Reason he traveled was because he had no one to anchor him. No woman of his own. A house was mighty lonely day and night without end, to a bachelor too shy of women to court one.
He wouldnt have to court Katelyn, he reasoned. Shed be already his.
Dont even consider it. Buying a wife. What sort of a man did such a thing?
What would she think of that?
Remembering the ghostly shadow of her face in the kitchen, how shed seemed so withdrawn, pulled in on herself. It was a purely protective stance, he knew. A deep wounding.
No, she wasnt about to trust another man so easily. And a man who worked with his hands for a living? It was crazy thinking, thats what it was, and hed do best to figure out where he was headed next. And which mares he wanted, since Cal Willman was too financially troubled to come up with a few hundred bucks, the bastard.
The night had turned brutal. Sharp chunks of snow punched from a hostile sky as he waded through the accumulation. Frigid air speared through the layers of wool he wore to freeze against his skin beneath, but he was too damn het up to let it bother him. His breath rose in great puffs.
Anger built with every step he took, a rage he fought to control. What a pompous, heartless son of a bitch to think he could barter a grown woman like a broodmare in his paddock.
Ned appeared out of the blackness, sidestepping his gelding to get the hell out of the way. Whoa, what put you in a fightin mood?
What had happened in that house was no ones business. What Willman had offered him seared like a raging flame in his guts. Another man would have taken him up on it. It was a free country, sure, but women were at the mercy of the men responsible for them. Cal Willman wanted to be rid of his stepdaughter; it was plain and simple for any man to see.
Who would he offer her to next? Ned? Or Rhodes? There was the cold-eyed cowpoke, following Ned out of the storm. The small, mean-spirited man held his rifle still, cocked and ready. Eager to earn what he considered a fortune at the unholy killing of that mystical stallion.
What if Rhodes had found the Appaloosa and Willman had offered Katelyn as the prize?
Dillons guts twisted so hard he missed the bottom porch step. The thought of the cowboys grimy, stubby fingers on her creamy satin skin made his vision blur. Rage roared through him like a firestorm, obliterating everything as he kicked his boots off in the corner and jammed wood into the potbellied stove with enough force to dent steel.
She wasnt his to protect. He knew it.
It went to show how much he sparked for her.
The horsemans in a good mood, Rhodes quipped as he stomped into the bunkhouse, snow crumbling off his boots and onto the plank floor. Pissed you didnt get the reward, I reckon. Good, cuz it takes a real man to take down a piece of horseflesh like that. Knows these prairies, and where to hide. Dont worry yourself none, cuz I plan to draw him out.
If you figure on taking one of Willmans prized mares with you, one in heat, dont figure on it working. Dillon couldnt believe how dumb some men could be. That animal had been wounded. Hed be doubly hard to hunt down now. Take off your damn boots. Im not sweeping up that mess.
He jammed the door shut, needing a target for his anger and knowing the danger in that. He couldnt remember the last time he had felt this furious. A raging mad that whirled inside him like a hurricane, growing inside itself until it threatened to break down his control. And all because of a woman.
He was a sad, sorry man. He ached for her as he washed the hard rides grime from his face and brushed his teeth in front of the cracked mirror in the necessary room. His reflection confirmed it. Lines on his face, the deep furrows in his brow. He was troubled, no doubt about it.
His bunk was damn cold. The sheets crackled with frost as he hunkered down between them. The old tin lantern cast a sputtering light, enough to read by if he squinted some. The brazen words of William Blake drew him into the poem but did not take his mind from her.
He could see the light of her bedroom window, if he leaned to the left and craned his neck just right. The ranch house was dark except for one faint gleam in her window. A single candle, he wagered, flickering around her as she stood at the foot of her bed. He felt like a criminal watching her.
No decent man peered into a ladys bedroom window, but he looked anyway. Shed left the curtains open, and he saw the graceful curve of her back as she stooped, folding something with care. The way she bent, elegant and slender, the perfect rounding of her spine elongated her neck and accentuated the alluring curve of her full breasts.
Desire pulsed through him like a whips lash. Fast. Unexpected. Fierce. The snap of it surprised him. He was rock hard, his long johns straining, suddenly tight at his groin as he leaned toward the small grubby window that gave him a view of hers.
The faint light caressed her sweet womans form, stroking her like a dedicated lover. His hands curved, wishing. He ought to be ashamed, lusting after her. But it wasnt only lust he felt.
