Spirit Of The Wolf
Susan Mallery
Be swept away by this fan-favourite story of love, healing, and family in 1800s Montana from New York Times best-selling author Susan Mallery.Caleb Kincaid has always carried a secret torch for the beautiful Ruth Whitefeather, who lives on the nearby Cheyenne reserve, but things never quite worked out between them. And when Caleb learns that his girlfriend is pregnant he does the honourable thing and marries her,even though the love between them has long faded and Caleb could never quell his feelings for Ruth.Years later, Caleb's wife passes away, and he finds himself a widower,ill-equipped to deal with his rambunctious son, Zeke. When Zeke runs away, and turns up on the Cheyenne reserve, he is returned to his father by none other than the woman Caleb has always secretly loved—Ruth Whitefeather. Ruth sees immediately that Caleb needs help keeping his house in order, and that Zeke is desperately in need of a mother's love and affection. But can Ruth's gentle touch heal Caleb's heart? And can a second chance bring the promise of lasting love for both of them?
Be swept away by this fan-favorite story of love, healing, and family in 1800s Montana from New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery.
Caleb Kincaid has always carried a secret torch for the beautiful Ruth Whitefeather, who lives on the nearby Cheyenne reserve, but things never quite worked out between them. And when Caleb learns that his girlfriend is pregnant he does the honorable thing and marries her, even though the love between them has long faded and Caleb could never quell his feelings for Ruth.
Years later, Caleb’s wife passes away, and he finds himself a widower, ill-equipped to deal with his rambunctious son, Zeke. When Zeke runs away, and turns up on the Cheyenne reserve, he is returned to his father by none other than the woman Caleb has always secretly loved—Ruth Whitefeather. Ruth sees immediately that Caleb needs help keeping his house in order, and that Zeke is desperately in need of a mother’s love and affection. But can Ruth’s gentle touch heal Caleb’s heart? And can a second chance bring the promise of lasting love for both of them?
Susan Mallery (#ulink_81fa468c-e9e0-5f29-b9bf-02620083e010)
“Susan Mallery is warmth and wit personified. Always a fabulous read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd
Susan Mallery is the bestselling author of over forty books for Harlequin and Silhouette. She makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her handsome prince of a husband and her two adorable-but-not-bright cats.
Spirit of the Wolf
Susan Mallery
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#ue2395251-0dda-5759-9f5c-4a3970927ede)
Back Cover Text (#u74359eec-c564-54dd-9e80-330042ca7e03)
Praise (#u7b246b28-2310-5fa6-9b3e-58c3c57b5d0e)
Title Page (#u48c2169a-1550-582b-8c6d-ae772a2085ac)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc7d20023-de3a-5c8c-b9b5-8dbed7268082)
CHAPTER TWO (#u28d41c1c-7d5f-5a1e-ac60-2be320b2ba73)
CHAPTER THREE (#ufe54cf03-e22f-5b90-ab0e-e216b6219150)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_3092fe66-274b-5cea-9151-b10e5a7e09ec)
Whitehorn, Montana
April, 1896
“I WANT to be an Indian.”
Ruth Whitefeather glanced up from the herbs she’d been examining. A boy of about seven or eight stood beside her garden. He wore worn Levi’s and scuffed boots, and held the reins of a bay gelding in his right hand.
Ruth took in the firm set of the boy’s mouth, the defiance in his blue eyes, not to mention the too long blond hair brushing the bottom of his frayed collar.
A runaway, she thought, trying not to smile. How often did the children from the nearby ranches, or the town of Whitehorn itself find their way to the Indian village? Those children, mostly boys, had great plans for running away. They imagined a life of endless bareback riding across wide plains, hunting game, not going to school, never having a bedtime. Life with the Cheyenne was not so undisciplined, but the runaways never wanted to hear that.
The job of the tribe was to convince these children that life at home was not so very horrible. Usually the visitors could be convinced to return before their parents had much time to worry.
Ruth allowed her mouth to soften slightly. “I believe you would make a fine Indian,” she said softly. “You look strong.” She nodded at the horse. “Obviously you can ride.”
