by Jodi Thomas
‘‘This is your home?’’ she whispered to Winter, wanting to be closer to the living in this dead place. The lean cowboy beside her didn’t fit in these surroundings. Only the layer of dust he wore seemed to match.
‘‘No.’’ He put a firm palm on the small of her back and directed her down the hallway, stopping only briefly to toss his hat on one corner of the stairs’ railing. ‘‘This is your home. Or it will be as soon as we’re married.’’
He paused just outside closed double doors made from a solid oak piece so that the very grain of the wood seemed to bar the entrance. ‘‘I live in here and run the ranch from this office when I’m not on horseback. But I want it clearly understood that you’re the mistress of this place and free to do whatever you like. I want no part of it except to know my wife is here.’’
He looked around the rooms behind them as if for the first time in a long while. ‘‘When I was a boy I used to visit this place every Sunday. It was something to see back then. The captain might have managed the ranch, but everyone knew Miss Allie ran the house. I’d like the same rules to apply now. I’d appreciate a meal now and then that isn’t served from the bunkhouse kitchen or a chuck wagon, and a bed other than my bedroll.’’
Kora didn’t meet his gaze as she realized he meant her bed. ‘‘I’ll try to be considerate.’’ His request didn’t seem so outrageous; husbands usually slept with their wives. But the thought that she might very soon be sleeping with him made her add, ‘‘And patient.’’ If he were patient, she’d be gone before he assumed his husbandly rights.
‘‘So will I,’’ Winter answered honestly. This marriage was more than he’d hoped for. If she was willing to wed after only knowing him an hour, he would wait until she invited him into her bed. Except for asking him to find her wild sister a husband, Kora Adams seemed agreeable enough. And when she wasn’t curling into that shawl, she looked prettier than most women. ‘‘I’ve more important things to think about than sleeping arrangements.’’
‘‘I see.’’ Kora stared at the floor, remembering how her mother always said she had more important things to worry about than raising girls. She’d add like a chorus, ‘‘Boys are a mother’s blessing, girls are a mother’s hands.’’
Kora raised her gaze to him. If all he wanted was a hard working pair of hands, she’d offer him that in exchange for a roof and food. When Dan was stronger, she’d trade this house for tickets to where the sun always shown. Six months, she almost whispered aloud.
‘‘There’s extra bedrooms upstairs for Jamie and Dan.’’ He bit back his lie, knowing he had to make the offer. ‘‘She’s welcome to stay until she marries. And Dan can stay as long as you like.’’
Silently he hoped Jamie would be leaving soon. She’d threatened him while they hitched Kora’s one horse to the wagon and loaded Dan’s ladderback chair, along with an old chest and a few bundles of clothes. Then the girl had continued to rant as she helped Dan into the back of the wagon without a word to her brother about where they were going. She hadn’t stopped talking while Winter rode beside the wagon through the darkness. The only reason his ears were getting a rest now was that Jamie seemed more interested in his horses than seeing the house or watching her sister’s wedding.
He’d gladly left Jamie with one of the hands. When he’d looked back, Dan was still sitting in the back of the wagon looking completely uninterested in his surroundings and Jamie was picking out a mount.
Kora seemed to match his thoughts. ‘‘That was kind of you to offer Jamie a horse.’’
He opened the doors to his office, thinking that she was the first person he could ever remember who thought of him as kind.
As the heavy oak doors parted, three men turned toward them.
‘‘There they are!’’ Logan yelled. ‘‘I told you they’d come.’’
As he recognized the bride, the reverend frowned. ‘‘Mrs. Adams?’’ He looked over his glasses at her. ‘‘I didn’t think I’d see you as a bride. Your first husband is hardly cold in the ground.’’
Kora knew she should probably feel guilty. Everyone over the age of six knew a woman mourned a year before even going out in mixed company, much less thinking of marrying. But Kora lifted her chin slightly and stared at the reverend in silence. She hadn’t any more time to wait. Judging from the reverend’s width, he’d never known hunger or the kind of fear that closes in around you in the night so thick you can’t breathe. She’d been asked by Winter, and for better or worse, she’d stick by her decision. At least he’d been practical and straightforward, unlike Andrew Adams, who’d lied about his wealth in his letters. Not that she could say much since she’d also lied by answering under another woman’s name.
