He pulled back onto his elbow to wipe them away, the touch of his rough hand so gentle that it made her cry harder.
Desperate to look at him, to drink in the sight of his face, she raised up and wiped her eyes, trying to see him clearly.
“Who told me she believes in living one moment at a time and that moment to the fullest?”
“Some simpleminded girl who had no idea what she was saying.”
He smiled, a smile to break any woman’s heart.
“That’s all there is, Rory,” he said softly. “One moment at a time. You were wise beyond your years.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t want to hear it.”
Laughing a little, he dropped a kiss on her hair.
“Cole …”
He shook his head, laid a long, rough finger across her lips.
“Now,” he said. “This day. Live this.”
And he kissed her like a wild man as he drove her back down.
Chapter 17
Aurora bent over the cookfire to fork bacon from the skillet onto the tin plate. Cookie had the biscuits done, too, even though the last guard hadn’t come in and most of the men were still asleep. The sun was rising, sending the faintest of pale, purple light into the canyon. A haze drifted up from the creek.
And Cole was saddling up, getting ready to leave.
She carried the bacon and a plate full of biscuits she’d taken from the Dutch oven to the tailgate of the chuck wagon and began to make them into little sandwiches, amazed at the fact that her hands didn’t tremble. How could they not, when an earthquake was shaking the inside of her body to bits? How could they not, when her heart was aching with pain enough to kill her?
When the bacon biscuits and a bundle of ground coffee were all packed in the cloth sack she had already put his wages in, she climbed up into the chuck wagon for tomatoes and peaches. She came out, with her hands and pockets full, to find Cole standing waiting, holding the reins. His saddle looked like a stranger’s with his bedroll tied on behind the cantle.
“Oh, Rory, that’s too much,” he said, when he saw all the food she’d gathered.
“Don’t tell me that,” she said fiercely. “It’s a long way to Fort Worth and no Mattie’s Diner on the way.”
Her lips went suddenly stiff, and she couldn’t say any more.
He stood silent while she took another bag, emptied the first one, and put the heavier airtights on the bottom of each. Then she added some of the biscuits and bacon to both and connected the two with leather straps to hang on either side of his saddle. The straps kept slipping from her grasp, but after an age the job was done.
They walked away from the camp, then, toward the foot of the trail that led out of the canyon. It felt so right to her, walking beside him, that his leaving seemed more incredible than ever.
At the foot of the trail, he stopped.
“You’ll do fine here,” he said, turning to look down into her eyes. “I told you the truth when I said if there was a woman on earth who could do this, you’re the one. Don’t forget that.”
For an instant the lump in her throat wouldn’t let her speak. Finally, although she couldn’t swallow it, she could talk around it.
“And don’t you forget that you’re a good man,” she said. “The best.”
His dark eyes hardened.
“Don’t use this trip to see Ellie Henderson as a stick to measure my character,” he said. “I never even thought of it until that day I told you I was going, and I don’t usually worry much about other people.”
She looked at him straight.
“While I was fixing your food I was remembering what you told me about the day Travis was killed. Cole, one thing you need to remember is that he would’ve done the same to you.”
He frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re blaming yourself for hoo-rawing Travis into the attack,” she said, “but wouldn’t he have dared you into it if it’d been his idea?”
“It wasn’t,” he snapped. “The fault’s all mine.”
“But he was the same kind of man as you, right? Since he was your partner?”
“What kind of man?”
“Sure of himself, maybe to the point of being … reckless, sometimes. Fast at the draw and used to winning. Wild enough to go over to Mexico and do something that would get him chased by the Federales all the way to the Rio Grande. A great rider on a great horse he was used to carrying him out of every scrape.”
He scowled at her.
“I guess so.”
“Well, then, if he’d been the one in the feisty mood that day, he would’ve wanted to go on in and not wait for any help, and if you’d held back, he would’ve hoo-rawed you into it or threatened to go in alone. It would’ve been the very same deal turned around.”
A terrible expression passed over his face. He turned away and threw the reins across Border Crossing’s withers.
“What’s done is done,” he said, his voice even harder than before. “No amount of thinking or talking can change that.”
“All right!”
Stubborn as she might be, she wasn’t going to argue this. It was too delicate of a subject with him, it would only drive him away before they’d even said good-bye.
She stared at his broad shoulders, the copper skin of his neck between his hair and his collar. If only she could put her lips to it. If only she could kiss him all over. Forever. If only he would stay.
“At least take a spare horse,” she said. “Take your pick.”
“No, thanks.”
She looked at him, biting back the tears she would not let him see, waiting for him to turn around.
“You wouldn’t be obligated to bring it back, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she snapped, her tone cross and cranky, her voice about to break.
The muscles tightened across the top of his shoulders. He went stiff and still.
She shut her mouth. Hadn’t she promised herself she’d be brave? That she’d be dignified and self-possessed in his last memory of her?
He whirled on his heel.
