Between Love and Lies (10 page)

He jumped to block her path. “I want to discuss your farm.”

The heat she’d felt since bumping into him on the landing drained away. “Don’t be cruel. Nothing more can be said.”

“I disagree. And I’ll be coming back every hour until you hear me out.”

She sank onto the nearest chair and clenched her hands in her lap to stop them from trembling.

Noah pulled up a seat and sat facing her. “I need to talk to you about the day we met.” She shook her head, but he didn’t stop. “After I left, I went over what happened, every single day, and wished it could’ve been different. That’s why I came back.”

She felt her eyes grow round. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t blame you. But it’s true. When we met, I was at the lowest point in my life. One I haven’t recovered from.” His grip on his hat tightened. “My herd had been days without water. Then came a rainless thunderstorm. The cattle stampeded and trampled several of my men.”

A cold apprehension made her gasp. “Did they survive?”

“All except my brother, Jacob.”

Her heart ached for his loss. She didn’t know the joy of having a brother or sister, but she could imagine the torture of seeing one die in front of you.

The lines of his face twisted with sorrow and guilt. “I should’ve kept Jacob safe. I failed him. Then I met you and—” he swallowed roughly, “—failed you, too. I’m sorry I made you lose your farm. If I had known the damage that cattle drive would cause, I’d have never come north.”

That he was tortured by this much remorse astounded her. She’d never viewed him as anything but strong and self-assured. Wanting to remove the sadness from his eyes made her forget her own troubles.

“I’m sorry your brother died.” The urge to comfort him made her lean toward him. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t see how you failed him. You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for his fate.”

His brow lowered along with his gaze until he was staring at her hand clutching his arm. When had she—?

She jerked back, then tried to cover her embarrassment by clearing her suddenly dry throat. “As for me and my farm…it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me.” His voice sounded raw, wounded.

“Go home, Mr. Ballantyne,” she whispered, dismayed to hear her voice crack.

“Not until you’re safe.”

“Mr. Ballantyne—”

He gestured to the walls around them. “I’m not leaving you in this godforsaken place.”

She raised her chin. She couldn’t risk relinquishing what little control she had to anyone, including him. “You have no say in where I go or where I stay.”

The furrows on his brow deepened, but his tone remained even. “I’m going to help you.”

“Your help in this particular matter isn’t welcome.” She considered him through narrowed eyes. “Last time you gave my father money and left me with nothing. You departed without a backward glance.”

He nodded. “I wish I’d stayed.”

“Yes, you should’ve stayed in Texas.”

“Stubborn little hellcat,” he muttered.

She drew back with indignation. “Pig-headed oaf.”

The lines etching his brow relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Call me Noah.”

Unfortunately, the back of her chair prevented her from leaning even farther away from him. “You also have no say in what I call you,
Mr. Ballantyne
.”

“What if you had your land back?”

The abrupt return to their original topic took her off guard. She shook her head, trying to dispel the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. “I’ll never see my farm again.”

“I bought it.”

“What?” Her voice was no more than a squeak.

He drew a bag from each of his vest pockets and emptied their contents on the table, scattering a stream of one dollar poker chips. “How many acres was your farm?” He pulled his chair closer and his knee brushed hers.

The all-too-brief contact brought the warmth back to her cheeks. Twisting on her seat, she stared out the window and huffed out a breath, trying to cover her discomposure. “If you’d bought my farm, you wouldn’t have to ask its size.”

From his pocket came a crisp white piece of paper, which he unfolded and placed next to the chips. The deed to her farm, bearing his name.

Her blood roared in her ears. “Well, since you apparently do own it, you already know how many acres you bought.”

“Indulge me,” he insisted, pulling his chair even closer until she sat between his splayed knees, within the solid, unyielding curve of his body.

In an effort not to touch him, she tucked her feet under her chair, then scolded herself against any further retreat. A soiled dove wouldn’t care how close a man sat, especially not one as eye-catching as the man before her.

She struggled to remember his question. How large had her farm been? She blinked, bewildered by his persistence and uncertain of such a conversation’s purpose. The shadows where the sun didn’t penetrate were no less dark, but with him sitting so close they somehow seemed less worrisome.

“My farm had one hundred acres.”

Noah scooped up the poker chips and stacked them. She counted ten stacks of ten chips.

“I’ll give you one acre for every request you grant me,” he said.

She felt her jaw drop in disbelief, while the rest of her snapped to attention. The desire to have her farm back was deep-rooted but illogical. She couldn’t live there without a new house and, even if she accomplished that, she had no idea how she’d keep it from being demolished by the never-ending herds of cattle. The dream of recovering all she’d lost faded, leaving her to focus on Noah’s proposal.

“You mentioned requests? What kind? What if I find them…
distasteful?
” Warmth flooded her face.

“Then you should tell me.”

She snorted. “And?”

“We find something you’re comfortable saying yes to.”

“Humph.” She drummed her fingers on the table, trying to distract herself from the urge to touch the chips. “Might I remind you of my condition? I can offer you nothing.”

“There’s plenty. I want your company and for you to drop this act, to be yourself when we’re together.”

Her hand froze and she forced her lips to form a smile. “What makes you think there’s anything more to me than what you see before you?”

His amber eyes inspected every inch of her. She refused to turn away.

“Half the time I wonder if you want to hit me like you did a year ago. Instead, you do something unexpected like smiling. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely smile, but a false one. I’d rather have the real thing.”

