Prairie Song

by Jodi Thomas

  Quickly he dodged another blow. As she swung, he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. “All right, before you beat me near to death, I’ll say the words. I love you. God, I love you, woman, more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my life.”

  Hours later, when they lay close together in the late afternoon sun, Brant whispered, “If only I could give you a future.”

  Cherish rolled close and held to him as if she knew even now that she must start the process of letting go. “I have you now and now will have to be enough.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed each one of her fingers. He thought of telling her why he’d killed the men he had. A part of him wanted her to know his reasons, even if she might not understand. But he’d have to tell her the ugly parts of his life, the parts no one except Daniel and he had seen. Then he’d have to tell her why the last man he’d probably have to kill was Daniel.

  Suddenly, he knew he couldn’t share that part of his life with her. She’d never know the reason for the scars on his wrist, or the reason he was hunted for murders he never committed. She’d never know the bond between him and Daniel that kept him alive and that would someday be the reason both men would die.

  Cherish spread her hand over his chest and felt his heart pounding beneath her fingers. She fought the urge to thank him once more for all he’d given her. Even if they were parted and were never allowed another time together, they’d had last night and today. She’d learned to feel, to care beyond reason. Never again would she feel like she’d just watched everyone else living life, for now she had a memory, a memory of living and loving. He’d touched her with magic and made her feel. She’d treasure the loving and endure the pain of good-bye, knowing that after today she’d never be quite the same.

  They didn’t make love that night, but held each other and talked of things lovers confide only to one another. All the barriers had been shattered between them. There was nothing but honesty and love left. Neither mentioned the future, when their days together would only be memories. For the night was a time of whispered dreams and gently woven memories.

  At dawn, Brant saddled his horse while Cherish dressed. When he returned to the dugout, he found she’d straightened the place as though they’d be coming back to it again. She’d even picked wildflowers and placed them on the table.

  Brant lifted a sunflower in his hand and crushed it suddenly in his fist. “They’ll only die,” he whispered between clenched teeth.

  “No!” Cherish answered as she forced his fingers open and took the flower from his hand. “I’ll always remember them here like this. They’ll always be alive to me.”

  Suddenly, Brant snapped like the stem of the flower had. He pulled her into his arms and held her.

  “I won’t let the world take you back.” He buried his face in her golden hair. “You’re all the beauty I’ve ever known.”

  Tears rolled unchecked down Cherish’s face. “I know,” she whispered as she stroked his hair. “I know how you feel, but I must go back.”

  Brant knew they couldn’t stay there forever. It would only be a matter of weeks, maybe days, before someone stumbled onto the place. For a moment he envisioned her standing at the door of the dugout watching some bounty hunter gun him down. Maybe she’d run toward him and get caught in the crossfire. He knew some men would think nothing of shooting her if they thought she was his woman—or, worse, murdering her just to get to him. His only hope of keeping them both out of danger was to keep moving. He had to travel fast and he had to travel alone. And no one must ever know she meant anything to him, or her life would be in jeopardy.

  “I’ll love you every moment I live,” he whispered against the warmth of her neck. “I know we can never be together, but that can’t stop the way I feel.”

  She pushed his hair from his eyes so she could look once more into his handsome face. “And I’ll love you,”

  she whispered, “every hour of every day for the rest of my life.”

  Brant lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each palm, closing her fingers as if she could somehow hold onto his kiss to use in all the lonely nights to come. Then, hand in hand, they stepped into the sunlight.

  They left the dugout without looking back. He wasn’t sure he could. He lifted her up into the saddle and swung up behind her. They rode fast across the open country, both knowing it was best not to postpone what had to be.

  As the miles thundered beneath the horse, the sky blackened with impending rain, and lightning flashed along the horizon. Brant encircled her in his arms, protecting her from the wind. He wished he could ride far enough and fast enough to outrun his past, but there was nowhere they would be safe to just love one another.

  When they reached Fort Worth, he rode up the back road to Hattie’s Parlor until he could see the barn. He swung from the horse and reached up for Cherish.

  She slid into his embrace and held tight. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more than life.” Tears blended with the rain on her face.

  “I know,” he whispered as he tasted the salty tears on her cheeks.

  He tied his horse and walked to the barn. He didn’t dare go any farther, for even now he was putting her in danger.

  “I’ll find a way to see you again,” Brant promised. “You’ll be safe with Grayson and Margaret.”

  “I’d rather be with you than safe.”

  “I know, but I can’t risk your life.” He smiled down at her with a depth of love that surrounded her. “I’ve never said ‘I love you’ to another person in my life, but I love you. Right now, I have to love you enough to say good-bye.”

  With a sudden force he pushed her from him and stepped into the blackness. He was gone before she could say anything to get him to stay just a minute longer. His last words rang in her ears as she crossed the yard and entered the house.

  Brant watched her go, feeling as if all the good in the world had just stepped out of his arms. He leaned against the barn wall and closed his eyes. All his life he’d watched folks who cared about each other. He’d seen them walking arm in arm, or helping one another in a thousand little ways. But he never dreamed he’d care for someone that way. He would have sworn it wasn’t ever in him to do so, but then came Cherish with her belief that he was gentle and kind. The frightening thing was that when he was near her, her belief made it somehow true.

