Nate (The Rock Creek Six)

by Handeland, Lori

  "Our turn, dames." Lily strolled down the steps and sashayed toward Rico, her skirt swishing and swirling about her dainty slippers.

  "How does she do that?" Eden muttered as she carefully descended the steps, belly first.

  "She was born doing that," Mary said.

  Though Lily was gorgeous, and she could sing well enough to bring tears to the eyes, Mary adored her, and so did Eden. Because, at heart, Lily was just like them—a woman who loved one of the Rock Creek Six and would do anything for any of the others, even Cash.

  Sullivan crossed the distance so his pregnant wife wouldn't have to. His big, dark hand caressed her belly while his lips moved over hers. The intimacy of their embrace made Mary anxious for an embrace of her own. She met her husband halfway.

  "Be careful," Mary whispered.

  Five years and his kiss still made her tremble. Her eyes burned, and she squeezed them tightly shut until the unaccustomed tears receded. It wouldn't do for him to know the thought of his leaving terrified her. She loved him so much she didn't think she could survive without him, even for Georgie.

  He lifted his head and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm always careful."

  The barely banked excitement in his green eyes made her sigh. "No, you're not."

  "I will be." He swung himself onto his horse. The others were already on theirs. "I promise."

  Mary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His idea of careful was her idea of reckless. "I guess I'll be teaching school again."

  He winked and grinned. "Someone has to."

  Mary recalled a time when James Reese had barely smiled. Now he grinned and winked as he rode out of town. She'd created a monster.

  The four men disappeared into the river valley then reappeared on the other side. Three of them paused and waved. The fourth kept riding.

  Lily appeared on Mary's right. "They couldn't wait, could they?"

  "I didn't realize they were so bored." Eden joined them on Mary's left.

  "They probably didn't realize it, either, until the opportunity to have some fun fell into their laps."

  "Let's hope fun is all they have."

  The three women watched as the four men on horseback disappeared over a far ridge.

  "Well, I must go to work. There will be twice as much for me to do with Rico away." Lily called for Johnny and Carrie, then put an arm around each of her adopted children and returned to Three Queens. Eden and Mary continued to watch the horizon.

  "You didn't tell him, did you?" Eden murmured.

  Mary cast a sharp glance at her friend. "Tell him what?"

  Eden merely raised a brow. Why was it that other women always knew Mary was pregnant before she did? With Georgie, Jo had known first.

  "I couldn't," Mary admitted. "You saw his face. He could hardly wait to go save the world again."

  "He'd rather save you. You two have been waiting for this quite a while now."

  Mary found it ironic that the first time she'd slept with Reese, they'd conceived Georgie. Yet five years of married bliss had yielded nothing but pleasure—until now.

  "I'll be fine. I'm not very far along."

  "You still should have told him."

  "I couldn't," she repeated. "He'd have been torn between me and Nate. Thinking he should stay here, that he should be there." Mary shook her head. "Nate haunts him, and I don't know why."

  "Nate haunts us all, especially Jo."

  "Do you think she'll ever get over that?"

  "No."

  Mary sighed and reached for Eden's hand. "Neither do I."

  Chapter 7

  When Jo awakened, she wasn't sure where she was. Something popped and crackled. Her face was warm, the back of her neck cool.

  She'd been dreaming about Nate. No surprise there. What else did she ever dream of, except perhaps love, a home and family? But Nate featured prominently in those dreams too. Which only proved what a fool she was. The man had no desire for anything but a bottle and death.

  She opened her eyes. He sat on the other side of the fire, rifle across his knees as he stared into the night. How long had she been sleeping? The entire day—or was it two? Time had lost any meaning once they headed onto this trail.

  Since he didn't know she was awake, she looked her fill of him. Nate had always been the epitome of decadence—booze, women, guns. How could she have found him so seductive? No wonder her father had done everything in his power to keep her away from him. The man might not have been the best father—he'd been a candidate for the worst—but he had tried to protect her from herself. If only she would have listened.

