The Bounty Hunter's Heart

by Jillian Hart

  24

  Snow pummeled from the sky, driving in ever-moving currents of plump white flakes, illuminated by the lamplight gleaming through the windows. She sighed at the beauty of the pristine world, mantled in white. Not just the little yard but the forest of fir and pine, their evergreen boughs slung low and draped with snow and ice. A frosted world, bitterly cold, yet perfect, as if made new.

  Winn took another step, and the tumbling snow claimed him, falling all around him, and he gave a half-turn to pull the door shut after him. His gaze met hers, he gave her a wink and she could only stare as if caught in the power of him as the door closed, leaving her in the vestibule shivering from the icy air and her foolish heart skipping a few dozen beats. How she wished she wasn't falling in love with him.

  It isn't going to end well, she reminded herself as she turned toward the light and warmth of the kitchen, because he was going to leave and break her heart. But it felt wonderful to be brought alive like this again, and his tender affection for her had healed something scarred in her heart and was grateful for that.

  Jack looked forlorn. His dark eyes were shadowed with worry lines etched into his round, boyish face. He gave a soft sigh, straightened his shoulders exactly the way his strong father did, and patiently gave Pete another soft stroke on his furry head. The dog gazed up adoringly at the boy, looking eager to figure out a way to drive away his sorrow.

  She wished she could find a way, too. "Maybe you can go out with your pa tomorrow if we bundle you up real well."

  "I would like that, Miss, but I don't think Pa is gonna be here come morning."

  She didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't argue.

  Jack gulped, set his chin and glanced toward the cookstove. "Is there anything I can help you with? I'm a real good worker and I know all of my chores."

  "Thank you, but no, I am just going to have fun baking cookies. Maybe you like sugar cookies fresh from the oven too?"

  "Yes, Miss Saydee, maybe I do."

  Good. She almost got a smile out of him. "Go ahead and take Pete into the parlor. I found an old box of books I set out near the sofa. Maybe you would like to take a look at that."

  "I would very much. Come on, Pete."

  She watched the little boy and big dog amble away, taking a piece of her heart with them.

  * * *

  The morning passed with good-natured cheer and contentment. Saydee scooped the last cookie off the baking sheet with the spatula and onto the cooling rack where the other sugar sprinkled cookies steamed, delicious looking and wafting their sweet scent into the air. She set the sheet onto the trivet to cool, too, keeping a close eye on the wall clock that ticked away the hour.

  She felt watched and looked up. At first glance, Jack sat quietly on the sofa with an open book clutched in both hands, head bowed as he read intently, his cowlick sticking straight up. Pete snored on the cushion beside him, taking up most of the room on the sofa. She smiled to herself and startled, realizing there was someone else.

  Winn stood on the other side of the window, shovel in hand. Through the partly steamed and frosty glass panes, she caught sight of his smile and the unmistakable sparkle of caring in his dark gaze. The impact whispered through her with dizzying speed, and he gave her another wink and in that moment before he turned away, her heart stopped beating entirely.

  She knew this wasn't something she could count on, but, oh, she was falling for him. At least she was wise enough to force her gaze from his and turn around, oven mitt in hand, to check on the last sheet of cookies. She tugged the oven door open just a crack to peer in and grinned. Just perfect. Satisfaction filled her up, it felt good to be baking for someone again. She opened the door the rest of the way and drew out the final sheet of cookies.

  If she didn't look up as she reached for her spatula, she didn't have to see the man's brawny, muscled form outside the window shoveling snow off the small porch. But she could hear him work, the determined, fast, hard-working pace as the shovel clunked in nearly perfect rhythm against the porch boards. Then the stomp of boots outside the door getting rid of the last of the snow on his treads, and by the time she heard the doorknob turn she'd prepared her heart to face him once again.

  "Boy it sure smells delicious in here." Winn's face crinkled into a smile as he padded into sight, shrugging out of his snowy coat.

  The impact of his grin could dazzle, but she was wise enough not to let it affect her further. Her chin went up. "I'm glad you think so. Come a little closer and you can steal a few off the cooling rack. But too many will spoil your dinner."

