“Best you can do?” he teased in that rasping whisper.
“I don’t know any other way to kiss you.” Except for what had passed for loving during her marriage, and that she’d rather never experience again. Damian’s mouth had all but eaten hers, teeth and tongue leaving her bruised and nauseated more often than not.
“Can I show you another way?” He waited, hovering over her as if the night were endless and he had nowhere to go in the morning. “I promise not to…do the other, the part that frightened you.”
“Yes, if you like.” She could not refuse him, could not turn down the gentle approach of this stranger she’d married.
If she’d thought that kissing was a task to be performed for her husband’s sake, Quinn’s touch gave lie to that theory. If her memories had prepared her for a painful invasion, she was soon relieved of that threat. She had never known such tender touches could come from a man’s mouth, that such pleasure could be found in the meshing of lips.
“Was that better than last night?” he asked, resting on his forearms over her.
She nodded, aware of tingling lips and a damp spot beneath her ear where his mouth had claimed the flesh.
“When I go to town tomorrow, will you think of me?”
Her heart sped at his words. She’d almost forgotten, caught up in the mystery of his tenderness. “I’ll think of you. Of course.” It felt like a vow, the words a promise she would have no trouble keeping.
Quinn had left at dawn, just before the sky turned pink at the edges. With an uplifted hand, he’d ridden into the trees, the packhorse behind him, his coat collar pulled high to warm his neck. His hat sat at an arrogant angle and his dark eyes gleamed with a fire that made her body shiver and her mouth soften.
The baby took her attention, and Erin fed him, then washed him before the stove, drying his round little body and dropping a multitude of kisses across the top of his head.
She sang as she rocked him, an assortment of old hymns she remembered from childhood, humming when the words eluded her. And then when the water on the stove sent steam rising, she placed him reluctantly on her bed, pillows on either side to hold the heat next to his sleeping form.
Before long she had a line zigzagging across the cabin, from behind the stove to the doorway and back, leaving her ducking and weaving as she hung the small diapers and simple gowns the baby wore.
“I need to begin calling you Robert,” she sang out, her eyes on the wrapped infant as he slept upon her bed. Humming, and concentrating on washing one of Quinn’s shirts at the scrub board, Erin almost missed the sound of a horse nickering in the clearing. Coming to attention, she let her hands still as she listened.
The thud of boots across her porch jolted her upright and the sound of a fist against her door drained every bit of blood from her head. Erin swayed where she stood, swallowing great gulps of air. Someone-more than one someone, from the sounds of it-was intent on entering the cabin.
“Open the door, ma’am. We know you’re in there.” The voice was harsh, an overlying humor lending it horror.
“What do you want?” She was amazed at the strident sound of her words, and new strength pumped into her arms as she stepped quickly to the wall, lifting the gun from its place.
“Just a bit of breakfast, ma’am. We saw your man on the trail—thought you might be lonely.”
“It’s long past breakfast time,” she called, her fingers frantic as she checked to be sure that both barrels were loaded. Quinn had prepared it for use and she calmed as she thought of his words.
Knowing you can do it is enough to give you the strength, if the need should arise.
Her breathing slowed as she remembered his words. Quinn had faith in her. In her hands the wooden stock was cool, and she hefted it, liking the balance. Then, with deliberation, her finger curled over the triggers.
“Go away, there’s nothing for you here.”
Whispers caught her ear, then a raucous laugh as if the men considered a private joke. Probably at her expense, she thought, a spurt of anger lending her courage.
The footsteps left the porch and Erin moved to the window, watching as two men ambled toward her shed. They came out after only a moment, one leading her cow, the other her riding horse, her white socks flashing as she jerked against the stranger holding her halter.
“Ma’am?” The bigger of the two men grinned widely, his pistol held in one hand, its barrel aimed at the middle of her cow’s broad forehead. “How would you like me to fetch you a nice beefsteak for dinner?”
