To Claim a Wife Read online

  Silence crackled between them while she finished with the horse and led him into his stall. Her unease multiplied as she got the horse a measure of grain, checked his water, then stepped out of the stall and closed the gate.

  As if he meant to keep a close watch on her, Reno tolerated the wait. Caitlin wasn’t certain what to do next. His silent anger intimidated her, but she struggled not to show it and started up the stable aisle for the house.

  Reno fell into step beside her. Though neither of them spoke, the tension between them was taut. By the time they walked into the kitchen, Caitlin’s stomach was in knots.

  How could she live on the Broken B with Reno? She knew right away that she’d hate living day in and day out with his enmity. And yet, until she found out for certain if she qualified to inherit half the ranch, she had no choice but to put up with it.

  She didn’t relish getting into a battle of wills with him on a permanent basis, but if she had to, she would. There was always the chance he’d allow her to talk about Beau’s death. It might make some small difference, though what she could tell him had just as much potential to make him hate her more as it did to neutralize his hostility.

  Still, depending on the outcome of the blood test, she wouldn’t walk on eggshells around Reno. She’d had enough of that with her father.

  They left their hats on wall pegs and washed up. Caitlin used the sink in the kitchen while Reno used the one in the bathroom off the back hall. They both arrived in the dining room just as Mary finished setting the food on the table. As if the pleasant-natured cook sensed the hostility in the silence between them, she ducked back into the kitchen.

  Caitlin took her place across the long, polished table from Reno. Neither of them sat in the ornate chair at the head. Mary had set their places to the left and right of the big chair. The fact that they’d have to eat facing each other didn’t do wonders for her appetite, but Caitlin sat down and reached for her napkin.

  Reno’s low voice split the silence. “Visitation is tomorrow night at seven. Funeral’s at 10:00 a.m. the day after.”

  Caitlin couldn’t help that her gaze shifted up to meet his. Reno was watching her so closely that she felt like a moth on a pin. His dark brows were slanted at a disapproving angle.

  “Would you prefer that I skip the visitation... and the funeral?” Her soft question made his expression go black.

  “You’ll go to both. And you’ll play the part of the bereaved daughter.”

  The low words cut at her. She dropped her gaze to her plate. “My acting abilities are limited.”

  “Just show up, keep to yourself, and keep your mouth shut.”

  Stung by his edict, she toyed with her fork for a moment, but didn’t pick it up. “I’ll attend the funeral and the graveside service, but not the visitation.”

  At the funeral and graveside service, she would be spared having to make small talk with community members who, no doubt, thought of her as a murderess. The visitation was a much more social occasion, and it was easy to picture herself being snubbed and treated like an outcast. Not to mention having to come face-to-face with others like Reno, who simply couldn’t conceal their hatred. Beau had charmed and won over a lot of people in the eight years he’d lived on the Broken B.

  “You’ll go to the visitation.” The low rumble of Reno’s voice was final.

  Caitlin lifted her gaze to his furious one. “You know what everyone thinks of me.”

  “You were raised as Jess’s daughter. You won’t dishonor his memory by staying away.” He paused. “Whatever else they think, you earned.”

  She couldn’t look away from his harsh expression.

  “How many people know about the paternity test?” She watched his gaze flicker slightly.

  “Jess didn’t make a public announcement.”

  Caitlin heard instantly what Reno didn’t say. Jess might not have made it public, but everyone knew about it anyway.

  Her gaze fell, and the sickness that stole over her made her weak. Moments slid by as she tried to push back the melancholy she felt. Finally, her fingers numb, she pulled her napkin off her lap and lifted it to the table. She got up without a word and walked from the room.

  The moment Caitlin placed her napkin beside her plate and rose, Reno felt a powerful stroke of guilt. The low swearword that burst from his lips was quiet, but heartfelt.

  Caitlin walked to her room in a haze of fresh pain. Jess’s cruelty—even though he was dead—had just as much potential to destroy her as it always had. She’d been back in Coulter City little more than twenty-four hours and Jess had already spoiled her hope of being able to stay on peacefully.

