"Because you've got to convince Chet to become our foreman."

"You can do that."

"No, I can't."

"Why?" "He won't take the job for me. He won't take it at all if you don't stay."

"Why?"

"Because he's in love with you. He has been almost from the moment he saw you."

Chapter Twelve.

Melody didn't know what to say, what to think, what to do. It had never occurred to her that Chet might be in love with her. Actually, the idea scared her. Being connected to him, even in this tenuous way, seemed to draw her closer to aspects of life that she didn't understand and wanted to keep at a distance.

Yet she had to admit that the very things about him she deplored had been responsible for saving her brother's life. She didn't need Bernice to tell her Sydney was alive only because a faster gun had stopped Blade. She might not like gunfighters, she might deplore the necessity for them, but she had to be honest enough to admit she was thankful Chet was such a good one.

Deny it as strenuously as she wanted, she had to admit she was excited by the thought that he was in love with her. She'd been attracted to him from the first. The possibility that he might be in love with her raised the stakes. Did she actually like him, or was a stronger word closer to her true feelings? She'd better find out before she asked him to stay. If he did love her, asking him to stay might make him think she was offering more than a job as foreman.

Suddenly a fairly simple decision had become complicated. She couldn't say or do anything without wondering what else it might mean. She wasn't good with sticky situations, nor was she very diplomatic. But she had to be, and she didn't have much time to figure out how to do it. She had sent Neill to find Chet. She could see him walking up to the house right now.

On impulse she left the parlor and crossed the hall into her father's study. She decided to sit behind her father's desk. She hoped it would give her some sense of strength. She felt sorely in need of it.

What would she do if he refused to take Tom's job? He'd already said he didn't want anything to do with a gunfight. He'd twice refused to work for her. What made her think he was going to change his mind this time? Because he was in love with her? It would be unfair to use that. Worse, it would be dishonest. However, the temptation was great. She was desperate. People she loved were in real danger.

But if Chet loved her, she couldn't take advantage of him and still look him in the eye. That would be worse than his being a gunfighter. And if she felt more for him than liking, she wouldn't be able to look herself in the mirror. She had to find a way to convince him to be their foreman without leading him on. She didn't know how to do that, but she couldn't throw up her hands and quit now. He had to take the job, at least until she and Belle had time to look for someone else. Despite her objections to guns and her dislike of gunfighters on principle, she didn't trust any to know better when to use a gun than Chet. Sydney had told her that Chet hadn't killed Blade even though he'd had plenty of reason and opportunity. If she'd ever had any doubt that guns were only as good or bad as the men who used them, she doubted no longer.

Chet had already proved he was willing to risk his life for Sydney. She felt certain he would do the same for anyone else on the ranch. Loyalty, integrity, and courage couldn't be bought. Either a man had them or he didn't. She would never have believed she'd find them in a gunfighter.

But from the first, she'd known Chet wasn't an ordinary man.

Her thoughts broke off when he entered the room. She was struck by the power of his looks. Maybe Belle's words had heightened her perception, but she didn't know why she hadn't realized before that he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Even being so blond didn't detract from his appeal. His height and obvious physical power didn't overwhelm her, but he seemed to fill the room with his presence, to gather all the energy to himself.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

Melody looked down at her hands and tried to organize her scattered thoughts. "Yes. Please sit down."

Chet cast her a questioning glance before taking a ladder-back chair, turning it around, and straddling it. The pose made him look on edge, poised for escape rather than relaxed and receptive.

He didn't look like a man in love, at least not like any man of her experience. Lantz had been clumsy and overbearing, but he'd tried to be near her, to capture and hold her attention. The young men in Richmond were more ardent. None had thrown themselves at her feet, but they tended to hang around making a nuisance of themselves. One had even recited poetry.

Chet simply sat there, waiting for her to speak, his expression neutral, his att.i.tude relaxed. Belle had to be wrong. This couldn't be the way a man acted when he was in love, not even a Texas gunfighter.

"I want to thank you for going after Sydney," she began.

"You don't have to."

"Belle would thank you as well, but she won't leave Sydney's side until she's convinced he's no longer in danger."

"In that case, he's more likely to be in danger from loss of temper than from that bullet wound."

Melody smiled. "Probably, but it's impossible to convince Belle to stay away."

A silence fell between them. Once more she found herself studying his face, searching for some sign of what he might feel for her. Nothing. Belle had to be wrong.

