He nodded his understanding and stared into the fire with a thoughtful frown. When he returned his gaze to her, he said, “Think of it this way. If I wanted to rape you, what’s stopping me?”
Eden could only gape at him.
“You sure as hell couldn’t stop me,” he went on. “One second to pin you, three seconds to jerk those britches off, no contest.” Propping an elbow on a bent knee, he rubbed a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Son of a bitch. I just did it again. If my mother was here, she’d wash my mouth out with soap.”
Eden had a hysterical urge to laugh, a telltale sign that she truly was exhausted beyond all measure. Oddly, though, he had accomplished his goal with the bungled attempt to reassure her. She felt a little better. He was a strong man, could overpower her without half trying, and had had countless opportunities to do so if that had been his intent.
“Come to bed, Matthew.”
He pushed slowly erect, looking nearly as weary as she felt. “You sure? I’ve lost sleep before and lived through it.”
Pushing back a wave of apprehension, Eden patted a spot beside her. He retraced his steps around the fire pit, lifted the blanket, and joined her on the pallet. She rolled onto her side with her back to him, bracing herself for the weight of his arm around her. When it came, she flinched in spite of herself.
“You okay?” he asked huskily.
“No, but I’ll live through it.” Eden gulped and opened her eyes to stare blankly at the fire, willing herself to drift away into memories as she had so many times during her five days with the Sebastians, only she couldn’t quite manage it. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t touch me anyplace private.”
He curled his hand over the throbbing place on her ribs, turned his face into her hair, and said, “You’ve got my word on it.”
Eden still couldn’t relax. Visions of what the Sebastians had done to her ricocheted through her mind. She gulped and tried to control a shudder that ran the full length of her body.
“I know you aren’t much for conversation, Matthew, but could you talk to me for a while?”
“About what?” His voice rang with incredulity. “The whole idea here is to fall asleep.”
“I know. I just need . . . a distraction so I can relax.”
“A distraction?” His hand shifted slightly, and she jerked. “Easy,” he whispered, using the same gentling tone that he’d employed with the abused bay gelding earlier that day. “What kind of distraction? I’m not a storyteller.”
Eden didn’t care what he said. “I just need you to talk. About anything. Tell me about Oregon. I’ve seen photographs, but I’ve never actually been there.”
Silence. Finally he offered, “It’s pretty there.”
She waited expectantly, but he said nothing more. Another crazy urge to laugh came over her. He hadn’t lied. Words came very hard for him. “That’s all you can say?”
“There are lots of trees.”
“What kind?”
“Ponderosa pine.”
Her eyes tried to drift closed and she blinked to stay awake, still too skittish to lower her guard completely. “Are there mountains?”
“Yeah, the Cascades.”
Getting him to talk was as difficult as trying to scratch her own back. “Are they big mountains?”
“Yeah.”
“What do they look like?”
“Like mountains.”
Eden smiled sleepily. “Is there any snow on them?”
“Yeah, a lot of snow, even in summer. You can see them from the Lazy J.”
“Is that the name of your family’s farm?”
“It’s a ranch, and yes, that’s its name.” He shifted to get closer to her, pressing his bony knees against the backs of hers. Eden stiffened at the more intimate contact. His scent surrounded her, a pleasant blend of clean skin, male muskiness, and faint traces of soap. “Never could figure out why my father named it that. Nothing about raising horses and cattle is lazy. We worked our asses off from dawn to dark, and then some.”
Finally, he had volunteered a tidbit of information. “Who’s we?”
“My pa, my brothers, and me.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Eden, we have to get some sleep. We can’t dawdle here tomorrow so you can rest up. The Sebastians would be on our asses like bears after honey.”
“I know.” Eden realized that she’d finally stopped shivering. Heat emanated from his big body, which was surrounding hers like a cozy blanket. “Just a little longer, Matthew, and then I’ll shut up. How many brothers?”
“Three. Hoyt, Zedediah, and Gareth. I’m the oldest.”
“Any sisters?”
