Wild Texas Flame Page 12

  “I shoot people in the back.”

  Her hands clenched and froze around his foot. It was an eternity before she could tear her eyes away from his and unlock her throat. She knew she wasn’t smiling when she said softly, “I believe you paid for that one.”

  When he didn’t say anything, she glanced back at him. He stared at her, a vulnerable, confused look on his face. She ached for him. Ridiculous as it was, she ached for the man who spent five years in prison for putting Ian Baxter in a wheelchair.

  An instant later his face turned cold and hard. “So what if I paid for it?”

  Sunny forced a light shrug. “So it’s old news.”

  “Lady, I do believe you’re crazy.”

  She ignored that remark and started flexing his ankle. That usually set him off about how she was wasting her time. This time he kept quiet, but it was there in his face, that belligerent set to his jaw, that coldness in his eyes he used to discourage her.

  She ignored that, too.

  She finished with his left leg, then pulled the sheet to reveal his right. And frowned. His right thigh was red. It looked as though, if she touched it, she’d get burned. “What happened?”

  When he didn’t answer she looked at him, but he refused to meet her gaze.

  “Ash, why is your thigh all red? It looks like…” It looked like his other thigh had looked when she’d finished rubbing the cramp away the other day. “Ash?”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “What.”

  “When did it start cramping?”

  Again he didn’t answer.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  No response.

  Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his bare thigh and applied gentle but persistent pressure. When he made no indication that he felt anything, she pressed harder, leaning her weight into it.

  Ash frowned and his eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

  Her heart speeded up and her breath caught. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

  “It feels like you’re trying to crush my damn…” His words faded as realization burst across his face.

  She tried to swallow around the painful lump in her throat. “I told you it would work, Ash McCord. You are going to walk—.” Her voice broke and she had to stop.

  He gave her a crooked little half-smile. “Maybe. Just maybe.” An unmistakable flash of fear crossed his eyes, then vanished. He reached for her. She grasped his hand. “Maybe, if you just don’t give up on me.”

  She threaded her fingers through his and felt a thrill shoot up her arm. “There’s not a chance in the world I’ll give up on you. If you want to get away from me, you’re going to have to walk away, on your own two feet.”

  Her euphoria over Ash’s progress lasted through the morning, past lunch. Until one of the hands came to the house and reported Ian Baxter was coming up the road from town.

  Chapter Nine

  Dread tightened like a fist in Sunny’s stomach. What had brought Baxter here if not to continue yesterday’s discussion?

  For a brief instant she felt some of yesterday’s terror wash over her. Then she squared her shoulders and forced it away. She’d made her plans and decisions during the night, and she intended to stick with them. The same as she intended to stick with the ranch.

  She would not argue with him, would not lose her temper nor let her fear show. And she would not leave her home.

  A new thought intruded. Ian Baxter was paying a call, and Ash McCord lay in the next room. Something told her she’d be wise to keep the two men as far apart as possible. Yet she didn’t want her men to hear whatever Baxter had to say, so she couldn’t talk with him outside. Besides, it would be incredibly rude to not invite him in after he’d driven clear from town.

  She crept down the hall, peeked into Ash’s room, and sighed with relief. He was asleep. With any luck, he’d never know the mayor was here.

  She stood at the front window and watched Baxter’s specially built wagon roll into the yard. Mayor Baxter handled the reins from his wheelchair, which was locked into place behind the dash board. She was mildly surprised Gus wasn’t riding along beside him. Baxter rarely went anywhere without his shadow.

  He swerved past the house in an arc, then backed the team until the rear wheels nearly touched the front porch. The tailgate was twice as tall as the single-box sides on the wagon. But it wasn’t an ordinary tailgate, it was a ramp. It was hinged at the bottom and lowered from inside the wagon by means of a chain at each top corner. The ramp/gate wasn’t long enough to allow Baxter to exit the wagon onto the ground below, but it would let him wheel down onto a raised surface, like Sunny’s front porch.

  It was all in all a clever arrangement that gave the man a measure of freedom and independence that he wouldn’t otherwise have. He could, when necessary, get himself from his ranch to town, among other places, without help.

  She gave a quick glance around the parlor. If she moved that one small table next to her father’s chair, Baxter would be able to maneuver his wheelchair into and across the room.

  After moving the table, she stepped out onto the porch and waited while Baxter unlocked the wheels of his chair then rolled back and around. When he reached the tailgate he released a latch on each side and lowered the ramp until it rested on the porch, creating a gentle slope for him to descend.

  Before wheeling down to her he paused. “After my behavior yesterday,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you told me to turn around and leave.”

  Sunny took a deep breath and forced her hands to relax against her sides. Her mother had always said you could get more flies with sugar than with vinegar. “You’ve always been welcome at Cottonwood Ranch, Mayor.” She had to bite her tongue to keep from adding, But you aren’t welcome now. Instead, she smiled.

  “Thank you, Sunny.” He returned her smile and wheeled down the ramp.

  Sunny stepped into the house, and he followed, his chair making a soft kerthump, kerthud when he rolled across the threshold.

