Wild Texas Flame Read online

  But Amy hadn’t waited for her. Sunny’s heart moved in her breast at the sight of her tiny, golden haired sister curled up in the crook of the rugged ex-convict’s arm, sleeping the untroubled sleep of the innocent.

  Ash’s eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. His face twisted in a tight grimace, and his throat worked up and down as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and looked down at the child in his arms without seeing Sunny in the doorway.

  Sunny was enthralled by the tender, vulnerable expression on his face. She backed away silently and left the two alone.

  In the kitchen, she met Katy coming in the back door, hugging, of all things, Ash McCord’s bedpan. The girl blushed and smiled at Sunny. “I thought I’d save you the trouble,” she said, indicating the now empty pan.

  “Thank you.”

  It wasn’t unusual for Katy to help Sunny. As Katy grew older, Sunny relied on her more and more. But Sunny instinctively felt there was something going on here other than Katy’s usual helpfulness.

  “He was embarrassed when I took it,” Katy said, once again indicating the bedpan.

  Sunny smiled and chuckled. “Well, wouldn’t you be, if he offered to empty yours?”

  Katy turned fiery red. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” On her way to return the bedpan, Katy stopped in the hallway door, that dreamy expression back on her face. “Isn’t he just the most handsome man you ever saw in your life?”

  Katy carried Amy to the child’s own bed, but Amy and Rachel were both up in less than an hour. They went out back to play in the last of the daylight. Rachel was subdued.

  Sunny gnawed her lower lip and watched them from the kitchen window. Had she done the wrong thing in bringing Ash McCord into their home?

  Amy adored him, considered him her best friend. That was fine, if one didn’t consider the impropriety of a four-year-old having a grown man fresh out of prison for her best friend.

  Sunny couldn’t make herself object to the friendship. At least not because of Ash’s background, for he seemed genuinely fond of Amy. What worried Sunny was how attached Amy could become to him if he stayed very long. Would Amy substitute Ash for the father she’d just lost? If she did, Ash’s leaving would tear the child apart. It would be like losing her father all over again.

  Then there was Rachel. Whatever was Sunny to do about Rachel? The girl had promised to apologize to Ash, but that wouldn’t help anything. It didn’t mean Rachel accepted her father’s death. It only meant she would be mortified at having to admit to a virtual stranger that she’d behaved badly.

  And Katy. Sunny rolled her eyes at the mere thought. Only fourteen, and all atwitter over a man.

  With a deep sigh, Sunny turned to check the stew simmering on the stove.

  It would be a while until it was ready.

  And before she took Ash McCord his supper, there was something she had to do.

  She didn’t think she had the energy to wrestle those pillows behind his back the way she’d had to do that morning. He needed a way to raise himself. Not only to make it easier on her, but, if he could raise himself, maybe he could turn himself onto his side, too. That would help his back heal, alleviate at least some of his boredom, and perhaps make him feel not quite so helpless.

  She went to the barn. A moment later she caught herself looking around for one of the men so she could ask to borrow a rope. No one was there.

  It felt strange taking a rope without asking. A full minute passed before she realized how stupid that was. Who was there to ask? The rope belonged to her, as did the ranch and everything on it.

  As it did every time she thought about being the owner of Cottonwood Ranch, being responsible for its success or failure, a shiver ran down her spine. If she was truthful, she’d call it what it was. Fear.

  No sooner had the thought touched her mind than she shoved it away. She couldn’t afford fear. It was a weakness, and her father wouldn’t want her to be weak.

  She took the coil of rope from the nail where it hung and marched back to the house. When she entered McCord’s room she found him awake.

  “What’s that for?” he asked instantly, his narrow, suspicious gaze trained on the rope.

  Sunny grinned. “Nervous, are you?”

  He scowled.

  “I’m going to wrap it over that beam above your head so you can use it to pull yourself up.”

  His suspicion gave way to a gleam of interest. “How?”

  “How what?”

  “How are you going to get it up there?”

