Jackie Merritt - The Coyote s Cry p.02

Bram nodded. “Thanks, I’d love some coffee.”

They went into Annie’s house, and Bram sat at the kitchen table while Annie poured two cups of coffee.

“I can see the worry on your face,” she said, joining him at the table. “George probably just went somewhere with one of your brothers or cousins.”

“The dogs are gone, too, and the nests in the coop have at least three days’ eggs in them.”

Annie frowned. “Well, that’s odd. I would have gone over and gathered the eggs if he had told me he was going to be gone. And where on earth would he go that he could take the dogs with him?”

“That’s the answer I’m searching for, Annie. Did he say anything…? Let me rephrase that. What did the two of you talk about when you brought him the peaches?”

“Well, let me see.” After a moment Annie’s eyes lit up. “We talked about coyotes.”

Bram’s stomach sank. George didn’t make small talk about his spiritual guardian. Annie wouldn’t know it, she couldn’t possible have known it, but George had been imparting seriously important information.

“Annie, try to remember exactly what he said about coyotes.”

“Goodness, Bram, you sound just like a cop grilling a suspect,” Annie teased.

Bram took a breath. “Sorry, Annie. Would you mind telling me as much as you can remember about that conversation?”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind. I was only teasing you. Now, let me see. I gave him the little cardboard box with the things I’d brought over, and he said ‘Thank you, Annie,’ as he always does and then asked if I’d like to sit a spell. He offered a glass of lemonade and I accepted, and when he brought it outside, we sat on the bench under that big tree in his front yard to drink it. I asked him how he was feeling, which now that I think about it, was unusual. But he didn’t look a hundred percent that day. Not that he looked ill—don’t let me worry you on that point. But he looked like something was bothering him. And that was when he started talking about coyotes. I was rather surprised, I remember, because I hadn’t seen or even heard a coyote in quite a while. Actually, I do believe he said the same thing, so I really don’t know why the subject even came up.”

“Are you sure he said he hadn’t seen or heard a coyote’s cry in quite a while?” Bram persisted.

“Very sure.”

Bram slumped back against his chair. “There’s the problem.”

Annie laughed. “Surely you’re not saying he wants coyotes skulking about his place.”

“Annie, he’s very dedicated to Comanche traditions, and when he was a mere boy he left the family home and went in search of his personal guardian spirit. All young Comanches went on vision quests—it was a rite of passage and necessary to their spiritual growth. Granddad connected with a courageous young coyote, and he claims to this day to understand their language. Their cries.”

“Goodness,” Annie murmured. “Bram, is that your belief, too?”

“Not for myself, Annie, but I can’t doubt it for Granddad. He’s predicted or explained too many events based on his guardian spirit’s messages for me to doubt his beliefs. The last time we discussed it, his personal guardian had most recently taken the form of a big male coyote with a silver-tipped, dark gray coat. If that big fellow isn’t around anymore, or if the whole pack moved on, then Granddad is without his spiritual guardian and feeling lost.”

With a grim expression on his face, Bram got to his feet. “He took his dogs and went looking for his guardian spirit.”

Annie rose, looking aghast. “He’s wandering around looking for a coyote? Bram, that’s crazy. A man his age?”

“No, Annie, it’s not crazy, not to a Comanche. But you’re right about one thing. At his age he shouldn’t be wandering around alone. Damn, so many questions! Which direction did he go? How far did he get in four, five days? Does he have enough food and water with him?

“He did this before, about ten, twelve years ago. I was worried sick about him then, and he was only in his eighties. Now he’s almost a hundred. Annie, thanks for the coffee and information. I’ve got to be on my way. I’ve got to do something.”

Bram hurried out, with Annie following and trying to keep up with his long stride. “What will you do, Bram?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t just do nothing.” Bram climbed into his SUV. “Bye, Annie.”

He drove away with his mind racing a hundred miles per hour. He turned into George’s driveway again, hopped out of his vehicle and ran to the house. This time he searched for scraps of paper, something, anything, that George might have written a note on saying in which direction he and his dogs were going in search of that silver-coated coyote.

There was nothing.

But Bram didn’t give up, he couldn’t, and he went back outside and slowly circled the house with his eyes on the ground. Close to the house, the grass was too trampled for him to find any clues. But as his circles became larger and larger, he finally found footprints and paw prints heading southeast. The direction made sense to Bram, for about ten miles southeast there was a forest of cottonwoods, sycamores and elms along a creek. That would provide the old man with shelter and water, although Bram hoped he had taken water with him and wouldn’t drink from the creek. It wasn’t certain the water was polluted, but he felt that people his great-granddaddy’s age shouldn’t take chances like that.

Bram returned to his vehicle, got in and drove home to his own ranch, deciding what to put in his backpack for a ten-mile hike and possibly an overnight sleep-out. Of course, he’d have George’s stubbornness to contend with, that was certain, and if the old man wasn’t ready to go home, Bram knew he couldn’t force him. But what if he’d taken a fall during that long trek, or gotten ill and was in dire need of help? Bram had to find him.

He went into his house and saw the door of the master suite closed. Recalling Jenna’s rule, but wondering if maybe she’d shut the door just to avoid seeing him, he sat at the kitchen table and used the telephone to call the sheriff’s station.

Sergeant Lester Moore was the day’s duty officer, and Bram asked if anything was going on that required his attention.

“That insurance investigator is in town, Bram. He came in and introduced himself, then went over to the courthouse. He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Hell,” Bram muttered.

“Something wrong, Bram?”

“I don’t know. There could be. I was going to find out for sure, but now… I guess I can take the time to go by the courthouse. What’s his name?”

“Just a sec, I’ve got his card here…. It’s Robert Kirby. He said to call him Bob.”

“Okay, I’ll go and talk to him, but then everything’s in your hands, Lester. I’m going to be out of touch for the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow.”

“What the heck’s going on? You on the trail of that arsonist or something?”

“Wish I were, but it’s something else. Just hold down the fort, okay?” Bram could tell that he’d aroused Lester’s curiosity, but except for family, this really was no one’s business. “Did Bolling’s report come in yet?” The state fire inspector’s written report might be of some assistance to the insurance adjuster’s investigation, Bram figured.

“Not yet.”

“Okay. I’ll probably see you late tomorrow afternoon.” Hoping that was going to be the case, Bram hung up, and was getting to his feet when Jenna walked in with an armload of bed linen and towels.

“Good morning,” she said, and went on through the kitchen to the laundry room.

Bram swallowed hard and mumbled, “Mornin’.” Just the sight of her had always made him a little crazy, and now that he knew what kissing and holding her felt like, his former torment was small potatoes compared to what he felt now. If he had deliberately set out to inflict unbearable emotional torture upon himself he could not have done a better job. What on God’s green earth had made him behave so heedlessly last night?

Jenna’s hands shook as she put the bedding and towels in the washer. She’d been busy with Gloria and hadn’t heard Bram come home. Walking into the kitchen and seeing him like that, without any warning whatsoever, had been a shock to her system, which wasn’t functioning all that well to begin with. Where had he gone so early? Not work, for he wasn’t in uniform. And why hadn’t he gone to work? Why was he back home again? What if…what if he made another pass? What if he’d thought it over and decided that he shouldn’t have been so hasty last night? Maybe he wished now that he hadn’t put the brakes on during that runaway kissing session, and maybe he’d like her to know that.

With the washer running, Jenna returned to the kitchen, expecting to see Bram again. But the room was vacant, and an overwhelming disappointment instantly destroyed all of the foolish hopes she’d formed while taking care of the laundry.

Sighing heavily, and reaching for the composure that she always found so readily with anyone else—with everyone else—Jenna headed back to Gloria’s room. But Bram was in there. The door was open and Jenna could see him sitting on the bed next to his grandmother. He was holding her hand and talking to her, and tears suddenly filled Jenna’s eyes, emotional tears from seeing Bram’s love of his grandmother so clearly. If only he could love her like that, Jenna thought sadly.

Why had he never married? She’d heard very few stories about Bram and women. Whatever he did in his private life must be conducted very discreetly, for she’d never heard any gossip being bandied about. For the most part, Sheriff Bram Colton was liked and respected by the community, with the most prominent exception being Jenna’s own father.

It was a bitter pill for her to swallow. And there was nothing she could do to change Bram’s attitude toward her, either. If she knew anything at all about him, it was that his stubbornness was as deeply ingrained as her dad’s. Neither man would ever admit it, but they were very much alike in that regard, and apparently the women they knew either had to take them as they were or leave them be. But as sensible as banishing Bram from her heart and mind would be, Jenna wasn’t sure she could do it. More to the point, she wasn’t sure of how to do it.

She recalled something she’d read years ago about “a choice of difficulties,” and the term seemed to fit her present situation so well that it remained in her mind as she watched Bram and Gloria. It was when Gloria closed her eyes and turned her face away from her grandson that Bram did something that brought tears to Jenna’s eyes. He looked at his grandmother for several seconds, then covered his own eyes with his left hand. The line of his slumped shoulders and back conveyed grief and defeat, and Jenna’s heart reached out to him.

She didn’t stop to think, merely reacted, hurrying into the bedroom and putting her hand on Bram’s shoulder. It was meant to comfort him, nothing more, to let him know she understood how bad he felt. She hadn’t expected a simple gesture to startle him so. He practically leaped to his feet and, in the next instant, without a word, strode from the room. Dismayed, Jenna followed.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said to his retreating back, speaking rather sharply.

He stopped and turned to face her. “You didn’t offend me. I’ve just got a lot on my mind and didn’t expect what you did.”

“You looked ready to fold and I guess I was offering sympathy.”

He knew he was staring, undoubtedly an embarrassment for her, but he couldn’t stop doing it. If there was a more beautiful face to be found in Oklahoma, he had missed it. Jenna’s deep blue eyes, so heavily fringed with long lashes, and her full lips and flawless complexion all had a hypnotic effect on him. As many times as he’d run across this golden girl in years past, he had never had an opportunity to fill his eyes and soul with her beauty. And now, while he looked and studied and memorized, his fingers itched to release her hair from its clasp, and his blood began moving faster throughout his body.

