The Coyote's Cry
Jackie Merritt
Jenna, you and I can never be anything but acquaintances. Nurse Jenna Elliot knew proud, hardheaded Bram Colton thought she was the town's spoiled golden girl, and that her father would rather die than let her get involved with a Comanche. But that didn't stop her from loving the dark, brooding sheriff. Now she was living under Bram's roof, caring for his ailing grandmother, and he could no longer ignore her or the intense passion stirring between them….Falling for Jenna Elliot was Bram's worst nightmare - and ultimate fantasy. He had always wanted the blond, blue-eyed beauty in his home - in his bed, to be exact. But he knew theirs was a forbidden love and he'd fight his warrior-like urges to make Black Arrow's golden girl his forever….
Welcome to Black Arrow, Oklahoma—the birthplace of a proud, passionate clan of men and women who would risk everything for love, family and honor.
Bram Colton:
This sexy but serious town sheriff has wanted blond beauty Jenna Elliot for years, but will he let his Comanche pride destroy his chance for true love?
Jenna Elliot:
She had loved Bram Colton since she could remember, but he was as prejudiced as her father. She knew she could prove their love was color-blind…if hardheaded Bram would just give her the chance.
Gloria Whitebear:
Will the secret past of the Oklahoma Coltons’ matriarch come back to haunt her grandchildren?
Willow Colton:
Bram’s younger sister hasn’t seemed the same since she returned from vacation. But her secret will soon be hard to hide….
Dear Reader,
This August, I am delighted to give you six winning reasons to pick up a Silhouette Special Edition book.
For starters, Lindsay McKenna, whose action-packed and emotionally gritty romances have entertained readers for years, moves us with her exciting cross-line series MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: ULTIMATE RESCUE. The first book, The Heart Beneath, tells of love against unimaginable odds. With a background as a firefighter in the late 1980s, Lindsay elaborates, “This story is about love, even when buried beneath the rubble of a hotel, or deep within a human being who has been terribly wounded by others, that it will not only survive, but emerge and be victorious.”
No stranger to dynamic storytelling, Laurie Paige kicks off a new MONTANA MAVERICKS spin-off with Her Montana Man, in which a beautiful forensics examiner must gather evidence in a murder case, but also has to face the town’s mayor, a man she’d loved and lost years ago. Don’t miss the second book in THE COLTON’S: COMANCHE BLOOD series—Jackie Merritt’s The Coyote’s Cry, a stunning tale of forbidden love between a Native American sheriff and the town’s “golden girl.”
Christine Rimmer delivers the first romance in her captivating new miniseries THE SONS OF CAITLIN BRAVO. In His Executive Sweetheart, a secretary pines for a Bravo bachelor who just happens to be her boss! And in Lucy Gordon’s Princess Dottie, a waitress-turned-princess is a dashing prince’s only chance at keeping his kingdom—and finding true love…. Debut author Karen Sandler warms readers with The Boss’s Baby Bargain, in which a controlling CEO strikes a marriage bargain with his financially strapped assistant, but their smoldering attraction leads to an unexpected pregnancy!
This month’s selections are stellar romances that will put a smile on your face and a song in your heart! Happy reading.
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
The Coyote’s Cry
Jackie Merritt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JACKIE MERRITT
is still writing, just not with the speed and constancy of years past. She and hubby are living in southern Nevada again, falling back on old habits of loving the long, warm or slightly cool winters and trying almost desperately to head north for the months of July and August, when the fiery sun bakes people and cacti alike.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Prologue
A June article from the Black Arrow Daily Chronicle:
Yesterday, Comanche County Sheriff Bram Colton brought the newspaper up-to-date on several ongoing investigations, primarily the courthouse fire and the burglary of the Chronicle’s office.
The courthouse fire was unquestionably arson, the sheriff reported, a sad fact confirmed by State Investigator Harold Bolling. Apparently Mr. Bolling provided evidence that proved the fire was started with candles and gasoline. Mr. Bolling has returned to Oklahoma City and has given his permission for the insurance company investigator to examine the damage for his own purposes—namely, to approve or deny the claim filed by the county for funds to restore the historic old courthouse to its former glory. Arson is covered by the insurance policy, according to the county officials in charge of the claim, so they’re quite certain of eventual approval and anticipate little delay in getting repairs started. There have been no arrests, however, and Sheriff Colton admits that while the case is of high priority, he does not have a suspect.
When asked about the unusual coincidence of his brother and friend reporting the fire, the sheriff replied that the residents of Comanche County are fortunate that Jared Colton and Kerry WindWalker spotted the flames and phoned the fire department when they did.
Perhaps relevant to the mysterious crime is Sharon Fisher’s report of a stranger requesting privacy to research birth records the same day as the fire. “He’s not a man who would stand out in a crowd,” Fisher said. “Brown hair and eyes, not at all memorable in looks, but I got the impression of nervous tension from him, as though he had something to hide.” Sharon has worked in records at the courthouse for five years.
When Sheriff Colton was told of Sharon’s comments, he allowed that she may have seen the arsonist, but since the man’s identity is unknown, and he hasn’t reappeared, he could simply have been someone passing through town researching his family tree. “No crime in that,” Sheriff Colton said. “We shouldn’t lay blame or accusations on anyone without strong evidence.”
As for the newspaper office break-in, there seems to be no logical purpose, as nothing was taken. Was the perpetrator researching his family tree in there as well, Sheriff?
Chapter One
Driving his patrol car, Sheriff Bram Colton preceded the ambulance from the accident site into town. He’d been in his car when the radio dispatcher reported the one-car rollover about three miles west of Black Arrow, Oklahoma. Grabbing his radio, Bram had told Marilu Connor that he was nearby and on his way to the site. The ambulance had arrived at almost the same time he had, and now the two official vehicles were on their way to the hospital.
Bram had his overhead lights flashing, but hadn’t turned on his siren, as the ambulance was making enough noise to alert motorists and anyone else within earshot. In mere minutes they pulled up to the emergency entrance of the Black Arrow Hospital.
ER personnel took over, and Bram headed straight for the administration desk.
“Here’s his driver’s license,” he told the clerk, who began filling out forms. “The paramedics said he wasn’t badly injured, considering it was a rollover.”
“Apparently he was wearing a seat belt,” the middle-age woman said.
“Appears so. I’ll be back later to talk to him.”
“See ya, Bram,” the clerk said absently, intent on her emergency admittance forms.
Two hours later Bram returned to the hospital and was told that the young man had been installed in a room on the second floor. Bram walked past the elevator, which he knew from experience was slow as molasses, and opted for the stairs. He took them two at a time, mostly out of habit, although there was no question about his feeling hurried and unusually anxious lately. He was busier than normal, what with the courthouse fire and that peculiar burglary of the newspaper office, added to the usual roster of domestic disputes and petty crimes common to the town and county.
He easily located the accident victim’s room. But when he walked in, he suddenly became a tongue-tied schoolboy. Nurse Jenna Elliot was in the room, the beautiful young woman that Bram had secretly had his eye on for a very long time.
Jenna saw Bram’s tall, dark form enter the room, and her pulse rate quickened. “Hello, Bram,” she said, managing to sound like her usual self in spite of the explosion of adrenaline rushing through her system. That was what he did to her—what he always did to her—and not once had he ever smiled directly at her. She’d seen him smile at his sister, Willow, who was a good friend of Jenna’s. Smile at his friends, and even at total strangers. But he would not smile at her, and she knew why. It was because of his Comanche blood, and because her father, Carl Elliot was a snob. Jenna had always wished Bram wouldn’t lump her and her dad in the same category of ignorant intolerance, but she didn’t know how to change his mind. The whole thing was frustrating and worrisome and just plain dumb; the other Coltons—and they were plentiful in and around Black Arrow—didn’t snub her as Bram did. He had no right to assault her senses so powerfully and then treat her so coldly, no right at all.
“Jenna,” Bram said stiffly. “Sorry for the interruption. I’ll come back later.”
Before Jenna could tell him to stay, that her patient was only slightly sedated and quite capable of talking to him, Bram was gone. She glared at the door he’d whisked through, then shook her head in abject disgust and shoved Bram Colton to the back of her mind, something she was well-practiced at doing.
Bram’s teeth were clenched as he walked up to the nurse’s station. Running into Jenna always set his hair on end. “How long are you planning to keep James Westley in the hospital?” he asked the nurse on duty.
“Just overnight. He’ll be released in the morning.”
“What time is the shift change around here today?”
“At six. Same as always.”
“Thanks.” Bram left. He would come back later in the evening to talk to James Westley and get the information he needed for an accident report.
Jenna was relieved that her dad wasn’t home for dinner that evening; she was always relieved when he wasn’t there to harangue her for becoming a nurse. “It’s such a common profession! Nursing is beneath you, Jenna,” she’d heard him say a hundred times. “Disgusting, considering some of the things you have to do to strangers, no matter who. You should have finished college and gotten your degree in art history, as you set out to do.”
Jenna’s relief at her dad’s absence was shortlived. Because she was such a softie when it came to hurting anyone, or even thinking about hurting someone—especially her father, whom she loved in spite of his horrid, undeserved sense of superiority—she next felt a wave of guilt.
After all, she was living under her dad’s roof. Not by choice, God knew, but because Carl Elliot had acted almost mortally wounded when his only child had returned to Black Arrow as a full-fledged registered nurse and announced that it was time she got a place of her own. Jenna’s mother had died several years before, which had left Carl rattling around alone in the large and quite elegant home he’d had constructed in what he considered the best part of town. Losing her mother had been hard on Jenna, and it was during her mom’s illness that Jenna had become profoundly focused on the nursing profession. She wished her father possessed just a fraction of the compassion for mankind with which her mother had been blessed.