  She wished he hadn’t asked that. It was something she hadn’t quite figured out. She knew she’d have to stand on the bed, but even then, how was she going to secure the rope to the beam? She’d never been able to tie a decent knot in her life, and this one had to be secure. It had to bear Ash McCord’s full weight.

  “You’ll have to stand on the bed,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know. But I should tell you right now, I can’t tie a knot, and I doubt a bow would hold.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m sure you’re right. How long is it?”

  She uncoiled the rope. It was at least twice as long as needed. He told her to double it, then he held onto the loose ends and handed her the loop.

  “Now climb up here.” He patted the bed next to his hip.

  She was going to break her neck, she knew. All because she was trying to save her back.

  She crawled onto the bed and rose to her knees. The mattress gave and pitched her forward. She caught herself, knees on one side of Ash, hands on the other. A feather tick on a rope frame was not meant to be stood upon.

  “This isn’t going to work,” she said, feeling a flush steal up her cheeks.

  “Sure it will. Give me your hands.”

  She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. She’d touched him more than enough for one day, and still had to get through another round of his exercises. Funny things happened inside her when she touched him. Scary things.

  But when he held his large square hands out, palms up, she placed hers, one of which still held her end of the rope, on them.

  He steadied her as she rose to her feet.

  “Straddle me.”

  Her whole body jerked. “I beg your pardon?” She looked down at him, abashed, shocked. The innocent look on his face made her instantly ashamed of her suspicions.

  “Straddle. That’s where you put one foot on one side of me, the other on the other side. It’ll give you balance.”

  “Balance.” She swallowed. “Right.”

  She lifted her left foot and immediately lost her balance, but his hands steadied her. Slowly she straightened, still gripping his hands tightly. The rope frame beneath the mattress creaked. Sunny’s feet and ankles fit snugly against Ash’s hips.

  “Now let go,” he instructed. “I’ll hold your legs so you won’t fall.”

  “I’m okay now.”

  But still she gasped when he let go of her hands and grasped her legs just below her knees. Even through her apron and skirt, the heat of his touch startled her. She trembled.

  “Now thread the rope over the beam.”

  It would have been easier to breathe while she followed his directions if his thumbs hadn’t started massaging the inside of her calves, but she managed to get the doubled end of the rope over the beam.

  “Now.” He let go of one leg and held up the loose ends of the rope. “Pass both ends through the loop and pull ‘til it’s tight.”

  When she reached for the ends he held, her fingers brushed his. A hot tingling shot up her arm. At the startled look on his face, she knew he felt it, too. The heat spread to her cheeks and stung.

  With a jerk that almost sent her tumbling, she grabbed the rope from him and threaded it through the loop, then pulled.

  “I did it,” she whispered. “You can let go of me now.”

  But when he did, she leaned too far to one side. In trying to right herself she caught her shoe in the hem of her dress and went down. She l
anded hard, her rear flat on his thighs, one knee in his arm pit, the other foot in his ear.

  He grunted.

  “Oh!” Unhurt, but too surprised to moved, she stared at him. He was laughing. At her. And no wonder! It had to be the most embarrassing, undignified position in which she’d ever found herself.

  Ash’s laughter stopped abruptly. He clenched his teeth and his face turned as white as the sheet.

  “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  Sunny scrambled clumsily over him until she knelt at his side on the mattress.

  With a grimace of pain, he grabbed for his left thigh.

  She jumped from the bed and tried to push the covers aside, but his hands were in the way. “Let go, Ash, and let me look.”

  Wrapped in his pain, he either didn’t hear, or didn’t listen.

  She shoved the quilt and sheet up over his hands. Without even touching him, she could see the muscles in his thigh jerking and knotting.

  Doctor Sneed’s words rang in her ears. And when it starts, it’ll start with muscle cramps. Bad ones.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunny’s own thigh muscles knotted in sympathy. What should she do? He was in such obvious pain, she had to help him.