He had things to do that shouldn’t be put off. Great-granddad could be in danger, and Bram knew he should have already filled his backpack and started back to George’s place to begin a search for the old man. Then there was the insurance inspector, Bob Kirby, to see before he left town. And God knew his heart was heavy with fears for his grandmother. Yes, he had a lot on his mind.

But still he stood there with Jenna, and felt things he had no business feeling, while thinking thoughts he had no right to think.

Jenna suddenly found breathing darned near impossible. Her heart was racing because of what she was seeing in Bram’s black eyes. He wasn’t any more immune to her than she was to him, and that pass last night hadn’t been an unexpected urge coming out of nowhere for him! He’d been feeling for her the same things she’d been feeling for him, and he had fought against any kind of relationship between them because of his Comanche blood.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and said, “Bram, darling, I do believe that I’m reading your mind.”

“Jenna,” he said in a hoarse, tortured voice. “Don’t do this to me.” Whirling, he rushed away, heading for his bedroom to get his backpack from the closet.

She stayed right behind him. “Don’t do what, Bram?”

“Don’t come into my bedroom, for one thing,” he growled.

“I’m already in.” She shut the door and leaned against it. “You’re scared of me.”

He gave a short, sharp laugh. “How’d you guess?” Bram went into the closet and came out with a good-size backpack.

“I always thought you were afraid of nothing,” Jenna said.

“Guess you were wrong, huh?” He took two pairs of socks from a bureau drawer and put them in the pack.

Jenna wondered what he was doing, but didn’t want to veer from the subject at hand.

“Are you afraid of every woman you’re sexually attracted to, or am I a special case?” she asked.

Bram nearly choked. “You’re pressing your luck, Jenna. I think you’d better leave. Gran probably needs you.”

“She’s resting and doesn’t need me. But you do. I didn’t know what to think last night, but I know now.”

Bram narrowed his eyes on her. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“I believe I’m saying yes. What does it sound like to you?”

Bram placed the backpack on the bureau and then stood looking at Jenna. “You’re making a big mistake,” he said raggedly.

“Maybe,” she admitted in a husky voice, and began walking toward him. “But let me be the judge of that, all right? You judge your mistakes and I’ll judge mine. An addendum to that remark is that I do not consider it a mistake to make love with the man I’ve wanted since I was old enough to want a man.” She put her hands on his chest and slowly slid them upward to lock together behind his head. “Are you going to do anything about this, or are you going to tell me again that we can’t do it?”

He didn’t have time to make love. That is, he shouldn’t take the time to make love. But he couldn’t stop himself, and he cradled the back of her head in his big hand, brought her closer with his other hand and then covered her mouth with his. It was a long, wet, hungry kiss for both of them. And they writhed against each other without one single sign of inhibition or objection. They had, it seemed, reached an understanding.

They managed to get undressed and over to the bed without letting go of each other. And then she was on her back and he was on top of her. He needed her immediately, and to appease his conscience he told himself that the next time they did this he would take all the time she needed and do all the things he should have done before the big step.

But he’d wanted her for too long to go slow this first time, and he was so driven to possess her that he rode her hard and fast. He came within minutes, and he could hardly believe Jenna’s cries of release at almost exactly the same moment as his own.

Totally drained of all strength, he collapsed with his face buried in the pillow and her mass of golden hair.

Chapter Five

Bram raised his head and looked into Jenna’s eyes. She smiled softly, touched his cheek and whispered, “That was beautiful, Bram. So very beautiful.”

He studied the emotion in her eyes and the beauty of her face, her glorious hair pooling on the pillow, and his own head swam with foolish thoughts, such as wanting to hold his golden girl to his heart throughout eternity. He wanted to agree with her perception of their intimacy, to go even further and tell her that making love with her had been the most beautiful, most meaningful experience of his life.

But the reality of what they had just done was too severe to soften with pretty words, and he couldn’t act as though everything was great when it wasn’t. He’d committed an unpardonable sin against Comanche pride—seduced the daughter of a man who looked down on him—and not for a second could Bram doubt that he’d pay for it in some painful way.

He pulled away from Jenna and got off the bed. Hearing her gasp of surprise and forcing himself to ignore it, he began getting dressed.

Jenna sat up, became suddenly embarrassed at her nudity, and pulled the edge of the bedspread up to her neck. Why wouldn’t Bram look at her? Talk to her? She didn’t know what to think or do. His stony expression chipped at her pride and made her heart ache. But then suddenly, unexpectedly, anger entered the equation. How dare Bram make passionate love to her and then act as though it hadn’t happened? No man had the right to treat a woman like that.

“Obviously you were hit by some sort of ridiculous remorse,” she said in a voice that was icy enough to put frost on the furniture. “It’s not as though you stole my virginity when I wasn’t looking, you know. You’re certainly not the first man I’ve slept with.” She hoped that insensitive reminder would make him wonder how many men had come before him, as she wanted desperately to hurt him as he’d hurt her. But when she saw him wince, she felt no satisfaction. In fact, she felt like toppling over on the bed, burying her face in a pillow and crying her eyes out.

But she would die before crying in front of him. He’d just destroyed any privilege he might have had to learn the secrets of her heart.

Dressed except for his boots, Bram sat on the one chair in the room to pull them on. “Just so you know,” he said, speaking without emotion or inflection, “I’ll be gone until late tomorrow. At least till then, I should have said, and possibly longer, though I’m planning to be back by then. I just thought you should know because of Gran.”

His flat, unreadable voice, so guarded, so distant, added insult to injury for Jenna. “Heaven forbid that you’d tell me something because you thought I should know it,” she snapped.

The bitter sarcasm in her voice shook Bram. He took a chance and looked at her, and exactly as he’d feared would happen if he made eye contact, his entire system came alive again from the memory of their lovemaking. He could easily get up from this chair, undress again, go over to the bed and make love to her a second time, only this time slowly, doing all of the things he’d omitted in his haste to have her the first time.

Jenna’s breath caught in her throat. The way he was looking at her…

But then, abruptly, he yanked on his second boot and got to his feet. “I’ll be out of touch all night,” he growled. “If you need anything, call Willow or any other Colton you can get hold of.” He went to the closet for some shirts and jeans, which he stuffed in his backpack. Then he walked out.

Jenna chewed on her bottom lip and fought tears for a few minutes, then, furiously aflame with resentment, she got off Bram’s bed. After a peek beyond the door to make sure the house wasn’t full of Coltons, she gathered her clothes and made a dash for the bathroom.

In the kitchen Bram was trying to clear his head enough to use the remaining space in the backpack for food. The pack finally contained a variety of foodstuffs that wouldn’t spoil without refrigeration, and Bram began filling two canteens with tap water.

He kept cursing himself for stupidity, for having so little control over his libido. Of course, Jenna wasn’t just any woman, but there was an enormous wall between them, and trying to hurdle it with sex was just plain ludicrous. Not that he was doing any laughing. What he’d done wasn’t even remotely funny or amusing, it was crazy!

Muttering curses under his breath, Bram gathered up his things and left the kitchen. He could see down the hall into the master bedroom, and Jenna was there with his grandmother. Saying goodbye to either one of them was senseless. Jenna would probably give him a dirty look for his effort and Gran probably wouldn’t even grasp that he was going somewhere.

Heaving a massive sigh, he left the house. From there he drove directly to the courthouse. He would try to keep the meeting with Bob Kirby short so he could be on his way back to George’s place. How much time had he wasted with Jenna?

Bram angrily slapped the steering wheel. How could he even think that those remarkable few minutes with her were wasted time? In fact, she should be steaming mad that he’d gone so fast. He’d been much too hot and anxious to go slowly, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected her to keep up with him.

Unless she’d faked her orgasm…?

But no, he would bet his life that her response had been genuine. Which just might mean that she did sleep around and he hadn’t heard about it. After all, she’d made sure he knew that he wasn’t the first guy to hit the target. Maybe she was a woman who needed sex on a regular basis, and with her living with him, so to speak, he was the handiest man around.

Grimacing, Bram mumbled another curse as he turned onto the main avenue and wondered despondently if those few minutes on his bed were going to tweak his conscience for the rest of his life. Considering that Jenna had resided in the back of his mind for years now, and that he had finally gotten his hands—and much more—on her, he suspected that he was doomed to suffer at least until he was too old to give a damn about the opposite sex.

Bram parked the car and walked into the courthouse. The burned areas were cordoned off with yellow tape and Keep Out signs, while it was business as usual in the undamaged sections of the building. Bram ducked under a long strand of the yellow crime-scene tape and called, “Mr. Kirby?”

“In here.” A young man with sandy hair and wire-rimmed glasses came from another scorched room. He was carrying an impressive-looking camera and wearing coveralls—smudged and soiled—over his clothing. “What can I do for you?” he asked in a friendly way.

“I’m Sheriff Colton.”

“Oh, guess I thought you’d be in uniform, like the deputies I talked to at the station.” Kirby offered his hand. “Nice meeting you.”

“Same here. Lester said you wanted to see me about something.”

Kirby looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “This fire is particularly disturbing. Ever since Inspector Bolling proved it was arson, the question of why anyone would want to destroy a fine old building like this one has nagged at me. Do you have any leads on the case?”

“That question is nagging everyone in the county, other than the arsonist, whoever he or she is,” Bram replied grimly. “We have a few leads, but I’m sorry to say they’re not very solid. I’ll tell you right now, Mr. Kirby, that there have been some peculiar things going on around Black Arrow for the past few months, and this fire was one of them.”

“Call me Bob.”

Bram took a second look at Kirby and realized how young he was. He could be thirty, but certainly no older. The insurance adjuster was closer to Jenna’s age than his own, Bram realized, and for some reason the seven-year difference in his and Jenna’s ages suddenly seemed like one more reason to stay away from her.

That conclusion caused a weakening sensation to wash over Bram, as though the last of the air in his own personal balloon had just been squeezed out. This was one of those days when the weight of too many burdens was almost more than he could carry on his broad shoulders and still stay on his feet. He’d been spreading himself too thin, and it was catching up with him. Knowing what was happening didn’t alter the situation. He had Gran to care for, his great-grandfather wandering in the hills only God knew where, and a weirdo—possibly a couple of weirdos—running loose in his jurisdiction, setting fires, breaking into the newspaper office and asking questions about the Colton family that made no sense at all. And they were clever weirdos, because Bram kept hearing about them nosing around town, here and there, but had never once seen them himself. And neither had any of his deputies. What in hell were they—ghosts or specters that could appear and disappear at will?