“Yup. And rope. I help my pa with the cattle all the time.” He glanced toward the wooden structures that made up the main section of the Indian village. “You got cattle? I could help with them.”
“We have a few dozen head. We raise them for food, not to sell. And there are already several men to tend them. If you wish to stay, we need to find you other work.”
The boy nodded. At least he understood that he couldn’t stay without giving back to the community. That was something. Ruth rose to her feet and wiped the damp earth from her skirt.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Zeke.” He squinted up at her. “Who are you?”
“Ruth. Ruth Whitefeather.”
His nose wrinkled as he frowned. “Ruth’s not an Indian name. My friend Billy has a grandma named Ruth and she’s from Boston.”
“My mother wasn’t an Indian. She named me.”
Zeke accepted her explanation without asking any more questions. She picked up the basket of herbs she’d already gathered and led the way toward the Indian lands.
Spring had come early to Montana, giving the residents a longer growing season. Ruth had been busy planning her herb garden, and thinking about the different plants and roots she would harvest for her healing tonics and potions. Spring was always her favorite time of year, when the earth renewed itself and all of life was given a second chance.
“Why did you leave your home?” she asked as they walked down the main path of the village. “Do your parents beat you?”
“Nah. My ma died just after Christmas and my pa…” His voice trailed off. “He’s not mean, but there’s gonna be a new school teacher and he says I gotta go to school.” He turned toward Ruth, his expression earnest. “I don’t need to read. I can ride and rope and when I turn ten, Pa said he would teach me to shoot so when I grow up I’ll be the best cowboy ever.”
“An admirable goal,” Ruth said, no longer paying attention to all of Zeke’s words. His mother had died? She tried to remember hearing about the death of a rancher’s wife in the past few months. There hadn’t been any except—
She stopped in the middle of the path and stared at the child. The sound of her heart was suddenly loud in her ears. “What is your last name, Zeke? Tell me.”
“Kincaid.”
She tried to speak but could not. Zeke Kincaid. Caleb’s son. She forced herself to start walking again, wondering why she hadn’t noticed the similarities in the eye color, the smile. Even the attitude of defiance was the same.
She told herself it didn’t matter where the boy came from. His parents—his father especially—were not her concern. She told herself that it had been nearly nine years and that she could barely remember what Caleb looked like. They had been friends for a brief time. Nothing more.
Then she tried not to think about any of it because what was the point of lying to herself?
She saw someone walking toward them. Relief filled her when she recognized her brother, John, and she nearly broke into a run. John would take care of Zeke, finding him work, then escorting him home when he was ready to return to his father.
“This is Zeke,” she said by way of introduction and quickly explained how the boy wanted to join the tribe.
John listened solemnly, then offered to take Zeke so they could find some work for the boy. Ruth waved as they walked toward the barn. She remembered the recently slaughtered steer and thought that her brother might set Zeke to work scraping the hide. A smelly, difficult task guaranteed to convince any seven-year-old boy that he did not want to be an Indian after all.
Ruth returned to her small house. The herbs she’d collected required preparation before they could be dried. She would have to…
She sighed when she realized she didn’t remember what she had to do. It was as if everything she’d ever known had been thrust from her head, leaving her empty except for her memories of Caleb Kincaid.
“Foolish dreamer,” she murmured as she stepped into the workroom at the rear of her house and closed the door behind her. She set her basket on the floor. “That time is long finished. My future is here.”
She clutched the familiar, wooden table that stretched the length of the room. The wood had been rubbed smooth. A shelf held her bowls and grinder. Dozens of glass jars and bottles sat on the far wall, each filled with different leaves or roots, extracts or combination of plants.
It was here she blended the teas and poultices that healed those in need. Long ago she had made the decision to dedicate herself to her people. Upon her birth she had been granted a gift, and using that gift was her destiny. There could be no other.
For much of her life she was content with the solitude that healing demanded. But sometimes, when she heard the laugh of a child or the soft conversation of a couple in love, she longed for something different. To have had the life offered to everyone else. Sometimes, like today, she remembered a man’s passionate kisses.
