“Then nobody rides but me. It’s too easy to get lost in a blizzard.”
“I’ll start bringing in the cows and calves,” Rafe said, ingoring Caleb. “My bullwhip makes the horses too skittish, but it works like a charm on those cattle.”
“I’ll ride shotgun for you,” Reno said. “Thank God not too many calves have been born yet. They’ll be a lot safer in their mother’s bellies. Have the mares started foaling yet?”
“No,” Wolfe said. “My steeldust will probably be the first. Once she foals, the rest won’t be far behind. When they start dropping their foals in a blizzard…”
Caleb narrowed his eyes but said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would turn back the cold northern wind.
“Once we get a rope on my mustang,” Wolfe continued, “Ishmael will make sure the rest of the herd follows.”
“Hell,” Caleb said in disgust. “The last time I tried roping that steeldust of yours, she ran rings around me.”
“Quick little thing, isn’t she? Smart, too.” Wolfe’s smile faded. “If I can’t talk to her—”
“Talk?” interrupted Jessica.
Caleb smiled oddly. “In Cheyenne. It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw. Wolfe can go up to a mustang and ‘talk’ to it and half the time it will follow him like a big dog.”
“That’s what the Cheyenne call them, Big Dogs,” Wolfe said dryly. His voice changed. “If the steeldust won’t listen to reason, and we can’t get close enough to rope her, I’ll have to try creasing her with a bullet.”
Jessica looked unhappily at Wolfe. She knew the steeldust was the core of the horse herd he hoped to build.
“I’ll do what I have to,” Wolfe said.
BY the the third day of the blizzard, the men were exhausted from lack of sleep and long hours spent riding under the most miserable conditions imaginable. Jessica made gallons of stew, rafts of cornbread, and lakes of coffee. She kept all of it hot in the kitchen no matter what the hour, for she never knew when one of the men would walk in the back door shivering with cold and hungry as a spring bear.
“Go back to bed,” Jessica said to Willow.
“You’ve been up cooking since dawn. It’s late afternoon now. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine. I’m stronger than I look. I always have been.”
Willow looked at Jessica’s drawn face and understood what was bothering her.
“The men will be all right, Jessi. They’re used to riding wild country.”
A tight nod was Jessica’s only answer. She didn’t know how much Caleb had told his wife about the problems they were having with so many wolves prowling in the storm, with the contrary cattle, and with cows calving at the worst possible time. Not to mention the wind itself, edged with thousands of icy teeth that ripped into flesh and stole the very warmth of life from livestock and man alike.
But Jessica knew all of those problems, for Wolfe had told her more than he knew with his terse answers and eloquent silences.
“If only the bloody wind would stop,” Jessica said suddenly.
“Yes. If only. At least it’s not snowing any more,” Willow said, walking to the window. She picked up the spyglass she had put there. In the magnified circle of its view, she looked across the pasture, counting horses under her breath. It was impossible to be certain through the waisthigh curtains of snow, but she thought the count came up short.
“What is it?” Jessica asked, coming to stand by Willow.
“At least four of the mares are missing.”
“Ishmael will bring them back.”
“Not if they’re foaling,” Willow whispered. “No stallion will disturb a mare when she quits the herd to give birth.” There was a tense silence before Willow added, “I saw at least one wolf. The packs are moving again.”
For an instant, Jessica closed her eyes. She had seen Willow’s Arabians when they were brought to the home pasture. Even heavy with their unborn foals and thick with winter coats, the mares had an elegance of form and movement that enchanted Jessica. The thought of those mares lying down in the cruel wind to give birth while wolves circled hungrily around made her feel ill. The mares would be all but helpless, captive of the need to give birth. For a time, they would be almost as vulnerable as the foals being pushed from warm wombs onto frozen ground.
“The foals…” Jessica whispered.
Willow looked through the spyglass, saying nothing.
“Can you see any of the men?” Jessica asked.
“No. They’re probably combing the forest for cows. When the wind started coming from the northeast before dawn, the herd drifted out of Eagle Creek Basin.”