  Then Doc’s solemn voice echoed again: Rub deep and hard to ease the cramp.

  She massaged as deep as she could and as hard as she dared. It was a couple of minutes before she could get Ash to remove his hands, and a couple more before she felt the thigh muscles start to relax.

  Not so, Ash. His knuckles were white where he gripped the sheet. He was breathing like he’d run all the way from town. But the color was returning to his sweat-beaded face.

  “Better?” she asked.

  After a moment his breathing started easing and he nodded.

  Sunny couldn’t help the slow, wide grin that crossed her face.

  “What are you so damned happy about? That hurt like hell.”

  Still grinning, she said, “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “What’s so wonderful?” He finally let loose of the sheet and used his hand to wipe the sweat from his face. “It hurt so damned bad I thought someone was ripping my leg off.”

  “That bad, huh?” She still grinned. She couldn’t help it.

  He scowled at her. “What are you? One of those people who likes to see other people in pain?”

  “Of course not! What an outrageous thing to say.” But she was still grinning.

  “Well by the look on your face…”

  As his voice faded away Sunny watched his expression change from irritation to slow, careful awareness. His eyes widened. “I felt it,” he whispered. “Sunny!” He gripped her arm. “I felt it!”

  Tears stung Sunny’s eyes. Her grin felt a little wobbly when she said, “I know. Oh, Ash, I know.”

  “I thought I felt something earlier when Rachel’s slate hit me, but I decided I’d only imagined it.”

  “She didn’t mean to hit you, you know. She’s very sorry. She’ll apologize before she goes to bed tonight.”

  Ash waved the concern away. Using the rope that dangled onto his stomach, he pulled himself to a sitting position and stared down at his thigh.

  She still had both hands on him. “Can you still feel anything?”

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lowered himself back to the pillow. “No. I guess I got excited for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing,” she claimed. “This is exactly what Doctor Sneed said would happen. First, muscle cramps, then, slowly, the feeling would return. It may take some time, but Ash, you will walk again. I know it.”

  “Well, we’ll see, won’t we. But don’t get your hopes up, Sunny. It may never happen.”

  That night Sunny dreamed. A hot, quivery, shocking dream. It might have made sense for her to dream of giving Ash McCord a bath and massaging his legs. Those had been unique experiences for her. They had troubled her, thrilled her, made her feel all fluttery inside.

  But her dream was all mixed up. She didn’t dream, as she might have, of touching his smooth, hot skin, of the different textures of his body hair, crisp on his chest, softer on his arms and legs. She did dream that her heart pounded, her stomach fluttered, her blood rushed through her veins. Not because she’d been touching him, but because, in her dream, she had been the one lying naked—naked—in the bed, and Ash McCord had been touching her.

  She woke long before sunup trembling and sweating. Eyes wide, heart racing, she stared through the blackness toward the ceiling. Lord help her, she could still feel his imagined touch, in places where no one had ever touched her. Every nerve ending tingled. Her breasts felt swollen; her nipples puckered against the soft flannel of her gown. Heat threatened to suffocate her. Her lungs fought for breath.

  And deep within the most feminine part of her body, a throbbing emptiness brought tears to her eyes.

  Madness.

  Madness.

  Sunny curled into a tight ball and stifled a moan. She was losing her mind. The things she was feeling were new to her, but she understood instinctively the meaning of desire. Lust.

  Madness.

  She could not, would not allow herself to want—be honest, Sunny Girl, the word is crave—Ash McCord’s touch.

  Why not?

  Because it’s wrong.

  Why?

  Well…

  Does it feel wrong?

  No. It didn’t feel wrong. Touching him, being with him, dreaming of his touch, felt right. Felt…inevitable.

  So it’s okay, what I’m feeling?

  Sunny grinned in the darkness. Yes. It’s okay. Then she frowned. So long as nobody finds out.

  She had the distinct impression that if Ash had any idea of the way he made her feel, he’d crawl back to town if he had to, just to get away from her.

