Only by Your Touch

  He remembered how sweet and tremulous her mouth had felt when he kissed her. Her lower lip had been slightly swollen, undoubtedly from the grind of the other man’s teeth. The thought had Ben knotting his fists and wishing for five minutes alone with the bastard. Chloe had been right to withhold the man’s name. He was in a murderous mood, all his pacifist convictions overshadowed by fierce feelings of protectiveness.

  He sighed and let his head fall back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. When his mother entered the room moments later, he pretended to be asleep. He was in no mood to talk with her any more tonight.

  Nan came over to lightly touch his hair. He nearly smiled when she checked his forehead for fever. No matter how confusing his life became, some things never changed, and her love was one of them. It humbled him to admit it, but he often felt like a lost child when she grew disoriented and didn’t know him. It filled him with a terrible sense of loss and dread, because deep down he knew that someday soon she would slip away and never come back.

  If his life had been a normal one, the thought of losing his mother to the disease might not have made him feel quite so bereft. Ah, but there was the hitch. He wasn’t normal, and he’d long since accepted that he never would be. Other men fell in love and built lives apart from their parents, but Ben no longer had that hope. Forty years from now, he would be a palsied, frail old man, isolated on a mountain ridge with only the animals for company. There would be no woman with snow in her hair to sit beside him on the porch at night and reminisce about days gone by, no kids to flock home for the holidays, and no grandchildren to comfort him in his old age.

  In short, when he lost his mother, he would lose his last link to family. His sister Karen had her own life now—one that she’d worked hard to build. Ben rarely saw her or her children. He had a hunch it was avoidance by design, and he didn’t blame Karen for that. Her memories of her childhood were as unpleasant as his. Granted, Hap’s venom had been directed mostly at Ben, but Karen hadn’t entirely escaped, and neither had their mother.

  Thinking of that, Ben reached up to clasp his mom’s hand. Drawing it from his forehead, he kissed the backs of her fingers. Feeling the fragility of her bones made his chest go tight. She was a study of contrasts. As a small child, he’d wished a thousand times for her to simply walk out, but Nan hadn’t been cut from that cloth. She’d remained loyal to the man she loved, even when his vision had been so blurred with drink, he couldn’t see her.

  Some people might brand her a coward for not taking a stand to shield her children, but Ben never would. She had put herself in harm’s way too many times, taking the brunt of Hap’s rage while he hid in the closet with his arms crossed over his head to block out the terrible sounds. Later, when he grew older, he’d stood his ground and taken the beatings himself rather than see his mother be hurt. But, even so, he had never forgotten the times when he hadn’t.

  Courage was a word with countless definitions. Chloe had a glorious strength and determination that were visible to all who knew her. A woman like Nan Longtree seemed pale and timid by comparison. But for all that, Ben admired his mother. Nan was a brave woman in her way, and she’d done her best. When Ben started to feel bitter because her best hadn’t been good enough, he had only to remember the countless injuries she had endured for his sake. How could he feel resentment toward someone who had proved over and over that she loved him more than she loved herself?

  “Love you, Mom.”

  She curled the tips of her fingers over his. “I know,” she whispered.

  That says it all, Ben thought.

  He pretended to drift back to sleep, and as he hoped, his mother took that as her cue to shuffle away. Lifting his lashes, he gazed after her as she vanished into the deepening shadows. Yes, vastly different from Chloe, he thought.

  And since when had Chloe Evans become his gold standard for women? Ben studied the moonbeams that shone through the window, recalling the shine of her hair. No matter where his mind wandered, it seemed to circle back to her. That worried him. And frightened him. Maybe he should take his mother’s advice and be up-front with her about everything. That would send her running—and end this madness, once and for all.

  Thinking about it gave Ben a headache. Rubbing his eyes and leaning back in the recliner, he willed himself into that shadowy, half-aware state just this side of sleep, his body relaxed, his mind drifting. Perhaps because he’d just been thinking of his childhood, images of his father slipped into his mind. Hap, staggering into the house late at night with a half-full jug of cheap whiskey dangling from his fist. Hap, slapping a cold pot of spaghetti off the stove and bellowing at Nan because she had no hot meal waiting for him at midnight. Hap, standing on the back porch of a morning, badly hungover and whiskey mean, shooting at the animals that had wandered into the yard overnight.