  She repeated a litany inside her head:…more flies with sugar…more flies with sugar…more flies with sugar. When she turned to face him she was able to smile easily. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Baxter wheeled to the small table next to the sofa. “Coffee would be good, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen she had to take several deep breaths to calm her churning stomach and her shaking hands enough so she wouldn’t pour coffee all over herself.

  This is ridiculous. He couldn’t make her leave the ranch. She had already decided that. He couldn’t hurt her, so she had no reason to feel so anxious.

  Still, she wondered why he’d come, if not to continue his threats.

  …more flies with sugar.

  She plastered a smile on her face and set a bowl of sugar—she fought a nervous giggle at that—and two cups full of steaming coffee on a tray.

  There was irony in the act. She was serving Ian Baxter coffee from the same tray she used every day to carry food to the man who’d put Baxter in that wheelchair.

  She wouldn’t think about it now.

  “Here we are.” She placed the tray on the table next to him.

  Baxter had already removed his hat and gloves and placed them on the table. He picked up his cup and took a sip, then settled back. “I came to apologize for yesterday, Sunny.”

  She fought to keep the sudden wariness from showing on her face. “There’s no need, Mayor. You said what you had to say. I can’t fault you for that.” Not much, I can’t.

  “But you see, I didn’t tell you the truth.”

  Sunny leaned forward, tension making her shoulders ache.

  “At least, not the entire truth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He set the coffee cup down on the table and clasped his hands together in his lap. “Your father and I did argue the day of the dance. But that was after we talked about his loan
.”

  “You didn’t argue about the loan?”

  “No.”

  “Then what did you argue about?”

  Thunderation! Was that a blush on his face?

  Baxter cleared his throat and studied his hands. Then he raised his head to that proud, almost arrogant angle she was used to seeing on him. “We argued about you.”

  It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, they made no sense. “I…don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t, my dear.” He smiled softly, sadly. “We argued because I asked his…permission…to court you.”

  Sunny couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d tossed his coffee into her face. She opened her mouth, then shut it. What could she possibly say to his admission? Thunderation!

  Baxter’s face cleared and he laughed. “Don’t looked so shocked, my dear. You must be, what, eighteen? It’s nothing short of a miracle that some man hasn’t snatched you up by now. You’re a beautiful woman. Very beautiful.”

  Now it was Sunny’s turn to blush.

  “In any case, your father didn’t think it was…appropriate, my asking to court you. He was still upset over the loan and said some things I’m sure he didn’t mean. I’m afraid I did the same when I let my pride get in the way. I accused him of not wanting to let you go because you took such good care of him and your sisters.”

  Sunny’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her lips refused to form words. A good thing, too. If she tried to speak, she knew the most inappropriate hysterical laughter would surely break loose.

  He wanted to court me.

  “I guess my pride was still stung when we spoke yesterday,” he said. “I know this isn’t the time to talk about courting, with your father barely in his grave, so I’ll drop the subject. For now. But I wanted you to know that when I got home from church I thought about what you’d said. I think I do remember seeing your father give money to one of the tellers. I tried to check on it this morning at the bank, but since the robbery, our records are in such a mess—they didn’t just take the money, you know. They tore up ledgers, too.”

  Sunny lost the urge to laugh. She knew her father made that payment, and she was almost positive he had mentioned getting a receipt.

  Baxter leaned forward and patted her on the hand, nearly spilling the coffee she’d forgotten she held. “I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about finding that receipt. I’m sure we can work out something satisfactory to both of us. All we need to do is put our heads together and figure out what that something is.”

  His hand lingered on hers and gave her the almost uncontrollable urge to run from the room screaming. It was the only thing she could think of that might help her escape the feeling that a thousand spiders were crawling across every inch of her skin.

  Instead, she forced herself to withdraw from his touch slowly, rather than jerking away. “Thank you, Mayor Baxter.”

  He beamed at her. “Ian. Please call me Ian.”

  She smiled without answering. Her face felt like it might crack.

  Baxter sobered. He took another sip of coffee and wiped his mustache with his thumb and middle finger. “There is something else I feel I need to say to you, Sunny, and I hope you won’t think I’m putting my nose into something that’s none of my business. Anything to do with Asher McCord is my business.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please hear me out,” he said gravely. “I know what a kind, compassionate person you are. And because I still feel guilty about what happened to your father, I can understand how someone of your sensitivity could feel responsible for what happened to McCord. But the plain truth is, Sunny, you and your sisters are not safe with that man under your roof.”

  “Mayor Baxter, I—”

  “Ian.”

  Sunny ground her teeth together to keep from screaming.

  “I know McCord is young—compared to me, anyway—and women consider him good-looking. But Sunny, the man is evil. I suspect he’s played on your emotions just to get into this house. It used to be his, you know. The same thing happened to his father as happened to yours—he got behind and couldn’t make his payments. Rather than own up to it, Nathan and Ash McCord rode to the Bar B and Ash McCord deliberately shot me in the back while I was defending my life against his father.”

  “I’ve heard this story before, Mayor.”

