Open Country by Kaki Warner Page B

above the stove.
    Brady prepared to duck then relaxed when she began flinging salt into the broth with all the vigor of a woman trying to stone ants.
    “I hate all this lying,” she muttered.
    Since when? But Brady wasn’t so stupid to say that out loud. Nor did he mention the soup was probably salty enough now to cure pork. He needed her too much to run her off. “He’s wary enough as it is. If he knew what you did, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.”
    “That won’t be a problem, since I have no intention of going to your ranch.”
    “You will if you want your money,” he snapped, drawing her head around again. Curbing his temper, he added in a more reasonable tone, “Here’s what we’ll do. Because we don’t want anyone accidentally blurting it out, we’ll go ahead and tell him about the marriage. But not about the money. I want to get him home and well again before we pull his feet out from under him.” And by then, hopefully it’ll be over and Jessica will be safe, he added silently to himself.
    She faced him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know what scheme you have going here, Mr. Wilkins, but I am not lying to your brother.”
    “Hell, you already have!” He clapped both hands to his head.
    “Christ. You’re as bad as he is, hardheads, both.”
    Muttering to herself, she snatched a bowl off the shelf and began spooning broth into it.
    This wasn’t going as Brady had hoped. He didn’t want to get harsh with her, but there was more at stake here than just Hank’s well-being. “Look at me,” he said.
    Pausing mid-scoop, she glared at him over her shoulder.
    “You’ll come to the ranch,” he said with soft menace. “You’ll stay married and tend Hank and not tell him about the money, or we can go to the sheriff right now and he can explain the penalty for fraud. What’ll happen to those kids then?”
    The bowl dropped. Broth sizzled on the hot stove. “You’d do that?”
    He stepped closer until he loomed over her. “I’ll do anything to protect my brother. He may have finally come awake but he’s not out of the woods yet, and you’re his best hope of staying alive.”
    “You arrogant—”
    “I know you’re running from something,” he cut in. “I don’t know what or why and I don’t care. But if you’d rather face that —or jail—instead of coming to the ranch to nurse Hank a little longer, it’s your choice. But decide now.”
    Her face went white. She pressed a hand to her stomach.
    He hoped she wasn’t going to puke again.
    “When he realizes what we’ve done, he’ll hate me,” she said. “And you.”
    “But he’ll be alive, won’t he?”
    Straightening, he took a step back. He knew his size and manner could be intimidating, and he didn’t like using it against a woman, but he’d do whatever he could to help Hank. And Jessica. And this woman was exactly what he needed to do that.
    He tried to soften his expression. “Hell, he may never remember, you said so yourself. And who knows? If you sweeten up to him and play your cards right, he may never care that you tricked him like a blind dog.” He grinned.
    She hit him in the side of his face with the wooden spoon.
    For a moment they blinked at each other, then Brady lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips over the broth dripping down his cheek. He tasted it and shook his head. Chicken. “I’m telling you he’d prefer steak. And less salt.”
    “You are the most vile, manipulative, deceitful—”
    “I know. What’s your answer?” When he saw her hand tighten on the handle of the spoon, he took another step back. The woman had a formidable temper.
    In the distance a train whistle blew. He glanced at the clock above the stove then back at the woman, aware that if his wife was on that train, he was running out of time. “Think of the little ones, Molly. And Hank. Come to the ranch and they’ll all be safe.”
    He watched tears well up in those sad green eyes, and panic shot through him.