Wish Upon a Cowboy

by Maureen Child

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hours later, they dressed and readied to head back to the ranch. Hannah glanced at him as he carefully put out the fire and stacked the supplies he would leave behind.

  He was so much a man of this place, she thought. His broad shoulders and work-hardened hands, the squint between his eyes that came from hours of staring into the sun. The Mackenzie he might be, but he didn't belong in Creekford as the head of the Guild any more than she did.

  He belonged here. On his ranch in the life he'd built for himself. Hannah only wished she could share that life.

  She shifted her gaze to the slash of late afternoon sun pouring through the cave's entrance. The rain had ended, just as her time with him had. It was time to admit it, out loud.

  "I'm sorry I came here, Jonas," she said softly, though she wasn't really. She would treasure these few weeks with him for as long as she lived. He turned around to face her and she continued. "I'm sorry I disrupted your life."

  "Don't be," he said and walked toward her. "I'm not. I'll admit. I wasn't real happy with you at first. But Hannah, if you hadn't come… if you hadn't brought me back to life…"

  He reached out for her, but she stepped back, afraid that if he touched her again, she might forget what was right.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said, then muttered, "Everything."

  ."What are you talking about?" Eyes narrowed, he watched her suspiciously.

  "Us, Mackenzie."

  "Hannah," he said and grabbed her before she could sidestep him. Pulling her close, he looked down into her eyes, forcing her to meet the cool blue gaze directed at her. "I don't know where you're going with this, but I sure as hell don't like the look in your eyes."

  She looked up into his so familiar features and realized how deeply she would miss seeing his face every day. Hearing his voice. Feeling his touch.

  "Hannah… I love you."

  "Oh, God… " She shook her head and swallowed hard. Panic and regret and an aching loneliness opened up inside her. "Don't say that anymore. Not now."

  "Now and every day for the rest of our lives," he muttered thickly, his gaze moving over her features like a dying man glimpsing paradise.

  "Don't you see?" she whispered, her voice breaking on a choked-off sob. "It doesn't matter now. We don't matter now."

  "Love's all that matters." His fingers dug deeper into her upper arms. "You taught me that."

  "But I'm not a witch," she said and again felt the pain of those words stab at her. "I don't give a good goddamn if you're a witch or not. Hell, you ought to know that by now!"

  He didn't care. She knew that. Witchcraft meant nothing to him, and it had meant so much to her. What a joke the gods had played on them. She had to try to make him see how the truths they'd discovered in the last few days had irrevocably destroyed what might have been.

  "When you found out the truth about yourself," she said in a tumble of words, "you discovered your family. A heritage."

  "That doesn't mean anything. It doesn't change who and what I am."

  Furious that he could so glibly toss aside what had been ripped from her, she countered, "When my truth was revealed, I lost everything. My family. My name." She shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to push a boulder uphill. "I don't even know who I am!"

  He dragged her even closer, until their bodies brushed, igniting small fires in her blood that she determinedly tried to stamp out.

  "You're Hannah Lowell. Soon to be Hannah Mackenzie," he muttered darkly. "The woman I love."

  "I'm no one," she whispered, shaking her head. "An orphan, plucked out of an asylum and given a name she had no right to."

  "No right?" Astonishment colored his voice. "Your parents gave you that name when they chose you to love. To raise."

  "I'm not a witch," she repeated, hearing the words sound over and over in her mind. "I'm not a real member of the Lowells. I have no powers. I have no claim to generations of magic. I'm… ordinary."

  A harsh, short laugh shot from his throat. He shook his head and said, "If there's one thing you're not, Hannah, it's ordinary."

  She wished that were true… but it wasn't.

  "Let me go, Jonas," she said, staring up into his eyes.

  "Why do you care so damn much about our pasts?" he asked. "I don't. I didn't ask to be a warlock and I damn sure don't want to be one."

  "Unfortunately," she whispered, "we don't get a choice." If they did, she would still be the pitifully poor witch she'd always thought herself to be.