But he didn’t. Jenna could argue against prejudice and bigotry until she was blue in the face, and nothing she said ever made a dent in Carl Elliot’s supreme confidence that the color of his skin—and that of his ancestors—made him superior to anyone who wasn’t as white as the driven snow. Actually, Jenna had given up on trying to change her father’s infuriating intolerance. It cut her deeply that he’d made so much money from those residents of Black Arrow with Comanche blood, yet still looked down on them. As a youngster, she’d been forbidden to play with Indian children and had been sent to a private, all-white school. All the same, she’d had Indian friends growing up. Willow Colton would always be a friend, and Jenna would give her eyeteeth if Bram would relax his guard and become a friend.
Martha Buskin was chief cook and bottle washer in the Elliot household—had been for many years—and she had roasted a chicken that afternoon. Jenna thanked her and told her to go on home. Normally Martha’s final chore of the day was to tidy the kitchen after the evening meal, but whenever Jenna ate alone she let Martha leave early.
When the housekeeper had gone, Jenna ate some chicken and salad at the table in the kitchen. Then she went upstairs with a glass of her favorite wine and ran a bubble bath. Lighting scented candles placed around the tub, she switched off the bright bathroom lights, undressed and sank into the sudsy hot water. Sipping wine and feeling all the kinks of the day leave her body, she did what she’d known she would when she began this delightful ritual: relived and dissected those few moments in James Westley’s hospital room when Bram Colton had come in.
She could see Bram in her mind’s eye as clearly as if he were standing next to the tub…which she found herself wishing were true. She thought him to be the most physically attractive man she’d ever met or even seen. He made her spine tingle and her legs wobble, her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry. She loved his thick, lustrous black hair and black eyes. She loved the deep bronze tone of his skin and his perfect white teeth. The sight of his broad shoulders, flat, hard belly and long legs clad in his tan sheriff’s uniform, with a big gun on his hip, almost caused her to go into respiratory failure. Was she in love with him? No, she couldn’t say that. But lust? Oh, yes, she most definitely lusted after the county sheriff; after Willow’s big brother. And if Bram ever decided to give her the time of day, she would give him a lot more than time. She’d give him…
“Oh, stop,” she mumbled, finishing the last of her wine and hitting the small lever to drain the tub. Why did she torture herself over a man who was never going to do anything but look through her? Bram was every bit as stubborn as her dad. Her father would have a heart attack if his daughter took up with a Native American, or a “breed,” as he called those with even a drop of Indian blood, while Bram’s stiff-necked pride would never permit him to get involved with Carl’s daughter. She was in a no-win situation and she might as well forget that Bram Colton even existed.
That was easier said than done, but she hoped she would at least leave him behind when she went to Dallas for her week’s vacation on Saturday. She was going to visit an old college friend, Loni Owens, and there was no doubt in Jenna’s mind that she would have a good time. Loni was a bright, upbeat and extremely uninhibited gal when it came to fun, especially fun with guys. Jenna had hesitated in accepting Loni’s invitation to spend her week off in Dallas because she knew Loni would have a dozen male friends lined up to meet her.
But what the heck? she’d finally concluded. She sure wasn’t getting anywhere with the one man she would love to get somewhere with, so she might as well settle for second best.
She would be leaving very early on Saturday morning.
After obtaining the accident information that he needed and then leaving the hospital that evening, Bram stopped in to see his grandmother. He did that three or four times a week, and not just out of a sense of duty. He genuinely loved the elderly woman and thought her witty, wise and wonderful. Gloria was eighty years old, but since her father, Bram’s great-grandfather, George WhiteBear, was still living at ninety-seven—at least that was the age George claimed to be—Bram was sure Gloria had many good years left. Occasionally he could get her talking about the old days and her youth, but not very often. “Live in the present, Bram,” she usually told him. “Let the past stay in the past.”
She always had something good to eat in her apartment above the Black Arrow Feed and Grain Store, a business that had supported the WhiteBear-Colton family for a good many years, and Bram enjoyed a cup of coffee and a slice of Gloria’s delicious cinnamon-applesauce cake while they talked. She was very proud of his being sheriff, which she considered to be a very high position in the United States government. Bram let her think it, for anything that made her happy pleased him.
“Gran, Willow’s been working in the store long enough to take over. Isn’t it time you retired?” he said just before taking his leave.
“You’ve been trying to retire me for years, Bram,” Gloria said briskly. “What do you want me to do, sit around up here in this apartment and watch soap operas and talk shows on TV?”
Bram had to laugh. “Forget I mentioned it, Gran.”
“And you forget it, too.”
“For tonight,” he agreed with a twinkle in his eye. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. “See you soon.”
Bram’s home was a two-hundred-acre ranch twenty miles out of town. Known in the area as the Colton Ranch, it had a big rambling house, a couple of barns, and fertile soil—soil rich enough to produce a nutritious grass ideal for raising quarter horses. The ranch had belonged to his parents, Trevor and Sally, and had been passed to their five children after their deaths. None of the five wanted to sell the family home, but the only one who wanted to do any ranching and live on the place was Bram. Much as he liked his job as sheriff, there was something in his blood that demanded a portion of his life be lived outdoors.
And he loved horses, as his Comanche ancestors had, for history books touted the Comanche as the most skilled riders of the Southwest. Bram broke and trained his own horses, but he was so good at the craft that sometimes other ranchers asked him to break one of their wild young stallions. He did it willingly and free of charge. What he knew about horses, he believed, was in his genes and had come to him from his ancestors.
Bram also had a dog, and when he arrived home that night Nellie came bounding out of the smallest barn, barking a joyous hello and wriggling her hindquarters back and forth. Nellie was a black-and-white Border collie with pale blue eyes. She was a love of a dog, and her main goal in life was to herd sheep, cows, horses, chickens or anything else that moved. Anytime Bram wanted some horses brought in from a pasture he whistled to Nellie, and off she’d go to get them. Bram’s best friend, his fishing and hunting buddy, Will Mitchell, had three wild little boys, and all three adored Nellie and would let her herd them around Bram’s yard when Will brought them out to the ranch.
Bram knelt down now and gave Nellie a hug, then scratched her ears. “Did you get lonesome today, girl?”
She wriggled again and licked his face. “Hey, that’s going too far,” Bram said with a laugh, rising to his feet. “Come on, let’s go and scare you up some dinner.”
It had been a long, busy day, and when Bram went to bed he was ready for sleep. But as he closed his eyes he promptly saw an image of Jenna Elliot. Punching his pillow in frustration, he turned to his side and tried to relax. But Jenna was still there, glowingly beautiful and causing him all sorts of physical distress.
Bram always thought of Jenna as Black Arrow’s golden girl. Her hair had been twisted on top of her head today, but he knew what it looked like cascading down her back—like a golden waterfall. Its color nearly drove him mad, and he was positive it would feel as silky as it looked. Even Jenna’s flawless skin had a golden hue, as though sprinkled with gold dust. Add her deep blue eyes to that mix and she sparkled. In Bram’s eyes, anyway, Jenna Elliot sparkled more brightly and more beautifully than any Fourth of July fireworks he’d ever seen.
He recalled how much easier he’d breathed when she went away to college, and how the world had begun spinning crazily again when Jenna came home to help care for her terminally ill mother. After Mrs. Elliot’s funeral Bram heard that Jenna had left town again, but not to return to college; she had decided to become a nurse. That had surprised him. Nursing was a service profession much like his own, and he’d wondered about a golden girl working such long hours. It wasn’t as if she had to earn a living. Old Carl owned half the town and almost as much of the county. Everyone knew he had more money than he could count, and that he doted on Jenna. Hell, she’d never have to work a day if she didn’t want to.
So that nursing business confused Bram, and he’d decided it was nothing but rumor, until he heard Willow mention it. He never asked Willow about Jenna because his baby sister was sharp as a tack and would catch on in a heartbeat if Bram so much as hinted he gave a damn about anything Jenna Elliot might do or say. But every so often he would pick up a tidbit of information about her from Willow. She had no idea that Jenna haunted her big brother’s dreams. No one had any idea about that.
Bram fully intended to keep it that way, too. In truth, he would give almost anything to have Jenna move away permanently. He’d sleep better, since every single time he’d seen Jenna—starting with the day he’d discovered, or admitted, how she affected him—was lodged in his brain and came roaring out too damned often, especially at night.
One of the memories driving him batty had occurred on a hot day last summer. He had been slowly cruising a downtown street when he’d spotted Jenna strolling along the sidewalk, looking into store windows. She’d had on white shorts and a blue tank top. The sight of her long, gorgeous, deeply tanned legs had made him forget all about being behind the wheel of his prowl car and he’d come dangerously close to running into a light pole.
He’d hit the siren and taken off so fast that his tires had squealed, but he was pretty sure Jenna hadn’t seen his embarrassingly narrow miss with that pole.
It was a memory Bram actually hated, for invariably it was followed by sexual contemplation of how it would feel to have those incredible legs wrapped around him, which led to other erotic thoughts that never failed to cause him more misery than he believed he deserved.
Sucking in a ragged breath, he forced himself to think about something else. The first topic to come to mind was the odd events occurring around town—the fire at the courthouse, for one, and the burglary of the local newspaper office for another. It appeared the fire had been arson, which made little sense, for why would anyone want to destroy Comanche County’s courthouse? Of course, arson was usually senseless to everyone but the person who actually lit the match. It was too bad Jared and Kerry hadn’t gotten a look at the arsonist that night. It was almost inconceivable that they had been in the very next room when the perpetrator had lit those candles. Thank God they’d seen the glow of the fire once it had gotten started, or there wouldn’t even be a shell of the courthouse left. But the whole thing was as disturbingly mysterious tonight as it had been from the start.
And why in hell would someone break into the newspaper office and then leave without taking anything, when there’d been computers and other costly items throughout the place? That reporter had been right to question the motivation for that seemingly senseless crime.
