Silver-Tongued Devil Read online

  By the time he returned to the open doorway, hot and cold rolled over him. His stomach had twisted into knots, forcing him to lean against the building.

  Damn laudanum. Easier to just buck up and take the pain than deal with this flop-sweat feeling.

  “Silas McKay! What are you doing up and about?” a stern but sweet voice demanded.

  Silas opened his eyes and his belly tightened again, but not from sickness. Dinah stood not ten feet from him, all pink-cheeked and pretty. Concern darkening her crystal-blue eyes. He couldn’t help but grin at her. “Dinah, darlin’. I’d gladly take a beatin’ every night if it meant I could see your beautiful face first thing every mornin’.”

  “I see your dance with the devil last night didn’t dull your silver tongue.”

  “It weren’t a dance. The devil merely twirled me a bit to make sure I didn’t waste any more time before courtin’ my very own angel.”

  “Heavens, Mr. McKay. I think you might have a more serious head injury than Doc believed.”

  He chuckled. “Nah. I’m just fine. And it’s Silas, sweetheart. Remember?”

  She raised one dark blond brow. “I don’t remember giving you permission to call me sweetheart.”

  Silas pushed off the building and started toward her. “You’d rather I called you something else?”

  “You shouldn’t be calling me anything. You should be lying down, resting.”

  Two steps closer. “I could call you honey, ’cause you sure are sweet.”

  “Silas.”

  Three steps closer. “Or I could call you sugar pie.”

  “Let me guess…because it’s also sweet?”

  He stopped when his boots nearly touched the hem of her skirt. Staring into those expressive eyes, he held back a smile. The woman couldn’t bluff to save her life. She liked this kinda love-talk.

  Dinah didn’t move when Silas tucked a loose tendril of her hair behind her delicate ear. Nor did she shy away when he traced the line of her jaw down to her stubborn chin. “Sugar pie is sweet. But that’s not why I’d like to call you that.”

  “Then why?” she said so softly he barely heard her.

  “Because sugar pie is my favorite dessert and I can’t wait to eat it all up. Every silky, sweet, tasty bite. I’m torn between takin’ my time enjoyin’ it or gorging myself on it.”

  Her face flushed a darker pink, but she didn’t look away from him.

  Oh, she had some fire all right.

  “Is that all right by you?”

  She bit her lip then blurted, “But I don’t know how to make…sugar pie.”

  So many ways to take that response. So very many dirty delicious ways. He managed a cool, “I’ll teach you.”

  “Everything?” she said breathlessly.

  “Yeah, sweetheart. Everything and then some.” He leaned a fraction closer. “If you don’t want me callin’ you sugar pie, I got another word that’ll work.”

  “What’s that?”

  Silas caught a whiff of her rose perfume when he whispered in her ear, “Mine.”

  She shivered so completely he felt her skirt move.

  Jimmy broke the moment by butting in between them. “Hey, Miss Thompson. Didja bring us food?”

  For the first time Silas noticed Dinah had a covered basket dangling from the crook of her left arm.

  “Yes, Jimmy, there’s food. Just be patient and go wash up.” She lifted a cloth off the basket and held it out to Silas. “Doc had to cut your shirt off last night. Jonas told me to put it in the rag pile, but I mended it. I changed the style and added buttons, I hope you don’t mind.”

  He stared at her. “Why?”

  “Why’d I fix it? Because I figured you’d rather have something to wear than nothing.” She harrumphed and glanced at his chest, then away. “Although your brother hinted you’d be fine running around half-clothed, but I wasn’t sure if he was joking.” Another peep at his chest from beneath her lashes.

  If she was failing miserably at acting unaffected by seeing his chest, belly and bare arms on display, how would she react if he started flexing those muscles?

  Faint maybe, you cocky jerk.

  He told his brother’s voice in his head to shut up.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Dinah.” Taking the clean, mended shirt, he turned it around so the front faced him. “This’ll work just fine.”

  She seemed confused that he didn’t immediately put it on.

  “I’ll wait until after Doc wraps my ribs.”