  "Why are you being so damned stubborn about this?"

  "You're the Mackenzie."

  "I'm Jonas."

  "The hereditary head of the Guild."

  "A rancher in Wyoming."

  "Now who's being stubborn?" she shouted.

  "It's not stubborn to put up a fight against nonsense. You taught me that, too."

  "Who you are isn't nonsense. Your duties, your responsibilities aren't nonsense."

  "My responsibilities?" he asked. "What about yours?"

  "I'm not the Mackenzie."

  "No, you're not. But you might already be carrying the next Mackenzie."

  Her eyes widened and one hand dropped to her flat abdomen.

  "What about your responsibilities to that baby? To me?"

  "We don't know that there is a baby," she said, though a part of her hoped to heaven that there was. At least then she would have something of him, of their love, with her always.

  "That's not the point."

  "Jonas…"

  "No," he said, tightening his grip on her until she felt each of his fingers branding her skin right through the fabric of her dress. "What are you trying to say? That because you're not a witch, any child we might create together wouldn't be worthy of living?"

  "Of course not," she snapped. "Every child is a blessing. A gift."

  "Even orphans?" he asked quietly.

  She sucked in a breath. My, he was a tricky warlock. Oh, she knew what he was doing. And it wasn't fair. She'd resigned herself to living without him. How could he throw hope at her when she knew it was useless?

  "You must marry another witch," she told him, though the thought of another woman loving him, taking his name, bearing his children made her want to sink to her knees and weep. Hardening her heart and her voice, she continued, "A woman who can strengthen your powers and enrich your bloodline."

  "I must marry the woman I love or nobody at all." He scowled at her. "And bloodlines should only be worried about in horses."

  "Why are you making this so hard?" she demanded.

  "This isn't hard, Hannah. Just like running away isn't hard. It's the staying and fighting for what you want that's hard."

  "I don't want to leave you. I have to, I'm not a witch!"

  "I don't care who you are," he roared and his voice echoed in the cave. "I love you." He threw his hands wide and let them fall again. "You. The woman who piled food in the middle of my table to teach me a lesson. The woman who wore feathers in her hair for who knows what reason. The woman who touches me and brings me to life again after too many years of darkness."

  She choked back a sob.

  "The woman who can bring me to my knees with a single glance out of her green eyes." He paused, then said, "There's only one important thing here. Do you love me or not?"

  Oh, Lord, what she would have given a week ago to hear him say these things. Why was this happening? Why did she have to love him so desperately and give him up?

  And why couldn't he see how difficult this was? How it was tearing at her heart?

  She'd never be able to make him understand, and mentally she decided to quit trying. She knew what had to be done and she would do it. When the trouble with Wolcott was over, she'd leave Wyoming and allow Jonas to find his true destiny. And until then, Hannah would let him think he'd convinced her. It would make their last few days together so much easier to bear.

  And what was one more lie between them now?


  Looking at him, she saw the pain in his eyes that so echoed the ache in her heart. How she would miss him, she thought and silently prayed that he'd given her a child to cherish in the lonely years ahead of her.

  "I do love you, Jonas," she said. "I always will."

  He looked at her warily for another moment before asking. "So it's settled?"

  "Settled," she lied.

  He sighed and shook his head, grinning at her. "Have to admit," he said, "you had me worried there for a while."

  She forced a smile she hoped looked genuine.

  "Then we'll get married as soon as Wolcott's been dealt with."

  She inhaled sharply and lied again. "Perfect," she said and let herself be drawn into the circle of his arms.

  * * *

  The next two days passed quickly.

  Too quickly for Jonas. He sensed trouble in the air and it wasn't just because his nightly dream battles with the warlock were becoming darker, clearer. He felt Wolcott drawing closer. Danger became a tangible thing, choking him, strangling him nightly.

  His eyes gritty from a lack of sleep, his temper constantly near the flash point, Jonas kept to himself as much as he could, sensing that he needed this time to prepare for the approaching battle.

