calvin eyed Vern with distaste. How could this spineless creature have sprung from his loins? “Bring home a suitable wife and give me a grandchild, then we’ll talk about it.”
“Do you still consider Samantha suitable after that Ranger bedded her?”
“I like the girl. She’s got guts, something you lack. Besides, her indiscretion is no worse than your penchant for whores. Marry the chit and I’ll not find fault with your choice.”
Several days later Vern rode out to the Circle H, arriving some time after dark. His orders were to contact Blake under the cover of darkness and find out if the gunslinger had learned anything about the new owner.
Vern approached the bunkhouse cautiously, peering through one of the windows. The hands were seated around a long table making inroads in the piles of food Sanchez placed before them. Blake was not among their ranks. Disappointed, Vern slunk away, his gaze turning toward the house where soft light glowed invitingly through the windows.
His steps took him to the rear of the house. Suddenly the back door opened and Vern melted into the shadows when a couple stepped out into the soft, star-studded night. At first he thought it was Samantha, but moonbeams reflecting off long blond tresses revealed his mistake. He knew then it was the sister Andrews had recently rescued from the Comanches. Vaguely, he wondered what the woman was doing out here. The Ranger had left Karlsburg some weeks before, and Vern had naturally assumed his sister had accompanied him.
Hand in hand, the couple disappeared in the direction of the creek and Vern emerged from his concealment. The sound of voices drew him toward a window that looked into the parlor. Dismay settled over Vern’s bland features when he saw Jim Blake seated next to Sam on the divan. Swallowing his shock, Vern concentrated on the words flowing between them.
Ever since Jim had declared his feelings for her, Sam had felt uncomfortable being alone with him. Luckily Jim had been too busy of late with ranch work to pursue her as he might have liked. But tonight everything conspired against her. One thing led to another and she soon found herself seated next to Jim in the
parlor while Laura and Jake escaped out the back door, holding hands and giggling like children. Sam wanted to disappear in a wisp of smoke when Jim broached the very subject she wished to avoid.
“Have you thought any more about what we discussed the other day?” Jim asked, impaling her with eyes as black as midnight.
“Jim, I appreciate your asking but—”
“I want you for my wife, Sam.”
Crouched outside the window Vern’s gasp drew little attention.
“It’s impossible.”
“Because you love Colt?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Look, Sam, I’m Colt’s best friend. We’ve been together for years. Through the Mexican War and now the Rangers. If I thought he wanted you for his wife, I’d bow out”
“A goddamned Texas Ranger,” Vern muttered beneath his breath. Daddy’s going to explode when he learns he hired a lawman, Vern thought as he withdrew from his uncomfortable position beneath the window. Blake’s undercover activities told Vern things that neither he nor his father had been aware of. It told him that they were under suspicion and the Rangers were on to their illegal dealings. Perhaps even linked with the Crowders. Suddenly a devious smile lit Vern’s features. He saw a way to redeem himself in his father’s eyes and rid them of a traitor at the same time.
“You don’t have to remind me that I’m nothing more to Colt than a convenience,” Sam choked, the notion that Colt’s feelings were widespread knowledge a knife-thrust in her heart.
“No!” Jim contradicted. “I’m sure it wasn’t like that. I know Colt felt somethin’ for you, he wouldn’t use you for—well, he just wouldn’t. What I meant is that he’s not a marryin’ man. Especially when—” His words skidded to a halt, afraid of immersing himself more deeply in hot water than he already was.
“… especially when the woman in question is half Comanche,” Sam saved him from saying. “It’s getting late, Jim, you’d better leave.”
They soon parted after one last plea from Jim exhorting Sam to seriously consider his proposal.
Thoughtfully leaving a lamp burning for Laura, Sam wandered into her bedroom, undressing almost immediately after the door closed behind her. She had gotten no further than her shirt when the stillness of the night was shattered by gunfire.
“Good God!” cried Sam, jerking her arms into her shirtsleeves and rushing from the room.
A terrible premonition turned her legs to rubber as she staggered outside. Heading toward the bunk-house, she nearly tripped over a prone form sprawled in the dirt. Realizing at once what it was, Sam screamed. Suddenly she was surrounded by light and faces.
“Jesus, it’s Blake!” someone shouted, holding a lamp high in the air. “Some bastard ambushed him.”
