“Case shot them,” she said.
“Well, at least we won’t have to look for lead,” her brother said in a resigned voice. “We’ll just pick it out of our teeth.”
“He didn’t use a shotgun.”
Conner’s eyes widened. “How did he get them?”
“Six-gun,” she said succinctly.
“Waste of lead,” Lola muttered.
“One shot each,” Sarah said. “Three birds. Three bullets. Fastest thing I ever saw.”
Lola’s eyebrows rose.
Conner whistled.
“That’s mighty fine shootin’. Mighty fine,” Lola said. “No wonder he survived a showdown with them Culpeppers.”
“He nearly didn’t,” Sarah said tightly.
“Gal, I ain’t never heard of no one walkin’ away from a Culpepper shootin’ at all, and you can go to church with that.”
“Huh,” Conner said. “And here I was thinking that he mustn’t be much good with that six-gun of his.”
“Why?” Sarah asked, startled. “Just because he was shot?”
“No. Because he doesn’t file off the sight, he hasn’t shortened the barrel, and he hasn’t honed the firing pin or changed the trigger to make it shoot faster.”
“Parlor tricks,” Lola said.
“Maybe, but those tricks make the Culpeppers lightning on the draw,” he retorted.
“Is that what Ute is teaching you when you’re supposed to be doing chores?” Sarah demanded.
“Adios,” her brother said, closing the door firmly behind him. “We’ll be back before dark with more wood.”
“Conner Lawson!” she called. “Answer me!”
Silence answered, which told her as much as words. She turned on Lola.
“I don’t want Ute teaching Conner gunfighter tricks,” Sarah said flatly.
“Don’t jaw at me. Jaw at your brother. He’s the one doing the pestering about six-guns and such.”
Sarah bit her lip and turned away. With great care she put the tiny joined mugs in a natural niche in the logs.
I’ve got to find that treasure, she thought again. I’ve got to find it.
But no real progress had been made today.
Case had dug several more holes. He found only broken pottery and the remains of old campfires for his trouble. Other than pottery, a burned can that had been used to warm beans over a campfire, and a broken, dried-up leather hobble, the area around the ruins hadn’t yielded any sign of man.
“You listening to me?” Lola asked impatiently.
Startled out of her unhappy thoughts, Sarah turned.
“Were you saying something?” she asked.
“Damned straight I was.”
“Sorry. I was…thinking.”
“Then set your mind to this,” Lola said. “You best be glad your little brother has a keen eye, fast hands, and the grit to use ’em in a fight. Them Culpepper boys ain’t the church-going, prayer-shouting sort. They’re poison mean clear to the bone. Every last damned one of them.”
Sarah looked up. The certainty in the older woman’s voice was reinforced by the harsh lines of her face.
“You once knew the Culpeppers, didn’t you?” Sarah asked. “Not just Ab, but the whole clan.”
“I was raised near ’em. My ma shot one of Ab’s uncles from ambush for forcing hisself on me when I was twelve. Didn’t kill him, sorry to say.”
Sarah looked as shocked as she felt.
“He weren’t the first,” Lola said, “or the last. Ma brung me into the business as a young’un.”
The older woman shrugged and gave a gap-toothed smile.
“I only mention it,” she said, “so’s you won’t go to nagging Conner for him doing what’s got to be done to protect his own.”
“I don’t want that for my brother,” she said with quiet desperation.
“Man does what he’s going to do, and women take the hindmost.”
Sarah’s mouth flattened. She wanted to argue but knew it was herself she was fighting with, not Lola.
To hell with firewood, Sarah thought harshly. I’m looking for Spanish silver tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.
I’ll find it.
I have to.
“Speakin’ of man doing and women taking,” Lola said, “you looking to get big from more than you et?”
“Excuse me?” Sarah said, confused.
“You do know where babes come from, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then do you want a young’un or do you have something to keep you from catching?”
“It’s not a problem. Half of what I need to get pregnant is missing.”
“Hell it is,” Lola retorted. “Case has just what you need, an it’s by God loaded for bear every time he looks at you.”
Sarah felt her cheeks getting hot as she remembered bathing Case when he was asleep.
He was indeed quite capable of getting her pregnant.
“He wouldn’t force me,” Sarah said tightly.
“He wouldn’t have to. Or ain’t you figured that out yet?”
“What?”
The older woman threw up her hands.
“Long on book learning and short on female learning,” Lola said, disgusted.
Sarah didn’t say a word.
“You want Case,” Lola said flatly. “It’s plain as the nose on your face.”
“Whether I do or not,” she said in an even voice, “Case doesn’t want me.”
“Horseshit.”
“Please, don’t use—”
“Don’t go to chewing on me for speaking plain,” Lola interrupted curtly. “Plain speaking is downright needful unless you want to be breeding Case’s babe. Do you?”
“It doesn’t matter. He won’t touch me that way.”
“Hell, gal, they all say that whilst they put their pecker up your skirt.”
“Case hates wanting me,” Sarah said bluntly. “He told me so.”
Lola blinked. “How come?”
“He doesn’t want to feel anything.”