  Once she'd been able to study Nate and see only the man she was fond of beyond all reason, a man she secretly loved but knew she would never have. Now she'd had him, and she could think of little else but having him again.

  His hands on the rifle reminded her of his hands on her hips. The shadow of his face in the firelight brought back the shadow of him above her, within her. He had made her feel things she never imagined possible, and even though he could not remember them, she would never forget.

  Whenever she closed her eyes she could taste him on her tongue, feel the glide of his skin along hers, hear his whispers in the night—and none of it had been meant for her.

  Jo's eyes burned from the smoke, and she rubbed the ache away. When she dropped her hand, Nate stared at her through the flames. "You're awake," he said unnecessarily.

  "How long did I sleep?"

  "Twelve hours, or thereabouts."

  "We can move on in the morning if you're up to it," she said.

  He shrugged. "Whatever you want."

  "You're all right?" she pressed.

  "Thirsty. Water tastes like shit with only mud in it. At least whiskey kills the taste—and the bugs."

  "You still want a drink?"

  He dropped his head, and his hands twitched on the rifle. "Yeah," he admitted. "Something awful."

  Jo sighed. She'd held the hope that if he stopped drinking for a while he wouldn't want to anymore. Of course she hadn't known he'd get so sick, so it followed she didn't know much about Nate or his need for alcohol at all. She shouldn't have interfered in what she didn't understand.

  "Do you want to lie down?"

  His gaze shot to hers, then away as if embarrassed. But Nate was the least self-conscious man she'd ever known. "No, thanks. I'll keep watch. Go back to sleep."

  Glancing around the clearing, Jo realized she had all the blankets, just as he'd had them the night before. He must have thought she wanted him to—

  "No!" He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "I—I meant I'd keep watch. You can sleep. Aren't you tired after last night?"

  He shook his head. "That mad dog weed worked mighty fine. I've heard tell of it being used for hydrophobia with great results."

  "Hydrophobia? Isn't that fatal?"

  "Mostly. But a lot of the ancient remedies work better than the modern ones. I suspect my behavior last night wasn't far off from certain stages of that disease. Regardless, the plant worked. I feel good."

  Relief flooded Jo. She'd been so afraid Isatekwa's mad dog weed would hurt Nate or, at the least, be of no help at all. "I'm glad."

  "Not half as glad as I am," he muttered. "I apologize for anything I said or did when I was out of my head last night." He took a deep breath as if bracing himself then blurted. "Well, hell, the night before that too."

  "Forget it."

  "I did."

  "Must you continue to remind me?" she snapped.

  What to her had been the most beautiful memory of her life was to him a big blank hole in his head.

  "Sorry."

  "Quit apologizing!"

  Every time he said he was sorry she remembered that their friendship had died. Nate never would have apologized for anything back when they were pals.

  "Sorry," he repeated.

  Jo wished she had something handy to throw at his head.

  "Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

  "Hurt me?
" Jo came up on her elbow so she could see him better, but he was studying his boots.

  "When I was out of my head."

  Did he mean last night or the night before? Did he mean physically or in her heart and soul? When she'd given him her virginity, she'd expected pain. Instead, she'd been lost in the feelings, caught up in his touch. The only thing that pained her was the void in her heart where hope had once been.

  "I'd never hurt you on purpose, Jo." His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "Never."

  He'd taken her silence for assent. "I know that," she assured him. "And you didn't hurt me when you were out of your head."

  He snorted. "You wouldn't tell me if I had."

  "True." When he glanced up, she smiled. "But you didn't."

  "What did I do? What did I say?"

  "Thrashed as if you had a fever, mumbled a bit. It's nothing I haven't seen a thousand times before."

  "But you've never seen it in me. I never wanted you to." His light blue eyes went dark with pain. "Did I think you were her again?"

  Her. Angela. His angel face.

  "No. You didn't talk about her at all."

