Willow

by Norah Hess

  Willow started to pick Cailyn up, but she paused when several shots rang out from the direction of the house. Hope beat fiercely in her breast. Rooster had come to rescue her. She held her finger to her lips when the frightened girl began to cry. "Don't be afraid," she soothed her. "A friend of mine has come to help us. Now be real quiet so I can hear what's going on."

  There were several more shots with spaces in between, then a string of them, then a long silence. Willow was thinking about crawling out of the deep coulee and slipping up to the house to see what had happened there. She turned to tell Cailyn her intention, but then another flurry of shots rang out. The silence that followed this time lasted at least five minutes. When she heard no hoofbeats thundering along to track her down, she felt confident that Rooster had been the winner in the shoot-out.

  She hunkered down beside Cailyn and struggled her onto her shoulder again. "I'm taking a chance that we won't have to fear my father or Buck Axel ever again," she said to the silent girl as she started climbing out of the gulch.

  Willow hadn't gone far when she felt the light weight she carried grow limp. Cailyn had drifted into a fever-induced faint. She struggled on, her whole attention on putting one foot in front of the other. She wasn't aware when the ranch buildings loomed up ahead of her.

  "What do we do now, Logan?" Jules asked, a tone of helplessness in his voice. They had searched every corner of the barn, even scattered a pile of hay, looking for Willow. She was not there.

  "We start looking for tracks. Maybe she got away from the bastards and is hiding someplace. Come on, let's get going."

  The two men stepped out of the barn, and stopped short. Corning toward them was the figure of a woman, bent almost double from the weight of a blanketed body lying across her shoulder.

  "Willow!" Jules cried out when he caught sight of the golden hair. He loped off toward her, a prayer of thanksgiving on his lips.

  When gentle hands took hold of her, Willow realised that at last she and Cailyn were safe. She gave in to her exhaustion and sagged against the hard body that welcomed her.

  When Jules grabbed her to keep her from falling, Logan jumped forward to catch the body that was falling off her shoulder. He looked down at the bruised face and swore harshly.

  "What is it, Logan?" Jules asked as, with Willow in his arms, he walked over to stand beside his friend. "You look ready to kill someone."

  "Look at this poor girl. I wish Buck Axel would come back to life so that he could be killed again." Jules looked down at the half-breed, and he also swore at the condition of her face. She had been used harshly and often. He wondered if there was a spark of life left in her.

  "She's awfully sick." Willow tiredly lifted her head from Jules's shoulder. "She has been beaten and starved and is very weak. I'm afraid she has pneumonia."

  "Let's get her inside and see what we can do for her," Jules said.

  "No!" Willow objected firmly. "Don't take her back into that cold pigsty. Take her to my father's house. It's clean and we will find herbs and barks that my mother used to gather for medicinal teas."

  When the men were mounted, holding the girls in front of them, Jules cleared his voice and said softly, "Your father is dead, Willow."

  "Who shot him?" she asked, her body stiffening a bit.

  Jules was thankful that he could say, "Logan's bullet got him."

  Willow's body relaxed, and after a few seconds she said, "I am not going to pretend unfelt tears. My father was a mean, evil man and has a lot to answer for when he stands in front of his Maker."

  "What about Buck Axel?" Jules asked.

  "That one will go straight to hell." Willow shivered, just thinking of the rancher.

  Cailyn stirred in Logan's arms, alerting him that she was still alive and giving him hope that she could be nursed back to health. There was something about the frail little thing that had appealed to him the moment he looked down at her.

  But she was burning up with fever. He could feel the heat of her body even through the blanket wrapped around her. He heaved a grateful sigh when the Ames ranch came into view.

  Willow had rested and regained her strength, and she, too, welcomed the sight of her old home. Her back ached from holding it stiffly away from Jules. It was bad enough to feel his hard thighs pressing on either side of her, but to feel the warmth of his maleness against her derriere was driving her crazy. Too many memories were flooding through her. Memories that she must flush from her mind.

