Clayborne Brides Series - book 3 - One White Rose by Julie Garwood

[Dalyia]

"That's the point of my story*" Simpson said. "Yes* sir* it is. You're going to be living close to Isabel for a long time* and I want you to remember the fella I just told you about. He pledged his friendship* went so far as to call the other two men his brothers* yet once he got on with his life* he plumb forgot about them."
"I understand*" Douglas said.
"Do you? Isabel has a good heart* and she sure is an easy person to love. It's the future I'm worried about* after you take care of this business with Boyle and go back home. You are going to do something about the tyrant* aren't you?"
Simpson had finally gotten to the topic Douglas wanted to discuss. "It seems I am*" he said. "Tell me what you know about Boyle."
"I know the man's a monster." His voice echoed his disgust. "The only reason I'm still breathing is that he thinks he might have need of my services in the future. He's threatened to kill me* but I don't think he'd do it. Doctors are hard to come by in these parts. He'd hurt my Trudy though. Yes* he would."
"Isabel told me that only a few men in this town have had the courage to stand up to Boyle and that you were one of them. Why won't the others help?"
"Everyone that I know would like to help* but they're afraid. They've seen what happens to those good men who have tried. If one of them so much as whispers about doing something to help Isabel* word gets back to Boyle* and then the instigator gets hurt bad. Both of Wendell Border's hands were broken after he told a couple of men he thought were his friends that he was going to find the U.S. marshal everyone's been hearing glory tales about. The lawman was scouring the territory* looking for some wanted men* but Wendell never got the chance to go hunting for him. Boyle's men got to poor Wendell before he could even leave town. While I was setting his broken hands* I promised him in a whisper that I'd find a way to get help here. I promised him I'd pray too."
"Were you going to go hunting for the lawman?"
"No* I'm too old and worn out to go hunting for anyone. My Trudy* fortunately* came up with a better idea. Twice a week I go into Liddyville to see patients there. It's only two hours away from Sweet Creek by buggy*" he added. "My wife told me to use the telegraph office there and send wires to all the sheriffs in the territory. She thinks one or two might want to help us. I took it a step further and sent wires to two preachers Wendell told me about and asked them to help with the hunt for the marshal. I still haven't heard back from anyone* but I've got this feeling that if the Texan hears about our trouble* he'll come* especially if he knows a mother with a brand-new baby needs help. Why* he'll drop everything and come running."
"Why do you think—"
Simpson wouldn't let him finish his question. "If the rumors are true* the marshal accidentally caused some women and children to get killed during a bank robbery in Texas. He didn't know they were inside and being used as shields when he and his men rushed in. From what we've heard about the robbers* they would have killed them anyway* but the marshal still blames himself. Oh* he'll come all right… if he hears of our trouble. Sure wish I knew the fella's name. It would make chasing him down easier* I expect."
"You're looking for Daniel Ryan*" Douglas told him. "My brothers have been searching for him too." He paused when he heard the creak of the steps behind him. "Did we wake your wife?"
"No* but she's used to snuggling up against me and she must have awakened when she got cold."
"Would you mind telling her to put the gun down?"
Simpson was astonished. "Do you have eyes in the back of your head? Trudy* put that away and come in here. I want you to meet Isabel's friend. He's promised to help our girl."
Douglas turned around and nodded to the woman. "I'm sorry I disturbed you and your husband*" he began.
Trudy laid the gun on the desk and rushed forward to shake Douglas's hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman her size* for the top of her head barely reached his shoulders.
"The doctor and I were praying for a miracle. Looks like we might have gotten one. I know you aren't Marshal Ryan. You're big like we were told he was* but you don't have yellow hair and blue eyes* and our preacher gave us a good description of the lawman so we'd recognize him if he came into town. We pray every Sunday that the dear man will hear of our troubles and come here. Could you be a friend of the marshal's? Did he send you here?"
"No* ma'am* he didn't send me here."
She couldn't hide her disappointment. "But you're still going to help our little girl?"
Douglas smiled. The Simpsons' affection for Isabel pleased him. God only knew* she needed good friends now* and it was nice to know she had two champions in Sweet Creek trying to look out for her. "Yes* I'm going to help her." She squeezed his hand before she let go. "Doctor* I expect I'll go into the kitchen now." She waited until her husband nodded agreement before she looked at Douglas again. "You won't be leaving until I've packed some leftovers for you to take."
"You'll have to work in the dark* Trudy*" her husband told her.
"I expect I'll manage. I'll light a candle and put it in the hallway. No one can see inside* doctor."
"Ma'am* I really should be heading back to Isabel." She shook her head at him and left the library in a near run.
Simpson chuckled. "You might as well relax* son. Trudy isn't going to let you leave without a bag full of her home cooking. Sit on down in a chair* proper like* and tell me why your brothers have been searching for the Texan. Do you have troubles where you come from that need the law?"
"No*" Douglas answered. "Ryan helped one of my brothers. The fact is* he saved Travis's life."
"So you're wanting to thank him."
"Yes* but also get back a compass he… borrowed."
"Now* that sounds like a mighty curious tale."
"I'll tell you all about it some other time*" Douglas promised. "When I was coming here* I noticed your town has a wire service* and I was wondering why you had to go to Liddyville to send your telegrams."
"The only way you could have seen the telegraph office is if you'd been inside the general store. It's in the back room. Why'd you go in there?"
"To get some supplies."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No."
"Good*" Simpson whispered. "You broke in* didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you snap the lock or break a window?"
Douglas was a bit insulted by the question. "No* of course not. Cooper won't know I was there unless he does a close inventory."
Simpson was grinning with pleasure. "I hope you robbed Vernon Cooper blind. His brother* Jasper* runs the wire office* and both the scoundrels are in Boyle's back pocket. No one in Sweet Creek dares send a wire from here unless they want Boyle to know about it* and that's why I used the wire service in Liddyville. Just on principle Trudy and I get all our supplies there too. We'd rather go without than give either one of the Coopers our hard-earned money."
"If Ryan were to show up and arrest Boyle* would the man whose hands were broken testify against him?"
Simpson shook his head. "I expect Ryan will have to find another way to get rid of Boyle*" he said* "or run his henchmen out of town first. Wendell's too scared to testify. He's got a wife and two young daughters. He doesn't dare say a word against Boyle* or his family will pay the consequences. The poor man. He's got crops that will be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks* and with broken hands he's going to have to watch them rot."
"Won't some of the town help him?"
"They're afraid to do anything that might make Boyle mad."
"Why does he want Isabel's land?"
"He's telling everyone he wants to put his cattle there to graze. He has a lot of land surrounding his . ranch house* but he rents that out to some foreigners who buy cattle down in Texas and have them brought I up to his land to fatten up. Boyle's made a fortune over the last fifteen years* but he's greedy* and he wants more."
"If he wants to use Isabel's land* why doesn't he do it? She couldn't stop him* and he has to know that."
"He doesn't just want her land* son* he wants her too. He's real blatant about letting everyone know she's going to belong to him. Why* he struts around town like a fat rooster inviting people to the wedding. Folks say he started lusting after her the second he saw her."
"Why is he waiting? He could force her to marry him now."
"You don't understand Boyle the way I do. Pride's involved. He wants her to beg him to marry her* and he figures if he makes her desperate enough* she'll do just that."
"Did he kill her husband?"
"If the bullet hadn't gone through his back* I would have suspected Parker accidentally killed himself. I'm not speaking ill of the dead* you understand. I'm only stating facts* and the fact is that Isabel's husband was about as useful as a kettle with a hole in the bottom* The man had grand notions about all sorts of things. He treated Isabel good though* real good. And he was kind to crazy old Paddy* even though he knew Boyle would hear of it and be furious."
Douglas was intrigued. "Being kind to an old man infuriated Boyle?"
"It's perplexing* isn't it? Paddy came to Sweet Creek straight from Ireland and had lived here for as long as I could remember. Boyle came along about ten years ago and squatted on the land adjacent to where Isabel is living now. Within a year he started building himself a grand three-story house* and when it was finished* it was as fancy as any you'll see in the East* I'll wager you. He filled it with new furniture he had shipped from Europe and then had a big party the whole town was invited to so he could show off the palace. Even Paddy was invited* but something happened that night that started the feud between the two men. No one recollects seeing the two of them together during the shindig* but from that night on* Boyle tormented Paddy with a vengeance. Folks started calling the Irishman crazy then because no matter how often Boyle came after him* Paddy laughed about it. You know what that crazy man told me while I was patching him up one evening? He said he was going to have the last laugh. Can you imagine? The funny thing is* he did."
"How'd he do that?"
"Well now* I'm getting to that* son. Paddy was dying of consumption. He hung on until one Saturday night* because he knew that was when Boyle always went to the saloon to play cards. I happened to be there that night too* and I'll tell you it was the strangest dying I've ever seen. Paddy had dragged himself out of his sickbed* came into the saloon* and then laid down on the floor. He folded his hands together on top of his chest as though he was already in his coffin and announced he was going to die in a few minutes. That's when things turned mighty peculiar. Boyle knocked a chair over running to the old man. He knelt down beside him* waving me and everyone else away* and then he grabbed hold of Paddy's shirt and began to shake him* shouting* Tell me* old man. Tell me who it is.'"
"What happened then?" Douglas demanded to know* fascinated by the bizarre story.
"It got even more peculiar* son* that's what happened. Paddy gave Boyle a big toothless smile and whispered something only Boyle could hear. And then he laughed. As God is my witness* Paddy died laughing. Boyle went crazy. He started choking the dead man and screaming vile names at him. Two of his men had to pull him off the Irishman so the funeral cart could come and collect him* and I heard one of his men ask him why he hadn't killed Paddy years ago. Boyle was still reeling from whatever it was the Irishman had said to him* and all he would mutter was that he couldn't kill him without knowing. The following day Trudy and I went to say our good-bye to old Paddy* and I swear to you when I looked in that coffin* that crazy old man had a big smile on his face. Isn't that the darnedest story you ever heard?"
Douglas agreed with a nod. The doctor let out a loud sigh* and then said* "Boyle got over whatever was bothering him as quick as could be and started in pestering Isabel and Parker Grant the following week. No one saw him kill Parker* but everyone believes he did. I expect he thought our girl would fall right into his hands then* being pregnant and helpless and all. That was his big mistake because there isn't anything helpless about Isabel. Naturally she's vulnerable because of the baby* and I figure Boyle* with all his money and power* thought he could snatch her right up."
"Does he have marriage in mind?"
"Oh* he wants her legal*" Simpson replied. "Since she hasn't started begging him yet* we think he's waiting for the baby to come along. He's a smart one* Boyle is. Most mothers will do anything to feed their little ones. Isabel's a fine woman* but too pretty for her own good. I lied to Boyle* told him the baby wouldn't come until the end of September* and Isabel didn't start showing until she was well into her fifth month* so Boyle has no reason to think I'm lying. I don't know if the extra time will help much* but I'm hoping Boyle will continue to leave her alone until he sees for himself that the baby's here."