“Breanna, Caira, and Dacey. Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. I just need to hear your voice.” Her eyes tried to close again. This time she didn’t fight it. “Tell me about the Lazy J.”
“Not much to tell. Just a ranch.”
“Where is it in Oregon?”
“On the eastern side in the high desert. Pa found a grassy little valley with a running stream that keeps the meadows green and pretty. There’s a lot of timberland around it for free-range grazing.”
She could hear the yearning in his voice and blinked her eyes back open to say, “You miss it.”
“Not as much as I used to.”
“Will you go back after you’ve caught up with the Sebastians?”
“No. Nothing left for me there but sad memories.”
Eden couldn’t imagine never going home to see her family. “Where will you go then?”
“Not sure. Montana, maybe. It’s damned pretty country, lots of elbow room. I’ll find work. Save my money.”
“So you can start your own ranch?”
“All I’m good at is running cattle and raising horses.”
“What kind of cattle will you run?”
Eden never heard his reply. Between one breath and the next, she dropped like a pebble into a black pool of exhaustion.
Eden awakened in the morning to the delicious smell of frying meat. To her surprise, the sun was already rising. She pushed up on an elbow and rubbed her eyes, then focused on Matthew, who was hunkered at the opposite side of the fire, the pinkish light of dawn playing like fireflies on his tousled dark hair. Though she couldn’t be certain, the strands looked slightly damp, making her wonder if he’d already been to the stream to wash up.
“You should have wakened me. I can’t be lolling around in bed all morning.”
“I don’t think the Sebastians have come in behind us yet, and you needed a good night’s rest.” At her bewildered look, he added, “Think of the circle we made as a racetrack. The horses all start at the same point, but the faster ones leave the slow ones behind. If the faster ones get enough of a lead, they eventually circle around and come in behind their competitors. We have a hell of a jump on the gang, so now I’m almost certain we’re behind them, not the other way around.”
Eden could picture a racetrack, and what he said made sense. “You must think I’m hopelessly obtuse.”
It was his turn to look perplexed. “Dumb, you mean?” He shook his head. “You’re not dumb, Eden, only exhausted.”
Even after a bath and wearing fresh clothing, he had a lean, rugged look about him, but this morning, Eden found it more appealing than frightening. Studying his burnished countenance, she found herself wishing he would shave so she could see the rest of his face. She suspected that without the whiskers, he would be extremely handsome, with strong, masculine features.
Her boots had dried overnight. She struggled to pull them on over the bulky wool socks, which was no easy task and made her ribs feel afire with pain. When she finished fastening the footwear, she took a moment to catch her breath.
“My teeth feel as if they’ve grown a fur coat,” she blurted.
He chuckled. “Want to borrow my boar-bristle toothbrush?”
“You carry a toothbrush?”
He narrow
ed an eye at her. “Of course. How else would I keep my teeth clean?” He returned his attention to the frying pan. “I know using someone else’s toothbrush sounds nasty, but you could clean it with some whiskey.”
Eden was in no position to be picky. “Thank you. I may take you up on the offer. I’ve never gone six days without brushing my teeth or taking a bath in my whole life.”
He flashed her a crooked grin. “When we make camp tonight, maybe we’ll have time for you to get a good scrub. For now, you ready for a hodgepodge breakfast?”
Taking care not to jostle her ribs, which felt as tender this morning as they had yesterday, she turned onto her knees to roll up the blanket and pallet. He was full of odd terms to describe the trail rations he tossed together. “What exactly is a hodgepodge breakfast?”
“A little of this and a little of that. I don’t want to fire a gun for fear the sound will carry, so I rigged up a spear this morning, using a long branch and my hunting knife. I got us a rabbit, a squirrel, and some frogs.” He cut her a questioning glance. “You won’t turn up your nose at frog legs, will you?”
Though Eden hadn’t kept a running count, she felt fairly certain she’d never heard him string that many sentences together without being prompted. “Not as long as they aren’t hopping in the pan.”