There was one more thing nagging at Bram. He’d heard rumors about two different strangers asking questions about the Colton family. They had to be connected to the courthouse fire and possibly the Chronicle break-in, but why didn’t they simply contact him? Or his grandmother? No one knew Colton history better than Gloria, or Great-granddad WhiteBear. But there were plenty of Coltons to confront if someone wanted to know something of their ancestry. Even so, Bram couldn’t make heads or tails of the whole thing, for why would any outsider give a whit about any of the Coltons, none of whom had anything to hide? It was a damn weird mess, Bram decided again, having reached that conclusion quite a few times in the past few weeks.
Then, even through that maze of thoughts, Jenna’s image threatened again, and Bram groaned and sought another subject to dwell on until he fell asleep. Fishing was a good nerve-settling topic, and Bram grasped at it, pondered it for a while and then decided to ask Will if he could go fishing this coming weekend. They had a couple of favorite fishing spots, and Bram never cared if Will took one or more of his sons with them. Maybe they could leave on Saturday and camp out that night. He would check his work schedule at the sheriff’s station in the morning, and if he was free this weekend, he’d give Will a call or stop by his place.
The next day Bram checked the duty roster and saw that he had the weekend off. Feeling good about it, he drove by Will’s house on his way home from work that afternoon. Will’s three boys, nine-year-old Billy, eight-year-old Stevie and six-year-old Hank came running from the backyard yelling, “Bram! Bram! Daddy, Bram’s here!”
Bram grinned. Dressed in cutoff jeans and T-shirts, the trio were barefoot and dirty. Before bed Bram knew that their mother, Ellie, would see to baths and fresh pajamas, but during the day there was no keeping her wildcats clean.
“Didja shoot your gun today, Bram?” Hank asked.
“Not today, Hank.”
“Aw, heck,” the youngster said.
Will had come out of the house and approached the group. “Hi, Bram. How’re tricks?”
Will Mitchell was as fair as Bram was dark. Will had straw-colored hair, pale hazel eyes and skin that never tanned. The two had been friends since high school.
“My tricks are nonexistent,” Bram said dryly. “You’re the man with the tricks…three of them, to be specific.”
Will grinned. “Boys, your mother asked me to tell you to go in and wash up for supper.”
“Aw, heck,” Hank said again. But he raced to the house only a step behind his older brothers, shouting, “Bye, Bram. See ya later.”
“Want to come in and eat with us?” Will asked.
“Thanks, not tonight. I’ve got this weekend off and I was thinking about a fishing trip. With two days, we could go to Ridge Reservoir and camp out overnight. The boys would like that.”
“Hey, they sure would. So would I. Let me talk to Ellie and see if she’s got anything planned for the weekend. I’ll give you a call. Two days at the reservoir would be great, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah, they would.”
“I wish Ellie liked camping and fishing.” Will paused, then grinned again. “She said to not say a word to anyone until she’s certain, but I don’t think she meant you. Bram, she’s pretty sure she’s pregnant. She says this time it has to be a girl. You know how she longs for a daughter.”
Bram looked at his friend’s excited face and felt the strangest ache in his gut. He covered it with a teasing wisecrack. “You’re just full of tricks, Mitchell.”
“You could be, too. There isn’t a gal in the county who wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry you and you know it.”
“Bull,” Bram exclaimed. “No one’s pining to marry me. Hell, I can’t even get dates for the Saturday night dances at the Grange Hall.”
“You’re so full of it, it’s coming out of your ears, Colton. You don’t have a girlfriend only because you don’t want a girlfriend. You’re afraid she’ll rope and hog-tie you, and you’re scared spitless of commitment and a wedding ring.”
“Will, blow it out your ear.” This was a common conversation for them. Will thought Bram—at thirty-seven years of age—should be married, and when Bram got tired of the subject he ended it with that one directive—“Blow it out your ear.” Will always laughed and that was the end of it…until the next time.
Ellie called from the front door of the house. “Supper’s on the table, hon. Hi, Bram, come on in and eat with us.”
“Thanks, Ellie, but can’t do it tonight. Some other time, okay?”
“Anytime, Bram.”
Will said, “I’ll call as soon as I know about the fishing trip.”
Bram nodded and climbed into his car. “Great. Talk to you then.”
As he drove away he thought about Will and Ellie having another child and Will being so thrilled about it. Bram wanted kids, too, but not with just any woman. And since he couldn’t have the one woman he wanted, he’d probably never have kids.
He muttered a curse, then told himself to cool down. What made him think he needed kids of his own? When his parents were killed in that plane crash in 1987 he’d been twenty-two and had taken over as head of the household. He’d seen to it that his four siblings—Ashe, Jared, Logan and Willow—finished their education and continued to live as good, decent citizens, just as their mother and dad had taught them.
No, he didn’t need kids, and he sure as hell didn’t need a wife he didn’t love. He would take bachelorhood for the rest of his days over that sort of mess.
He ate dinner with his grandmother, and it was only after he left and was driving out to the ranch that he realized she had looked a little peaked. Or maybe it was just his imagination; Gloria had bustled around her kitchen as always, hadn’t she?
Will phoned the following evening, which was Friday. “Ellie’s got a quilting thing—some kind of craft show at the fairgrounds—tomorrow. She said to take the boys and go fishing, with her blessing.” Will chuckled. “Sounds like she’s looking forward to a quiet weekend.”
After they hung up Bram began gathering his camping and fishing gear. He grinned when he realized that he was probably as excited about the coming weekend as Will’s boys undoubtedly were. Nellie was in the house, sniffing the sleeping bags and fishing poles Bram piled on the floor in the middle of the living room, and it was apparent to Bram from the collie’s happy gyrations that she knew a fishing trip was in the making. Bram always took her along, and she wore herself out trying to herd chipmunks, squirrels and gophers. The boys would wear her out, too, but that was a two-way street, for Nellie wore them out, as well. Truth was, they would all have a great time.
Bram finally had everything in a pile, except for the food he would take with him. He’d get up early, pack the three ice chests with ice and food, and load his SUV. Then he’d drive over to Will’s house and pick up him, the boys and all their gear. Eyeing the mound of items, Bram was about to go for a down-filled jacket—just in case the weather changed over the weekend and it got cold—when the telephone rang.
He picked it up. “Hello?”
“Bram…oh my Lord…Bram, Gran’s on her way to the hospital. I found her—”
“Willow, slow down!” Bram’s heart leaped into his throat. “What happened?”
“She went upstairs early, and I figured something was wrong then. But I was busy with customers, and when I finally had a moment to check on her I found her on the floor. The ambulance driver said something about a stroke. I’m hoping he was only guessing, but oh, Bram…” Willow began weeping.
“Okay, take it easy. Have you called the rest of the family?”
“I called you first.”
“Good. I’ll leave for the hospital as soon as we hang up. You stay there and call everyone. They all should be told.”
“What about Great-grandfather? Should I try to reach him?”
George WhiteBear wouldn’t permit electronic gadgets in his small, simply furnished house on a hundred sixty acres of land about thirty miles southwest of Black Arrow, and that included a telephone. Reaching George by phone meant calling his closest neighbor and asking her to drive over to George’s place to pick him up and haul him back to her place. Annie McCrary would do it—she had in the past during family emergencies—but Bram was worried about imparting this kind of bad news over the phone to his aged great-grandfather. He made a decision.
“No, don’t call Annie. If it’s necessary, I’ll drive out to Great-grandfather’s place later on. See you at the hospital, Willow.” Bram put down the phone and hurried out to his SUV, relieved that he hadn’t already loaded it with camping gear.
He’d gotten out of his uniform the second he’d arrived home, which was standard procedure, and he was wearing faded jeans and a black, short-sleeved T-shirt. Thinking of nothing but Gran, and praying she was all right, he pushed the speed limit all the way to the hospital. He parked close to the emergency room entrance and ran from his vehicle to the door. Immediately he saw Coltons everywhere, all but taking up the entire waiting room. He went over to them.
“Do we know anything yet?” he asked.
He got teary answers from everyone. No one knew anything, except that Gran was in the emergency room. Thomas, a twin to Bram’s father and Gloria’s only living child, said, “Maybe they’ll let you in there, seeing as how you’re the sheriff and all.” Thomas had married Alice Callahan in 1969, and they had had six children. The way the waiting room was overflowing, Bram was pretty sure that every Colton in the area had come to the hospital.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Bram said, and walked away. He simply pushed open the door that bore a Keep Out sign and then checked the curtained cubicles until he found Gran. A doctor and nurse were with her. Bram’s heart sank when he looked at Gran, whose eyes were closed. She looked small and old and gray, and at that moment Bram knew that whatever had befallen her was serious.
Dr. Vadella motioned for Bram to follow him, and he took him to a quiet corner of the ER. “She suffered a stroke, Bram. What we don’t know at this point is its severity.”
“But it doesn’t look good, does it? Is she going to be paralyzed? Is she going to live?”
Dr. Vadella looked him in the eye. “Bram, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer tonight. To be perfectly honest we won’t know the extent of the damage the stroke inflicted for several days, maybe longer. Look, I know the family is in the waiting room. Do them and yourself a favor and tell everyone to go home. Mrs. Colton is going to be taken to Intensive Care. We’ll start running tests tonight, but most of them will be done in the morning. The family can see her tomorrow in between tests, but only one person at a time and each for only a few short minutes.”
Bram looked away. His chest ached and his eyes burned. He wanted to take Gran from that gurney, carry her out to his vehicle and drive her home. She hated hospitals. Always said that people died in hospitals and no one was ever to bring her to one. He felt like a traitor because she was here, and he also felt the same kind of pain he’d suffered when his parents died, the kind of pain one couldn’t eradicate by good-intentioned doctors with common-sense explanations.
There was nothing Bram could do except long for the way things had been only hours before. Gran was now seriously ill and he had to leave her here. He brought his gaze back to Dr. Vadella.
“I’ll tell the family what you said. Thanks for talking to me.”