With growing tension Jessica waited while Willow searched as much as she could see of the pasture through the swirling snow. When she collapsed the spyglass with barely restrained violence, Jessica knew that the mares were still missing.
“I don’t see the steeldust anywhere,” Willow said finally. “I think the foaling has begun.”
“Dear God, no,” Jessica whispered. “We can’t lose the steeldust now. Wolfe was so relieved when she came to him as though she understood he would keep her safe.”
Willow set aside the spyglass. “I nursed Ethan a few minutes ago. If he cries before I come back, just—”
“No.”
The curt refusal startled Willow.
“Stay with your baby,” Jessica said tightly. “I’ll check on the mares.”
“I can’t let you do that. The cold is too dangerous.”
“That’s why you’re staying with Ethan. If anything happens to you, the baby will die. If anything happens to me…” Jessica paused and then spoke the bitter truth with no bitterness in her voice. “No one else will die of it.”
Willow clasped her hands together until the knuckles gleamed whitely. “Jessi, you mustn’t go out. You don’t know what this mountain wind is like, how quickly it can take the living warmth from you.”
“I know about cold and wind. I’ve seen sheep freeze standing up in the fields and wells frozen from top to bottom like stone.”
Willow’s eyes widened into startled hazel pools. “I didn’t know England was so cold.”
“It isn’t. Scotland is. Do you have winter clothing that would fit me?”
“Jessi—”
“Do you or not?”
“In the bedroom. I’ll show you.” Willow smiled oddly. “Some of the clothes will be familiar. Caleb got them from Wolfe. They were yours. There’s a shotgun over the front door. Take it. I’ll bring you extra shells.”
Very quickly, Jessica was on the way out of the house, wrapped in layers of wool and buckskin that were familiar, and a hooded fur jacket that was not. She wore pants instead of a skirt and carried a borrowed shotgun. The pockets of her jacket were heavy with extra shells.
The only horse in the corral that didn’t look half dead on its feet from work was a tall black gelding. He didn’t want to be bridled, saddled, or ridden. Jessica managed the first two, but was very nearly thrown before the horse gave up and left the corral with ears laid back. As she rode out into the storm, she was grateful that Wolfe had insisted that she learn to ride difficult horses and do the work of stablehands.
Before Jessica reached the pasture, she saw the first of the wolves. They were sniffing the wind eagerly and moving as though they had a destination in mind. Acting on instinct, she followed. She lost the trail partway into the sparse forest. The wind was less brutal in the trees, but not by much.
Just as Jessica was going to give up and go back to the pasture, she heard the unmistakable sound of a horse screaming in anger and fear. She spun the black gelding around and headed toward the sounds at a dead run, dodging branches and clinging to the saddle horn when the horse lunged through low spots where snow lay in powdery drifts.
At first, Jessica saw only wolves. Then she saw the steeldust mare trying to struggle to her feet in order to face the circling predators. Jessica brought the shotgun up and fired into the wolves. They scatte
red away, only to circle back to the mare almost instantly. Jessica fired again and again, reloading rapidly despite the clumsiness of her gloves.
After the third shot, the wolves withdrew, vanishing into swirls of wind-blown snow. Jessica dismounted and went to the steeldust. The mustang flinched and laid back her ears but was too caught up in the ultimate moments of giving birth to resist the gentle hands helping her.
As soon as the foal was born, Jessica sat down and pulled it into her lap so that the icy ground wouldn’t sap the newborn’s strength. Very quickly, the mustang was back on her feet and nosing curiously at the slick, wet bundle that overflowed Jessica’s lap. A surprisingly long, agile pink tongue appeared and began a vigorous cleaning of the foal. When Jessica’s hand or leg got in the way, it was cleaned too.
Suddenly, the mare’s head went up and her nostrils flared. She shied away, but came back instantly, for the foal was a lure she couldn’t refuse. She nickered urgently to her foal. In response, the foal tried to stand.
With a few strategic pushes from Jessica, the foal managed to come to its feet, but very quickly went sprawling, its stilt-like legs sticking out every which way. As Jessica reached for it, a harsh male voice cut through the storm.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here! Southern lady, sometimes you don’t have the sense God gave a goose!”
