Wish Upon a Cowboy

by Maureen Child

  But even as that thought raced through his mind, a rising tide of darkness hovered at the edges of his brain, reminding him that their future was still at risk.

  As if reading his thoughts, Eudora said quietly. "Wolcott is coming."

  Nodding, Jonas shifted his gaze to the gray day outside. A crawling sense of approaching trouble moved along his spine. "I know. I can feel him."

  "And you will have to face him."

  "I know that, too," he said on a rush of breath. Fear coiled in the pit of his stomach. Not so much for himself, but for Hannah, if he should fail.

  His doubts must have registered on his face because Eudora glanced over her shoulder at Elias, then spoke up again.

  "It isn't only a talent for witchcraft that will win the battle, Mackenzie," she said, and he turned to give her his full attention. "The real power in this world is love. When a man's heart is full he can do anything."

  Again he remembered the dream blackness swallowing him down and he hoped to hell she was right. For all their sakes.

  "But," she added, "you must believe. You must listen to yourself and open your mind to the power surrounding you."

  What he believed was that he and Hannah belonged together. Just as she'd been saying from the start. He just wasn't sure that either of them would survive long enough to put that thought to the test.

  * * *

  Elias and Eudora stood side by side in the drizzling rain, watching Jonas ride out of the ranch yard toward the tree line at the base of the mountains.

  "It'll be all right," he said, his gaze locked on the woman he'd never forgotten. "My boy'll find her."

  She turned her head to smile at him. "I'm sure he will."

  "You still seem worried," he said.

  She nodded and laid one hand on his. Then she let her gaze drift to the sea of meadow grass and the gray thunderheads piled up against the mountaintops. "Trouble is coming," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  "We'll handle it," he promised and gave her hand a pat.

  Turning toward him again, Eudora said, "Hannah and the Mackenzie must show a united front to Wolcott when he arrives. Or all will be lost."

  Smiling, Elias assured her, "They're united already, Eudora. Just neither of them knows it yet. Jonas loves the girl. Don't you worry about that."

  Eudora looked up into silver-gray eyes and found peace shining there, waiting for her. Leaning on him slightly, she whispered, "I hope it's enough."

  "Love is always enough," he said, closing his arms around her just for the pure pleasure of it. The cold, misting rain didn't affect him. Nothing could. Silently, he said a short prayer of thanks for whoever had sent her back to him.

  "I've missed you so," she whispered.

  Elias's heart swelled until he thought it might fly from his chest. He blinked back a sheen of tears and struggled to speak. "Why did you stay away so long?" he finally asked, his voice a hush filled with years of loneliness.

  "At first," she said, "because of my father. He refused to allow me to marry a non-witch. He whisked me away from England and kept me in Creekford, away from everyone so that I would forget you."

  "Did it work?"

  "Of course not," she told him softly. "You were my heart."

  He closed his eyes, then bent to rest his chin on top of her head.

  "But as the years passed, I told myself that you had forgotten me."

  He straightened up again. "How could you think that?"

  "Forgive me," she whispered, leaning her head back to look up at him. "I should have trusted our love. Your love."

  His work-hardened hand came up to cup her cheek. "I looked for you everywhere."

  She smiled and leaned into his touch. "I tried to see you in the crystal, but it won't allow me to use its magic for myself."

  Years gone. The life they might have had. The family they might have made together, no more than an empty dream. And yet…

  "It doesn't matter now," Elias said, his voice trembling. "We have the future and we have our children. Jonas and Hannah."

  "Yes," she whispered. "Our family. Our future."

  "Together," he said, and it was more than a wish, it was a question that needed to be answered.

  "Together," she told him. "Always and forever."

  Elias released a sigh, then bent his head to claim a kiss.

  * * *

  The Train

  "Well, excuse the hell outa me!" the drunk said when he fell against Wolcott.

  The overpowering fumes of cheap whiskey rolled around his head and Blake's nostrils twitched. Really, traveling in this manner was enough to test the patience of a saint, let alone a man of his refined temperament.

  Sooty smoke filtered in through windows he was forced to keep open because of the smells emanating from his fellow passengers. The constant clattering of steel wheels against the rails became a thrumming headache behind his eyes. And complete strangers felt compelled to involve him in conversations concerning their relatives of whom he had been previously, blissfully, unaware.

  But when a man in a drunken stupor collapsed against him, spilling his noxious brew onto an exquisitely tailored suit, he realized the line must be drawn.

  Narrowing his gaze, his dark brown eyebrows lowering, Blake Wolcott looked at his accoster. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the man sprawling backward, tottering helplessly toward a suddenly wide-open window. And before anyone could react to this surprising situation, the drunk had gone through the window and the train rolled on, leaving him behind.

  "Did you see that?" someone asked.

  "Damnedest thing I ever saw," another voice answered.

  Blake smiled to himself, wiped the whiskey spot dry with a spotless white handkerchief, and eased back in the uncomfortable seat. Then, closing his eyes, he quietly doubled the speed of the ramshackle train.

  It amused him to think that months from now, engineers and firemen would still be wondering how they'd managed to travel so quickly. No doubt they'd spend years trying to repeat their success.