  After that one night, the dream did not return to disturb her sleep. It didn’t have to. All she had to do was call it to mind, or touch the man in her father’s bed, and the tingly breathlessness rushed through her again.

  Nothing happened during the rest of the week to destroy Sunny’s firm belief that Ash McCord would walk again.

  But then, nothing happened to encourage it, either. No feeling, yet, except for that one time. No more leg cramps. And nothing but scowls and frowns from the man himself.

  Still, she supposed he should be allowed his bad temper. It was mostly embarrassment and self-pity, she knew. It was hard to condemn him, for in his place, she would probably have acted the same.

  It took her two days of badgering, but she finally got him to shave while she held a mirror for him. It had been a singularly…interesting experience, watching his lower face being revealed, one strip at a time. He hadn’t even barked at her when the mirror shook in her hands.

  Despite his arguments, she still worked with his legs every day, twice a day, just as Doctor Sneed told her to. She wanted to speak with the doctor again, and hoped he would be back in town when she and the girls drove in for church Sunday.

  But when Sunday arrived and Sunny took the girls to church, Doctor Sneed wasn’t there. He’d sent word that it would be at least another week before he returned.

  At the end of the service, Preacher Holden stood at the door and shook hands with the members of the congregation as they headed outdoors. Sunny stood in the exit line behind Carla and Mr. and Mrs. Miller. Katy, Rachel and Amy wove their way through a forest of bodies and, along with the Harvey girls, dashed outside to play.

  Carla leaned toward Sunny and whispered directly in her ear, “So, what’s he like?”

  Sunny leaned away. She read the avid curiosity in her best friend’s face and frowned. “What’s who like?”

  Carla darted a glance at her parents. They were smiling and shaking hands with the preacher. She looked back at Sunny. “You know who.” Her whisper drew the attention of those around them, but Carla didn’t seem to notice the lulls in several conversations. “Ash McCord, the back-shooter.”

  “Don’t call him that!” Sunn
y surprised herself and Carla with the harshness in her voice.

  “Young lady.” Mrs. Miller grabbed Carla by the arm and dragged her to stand before Preacher Holden.

  Carla, either oblivious to the stares or uncaring, gave Sunny a last parting shot. “We’ll talk later.” Her loud whisper seemed to echo through the church.

  Sunny stood next in line to greet the preacher and felt her cheeks sting. But why should she feel embarrassed? She wasn’t the one caught gossiping. Yet embarrassed she was. For herself, for Carla, and for Ash McCord.

  She kept her gaze locked on the preacher’s watch chain while he spoke to Carla. Sunny didn’t dare look around at the faces surrounding her. She didn’t have to. The brief glance she took a moment ago was enough. The speculation and disapproval directed her way by people she considered her friends stunned her.

  What was the matter with them? Didn’t they understand McCord needed her help?

  “Sunny, my dear.” Preacher Holden smiled and took her hand. “It’s good to see you and your sisters here. We’ve all been concerned about you.”

  Sunny forced a smile and pulled her hand from his sweaty grasp, suddenly grateful for the crush of people behind her wanting to get out of the church. She had a perfect excuse for not lingering. “Thank you. I think I’d better find my sisters.”

  She stepped off the porch. Mrs. Holden followed and called out.

  Sunny stopped and turned, pasting another smile on her face. Mrs. Holden placed a plump hand on Sunny’s shoulder. “I’m so glad to get a chance to talk to you before the picnic gets started.”

  “It’s good to see you, ma’am.” Sunny fought a sigh. Lying, especially just outside the church, was surely a sin.

  “…out there all alone,” Mrs. Holden was saying, “with no one to look after you but those rough cowhands, I feel it’s my Christian duty, Sunny, to tell you you’re making a grave mistake having that man in your house.” She paused for breath, and about time, too, Sunny thought. “What on earth ever possessed you to take him home with you, child?”

  Sunny sidestepped out of Mrs. Holden’s grasp. “Why, ma’am, I felt it was my Christian duty.”