Circle Eight: Vaughn (2 page)

A small window was high up on the wall, large enough to recognize the light coming in was a twilight wash. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision. His eyes were dry and hot. Fortunately, the inferno within had subsided since the last time he’d woken.

His nurse was nowhere in sight and it gave him the opportunity to devise a story for her. She mustn’t know of his debt to the Gibsons or any of the various secrets and faces he’d worn. No, she would find a traveler who had been set upon by bandits and nothing more. As soon as he was able, he would leave this place and get his ass out of Texas. He was done with the Republic and Boyd Troxler, the man who hired him.

The door creaked open and a woman with a thick braid of hair the color of molasses poked her head in. She was too much in the grip of the shadows to see her face clearly but he knew by her scent it was the nurse.

“You’re awake.” She stepped into the room, wearing a light-colored dress and a shawl. Her arms wrapped around her middle as she regarded him warily.

“Water.” He was able to croak out a single word through the dust in his mouth.

She jumped as though he’d pinched her. “I’m sorry.” Efficient and brisk in her ways, she left the room in a flash.

Amused by her actions, Vaughn almost forgot his thirst in the interim. When she returned with a lantern, a pitcher and a tin cup, he managed a small smile. She lost a step and spilled water on herself, the floor, and unfortunately, his balls.

Although he was glad the water was cold, he didn’t expect the sincere curse words that flew from her mouth. She set everything on the table and stared at the mess.

“I should go get a cloth.”

The thought of her patting his balls dry, a thought that might have been pleasant any other day, threw him into a panic.

“No! Don’t bother. I’m hot anyway.” He did not need to have this farmer’s daughter, wife or sister touching his crotch. No, that would be a very bad idea.

She looked dubious but she didn’t go for the cloth either. “If you say so. I’m not usually clumsy. That’s Hannah. I think the lack of sleep made me off balance.” She poured water into the cup and sat down on the side of the bed.

“Who’s Hannah?”

“My brother’s wife. Now hush up for a minute.” Her strong hand cupped the back of his neck and she held the cup to his lips so he could drink at his own pace. The water tasted like ambrosia, cool and sweet. He was careful to drink only a small amount, her puke warning still reverberating in his mind.

“Thank you.” He took his time looking at her since he could see her clearly now. The lamplight threw a golden glow about her, turning her hair into a fiery brown. Her face was pleasant, not a startling beauty but nice to look at it. It was her eyes, however, that threw him for a loop. They were a greenish blue, the color of the sea after a storm.

“Did you get a good look then?” She set the cup on the table and moved to the chair.

“I did.” He grinned, surprised and delighted by her cheeky question. The movement pulled his skin and he winced as pain went through the left side of his head. He reached up and felt stitches beneath his hairline. She must have taken care of him and doctored his wound.

She crossed her arms. “Are you ready to tell me your name and how you came to be naked on my doorstep two days ago?”

Vaughn’s gut clenched. “I was naked?”

“As the day you were born.” Her brows drew together. Although she couldn’t be much older than eighteen, ten years younger than him, she had lines between her brows as though she scowled a great deal. Pretty young women shouldn’t be that unhappy. Perhaps she was stuck in a loveless marriage. A quick check of her finger revealed no ring, nor a line from one. “Your name, mister?”

“Vaughn Montgomery. I thank you for assisting me as you did. Not many would have taken care of me so well.” He smiled again, ignoring the twinge from the stitches.

His savior appeared unmoved by the charming grin. Not a promising start to their acquaintance, such as it was. “And you are?”

“Miss Elizabeth Graham. You landed on my family’s ranch.” And she was not happy about it; that was clear.

“Elizabeth is such a mouthful. Do you have a shortened version you use?” He tried his gentle side, soft and sweet.

“No. Not for a stranger. You can call me Miss Graham.”

Not married then, but unhappy just the same. He wondered what secrets hid behind those beautiful eyes. Although he didn’t need to be thinking about her in any way except as someone to hide him, unintentionally of course.

“Then I thank you for your help, Miss Graham. Truly.”

“I think that was the first honest thing you’ve said.” She got to her feet. “I’m going to go get some supper. Eva left some food but nothing fit for an invalid.”

