by Jodi Thomas
Dr. Gage stood. ‘‘You think it could be?’’
Winter faced Gage. ‘‘The men were wearing black dusters and I put a bullet in one’s gut and one in another’s shoulder.’’
‘‘Are you sure?’’
‘‘That’s my bullet you just dug out, Doc.’’
Gage took a long breath. ‘‘Well, this man’s not going anywhere for several days. If he makes it through the night, we’ll tell the sheriff and let him do the arresting.’’
Winter frowned. ‘‘When the ambush happened, I figured the men were from down south maybe sent to scare us. But if this fellow’s here, the other two may be, also. I don’t think you should stay in the settlement tonight, Doc.’’
‘‘I’ll be all right.’’ Gage waved them out. ‘‘You may have put the bullet in this man, but I might have killed him trying to dig it out. We’ll know one way or the other come morning. In the meantime, outlaw or not, I’ve got to do all I can to keep him alive.’’ Gage straightened his tired shoulders. ‘‘Besides, I’ve got Rae here to protect me.’’
Both men laughed. Rae was an old woman who’d lived in the Breaks for years, and she was meaner than any outlaw or drunk in the place.
Kora picked up her shawl, too tired even to ask what the men were laughing about. ‘‘Good night, Doc,’’ she said as she walked toward the door. ‘‘I’ll go back with Win now.’’
Gage waved them away as he made himself comfortable by the fire. ‘‘Thanks again,’’ he called. ‘‘Don’t worry about me. Rae will be around soon. She’ll help if I need someone.’’
Win followed Kora out and untied his horse. He could feel her close beside him in the darkness. ‘‘I didn’t think about bringing you back alone or I’d have brought a wagon.’’ He hesitated, knowing her fear of horses. But from what he knew, the doc wasn’t much of a rider, so it wouldn’t be fair to leave him the horse and take the buggy. ‘‘You mind riding double?’’
‘‘No,’’ she answered. ‘‘This could be my first riding lesson.’’
He swung up into the saddle and offered her his arm.
There was a moment’s hesitation before she slid her fingers over his sleeve and he closed his hand around her forearm, pulling her up in front of him. ‘‘Comfortable?’’ he asked, thinking of how light she felt.
She leaned against his chest without answering, but the rapid pounding of her heart told him she was far more frightened of being atop a horse than comfortable. But he couldn’t hide his smile. He’d wanted her this close for days.
‘‘Don’t worry,’’ he whispered. ‘‘I’ve got you and I promise I won’t let go.’’
Win guided the horse back over the uneven path of the settlement. He watched the shadows for any movement and kept his right hand free to reach for his gun. The only advantage to the moonless night was that anyone would have as much trouble seeing him as he did them.
To ease her fears he talked softly in her ear, telling her how to hold the reins and when to trust the horse to pick the path.
When they were away from the campfires and shanties, Kora relaxed slightly as if she, too, had been watching, waiting. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered as she leaned against him. ‘‘I’m glad you came to get me.’’
If Winter had any plan of yelling at her for disappearing, it vanished. The nearness of her washed over him as it had before, smoothing rough edges that had been a part of him since he could remember. ‘‘I was worried about you,’’ he said, rougher than he’d intended.
She didn’t seem to notice his tone as her arm slid around his waist. ‘‘When I was about eight, I carried sewing to my mother’s customers.’’ She kept her voice low, but her grip was strong. ‘‘One winter evening I lost my way and thought I’d never get home. I remember praying my mother would come to find me, but she never did. When I finally made it home, she hadn’t even noticed I’d been gone.’’
He moved so that she could rest her back against his arm and lowered his head, slightly breathing in her closeness with each breath. ‘‘Don’t disappear just so I’ll worry, but I’ll always come find you.’’
Kora laughed. ‘‘Did you worry more about me or having to eat Jamie’s cooking?’’
‘‘I left Cheyenne to face the cooking.’’
‘‘If I know Jamie, there won’t be much besides apples to eat tonight.’’
Winter joined her in laughter. ‘‘That could be a blessing.’’