“Only critter that don’t feel nothing is a dead critter.”
Sarah’s smile was weary but real.
“Case doesn’t mind feeling something toward the land,” she said. “It’s people he doesn’t want to care about.”
“Huh.”
Lola pursed her weathered, wrinkled lips, reached into her pocket for a plug of chewing tobacco, and remembered where she was. She sighed.
“Well, makes no nevermind what a man’s two-eyed head wants,” the old woman said. “His one-eyed head gets the last word.”
When Sarah figured out what Lola was saying, she couldn’t help laughing.
“Ain’t you never heard it called that?” the older woman asked, grinning.
Sarah simply shook her head.
“For a widow woman, you sure are green,” Lola said. “How did you keep from gettin’ a big belly when your husband was alive? Or was he just too old?”
“Partly. Usually he was too drunk to run me to ground.”
Lola’s big shoulders moved in silent laughter. Then she reached into a pants pocket, pulled out a small leather bag, and threw it.
Instinctively Sarah caught the bag. It weighed hardly anything.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Bits of sponge. Case ain’t no drinker and he ain’t too old to plant kids in your belly.”
Sarah looked at the bag. “So?”
“So when you get to feeling randy, soak one of them bits in vinegar and put it where your monthlies come from. Poke it up as far as you can. Then go do what you got to.”
“I won’t get pregnant, is that what you’re saying?”
“Oh, you might catch now an’ again, depending on how often you spread your legs.”
Sarah looked at the small bag and hoped that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
“Nothin’ to be shamed over,” Lola said. “I’m told some women like it.”
A shudder of distaste
went through Sarah.
“I didn’t,” she said, her voice flat.
“Never much cared for it myself, until Ute. Liking a man makes it tolerable. More you like him, more tolerable it gets.”
Blindly Sarah held the bag out.
“Take it,” she said. “I won’t need it.”
“That’s what Conner said when you told him to wear a jacket a few weeks back. And what happened?”
“He didn’t take it,” Sarah retorted.
“And then he come back home with his tail tucked between his legs, half-froze solid.”
“I’m not Conner.”
“Hell, gal, course you ain’t. He can’t carry a kid in his belly.”
Sarah grabbed Lola’s hand, slapped the small leather pouch into it, and let go.
The older woman shrugged and tucked the small leather pouch into her pants.
“You change your mind, just holler,” she said.
Sarah nodded, but as she did, she couldn’t help thinking that there were worse things than having Case’s baby.
A lot worse.
“Sarah, you awake?”
Ute’s soft call brought her awake in a rush that left her heart pounding.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Raiders?”
“No. It’s Case.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He tossing and groaning in his sleep fit to wake the dead.”
She thought quickly. She hadn’t seen Case since yesterday afternoon, when he had walked out of the cabin while the rest of them were admiring the ancient pottery.
“Is he sick?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. Just real restless like. Calling out names and such.”
Just like the fever dreams, she thought. Is he calling for his precious Emily again?
“Wake him up,” she said.
“No, ma’am,” Ute said emphatically.
“Why not?”
“Last time I woke a fighting man up when he was a tossing and a groaning, he durn near killed me ’fore he come to his senses. But Case wouldn’t harm nary a hair on your head, no matter what.”
“All right,” she said, throwing aside the covers. “Is Conner up on the rim?”
“Yes’m. That’s how I come to hear Case. I was passing his camp on my way back in.”
“Go get some sleep. I’ll see to Case.”
“Uh, ma’am?”
“What?”
“You might talk to him first, real quiet like, ’fore you go grabbing his shoulder.”
“I’ve worked with wild animals before,” she said dryly.
Ute’s laugh sounded like two handfuls of gravel being rubbed together.
Sarah pulled on her clothes, grabbed a jacket, and hurried out into the night.
Overhead the sky was an explosion of silver and black. The beauty of it held her spellbound for several heartbeats. Her breath came out in a wondering sigh that turned to silver and rose toward the glittering vault of the night.
Then the cold bit through her jacket, doeskin shirt, and doeskin pants. Shivering, she set off toward the clump of big sage where Case had set up his “camp.”
Ute was right.
Case was thrashing and turning and muttering words. The incoherent sounds were barely louder than the crackle and creak of the tarpaulin he slept on.
Yet Sarah was certain that Emily’s name was the one most often spoken.
Cautiously she approached him. She longed to gather him in her arms and soothe away whatever was causing his wild sleep. She had done the same thing many times for Conner in the years after the flood killed their family.
But instead of touching Case, she sat on her heels just beyond his reach. He was a fighting man who had fallen asleep alone, outside the cabin. If anything grabbed him, he wouldn’t expect it to be a friend.
“Case,” she said gently. “It’s Sarah. You’re all right. I’m here. You’re safe, Case. It’s all right.”
She repeated the words many times, using her most soothing voice, the one Case had described as sunlight and honey.
After a time he stopped twisting and turning in the covers. He was still restless, but he no longer twitched and jerked like a wild animal caught in a trap.
“That’s it,” she murmured. “You’re all right. No one is going to hurt you. I won’t let them.”