He was affronted by the suggestion. “I am not an invalid.”

“Could have fooled me. I’ve been cleaning you up for two days.” She turned and left the room.

What a little curmudgeon she was. He suspected she’d built a wall around her and shot arrows at anyone who attempted to get close to her. She appeared to be educated, smart and resourceful, plus she was pretty.

His stomach growled. Or rather howled like a starving wolf. He suspected he wasn’t able to eat much while he’d been insensate. Perhaps she’d forced something down his gullet to keep him alive. Vaughn wouldn’t be surprised if she had. Elizabeth Graham appeared to be a woman who got things done no matter what.

She returned five minutes later, although it might have been an hour considering how much his stomach yowled. Elizabeth carried a tray with a steaming bowl of something, a hunk of bread and a glass of milk. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had milk, if ever.

The aroma of the food hit him and he felt physical pain. He refused to show her how hungry he was so he pasted a bland smile on his face while she set the tray on the end of the bed.

“It’s beef broth with a few vegetables. Eva might not approve but it was the best I could do.” She transferred the glass of milk onto the table and the bread on the edge of the bowl. “I can feed you or you can pretend you’re well enough to feed yourself.”

“I can certainly feed myself. You’ve already done so much.” He held out his hands, cursing the fact they shook with hunger and exhaustion.

She handed the bowl to him with the speed of a snail. By the time his fingers closed around the ceramic, his mouth was watering and his stomach dancing a jig.

“Thank you, Miss Graham.” With the grace of a pig at the trough, Vaughn brought the bowl to his lips and slurped. The salty deliciousness coated his tongue, sliding down his throat. Sheer bliss. He was fairly sure he groaned as he continued to demolish the small amount of soup she’d brought him.

When he lowered the bowl, he found her watching from the chair, the arms crossed yet again. “That was wonderful.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Her mouth quirked up in one corner.

He took the bread and wiped it around the bowl, not wanting to miss a drop of food. “Who is Eva? You’ve mentioned her twice.”

At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer. She peered at him as though she was trying to pull information by staring holes through his head. Vaughn was better than a simple woman like Elizabeth. He’d been telling lies for so long, he wore them like a second skin.

“She is our housekeeper and friend.” Elizabeth rubbed her thigh.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He gestured to her leg with what was left of the bread.

“No, it’s an old bullet wound. Sometimes it pains me.” She pulled her hand away and returned to the great scowling.

He was startled. How old was she when she was shot? And who shot her? Elizabeth was turning out to be far more interesting than he originally thought. Life as a Texan was hard, however it generally didn’t involve shooting the womenfolk.

“You haven’t answered my question about how you came to be injured, feverish and naked in the middle of a storm.” The serious Elizabeth was back.

“I was on my way to Houston when I was set upon by brigands.” He put the right note of fear in his voice. “They overpowered me and took everything I had, including my horse and my clothing.”

“How many of them were there?”

“Three, and fiercely armed too. I had at least four pistols in my face at all times. It was quite frightening.” He polished off the last of the bread and wished for more.

She handed him the milk. “They overpowered you.” Her gaze swept across his broad shoulders. “Poor little weak, frightened you.”

His cheeks heated. Vaughn could not remember the last time that happened. “They were well-armed.”

She nodded. “I’ve faced down six armed men and lived with all my clothes intact.”

“You appear to be a sturdy young woman. I’m sure you can give as good as you get.” He regretted the words immediately when she retreated farther back into the chair. Calling a woman sturdy was not the right way to get in her good graces.

“I killed one of them. I survived and so did my family.” Her voice was hard as the chair she sat on.

Each time Elizabeth opened her mouth, something escaped that fascinated him. The sad truth was he had become jaded to women, undisturbed by their charms. His relations with women had devolved into achieving his aims or his release. This plain woman’s plain speaking had jarred him.

“That’s admirable, Miss Graham. I am a city boy, born and raised.” He pasted on his bland expression.

“I never knew a city boy with muscles like that.” Her gaze drifted to his shoulders. “You’re as big as my brothers and they work on a ranch every day.”

Damn.

“I do like to assist my neighbors when they need it.”

