My anger never lasted long, and this time was no exception. Within minutes I had turned it inward and burst my own bubble. I stood still, trembling with emotion and exhaustion, and to my disgust, tears stung my eyes.
When I heard someone behind me, I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand and looked up to see Sandy, his face a mask of concern.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with Kane,” he said. “Usually he’s not like this. Usually he’s—”
Rule number one in my father’s house: Never let ’em know you’re in pain. If they know you’re hurt, they can hurt you more.
I did my best to smile and sound lighthearted. “It’s me. I always rub men the wrong way. If I’d screamed in fear and covered my face with my hands in terror he’d probably be feeding me brandy and pâté now.”
Sandy chuckled. “Probably.” He paused a moment, then said, “What’s Ruth like?”
I could do nothing but roll my eyes. Should I tell him about the cigarette burn?
“Kane…” Sandy said hesitantly. “I think he wants a wife.”
My earlier vision of Ruth in a kitchen came back to me and did a great deal to cheer me up. But I wasn’t going to lie to this man; he’d been too nice to me, and he didn’t deserve lies in return. “And he thinks to get a wife out of Ruth? Ruth likes the conquest, but once she’s won, she’s on to new goals.” I thought of the cowboy bawling me out for saving Ruth not once but twice. “I think they deserve each other. I hopes she breaks his heart.”
Sandy was silent. “So,” he said after a while, “are you married?”
I knew he was thinking about Kane, who was like a son to him. Why is it that some people receive love no matter what they do and some people don’t? I purposely misunderstood Sandy. “Is this an offer?”
When Sandy spoke, he was utterly serious. “If I were ten years younger I’d pursue you so hard that you’d end up marrying me just to get me to leave you alone.”
My laugh was a little forced, but I couldn’t deny that I was flattered. “You wouldn’t want to marry me,” I said honestly. “I’m too competent to marry. Men like women who are helpless or at least know how to pretend to be like Ruth can, but me, I’m ridiculously capable, and I always forget to hide it.” I turned away to leave. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else. In the mood I was in, there was no telling what I’d say next.
“Hurry back,” Sandy called after me. “We’re having buffalo tongue for dinner.”
“Mmmm, my favorite,” I said and kept going.
Chapter Six
Cale stretched out on the grass in that favorite posture of writers, where the body is completely supported, thus leaving the mind free to think and create. She was thinking of a story in which the killer was a cowboy who was so handsome that no one suspected him, when she heard people approach.
Now what? she thought, not wanting to move, not wanting to cease the fantasies playing about in her head. There are people who hate to write, hate to have to come up with ideas, and people who will go to any length to be allowed to continue to create. Now, hearing footsteps, Cale thought that if she stayed very quiet, whoever it was might go away and leave her in peace.
But Cale looked up to see Kane take Ruth in his arms and kiss her incredibly gently, as though she were fragile and precious. Cale knew she should leave, and she moved to do so, but then Kane pulled away from Ruth.
“You’re all right?” he asked. “You weren’t hurt by the horse?”
With great interest, Cale propped her head on her hand and listened for Ruth’s answer. She thought of it as not so much eavesdropping as research.
“I’m fine. Kane,” Ruth said with a gentle flutter of her eyelashes. “You don’t know how I worried about coming on this trip. I was so frightened—frightened of the great outdoors, afraid of the animals, afraid of the people running the trip. I thought you’d be aggressive.” She laughed seductively. “I was concerned that you’d want us to…to shoe horses or something like that.”
So she wasn’t going to tell him about burning the horse. Not that Cale had thought she would. If anything terrified this woman it was the possibility that men wouldn’t adore her. Philosophical question to ponder, Cale thought: Does Ruth Edwards exist if no one is looking at her?
“Out here in the West we’re just the same as any men. We want the same things as other men,” Kane said in a deep voice.
Yeah, Cale thought. They want Ruth.
Ruth ran her hand up his arm. “I wouldn’t say you’re the same as any other man.”
Even this guy couldn’t possibly fall for that line. Could he? It would be the equivalent of a guy coming up to you in a bar and saying, “What’s a nice girl like you,” et cetera. Women were past that, but was any man past Ruth’s tired line?
“I’d like to think I’m not like other men,” he answered as he touched her arm.
Once again Cale had overestimated the male animal. Question, she thought, What’s the difference between a rutting stag and a man on the make? Answer: nothing. They are both blind, deaf, and very dumb.
When they started kissing, Cale gave a loud “ahem.” Eavesdropping was one thing, but voyeurism was something else.