  As those memories took center stage in Ben’s mind, he shifted and slowly surfaced back to full awareness. But even awake, he felt chilled. His father’s aim had been poor after a night of hard drinking, and his unfortunate targets had often escaped into the nearby forest to endure slow, agonizing deaths. It had fallen to Ben to find them later and try to help them. Unfortunately, his gift for healing had always had its limitations. It had been his inability to help so many of the animals that had first made him dream of becoming a vet.

  “Damn,” he whispered raggedly, willing the memories away.

  Kicking down the footrest, he sat forward on the recliner, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands. Over the last several weeks, with so many wounded animals seeking him out, Ben had thought more than once that he was living through some kind of weird reenactment of his childhood. He knew it was madness. But sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father was reaching out from the grave.

  On one level, Ben knew it was impossible. Hap was dead, for God’s sake. He couldn’t be responsible. And yet the similarities couldn’t be ignored. Each time Ben found a wounded animal, he was swept back in time, and everything he did, everything he thought, seemed eerily the same, as if the last twenty years had never happened, and he was a kid again, trying to undo the damage done by his father.

  It definitely wasn’t Hap shooting the animals; Ben knew that. But couldn’t it be someone else who knew of those incidents and was deliberately reenacting them to get back at Ben for something? All the animals had been shot near his house. Someone, it seemed, wanted Ben to find them.

  Ben got up to pace. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he’d just solved part of the puzzle. It made an awful kind of sense. Everyone knew how he felt about animals. What better way to hurt him than to go after the things he loved most? Now, to answer the next most obvious question, whom did he know who might hate him that much?

  Bobby Lee Schuck.

  Braking to a stop, he stared thoughtfully into the fire. An almost forgotten memory came rushing back to him of Bobby Lee stumbling upon him in the woods while he was working over a wounded coyote. He’d been about fourteen at the time, Bobby Lee a year older. Bobby Lee had snorted in disgust and laughed at Ben for being such a bleeding heart. There had been a bounty on coyotes at the time.

  “Any normal person would whack off his ears and collect the ten bucks,” Bobby Lee had jeered. “But not pussy Ben. I got a dollar that says it was your daddy who shot it, too!”

  Ben had leaped to his feet, angry enough to forget everything his grandfather had taught him. “Go away, Bobby Lee!” he’d cried. “You’re trespassing on Longtree land.”

  “Yeah, so you say, but true Shoshones didn’t believe in owning land.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I can read, you dumb ass. I know lots of stuff about them. A Shoshone warrior could have several wives. Did you know that? And he was automatically married to any woman he took. The wedding ceremony that came after was just for looks, and a warrior’s firstborn son was always number one, no matter who his damned mother was.” Bobby Lee pointed a finger at Ben and
laughed again. “The way your father screws around, no telling how many kids he’s got in Jack Pine. And by Shoshone law, every one of them has as much right to his name as you do!”

  “Get out of here!” Ben cried.

  “Who’s gonna make me? Not a pussy like you, that’s for sure.” The coyote had gone into its death throes just then, prompting Bobby Lee to mimic the muscle jerking. “Oh, do I see tears? Duh poor widdle coyote’s gonna die. Where’s your Shoshone magic now, dickhead? Did you forget to bring your grandpa’s medicine pouch?”

  Ben was shaking when he surfaced from that memory. He closed his eyes, willing the rage to abate, but it was a very long while before it did.

  The next morning, Ben jerked awake to the sound of his mother’s voice. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering why there was sunlight hitting him in the face. He rarely slept in the daytime. In fact, for the last few weeks, he’d barely slept at all.