[Dalyia]

"Doctor* the food's packed up*" Trudy called from the hallway.
Simpson immediately stood up. "What else can I do to help?" he asked.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd send a wire to my brothers telling them I'll be delayed."
The doctor motioned to some paper and a pen. "You write it all down* and I'll see to it first thing in the morning."
"Do you usually go to Liddyville on Mondays to see patients?"
"No* Tuesdays and Fridays are my usual days* but I could come up with a reason to go early."
"There isn't any need for that. Besides* you shouldn't change your routine."
"Are you planning to bring in some help soon?"
"Yes."
"I expected you would*" he replied. "I ought to mention something important first. Boyle's going to be leaving to attend his annual family gathering in the Dakotas. He's never missed one in all the years he's lived here* and everyone expects him to leave real soon. You don't want him to bring more men back with him* and I know he'll do just that if he gets word Isabel has evened out the odds. Besides* it's too risky to move the baby now* and you don't want to be worrying about Boyle's men setting her place on fire. They'll do it as sure as thunder follows lightning if they know you're inside."
"How long will Boyle be away?"
"It varies from year to year. There's just no telling. Last year he was gone six weeks* but the year before he was back in a month. I heard it's a big family get-together he attends* and because he's considered to be the most successful of all the relations* he likes to stay a spell to get their adulation."
"I'm going to write down a second message I want you to send when the time comes* and I want you to promise me that if you hear from Ryan* you'll let me know. I'd like to have a word with him."
"How am I going to get word to you?"
"I'm going to come back every Monday night to check in with you."
"Just to find out if I've heard from the marshal? Son* that sounds like you're getting false hopes up. The chances of locating him are mighty slim."
Douglas shook his head. "That isn't my main reason for checking in with you* sir. If I don't show up* you'll know something's wrong* and that's when I want you to send the second telegram. Do you understand?"
"I do*" he agreed. "You'll be careful coming back here?"
"Yes*" he promised. "I wish there was a way I could get Isabel and the baby to you and your wife though."
"You'd be bringing trouble to town if you tried. Boyle checks in on her* and I'm sure that one of his men will take over the duty while he's gone. If she isn't where she's supposed to be* they'll tear this town apart looking for her. It won't do any good to take them to Liddyville because he's got friends there too* and there isn't another town close enough to be safe for that newborn. You've just got to stay put* son. If you don't let Boyle's men see you* they'll continue to leave Isabel alone. You don't want that monster coming after you. No* sir* you don't."
Douglas didn't agree. "Just as soon as Isabel and her son are safe* I'm going to want Boyle to come after me. Fact is* I'm looking forward to it."
The doctor felt a cold draft permeate his bones. Isabel's champion had smiled when he made his last comment* but his eyes told another story. They were cold… deadly.
Simpson took a step back before he realized he didn't have to be afraid. He followed Douglas into the kitchen and whispered additional advice. "When the time comes* you'll need help* son. There are twenty-four men working the ranch for Boyle* and every one of them is no good riffraff looking for trouble. With Boyle leading them* that makes twenty-five in all."
"I'm not worried. My brothers will come." Simpson's wife heard the remark. "How many brothers are in your family?" she asked. "Five now* including my brother-in-law."
Simpson looked incredulous. "Five against twenty-five?"
Douglas grinned. "It's more than enough."