  "No?" He frowned. "That's new. What did I talk about?"

  "Comanches. Yankees. Cougars and snakes."

  "How pleasant for you."

  More pleasant than hearing about Angela, Jo thought. But she said nothing.

  Jo would never be able to measure up to a dead woman, never be able to compete with someone he loved so utterly. So she really didn't want to hear anything about Angela. She didn't need to know how far short she fell from being a woman Nate could love.

  Silence descended. In the past they had been able to talk or not as the spirit moved them. Now the lack of words only emphasized all that had changed, all that was now left unsaid.

  * * *

  "Whaddya think, Sullivan?"

  Reese and the others remained on their horses while the sheriff checked Jo's tracks.

  Sullivan straightened from his perusal of the dirt trail leading to Mexico. He glanced at Reese then back at the ground. "I'm not sure."

  Reese goggled. His former scout had never said those words to him before—at least not while they were tracking someone. Had every last one of them lost their edge?

  Impossible. He just hadn't heard correctly.

  "What was that?"

  Sullivan pointed. "Her mare's got a slice in her back shoe. Fixed, but it leaves a mark. She went that way." He raised his finger to indicate southwest. "But the ground's so stirred up, I can't tell if she came back this way too."

  "What other way is there?" Reese asked.

  Sullivan climbed on his horse. "I've heard tell of an old Comanche trail into Mexico."

  "Donde esta?"

  "Kid, if I told you once, I told you a hundred times, speak English," Cash snarled.

  Rico muttered something foul—in Spanish.

  Reese and Sullivan exchanged glances. It was just like old times, or would be if Jed and Nate were here. Reese hadn't realized how much he'd missed this until now.

  The others seemed to feel the same. They'd been joking and grinning all the way to the border. Even Cash was chipper—or as chipper as Cash got. He'd called Sullivan a Comanche, no offense, as they crossed the river, and started sparring with Rico before they were a mile out of town.

  Yep. Just like old times.

  Not that Reese wasn't supremely happy in his life. Not that he'd ever want to go back to the life he had lived before Mary came into it. But a man didn't forget over twelve years of camaraderie. He didn't forget that the friendship he'd forged with these men had once been the only thing worth living for. Was it so bad to want to revisit that friendship, revive the excitement, relive a few heroics?

  Besides, if there was even a slight chance Nate might need them, they had to go. Once their vow to one another had been all they had left of honor. Regardless of disparate lives, additional promises, the vow would stand until none of them remained standing.

  It had not escaped Reese's notice that not a single one of the wives had tried to stop them from doing what they had to do, which was one of the reasons those women were wives. They understood the bond the six men shared—darker than blood, deeper than pain, something that would never go away.

  "The Comanche trail runs north of here," Sullivan said in answer to Rico's query. "But no one in their right mind would go that way if they could come this way. Only outlaws and renegades use the path these days." He shrugged. "Heck, they were the only ones who used it in the old days too."

  "Since Jo has always struck me as nothing if not right minded," Reese said, "then she must still be in Soledad."

  "You think Nate's all right?"

  The concern in Cash's voice made Reese glance at him sharply. The two men had argued, that much Reese knew. With Cash, arguments were common. What was uncommon was for Cash to leave Nate anywhere alone, even when Nate asked.

  "I don't know if he's all right. What do you think, Cash?"

  The concern on the man's face dissolved into a scowl. "I think we better quit chattin' and get movin'. I got better things to do with my nights than traipse to Mexico just to drag the Rev out of trouble."

  "Was he in trouble?" Reese's voice was deceptively mild.

  The others went quiet as Reese and Cash fought a battle of wills with their eyes. Finally, Cash sighed. "He's been in trouble since the day we met him."

  Beneath that cryptic statement Reese heard the truth he'd already figured out on his own. "He's worse, isn't he?"

  Cash gazed toward Mexico. "Yeah. A lot worse."