  Voices drifted through the cracks in the barn wall. Brant forced his eyes open and listened.

  Grayson’s low tone sounded first. “I need a few more days here before I take any other assignment.”

  Another voice, higher, younger, and flavored with nervousness, came through the cracks. “I’m sorry, Captain, but the orders asked for you. Word is only one man at a time could get close to where these men hide out. If we sent a patrol they’d know we were coming for miles and pick us off from the cliffs above. But you’re an expert at hunting down men who don’t want to be found, and we might never get this good a lead again. This may be our one chance to find out who these men are who call themselves the Knights.”

  “And if I refuse?” Grayson couldn’t endure the thought of leaving Margaret, even though it had been quiet for a week now. At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if the young second lieutenant said they’d court-martial him for not following orders.

  The young man’s answer came low and slow. “If you don’t do this, more innocent people will die. The group over at Hank Stevens’ place was just the beginning of more promised bloodshed. You’ve got to get in and stop the leader from getting another midnight ride organized. We can guess who all the followers are, but the leader is a mystery we’ve got to get solved fast. He’s the kind of man who does the planning then lets the others do the work … the kind who orders people killed, but doesn’t dirty his own hands unless he has to.”

  Grayson’s voice sounded tired. “By ‘stop,’ you mean ‘kill.”’

  “If that’s what it takes. We have to stop this leader before he gets an organization going
that should have died and been buried before the war.”

  Grayson sighed. “All right. Give me a few minutes to make up some story to tell Maggie and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “No,” the officer snapped. “I’ll ride out now. No one is to know where you are going, and if you’re caught—or killed—you have had no orders from us.”

  Suddenly, Grayson laughed. “Sounds like just my kind of assignment. If I don’t come back, let my cousin up in Philadelphia know what a fool of a relative he had who went and got himself killed after the war. As far as I know, we’re the only two Kirklands alive and I keep trying to cut the population in half.”

  “And Miss Margaret?” the younger man asked.

  “I’ll tell her all I can right now. I’m not leaving without having a talk with her.”

  Both men moved from the barn without hearing Brant slip away.

  Chapter 24

  Margaret was running down the stairs as Grayson rounded the corner leading from the kitchen. She almost collided with him in the shadows, but his warm, steady hand reached out in the darkness to steady her.

  For a moment she didn’t speak, but only stood, so close and yet beyond his reach. Finally, she found her voice. “Cherish is home and she looks wonderful.”

  “Is her friend with her?” Grayson fought the urge to pull Maggie into his arms. He could feel her light breath against his shoulder and smell the fresh, starched air that always seemed to surround her. He was surprised his voice could even sound normal when all his thoughts were of her.

  “No.” Maggie lowered her head and moved past him. “There was no one with her.”

  Grayson wondered if his nearness brought the same sweet agony to her as her closeness did to him. He tried to make his body think of something, anything, besides the way she’d felt when he’d held her all night in his arms. “If you have no objections, I’d like to have a few words with her before I go.”

  Maggie nodded without looking up at him, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  He climbed the stairs two at a time and knocked at Cherish’s door. The girl was a puzzle to him, but he had to talk with her. Brant had proven a man of his word, both when he’d fought at Grayson’s side and when he’d promised to get Cherish back in a week. Perhaps she was also to be trusted.

  When he opened the door, he saw her sitting by the fire watching the flames as though they held some secret she was looking for.

  “I hate to disturb you, but I need to ask a few questions.”

  Cherish flashed him a kind smile and motioned toward the room’s only other chair.

  Grayson stepped over to the fireplace, not wanting to be half the length of the room away from her when he asked his questions. “You look much better than you did a week ago when Brant Coulter carried you out of here.”

  She shrugged. “I’m feeling fine, but I’d guess my health is not the reason you came up, Captain.”

  Grayson didn’t try to deceive her. “I’ve worried all week about whether I made the right decision to let him take you. I should have arrested him when I had the chance. How could a lady like yourself have even met such a man as Brant Coulter?”

  “You did the right thing, Captain. I’ve known Brant since I patched him up once …” She hesitated, not wanting to tell Grayson what a short time ago that had been. “He’s a kind, gentle man. I couldn’t have been safer or in better hands.”

  Grayson had to laugh. He doubted anyone else in the state would feel that way about Brant Coulter but her. But if Maggie could turn him into a madman, maybe Cherish could turn an outlaw into a saint.

  “Do you think you’re well enough to press charges against Westley?”

  “No. I can’t.” He could tell by her voice that her mind was made up. “No matter what else he is, he’s Maggie’s husband and it wouldn’t be right. But if he ever touches me again, I’ll kill him.”

  “Someone already tried.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Cherish looked into the fire. “Do they have any idea who it was?”

  “No, not a clue,” Grayson answered. “The only person in this town we know for sure didn’t knife him was you. You were in no shape to move that night.” He knelt down beside her chair and whispered, “I have to leave and I’m not sure I’ll make it back. I can’t tell you anything about where I’m going, but if you don’t see me in a few months, would you tell Maggie something for me?”

