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  “I can’t,” she wailed.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Stand. When I do my knees feel like this water, and won’t hold me.”

  Rusty handed her the towel. “Keep that out of the water.” Then he moved behind her, slid his hands under her arms, and lifted. Aware that he was able to stare at her bare bottom, Rachel quickly wrapped the towel around her, wincing as her muscles cried in protest from the movement.

  “All set?” Rusty’s voice sounded strained.

  “Yes.”

  ***

  Rusty steadied Rachel as she climbed from the tub, the towel wrapped firmly around her body. The body he had just gotten a fine glimpse of. Her bottom was rounded and plump, the perfect place for a man to hold onto as he rode her. Since he was several inches taller, he’d also gotten a look at her breasts, firm and high. With fingertip bruises on her delicate flesh where the monsters who tried to rape her had put their filthy hands.

  He pulled his thoughts back to where they should have been. Not on her beautiful body, but on the fact that she’d almost been raped not more than a couple of hours ago. Rachel had suffered fear, indignities, injuries—and here he was, ogling her coming out of the bathtub.

  Rein it in, buddy. She needs strength and security right now, not some randy cowboy hoping to get what those bastards tried to take from her by force.

  Rachel stood shivering, seeming uncertain what to do next. “Honey, why don’t you sit here on this chair, finish drying yourself off, and then put on this shirt? I’ll wait for you in the parlor.”

  She nodded, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. God, how she affected him. He was torn between finding those bastards and finishing them off, or holding her in his arms. No doubt she needed holding more than anything else right now.

  Shoving his hands into his back pockets, he wandered to the window. There were still lights on in the bunkhouse, but it appeared the wagon had been unloaded and put away for the night. Most likely the men were engaged in a late night card game. In the window, he saw the reflection of Rachel as she padded into the room.

  He turned, his heart filling as he took in his shirt that hung down almost to her knees. She looked so lost, so vulnerable. He walked to her and held out his hand. “Come here, honey.”

  Like an obedient child, she took his hand. The bruise on her face had turned an ugly black and blue. How he wished he had finished off the men who dared to put their hands on her. “I’ll get you a cold cloth to put on your eye. It might help the swelling.”

  “All right.”

  “I also have some pain powder I can mix up for you. The doc gave it to me when I bruised my ribs last year after getting stomped on by an ornery horse.”

  “Oh, that must have hurt.”

  “Yeah, it did at that.” He led her to the sofa and sat her down, placing a pillow behind her. “I’ll be right back.”

  He fished out the powder and mixed it up. Then he pulled a clean cloth from a drawer and soaked it in cold water. When he entered the parlor, Rachel sat at the end of the sofa, her knees drawn up, the shirt pulled down to her toes. She looked no older than Amelia, and just as scared.

  After drinking the pain medication and placing the cloth over her face, Rachel leaned back and yawned. “I’m so tired.”

  Without a word, Rusty scooped her up and headed to the bedroom. He placed her on the mattress and brushed the hair off her forehead. “Sleep. That’s the best thing for you right now.”

  He turned to leave as Rachel cried out, reaching for him. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll just be in the parlor. I’ll sleep on the sofa, but you can call me anytime you want.”

  She eased up on one elbow. “No. I don’t want to be alone. Please?”

  Good Lord, this would be torture. Her long, slender legs mesmerized him as she shifted over on the bed. “Please. Stay with me.”

  “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” How in hell was he to climb onto that bed and spend the night next to this woman who made him think of all the wicked things he’d like to do to her? Her scent, her soft body, those lips he wanted to plunder—

  One lone tear tracked down her cheek, and he was lost. Even if he had to recite Bible verses all night, he could not leave her. She needed him, and he would do what was necessary.

  “All right.” He pulled off his boots and socks and settled in alongside her. She curled into him, her delicate hand on his chest. Not having a choice, he slid his arm around her, pulling her even closer. She rested her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath. He didn’t think he would breathe all night.

  The cloth slipped from her face, so he gently removed it and flung it across the room. Her soft snores told him she was already asleep. He leaned back to look down at her. She looked so peaceful in slumber. He moved her damp hair from her face and ran his fingers down her soft cheek. Holding her snug in his arms felt incredibly right.

  Yet it was all so very wrong.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel awoke with every muscle in her body screaming in pain. She gently touched her eye and winced. But more frightening was how she was nestled next to Rusty as if they had every right to lie in bed together. They were both curled up on their sides like a couple of spoons in a drawer. He had his arm wrapped snugly around her waist, a bare few inches from her breast. His warm, soft breath teased the hair at her nape, causing shivers to race down her back.

  Her mind flashed back to the previous evening and the horror of what had almost happened. And what had happened. Thank God for Rusty. If he hadn’t arrived she would have been raped and possibly murdered. Her breathing sped up as flashes of the attack raced through her mind.

  “Are you all right?” She jerked at Rusty’s gruff morning voice, a jolt of panic rising through her.

  “Yes.” She licked her dry lips. “I’m a bit sore, but . . . all right.” She turned onto her back, and Rusty released his hold on her. She edged away, putting distance between them until she felt her back hit the wall. “Why are you in bed with me?”

