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And she would do the same for him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Early evening drew on the Lazy S, and Eliza’s shadow lengthened across the grassy ground in front of her. She tightened her grip on the rope handles of the sloshing water buckets, and took a moment to appreciate the orange streaks of sunset that reached across the sky.
The quiet and peace that fell over the ranch in the hours before dark consumed her. In those still moments, she appreciated this life. Everyone stayed busy from morning until night, when they finally wound down, enjoyed dinner, and settled in to rest up for another laborious day ahead. The rhythm of the ranch was starting to become so familiar.
The more she saw of this life, the more she loved it.
Garret took the two buckets of water from her hands as she drew closer to the front porch. “Thank you,” she said, and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The nights had turned cooler, promising the impending arrival of autumn and the chill that would accompany it. This would be a memorable winter season for her. It would be her first here as an adult. It would be her first as a wife.
“Get on inside,” he said, jerking his head toward the front door. “There’s a bite to the air tonight.”
Eliza opened the door for him as he deftly pulled the buckets inside to the kitchen, spilling nary a drop. She’d found herself looking for him throughout the day while she’d tried to do her part around the ranch. She sometimes got frustrated and tried to stop herself, but every few minutes she would pull her gaze in the direction Garret was with the cattle. The sight of him up on the porch, so ready to help her with the water, filled a hole in her that had been dug there when he’d disappeared this morning.
A plucked chicken roasted on a spit above the fire, and the bread she’d made earlier in the day already lay on the table. Used to bachelorhood for so long, Garret had learned to cook and fend for himself. For that, sometimes she was truly grateful, because this was her very first whole chicken to roast.
Garret turned the spit and studied the cooking bird. “It’ll probably be a half an hour more.”
“Perfect. That will give me time to drain the cream off the milk.” Eliza set to her task, ladling the cream from the top of the bucket with a wooden spoon. She felt as if Garret watched her, and a sly glance in his direction proved her instincts spot-on.
He leaned back in his favorite chair, staring at her, wearing a thoughtful expression. She would have paid good money to get a peek into his thoughts at this moment, but returned her attention to the milk. “You thirsty?” she asked in a huskier voice than she’d planned.
Boots and spurs scuffed against the wooden floorboards as he drew closer. He stopped behind her, then traced her backbone through her dress, just one finger’s soft touch.
“Next time we’re in town, I want to get you another dress,” he said low. “A woman pretty as you should have lots of dresses to choose from.”
Eliza stopped ladling and leaned into his hand, tipped her head backward and looked into his face. His gaze traveled to the outline of her breasts, both of which were pressed for space in the dress’s fitted bodice. The corner of his mouth turned up and he leaned down, put his lips on hers.
It was scandalous to kiss a man upside down from this position, but she was learning reservations meant nothing to a hungry man like Garret Shaw. She liked it. Couldn’t help it. He was open with his desire for her, and she felt pretty, and wanted. A hungry shiver took her as he found his way with his hand and cupped her breast, the material of her cotton dress the only barrier between their skin. With his free hand, he released the pins from her hair, throwing them carelessly on the floor. He delved through the thick waves of her hair with his fingers, and his soft lips moved against hers.
As he stroked lazy circles with his thumb where the fabric of her dress met the skin of her breast, a moan escaped her, and again as he pushed his hand inside the material, kneading her fullness.
Hooves clopped on the ground outside, loud in the stillness.
“Come on out, Shaw,” a man drawled in a deep voice, slurring his words. Wyatt Jennings.
“Aw, hell,” Garret growled. He nodded meaningfully at the rifle on the wall, checked his pistols still in the holster on his hips, and glanced out the window. Motioning for her to stay put, he opened the door, then shut it tightly behind himself to face Wyatt Jennings alone.
Frenzied panic raced through her. Wyatt was dangerous on a good day, and now he had drink in him. Garret’s Pack was out with the cattle, beyond reach for backup. What should she do?
She gave a soft curse of frustration, grabbed the rifle, checked that it was loaded, and stuffed two more rounds in the pockets of her dress for good measure. Quiet as a thought, she tiptoed to the back door, careful to avoid the planks that creaked.
Outside, the night air on her bare arms gave her a chill, making her feel exposed and unprotected. The men were talking on the other side of the house, but she was unable to make out what they said. As she crept slowly around the side, she sent a silent thank-you to Lenny for gifting her such quiet house-slippers. Werewolves sure were hard to sneak up on.
The setting sun gave off enough light to see the men conversing in front of the house. Garret stood on the porch, leaning against the railing like he didn’t have a care in the world, while Wyatt spoke furiously and waved a gun around with careless abandon. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest. The gun now pointed at Garret. One drunken slip of the finger, and he would be lost to her forever. He still hadn’t drawn his weapon.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put a bullet in you,” Wyatt demanded unsteadily. “You deny my sister. Embarrass her in front of the whole town for a woman you don’t care a thing for. You up and take the cattle that should have been ours. Whitfield sold us his land. His cattle should have come with it. Mighty underhanded, Shaw.”
“Seems to me what’s underhanded is forcing Whitfield off his land in the first place. Can you blame him for wanting to sell his cattle to someone else?”
“That ain’t the point! It’s like you are here to just…just…get to me. You are a splinter. Irritating and always at the back of my mind,” Wyatt said. “I know you killed our wolves. I know it. We found bullet holes in two, but two were ripped up by teeth and claws. That was you, wasn’t it?” Wyatt asked. “Me and my pa sent them to find Whitfield’s cattle, and then they all die? And you go into town and sell that stock? The same day? You killed them, I know you did.”
“I did,” Garret said easily. “They came for my mate, and my Pack, without any claim on those cattle. I killed them defending my claim. Now ask if I would do it again.”
“Shut up!” Wyatt screamed, jamming the pistol closer to him. “You’ve been trouble for me since we were little. Garret Shaw. The next big thing. Headed for Georgetown. Headed for wealth. Sitting on the biggest property next to my father’s, and you didn’t even care about it. You came back just to get to me.”
“I never thought about you,” Garret said, pushing off the railing. “Hear the truth in my voice? Let me say it slower. I. Never. Thought about you. Why would I give a shit what you think about me? I remember you in school, bullyin’ the other kids. Your dad was rich and you felt entitled, right? I went to Georgetown to escape a life I didn’t want. You think I’m here as a slight to you, but you aren’t even important to me. Truth. Truth. You can hear the truth. You are nothing, Wyatt. You’re a hired gun for your outlaw father, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