Without meaning to, she became lost in the memory of the strength of Caleb Kincaid when he’d taken her in his arms. He’d been tender. So very understanding. His large hands had slid around her body, drawing her close, yet allowing her the freedom to escape if she needed to. She’d thought she would be afraid, but instead she’d welcomed him. Even now her body heated as she recalled their passionate kisses.
He’d claimed to love her and had asked her to be his wife. When she’d refused, he’d married someone else within a few months. As if she, Ruth, hadn’t mattered at all.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said aloud, as if speaking the words forcefully would make them true. “He doesn’t matter.”
She had never loved Caleb, would never have married him. She was content with her place in the world. Healing others was a great gift and she was grateful to have been honored by the sacred trust. Her life here was what mattered—not the past.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Ruth had nearly forgotten Zeke Kincaid was still in the village. At least that’s what she told herself as she hung tender roots to dry. She wasn’t listening for his voice, nor that of his father. For Caleb would know where his son had run to.
It was late in the afternoon when someone knocked at her back door. Her heart jumped into her throat and she had to take a steadying breath before she could cross the scarred wooden floor to let in her visitor.
Her brother stood on the rear step, a dirty and obviously tired Zeke behind him.
“Our young friend has decided he wishes to return home,” John told her.
“I see.”
She noticed dried blood staining the boy’s fingers and knew that John had set Zeke to work on the hide. She couldn’t blame the child for giving up. If she had to spend her day on that particular chore, she would take off for parts unknown as well.
“You might like to take him home,” John said. “Zeke has told me there has not been a woman in the house since the passing of his mother. Caleb and Zeke are in need of a temporary housekeeper. It would just be for a short time. I knew you would welcome the opportunity to repay the family for its kindness to you.”
Ruth opened her mouth to protest, then pressed her lips together. Not only couldn’t she think of a single thing to say, but she had no breath with which to speak. John’s words hovered in the afternoon, echoing like the call of the wolf.
She wanted to tell him no, that she would not, could not go to the Kincaid ranch. It was sad that Zeke had lost his mother and Caleb had lost his wife, but they weren’t her family. As for her debt—she didn’t want to think about that.
The thought of seeing Caleb again, speaking with him, made her light-headed. She felt as if the world had started to spin and she was afraid she would lose her balance and fall.
“I would not have suggested this if I thought you were disturbed by going back to the ranch,” John said, his dark eyes seeing far more than they should.
Pride came to her rescue, stiffening her spine and making her straighten. “I’m not afraid.” She gestured to her workroom. “But it’s spring and there are many plants for me to gather. I’m very busy.”
John kept his attention on her face. “The boy has no one but his father. Caleb has only the boy. Caleb’s brothers are gone.”
She wanted to scream her protest. John might be wise and a good leader of their people, but sometimes he was nothing more than her annoying brother.
She knew that if she told him she couldn’t face the ghosts from her past that he would insist she stay here. John would never do anything to hurt her. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit that truth—not even to herself. It had been nearly nine years, she reminded herself. Why would she think that seeing Caleb again would bother her?
Zeke stepped around John and stared at her. “Can you make biscuits? Pa makes stew and he can fix eggs, but his biscuits are hard enough to be horseshoes.” He grinned. “At least that’s what my ma used to say.”
His humor lasted for a heartbeat, then faded as if he’d just remembered his mother was gone forever. Ruth could have stood against anything except the sadness in the young boy’s eyes. John was right—Zeke was now alone in the world. How long had it been since he’d seen a woman smile at him? When was the last time he’d heard a soft voice speaking words of comfort?
“Zeke tells me that his father has hired a new housekeeper. She’s due to arrive at the end of the month. That’s only two weeks away. Surely your plants can spare you that long.”
She bowed her head to the inevitable. “I’ll go with him. Please ready my horse while I pack my bag.”
In less time than she would have liked, she and Zeke were on their way. He rode his horse, while she sat in her small cart pulled by a single black gelding. She had brought her healing herbs along with clothing and personal items. Zeke chattered about the ranch and all the things he would like her to cook but she found it difficult to concentrate. Her mind wandered to the past and what it had been like when she’d stayed with Caleb and his family before.