“Truth is, they’re actually pretty tasty, and I make sure they’re all hopped out before I serve them.” He gave a frog leg a prod with the fork as if to prove his point. “My Livvy was a finicky eater, and fussy about what she cooked. If I wanted frog legs, I had to fix them myself, so I got plenty of practice.”
Eden heard a trace of sadness in his voice, and his use of the word was told her that the woman Livvy was probably dead. “She was your wife?”
He nodded. Then, as if he feared she might urge him to talk about her, he said, “I was serious about your being welcome to use my toothbrush. Anytime you want it, just holler, and I’ll get it out of the pack.”
“I’ll wait until after I’ve eaten.” She angled her head to look into the frying pan. “My goodness, that’s a lot of meat.”
“What we don’t eat now, we can have for lunch. I don’t know about you, but I get sick-to-death tired of eating jerky three times a day.”
“Amen. I liked jerky a week ago, but now the longer I chew, the bigger it seems to get.”
“I hear you. I’ve even used it in stew, believe it or not. Sometimes I don’t have time to hunt.”
Eden was about to stand up with the bedroll in her arms when she noticed a gun belt folded neatly on the dirt near where their pallet had been. The double holsters sported two Colt revolvers. She shot a bewildered glance at Matthew, thinking he might not have put his gun belt back on after rising, but he was wearing his weapons, leather thongs anchoring the twin holsters to his well-muscled thighs.
“They’re yours on loan,” he said, inclining his head at the weapons. “I figure any lady taught to shoot by Ace Keegan ought to be armed. I may be glad of the backup if the Sebastians take us by surprise.”
Eden extended a trembling hand to touch the butt of one revolver. Tears sprang to her eyes. Men of the West prized their weapons and rarely let anyone else use them. For him to loan her his spare guns was a very generous and extraordinary gesture. Having her own sidearms would give her a fabulous feeling of empowerment. She would be able to defend herself now.
“Thank you, Matthew.”
“Strap them on. Guns aren’t very useful unless you’re wearing them.”
Peeling off the heavy jacket, Eden bent to pick up the gun belt. To her immense disappointment, it was too large for her waist, even with the tongue of the buckle in the very last notch. Matthew drew the meat to the edge of the fire and came around the pit, drawing his hunting knife from its scabbard.
“Easy fix,” he said. “I’ll just add another notch.”
Eden shook her head. “You needn’t do that. This is too nice a gun belt to poke holes in it.”
“One little hole won’t hurt it any,” he insisted. “Pull it up tight so I can mark the spot.”
Reluctantly Eden did as he said, making sure the belt rested over her hip bones. As he bent low to twist the tip of the knife in the leather, the side of his face lightly grazed her breast, and she instinctively jerked away. He straightened and met her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”
“No need to apologize.” He grasped the long blade in his fingers to turn the handle of the knife toward her. “You want to do it?”
Eden accepted the weapon. When she finished marking the belt, he sat by the fire with it draped over his lap to add another notch. Within seconds, the gun belt had been altered to fit her. As she strapped it on and leaned forward to knot the holster ties around her thighs, her gratitude was inexpressible. Friend or foe? She was coming to think she finally had an answer to that question.
She felt indescribably wonderful as she straightened with the Colts riding her hips. Restored was the word that sprang to mind. Yesterday, she’d felt like a shadow of herself, but now, wearing the guns, she was Eden Paxton again, daughter to Dory, sister to four wonderful brothers who loved her enough to die for her.
“Thank you,” she said again.
She tested the pull of the leather on the revolvers. The weapons slipped easily from the holsters, just the way she liked. Next she began checking the cylinders.
“They’re loaded,” he told her.
Nevertheless, Eden gave each cylinder a whirl. Matthew inclined his head in approval. “Your brother trained you well. Always make certain your weapons are fully loaded.”
She returned the nod. “And well-oiled and clean. You do a fine job of keeping your equipment in first-rate condition.”
“Over the last few weeks, I’ve kept my weapons cleaner than I have myself, by far.”