Nodding, Dr. Vadella left to return to his patient. Bram went out to the waiting room and his family. He knew now that the fishing trip was off and that he would have to drive out to Great-grandfather’s place and tell him that his daughter was in the hospital.
Life had fallen apart very suddenly, very quickly.
Chapter Two
Will and Ellie offered sympathy and any help Bram might need when he told them about Gran. There were so many Coltons, though, that assistance from anyone outside the family wasn’t likely to be needed. Still, the Mitchells’ gesture was heartfelt and genuine, and Bram appreciated their concern.
Bram put work and everything else out of his mind and spent almost the entire weekend at the hospital. The rest of the family came and went, each spending a few minutes in Gran’s room and hoping to hear some good news. Actually, there was no news at all, either good or bad. The doctors and nurses that Bram waylaid in the halls and in Gran’s room had only one message to impart: there would not be a credible diagnosis or prognosis until all of the test results came in, which would occur sometime on Monday or Tuesday.
Time had never moved so slowly for Bram. He drank too much bad coffee and worried. He walked the floors of various waiting rooms and worried. He sat slouched on one uncomfortable chair after another and worried. And he took only an occasional break from his self-imposed post to dash home to the ranch for a shower, shave and clean clothes.
He kept putting off that drive out to Great-grandfather George’s place because merely telling him that his daughter was in the hospital, obviously seriously ill, wasn’t enough. It would be much better to convey the news with some concrete information from the doctors about her condition, Bram rationalized, which he would have along with the test results in a day or two. Sharing incomplete and possibly false information based on Bram’s own fears might extinguish the small light still burning in George WhiteBear’s ancient chest, and Bram wouldn’t take that chance.
On Monday he had to tend to his job. He talked to the family and made sure that there would always be at least one Colton at the hospital, around the clock. Most of them worked, too, but they coordinated their hours off, which should have eased some of Bram’s concern but didn’t. Monday was a bad day for him, yet he ran to the hospital every chance he got just to look in on Gran, to make sure she was still breathing. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to ignore or at least minimize, and couldn’t.
It was while Bram was with Gloria on one of his quick stops that she opened her eyes and tried to speak. He jumped up from the chair he’d been anxiously perched on, and took her hand. “Gran,” he said gently, though his heart was in his throat and unshed tears stung his eyes.
She tried to speak again, failed, and he saw painful understanding in her eyes. “It’s okay, Gran.”
She made angry noises. It wasn’t okay, and Bram didn’t have to hear the words to know what she meant. And then she got out a word. “Home!”
Bram sucked in a breath. “I know. You want to go home. I’m working on it, Gran.”
Gloria’s eyes closed again and Bram held her limp little hand for a while longer, then returned to his chair. He swore on all that was holy that he would take her home to either live or die. She would do neither in this or any other hospital.
Finally, on Tuesday morning, the Colton family heard what they already knew in their hearts. Gran had suffered a serious stroke. They also heard details that made them weep. Gran was partially paralyzed, her speech was impaired and her short-term memory was possibly eradicated, or no longer in chronological order. Her vision was cloudy and she would suffer bouts of dizziness and confusion. Full recovery at her age should not be expected, but speech and mobility could be greatly improved with physical therapy.
Bram spoke for the group. “Can she be cared for at home?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, and I highly recommend home care. Stroke patients respond much better when they are with loved ones. However, she should remain here for at least a week, as not all symptoms of stroke are immediately discernible. Also, you all should understand that she will require a full-time nurse for an indefinite period, which is not inexpensive. Medicare covers—”
“The cost will be taken care of,” Bram said curtly. He stood up and faced his family. “I want her brought to the ranch. Any objections?” A buzz of conversation swept through the group. “I know many of you want her, but I’m determined on this. You can drop in anytime to see her, and if you truly want to help, there’s housework, cooking, laundry and errands.” He turned back to the doctor. “So, I can take her home when?”
“In about a week.”
“Next Monday?”
“Probably. Shall I arrange for the nurse?”
“Yes, please do. Okay, Doctor, thanks. We’ll get out of your hair now.” Bram urged his relatives outside, where a few of them told him what they thought of his tactics.
“She’s my mother,” Uncle Thomas said indignantly.
“When she’s better you can take her,” Bram replied. “But I’m taking her first.”
The family began dispersing, going off to their cars, talking among themselves. Willow hung back and squeezed her brother’s hand.
“I’m glad she’ll be with you,” Willow said. “Everyone says they want her, but caring for an invalid is not easy. I know you’ll follow through.”
“That I will,” Bram said with that stern, determined look on his face that Willow knew very well. When Bram set his mind to something, it got done.
The rest of the week flew by because Bram was constantly busy, juggling caring for his horses and Nellie, getting the house cleaned and ready for Gran’s arrival, seeing to his job and squeezing in as many trips to the hospital as he could manage.
It was Friday before Bram realized that he hadn’t run into Jenna even once. As often as he’d been at the hospital that week, it was odd that he hadn’t stumbled across her at least one time. His nerves had settled down some and he began watching for her, thinking that he’d been so focused on Gran’s condition during those first awful days and nights that he might have walked right past Jenna and not seen her.
But even on the alert now he didn’t see her. Of course, she might have weekends off, he told himself.
Monday morning finally dawned, and Bram jumped out of bed, anxious for the day to begin. His beloved Gran was coming today, and he was thrilled to have her, ill or not.
When Jenna awoke to her alarm clock Monday morning, she stretched and yawned. She’d spent a marvelous week in Dallas with Loni, but her vacation was over and it was time she got back to her own reality. Smiling slightly, she got out of bed and headed for the shower.
Three hours later, on duty at the hospital, she heard two doctors checking a patient’s chart and discussing it at the nurse’s station. Obviously the patient was one of Dr. Hall’s. “Mrs. Colton will be taken by ambulance to Bram’s home. Now all I have to do is decide which nurse to send with her. There aren’t many nurses that can move in with a patient and give her their undivided attention. Most have family of their own, and—”
“Excuse me,” Jenna said. “Dr. Hall, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Bram went to work Monday morning but was back at the ranch again at noon. Nellie greeted him and followed wherever he went. The ambulance was scheduled to arrive around one, and Bram was nervous as a cat waiting for it. He walked through the house again to make sure everything was ready. Unquestionably, his home was cleaner than it had ever been, and the master bedroom, which Bram had assigned to Gran because of its private bathroom, had been scrubbed down with disinfectant.
Bram had taken the bed completely apart, scrubbed the frame and thoroughly vacuumed the springs and mattress before putting it all back together again. He had purchased a supply of white bed linens, including a soft white blanket and bedspread. It had been an expensive purchase, as he’d bought the best he could find in Black Arrow and had discovered that the “best” in sheets and pillowcases didn’t come cheap.
He peered into the bathroom, which contained new, freshly laundered white towels and washcloths. The fixtures gleamed from the scrubbing and polishing they had received.
The kitchen contained foods recommended by the hospital dietitian, who had given him lists of proper and improper foods for a stroke victim, along with a small book of recipes and hints on how to make a salt-free, fat-free, sugar-free meal appear tempting enough to actually eat.
Everything was as ready as he could make it, Bram finally decided, and went outside. With Nellie on his heels, he walked down to the wooden fence surrounding one of the pastures, put a booted foot on the bottom rail and leaned his forearms on the top. He had built this particular fence himself. It was good and sturdy and he knew it would last for many years. But it was about due for another coat of sealer, he decided, mentally putting that on his list of chores to do when time allowed.
Narrowing his eyes, he watched the horses nibbling grass on the far side of the field. Sometimes he thought of resigning from his job, going into debt for a bigger spread and doing nothing but breeding and raising horses. But he wasn’t a man who took debt lightly, and he was doing just fine with the status quo. He made a decent salary as sheriff, and his siblings asked for no rent for his use of the family ranch, as they were grateful to have their parents’ home and their heritage being kept in such good condition. Along with that, Bram had always been a practical man as far as saving for a rainy day went.
For some reason his thoughts went from there to Carl Elliot, who had to be worth millions, if not more. There were folks in the county with enormous fortunes, of course, some of them oil families from way back. But no other millionaire that Bram knew of had Carl’s less-than-sterling reputation. Bram would admire Carl’s ability to amass wealth if there weren’t so many rumors about his methods. Crafty was the kindest word used by some in describing Carl’s way of doing business, and some called him corrupt and worse.
Bram was still watching his horses, still musing about Carl Elliot, when he heard an approaching vehicle. Turning away from the fence, he saw the ambulance nearing his driveway. Bram’s heart skipped a beat. He was going to make Gran well, so help him God. He was going to spend every spare minute bringing her back to her former active, energetic self. He would see to exercising her legs and arms and eventually getting her out of that bed, and he would help her with the speech and facial therapies explained to him at the hospital, so she could speak with clarity.
The ambulance pulled up next to the house and Bram began striding toward it. Two paramedics got out of the front of the red-and-white vehicle and called hellos to Bram. He said hello as he walked up to them, and all three walked around to the back of the ambulance.
“So, how is she doing?” Bram asked.
“Just fine,” one of the young men said reassuringly.
Bram stood by while the medics opened the back doors. And then the bottom fell out of his stomach. Getting out of the ambulance was Jenna Elliot. She was wearing white slacks and a white top, her glorious hair was pulled back from her face and restrained with a clip at her nape, and she smiled at Bram as though they had always been the very best of friends.
“Hello, Bram,” she said.
He was too stunned to answer, to move or even to look as though he had a brain somewhere in his stiff and be-numbed body.
Jenna became intent on assisting the paramedics in moving Gloria from the ambulance as gently as possible. She held the IV bottle and kept the tubing from getting twisted or in the way while the two young men did their job. When everything was ready to take Gran into the house, one of the paramedics said, “Lead the way, Bram.”