‘‘Kora’’-Winter said her name slowly for the first time-‘‘do you still wish to marry me? I’ll not go against your will in this no matter how much I want a wife. I’ll not ask you to do what you believe is wrong.’’
She leaned close to his shoulder. ‘‘Are you sure you want to marry me? I come with more responsibilities than most new brides.’’ She thought briefly that if the man had any sense, he’d run.
‘‘I’m sure.’’
‘‘Then I wish to continue.’’ She looked at the minister. Winter’s words helped ease her fears. He’d given her the choice. ‘‘Tonight or a year from now makes no difference to me.’’ He offered her a fair bargain and for as long as it lasted, she’d stay.
Winter spoke directly to the preacher. ‘‘Then let it be known that it was I who insisted this wedding take place right away. Anyone who has any objections or raised eyebrows best turn them my way and not my wife’s.’’
The preacher swallowed hard. ‘‘I understand, Mr. McQuillen. I’ll be happy to join you two in wedlock.’’
Staring down a nester’s widow was one thing, but facing a rancher like Winter was quite another. Smiling for the first time in days, Win turned slightly, nodding once toward both cowhands. ‘‘Kora, I’d like you to meet Cheyenne and Logan.’’
Kora faced the two men, fighting the urge to pull up her shawl.
‘‘Logan spends most of his time telling me what to do,’’ Winter said, ‘‘and Cheyenne gets me out of trouble when I’m foolish enough not to listen.’’
Logan’s face wrinkled into a thousand lines as he smiled, but the younger man only lowered his head slowly in a nod much as Winter had done earlier. Cheyenne’s stare was direct and cold. Kora wanted to move away. He reminded her of someone who saw everything in life and liked very little of what he saw. In build, the two men Winter called friends were as opposite as they were in welcoming. Logan was average in height and weight for his fifty years, reminding Kora of old jerky. Cheyenne was as tall as Winter but rawhide thin.
‘‘These are the two men I trust completely.’’ Winter didn’t give the compliment lightly. ‘‘I’d be honored if you’d both witness this marriage.’’
The men agreed.
Winter offered his arm to Kora. ‘‘Are you ready?’’
Kora glanced at his Colt still strapped to his leg. ‘‘Are you planning to wed wearing a gun, sir?’’
‘‘Does my answer affect your decision to become my wife?’’ Winter’s voice was gruff. The gun was a part of his life. He saw no need to remove it now. He’d already unstrapped it once tonight for this lady. He figured once was enough.
‘‘It does not,’’ she answered, realizing that trying to change a man while standing at the altar was probably not the best time.
‘‘Then, if you’ve no further objections, I’d like to get this ceremony over with.’’
When she placed her fingers atop his forearm, Winter said simply, ‘‘Begin, Preacher.’’
Kora had never seen anyone command so much power with little more than a whisper. As the minister spoke, she studied Winter, wondering who this man she was marrying could be. He was so dusty, he could have been little more than a cowhand. But his Colt looked custom-designed, and he’d made the point that it was a part of him. The hor
se he’d ridden was the most powerful animal she’d ever seen.
The house he kept insisting was hers looked as if it had been totally neglected for years, yet somehow it was a part of him. And his eyes, now staring ahead with a faraway look, as though even during his own wedding he had something more important to worry about than her. She could see a strength in the brown depths and wondered if it would be there when she needed him. Or would he turn away and not even see her as her mother had after Dan’s return?
‘‘I will,’’ Winter said, startling her.
‘‘And you, Kora Adams?’’ The minister waited.
‘‘I will,’’ she answered.
‘‘Then I pronounce you man and wife.’’ The minister closed his Bible with a sigh of exhaustion. ‘‘You may kiss your bride, Mr. McQuillen.’’
Winter leaned down and lightly kissed her cheek. ‘‘Thanks,’’ he whispered.
