Saving Cole Turner by Anne Carrole Page A

he knew she had to do. The pain in his chest would ease in a couple of days—maybe weeks. But it would fade.
    “No, not just as you thought,” she said, her tone clipped. “I’ll walk down the street with you right now and show you there is no reason you have to leave this town. Maybe you’ve got to love yourself, Cole, before you can believe that someone loves you. And maybe you’ve got to forgive yourself before you can expect the people of this town to forgive you.”
    What the hell was she talking about? Forgive himself? Love himself? Before he could reply, his horse whinnied.
    Cole jerked his gaze around to the trail. Someone was coming and coming in fast. With a lightening reaction that had allowed him to survive in his line of work, he reached for his gun and holster and had it strapped to his waist well before the bay gelding with the familiar rider had pulled to a stop.
    Will Flanders sat on his horse with a rifle cocked and an expression as hard as stone.
    “You liver-bellied, one-eyed mule of a sinner!”
     
    “Daddy!” Kate yelled to stop her father as she gripped the blanket around her. She knew she had played with fire setting this confrontation in motion. She had to be sure no one got hurt.
    Her father’s wild-eyed gaze shifted a fraction to take her in, but his eyes were still on Cole who stood rigid and alert, ready for action.
    “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot the bastard here and now and be done with it,” her father spat out.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Cole’s hand hovering over his gun. Without hesitation, she slid in front of Cole and faced down the angry beast that was her father. She’d known violence was a possibility. Her ace card was that both these men cared about her, and she aimed to play it.
    “I love him.”
    “And nothing happened.” Cole’s voice was low and ominous. It held a warning she knew her father, given his state of mind, would not heed.
    “Like hell nothing happened. You’re both undressed. Alone. And looking like the kids who just stole a cherry pie.”
    “Tell him Kate,” Cole ordered.
    She may not have gotten Cole to bed her, but these circumstances would do just as well.
    “I’ll tell him that I’m going to marry you,” she said, still staring straight ahead at her father.
    “Marry?” The word came out of Cole and her father’s mouths almost simultaneously, like two hawks screeching for the same mouse.
    Her father lowered his rifle and stared at her as if she was out of her mind. Kate didn’t dare turn around and face Cole.
    “I’m a ruined woman no matter what the truth is.” She held her voice calm and impassive. She was playing for high stakes and, though she’d never played poker, she’d watched her father bluff more than one poor cowhand out of his wages.
    “Now wait a minute…” Both men were sounding like echoes of one another. If her future wasn’t depending on it, she’d be inclined to have a good laugh.
    “And I want a real wedding. With the whole town invited. I’m not going to have it look like I’m ashamed to marry Cole Turner,” she continued waving her hand for emphasis.
    “Kate, I ain’t proposing.” Cole’s voice was edged in anger. She whirled around. The fury wasn’t just in his voice; it was etched in every frown line of his face.
    “Well, I am,” she declared.
    “We’ve been through all this. I haven’t changed my mind.”
    “You’re refusing my girl?” Her father slid down off his horse and puffed himself up like a bull frog, weapon in hand.
    “Yes. She can’t marry a man she’s not proud of, doesn’t respect. Who’s always on the move, and leaving this territory for good.”
    “My feelings exactly,” her father said, satisfaction riding his face. “Go then if you’re leaving.” He waved the rifle toward the trail.
    This wasn’t going as she planned. Her father was supposed to make Cole marry her. She’d been caught in her pantalets and chemise with a man, for