“They must be very needful then.” She narrowed her gaze. “What did these men look like that attacked you?”

Like a bunch of Irish thugs.

“It was dark. I only saw hulking figures on horses.”

“And guns,” she prompted.

“Of course. Lots of guns.”

“What kind of horse were you riding?” She was worse than a lawman’s interrogation.

“A brown one.”

Her expression fell. “You talk in shadows, Mr. Montgomery. One would think you were trying to spin a yarn.”

Vaughn switched to his affronted expression. “I would never do such a thing. My memory is a bit rusty due to being hit on the head I’m sure.”

She harrumphed and stood up. “I’ll let you get some rest and hunt down some clothes for you to wear. We don’t need Martha getting any ideas.” Elizabeth left the room before he could speak.

“Who’s Martha?”

Elizabeth washed up the dishes from supper and replayed her conversation with Mr. Montgomery in her mind. He wasn’t being entirely truthful with her, that was for certain. She was smart enough to recognize a hustler. A handsome one, but a hustler nonetheless.

She didn’t know if any part of his story was honest but he was injured and naked. Someone must have wanted him to suffer, or possibly die. Perhaps someone he swindled. She assumed he was quite good at swindling since he told lies with a straight face. With so many younger siblings, Elizabeth thought herself immune to prevarication. Mr. Montgomery stretched that belief until it nearly snapped.

If she were honest with herself, she had been taken by the man’s beauty. There weren’t many men around their little part of Texas who were easy on the eyes. Mr. Montgomery was more than that and he sure as hell wasn’t a city boy, not with those muscles. The man was used to hard work. No one had a build like that without it.

She didn’t know what he was hiding yet she wanted to. Very much so. There wasn’t much excitement on the Circle Eight, with the exception of a coyote problem, runaway calves or Martha teasing Eva. Along came Vaughn Montgomery and everything was different. She was different with him.

Elizabeth was as mannered as any Texan lady, polite and pleasant. She wasn’t acting like herself around him at all. Her tongue seemed to have sharpened to a razor’s edge. She didn’t think about her mother much anymore, since it had been more than ten years since she’d died. However, Meredith Graham would have admonished Elizabeth for her behavior. She had been rude to the man.

After the troubles the Graham family had seen, their parents murdered, their brother missing for five years and people trying to kill Matt and Caleb on two separate occasions, she had good reason to distrust strangers. Vaughn Montgomery was definitely a stranger even if she had seen him in the altogether.

The Circle Eight was their home, a place where they stood together, a perfect circle of eight siblings. Olivia lived with her husband Brody on their own farm and Caleb and Rory lived in their cabin nearby, yet the bond was still there. She would do anything to protect her family. If Mr. Montgomery thought to swindle her, he was in for a surprise. She had been working as the bookkeeper for the ranch for the last three years, as well being the person who dealt with all the merchants for supplies. Elizabeth could spot a liar at twenty paces.

She put the dishes away and wiped down the wood sink. Eva would tan her hide if she left a mess. Everyone at the Graham ranch did their fair share of chores every day.

Martha had eaten earlier but she would no doubt want an update on their guest. Elizabeth poured two cups of coffee and went to the older woman’s room.

After knocking, she entered. Martha was over seventy and frail. Her stubbornness had given her a long life. Elizabeth suspected her great-grandchildren, Finnegan and the twins, Meredith and Margaret, had a hand in the length of her life too. Her health had begun to deteriorate the previous winter. The summer heat had made things worse.

“There you are.” The older woman’s voice was gravelly and rough. “I was about to perish from thirst.” She had thinning silver hair, wrinkled cheeks and watery brown eyes. There was a twinkle that still sparkled within her.

“I doubt you were going to perish.” Elizabeth sat in her customary spot in the comfortable wingback chair beside the bed. “Besides, I had to clean up after feeding our guest.”

Granny sipped at the coffee, holding the cup with gnarled hands. “And how is the mystery man?”

“Awake.”

Granny’s silvery brows went up. “That is news! What does he have to say for himself, the naked bugger?”

“A half-truth about being set upon by brigands. A word I’ve never heard anyone say. I’ve only seen it in books.” She shrugged, but if she were honest with herself, his vocabulary was intriguing. He was well spoken and strangely mysterious.

