Page 16 of Resonable Doubt

  "Just humor me, okay? I don't want this beautiful skin scarred, that's for damned sure."

  He dabbed a glob of cream onto her bottom and rubbed it in. He was none too gentle, which made her glad she didn't have any blisters. "Well, if I did scar, it's where no one would ever see."

  "It's where I would see."

  "You're mighty sure of yourself," she retorted. "The way things are right now, there's no guarantee you'll ever lay eyes on it again."

  "I'm damned sure of myself," he came back.

  "Sometimes I think God poured cement between your ears instead of brains."

  "The way I see it, you're the one who's a little dense. You see to the end of your nose, and that's it."

  He stopped applying cream and stood, striding into the bedroom and returning with a fresh nightgown, which he tossed at her in a wad. With that parting shot, he went to the sink and pumped the basin full of water, then dipped the point of his elbow into it. She pulled on her gown, jerking it down over her hips as she ran to him.

  "You're burned!"

  He clenched his teeth, easing his forearm into the cold water, inch by painful inch. She watched helplessly, realiz­ing that he had left his own injury untended until he had cared for hers.

  "You got burned putting out my gown, didn't you?"

  "No, I was playing with matches." He stiffened when she tried to look. "Just get back. It's not that bad."

  "You're furious with me and I don't blame you."

  He swung his dark head around. "Right now, Breanna, I'm furious with the whole damned world! I'd like to kill the idiots who did this, number one. I'm mad as hell that I'm caught in the middle of it. And every time I remember you fighting me out there, I want to shake you until your teeth rattle. I might be guilty of a lot of things in your eyes, but how could you believe I'd hurt you? Do you have any idea the things you said to me out there? Just leave me alone for a minute."

  Breanna closed her eyes. She couldn't remember what she had said, but she could guess. "Tyler, let me explain."

  "You don't need to. It's picture clear."

  "I'm t-terrified of fire." She licked her lips, averting her face. "Rob Thatcher—he died slowly, pinned under a tree. I—I didn't mean anything I said personally. I have bad dreams, that's all, about burning—"

  "You were clear on the other side of the mountain. You were, weren't you? You didn't see Rob Tha—" He broke off. The silence in the room crackled with tension. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I couldn't." Tears blinded her for a moment. She blinked them away. "I knew the fire was near the com­mune. There were—women—lots of little kids. I went to try to help. And we came across Rob. He—he wasn't even hurt, not that I could see. Just pinned. Dane and I couldn't lift the pine, it was too big."

  "My God...."

  Breanna took a quick swipe at her face. "He was hyster­ical, of course. He knew the fire was deliberate. We were there. He said the—the most awful things. Accusing us, screaming he'd kill us, damning us to burn in hell. He was still screaming when Dane dragged me out of there. I can still hear him. Still, after all these years, like it just hap­pened."

  "Breanna..." Tyler straightened and reached for a towel. "Come here."

  "No, no, I'm going to doctor that arm. Come sit down at the table."

  His eyes challenged her for a moment and then he sighed, walking over to the chair. He rested his forearm on the ta­ble's edge, looking up at her as she approached him with a tube of salve. "I wish you had told me all of it."

  Breanna's fingers trembled as she smoothed the oint­ment onto his skin. "It's blistered. You'll have a scar."

  "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I should have realized you would be scared of fire. I'm really sorry."

  Heat flooded her cheeks. "Tyler, please—I told you, it's said and I don't want to talk about it."

  "Some things need to be talked about. You can't bury something like that. It eats away at you like a cancer."

  "Would you shut up?" She stared down at him, the words hanging there between them. "Just, please, shut up...."

  "No." His gaze probed hers. "You can get angry. You can hate me for it. But you can't bottle it up any longer. Something else about that night is tearing you apart inside. I can see it in your eyes. What, Breanna? You can't leave it unsaid."

  "Watch me," she told him as she capped the tube. "Right now, I've got no time to talk about a fire that happened ten years ago, even if people around here still believe I set it. The one tonight needs taking care of first. You saw that mes­sage on the door. Someone set that fire on purpose, to drive me out of here. Well, I'll tell you this. It won't work. I'll be damned if I'll leave now."