It had been so many years, yet she could recall certain details as if they’d just occurred the previous week. As they approached the ranch, her stomach tightened and her fingers twisted around the reins. She and Zeke crested a low rise and suddenly she could see the ranch house, the barns and stables. Everything was different, yet nothing had changed. Nearly nine years after Caleb had promised to love her forever, she had returned.
* * *
“STORM COMING in tonight, boss,” Hank said as he reached the barn. He turned and squinted at the setting sun, studying the dark bank of clouds heading their way.
“It won’t snow,” Caleb Kincaid replied, not even bothering to look at the potential threat. He was too tired to raise his head that far.
He hadn’t slept in three nights and he didn’t doubt he’d be forced up sometime before dawn this morning. Spring was always a busy time at the ranch.
“I swear those damn cows are deliberately stupid,” he muttered as he swung down from his saddle. “The way I see it, they know when they’re gonna have trouble giving birth and they find the most difficult place to hide, then dare me to find them.”
Hank lifted his hat and scratched his nearly bald head. “I don’t think they’re out to get you, boss. It just happens.”
Caleb grimaced. “You’re wrong. They talk about it. One of them finds a new canyon or gully and spreads the word.”
Hank’s dark eyes narrowed in concern. “You need some rest.”
“I know. But until they’re done dropping their calves, none of us is going to get it.” He led his horse into the barn, handing him over to Tully. “Everyone in?” he asked the fifteen-year-old boy who had started work at the ranch the previous fall.
Tully had hair the color of fire and enough freckles to share with every person in the state of Montana. He was short, had a stammer and looked skinny enough to blow away in a good wind. But there was magic in his touch. In all his thirty-one years, Caleb had never seen anyone so good with horses.
“All the m-men are b-back,” he said. “Zeke brought back c-company.”
Caleb scowled. “Who? A boy from town?”
Just what he needed right now. Some stray kid for him to look after. Dammit, they were in the middle of calving. Zeke knew better than to—
“No. A w-woman.”
Caleb stared in surprise. Hank raised his bushy eyebrows. “Looks like your boy done found you a new wife.”
Caleb didn’t even bother responding to that outrageous statement. Instead he glanced in the direction Tully pointed and saw a small black gelding with a white star between its eyes. The creature looked dainty, but Caleb knew it was a strong, sturdy horse. Dependable. Familiar.
He’d sold that horse to John Whitefeather nearly five years before. John had wanted the animal for his sister to use when she visited sick folks in the area.
Caleb felt as if he’d been poleaxed. The pain inside was white-hot and unrelenting.
“Ruth,” he said, barely able to speak her name.
“Yes, s-sir,” Tully stuttered. “S-she’s up at the h-house.”
Ruth. Here. He didn’t know what to think. It had been long enough that her being here shouldn’t matter. But it did. Because once, she’d been all he’d wanted. Once he’d thought they would get married and have half a dozen children together. He’d imagined the Kincaid ranch becoming a dynasty—something he could be proud of.
But as much as he’d wanted her, she hadn’t wanted him. Instead she’d walked away. And he’d married Marie.
He cursed his own rule of not keeping liquor in the barn, then turned his back on Tully and Hank and headed for the house. He was halfway there when he realized his foreman hadn’t said a word about Ruth being here. Hank had been around for nearly fifteen years. He knew what had happened the last time she’d visited. He’d been the one who’d suggested Caleb needed to get away when he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved.
The house loomed in front of him. Bright lights spilled out the kitchen windows, but the pulled curtains kept him from seeing more than shadows. He felt weary beyond feeling, yet oddly alert. Why was she here?
It couldn’t be because of Marie’s death. His wife had been gone nearly five months, so it was a little late for condolences. No one was sick. Tully would have mentioned Zeke being injured. So why now?
He climbed the single step that led to the mud room and quietly opened the door. Voices came from the kitchen. Voices and a sound Caleb hadn’t heard in too long. Zeke’s laughter. Caleb stepped through the doorway and stared into the kitchen.