“You are grossly mistaken, Mr. Ballantyne,” she replied, keeping her counterfeit smile firmly in place.

“Call me Noah.”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

He picked up two poker chips and held them out to her. “Call me Noah, and you’ll have your first acre back. Join me for a picnic this afternoon, and you’ll have your second.”

CHAPTER 7

Noah guided
the rented buckboard north, away from Dodge and all its noise. Soon the peace of the open prairie cocooned him, emphasizing the silence of the woman seated by his side.

He’d suggested this picnic in the hope that some distance from town might persuade her to see the future differently. The land here was pristine in contrast to the trampled crops and churned up earth south of Dodge. The longhorns never reached these northern plains. Their march ended when they entered the town and its rail station.

His dislike for Dodge had grown. Take away the cattle drives and the town would wither, might even fold up and disappear. Out here, he was reminded of Texas. A stalwart cottonwood grew in a gully, surrounded by miles of bright-green spring grass.

These plains bore both new and old growth. They gave him strength. They made him breathe a little easier.

Until one of the wagon wheels hit a rut and Sadie slid across the seat and her leg, from hip to heel, touched his. A wave of desire, hot as a wild fire, roared through his veins. All of his thoughts settled on Sadie as she shimmied back to her side of the seat. Bracing his feet on the wagon floor, he fought not to follow her.

His body might be misbehaving, but he would not. He meant to take things slow and see where they led. Lewis’ parting words invaded his head and spiked his pulse.
Court her. Entice her.

A frown tightened his brow. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task. Not with the stakes so high and with all his failings sitting so heavily between him and Sadie. What if he made her life worse?

If you can’t woo her under those terms, you don’t deserve her.

The idea of Lewis returning to court Sadie in his place made him clench the reins, while the memory of Wardell promising to claim her made him jerk the buckboard to a halt. And what if her condition worsened, as Wardell had suggested? What if she didn’t survive till next month? His worry and anger vanished, snuffed out by a cold dread.

“Do you wish to return to Dodge, Mr. Ballantyne?”

He sighed, but his tension eased. “Call me—”

“Noah.” The hint of a smile curved her lips. “Calling you Noah earlier and now, plus agreeing to this trip…that’s three acres. At this rate I’ll have my farm back in a month. You really are a terrible businessman, not to mention a poor gambler, going by your track record at the Star.”

“I don’t come to the Star to gamble. I come for the same reason that keeps me in Dodge.”

He watched her lips part in surprise and longed to press his mouth to hers. He focused on the field of purple wildflowers the wagon had stopped in. The sweet, fresh scent made him inhale deeply. “Shall we have our picnic here?”

When she nodded, he climbed down from the wagon, came around to her side and held out his hands. She regarded him warily, like a fawn thirsting to drink from a stream but doubting the wisdom of leaving the woods.

“Don’t be afraid, Sadie.”

“I’m not,” she snapped and reached down to accept his help.

Her hands settled on his shoulders with a rightness that made his heart sing. He clasped her waist and lifted her down. Her slender frame and light weight drained his happiness. Turning away to hide his concern, he unloaded a blanket and the picnic basket and set them out on the grass. It was time she ate a decent meal. But once they were seated, she merely pushed her food around on her plate.

His worry grew. “You don’t like the food?”

“I’m sure it’s very good.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Why don’t you take a bite and find out for sure,” he coaxed.

She released a weary sigh. “I don’t have much of an appetite these days. But I seem to be hungrier in the mornings.”

Was this another symptom of her illness? He didn’t have the right to ask, but a sudden need to know more overwhelmed him. “How do you feel?”

She glanced up at him, then down again. “Fine.”

He shook his head. “I asked you to be honest with me. Fine’s not an answer, not a truthful one at least.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. How it feels to have…syphilis?”

The line of her shoulders went rigid.

He’d pushed too hard. He’d get no more answers. That didn’t stop him from asking the question he feared most. “Are you in pain?”

She drew in deep breath. “My body aches and quite often my head does as well.” The words left her in a rush, as if she needed to get them out fast or not at all. “On bad days I have chills that make me believe I’ll never be warm again. Like the sun is a burned-down candle with no heat. If the damage done to my body is permanent, I’ll have to accept that fact. Life’s a gamble.” She looked him straight in the eye. “And that will cost you one more acre.”

She may have been ill, half his weight, and more than a head shorter, but he was wise enough to know when he’d been outmaneuvered by a stronger opponent. Her grit and vulnerability only made him more determined.

He would not let Dodge destroy such a combination of extraordinary contrasts. Nor would he let her shut him out without a fight. The return trip to Dodge flew by too quickly. Much too soon, Sadie disappeared through the Star’s double-doors without a backward glance.

His gaze rose to the saloon’s balcony. Sadie’s window inspired a new way for him to see her again. His thoughts churned with hope and apprehension. His idea meant waiting till morning and at a place like a saloon, danger could strike at any hour.

* * *

Sadie dreamed
of a field of vibrant purple poppy-mallows and prairie phlox…of a picnic…of Noah. He whispered her name. His fingertips brushed her hair, then her cheek, gentle as the wings of a butterfly.

She sighed and pressed her face into the warmth of his large palm, wanting more.

The rumble of her name came again, like thunder on a distant horizon. Low and beckoning. Hot against her ear.

Her eyelids popped open. A broad-shouldered silhouette crouched by her bed, ominous as a storm cloud against the bright light behind her buttercup-colored curtains. She lurched up on her elbows.