Branded Hearts

Chapter Five

Scrape! Kit’s file gouged into the grease coating on the bunkhouse stove. The sound of metal grating against metal sent spine-tingling pain up Garret’s backbone. The needlelike ache lodged at the base of his neck.

Resting his elbows on the plank table, he rubbed his temples. The pain in his head continued to throb. He took a sip of his coffee. Cold. Lord, how long had he been watching her work? Too long.

After a morning of scrubbing, she ought to look like hell. So why did she look so damn beautiful? She knelt near the old stove, a bucket of ashes and dirt at her feet. The red dye of her cotton shirt had faded to the color of dry desert rock. Her cut-off shirtsleeves left threads hanging down her arms. Soot dusted the tip of her nose. Perspiration curled the fine wisps of hair around her face and neck.

Kit’s translucent blue stare never wavered. Standing, she swept the ashes into her bucket with the broom. “I’m finished as soon as I dump this into the ash bin.”

“Good.” Garret racked his brains for another tedious chore. Hell, she had already cleaned tack, shoveled horse manure and now the stove gleamed like new. But he wasn’t beat yet. “There’s hay to stack in the barn loft.” A sweltering afternoon of breathing chaff and lifting heavy bales would do her in. Maybe.

“Anything else you need done before dinner?” Insolence darkened her eyes.

I want you and your brother gone. Garret didn’t need to voice his desire. She knew he didn’t want her around. He resented the position he found himself in—stuck between kowtowing to a prig like Sam Benton and obliging Cade’s sudden interest in the ranch.

Garret had to admit his brother had finally found the blister end of a shovel since Hawk’s arrival. Following the Indian forced Cade to work side by side with him. And Hawk had turned out to be a hell of a wrangler.

But the promise of the cavalry agreement made Garret wince. Sam Benton and his lackey brother, Eli, unofficially governed its control.

A look at Kit’s full lips, slightly pouting from her effort, and a traitorous longing threatened to weaken Garret’s will. He fought down the hot licks of passion and ordered, “Tomorrow, you and your brother ride brush.”

A full day of riding in the hot sun through thorns and dry brush for longhorns would finish off her stubborn streak. By this time tomorrow, Kit would be long gone. Just a bad memory. One he wasn’t likely to forget.

“We’ll leave at first light.” She spoke with quiet authority then went back to sweeping ashes into the bucket.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and slowness dogged her steps. A thick blanket of guilt nearly smothered him. She was wearing down. Finally. He should be exhilarated. He wasn’t. A snake with two bellies couldn’t crawl as low as he felt.

The urge to explain himself, to make her understand his predicament forced Garret to make a stab at conversation. “Kit, there’s this contract with the army coming up.”

She puffed back a strand of loose hair and kept working. “That’s a lucrative proposition.”

“One I aim to make come true.” He paused, wet his lips, considering how to be tactful but truthful. “There are powerful people in Colorado that feel Indians and cavalry don’t mix. ‘Specially Cheyenne.”

The wire file stopped in midstroke. Straightening, she lifted her chin and gave him a glacial stare. “If you plan on firing me, then I’m taking the black. I rode him. I broke him. I’ll own him.”

A wagonload of nitro on a bumpy road couldn’t be as ignitable as that woman. “Now wait just a minute.” The hairs on Garret’s neck bristled with her high-handed attitude. “I give the orders around here.”

“Really? Sounds to me like the ‘powerful people’ run the Rockin’ G.”

“Sam Benton can make a helluva enemy.”

Her fingers clenched the wire brush until they turned white. A flicker of indignation and pain flashed across her face. Garret wasn’t surprised. Benton had an intense dislike of the Cheyenne. He had men combing the reservations, drumming up reasons to search their homes and stirring up trouble.

The depths of Kit’s eyes heated to the color of an inner flame. “Perhaps I should just wait for Sam Benton to give me my work on the Rockin’ G.”

Every blade of grass on his ranch, every drop of water in the stream, every cool mountain breeze laced with the scent of pines were a part of Garret. A swell of ownership and pride swept over him.

Poking himself in the chest, he laid down the law. “This is Blaine land and no one else’s. I give the orders around here.” The declaration lifted a weight from his heart and his conscience.

A secretive smile played on her full lips. “I see. Then, Mr. Blaine, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” She headed for the door.

Frustration made him mutter, “I oughta save myself the headache and run you and your brother off.”