[Dalyia]

Chapter Five
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Douglas didn't make it back to the ranch until almost dawn. Before he unloaded the supplies and bedded down the sorrel* he hurried to the cabin to check on Isabel and the baby.
She was standing in front of the fireplace with the rifle up and ready. When he called her name and softly knocked* she ran to the door* unbolted the lock* and threw herself into his arms. She didn't mind at all that he was drenched from head to foot.
"I'm so happy you're home."
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. He felt the barrel of the rifle against his back and quickly reached behind him to take it away from her. She continued to hug him while he leaned to the side and put the weapon on the table.
"I couldn't imagine what was taking you so long*" she whispered. "But I never once thought you wouldn't come back."
"I'm glad to hear it*" he said. "You're shaking. If you'll let go of me* I'll add another log to the fire. New mothers have to be careful. You don't want to get sick."
She didn't want to let go of him. "I'm not cold… I'm just very relieved you're back. Douglas* I was worried about you."
She was trembling almost violently now. He held on to her so she couldn't fall down.
"I was worried about you too*" he admitted.
Her face was hidden against his chest. "Did you have any trouble?"
"None at all*" he replied. "I got everything on your wish list and a few extras as well. Then I went over to see Dr. Simpson."
"But Boyle told me his men are watching his cottage night and day*" she cried out in alarm.
"They never saw me*" he assured her. "I met the doctor's wife too. She packed up a bag of food and fresh milk for you."
"Oh* that was nice of her."
"The doctor sent lots of advice."
She was patting his chest. He wondered if she realized what she was doing.
"You're very resourceful* Douglas." And reliable* she silently added. "How did you manage to get in and out of the general store and Simpson's house without being seen? Did you break the locks?"
"No* I just jimmied them open."
"Good heavens* how did you learn to do that?"
"I was a thief a long* long time ago."
For some reason* she found his admission hilarious. He didn't know what to make of her reaction. He liked her laugh though. It was filled with such joy.
He forced himself to focus on more practical matters. Pulling away from her* he took hold of her hand and led her back to her bed. "Have you been up long?"
"Most of the night*" she admitted. "So was the baby. He just went back to sleep."
"Dr. Simpson wants you to try to feed him every hour or so. Is he nursing yet?"
"Yes*" she answered.
"Do you think he got enough milk?"
"Yes*" she answered. "He kept it down too."
She sounded proud of her accomplishment* yet also shy about it. He caught her looking up at him* shared a smile* and then told her to go to sleep.
"Couldn't I help you unload the supplies?"
"No."
"Oh* I almost forgot. I fixed your breakfast. It's on the counter."
"I'll eat after I've put everything away and taken care of Brutus."
"Did you remember to leave money for Mr. Cooper? I've never stolen anything in my life* and I'm not about to start now."
"I left exactly what he deserved."
Technically he hadn't lied to her. He hadn't told her the truth either* yet he didn't feel guilty about it. He had left Vernon Cooper what he owed him* which was nothing* not a single penny. Cooper had turned his back on Isabel and joined ranks with Boyle* and as far as Douglas was concerned* Vernon and his brother* Jasper* the disreputable telegraph man* should be run out of town. Only then would they get what they really deserved.
Isabel was too excited to sleep* but she pretended to do just that so Douglas would bring in the supplies. Her excitement increased each time she heard him come back inside. She kept count by how often the floorboard in front of the hearth squeaked. Twelve wonderful times she heard the creaking sound* and that meant six trips to the kitchen and six trips back to the buggy. Were his arms filled* or was he carrying in one bag at a time?
Waiting was blissfully excruciating. Finally* she heard the buggy being driven back to the barn* and she couldn't bear the suspense another second. She threw the covers off* put on her robe and her slippers* and tiptoed into the living room.
She let out a gasp of joy then* for the table and four chairs were stacked high with bags* and there were more on the floor as well. She ran to the table and gasped once again when she saw a large crock of butter* real butter* and another crock filled with coffee. Her fingertips caressed each and every bag* and everywhere she turned* she saw something even more wonderful to cry about. There was beef jerky and ham and bacon and four giant pickles wrapped in white paper. Pickle juice was dripping onto the tablecloth* and she thought that was a most beautiful sight* indeed.
She glanced up and saw Douglas watching her. He was standing in the door* and in his arm was yet another bag. She wondered what he was thinking. He had the strangest look on his face* as though he didn't know what to make of the sight* but there was such tenderness in his eyes* she knew she didn't need to worry that he might be angry with her for getting out of bed.
"I didn't know you were there*" she said.
"I was watching you. You remind me of a little girl on Christmas morning." His voice was filled with compassion. How long had she gone without the basic necessities every man and woman were entitled to* he wondered* and did she realize she was hugging a bag of flour? Or that she was crying?
"There's more on the counter."
"More?" she cried out.
It seemed to be too much for her to take in. She stood there frozen with the flour wrapped tight in her arms and stared down at her treasures on the table.
"Come and see*" he suggested.
She didn't put the flour down but carried it with her to the alcove. He reached up to push the floor-length drape further to one side on the rope and tried to step back so she could see inside. The kitchen was too narrow for both of them* but she wouldn't give him time to get out of her way. She squeezed herself past him.
Then she gasped yet again. "Salt and pepper and cinnamon and… oh* Douglas* could we afford all this?"
She was pressed against him with her face turned up to his. A man could get lost in those beautiful freckles and incredible golden brown eyes.
"Could we?" she asked again in a breathless whisper.
The question jarred him out of his fantasy. "Could we what?"
"Afford all this."
"Yeah*" he drawled out. "Cooper was having a sale." He managed to tell the lie without laughing.
"Oh* that was nice."
They kept staring at each other. He reached over and slowly wiped away the tears from her cheeks with his fingers.
She surprised him by leaning up on tiptoes and kissing him.
"What was that for?"
"Being so good to me and my son. I'm sure I'll get my strength back real soon. I've never really depended on anyone before* not ever. It's very nice though. Thank you."
She turned to leave. He followed her* reached over her shoulder* and took the bag of flour away. "What about your husband? Didn't you depend on him every once in a while?"
"Parker had fine qualities. I'm sorry you didn't know him. I'm certain you would have liked him. He really was a good man* Douglas. Good night."
He watched her walk away. She hadn't answered his question* and he wasn't certain if it had been a deliberate evasion or not. He decided he was too tired to ask her again. He went back to the barn to dry down his sorrel* then used a clean bucket of rainwater to give himself a good scrubbing before he finally headed to bed.
He slept most of the day away on his bedroll in front of the hearth. Parker eventually jarred him awake with a bellow guaranteed to make his mama snap to attention. His cry wasn't at all puny* but forceful. Was the infant already getting stronger?
Isabel's laughter rang out. She was in the kitchen giving Parker his first full bath.
Douglas joined her. "He's louder today*" he remarked with a yawn.
"He's angry."
Douglas noticed the baby was shivering and remembered Dr. Simpson's advice to keep him as warm as possible. "I should have kept the fire in the hearth going."
"You needed to sleep."
"Are you about finished? I don't want the baby to get cold."
Her full attention was centered on Parker. "There* he's clean again. Hush now*" she crooned to the baby. "It's all over. Douglas* will you grab that towel for me?"
He hurried to do as she asked. He spread the towel over his bare shoulder* reached for Parker* and laid him up against it. Isabel used another towel to pat him dry. A minute later she was securing his diaper when Douglas noticed Parker's lips were turning blue.
"We have to get him warm quick. Unbutton your robe and your gown."
She didn't hesitate. "He feels like ice*" she whispered in alarm. "I shouldn't have bathed him. He's so cold* he can't even cry now."
"He'll be warm in a minute*" he promised. He wrapped the gown and the robe around her* draped a clean diaper over Parker's fuzzy black head* and stood there frowning down at him. "Tell me when he stops shivering."
She was afraid to move. "It's all my fault. What was I thinking?"
"That your son was rank*" he told her. "Next time* we'll bathe him together in front of the fire."
"He stopped."
"Shivering?"
"Yes. I think he's asleep." She let out a happy little sigh.
Douglas lifted the diaper away from Parker's head to see his face. "Yeah* he's sleeping*" he whispered.
And his face was pressed against freckles. "He's a lucky man."
"Little man*" she corrected. She blushed as she looked up at Douglas. "Yes* he is lucky* and so am I to have you here."
"You aren't going to cry* are you?"
"Oh* I never cry."
He thought she was joking* but she didn't laugh.
"It's very difficult for me to show any emotions. Haven't you noticed?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Could you do a favor for me? A couple of the chairs have wobbly legs* and I'd appreciate it if you would show me how to fix them. I'm not sure if I should nail the legs to the base or if I should—"
"I'll fix them*" he promised. "Anything else?"
It turned out she had quite a list of repairs she needed. Although it was foolish for him to fix furniture that she wasn't going to be able to take with her when she left* he decided to do the repairs anyway. He wouldn't discuss the future with her yet* purposely waiting until she was stronger and less emotional* for even he could see that childbirth had left her physically and mentally exhausted. Dr. Simpson had told him she shouldn't get upset. Besides* the chores would keep him busy.