On top of that mystery, which might be comical if no physical damage had been done, he’d been neglecting the training of his horses. Hell, he’d barely taken the time lately to make sure the trickle of water constantly running into their drinking trough from an outdoor spigot hadn’t clogged, and to scatter good alfalfa hay in their pasture so their diet didn’t consist entirely of green grass.

And then there was Jenna. God, what was he going to do about Jenna? Bram ran his hand down his own face, a weary gesture that would have told Bob Kirby, if he knew him better, that the sheriff was reaching a dangerously explosive stage.

But ignorance was sometimes more appropriate to a situation than knowledge, and Kirby explained, “I’ve been taking photos of everything in the burned rooms.”

“For appraisal purposes?” Bram asked, calming his nearly shattered nerves through sheer willpower.

“Precisely. But it’s really sad. Furniture, woodwork, paneling and flooring can all be replaced, but the contents of the burned rooms are gone forever. I can tell that some of the books on those wall shelves over there were really old. Things like that are priceless.”

Bram didn’t enjoy standing there and lamenting lost causes. Yes, some of those books had been very old records of births, deaths, marriages and land ownership, and yes, historians would probably have deemed them priceless. But they were charred and curled and gone now, and he would do his utmost to bring the arsonist to justice. He was about to tell Kirby goodbye and good luck when the insurance adjuster spoke again.

“In that lower cabinet in the far corner are some things that weren’t destroyed. I think you should take a look at them,” Bob Kirby said.

Keeping a lid on the impatience badgering him, Bram followed Kirby to the cabinet. It was constructed of heavy metal and its dark green paint had bubbled and burned, but the cabinet wasn’t destroyed as the wood fixtures had been. Kirby bent down and pulled open the door.

“The books in here are still intact,” he said.

“And what are they?”

“Older than both of us combined and undoubtedly valuable. This is only a suggestion, but if I were you I would either appoint someone to get them out of here or take them myself. Put them someplace safe until the repairs are made in here, or maybe they should be in a museum.”

“They’re that old?” Bram hunkered down in front of the metal cabinet and carefully took out one of the large books with smoke-seared hardboard covers. He handled it gently and opened it to read notations dated in the early 1900s. “This is old.”

“There are two others,” Kirby said. “I suspect that no one working in these rooms had reason to unlock this cabinet for a good many years. It’s possible there wasn’t even a key anymore. Yes, Sheriff, it definitely was locked. I had to photograph the contents, if there were any, so I pried it open.”

Bram didn’t waste any time on a making a decision. “I’ll take them out to my rig. You’re right, they should be put in a safe place.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Together the two men carried the heavy old books out to Bram’s vehicle. Bram said, “I really appreciate this, Bob, and so will the other residents of Comanche County. Thanks for your help. I have to be going now, but I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Possibly. I should finish up here by tonight, but if not, then I’ll still be snapping photos in the morning. Drop by if you have a few minutes. We could have coffee together.”

Bram didn’t want to explain what he would be doing for the rest of today and probably all day tomorrow, so he merely said, “Thanks, I’ll do that if I can.”

He covered the books with one of the blankets he kept in the back of his SUV, then got into the driver’s seat and drove away. Almost at once he forgot his cargo and began concentrating on finding his great-grandfather.

And praying to God that some mishap hadn’t befallen the old man.



Jenna could call Bram “rat” and “snake” in her own mind, and she did, but she was still consumed with curiosity over his backpack. He was going to be gone all night and most of tomorrow, according to what he’d grudgingly told her. But what in heaven’s name was he going to be doing that would require him taking food, water and a sleeping bag with him? Was this law enforcement or personal business?

Trying with all her might to eradicate everything she’d ever known, thought or dreamed about Bram Colton from her brain, she brought a bottle of lotion to Gloria’s bed and began massaging the weakened muscles of the elderly woman’s legs.

“We really must get you up and walking more often, Gloria,” Jenna said gently. “Your family loves you so much, and wouldn’t you enjoy feeling strong and able again? Please don’t give up. Help me to help you.”

Gloria merely watched her with dull eyes, and Jenna’s heart sank. But she couldn’t accept Gloria’s lethargic lack of interest in her own recovery as though it didn’t matter. It did matter, not just because Jenna was a nurse and dedicated to doing the very best she could for any patient, but because Gloria was so very important to the Coltons. Important to Bram. How could she, Jenna, care so much for Bram and permit his grandmother to waste away before their very eyes?

Realizing that she had just admitted how much Bram meant to her caused tears to gather in Jenna’s eyes and her heartbeat to quicken. Only minutes ago she had decided to hate him forever, and in little more than the blink of an eye she cared for him? What in heaven’s name was wrong with her? Bram had used her—with her own damn help—and she cared for him?

If she had half a brain she would phone Dr. Hall and ask him to find another nurse to care for Gloria. Biting her lip to keep from crying again, Jenna continued to massage her patient’s arms and legs. She felt as helpless as Gloria truly was, Jenna thought sadly. She wasn’t physically disabled like Gloria, but emotionally she didn’t have the strength of a gnat. Not where Bram was concerned. Was she doomed to suffer indignities of this nature ad infinitum because her father and Bram were at opposite ends of a tiresome, pointless spectrum?

Jenna could tell that her hands were trembling, though she managed to keep them functioning and doing their job. She felt shaky internally, as well. This thing with Bram was far more serious than anything she could have imagined before the episode in his bedroom. If an acceptable replacement nurse magically materialized this very minute and she could leave this house forever, she would still shiver and quake every time she thought of Bram Colton.

Sighing hopelessly, Jenna got up from her perch on the edge of Gloria’s bed and went into the bathroom to wash her hands.

It hurt terribly to recognize and admit her own weaknesses, which when added up really constituted only one catastrophic flaw: feelings for a man who would use her sexually but never even consider anything more between them. Even with that hanging over her head, though, Jenna knew she would not be phoning Dr. Hall about a replacement nurse anytime soon.

One thing was certain, however. If some course of action occurred to her that would make Bram suffer even a fraction of her torment, she would carry it out in a New York minute.

He didn’t care how badly he hurt her, did he? Well, he just might find out that her once soft heart had hardened to pure granite.

In the meantime she was going to do her utmost to incite and stir Gloria’s desire to live. It really was the only thing that would halt or at least slow her downhill slide.



Bram turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to George’s place, feeling anxious to get started on his search for the old man. Bram had confidence in his tracking ability, which, in this case, was amplified by the fact that George had taken his three rowdy dogs on his own search for his guardian spirit. Those mutts would leave all sorts of signs for a tracker, and since George had no reason for stealth in his hike, he, too, would leave signs.

So Bram’s scope of confidence also included finding his great-grandfather rather quickly. His main concern was that the old guy might have taken a fall. George WhiteBear’s tall, lean, straight body and barely lined face—not unusual in older Native Americans—gave strangers a false impression. He looked much younger than he was, and it was often hard for Bram to believe George had lived for almost a century.

But the truth was that George WhiteBear was elderly, and a hell of a lot more fragile than he’d been during Bram’s adoring childhood years. A hard fall could easily break brittle bones, and he could be lying out there suffering. Bram prayed that wasn’t the case, but it was a possibility he couldn’t erase from his mind.

He drove as fast as he dared on the washboard road, and he was about half a mile from his great-grandfather’s place when he saw a plume of dust ahead, created by an oncoming vehicle. Annie must be on her way somewhere, he thought, and then frowned, because Annie’s pickup truck was red and what he was catching sight of was…white!

“My God, it’s Granddad’s old truck!” he exclaimed out loud. Had someone stolen it? To Bram’s knowledge it hadn’t been driven or even started in years. But with George gone so long, a thief could have tinkered with the engine, poured gas into the tank and just driven it away. Whoever he was, he was going to be one very surprised car thief when he was stopped by the county sheriff!

Bram turned the steering wheel of his big SUV and parked it crosswise on the road, effectively setting up a roadblock. He took the gun he always carried under the seat and got out, tucking the weapon into the back waistband of his jeans. Then he waited and watched his poor old great-grandfather’s stolen truck, a truck George still valued highly even though he couldn’t drive it, coming closer.

It was moving slowly, Bram realized with an angry scowl. Unusually slowly, in fact. Of course, the thief had probably spotted the makeshift roadblock and was trying to figure out a way around it.

“There is no way around it, jerk,” Bram mumbled. “This is it, the only route to the highway, and you’re going to the lockup. Count on it.”

The pickup kept coming at the same snail’s pace, and as it got closer Bram could see the form of the driver through the windshield. Then it was closer still and Bram could see details—long hair, black hat…long gray hair and black hat. “My God, it’s Granddad!” Bram exclaimed, too shocked to do anything but stare.

George stopped the truck and he, too, stared—straight ahead, with not even a glance at his great-grandson. Bram nervously cleared his throat and walked over to the opened window on the driver’s side.

“Uh, where are you going, Granddad?” he asked.

“Did your car break down across the road?” George asked.

“My car’s fine. I parked it that way to stop…well, when I saw this truck I thought someone had stolen it.”

“Why would I steal my own truck?” George still wouldn’t look at Bram, and Bram was catching on that the old man was angry with him, angrier in fact than Bram had ever seen him.

“I had no idea you still drove. I thought a stranger…a thief…had taken your truck.”

“As you can see, I took my truck. I suppose now you’re going to arrest me for driving without a license.”

“Granddad, I would never arrest you for anything.”

“You’re the sheriff, aren’t you? I’m breaking the law, aren’t I? Go ahead and get out the handcuffs.”

“Granddad!”

“If you’re not going to haul me to jail in handcuffs, please move your car so I can be on my way.”

Bram flinched internally. He owed this old man, the eldest member of the Colton family, the highest, most sincere respect he could muster. And truly Bram did respect his great-grandfather. He always had. But this whole thing was trying Bram’s patience, which had already been pushed pretty much to the limit today. He drew a calming breath, or one that he hoped would steady his nerves.

“On your way where, Granddad?”

“You didn’t tell me which one of my family is dying, so I’m not sure I should be telling you anything,” George said.

