Read Crossings for Free Online

composure was under attack, and she felt as if she were quickly losing control of the situation.
    â€œThat’s all I wanted to know.” Carrigan hooked his thumb over the embossed leather of his gun belt, a move that draped the edge of his coat behind his Colt and highlighted his pelvic area. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but her eyes lowered.
    Then he made a slow, deliberate inspection of the store—something she found slightly annoying. He knew what they had, and where it was located. His purchases consisted of food staples and indulgences such as a newspaper, whiskey, cigarette papers and tobacco, and sometimes a book.
    At the fabric table, he bent and picked up the spilled bolts of cloth. Piling them on one another, he lingered over the last roll. The calico had a royal background with a pattern of tiny roses and fernleaves. When it had come in, she’d thought the dye striking, but too vivid for her to wear so soon after her father’s death.
    Carrigan alternately gazed at her and the predominantly blue material, presumably measuring the hue against the color of her eyes. The intimate comparison caused warm sensations to spiral through her middle. She wasn’t accustomed to gestures of such a personal nature from men.
    â€œDid you need help finding something?” she asked, trying to distract him from the fabric.
    â€œHmm.” He made a noncommittal sound that could have meant anything, but proceeded through the path of merchandise. The footfalls of his boots marked the compact weight of his well-proportioned body. At the notions, he ran his fingers across the lace trims and ribbons. That he continued to make a point of examining the ladies’ goods had Helena gnawing the inside of her cheek.
    At last he walked full circle and stood before her empty-handed. His gaze lifted to a spot behind her, and she turned to see what item he wanted. There was no shelf in that particular section—just a yellowed map her father had drawn of Genoa and nailed to the wall. He’d gotten tired of giving directions to new-comers and found by laying out the town on paper, he could save himself explanation. The map showed the nine streets and the town’s boundaries, as well as a large parcel of one hundred and sixty acres on the eastern side he’d bought for her and Emilie under the preemption act. Carrigan focused long and hard on the map, the intensity of his eyes making her wonder what he was thinking.
    Helena swallowed tightly as his gaze fell to hers. Without inflection he said, “I’ll take a newspaper, and I’ll take you for my wife.”
    *  *  *
    The words were out before he could take them back. Carrigan’s decision had been made as soon ashe’d seen that renegade with an itch in his belly forcing himself on Helena. The scene had summoned a dark spirit whose unheard cries tore into his heart. It hadn’t been Helena he’d seen being violated, but an apparition of Jenny. Jesus, how her body and sanity must have suffered. Her death had been a release from her pain, but it had broken him. Though years had dulled the fire of retaliation, today he found out his hatred still burned bright.
    He’d wanted to commit murder. To tread over a tombstone and know that the deed had been done. That vengeance was his, and the crime solved. But three years had gone by and the past was trackless, lost somewhere on the frontier. He’d had to ride away from the ghosts, but seeing Helena as a victim made him remember.
    His intention had been to walk out of the store with his newspaper and the solitude in which to read it. But he hadn’t been able to leave Helena. Ever since she’d come to see him, she’d been in his thoughts. He’d found no peace from her, not even in a sleep induced by long hours of hard labor and the influence of ample whiskey.
    When her voice had just been a human sound, he’d been deaf.
    When her body had just been