In the second it took him to find Ruth, he saw the mess he hadn’t had time to notice before now. Once sparkling floors were scratched and dirty. Filthy dishes had been stacked on counters and in the sink. Once white curtains had turned gray with grime. If he wasn’t careful, the mail-order housekeeper he’d sent for would turn tail and run as soon as she saw the place.
When he could no longer avoid the inevitable, he turned his attention on the woman and the boy. They sat together at the big kitchen table. Ruth sat with her back to him. He saw her crisp white blouse tucked into a dark skirt. Her long hair had been pulled back in a thick braid. Something hot coiled in his belly as he recalled what it had felt like to unfasten that braid and run his hands through her silky hair.
She sat straight and proud—still slender. She hadn’t turned to face him, but he knew she was beautiful. Eyes the color of chocolate. Honey-colored skin. A full mouth so tempting it had taken every bit of willpower not to kiss her the first time he’d seen her.
Zeke knelt on the chair next to hers, watching intently as she spooned biscuits onto a pan. There was trust in the way the boy leaned close. Trust and an ease he’d never had around Marie.
This is what he’d wanted, Caleb thought as pain filled his chest. This is what he could never have.
Suddenly there was anger. Anger that she’d left and anger that she’d dared to return. He didn’t need her pity or her gentle ways. She’d said she didn’t want to live in his world. So what the hell was she doing here now?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_b8f32ec7-7086-5ebe-b8f6-3c3248d59537)
ZEKE SHIFTED in his seat, then grinned and jumped to his feet. “Pa!”
Ruth felt herself stiffen as once again she found it impossible to breathe. Caleb. She started to turn in her chair, then stopped—frozen by fear. What would she see on his face and in his eyes? How could she have simply shown up in his house after all this time?
“This is Ruth,” Zeke was saying. “She’s a Cheyenne, at least half Cheyenne. I was there today and she’s real nice. She came back with me when I told her that you didn’t make very good biscuits and John—that’s her brother—said she would stay until the new housekeeper arrived.”
As the boy spoke, she gathered together her shreds of courage. She had survived much in her twenty-eight years of life…surely she could survive seeing Caleb again.
She rose and turned to face father and son. Even as Zeke continued to chatter, Caleb’s steady gaze settled on her. His gray-blue eyes were still the color of a winter storm. The lines around his mouth had deepened. He was a tall, strong man—honed by the hard land and the difficult task of raising cattle. She saw the changes in him. The wariness in his expression, the ease with which he drew his son to him. She saw the things that were the same. The hint of a dimple, even though he wasn’t smiling and the heat of desire long denied but still alive within him.
She’d thought he might yell, telling her that she had no right to be here. Not after she’d refused him all those years ago. Instead, he simply spoke her name.
“Hello, Ruth.”
“Caleb.”
Her lips barely formed the words. There were only a few feet between them, yet she felt as if they were on opposite ends of the world. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself wishing he would open his arms to her and draw her close. She needed the comfort that only he could give. Yet he didn’t offer and, of course, she didn’t ask.
He glanced around the kitchen. “You shouldn’t have to see the ranch house like this. You remember it being nicer.”
She nodded. “But I know you haven’t had a housekeeper out here in several months.”
“Sarah left when her sister was widowed. I’ve sent for someone. She should arrive by the end of the week, this one or next.”
“Zeke told me. I thought I could help out until then.” She paused and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry about Marie.”
At her words, his expression closed. He rested his hand on his son’s slender shoulder. “Tully’s finishing up with the horses for the day. Aren’t you supposed to help him?”
Zeke looked as if he were going to protest, but then he nodded and headed for the mud room. “When is dinner going to be ready?” he asked her.
“Not for another half hour. You have time to complete your chores.”
He shot his father a grin. “Ruth made cobbler with the last of the dried fruit.”
“Then bring in some cream when you come back to the house.”
“Yes, sir!”
The back door slammed as the boy ran toward the barn. Ruth smoothed her hands on her skirt.
“Caleb, I know this is a surprise for you,” she said quickly, needing to make him understand what had happened. “Zeke came to the village today. He was running away. Something about a new schoolteacher.”
“He’s not too fond of the idea of learning to read and do his numbers.”
