To Claim a Wife. Susan Fox
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everyone else.
Reno waited for her to step forward and precede him to the kitchen.
Mary was a warm, friendly woman, who seemed pleased to be introduced to Caitlin. She offered her condolences to them both. Caitlin was less tense then, but she was surprised when Reno joined her at the kitchen table for breakfast.
When Mary set two heaped plates of food before them, the appetite Caitlin was certain she couldn’t muster began to stir.
She picked up her fork and had a bite of the fluffy scrambled eggs. When Mary left the kitchen, she glanced Reno’s way and caught him staring at her. She read the traces of hostility in his gaze. He probably hated sitting across the table from her. She was suddenly so self-conscious that the bite of food stuck in her throat. His blue gaze dropped to watch her swallow, then went dark.
Caitlin rested her fork on her plate, her meager appetite fleeing beneath his scrutiny.
“When’s the funeral?” Her soft question distracted him and he focused on his own meal.
“Day after tomorrow.”
Neither of them spoke again while they ate. Caitlin eventually relaxed enough to force down a few more bites of food. Reno finished and leaned back with what was left of his coffee.
“I’d like to see the ranch.” Her statement brought his gaze back to hers. She endured a long burning look. She could tell the instant her request reminded him of Beau’s death. His eyes darkened again and went hard.
“You’ve got funeral arrangements to make.”
The blunt reminder made her uncomfortable. “You’ve been closer to him than anyone,” she said quietly. “I’m sure he’d prefer that you handled things.”
“You’re his daughter.”
Caitlin gripped her coffee cup. She dared to meet his gaze squarely. “You and Beau were the sons he always wanted, but was cheated of. Until he married your mother.”
The blue fire in his eyes was pure hatred.
“Don’t speak Beau’s name to me.”
The low rumble of his voice hit her chest like a sledgehammer. The pain was so intense that she had to focus on breathing slowly in, then out, to relieve it.
“Why did you bring me home?” The words came out in a whisper.
He stared over at her, his enmity shining out like a laser. “Maybe to prove that you and I can’t live here, even if you can inherit.”
“So you’re after your pound of flesh,” she stated dully.
“It’ll take more than a pound to even the score.”
He didn’t bother now to conceal his hatred for her. She was shaking all over and held herself stiffly to hide it. The impulse to defend herself made her incautious.
“You never wanted to hear what happened.”
“I’m not much for lies.”
The accusation was so insulting—Caitlin never lied—that her temper shot skyward. Her low “Go to hell, Reno,” was heartfelt.
His quiet “Been there,” pinned the blame squarely on her. She rallied to deflect it.
“So have I.”
The air thundered with hate. The injustice of it left her raw inside. The wall of rage between them was miles high and so wide that nothing would ever overcome it. The thought was overwhelming. The knowledge that there was nothing she could do to change things sent her spirits into a downward slide.
She tossed her napkin to the table and rose. “Make the funeral arrangements. I’m going for a ride.”
She didn’t look directly at Reno, but she felt his gaze cut at her. Hating her.
She went to her room briefly for her hat, then escaped the house through the front door to avoid coming face-to-face with Reno.
As she walked through the yard toward the corrals and barns, she noticed that most things looked just the same. She entered the stable and immediately recognized a couple of the horses. She didn’t relish meeting any of the men. The three cowboys who had testified on her behalf at the inquest were nowhere to be seen.
On the other hand, all three were older men. The oldest, Lucky Reed, the cowboy who’d been her champion, had probably retired by now. She finished her brief inspection of the horses still at the stable, then selected one.
Her father’s saddle was still in the tack room. She got it and a bridle, then carried them to the horse she’d chosen.
The black gelding had been her father’s favorite. He’d been a lively four-year-old five years ago. Now he seemed calmer, more like the competent working horse her father would have expected.
Caitlin led him out of the stall, gave him a quick grooming, then saddled him. Excitement made her hurry. Memories of the land she’d missed so much—and her private place—pulled at her. The only real peace she’d known growing up had been on the land. The only true comfort she’d had was the comfort of her private place.
She belonged to the land. She’d not had a secure place in her family, but she’d had a place on the land. The wildness of it connected with something wild in her. She relished the seasons, was sensitive to their cycles. She knew her place out there, felt herself fit into the universe somehow. Though she was a mere speck on the landscape, she was part of it.
As she rode out of the stable and past the outbuildings and corrals, something shifted inside her, and she felt herself slip naturally into the panorama of range land before her.
The black felt solid beneath her and he obeyed her slightest signal. His well-trained response heightened her sense of control, of dominance. She might never handle her personal life or the tricky relationships she was bound to with any real skill or success, but she had an affinity for animals, and a natural competence with them that made her feel settled and sure of herself.
She rode on for nearly an hour before she angled in a new direction. She couldn’t bear to go near the canyon where Beau had died, so she’d altered her path to avoid it. She ended up north of the old cabin and changed direction again to ride to it.
Caitlin thought of it as a cabin, but it was the adobe ruin of a turn-of-the-century homestead. Most of the old roof had rotted and fallen in, or had been blown away. Years ago, she’d hauled in enough lumber to construct a crude roof near the chimney. The two layers of wood with a layer of tarp in between had provided shade from the sun and protection enough from the rain. The adobe was crumbled and weathered down, but the irregular walls were still high enough to count as shelter from the wind.
The moment she saw it, she felt relief. It still looked the same as she remembered. When she reached the old structure, she dismounted, loosening the saddle cinch before she led the black to the east side of the ruin.
She inspected the small lean-to, then led the horse in out of the hot sun and removed his saddle. When she came out, she walked to the front of the cabin to the wide space where the door had once been and stepped inside.
The sparrows that had built a nest under the crude roof burst out and shot through the open space overhead into the sky. If any other animals had moved in, they’d already fled. Caitlin made a cursory check for snakes, then carefully checked the old fireplace chimney.
Because she hadn’t been there to light a fire in the past five years, at least one family of birds was nesting in the old adobe. She heard their flutters and chirps, but didn’t disturb them. She walked around the limited confines, then took up a place at the deep dip in the wall where a window had once been.
The magic of the place began to ease over her. Thoughts about her father, Reno and Beau began to crowd in, but they seemed manageable here.
Her father’s demand for a blood test explained his treatment of her over the years. Jess Bodine had been uncompromising