  “You were so exhausted you passed out in the chair,” Nan scolded. “Now, I ask you. Wouldn’t you have rested better in bed like a normal person? But, oh, no, there’s that deadline of yours. As if you got any work done, sitting up all night.”

  Ben groaned and flexed his shoulders as he sat up. “Mom?” He squinted to bring her into focus. When he saw that she was wearing jeans and sturdy boots, he said, “What time is it?”

  “Seven-thirty.” She gestured at the windows behind him, which caught the morning sun. “It’s so gorgeous out. I thought I’d take a little walk.”

  Ben rubbed his face again. After seven? He needed to go check on the bear and tend to the other animals up at the cave. He was glad now that he’d told Chloe to sleep in and skip coming up this morning. He was running so late he’d never get out of here before eight, and he didn’t want to explain where he was going.

  “A walk?” He struggled to clear his head as he met his mother’s worried regard. “Will you be sure to stay on the property?”

  “Of course. Down to the log deck and back. That’s about as far as these tired old legs can carry me anymore.” Nan ran a hand over his hair. “At least you got some rest, even if it was in a chair. That’s better than nothing, I guess.”

  Ben stifled a yawn. “Take Diablo with you, all right?” Whenever Nan ventured from the yard, Ben sent the canine with her. If, by chance, Nan grew confused and got lost, the wolf could lead her home or, failing that, at least show Ben where she’d gone. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

  “Diablo’s a good walking companion. I’ll be happy to take him.” She started to turn away, then paused. “I’ll rest for a bit by the log deck before I walk back. If I’m gone a bit longer than you think I should be, don’t fret.”

  It was only a quarter mile to the log deck. Even if she took a break, she’d be back before he was ready to leave for the cave. “I’m going to grab a shower.” He pushed to his feet and kissed her cheek. “We’ll have a little breakfast when you get back. Something easy this morning. How does oatmeal sound?”

  “Lovely.” Nan snapped her fingers. “Let’s go, Diablo. This crazy old woman isn’t allowed to go walking without an escort.”

  Ben smiled and shook his head. His mother was in fine form this morning. She rarely had lucid spells that lasted this long. Last night, she’d been feeling pretty good, and now this morning, she still was. It was nice, and made him feel as if he had his mother back.

  Fifteen minutes later, Ben heard voices when he stepped from the shower. He cocked his head, listened for a moment, and then swore under his breath as he toweled off. Chloe. He’d told her to forget coming this morning, but that was definitely her voice.

  He made fast work of throwing on some clothes and didn’t bother to shave. One benefit to being part Indian was a sparse beard and little body hair.

  “Oh!” Chloe reeled to a stop when he emerged from the master bedroom directly into her path. She held a bundle of soiled bedding in her hands. Her hair, caught at the crown of her head in a wildly curly ponytail, looked delightfully mussed and made a man want to mess it up even more. “You startled me. I saw your mom on the road. I figured you were out walking with her.”

  He shoved at his wet hair. “I sent Diablo with her.”

  Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “Well.” She smiled and shrugged. “Hi.”

  Jeremy wheeled into the hall behind her and braked to a fast halt when he saw Ben. He launched himself at Ben’s legs. “You’re here!”

  Ben laughed, grabbed the child under the arms, and tossed him in the air. “I live here. Why the big surprise?”

  Jeremy caught his face between his hands. The feel of the child’s little fingers pressing against his cheeks made Ben’s heart catch. He caught the boy to his chest on the downswing to steal a quick hug. Never in Ben’s recollection had any embrace felt so right.

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  Jeremy clung to his neck. “Me, too.”

  Ben tucked in his chin to frown in mock bewilderment. “You missed yourself?”

  “No!” Jeremy giggled. “I missed you!”

  Ben shifted the child onto his hip. Chloe was still standing in place, the soiled bedding held slightly away from her body, her hands knotted over the cloth with such force that her knuckles gleamed white. With one glance at her hands, Ben knew this was as difficult for her as it was for him—and that he wasn’t the only one alarmed by the feelings between them.