  “I’m sure Jimmy won’t mind breaking his fast with a half-naked man.”

  “But you would?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Dinah?”

  Her eyes met his. “It’s distracting.” She tossed a look over her shoulder. “Jimmy. Come on and eat.” She sidestepped Silas. “I’ll set it up inside.”

  “Jimmy needs to get my horse and tack from Blackbird’s Livery first.”

  “But I’m hungry!” Jimmy complained.

  Dinah whirled around. “The boy needs to eat.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I agree. The promise of a meal will get him back here faster.” Silas dug in his pocket and flipped Jimmy a coin. “Give this to Micah at the stables and make sure you tell him I owe him a quart of milk.”

  “A quart of milk?” Jimmy repeated, confused. “Why?”

  “Then Micah will know I sent you.”

  “Oh, like a code?”

  “Yep.”

  His eyes lit up. “Miss Ruby has secret codes too.”

  I’ll just bet she does. “Micah will ready my horse and tack for you, but you aren’t to ride him back here, Jimmy. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Soon as you make it back with everything”—Silas flipped another coin in the air and caught it at the last moment before Jimmy could—“this coin and Miss Thompson’s tasty food will be yours.”

  “Yes, sir!” Jimmy raced off.

  “Don’t know why you’re so fired up to get your horse back, Silas. It’s not like you’re going anywhere,” she said with a sniff and headed into Doc’s recovery room.

  Silas followed, waiting until she’d finished setting up the food—thick slices of bread, a jar of preserves and a crock of butter—before he spoke. “While I appreciate the idea of wastin’ more of my day, that ain’t the reality. I’ve gotta get home.”

  “You had a stab wound twelve hours ago. Your body is covered in bruises and you were kicked in the head. You need to spend today recovering, not cowboying.”

  “And while I’m recovering, who’s gonna deal with my cattle? I’m also Garold Henrikson’s hand, so I’m tendin’ to his livestock. I ain’t gonna lie abed when those animals need me.”

  “Silas. You can barely walk.”

  “Barely is still walkin’, though. If I can walk, I can ride.”

  Dinah put her hands on her hips. “There’s no talking you out of this?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. After you eat, and after Doc checks you out, I’ll ride with you to check cattle.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust you not to do too much, McKay.”

  “Concerned for my well-bein’, sugar pie?”

  “Yes.” She raised that haughty chin a notch. “I’d prefer that the first man I’ve agreed to let court me not be too exhausted or broken down to do so properly.”

  Proper wasn’t the word that came to mind as how he intended to court her, but it made him grin anyway. “In that case, I’ll be extra careful today when we’re ridin’ the range. Wouldn’t want to break any of my body parts you’re so fired up about seein’ properly.”

  “Silas McKay! I said no such thing.”

  “But you were thinkin’ it, darlin’.” He reached for a slice of bread, but she tapped his hand.

  “Wash first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Silas had a feeling he’d better get used to saying that.

  Doc grumbled about Silas’s
“fool-headed ways” and dismissed him after tightly wrapping his ribs.

  Dinah and Doc spoke in private after she’d exited the house carrying a bundle. Then she headed to the barn to get her horse ready.

  She emerged on an old paint horse that should’ve been put to pasture years ago. “Is that yours?” he asked.

  “No. She’s Mrs. Agnes’s.” She patted the neck. “I’m riding her today because she’s slow and steady.” Dinah smirked at him. “Emphasis on slow. Me riding slow means you’ll have to ride that way too, instead of tearing off like we’re in a wild horse race at the county fair.”

  “Well, darlin’, there’s your slow and my slow. Try to keep up.”

  The thirty-minute ride seemed to take three times that long even though they were traveling fast enough to keep from conversing.

  Dinah had a good seat on her horse—better than he’d imagined.