She felt a sense of relief, but a sense of loss as well. There was something about this man that made her want to be near him. She'd liked many men before, even fancied herself in love, but she'd never felt the need of their physical presence, at least not in the same way. Her previous experiences with lovelorn young men had always involved impa.s.sioned declarations, the offering of small gifts. It wasn't at all like that with Chet. Just knowing he was there was enough. She had felt much the same way when he'd been upstairs, his head wrapped in bandages, too weak to sit up.

That was nonsensical. Women didn't admire men when they were on their backs in a sick bed. She decided it had to be the disorientation of being in Texas, of not understanding how the men thought or how she was supposed to react.

"Did you want anything else?" Chet asked.

"Yes." His gaze hardened. There was nothing she could point to, but she could feel it just as clearly as though his eyes had changed from sky blue to deep azure. "You know what it is, don't you?"

"You don't have to ask. I'll stay."

The sense of relief was tremendous. She hadn't realized how tense she had become, how much she feared he might refuse. But a sense of guilt followed quickly. He was doing something he didn't want to do, going against what he thought was best for him, risking his life for people he'd never heard of until a few days ago. What could she give him in exchange? Money didn't seem enough.

"I don't know how much money you usually get paid, but"

"I'm not doing this for money. I've put all of you in danger."

"Don't be absurd. We put you in danger."

"Blade's not seriously wounded, but his father is going to want me dead. He may want to take it out on your family as well."

"Melody realized she'd been completely selfish. So had Belle. It had never once occurred to her family that helping them would put Chet in serious danger.

"Then you can't stay," she said. "Take any horse you want. I'll have Bernice pack some food for you. You can be twenty miles from here by nightfall."

He directed such an unnerving look at her that she began to squirm in her chair.

"Do you need money? I'll give you as much as I can."

"You think I would leave?"

What else could she think? It was the only sensible thing to do. "You just said Lantz was going to try to kill you."

"That doesn't mean I'll turn tail and run."

"But Tom said he had hired a gunfighter. You can't just wait for him to come after you."

Chet stood and pushed the chair away from him. "I don't intend to. The men can't do their work without horses. I'm going after them. Several of the boys are waiting for me now."

Surprise held Melody silent for only a moment. "You mean you had decided to stay even before I asked you?"

"You'd already asked me twice. I figured the invitation was still open."

The hint of a smile was back in his eyes. He'd let her sit there squirming, ready to abase herself, beg . . .

"You mean you let me sit here worrying about what I'd do if you refused?"

"I would have told you earlier, but I didn't want to take you away from Sydney."

Melody's sense of outrage continued to grow. "You didn't think any such thing! You wanted to see me grovel."

"No, but if you were going to, I wouldn't mind watching."

He was laughing at her now. Those incredibly blue eyes were practically dancing. "Why, you" She couldn't think of a polite word that would do justice to her feelings. "I've a good mind to"

"Careful. You don't want to make me so angry I'll quit. Then you'll have to get down on your knees and really beg to get me to come back."

"I wouldn't get on my knees to you if" She stopped abruptly. He was teasing her. What did he mean by having a sense of humor when she was near desperation? She took refuge in rigid formality. "My stepmother and I are deeply appreciative of what you've done for us, Mr. Attmore. We realize money can't compensate you for the dangers you've been exposed to, but you'll have our eternal grat.i.tude."

"I liked you better when you were thinking profane thoughts and being frustrated because you were too ladylike to utter any of them."

He was still laughing at her. "A gentleman would never say anything so ungallant."

The sparkle disappeared from his eyes.

"I'm not a gentleman. I'm a gunfighter, remember? We can do anything we like."

She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. "Despite your dependence on guns, I suspect you're as much a gentleman as any man I've ever known."

"Don't stretch your definitions too wide," he said with a wintry smile. "You'll find yourself having to be civil to all kinds of undesirable characters."

The door closed behind Chet, leaving Melody feeling vaguely dissatisfied. She had the feeling nothing had gone right, but she couldn't put her finger on the trouble. He'd agreed to stay. He hadn't asked for more money than they could pay. He'd gone right to work with no fuss or fanfare. He'd been polite and cooperative. He'd practically apologized for getting them into trouble with Lantz. Things couldn't have gone better if she'd been able to choose the words he spoke, yet the feeling of disquiet wouldn't go away.