His intent was clear, and Erin pushed the curtain back to watch as his gun threatened her milk supply. The cow lifted her head and uttered her own opinion.
“She’s beggin’ for her life, ma’am,” the shorter, stockier man called, his laughter an obscene cackle.
“And then we got this here other animal of yours. Be too bad if you couldn’t get to town anymore, wouldn’t it, with no horse to ride.” The pistol shifted its aim, and as if she sensed the danger, her horse sidestepped, jerking the rope, causing the smaller man to stumble awkwardly.
“Damn, don’t make me mad at you, horse!” His collection of curse words flowed in a river of filth over the animal, and Erin strode to the doorway.
She opened the door and stood beneath the portal, shotgun cocked and cradled in her arms. “Put my animals away and I’ll put bread and meat on the porch for you.”
“Now, that don’t sound too neighborly to me.” The shorter, scruffier intruder grinned widely. “What do you think, Russell?”
“I think the lady needs some manners, that’s what I think,” Russell answered.
“That’s my best offer,” Erin shouted, stepping just outside the door, the gun still at her side. Somehow she must keep these men away from the baby, out of the cabin. She stiffened her spine and aimed the shotgun. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”
“Damned if the lady don’t look right purty, now, don’t she?” Ignoring her warning, Russell dropped the rope he’d tied to the cow’s halter, and headed in her direction. His gun hung loosely at his side, as if he mocked the weapon she carried.
From behind her the baby whimpered, then gathered a breath, announcing his displeasure with a wail that reached beyond the cabin door. Erin’s heart skipped a beat as she allowed a quick glance toward the bed behind her.
“Hush, sweetie,” she whispered, even as the cries escalated into an angry squall.
“Sounds like a young’un in there!” shouted the man near the shed.
“I declare, it surely does,” Russell agreed. “I’ll warrant you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that baby, now, would you, ma’am?” He paused, close enough to the cabin that Erin was sure she could smell the stench of his grimy clothing.
His grin was a mockery. “How about it, honey? Got some breakfast for a hungry man?”
“I won’t let you in here.” Erin ground out the words.
He spat into the snow, then grinned at her again, broken, discolored teeth visible beneath his ragged mustache. “Be a shame if something happened to you, and that brat was left here all alone, wouldn’t it?”
“I’ll shoot if you come any closer,” Erin warned.
“Aw, I don’t think so, ma’am. I think you’re gonna behave and do just what I tell you, lessen that baby gets hurt.”
“Go on, Russell,” the other man yelled. “I’ll shoot the horse if she gives you a fuss.”
With a disgusted look over his shoulder, Russell took another step, and Erin felt her heartbeat slow, even as she tightened her grip on the trigger. His glance at her weapon was scathing, and he laughed again. “Guess I’ll have to take you up on your hospitality, ma’am. I’ll just leave Toby there to look after your stock while I come in and keep you company for a while.”
A quick glance at the second man allowed Erin a glimpse into eyes that burned with evil, and she found herself faced with little choice.
No choice, in fact. Animals be damned.
“I warned
you,” she whispered harshly. With a swift clenching of her muscles, the gun was fired. From twenty feet away the spread was narrow, and he caught the full force of her first shell in his chest.
She glanced toward Toby as she backed into the cabin’s doorway, only too aware of the limitations of her weapon at such a distance. He cursed loudly, dropping the lead rope he held, his hands scrabbling at the holster hanging at his side.
“I wouldn’t do that. I have another shell with your name on it,” she called, her voice wintry.
“You’d never hit me from this far away,” he taunted.
“Try me.”
Hesitating, he shook his head. “Naw, I ain’t that much of a fool!” His movement was abrupt as he shoved his barely drawn gun back into the holster. “Hell, old Russell ain’t worth it,” he announced. “And you ain’t either, lady.” With a last glance at his companion, Toby headed for his mount, even as Erin stepped back into the cabin.