  And Silas had been watching her a lot, not only because her pantalets were on display with her dress bunched up to the saddle horn. He’d become enthralled with the way her body moved in the saddle, bouncing ass and bouncing tits, her golden hair streaming behind her unbound. But he also appreciated that she’d worn practical boots, not the high-heeled style other town girls favored. Plus, she’d chosen a wide-brimmed cavalry hat with stampede strings that probably belonged to Doc, rather than a fancy silk and lace bonnet with birds and feathers. She’d dressed to work, not to impress him, and that impressed him most of all.

  He wondered what she saw when she looked his way—which he’d caught her doing several times. A brawler? A poorly dressed ranch hand?

  That’s when Silas knew his courting her would include the reality of what it meant to be married to a rancher. He’d rather be alone than spend his life with a woman who hated everything about his life that he loved.

  Dinah seemed…lighter today. Looking around the land as if it was the first time she’d seen it. Tipping her head back to catch the sun’s rays on her face. With that glow upon her, she appeared every bit a beautiful angel.

  She caught him staring and smiled shyly.

  He smiled back and took the lead, kicking up the pace as they zipped along the last stretch that led to Henrikson’s place.

  Garold was waiting outside when they rode up.

  “Mornin’, Garold.”

  “It’s afternoon, McKay. You’re late.”

  “Ran into some trouble last night that couldn’t be helped.” He swore Dinah snorted at that half-truth. “You been out at all this mornin’?”

  “No. That is why I pay you. Cows are”—he gestured behind him and muttered in German—“same as yesterday.”

  A little blessing. The cattle had water and enough room to graze through today. Moving them could wait until tomorrow. He smiled at the grumpy German. “I’ll get to it then and stop back by when we’re done.”

  “We?” Garold said gruffly, looking between him and Dinah.

  “Yes. This is Miss Dinah Thompson, the woman I’m courtin’. Dinah, this is my neighbor Garold Henrikson. I also do a little cowboyin’ for him.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Henrikson. Your home is lovely.”

  Garold harrumphed and walked toward his house without a word.

  Wasn’t until they were around the back of the barn and out of earshot when Dinah said, “Is he always so rude?”

  “These days? Yeah. Never used to be. I reckon he’s just heartbroke, so I forgive his rudeness. His meanness some days is a hard pill to swallow.” But Silas had no choice but to smile and choke down that bitter pill. He had little doubt Henrikson would be moving on—sooner, rather than later—and Silas intended to be the one Henrikson offered the sale of his land to first. So if he had to suck it up, he would. All spring Silas had been fretting and planning and refiguring his financial situation, looking for ways to earn the extra money needed to strike a promissory lease-for-sale agreement before some other fat-cat greenhorn swooped in with a carpetbag of cash because he wanted to play at being a rancher.

  Dinah stopped her horse and Silas had to rein back around. “Something wrong?”

  “Why is he heartbroken, Silas?”

  “I ain’t gonna gossip about a man’s troubles, Dinah.”

  “It’s not gossip if you tell me. It’s gossip if you tell everyone at Sackett’s Saloon or Robinette’s General Store. Besides, I’m trustworthy. How long do you think I would’ve lasted working for Doc if I blathered on about who’d come to see him and why?”

  “All right. But it’s one of them sad stories that’ll need a handkerchief in the after-telling, and sugar pie, I’m fresh out.”

  “I’ve brought my own handkerchief.”

  Of course she had. Silas scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ve owned this land for four years, but only been livin’ here for three. Two years ago Henrikson and his wife overpaid for the land they’re on. Land I wanted but couldn’t afford to buy from the original claimant. They had the house, barn and corrals built before they moved in. They came callin’ ’bout a week or so after they arrived. Margaret, his wife, was younger than him by about half. She’d grown up on a ranch in Texas and livin’ here was her idea.” He smiled. “Garold doted on her. Margaret teased him about it, but he didn’t mind because you could just tell he was over the moon for her. I quickly figured out she knew her way around the cattle business and Garold was just learnin’. Last fall, I helped them with their round-up and she shared that they were expectin’ a baby. Then she asked if I’d be willin’ to help them with brandin’ in the spring too.”

  “Of course you said yes.”