  "And what if it's the cabin they burn next? What are you gonna do, pitch a tent?"

  "Very funny. And yes, if they burn my cabin, I'll pitch a tent. If you know who did this, I want their names. I'm going to the police."

  "We'll discuss that come morning."

  "No, we'll discuss it now, because I'm getting dressed and driving to town. Enough is enough."

  "No, Breanna, you aren't. I can't let you do that."

  "You what? Did I hear you say that you can't let me do that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but since when do you have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

  "Since right this minute."

  She laughed and took a step back.

  "Don't jut your chin out at me like that. You're not going to the police and that's final. I can't explain why, but I'm not letting you go."

  "You...?" She sputtered, trying to form sentences and saying nothing. '' You aren't letting me go? You and whose army plan to stop me?"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Breanna."

  "We'll see who's being ridiculous."

  He sat relaxed in his chair. "I'm warning you, Bree, I have to do what I have to do. Please don't force my hand."

  ‘‘Please and a threat, all in one breath? A second ago, you wanted me to bare my soul. I can't believe you." She took another step back. "I'll tell you this. Don't you dare put a hand on me, because if you do, I'll file charges against you, just as quick as anyone else.''

  "You don't mean that," he told her softly.

  Breanna hugged herself, staring at him. He was right; she didn't mean it. But she wanted to mean it. And a part of her hated him for dividing her loyalties this way, forcing her to choose between him and everything else that mattered to her.

  "My cabin could have burned down tonight. I should have gone to the police when I first saw those men on my property. I won't be that stupid this time. Now I'm going and that's final."

  He stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm tell­ing you I won't let you go to the police."

  She wheeled and went to her bedroom, rifling through her clothes. He came to stand in the doorway, the curtain swept behind his shoulder. When she had her things gathered to­gether, she placed her hands on her hips. "I'd like to dress."

  "Go ahead."

  "Very funny. Please leave and give me some privacy."

  He didn't move. She had her blouse in her hand and she threw it down on the bed. "You have no right to stop me."

  He sighed and closed his eyes for an instant. "Breanna, you aren't leaving this cabin." "Why, will it ruin things for your friends?"

  The muscle along his jaw rippled with anger at that re­mark. "Yes, it will."

  "So, you admit it?"

  "I admit nothing. You asked me a question and I an­swered it as honestly as I could. Someday, you'll see that I tried never to lie to you."

  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go to the po­lice."

  "Because I asked you not to," was his simple reply.

  "You ordered me."

  "I'm sorry. I should have asked you." He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and pressed his shoulder against the doorjamb. "I was asking for a fight when I didn't and I'm sorry."

  He studied the toe of his boot, making scuffing sounds on the floor. She stared at the top of his head, wishing that she could
read his thoughts. He straightened and let the curtain fall. Taking a step toward her, he put the heels of his hands on the brass bedstead, leaning forward with one knee slightly bent.

  Breanna picked up her blouse again, then let it fall. "I don't understand you; I don't understand you at all. If you care anything for me, how can you let this happen? If this place had burned, I would have lost everything."

  He looked out at the fruit cellar's charred siding. "It didn't happen, though, that's what's important."

  "It didn't happen? Is that all you can say?"

  "Yes."

  "Really? Or is it just all you choose to say?"

  His eyes met hers for an endless moment. That look was so intense and delved so deep, she felt as if he'd touched her. "Breanna, I know it's asking one hell of a lot. But please will you trust me for just a couple of days?" He held up a hand. "Before you answer, remember what I said about gut feelings. Think about it for a moment. Not about the gun, not about Chuck and Dane, but about me and who I am to you. I know it looks bad. I know it seems to you I'm being impossible. But if you'll just give me two days, I'll tell you everything."

  "Tyler..." Her chest filled with an awful ache. How could she say no when he looked at her with such pleading? "Oh, Tyler, this isn't fair...."

