To Claim a Wife Page 3

  Perhaps it proved that Reno wasn’t as heartless as her father after all. Perhaps he didn’t hate her as intensely as she’d thought.

  The moment the notion entered her mind, she shoved it away. Reno blamed her for his brother’s death. How could he not hate her? In light of how he felt, the mystery of why he’d taken such good care of her and brought her home was baffling.

  It was too much to sort out. She got up and dressed, then went downstairs. The realization that she was finally home put tremendous pressure on her battered emotions. She almost retreated to her room before she reminded herself that she had to face everything eventually.

  Quietly, she wandered through the massive ranch house. She knew every inch of it, and it was a comfort to see that nothing much had changed. Her father had spent most of his waking hours out-of-doors, so she associated the house more with her memories of her mother than with him. Reno’s mother had changed almost nothing.

  Now that Jess was dead, she thought about her mother’s pictures. Had Jess destroyed them, or merely packed them away someplace? She didn’t think he’d given them to her grandmother, since she’d never mentioned them. The idea that they might still be in the house somewhere, hidden, made her determined to find them.

  She walked into the back hall on her way to the kitchen for breakfast when Reno came down the hall from the other end and met her there.

  His eyes were intent on her face, searching, assessing. “You look better this morning.”

  She stiffened as his blue gaze ran down her slender body. She saw the male interest in the look and felt faintly threatened. Once, she’d have given anything to attract Reno’s interest. Now it made her uneasy. Anger gleamed in his gaze. Clearly, his attraction to her infuriated him. She didn’t speak.

  “Mary’s waitin’ breakfast.”

  The news surprised her. “Mary? Isn’t Corrie around anymore?”

  “Corrie retired last year. Hannah, too, the year before that,” he told her.

  Corrie and Hannah had been the cook and housekeeper since just after her mother’s death. A part of her was relieved. Hannah had never seemed to approve of her. Both women had been charmed by Beau, though they hadn’t cared much for his mother. In the two weeks after Beau’s death before Caitlin had been banished, they’d been distant with her. She’d always believed they’d blamed her for Beau’s death. Like 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 a
nd 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 on the subject of loyalty and fidelity—to him. He’d proved at the inquest how little loyalty he’d felt toward his daughter. Though Caitlin had been too young to know about such things when her mother was alive, it wouldn’t surprise her to discover that her father was the one who’d been unfaithful.

  Had her mother been unfaithful? A man as proud as her father couldn’t have tolerated even the hint that his wife had cheated on him. Clearly, he’d never been able to separate his feelings for his daughter from his suspicion that she might not be his.

  The fact that he’d treated her so poorly was inexcusable. A child—even if it had been her—shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of a man’s anger toward his wife.

  Eventually, her thoughts turned to Beau. Beau had been a charmer and a daredevil. He’d also possessed a wide streak of cruelty that he’d often displayed with animals and with her. But he’d also been clever enough to conceal the cruel things he’d done from Jess and from Reno.

  She doubted Reno had ever known about his brother’s dark side. Beau had idolized his older brother and had behaved well around Reno to impress him. Privately, Beau had reveled in the fact that his mother favored him over her older son. Sheila Duvall Bodine had a penchant for spoiling her youngest, giving him anything he wanted, laughing over his pranks and laying into anyone who might take exception to anything her favorite said or did.

  Caitlin had never been impressed by Beau’s charm or his handsome looks. When he managed to skillfully play to her father’s desire for a son and completely dominated Jess’s time and attention, she’d hated Beau for upstaging her. Her father finally had the male child he’d resented not having, and he’d completely lost interest in his daughter.

  It had been terrible to see her father bond so instantly and completely to his new wife and her ten-year-old son. The three of them became the close, devoted family Caitlin had hungered all her life to be a part of. It’d been agony to be excluded from that.

  Reno was ten years older than Beau and he’d run his family’s ranch for years. Caitlin noticed right away that he’d also been excluded from the tight unit his mother and brother had formed with Jess. Nevertheless, Jess had treated Reno as an equal, and their relationship had been a good, solid one.

  It had never seemed to trouble Reno that his mother and brother’s lives were bound so obsessively close to Jess’s. He’d had his own life and a strong self-image that seemed to make him impervious to the trials and heartaches of lesser mortals.

  Caitlin had been instantly attracted to that. Reno seemed strong and tough and very nearly indestructible. He’d also paid attention to her.

  Not a lot—he made sure he kept her at arm’s length. But when he was around he saw to it that she was included. He made it a point to draw her out in conversation or to make some kind remark to her or on her behalf. She’d noticed immediately how much better her father treated her when Reno was around, and she’d always looked forward to Reno’s visits.