  "That's hours away, so I'm in no danger of that." He turned to hang up his coat.

  She set down her spatula, grabbed two small dessert plates and selected several still warm cookies for him and for Jack. She made sure to give him a fake scowl as she headed his way. "Don't even think about interrupting me. On second thought, I'm busy. Take these into the parlor and thaw out at the hearth."

  "You're an angel, Saydee."

  "Me? I'm just an annoyed woman wanting you out of my kitchen."

  That did it. Try as she might, she couldn't hide her affection or the fact that she couldn't trust herself to be near to him, and his burst of laughter, ringing deep and true, made her jaw drop, her heart soar and her adoration of him continue on unimpeded.

  "I won't torture you with my presence, then, beautiful lady. But I will be happy to take these cookies off your hands. How many more do you have?"

  "When you finish those, come back for more. I baked plenty. And I'm not done yet."

  "Thank you, Saydee. You made me remember just how good life can be." Instead of taking the plates at first, his hand settled on hers. A hot thudding heat arrowed through her blood, and her chest filled with more foolish affection. She didn't love this man, did she? What was she going to do about that? There didn't seem to be anyway to stop it.

  He took the plates from her and turned away. The big square of the window framed him with falling snow tumbling in a fast, white dance. The lamplight gilded him, blanketing him in a soft golden glow and for a moment her heart felt free, wonderfully free, light as air and full of love. He ambled away, straight shoulders strong, his gait confident and easy-going. He took a bigger part of her heart as he went, this man who looked at her with honest caring in his eyes. In the parlor, Jack looked up from the book he was reading and so did Pete, snuggled in close, and Winn's butter-run baritone rumbled, his words lost to her as she turned away to grab the spatula.

  Nothing in a long while had ever felt this right. Maybe she should enjoy it while she could. She knew Winn would be leaving come dark, and that meant she had a lot to do. She scooped the last cookie from the sheet, left it on its trivet for later washing, and turned to the stove. It was simple enough to grab the tea pot and two cups. She stirred sugar and cream into both and lifted the steaming cups by the handle. She followed the sound of Winn's baritone, rumbling and warm. Her heart grew fonder with every step closer to him.

  "Here, Saydee, let me carry that. You shouldn't be waiting on me."

  "Oh." She looked surprised. "I didn't see you there checking on the fire. Do you always stay that busy?"

  "Yep, I'm a hard man to stop. I'm not so good at sitting around, although when it comes to a good book, I can manage to do it just fine." He took the cups by their bottoms, gazing down at her, touched by the fact that she'd made a cup for Jack with plenty of cream and sweet, just the way he liked it. How he was ever going to walk away? He didn't know, but he would find a way to do what he must, which was the right thing. He turned to see Jack looking up from his book grinning, and he felt happy again, happier than he'd been in years, maybe longer.

  It wasn't going to be easy, not at all, but he watched his boy grin and take a bite of still-warm, fresh-from-the-oven sugar dappled cookie. Joy lit him up, and he seemed to feel real good today and he looked almost normal, his good health returning. Jack gave a nod, eyes bright with delight. So, the cookie was pretty tasty, was it? Good. Sat
isfaction filled Winn as he put the cups on the coffee table. His boy would be happy here. Jack's life was everything. It was what he struggled and fought for, Winn thought, iron hard.

  And what he was willing to die for.

  "You look awful pleased with that, young man." He snatched one of the cookies from his plate and took a bite. Sweet, crumbly, perfectly tasty and so soft he hardly had to chew. "I can see why you're grinning like that. You've landed a good new ma."

  "Miss Saydee is real nice, and first thing when I feel better, I'm gonna help her by doing all the chores. I don't think I can wash the floor, but if she shows me, I can get it right every single time."

  Winn swallowed. "That's my good boy. You make sure and drink that tea, it will be good for your throat and for what ails you. I happen to know she put in real white sugar and not honey, so it's just the way you like it."

  "You were right, Pa. She is real nice."

  "We got lucky, and don't you forget what I told you. I'm always gonna love you, son."