  Oddly, seeing the hesitation in her big brown eyes made him feel braver. He swung Jeremy to the floor. “That pup of yours could use a walk. There’s a leash hanging on the coat tree in the entryway. Just keep him by the deck so he doesn’t sniff any germs.”

  Jeremy was off like a shot.

  Chloe gestured with the bedding. “I was on my way to the laundry room.”

  Ben stepped aside so she could pass, then turned to follow her. Not smart. But he could no more pretend last night hadn’t happened than he could deny his Shoshone blood. He had to talk to her. It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t a choice. He just had to.

  When they reached the utility room, he positioned himself in the doorway so she couldn’t escape and watched as she stuffed the bedding into the washer. She knew he was there. Her fidgety, nervous movements were a dead giveaway.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked.

  “Oh. I’m fine. I slept like a baby.”

  Ben ran his gaze over her. She was wearing tight blue jeans that lent a whole new definition to the term packed. Her green knit top had a scoop neckline that revealed the creamy upper swells of her breasts, which he was happy to see bore no marks this morning. She was too sweet to be defiled. Damn, he liked the way she was made.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He searched her wide brown eyes. The innocent look became her, but he wasn’t fooled. She knew very well what was wrong. Or, more precisely, what was right, namely practically everything. Usually when two people clicked like this, they jumped in with both feet.

  “No, nothing,” he forced out. “I’ve just been worried about you. I’m glad to see you’re okay this morning. I could have sworn you had a bad scratch on your chest.”

  She flattened a slender hand over the spot. “I thought so, too, but it was only a smear of blood.”

  Now there was an interesting explanation. “Whose?”

  “Bobby Lee’s. I—” She broke off, her cheeks flaming.

  “Bobby Lee,” he repeated. “I see.”

  She blinked. “I didn’t mean to say his name.”

  “I realize that. Although why you’d try to protect the bastard escapes me.”

  She glanced past him into the hall and touched a finger to her lips. “Please, Ben. Don’t forget Jeremy.”

  “He’s outside with the pup.” Ben struggled to make sense of it all. He’d already determined that Bobby Lee was the shooter, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he’d also been the man who jumped Chloe. What did that mean? More important, was there a connection? Had Bobby Lee guessed that Ben was coming to care for
Chloe? Was this just another twisted way to make Ben suffer? It made no sense, yet Ben had an awful feeling he was right. Chloe had become a target. “The man’s worse than a bastard.”

  “He’d had too much to drink. Things got out of hand. It was—”

  “Bullshit. I can drink whiskey until my eyes turn amber, and nothing would induce me to force myself on a woman.”

  “That’s good to know. But maybe it’s different for him. Not everyone can handle alcohol, and maybe he just—”

  “I call bullshit again.” Ben’s blood was pumping through his head with such force he could hear the swish against his eardrums. “Drunkenness is no excuse. It’s never an excuse. Any man who hurts a woman, claiming booze is to blame, needs his ass kicked from here into next week.”

  She hugged her waist, staring at him from eyes gone soft with compassion. “I’m sorry. I think this subject may strike a little too close to home for you to discuss it rationally.”

  Bobby Lee had gone after Chloe. That was all Ben could take in. Sweet Christ. When he thought of all the animals that had endured horrible pain at the deputy’s hands, he broke out in a cold sweat. “You’re not going back there.”

  “Back where?”

  “To work. I won’t have it.”

  The widening of her eyes was no act this time. “I beg your pardon?”

  Ben saw the stubborn lift of her chin and knew he’d screwed up. A woman like Chloe couldn’t be ordered around. She’d get her back up every time. “Please,” he tacked on. “I’m afraid he’ll hurt you, Chloe. Please, don’t go back.”

  She held up a hand. “Save it. I’ve already quit. Not officially, but I did call and give notice this morning so they could get someone to cover my shift tonight. I’ll submit a written resignation when I go in this afternoon to clean out my desk.”

  Ben’s skin felt prickly. “Let me drive you.”

  She arched a finely drawn eyebrow. “I’m a grown woman, Ben. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand while I quit a job.”