Her whole body stilled. She lowered the bucket and pivoted to face him. “So why don’t you? You could have us gone if you really wanted it.”

“When a Blaine makes a promise, it’ll be kept.” The angry steam boiled out of him, and he dropped the huffiness from his voice. “And I’ve gotten more work out of Cade in the week you’ve been here than the whole time he’s been on the ranch. I’m willing to put up with anything that can draw my brother away from the poker table long enough for him to see his future lies here, on the Rockin’ G, and not in some saloon.”

The thunder left her stormy eyes. A half smile curved her lips. “Even when it comes between you and the army contract.”

“I stand by my word and my brother.”

Her tone softened. “Mr. Blaine, I think there’s hope for you yet.” Picking up the bucket, she left, leaving Garret exactly where he started. Stuck with her and her brother.

“Cap’n.” Davidson burst through the bunkhouse door and skidded to a stop, nearly tripping over his overgrown feet. “There’s a fancy buggy headin’ this way. Cracker’s thinkin’ it’s yore Miss Abigail.”

“Argh.” Garret ran his fingers through his hair, wishing he could rake the trouble from his life as easily. Abigail didn’t venture far from the comforts of Colorado Springs without a good reason. Traynor must have spread the word in town about Kit and Hawk. Thank goodness the cowhand had ridden out before discovering the Indian youth was in reality a woman. Abigail was a sensitive woman. She couldn’t handle too many surprises at a time.

Garret slammed his hat on and threw open the door. He spotted Kit heading toward the barn, ready to tackle his latest chore. How could two women be so different? Abigail’s delicate form would collapse under the weight of the heavy feed. And if he didn’t handle the next few minutes just right, his relationship with her would collapse just as quickly.

Dust from the hay and barn chafed Kit’s neck. After only a few minutes of work in the stuffy loft, her clothes hung heavy on her body and sweat drenched her skin. A breeze traveled through the window, cooling her but stirring the dirt and her irritation. The whole barn could ignite from one spark of her anger.

Garret Blaine had her perplexed. He seemed a man tearing himself in two. On the one hand, he was so like her father. Ambitious, thirsty for power, trying to control his family.

On the other, Garret labored from sunup to sundown to build this ranch. And he carried out a promise no matter the consequences. A soft lump rose in her throat. That she could take to heart. Fulfilling a promise was the center of Hawk’s and her world. The reason she was willing to endure the herculean labors.

Honest, stubborn, strong, money-hungry, dependable, trustworthy. Garret Blaine was a strange mixture of all the traits she abhorred and admired. With each confrontation, her panic decreased and new emotions grew. He fired her temper and a strange hunger in the pit of her stomach.

The smothering heat intensified. Kit pulled her shirttails free and fanned herself, but the warmth that traipsed through her blood didn’t lessen. Moving to the window, she dangled a leg over the ledge, opened the collar of her shirt and prayed for a chilling breeze.

The creak of wagon wheels drew her attention. A fancy surrey rolled into the yard, its red tassels swaying from the canopy. Two dapple mares trotted in front, their heads forced into a fashionable arch with a tight martingale.

A short, stocky man kept a heavy hand on the reins. His high top hat shaded little of his face. Sun exposure reddened his ample cheeks. On his spotless white shirt, rows of ruffles hid his chin.

Next to him sat a young woman whose blond hair was caught up in an impractical hat the size of a currycomb. Pastel flowers bloomed across the top and anchored a swath of black netting across her face. Her frock coat covered her gown from neck to ankle, protecting her dress and the velvet cushion seat from trail dust.

Kit chewed on a hay straw and watched the driver halt the buggy in front of the lodgepole cabin. “Blaine, I want a word with you,” he commanded.

Her gaze shifted to Garret. Rotating his shoulders, he took his time crossing the yard. Curls at the nape of his neck coiled in several directions. A too long lock of hair draped over his eyes, giving him a roguish look.

Kit let her fingers slip through the loose hay on the loft floor. A remote attempt to brush back Garret’s wayward strands. Surprised at her response, she pinned her fingers under crossed arms. A fluttering sensation swept across her chest and nestled just below her heart.

Touching his finger to his hat, Garret nodded toward the woman. “Miss Abigail.” He didn’t look at the driver as he added, “Fredrick.”

