Caine's Reckoning

James’s voice was smooth and well-modulated. Pitched to inspire confidence. He stepped into Desi’s view. His facial muscles were set in the same open, confidence-inspiring expression. His ability to charm people while hiding what he really thought was what made him such a successful gambler. He touched the brim of his hat with his finger. One finger. Her flinch escaped her control. “Desi.”

Caine’s grip on her shoulder tightened. He didn’t have to worry. She would never throw herself into this man’s arms.

James nodded to the other two men, who fanned out on either side of Caine. “I want to thank you all for bringing our Desdemona back to us.”

Tracker was the one who answered, a chill underlying his deep drawl. “It’s our job.”

James’s smile was easy and appreciative, as if he’d been longing to have her back. He probably had been, which accounted for the sincerity she sensed. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Why would you think she’d be any trouble?” Caine asked.

“Pretty as she is, surely you’ve noticed she’s not quite right in her head.”

As naturally as most people breathed, James slipped the lie into the conversation. Against her shoulder, she felt Caine stiffen. She straightened her spine, shifting away from the illusion that his strength was hers. It was starting again, just like it had before. The innuendo, the twisting of the truth until everything she’d done in self-defense was nothing more than another example of her instability.

She curled her fingers into fists as the rage beat against the futility of effort. Lawman or not, with her background, Caine wouldn’t listen to her, let alone believe her. What was the word of one deranged woman compared to the word of so many upstanding citizens? When push came to shove, he’d back James, the sheriff and the court who’d given her to them.

Caine’s “Can’t say that I have” caught her totally by surprise, the same way Tracker’s “Bullshit” and Sam’s “For Christ’s sake” did. Usually, when men came up against James’s confidence and smooth manner they went along with him. Caine and his men were the first who hadn’t, and she didn’t care if it was their naturally perverse nature or genuine belief that drove them to do it. She was just glad they had. It gave her a minute more of hope.

James looked her up and down, the concern never leaving his expression, but that twitch at the corner of his eye let her know that he was annoyed. He stepped in, holding his hand up to Caine. If Caine hadn’t chosen that moment to hook his foot over her ankle, she would have kicked James in his teeth.

“James Haddock. Desdemona’s guardian. And I’m glad she’s been having a good day.”

Caine made no effort to shake James’s hand. “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘good.’”

“That probably wasn’t the best choice of words.”

If anything, the solid wall of muscle against her side got harder. Desi tilted her head back. Caine was staring at James with that impassive face that gave away nothing. To him or to her.

“What would be a better choice?” Caine asked, his finger touching her cheek, the calluses on his fingertip feeling strange against her skin before recurving his hand round her shoulder. Though it was illogical, she felt safer with it there.

“Stable maybe?” James’s sigh was sympathy personified as he stepped back. Behind him, spectators gathered. Most of them just bored townsfolk, but a few like Bert, Bryan and Carl had an interest even if they weren’t going to reveal it. She shuddered. They would never touch her again.

“Ever since her ordeal,” James continued, taking a step closer. “There’s been no knowing how she’s going to be one day to the next.”

Desi sucked in a breath and held it, pointless outrage surging. Again. Caine unhooked his leg from over her feet.

“Ordeal?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She curled her hands into fists, knowing what was coming. How it was going to end. Caine’s chin bumped her head lightly and then his lips brushed her ear. “Breathe, Desi.”

She didn’t think she was ever going to breathe again.

“Ever since she came to us her mental condition has been…delicate.”

“I am not insane.” For once she wanted to say that and have someone really believe her.

“Of course you’re not,” James agreed immediately, that smile she hated stretching his lips and that warning tic pulling infinitesimally at the corner of his eye. “You’ve just had a tough time recovering from your experience with the Comancheros last year.”

Shame and anger warred for dominance. Everyone knew what Comancheros did to captives. Everyone knew how filthy they left a woman. Forever tainted. Scorned.

“That true, Desi?” Caine asked, no discernible inflection in his voice.

“I’m not crazy.”

“I already know that. I was questioning the part about the Comancheros.”

There would be no point in denying it. The sheriff or the priest would back up James’s claim. She dug her nails so hard into her palms they ached. “Yes.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, honey.”

Honey? When had she become honey? She took one deep slow breath, then two.

“Is that how you lost your parents?”

She didn’t bother with three. Simply gave up the struggle for calm. It just wasn’t possible with the threat of her return hanging over her head and Caine bringing the pain of the past to the fore. “Yes.” And her twin sister. She closed her eyes on that memory.

James took a step forward, and the snap of a twig under his foot jerked her eyes open. This time Caine didn’t put his foot over hers as he came almost into reach. “We’ve done our best by her.”

“That’s true,” Sheriff Hatchet said, coming up. “The girl was wild when she first got here. No one could get near her. There was talk of sending her back east to one of those asylums until James here agreed to take her on.” He slapped James on the back. “Don’t know how he did it, but he worked wonders with the girl.” He shook his head in amazement. “Pure wonders.”

“Did he work wonders on you, Desi?” Caine asked, still with no inflection in his voice to give her an idea of what he wanted her to say.

“Her name is Desdemona,” James corrected before she could answer.

“The girl spoke clear enough when she introduced herself.”

That came from Sam.

James took a step nearer. The side of Caine’s hand dug into her hip as he adjusted his aim. James stopped midstride. He blinked, then slowly raised his hands and reversed his steps. The fear on his face gave Desi no end of satisfaction.

“Ranger,” the sheriff interjected. “James is the girl’s legal guardian. If you have a problem with that, you’ll need to take it up with the circuit judge next time he comes through.”

The saddle creaked as Caine shifted his weight. “I’m thinking maybe I will.”

“I assure you, Ranger, we’ve only had her best interests in mind.”

“Can’t help it if it strikes my suspicious bone funny when the territories’ crookedest judge gives a pretty young girl to a gambler for caretaking.”

“Can’t argue with the results,” the sheriff pointed out.

“I guess that would depend on which angle you were viewing the results from,” Caine countered.

To her surprise, Caine slid the rifle under her hands, pushing it forward until the smooth stock pressed against the heels of her hands and the hammer caught on her gloves. “You want to weigh in on James’s caretaking, Desi?”

She looked up at him only to find him staring down at her, green eyes serious. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. “I can shoot him?”