They rode for a long while, huddling against each other for warmth. In time, their breathing matched as did the rhythm of their hearts. A beat at a time, she was losing her fear both of him and of riding.
When they passed onto even land, Winter circled the reins around the saddle horn and allowed the horse to pace himself. He gently took Kora by the shoulders and turned her slightly.
He felt her stiffen.
‘‘Easy, now, wife,’’ he whispered with his cheek against hers. ‘‘I only plan to kiss you if you’ve no objections.’’
‘‘You’re talking to me in the same tone as you do the horse,’’ she whispered.
‘‘I guess I haven’t had much practice talking to women,’’ Winter answered as he touched his first knuckle beneath her chin and lifted her head slightly. ‘‘I’ll learn, though, Kora. Give me a little time. I’ll learn.’’
‘‘Is a kiss part of the peace between us?’’
Win didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to kiss the woman. He’d never asked for a kiss in his life, and he wasn’t about to start begging now. ‘‘No,’’ he mumbled. ‘‘It’s part of nothing. And it’s certainly not something you have to do to play the part of my wife.’’
He pulled his hat lower as if ending the discussion.
She didn’t say a word, but moved her arms around his neck. Slowly she leaned into him and raised her face to his.
‘‘I think I’d like to kiss you,’’ she whispered against his cheek. ‘‘For no other reason than I want to.’’ Her mouth moved feather light across his cheek and touched his lips.
At first the kiss was awkward, but after a few moments he pulled her closer and groaned as she melted so softly against him.
He’d kissed a few women in his years, but none tasted like Kora. Her lips were soft and yielding, with just enough hesitancy to fascinate him. He hadn’t kissed her since that night in the barn, and now he was surprised at how much he’d missed the taste of her.
As the kiss continued, she moved her fingers over his shoulders and touched the hair at the base of his neck. She was getting used to him, he thought. Accepting him one action at a time.
Her small hands lightly stroked his jawline as her lips brushed against his. She was no longer just accepting his kiss, she was returning it.
He let her set the pace, returning her kisses, without demanding more. Slowly she grew bolder, and he answered her request.
His fingers around her waist gripped tightly as he kissed her again and again. ‘‘You like riding?’’ he whispered against her lips.
‘‘I like riding with you,’’ she answered.
She straightened, trusting his grip to hold her, as she opened her mouth. The action was bold, but his smile told her of his pleasure. His arms tightened as the kiss deepened. No words could pass between them. No words were needed.
When the horse stopped, Win glanced up in surprise. ‘‘We’re home,’’ he whispered as his face moved against her hair, loving the clean smell of it.
‘‘Really?’’ She sounded as if she didn’t believe him. ‘‘The trip seemed shorter on horseback.’’
Win laughed as he swung down, then reached for her. His hand slid lightly up her leg to her waist in an action far bolder than he’d ever done. When she didn’t pull away, he lowered her slowly, close to his body. ‘‘Maybe it was because we didn’t talk much.’’
She turned away. He might have thought he’d stepped too far, embarrassing her with his teasing. But her hand lingered on his sleeve, moving along his arm as his hand had covered her leg. The
slight touch was a promise.
Cheyenne appeared in the kitchen door before Winter could say anything.
‘‘Win!’’ Cheyenne yelled as he hobbled onto the back porch. ‘‘They found a man shot at dusk on the south rim. Another lookout spotted a rider wearing black moving away from that direction.’’
Win pressed Kora to the corners of his mind. ‘‘I’ll ride back for the doc!’’ He turned to ready his horse.
‘‘No need.’’ Cheyenne stepped off the porch. ‘‘The man’s dead.’’
Winter’s rage matched the fury of the storm blowing in from the north. He gave Kora a quick nod of goodbye and began issuing orders at his men. By midnight they’d brought in the man’s body and prepared it for burial at dawn and doubled the guard in every section. The trouble had finally reached them.
