Honor Bound(54)

Her attempt at humor fell flat. If he heard her, he gave no evidence of it. She thought he was going to ignore her entirely. But after a minute or two he said, "I only wear this one earring."

"Does it have special significance?"

"My grandfather made it."

"Joseph Greywolf was a silversmith?"

"That was just one of his talents." There was a defensive edge to his voice as sharp as a double-edged sword. It couldn't have held more challenge if he had said "En garde." "Do you find it hard to believe that an Indian could have several skills?"

Again, she held back a rejoinder. Curbing her temper this time was more difficult, but she forced herself to control it. She understood that he was only being nasty because he was mortified over what had happened in bed that morning.

He had revealed a weakness to her, and he found that untenable. Underneath that implacable facade, Lucas Greywolf was an extremely sensitive man. He had the same needs and desires for love as any human being. Only he didn't want anyone to know it.

His hostility was a defense mechanism. He was punishing himself for being a bastard, for being a hardship on his teenaged mother, even for being Indian. He was so hard on himself he had served a prison sentence for a crime he didn't commit. Aislinn wouldn't be satisfied until she uncovered each injury in his soul and healed it with her love.

"You didn't tell me you had some land. I know, I know," she rushed to add, holding up both palms, "I didn't ask. Will I always have to ask to get information out of you?"

"I'll tell you what I think you need to know."

Her mouth fell open in dismay over such outrageous chauvinism. "You think a woman should be seen and not heard, is that it?" she cried. "Well, think again, Mr. Greywolf, because Mrs. Greywolf intends to be an equal partner in this marriage, and if you didn't want it like that, then maybe you shouldn't have been so hasty to force Ms. Andrews into marrying you."

He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. "What do you want to know?" he asked tightly.

Somewhat mollified, she settled back against the seat of the pickup truck. "Did you inherit the land from your grandfather?"

"Yes."

"Were we there … before?"

"You mean at the hogan? Yes. It was just over that ridge," he said, hitching his chin in that direction.

"Was?"

"I had it burned."

That stunned her, and for several minutes she said nothing. Then she asked, "How large is your ranch?"

"We're not rich if that's what you're asking," he said with injured scorn.

"That wasn't what I asked at all. I asked how much land you own."

He told her and she was surprised and impressed. "That's what was left after the swindlers got to my grandfather. Uranium was found on his property, but grandfather never profited from it."

To save them a heated discussion on the exploitation of Indians, especially when she was already on his side of that argument, she asked, "What kind of ranch is it? Cattle?"

"Horses."

She pondered that for a moment. "I don't understand, Lucas. Why did your grandfather die in poverty if he had that much land and a herd of horses?"

Apparently she struck a cord. Lucas glanced at her uneasily. "Joseph was very proud. He thought things should be done according to tradition."

"In other words," she paraphrased, "he didn't advance to modern ranching techniques."

"Something like that," he mumbled.

It was endearing to her that Lucas defended his late grandfather, even though he apparently hadn't agreed with him on how the ranch should be run.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. She knew they were getting close to their destination when he turned off the highway, drove through a gate and onto a dirt road.

"Will we be there soon?" she asked.

He nodded. "Don't expect much."

As it turned out, what they saw when they arrived surprised Lucas more than it did Aislinn. "What the hell?" he muttered as the pickup chugged up the last hill.

Aislinn's eyes darted around the clearing, trying to take in everything at once. Admonishing herself for behaving like a kid at her first circus, she slowed her eyes down and tried to digest everything she saw.

The compound was set between two low hills that formed a horseshoe. On one side of the open area there was a large corral. Two men on horseback were leading a small herd of horses through the gate. A barn, obviously old and weathered, was nestled against the mountainside.

On the other side of the semicircle, stood a house trailer. Its paint was chipped and faded, and it looked about ready to collapse upon itself.

Right in the center of this land harbor was a stucco house. Because of its color, it blended into the rock wall that rose almost perpendicular behind it. The house was well suited to its environment.

It was also a beehive of activity. Men were shouting to one another. The ring of a hammer echoed off the surrounding rock walls. From somewhere as yet undetermined, Aislinn could hear the high, shrill whirring of a buzz saw.

Lucas braked the pickup and got out. A man, dressed in cowboy garb, separated himself from the others who were working on the house. He waved and came jogging toward them. He was shorter and much stockier than Lucas and had the bowlegged, rolling walk of a man who spends a lot of time on horseback.