Dark Stranger sb-4

by Heather Graham

  "No, Miss McCahy, let go now! I'm here. I'll catch you!"

  It was Captain Ellsworth. He stepped in front of Kristin and reached out his arms to Shannon-Shannon still clung to the board. "Come down, now! Please, before it breaks!"

  Kristin saw the problem. If the board broke, Shannon could fall on a splinter in one of the beams that had been exposed, and she would be skewered alive.

  "Shannon! Where the hell is your courage? Jump!" Kristin called out. She watched as Shannon's eyes fell on the splintered beams below her. But then Shannon looked down at her and she grinned. "What the hell! We can't all live forever, now, can we? Thumbs up, Kristin. Say a prayer."

  Shannon released her hold on the board. She fell, her skirts billowing out around her, and suddenly, Captain Ellsworth was falling, too. He had caught her and the impact had brought him down with her.

  "Get them both out of here!" Major Emery shouted. He picked Kristin up bodily and carried her outside. Captain Ellsworth swept Shannon up and followed. When they were finally out in the street, Kristin and Shannon hugged each other, sobbing.

  "Jo —"

  "Jo is dead," Kristin said softly. Then they

  stared at one another as they realized how lucky they were to be alive. And they just hugged one another again and sobbed, and listened to the chaos as more women were carried from the building, some alive, some injured… and some dead.

  A week later, Kristin and Shannon were in the home of Captain Ellsworth's sister, Betty.

  Four women besides Josephine Anderson had been killed. Rumor had it that Bill Anderson had gone berserk, foaming at the mouth, when he had heard that one of his sisters had been killed and the other had been seriously injured. Many Confederates were saying that General Ewing had purposely ordered that the women be incarcerated in the ramshackle building so that just such a tragedy might occur. There would be repercussions. To make matters worse, General Ewing had issued his General Order Number Ten, ordering all wives and children of known bushwhackers to move out of the state of Missouri.

  That night, Major Emery rode out to the small house on the outskirts of the city with Captain Ellsworth beside him. It was quite apparent that an attachment was forming between Shannon and the captain, and Kristin didn't mind at all. After all, the young captain had come valiantly to her rescue. Kristin liked him herself. He was quiet and well-read and unfailingly polite. And Shannon was eighteen, a young woman who already knew her own mind.

  But though both the captain and the major were charming in Betty's parlor, Kristin knew that something was very wrong. The major called her onto the porch.

  He looked at the moon, twirling his hat in his hand. "Quantrill attacked Lawrence, Kansas, yesterday."

  "Oh, God!" Kristin murmured.

  "It was a massacre," Major Emery said grimly. "Almost the entire town was razed to the ground. At least one hundred men were killed… one twelve-year-old boy was shot down for being dressed up in an old Union uniform. And Quantrill only lost one of his boys. A former Baptist preacher named Larkin Skaggs. He was too drunk to ride away with Quantrill. An Indian found him and shot him dead, and then the survivors ripped him to shreds." Major Emery was silent for a moment. "What is it coming to? None of us, not one of us, it seems, is any better than a bloody savage."

  Kristin wanted to say something to comfort him. A lot of good men were experiencing the same despair, she knew. But she could think of nothing to say.

  He turned around and tipped his hat to her. "You're free, young lady. I'm going to see to it that an escort takes you and your sister home."

  "But how —"

  A grin tugged at his lower lip. "Someone got through to your brother, and he raised all kinds of hell with the higher-ups. And then…"

  "And then?"

  He shrugged. His eyes twinkled. "Well, you see, Kristin, I know Cole. And a lot of other cavalry boys know Cole, so we know damned well that he isn't any outlaw. But people who don't know him, well, they're still convinced that he's a bad 'un. At the moment, that's all right, because there's a rumor out that he's heard about you and Shannon being held up here and that he's steaming. After everything that's happened, well… we can't have troops everywhere. Some folks are afraid he might ride in here and destroy the town just to get to you. I decided not to dispute that with any of them. I thought you deserved the right to go home if that was what you wanted."