  And it was coming. Soon.

  "You all right?"

  He spun around to face Elias, silently cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. Hell, if an old man could sneak up on him, the warlock should have no problem catching him off guard.

  Then the battle would be lost before he could make a try for victory. And Hannah would be defenseless.

  Taking off his hat, Jonas wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then resettled the hat again. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Or I would be if folks didn't pop up out of nowhere at me."

  "Nowhere?" Elias swung down from his horse and picked up a strand of barbed wire lying on the ground. Holding it in place for Jonas to hammer it into the fence post, he said. "Hell, boy. I rode straight at ya across the meadow. You'd have to be blind not to notice me."

  Blind or thinking. Jonas thought. And God knew, he had plenty for his mind to chew on. Not even counting Wolcott, there was Hannah.

  Something was wrong. Oh, she'd been doing and saying all the right things. But he felt her distancing herself from him. Her sadness reached out to him, putting the lie to the smile she gave him whenever he looked at her.

  He wished again that they'd been able to spend these last couple of nights together, in the same bed. Then at least he could have loved her and held her, made her see how much she meant to him. But with her aunt in the house, they'd had to behave respectably. And every day, despite her smiles and her kisses, he felt her pulling back from him. It was almost as though she were already gone.

  "She's leaving," he said bitterly, suddenly sure of it. He slammed the hammer onto the nail head.

  "Who?" Elias asked. "Hannah?"

  "Who the hell else would I be talking about?" Jonas glanced at him and briefly he envied his old friend's renewed romance with Eudora. Elias looked twenty years younger and Jonas had a feeling the couple would be married before he and Hannah were. The curl of envy twisting in his gut shamed him.

  "That's nonsense, Mac. Hell, her and Eudora's planning your wedding."

  A wedding that would never happen, he told himself, silently mourning. Damn it, she was still trying to step aside so he could marry a blasted witch. Wasn't one damned witch in a marriage enough?

  "Why would she leave?" the older man asked.

  Jonas looked at him. Hell, maybe Elias could find an answer to the situation. Briefly, he explained Hannah's determination to marry him off to some other witch.

  Elias frowned and shook his head. "Don't make sense. Eudora herself told the girl that you two were meant."

  "Eudora lied to her before," Jonas pointed out.

  Instantly defensive, Elias said, "She explained all that."

  "I'm just saying that Hannah might figure Eudora's lying about this, too."

  "Well, she ain't."

  "It doesn't matter to me if she is or not," Jonas said flatly. "I don't care if we're meant or not. I know Hannah's the woman I want. And to hell with all this witchcraft horseshit."

  "Then tell her so."

  "You think I haven't?" He tossed the hammer to the ground and stalked off a few paces. Frustration brewed in the pit of his stomach and absently he noted the distant roll of thunder, but he didn't care. "That woman is as hardheaded as they come."

  And she was determined to leave him, for his own good.

  Half turning, he looked at his old friend through eyes filled with misery. "She's going to leave me Elias. First chance she gets."

  The older man walked toward him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Jonas shifted his gaze to the far mountains. "I can feel it in her. She's waiting until this warlock business is finished. Then she's gonna run."

  "And you'll find her."

  Jonas laughed shortly. "You looked for Eudora for years and didn't find her."

  Elias slapped him on the back. "But witchcraft hid her from me. Hannah won't be able to hide from the Mackenzie."

  A single, fragile thread of hope unwound inside him and for the first time in days, Jonas's heart stopped aching. It was true, he thought. Witchcraft could turn out to be his strongest ally.

  "You'll find her, wherever she goes," Elias told him gently. "And you'll bring her home."

  Jonas smiled thoughtfully, turned to speak, and was stopped by a distant shout.

  "Boss!"

  Both men turned to watch Stretch Jones, riding his horse at a hard gallop, head straight for them. Practically standing up in the stirrups, he was waving his hat over his head like a wild man.