  “I know you have. But what you don’t seem to understand is, he did it in order to keep this ranch. The ranch you now call home. And now he’s here, under your roof. A roof he considers his. He’s using you, Sunny. He wants this ranch. He won’t let anything stand in his way. He’s already proved that by what he did to me. He’ll destroy your life the same way he tried to destroy mine.”

  In spite of, or perhaps because of Baxter’s words, Sunny felt her tension ease. “Believe me, Mayor, Ash McCord has done absolutely nothing to try to ingratiate himself with me. He is here against his will, and he lets me know it frequently. He is definitely not trying to get this ranch through me.”

  “That may well be what he wants you to think, but I know him better than you do, Sunny. How can you possibly excuse a man who would shoot another in the back?”

  Sunny felt her confidence shake again. “I don’t excuse him. But neither do I judge him. That’s not my place. You, a judge, and a jury have already done that. He spent five years of his life in prison for what he did to you. I don’t expect you to forgive him, but you can’t expect me to hate him just because you do.”

  Baxter’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the coffee cup. “That soft heart of yours is going to be your undoing, Sunny. Let me take him back to town in my wagon. Someone there can look after him.”

  Sunny shook her head. “If anyone in town had been willing to look after him when Mrs. Standridge fell and broke her arm, he wouldn’t have been in the condition he was when I saw him. I thank you for your concern, but Mr. McCord isn’t going anywhere until he can…get around on his own.”

  Her pause hadn’t been deliberate, but a last minute scrambling for words that wouldn’t reveal her belief Ash would soon walk again. For some reason, she didn’t want Ian Baxter to know that just yet.

  “You are a stubborn woman, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t say it unkindly, and Sunny smiled. “I’ve been called that, yes.”

  Baxter sobered again. “Where is he?”

  “Mr. McCord? He’s asleep.”

  Baxter’s brows drew together in a frown. He pursed his lips. “There’s something else you obviously haven’t considered about having him out here.”

  “What’s that?”

  He looked decidedly uncomfortable. He placed his now-empty coffee cup next to his hat and gloves on the table and clasped his hands in his lap. “There’s…talk, Sunny. In town.”

  “Talk?” She knew what he meant. After her experiences yesterday at church, she couldn’t not know. But she wasn’t going to let Baxter off the hook by admitting anything. “What kind of talk?”

  She watched a muscle in his jaw flex. “Talk about a young, unmarried, unprotected woman taking an unmarried man into her home. A man with a prison record. It’s not pleasant talk, Sunny, believe me.”

  “Just what, exactly, is this talk about? Do people think something…indecent is going on?”

  “That’s exactly what people think,” he said, falling unwarily into her trap.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Since everyone knows Ash McCord is flat on his back in bed and can barely move, it must be me they think is doing the indecent things. I thought people knew me better than that. Surely you know me better than that.”

  “Of course I do!” He gripped the arms of his wheelchair and leaned forward. “I know you for the sweet, innocent thing you are. You could never do anything indecent. But surely you realize that McCord could—and would. If he stays here any longer, your reputation will be in permanent shreds. No decent man will have anything to do with you.”

  “I guess it’
s just as well my father didn’t give you permission to court me then. How uncomfortable you’d be now if he had.”

  For one startled moment Sunny thought Baxter was going to leap out of his chair. “I didn’t mean me!” he cried. “I could never think anything bad of you.”

  She smiled. “Thank you for that. As I said, Mr. McCord won’t be leaving here until he’s able to get around on his own.”

  Baxter took a deep breath. “I can see your mind’s made up on this.”

  She nodded.

  “Very well.” He leaned back in his chair. “Just to show you how cooperative I can be, I’ll help him learn to get around on his own.”

  Sunny’s heart skipped a beat. Help him? Ian Baxter was going to help the man who’d shot him? Dear Lord, what had she done? Ash McCord would die before he’d accept help from Ian Baxter. And Baxter’s idea of help was highly questionable itself.

  “After all,” Baxter continued, “who knows more about getting around without the use of one’s legs than I do? I’ll send over one of my old wheelchairs. As soon as he’s capable of maneuvering on his own, he can leave here.”

  “A…wheelchair?”

  “That’s right.”

  Sunny was suddenly elated. What a stroke of luck! “Why thank you, Mayor. How generous of you. How thoughtful and kind.”

  “Don’t mistake me, Sunny. When it comes to Ash McCord, I don’t have kind or generous thoughts. I just want him out of here and away from you. The sooner the better. Before something terrible happens.”

  Sunny smiled, then stood and walked toward the door. Baxter, gentleman that he was, took the hint and followed her out onto the porch.

  “Whatever your reasons for helping, I’m grateful.” Sunny grinned. “I’m sure Ash McCord won’t be when he finds out it’s you doing the helping, but I’m grateful.”

  Before wheeling himself up the ramp and into his wagon, Baxter said, “I’d consider it an honor if you’d allow me to take you to church next Sunday. You and your sisters, that is.”

  “I thank you for asking, Mayor Ba—”

  “Ian.”

  Sunny nodded, but silently refused to call him by his first name. Why, the man was old enough to be her father! “I thank you,” she repeated. “But I couldn’t allow you to do that. You’d have to leave home in the middle of the night to pick us up and get us to church in time for services.”