Bram exploded. “Dying! Where in hell did you get that idea?”

For the first time George turned his head and looked at his great-grandson. “Are you speaking to me?”

“I’m sorry, but today has just about done me in. Listen, I came by your place early this morning and you weren’t there. I talked to Annie and figured out you had gone looking for coyotes, your guardian spirit. I went back to my place to get a backpack, food and water, and here I am again, all set to hike the hills and look for you. Instead, here you come down the road in this old truck, which I didn’t even know still ran.”

“Why wouldn’t it still run? It’s a fine truck.”

“That’s beside the point. Granddad, would you please turn this fine truck around and drive it back to your place? I will take you wherever it is you want to go. Besides, I have something to tell you. It’s the reason I came out here this morning.”

“Oh, you were finally going to tell me who in my family is dying?”

“No one is dying!”

“Either you don’t know about it or think I don’t know about it.” George put the truck in reverse and stepped on the gas. The pickup shot backward, swerved to the left and ended up in the ditch.

Bram ran after it, suddenly scared to death. He breathed freely again only when he saw George getting out of the cab, apparently uninjured.

George called, “That old truck has more power than I remembered.” He calmly walked to Bram’s SUV and got in.

Bram looked at the old truck in the ditch and then back to his great-grandfather, now sitting calmly in Bram’s rig. Shaking his head, he walked over to his SUV and got in.

“I take it you want to leave your pickup in the ditch for now?” he said to George.

“It’s a good place to park it.”

“Fine.” Bram started the engine, then decided to get the worst of this meeting over with. While he drove he glanced at his great-grandfather and felt a swelling of love in his chest. “Granddad, it’s Gran. She had a stroke.”

George didn’t respond for a long moment, then said sadly, “Gloria, my dear child. I will outlive my daughter.”

“She isn’t dying, Granddad.”

“Not today, but soon,” the old man said.

Bram knew arguing was futile. Besides, he wasn’t so sure himself that Gran wasn’t dying. She wasn’t even close to being the grandmother he had adored all of his life. She had no sparkle, no life in her eyes, no laughter just waiting to erupt, and she displayed no will at all to recover and return to even a semblance of her former self.

“Where were you going?” Bram asked quietly.

“To town. Didn’t I already tell you that?”

“Maybe you did, but where in town?”

“The feed store. Since no one bothered to tell me who had fallen ill, I decided to find out for myself.”

Bram drove in silence for a while, then brought up the subject that he knew was on his great-grandfather’s mind. “Apparently you located your guardian spirit.”

“I did,” George confirmed.

“And he conveyed the message of illness in the family.”

“Death in the family,” George corrected.

A chill went up Bram’s spine. George’s premonitions, wherever he got them from, were usually much too accurate to ignore.

“Something quite unusual occurred when I finally found coyote,” George said then, surprising Bram, for his great-grandfather seldom detailed meetings with his guardian spirit. “He wasn’t alone. He brought fox with him, and she was a golden fox, so beautiful to behold that my eyes watered.”

Bram recalled stories of fox, raven, bear, coyote and other animals that represented guardian spirits, heard many times in his youth. This was the very first time Great-granddad had actually seen fox, and Bram couldn’t remember ever hearing about a golden fox.

“Does fox’s color have significance?” Bram asked.

“I believe it does, although I haven’t yet deciphered it,” George replied. “Is Gloria in the hospital?”

“She was. I had her brought to my place when the doctor said she could receive home care. She has a full-time nurse.”

“Then we are going to your place now?”

“Yes, Granddad,” Bram said with a catch in his voice. As sad and difficult as seeing Gran in bed and helpless was for him and the rest of the family, it was going to be doubly so for her father. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he added softly. “But when it first happened the doctors weren’t certain of the severity of her condition, and I saw no sense in worrying you unnecessarily. I can see now that I should have told you right away.”

“Yes, you should have.”

They finally reached the ranch, and Bram was relieved to see Jenna’s car parked in its usual spot. In the back of his mind he’d worried that she might arrange for a different nurse and leave because of this morning. He wanted her to care for Gran, true, but he also just plain wanted her, and he suffered over a dilemma that he feared he would never be able to solve.

After parking near the house, he got out and walked around the front of his vehicle to offer assistance to his aged great-grandfather. But when Bram reached that side of the SUV, he was already standing on the ground and required no assistance.

Together the two men walked to the house. Jenna knew the sound of Bram’s SUV by now, and her heart actually skipped a beat when she heard it arrive. Obviously his plans had changed, she thought nervously, because she hadn’t been worried about seeing him until tomorrow.

She was in Gloria’s room, where she had every right to be, and so she stood her ground and prepared herself to face Bram with a stiff upper lip and a challenge in her eyes that just dared him to say something rude to her.

She was taken completely by surprise when she saw the tall, dignified older man with Bram.

“Jenna, this is George WhiteBear, my great-grandfather,” Bram said without quite meeting her eyes.

But George turned his dark eyes on Jenna, and she smiled at him. He was a wonderful-looking old man, and she liked him on sight. So what if his great-grandson was the jerk of the century?

“Hello,” she said. “I’m very honored to meet you.”

George stared for a long moment, then said softly, “The golden fox.”

Bram heard him distinctly, and Jenna thought she did. But when she left the two men alone with Gloria, she frowned and decided she couldn’t possibly have understood what George WhiteBear had really said. After all, why would he say something to her about a golden fox?

That was just too bizarre.

Chapter Six

Brewing a pot of tea in the kitchen, Jenna’s thoughts kept returning to her introduction to George WhiteBear. If he had said “the golden fox,” which was what his words had sounded like to her, what would it mean? Surely he wasn’t using the word fox in the same context some men did when referring to an attractive woman. That dignified old gentlemen? No, she couldn’t believe George WhiteBear would talk that way behind a woman’s back, let alone to her face.

His remark could have had something to do with her blond hair, she mused. Maybe she had heard the word golden correctly and misunderstood the others. Maybe he admired light-colored hair and had complimented her.

Still pondering the incident, which seemed rather mysterious to her, Jenna poured tea from the pot into a cup and then carried the cup to the table. Sitting down, she sipped her hot tea and listened to the unintelligible rumble of male voices coming from Gloria’s room.

Jenna actually prayed that a visit from her father would lift Gloria’s spirits. Maybe he was the one person Gloria had longed to see all this time.

Sighing, knowing she was merely engaging in wishful thinking, Jenna found her thoughts going back to the morning and the urgency with which Bram had made love to her. It was a memorable event, however she looked at it. Even though he’d retreated into that rude shell of his practically the second it was over, being in his arms, his bed, having him naked and holding her, having him inside her and joined in the most intimate act possible between a man and a woman, was something she would cherish forever.

Emotionally she was in Bram’s bed again when he walked into the kitchen and said, “Oh, there you are.”

Jenna’s cheeks got warm because of where her thoughts had taken her, but she cleared her throat and did her best to look composed. “Yes, here I am,” she said.

Bram looked rather uncomfortable. “Listen,” he said, “don’t pay any mind to Granddad’s remark.”

“What remark?” Jenna asked, becoming strangely positive, in light of Bram’s discomfort, that she had heard George WhiteBear correctly.

“He only said one thing to you when I introduced him,” Bram said, speaking more sharply than he’d intended, to cover his embarrassment over having to talk to Jenna about a Comanche ritual she couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Obviously this was really bothering him, Jenna realized. Very well, she thought. She would stop pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Yes, he said only one thing,” she said calmly. “What did it mean? How should I take it?”

“I could talk about it for three days and you still wouldn’t grasp its meaning.”

Jenna’s blood began boiling. “Why not? Did my brain suddenly disintegrate? Or maybe you just see ‘stupid’ written across my forehead.”

Bram’s dark skin became even darker as embarrassment flooded his system. “I’ve never thought of you as stupid. If you got that impression from what I said, then I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Since we both agree I’m not stupid, tell me what your great-grandfather meant when he said ‘the golden fox.’ Those were his exact words, I believe.”

“Jenna, it’s a Comanche…uh, thing. You really wouldn’t understand, and that doesn’t make you stupid.”

Jenna held her cup to her lips and glared at him while she took a swallow of tea. “It makes me white, doesn’t it?”

“We are what we are. Neither of us can change that.”

“I wonder if you would if you could. Don’t you enjoy being part Comanche so that you can strut around in your sheriff’s uniform and rub it in to people like my dad?”

“I don’t strut and you’re deliberately twisting the situation to taunt me. Remember one thing, Jenna. Your dad could have me fired if he took the notion.”

Jenna scoffed. “My dad’s not your boss.”

“He has powerful friends in high places, and if he pulled the right strings, believe me, I wouldn’t be sheriff for long.”

Jenna frowned. Was that true or just another of Bram’s ruses to keep the two of them apart? He’d had her this morning, and if that was enough for him…? Jenna had to swallow hard to keep from breaking down before Bram’s eyes, which would destroy every speck of pride she possessed. She picked up her cup and realized it was empty. Rising, she walked over to the counter where she’d left the pot, and brought it to the table.

Bram watched her every move. Her grace had a hypnotic effect on him, and he knew he was staring, but couldn’t seem to break the spell.

Jenna sat again, refilled her cup, then looked at him. “What?”

Bram fought his way back to reality and mumbled, “I have to go out and see to the horses. If Granddad wants anything, I would appreciate your telling him that I won’t be long.” Before Jenna could do more than nod, he hurried from the room.

Again Jenna heaved a sigh. Bram was the most discombobulating man she’d ever known. It wouldn’t have killed him to explain what George had meant with that golden-fox remark. And if she hadn’t completely understood its Comanche meaning, so what?

And yet, despite Bram Colton’s many faults, she was crazy about him.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, for that was the first time she’d admitted her feelings in such a down-to-earth way.

A tear seeped from the corner of her eye. How could she be crazy about a guy who believed heart and soul that they lived on opposite sides of a fence?

After a few minutes of silent suffering, Jenna got up and went to a window to catch a glimpse of Bram down at the pasture with his horses and Nellie. But neither Nellie nor Bram was anywhere in sight and, wondering what else Bram might be doing outside, Jenna went to another window, this one overlooking the driveway. Sure enough, there he was, fiddling with something through the opened back door of his SUV. Nellie was there, too, sitting as close to Bram’s boots as she could get.