  Still smiling, Blake told himself that in less than two days now, he would be at Hannah's side. And he would be sure to let Eudora know how unhappy he was to have had to make such a journey.

  * * *

  Jonas tugged the brim of his hat down low over his eyes and shrugged deeper into the folds of his coat. Cold and wet, he couldn't even allow himself to be angry at the weather, for fear a bigger storm would set in.

  Hours he'd been riding in circles, searching for her trail. But whether it was the rain muddying the signs or his own anxiety, he hadn't found a trace of her.

  There was only one thing left to try, and right now Jonas was willing to try anything. He hadn't attempted the magic Eudora insisted was such a part of him before this because he trusted his abilities as a tracker more. But since nothing else was working…

  Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Hannah. Her features rose up in front of him and he held his breath as he saw her, hunched beneath a tree, cold and wet and so unbearably sad his heart ached for her.

  Steeling himself against the waves of emotion crowding him, he looked beyond Hannah to the land around her, searching for something familiar. Something to guide him to her. When he found it, he smiled.

  Spurring his horse, he rode off to the left, toward the cliffside.

  * * *

  Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to stop shivering. Her wet hair straggled down on either side of her face like soggy ropes and her clothes were so soaked, the cold drove needle like stabs right down into her bones.

  She leaned her head back against the tree trunk and stared straight up into the canopy of branches and leaves above her. Droplets of water splashed against her cheeks and from far away came the rumble of thunder.

  She groaned. "What's he mad about now, I wonder?" she muttered and wished Jonas would curb his temper before she drowned.

  Her eyes closed on the thought of his name and a moan from deep within her slid from her t
hroat. How could she face him now that he knew the truth about her? All of her fine talk about marriage and children and joining the lines of two great families.

  She'd felt so sorry for him when he'd had to face the fact that his life had been built on lies. And now she was the one whose world had exploded. But where he'd gained a family, a heritage… she'd lost. Who was she, if she wasn't Hannah Lowell? If she wasn't a witch?

  "And what am I supposed to do now?" she asked aloud.

  "You could dry off," a deep, familiar voice answered.

  Oh, God. Her chin hit her chest. She grabbed handfuls of wet, lank hair and dragged them along the sides of her face. Why hadn't he just stayed away? Why did he have to follow her? She sneaked a peek at him through the wet, blond strands of her hair. He looked wonderful, naturally. And she looked… as hideous as she felt.

  "Hannah…"

  Muttering curses under her breath, she realized he wasn't going to leave until she talked to him. Scrambling to her feet, she tossed her wet hair behind her shoulders and looked at him. "I didn't know you were here."

  "I figured that." He swung down from the saddle and started walking toward her.

  "Go away, Jonas." Her gaze swept from his determined, long-legged stride to the surrounding countryside, looking for an escape route.

  "If you're looking for a different place to hide," he said and lifted one hand to point to a spot behind her, "there's a cave just over there. It'll be a lot drier."

  "I'm not hiding," she countered, then said, "A cave?"

  He nodded.

  Of course, she thought. She'd been sitting in the rain for hours with a nice warm cave going unnoticed. Dismay rippled through her. If she'd been a witch, she would have found it.

  "Quit feeling sorry for yourself," he said in a voice low and deep enough to plumb the depths of the ocean.

  She sniffed and squared her shoulders. "Sorry for myself? Is that what you think I'm doing? Feeling sorry for myself?"

  He cocked his head to one side and stared at her, his blue eyes a piercing bright light in the surrounding gloom. "Aren't ya?"

  Maybe. But then, she thought silently, who had a better right? Still she wouldn't admit to self-pity. She'd had enough humiliation for one day, thank you very much.

  "Certainly not," she said on a sniff. Then, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she added, "I just needed some time to think. That's all."

  "Well," he said, stepping forward and taking her arm in a firm grip, "you can do the rest of your thinking in the cave."

  "Let go of me," she snapped and tried to yank free.

  "Nope."

  "Jonas, I don't want to talk to anyone right now, especially you."

  "Too bad," he said simply and started walking toward the cliff face just a few yards off through the trees. His horse followed them, its hooves clomping against the sodden ground like a heartbeat.

  His touch on her arm brought her more warmth than she'd felt all day. But even as she relished it, she reminded herself that she had no right to him. Love wasn't enough. He was the Mackenzie.

  And she was… no one.

  At the cave mouth, he said, "Duck your head. The ceiling's a bit low until farther back."

  With no other choice, she did what she was told. He led his horse all the way to the back of the cave, where he unsaddled the beast and left it to munch on some straw that had been left there.

  Out of the cold, wet air, Hannah glanced around the darkened shelter and started when a match was struck. The tiny flame sputtered into life and fanned eerie shadows across Jonas's features. His eyes gleamed at her as he touched the flame to the wick of a candle set on a rock ledge.

  "I've used this cave before to wait out storms," he explained as he crouched and set about building a campfire. "After the last one, I brought some supplies and left 'em here just in case I might need 'em again sometime."

  "Very wise," she said and forced the words past chattering teeth.