  And now everyone knew he believed she was a bastard.

  Caitlin walked into her bathroom and removed her clothes, hoping a hot shower would lift her spirits. She stayed under the needle-sharp spray so long that the water eventually began to cool.

  Finally she turned off the taps and stepped out. The huge towel she used pleasantly abraded her skin. When she finished drying off, she wrapped the towel around herself from shoulder to thigh and pulled it tight.

  She craved the comfort of being wrapped so securely. The hunger to be close to another human being warred with her secret terror of allowing anyone to get close.

  The paradox was the torment of her life. There’d been a few times when she’d given in to the craving and dated in hopes of finding someone to love. But the moment a kiss or embrace began to progress to something more, she’d backed away.

  She’d never been touched by real passion. She’d never understood why feverish kisses and groping embraces left her unmoved. Eventually, she’d come to the conclusion that she was frigid. The reminder made her pull the towel tighter for a few moments more before she unwrapped it and reached for her robe.

  The stress of the past twenty-four hours had exhausted her. She brushed her teeth, worked the tangles from her hair, and methodically dried it. By the time she finished, it was just past 7:00 p.m. It didn’t matter that the sun hadn’t gone down yet. Sleep was too compelling a notion to resist.

  Caitlin reached the side of her bed and pulled back the comforter and top sheet when a sharp knock sounded on the door. She could tell right away who it was. Only Reno’s knock could sound that demanding.

  She made certain her robe was belted securely, then turned toward the door. “What do you want?”

  “Mary kept your supper warm.”

  Caitlin’s lips parted in surprise. The low words were gruff, but she knew Reno well enough to detect the hint of softness behind them.

  Memories of his visits to the Broken B when she was a child slipped past her fatigue. Those few golden recollections of the times Reno had been kind to her stung her eyes and swamped her with nostalgia.

  She stepped silently to the door and placed a shaking hand on the smooth wood. She rested her forehead against the wall next to it and tried to sound unaffected.

  “I was on my way to bed. I’ll thank her in the morning.”

  Silence.

  Then, “Open the door.”

  The low order made her lift her head and reach for the doorknob. Hurt and sudden anger made her yank the door open.

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t you get in your quota of hateful remarks today?”

  Because she’d been unable to meet his eyes those first seconds, she’d looked past him. A heartbeat later, it registered that he was holding a tray. The sight of her untouched food shocked her. Her gaze sped up to his solemn expression.

  Reno silently cursed the guilt that had prompted him to take her supper to her. If he’d thought he’d catch her in that skimpy little robe, he would have lived with the guilt or bothered Mary to bring her the tray.

  And if he’d thought he’d see the shock on Caitlin’s face when she’d noticed the tray, or that he’d witness the faint trace of hope that brightened the dull sheen of her eyes, he would have ignored the impulse completely.

  He stalked past her with the tray and carried it straight
to the low chest at the foot of her bed. He set it down and turned.

  Caitlin had barely moved. Her eyes searched his with an intensity that signaled her confusion.

  Compelled to discourage her from reading anything hopeful into his action, he murmured a low “Mary’s feelings might be hurt.”

  Caitlin’s gaze fell to the food tray. He sensed that her fragile hope fell just as far. While her attention was on the tray, his attention was drawn to her glossy mantle of dark hair. It streamed around her shoulders and arms, and hung past her softly rounded hips, creating a beautiful frame for her perfect body.

  Reno’s gaze followed downward, and he felt himself respond. Hatred had no power over his libido. Lust made him realize he was weakening toward her. And because disloyalty was anathema to him, his gut churned with self-disgust.

  Caitlin looked up from the tray to Reno’s face. His expression was as hard as she’d ever seen it. Already he regretted this minor kindness. She tensed in self-protection. Normal courtesy made her offer a quiet “Thank you.”

  Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. Neither of them moved. When Reno’s blue gaze made a slow, lingering journey from her face to her toes, she felt a peculiar heat follow all the way down. The room was suddenly stifling, and her heart pumped wildly. When his gaze returned to hers, her breath caught in her throat.

  Reno started toward her and she immediately shied from the door. His gaze shifted away from her as he walked past.

  The moment he was gone, she quickly closed the door. The restless ache she felt left her trembling in the silent room as she listened to his boot steps recede.

  At first, the visitation was a small nightmare. It seemed nearly everyone in their part of Texas had turned out for it. Caitlin stood woodenly and endured the brief hellos and stiff nods. None of the few who actually approached her to express condolences lingered to speak with her.

  Most of the Broken B ranch hands filed through the throng of townspeople, oilmen and cattlemen who filled the large parlor of the funeral home. Caitlin recognized many of them. Each ranch hand acknowledged her presence with a polite nod as they passed. Several feet down the line, she saw the three older cowboys who’d testified on her behalf at the inquest.

  A wave of emotion and relief made her eyes fill and she blinked determinedly. She endured an agony of suspense as she waited for the three to reach her.

  Would they acknowledge her in any more than the most minimal way? Had time and community disapproval changed their attitudes toward her?

  Their testimony had legally absolved her of guilt in Beau’s death, but she’d never been certain how much they’d seen. Her father had isolated her from everyone after that day, so she’d never been able to learn whether they’d also witnessed the foolish act that had precipitated Beau’s death.

  Lucky Reed was the first of the three to reach her. Bob Wilson and Tar Bailey followed. Their weathered faces were solemn, befitting the occasion.

  Lucky offered a callused hand—he was the first person all evening to actually extend his hand to her—and Caitlin reached gratefully to clasp it.

  “Hope yer meanin’ to stay on, Miz Caitlin. The Broken B’s yer birthright.”

  It didn’t escape her notice that Lucky didn’t remark on her father’s death or offer condolences. And as she looked into his kind, brown eyes, she saw the loyalty and sympathy he’d always conferred on her. Lucky, more than anyone, had witnessed her father’s harshness toward her, and Beau’s cruelty. And because he’d been a man her father had respected, his frequent defense of her had gotten him nothing more punitive than a cussing or cow camp duty on another part of the ranch.

  Privately, Caitlin had always believed that many of the Broken B’s ranch hands might have quit if Lucky had been fired. Her father had been savvy enough to know that his harshness with his employees had caused most of them to feel more loyal to his top hand than they did to him. She’d never been close enough to Jess to know how deeply he might have resented that fact.

  She gave the old ranch hand a smile that trembled slightly. Her soft “Thank you, Lucky,” was choked.

  The old man placed his free hand over the back of hers in a rare show of affection. His voice went lower. “Duvall’s a fair man. He’ll come around in time.”

  Now her eyes did sting. Emotions that were so powerful she could barely contain them made her clasp Lucky’s hands with both of hers.

  “Yes, about the time Broken B cows give birth to purple Holsteins.” The wild exaggeration made the old cowhand give her a sad smile.

  “If that’s true, you’ll be around long enough to see the Broken B switch over to a dairy operation.” His face went solemn again. “Yer mama was a fine, churchgoin’ lady. Jess had no cause to doubt her.”

  A single tear hovered on her lash and she jerked up a hand to dash it away. She could only mouth the words, “Thank you.”

  “Anything you need, anyone troubles you, you let me or Bob or Tar know.”

  Lucky’s gruff pledge was echoed by the other two men who filed up to shake her hand and show their respect. The three men lingered with her the rest of the evening in a silent demonstration of loyalty.

  Eventually, Caitlin’s emotions settled. She’d made it a point all evening to make certain she never looked Reno’s way, so she had no idea how he was taking things with Lucky and the others. Her cousin, Madison, never put in an appearance.

  It was a profound relief when the visitation ended and the crowd melted away. Reno must have gone out with everyone else, because Lucky and the others were the last to leave.