[Dalyia]

"Are Boyle's men watching the cabin?" she asked.
"They weren't last night* but they could have moved closer by now. I'm not going to take the chance. The doctor suggested I stay hidden during the day and work at night* but I had already decided to do just that. As long as Boyle believes you're all alone* he'll hopefully be content to wait."
"What about the horses? They can't stay cooped inside the barn all the time."
"I'll exercise them during the night. I'll start rebuilding the corral as soon as it's dark. Stop worrying."
"What can I do to help?"
"Get stronger."
She would have argued with him if Parker hadn't demanded her attention.
Cooking wasn't one of Douglas's talents* and so he sliced the ham and bread Trudy Simpson had sent* and opened a jar of pickled beets he'd stolen from the general store. He gave Isabel a full glass of milk. She wanted to save it and would have insisted if he hadn't told her he could easily get more.
She returned to the main room an hour later with Parker up against her shoulder and watched Douglas repair a chair while she paced with the fretful baby. Douglas noticed how exhausted she looked and decided to leave the other chairs until tomorrow night. He washed his hands and then took the baby from her.
"I'll walk with him."
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been fed and changed and burped* but he still won't go to sleep."
"He's just being ornery."
She started to turn away* then changed her mind. "I'll sit up with you and—"
"You don't need to*" he said. "If I get into trouble* I know where to find you."
"You're certain nothing's wrong with him?"
"I'm certain."
"Good night then."
Douglas sat down in the rocker and began to gently pat the baby's back. He remembered how he used to rock his sister* and Lord* how fast time had moved. Soon now Mary Rose would be rocking her own son or daughter. Douglas used to talk things over with his sister while he rocked her* and he did the same thing now with Parker. The vibration of his voice had calmed Mary Rose* or bored her* into sleep. The reason really didn't matter; the result was always the same. Parker settled down within minutes and was snoring like an old man.
It was dark now and time for Douglas to get some work done. He braced himself for the anger he would feel the second he stepped out the door. Sure as certain* he got mad* because he was again reminded that the cabin was sitting in the center of the flood line. He couldn't seem to move past that appalling realization. It didn't matter to him that her dead husband might not have built the cabin* or that he might have moved his pregnant wife into the quarters as a temporary home while he built a cabin on higher ground. The man had still put Isabel in danger. Why in God's name had he done it? Didn't he care?
Grant's incompetence didn't stop there. He'd built a corral—at least that was what Douglas thought it was supposed to be—but apparently the first strong wind had knocked half of it down. He was pretty certain Pegasus had sustained his leg injury by accidentally brushing up against one of its exposed nails. If that was true* the risk of serious infection increased considerably. Douglas had to find out as soon as possible* so that he could change the salve he was applying to Pegasus if he needed to* but he decided to wait until morning and let Isabel get as much sleep as possible.
It was a little after dawn when she joined him at the table. She had Parker snuggled in her arms.
A fire crackled in the hearth and gave the room a nice warm glow. Douglas stood up and pulled a chair out for her.
She noticed the lumpy oatmeal and the burned toast he'd again prepared.
He noticed how her hair was shining in the light coming from the fire. She wore it in a long braid down her back. Curly red strands had escaped the binding and framed the sides of her face* and damn but she was a fine-looking woman. Motherhood agreed with her.
She realized he was staring at her and grew selfconscious in no time at all. "Parker won't burp." It was all she could think of to say to take his mind off her unkempt appearance.
He threw a clean towel up against his shoulder and took the baby from her. "Can you sit at the table?"
"Yes. I'm feeling better now."
Douglas stood over her while he gently patted the baby's back. Isabel didn't want to hurt his feelings by refusing to eat the unappealing food* and so she forced half of it down with big gulps of water. She wanted to save the rest of the milk for supper.
"You should be drinking milk with every meal. I'll bring more back next Monday."
"We did have two milking cows several months ago."
"What happened to them?"
"I'm not sure. They were here one morning* and gone the next."
"Do you think Boyle stole them?"
She shrugged. "Parker didn't seem to be overly upset about it* and he refused to talk about it much. I think he might have forgotten to close the stall doors. He was a bit absentminded."
"Are you telling me they might have wandered away?"
"The barn door might have been left open too*" she said* staring down at the table. She seemed embarrassed* and for that reason* he let the topic go. He turned away from her so she wouldn't see his astonishment. Honest to God* her husband hadn't been worth the price of air.
"What about the cabin? Parker didn't build it* did he?"
"No* he didn't. How did you know that?" It was well-constructed* and that was how he knew her husband couldn't have built it. He didn't answer her question for fear of upsetting her though* and asked another one instead. "Was he building a home for you up on higher ground?"
"No. What an odd question to ask. We moved in here."
She tried to get up from the table then* but he put his hand on her shoulder to make her stay. "Finish your breakfast. You need to regain your strength. Tell me* how did Pegasus get hurt?"
"Some of Boyle's men were shooting their guns in the air* and Pegasus reared up against the barn door."
"Was it an exposed nail that cut him?"
"No* it wasn't."
The baby drew their attention with a belch worthy of an outlaw. Isabel's smile made Douglas think she believed her son had just accomplished an amazing feat.
"I really can't eat another bite*" she protested. "I'll save the food for later." She stood up before he could argue with her. "I'd like to prepare supper tonight. I just love to cook*" she exaggerated. "It's… soothing. Yes* it's soothing."
He wasn't buying her lie. He burst into laughter and shook his head at her. "The oatmeal's that bad?"
Her eyes sparkled with devilment. "It tastes like cement."
They stared into one another's eyes for what seemed an eternity* and neither one of them wanted to look away.
"You've really got to stop doing that."
The huskiness in his voice made her feel warm all over. "Doing what?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
"Getting prettier every day."
"Oh." She sighed the word.
He realized what was happening before she did. He was also staring at her freckles again and quickly forced himself to look out the window instead. A movement near the tree line suddenly caught his attention. He froze. There was a shadow slowly moving down the path toward the field. He was still too far away for Douglas to see his face* but Douglas knew who was coming. The lone rider had to be Boyle. Dr. Simpson had warned him that the predator liked to look in on the woman he was terrorizing. Oh* yes* it was Boyle all right.
Douglas's first concern was that Isabel not panic. She'd wake up the baby then* and Boyle would move his men in. Douglas continued to stare at the shadow and made his voice sound as mild as Parker's snore when he spoke to her. "Isabel* will the baby sleep for a while?"
"Oh* yes. He was up most of the night. He has to catch up on his sleep today."
She took the baby away from him and headed for the bedroom. He followed her* waited until Parker was all tucked in* and then calmly told her company was coming.
Isabel didn't panic. She began to undress instead. "How much time do I have?" she asked. She threw her robe on the bed and started unbuttoning her nightgown.