  When Jules reined in by the back porch, she slid off the saddle before he could dismount and help her down. She couldn't bear to have his hands on her.

  As Willow mounted the steps and pushed open the kitchen door, Jules stepped down from the saddle and went to help Logan dismount with Cailyn in his arms.

  "Bring her in here," Willow called from her old bedroom.

  Logan found, on entering the room, that Willow had the covers of the bed laid back and was piling more quilts on it. When he laid his light burden down and started to unwrap the blanket, she grabbed his wrist.

  "The poor little thing has no clothes on. While I take care of her, why don't you see to getting some fires started? There should be some wood stacked on the porch. Give me about five minutes and you can get some heat going in that little brasier over there in the corner.

  "And, Logan," she said as he walked toward the door, "heat me a pot of water as soon as possible. I've got to get some healing curatives inside her right away."

  When Logan walked into the family room, Jules had just finished making a fire in the fireplace. "Willow wants some hot water for teas she's gonna make," Logan said. "I'll bring in the water if you'll get a fire going in the stove."

  With three fires going, the house was comfortably warm in minutes. Willow had found her mother's bags of herbs, roots and bark and brewed two different teas.

  "This tea is for her fever," she said to Logan, who stood at the foot of the bed watching as she dribbled a light brown liquid between Cailyn's pale lips. "And the tea I gave her before is to break up the congestion in her lungs.

  "Is there enough daylight left for you to slaughter one of the cows? I want to get a lot of beef broth in her. The poor little thing is half starved. Common sense says that she should have been dead days ago."

  "It's the Indian blood in her that keeps her hanging on," Logan said quietly. Then he left the room.

  Twilight had settled in when Jules and Logan finished butchering a young bull. They cut a chunk of meat for broth and three steaks. Then they hung the rest of the meat in a tree. It would be safe there from any animal that might come prowling around.

  While Jules started the beef to simmering in a pot of water, Logan went back into the sick room. "Let me spell you a bit," he said to Willow, who was sponging Cailyn's face. "Jules has brewed a pot of coffee. A cup of it would taste right good, wouldn't it?"

  Willow shook her head. "I don't think it would be a good idea to leave you in here alone with her. She might wake up and become frightened. She's terrified of men."

  And well she might be, Logan thought darkly, gazing down at the bruised and swollen face. "Has she told you anything about herself? Where she comes from, her name?"

  "She told me her name is Cailyn. Just Cailyn, no last name."

  As Logan prepared to leave the room, he said, "Jules is frying steak for supper. I'll bring you a plate when it's ready."

  Fifteen minutes later, it was Jules who brought supper to Willow. Not knowing what kind of reception he would get from her, he wore a look of uncertainty.

  When she didn't order him out of the room, only glanced up at him, he set the tray on the small table next to the two cups of tea. Willow looked at the thick steak, fried potatoes and canned string beans and her mouth began to water. She hadn't eaten since early that morning.

  "It certainly looks good," she said as she moved the tray to rest on her knees. She picked up the knife and fork, cut off a bite -sized piece of meat, and popped it into her mouth. Her face lit up a
s she chewed and swallowed.

  "It's delicious," she exclaimed, cutting into the steak again.

  "It tastes that way because you're hungry." Jules laughed. "It's well known among the men that my cooking isn't worth a plugged nickel.

  "How is she coming along?" he asked later when Willow had blunted her appetite. "Do you think she will make it?"

  "I don't know. So far she has clung to life with the tenacity of a stubborn mule. What she has gone through would kill most men. At least her fever is going down and she's not so restless. I'll know toward morning if the bark tea is breaking up the congestion in her lungs."

  "If she makes it, how long will she have to convalesce?"

  "Quite some time, I'm afraid." Frustration was in Willow's tone. "I've got to get back to Ma, let her know that I'm all right. I'm sure she's beside herself with worry."

  "When, and if, Cailyn recovers, maybe Logan can stay with her, and you and I can get back home."

  Willow sighed. "That would be the answer if Cailyn wasn't so afraid of men."

  "I think Logan can win her over. He has a way with children and abused animals. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's quite taken with Cailyn."