Winter knew killers waited somewhere in the night. He’d reacted when they’d ambushed Cheyenne and him, but now he was planning to act. He couldn’t stand by while they picked off his ranch hands one at a time. By dawn he planned to be hunting the men down. He’d start by paying the fellow at Breaks Settlement a visit. If the man was still alive, he might tell who rode with him and who hired them. Then he’d find the other two riders in black and see that they were soon behind bars.
SEVENTEEN
BY FULL SUNUP TWO MORE MEN RODE IN WOUNDED. Both told the same story of being shot at by two men in black dusters. One reported that he had the feeling they were shooting wild, trying to scare more than kill.
Winter organized riders and Kora helped with the wounded. The Winchester Quarantine, as the ranchers were calling it, was working, but no one knew for how long. The riders in black reminded everyone that the trouble was real and could be deadly.
The men lived in their saddles, and Kora worked late each night cooking and nursing. Dr. Gage came almost daily, and on most visits the gambler was with him. Wyatt reported he’d been out of town on a two-day poker game, and in truth, he looked as if he hadn’t slept.
Kora watched him talking with Jamie, realizing the man was fascinated by her sister. But there was something dark about him, as if all around him stood in brighter light. He laughed and was always friendly and polite, but Kora didn’t miss the wariness in his eyes or the sadness that turned his mouth down when he thought no one was looking. He seemed overly interested in the blockade, and Kora finally decided that he might be trying to fit into this ranching world that seemed to have little use for gamblers except on Saturday night.
Kora did enjoy Steven Gage’s company, however, and looked forward to the doctor’s visits. He was a kind man whose low voice was as soothing and reassuring as his medicine. Almost from the first, they became the kind of honest friends few people find. She could talk and laugh about almost anything with Steven.
One evening, when everyone had turned in for the night, Steven was still waiting for Wyatt and Jamie to make it back with his buggy. He relaxed in the kitchen with Kora. They talked over coffee and joked about the possibility of Jamie and Wyatt’s children.
Just as Kora finished laughing so hard she had to hold her side, she looked up to see Winter in the doorway. He seemed so tall and dark, like a one-man thunderstorm that would wipe out an entire county if it moved.
He was just standing in the doorway staring. His Stetson was low, shading his eyes, and the layer of dust over him reminded her of the way she’d first seen him.
‘‘Winter!’’ She fought to sober her expression.
He’d been constantly worried about the blockade, and he didn’t need her laughter. After his long day he probably only wanted food and sleep.
For a moment he stood as stone, then suddenly turned and vanished. Kora could feel the sparks in the air, rippling through the room like dry lightning.
Steven stood, looking nervous. ‘‘I really thought Wyatt and Jamie would be back by now.’’ He paced to the window and back.
Kora stared at the doorway, then at Steven. ‘‘I hope nothing’s wrong,’’ she said, thinking more of Winter than her sister. Why would he come all the way to the door and not come inside?
The doctor shuffled. ‘‘I think I’ll make a final check on the wounded. If they’re doing all right, they can be moved into the bunkhouse soon. My buggy should be back by the time I’m finished.’’ He almost ran out of the kitchen.
Kora cleaned up the dishes and set Winter’s supper out, thinking somehow Winter’s dark mood had been caught by Steven. She made Win a plate every night, even though some nights he came in too tired to eat it. At least tonight he made it home in time to say hello before retiring into his study. He reminded her of a clock wound too tight; he seemed to tick off his life in double time.
Win hadn’t kissed her again since that night he’d brought her home. Kora couldn’t help but wonder if he thought of it as often as she did. Sometimes late at night, when he was sleeping soundly, she’d touch her lips to his, but it wasn’t the same as it had been when he’d held her so close.
She waited on the porch for a few minutes, then grew restless. He should have been back from the barn by now. Something was wrong. She could feel it, though she had no idea what it might be. She’d seen the anger in Winter’s fast movement. And Steven had felt something, also.
With long quick steps she hurried to the barn, suddenly needing to know what had happened. She couldn’t help Win unless she knew what bothered him so. There was no use worrying herself sick alone in the house, when all she had to do was ask Winter.