Kora smiled, wondering if she should kiss him, or whisper back, ‘‘You’re welcome.’’
While Logan and the minister took care of the paperwork, Cheyenne stood a few feet behind Winter as if on guard.
Winter thanked them, then insisted on showing Kora the rest of the house. A big kitchen, a dining room, parlor, and sunroom helped the study make up the downstairs. Upstairs, she found four bedrooms, none of which looked as if they’d been lived in for years. They were all furnished with heavy oak and mahogany, and the beds had been covered with tarps.
‘‘Where do you sleep?’’ Kora asked as Winter climbed the stairs to the third floor.
He paused as he reached the top and set the lamp down on the stair post. One huge empty room welcomed them with starlight from all four sides shining through dusty windows. ‘‘Until a month ago I lived in the bunkhouse. When the captain died, I started sleeping in the study, trying to catch up on all the paperwork. Logan said the captain liked to sleep in the sunroom, and from the day his wife died six years ago, never climbed the stairs to the second floor again.’’
Win looked around the room lined with trunks and boxes packed away long ago. ‘‘Miss Allie told me once she’d built the attic with lots of windows to use as a quilting room. But by the time I knew her, the extra flight of stairs was too much for her.’’
‘‘I thought I’d make Dan’s bed in the sunroom. Then he can slip out for his walks without waking anyone.’’
‘‘Will he get lost?’’
‘‘No,’’ Kora said as she studied the huge attic. ‘‘We’ve moved several times since my mother died and he never does. I think he just walks in a circle, never looking at anything along his way, never stopping. He’s no trouble. He seems to live more with his ghosts than with us. All we have to do is put his chair in the wagon, and he goes with us.’’
She didn’t want to talk about her family. There would be time later to tell Winter of all the treatments they’d tried to help Dan. Right now, she wanted to know more about this man and his house. ‘‘You inherited this place a month ago?’’
Kora walked around the room, loving the way the moonlight played across the wood flooring. All the windows were framed into the roof line, making the ceiling high in places and low in others.
‘‘No.’’ Winter’s voice hardened slightly. ‘‘I worked, or won, every inch of the ranch. You inherited the house the minute you married me. I imagine Logan will have the papers in order by the time we go downstairs.’’ He stared out into the midnight of his land, not seeing the stars above. ‘‘The old man we all called ‘Captain’ left my wife the house in his will, not me. The house will be fully yours on our six-month anniversary.’’
She wanted to ask more, but she could feel the tightness of Win’s stance, as though she’d reached out and touched him and he’d pulled away from her. He had his forbidden topics as well.
Stepping off the room in wide steps, Kora decided to ask about the captain later, when Winter’s wounds were less raw. ‘‘Did you mean it when you said I could do anything I wanted with the house?’’
‘‘Of course,’’ he answered as he leaned against the windowsill, only half listening as he looked out over his land. ‘‘I’ll even move back to the bunkhouse. Or I’ll sleep in the study if you like. It doesn’t matter to me.’’
‘‘Could we have our bedroom up here?’’ she whispered, afraid to hope such a thing was possible.
Winter turned from the darkness outside to her. Though the moonlight was strong enough to highlight her hair, he couldn’t see her face. They’d moved too far away from the lamp for its light to be more than a yellow glow several yards away. But her hair seemed to have lights of its own. Or perhaps the strands had stolen the starlight.
He almost laughed aloud at the foolishness of his thoughts. ‘‘It’s cold up here in the winter and hot in the summer,’’ he said, folding his arms and moving toward her slowly. His words were meant to put an end to the discussion.
‘‘But we’ll have the stars,’’ she countered unexpectantly. ‘‘And the moon. I love seeing the moon. With these huge windows we can watch the sun rise and set and see storms coming in from miles away.’’
Stopping his progress, he tried to see her face once more; but she was looking about the room, as though already moving furniture in her mind. Kora had done it twice more, casually-she’d used the plural to the room as though it were understood that it would also be his. Was she making him a part of this house when the captain never had? Was she offering more than an occasional hour in her bed?