  "When you were in the creek, who took care of you? To­night, who put the fire out? When you fell in the manzani­ta, who tended your back? I'm not saying you owe me. God knows, I can't blame you for thinking everything you're thinking. All I'm asking is that you take a long, hard look at me and ask yourself if you can't give me a period of grace." He gripped the bedstead so hard that she could see his knuckles turning white, even in the dim light. "Please, Bree, a lousy couple of days? I swear I'm not involved in anything illegal."

  Full circle; she had come full circle. Her common sense told her to go directly to the police. Her heart was torn with doubt. Looking at Tyler, how could she believe he was guilty of working with Chuck? Of harassing her, trying to harm her?

  "Oh, Tyler, you don't know what you're asking." She sank onto the edge of the bed. "Remember when you told me it wasn't so awful that I didn't go to the police with my suspicions about Dane and the fire? A reasonable doubt, you said. It was understandable, not wise maybe, but understandable? Now you're asking me to do it again, to turn my back on what I know is right and wait. The biggest mistake of my life, and you're asking me to repeat it. Do you have any idea how it's haunted me all these years? I know something's going on around here that shouldn't be. If I'm going to be true to myself, I have to go."

  Again his eyes locked with hers. "I'm asking you to be true to me. Wait for two days, only for two days. That's all I need to put things right. After that, I'll drive you to the police myself, if you still want to go."

  The muscles in her stomach knotted. She brushed her fingers across the nap of the bedspread. "Can I think about it?"

  "Sure. I know it's a lot to ask."

  "And if I say yes, will you let me help you?"

  "Breanna, trusting me will be more help than you know."

  Trust. It seemed to Breanna she had operated on blind trust all her life. If he just needed "two days to put things right," she owed him that much. But she still planned to make that phone call to the police to see if her hunch about the counterfeiting was correct. She would try to get a de­scription of the woman who had passed the fake twenty in Grants Pass and see if it matched her own. And she would get information on how to identify a counterfeit bill if she saw one. Yes, she would give Tyler his two days, but she would do it despite the facts this time, not because she didn't know all of them.

  "I'll give you till tomorrow to decide," he said.

  "Yes, tomorrow," she whispered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chuck Morrow slid a partition back and began unloading a crate of money, stacking neatly strapped bundles on the waist-high pile of currency. "The shipment's got to go to­night. We can't hold off any longer. If this stuff doesn't hit Frisco by the weekend, we can't get it laundered for an­other month. And I'm not sitting on it that long."

  "Just give me one more day. I'll get her out of here, I swear it," Dane pleaded. "Come on, Chuck, please. She's family. I can't stand by and see her get hurt."

  "Look, pretty boy, I gave you time, plenty of time. If she's dumb enough to stay after that fruit cellar fire last night, that's her problem. I'll burn her out if they're not gone by dark."

  "Oh, that's right up your alley, isn't it?" Dane cried. "If someone's in your way, a little gas and a match will take care of them."

  "Damned right," Chuck retorted. "And don't you for­get it."

  Though Breanna's decision to give Tyler his two days' grace was already made when she woke up that morning, she still held off telling him. She knew it was ornery, but watching him squirm gave her a perverse satisfaction. He hadn't made the decision an easy one for her, after all, by being so closemouthed. The way she figured it, trust was a two-way street, and he wasn't holding up his side of the bargain. When she went to the bathing hole, Tyler fol­lowed. She smiled as he stationed himself on a rock, turn­ing his back to her.

  "Looks like I traded Coaly for another form of guard dog," she commented as she undressed.

  Ignoring her sarcasm, Tyler replied, "Sure is a pretty day."

  "Peachy."

  "Ah, come on, Bree. Look at this sunshine. It's fantas­tic."

  Breanna gazed at his back, wondering how many topics of conversation he could dream up to keep her talking. Her replies were his only way of being certain she was still be­hind him.

  Her silence spurred him to ask, "Don't you love this time of morning?"

  "Yes, Tyler, I love it."