Jenna sipped her tea and speculated on what he might have in his SUV that required so much attention. His backpack, which he obviously hadn’t used, was a possibility, but why on earth didn’t he just bring it in the house and unload it?

Bram was wondering what to do with the three old books he’d taken from the courthouse for safekeeping. Actually, he’d forgotten about them until he’d left the house a few minutes ago to tend the horses. Now, looking at them, he frowned and pondered their worth. Maybe they had no value at all, beyond their age, which didn’t necessarily make them of any use to anyone.

Turning around, Bram sat on the downed tailgate of his SUV to think about the books. Bob Kirby thought the three heavy old things might be valuable to historians, so Bram figured he should take that into account. After all, the man was an appraiser of all sorts of goods, wasn’t he?

From the window, Jenna watched Bram sitting there motionless. Was he thinking? she wondered. Maybe about them? Remembering the morning? Reliving their kisses and their passionate lovemaking, as she’d done again and again throughout the day? Had this morning meant something to him, after all, and he’d merely been pretending it didn’t?

Her body began tingling when she thought of him naked. She wanted him again with a surprising desperation. If only they were alone, she thought. She would knock on the window and motion for him to come in, and when he did, she would meet him at the door, kiss every inch of his incredible body and—and…

Her fantasy evaporated and her eyes widened when she saw him get off the tailgate, turn around, reach inside the SUV and come out with a blanket-wrapped bundle. From the way he was holding it, she guessed the blanket concealed something heavy.

With Nellie on his heels, Bram began walking to the house. After only a few steps he heard a car and looked to see who was coming. His brother Jared drove up and got out with a grin.

“Hey,” Jared called.

“Hey,” Bram said. “I’ve got to get this inside.”

“Need some help?”

“No, I’ve got it. Just open the door for me.”

“What’re you carrying in that blanket?”

“Three old books from the courthouse records room that miraculously escaped the fire. The insurance appraiser recommended they be put someplace safe for the time being. Today’s been nuts, Jared. Granddad’s inside with Gran, and I forgot about the books until just a few minutes ago. Anyhow, I’m going to store them in my bedroom for now and figure out what to do with them when I have more time. Where’s Kerry and Peggy?”

“They’re at Kerry’s mom’s. We’ve got company, some of Kerry’s family. I stole away before dinner to check on Gran. How’s she doing?”

“Not good, Jared.” They were on the front porch, and even though burdened with the old books, Bram stopped to talk a minute before they went in. “I’m really worried about her now. Granddad’s guardian spirit told him about a death in the family. It’s a long story, but that’s the gist of it. Plus, you gotta hear this before we go in. When I was getting close to his place this afternoon with the express purpose of telling him about Gran, I saw his pickup coming down that dirt road. I thought someone had stolen it, and prepared myself to arrest the thief. But it was Granddad driving again, heading for town and madder than hell that no one had told him who in the family was dying.”

“Has he ever been wrong in his predictions?” Jared asked somberly.

“Not that I can remember. Sometimes they’re hard to figure out, but what he said today was clear as glass.”

“Well, let’s not panic,” Jared said. “Wasn’t his last prediction before this one about you? Something about your not hiding behind your heritage, and listening for the coyote’s cry that would change your life?”

“Now that one is tough to figure.”

“I haven’t given it a lot of thought, but you have to wonder if it isn’t something simple and we just don’t see it,” Jared said. “Oh, well, have any of us kids ever really understood our great-grandfather?”

“I thought so. Are you saying you never did?”

“Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. Ready to go inside? That looks really heavy.”

“It is.” Jared opened the door and Bram went in first. “Thanks.”

Jared saw Jenna and said, “Hello, Jenna.”

“Hi, Jared. Isn’t Kerry with you?”

“No, I came alone this time.”

“Did you know your great-grandfather was here?”

“No,” Jared replied, and Jenna saw the strangest look come over his face. “But something told me I should come here.” Jared tried to grin, but it came off pretty feeble, Jenna noticed. “A psychic message, maybe?” he said in an attempt to joke about his unexpected visit.

Jenna noted that Bram had gone immediately to his bedroom, and when he came back he no longer carried the bulky bundle.

“Well, I’m going to go say hello to Granddad and Gran,” Jared said, and walked away.

Jenna ignored Bram and went into the living room and sat down. Much to her surprise, he followed her.

“What is it?” she asked, thinking that he must need something from her. Certainly he hadn’t followed just to be in the same room with her.

“I wanted to, uh, say something.”

He looked embarrassed again, Jenna saw, which made her wonder what his next words of advice would be, since telling her to ignore what George had said upon their introduction still made no sense to her. “Go ahead and say it,” she said with some caution.

“I just wanted to, uh, thank you for sticking around. I mean, after, uh, this morning, I wondered if you would still be here when I got back.”

“After this morning,” Jenna repeated quietly. “So you actually remember this morning?”

Bram’s spine stiffened. His thanks had been genuine and heartfelt, and she should have known that and not started to pick a fight about this morning.

“I remember it,” he said flatly.

“Astonishing,” she retorted. “I never would have guessed.”

“Jenna, damn it, you know how things stand for each of us. Why can’t you accept the facts of our lives?”

“Because your interpretation of the facts of our lives is totally ridiculous,” she snapped much too loudly. Instantly she calmed herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t yell at people and I certainly wouldn’t want your family hearing me screeching like a fishwife. But I’m so opposed to your biased point of view no matter who spouts it that it’s difficult to maintain my equilibrium. My hold on sanity,” she mumbled as a frustrated afterthought.

“My interpretation of the facts of our lives is realistic,” Bram said through gritted teeth. “You live in a damn fairy tale, where all the little princes and princesses are white and given everything money can buy. Lady, that ain’t life in Black Arrow! Grow up and smell the coffee.”

Jenna jumped to her feet. “My mother’s death was a fairy tale? My father’s intolerance is a fairy tale? You insensitive clod, my life was no easier than yours was. At least you had a large loving family to kiss your bruises every time you fell down!”

“I don’t intend to fight with you.”

“Well, you’re doing a damned good imitation of it.”

“You have one quick trigger finger, lady, which I don’t mind telling you I never would have believed about you before this.” Bram turned and began heading for the door.

“What did you think I was, a doormat for men to wipe their feet on? I stand up for myself because there’s no one else to do it for me. Unlike you, you jerk, who has more protective relatives than he can count!”

Jenna stared at the empty doorway that Bram had just gone through. Then she slumped down on the sofa and wished the earth would just open up and swallow her whole.

After a while she told herself to try to remember that he had expressed thanks for her staying to care for Gloria, considering the way he’d treated her this morning.

That was what he had thanked her for, wasn’t it?

She was still sitting in a forlorn heap on the sofa when Jared came in. Quickly pulling herself together, she got to her feet.

“No need to see me out, Jenna,” he said. “I have to get to my mother-in-law’s for dinner.”

“Yes, it is getting close to the dinner hour. Jared, help me out, would you? Should I ask your great-grandfather if he wants to eat dinner here or should I just go ahead and prepare something?”

“Don’t do either, Jenna. He won’t stay.”

“He won’t? Are you saying he never eats with any of his family?”

“No, of course not. He enjoys holiday get-togethers as much as any of us do, but he’s already in mourning. He will want to go to his own home, most likely within the hour. And part of his ritual for the dying is a special diet.”

Stunned, Jenna gasped out loud. “He isn’t mourning Gloria, is he?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But why? She’s—she’s…” Jenna’s voice trembled and faded to nothing, for she herself was deeply concerned about Gloria’s frail condition.

“Jenna, Granddad knows things before the rest of us do. There’s so much to it that I doubt I could make you understand how I know that. But from early childhood all of his grandkids knew that Granddad was special and different from everyone else, even from our parents.”

Jenna couldn’t doubt Jared’s sincerity, and she appreciated his talking to her like an adult, an equal. Bram never quite did that. Of course, there was a lot more baggage between her and Bram than there was between her and Jared.

Tears filled her eyes. “If Gloria is truly that bad off, should I have her taken to the hospital, Jared?”

“Please, no. You’re taking excellent care of her and I believe she likes you.”

“How can you tell?” Jenna asked sadly.

“We all can tell. Leave her here, Jenna. She’s better off.”

“I…I know how much you all love her,” Jenna whispered.

“Yes, we do.”

“Is your great-grandfather in an agony of grief over it?”

“Granddad accepts death as he does life.”

“But you said he’s already in mourning.”

“It’s not the same as…Jenna, I hesitate to say white people, but that’s what it amounts to. Granddad knows Gran’s time is short, and he’s been chanting softly in the Comanche language. He will not weep or carry on. He will carry sadness in his heart for a while, but outsiders will not know it. Privately he will carry out some very old rituals, and if we bury Gran in the Black Arrow Cemetery, he will not attend the funeral.”

“Because…?”

“Because she will not have undergone the rituals of death practiced by Comanches for centuries. Jenna, I really have to go. Talk to Bram. He can answer your questions as well as I can.”

She walked him to the front door. “Thank you, Jared,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome. See you soon.”

Jenna closed the door behind him just as Bram raced from Gloria’s bedroom. “Did Jared leave?” he asked.

“Just now, yes.” Jenna moved aside, as she could tell Bram wanted to go outside. Apparently he had something to say to his brother before Jared drove away.

Jenna liked the Colton family very much, and she could never deny how strongly Bram affected her. But for the first time in her thirty years of life in Black Arrow she grasped, at least vaguely, the many differences between herself and the Native Americans of the area. Obviously people such as her father could not deal with anything different from their own plodding path through life. How sad, she thought, feeling sorry for her dad instead of condemning his pitifully narrow point of view, as she usually did.

Outside, Bram talked with Jared through the driver’s open window of his car. “He wants to go home. I wish he would stay, at least for tonight. Maybe if you talked to him?”

“Bram, it wouldn’t do any good. He has to do what he has to do. You know that. It’s never been any other way. Damn it, man, you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You should have let Uncle Thomas take Gran to his house.”

Bram shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have rested a single moment if she was somewhere else. I’ll get through this, same as everyone else.”