In front of her the snow was stained with copious amounts of blood. The big man’s hands clenched and opened in a repeated movement that told her he was still alive, and she swallowed the bile that threatened to spill from her throat.
Another backward step took her inside and she slammed the door shut, lowering the bar and stepping to the window. Toby had scrambled to the side of the shed where two horses waited, and with a final look at the body of his friend, he hoisted himself atop his saddle and rode off, leading the other horse behind.
Erin drew in a deep breath, lowering the barrel of her gun, easing her finger from the second trigger. Beyond the mutilated body in her yard, her animals stood, the horse moving restlessly, pawing with one hoof at the snow. The cow, lifting her head to sound her distress once more, turned and made her way back into the shed.
Erin shivered, aware that the baby had stilled his crying, leaving only the sound of her heart beating in her ears to break the enormous silence. A trembling such as she had never known seized her body, and she bent to place the shotgun on the floor, uncertain if she had enough strength to hang it back on the wall.
“I have to take care of the horse,” she whispered. “I can’t let her run off.”
Her coat was heavy in her hands and she slipped into it woodenly, quickly glancing at the silent baby before she opened the door. There was a risk to be taken, walking across the open yard. But her sensible mind told her that Toby was long gone, his bravado having vanished with the death of his partner.
The sight of the man sprawled just a few feet away drained her courage, and she hesitated. Moving any closer to that still form made her stomach churn, but the thought of her horse making her way down the mountain was an incentive she could not ignore.
Erin sidestepped the outstretched hand, its fingers spread wide, limp and lifeless now. Near the shed, her horse watched her, tossing her head at Erin’s approach. Erin tugged on her rope and the mare obligingly turned back to the warmth of her stall. There she quickly tied the cow in place, then closed the door behind her, making her way back to the cabin.
Leaning against the barred door, she drew a deep breath, faced with the prosaic lines of laundry crisscrossing the room. Quinn’s shirt lay across the scrub board where she’d left it only minutes before, and on the bed the baby moved within his cocoon of blankets. As if nothing had happened, her world inside this building awaited her return.
As if nothing had happened.
Chapter Ten
It was done. He’d backed out of the deal, wired Joel Guinan with explicit instructions for handling Ted Wentworth. His business was safe in Guinan’s hands for now. And Ted and Estelle had no hold on him, once the retainer was returned.
On top of that, Erin was waiting for him. He smiled and urged his horse ahead.
The cabin was dark, as he approached, only a wisp of smoke coming from the chimney. Just in front of the porch a body lay, dark against the white snow beneath it. With a muffled exclamation, Quinn swung from his horse, dropping his reins to the ground. Heart pounding at an unmerciful rate, he bent beside the still form, knowing even as he did that it was not Erin, but a man.
Quickly his gaze swept the clearing, taking in the hoofprints, dark in the moonlight. Then, swiveling, he headed for the porch. The door was latched and he listened, holding his breath as he pressed his ear to the rough wood.
“Erin!” It was hushed, more than a whisper, yet contained. “Erin!” He spoke again, listening lest he miss any sound from within.
A tiny whimper caught his ear and his heart leapt. “Open the door, sweetheart. Let me in. I don’t want to break it down.”
“Quinn!” It was a pleading sound, his name spoken as he’d never heard it uttered, and his heart clenched within his chest.
“Open the door, Erin.” It was an order now, as if he sensed he must gain her attention in this way. From inside, he heard the creak of the rocking chair, then the soft shuffle of footsteps across the floor. Finally the door moved beneath his hand as she lifted the latch, and he pushed it open.
She was there, a slender figure in the dark, visible only because her dress was washed in the moonlight from behind him. Quinn brushed past her, his relief alive in his throat. First he had to light the lamp. Then he could look at her, assess the damage.
