Her Cold Revenge

by Erin Johnson

  “I can’t do this . . .”

  “Do what?”

  “Let you distract me.”

  “I’m distracting you?” Joe said, his eyes sparkling a little now, playfully.

  She stamped a dainty boot under the table. “Stop looking at me that way.”

  Joe hesitated for a moment, then reached over and stroked the back of her hand softly. “Does this distract you too?” His voice was low, velvety.

  The fluttering in her chest made it impossible for Grace to speak. Part of her wanted to tear her hand away, but the part that won wanted to stay that way forever and never leave this spot.

  “You haven’t answered me.”

  Joe laid his palm flat on her hand now, but she shook it off.

  “Don’t,” she said softly. “You’re already confusing me enough.”

  Joe laughed. “What’s so confusing?”

  Grace relished the sound of his laugh for a moment, but now that she’d told him what she had needed to, she couldn’t let it change things. She leaned back in her chair. “I need to think straight.”

  Joe leaned closer and held out his hands, a pleading look in his eyes. “But we could do this, Grace. Together.”

  She could barely get out the words. “No, Joe. I . . . I’ve told you —”

  He gave her a rueful look. “I know. I’m too much of a distraction.”

  Grace smiled at his sulky expression. “Yes. And I can’t afford any. Not right now, anyway.”

  Suddenly, Joe’s whole body went rigid. “You’ve tracked down one of the gang, haven’t you?”

  “No.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. “No one knows their whereabouts.”

  Joe visibly relaxed again.

  “But for now,” she continued, “I have a bounty case I need to pursue, and after that I do intend to track down the Guiltless.”

  “Oh, Grace, I hoped you’d rethink that. Bounty hunting?”

  She felt her jaw clench. “Not you too, Joe. It’s how I make my living now. People just have to accept it, you included.”

  He sighed and nodded slowly. “Well, I hope it’s just another petty criminal. I . . . I heard about the recent arrest you made. Seems like you’ve made a few enemies in this town.”

  Grace smiled a little. “You’ve been checking up on me, haven’t you? That’s why you’re in town?”

  Joe flushed red again but he didn’t deny it.

  “Well, this man I’m seeking’s been preying on vulnerable widows on the outskirts of town — attacking them, then stealing their money and goods.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Joe began with a frown, but she raised an eyebrow and he stopped and sighed. “So you know where this criminal is? I could go with you . . . maybe help out?”

  “Joe . . .” Didn’t he hear what she’d just told him? But the aching thought of leaving him again was making her consider backing down from her decision to do things alone. He wasn’t going to like her idea for trapping Black Coat, though.

  “What?” Joe studied her.

  “I have a plan,” Grace whispered. Even if she couldn’t explain everything here, the saloon was a good place to get rumors started. “Play along with me, please?” Grace kept her voice so low Joe had to lean across the table to hear. He took a deep breath as he moved closer to her, and again she had to work to steady her own emotions. “I’ll explain later,” she said quickly.

  When Joe nodded, Grace sat up straighter in her chair.

  “Actually, I’m going to take a break from bounty hunting for a little while.” She spoke loudly enough so that everyone around her could hear.

  “Oh?” His eyebrows pulled together a little, but he went along with her.

  “You know how I helped my pa break horses?” It ached a little to mention it, but Joe nodded, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

  “Well, I promised Widow Burns I’d take care of her horses while she’s staying here in town.”

  As she’d expected, one of the saloon girls was watching and listening, and as soon as Grace finished speaking, the girl turned and whispered to her friend. Joe looked at the group, then turned back and raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea —”

  “I’ll be fine,” Grace interjected, not having to pretend much now. She’d said similar things so many times. “I’m not sure why everyone is so worried about staying out in the hills alone. Besides, a promise is a promise.” She smiled nonchalantly, drained her glass, and then stood up and headed for the door, Joe close on her heels. She could hear more whispers beginning around her — her ploy seemed to have worked.

  As soon as they got outside, Joe steered her into a deserted alley. “That was play-acting, right? You aren’t seriously planning to —” He broke off when she flashed him an annoyed look. “So you do intend to go after him,” he said flatly.