  "Yes, I've seen that," Willow said. "A gentleness comes over his hard face when he looks at her."

  Watching Willow covertly, Jules said, "I feel that way every time I look at you."

  Willow sent him a cynical glance. "The only thing I ever see in your eyes when you're around me is pure lust."

  "Then you don't look deep enough. Wasn't I always gentle with you when we made love? Did I ever hurt you… except for the first time?"

  "Look," Willow said wearily, "that's in the past, and I don't want to drag it up and discuss it at this late date." Cailyn began to stir and moan and as Willow bent over her, she said in dismissive tones, "Thank you for supper."

  Jules picked up the tray, a beaten look on his face. As he left the bedroom, he knew that the hardest feat he would ever have to accomplish in his life lay ahead of him. He must, somehow, make Willow believe that he felt more than lust for her. That he loved her with his whole being.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The night was crisp and cold and Willow snuggled deeper into her bedroll. Behind her came the faint murmur of the Rio Grande moving slowly along. In front of her blue wood smoke rose lazily from the campfire.

  How were Logan and Cailyn doing? she wondered. He thoughts were never far away from the couple she and Jules had left two days before.

  It had surprised them all how quickly Cailyn had accepted Logan. Willow thought that the sick girl had sensed the compassion and the gentleness in the hard man.

  At any rate, Cailyn had allowed Logan to spoon tea into her mouth and bathe her face with cold water. In two days, when the teas began to work, it was clear that Cailyn would survive her sickness. From then on Cailyn didn't like Logan to be out of her sight, even though she grew nervous when Jules happened to come into the room.

  When, on the third day, Cailyn was receiving her first bath since she was sold to Buck, Willow said, "I should be going home soon, Cailyn. I know my mother is very worried about me."

  "You should go, Willow. You don't know how lucky you are to have someone who loves you, who worries about you."

  Willow heard the yearning in Cailyn's voice and she said gently, "Someday you will find someone who will love you and care for you."

  "Do you honestly think so, Willow?"

  "Yes, I do, honey, and I have a feeling it will happen soon."

  "That would be nice," Cailyn said in a low voice, "but who would love me after—"

  Willow knew she was thinking of Buck.

  "Where will I go, Willow, when I'm able to travel? I don't want to go back to the Indian village. One of the braves would only sell me again."

  "I would never let you go back to that life again," Willow promised. "You can come home with me if you want to. But let's not discuss it until we talk to Logan. He might have some idea where you could go."

  "Do you think so?" Cailyn blushed shyly. "You never know. He might."

  Willow left off gazing into the fire and turned over on her back to look up at the stars. She and Jules had left for home early the next morning. She had felt a little nervous about spending nights alone with him on the trail. But when he made no mention of sharing her bedroll the first night, she relaxed.

  However, she had known that he silently regarded her as she moved about the campfire making their evening meal. She also knew that it would only take one word or look from her and he would start using his charm on her. She wasn't about to let that happen. He had charmed her into thinking that she would have a loving future with him, and her hopes had turned to ashes in her mouth. He would not fool her again.

  Willow watched Jules's tall figure as he piled more wood on the fire before disappearing into the trees. This was a ritual he followed every night before rolling up in his blankets.

  When she found herself wishing that things could be different between them, she turned her back to the fire and coaxed herself to fall asleep. She mustn't let her thoughts go too far in that direction.

  The next day, still following the river, Jules and Willow crossed into Texas. In the late afternoon, Aunt Jess's ranch appeared in the distance. They kicked their horses into a gallop. They were cold, thoroughly tired of being in the saddle, and hungry for a good hot meal.

  As they drew rein in front of the house, the two cowhands and the teenagers came spilling out of the bunkhouse. Simultaneously, Corrie Mae rushed out of the cookhouse and Rooster hurried through the kitchen door. There was a babble of voices as Jules climbed to the ground and Jimmy rushed to help Willow dismount.

  "What happened? How did you free Willow? Did you have a shoot-out with the bastards?"