Abigail Benton! Kit grabbed the pulley rope and leaned out the window. So this was what her cousin looked like. When Garret had mentioned he was courting her, Kit’s stomach had flip-flopped. She had made some discreet inquiries about Abigail and her father, Eli, hoping to gain their help in her search. Both turned out to be self-centered wastrels, living off Sam Benton. Kit had avoided any contact.

A sour taste puckered her mouth as the dainty young woman leaned over the driver and clasped Garret’s hand. “I’ve been so worried about you. Rumors are flying.”

Worried? The only thing Abigail Benton ever concerned herself with was Abigail. Kit fumed as the young woman stepped down, lifted her hem and displayed small, delicate ankles.

Ensconced between the buggy and Garret’s tall frame, Abigail slowly withdrew her lace-covered hand from his loose hold. Lifting the netting from her face, she displayed clear alabaster skin and a cameo profile. “Garret’s going to clear this whole thing up.”

She’s batting her eyelashes! Kit retreated into the loft and pulled the crown of her water-stained hat down to her eyebrows. How can Garret be so naive? Can’t he see he deserves better than a simpering tease?

Disappointment sliced through Kit’s heart along with a nasty emotion she was afraid to identify. It felt too close to jealousy. She shouldn’t care what the lean rancher did or whom he married. But she did. Somehow, Garret had become more than a convenient hideout.

“You hired anyone lately?” Fredrick issued the question like a command.

“What business is it of yours?” Garret stiffened. What happened on the Rockin’ G was none of Marvin Fredrick’s concern.

Fredrick’s heavy jowls looked as though they’d been sandpapered. He gave Garret a nasty smile, baring white even teeth. “Word has it two Indians tricked you and that brother of yours into hiring them.”

Garret looked past the buggy to the barn. Kit sat in the loft window, eavesdropping along with the other men.

Abigail fluttered her hand like a fan. “Don’t take Fredrick’s comments the wrong way.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Abigail.” Garret constrained the anger from his voice. “I wouldn’t stoop to a fight with you here. I’m sure Fredrick realized that when he suggested you come with him.” Garret watched the man’s face contort in a grimace of anger and outrage at the intended insult.

Behind him, Vega and Cracker snickered as they inspected a saddle Kit had already cleaned and repaired. Candus stooped to examine the hoof of a mule tied to the hitching post. His deep chortle could be easily heard. Bugeyed and with a wide grin, Davidson sat on the porch and shouted, “Good one, Cap’n.”

At least Garret didn’t have to deal with Cade’s biting wit and Hawk’s imposing presence. They were bringing in cattle from the valley pastures.

“Cade hired a man. Goes by the name of Hawk. And I took on Kit.” Now was not the time to tell Abigail that his new employee was a woman. Not with Fredrick after him like a snapping turtle. Garret’d ride into town in a few days and explain everything to her. After she had some time to digest his next bit of news.

Abigail patted her elaborately coiffed hair. “All of this was just a silly mistake.”

“Kit and Hawk are half-Cheyenne.” Garret’s voice dropped in timbre, but he made the statement without apology.

“Garret!” Beauty could hide many flaws, but Abigail’s china-doll face magnified the prejudice in her soul. Her eyes narrowed to slits and the Cupid’s bow of her lips thinned to a stiff, tight line.

“Indians are nothing but filthy animals.” Abigail’s whine pained his ears. She clutched the throat of her frock coat. “Really, I had thought you better than your upbringing.”

The verbal slap rubbed salt into the wound of his childhood. Garret tried to reason with her. “There’s no cause for this.”

“Of course there’s cause.” Abigail’s voice turned shrill with indignation. “I cannot believe you would put all the women in the area in danger like this. My uncle Samuel says—”

“Your uncle Sam talks a lot.” Garret could have bit his tongue after he spoke. Hell, where had that come from? It sounded like something Cade would say. Looking toward the barn, Garret spotted Kit still leaning dangerously out of the window. She gave him a nod of approval. His lips twitched. He almost found himself smiling.

“Sam Benton knows what this territory needs to become a state.” Fredrick reached out his hand and helped Abigail return to the carriage. “And he knows exactly what should be done with every murdering redskin.”

This kind of talk could only lead to trouble for Kit, Hawk and the Rockin’ G. Wild talk and a liquored-up crowd were a recipe for a hanging party. Garret replied staunchly, “Those Indians haven’t murdered anyone.”