Before Jessica could say a single word she was snatched off the ground by large hands. Instants later she found herself staring eye to eye with a perfectly furious Caleb Black. There was no sign of the sensual lover, gentle father, or loving husband in him at the moment. He was a dark angel of justice with blazing gold eyes.
“Jessi!”
She smiled tentatively, but found her mouth too dry to speak. Caleb looked frankly intimidating.
“Good grief,” he said, still hardly able to believe his eyes. “Riding Deuce and wearing that fur jacket, I thought you were Willow. Does Wolfe know you’re out in this Hell-wind?”
The appearance of a multitude of slate-gray wraiths just at the edge of visibility saved Jessica from having to answer. Before she could take a breath, she was supported only by Caleb’s left arm and there was a six-gun in his right hand. Shots came too quickly too count, their staccato thunder battering through the savage keening of the wind. Almost a hundred feet away, a wolf went down and stayed. The rest vanished as silently as they had appeared.
Jessica stared eat Caleb, astonished at his speed and accuracy. Veiled by snow, the wolves had appeared with no warning and had left in the same way. Yet if the words Caleb was saying were any indication, he wasn’t much impressed by either his quickness or his skill.
“Damnation. How could I miss so many? Must be thirty of those sons of bitches prowling around.”
Caleb didn’t bother putting Jessica down. He simply tossed her onto Deuce, reloaded his gun swiftly, and went to the struggling foal. When he came close, the steeldust’s ears went back.
“Take it easy, you cross-eyed cayuse. I’m going to help your baby, not eat him.”
The mare’s nostrils flared. Jessica had been infused with the foal’s scent. Enough of it had rubbed off on Caleb to confuse the mare. Stamping her feet, lashing her tail, nickering nervously, she watched while Caleb picked up her foal and draped it over Jessica’s lap.
“Take him to a stall. The steeldust won’t like it, but she’ll follow.”
“At least three other mares are missing from the herd,” Jessica said.
With a hissed word under his breath, Caleb pulled on his gloves. “Never rains but it pours. Only a contrary female would have babies in this weather.”
“Leave it to a contrary male to complain about the fruits of last summer’s frolic,” Jessica retorted.
Caleb gave a crack of laughter as he smacked Deuce on his muscular black haunch. “Get going, boy. Sassy little bits like your rider and that foal don’t take long to freeze solid in this wind.”
“I’m not little,” Jessica said as the big gelding headed out.
“You know, Willow’s been saying the same thing to me since I met her. Didn’t believe it then. Don’t believe it now. Watch Deuce. He doesn’t like wind worth a damn.”
“I noticed. I’ll be back for the other foals.”
“No. It’s too dangerous with the wind and the wolves. You stay home. Reno isn’t far behind me. We’ll look for the missing mares.”
“But what about the cattle? You need them more than you need the foals, and most of the horses are Wolfe’s anyway.”
Caleb didn’t answer. Instead, he swung up onto his big horse with a quick motion and trotted off into the savage, waisthigh swirls of snow. Beyond him, the herd of horses huddled miserably, their rumps to the icy wind.
With the steeldust in anxious attendance, Jessica rode quickly to the barn. The mustang didn’t want to go inside, but she did, shying every inch of the way. Jessica put mother and foal in an empty stall, dragged in a bucket of water and an armload of hay, and hauled herself up on Caleb’s tall horse once again.
Deuce didn’t want to leave the barn’s shelter. After a sharp contest of wills with its rider, the big gelding laid back his ears and went out into the teeth of the Hell-wind once more.
The sound of a six-gun being fired told Jessica where to find Caleb. By the time she got there, the wolves were gone. Tall, wide-shouldered, standing with his back to her, Caleb straddled a newborn foal while he rapidly reloaded his six-gun and watched the sheets of wind-driven snow for the movement of hungry wolves. When he saw none, he holstered the gun with a smooth motion and bent to pick up the foal. The mare was much more tame than Wolfe’s steeldust. Other than nosing the foal insistently, she made no move to interfere.
As though understanding that the man’s attention wasn’t on them any more, wolves rushed in from three sides.