“Well, it’s true the whole family is feeling the same pain,” Jared said quietly. “We’re all lucky to have Jenna Elliot on our team. She’s an especially nice person, along with being an exceptionally good and caring nurse. Don’t you agree?” When Bram looked away and avoided his eyes Jared added, “Hey, something’s going on between you two, isn’t it?”

Bram put one hand on the roof of his brother’s car and let his head drop forward. “She drives me crazy,” he finally said.

“But in a good way?”

“A good way? Is there anything good about insanity?”

“Oh, come on. She’s a stunning lady, and if you’re smitten and she’s not objecting, you should be thanking your lucky stars. Tell me if this is none of my business, but have you made love to her?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Jared chuckled. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Well, good luck, big brother.”

“Oh, there’s one other thing. Granddad said that when he found coyote, his guardian spirit, it wasn’t alone. There was also a golden fox, and then when he met Jenna he said plain as day, ‘the golden fox.’ Jared, if I hadn’t already been half-crazy before that, it would have done the trick all by itself.”

Jared let out a whoop of laughter. “Looks to me like love and wedding bells are closing in on you, bro. Accept your fate. Go with the flow. Jenna’s not only bright and intelligent, she’s a beauty. How could you do any better?”

“The flow, you pitiful excuse for a comedian, leads directly to Carl Elliot. Would you want him for your father-in-law?”

Jared’s expression sobered. “Sorry for joking around. No, I wouldn’t want Carl Elliot for a father-in-law. Bram, I gotta get moving. I promised Kerry to be back in time for dinner, and they’re probably all getting ready to sit down as we speak. Catch you later, okay?”

Bram stepped back from the car and waved his brother off. Watching Jared’s vehicle disappear down the road, he wished he hadn’t told him about Jenna, and George’s “golden fox” reference. His love life really was no one else’s business, not even his brother’s.

“Love life?” he muttered under his breath as he started back to the house. Was that what he should call the mess he was making of things between himself and Jenna—a love life?

Remembering his horses at the last minute, Bram whirled away from the house and walked at a fast pace down to the barns and pasture. “Go get ’em, Nellie,” he said, and off the collie went, diving under the bottom rail of the fence and running hell-bent for the huddle of horses on the other side of the pasture.

Bram went into the barn and brought out a bale of hay. After cutting the strapping on it, he lifted it over the fence, then entered the compound and spread the hay with a pitchfork. He checked the water trough and spigot, and then reached down to pat Nellie, for she had brought in the horses and they were all eating hay.

“Good girl,” Bram said to his collie.

He returned to the house, and this time let Nellie come in with him. He had no more than closed the door behind him when his great-grandfather shuffled out of Gloria’s room and announced, “I’m ready to go home.”

Bram didn’t waste his breath in issuing an invitation to stay overnight, because he knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of George WhiteBear veering from Comanche ritual at a time like this. Bram merely nodded, opened the door again and let his great-grandfather go out first. Catching sight of Jenna from the corner of his eye, he sent her a glance and said, “I’m going to drive Granddad home.”

“Take that vicious dog with you,” Jenna said, wide-eyed.

“Nellie? She wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Then why did you tell me to give her a wide berth?”

“I honestly don’t know. To tell you the truth, Jenna, I honestly don’t know much of anything these days. See you in about an hour.”

He got George settled in his SUV and began the drive.

“I did not expect to meet the golden fox so soon,” George said when they were away from Bram’s house and on the highway. “These things usually take more time. Sometimes years.”

“Yes, Granddad,” Bram agreed, simply to sidestep a debate or argument. He really didn’t want to discuss Jenna with his great-grandfather, especially since George believed heart and soul that he had just met the human form of the magical golden fox he’d encountered during the renewal of his original vision quest.

“But we must always be prepared for the unexpected,” George said stoically.

“That’s true.”

“Even a golden fox could be sly enough to sneak up on a man.”

“You’re right.”

“But Jenna didn’t sneak up on me. I entered your house and there she was. I was very surprised to see her there. It indicates a very close connection to the family, but I haven’t yet figured out what it could be.”

Bram cleared his throat. “The connection is with Gran.”

“And maybe you?”

Bram felt the old man’s dark eyes on him. Lying to his great-grandfather was something he could never do, and he said, “There’s a connection with me, yes, but it’s not an unbroken chain, Granddad.”

“Ah, problems. Too bad you will have to go through so much trouble to win her.”

“Granddad, I’m not sure I want to win her!”

“That’s rubbish. Of course you want to win her. She’s the golden fox. It would bring great honor to the family to have her join her hand with yours in marriage.”

“Marriage! Granddad, Jenna and I hardly know each other.”

“I detect something not said in your voice, which leads me to believe you know each other much better than you can admit to me. Treat her honorably, for her heart is true and kind. I knew seeing the golden fox would bring good fortune to the family. Her first name is Jenna?”

“Yes.”

“And her second name? Who are her father and mother?”

Bram hated telling his great-grandfather who Jenna’s father was, for every Native American in the area had a very low opinion of the man, even though they shopped at his stores and banked at his bank. Carl Elliot had a monopoly on the area’s banking and retail businesses, however, which left most of Black Arrow’s residents very little choice in who they dealt with. People of means took most of their business to Oklahoma City and points beyond. It was the Native Americans who were more or less trapped into making Carl Elliot richer every day of every year.

“Bram?” George prompted. “Didn’t you understand my question?”

“I understood just fine, Granddad.” He drew a breath to answer.



Back at his house Jenna was warily eyeing Nellie. “So, my pretty little friend, what’s the truth about you? Are you naughty or nice?”

Nellie lifted her head from her front paws and pricked up her ears.

“You look friendly,” Jenna said, and took a step toward the collie. “But are you?”

Nellie got up suddenly and Jenna gulped. Hastily she held out her hand. “Go ahead and sniff me,” she said nervously. “If you let yourself like me, I might even give you a nice piece of roast beef. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Nellie approached the dangling hand, sniffed it, then started licking it wetly. Jenna grimaced. “Are you resorting to kissing already? Well, you’re no threat, are you?” She knelt down and petted Nellie, who was so delighted with the attention that she couldn’t keep her hind end still. “In fact, you’re a little love, a little sweetheart,” Jenna said. “I should be much more afraid of your master than of you, shouldn’t I? If you could talk you would agree, I just know you would.”

With her newfound friend, Jenna went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She couldn’t think of a reason in the world not to feed both Nellie and herself a decent dinner.



Even with a deep breath inflating his lungs, Bram found it hard to say the words. But he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer and so he just blurted it out.

“Jenna’s mother is dead and her father is Carl Elliot, the whitest white man in Comanche County.” He expected George WhiteBear to at least look disappointed, but that wasn’t what happened at all.

To Bram’s everlasting surprise, his great-grandfather smiled—a rare event on any day—and it wasn’t an ordinary smile, either.

It was one so rife with mystery that Bram blinked to clear his vision, to take another look at it.

Too late, it was gone. But it was a smile that Bram knew he would never forget, nor ever get over wondering about.

Chapter Seven

Preparing her own dinner before Gloria’s would be negligent, so Jenna set to work steaming some vegetables, which she then mashed and flavored with appropriate seasonings. Jenna tried the dish herself and found it to be quite tasty. Gloria just might like it, she hoped. Adding some apple juice and a small dish of lemon pudding she’d made earlier in the day, Jenna carried the tray into the master bedroom and put on a big smile.

“Here’s dinner, Gloria,” she said brightly. Setting down the tray, she tucked pillows around Gloria to put her in a better position for eating. Sitting on the edge of the bed for convenience’s sake, Jenna scooped a small portion of the vegetables onto a spoon. “Here you go, Gloria. This is very good. I tried it myself.”

Gloria accepted the bite, and Jenna said, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

She got no response from her patient, but Gloria accepted a second bite and also a drink of apple juice, which was very encouraging for Jenna.

“I’ll bet you enjoyed your father’s visit,” she said, and scooped up a third helping of the vegetable dish.

Gloria turned her head and Jenna’s heart sank. “Gloria, please, two bites of food are not enough. Here, try the lemon pudding.”

But Gloria refused another bite of anything. Sick at heart, Jenna finally gave up, rearranged her patient into a more comfortable position, lying down, and then decided to postpone her and Nellie’s dinner even further by getting Gloria ready for sleep. Gently she bathed the elderly woman with a soft washcloth, then massaged her limbs and back with soothing lotion and finally got her into a fresh gown. Gloria was no longer hooked up to an IV line, so Jenna offered a drink of water, and Gloria sipped it through a long straw. She looked at Jenna, and Jenna was positive she saw gratitude in the bedridden woman’s dark eyes.

“Sleep well, Gloria,” she said, affectionately touching her hand.

With tears clouding her vision, she picked up the tray of uneaten food and carried it back to the kitchen. Nellie appeared again, as if by magic, and Jenna absently realized that the little collie hadn’t followed her into the sickroom.

“She won’t eat, Nellie,” Jenna said sadly, and then wondered if talking to a dog indicated some sort of mental abnormality. Feeling blue over Gloria’s disintegrating health and the situation in general—heaven knows coming out here hadn’t done her much good, nor was she doing Gloria Colton much good—Jenna took out ingredients for her own dinner.

She moved slowly, though, because she couldn’t stop thinking about George’s belief that his daughter would die soon. Even Jared had seemed to accept the old man’s prediction, and probably so did Bram. She had to know Bram’s position on this, Jenna decided. Did he believe, as Jared seemed to, that every word George WhiteBear uttered was gospel? If so, what had the old guy meant with that golden-fox remark? But that wasn’t bothering her nearly as much as this other thing. All the Coltons loved Gloria, Jenna was positive of that, and they would mourn her passing when it happened. But why on earth was George so certain his daughter’s death was imminent?

Well, even if everyone in the whole darn town was just waiting for the ax to fall for poor Gloria, she was not going to stand around and do nothing. Jenna marched to the wall phone and dialed Dr. Hall’s number. Just talking to Dr. Hall about Gloria and this most peculiar business with her family would help her nerves, Jenna felt.

But she got his answering service, and all she could do was leave a message. “Please have Dr. Hall call me. It’s not an emergency, but I’m a nurse and I need to speak to him about one of his patients.” Jenna hung up with a heavy sigh.

