A Restless Wind

by Brandt, Siara

  There would be no explaining tonight, Jesse realized. She could barely stand, even with support.

  “Get some sleep,” he told her.

  “If you think I am going to lay in that bed with- ” She reeled again. Ignoring any further protest, Jesse swept her up into his arms and laid her down on the bed.

  “They weren’t lies,” he heard her mutter under her breath. “ . . . like the ones you told me. You earned every bit of your reputation.”

  He would have told her that it was his reputation that had saved her. But right now he knew that she needed to sleep off the effects of the whiskey. For a little while at least. She needed to be half way sober before they tried to escape.

  She had no more to say to him. He straightened and stared down at her, not certain if she was asleep or not. From below came the muffled voices of the men.

  He had ridden like hell to get here. Hetty was relatively safe at the moment. But she was a temptation some men wouldn’t be able to resist. He knew these men, knew the things that drove them. Knew what they were capable of. There was no law out here. Their baser instincts ruled. No appeal to decency would sway them.

  He had gotten her away from the other men. For now. But out of sight didn’t necessarily mean out of mind. He didn’t know yet how he was going to accomplish it, but he had to get Hetty out of here before Thrall showed up. Thrall would come. Jesse didn’t know when that would be, but he would be eager to get here because Hetty was here.

  He had made the men downstairs believe that he was stealing her away from Thrall so that he could have her for himself. They were right. Thrall wasn’t going to stand for it. It would come to violence. Of that he was certain. Gun play was one thing. Gun play with Hetty nearby was something he wanted to avoid. If he was killed, Hetty would go to Thrall. She would have no chance of getting away from him.

  He would protect her in whatever way he could. With his life if it came to that. It had worked to their advantage having Hetty act like she hated him. That hadn’t been a problem. And he knew it hadn’t been an act on her part.

  He put out the lantern and made his way to the bed. In the darkness he stretched out flat on his back. He could hear her even breathing and knew that she had finally fallen asleep.

  His eyes were open as he stared at the ceiling wreathed in shadows above him. He turned his head toward her. The moon was out and it starkly lit her features. For now, though she might not like it, he had no intention of leaving her side. And he was hoping like hell she would be sober enough in a few hours to at least stand on her own.

  Chapter 22

  Hetty awoke in darkness. For a moment she thought she was in her own bed, but she quickly realized where she was. She half rose. When she moved, a wave of dizziness overcame her so that she had to lie still again. There was a hollow feeling in her stomach. So strong that she felt like she might be sick.

  She could not see her surroundings. It was dark and it was cold. It felt like the middle of the night. Someone came into the room. She heard the door open quietly and close again.

  Before she could decide what she should do, a match rasped. A candle wick flared.

  Jesse was in the room. He set a plate of stew and biscuits on the table beside the bed.

  “Try and eat something,” he said in a very quiet voice. “You’re going to need your strength. And it’ll help dull the effects of the whiskey.”

  She remained silent, but she forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls. Hopefully, he was right. Hopefully the food it would ease the sick, gnawing sensation in her stomach. From beneath her lashes, she watched Jesse cross the room. He came back and set a bundle of clothing on the bed.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

  “How is a woman who is abducted by outlaws supposed to feel?”

  He ignored that, separated a heavy shirt from the bundle and said, “Put that on.”

  She seemed about to say something, but since she was uncomfortably cold now that she was out of the blankets, she slid her arms into the sleeves of the shirt and began jamming buttons through buttonholes.

  She was still battling with her disappointment in him. He had had an opportunity to do good things. He had done good things. He had spent time with decent people. He might have changed for the better, but in the end he had turned his back on everything decent. And he had become this.

  Just how far had he fallen? she wondered. To what depths of depravity had he sunk?

  “Won’t your saloon girl be jealous?” she asked under her breath.

  He frowned. At the moment she didn’t look like she would believe anything he said. And there was no time for lengthy explanations. He handed her his coat.

  “You have no reason to trust me, Hetty. But I’m asking you to do just that. I’m going to get you away from here, but we have to do this as quietly as possible. Don’t ask me any questions now. When there’s time to talk, we’ll talk.”

  He was right. There was no reason whatsoever to trust him. And every reason to mistrust him. But while she wasn’t sure about going anywhere with Jesse, the alternative was to remain here with the other men and wait for Thrall to come. She put the coat on.

  Everyone was accounted for downstairs. The men had been drinking heavily last night and they were still sleeping it off. There would never be a better time to make their escape.

  “Whatever I tell you to do, you have to do just that, no questions. No hesitation.” He repeated. “You understand me?”

  She merely nodded as she looked up at him. He was the last person she would have chosen to trust, but she had no choice.

  Jesse leaned close to her. “If something happens to me,” he said so close beside her ear that she felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek. “There are two horses saddled and waiting up on the hill behind the cabin. If you have to, make for them, take the black horse, and ride as hard as you can away from here. I don’t want to do any shooting if I can help it. Right now our best chance of getting out of here safely is to stay as quiet as possible.”