She settled both revolvers into the holsters and ran her fingers over the looped belt to be certain she had extra bullets. “If they show up now, I won’t feel so afraid.”
His expression turned suddenly solemn. “If they do show up and get the upper hand, save your last bullet.”
Eden needed no further explanation. In hard country like this, a wise woman always saved the last bullet for herself. The long and short of it was, there were worse fates than dying, and for her, falling into the hands of the Sebastians again would be one of them. With the Colts at hand, she wasn’t that worried about it, though. She’d never had to kill a man, and she would be pleased to keep it that way, but if left without a choice, she felt confident in her ability to hold her own. With Matthew standing beside her, her odds of success were even better.
He crouched back down by the fire and repositioned the meat over the flames. “So, Miss Paxton, show me your stuff.”
She nearly laughed, and that felt absolutely marvelous. As recently as yesterday, she’d thought she might never want to laugh again. “My stuff?”
“Don’t actually fire the gun, of course. A shot may bring them doubling back.” He grabbed the fork to turn the quartered meat. As he sprinkled salt over the works, he glanced up. “But I would like to see you slap leather. I’ve never known a female fast draw.”
“That’s me, a bona fide Calamity Jane.” Eden slipped the guns in and out of the holsters a few more times to get a good feel for them. Noting Matthew’s expectant gaze, she began to feel self-conscious. “I’d feel silly, drawing on nothing. And it’s rude to show off.”
“When your partner wants to know whether or not he can count on you to guard his back, it’s not showing off. It’s a necessary exhibition of your skill.” He grabbed up the square of leather he used as a pot holder and sent it sailing. “Draw on that.”
Taken off guard, Eden forgot to feel silly and snapped the Colts from the holsters.
“Holy hell,” Matthew said, his voice pitched low in awe. “You’re lightning quick, lady.”
Eden’s cheeks grew hot. In truth, she’d been slower than usual because of her hurt ribs. She slipped the
guns back into the holsters. “Anyone can appear to be fast,” she said. “But speed counts for nothing if you can’t hit your target.”
“You can hit it.” Matthew’s blue eyes held hers. Yesterday morning, Eden had judged his eyes to be cold, chilling her like ice. Today, a flick of his gaze warmed her skin like a physical touch. “I know good when I see it. You can probably draw that fast and knock a walnut off a tree.”
“An acorn,” she corrected. “At sixty-five yards.”
He arched his dark brows. “A Colt’s only dependably accurate at fifty yards, maybe sixty, at a stretch.”
“Depends on who’s firing it.” Eden donned the jacket again, retrieved the square of leather, and joined him by the fire. “No brag, just information for my partner.”
He flashed one of those crooked grins, the left side of his mouth remaining immobile. “Information appreciated. How did you become that accurate at such a distance?” He’d no sooner posed the question than he added, “Don’t answer that. Ace, again, I suspect.”
Eden returned the smile. “Ace, the bane of my existence.”
Matthew filled a tin cup with coffee and handed it to her. “He was a hard taskmaster.”
Eden took a sip of the scalding brew. It tasted so good she closed her eyes for a moment in pure pleasure. “He wanted me to be ready for anything—high wind, pistol grips slick with rain, swollen holster leather. You name it, he put me through it.” She took another sip of coffee. “Our mother’s second husband was murdered before I was born. Ace was about eleven and saw it happen. Being only a boy, he was powerless to stop it and couldn’t protect Mama, either. I think it troubles him, even now, and I’m sure that’s why he pushed me so hard. He needed to know I would be able to defend myself, no matter what.”
Matthew checked the meat. “Makes sense.” He angled her another thoughtful look. “I’m sorry about your pa.”
Eden’s throat went tight. She considered telling him that Joseph Paxton Senior had not been her father, but then she thought better of it. Matthew didn’t strike her as being a narrow-minded, self-righteous man, but there was little point in putting him to the test by telling him the truth about her parentage. A lot of people looked down their noses at bastards, always had and probably always would.