  Kristin stared at him a long time. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

  "You see Cole, you tell him I sent my regards. You tell him I miss him. I never did meet another man who could ride or shoot like him."

  She nodded. "Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything."

  "Be there for him. He probably needs you."

  Kristin smiled ruefully. "He doesn't love me, you know. You see, he only married me because he felt he had to. To protect me."

  "Love comes in a lot of ways, young lady. You give him a little time. Maybe this war will end one day."

  He tipped his hat to her again, and then he was gone.

  • • •

  In retaliation for the attack on Lawrence, General Ewing issued General Order Number Eleven, which forced almost everyone in Missouri to leave. People were given fifteen days to leave their property. The exodus was a terrible thing to watch, one of the worst things Kristin had seen in all the years since the fighting had begun. Poor farmers were forced to leave behind what little they possessed, and others were shot down where they stood because they refused to leave. Because the McCahy ranch belonged to Matthew, a soldier serving in the Union Army, Major Emery was able to keep his promise and send Kristin and Shannon home, however.

  The young lieutenant who escorted them was appalled by what he saw of the evacuation. Once he even told her that it was one of the cruelest measures he had ever seen taken. "This war will never end," he said glumly. "We will not let it end, it seems. The people who do not fight are ordered to leave, and the bushwhackers will come through here when they're gone, stealing whatever they leave behind!"

  It was true, Kristin discovered. Even when they were home, when it seemed that they had returned to something like a normal life, Peter often came to her at night to tell her that he had seen another house burning somewhere, or that he had found cattle slaughtered, a sure sign that guerrillas had been in the area, living off the land.

  In the middle of September they had a letter from Matthew. He was trying to get leave to come and see them, but so far he hadn't been able to manage it. He explained:

  But the Rebels are in worse shape than we are. I think that perhaps by Christmas I will be able to come home. There was a battle fought in a little town in Pennsylvania called Gettysburg. Kristin, they say it was the most awful yet, but General Lee was stopped, and he was forced to retreat back to the South. Since then, there has been new hope that the war may end. Some of these fellows say that they will force the South to her knees. They do not know Southerners. I cannot imagine your husband on his knees, nor do I ever quite forget that I am a Missourian myself. But I pray for it to end. I watched another friend die yesterday of the dysentery, and it seems that we do not even have to catch bullets to drop off like flies. John Maple, who was injured in our last skirmish, had to have his leg amputated. Kristin, if I am caught at all by shot, I hope that the ball passes straight to my heart, for those operations are fearful things to witness. There was no morphine, but we did have some whiskey, and still, John screamed so horribly. Now we must all pray that the rot does not set in, else he will die anyway.

  Kristin, forgive me, I wander again into subjects that do not fit a lady's ears, but you are my sister. I am still so grateful that you and Shannon are home. Every man who heard of the incident in Kansas City was appalled, and none was proud. That you might have been killed there chilled me to the bone, and I waited very anxiously for the news that you were safe.

  As I said before, the Rebs are hurting badly. They have good generals, and good men, but those that die cannot be replaced. I am
telling you this, aware that you must be worried for your husband. If you do not see him, you must not instantly fear the worst. They have probably refused to give him leave. They are desperate now to hold on to Virginia, and perhaps they are keeping him in the East.

  Kristin set her brother's letter down and stared out the window. She wondered if Cole would come if she thought hard enough about him. Then she wondered, not for the first time, if he had been at the battle of Gettysburg. They talked of it constantly in Kansas City. It seemed that the death toll had been terrible there, but she had read the lists endlessly, looking for his name, and she had not found it. She had thought, too, that he might have been with John Hunt Morgan, along with Malachi, but she had read that Morgan had been captured in July, though what had become of his men was unknown. She had checked the lists of the dead again and again. Once her heart had nearly ceased to beat when she had read that a Slater had been killed, but it had been Samuel Slater from South Carolina, no relation, she hoped, to Cole.