‘‘I’ll have the men move up anything you ask,’’ he said, still not believing she meant to include him. ‘‘If you want this room for a bedroom, you’ll have it.’’ She’d challenged in such a gentle way, he’d surrendered without defense. ‘‘I said I’d give the moon for a wife. You might as well be able to see it.’’
Kora whirled, her hair flowing like a cape around her. ‘‘Thank you.’’ She laughed. ‘‘Finally I’ll be able to sleep without the smell of dirt surrounding me.’’
Winter couldn’t help but laugh as well and was surprised at how much pleasure seeing her happy brought him. ‘‘I take it you’re tired of the dugout?’’
‘‘Yes, but I never dreamed I’d have such a room. We’ll survive the heat in summer by opening the windows and the cold in winter with quilts. You’ll see.’’
Win watched her, wondering if she had any idea what she’d just said. She’d done it again. She’d invited him to be a part of this room, this house. She was honoring their agreement to be husband and wife to the world.
‘‘Boss!’’ Logan’s voice carried up from the stairwell. ‘‘The riders are in from the south pasture, and you’d best come down.’’
‘‘I’ll be right down, Logan!’’ he yelled, not wanting anyone to come up. This was their room. ‘‘If this place is going to be a bedroom, I’ll have to build a door.’’
He turned to Kora as he lifted the lamp. ‘‘I didn’t have time to tell you that we’ve got our share of trouble on the ranch.’’
Kora crossed to the stairs, knowing that he was waiting for her to join him.
‘‘There’s cattle from down around San Antonio that are heading this way. Talk is the owners are trying to get them to market up in Kansas before they all die of yellow fever. If they run the sick beeves through the Panhandle, every rancher in these parts stands to lose half his herd, maybe more. And my range is their only clear path to market.’’
They walked down the stairs, Winter two steps ahead of her with the light. Kora rested her hand on his shoulder for guidance. ‘‘What can you do?’’
‘‘We’re riding a blockade. One rider along every five miles of land where they could cross the Palo Duro Canyon.’’
‘‘But if they come, one man can’t stop them.’’
‘‘One Winchester can. As long as the rider gets off a shot, others will respond. We’ll drop every last head at the canyon wall if we have to, but they’ll not climb and cross while I’ve bullets left. I may not be able to stop them from getting to market
, but I can stop them from crossing my land, and that will cost them dearly.’’
Kora listened to the anger in his tone and felt once more the power of this man. His talk of killing frightened her, making her aware that the man she married might not be as reasonable as their bargain suggested. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder.
He’d said he didn’t believe in luck, but she hadn’t spent a night in his house and already trouble was echoing. This wasn’t of her doing, she told herself. The problem had been there before she came. It would pass. Then, maybe for a few months, or weeks, she could pretend this house and this man were really hers.
Winter slowed, too lost in his own thoughts to realize she might be afraid. ‘‘I’ve had riders out for three nights now, and tonight’s my turn to take a shift, wedding or no wedding. I’ve a job to do.’’
‘‘Boss!’’ Logan met them halfway up the last staircase. ‘‘We got trouble for sure!’’
Before Winter could answer, Kora glanced at the foyer, where several men waited with guns strapped to their legs and rifles resting on their shoulders.
‘‘Two men are late reporting in down by the south fence.’’ Cheyenne said in a low emotionless voice as Winter approached.
‘‘All hell’s fixing to break loose!’’ another man yelled.
Winter took his hat from the stair railing and combed his hair back with his hand before fitting it low across his forehead. Logan handed him a leather coat, and Winter glanced up at Kora, as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘‘ Gentlemen’’-he cleared his throat and silenced the cowhands below-‘‘my wife.’’
All the men looked up at once as Kora moved down until she stood on the second step just behind Winter.
One man near the steps removed his hat. ‘‘Mrs. McQuillen, I’m mighty glad you’re here. Sorry about the language earlier, ma’am. I didn’t know there was a lady present.’’
All the others seemed to remember their manners and removed their hats.
Kora placed her hand on Winter’s shoulder for strength.