“So I gathered.” She stared at the center of his broad chest, not able to look him in the eye. “John set him to work scraping a hide, which is a difficult enough task to make anyone want to return home. When Zeke finally admitted school might not be so horrible, he also mentioned that you and he had been without a housekeeper for some time. John suggested I fill in until your new one arrives. He thought it would be a way for me to thank you…for what you did.” She cleared her throat. “Back all those years ago.”
“What did you think?”
She didn’t know what to think. Standing here in the Kincaid family kitchen, she felt as if nothing had changed. It was once again nine years ago and her foolish young woman’s heart had fallen in love. She’d allowed herself to dream about what might have been, until she’d remembered her responsibility to her people. Her destiny was to heal those in need. Being a wife and mother was someone else’s destiny.
“I’m pleased to have the opportunity to repay my debt,” she said formally.
“Is that what I am? A debt?”
She forced herself to look into his face. “That’s not what I meant, Caleb.”
“Then why are you here?”
At least she had an honest answer for that question. “I don’t know. If you want me to leave, I will. Otherwise, I’ll stay until the new housekeeper arrives.”
Emotions flashed through his eyes, but she couldn’t read them. Instead of responding, he simply shrugged as if her decision didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving her standing in a place of both past and present, wondering how she’d ever thought she had forgotten what it was like to love Caleb Kincaid.
* * *
“PA, RUTH SAYS she can teach me my letters,” Zeke said as he stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth. He chewed it and swallowed before continuing the familiar argument. “And if you teach me my numbers, then I don’t need to go to school. Right?”
Caleb tried to concentrate on his son’s words, when every part of his being was intensely aware of the woman sitting across from him at the freshly scrubbed kitchen table.
Instead of chili from the bunkhouse, they were dining on stew and fresh biscuits. The sugary smell of the baking cobbler filled the kitchen. The counters were clean, the dishes washed and put away. But even those unusual circumstances weren’t enough to keep him from thinking of Ruth.
She was so damn beautiful. He found himself wishing she’d grown ugly in their time apart. But he had a bad feeling that all the ugly in the world wouldn’t take away his wanting. She had always been able to ignite the fire within him with just a look or the sway of her hips. Now she had returned, and breathing in her sweet scent made him ache with longing.
Nearly as powerful as the need was the anger. He resented being reminded of how he’d once cared for her. How he’d been a fool, offering marriage. She refused him and had left the same day. Left him wondering what he’d done wrong.
“School is important,” Ruth said in her quiet voice. “A measure of a man is more than strength and experience. The measure of a man is taken by what he knows of his people and his world.”
“I know most everything ’bout the ranch,” Zeke announced before gathering up another spoonful of the stew. “Hank’s teaching me ’bout putting the right bull with the heifers and Tully’s teaching me how to repair tack. We’re working on a saddle right now.”
“There’s more to the world than the ranch,” she pointed out. “You need to know about other places and times.”
“Why?”
“It’s important to use your mind,” Caleb told his son. “When you grow up and inherit the ranch, you’ll probably head East to buy breeding stock. You don’t want those fancy East Coast breeders to think you’re stupid.”
“They won’t. I’m real smart.”
Before he could stop himself, Caleb exchanged a look of affection and exasperation with Ruth. She smiled as if to say Zeke was a handful, but worth the effort. The shared moment cut through him like a freshly honed blade, leaving him to bleed to death from the inside. He didn’t want to share anything with Ruth. Not now. Not ever. He should tell her to get the hell out of his house.
Yet he didn’t speak the words. And when his son finished his supper and carried the plate over to the sink, then announced he had to head out to the barn to help Tully with the saddle, Caleb didn’t stop him. The back door slammed again and he and Ruth were alone.
Silence stretched between them. He found himself staring at the way the lantern light gleamed on her dark hair. She kept her gaze on her plate, allowing him to study her smooth skin and the fullness of her mouth.
She looked older than she had the last time she’d been in this house. Mature. “It’s been nine years and you never married.”
He spoke the words he’d only meant to think. She glanced up. Color stained her honey-colored cheeks.
“I couldn’t. I’m a healer.”
