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After he'd spent himself inside her, Glen rolled off, laid down in the bed next to her. After a moment he leaned over and took a kiss from her lips.
Seventeen
Catherine rubbed her head. She shouldn't have done what she did. God had she wanted it. She couldn't deny that. But the fact was, she had made a damn fool of herself, and that wasn't exactly acceptable either.
What was he going to think of her? That she was some kind of hussy, who would spread her legs for anyone? Would he be right to think that, for that matter?
She didn't like the thought. It stung more than she had thought it would to imagine. She had done that because she had to. She had to tell herself that, because otherwise she was going to go crazy.
The questions were piling up, and all her intention of relaxing… well, that was gone now. She was probably never going to be able to relax again at this rate.
They were riding straight on to Rawlins. Glen had offered the morning after to drop her off at the ranch, and maybe she should have taken him up on it. She couldn't bring herself to it, though, and it would only add another couple hours.
They'd be able to resolve the issue, give the Sheriff what they knew, and then they would be able to go back. Easy.
She didn't like the idea that Rod Dawson's name had come up. She knew him, and that meant bad things for everyone. She had more than enough unpleasant memories of all Billy's gambling friends to make a lifetime of them. Come to think of it, she'd made one the night before with Glen.
Oh, she didn't have any reason to figure that he would make her regret it. She'd done that because she wanted to, but the pattern… it was hard not to laugh. What an idiot she was. Always with the same problems.
The last time she'd fallen in with a man like Glen, she'd wound up pregnant, moved out here, and lost her own ranch to her idiot husband's proclivities for gambling.
She'd lost a lot more than that, if she was honest. A whole lot more.
But all of that had given her Ada. Had given her Grace and Cole. She shook off the bad mood that she'd been making for herself. At least she had them. That by itself was enough to more than make up for whatever Billy had done. She had to remember that.
"Only another twenty minutes or so," she said. She could just about see the town through the haze of the afternoon sun. With luck they'd be back home by sundown, and she'd be able to cook up some supper for the children.
Then she could return to her own bed, finally get a good night's sleep. That it would be returning to bed alone didn't matter near as much as the comfort of being in her own bed. At least, she let herself hope so.
Glen nodded his understanding and they kept going. He was quiet today. Unusually quiet, and she wasn't sure why but it was definitely getting under her skin.
Glen let himself sulk a little longer. He'd made a mistake last night, and no doubt. What had he been thinking? Far as he knew, she was still married to Bill Howell, which made him an adulterer.
He'd taken advantage of a woman's loneliness. All for his own pleasure. Oh, sure, he could blame it on the drink—but should he? He could've said no. Should have. He didn't, and now he had to face that.
As they broke into the buildings, he traced the route back to the Sheriff's office. The first time he'd come to town it had taken the better part of half an hour to find the place, but now that he knew where it was, the trip was short, and he wanted to keep it that way.
The less time he spent with Catherine, the better. For his self-control, as well as his sanity. Why he'd let himself lose that control before, he couldn't say, but he wasn't going to let it slip again.
The Sheriff's office was dark when they pulled up, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. After all, it was barely five on the clock. So he rapped on the door.
A minute later he rapped again, harder. His knuckles stung with the force of knocking, but it didn't much matter. After all, he had to get the man's attention, didn't he?
A minute later, as Glen rubbed his knuckles to prepare them for the pain that was about to come, Jim Barnes opened the door. He looked tired, like he'd barely slept the night before. Perhaps they'd woken him, even.
"Sheriff, we need to talk."
"Oh, it's you. Mister, uh… Riley, was it? Can it wait?"
Before Glen had a chance to answer, the door was already closing in his face. He put up a hand to stop the door, heard the shades hit the inlaid windows.
"No, it can't."
The Sheriff licked his lips. "Then give me a minute t
o put on a pot of coffee."
The door tried to close again, and Glen put up a hand again to stop it, stepped inside.