Nellie let out one quick little bark, obviously issuing a reminder to the only human present that she was a very hungry pooch.

If it did nothing else, it made Jenna smile. “All right, girl, dinner’s coming up.” She went to the refrigerator again and set some things on the counter. One plate contained the remnants of a beef roast, which was now mostly bone. Jenna decided to throw it out, so when she brought some other dishes from the fridge and then accidentally knocked the old bone on the floor, she didn’t get upset about it.

But in the next instant everything changed. Nellie, faster than greased lightning, rushed at the bone, picked it up in her mouth and ran from the room. Startled and worried that Bram might not let Nellie have bones—Jenna had friends who never gave their dogs bones—Jenna ran after the collie, calling, “Nellie, now you stop running! You can’t have that bone, do you hear me?”

Nellie disappeared into Bram’s bedroom, and Jenna raced after her. Bram had left the closet door ajar, and Nellie squeezed through the opening. Jenna pulled the door wide and switched on the light. Nellie was crouched with her precious bone behind a blanketed bundle.

Jenna stared at it. It was the bundle Bram had carried in from his SUV, the one she’d been so curious about.

She was still curious, and she got on her knees and carefully drew back an edge of the blanket. Books? Smoky-smelling books with hardboard covers? Why on earth would Bram be carrying around smelly old books?

The books were very large, very thick, she saw. What could they contain? She gave in to her curiosity, opened the top book without disturbing the others and saw a list of entries dated almost a hundred years ago, written in ink—faded but still legible—in a beautiful hand.

Jenna was truly stunned. These books had to have been in the courthouse! The ancient entries—why, they must be extremely valuable! Why had Bram been carrying them around in his SUV, and then hidden them in his closet? Jenna sat back on her heels. She had always thought of Bram Colton as scrupulously honest, but wasn’t there an old saying that everyone had a price? Was Bram’s price the value of three old books?

Wiping away a tear, wishing to high heaven that she had minded her own business and not seen these books, Jenna smoothed the blanket back in place, got to her feet, switched off the light and left the closet—leaving Nellie to gnaw on that bone till the cows came home.

She was in no mood for a big dinner after that shock, and she desultorily put together a salad and made a pot of tea.

Bram, on his way to his own ranch from George’s, decided to drive into Black Arrow and make an appearance at the station. He should check in, let everyone know about his change of plans and that he would be on call, after all. He parked and walked in, and was greeted by everyone in the place.

He returned the greetings, but sought out the duty officer, who tonight happened to be Sergeant Roy Emerson.

“Hey, Bram,” Roy said. “I thought you were out of town or something for the night.”

“My plans got changed. How’s everything?”

“Afraid we got a homicide on our hands. An anonymous caller used a pay phone and said there was a body down by the railroad tracks near the old depot. I sent a car to check it out and the deputy found a dead man with a small-caliber bullet wound in his head.” Roy picked up some papers and handed them to Bram. “This is the first written report to come in.”

Bram read that the man was approximately fifty years old, without identification or valuables, and after numerous photos had been taken of the crime scene, the body had been transported to the morgue.

“The autopsy will be done tomorrow,” Roy said. “It looks to me like a simple case of robbery with a deadly weapon. No sign of the perp, of course.”

“Probably was armed robbery, but this isn’t common in Black Arrow. The first thing we have to do is find out the name of the victim. Were fingerprints taken yet?”

“Yes, but they haven’t been processed. Lab’s closed for the night, same as the coroner’s office.”

“Well, it was damned stupid of the victim to get himself murdered in Black Arrow, wasn’t it?” Bram drawled. Unlike bigger cities, Black Arrow didn’t have round-the-clock lab facilities. Frowning at the report in his hand, Bram added, “I wonder if he lives…or lived…here.”

“Hard to say. So far, no one who’s seen the body recognized the man.”

Bram thought a minute, then said, “I’m going to drive down to the old depot and take a look at the scene of the crime. It’s cordoned off, I hope.”

“Supposed to be, yes. I’ve also got two men scouring the ground for anything suspicious in all directions from where the body lay.”

“Good.”

“Figured that’s what you would’ve done.”

“It is. I’m going to swing by the morgue on my way to the old depot. Talk to you later. Oh, I’ll be taking a patrol car. Tell dispatch.”

“Will do.”

After plucking a set of keys from the vehicle board, Bram hurried out to a patrol car and drove to the morgue. The night watchman, the only person who was actually alive and breathing on the premises, let him in.

“Hi, Jake. I’d like to take a look at—”

Jake waved his hand. “I know, I know.” He led the way and showed Bram the body. The victim was a stranger to Bram, a small man with pale blond hair. But what really caught Bram’s eye was the man’s clothing. It was good-quality stuff, obviously expensive.

“Do you have his shoes?” Bram asked Jake.

“Yep. They’re in a bag over there.”

“Let me see them.”

The shoes were Italian leather loafers. This man had not been a transient, nor had his killer been, Bram concluded. Those shoes alone would feed a roaming criminal for at least a week. Unless the victim’s wallet had been so fat the killer hadn’t bothered with the shoes.

Bram heaved an internal sigh. A murder to solve before the killer got out of town was the last thing he needed right now.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Thanks, Jake.”

Bram returned to the patrol car and drove down to the old depot, called “old” because it was early vintage, practically falling down. The railroad had constructed a smaller but much more modern depot to handle freight and passengers about eight years back. Bram had been pleading with the town council to insist that they raze the old structure for years, as it drew the dregs of society like a flame drew moths.

Not that Bram begrudged a decent guy down on his luck a place to sleep, but Black Arrow had several shelters for the homeless, and the town had never been so overrun with indigents that those charities hadn’t filled the need.

When he drove up to the old eyesore of a building, he turned on the vehicle’s flashing red lights and got out. Walking over to the crime-scene tape, he heard the approaching footsteps of the two officers sweeping the area for clues with high-powered flashlights.

They all said hello, and Bram asked if they had found anything. They each had a large plastic bag practically full of much smaller plastic bags containing heaven knew what. Bram soon heard what they contained, however.

“Just a lot of junk,” he was told by both men.

Bram hadn’t expected any glaring clues that would easily lead law officers to the killer, but given everything else going on in his life at present, he would have liked just one break.

“You guys got an extra flashlight? I’d like to look around some myself.”

“Here, take this one. I’ve got another in my car.”

Bram accepted the flashlight and began walking toward the old depot.

“We checked that out already,” one of the young deputies called.

Bram stopped and turned. “Was there anyone in the old depot when the body was found?”

“Not a soul. My feeling is that anyone in there at the time of the murder got the hell away from here the second it happened.”

“Which means there could have been witnesses.”

“Yeah, but just try to find them.”

“I intend to.” Bram continued on to the old building and went in. There were no lights to turn on, of course, no electricity, and he slowly moved the flashlight’s beam around what had once been a passenger waiting room. Old newspapers and paper cups and bits and pieces of rags lay everywhere. “More junk,” Bram mumbled, but covered the area with the flashlight to make sure.

There were two other rooms, and he checked them both with equal caution. Something shiny in the third room gleamed in the sweep of the flashlight’s beam, and Bram hastily returned the light to it. It was a small round object, and he walked over to it and peered down at it without touching it.

A chill went up his spine. It was a worthless metal medallion, but it bore the likeness of a coyote’s head. Bram stared at it in utter amazement. Coyotes haunted him, through his great-grandfather, through things like this, through life itself. And foxes, as well? he thought dryly. George WhiteBear was convinced that Jenna was the golden fox he’d seen with his coyote guardian spirit, and that Jenna and Bram were destined to be together in this life and whatever came after. Bram knew differently, but he was still puzzled by that enigmatic smile on his great-grandfather’s face after hearing that Jenna was Carl Elliot’s daughter.

Pushing that from his mind and using a small piece of paper from the floor, Bram carefully picked up the medallion. It might bear a fingerprint. Wouldn’t it be something if he solved a murder with a coyote medallion?

It was after midnight when Bram finally got home. He was so tired he could barely drag himself into the house, but once inside he knew that he had to check on Gran before he went to bed. There was always a night-light burning near Gloria’s bed, and he peered down at his beloved grandmother and felt a telltale burning in his eyes. He couldn’t possibly be ashamed of crying over this sad event, but still he glanced over to make sure Jenna was sleeping.

She wasn’t. She was watching him from her little twin bed, her beautiful eyes smoky-looking in the shadows created by the night-light.

“Did your car break down or something?” she whispered.

Her whisper was the most sensual sound Bram had ever heard, and he couldn’t stop himself from tiptoeing over to her bed and kneeling beside it to answer.

Much to Jenna’s surprise, he put his mouth very close to her ear and whispered, “I don’t want to wake Gran. I stopped at the sheriff’s station and…and there was some work I had to do.” The scent of her hair and the warmth he felt emanating from her brought his blood to life so fast he actually got dizzy. “Jenna,” he whispered brokenly. “Oh, Jenna, if you only knew.” He slid his hand under the blankets to touch her, and she took his head between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes.

“If I only knew what, Bram?” His hand was caressing her body under the blankets, first just her waist, and then her breasts. She suddenly couldn’t breathe very well. “You’re only going to regret this later,” she whispered. But when he managed to reach under her pajama top and stroke her nipples, she attempted no more sensible words of caution. Instead she closed her eyes and savored the incredible sensations running rampant through her body. Her fingers twined in his hair and she brought his head down so their lips would meet, and then, when they did, and he was kissing her as though he might never stop, she knew she was his forever, to do with whatever he wanted. She could never deny him anything, especially this.

He finally broke the kiss long enough for her to whisper raggedly, “We can’t do this in here. Let’s go to your room.”

He nodded in agreement, but couldn’t stop touching her long enough to make the move. And he slid his hand under the waistband of her pajama bottom and found what he needed to touch so badly he hurt.

“Bram…not in…here,” she gasped as quietly as she could, but she spread her legs farther apart for him.

He kissed her lips again while his fingers circled and tantalized her most sensitive spot. She felt the needful pleasure building in the pit of her stomach and knew if he didn’t stop she would finish without him. She worked her hand down between Bram and the edge of the bed and began stroking the bulge in his jeans.