  Cherish’s chin rose slightly, reminding him that she was from the same proud bloodline as Maggie. “Tell her yourself, Grayson,” she said in her soft voice, but as an order just the same. “You’ve spent too much time staring at her and not talking to her.”

  Grayson rubbed at his chin. “I’ve tried, but she is the hardest woman to talk to when she’s angry.” He unstrapped his Colt and handed it to Cherish. “Keep this handy while I’m gone. Maggie’s not as indestructible as she thinks she is and an extra gun around might help. I can get another one at Camp Wilson.”

  Cherish leaned over and kissed Grayson on the cheek. “I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ve been doing it most of my life.” She winked, telling Grayson she wanted to keep her statement just between them. “Don’t worry about us. We were raised in Texas. Those men might have caught us unaware once, but not again. Take care of yourself. She loves you, you know.”

  Grayson smiled. “She’s got one hell of a way of showing it. If she loved me any more I’d be staked over a fire out in the front yard.”

  They were both laughing when Maggie opened the door. She stepped inside and glared at them both as though they had lost their minds.

  Grayson stood and crossed the room. “I have to talk with you, Maggie.”

  “We’ve said all that needs to be said.”

  He waited for her at the door.

  She ignored him for several minutes before letting out a quick irritated sigh and stepping into the hall. “All right, what is it? I can’t have you standing in the door all night even though we have nothing left to say. Tell me and be gone.”

  “We still have a great deal to say,” he answered. “I have to leave on an assignment for the army. I don’t know when I’ll be back. But I want you to know that I’m coming back.”

  Maggie raised her chin ever so slightly. “I’ll not wait.”

  Suddenly, he could stand her coldness no longer. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. When her cheeks were burning with fire and her lips were swollen from his kiss, he raised his head and looked down into her wonderful indigo eyes. “You’ll wait.” He winked. “Because, like it or not, you love me. I plan on making you see it no matter who I have to fight, including you.”

  Before she could deny his claim, he was gone, leaving only silence in the hall.

  Maggie touched her lips with trembling fingers. She wanted to run to him and tell him that he was right. Nothing else in the world mattered except being in his arms. But years of restraint weren’t broken with a kiss. She wouldn’t allow her life to turn on a heartbeat.

  Tears spilled from her dark blue eyes and she whispered, “Fight for me once more, my love. Please, fight for me once more.”

  * * *

  Grayson crisscrossed the country north of Fort Worth for two weeks before he found the rock formation that marked the entrance to a place known as Hollow Horn Canyon. A dark, reddish brown beard covered his face, making him look more like a mountain man than a Union officer. He’d traded his uniform for buckskins and his boots for knee moccasins. One of the reasons Grayson was so good at his job was his ability to change the way he looked. Anyone seeing him now would have sworn he’d never worn a uniform for any army, and that might keep him from getting shot from a distance as he entered the canyon.

  Spring had finally settled into the land and everything around him was turning green. Early storms had mellowed into a few soft showers and the sky was an endless blue. Everything was fresh and light except for his mood. He’d worked too long in the field not to know when something wasn’t right, and this job smelled w
orse than week-old fish heads left in the sun.

  It didn’t seem logical that, even if there were a few Knights of the Golden Circle left, they’d meet out in the open country this far into Indian territory. The longer he rode, the more resigned to one fact he became. Someone wanted him out this far for only one purpose and that was to kill him. Somehow, he’d stumbled on some truth about the Knights and they wanted him out of the way.

  Grayson kept riding toward what he suspected was a trap. He knew he was teasing a rattlesnake, but he had to play along and see just how fast the snake would strike. They’d find he wasn’t as easy to kill as they thought, and he might just find out who was behind the gang.

  Another problem kept nagging at the back of his mind. It could be possible that they wanted him away from Maggie. He swore under his breath that if anyone harmed her while he was gone, he’d kill every man involved. He’d decided at dawn that if he didn’t find some signs of the hideout today he’d turn back toward Fort Worth.

  Grayson tried to wipe the worry over Maggie from his mind as he stretched in the saddle and looked toward the late afternoon sun. He could smell trouble the way cattle smell a storm. The canyon walls were high and rocky. Even a half-wit like that deputy, Wart, would have been able to figure out that this was a perfect place for an ambush.

  Suddenly, a silver light flashed, dancing off something metal along the canyon’s rim. The sun winked again along the ridge, silently hinting at trouble.

  Survival instincts snapped Grayson into action as he jerked his rifle from its sheath and swung from the saddle. As his foot touched the ground, fire exploded in his shoulder and liquid pain flooded his brain. Before the sound of the first shots had died, another round bounced on the canyon walls and pain struck his leg, doubling him over in agony.

  The world darkened—first to deep shades, then to evening black. Grayson stumbled forward, dragging his almost useless leg into the cover of rocks. He threw his body over a three-foot wall of granite. More shots followed, but they were only tiny explosions of rock above him. He closed his eyes and forced the pain from his mind. Think. He pushed away the blinding heat in his shoulder. He had to be ready to act or he’d be a dead man.