  Another match flared up and a moment later, the flames grew as the tiny fire blossomed on the fuel of wood and straw. Shadows leaped into life on the cave walls, flickering and dancing as the fire snapped and hissed in the strained silence.

  Instinctively, Hannah moved toward the blaze, holding chilled hands out to capture the heat. But the cold she felt went far deeper than the fire could reach.

  "You worried everyone," he said quietly from his crouched position near the fire.

  That shamed her. After hearing Eudora's startling confession, she hadn't given a thought to anyone but herself and her need to run. From the truth. From Jonas's knowing eyes.

  Hannah went down on one knee and looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. "I'm sorry for that," she said, then shook her head. "But once I'd run, I couldn't go back."

  "Why?"

  She laughed shortly and was horrified at the shaky sound of it. "I didn't know what to say."

  "How about," he suggested, "don't worry. I'm alive?"

  He was right. Poor Eudora. How she must have worried when Hannah ran off without a word. Hot, sudden tears filled her eyes and spilled over to rain down her cheeks. When she looked up at him, he seemed to blur and weave in her clouded vision.

  He pushed himself to his feet, then took hold of her and pulled her into the circle of his arms. "I couldn't find you," he whispered, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  "I didn't want you to," she admitted. "At first…"

  "Damn, Hannah." His arms tightened around her.

  She sighed and just for a moment gave in to the urge to lean on him completely. "I'm sorry, Jonas."

  "No reason for you to be sorry," he told her, lifting his head to look down at her. "Except for runnin' off and scaring me to death."

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and kicked at the wet, clingy folds of her skirt. "Scared? I thought you were mad."

  "Why?"

  "It's raining."

  He snorted a laugh. "I don't make all storms, you know."

  Shifting his hold on her, Jonas cupped her face in his palms and looked his fill of her. Relief swamped him. She was safe. And in his arms. Where she belonged. Where she would stay if he had anything to say about it. Just holding her like this made everything feel all right. He wouldn't lose that. Or her.

  "There's something I wanted to tell you this morning," he said. "Before everything went to hell."

  Apparently what he was feeling showed on his face.

  "Maybe," she said, "it's better that you didn't."

  "No," he told her. "No more running. No more pretending. And no more lies."

  "Jonas…"

  "I love you. Hannah." How easy that was, he thought. How right.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "Don't say that now."

  "I have to say it," he told her. "You have to know that no matter what else happens around here…" His mind slipped to the still looming problem of Wolcott. "I love you."

  She stepped back from him, eyes wide and swimming in fresh tears. He hadn't expected his declaration to have this effect on her, but Lord knew, with Hannah he should have been prepared for anything.

  "You can't love me," she said.

  "You can't stop me," he assured her with a soft smile.

  "Mackenzie…"

  "Look," he said, "we'll argue all you want later." His gaze swept her up and down and he knew that he had to get her dry and warm. "First you get out of that dress and we'll warm you up. Then we'll fight."

  A brief, sad smile touched one corner of her mouth and he wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to take this whole damn day and wipe it from her mind. But since he couldn't, he figured to give her a memory that would be so good, she'd never look back on this day without smiling.

  As her fingers fumbled with the top buttons of her dress, he turned and retrieved the blankets tied up in his bedroll behind his saddle. Then, grabbing up the coffeepot he always carried, he took it to the mouth of the cave and let it fill with rainwater.

  He set the pot near the ed
ge of the fire to heat and turned to Hannah in time to see her wrap the rough wool blanket around her still-shivering body. Standing up, he went to her and rubbed his hands up and down her back and over her arms briskly. She sighed against him and when he knelt down, dragging her with him, she came willingly.

  "I need you, Hannah," he whispered and the crackle of the fire nearly swallowed his words. "I need to be with you."

  "Jonas," she said as she reached up and cupped his cheek, "I need that, too, but –"

  "No buts," he interrupted, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Just for today," he went on, "there's no one else in this world but you and me."

  "You and me," she repeated, her green eyes already hazing with the passion blossoming between them.

  Laying her down on the rocky floor, he quickly got rid of his own clothing and joined her in the folds of the blanket. Her skin was like ice and he drew the cold from her with his own body, giving her his warmth, his desire, his love.

  Her lips met his in a kiss filled with sweetness and the promise of a tomorrow that might never come. The bittersweet ache in her heart threatened to choke her. She held him to her and wished that things were different. Wished that she was the woman she'd always thought herself to be. She had his love and now, for his sake, she couldn't accept it.

  But this one moment she would claim for herself. And in the years to come, she would remember every second of it. The feel of him. The taste of him. The wonder of his touch.

  Hearts beating in time, hands caressing, they joined in an age-old dance, celebrating life and the gift of two souls finding each other.

  He touched her gently, his fingertips smoothing across her skin with a feather-light touch that sent sparks of heat dazzling through them both. He looked into her eyes and stared straight into her soul—into the shining, pure heart of her, and knew that this woman was his past, his present, and his future.

  And without her, he was nothing.

  As their bodies joined, their souls met. In a hush of whispers and sighs, Jonas felt her love fill him and he gave her all that he was and all that he ever hoped to be.