“Take care of yourself, Rory,” he said, in his low, rich voice that held no anger in return.
Unsmiling, he searched her face, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought he would reach for her.
He didn’t. He turned to his horse, stuck the toe of his boot into the stirrup, and swung up into the saddle.
“If I touch you I’ll not let you go,” he said, in the raw, rough voice of a stranger.
“Then don’t.”
It came out in a venomously hateful tone.
She brushed back her hair and looked up at him, silhouetted against the rising sun.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she blurted. “I love you, Lightning.”
He stared down into her eyes, he searched her face.
“I’ll never forget you, Rory.”
Her heart stopped. Every cell in her body went quiet to listen.
But that was all he said.
She was completely amazed that she could speak, or even think of anything else, but she said, “What’ll I do with your twenty head?”
“Brand ‘em,” he said, “with the Slash A.”
“They already are that—it was the trail brand. I’ll take a new one for my new place.”
“Then mark ‘em yours,” he said.
He reached down and touched her face, just once, so lightly it could’ve been the brushing of a feather.
“Don’t forget to carry your gun,” he said.
Aurora stared up into his unfathomable eyes.
“So long, Rory.”
And then he tore his gaze from hers, faced the wall of the gorge, smooched to Border, and started upward.
She stayed there, watching breathlessly as he took the narrow, winding trail. Sunlight was building into the canyon now; soon it would burn the haze away. It washed Cole and Border Crossing with a blinding yellow light on the outside bends of the trail, shap
ed their dark silhouette in the shadows on the inside.
Pain paralyzed her. How could she ever have thought that she’d already faced the worst life could throw at her? How could she ever have guessed that she could hurt so much and still live?
It would be easier, far easier, if Ellie were a woman he loved. Or, better yet, a woman he’d thought he loved until he held Aurora in his arms. Then, competing with another woman, she might have a chance.
She didn’t have a prayer against Travis’s ghost.
She stood rooted where she was until he had climbed every inch of the narrow, winding trail back up into the wide world, never pausing until he reached the top and rode out onto the caprock. Shading her eyes against the sun, she walked backwards a few steps to try to see him better.
On the rim of the gorge, he sat his horse and looked down at her. He lifted his hand, and she waved back. Then he rode away from her.
Cole traveled like a man possessed. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he would’ve killed his horse, he would never have slept in all those many miles. He rode toward Fort Worth and Ellie Henderson—if she was still there—as fast and furiously as if she could help him somehow.
That thought twisted his lips in a bitter grin as he made camp that last night, close enough to see the lights of town. Nobody could help him. He had left Rory to survive as best she could in the wildest country left on the frontier. He had left Rory. The only woman who had ever truly loved him.
Those words from her brought him a flash of happiness every time he recalled her saying them, a brief joy in the instant the memory came to him, but then it always added to his old storm clouds of black guilt and shame. He didn’t deserve her love and, in not returning it, he’d broken her heart.
Staking Border Crossing on a rather thin graze, he patted him in apology.
“Too many travelers been camping here,” he told him. “We should’ve gone on in to the livery tonight so you could have grain.”
But only God knew whether he’d be able to face a town full of people tomorrow, even. He didn’t care if he never saw another human face to face. Unless it was Rory.
And he could never do that unless he went back to stay.
He spread out his bedroll without eating, without even making a fire, shucked his boots, and crawled in. Going back to stay was nothing but a loco wish, even if it had come to him in a dream, even if he had had the dream every night since he left the Palo Duro.
The dream was another punishment for his sins, along with its twin, the one where Travis was the one pushing him into going in after ol’ Garza and his gang, laughing like crazy at the answers Cole was giving. He wished he’d never told Rory anything about that day in hell.
And God help him, now here he was, he’d see Ellie tomorrow and he didn’t even know why he’d ridden all this way. What could he do for Ellie if she was miserable or in trouble, except maybe get her some money from his account at the Bank of Ft. Worth?
What would he say to her? If you’re too lonesome since I got your husband killed, I’ll marry you myself?
That’d be like serving a jail sentence for life. That’d be a punishment, at least, so it might make him feel better.
The wind turned to come from the west and sent a chilly breath down his neck. He turned on his side, pulled the soogans up over his shoulder and his hat down over his face. Blowing sand sifted in under it anyway, into his mouth, onto his tongue. No matter. He sure couldn’t sleep inside a hotel tonight.
Being under a roof, being inside four walls didn’t seem right, not while his need for Aurora was a cold rain in his heart.
He did manage to be around people enough to visit the barber shop for a bath and a shave and a mercantile for clean clothes before he visited Ellie Henderson. Not only was she still in town, he learned upon inquiring about her while he got his haircut, but she was setting up her own business there, making hats. From what little he’d ever seen of her, Ellie had been a shy, retiring woman, not given to dealing with the public. This was his fault, that she’d been forced into a life she didn’t want.
That thought drummed through him over and over again as he walked toward her shop, then past its windows filled with fancy women’s hats. The fateful decision he’d made that September day reached out in all directions, and its consequences went on and on.