  All those questions were thrown at Jules at the same time. He held up his hand for silence. "Yes, there was gunfire. Otto Ames and Buck Axel will never terrorize women anymore. Let me get cleaned up, and I'll give you all the details while I get some food under my belt."

  The men, though reluctant, nodded agreement.

  As Willow and Rooster walked toward the kitchen patio, Willow saw Corrie Mae slap Jules on the back and say, "Come on, bucko. I'll take care of you."

  Jules glanced at Willow in time to see the contempt that curled her lips. He swore under his breath. There would be no more of his pretending to share the cook's bed. He would never get into Willow's good graces that way.

  "I've got to take a bath and get into some clean clothes first. I'll see you at supper time." As he walked away from the big woman, he thought to himself that he must tell Corrie Mae that there had been a change in his plans. There would be no more trying to make Willow jealous. It hadn't worked out the way he had thought it would.

  Willow and Rooster walked quietly into Ruth's room and stood looking down at her sleeping face. It broke Willow's heart to see that her mother had relapsed into ill health again.

  "Ruth, honey," Rooster said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder, "wake up and see who has come to visit you." Ruth slowly opened her eyes and focused on Willow. "Willow," she whispered, holding up her arms. "You're home."

  "Yes, Ma, I'm home." Willow knelt beside the bed and took Ruth into her arms.

  "My dear child, are you all right?" Ruth pulled away from their embrace and looked into Willow's eyes. "Did that awful Buck—"

  "No, Ma. He didn't have time. Jules and Logan arrived at his ranch shortly after we got there."

  "Thank the dear Lord for looking after you." Ruth looked lovingly at her daughter. "Ma," Willow began as she took Ruth's small hands into hers. "I've got to tell you something else."

  "What, dear?" Ruth asked when Willow didn't continue right away. Willow squeezed her hands and said, "Logan was forced to shoot and kill Pa."

  Willow hadn't expected to see sadness come over Ruth's face, but she was unprepared to see the absolute joy that flashed in her brown eyes. "Free! At last I am free of that man," she cried. S
he reached for Rooster's hand. "Do you realize what this means, my dear?" She smiled up at him.

  "I know what I hope it means." Rooster sat down on the edge of the bed. "Does it mean we can get married now and make a life together?"

  "Oh, yes, dear Rooster, yes." Ruth looked up at Willow, her face glowing, and said, "I'm starving, daughter. Would you ask Jimmy to bring me something to eat? Rooster and I have a lot of planning to do."

  "Right away, Ma." Willow stood up, thinking she had never seen her mother looking so radiant before. "Will you let me in on your plans later?" she teased Ruth, who couldn't seem to stop smiling.

  "You know I will, honey. We'll talk before you go to bed tonight."

  Willow felt almost normal again when she finished her bath and donned fresh clothing. All she needed now was a good hot meal and ten hours of sleep in a comfortable bed.

  She went into the main room, and sitting down on the raised hearth, unwound the towel wrapped around her head and shook out her wet hair. As she pulled a comb through her curly locks, fanning them out so that the heat from the fire would dry them, she heard Jules enter the room and walk toward her. She would recognize his step among a hundred others. Hadn't she lain in bed enough times, listening for him to come to her?

  Willow heard the chair creak as it took Jules's weight, but didn't let on that she was aware of his presence. She gave a pretended jerk when he said, "You have the prettiest hair I ever saw on a woman. I've missed seeing you brush it at night."

  Willow knew what he was referring to. Most times she had groomed her hair before joining him in bed. There had been other times, however, when they couldn't get to bed fast enough, so great was their desire for each other.

  I can't think about that, she told herself So she ignored his compliment, the yearning in his voice, the charm he was trying to use on her. "I hope it dries quickly," she said. "I'm starving."

  "Awfully good smells were coming out of the cookhouse when I passed by. I think Corrie Mae is preparing a feast in thanks for your safe return."

  Willow was about to retort that the cook was celebrating his return, but thought better of saying anything when she realized it would give him an opening for some of his sly innuendoes.