“Time for you to come out of mourning,” he said, his voice grim. “I’ve been very patient with you, but it’s over now. I want you, Cat, and I always get what I want.”
“I don’t want you,” she said hotly. He raised one brow, mocking her, and she shook her head quickly. “No, what I mean is that I don’t want to be married again, and I don’t want to be under any man’s control. Ever. I’m going to get a job and support myself. If I canoodle with you, that won’t work. They won’t let a loose woman be the schoolteacher. And don’t call me Cat!”
“You don’t need a job, Catherine,” he said, his tone firm and final. “You already have one. You manage the ranch house, and do a hell of a job with it too. The men love you, Dad loves you and if I don’t get my c**k into you soon I’m going to explode. That’s enough for any woman.”
“Don’t you dare use words like that with me,” she said, shocked. “I may not be a fancy lady, but I am a respectable woman. You’ll treat me as such.”
He laughed, and backed away from her. The pressure in the air eased, and Catherine had to stop herself from bolting out of the loft. She had a feeling that might raise the predator in him. Instead she looked him right in the eye, holding his gaze like a sheepdog staring down an errant charge. Time to lay down the law with Wade.
“You don’t have the right to tell me what to do, Wade,” she said. “I’ll make my own way, thank you very much. And if you can’t treat me with respect, then you should keep your mouth shut. I’ll go where I want to go.”
She ducked around him, marching purposefully toward the ladder. Best to escape while she had the final word. His laugh followed her and she stiffened her spine.
“You go ahead and try to leave, Cat,” he said. “See what happens. You belong to me, and I don’t give up what’s mine whether it’s land, cattle or a woman. The sooner you understand that, the happier you’ll be.”
* * * * *
His words followed Catherine all day as she worked, worming their way through her mind at inconvenient moments. She had to make the biscuits twice, after pounding them so hard the first batch lost its lift. She burned the stew for dinner, and took a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that she didn’t have time to make a pie for dessert. In fact, she didn’t have time to do several things, including mending a pair of Wade’s pants. Until he saw fit to treat her with respect, it wouldn’t happen.
Even if he did, it might not happen. Not if she got her teaching job. The position was more than just a way to earn money—it meant independence, a home of her own.
A life free of men telling her what to do. Marriage to Ryan had been enough to convince any sane woman to swear off men. By the time the food was ready, she’d managed to build up a good head of righteous indignation over Wade’s words to her earlier. He didn’t own her. No man owned her. And a woman wasn’t like a cow in any way. Although a nasty little voice in the back of her head whispered that in the eyes of the law, she might as well be.
Catherine certainly hadn’t been able to get free from Ryan, no matter how poorly he treated her. Nobody would give her a job, and she seriously suspected only Wade’s glowering presence had protected her from physical harm at Ryan’s hands. He’d only hit her once. Wade had heard her scream, and he’d broken into their bedroom, pulling Ryan off her and hauling him out to the barn. She hadn’t seen her husband for nearly two weeks after that, and he’d never laid a hand on her again.
The expression on Wade’s face the morning after that horrific night had been terrible. She’d served breakfast to him and her father-in-law and then hid in the kitchen for the rest of the day. She simply couldn’t bear to look at him, she felt so much shame and humiliation. He’d seen her at her lowest point, and half naked too.
Catherine shivered, then pulled herself together. Bad memories were like a plague, you couldn’t get rid of them. Best to pretend they didn’t exist. Still, she was feeling a little more charitable toward Wade as she set the table. He might be overbearing, but she didn’t believe he’d hurt a woman. Ever. No, he was different than Ryan in that respect. You married the wrong brother, the traitorous little voice whispered in the back of her head, but she ignored it. The past was over, time to look to the future.
And her future didn’t include a man, not even one as attractive as Wade Masters.
“Supper’s ready,” she called as she rang the big bell hanging from the kitchen porch. The men came in quickly, washing up out at the pump before tramping into the dining room. There were six hands on the ranch, in addition to Wade and his father, John, although only two would be eating with the family tonight. The others were camped out on the range, watching over the stock.
Wade’s temper hadn’t improved, that was obvious from the way he glowered at her as they settled ‘round the table. His father sat at the head, but they all knew Wade was the real man in charge at Sweet River Ranch. John was as retired as a Texan man could get, working for only a few hours a day, puttering around the barn doing small projects. That, combined with his hard hearing, left him detached from most ranch operations. The men sat down as she took her place at the foot of the table, then they all bowed their heads for grace. Wade spoke, his words the same as always.
“Bless us, oh Lord, and these, thy gifts…”
To her annoyance, Catherine wasn’t able to keep her eyes focused downwards, stealing a peek at Wade from beneath her lashes. He didn’t exactly seem filled with the spirit of prayer. His eyes bored into her, and she realized that each word of the blessing was coming through clenched teeth. Yup, still pretty angry.
“Through Christ, our Lord, Amen,” he said, and the men fell to their food hungrily. Nobody seemed to notice that the stew was burned, or if they did, they weren’t saying anything. One of the things she’d learned as the daughter of a ranch hand was that a hungry man hardly cares what he eats. If it’s hot, that’s good enough after a long day of work.
Wade wasn’t eating, though.
“I hear that they’re looking for a teacher in town,” he said, the words a gauntlet thrown across the table. “I can’t imagine what kind of woman would want a job like that. A real woman wants to get married and take care of her man.”
“That’s definitely true,” John Masters said, dipping his biscuit in the gravy. “Too many men, not enough good women to tame ‘em. I don’t know who they’ll be able to find to fill the position—all the local girls have kids to watch. And no Eastern woman is going to come out here, not unless they’re prepared to pay a whole lot more. The last time they had a man take over he wasn’t worth a damn. It’s not men’s work, anyway.”