Fredrick pointed his finger at Garret. “Four nights ago, rustlers hit Ben Harris. He lost twenty head of cattle, a string of prime horses and three men. The outlaws took scalps.”

Four nights ago! While Garret had been arguing with Kit by the pool, rustlers had attacked. She had an alibi, but what of Hawk? He hadn’t shown up until sundown. Where had he been for those few hours? As soon as Cade rode in, Garret had some questions to ask.

He wasn’t about to let Fredrick see the lash of doubt. “If I catch any of my men tossing a loose rope, I’ll be the first to turn them in.”

Abigail sat primly in the carriage, staring straight ahead. “Garret, you have the potential to make something of yourself, despite your mother. Are you going to throw that all away for a couple of savages?”

A whore’s son. He couldn’t escape it. Every cowboy that had ridden the range in the last ten years knew about his ma. His fingernails dug angrily into the soft leather binding of the surrey. “Leave my mother out of this,” he rasped warningly.

Startled, Abigail pulled an immaculate handkerchief from her drawstring pocket and waited, the clear expectation of an apology on her face. Garret didn’t oblige.

Abigail bit her lip and let a fine line of hardness into her voice. “I am well aware you are sorely lacking in education and breeding. I’m willing to overlook that, but if you expect to ever court me again, then you had best get rid of those creatures.”

Her gaze flickered over his face then lingered on his mouth. Her voice turned husky. “I don’t hold a grudge. Unlike my uncle Samuel. Get rid of those Indians, and everything can be just like it was.”

It didn’t matter that the words came from a pretty package and that Abigail’s voice sounded sweet as sugar, Garret detected the threat. Fire the Indians or have Sam Benton as an enemy. Garret fingered his collar. It felt tight and restrictive, as did Abigail’s attempt to bring him in line.

Thundering hooves pounded into the yard, bringing a groan to Garret’s lips. Cade and Hawk trotted toward the corral. Dark sweat lined their mounts and Cade’s shirt. Dressed in fringed leggings and a vest, Hawk looked like a marauding warrior instead of a cowhand.

“I’ll be watching you, Blaine.” Lifting his whip, Fredrick flicked it in the direction of Hawk. “And that hea-then.” He smacked the rump of his matched grays with the whip. The carriage rumbled past. Dirt and sod roostertailed from the wheel, spattering Garret’s jeans and shirt.

Hawk didn’t give the surrey a glance, just untacked his horse and started rubbing the animal down. Cade moseyed over to Garret, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Something I said?”

“I gotta talk with you.” Garret propelled his brother toward the cabin. Pushing the door open, he dragged Cade inside then spied out the window. Davidson was walking toward the outhouse. Near the barn, Vega and Cracker were actually repairing the supply wagon. Candus hoofpicked a mule near the corral. No busy ears to overhear his conversation.

“I want to know if you’ve been keeping an eye on Hawk.”

Displaying his palms, Cade lamented, “’Course I have. See these blisters? I got just as many on my backside.”

“You know where he’s been every minute?”

“Mostly. We can’t herd in longhorns tied to each other’s hip. But he’s never come up missing on the range.”

“And the evenings, here at the ranch?” Garret asked.

Cade twisted his lower jaw, as if he were having the barber remove a bad tooth. “He just goes over to the barn and sits with Kit. Ain’t no reason to follow him—”

“Four nights ago—” Garret glanced at the window, then lowered his voice “—where was he?”

Cade removed his hat and ran the brim through his hands. “Four nights ago? Let me recollect. I seen him at supper. Then just after sunset with Kit down by the river.”

“Two hours unaccounted for.” Garret slapped his hand on his thigh. “Hawk could have ridden to the Harris spread and made it back by sundown.”

“Why would Hawk want to ride over to the Lazy Bar T?”

“Rustling. Harris lost cattle, horses and three men.” Garret dipped himself a mug of cold water from the crock. He sipped the liquid and contemplated the evidence. Hawk had no alibi. The Indian hated being parted from his sister, so why let her stroll, alone, in a secluded spot?

And what of Kit? If Hawk was involved with the outlaws, what was her part? An innocent sister, or a luring temptress? Was her bath a ploy to keep Garret occupied while Hawk sneaked away? Her nightly walks an attempt to keep his mind on her and not on the ranch’s defenses?