  His deep green eyes studied her for a moment, something there she couldn’t quite identify. He scrubbed his hands down his face and said, “You fell asleep in my arms. I sat in the chair for a while, but you began to thrash around, crying out in your sleep. You settled down once I held you again.”

  Heat rose to her face at the image of him climbing into bed to comfort her in the dark hours of the night. The intimacy of the vision made her heart speed up, and her nipples to stiffen and tingle. This was not good. Nothing could come of these feelings. She was not the sort of woman to carry on with a man for pure pleasure, and she was definitely not in the market for another husband. Although, had she been, Rusty had all the necessary parts. That thought brought another flush to her already heated skin.

  “Honey, you sure look like you took a beating.” He gingerly touched her eye. “Your eye isn’t swollen anymore, but it’s really black and blue.”

  “What am I going to tell Will and Amelia?” There was no way she would let the children know what had happened to her. The ugliness of life was better kept from them. They had all their adult years to come to grips with how cruel some people could be.

  “The same thing I told them and Mac last night. You fell out of the wagon and bruised your eye.” He paused to brush the hair from her forehead. “I think you should go into town and report what happened.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I had a friend years ago who reported a rape and when all was said and done she came out looking like a harlot. They turned it around that it was her idea and the ‘poor man,’ as they called him, was unjustly accused. No. I won’t do that.”

  Rachel moved to get up and fell back down. “Oh, dang, I’m sore. How am I going to work?”

  “You’re not going to work.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “So the men will go hungry all day?”

  “No. Mac can take over for a day or two. And I think A
melia could be quite a help to him. You, sweetheart, will stay in bed for a couple of days.”

  She bristled and her brows climbed higher at his high-handedness. “I know you’re the foreman, but to my recollection, the foreman was not the cook’s boss.”

  His lips moved in that lazy smile that set her body to thrumming again. “As the foreman, it’s my job to make sure the ranch runs well. One of those responsibilities is to see the men are fed. You, darlin’, are in no shape to cook proper meals.”

  When had she granted him permission to call her by honey, darlin’, and sweetheart? It seemed he believed his rescue gave him familiar rights. Or perhaps it was them spending the night together in the same bed. Once more, heat rose to her cheeks.

  As much as she hated to allow Rusty to win one over on her, she knew he was right. It would be impossible for her to cook three meals today with how she felt. “Since breakfast should have already been started, you need to—”

  “Ma? Where are you?” Will’s voice had Rusty jumping from the bed, his eyes quickly roaming over himself, patting himself down.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure everything is covered.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What? Why wouldn’t everything be covered?”

  “Just making sure, darlin’.”

  Well, that certainly wasn’t comforting. Then remembering what her face looked like, she pulled the sheet up over her head. “I don’t want Will to see me.”

  “It appears you don’t have a choice.”

  Will barreled into the room, his energy a palpable thing. “Ma?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Why are you hiding under the sheet?”

  This was ridiculous. As much as she hated her son to see the results of the attack, she certainly couldn’t avoid him until her face healed. She slowly lowered the sheet, watching as his eyes grew wide.

  “What happened to your face?”

  Rachel glanced at Rusty, hoping he would answer. Never good at lying, she was afraid her son would see right through her deception.

  Rusty sat at the edge of the bed and drew Will closer. “Remember last night I had you and Amelia stay home and get ready for bed so I could escort your mama back?”

  Will nodded, casting an anxious glance at Rachel’s face.

  “When I found your ma, she had stopped the horses to rearrange her wagon, tripped on her dress getting out, and banged her face against the wagon wheel.”

  “Oh.” He climbed up on the bed and studied her face. “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, a little bit.”

  He continued to stare at her in wonder. “Maybe the next time you should wear pants.”

  “I don’t have any pants. Ladies wear dresses.”

  “Maybe Mr. McIntyre can lend you some pants the next time.” He turned to Rusty. “Right, Mr. McIntyre?”

  Rusty’s lips twitched, apparently holding in a grin. “That is actually a good idea, son. We’ll have to see about getting your ma fixed up with pants for her next trip into town.”

  “Where is everybody?” Amelia called from the front door.

  “In here, Amelia,” Rusty said.

  She hesitated as she entered the room, seeming unsure of herself as she took in Rusty, Will, and Rachel all sitting on the bed.

  Rachel put out her hand. “Come join us.”

  The girl shook her head and stayed where she was. “I just wanted to see if you were feeling better. That bruise looks painful.”

  “Yeah, my ma fell getting out of the wagon and banged her face on the wagon wheel.” Will offered the information with a solemn nod of his head.

  “All right, everyone. Will, your ma needs to rest for a couple of days. Amelia, can you find Mac and tell him he’ll need to take over the cooking until Mrs. Stevens is better?”

  She drew herself up and looked him right in the eye. “I can take over the cooking.”

  Rusty rubbed his index finger and thumb over his jaw. “I think you might be able to do it sometime soon, but for now we’ll have Mac take over and you help him.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” She bristled. “You might think you’re my father, but I don’t.”

