The Man From High Mountain. Kay DavidЧитать онлайн книгу.
and walked slowly to his door. Before he could open it, she spoke from behind him.
“That’s it? Just no?”
He didn’t bother to turn around. “That’s it,” he answered. “Just no.” Opening the screen door, he stepped inside the cabin. The sudden dimness was such a change from the outside, he blinked, his vision going dark for just a second. By the time it returned, her steps were sounding on the wooden porch and she was speaking to him through the screen.
“Can I at least come in and try to convince you?”
He turned then, slowly, almost awkwardly. She was a shadow behind the screen, a disembodied voice. “There’s nothing you could say that would change my mind, but you can come inside and waste your breath if you want to.”
Without waiting to see what she did, he made his way to the small kitchen tucked in one corner of the house. Opening the refrigerator, he heard the screen door creak, followed by the sound of her boots on the floor. He didn’t look back. “Beer?” he called out.
“That’d be nice,” she answered.
Taking two Coronas from the refrigerator, he opened them both, then walked back to the den and over to the desk where she was standing. He handed her one of the cold, clear bottles, then brought his own to his mouth. When he lowered it, the beer was all but gone.
In the dimness, her green eyes glowed.
“I want to go back,” she said softly. “I have to.”
Despite himself, he asked, “Why?”
She hesitated for only a moment. “I’ve never turned loose of it. Never said goodbye. It’s time for me to move on with my life, and I can’t seem to do that without taking care of this first.”
“Time to move on...” Her choice of words intrigued him. She was the one who’d fled. He’d stayed. Every day he drove by the entrance to her ranch. Every day he led strangers into the land surrounding it. Every day he dealt with the ragged pain in his hip.
“Richard Williams—my husband’s partner—has asked me to marry him,” she said. As if that explained everything. “I promised him I’d...think about it but I had to come out here first.”
He saw it now—the wink of an enormous diamond on her left hand. She’d worn a plain gold band before. Funny how he remembered that, but he could see the ring as if it’d been yesterday—those pale, long fingers lying on the white sheets of the hospital bed, the gold glinting dully. It’d felt cold against his own hand when he’d covered her fingers with his.
“Congratulations,” he said.
She looked startled by his answer, her eyes rounding for an instant before she shuttered her expression. “Thank you.”
He turned around and sat down heavily in the old recliner beside the couch. She continued to stand by the desk.
He spoke to break the silence, his voice was raspy in the quiet. “How you feeling? Everything heal okay?”
He watched as her fingers went to her upper arm. It was an unconscious movement, he was sure, because she merely touched her shoulder then dropped her hand back to her side. “I went through a lot of physical therapy,” she answered. “It was...hard.”
The word seemed unsatisfying to her. She pursed her lips and stared at him, then spoke again, this time telling him the truth because they were both survivors and he’d understand. “Actually, it hurt like hell. I didn’t think I’d make it.”
He nodded. Nothing else was necessary.
She sat down on the couch, the springs protesting her weight. “Why won’t you take me?”
He drained his beer and set the bottle on the floor beside the chair. The decision to lie to her was an easy one because it wouldn’t have been a lie a few months before. And for a lesser man, it would still be the truth. Doc Watts had hidden his surprise, but to Cole his recovery hadn’t been unexpected. He’d simply willed his hip to work again, had not accepted the unacceptable. He’d tortured himself into health, walking the mountains till he’d dropped, carving a place deep inside him for the pain and not letting it out.
He met her eyes without flinching. “I can’t. The terrain’s too rough for my hip.”
Her breath caught in her chest. He could see her sudden stillness.
“Your hip? What happened? You were okay when I left.”
He hesitated, then spoke. “An infection developed. Doc Watts had to go back in and operate again. Things didn’t turn out quite as great as he hoped.”
“You don’t track anymore? At all?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I guide, but day trips only and by horseback, not on foot.”
“We drove most of the way, remember?”
His eyes met hers. “I remember every detail, Miz Matthews, believe me.”
She stood up. Moving to the window at the back of the cabin, she spoke softly. “It’s Taylor.” She paused. “My first name is Taylor.”
He said nothing. Outside, the heat shimmered in the distance. Finally she turned around.
“I—I had no idea...” Her hand fluttered toward his leg. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Your finger wasn’t on the trigger.”
“But you wouldn’t have been shot if we hadn’t hired you...if you hadn’t tried to help me.” A longer pause. “If I hadn’t tried to go back for Jack.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Their eyes met, something shining in the cool green depths of hers that he didn’t want to see. He shrugged.
She bore the silence a moment longer, then she came to where he sat. “What if we took it easy? Drove in with horses, then camped for the night?” Her perfume reached out and curled around him. She was as beautiful as she had been two years ago. Just as beautiful and just as appealing. She had a delicate air about her, seemed even more fragile than she had been that first time they’d met. He imagined she wouldn’t last long in the harsh West Texas environment.
She continued to speak, completely unaware of his thoughts. “Surely we could get to the canyon in a morning’s ride, couldn’t we? We could spend another night out, then—”
He pushed himself up from the chair. “I’m sony, Miz Matthews—Taylor—but the answer’s still no. I lost nothing out there I need.” His hands curled into fists at his side, and he pulled his lips into one straight line. “You’re on your own if you want to go back to Diablo.”
TAYLOR FOUND HERSELF walking down Main Street that afternoon with little else to do. Jim Henderson, the real estate agent, couldn’t see her until later, and she’d planned on using this time to get ready for her trip out to the ranch.
Seeing the diner ahead, she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast so she headed inside and ordered a small salad and a cup of coffee. She was the only patron in the tiny restaurant, and her meal came within seconds. Lifting her fork, she looked at the sad bowl of wilted lettuce and tomatoes, then sighed deeply and put the fork down.
Turning her head, she stared out the window beside her. In the distant background, the ragged tops of the Davis Mountains pulled her gaze, their uneven edges as sharp and treacherous as the look that had been in Cole Reynolds’s dark eyes.
Deep down, a heavy tug of guilt pulled at her. Because of what had happened to them, Cole had been forced to change his way of life. Because of her and Jack. Because of some idiot with a gun. Taking a sip of