Cade stood, determination hardening his features. “I ain’t firing Hawk just ‘cause Abigail Benton says so. He’s worked harder than any man we’ve got.”

Garret examined his little brother. Cade had his dander up. And not about a card game. “You like this Indian, don’t you?”

“I like them both.”

“Why?”

A casual shrug and a shuffling of his boots accompanied Cade’s response. “They sorta remind me of us. Got the world telling them they ain’t no good ‘cause of their blood.” Sincerity strengthened Cade’s voice and made him sound older than his eighteen years.

Garret released a long, slow sigh. He should just fire those two and be done with it. If Cade wasn’t involved so seriously…If this wasn’t the first time his little brother had shown some responsibility…

Scratching his eyebrow, Garret made up his mind. There was just too much at stake to leave it to Cade and his history of recklessness. If Hawk was involved with the outlaws, Cade could get hurt. “From now on, you stay clear of Hawk.”

“But, Garret—”

“No buts.” Garret would brook no arguments. “These outlaws are desperate men. They’ve already killed.”

“You think Kit and Hawk are guilty,” Cade accused.

“If I believed that, those two would be riding off this ranch now. And I’d be talking to the sheriff. I got questions. And I want answers.”

“I can get them.”

“And wind up shot.” Garret sucked in a breath. “Cade, just do as I say. I’ll be watching them from now on.”

Cade stared at a knot in the floorboard. His jaw worked like a gristmill, grinding his teeth together. “I’m sure you won’t ever need it, big brother, but if you want some help, you can count on me.” Stuffing his Stetson back on, he took three long strides and left the cabin.

Help was exactly what Garret required, but none that Cade could give. He’d need a flour sifter to sort out the medley of emotions in his heart. Passion and desire tempted Garret to lay aside his suspicions. The anguish of his youth cried for him to be lenient. His sharp-edged instincts, honed in Andersonville, commanded him to think first of himself, his brother and his ranch.

Indecisiveness was a new emotion for Garret. He didn’t like it. If Hawk and Kit were rustling, Cade was going to need indisputable proof. And Garret wasn’t prepared to even hint to the authorities his concern unless he had the same type of evidence. One way or the other, he would find out the truth about the two Indians.

Kit studied the furrowed brows and tight line of her brother’s lips as he climbed the ladder to the loft. “You found something?”

White streaks of anger tunneled across Hawk’s neck. “I found an old campfire. And these.” He pulled a dark leathery circle from the pouch on his belt. Long dark hair hung in a snarl from it.

Brilliant sparkles formed in front of her eyes and she gripped her brother’s arm to keep from fainting dead away. “Did Cade see this?”

“No. Cade talks too much. He is easy to lose on the trail. Jando could walk in front of him and he would not notice.” Hawk replaced the scalp in the leather pouch and tugged the leather ties closed. The look on her brother’s face made Kit fight back the raging waves of horror.

“This time, my brother, we’ll get our revenge.”

Chapter Six

Garret’s eyes adjusted to the starlit darkness. The North Star twinkled high to the left, pointing the way toward Denver. Just above the mountains, three stars lined up along the western horizon. Kit had called them Orion’s belt. He would never be able to look at them again without visualizing her at the pool, her hair sleek and wet, her lips full and red, his body primed for the taste of her.

The cabin door opened and a sliver of firelight sliced the night. Cade stuck his head out, exposing his bare chest. “She go to bed yet?”

Clearing his throat, Garret tried to cover up his confusion. “I always sit a spell about now.”

A devilish smile crossed his brother’s lips. “Yeah, but you usually take a seat facing the bunkhouse, not the barn.” Cade walked out, propped his bare feet on the porch rail and clasped his hands behind his neck. “She’s a woman to ride the river with. Got grit. I like that.”

“You mean she’s hardheaded and stubborn as a mule.” Garret forced his voice to remain unaffected by his brother’s ribbing. Cade’s praise also caused Garret to fret.

At eighteen, it didn’t take much for a pretty girl to turn his head. And Kit was more than beautiful. Kit was breathtaking. And not just in her looks, but in the way she moved and blended with the frontier, as though she were a part of it.

Garret could understand Cade’s admiration, but he couldn’t tolerate it. Not if it might hurt Cade in the long run. What if the two Indians were really more than they seemed? Cade couldn’t afford another run-in with the law. In a cool tone, Garret reminded, “Stay away from those two.”