“Brigands? Oh my.” Martha cackled and slurped her coffee again. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Give him some of Matt’s old clothes and send him on his way when he can stand. He can’t stay here.” Elizabeth didn’t want her family meeting him. She wasn’t ready to examine why.

“No, of course not.” A sparkle of mischief shone from Martha’s gaze. “Will you give him a bath?”

“Martha!” Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. “You are so naughty. You know what Hannah would say if she heard you.”

“Pfft. I don’t care what my granddaughter says. I’m old and dying so I can do what I please.”

Elizabeth didn’t want to think about Martha dying. Granny Dolan was the oldest person Elizabeth had ever met. Granny was also full of life and fire, opposing the notion she was dying.

“Stop that nonsense talk. I don’t want to listen to it.” Elizabeth had no force behind her words. She drank her coffee and tried to shift her focus back to Mr. Montgomery. It wouldn’t do to worry about Martha, particularly if there was nothing she could do to help her. Elizabeth was someone who needed to do something, not simply wait for it to happen.

Matt had scolded her for many years about that very thing. As the eldest sibling, he thought it was his duty to let everyone know when they were doing things wrong. That was his most annoying habit, although as brothers went, he wasn’t too bad. At least he recognized what she could do for the ranch, namely the books, and had handed the responsibility to her. It was after Hannah had spoken up for her, of course. He could have stubbornly refused.

Doing the books and keeping the ranch running financially gave her a sense of accomplishment she’d not found anywhere else. Besides, she loved numbers and working with them. It wasn’t a feminine trait but she didn’t care. The Grahams were ones to break with tradition, as a matter of fact, and Elizabeth was no exception to that rule.

“Before you boot him out I want to meet him.” Martha gulped the last of her coffee and set the cup on the table beside the bed. “This mystery man who has you all aflutter.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I am not all aflutter.”

“Oh yes you are. Like a butterfly who’s seen a beautiful flower.” Martha grinned and Elizabeth wondered just what the old lady had planned.

“I’m not sure I want you to meet him.”

Martha stuck out her chin. “If you don’t bring him to me, I’ll go to him.”

And she could and would, too, if she put her mind to it. Elizabeth cursed inwardly. She could only hope her surrogate grandmother didn’t do anything embarrassing. That was false hope. Martha was up to no good.

“You wouldn’t.” Elizabeth got to her feet just as Martha swung her legs over the bed. “Damn it!”

“I told you I would.” The older woman grinned.

“I’ll check to see if he is up to getting out of bed but before that, I need to find clothes for him.”

“You take all the fun out of it.”

With one final scowl at Martha, Elizabeth took the empty cups and left the room. “Don’t do anything until I get back.”

The cackling followed her out the door.

After putting the cups in the kitchen, Elizabeth went to Matt and Hannah’s room. The emptiness wasn’t lost on her. There was usually so much noise and goings-on every minute of every day. With all of her family gone to Olivia’s house, the house felt as though it held its breath, waiting for the life to return.

Matt had some older clothes in the trunk at the foot of his bed. They’d been oft’ mended and finally put away. She pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt, soft from so many washes but better than no clothing at all. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated as the image of the very naked Vaughn Montgomery flitted through her memory. She dug a little deeper and found the bottom half of a union suit.

No shoes or socks in the trunk. Perhaps she could find some in her other brothers’ rooms. Elizabeth continued her search in Nicholas’s room and finally in Benjy’s room. She paused to look around at how little the youngest Graham kept with him. He spent months at a time with Olivia and in truth had two homes. Since he’d returned to their family four years ago, after having been lost for five, he kept himself apart from the others.

She touched his pillow, wishing she knew a way to reach him. At fourteen, he was a tall, gangly boy who hadn’t grown into his hands and feet yet. He was closest to Catherine, but the fifteen-year-old spent most of her time away from home, riding her horse and raising hell. She worked the ranch, refusing to continue schoolwork since she “wasn’t an arithmetic wizard” and didn’t want to be.