[Dalyia]

"What are you doing?"
"I have to get dressed and go outside."
"The hell you do. You're staying in here."
"Douglas* be sensible. If he sees me* he'll go away. I always go out on the stoop with my rifle. I want him to see me pregnant. I'll need a belt. Will you get one of Parker's out of the box in the corner? Don't stand there. We have to hurry. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"You are not…"
She ran to him and put her finger over his mouth to stop his protest. "If I don't go out* he'll start shooting his gun in the air. The noise is going to wake Parker. Do you want him to hear the baby? Now* help me get dressed so I can placate the man. Please."
He pulled her hand away from his mouth and held on to her. "It's out of the question. I'm going out and kill the bastard. You got that?"
"No."
"It'll be a fair fight*" he promised. "I'll make him draw."
She frantically shook her head at him. "Stop being so stubborn. Boyle won't be drawn into a fight. The man's a coward* Douglas. There isn't time to argue about this. You can protect me just fine from the front window. If he looks like he's going to hurt me* then you can come outside and make him leave. You aren't going to kill him though. Do you understand me?" The set of his jaw told her he didn't understand. "Please? Restrain yourself for my sake. All right?"
"Honest to God* I sure would like to—"
She stopped him cold by touching his cheek. "But you won't."
He wouldn't agree or disagree. "Maybe*" was all he would allow.
She rolled her eyes heavenward. "The belt* please. Get the belt."
He took his own off and handed it to her. "You're not wearing anything that belonged to Parker."
The issue seemed to matter to him* and since his pants stayed put on the tilt of his hips* she didn't waste time arguing.
As soon as he went back to the window to check Boyle's progress* she got ready. She was still swollen around the middle* but not nearly enough to look as though she were drawing close to the delivery date she and Dr. Simpson had given Boyle.
She joined Douglas as Boyle was just reaching the flat at the base of the hill.
"Do I look as pregnant as I'm supposed to be?"
"I guess so."
She put her hand on his arm. "You're supposed to look at me before you decide."
He finally gave her a quick once-over. He didn't like what he saw and frowned to let her know exactly how he felt. Isabel was dressed in a white blouse and a dark blue jersey jumper that ballooned out around her middle* and in his opinion* she was too attractive for the bastard to see. Was she deliberately trying to entice him? No* of course she wasn't. She couldn't help being pretty* and unfortunately* he couldn't come up with any ideas to radically change her appearance… unless she was willing to wear a burlap bag over her head. He didn't bother to suggest it though* because he knew she wouldn't do it.
"Button up your blouse."
"It is buttoned."
"Not the top two*" he said. He put his gun back in his holster and took over the chore. "He isn't going to see any more of you than he has to*" he told her.
His fingers rubbed against the bottom of her chin. How in heaven's name could any woman have such silky skin?
"He won't hurt me*" she whispered.
His gaze moved to hers. "I'll make certain he doesn't hurt you. If I have to kill him* I don't want to hear any argument. Agreed?"
"Yes."
"Come on then. He's coming up to the cabin."
She reached for the doorknob* her attention on Douglas while she waited for him to get into position by the window. She didn't wait for him to give her permission to go outside because she knew she'd stand there the rest of the day if she wanted the stubborn man to give her his approval.
"I'm going out now."
"Isabel?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you dare smile at him."

[Dalyia]

Chapter Six
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Boyle was as ugly as sin. His face was covered with pockmarks* his eyes were set too close together* and his lips all but disappeared when he closed his mouth. The man looked like a chicken. Douglas wasn't surprised by his appearance though. The fact that he had to resort to terrorizing a woman in order to get married indicated the bastard had a serious problem attracting the fairer sex* and most women who had learned to look deeper would have been sickened by the evil lurking inside.
Douglas willed the man to move his hand toward his gun. Boyle wouldn't accommodate him. He didn't even bother to glance toward the window* but kept his gaze firmly directed on his prey.
Isabel held her own against him. "I told you to get off of my land. Now* get…"
"Is that any way to talk to your future husband* girl? And me planning a real party wedding for you. You're looking worried today. Are you getting scared about birthing that thing all alone?"
"You've got ten seconds to leave or I'll use this rifle."
"You'd go to prison if you did."
"No jury would ever convict me. Everyone in Sweet Creek hates you as much as I do. Now* leave me alone."
He pointed his finger at her. "You watch your tongue around me* girl. I don't like sass. You've still got your fire inside you* and I'm going to have to do something about that after we're hitched. You will beg me to marry you* you know. It's only a matter of time."
She was cocking the rifle when he dug the spurs into his horse and rode away.
"I'll be back*" he shouted. The threat was followed by his grating laughter.
Douglas kept Boyle in his sights until he was halfway across the field. Isabel came inside* shut the door softly behind her* and sagged against it.
"Damn* he's ugly*" he muttered.
She nodded agreement. "He won't come back for another two weeks."
"Maybe*" he allowed. "We're still going to be prepared for anything. Dr. Simpson told me Boyle will be leaving for some kind of family get-together."
"He's going away? Oh* Douglas* that's wonderful news."
"Simpson said he usually stays a month to six weeks with his family in the Dakotas. We aren't going to let our guard down or get lackadaisical."
"No* of course not. May I ask you something?"
He kept his gaze on the shadow starting up the path. "Sure."
"Won't you look at me?" she asked.
"Not until Boyle goes over the rise."
"I don't understand what's come over you. You told me you didn't want to let Boyle see you and that as long as he continues to think I'm all alone* he'll be content to wait…"
"That was before I knew you always went outside to speak to him."
"But—"
"I don't like it."
She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Obviously not*" she replied. "I'm still going to continue to go out every time he comes here* like it or not."
"We'll discuss it later. You shouldn't get upset* Isabel. The doctor said it isn't good for you."
"For heaven's sake* I'm not sick. Surely you've noticed I'm getting much stronger every hour. So is my son."
"Eight weeks from the minute Parker arrived*" he announced with authority. "That's how long it will take him to get stronger."
"Surely not."
"Eight weeks*" he stubbornly insisted.
"When will you be leaving?"
He smiled. "In eight weeks* unless you or Parker gets into trouble. Maybe longer. And by the way* Isabel* you and your son are going with me. I'm getting you out of here."
"No* you're not. I won't be run out of my own home. Do you understand me? No one is going to chase me off of my land."
Too late* he realized he'd upset her. Her voice had taken on a shrill quality* and when he looked at her* he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. He quickly tried to calm her.
"You can do what you want*" he lied. "As long as it's eight weeks from now."
"You can't possibly stay here that long. I assure you
I'll be fully recovered sooner than that and Parker will be much stronger. We'll be just fine. We'll miss you* of course." Desperately so* she silently added.
He didn't know what compelled him to do it* but he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You seem to be having trouble grasping numbers* sugar. I'm not leaving for eight weeks. Want me to tell you how many days that is?"
She knew he was teasing her but didn't have the faintest idea how to respond. Her husband had always been terribly serious about everything. He never flirted* nor did she* yet she knew Douglas was now doing just that. She decided to get away from him for a few minutes. She couldn't seem to think when he was so close.
"It's your decision*" she said* "I won't be plagued by guilt* and if you don't mind staying* I… I mean to say* we… I have a baby* you know* and we'll be happy to have you around." She knew she was stammering her explanation. She'd also lied to him. She wouldn't be happy if he stayed. She would be ecstatic.
"Why don't you take your nap now?"
He was saying something to her* but she couldn't make herself pay any attention. She was trying to figure out how such a ruggedly handsome man had managed to remain unattached so long. He had to be close to thirty if her guess was right. Perhaps he wasn't unattached after all. There could be a beautiful young lady patiently waiting for his return. Yes* that was it. She was probably very refined and elegant too* and Isabel imagined she had gold-colored hair that wasn't at all unruly with curls.
"Why did you kiss me?" she blurted out.
"I felt like it. Did you mind?"
"No… I didn't mind."
She told herself to snap out of her stupor. It was high time she faced a few important facts. She wasn't a naive young lady with hopes and dreams and yearnings to be loved. She was a widow with a baby who depended on her. She couldn't and wouldn't change her past. She had been blessed to have a dear friend for a companion* and now she had his beautiful son.
Still* there wasn't any harm in daydreaming about a future she could never have* was there? Wasn't it natural to wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Douglas? Thinking about it seemed like a natural curiosity on her part. That was all. He was so strong and hard and sensual* and she'd never known anyone quite like him. Why* even though she was a new mother and didn't physically want him* she couldn't help but notice the erotic* earthy aura about him. Besides* there wasn't anything wrong with appreciating the wonderful differences between them* and* Lord* he was masculine all right.
He'd be a demanding lover* and he wouldn't stop until she had…
Good Lord* what was she doing? She forced the outrageous fantasy out of her mind.
"I believe I'll rest for a little while." He looked as if he was amused by her remark.
"Sounds good to me*" he teased.
She turned* stumbled over something littering the floor* and yet hurried on. He followed her.