  “Whether you chose to acknowledge me as your father is not important to this conversation. I am the foreman of this ranch, and those decisions fall to me. You will help Mac with the cooking, but he will be in charge. Is that clear?”

  Amelia crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at Rusty. Rachel reached out and touched him on the arm. “Let me talk to her.”

  He stood. “Fine. Will, you come with me. We need to get Mac started on breakfast, or the men won’t get a lick of work done this morning.”

  As he passed Amelia at the door, his expression softened, and he started to touch her on the shoulder, but the girl turned from him and walked over to the bed. He sighed and left the room, his little shadow two steps behind him.

  Will waved. “Bye, Ma.”

  ***

  How the hell was he supposed to be a father to a girl almost grown, and who wanted no part of him? Perhaps having her stay with Rachel had not been such a good idea, after all. He felt no closer to the girl now than he had when she arrived. But in the meantime, Rachel’s son followed him around like a puppy dog. Maybe they should switch kids.

  Nah, Rachel would never give up her son.

  After giving instructions to Mac about the change in cooking duties for a few days, he and Will grabbed some apples, a chunk of cheese, and a couple of day-old biscuits. That would have to do them this morning. He was already behind schedule for the day. Determined to get all the fencing inspected and any needed repairs finished before fall, Rusty pushed the men. But the one he was the hardest on was himself.

  With miles of barbed wire to check, all the men spent a good part of their day riding the fences. Not as exciting as the old days of cattle ranching. With the animals enclosed and no longer roaming the plains, the cowboy’s job had changed from twenty or thirty years before.

  Big Bob had a first-rate ranch, and Rusty was anxious to add to his savings so he could one day have a spread of his own. As time went on, he’d need lots of hands to run his ranch, and someone to pass it all down to when he died.

  His thoughts drifted to Rachel. Now, there was an idea. Not only a fine looking woman, but a good cook, used to dealing with cowboys, and a son just chomping at the bit to work a ranch. If he could just get past his belief that all women were unfaithful, he might take a second—or third—look at Mrs. Stevens.

  Not that she had ever given him a reason to believe she would welcome him as a suitor. In fact, she’d said almost nothing about her marriage or husband. Had he been cruel? Did she have a distrust, or dislike of men? There was certainly no doubt of the attraction between them. Her blushes told him she was aware of him as a man.

  While pondering these thoughts, he and Will rode for hours, past windmills used to drive pumps that could draw water from underground, and miles and miles of fencing. The food they brought sustained them for their noon meal, along with some wild berries and a good sized catfish he’d caught and cooked over a fire.

  By five o’clock, they were headed back to the cookhouse, the ringing of the dinner bell a welcoming sound to their growling bellies.

  ***

  “I brought you some supper.” Rusty entered his bedroom and came to an abrupt halt to find it empty. Where had Rachel gone? Not that he expected her to take up permanent residence with him, but he thought . . . Hell, he wasn’t sure what he thought.

  He backtracked and crossed over the pebbled pathway to her house. Amelia opened the door at his knock, looking mighty worn out. “Oh, hello.”

  “Hello to you, too. How did the cooking go today?”

  Amelia rotated her neck and stifled a yawn. “Fine.” She closed the door behind him, and said, “Ah, sorry about this morning.” She stared down at her shoe and continued in a soft voice, “I think you were right. I’m pretty sure I would have made a mess of things if M
ac hadn’t been in charge.”

  Rusty felt as if he’d won a high stakes round of poker. Not only was she talking to him, she was actually telling him he’d been right. “I’m glad it all worked out. Mac told me you were a big help today, and he couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Really?” Her eyes grew wide and for the first time he saw a genuine smile on her pretty face. He studied her for a minute, looking for some resemblance to what he saw in the mirror every day. She was obviously Beatrice’s daughter, but his? Not so sure. “Is Mrs. Stevens in her bedroom?”

  “No. She’s in the kitchen with Will.”

  Rusty headed down the hallway to the kitchen, Amelia trailing behind him. One look at Rachel and his gut twisted again. Her eye looked terrible, and she sat stiffly in the chair, obviously in pain. All the anger he thought was behind him re-surfaced. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  She jerked at his tone. “Well, good evening to you, too.”

  “Sorry.” He placed the supper dish on the table and gently took her chin in his hand, moving her head one way, then the other. “You need a couple of days in bed. I can see the way you’re sitting here that you’re in a lot of pain.”

  “I need to get back to work. I can’t lie around in bed all day.”

  “I just talked to Mac and he said everything went fine today. In fact,” he turned toward Amelia, “Mac complimented Amelia on what a great job she did.”

  “I’m not at all surprised. Your daughter has shown quite a bit of skill in the kitchen.”

  The girl blushed; whether from the compliment, or Rachel’s reference to ‘his daughter,’ wasn’t clear.

  “Will, you seem to be having a hard time keeping your eyes open. Go on upstairs and go to bed.”

  “Ah, Ma. I’m not a baby.” A loud yawn followed, belying his statement.

  Rachel grinned and ruffled Will’s hair. “To bed, young man.”

  “All right.” Now that he had no choice, he dragged himself out of the chair, ducked when Rachel tried to kiss him, and left the room.