  He nodded. “I saw ’em around Christmas. With winter and all, it’s easy to stay isolated. After I got back from Doc’s after the blizzard, and knowin’ it’d stranded Jonas in Cheyenne, I decided to see if my neighbors were okay.” His hands tightened on his saddle horn. “I had to hitch the mule up to the sled and ride across the snow on my knees because it was still deep. First thing I saw was Garold sittin’ on the porch with the front door and all the windows in the house open. He didn’t even hear me crunching through the snow or sayin’ his name. When he finally looked up, I’d never seen haunted eyes like that. He had a bruise on his head the size of a biscuit. I asked what happened and he started talkin’ in German. Then he started cryin’ and lord…I knew it was bad.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Don’t know how long I sat there with him until he spoke English, but I know it was full-on dark by the time he finished tellin’ me what had happened. He’d gone out to the barn to check on the horses when there was just a few inches of snow on the ground. Somehow he slipped, whacked his head into a beam and it knocked him out cold. When he came to, it was night. By then, the blizzard was ragin’ and he knew enough not to try to make it back to the house. So he decided to wait it out until mornin’.” Silas swallowed hard. “Except mornin’ came and it was still snowing and blowing, and he couldn’t even see the house. He had water, and hay to keep himself warm, so he rode out four days in that barn until it cleared. Took him half a day to dig a path to the house. And when he got there…”

  Dinah reached over and touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me any more.”

  “No. You oughta know it all. Margaret…” He cleared his throat. “The baby had tried to come durin’ that time. Neither Margaret nor their baby boy made it. Garold couldn’t keep their bodies in the house but he couldn’t just throw them in the snowbank either. He’d spent two days in the house with them, lost in grief, not knowin’ what to do…” From the corner of his eye he saw Dinah pull a handkerchief out of her pocket. “I took him back to my place, dosed him with whiskey until he passed out and then went back to do what he couldn’t.” He paused. “I found a spot over there”—he pointed to a cluster of trees—“where there was a snow break and the ground had some give. Took me a day to dig it deep enough and another day to bury them.”

  “Silas. You had a sprained arm.”

  “I know, darlin’. It hurt like
hell.”

  “But you did it anyway.”

  “I had to. So that’s why, when Garold’s grumpy, I reckon he’s got a right to it.” He reined around and bit back a wince of pain. “Come on. Let’s get this done.” Then he rode off.

  After dealing with his herd and Henrikson’s, they rode to Silas’s place.

  Silas purposely didn’t watch her face when she caught her first look at his home. It wasn’t much—and that was just the outside. The barn was a lot nicer than the house, which he supposed said a lot about him.

  He dismounted slowly and turned to assist her only to find she hadn’t needed his help. “If you wanna stay a bit, you can hang your tack here while your horse is corralled.”

  She fiddled with her horse’s bridle. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “Yeah, sugar pie, I do. Very much.”

  “Okay then.”

  After they dealt with the horses and turned them out, Dinah did a slow spin. “How much of your land did we see?”

  “Only the front section. I’ve been workin’ on adding on some fence lines as markers but it’s slow goin’ when it’s just me doin’ the building. I’ve spent a lot of time at Henrikson’s place this winter and spring.” He scratched his neck. “That’s why it took months for me to make it back to Doc’s.”

  “Poor Mr. Henrikson. I can’t imagine.”

  “It’s even more frustrating for him since he ain’t much of a rancher. Margaret dealt with the animals. His herd is twice the size of mine. I’m happy to hire out to him, but I’m getting behind. And I’ve gotta turn the bulls out in the next two weeks.”

  She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  He grinned. “Putting the bulls and cows together in one pasture means in nine months I’ll have calves.”

  Dinah blushed. Then she said, “Are you ready for a late lunch?” She pointed to her saddlebag. “I brought sandwiches.”

  “Darlin’, you didn’t have to do that. But thank you. There’s a table and chairs inside.”

  “While I’m sure it’s lovely, I’d rather be outside. I brought a blanket so we could have a picnic. And also, I brought…” She lowered her eyes.

  Silas caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Tell me.”