She felt he'd come out of this sounding n.o.ble, her looking as though she thought only of herself. He'd also put more distance between them. She'd lost her control; he'd kept his. He'd laughed at her, and that made her angry.

It was probably vanity. She liked feeling Chet was in love with her. It gave her a wonderful sense of power. It also allowed her to admit she liked him far more than she had suspected.

That was okay as long as she could believe he loved her. She was still in control. But he had outguessed her, which left her feeling at a disadvantage again. Maybe he didn't love her, but she couldn't take back her admission to herself. She liked him a great deal and not just because he was handsome and had a great body and the most kissable lips she'd ever seen.

Melody was shocked at herself. She couldn't ever remember having a thought like that. Ladies didn't in Richmond. At least not grown-up, mature ladies, not after they turned sixteen and stopped being silly girls. But his lips were kissable, and it was pointless to deny that she had thought about kissing them. And that was something else. Decent women didn't kiss men.

But Chet Attmore had confused her thinking, first by being so handsome she couldn't help being attracted to him. Next by being so nice it would be impossible not to like him. And finally by stepping in to help when she was so obviously out of her depth. And all he asked of her was that she not condemn him because he had been a gunfighter.

Little did he know that if she wasn't very careful, she would find herself in love with him.

Chet had guessed the horses would still be in the canyon, and that proved to be the case. He figured Blade hadn't taken the horses so much to steal them as to draw the Spring Water hands into his ambush. Chet directed the men to take the horses back to the ranch, but he decided to ride farther up the canyon. He kept Speers with him.

"What are you looking for?" the young man asked.

"I'm not sure," Chet replied, "but there's a lot I don't understand about this situation. Lantz Royal wants this ranch because he's greedy. I guess he wants to marry Melody for pretty much the same reason."

"That, or to keep his son from marrying her."

Chet nodded thoughtfully. "What exactly happened between her and Blade?"

They had entered a long, deep canyon that ran along the north boundary of the Spring Water Ranch. Down its center flowed a stream of cold, sweet water that never dried up even in the hottest and driest summers. A ribbon of trees provided abundant shade in summer and protection from fierce winds in the winter.

"It was quite a story at one time. Blade took one look at Melody and was lost. He made a right fool of himself over her. But Miss Jordan turned him down. Things might have died out in a natural way if Lantz Royal hadn't decided he wanted to marry her. Ordered his son to forget about her, said he should start thinking about her as his mother, not his wife."

"What did Blade do?"

"I heard him and his pa had a terrible fight, though I don't know how that could be. Lantz stands a foot taller and must weigh twice as much. He could have tossed the boy through a window without even trying."

Chet pulled his horse to a halt. He leaned out of the saddle to study some tracks in the sandy bottom of the canyon. Cows had made those tracks, not horses, and a lot of them seemed to be going in the same direction.

"Was Blade angry at Melody for turning him down?"

"I don't know, but that kind of man never likes not getting what he wants. He's the kind to do something about it."

Chet had reached the same conclusion himself, but trying to kill off most of the Spring Water cowhands seemed a little extreme, even for someone as unbalanced as Blade Royal.

"What about this rustling?" Chet asked.

"That's got me puzzled," Speers said.

"When did it start?"

"About a year ago. At first we thought it was Lantz trying to force Mr. Jordan to sell out to him, but they've been hitting Lantz worse then they hit us."

"Have other ranchers lost cows?"

"Yes, but not as many as us and Royal."

"Is that why Lantz hired a gunfighter?" "Yes, but he doesn't seem to be making any progress. Those rustlers seem to know more about what we're doing than we do. We're never anywhere near where they strike. And they've been getting the cows out of the area without anybody seeing them."

"This might be part of the reason," Chet said, pointing to the tracks. "n.o.body would see them in this canyon. Since the canyon walls are a natural fence, I imagine Tom didn't have you patrol it on a regular basis."

"We never came in here until roundup," Speers confirmed.

It was just as Chet had guessed. He, too, might have thought Lantz was doing the rustling if he hadn't gone to the expense of hiring Luke to put a stop to it. No, Lantz wanted the canyon because it was a dependable source of water, gra.s.s, and shelter. But who was doing the rustling, and where were they taking the cattle?

"Where does this canyon go?" Chet asked Speers.

"I don't know. It's more than a hundred miles long. It goes through three counties."

"Where does the water come from?"

"Lots of springs. The biggest I know of is on Spring Water land. That's what gives the place its name."