Benjy’s room had very little other than a bed and a single book. She picked it up, surprised and pleased to find he was reading her mother’s favorite story, Sense and Sensibility. She ran her fingers across the binding, remembering her mother reading to them at night. A pinch of sadness swept through her. She had only been twelve when her parents had been murdered, a tender age of change for any young girl. Benjy had been five.

Melancholy weighed down on her. She set the book back on the bed and stood. When Benjy came back, she would spend time with him. No matter how much he remained quiet or pushed her away, she would do her level best to make sure he knew he was a Graham and loved. Her mother would have wanted her to do that and it was the right thing to do.

“Miss Graham?” Mr. Montgomery’s voice echoed through the empty house.

She snatched up the clothing she’d harvested and went back to her guest. Hopefully he wasn’t standing there in the altogether waiting for her to dress him.

Vaughn was amused when Elizabeth returned to the room with an armful of clothes, but her eyes were firmly focused on the floor. She didn’t seem the type to shy away from confronting whatever she faced in life. Apparently a naked man was an exception.

“Miss Graham, are you all right? You look a bit peaked.” He couldn’t help himself. She almost begged to be teased.

“Yes, I’m fine. I brought you clothes.” She threw the hodgepodge on the bed, half of it landing on his face. “Granny Dolan wants to meet you, so get dressed.” She spun around, giving him her back.

“I might need help getting dressed.” Vaughn smiled when her shoulders tightened further.

“Then you’d best be ready to welcome Granny into your bed because she is going to get you one way or another.” Elizabeth seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth.

Distracted by her behavior, it took a few moments for Vaughn to digest her warning. “Wait, what? She is going to do what?”

“Martha doesn’t let anything stand in her way if she has a mind to do it.” Elizabeth made a strange sound, something between a cough and a snort.

“Martha is Granny Dolan, I assume?” Vaughn could barely keep up with the number of names Miss Graham threw out.

“Yes, she is Matt’s wife, Hannah’s, grandmother. She’s become Granny to all us Grahams over the last ten years.” She blew out a breath. “You about finished?”

He was stark naked. For a moment, just a moment, a thought flitted through his mind to dare her to turn around. Then it was gone as though it hadn’t existed.

“No, I’m not quite ready. I’m not up to my usual speed, Miss Graham.”

A short pause while he managed to get the threadbare partial union suit up over his hips. He was weak as a kitten. Thank God the Gibsons hadn’t found him in this condition. He would have been dead and buried by now. Vaughn didn’t like owing anyone; it was usually the other way around. Now he owed Elizabeth Graham his life, the only real thing he had of value aside from his wits and instincts. It was an untenable situation and the hell of it was, he didn’t know what to do about it.

His muscles trembled as he pulled on the trousers she’d brought him. Sweat broke out on his brow, sliding down the side of his face as he struggled to complete the simple act of dressing himself. He nearly collapsed onto the bed, shaking like a palsied old man. The trousers were at least three inches too short, were tired but serviceable. He was grateful for them no matter if they fit or not.

“I can help if you want.” Her voice lacked its usual vigor and her offer surprised him. Although he had no doubt she’d saved his life, she didn’t appear to want to be his savior. Perhaps he made her nervous and she hid it by being short-tempered.

Vaughn contemplated his options, whether to admit he needed assistance or save his pride and perhaps lose consciousness. In the end, he decided to be practical. “I could use some help with the shirt.”

She swung around and her gaze dropped to his chest and shoulders. Her eyes caressed his bare skin. It was the oddest sensation, as though he could feel her touch from ten feet away. His damn nipples hardened, even stranger still.

“Sorry about the trousers. You must be taller than my brothers, which means you’re really tall.” She spoke so fast, the words ran together. Vaughn didn’t think he could rattle the unflappable Elizabeth but his bare skin apparently could. She picked up the shirt from beside him and held it up.

As he slid his arm into the sleeve, she leaned forward and her braid fell forward, swaying in front of his face. The scent of roses emanated from the thick brown hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. It had been some time since he’d been close to a woman who was clean and smelled so damn good.

“Can you lift your other arm please?” Her voice startled him.

Vaughn obeyed with a foolish zing of embarrassment. He did not moon over ladies. They mooned over him. It was one of his finer qualities, the ability to charm the ladies. Miss Graham was immune to him and he was not immune to her.