  "Now, what d'ya suppose has got him so worked up?"

  Jonas didn't answer. Staring hard at the approaching cowboy, he felt a strong sense of danger crowding in around him. A chill snaked along his spine and lifted the small hairs at the back of his neck. Whatever it was that had Stretch in such an uproar couldn't be good news.

  Shifting his gaze slightly, Jonas looked in the direction of the ranch and squinted, deliberately blurring his vision slightly as he had to see the magic surrounding Eudora.

  But what he saw now was different. Different enough to stagger him and shatter what was left of that small bud of hope.

  His breath hitched hard in his chest. His throat tightened and an invisible fist closed around his heart. Every instinct he possessed kicked into life, and unconsciously he stood up straighter, moving his right hand to rest atop the butt of his pistol.

  Darkness hovered in the air over the ranch house. As he watched that blackness spread, like a spill of ink across a blue tablecloth, snaking out arms as if dragging itself across the sky. Alive and moving, the shadows shifted in a wind he couldn't feel, then dipped toward the house and the women Jonas knew were inside.

  His dreams hadn't prepared him enough, he thought as the darkness seemed to hover around him, prodding him, goading him.

  Fury roared through him and he stamped it down into a tiny corner of his heart. He'd need to keep calm, he told himself. Steady. If there was danger, he'd face it. But, he thought, it had better keep well away from Hannah or there would be hell to pay.

  The darkness continued to grow even as it thickened, blackened, writhing in fits and starts like a soul caught in the torments of damnation.

  He couldn't tear his gaze away from it.

  It beckoned him even as it warned him off.

  "Jonas!" Elias shouted, giving him a shove that shattered his attention.

  He saw the flash of fear in Elias's eyes and wished he could say something to ease it. But he had a feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse.

  Jonas turned to face the incoming rider.

  Stretch's horse reared to a stop and the winded cowboy leaped down, gasping for breath. Around great gulps of air, he managed to say. "The corral… ground… opened up…"

  "What?"
Elias gave him a shake, impatient to hear what the man had to say.

  Jonas waited, too. Like a mounted cavalryman waiting for the sound of the bugle sending him into a charge.

  The cowboy shook his head, drew one long, deep breath, and said, "The ground in the corral. It just… kind of broke open. Took down one or two horses before we could get the others out."

  "Earthquake?" Elias said, disbelief coloring his voice. "I seen a couple in California, but never out here."

  Jonas half turned and looked again toward the blackness now sliding down to cover the ranch like an evil blanket.

  "It was no earthquake," he said stiffly, already moving toward his mount.

  "Then what?" Stretch shook his head. "Damnedest thing I ever saw. That hole looks deep enough to reach into hell."

  "It probably does," Jonas muttered, snatching at the reins and swinging into the saddle.

  It had finally come. The day he'd been dreading and anticipating. And though he doubted he had the strength to win, he knew he had to try. He had to keep Hannah safe.

  "Mac?" Elias walked to him and laid one hand on his horse's bridle. "What is it? What's happening?"

  Jaw tight, eyes grim, Jonas looked down at him and said simply, "Wolcott's here."

  * * *

  The screams from the horses drew Hannah out of the kitchen, still clutching her dish towel. Racing across the yard, Eudora hot on her heels, Hannah stopped at the fence and stared into a yawning chasm that had opened in the middle of the paddock.

  Frantic animals fought to escape the still-growing slash in the ground and two of the men skirted the lip of the gash in their attempt to save the remaining horses.

  "Get back, ma'am," Billy shouted above the screaming animals. Hannah took a half step back from the fence, but kept her horrified gaze on the yawning gap in the earth.

  "What in heaven… ?"

  She'd never seen anything like it. Oh, she'd heard of earthquakes, but if the earth had shaken badly enough to cause this, surely they would have felt it in the house, too.

  "May the gods help us," Eudora muttered as she came up behind her. Then, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, she gave Hannah a mighty shove toward the house. "Get inside. Now."