“That’s what I want,” she said thickly. “Inside me, Bram. Filling me.”

Her boldness thrilled him so much he wanted to shout, and knew he didn’t dare. “Come on,” he whispered feverishly, and got to his feet.

Together they stole from the master bedroom, and once away from the door they raced through the house to Bram’s room. He switched on the light and shut the door.

“I want the light on. I have to see you,” he said.

She answered by kicking off the bottoms of her pajamas and unbuttoning the top. He was undressing so fast it was almost funny, but she wasn’t in a laughing mood. Her mood, in fact, was one she’d never quite experienced before. Not in the same way she was feeling it now. Her desire was so powerful it was overwhelming. She threw back the covers on his bed, lay down and reached for him.

“You are the most beautiful woman alive,” he said hoarsely. He was down to his jeans, and practically tore them off, along with his underwear. Naked then, he fell upon her and kissed her with such hunger they both lost the last shreds of control either might have been trying to maintain.

“I should use protection,” Bram groaned.

Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind Jenna wondered why he hadn’t stopped for protection the first time they had made love. But she knew, even though it was a thought blurred by intense sexual desire, that they should do so now.

“Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Do you have it?”

“Yes. Don’t move.” Bram reached into the small drawer of the nightstand and fumbled around. “I’m sure I put them in here when I changed bedrooms.”

“Hurry,” Jenna said breathlessly.

“Jenna, they’re not in here.” Groaning again, he buried his face in the pillow next to her head. He was so hard he was in agony, and Jenna wanted it all, same as he did. But the condoms he’d thought he had put in that drawer weren’t in it, so obviously he’d put them somewhere else. But where? There was no way he could get up and start searching the bedroom for them.

Jenna moved her hips under him, creating a friction that brought each of them to the brink. Bram knew then that Jenna wasn’t going to let him stop, nor could he, even though he should. His goose was cooked for sure when she whispered, sounding sexually frenzied, “Now, Bram, now!”

He did it—pushed into her—and they both forgot all about being sensible and using protection. His movements in and out of her hot, velvety depths were blowing his mind. He could think of nothing but her and how perfect they were together. Maintaining his rhythmic thrusts, he kissed her mouth and deemed it perfect. He lowered his head to kiss and suckle her breasts and deemed them perfect. He felt her fingernails lightly scoring his back, and the rise and fall of her hips moving in tandem with his own, and deemed her responsiveness perfect. She was perfection itself, every part of her—everything she did and said, her physical beauty and her tender care of the sick—and he would worship her till the day he died.

The realization wasn’t new, it just wasn’t permitted to surface very often. Making love to her with so much heat and passion between them removed all the self-protective measures he’d devised since he’d first seen her—the most incredibly beautiful, desirable woman in all of Oklahoma—and known at once that he could never make her his. He’d done his best to avoid her, and fate or some damn thing had intervened. How could he ignore her when she was everywhere he looked, in his own home yet? He was, after all, a mere mortal, strong in some ways, weak in others. Where Jenna was concerned he couldn’t be weaker.

“Jenna,” he mumbled. “Jenna…Jenna.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him deeper inside of her. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” she whispered, longing to know what he was so efficient at concealing. Did anyone really know Bram? Even any of the Coltons? He bore much of the same dignity as George WhiteBear, but his handsome face and strong, muscular body were all his own. Dazed from all they were doing, all they were sharing, she could easily say right now, “I love you…I’ve always loved you.”

But even without clarity of mind, she knew that saying something like that out loud would scare Bram to death, and that the best way to lose him forever was to even mention words like love and commitment.

But she knew now that she could have him in bed. She could have his physical side, and maybe, given the strength of her feelings for him, sex would be enough. But it was painfully hard not to say what was in her heart and causing her body to tremble from head to foot. For her, making love with Bram wasn’t just for sexual pleasure, and she knew it never would be.

“Tell me,” she whispered again.

“You know what I’m feeling. Aren’t you filled with the same excitement?”

“Excitement,” she echoed, with a disappointed tear in her eye. If he had even hinted at having special feelings for her, she might have blurted her own. But he couldn’t, and she couldn’t, and almost roughly, in a mild form of vengeance, she yanked his head down and devoured his mouth with hers, wondering if a woman had ever made a man fall in love with her through sex alone.

That wild, ravenous kiss was the finish line for Bram. Riding her harder, faster, he brought them both to a mind-boggling completion that left them breathless and gasping. They lay entwined for a long time, and finally their heartbeats slowed to normal.

Drained and exhausted, Bram could hardly lift his head to look at her. “You’re fantastic,” he said softly.

“Not without you I’m not.”

Bram probed the dark depths of her eyes and became concerned at what he thought he saw in them. She couldn’t fall for him, she just couldn’t! Granted, the sex was great between them, but it was all they could ever have.

“You know how things are, same as I do, Jenna. Let’s not talk about it,” he said almost gruffly, and rolled off her.

Jenna’s first reaction was fury, but what good would fighting with him do? Arguing about his blood versus hers was never going to change his attitude. Maybe loving him as much as she could without actually saying it was much smarter.

She moved over until she was nestled against him, and then she laid her head on his chest. It took Bram by surprise, but he couldn’t push her away, and his arm rose to encircle her. When he felt tears on his chest, though, his heart began hammering.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said softly.

She loved the endearment, but it only made her cry harder. “There’s a lot to cry about,” she managed to say between sobs. “Bram, I tried to give you the impression that I sleep around, but I don’t. And your Gran is fading away right before our eyes and everyone seems to just be taking it in stride. You’re not, are you? Say you’re not.”

She felt a tear that wasn’t her own and knew it had come from Bram. “Love for one’s family is the same in my world as it is in yours,” he said huskily. “No, I’m not taking Gran’s ill health in stride.”

“And this…you and me? Are you taking us in stride?”

“I can’t do anything else. Jenna, I can say one thing, and please believe it’s heartfelt. You and I might never be able to build a bridge between your life and mine, but I can’t deny my need of you.”

“It’s all sexual for you then.”

“It’s all it can be. Can you accept that, live with that? If you know right now that you can’t, tell me and I swear I’ll never touch you again.”

Jenna wept quietly, then whispered, “I can live with it.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet Jenna.” Teary-eyed himself, Bram wrapped both arms around her and held her close to his aching heart. “I don’t want to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

“I do.” In her heart, Jenna was saying that “I do” to a minister. In her heart she was committing herself to Bram forever. It would have to do for now, she thought sadly.

But somehow, some way, she was going to rid Bram of prejudice, for that was all it was. Prejudice as strong and indestructible as the garbage her dad clung to.

She felt Bram’s hands glide down her back and cup her buttocks, and when he brought her closer still she felt his renewed arousal.

“I can’t hold you like this and not want you,” he said.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you, Jenna? Are you really glad?”

“Kiss me and let me prove it.” Her hands crept up his chest to lock behind his head.

“How about my kissing you like this?” He started dropping kisses on every part of her he could reach, and soon the blankets were bunched at the foot of the bed and he was kissing her breasts, her abdomen and then the inside of each thigh.

“Got enough strength left for one more?” He shifted back on top of her and brushed his mouth gently over hers.

“Anything for you,” she whispered weakly.

He entered her and moved slowly and gently, and she was astonished when she felt heat and thrills coalescing in the pit of her stomach again. Never had she reacted to a man like this before, and her love for Bram became so huge in her chest that she thought she might burst.

They reached fulfillment together, and almost too exhausted to keep on breathing, Bram rolled to her side and immediately fell into a comalike sleep.

Utterly amazed at her intense response to Bram’s intimate attentions, Jenna lay still until her heart stopped pounding. Then she propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him. He was sleeping so soundly he appeared to be unconscious. She touched his face with her fingertips and whispered, “I love you more than I can say. Please love me back.”

She wanted to snuggle down and sleep with him for the remainder of the night but she knew she couldn’t. Getting up quietly so she wouldn’t disturb him, although she doubted a tornado ripping off the roof would do so, she pulled on her pajamas and tiptoed from the room.

She went to the master bedroom, peered at Gloria to make sure she was sleeping normally, then went to her little bed and lay down.

She fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. She was in love, and nothing and no one, not even Bram himself, could change her feelings.

Chapter Eight

Despite getting very little sleep, Bram woke up at his usual early hour. For the first time since Gran had begun occupying his master bedroom, Bram didn’t go into that room first thing after getting dressed. The omission was deliberate. He simply did not want a confrontation, friendly, sensual or otherwise, with Jenna this morning. In fact, he was going to do his best to avoid even thinking about her.

Before leaving for work he checked on his horses and then filled Nellie’s food and water bowls in the small barn. All the while he rued the fact that he hadn’t allotted even a minute’s time to the breaking and training of his young horses for weeks, and with all that was going on in his world he wasn’t apt to have any free time in the near future.

Bram wore a grim expression while tending to chores. He hated what was happening in his town—robbery, arson and now murder. What’s more, he didn’t much care for what was happening in his own home. Last night he had sensed that more than sex was happening in his bed; Jenna was burrowing into his very soul. And considering the things she’d said to him, even though he knew she hadn’t confided everything in her heart, she was becoming much too attached to him.

It was his fault, all of it. He never should have touched Jenna, never kissed her, caressed her, buried his face in her glorious golden hair to breathe in its magical scent. Never taken her to bed. He would pay for his loss of control, make no mistake. He didn’t know exactly what form punishment would arrive in, but it would come, and it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Hell, he thought as he tossed a half bale of hay over the pasture fence, he was already paying through memory alone. Avoid thinking about Jenna? So much for good intentions, he thought in wry self-denouncement. He might as well face the truth: he would never be able to avoid thinking about her. What’s more, anytime he dared to feel happy or lighthearted about something long into the future, an image of any segment of last night with Jenna would be enough to destroy his good mood.

Finished with chores, and with his mind stuck on Jenna and the incredible highs of last night, Bram absently put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and took out the coyote medallion. He’d had it checked for fingerprints at the station yesterday. All that had been found on it was dirt, without so much as a minute smudge proving contact with a human hand. Frowning, Bram had studied the coinlike object, pondering its reason for existence. Some person or company had forged it, but for what cause? Bram felt certain that it wasn’t made of a precious metal, certainly none that he recognized at any rate.