  By the time she’d turned seventeen, she’d had a crush on him. She must have been too obvious about it, because it was about that time that Reno’s attitude toward her began to cool. She’d suffered the loss of his attention, suffered the misery of knowing that the desperate flaw inside her had driven away another person who’d been important in her life. Reno’s heart had closed to her almost as completely as her father’s had, and it had devastated her to realize how alike he and her father were.

  A year later when Beau was killed, Reno had stood solidly against her. He’d taken the lead in ostracizing her, refusing to let her speak to him, then having her barred from Beau’s funeral. She was certain he’d played a major part in her exile, though it had been his mother who’d demanded that.

  If Sheriff Juno hadn’t stepped in on her behalf, she was certain she would have been arrested and jailed. The inquest had been traumatic enough to go through. The fact that the testimony of witnesses had absolved her of wrongdoing made no impression on Jess or his wife, and certainly hadn’t on Reno, who’d not been present for some of the most critical testimony. All of them, along with Maddie, had turned their backs on her. In the face of such blame, Caitlin couldn’t have stayed on in Coulter City.

  She’d taken her inheritance from her grandmother, who’d died several weeks before Beau, and wandered for months like a lost soul. She’d ended up in Montana, working on a dude ranch that had recently been converted into a summer camp for troubled teens. Though she’d signed on as a horse wrangler and taught several of the kids to ride, emotionally she’d fit right in with the ones who’d been sent there by social workers or the courts.

  Being around the kids who’d come through the SC Ranch helped her to come to terms with the emotional deprivation she’d grown up with. As painful and lonely as her childhood had been, the kids who came to the SC had lived through even tougher times. Her own emotional abuse and neglect seemed mild compared to the abuse several of the ranch kids had suffered. She understood their anger and she’d learned how to manage her own by watching many of them struggle to master theirs. The ones who’d failed left the ranch with only a remote chance of ever making a decent life for themselves. Those were the kids—the failures—who’d terrified her into getting a grip on herself.

  Coming back to Coulter City and the Broken B had been the severe test that had jarred her into realizing how far she still had to go.

  The peace of the old homestead eventually stilled her troubled thoughts. It was late afternoon before she saddled the gelding and led him out of the lean-to. She mounted and started back to the ranch headquarters at a sedate walk.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RENO watched Caitlin ride to the stable. She held herself erect, her eyes on the barn as if she didn’t notice the few ranch hands at work in the corrals.

  Now he noted the horse she rode—Jess’s favorite—and that she’d used Jess’s saddle. He bit back his irritation. There hadn’t been many horses at the stable that day. Not many extra saddles in the tack room either. Caitlin was an excellent horsewoman and a good judge of
horseflesh. The black gelding was one of the best horses still at the stable, so her choice might have been more a natural one than a symbolic one.

  Why he suddenly wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt aggravated him.

  But then, he also had mixed feelings about the outcome of the blood test. Now that he knew Jess had doubted his daughter’s paternity, he had to admit that Caitlin didn’t favor Jess much at all. He’d heard she was the image of her mother, and she must be because she resembled Jess so little.

  It was a fresh surprise for him to realize that he didn’t want her to lose every claim to Jess’s estate. She’d been raised as Jess’s daughter, whatever the circumstances of her birth. Jess should never have made her inheritance conditional on something she’d been innocent of.

  Even he had to admit that Jess had been brutally unfair. It would have been more honest, more merciful for Jess to have disowned her long ago and left her out of the will completely.

  When Reno realized the track his thoughts were on, and how far they’d gone, he felt a rush of anger. He watched her reach the stable and dismount. The painful turbulence she made him feel clouded his mind with dark thoughts.

  She moved with a regal grace that drew the eye and stirred the imagination. The memory of what she’d looked like in that skimpy robe the night before sent a gust of heat through him. No woman in his life had affected him this strongly and he’d had enough of them to know the difference.

  Once Caitlin led the gelding into the stable, he found himself stalking toward it. He caught up with her just as she pulled the saddle and turned to carry it to the tack room.

  “Where were you?”

  Caitlin hesitated at Reno’s gruff demand. She’d known he’d show up the moment she got in. She’d prepared herself, but the accusation in his tone sent a quiver of hurt and wariness through her. She didn’t glance up at his face, but stepped around him to continue to the tack room.

  Her soft “Staying out of your way,” was as much of a nonanswer as she dared. She felt his anger spike high as she stepped into the tack room and stored the saddle. She walked out—still not looking at Reno—and began to give the gelding a quick brushing.