  "Which might explain why you allowed Miss Clancy to overhear Nate's location?" Another truth that had become to Reese in the past few hours.

  A dark, unreadable glance was his only answer.

  "You didn't think it might be dangerous for her to go after him alone, as she would no doubt do?"

  "She can take care of herself. Always has."

  If Reese didn't know better, he might think Cash respected Jo. But that couldn't be right. Cash respected nothing but his gun, his friends, and perhaps Eden Rourke Sullivan.

  "Something new needed to be tried. I wasn't havin' any luck. Miss Clancy wanted to chance her hand; I let her. I'll do whatever I have to do for him, sacrifice anything and anyone. He'd do the same for me."

  While that was true enough, Reese wasn't sure he approved of Cash's methods this time. Not that Cash would care.

  The excitement that had overtaken them upon leaving Rock Creek evaporated on the evening breeze. Who knew what they might find in Soledad?

  "Vamanos, amigos," Rico murmured.

  Cash didn't even bother to glance at the kid, let alone tell him to shut up. Instead, he silently led the way across the border.

  * * *

  "We made it," Jo said as they paused on the bluff of the river. From that vantage point they could see all of Rock Creek.

  Two days of hard riding had brought them here. Neither one of them had cared to stop and rest or chat for long. They'd had their fill of both.

  Nate gazed at Jo. Her clothes covered in dust, her face grimy too, she didn't look half as tired as he felt. Her blue eyes appeared brighter in contrast to the dirt, and a smile curved her lips as she contemplated the town. To Jo, this place was home.

  Guilt flooded him. If she rode back into Rock Creek with him at her side, she would be subject to a revival of the gossip over their relationship. He didn't want that for her. But what could he do about it?

  As the sun sank behind them and shadows spread over Rock Creek, Nate racked his tired brain. He had a few ideas. None of them were very appealing.

  "Let's go." Jo urged her mare forward.

  "Marry me," he blurted.

  The horse shied when Jo's hands jerked on the reins. She twisted in her saddle and peered at his face in the fading light. "Excuse me?"

  Why hadn't he thought of this before? If he married her, he could atone for what he'd done. She'd be protected by his name, his gun, and his
friends. Then his conscience would be cleared.

  He guided his horse next to hers. "If you marry me, no one will dare gossip about you. I'll leave in a few weeks. Then you can tell everyone I died and marry again if you choose." He smiled, thrilled with his solution.

  Jo gave him an incredulous and, at the same time, pitying stare.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Let's see..." She tapped her lips as if she were thinking. "I take sacred vows that mean nothing, then I lie, and when the spirit moves me I become a bigamist. Thanks so much, Nate, but I think I'll decline."

  He blinked. Why did the idea sound so good coming out of his mouth and so vile coming out of hers? Maybe it hadn't been the best idea. But it was the only one he had except for—

  "Then I'll say good-bye now."

  A frown marred her sweet face before anger filled her eyes. "I didn't drag you all the way back from Mexico to let you ride off now."

  "You didn't drag me anywhere. I came of my own free will. And I'd like to see you stop me from riding off if I was of a mind."

  Jo sighed, all the anger seeming to drain from her with the sound. "You don't have to do this."

  "Leave?"

  "No, try to keep my already tarnished reputation from turning completely black. You don't need to sacrifice yourself on the altar of marriage or run off alone forever. I didn't care what people said before; I don't care now. I won't be staying in Rock Creek."

  "But it's your home."

  "It was once. But my father is gone. My stepmother too, not that there was much love lost there. The town will have to hire a new preacher soon. Then I'll be out of the rectory with nowhere to stay."

  "You have friends here."

  "Who have families of their own." She let her gaze wander over the little town on the other side of the river. He could tell by the trembling of her lip and the sag of her shoulders that no matter what she said, she loved Rock Creek and would mourn its loss.

  Her shoulders straightened like a career soldier who had heard the call to battle. "I'll be returning to Indian Territory before summer arrives. Helping others is all I know."