“There’s nothing in the history of the Cheyenne that makes marriage forbidden.”
“I can’t explain it more than saying I believe deep in my soul that my duty is to be a healer. For me that means staying there—I can’t divide my heart by marrying. That’s why I couldn’t marry you.”
She’d said the same thing when he’d proposed. He hadn’t believed her back then, either. “I thought you were just afraid. Not that I blamed you. After what happened.”
Something dark and ugly flared in her eyes. She ducked her head. “It wasn’t that.”
“But you were afraid. If not of me, then of my world.”
She shrugged. “Your world is not a place I feel comfortable. I prefer living with my people.”
“You’re only half Cheyenne.”
She looked at him. “I have embraced their ways and their traditions. In all that matters, I am only Cheyenne. You never saw that because you wanted me to be like you.”
“No. I simply wanted you.”
He hated the remembering. He knew exactly how she kissed. So tentative at first, then with a growing passion. He knew the feel of her lips on his, the taste of her, the small sounds she made when passion threatened to overwhelm her.
She sat across from him—where his wife had sat, and his mother before her. He had imagined Ruth in that chair so many times. Now that she was here, it was too late. He was old enough to know there were no second chances, and dreams about them were only for fools.
* * *
RUTH PUT the last of the dishes away in the cupboard. She could hear voices coming from Caleb’s study. The sound of his low voice followed by his son’s laughter. Their obvious love and affection made her feel out of place in the ranch house. She had no place here; Caleb had made it clear he didn’t want her help or her company. So why was she staying? Shouldn’t she simply leave in the morning? The new housekeeper would arrive soon. If Caleb and Zeke had survived this long on their own, what was a few more days?
She closed the cupboard door, then made her way to the kitchen table. She sat down and wrapped her hands around a mug of fresh coffee. Why was she surprised that Caleb wasn’t happy to see her? Had she secretly expected him to welcome her with open arms?
She searched her heart looking for truth and found only confusion. Perhaps she had been hoping he would be happy to see her. Now that he wasn’t, she didn’t know what to do. He was a different man than the one she remembered. There was an air of sadness about him. Was that because of the loss of his wife? Marie had only been gone a few months. If theirs had been a love match…
She sipped her coffee and tried not to think about the fact that Caleb had married and fathered a child within a few months of his proposing to her. At the time she’d wondered if he’d ever cared about her at all, or had simply decided it was time to marry and start a family. Maybe he’d never loved her. She hated thinking that could be true, but she had to consider the proof in front of her. Zeke was a charming child who was impossible to ignore. Maybe—
“I’ll show you to your room.”
She glanced up and saw Caleb standing in the doorway. “Where’s Zeke?”
“I put him to bed. He always complains that he’s not tired, but then he’s snoring before I get the door closed.” Pride filled his blue-gray eyes and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s a fine boy,” Ruth told him. “He spoke very highly of you.”
Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “Even when he was running away?”
“You have to know that was about his unwillingness to go to school.”
He nodded. “I guess every boy would rather be out riding horses than in a schoolroom learning lessons. I don’t doubt I complained when I had to attend.”
“And your son is very much like you.”
“I hope so.”
His statement surprised her, but before she could question him or figure out what he’d meant, he repeated what he’d said before.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
She rose and walked toward him. When they were close enough for her to feel the heat of him, she drew in a deep breath.
“It was a mistake for me to come,” she told him. “I see that now. John’s suggestion that I repay my debt to your family by offering help surprised me so much that I didn’t consider what it might mean. I know you want me to leave, and I will do so in the morning.”
He gazed down at her. He was strong and powerful. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but she couldn’t be. Not of Caleb. He’d always been so kind to her. Gentle. Understanding. She wondered if time had destroyed that part of him.
His gaze darkened, and for the first time she saw the wounds within him. Deep, unrelenting pain filled his being and she nearly cried out as she felt its coldness touch the edge of her soul. Mortal wounds, she thought, shivering slightly. What was their cause? The death of his wife?
“Stay or not,” he said, turning away. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
Without thinking, she touched his shoulder to stop him. “How can you say that? You’re obviously uncomfortable having me around.”
