To Tame a Wolf. Susan Krinard
muttered something under his breath. Pans clanged in the kitchen. Bryson puffed on his pipe. “Have you been with the army, Mr. Kavanagh?” he asked.
Kavanagh glanced at Bryson without interest. “From time to time.” Bryson’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Army scouts are notoriously taciturn men, Tal. The best of them hardly ever make a sound, let alone indulge in idle conversation.”
“So I’ve learned.” She felt Kavanagh’s stare and shifted in her seat. “Our foreman went looking for André a week ago,” she said. “He’s a former Buffalo Soldier with the Tenth Cavalry, very tall—”
“I’m afraid I didn’t see such a man. I’ve heard good things about the Tenth, though. Formidable fighters.”
They drifted onto the subjects of army movements, the Apaches and cattle prices. Tally let Bryson do most of the talking, while Kavanagh kept his thoughts to himself. Eventually Mrs. Bryson and Beth joined them, pulling chairs from the dining table.
“Will you tell us about Tombstone, Mr. Bernard?” Beth asked eagerly. “Is it as wicked as they say?”
“Now, Beth,” Mrs. Bryson reproved.
Mr. Bryson chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse our daughter, Tal. She’s heard too many fantastic stories.” He set down his pipe. “Willcox is wild enough for us. I’d like to hear more of your ranch, and how you find the south end of the Valley. There aren’t too many of us here, but more will be coming every day now that the Apaches have cleared out. If not for the rustlers—” He glanced at Beth and thought better of that subject.
Tally asked Mrs. Bryson about the quilt on the wall, which led to an innocuous conversation about fabric and sewing. Tally listened with the polite incomprehension of any typical male. After Beth and Mrs. Bryson retired, Bryson asked Tally for general news of the Valley and its residents.
Tally had little to tell him. She’d spent most of her days deliberately sequestered at Cold Creek, working the cattle and letting André deal with the outside world. If Bryson found her ignorance strange, he didn’t let on. He showed Tally and Kavanagh the plain, neat room they would share for the night.
“You’ve done Ida a heap of good by praising her cooking,” Bryson said. “She gets a little lonely in the canyon with only Beth for company.” He lit a kerosene lamp and set it on a table near the door. “You men are welcome here any time.”
“As you are at Cold Creek,” Tally said, glad that Bryson would have no cause for such a visit. She thanked him again and closed the door to the room, her heart beating unpleasantly fast in the heavy silence.
Kavanagh was sitting on the wood-frame bed, pulling off his boots and stockings. The moment of truth was at hand.
Tally turned and leaned against the door, folding her arms across her chest. “Can I ask you a question?”
Kavanagh arched his back in a bone-popping stretch. “When did you ever need my permission?”
“Why were you so rude to the Brysons? Is it because two of them are female?”
He looked at her with an expression of genuine surprise. “You still expecting pretty manners from me, boy? I thought you’d been disabused of such notions.”
“I hired you to do a job, and I’m prepared to pay the price. The Brysons don’t know us, but they’ve been generous hosts. The least they deserve is the respect due decent people.”
He got up from the bed and strolled toward her with a lazy air of tolerant amusement. “You gonna fire me because I was disrespectful to them decent, proper folk out there?”
She edged away from the door. “Fortunately, I don’t think they’ll hold it against you. They trust instead of judge, and I admire them for it.”
Kavanagh stopped in the middle of the room and cocked his head. “Took a liking to that little filly Beth, did you, boy?”
“Not the way you mean.”
“She’s wild for a little freedom, ain’t she? How well d’you think she’d make out in Tombstone?”
Tally balled her fists. “Her parents take care of her. They love each other. You never had that kind of family, did you, Kavanagh? A sister, a brother to look after, or who looked after you.”
“No.” The denial cracked like a thick oak branch snapped in a storm. “I never had a family like that.”
She met his stony gaze, swallowing the knot in her throat. She could see the pain he tried not to show, pain she saw only because she had become so accustomed to discerning the motives of men.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business.”
He seemed not to hear. “I had a mother and a father and half brothers. We never lived together.”
Mon Dieu. Was he implying that he was a bastard? In the West that was not so terrible a thing as in the cultured East, but it would have marked him. She felt the compulsion to match his confession with one of her own…. Madness, just like the fact that they were here together, alone in this room.
“My father left my family when I was young,” she said.
His gaze returned to hers. “That’s a damned shame, boy,” he said, only half-mocking. “Your ma raise you and André?”
“She worked hard.” Tally stared longingly at the washstand, with its fresh water and clean towels. She was desperate to scrub the dirt from her face, remove her hat and let down her hair. That wouldn’t happen tonight. “You go ahead and get some sleep, Kavanagh. I’m going to check on the horses.”
She started for the door. Kavanagh was there first. “You’re a lousy liar,” he said conversationally. “Why are you so afraid of being in this room with me?”
“I’m not afraid.” He was barely four inches away, nearly touching her chest to chest. “I just like my privacy.”
He leaned closer. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temples. “I’ll just bet you do.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “You ever been with a man, Tally-boy?”
She jumped straight up and scrambled sideways, clumsy with shock. It wasn’t possible. She would have known. She’d met men like that before—the New Orleans brothels catered to every taste, no matter how eccentric. But Kavanagh had spoken of his angel Esperanza. He had known women. Yet there were all those comments about baths. Perhaps he was equally partial to both….
She didn’t have time to think. She snatched the hat from her hair and pulled at the braids. Her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders.
“I’m not a boy, cochon, so keep your hands to yourself.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KAVANAGH LAUGHED. He laughed so loud and hard that Tally was afraid he would wake the whole house. She charged, pushed him to the far wall beside the bed and pressed her hand over his mouth.
“Taisez-vous, dérangé!” she hissed.
He gripped her wrists and pried her hands from his face. His mouth came down on hers, lips barely open, as if he meant to bruise instead of caress. Just as suddenly, he released her. She scrubbed at her mouth while he withdrew to the bed and stretched out full-length, head pillowed on his wrists, bare feet crossed at the ankles.
“Now that’s done,” he said. “Unless you want more of the same.”
Tally stared at him without comprehension. Good God, she had utterly failed with him in nearly every respect. And he was laughing at her. He was laughing.
She leaned on the wall and caught her breath, lungs straining against the bindings that held her breasts flat. “How long have you known?” she demanded.
“Since we met.” He yawned and snapped his teeth like an animal.