As he lit a match, the bundle she held in her arms stirred, and the whimper of a waking baby relieved one of his worries. He raised the lamp’s wick, lighting it quickly before he replaced the globe. From the corner of his eye he saw Erin lift the child and pat his back, the lamp glow etching her in its halo of light.
“Are you all right?” He walked back to close the door and then stripped off his coat. His hands felt like blocks of ice, and he hesitated, not wanting to touch her with cold fingers, yet feeling an urgent need to hold her against himself.
She took the choice from him, her stumbling steps gaining her his embrace as she flung herself into his arms. With the baby between them, Quinn held Erin, his hands running up and down her back, around to her sides. Then he cradled her head in his big palms.
“You’re all right?” He knew she was safe, unhurt, yet the assurance must come from her lips.
She nodded, her head pressed against his chest. “Yes.”
From outside, his horse neighed, a protest against being left alone in the clearing. And close behind, another nicker added its complaint.
“I must put the horses in the shed,” he told her, even as his arms slid to hold her closely. “I’ll be right back. Do you hear me? I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”
“I haven’t milked,” she whispered. “The cow will be in misery by morning.”
Quinn nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Will you be all right for a little while?”
“Yes.” She stepped back, relinquishing the warmth of his body, and stumbled to the rocking chair. “I’ll feed the baby.” She looked up at him and her eyes were wide. “I called him Robert today.”
Quinn shivered at her tone and her mannerisms. As if she were oblivious to the carnage in the yard, she settled herself to nurse the child. He pulled his coat back on, with a last glance assuring himself of her physical wellbeing.
She was still in the chair when he came back in, a bucket of milk in his hand, a heavy bundle across his back. “I brought in some of the supplies, Erin. The rest can wait till morning.”
She rocked, humming beneath her breath, and he hurried with his task, placing the milk pail on the sinkboard and leaving the supplies near the door. The fire had burned down, and he loaded the stove with four chunks of wood before he hung his coat and removed his boots.
Still she rocked, and Quinn rubbed his hands together as he neared the chair. “Let me take the boy, Erin. He’s asleep.”
She handed him the warm bundle and Quinn’s hands enclosed the child, lifting the baby to his face to press his mouth against the fair skin at the fragile temple. Robert smelled clean and milky and his eyes squinted tightly closed. With a shushing sound, Quinn placed him in his crib and drew Erin’s shawl over him.
<
br /> She’d risen from the chair and watched him from empty eyes. “I shot a man, Quinn. You told me I could if I had to.”
His mouth opened, then closed. There was no comfort to be offered, no pat phrases to be spoken. She’d taken a life, and the pain of it was eating away at her.
“He would have hurt me, and maybe the baby, too. I couldn’t let him, could I?”
“No, you couldn’t let him, honey. You did the right thing.” Quinn held out his arms and she came to him. Enclosed in his embrace, she shuddered, her body trembling against him.
“Will God forgive me, do you think?”
Anger at the loss of her innocence swept through him. Never should a woman need to defend herself in such a way. The taking up of a weapon Was man’s business, had been since the beginning of time. A woman should be kept safe, secure within the walls of her home.
And today he had left her to fend for herself, had taken the trip down the mountain, leaving her a prize for the taking. Only the courage contained within that slim body had kept her and the babe from harm. Guilt tightened his grip, and he bent over her as if his body could shield her from her own pain.
“You did what you had to, Erin. Defending yourself is never wrong. You committed no sin against man or God.”
“I pulled the trigger, Quinn. He wasn’t even aiming his gun at me. I didn’t give him a chance. I just lifted the shotgun and pulled the trigger.”
“He took his chances when he came here looking for trouble.” His mind swept back to the flurry of tracks by the shed. “Was he alone?”
She shook her head. “No, a man named Toby was with him. They were going to shoot the cow and my horse if I didn’t let them in the house. He said they wanted something to eat.” Erin lifted her head and her eyes were disbelieving. “I knew he was lying. I knew what he wanted.”
Carolyn Davidson Page 13