  Caitlin lingered alone in the flower-decked room. She glanced toward the casket and didn’t realize until she stopped beside it that she’d crossed to it.

  In death, her father’s features were less harsh. Though his long illness had dramatically changed his appearance, there were strong traces of the man he’d once been.

  The grief she hadn’t allowed herself since the night he’d died settled heavily on her heart. Though the mystery of her father’s rejection now had an explanation, she was still tormented by it. The knowledge that Jess had never felt remorse for his treatment of her, had never been interested enough in her welfare to consider her feelings or care about the impact of his actions on her life, had left a gaping hole in her heart and psyche. He hadn’t valued anything about her, and had gone out of his way to punish her for the sin he believed her mother had committed against him. Lucky believed her mother was innocent. If she had been, it compounded the tragedy of her upbringing.

  A large part of her suddenly hoped she wasn’t Jess’s biological daughter. Because it was less painful to think she’d been rejected by a man who wasn’t her real father than by the one who was, she found herself clinging to the irrational hope that the blood test would be negative.

  In those moments beside the casket, she acknowledged to herself that it might be more important to the child she had been to fail the blood test than it was to inherit the Broken B.

  Finally, she made herself leave the silent room. She walked out of the funeral parlor to her rental car and got in for the long lonely ride to the ranch.

  Reno stood next to the liquor cabinet in the den of the ranch house and poured himself a whiskey.

  He didn’t disapprove of the old ranch hands’ demonstration of loyalty and support for Caitlin. He knew that Lucky had always come to Caitlin’s defense. Over the years, he’d heard Jess disparage Lucky’s interference, but he’d tolerated it.

  Lucky, Bob, and Tar were scrupulously honest men, so Reno completely believed what he’d heard about their testimony concerning Caitlin’s failed efforts to save Beau—though he firmly believed she was responsible for Beau’s death.

  The judge hadn’t given strong consideration to testimony about the history of the conflict between Caitlin and Beau. Instead, he’d focused on testimony about what the three men had seen from a distance as they’d ridden toward the flood-swollen canyon.

  According to what he’d
heard of Lucky’s account, Caitlin had been lying a few feet from the lip of the canyon, with Beau standing between her and the water’s edge. In their mad ride to reach the two, the riders galloped their horses into a ripple of land, so their view had been obscured for a few precious seconds.

  By the time they charged over the hill, a six-by-ten-foot chunk of earth was dropping into the current. Beau had flung himself toward Caitlin to keep from falling in, but she was scrambling backward as the sod beneath her legs slid away.

  Beau had caught her ankle as she scrambled backward but, according to the three cowboys, the water had surged up and Beau’s grip had either slipped off her boot or the force of the water had torn him away.

  Though Lucky had testified that Caitlin had barely escaped being dragged in with Beau, Reno’s mother believed that Caitlin had deliberately kicked off Beau’s grip on her ankle. Sheila Bodine had stood up and declared that at the inquest before the judge had rapped his gavel and called for order. His mother had become hysterical then, screaming that Lucky was lying to protect Caitlin. The judge had ordered Sheila removed from the courtroom. Reno had escorted her out and the inquest had proceeded.

  Though Reno believed Lucky and the others had given truthful testimony, he thought their loyalty to Caitlin might have colored their interpretation of what they’d seen. Because they were still a distance away when the bank crumbled and Beau caught her ankle, Caitlin hadn’t been aware of their approach. It was logical for her to believe she could get away with kicking Beau’s hand off her ankle.

  Because word of Sheila’s outburst had gotten around, her interpretation of what Caitlin had done—deliberately kicking to break her rival’s hold on her—ended up being the version most people believed. Everyone knew about the bitter feud between Caitlin and Beau. Most people had sympathized with Caitlin, but when Beau was killed and Sheila demanded an arrest, people began to believe Caitlin might be guilty. After the inquest, when Jess threw Caitlin off the Broken B, everyone took it as a sign that even Jess Bodine himself believed his daughter had escaped the punishment of the law.