“Uh…uh, sure,” he stammered, and somehow managed to get his feet walking and heading for the house. This was unfathomable. Jenna was Gran’s nurse? My God, Jenna was going to be staying in his house? Sleeping under his roof? In plain sight everywhere he turned? Hovering over Gran whenever he went into her room?
Bram led the way to the master bedroom, which had been his room before this tragic event.
“I gave her this room because of the bathroom,” he mumbled, wishing to hell his tongue would cooperate.
Jenna walked in and looked around. The whole house—or what she’d seen of it on her way in—was spotless and bore the unmistakable odor of disinfectant. Someone had done a thorough cleaning job, or was this almost sterile condition the norm for Bram’s home? She would never have thought so, but since she really didn’t know him in spite of her long-standing friendship with his sister, she could only guess at his housekeeping skills.
The paramedics were about to transfer Gloria from the gurney to the bed when Jenna said, “Wait a minute, please. Where will I be sleeping?”
Bram nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another. “The guest bedrooms are on the other side of the house.” Lord above, she’d be sleeping in the room next to his!
“Let me take a look.” Jenna handed the IV bottle to one of the paramedics and left the room. “Bram? How about giving me a quick tour?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, again having trouble with the simplest words. He walked past her, got a whiff of her clean, mildly floral smell and felt his face grow hot. Clenching his teeth, he led her through the house to the other two bedrooms.
Jenna took a quick peek into each and declared, “I’m sorry, but this won’t do. I need to be much closer to your grandmother at night. How about moving one of those twin beds into her room for me? I’ll keep my things in here and use the other twin when I think she’s doing well enough for me to sleep away from her.”
“Great,” Bram muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. Tell the guys to put her to bed. I’ll move the twin.”
“And I’ll bring in my suitcase.”
“Uh, I’ll get it for you.”
Jenna smiled sweetly. He was unbelievably rude, but she wasn’t going to let him beat her up over nothing. After all, he didn’t know that he had the starring role in the sexual fantasies that occasionally passed through her brain.
“Thank you.” She left him standing there and returned to the master bedroom. “Put her to bed,” she told the two young men. Seeing that Gloria’s eyes had opened, she took her hand and smiled. “Do you know where you are, Gloria? You’re at the ranch, at Bram’s house. We’re going to move you to what looks to be a very comfortable bed now. Are you all right with that?”
“Ho…ho…home,” Gloria whispered hoarsely.
“Yes, Bram’s home.”
“N-n-no! Ho…home.”
Jenna sighed internally. It was always the same with patients released from the hospital. They always wanted their own home.
The men easily and expertly moved Gloria to the bed, and then made sure her IV was working and she was as comfortable as they could make her. They left then and Jenna was alone with her patient.
On the other side of the house, Bram had taken one of the twin beds apart. Tossing the bedding on the other twin, he shoved the mattress and then the box spring onto the floor and picked up the bed frame. He wore a scowl because this whole setup was almost more than he could handle, and he hated feeling helpless about anything. How dare Jenna come barging into his life like this?
Carrying the bed frame into the master suite, Bram set it down long enough to move a dresser over a few feet to make room for the twin.
“May I help?” Jenna asked.
“No, thanks,” Bram said curtly.
“Fine, do it all yourself,” she retorted.
Bram’s head jerked around so he could look at her. She looked back, and it was a stare-down that shook Bram’s very foundation. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t like her being there, and to ask her how in hell she expected him to sleep at night with her only a few feet and a thin wall away. But he couldn’t reveal the secret passion he’d harbored for her for so long, and what rational excuse did he have for not wanting her to be Gran’s nurse?
“I’ll get the spring and mattress,” he muttered darkly, finally breaking that unnerving eye contact and leaving the room.
Jenna took in a huge gulp of air and realized that she’d been holding her breath. Not only that, but her entire system was in chaos, all tingly and reminding her in the most erotic ways of her femininity, caused solely from looking directly into Bram Colton’s incredible black eyes.
Shivering from so much sexual energy charging through her body, she busied herself unpacking a bag containing a supply of hospital gowns and the medications for Gloria.
Bram hauled in the box spring and left again without a word or a glance. In a minute he was back with the mattress. Immediately he walked out again.
Jenna was surprised by the animosity she felt from Bram. He’d never been friendly, that was certain, but his attitude today bordered on actual dislike. Had she inadvertently trod on his toes at some time? She couldn’t think of an incident where they were ever together long enough for either of them to injure the other’s feelings. And heaven knew that she’d been open to a better relationship between them. At least she had tried smiling at him. If he ever deigned to show her a genuine smile, she’d probably faint dead away.
Bram returned once more with an armload of bedding. “It’s clean,” he said gruffly.
“Did you think I would accuse you of giving me soiled bedding?”
He couldn’t believe her icy tone of voice and insulting question. “No,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I merely pointed out that this is clean bedding.”
“Anyway, we’re disturbing my patient.”
“Who just happens to be my grandmother,” Bram snapped, but in a husky whisper. He walked over to the bed Gran was occupying and looked down at her. She seemed small as a child in his big bed, and he’d never seen her as a tiny woman before the stroke. That shook him, for it was visible evidence of the changes in her.
He said brusquely, “Do you want me to make up the twin for you?”
“I’ll do it. I know there are going to be a lot of family members dropping in, which is as it should be. But I must insist on one rule.”
Bram’s eyes got even darker. “You brought your own set of rules to my house?”
“One for now. And don’t act so put-upon. It won’t kill you or anyone else to follow it. When that door is shut, no one is to come in. I will close it only during baths or other episodes of personal care. Now, is that really asking too much?”
Bram was embarrassed but would die before showing it. “I can live with that.”
“Well, thank you very much.” Disgustedly, Jenna turned away.
Bram wanted to pull a chair over to the bed and sit with Gran for a while, but with Jenna hovering and puttering—making up the twin bed, for one thing—and his every cell attuned to her every movement, he abandoned that idea.
“I’m going to work,” he growled as he walked out. “Call me if you need anything. You’ll find the phone numbers where I can be reached listed on a pad under the wall phone in the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” Jenna said stiffly. She couldn’t help feeling glad that he’d decided to leave, for he wasn’t being one bit nice, and a grouchy distraction—even the sexiest guy she’d ever seen—she didn’t need. She probably shouldn’t have acted so impulsively when she’d heard Dr. Hall saying that he needed a nurse to care for Gloria Colton in Bram’s home. What on earth had Jenna hoped would come from her actually living in his house?
Sighing when she heard Bram’s vehicle start up and drive off, she finished making the bed, checked Gloria’s pulse rate, temperature and blood pressure without waking her, and wrote the data and the time on the new chart started in the ambulance.
Gloria’s eyes were closed and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Jenna took that opportunity to check out the kitchen and the food it contained. She would be preparing Gloria’s meals, and her own, of course. But she was not going to cook for Bram. He could eat at the greasy spoon café, for all she cared.
Two hours later Willow walked into the house carrying a covered pot of something that smelled good. The young woman had black hair like her brother, but her eyes were gray and she was tall and slender and quite lovely.
“Jenna!” Willow exclaimed, obviously taken aback. “No one told me you were Gran’s nurse.”
“No one knew until this morning. What’s in the pot?”
“Some homemade chicken broth for Gran.”
“You used very little salt, I hope.”
“Very little. Just a tiny pinch.”
“Wonderful. Take it to the kitchen and then come say hi to your grandmother.”
Willow returned in a minute and asked, “Is it all right if I sit on the bed next to her?”
“Of course.”
Jenna watched Gloria’s eyes follow her granddaughter until Willow was sitting on the bed. “Willow’s here, Gloria,” Jenna said gently.
“Hi, Gran,” Willow said, and took her hand. “Are you happy to be out of the hospital?”
“Ho…home.” Gloria slurred the word.
“Gran, you can’t go to your home yet. Here you have Bram…and Jenna. You remember Jenna Elliot, don’t you?”
Gloria turned her head and closed her eyes. Willow bit her lip and looked at Jenna. Then she mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
Jenna motioned her from the room, and when they were out of Gloria’s earshot she said quietly, “She’s not happy, Willow. She wants to be in her own home.”
“But she can’t be. Does she understand that she must get much better before she can go back to that apartment?”
“I don’t know what she understands,” Jenna said with an apologetic sigh.
“Jenna, is she really going to get better?”
“I don’t know that, either,” Jenna said softly. “I do know that she can improve speech and mobility through exercise. She’s not quite ready to begin that regimen, not today at any rate, but soon she should be. Right now she’s feeling terribly discouraged and…and lost.”
“How can we cheer her up?”
“By visiting as often as you can and talking to her. Tell her what you’re doing and what the rest of the family is doing. If she had any special interests, talk to her about those. If she read a lot, read aloud to her—the kind of books or magazines she enjoyed before this happened. Be yourself with her, and above all, don’t ever talk down to her, as though she’s now incapable of grasping what you tell her. She might not be as quick on the trigger as she was, but we still don’t know how affected her memory was by the stroke. And gradually, you’ll see some improvement in her attitude.”
Willow wiped away a tear. “I hope so.”
Before the afternoon was over, nearly every Colton had come by, each bearing a gift of food Gloria could eat in her present condition—homemade broth or a bowl of custard or a dish of raspberry gelatin, her favorite flavor.
But some also brought things for Bram and Jenna to eat. There was a delicious-smelling beef stew, a baked ham, several cakes and pies and numerous salads and casseroles. Jenna realized that neither she nor Bram would have to do any cooking for days.
At five Jenna warmed some of Willow’s chicken broth and prepared a tray for Gloria. She couldn’t quite manage to feed herself yet, and Jenna sat on the bed and gently spooned broth, gelatin and custard into her patient’s mouth. After a few bites of each, Gloria turned her head.
“You really must eat more than that,” Jenna said in a genuinely kind voice.