He spun back to face her, breaking the physical contact between them. “Can you blame me? Nine years ago, I asked you to marry me. Not only did you refuse me with a ridiculous story about staying pure for your healing, you left that same day. As if you couldn’t stand the sight of me. In all this time you’ve never once come to the ranch or spoken with me. When I’ve had business with your brother, you’ve always managed to be gone. So what the hell are you doing here now?”
His raw anger washed over her like lye, burning her, making her wish she’d stayed quiet. Why had she come? Was it about her debt or something else?
“I can’t answer that.” She forced herself to look into his blazing eyes. “I don’t know why. But now that I’m here—” she paused and drew in a breath “—perhaps I should stay.” She could see that there was healing to be done between them. This might be her only opportunity to right the wrong she’d created by her impulsive behavior when she’d left the last time.
He shrugged and started walking. She followed him up the stairs, confused by her own indecision and his fury. So many emotions still boiling between them. So many questions.
They moved down a hallway. There were three open doors, one on the left and two on the right. He entered the former, pushing the door wider. She hesitated until he’d lit a lantern sitting on a small table, then she stepped into the room.
She’d expected him to show her to the small guest room she’d occupied during her last stay. She remembered the pretty floral wallpaper and the four-poster bed that had been so cozy. Instead she stepped into a large room filled with expensive carved furniture, including a dressing table with an oval mirror. Dozens of pillows covered the oversize bed. Lace flounces decorated the window coverings. There were bottles of perfumes and other cosmetics, paintings of horses and portraits of people she’d never seen before.
Ruth could not imagine Caleb living in such feminine splendor, and Caleb didn’t have any sisters. Which meant…
“This was Marie’s room.” He spoke the words without giving away what he was thinking. “I cleaned out most of her things a few weeks ago and aired everything. It’s the only room ready for company. The guest room hasn’t been touched in a couple of years, and I didn’t think you’d be comfortable in my bed.”
She knew he meant that she would be in his bed without him. But his words painted a picture of them together, under the blankets. She could almost feel him touching her, kissing her, taking her and making her his own. She should have been frightened or appalled by the thought, yet she was not. If anything, the sudden trembling of her thighs came from anticipation not disgust.
“Your wife had her own room?”
He glanced around and nodded. “Marie never adjusted to living in Montana. Having this helped her deal with her change in circumstances. Will you mind sleeping here?”
Ruth was not afraid of Marie’s ghost. She had always found the spirits of the recently departed to be kindly, lost souls eager to be on their way.
“The room is very elegant,” she told him. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”
He hesitated, but all he said was, “Good night.”
He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Ruth crossed the floor to press her fingers against the wood. She listened to his footsteps in the hall, then the sound of his own door closing.
She sighed. Nothing was as she’d thought it would be. Why had Caleb’s wife slept in this beautiful room? There were no signs of a man’s presence. Had he moved out after her death?
Ruth turned to face the lace and frills. No. Caleb would not have slept in a space such as this. So he must have had his own room. Why? If she, Ruth, had married him, she would have wanted to spend every night at his side. She couldn’t imagine another woman feeling differently. Of course she’d never met Marie Kincaid.
“Who were you?” she whispered into the darkness. “And why did he marry you?”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_573f4122-7cd6-58d5-aeb7-581c2569c260)
CALEB DIDN’T SAY much the next morning when he and Hank headed out to check on the herd. Despite his prediction, no one had awakened him in the night, so he’d had the opportunity to get some sleep. Unfortunately, it hadn’t happened. He’d been too aware of Ruth across the hall. She hadn’t made any sound, but he’d known she was there. He would have sworn that the sweet scent of her body had drifted to him, calling to him. He’d been on fire for her, longing to go to her. But he hadn’t. Because she’d made her feelings damn clear.
So why was she back? Why after all this time? Was it only about repaying a debt? Did he care? The best thing for both of them was for her to leave, yet he knew he wasn’t going to tell her to go. He couldn’t. Because having her here, wanting her and knowing he could never have her was better than never seeing her at all. Which made him worse than a fool.
“You’re mighty quiet,” Hank announced when they’d ridden for about an hour.
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