[Dalyia]

"Axe you feeling all right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You seem a little preoccupied."
"I need a nap* Douglas. I'm a brand-new mother and I must rest."
He leaned against the doorframe and refused to budge when she tried to shut the door.
"I would like some privacy so that I can change my clothes. I'll give you your belt back later."
"It's on the floor in the other room with the towels you used to look pregnant."
She didn't believe him until she put her hand on her waist. Good Lord* when had they fallen* and why hadn't she noticed?
"Want to tell me what you were thinking about a minute ago?" She could feel herself blushing. "This and that."
"Is that what you call it?" he asked.
"The horses*" she blurted out at the very same time. "Minerva and Pegasus. Yes* the Arabian stallion is Pegasus and his mate is Minerva. Didn't I tell you their names already?"
"Just Pegasus."
She really wished he would go away for a little while. The way he was looking at her was making her feel self-conscious and as awkward as a little girl. "What have you been calling my Arabians?"
"This and that."
He slowly brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek. "I think you should know something. I'm real partial to women with freckles. Yours drive me wild." He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth quick and hard. "By the way*" he whispered* "I'm having some real wild thoughts about you too."
He stunned the breath out of her* and he knew it. That was why he winked at her before he turned around and walked away. She stared after him until he disappeared into the kitchen; then she shut the door and fell back against it. Dear God* he'd known all the while what she was thinking about* and she was never* ever going to be able to look at him again.
She was mortified. She must have given herself away* but how in heaven's name had she done that? She didn't know* and she wasn't going to ask him. She wasn't going to have another scandalous thought about him for the rest of her life. In fact* she wouldn't think about him at all.
She threw herself down on the bed and groaned. She fell asleep a few minutes later with her feet hanging over the side of the bed* her shoes and stockings on* and one thought flitting through her mind. He liked freckles.

[Dalyia]

Chapter Seven
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He also liked games. He asked her during supper if she happened to have a deck of cards* which she did* and then he suggested they play poker.
"Have you ever played five card stud?"
"Oh* yes. I'm good too."
The challenge was issued. They played five hands before Parker demanded to be fed. It was past time for her to go to bed anyway* because she was looking as though she was about to doze off any minute.
At her insistence* he added up their scores and told her the amount she owed him.
She stood up* yawned* and said* "I'll pay you back with my earnings tomorrow night when we play chess."
He laughed. "Are you good at chess too?"
"Wait and see."
Chess was his game. The following evening* he proved it to her by destroying her in a matter of minutes. He decided she obviously hadn't played a lot of checkers after he'd won five games in a row. By the end of the week* she owed him over a thousand dollars.
Douglas changed the rules from then on. He told her he had a much better idea. Instead of money* the winner could ask any question he or she wanted. No matter how personal the topic* an answer was required.
Suddenly* her skills improved. She won three games before he caught on to her ploy.
"You were deliberately letting me win* weren't you?"
"Some men like to win."
"Most men like to win fairly. From now on* we both play to win. Agreed?"
"Yes*" she replied. "We should probably start all over. I let you win last night too."
He tore up the sheet of paper with the totals before handing the deck of cards to her. She shuffled the cards like a dealer in Tommy's saloon* drawing a laugh from him.
"You little con."
"I've played a lot of cards*" she admitted.
"No kidding."
She proved how good she was by winning the next game. Before he had even showed her his pitiful hand consisting of two jacks* she asked her question.
"You told me you were a thief* remember? I want to know when and where."
"When I was a boy* living on the streets of New York City. I took pretty much anything I wanted."
Her eyes widened in disbelief* yet her voice sounded as though she was in awe of his criminal background. "Did you ever get caught?"
"No* I never got caught. I was lucky."
After she'd won the following game* she asked him to tell her about his family. He explained how he* Travis* Cole* and Adam had joined together to become a family when they found a baby in a trash pile.
Isabel was fascinated* asked him a countless number of questions* and before he realized it* he'd talked for over an hour. By the time he was finished* he'd told her about his sister's husband* Harrison* and Travis's new bride* Emily. He saved the best for last and spoke in a soft voice when he talked about his Mama Rose.
"You know it's kind of odd really* now that I think about it* but Mama Rose is the reason I'm here. She heard about the Arabians and wanted me to come and see them. I was too busy at the time* and so I asked Travis to stop by the auction for me."
"Parker was going to sell Pegasus at an auction? That can't be true. The only time he left Sweet Creek was to go to an attorney's office way up in River's Bend. Paddy went with him* and I'm certain they both came back here right away."
Too late* Douglas realized he'd brought up a sore topic. "They probably stopped to rest their horses* that's all. By the way* Dr. Simpson told me about Paddy. Was he really crazy?"
"No* but everyone in town thought he was. He just had a few peculiarities. I got to know him quite well because he came to supper at least four times a week. He was much closer to Parker though. The two of them would put their heads together and talk in whispers well into the night. It was an odd friendship."
"Did Parker ever tell you what they talked about?"
"No* he was very secretive about it* so I didn't pester him to tell me. He said he'd promised Paddy not to discuss whatever plans they were hatching. I miss the Irishman. He had such a good heart. Did you know he was here before Sweet Creek was even a town?"
"No* I didn't*" he said. "Tell me* did Parker keep other secrets from you?"
"If you're thinking he was going to sell Pegasus behind my back* you're wrong. Parker and I grew up together at an orphanage near Chicago* and I know everything there is to know about him. He wouldn't have done such a thing. He knew how much the horses meant to me. The sisters at the orphanage gave them to me so that I would have a dowry when I left them."
"Where did they get the Arabians?"
"They were donated to the orphanage by a man they took in. He was dying* and it was his way of thanking them* I suppose. He didn't have any relatives* and he was terrified of dying alone. The sisters sat with him day and night."
Douglas could see she was getting melancholy and quickly turned the topic. "Have I satisfied your curiosity about my family?"
She stopped frowning and shook her head. "How did Travis meet his wife* Emily?"
Douglas answered her question* and by the time he was finished* she was smiling again. It was obvious she had put the matter of Parker's selling Pegasus out of her mind for the moment.
"Does everyone like Emily?"
There was a yearning quality in her voice he didn't quite understand. Was she worried about the newest member of their family? If so* why?
"Yes* we all like her very much."
"I'm sure I would like her too*" she said with a yawn she couldn't contain. "We should probably stop now. Could we play cards tomorrow night?"
"After I repair all the chairs. I still have three more to fix."
"You don't need to worry about that. I already fixed them."
He looked surprised. "Honestly* Douglas* I'm not helpless. I did a good job too. See for yourself."
He didn't believe her until he checked them. "You did a better job than I did."
"I watched you* remember?"
He did remember. He was impressed too that she would take the time and trouble after he had promised to do the task for her.
"Your eyelids are drooping now. You're sleepy* aren't you?"
"Yes. Good night* Douglas."
"Good night* sugar."
The next four weeks didn't drag. Douglas was surprised by how quickly the time passed and how comfortable he became in Isabel's home. He felt as though he were part of a family* and while that was a bit disturbing to him* it was also very* very nice.
He kept busy from sundown to sunup. Once a week he risked being seen during the day to hunt for fresh meat and to fish in a stream he'd found in the mountains west of the ranch. Every night he rode Brutus up into the hills to check on Boyle's lookouts to make certain there hadn't been any changes in their positions or numbers. When he returned to the ranch* he kept up with the ordinary chores* such as cutting wood and cleaning stalls.