But Gloria closed her eyes, and that was the end of dinner for her. Frowning and troubled, Jenna carried the tray back to the kitchen. She was rinsing dishes for the dishwasher when she heard Bram’s SUV drive in and park.
Jenna had spotted Bram’s dog through various windows several times that day, and when she heard joyous barking, she went to the kitchen window to see what was happening. Bram had knelt to hug his black-and-white dog, a pretty little thing, Jenna thought, and Bram’s obvious affection for his pet revealed a side of him that Jenna had never seen. Actually, it made her wonder if her previous opinion about Bram avoiding her because of her father’s intolerance was on the mark or if he simply didn’t like her and never had.
But if he didn’t like her, why in heaven’s name was she so smitten by him? Couldn’t her hormones tell the difference between an interested and an uninterested man? Shouldn’t her own reactions to the opposite sex be more accurate than they apparently were with Bram?
Bram stood up and Jenna ducked away from the window so he wouldn’t catch her watching him. She heard him come in and then call, “Jenna!”
Leaving the kitchen, she hurried to the front door entry. “What?”
“Can my dog come in the house?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Bram thinned his lips. “Because you’ve got rules. Nellie is used to coming inside, but if you don’t want a dog in the house because of Gran—”
Jenna broke in. “Is Nellie going to jump on the bed and give Gloria fleas?”
“She doesn’t have fleas!”
“I was only kidding. Pets are very good medicine for people in Gloria’s condition. By all means, let Nellie come in.”
Bram opened the door and Nellie came bounding in. “Settle down, Nellie,” he said quietly, and the collie immediately obeyed.
“She’s awfully cute,” Jenna said. “Is she friendly with strangers?”
Nellie was, but Bram wouldn’t give Jenna the satisfaction of saying so. Her nervy intrusion on his quiet life galled him, especially when he was with her again and seeing those glorious blue eyes and that golden hair.
“Sorry, but no. I recommend you give her a pretty wide berth until she gets used to you being here.”
“All right,” Jenna said with a soft sigh that ripped through Bram like a buzz saw cutting wood. The cut was just as sharp and jagged, and he wished he hadn’t lied to her.
But it was done, and if Jenna had any backbone at all she’d discover Nellie’s love of mankind in very short order.
“What breed is she?”
“Border collie. They’re natural-born herders. What smells good?”
“Most of your family brought something to eat with them when they dropped in to see your grandmother. It’s all in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
So, she didn’t intend that they eat together. Fine, he didn’t want to eat with her, anyhow. “I’m not hungry,” he said gruffly. “I ate in town.” Bram walked off, leaving Jenna to cautiously keep an eye on his vicious Nellie, who was lying down with her nose on her front paws, closely watching Jenna. How was Jenna to know that the collie was so watchful because she never missed a chance to herd, and maybe this nice lady would run around the house and let Nellie herd her from room to room?
“Bram Colton,” Jenna whispered, “I absolutely, positively loathe you.”
Right at that moment, it was the truth.
Chapter Three
The chiming of the doorbell startled Jenna, who’d been so involved with Bram and his watchful dog that she hadn’t heard the arrival of another vehicle. But all afternoon the visiting Coltons had merely rapped once and walked in, some of them not even bothering to announce their arrival with that cursory knock. Thus Jenna was pretty certain that whoever had rung the doorbell was not a Colton. She glanced toward the master bedroom to see if Bram had heard the chimes, but it appeared that either he hadn’t or he was ignoring the caller.
Giving Nellie a warning look that Jenna hoped the dog would interpret to mean, “Don’t you dare move from that spot,” Jenna went to the door herself. Opening it, she could hardly believe her eyes.
“Dad!”
Carl Elliot’s face was dark red with anger. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Staying in a damn Indian’s house. Don’t you have any pride?”
“I’m working! I’m taking care of Mrs. Colton.”
“You’re living with an Indian man! This is his house!”
“I am not living with anyone, not in the way you’re inferring. I explained my job assignment in the note I left for you, which you must have read or you wouldn’t have known where I was. I’m very upset over this…this intrusion, Dad.”
“And I’m so embarrassed by your behavior I can’t hold my head up or look friends in the eye! Get your things and come home with me this instant.”
“I most certainly will not!”
“Jenna, I’m warning you…”
Jenna felt Bram’s presence behind her before he said a word. He stepped so close that her whole body became tense.
“What’s going on?” he asked, using that lethally quiet tone that never failed to deliver a thrill to every erogenous area of Jenna’s body. She took a quick, nervous breath and tried to ignore his overwhelming sexual magnetism so she could concentrate on minimizing the situation.
“I don’t want my daughter staying here,” Carl Elliot said coldly, proving that he was unafraid of Black Arrow’s sheriff, or any other man, for that matter.
“Well, I’m not all that keen on your daughter staying here, either,” Bram drawled, shocking the breath out of Jenna and possibly doing the same to Carl, who suddenly looked confused. “But Dr. Hall assigned her to care for my grandmother, and until another nurse appears on this doorstep to take her place, your daughter is working for me. Take it or leave it, but don’t come here looking for trouble or you just might find it.” Bram strode away with Nellie on his heels, heading, Jenna saw, for his bedroom.
“This is not the end of this,” Carl said angrily, shaking his finger at his daughter. But to Jenna’s immense relief, he left the front porch and walked—obviously in a huff—to his car.
“Dad,” she called, having second thoughts. She ran after him.
Carl stopped as he reached his car. “Did you change your mind?”
“No, but there’s no reason for anger between us. Try to understand. I’m only doing my job.”
“Your wonderful job embarrasses me, shames me. Thank God your mother isn’t alive to see how you’ve disgraced the Elliot name.”
Jenna gasped. “How can you stand there and say something like that? Mother didn’t have a biased or prejudiced bone in her body and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t always right, either. I’m not going to forget this, Jenna. How long are you planning to live with that big breed?”
Jenna’s spine stiffened. “I won’t listen to that kind of talk another second. Good night.” Spinning, she walked back to the house with her head held high, went in and closed the door.
But her courage was mostly bluff. Shaking all over, she leaned back against the door and fought tears.
Bram walked in. He had changed from his uniform to jeans, a blue cotton shirt and soft leather cowboy boots, and he looked so handsome to Jenna that her heart actually ached. If there had been the slimmest chance of him liking her before this, her father’s angry appearance just now had destroyed it.
“Why did Dr. Hall assign you to this job?” Bram asked brusquely.
Jenna’s anger, normally so controlled, flared up. Right at the moment she didn’t much care for Bram Colton or her father. “Because I’m the best nurse in town,” she snapped, and ducked around Bram to go to the kitchen.
Frowning, he pondered her answer and decided to believe her. In the first place, why would she make up something like that? In the second, she had no idea of his feelings for her, so why wouldn’t she take the assignment? As for Carl Elliot, he could go take a flying leap at the moon, for all Bram cared.
“Moronic jackass,” he muttered as he headed back to Gran’s room.
In the kitchen Jenna heated up a bowl of stew for her dinner and then could hardly get a bite down her tightly constricted throat, even though it was a delicious concoction of lean beef and vegetables. When was her father going to realize that she was a grown woman? she wondered. She was thirty years old and certainly intelligent enough to make her own career decisions.
This was really the final straw, she thought, exhaling a sorrowful sigh. She would start looking for her own place, and when she left this house she would also leave her father’s. He had gone too far this time. As for Bram, he had made it clear as glass what he thought of her, the big jerk. He didn’t like her and wasn’t at all happy that she was the nurse sent by Dr. Hall. What was the word he’d used so insultingly? Oh, yes—keen. He wasn’t keen on her staying in his house.
Well, she wasn’t particularly keen on Bram Colton anymore, either.
They moved as shadows around each other, never eating together, barely speaking, and when they did, only about Gloria. Jenna felt empty, as though something crucial to life itself had vanished. At the same time she knew that reaction was utterly ridiculous. She’d never had Bram, so how could she not have him now?
On Thursday morning, after Bram left for work, Roberta Shane arrived. She was the relief nurse and would care for Mrs. Colton on Thursdays so Jenna could have a day off. Roberta was around fifty, Jenna estimated, and had been in nursing all of her adult life. Rumor had it that Roberta had been very attractive when she married Jake Shane in her early twenties, but Jake had been a lazy good-for-nothing, and after supporting the bum for over twenty years, Roberta had kicked him out. She’d come out of the divorce a bitter, unsmiling, overweight woman with grown kids who had moved away and rarely came back to Black Arrow to see her. She was an excellent nurse, as far as the mechanics of the profession went, but she didn’t even try to hide her contempt for the human race, and very few patients warmed to her.
Jenna turned over Gloria’s chart to Roberta with a worried frown. Roberta would not have been her choice of relief nurses. Gloria wasn’t responding to much of anything, and Jenna did everything with kindness and smiles. The small gains Jenna had made—whether real or in her imagination—could be wiped out by one unsympathetic person. Jenna sighed quietly; she had to rely on Dr. Hall’s judgment.
Dr. Hall had phoned yesterday, and Jenna had given him a verbal report on Gloria’s progress—or in this case, lack of progress. The doctor had told her he would be out to see Gloria and check her over sometime during the coming weekend.
At any rate, Jenna hated leaving her patient in anyone else’s care, but especially Roberta’s. But there were things Jenna needed to do, and a day off was necessary. She’d had friends bring her car to Bram’s place within a day of her own arrival, so she had transportation. But when she got in her bright red sedan today and drove away, that frown of worry over Roberta Shane being the relief nurse was still furrowing her brow.
Jenna had to be back by eight that evening. Roberta never took home-care cases that entailed twenty-four-hour duty, and she’d made it clear that twelve hours was her limit. Jenna had told her to relax, that she would definitely be back by eight, if not sooner.
“Make sure you are,” Roberta had said coolly.
Truth was, Jenna didn’t like leaving Gloria for long, anyway. She had started trying to teach Gloria simple facial exercises that would strengthen the muscles needed for speech, though most of the time Gloria simply looked away and closed her eyes.