She sure was something. Longing tugged at his heart, at every inch of his being. Down to his very soul. I want her so much.
Neds rough voice rang at the far end of the house as he uncapped a bottle of whiskey and a few more of the boys crowded inside, stomping ice from their boots, growling at the weather and the damn horse that had eluded them. The noise reminded Dillon where he was. He wasnt about to be caught pining over a woman clearly too good for him.
He leaned into the pillows and held his book up to the light. He read, but tonight the bright images and powerful words did not move him. He was too tired, too cold, too distracted. Maybe it was best to call it a night.
He put down the book, blew out the light and huddled beneath the blankets. Gradually the covers warmed from his body heat, and the rest of the hired men stumbled to their frosty beds. The bunkhouse was dark and filled with the sounds of drunken snoring and the scouring snow against the outside walls.
Exhaustion settled on him like a dead weight, but he couldnt sleep. Blood pumped through his veins, and he was still hard. He refused to think of her. Wouldnt resort to lusting after her. He had too much respect for her for that. And yet
He leaned toward the window. Yep, her light was still gleaming like an invitation in the night. Was she in bed, beneath frilly lace-edged sheets and a fancy blanket? Was she wearing that white ruffled nightgown that had to feel as soft as her skin?
That way of thinking was only making his situation worse. Uncomfortable now, he sat up, shoving away the covers to let the frigid air cool his sizzling blood. Surely that ought to help.
Even as his teeth chattered, and he shook from head to toe, he still had that particular problem. It didnt look likely to go away any time soon.
He sat up and rested his face in his hands. He had a big day tomorrow. He had to be ready for it. If only he could stop wanting her, then maybe he could at least get some sleep.
Maybe, what he wanted tomorrow couldnt wait.
Tonights conversation with Willman troubled him. He remembered feeling Katelyns shocked silence in the dark kitchen. Dillon wasnt the kind of man whod buy a wife, that was for sure. But if she were willing
Had he gone plumb loco?
A movement through the window snagged his attention. What was it? The faint shadow flashed briefly in the impenetrable storm and vanished before he could hop off his bunk and scrape at the frosty glass with his thumbnail. It was her. A thin wisp of a woman, hardly more than shadow and night, but she called to him. Made his heart move in a way it never had before.
Katelyn couldnt go back to her bed. She couldnt sleep after that. She couldnt stand to be in the house, as weak as she was, and headed for the back door.
Shed already been out of bed too long today, and pain gripped her chest. She let the dark and cold scud over her. Welcomed the freezing wind into her soul as her stepfathers words echoed over and over. Anger hammered through her, blurring the world of night and shadow into one blackness. The bastard had taken her jewelry, all she had in the world. All shed been wearing when shed left her husbands house. She had nothing more of value. She had no other family, no friends, nowhere to go.
Forcing back those horrible memories, she made it to the stable, grateful, sagging against the door before she opened it to catch her breath. If she could leave, she would. Shed buy a ticket on the train and hurry far away.
The doctor had told her she had to rest. Hed told her the complications he feared, and she closed her eyes, willing away the panic of remembering the blood staining the nightgown and sheets and-
Dont think of it, Katelyn. She willed the image away, but the truth of it remained. She shivered deep, afraid, while the wind gusted her as strong as a human touch to her back. Well, shed heeded his advice. Shed been too weak to do little else, and where had it gotten her? Now that she had regained some strength, however tenuous, she was penniless.
What would become of her now? She was still too weak to travel.
Maam. A deep baritone penetrated the force of wind and snow.
It was his touch on her back, she realized. The horseman towered over her, shielding her from the brunt of the cold.
We best get you back to the house where its warm. Its mighty cold out here. A man well bundled would freeze to death in no time. It isnt safe for a little fragile thing like you.
I cant go back yet. She didnt know why she told him that. He wouldnt understand.
Pretty bad in that house, is it?
It always was, thats why I married. I thought any place would be better than living with those people. I was wrong. She kept back the truth. There was worse. Living with a man who wanted a son more than anything. Anything. And watching how that had destroyed him, and then her.
Desperation can bring out the bad in a man, the horseman said thoughtfully. Or it can bring out the best. It tests the mettle, anyhow.
The best? That Id like to see. She didnt believe it. Had stopped believing in anything.