  “No, not go after him. I’m going to lure him to me. The Burns horses are stabled at an isolated homestead, and I know the thief stole horses last night, so I expect he’ll be interested in these ones when he knows the owner is gone.” He’d also be interested in a woman staying alone.

  “Grace, you can’t take on this man alone. I’m coming with you.”

  “You can’t.” She paused. “If he knows I have a man around, he won’t show up.”

  Joe stared at her as the realization of what she meant sank in. He shook his head. “I can’t leave you unprotected, not with someone like that lurking around.”

  “You have to —”

  “I’ll camp somewhere nearby,” Joe interjected, his jaw hardened. “I . . . I can’t bear the thought of letting you stay out there on your own.”

  Grace considered it — if he was a safe distance away, it might be okay. He leaned closer, sensing her dubiousness.

  “Who taught you to sneak up on someone so silently they’d never hear you coming?” he said in a low voice. “Who taught you how to blend in with the trees and rocks so you could move through the forest undetected?”

  She took a breath. “You.”

  “Exactly. No one will know I’m there. No one but you.”

  Grace relented. “Fine. But we need to be sure everyone sees us leave separately.”

  “Of course.” Joe grinned. “I’ll wait until dusk and ride out of town in a different direction. No one will suspect a thing.”

  She looked up at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. After everything that had happened, and as frustrating as it was, he still cared enough to want to look out for her.

  When Grace took off on Bullet, Joe remained behind, watching her go.

  * * *

  A few hours later, she had reached the cabin, fed the horses, and fixed some hominy for her dinner. She felt for the steeds — if she hadn’t planned this ruse, they most likely would have been left alone for a few days while Widow Burns was in town. The widow seemed to have taken most of her possessions with her, leaving the cabin bare of decorations and making it look almost unlived in. Grace made the austere room homier by propping the tintype of her family on the mantelpiece. She couldn’t help thinking about sharing a cabin like this with Joe . . .

  What would it be like to have Joe around all the time, for them not to be worrying about stopping criminals? Just being together . . . ? Grace forced such thoughts away. Like she’d told him, notions like that were too dangerous, too distracting.

  Instead, she concentrated on cleaning and loading her gun. Then she selected the best vantage points for keeping a lookout in the cabin. Once it grew dark, she’d leave a candle burning on the mantelpiece but hide out here near the door. If Black Coat was lurking and keeping watch, he wouldn’t see her standing in the shadows beside the window. She only hoped he would turn up, and that it would be soon.

  As Grace rechecked the door to be sure it was securely locked, a distant soun
d startled her. She froze with her hand on the latch. A horse, thundering up the trail to the cabin. Grace’s heart pounded faster than the cantering hoofbeats. As far as she knew, Joe wouldn’t arrive until dusk, and in any case, he shouldn’t be coming anywhere near the cabin — they’d agreed. Was it Black Coat already?

  Steeling herself, she leaned in closer to the door and waited.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Grace?” a voice shouted outside the door.

  It was Joe! What was he doing here? The nerves coursing through her body switched to anger, and she yanked the door open and marched out onto the porch. “You promised me you’d keep your distance! Black Coat won’t show up with you here, I told you that.”

  Joe was still mounted on his horse, Paint, who he nosed toward the porch. He pointed behind him. “Dust storm’s coming,” he retorted. “I wanted to be sure you were safe.”

  Grace looked in the direction he was pointing. A swirling cloud of white was approaching Bisbee in the distance, but it was far enough away that they were all right for the time being.

  “Looks like a thunderstorm’s chasing its tail,” Joe added as Grace put her hands on her hips. When she looked more closely, she realized he was right. Further in the distance, ominous gray clouds hung low in the sky, but that didn’t tamp down her annoyance. Her worries that Joe would interfere with her bounty hunting were proving true.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said when he saw her frown. “Your outlaw most likely hasn’t even got word about you being isolated out here yet. Chances are he won’t drift into the saloon until this evening, and with the dust storm I doubt he’ll head up out here tonight.”