Every evening after work Bram sat in Gloria’s room and talked to her. Jenna wondered if he got more response from his grandmother than she did, but since she and Bram were hardly speaking themselves, and certainly avoiding all eye contact, she hadn’t intruded on his time with Gloria to see what went on during those sessions.
The other Coltons were in and out all the time, at least during the day, and Jenna did hover and listen and watch for signs that Gloria even cared that they were there. Willow seemed to spark something in Gloria’s eyes, Jenna noticed, and instinct—or practical experience—told her that Bram probably did the same. But there was no question in Jenna’s mind that Gloria could not be more despondent. Jenna had seen it before, where the victim of stroke or some other destructive malady had lost his or her will to live. No matter how often Jenna or some other nurse or doctor explained the power of proper diet, rest and exercise, the patient simply faded away. Jenna could see it happening with Gloria, and she planned to visit Dr. Hall today and talk to him about it.
Bram got home around six that afternoon and was surprised to see Jenna’s red sedan gone and a dark green one parked in his driveway. Concerned and curious, he didn’t stop to pet Nellie, but hurriedly walked to the house. He let Nellie come in with him, then told her to stay. The collie obeyed and lay down near the door while Bram strode directly to the master bedroom.
At once he saw the strange woman sitting in the rocking chair and knitting. “Where’s Jenna?” he asked.
“It’s her day off. I’m Roberta Shane. I’ll be working relief while she’s here.”
“You’re a nurse, too?”
Roberta looked indignant. “Of course I’m a nurse.”
“Sorry, but why didn’t Dr. Hall send you here instead of Jenna in the first place?”
Roberta put down her knitting. “Because I don’t take full-time cases like this. Not many nurses do.”
“Oh.” Wondering why Jenna Elliot, golden girl, would take a demanding case like this, Bram went over to the bed and smiled down at his grandmother. “Hello, Gran. How’re you doing?”
“Sheriff, she’s never going to answer you, you know,” Roberta said.
The cruel comment angered Bram, and he turned hard eyes on the relief nurse. “Don’t you ever say something like that in her presence again.”
Roberta looked affronted, but she didn’t say another word. Bram didn’t care if she was affronted or not. Thank God that Dr. Hall hadn’t sent a cold woman like her to care for Gran, he thought as he headed to his own room.
“Come on, Nellie,” he said as he passed the pretty collie, who happily got up to follow her master. In his bedroom, Bram felt the sting of anger, and he almost went back to Gran’s room to tell Roberta Shane to never set foot in his house again.
But Jenna had to have time off, and maybe Roberta was the only nurse available to take her place.
“Damn, damn, damn,” Bram mumbled thickly as he removed his badge from his shirt and then took off his leathers, including his holstered gun, and put everything in a dresser drawer. He hated what had happened to Gran and he didn’t like how out of control his life was now. Out of his control. He was a man with a penchant for routine and organization, great traits for a law enforcement officer to have. But those same traits made unexpected bumps in one’s personal life tough to take.
He wondered when Jenna would be back. Tonight? Tomorrow morning? Clenching his teeth, he sat on the edge of his bed and thought about her. No man deserved to suffer the way he did over Jenna. Just her image in his mind made him so saturated with longing that even his bones hurt. He hadn’t been sleeping well, just because she was in the house. He never ate at home anymore because he might have to eat with her, and he couldn’t bear the thought. How much more of this torment could he take?
Jenna arrived at seven-thirty. She walked into the master suite, immediately went into the bathroom to wash her hands and then returned to say hello to Bram and Roberta. The relief nurse had already gathered her knitting bag and her purse.
She left after saying, “See you next Thursday.”
Jenna let her find her own way out, and picked up Gloria’s chart to make sure Roberta had done everything that was necessary that day.
Bram had gotten to his feet and he stood there wishing Jenna would look at him.
She finally did. “May we speak in another room?” she asked.
Surprised, and wondering what was going on now, Bram nodded, then followed Jenna to the living room. She turned and faced him.
“I talked to Dr. Hall today. We are both concerned with Gloria’s lack of progress. I’m rarely blunt when discussing a patient with a family member, but in this case I feel I must be. She’s not trying to help herself, Bram. She has given up.”
Bram flinched as though struck. “How dare you—”
Jenna cut him off harshly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish! Are you trained to recognize dangerous symptoms? Well, I am, and if we can’t change her attitude she will die.”
Bram’s voice was unsteady when he spoke. “How…how do we change her attitude?”
Jenna turned away and began pacing the carpet. “I’ve racked my brain trying to think of something to do that isn’t already being done. She has a loving family, and some of them visit her every single day. I’m doing everything medically possible—everything Dr. Hall told me to do—and I’m sure she must appreciate all the time you spend with her every evening. Bram, she’s never alone, except for brief moments like this. She can’t possibly feel neglected. Her diet is restricted, of course. There are many things she might never be able to eat again, but are certain foods really that important? Plus, she absolutely will not concentrate on the exercises I’ve been trying to teach her. She just turns her head and shuts her eyes whenever I even mention exercise. I’ve been massaging the muscles of her arms and legs to keep them supple, but…”
“In other words, you’re doing everything you can and nothing is working,” Bram said dully.
Jenna’s eyes misted and she could only nod. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered huskily. She wasn’t looking at Bram, so she didn’t see him walk away. But she heard his footsteps, and when she turned around, he was gone.
A few minutes later she returned to Gloria’s room, and there was Bram, telling corny jokes to his grandmother and chuckling over them himself.
All Jenna could think was that maybe laughter was the only medicine they hadn’t yet tried, and maybe it would work. She mentally patted Bram on the back for his willingness to do anything to save Gloria from herself.
Jenna deliberately slept lightly, keeping attuned to her patient’s slightest movement or sound. Even in a semi-slumber, though, she dreamed, and she had a nightmare around midnight that was so frightening that she jumped out of bed. Grabbing her robe, and taking a quick peek at Gloria to make sure she was asleep, Jenna left the bedroom and went to the kitchen.
Still shaken by the nightmare, she switched on lights and made a cup of cocoa, using a mix and the microwave. She was about to sit at the table to drink the cocoa when Bram walked in.
He stopped cold. The kitchen light had been on and he’d thought nothing of it, but seeing Jenna at the table was a shock he had trouble concealing. His mind grew fuzzy for a moment; he should turn around and get out of there while he could, he realized vaguely. But then he recovered some dignity. This was his house, after all, and Jenna was the intruder in this room, not him. He managed to say, albeit a bit thickly, “I can’t sleep, either.” He began preparing a cup of cocoa for himself.
Jenna watched his every movement with a heated sensation in the pit of her stomach. He had been so diligent about avoiding being alone with her that this unplanned midnight meeting felt like a tryst. Probably not to him, she told herself, but then he wasn’t burdened with bittersweet longings the way she was.
She drank in the sight of him. He had pulled on his jeans, but that was the only clothing on his marvelously masculine body. His chest was smooth and hairless, his shoulders wide and muscular. He hadn’t buttoned the waistband of his jeans, merely zipped the fly, and he was barefoot. His thick black hair, normally so neatly brushed, was tousled and looked so sexy to Jenna that she could barely swallow small sips of her cocoa.
With his cup in the microwave, Bram clenched his jaw and looked at Jenna. He could hardly pretend she wasn’t there, after all. “I know why I’m having trouble sleeping, but she’s my grandmother. Does every patient in your care cause you insomnia?”
My God, is he actually going to talk to me? Jenna was so surprised she nearly choked on a swallow of cocoa. She managed to answer him, though. “I was sleeping. A nightmare woke me.”
The microwave went off and Bram took his cup to the table and sat across from her. Bram Colton joining her for midnight cocoa surprised Jenna so much that she wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
“Tell me about your nightmare,” Bram said after taking a cautious swallow of his hot drink. That was an innocent enough topic, he thought, even though he knew that he should have taken his cocoa back to his bedroom rather than risk even a few minutes in Jenna’s company.
Jenna tried not to stare at this half-naked man whom she’d so often fantasized about having in her bed. But he was seated only a few feet away—all that darkly tanned skin, and that handsome face.
She dropped her eyes to her cup. “It’s not worth talking about.”
“But it scared you awake.”
“Well, yes. That’s what nightmares usually do. Don’t you have nightmares?”
“Everyone does.” Bram raised his cup to his lips and took in the truly glorious sight of Jenna Elliot sitting across from him at his very own table, with her golden hair loose and disarrayed around her beautiful face. Her robe was blue and he could see the neckline of a white gown beneath that. But it was very easy to envision her lush body under the gown. That’s the real reason you stayed in here instead of running back to your room the second you saw her—just to soak up the sight of her. Admit it!
“Were monsters chasing you?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“Monsters?” Jenna couldn’t help smiling, and decided that he really must be curious about her nightmare, which was curious in itself. So why not tell him about it? At least they were talking, which just might qualify as a small miracle. “I guess there could have been monsters, but I don’t recall seeing any. I was in a strange place—a rural setting—and I was walking down a dirt road. There were a few trees and I was wearing a red dress. Now, that’s odd,” she interjected thoughtfully. “I hardly ever wear red, and I don’t even own a red dress.” She paused for a swallow of cocoa.
“Anyhow, I could see a hill ahead of me and I began walking up it. It became steeper and steeper until I was clutching at the ground with my hands to keep from falling.” She looked at Bram. “That’s it.”
“What scared you about that?”
“The fear of falling, I guess.”
“Sounds to me like you might be afraid of reaching the pinnacle of something you’ve been trying to attain.”
Jenna felt a wave of heat wash through her. He was the pinnacle, if there was any accuracy in his interpretation.
“When did you become an interpreter of dreams?” she asked pertly.
He grinned, surprising Jenna and melting her bones at the same time. Lord, he was handsome when he wasn’t scowling! “Learned it at my great-granddaddy’s knee,” he said.
