Untitled

Chapter Four

Jesse finished up the breakfast dishes, swept the kitchen floor and walked into the bedroom to retrieve an old straw hat she favored. The weeds in the garden weren't going to disappear on their own. With a sigh, she yanked the hat from the hook on the door and spun around on her heels when the voice spoke loud and clear.

Should probably have told you Coy was born mule-headed.

She searched the corners of the room, hoping this time Cain would actually appear in her line of vision. When he didn't, she blew a huff of air. "You probably should have told me your younger brother was the one coming to help us."

Ah, my darling Jezebel. I couldn't have promised that exactly. I said help was on the way but it falls to you now to convince him to stay.

She plopped onto the end of the bed. "Oh, he's made it quite clear he has no intention of staying. He's headed to Utah, but you already know that, don't you?" She chased the room again with her eyes. "Are you always here, or do you come and go?"

I'd have to say the latter right now but I'm working on it.

"The energy problem you mentioned."

Yep. Think of it as a candle flame blowing out. I'm here and then…poof!

"Why do you think you are here? I mean, I'm glad you're here, but I have to tell you, it's strange. Sometimes I wonder if you're just a made-up voice in my head."

You're not going crazy if that's what you think.

With her feet resting on the rail of the bed, she dropped her chin into her hand. "Why wouldn't I think that? How many people talk to a ghost? Here's a better question: How many loved ones return in ghost form?"

Loved ones…I like that, Jezebel. You did love me, didn't you?

She shouldn't pause. Of course she loved him. How could a woman not love a man who saved her from a life of misery, poverty and shame? She loved him, all right, but did she love him with passion, with wild abandon, with, dare she say lust? No, it wasn't that kind of love, the kind a woman pins all her hopes and dreams on, the kind a woman hungers for or the kind that turns her knees to mush whenever he enters a room.

"You know the answer, Cain. You were my husband, my friend, the father of my son, and the kindest man in the world."

And I loved you. That's why I returned. It has to be the reason. I can't seem to walk away, find that peace that is supposed to come when we leave our mortal bodies. Not until I know you and Grange will be all right.

"But you must leave. You deserve that peace."

Time enough for that. A short chuckle filtered through the air. An eternity as they say. So, as I was saying, you have to convince Coy this is where he belongs. He might believe his calling is in Utah but it's not.

"How do you know?"

Call it ghostly intuition.

"That's not funny. And not enough to convince me I should even try to change his mind. You know the problems we have with the Torres brothers, the cattle rustling, the unpaid taxes. Lord knows I could use help, but is it fair to him when I know what he's walking into and he doesn't?"

Don't underestimate Coy. Believe me when I tell you he can handle himself.

"But it wouldn't be right. If I think black luck is hanging over us like a cloud now, well…."

Then tell him, tell him everything.

She fell quiet for a time while weighing her late husband's words. "No, I can't do that. It wouldn't be right. He says he's leaving in two days, and I'm not going to try and stop him." The sound of footfalls in the kitchen reached her. "I have to go." Pushing from the bed, she set the hat on her head and walked through the doorway leading to the kitchen, straight into Coy Santos.

A prominent crease appeared between the perfectly arched brows. "Everything all right?"

Dear God, how long had he been standing there and had he heard her talking to…well, talking to a ghost? Worse, did he think she was talking to herself? He stood so close, she felt the heat emanating from his body, smelled his distinctive scent, leather, horse and pure male. She couldn't seem to drag her eyes away from that sensual mouth. What was it about him that drew her, had drawn her from the moment he rode in (even though she knew nothing about him, who he was or where he'd come from)? She couldn't explain this magnetism he possessed, this dangerous aura that warned her to run. But run was the last thing she wanted to do.

He searched her face, his own guarded and unreadable. Lord, he'd asked her a question and here she stood, gawking at him like a pubescent schoolgirl. When she found her tongue, the words came out shaky, like her legs when she skirted around him to head for the garden. "Everything is fine, perfectly fine."

She dropped to her knees, a row of beans on one side, several rows of corn on the other. If she thought to escape from the man, she was sorely mistaken. His tall shadow loomed over her. "Why didn't you tell me about the missing cattle?"

"What difference would it have made?"

"How about the Torres brothers?"

She shook her head. "Same answer."

"What about Niall? Have you bothered to tell him they're rustling your cattle?"