  Grace sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  Joe turned and followed her gaze down toward the swirling cloud below them. “We’re probably safe from the worst of it here in any case. Most dust storms peter out when they hit the hills.”

  Grace bit back the question nagging in her brain. If he was so sure the storm would weaken, then why had he come to the cabin? She watched him closely and pulled the door wider. “May as well come in now that you’re here,” she said grudgingly.

  Joe dismounted and shouldered his pack. “No, I just wanted to check on you, to let you know the storm was coming. Like I said, it shouldn’t hit here too bad. I’ll just set up camp like I planned.”

  She frowned a little. “All right. Well, why don’t you put Paint in the paddock with Bullet?” Her horse would be glad for company. He disliked most, but he’d befriended Paint and the other Ndeh horses. With Bullet’s dread of stalls, Grace hadn’t stabled him with Widow Burns’s other horses. Instead she released him into the paddock so he could run free. When Joe led Paint to the gate, Bullet raced toward them, mane flying, and he and Paint nosed each other. They both whickered as if greeting an old friend, and she couldn’t help wondering if Bullet missed life with the Ndeh as much as she did.

  As soon as the horses were secured, Joe followed Grace back to the porch, hesitating when she opened the door. He peered inside, and his gaze lit on the tintype propped on the mantelpiece. “Making the place home-like, huh?” he said lightly.

  Grace swallowed. No place could ever be like home again.

  Sensing her silence, Joe turned to her, his face tight with remorse. “Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to —”

  “It’s all right,” she whispered, but she had trouble pushing words past the lump in her throat.

  “No, it’s not. I should have thought before I spoke,” he said in a soft voice. “I know what it’s like.”

  The gentleness of his words made tears well in Grace’s eyes. She couldn’t speak, only nod. He’d lost his parents too, and the Ndeh had adopted him when he was eight. She wondered if anyone ever got over their whole world falling apart.

  Joe cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’ll be all right this evening?”

  Grace kept her voice as even as she could. “I’ll be fine. I’m a bounty hunter, remember?” The declaration came out more clipped than she’d intended.

  “Right. How could I forget?”

  Hurt colored Joe’s voice, and Grace immediately felt bad.

  “Have you eaten?” she ventured. “I could make you something —”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I brought my own food.” He threw his pack over his shoulder again. “Now that I know you’re all right, I’ll find a place to camp for the night.” He started to turn, his back as stiff as his words.

  “Wait,” Grace pleaded.

  Joe stopped but kept his gaze on the ground in front of him. “Maybe . . . maybe I should stay close by tonight,” he muttered. “You might need help if the storm does end up heading this way. If it’s all right with you, I’ll shelter in the barn.”

  “Why don’t you sleep inside the cabin? It’ll be safer.” From the storm, at least. “Like you say, this criminal isn’t likely to roam the hills in a storm.”

  “The barn will be just fine.” Joe’s gruffness seemed to be masking something, and when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she saw dejection, concern . . . and passion burning in his eyes.

  “Don’t go yet, please?” she whispered.

  He shook his head as if dislodging thoughts that plagued him. “This’ll be better for both of us.”

  “All right,” she said resignedly. She tried to breathe away her longing to reach out for him. Her own heart, too tender, too confused, wouldn’t withstand another rejection.

  “Good night, Grace.”

  Though his voice was tender, Joe’s words sounded so final, so distant. Would she see him again in the morning?

  * * *

  A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder startled Grace awake. Outside, wind howled like a wild beast and beat against the wooden walls of the unfamiliar cabin. Dust whistled through chinks in the planks, scraping her skin and covering every surface with grit. At first she thought it was another nightmare — that she was once again struggling through the flying embers in her family’s home, her baby brother cradled limply in her arms. But then she remembered where she was, and she stumbled to the wooden ladder leading down from the loft. Her chemise hem bunched in one hand, she backed down into the darkness below, one shaky step at a time, listening to the window rattling as sand scratched across it. She was worried it would crack.