“George WhiteBear taught you how to read dreams?”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No, but Willow’s talked about him. His age is incredible.”
“Ninety-seven is pretty incredible, all right. He says he will live to be a hundred and five. I can’t doubt it.”
“Does he still live alone and take care of himself?”
“He does.” Bram frowned suddenly. “I expected Gran to have a long and healthy life, too. That stroke was a shock.”
“For the whole family, apparently.” Jenna couldn’t believe it. They were actually having a normal conversation.
“I’ve got to drive out to George’s place and tell him about Gran,” Bram said, sounding as though he were talking more to himself than to Jenna.
“He doesn’t know?”
“I didn’t want to alarm him without cause. After what you told me earlier tonight, I think I’d better go out there very soon. I’m sure he’ll want to see Gran.”
Jenna’s heart sank. “And what I said to you tonight is the reason you’re not able to sleep. Do you understand that I only said what was necessary?”
“I don’t understand a damn thing. She was always a live wire. What causes a stroke, anyhow? Why was she struck down like that?”
“Would you like me to explain the medical causes of strokes?”
“No.” Bram turned his head, reminding Jenna of Gloria both from the action and from their physical similarities. “Hearing a bunch of medical terms I probably wouldn’t comprehend isn’t going to make me accept Gran’s affliction. She doesn’t deserve what she’s going through, Jenna.”
“I know she doesn’t,” Jenna said quietly, although a part of her rejoiced that her name had rolled off his tongue as though he said it all the time. She lifted her eyes and met his, and for the first time ever she thought she saw something personal gleaming in their black depths. Her pulse rate quickened, and when he suddenly looked away again her breath stopped as though trapped in her throat.
To alleviate the sensation she got up and brought her cup to the sink. She heard Bram getting up, too, and then felt him behind her.
“Just forming a line to rinse my cup,” he said.
But he was standing a lot closer to her than he had to, and again Jenna couldn’t breathe normally. “I—I’ll only…be a minute,” she stammered. “Give me your cup. I can take care of it and you can go back to, uh, bed.”
He reached around her and put his cup in the sink in front of her, and she felt his long muscular body against her back.
“Jenna,” he whispered, and placed his hands on the counter on each side of her. Her mind could hardly digest what was happening. He had never, ever touched her, not once, and now his entire body was pressed against hers and his arms were virtually enclosing her within a very sensual circle.
She didn’t think, just reacted. Dropping her cup in the sink, she swung around, at the same moment raising her arms to his neck. She leaned into him and his arms tightened around her. She turned her face up and silently begged for his kiss, and he didn’t disappoint her. His lips touched hers gingerly, then, in the next heartbeat, almost roughly. It was her fantasy come true, or at least the beginning of it.
She opened her mouth under his and kissed him back with all the desire she’d kept bottled up for so long. She knew she would do anything he wanted; all he had to do to get everything he could possibly want from a woman was to keep on holding her and kissing her.
She moved against him, an involuntary action caused by total surrender to Bram’s will. She felt his hands moving on her back, up and down, and finally stopping on her bottom. The groan she heard deep in his throat as he cupped her buttocks excited her further, and she brought her hands down from his neck to explore his chest. More than his chest was hard, though, and that was the most exciting thing of all. He wanted her. He couldn’t hide his desire or pretend it didn’t exist, not when the proof of his feelings pressed into her abdomen. She was so thrilled and elated that she mumbled between kisses, “Wait…wait. Let me get out of some of these clothes.”
He inched away from her and watched her shed the robe and let it drop to the floor around her feet. His black eyes devoured the sight of her in a rather sheer white nightgown with tiny straps, standing in front of him with all that long, golden hair draped over her shoulders.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said raggedly.
“Oh, Bram, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” she whispered. And then fear gripped her, for something in what she’d said caused him to begin withdrawing before her very eyes.
He touched her cheek gently. “We can’t do this.”
She had no shame, not now, not when they’d been so close to something meaningful. “Why not?” she whispered.
“I think you know why not.”
Jenna cleared her throat. She couldn’t let this happen. Bram had crossed the line tonight and she couldn’t stand the thought of him retreating behind it again.
“Because of my dad’s attitude?” she said in a stronger voice. “Bram, you must ignore him. Prove you’re the bigger and better man by overlooking his ignorance.”
“How does anyone in Black Arrow overlook Carl Elliot?” Bram took a backward step, and Jenna quickly moved forward, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on his chest. “Don’t do this, Jenna,” he said huskily. “I was afraid of this happening the second I saw you getting out of the ambulance. I want you to stay and care for Gran…you are the best nurse in town…but you and I can never be anything but speaking acquaintances.” He grasped her arms and moved away from her. After one more yearning look at her beautiful face, he spun on his heel and walked out.
Jenna was devastated. He’d broken her heart, this time for real, for he’d given her just enough of himself to also give her a glimpse of paradise. Then he’d yanked it all away and told her it would never happen again. With tears burning her eyes, she pulled on her robe and dragged herself back to her lonely twin bed in Gloria’s room.
Jenna thought she would cry her eyes red, but instead she stared at the ceiling and accepted the painful knowledge that she’d responded to Bram with the same fervor with which a starving person devoured food. She felt like a fool, a woman with no will of her own. She would never forgive herself for behaving like a tart, nor would she forgive Bram for treating her as one. He’d kissed and touched her intimately, and she would feel his hands on her body for the rest of her life. Damn him! She turned to her side and the tears finally came, and she wept quietly into her pillow until she finally fell asleep.
Bram never did go back to sleep. An immutable fact nearly drove him crazy: he could have made love to Jenna, his beautiful golden girl, in his own kitchen, and he’d turned her down. Dear God, he could have brought her to his bed and made love with her. The many places in his house where they could have made love haunted him, until he finally gave up on sleep and threw back the covers.
He was dressed and on his way to his great-grandfather’s place before dawn broke.
Chapter Four
Traffic was light and Bram’s thoughts naturally turned to Jenna while he drove. He despised himself for making that pass. He’d gone way past the line he’d drawn between himself and Jenna, and he knew he was going to pay a heavy penalty for acting without thinking, because nothing about that kiss had been ordinary. In fact, he was positive that what had occurred in his kitchen was one of those life-altering events that befell a person every so often. In its own way, that embrace was as destructive to his peace of mind as his grandmother’s stroke. He actually gritted his teeth from mental anguish.
Out of self-preservation, his thoughts segued from Jenna to the Colton Ranch, and the contentment living there gave him. It had been home since his birth, and occasionally he thought of talking to his siblings about buying everyone out so it belonged only to him. And yet no one ever interfered with his use of the place, or gave him unwanted and unneeded advice simply because he or she owned as much of the land as he did.
He remembered growing up happy in a loud and boisterous household, with parents who laughed a lot and openly adored their five children. He thought of his brothers and sister, each one of them, and suffered again the agony of learning that their parents had been killed in a plane crash. It had been a terrible time, and he’d had to downplay his own shock and grief to comfort the others.
All in all, though, his life had gone relatively smoothly. He’d learned to live with grief and an ache for a woman he couldn’t have, but it was funny that he had rarely thought of his Indian blood until falling for Jenna. There were so many mixed marriages and relationships between Native Americans and whites that most of the population in and around Black Arrow paid scant attention to ancestry. There were a few pure whites, like Carl Elliot—or so they claimed—and there were also a few pure Comanches, like his great-grandfather.
But George WhiteBear was the only pure-blooded Indian in the family. And he was one of the handful of Comanches who proudly clung to the old ways, to teachings handed down from generation to generation. It was George who had educated his offspring and their offspring in Comanche history. Bram remembered most of what he’d been taught.
The Comanche, like the Arapaho, Blackfeet, Cheyenne and Sioux, were considered Plains Indians. In the old days sign language permitted different tribes to communicate, and George had even shown his progeny some of the signs. George also boasted about the Comanches’ amazing horseback-riding abilities and their ferocity in battle. Then there was the subject of counting coup—the act of touching a live enemy and getting away from him—which brought great honor to the brave warrior who managed that feat. That had always fascinated young Bram.
But then George would speak in a quieter voice, a sad monotone, about the Comanche people being forced onto the reservation in Oklahoma in 1867. “The government developed what might be called a conscience in the early 1900s and gave each Comanche still living—not many by then—160 acres of land. Many did not like farming, and sold or leased their land to whites. My father kept his and it is still my home,” the old man declared.
But the stories Bram had always liked best were about the traditional vision quest that was so important to most of the Plains Indians, as their religion centered on spiritual power. Everyone had to find his personal guardian spirit, and would go off alone with a little food and water to search for it. George WhiteBear had stayed alone in the wilderness for eight days and nights, and then he’d heard coyotes communicating with each other all around him. One had entered the circle of light from his campfire and looked directly at him with eyes glowing amber from the fire, and it was at that moment that George had known that the coyote was his guardian spirit. To this day, George listened to the cries and calls of coyotes and knew what they were saying to him.
Sometimes, when life became more drudging than satisfying, Bram would cynically wonder if he should undress down to a breechcloth, find some wilderness and look for his personal guardian spirit. But he was more white than Comanche, if not by blood then by lifestyle, and he wondered if he would have a successful vision quest. After all, he’d been raised almost as white as Carl Elliot had raised Jenna, with a few notable exceptions, of course, mostly brought about by Great-grandfather George WhiteBear.
The sun was just beginning to bathe the landscape in a peachy-orange light when Bram reached the turnoff from the highway that led to George’s acreage. It was a dirt road with a row of power poles along the side, accommodating George and Annie McCrary. Annie had become widowed only two short years after she and her husband, Ralph, bought their land. Annie and George weren’t bosom buddies, by any means, although Annie acted as if she wished she were. She kept an eye on her neighbor and dropped by George’s place about once a week with something from her garden—fresh or canned—as an excuse to check on him.
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