  Looking out the window would not bring Cole back to her. Wishing for him to appear would not help, either.

  Every night she left a light burning in the window, hoping he would return. Even if he were to try, it would be hard for him to do so, she knew. The Union was getting a firm grip on the area. There were almost always patrols somewhere in the vicinity.

  Every night she stood on the steps before going up to bed, and she lifted her chin, and she felt the breeze, and she waited. But it was all to no avail.

  All to no avail…

  Until one night in late September.

  There had been no breeze all day, but there was the slightest whisper of one now. The night had been still, but now a tumbleweed lifted from the ground. Fall was coming, and in the pale glow of the moon the world was dark brown and pale gold and rich orange.

  She thought she had imagined the sound at first. The sound of hoofbeats. But she had learned how to listen, and she closed her eyes, and she felt the wood beneath her feet shiver.

  She stumbled out onto the porch and down onto the bare earth. She felt the hoofbeats more clearly. A rider was approaching, a single rider.

  She needed to run into the house. She needed to grab one of the Colt six-shooters, or her rifle. The breeze was cool, and she was standing there barefoot on the cold ground, dressed only in a white cotton nightgown. The wind swept the gown around her and molded it to her breasts and hips and thighs. The breeze picked up the tendrils of her hair and sent them cascading behind her.

  Then she saw the horse, and saw the rider, and she was exhilarated and incredulous and jubilant.

  "Cole!"

  "Kristin!" He reined in his horse, cast his leg over the animal's haunches and slid quickly to the ground. He frowned at the sight of her there, but she ran to him, laughing, and threw herself into his arms.

  They closed around her.

  Cole felt her, felt her soft and fresh and fragrant and clean, the way he had dreamed her, the way he had imagined her, the way he had feared he would never feel her again. The road home was always long and hard and dangerous. He had been riding for days, trying to avoid the Union patrols that were all over the place.

  But now she was in his arms. There were no questions, no answers. She was in his arms, whispering his name. He began to shake. Her hair spilled over his hands like raw silk. She pressed against him, and she was so feminine and sweet that he nearly lost his breath. He breathed deeply, and her scent filled him, and it made his heart pound and his loins quicken.

  "Kristin —"

  She caught his face in her hands and kissed him. She kissed him as if she had starved for him, she kissed him deeply, passionately, like a woman. She kissed him with the fullness of her mouth and with the fullness of her body. Her tongue was wickedly sensual, touching all of him, plunging deep into his mouth. When his tongue invaded her mouth in turn, she moaned and fell against him, suddenly weak. After a long time he lifted his head to stare down into her eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires beneath the moon.

  "What are you doing out here?"

  "Waiting."

  "You couldn't have known I was coming."

  "I'm always waiting," she told him, and she smiled. It was just the slightest curve of her mouth, a rueful admission that left him feeling as if the earth trembled beneath his feet. He swept her hard against him again, heedless of whether she felt the emotion that racked him.

  "I heard about Kansas City. I tried to come for you. Malachi and Jamie knocked me flat. Then I heard about the building, and I heard they let you go at the same time —"

  "Hush!" She pressed a finger to his lips. She smiled again, and it was a dazzling smile. She was so soft, all of her. Her arms wound around him. Her thighs molded to his, naked beneath the gown. Her breasts pressed against his chest, against the gray wool of his uniform. "It's all right. We're home. Shannon and I are home, and you've come home now, too."

  It wasn't his home. He could have told her that. But he didn't want to. Not tonight. She might not understand.

  He wove his fingers into her hair, savoring the feel of her. Then he swept her up into his arms and stumbled up the steps, somehow keeping his eyes locked with hers.

  It seemed to take forever to reach their room, and it was not until much later that he wondered if his poor horse had managed to wander to the trough and into the barn. If not, the animal had known much worse nights upon the road.

  For the moment, all that he knew was the woman in his arms and the sweetness of his homecoming.