“What is it?” This came from Jake who had just arrived with Laura in tow.
“Someone gunned down Blake, boss.”
“Who saw it?”
All eyes swung to Sam. Shock suspended her senses, rendering her unable to move or speak. Jake had to shake her gently before reason returned.
“Sam, did you see who did this?”
“N … no,” Sam stuttered, mesmerized by the pool of blood congealing beneath Jim’s body. “Is he dead?”
“He’s alive—barely.” This came from a cowboy kneeling at Jim’s side.
“Get him inside,” Jake barked. “Easy does it. Someone get Sanchez, he has some experience with things like this.”
“I’m here, Senor.” Sanchez stepped forward, following on the heels of the men carrying Jim into the house. With stricken eyes Sam watched the lifeblood flow from Jim’s body, somehow feeling responsible.
“What happened, Sam?” Will appeared beside Sam, lending her a supporting arm.
“I… I don’t know,” Sam quavered, still in shock. “Jim had just left the house when I heard the shot. Who would shoot him?”
“The man is a Ranger, Sam,” Will said with keen perception. “He must have dozens of enemies.” Of the ranch hands, only Will knew Jim’s true identity.
Jim hovered on the brink of death, the bullet having lodged just inches below his heart. Crippled by age, Sanchez’s hands shook too badly to attempt delicate surgery, so one of the men rode hell for leather into town for the doctor. In the meantime all Sam could do was stop the bleeding. When the doctor finally arrived, the bullet was removed successfully, but Jim was in grave danger of losing his life. It was now up to God whether Jim lived or thed.
The doctor held out little hope that Jim would survive the fever that would surely strike, and before he left provided a vial of laudanum to keep him sedated and immobile. When the fever raged through Jim’s body, Sam sat helplessly by, wringing her hands and praying. It was Laura who took things out of God’s hands and into her own. Scouring the woods the next morning, Laura found the ingredients to brew an infusion of herbs according to her knowledge of Indian remedies, which she spooned with great patience into Jim’s mouth. In a matter of hours the fever broke and a glimmer of hope rose in Sam’s breast.
M
uch to everyone’s surprise, Jim survived the odds and slowly but surely began to mend. He remained comatose for a week, then suddenly opened his eyes one day, managing a weak smile at Sam who, along with Laura, had been taking turns tending him. That day marked his steady but slow progress toward full recovery. Then something happened to send Sam’s world plummeting.
Shortly after Jim regained his senses, a stranger arrived at the ranch. Covered with road dust, trail weary and clearly distressed, the man asked for Jim Blake. When informed Jim was gravely ill, the stranger became distraught.
“I gotta speak with Blake, ma’am,” the man insisted grimly. “I’m carryin’ a message … from a friend.”
“I told you,” Sam replied, equally determined, “Jim is still very ill. Whoever you are you’ll have to deal with me.”
A flash of anger hardened the man’s weathered features. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but you’re a woman. I need to speak with a man.” Sam’s implacable expression brought a curse to the man’s lips. “Dammit, a man’s life is at stake!”
Suddenly all Sam’s senses came alive, each nerve ending tingling in warning. “A man’s life?” she whispered, clutching at her throat. “What man? Please, tell me his name.”
“As I mentioned before, you’re—”
“It’s Colt! Something has happened to Colt! Oh, God, he’s dead.”
“No, no, he ain’t dead, but he will be if you don’t let me talk to Blake. My name is Phil Smith, I’m a friend of Colt’s. He’s hurt, hurt bad. I figured Blake would know what to do. I’m afeared if Colt ain’t seen to soon he’ll die.”
“What happened?” Sam choked out, dazed.
“The Crowders. Colt was ambushed near the Mexican border, shot and left for dead. It’s a miracle he survived this long—if he’s still alive.”
“Has Colt been treated by a doctor in Laredo?” Sam asked with rising panic.
“There ain’t no doctor in Laredo, ma’am. Not since old Doc Foley drank himself to death. I dug out the bullet but it looks bad. Colt told me all about his partner workin’ in Karlsburg and I figured he’d know what to do. When I didn’t find Blake in town I asked at the Palace Saloon, and the owner told me I might find him out here. Are you certain I can’t talk to Blake?” Sam nodded, bereft of speech.