[Dalyia]

His relationship with Isabel underwent a subtle change. In the beginning he'd deliberately teased her to make her feel good and smile. Now he teased her because her smiles made him feel good. He wasn't certain when it had happened* but he wasn't thinking of her as a new mother any longer. She had turned into a wonderfully sexy woman with all the right curves. Everything about her aroused him. He liked the way she spoke* the way she moved* the way she laughed. Dr. Simpson had been right when he'd said that Isabel was an easy woman to love. Douglas recognized that his heart was in jeopardy but couldn't figure out how to stop the inevitable from happening.
Like an old married couple* the two of them played cards every evening until it was dark enough for him to go outside. Several nights Parker joined them* and they took turns holding him while they played. Isabel won more games than he did* until he finally stopped staring at her freckles and started paying attention to what lie was doing.
Boyle was way overdue for his next check on Isabel* and Douglas was getting edgy thinking about the bastard. He wanted to put an end to the terror tactics the coward used against her.
"You just won a game. Why are you frowning?"
"I was thinking about Boyle. He's late checking on you. You told me he usually comes here every other week to see you…"
"He usually does*" she agreed.
"Then why hasn't he? I know he hasn't left for the Dakotas yet because every Monday night when I check in with Dr. Simpson* that's the first question I ask him. Why is Boyle dragging his feet?"
"I don't know* but I don't want to think about him now. We'll be ready for him if he comes calling. Ask me your question so we can play another hand before Parker wants to be fed again."
"Why did you name the Arabians Pegasus and Minerva?"
"I was fascinated by mythology when I was in school. I used to draw pictures of Pegasus all the time. According to the legends* he was a beautiful white horse with majestic wings. Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom* and the sisters at the orphanage were constantly telling me I could certainly use a little wisdom. I didn't have much common sense back then*" she thought to add. "Anyway* Minerva caught Pegasus and tamed him. I found that very romantic."
She covered her mouth* sneezed* then apologized.
"You don't need to apologize*" he said. "Tell me something. Did Parker catch you the way Minerva caught Pegasus* or did you catch Parker?"
"It wasn't like that with Parker and me. We were best friends for as long as I can remember. The sisters at the orphanage called him their little dreamer. I'm sure they meant it as a compliment* because Parker had such a kind heart. He wanted to change the world* and he was very passionate about social responsibilities."
"Was Parker passionate with you?"
"I've answered enough questions. Deal the cards* please."
He could feel her withdrawing and knew it was because he was pressing her* yet he couldn't seem to make himself stop.
She sneezed again and immediately apologized.
He won a game and asked* "What was it like for you in the orphanage?"
"It was nice* very nice. The sisters treated us as though we were their very own children. They were strict* like I imagine parents would be* but loving too."
"Didn't you get lonely?"
"Not very often. I had Parker to tell my secrets to when we were children. I was fortunate* and so were you because you found a family."
"Yes* I was" he agreed.
About an hour later* he finally won another game.
"Wasn't it difficult marrying your best friend?"
"Oh* no*" she answered. "It was very nice. My husband was a wonderful man with many fine qualities. Why* there wasn't anything he couldn't do."
Did she really believe that nonsense? From the look on her face* he thought she did* and so he didn't contradict her. In his opinion* there wasn't anything Parker could do.
"Yeah* I know. The man was a saint."
Her chin came up a notch. "He was my dearest friend."
"Which means there wasn't any passion in your bed* was there?"
"You have no business asking me such personal questions."
She was right about that* he told himself* yet it didn't stop him from trying to find out everything he could about her. "What are you afraid of* Isabel? Being honest about your late husband doesn't make you a traitor. We both know it had to have been awkward making love to your best friend."
"Are you suggesting you can't be friends with your mate?"
"No*" he replied. "But there has to be another element involved besides friendship."
"What element?"
He leaned forward. "Magic."
She shook her head. "I don't wish to discuss this topic any longer. It's rude of you to try to guess what my marriage was like. You never met Parker."
"I wasn't guessing*" he argued. "I've already figured it all out."
"Is that so? How did you manage to do that?"
The sarcasm in her voice irritated him. "It was easy*" he snapped. "The way you respond to me… it's all new to you* isn't it? I can see it in your every reaction. You're actually frightened by what's happening to you."
Her hands were balled into fists. "Oh? What exactly is happening to me? I'm sure you're just dying to tell me."
He leaned over the table toward her. In a low whisper he said* "I'm what's happening to you* sugar."
She bounded to her feet. "I'm going to bed. It's late."
"Don't you mean it's time for you to run and hide from me?"
"No* that isn't what I mean to say."
She took her time strolling into the bedroom She wanted to run.