  Jack dipped his chin and nodded quietly. Life couldn't always go the way a person wanted, and this was one of those times. They would both do the best they could in spite of it, that was the best a man could do. Winn took another bite of the perfect cookie, glancing over his shoulder, for Saydee had stayed in his peripheral view.

  "Your baking lives up to my high opinion," he told her around another bite of cookie. "I can't say I've ever had better."

  "You have this terrible habit of false flattery, but I like it, Winn. Whatever you do, please don't stop." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "I've lived without anything like that for a long time."

  "So have I. I won't stop, promise."

  Her mouth curved upward. "You can just say anything nice at all, and I'll reward you with cookies, and it doesn't have to be true."

  "It sounds like a good and sensible deal to me. Oh, you make me laugh." The chuckle thundered through him. "I'd forgotten how good it feels to relax and trust someone."

  "I know what you mean, and I'm glad you feel that way." Tiny golden curls had worked free from her artful up knot and spilled in carefree abandon around her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks were pink from his compliment and the stove's heat from working in the kitchen all morning, and she was haloed with the falling snow in the window behind her, framing her. "I'm just glad you like the cookies."

  "Like them? I want to worship them." He reached for another, paying her the compliment of taking a big bite of the new cookie.

  "Glad to know I've satisfied your sweet tooth, Winn." She gestured with her slim hand where Jack and Pete sat side by side on the sofa. Pete was thoughtfully chewing on half of the sugar cookie. "I see Jack has one too, and not only that, knows what's important in life. Spoiling the dog who loves you."

  Jack nodded, his mouth too full of cookie to speak. His cowlick, still standing straight up, nodded too.

  "Where are you going, Winn?" She laid a hand on his sleeve.

  "To tend your cooking fire." The scorch of her touch seared through his sleeve, and the rest of him burned. "Least I can do for the lady who is feeding me."

  "I like you, Winn, I can't help it, and I won't say no to that fine help. I do a lot of getting my own wood, so I appreciate you very much. Wait until you see what I make next."

  She was a sweetheart, he had no doubt about that. She had saved them, given Jack a home and him a gentle respite from the burden he carried. She was elegance and sweetness, everything good and true. His heart ached with gratitude for that.

  Then she tilted her head back to look at the window. "It's not snowing as hard."

  Keep going, Winn, he told himself. Don't stop. Or he might never be able to leave. He could not forget the heat of her kiss, the soft silk of her breast, the way desire had hazed her eyes and his good senses.

  Keep going, he told his feet that carried him across the parlor and away from her, but not the memory of how the warm weight of her breast had felt in his hand or the sight of her dress gaping open when they'd both wanted more remained. The intimacy of the act he still craved with her left all his senses reeling. Desire and lust blasted through him, but he was wise enough to keep walking. This time.

  Surprise zipped through him when he turned the corner into the cooking area. He spotted the covered bowls of rising bread dough sitting on the far counter by the pantry door, ready to bake into bread. Not to mention the unopened jars of beef jerky, tins of preserved fruit and a small bottle of honey. A bundle of fresh biscuits sat half-covered, giving him a glimpse of what else she'd been busy with this morning. He could smell the ham baking in the oven and realized what she'd been up to. Tins of beans lined the back of the counter, along with a small tin of matches. She'd thought of just about everything, hadn't she?

  He closed his eyes, overcome, taking a moment to let the painful depth of his appreciation wash through him. He grabbed the hot pad, opened the stove door and tucked in a few chunks of cedar from the woodbox, fuel he'd brought in late last night. Looked like he might want to go restock, and he wouldn't mind heading out to check on the horses, the moose and to look for danger approaching. The back of his neck felt prickly, and he didn't like it.

  His gut instinct said it was past time to be moving on, and if not for the last blizzard, he would be gone laying a careful trail to lead the man after him far away from this little hamlet in the Montana mountains.

  "You still have two more cookies on your plate and your tea." Saydee sashayed into the cooking area, close enough to see the navy colored threads in her blue eyes and breathe in the faint scent of lilac soap on her skin. "You have that look on your face, the grim one that says you have a lot yet to do, but go in and sit with your son. Spend time with him. There's time yet to pack."