In spades. Because when he stepped into the shop and glimpsed her reaching to take down a hat from a shelf, he saw she was going to have a child. And very soon. God help him, he had orphaned a baby!
“Ellie Henderson?” he said, although he knew her immediately.
He removed his hat. How would he ever get through this? What the hell could he say?
The bell tinkled its warning as the door closed and she turned to face him.
“I’m Cole McCord,” he said, although his mouth seemed filled with cotton.
Her wide brown eyes looked him over.
“I know who you are,” she said, and walked slowly toward him, holding the brightly colored hat in both hands.
“I didn’t know if you’d remember, since we’d only met once or twice.”
“I could never forget you,” she said.
His gut tightening, he waited for the rest of it. Because you’re the one who killed my husband.
But instead, she said, “This brings back such memories, Mr. McCord. Won’t you sit down?”
“Call me Cole,” he said, “please.”
She nodded absently.
“Ellie,” she said.
Then she seemed to realize for the first time that she was still holding the hat, and she made a motion toward the counter with it, changed her mind, and walked toward the two chairs sitting at a small table in the corner. He followed, his heart thumping in his chest.
It had been a damn-fool idea to come here in the first place. Why had he done this stupid thing? He’d told Aurora the truth when he’d said this wouldn’t change anything. He could already tell that it wasn’t even going to make him feel any better.
Ellie sat down, though, and indicated the chair facing her, so he sat in it. His knees felt like they’d bump his chin at any minute—these dainty armless rocking chairs were obviously meant for ladies only.
For a little while they just stared at each other, holding their hats in their hands, waiting for Cole to say something. But his tongue felt frozen.
Finally, Ellie said, “Someone told me you left the Rangers.”
That brought his purpose back to mind like a slap in the face, but it didn’t put any words in his head. He swallowed hard.
“Yes. I … couldn’t stay without Trav.”
Her eyes misted.
“I know how you feel,” she said kindly. “I thought the same way when he was first gone.”
“He’d be here now if it wasn’t for me,” Cole blurted. “I killed him.”
Her gentle expression changed to one of shock.
“Captain Haley said when he brought Trav’s body home that bandidos killed him.”
A dam burst inside Cole.
“Bandidos shot him, yes, but I’m the one who set him in the path of their bullets, sure as if I’d picked him up and dropped him in the line of fire. I insisted that the two of us raid that Garza outfit, Ellie, when I knew they outnumbered us, bad. Haley and Martin and their partners were on the way to meet us. It wouldn’t’ve been more than a half a day more for us to hook up with them and come back to take the outlaws, but I wouldn’t wait …”
She leaned forward and touched his hand.
“You didn’t kill him.”
“I did,” he said, clamping his jaw tight. “You don’t understand. He hesitated, he said wait until we had more men, he counted seven of them against the two of us and we couldn’t see ‘em all.”
Sweat was popping out all over his face, running down the sides of his cheeks. He pulled out his new handkerchief to wipe it away.
“Trav was a captain, too,” she said. “He held the same rank as you. He didn’t have to follow your orde
rs.”
“I told him I was going in alone,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “Like a green, cocky kid too young to know he could be the one killed instead of the other guy. Like an idiot kid. And me thirty-three years old and veteran of so many campaigns I can’t count ‘em.”
Confessing to that foolishness tangled his tongue into uselessness.
Her face and her eyes had long since lost all shock and surprise. Now she looked at him with such calm and such wisdom that he was reminded of pictures he’d seen of the mother of the Christ child.
“You’re a man, Cole. Travis was a man. Men set great store by their courage, and that’s as it should be.”
“There’s a difference between courage and foolhardiness.”
“And you were his partner,” she said slowly, as if he hadn’t spoken. “He wouldn’t let you go in alone.”
“Right. I’ll never know why I wasn’t the one who stopped that bullet instead of him. If there was any justice I would’ve been.”
She smiled.
“Surely you’re not thirty-four years old now, Cole, and still expecting life to be fair.”
He made a little sound of ironic agreement.
“I pushed him, I even hoo-rawed him, Ellie. Still he wouldn’t budge. Not until he thought I’d try it alone.”
She nodded, still calm as glass.
“You would have done the same for him, don’t forget. I know what it means to be partners. I know what you meant to him. I know his work was his life. Travis wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
He stared at her for the longest time. She meant that, and she held no resentment.
“What about …”
His gaze darted to her huge abdomen and then, embarrassed, away.
“He loved me,” she said, “and he would’ve loved this baby. But he would never have stayed at home with us very long at a time.”
“I feel so small,” he blurted, without having the slightest warning that he was about to say that. “I had a petty fear when you-all married that you’d become Trav’s best friend instead of me. He’d been my partner for years. He was the only person I’d ever been truly close to.”
“I was never close to him,” she said thoughtfully, “and I know now I never would’ve been.”
The Renegades: Cole Page 26