  They made their way down the stairs. Hetty winced each time a stair would creak beneath her carefully placed foot. But miraculously, they soon made it safely out the back door of the cabin.

  The sky was dark and the stars were still out. And it was cold. Cold enough for her to see their breath every time they exhaled.

  Jesse told her to wait for him. Then he disappeared around the corner of the cabin. She held her breath, waiting for him. A man stood beside the wood pile. His back was to her, but as soon as he turned, he would see her.

  Moving silently through the shadows, Jesse grabbed the man’s shoulder and swung him around, slamming him hard into the wood pile.

  “You son of a bitch,” she heard. “I never trusted- ”

  Jesse’s fist exploded in the man’s face and the man fell back, landing with a hard thud against the pile of logs. He didn’t move.

  Jesse didn’t waste any time getting back to her. He grabbed her hand and they were racing up the hill as fast as they could. The sun was not up yet, but the sky was lightening with muted streaks of violet in the east. It was a steep slope and more than once Hetty slipped and had to rely on Jesse to keep her on her feet.

  By grasping at branches and weeds for support to keep them from slipping back, they finally reached the horses without another challenge. And without firing a shot. They quickly mounted the waiting horses and headed silently into the wilderness.

  Chapter 23

  Jesse looked back over his shoulder. He knew Hetty needed a rest. The sun had retreated behind the clouds hours ago. A frigid wind was sweeping out of the northwest and the temperature was dropping, far below what it would normally be for this time of year.

  She had not complained. Not once. Even though he knew the cold and the wind were draining her strength. He had told her what he could as they rode. All the while Hetty had been silent. In fact she had been unusually quiet. Maybe thinking about all he had told her, maybe too exhausted to speak. Or too
cold.

  All morning and into the afternoon Jesse pushed the horses. They could not afford to slow their pace. He wanted to put as much distance between them and the outlaws as possible. They would be pursued. Of that he had no doubt.

  They kept to hollows, making their way through the low lands, avoiding the ridges where they might be silhouetted against the sky. They followed a winding creek for a while. And then, as dusk descended, it began to rain. It wasn’t long before the moisture coming out of the sky turned to a freezing rain. They had to find shelter.

  As the horses continued to plod through stiff, ice-coated weeds, Jesse knew that Hetty was beyond the point of exhaustion. Her hair and her clothes were wet. Her teeth were chattering. He himself was almost soaked to the skin. It was already dangerously cold. And night was not far off. It would be even colder then.

  He knew there used to be a cabin up ahead. The cabin had burned down long ago, but an outbuilding remained. It was just a small shed. It wasn’t much but it would protect them from the wind. He prayed it was still there.

  It would be a good place, the only place, to stop for a while and let her rest and get some warm food in her so that she could keep going. He could use the rest and something to eat, too.

  He pushed the horses for another half hour. When they reached the site of the cabin, Jesse saw with relief that the shed was still there. It was a remote place, almost hidden by the trees. Set on a sloping rise above the creek, it offered what they needed most right now. Shelter. For both them and the horses.

  Jesse urged the tired horses across the shallow creek and then up the steep, snow-covered slope. He glanced back at Hetty. Huddled down in his coat, her breath was a white cloud before her. Even sheltered from the wind, she was shivering violently on the horse. And when she dismounted, she was so stiff that she had trouble throwing her leg over the saddle.

  While she waited, he looked inside to make certain the shed held no occupants, human or otherwise. He was surprised that someone had made improvements in the past few years. Crude improvements, but right now the place would be like heaven out of the wind. There was a simple fireplace and a small stack of firewood and kindling outside the door.

  While the sleet rattled on the tin roof, Hetty stood in the center of the shed. Her clothes dripped water all over the floor. She was still shivering. She hunched her shoulders forward and rubbed her arms, thinking she would never feel warm again. Her fingers and toes were numb. Her face felt frozen. But at least they were out of the sleet and the wind. She didn’t know how much longer she could have gone on. Not much, she knew.

  She waited while Jesse brought in a small load of wood and arranged it in the fireplace. He built a small fire and worked at it till he had brought it to a comforting blaze.

  “Come on and warm up.” He sat back and held his hands out to the flames for a moment. “I need to see to the horses. When I come back, I’ll haul some water in, heat it over the fire and fill that bucket there so you can wash up.”

  The door closed behind him. Already the small room was close to being comfortably warm. But Hetty’s clothes were wet and her sodden skirts were heavy and caked with mud. She felt filthy. She had not changed her clothes in two days. Her leather boots were so stiff she thought they must be frozen to her feet. She still couldn’t feel her toes.

  Jesse returned with several buckets of water which he warmed over the fire and then poured into the big wooden bucket in the corner of the shed. He turned his back to the room and again extended his hands to the fire. “Hetty,” he said over his shoulder. “We both need to get out of these wet things. We have some rough travel ahead of us and it’s probably going to get colder. We’ll freeze to death if our clothes are wet. We can hang them up by the fire and let them dry for a couple of hours. You can wash up. There’s even soap.” He held up a thick square of soap. “When you’re done, wrap a blanket around you and climb into bed. I promise there won’t be- ”

  “Any fooling?” he heard her ask behind him.