  "I appreciate your good advice, but I can't take it. Dark falls early this time of year, and the hours tick by faster than you think or I want."

  "True. I wish I could argue with that, but I can't." She watched his mouth open, as if he were prepared to say more, but that's all he did. He kept whatever it was to himself, and she could feel it in her soul. Something was wrong out there. Her stomach fluttered with foreboding, and a hard, unsettled weight settled on her chest. Her gaze traveled to the window, where the snow fell like hard, white rain, making her a little dizzy. Then again, maybe it was the man. He loomed above her, mighty and true, and shrank the room so that he was its center. And hers.

  Light glowed brightly golden from many lamps around the room's windows, and this home tucked in the mountain valley surrounded by evergreen forests felt like a treasured, cozy painting rendered on an artist's canvas with warmth and love. It was a good place to stay, but as the man ambled away, his strong shoulders unbowed by the sorrow that showed in his gait, that changed the air around him, she tried not to think of what could go wrong when he left this house for good. Because she knew he wasn't coming back.

  The sounds from the parlor accompanied her as she uncovered one of the extra large mixing bowls. Winn's baritone rang deep and private, his words just a murmur, but it made the house feel more cozy. She peered around the edge of the cabinet to catch a glimpse of father, son and dog eating cookies, their happiness like a soft glow that lit up the entire house.

  Nothing had changed, not one thing, but everything felt different. She was different. She watched Winn, standing tall, grab his cup of tea and swallow it down in three gulps, watching Jack break the final cookie he'd taken from his father's plate in half. Pete gently took his half from the boy's hand, gazing up so adoringly that Saydee feared she'd lost her dog's heart entirely to the little boy. Oh, what a good life Pete was going to have with such a good boy to adore him, right along with her.

  "Well, I've got things to get done." Winn set down his cup, gave Pete's head a pat and Jack's cowlick a tousle. "I won't be too long, Jack, I promise."

  Reassurance knelled in his tone but when his gaze met hers, he was pure steel. He was good-looking and powerful, moseying toward the back door, and Saydee looked d
own at the rounded dome of the dough rising up over the top of the bowl. But her stubborn gaze swept up once again to watch the lamplight wash over him, illuminating the tense snap of a muscle along his jaw and the fists of his powerful hands.

  Dressed in black, he blended with the shadows of the vestibule and even though she could hardly see him, her pulse beat through her. If only she could forget the feel of his lips at her throat. Buttoned up, gloves on, he opened the door and his boots thudded on the boards outside. The scent of snow and winter wind tumbled into the kitchen, and she shivered. The door clicked closed, and she listened to the silence surrounding her that he left behind, her heart ached with an emotion she didn't understand.

  25

  Winn lowered his binoculars. Someone was coming. His heart knocked against his rib cage as he sat on the haymow, peering through the loading door he'd opened just enough so that the wind but not the snow would hit him, and took a steadying breath. The back of his neck tingled hard, and his stomach had bunched up into a cold, hard-to-miss knot. That could only mean one thing. Trouble.

  He cursed himself for not leaving in the middle of the day. Then he gave thanks that he hadn't. Otherwise, whoever was riding down that driveway would confront Saydee when she had no protection. At least she had him. He unsnapped his holsters, ready to draw if he had to. Spine steeled, he lifted the binoculars back up to his eyes.

  He waited a few beats for the pair of riders to emerge from behind the fog and snow-laden trees that had hidden them from his sight. Two riders ambled closer, draped with snow and hard to see through the ever-falling veil of snow pelting down around them. But there was no mistaking the revolvers holstered at the ready.

  Brant's men? His blood froze. Winn scooted closer into the opening of the loft's loading door, and leaned into the snowfall for a better look. His hands shook, making it hard to zero in on the riders. They sat too straight and strong, too full of authority and might to be on the run. They were no low-life vermin, not by a long shot. Winn lowered his binoculars. Lawmen? There could be no other explanation.