  She rushed over, unlatched the door, and tried to inch it open, but gusts snatched the handle from her hands, banging it back and forth. Grace jumped out of the way as the door blew wide open suddenly and slammed against the wall, allowing swathes of sand to sweep across the room.

  “Joe!” she called into the dust-filled night, but there was no answer. Again and again, she shrieked his name, but the wind tore the words from her mouth and drowned out her frantic cries. Leaning against the door with all her strength, she pushed and shoved until finally she managed to fight it closed. The wind thumped against it in a steady rhythm, but she realized she couldn’t just stay inside.

  Bullet. She needed to get him into the barn with the other horses, and Paint too. Wondering if Joe had woken yet — she couldn’t imagine how he could sleep through this — she grabbed a tea towel and dipped it into the standing dishwater, then wrapped it over her nose and mouth to protect against the flying dust. Then, draping a shawl over her head and tucking it around her for extra protection, she wrestled the door open. Shielding her eyes with her arms, Grace hurried out toward the paddock.

  Joe was already there — she could see him up ahead, a bandana wound around his face. He clutched at Paint’s lead, but was struggling to calm Bullet, who was screaming and rearing in the commotion.

  “Joe! Leave him! Take Paint to the barn!” Grace shouted over to him, but her words, muffled by the towel, were drowned out by the fury of the storm.

  Bits of sand pelted and stung her skin as she raced across the field toward them and tapped Joe on the shoulder. He jumped
and whirled around, but seeing her, he visibly relaxed.

  Grace motioned to the barn, and Joe nodded and rushed toward it with Paint. She lifted the towel to call for Bullet, and bits of sand and dirt smacked her in the face, grit filling her mouth, gagging her. She bent against the wind and spit out what she could, dropping the towel back into place and chasing after Bullet. The horse kicked and thrashed so much she couldn’t get close to him, and his shrieks only added to the eeriness and noise of the storm. Lightning flashed again, followed by an ear-splitting boom. Bullet tore across the field, and Joe ran back out to her, trying to get her to come inside, but Grace ignored him. She knew Bullet would settle if she could just get the horse’s attention. Hunched against the wind, Grace raced toward him, but before she reached him, the whirling dust thinned. Without warning, lightning zigzagged across the sky and thunder exploded nearby. Rain gushed suddenly from the heavens, soaking Grace to the skin and dampening the grit from the dust into sandy puddles. The gray clouds must have reached overhead now, chasing away the sandstorm . . .

  She pulled the towel away from her mouth and yelled for Bullet, her voice hoarse. The horse stopped mid-buck and his hooves crashed to the ground. He looked at Grace and then trotted obediently toward her, finally, just as Joe ran up to her, his hat sending rivulets of water cascading around him. He handed her Bullet’s lead and halter, but Grace struggled to get it on in the blinding rain, her waterlogged shawl hampering her movements. Yanking the shawl off in frustration, she tossed it over one shoulder, and Bullet eventually allowed her to put on his halter and lead him to the barn and into a stall. He remained calm while she rubbed him down, but as soon as she walked out and shut the stall door, he grew wild again.

  “Hush now,” she begged. “You can’t stay outside in this storm.”

  As if to prove her point, thunder crashed overhead.

  “He’ll settle eventually,” Joe called from the doorway. “You need to get dry, before you catch a chill.”

  With one last plea to Bullet, Grace turned and went over to Joe. Crouching low, they raced across the open field, and she stopped briefly at the pump to rinse her gritty teeth. Before she could prime it, Joe nudged her and pointed up to the deluge falling down on them, and they both laughed. Tilting her head to the sky, she took in mouthfuls of water, rinsing her mouth, and beside her Joe did the same. She felt her braid unravel, and her sopping hair dripped over her face. She brushed it back from her forehead and turned toward Joe. He stared at her as if mesmerized. Pinned by his gaze, Grace paused, one hand to her hair. The heat in his stare seared her. Drowning in the depths of his eyes, she slowly lowered her hand and her fingers brushed the dripping fringe of her shawl. The flames Joe had lit in her body spread to her cheeks. She’d forgotten to put the shawl back on and she realized that her wet chemise clung to every curve.