The barn was dark. When she called his name, no one answered. There seemed a restlessness even in the animal sounds in the barn. Kora folded her arms around her, wishing she’d brought her shawl, though the night was not yet cold.
As she walked out of the barn, Logan stood on the bunkhouse porch smoking a twisted cigarette he’d just finished rolling with equally twisted fingers.
‘‘Evenin’,’’ he mumbled as he played with the cigarette.
‘‘Good evening.’’ She took a step closer to the bunkhouse. ‘‘Is something wrong? Has something happened? I saw Win, but now I can’t find him.’’
Logan didn’t answer for a moment, leaving Kora to wonder how bad the news might be. Yet all seemed quiet. If something were amiss, shouldn’t men be running for their horses or everyone preparing? No more wounded had been brought in. She’d heard no shots. Only Winter’s stance had been her gauge.
She took a step closer to Logan. The doc’s buggy jingled in the background, but Kora paid little attention to Jamie and Wyatt as they climbed from the buggy and walked hand in hand toward the house.
When Kora was only a few inches from the older man, she whispered, ‘‘What is it, Logan? I have to know.’’
He put out his cigarette and looked up at her. ‘‘Win ain’t too good at voicing his feelings, but that don’t mean he ain’t got them.’’ When she didn’t answer, he added, ‘‘Just because a rabbit can’t scream like a hawk, don’t mean he ain’t hurting.’’
Kora had no idea what was happening or what Logan was talking about. Winter had never had any trouble telling her what he wanted done. He didn’t strike her as a man who was afraid to let the world know how he felt.
‘‘Where is he?’’ She decided asking Winter might be faster than deciphering Logan’s words.
The old man shrugged. ‘‘Don’t know if he ain’t in the house. His horse is in the corral.’’
Kora turned to walk back to the house. In her mind she rolled through all the breakfast talks they’d had in the past few weeks. It had been mostly about the trouble. He usually asked about her plans for the day. He seemed to enjoy leaning back in his chair and finishing his coffee as she told him. Once, in a moment when no one was around, he’d leaned across the table and touched her hand.
‘‘You might look among those apple trees,’’ Logan mumbled, as if he were thinking to himself and not giving advice. ‘‘I’ve seen him go there when he’s worried.’’
She glanced back, but Logan had already turned into the bunkhouse
.
‘‘Thanks,’’ she whispered to no one.
Halfway across the yard, she waved to Steven and the gambler as they climbed into the buggy for the drive back to town. There was something about the way the gambler raised his left arm high to wave that reminded her of the fire, and she picked up her pace. If something else had happened, she needed to know.
The doctor and Wyatt drove off. She thought of returning for a lantern but didn’t want to waste the time. The sky was clear, offering enough light to walk by. If she went back to the house, Jamie might decide to go with her, and Kora wanted to talk to Winter alone.
‘‘Win?’’ she whispered as she moved into the trees.
Suddenly branches darkened her path. She walked slowly through the orchard, trying to remember the way she’d seen the trees placed. They seemed to have no pattern. She could almost see Win as a boy planting them after dark in a pattern only he knew. The wind became a breeze, and the first blossoms of spring made the air smell wonderful. Kora closed her eyes as she moved, enjoying the feel of the soft flowers along the branches, gently buffering her from the hard wood of the tree. The ground was uneven with roots. As she moved, the trees seem to close in around her, sheltering her, blocking all starlight, hovering.
Kora opened her eyes to blackness, suddenly afraid. A root almost made her fall. A dead branch scraped along her arm, pulling at her sleeve.
The perfume of the blossoms robbed her breath. Twisted branches seemed to reach toward her from all directions. A fallen trunk blocked her path.
‘‘Win!’’ she cried.
Before she could call again, he was there, pushing the branches aside, enfolding her in his arms.
Kora clung to him tightly, loving the way she could huddle against him and feel cocooned by his warmth. For a long while she didn’t say anything, but simply held him, letting her breathing slow to normal.
‘‘Are you all right?’’ he whispered against her hair.
‘‘Yes,’’ she answered. ‘‘I got turned around. Suddenly it seemed like the trees were closing in around me.’’