  When they were alone in their room he set her down. With trembling fingers, he undid the buttons of her nightgown and let it float to the floor. He stared at her. He wanted this moment to be etched in his memory forever, and he wanted the memory to be as incredible as the reality. Her eyes luminous. Her smile welcoming. Her breasts full and round and firm, more entrancing even than he had remembered. Her legs long and beautifully shaped.

  Then he touched her.

  And he wanted, too, to remember the feel of her skin against his fingertips, and so he touched her again and again, marveling at the softness of her. And he kissed her, for he had to remember the taste of her. He kissed her lips, and he kissed her forehead, and he found the pulse at the base of her throat. He kissed her breasts, and the desire inside him grew. He savored the taste of her shoulders, of the little hollows there. He turned her around and kissed her back, trailing his fingers down the beautiful line of her spine and over the curve of her buttocks. He had to touch and taste and feel all of her. He went on and on, drinking deeply of her, until the whole of his body shook and trembled, until she cried out his name with such anguish and passion that he came to his feet, crushed her in his arms and lifted her again, bearing her to the bed.

  Whispering to him, telling him how much she wanted him, how she needed him, how she desired him, she feverishly helped him out of his clothes, desperate to touch him as he had touched her. Soft as a feather, gentle as a breeze, sensual as the earth, she touched and petted and loved him. Then, at last, they came together, a man and a woman meeting in a breathless fusion.

  All that night she felt she was riding the wind, an endless, sweet, wild wind that swept away the horrors of the world and left her drifting on the clouds of heaven. Anticipation had sown its seeds, and their first time together was erratic and wild and thunderous for them both. Barely had they climaxed before he touched her again, and again the clamor of need rose quickly in them. They were slower this time, easier, for the first desperate hunger had been appeased.

  And still the night lay ahead of them.

  She never knew just how many times they loved that night, never knew when she slept and dreamed, never knew when she awakened to find that he was holding her again. She only knew that it was heaven, and that however long she lived, however old she grew, she would never, never forget it, or the crystalline beauty of the desire that surged between them.

  It was morning before they spoke.

  Dazed and still delighted, Kristin lay in
his arms, wondering lazily how to tell him about the child. She wondered if he could tell by the subtle changes in her body. He hadn't said anything. She smiled. His need for her had been too great for him to have noticed anything. She thought to speak then, but he was speaking already. He was talking about the war, and his tone was cold.

  "Stonewall Jackson was the greatest loss. Lee might have taken Gettysburg if he hadn't lost Stonewall. It was the first battle he had to go into without Jackson. God, how I shall miss that man!"

  "Sh…" she murmured. She drew a finger across the planes of his face, and she felt the tightness there, and the pain. It was a strong face, she thought, a striking face. And it was so hard now.

  "And Morgan… God help Morgan. He has to escape." He shook his head. Then he turned to her and took her in his arms, whispering, "How can I say these things to you? You've been through so much already, you've witnessed so much. That horror in Kansas City…"

  "The deaths were terrible," Kristin admitted. She drew away, smiling at him. "But Major Emery was very kind."

  Suddenly Cole was stiff as steel, and every bit as cold. "Emery?"

  She didn't understand the abrupt change in him. "Yes. He said that you had been with him, before the war. He —"

  He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "He what?" She didn't answer, and he turned, setting his hands firmly on her shoulders. "He what?"

  "Stop it! You're hurting me!" Kristin pulled away from him. "He told me about — he told me about your wife."

  Cole smiled suddenly. It was a bitter smile. "I see," he said softly.

  "What do you see?" she demanded.

  "Nothing, Kristin, nothing at all." He tossed the covers aside and stood and wandered around the room, picking up his clothes.

  "Cole!"

  He stepped into his gray trousers and pulled on his shirt. Still ignoring her, he sat and pulled on his boots. She frowned when she realized that he was putting his uniform back on — something he wouldn't be doing if he was staying.

  "Cole, you can't be leaving already?"