She eased closer to him, talking softly the whole time. What she said was a mixture of sense and nonsense, a soothing flow of sound that reassured him on a deeper level than words alone could.
When she stroked his hand, he sighed raggedly. His arm closed around her and he pulled her toward him.
“Emily,” he said in a blurred voice. “Thought you were gone. Snuggle in here and go to sleep. Uncle Case will keep the ghosts away.”
Sarah was too surprised to pull back when he smoothed his hand tenderly over her hair, tucked her head against his chest, and pulled the bedroll covers up over both of them.
There was nothing sexual in his manner. It was as though she were a child rather than a woman.
Uncle Case? she thought, stunned. Is his beloved, lost Emily his niece?
Sarah started to wake him and tell him that she wasn’t Emily. The utter relaxation of his body stopped her. No longer was he restless, mumbling, struggling against something only he could see. His body was relaxed, supple.
He sighed deep and long, cuddling her to his side. Then the rhythms of his breathing slowed, telling her that he was fully asleep.
For a time she listened to his heartbeat beneath her cheek and watched the glory of the stars where a corner of the blanket had slipped down. The cold of the night was held at bay by Case’s sheer warmth. It was like curling up next to a fire that never had to be fed.
A deep breath brought the scent of sage and wool and man into her nostrils. She sighed and snuggled even closer, loving the feeling of his arm around her, his hand cradling her cheek, and his breath warm in her hair.
The heat of him seeped all the way to her core, relaxing her so completely that she felt almost dizzy. Not since the hurricane destroyed her family had she felt so much at peace with life.
I should go back to the cabin, she thought sleepily. Case is fine now.
Reluctantly she began to withdraw from the tranquillity and warmth of the shared nest.
His arm tightened around her, holding her in place.
“Case?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
He didn’t answer. Nor did the rhythm of his heartbeat or breathing change.
She waited until his arm relaxed. Then she tried again to leave.
His arm tightened again. He murmured something and moved restlessly.
“Hush,” she said soothingly. “It’s all right. I won’t leave.”
For a while, she amended silently.
Sighing, Sarah settled in to watch the splendor of the stars wheel slowly through the opening in the blanket.
She didn’t try to leave a third time. She fell as deeply asleep as Case.
13
Case awoke before dawn. It was an odd sort of waking for him, slow and lazy rather than quick and dangerous. A feeling of calm, of rightness, was inside him as deeply as his heartbeat.
Lord, he thought sleepily. It’s been a long time since I felt Emily’s little body putting my arm to sleep.
Wonder what she does for nightmares when Uncle Case isn’t around?
Abruptly he realized that, while his arm was asleep, it wasn’t from a child’s weight.
There was a woman’s resilient softness pressed against his side. There was a woman’s long, thick hair lying silky against his neck. Each breath he took was infused with a woman’s warmth.
And roses.
Sarah.
His eyes came fully open. The inky outline of sage boughs was overhead. In the openings between branches, stars glittered. The moon had set. Dawn was a faint whisper of pink in the east.
What the hell is she doing out in the brush with me? he thought.
The quickest w
ay to find out was to wake her up and ask her. He started to do just that. He got as far as pulling the blanket down to her shoulders, and then he forgot why he was in such a blazing hurry to disturb her.
Starlight washed gently over Sarah’s face. Lack of sunlight quenched the gold and red in her hair, but the silkiness of it shone like black water. Her eyelashes were so long they rested against her cheeks. Her mouth was full, relaxed, slightly curved, almost smiling.
Thoroughly tempting.
I shouldn’t, he thought as he bent down.
He stopped.
At least, he thought he had stopped. Then he found that he could no more resist her than a moth could turn away from the incandescent lure of flames.
She’s a fire in the middle of winter, Case thought. God, I’ve been cold so long…
His lips brushed over hers, sipping at the gentle curve of her sleeping smile. His fingers eased carefully, completely into her hair, seeking the warmth beneath the cool strands. When he could get no closer to the heat of her, he held her head cupped in his hands, warming himself.
Sarah sighed and moved her head slightly, as though savoring the feel of his hands.
A shiver that had nothing to do with cold went through his body. It was desire and something more, something frightening stirring beneath the years of bleak denial.
But desire was the only thing Case admitted to feeling.
Desire was something he understood all too well since coming to Lost River ranch.
Slowly, gently, he shifted until Sarah was lying half beneath him. When the blanket started to slide away, he caught it with his teeth and dragged it back over both of them so that she wouldn’t get cold and wake up.
There was no danger that he would notice the bite of the winter dawn. The scent and feel and taste of her were burning him alive.
His fingers went to the laces of her buckskin shirt. He pulled first one lace through a hole, then the other.
I shouldn’t, he thought despite the hard, heavy running of his blood.
Yet even as he told himself not to, he eased each lace through one more hole.
Her skin gleamed like a pearl in the mixture of starlight and softly growing dawn.
The hell with should or shouldn’t, he thought. If she didn’t want this as much as I do, she wouldn’t be here.
Surely a widow knows how a man wakes up in the morning.
Winter Fire Page 17