Before Jessica could scream Caleb’s name, he straightened, drew his gun, and fired all in the same motion, emptying the revolver in a few shattering seconds. The speed of his movements shocked Jessica, even though she had seen it once before.
The wolves scattered, leaving two dark shadows behind. Instantly, he began to reload. Then he heard something behind him and spun, gun raised in his left hand. Pale green eyes glittered like gems in the man’s wind-burned face.
In that instant Jessica remembered what Wolfe had said about Reno and Caleb being well-matched when it came to speed and six-guns.
“Willy, what the hell are you doing out here, and riding Deuce of all horses! Does Caleb know what damn foolishness you’re up to?”
As Jessica urged her horse forward, the hood of her jacket was stripped back by the wind. Long mahogany locks whipped and leaped like flames in the late afternoon light.
“Jessi! For God’s sake, does Wolfe—”
“Just give me the blasted foal before it freezes to the ground,” Jessica interrupted curtly, tired of being told by tall, dangerous men that she belonged at home by the fire. “You need every hand you can get.”
Impatiently, she stuffed her hair back under the hood and pulled the drawstring tight. No sooner was she finished than Reno dropped a curly-coated, ice-tipped black foal across her lap. A big rangy bay mare followed, all but stepping on Reno’s heels.
“Was it you with the shotgun earlier?” Reno asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you reload?”
“Wolfe taught me to hunt,” she retorted. “What do you think?”
Reno’s smile flashed. “I think you reloaded. I’ve got your carbine. Want to trade?”
“Unlike Wolfe, I can’t shoot straight one-handed while riding a horse and hanging upside-down with my eyes closed,” Jessica said dryly. “I’ll be better off with the shotgun. All I have to do is point it in the right general direction and pull the trigger.”
“You do that, Red. All the blood smell from the births and that wild wind have every wolf pack between here and the divide in a frenzy. Must be forty or fifty wolves prowling around. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. S
hoot one and three more take its place.” He smacked Jessica’s horse on the rump. “Take her home, Deuce.”
Deuce moved eagerly toward the barn once more, followed by a mare that was nearly as big as he was. The foal struggled briefly, then gave up and lay quietly while the wind keened icily around.
As soon as Deuce left the meager shelter of the pines, swirls of snow leaped up from the ground, stinging unprotected skin. The gelding tugged at the bit and humped his back as though intending to buck again.
“Don’t even think of it,” Jessica muttered, curbing the big horse.
Suddenly there were wolves everywhere.
With a cry of fear, Jessica dropped the reins, lifted the shotgun, and fired at a leaping black shape. Simultaneously, Deuce lashed out with his hind feet and the big bay mare charged at the closest wolf, forcing it to retreat. The mare spun back to the gelding. Instinctively, the horses protected their vulnerable hamstrings by turning their rumps to one another and facing the circling wolves. Jessica didn’t urge Deuce to run for the barn; she, too, knew that the horse would be hamstrung and brought down long before it reached the barn’s safety.
While Deuce pivoted and struck out at wolves that were foolhardy enough to rush forward, Jessica fought to stay upright, keep the foal across the saddle, and reload the shotgun at the same time. Yet even when she succeeded in shoving in another shell, she knew it wouldn’t get the job done.
There were too many wolves.
An eerie calm came over Jessica as she raised the shotgun to fire, for she knew it would be a race to see if she got the gun reloaded again before the wolves regrouped and closed in. If she lost that race, her only hope was that one of the men had heard the shotgun’s distinctive bellow and would find her in time.
She triggered the gun. Wolves scattered as buckshot fanned out like wind-driven hail. Some of the wolves leaped aside, snapping and snarling, as though besieged by bees. Fighting to hold the foal and herself in the saddle, Jessica managed to get another shell into the gun before the wolves regained their courage.
When she brought up the shotgun again, the foal began to slip off. Desperately, she held the foal in place while trying to level the shotgun at the wolf that was leading the attack—a big, slate-gray male that had been clever enough to recognize her shotgun as dangerous and leap aside as soon as she had pointed the barrel toward him.
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