[Dalyia]

Chapter Eight
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Parker wasn't putting on weight as rapidly as Douglas had hoped he would. The baby was almost six weeks old* but he still seemed to be as tiny as the day he was born. Isabel disagreed and insisted that her son had gained quite a bit of weight. Parker seemed healthy enough for his size* and he certainly had a good appetite. Dr. Simpson was the expert* and he had ordered that Parker be kept inside the cabin for a minimum of eight weeks. Douglas didn't know why the physician had settled on that specific length of time* but Douglas was going to adhere to the number no matter how anxious he was to leave.
If Parker continued to do well* he and his mother could travel in a little over fourteen days. Douglas hoped to God the weather improved before then. The rain had let up* but it was still cold and damp* and anyone who hadn't kept track of the seasons would have thought it was the middle of autumn. The night air was cold enough to require heavy flannel shirts* and Douglas was worried about keeping Parker warm when he was taken outside. Would the night air be too harsh for him to breathe?
The baby wasn't the only one he was worried about. Honest to Pete* he didn't know how he was going to last another two weeks without touching Isabel. Being in the same room with her was all it took to get him bothered. Her scent was so damned appealing* and her skin was so soft and smooth* all he wanted to think about was taking her into his arms and stroking her.
He was determined not to give in to his natural inclinations. He didn't want any complication in his life* and if he kept busy every waking hour* he was sure he'd be too tired to think about her.
After he finished up the chores in the barn around dawn* he went inside the cabin and found Isabel sitting at the table with her head in her hands. Her hair was tousled; her eyes were bleary* and her nose was bright red. She looked hungover. "Did Parker keep you up all night?" She sneezed before she answered. "No* I caught a little cold*" she said* and promptly sneezed again. "Maybe you should go back to bed." She wouldn't hear of it. She had never coddled herself before* and she wasn't about to start now. After doing the washing and ironing* she cooked supper* but she couldn't eat any of it* so she fixed herself a pot of tea before she headed to bed.
She had changed into her nightgown and robe and had wrapped around her shoulders an old tattered blanket that dragged on the floor behind her. She tripped over the hem and would have dropped the tray if he hadn't grabbed it from her.
"I'll bring it in*" he said. "You should probably eat something* shouldn't you? What about some toast?"
Didn't that man know how to fix anything else?
"Will you try not to burn it?" she said* trying not to sound surly.
He nodded. "You probably got sick because you work too hard."
"It's just a cold. I hope to heaven Parker doesn't catch it. What will we do if he gets a fever?"
He didn't want to think about the possibility. Parker couldn't afford to stop eating the way Isabel had.
"We'll deal with it*" he assured her.
When he came back with the tray* she was just drifting off to sleep. She opened her eyes as he was turning to leave. "I'm awake."
He put the tray on the dresser* propped pillows behind her back* and then moved the tray to her lap.
He'd burned the toast again. He'd also put a white rose on the tray next to her mismatched teacup and saucer. The rose was such a sweet touch her mood improved* and she didn't mind eating the blackened bread at all.
"Is your throat sore?" he whispered.
"No. Please stop worrying."
"Isabel* I want to worry* all right? I'm good at it."
She patted the bed* waited for him to sit* and then picked up the rose. "You may be a worrier* but you're also a romantic at heart."
He shook his head and continued to frown at her. Still* his concern was unreasonable* given the fact that she was only suffering from a stuffy head.
She reached up and stroked his cheek* loving the feel of his rough skin. He hadn't shaved this morning* and the dark growth of whiskers made him look even more ruggedly handsome and somewhat dangerous.
She remembered how afraid she'd been that dark* rainy night when they met. Silhouetted against the lightning with the rising wind howling around him and the huge beast of a horse with wild eyes beside him* he was a terrifying sight. She had been certain he was going to kill her… until he gave the rifle back to her. She should have realized before then that he would never harm her. The gentle tone of his voice when he turned to calm the animal was one indication. The way he so carefully lifted her into his arms was certainly another. His eyes* filled with such compassion and…
"Isabel* you look like hell. Stop daydreaming and drink your tea before it gets cold."
She was jarred back to the present by his brisk order. "Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are* Douglas?"
"No."
"Then let me be the first. You're very bossy. Do you remember the night we met?"
The question was laughable. He shuddered every time he thought about it. "I'll never forget it."
The scowl on his face made her smile. "It wasn't that terrible."
"Yeah* it was."
"Was I difficult?"
"Oh* yes."
"I couldn't have been any worse than any of the other women you helped. I wasn't* was I?"
"I've helped lots of… females."
"Yes?"
He shrugged. "Yes* what?"
"Was I more difficult than the others?"
"Definitely."
"How?" she demanded.
"The others didn't try to strangle me."
"I didn't—"
"Yes* you did."
"What else did I do? It's all right. You can tell me. I promise I won't get mad." She picked up the teacup and saucer and took a long sip. "I'm waiting."
"I remember you accused me of a lot of crimes."
The glint in his eyes made it difficult for her to tell if he was being honest or not.
"Such as?"
"Let's see*" he drawled out. "There were so many it's hard to keep them straight. Oh* yeah* I remember. You blamed me for getting you pregnant."
The teacup rattled in the saucer. "I didn't*" she whispered.
"Yes* you did. You almost had me convinced too. Hell* I apologized*" he added with a grin. "I wasn't responsible though. Trust me* sugar. I would have remembered taking you to bed."
Her blush was as red as her nose. She put the cup down on the tray but kept her attention centered on Douglas. He could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.
"What else did I accuse you of?"
"Being responsible for your agony."
"You already mentioned that one."
"Sorry. It's just kind of hard to get past it."
"Please try."
"Let's see. I was also responsible for the rain* and* oh* yeah* this one's a doozy. It was my fault you had an unhappy childhood."
"I didn't have an unhappy childhood."
"Could have fooled me. I apologized."
She burst into laughter. "You do love to exaggerate* don't you? I'm certain the other women you helped were just as difficult."
"No* they weren't."
"Who were these women? Saints?"
He moved the tray to the side table as a precautionary measure before he answered. "They weren't exactly women* at least not the way you're thinking…"
She stopped smiling. "Then what were they?"
"Horses."
Her mouth dropped open. Much to his relief* she didn't become angry. She laughed instead. "Oh* Lord* you must have been as terrified as I was."
"Yes."
"Did you have any idea what to do?"
He grinned. "Not really."
She laughed until tears came into her eyes* then realized the noise would wake Parker and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "You were so… calm… and… reassuring about it all."
"I was scared."
"You?"
"Yes* me. "You got real mean. That was even scarier."
"No* I didn't. Quit teasing me. I remember exactly what happened. I was in control at all times. I do recall raising my voice once or twice so you could hear me in the other room* but other than that* labor wasn't bad at all."
"Isabel* are we talking about childbirth or a tea party you attended?"
"I've never been to a tea party* but I have given birth* and I want you to know that my little aches and pains were insignificant compared to the beautiful gift I received. He's wonderful."
"Who's wonderful?"
She was exasperated. "My son. Who did you think I was talking about?"
"Me."
She would have laughed again if she hadn't started sneezing. He handed her a fresh handkerchief* told her to rest* and finally left her alone so she could.
Much to his relief* she got better in a couple of days* and thus far* Parker still hadn't caught her cold. By late Monday afternoon* Douglas was exhausted. He was drifting off to sleep in the rocker with Parker cradled in his arms when he heard the distinct sound of horses approaching. Isabel was fixing supper. She had spotted the unwanted visitors at the same time that he had heard them* for they met by the table on their way to alert one another. She reached for her son and hurried to get ready.