Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn

standards and went inside.
    Before her eyes adjusted from the glare outside, Nick was merely a darker form moving against the dim light of the interior. It took an instant for her to realize he was taking the saddle and bridle off the gray named Marley.
    "Nick."
    He didn't pause in his work. “Go away, Mrs. Terhune."
    "I have something I want to say to you and—"
    "I have nothing I want to hear."
    She ignored that. “I want to thank you for trying to protect Fanny, but—"
    He stopped, and turned around cold and slow. “Don't thank me. Tell me why the hell you're trying to sell her."
    "I'd think that would be obvious,” she said stiffly. “I need the money. The Circle T needs the money."
    "How much?"
    "Wh-what?"
    He stepped forward, closing within easy arm's length. She had a sudden vision of his hands going around her neck, only they didn't choke her. They caressed her skin, drawing her closer to him, to that harsh line of his mouth.
    "How much do you need?"
    His demand freed her from the vision as abruptly as he had released Hams. “That isn't the issue. I don't—"
    "I'll give you the damn money."
    Shocked, she stared at him for three long heartbeats. Then she found her voice, though it sounded stiff. “That's very generous of you, but I can't accept. It wouldn't—"
    "Pride?” He made the word a sneer. “You can't afford pride."
    Each word struck a stinging blow, but even as she felt them, she had the impression that the lashes of his words fell with much greater weight on his own soul. He was punishing himself, even as he spoke the words to her, she was certain of that. Though why he inflicted this punishment on either one of them she had no idea.
    "I won't accept money from you, Nick,” she repeated, slightly dazed by the ferocity of his cold anger.
    "Your pride will be your downfall. You can't breed good horses if you sell your stock."
    "I have to sell some to keep going with the others.” The logical, reasonable words clearly had no impact on the man standing so close she could see the throb of his pulse under the bronze skin at his temple, could feel the heat of his anger, could hear the rasp of his breath as a word she couldn't make out slid over his lips. His dark eyes were flat and lifeless. It was as if his mind had left her and dwelled somewhere distant and chilling.
    "How could you leave anything you cared for in the hands of a man like that?"
    Such seething accusation swelled beneath the words that she recoiled.
    "I didn't know what he'd do to Fanny. How could I?"
    "You should have. Goddammit, you should have known."
    He pushed past her, one arm easily sweeping her aside, and left her to recover her footing on her own.
    * * * *
    He knew what he had to do before he made a damn fool offer like that again.
    The widow woman might take him up on his loan, and then where'd he be, besides tied to the Circle T and its owner for a good long while? Maybe forever.
    He shoved open Armstrong's office door at the rear of the frame bank building without knocking and, without greeting or preamble, he announced, “I'm offering ten thousand for the old Wallace place."
    "Wh—Oh, Mr. Dusaq. Good day. What can I do for you today?"
    "You heard me."
    "But, uh, I haven't yet received Mr. Wallace's answer to your previous offer.” Armstrong looked genuinely perplexed. “Surely you want to wait to hear."
    "Ten thousand. Right now. Take it or leave it."
    Take it, before he offered it again to the Widow Terhune, and she accepted it. That was too great a risk for either of them.
    "Of course,” Armstrong said as if to a child. “I'll write to Mr. Wallace with your new offer, but—"
    "Telegram. Now."
    "All right. As soon as—"
    "Now. We're going to the telegraph office now. And we're waiting for Wallace's answer."
    So Nick watched the operator taking the message when the answer came back that he'd be the proud owner of the old Wallace place as soon as papers were drawn up.
    "Do it fast,” Nick ordered when they'd