  “I promise I won’t touch you in any way.”

  He didn’t have anything else to say to her. He busied himself making food while Hetty hesitated for a while and then decided that he was right. She couldn’t stay in soaking wet clothes. And the thought of riding again while she was wet was enough to make her start shivering all over again.

  She sat down to take her boots off. She peeled off her wet stockings. Her body was crying out for warmth. And food. She quickly stripped off her clothes. Then she lathered her body with the bar of soap and rinsed off in the blissfully warm water. She even washed her hair, and felt much better as layers of mud floated away.

  “How are you doing?” Jesse asked.

  “I’m starting to thaw out.”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Jesse said with his back still toward her. “Marsten- Thrall will come after us. He isn’t a man to let it go.”

  She thought about that as she dried her hair. She knew Jesse was right.

  And Jesse? He tried hard not to imagine her undressed behind him, but he wasn’t having a lot of success.

  “This isn’t much of a meal,” he said, trying to distract himself with the food. “But it’s warm. Let me know when you’re- ”

  “You can turn around now.”

  He did turn around. Slowly. He stared at her unbound hair, burnished to a soft gold in the firelight. She had a blanket around her and her clothes were in a wet pile on the floor. A muscle in his jaw tensed as he forced himself to look away from her.

  “This should help warm you up.” He handed her a cup of tea.

  “Tea?” she asked, surprised.

  “There was a little left in that canister over there. I’ll- uh, get a wash line strung up for our clothes.”

  Tea had never tasted so good. Jesse was right. The tea warmed and revived her.

  Balancing on one foot and then the other, Jesse pulled his boots off. His coat and hat already hung from pegs on the wall.

  “We should have the advantage,” Jesse told her as he began to unbutton his shirt. “This storm should slow them down. We’ve got shelter from the cold for a few hours. We’ll rest here, put on dry clothes and then set out before dawn.

  “I know a few hours isn’t nearly enough sleep,” he went on. “But when we get you back safe and sound you can sleep for a week if you want to.”

  He opened his shirt, revealing the muscled contours of his chest. Realizing suddenly that she was staring at him, Hetty turned away and looked up at the wall.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” she heard him say.

  Without meaning to, she glanced over to see his bare back and his broad shoulders bronzed in the firelight.

  “That’s not necessary,” she said.

  “The bed’s too small for both of us.”

  “I couldn’t sleep here warm and comfortable while you freeze on the cold hard floor.”

  The last thing Jesse needed was to climb into that small bed with her. He was surprised that she even suggested it. No, it was definitely not a good idea.

  “I reckon not, Hetty.”

  “We slept together last night,” she reminded him.

  “That wasn’t the same.”

  Surely she could see that it wasn’t the same. Right now she was sitting there wrapped in a blanket with no clothes on beneath it. Hetty was a very beautiful, very desirable woman. A man couldn’t help but stray some in his thoughts. And here he was stripping his own clothes off. Hell, look how many times he had already forgotten himself with her.

  “You need rest as much as I do,” she told him. “Maybe moreso since I am depending on you to keep me safe.”

  They argued back and forth the whole time he was washing up. In the end, against his better judgment, he laid down on the bed beside her, keeping his own blanket as another barrier between them. A very flimsy one it seemed to him.

  “How is your shoulder?” he asked.

  “Sore,” she replied. “How did you know I hurt it?”

  “I’ve
seen you favoring it all day.”

  She had hurt her shoulder when the outlaws had first captured her. It hurt every time she moved it.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he said as he frowned up at the ceiling. “Maybe it’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  But Jesse was beginning to wonder how sleep was going to be accomplished with Hetty so close beside him.

  “What are you thinking?” he heard her ask quietly a little while later.

  “That that’s some wind outside. Makes me glad we’re inside.” After a silence, he couldn’t help asking, “What are you thinking?” He had been wondering all day. Especially after everything he had told her.

  “That this is probably the most improper thing I have ever done,” she said.

  Likely it was, he thought. “We haven’t exactly followed all the rules since . . . ” His voice trailed off. He turned his face to look at her. Her hair, nearly dry now, gleamed like copper in the firelight. With an effort he tore his gaze away.

  “Since?” she prompted.

  “Since that day in the barn.” There. He’d said it right out. The thing they had never spoken of.

  “You mean the first time you put your brand on me?”

  “Yeah, since then. I’m sorry about that, Hetty.”

  “You’re sorry about kissing me?”

  No, he’d never be sorry about that. But talking about it was giving him serious doubts about two pathetically-thin blankets between them making a difference. Not when he considered his past history of impulsive behavior.

  There was no chance in hell this was going to work. He started to rise, taking his blanket with him. He was going to sleep on the floor, whether she agreed with his decision or not. There was only so much torture he could take.

  “Don’t go,” she said quietly. “Stay here with me.” She was staring at his face in the low firelight. “Circumstances sometimes make improper things necessary. You didn’t answer my question,” she said as he settled back down.