Kane’s face changed when he saw Cale, but for one second she saw what Ruth had seen: a man with lust on his face, as well as desire, passion, and perhaps even greed. Even more interesting was the look Ruth was wearing. Unless Cale missed her guess, ol’ predatory Ruth was afraid of Cowboy Taggert. The minute Ruth saw him turn away, she turned tail and headed back to camp.
“I guess I can add spying to your list of accomplishments,” he said through a jaw clenched tight in rage.
“I was here first,” Cale began, starting to defend herself, but the look on his face made her stop. “What’s the use talking to you? You’ve made up your mind about me.” She stood up and started to leave, but he reached for her. “Don’t touch me,” she answered, pulling back from him.
His look was almost a sneer. “Right. Being touched is one of your phobias.”
“Contrary to your opinion of me…Oh, who cares?” she said at last, and headed back to camp.
At the camp, Sandy had prepared a meal of beans and hot dogs, which the skinny one of the duet poked about on her tin plate, muttering about what nasty things hot dogs were, while the fat one brushed Ruth’s hair to the obvious delight of Kane. After dinner the skinny one began talking about crystals and pyramids, telling in burdensome detail how pyramids were supposed to improve one’s sex life, then slyly suggesting that Ruth hang one from a tree branch over her sleeping bag. In disgust, Cale walked away from the fire, heading toward the horses.
“You want to remove your shirt and let me have a look at that shoulder?”
Cale tried not to let her surprise show at Sandy’s words, but she turned a radiant smile toward him. The moment she saw him the smile disappeared because hovering behind him was Kane.
“What’s wrong with her shoulder?” Kane asked.
Sandy whipped around and snapped at the younger man. “If your brain was somewhere besides in your pants you’d see that she hurt herself when she saved Ruth’s neck for the second time.”
Ah, sweet justice, Cale thought. My own darling knight come to my rescue. She wondered if Sandy would like to move to New York and live with her in her penthouse?
Kane’s face turned red and he muttered something about looking at Cale’s shoulder himself, but she put her chin up, pulled her shoulders back, and walked confidently back to the campsite, feeling the best she’d felt since coming to Colorado.
Chapter Seven
Kane was restless in his sleeping bag, punching at the thing that was supposed to be a pillow, turning frequently so the nylon made enough noise to scare the owls, and cursing at every opportunity. He knew he should have been thinking about Ruth. So far a
s he could tell, she was perfect. Under her beautiful façade was a sweet, gentle personality. He could almost see her with his sons; he could imagine her eight months pregnant with their child.
But try as he might, Kane couldn’t seem to think of Ruth. Instead, he could only see and hear that bratty little writer. She was like a splinter that couldn’t be dug out and was now festering. When he saw her leap over Ruth to grab the bridle of that horse, he’d been terrified. One misstep and she would have been down and under the hooves. He knew it was dumb of him to have told her to wait for him, and he knew she had done what had to be done, but she still rankled him.
He wasn’t sure what it was about her that bothered him so much. Maybe it was her smiles and her wisecracks. Maybe it was the way she looked at Ruth, as though Ruth had climbed out from under a rock. Or maybe it was the way her backside curved into her jeans.
Why had he been so angry at her when she saved Ruth? If it had been any other woman, he would have been proud of her for her fast thinking and faster action, but something about the blonde always enraged him. Yet even as he had stood there glaring at her, he’d had an urge to pull her into his arms and protect her.
Protect her? That was like saying you wanted to protect a porcupine. And a porcupine was just what she was: small, prickly, and dangerous.
Sometime around three in the morning he got out of his sleeping bag and stepped into the woods, walking down a path he knew well, to look over the ridge to the trail below. Tomorrow evening they’d be in the ghost town of Eternity and his father’s truck would be there to take the writer away. After that he’d have long days to spend with Ruth. He’d have time to get to know her, time to allow her to know him. He’d have time to—
He broke off his thoughts as below him he saw the flash of headlights. Someone was driving down the old road to Eternity. But who and why at this time of the morning? As soon as the questions occurred to him, he thought of an answer: something was wrong.
Immediately he too vividly remembered the night he’d come home to find an ambulance outside the apartment building in Paris where he and his wife and their new babies were living. Inside the ambulance was the broken and lifeless body of his beloved wife. Kane had been away on an overnight business trip and she’d been awake with the boys all the night before. In the late afternoon she’d sat down on the windowsill, sipping a cup of tea, and waiting for her husband to arrive. Quite simply, she must have fallen asleep, lost her balance, and fallen from the window.
Now Kane didn’t bother with a horse, but went tearing down the hillside, stumbling over rocks and trees, sinking into piles of dry oak leaves, skidding down a shale slide in his attempt to intercept the truck before it reached the turnoff.
He leaped the last few feet, to land on all fours just a few yards in front of the truck. In an explosion of gravel, the driver slammed on the brakes, sending the truck into a skid that turned it sharply to one side as the driver fought to control it and straighten the wheels. Before the truck came to a full stop, the door flew open and out jumped Kane’s brother Michael.
“What the hell are you trying to do? I could have killed you!” Mike shouted at his brother, not bothering to help him stand up.
Slowly Kane got up, brushing gravel and dirt from his clothes and hands. “What’s wrong? Why are you here in Colorado?”
As though every muscle in his body ached, Mike leaned back against the hood of the car while Kane looked at him.
The two men were identical twins, as alike as two humans could be: exactly the same height, size, eye and hair color. All their lives they had been close, so close that they often communicated without talking. Many times they’d had the same ideas and thoughts independently of one another, and it was commonplace for them to buy the same shirt unknowingly and wear it on the same occasion. There had never been a secret between them, and when one had news, he always went first to his twin brother.
“Congratulations,” Kane said softly, because he knew without being told that his brother’s wife had just been delivered of twins. For a long moment the brothers hugged each other in a fierce bond of love and understanding. Then they broke apart, both of them grinning.
“So?” Kane said, aware that his brother would know what his first question would be: Why did he leave New York?