  She especially loved the way the sunlight glistened in his black hair, she thought, sliding the soap up her arm. Sink­ing to her chin, she watched him lean forward to pick up pebbles and toss them aimlessly into the river. Maybe she did owe him the two days he'd asked for, she thought with an impish grin, but she didn't owe him an easy time of it.

  "You know what I'd like to do?" he asked. "I'd like to take off right up the side of that mountain, just you and me."

  She saw him cock his dark head to listen. Her grin wid­ened.

  "We could sleep under the stars. Cook on an open fire. Forget the whole world exists. Wouldn't you like that, Bree?"

  Breanna stood motionless in the water and made no re­ply. Tyler's shoulders straightened.

  "Breanna, are you okay?"

  Seconds ticked by.

  "Bree, answer me."

  It was all she could do not to giggle and give herself away.

  "Damn!" He leaped off the rock and whirled. When he saw her, he relaxed. "Why the hell didn't you answer me?"

  "Just checking something," she murmured demurely.

  "What?"

  "I thought you were talking to make sure I didn't leave— and I was right."

  He lowered himself to the rock, facing her this time. A twinkle of amusement entered his eyes. "Oh, you were, were you? And now what? Here I planned to be a gentleman and let you bathe in privacy."

  Breanna smiled sweetly, unperturbed by his veiled threat. "And now you're afraid I'll swim off? Tyler, you're jumpy. If I did swim off, what would I have to wear?"

  The laughter in his eyes faded. "Has it come to that? Do you really want to leave?"

  "If I did, would you let me?"

  "Why should we open that can of worms unless you want to go?"

  "I have the feeling that you would force me to stay here if I tried to leave. Am I right? I'm not sure what it is you're so afraid of, but I'm a threat to you now, aren't I? You haven't said it, but I may as well be your prisoner."

  "Breanna..." He tossed the handful of pebbles onto the rocks and brushed his palms clean. "Isn't the word pris­oner a bit strong? Is that how you feel about me? Because you found my gun, you no longer want to be with me?"

  She sighed in exasperation. "You are a master at twist­ing things, did you know that? And it
's always in your fa­vor. You answer a question with a question and turn it around until I'm sounding like the bad guy here instead of you."

  "Oho, so now the truth comes out. Because I have a gun, because I fibbed to you one lousy time, I'm the bad guy. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Thanks one hell of a lot!"

  Breanna stared at him in disbelief. He was a master at twisting things. And where did he think he got off by look­ing wounded? "Confidence inspires confidence, Mr. Ross. You do a lot of asking and no giving."

  "And just what have you contributed to our relation­ship? Tell me that!" he fired back at her.

  Breanna lost her footing and took a mouthful of water. She sputtered and coughed. "At least I told you everything about myself. Do you know what you could do with that information? You could destroy me, my cousin, our fami­lies. And I trusted you with it. But when it comes to your precious secrets, you clam up."

  He turned his back to her. "Just shut up and get dressed. There's no point in our having a huge fight about some­thing I can't change."

  "You see? I rest my case." Breanna strode angrily from the water to grab her towel. "I must be out of my mind to give you two days, absolutely out of my mind."

  He swiveled on the rock. "You mean you will?"

  She made a circle with her hand. "Two days, Mr. Ross, not a peep show."

  A boyish grin creased his face. "Breanna, you're a gem."

  "Yes. Well, two days isn't very long. And that's it, not a second longer."

  He leaped from the rock, ran down the bank and grabbed her by her shoulders to give her such an exuberant hug that he nearly dislodged her towel. "Two days is all I need. You're beautiful. Have I told you that?"

  "I'm wet, that's what I am. Turn your back so I can dress." Just as he started to turn, Breanna clutched his arm. "Tyler, did you hear that? That creaking sound?" Chills swept over her. "There in the copse."

  He cocked his head. "It's a limb groaning, that's all. See the trees swaying."

  "You sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure." He presented his back to her, chuckling to himself. "Of course, it could be the ghost. They make noises. Listen "He glanced back at her, lift­ing an eyebrow. "Chains rattling, doors creaking. Hear 'em?"