"Sheriff Jessup? Yeah, I've filed the usual complaints. He can't do anything unless someone catches them in the act. I got the feeling he'd like nothing better than to put Domingo and Benito in jail but without proof, his hands are tied."

"They have your cattle and Grange tells me they're wearing the Santos' brand. What other proof does Jessup need? Besides, if half this ranch is mine, don't you think I have a right to know when someone's stealing my property?"

That did it. She stabbed the hoe into the ground, bounded to her feet and faced off with him like a rabid badger. "Are you insinuating I'm not taking very good care of your investment? I didn't think you cared one way or another. After all, you didn't waste any time telling me you had no intention of sticking around. You're headed to Utah, remember?"

"I didn't want you to get your hopes up, start thinking because I was Cain's brother I'd feel obligated to—"

"Help the poor widow and her son?" She blew a long breath of air to calm herself but it only seemed to fuel her fire. "Well, don't do us any favors. We got on all right before you rode in with your fancy guns and-and your monstrous horse."

The corner of his lip turned up in a smirk. "You don't like Deuce?"

"Who?"

"My horse."

"I don't know anything about Deuce but if he's anything like his rider, I'm not feeling all warm and happy about him right now." She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "God, remind me to tell Grange not to air our dirty laundry in front of every stranger who rides in."

"He's just a kid, didn't mean any harm. Might be he needed someone to talk to."

Another long sigh. "What else did he tell you?"

"He told me about Kajame and the old Indian's beliefs about ghosts."

"Yeah, well, Kajame shouldn't be filling Grange's head with all these crazy superstitions…candles, buzzards and God knows what else."

"Candles and buzzards? He didn't enlighten me about those."

"Well if you're here long enough no doubt you'll see Grange light a candle and watch the flame. According to Kajame, you can tell which room the ghost is in by the direction of the flame."

Coy removed his hat and twirled it around in his hand. "And the buzzards?"

She glanced toward the house lest he see the worry in her eyes. "If they circle the roof, someone's going to die."

"I told him the tribes have a lot of strange beliefs, always have, always will."

"I suspect by now he doesn't know what or who to believe. Losing his pa has been hard on him."

"You look tired. How about we talk about all this another day?"

She toed the dirt with her boot. "We best talk fast then since you're leaving soon."

"Maybe I'll stick around for a spell, safeguard my investment."

She tried to mask her surprise, and she had to admit, her relief at hearing those words. Since the ranch hands ran off, the Torres brothers saw it as an open invitation to steal her cattle on a daily basis. And what could she or Grange do about it? She didn't want Coy or anyone else to take on their battle but maybe his presence would discourage them. "Don't say that unless you mean it."

"I didn't say I'd stay forever; I said for a while, until I can figure out what's going on. At one time I was pretty good with a hammer and a bucket of nails."

She gave him a firm nod. "Look, guess I'm a little done in. I shouldn't have been so hard on you." Looking up at him again, she added. "Why don't you put your things in the bunkhouse, I'll finish my gardening and see you at supper?"

"All right. I need to see about Deuce anyway." He offered her a faint smile, the first she'd seen from him. She couldn't help but think it softened his sun-weathered face, made him more handsome if that was possible. "In the meantime, why don't you think about what I can do around here to help?"

"Oh, that. I think about it all the time." She looked away with a smile. "If I tell you, you might withdraw your offer."

"Not likely. I'm not in a rush to get to Utah and, besides, it's the least I can do for my brother's wife and my nephew."

She watched him walk away and continued to watch him until he untied his horse from the post and then head toward the barn. Dropping to the ground again to finish her gardening, her thoughts turned to the conversation that took place between them. He wasn't anything like his brother in demeanor, and yet, she'd seen another side of him just now that in some ways reminded her of her late husband. Cain had a high regard for family, tried to instill it in their son. The last thing she expected to hear from the tall, dark, gunfighter (that's how she thought of him) was the same commitment. Didn't seem to her a man like Coy would give one whit about his brother's wife and her son.

Forcing the conflicting musings from her mind, she concentrated on the weeds at her knees. She hadn't allowed herself to think of Coy Santos as anything but a stranger passing through. Until now. She made a mental list in her mind of what he might be able to help with, mend fences, replace broken boards in the barn, shoe horses, grease the axles of the buckboard and a hundred other tasks. Don't go getting your hopes up, girl. Take one day at a time.

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