Always You

by Jill Gregory

  But Melora was suddenly remembering something that made her heart stop and the blood drain from her face.

  “Cal!” An anguished cry broke from her throat. The two men stared at her as she launched herself toward the door like a madwoman.

  “Jinx! How could I forget? Cal, we have to hurry. Give me a gun! Jinx is at the Gold Bar Hotel with Coyote Jack!”

  * * *

  Jesse managed to twist aside from the kick aimed at his head, but Coyote Jack’s next kick caught him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, trying to breathe as the wind flew out of his lungs and his ribs exploded with agony. Desperately he tried to get up, but Coyote Jack slammed a fist into his jaw.

  Jesse went down with a grunt and a crash.

  “Stop it!” Jinx screamed, her small face shining white with terror. “Stop it, you’ll kill him!”

  “That’s the idea, little girl.” Coyote Jack chuckled and turned his attention again to the moaning youth on the floor.

  Jinx closed her eyes for an instant, unable to bear the horror of the beating the boy was enduring. Then she opened them. You have to do something. But what could she do?

  When Pop was killed, she couldn’t do anything. She was riding through the grass, and there he was, lying there in the brush. Covered with blood. Dead, already dead. Then Sir Galahad had reared up, and she’d felt herself flying, flying...

  There was nothing she could do for Pop.

  But there is something you can do now. Right now. Stop him, a voice inside her head commanded. It sounded like Pop’s voice. Stop him now.

  Her gaze fixed itself upon the crystal flower vase on the mantel. She pushed herself up in her chair without thinking. The crystal winked and beckoned. With each grunt and groan and sickening thud that assaulted her ears, its light grew more brilliant.

  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as she came out of her chair. She didn’t feel the sagging ache of her leg muscles, she didn’t feel the floor beneath her feet. She only knew that she reached the mantel, reached up, felt the cool shimmer of the crystal in her hands. She only saw Coyote Jack’s dirty, shaggy hair sticking out beneath his hat as he leaned over the fallen boy. She hurled the vase.

  It struck him square in the back of the head.

  He grunted in pain and staggered, his eyes lighting on her with an expression of astonishment, quickly followed by one of murderous rage.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Jesse lunge upward, then everything became a blur of color and motion as the boy grabbed frantically for the gun in Coyote Jack’s gun belt. He managed to yank it out of the holster, but the bounty hunter swung back to take it away.

  She never saw how the gun went off, she only heard the report, inhaled the acrid smell of gunsmoke, and heard as if from a far distance her own thin, hollow screams echoing through the room, echoing around and around and around.

  Suddenly the room was full of people, and they all were watching Coyote Jack sink to the floor, while Jesse Holden stared dazedly down at the smoking gun in his hand, and Jinx clung to the mantel.

  Voices jabbered, the room spun. Then Jinx felt herself embraced in soft, clutching arms.

  “Jinx, sweetie, it’s me. It’s Mel. Everything’s over now, you’re going to be fine. Do you hear me? You’re going to be just fine! But how did you get here? You’re standing, Jinx. Standing.”

  The little girl gazed up with shining, wondering eyes into her sister’s anxious face. Suddenly her legs weakened, the strain of walking after so many months in a chair catching up with her. She gave a slight moan as she slid toward the floor.

  Melora’s arms tightened, gently lowering her. Then Jinx threw her arms around Melora’s neck as they crouched together on the floor.

  “I walked, Mel,” she whispered, the joyful words slipping out with breathless awe. “I walked.”

  Melora shook her head. “I know, but how? How?”

  “She did it to save me,” Jesse piped up, his voice thin and strained as Cal wound a neckerchief tightly around his wounded arm. “She walked right to the mantel and picked up that vase and threw it at this varmint here.”

  “Did she hit him?” Cal wanted to know.

  “Dead on.”

  The sisters stared at each other. They might have been alone on the top of Devils Tower or in the parlor of the Weeping Willow Ranch. Tears squeezed from Jinx’s eyes and flowed silently down her cheeks. Melora was crying too, sweet tears of happiness that felt as if they would never stop.

  “Oh, Jinx, I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

  “It was Pop,” Jinx said softly, meeting Melora’s stare with calm, exultant conviction. “Pop helped me do it. I heard his voice, and he—he made me better. Mel, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right now. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  Chapter 24

  The rollicking notes of a harmonica floated out the windows of the Holden farm after supper the next evening, wafting over the shadowy Black Hills, serenading the ancient granite cliffs, the regal pines and spruces with its sweet, rousing melody.

  “Another one! Oh, please, play another one!” Jinx begged, fixing Cal with such huge, pleading eyes that he laughed ruefully at the little girl sitting on the rug at his feet.

  “I won’t have any lips left by the time you’ve had your fill of harmonica music, Jinx Deane!” He reached out and tousled her freshly washed and brushed hair, and she giggled. The sound was every bit as richly delightful as the music he’d made.

  Melora’s heart turned over as she watched them together, all of them, not only Cal and Jinx but Cassie, Will, and Louisa. Everyone was gathered around the fireplace, the children ready for bed in their warm flannels, their tummies all full of the redolent stewed chicken, mashed potatoes, and buttermilk biscuits she’d cooked for their supper tonight.

  Cal began another tune, this one slow, plaintive, heart-rending. Firelight touched the faces of the children in the cozily lit parlor, faces that were dreamy and transfixed as they listened to the music, and Melora’s own cheeks flushed with emotion as she gazed at each of them in turn.

  Jinx was so much better now, her legs still weak but growing stronger by the hour. She was able to walk across the kitchen floor or to the little bench Cal had set for her beside the vegetable garden, and she’d shed her sadness like a worn, musty old shawl. Her lovely eyes had their old sparkle back, her lilting laughter rang out with the sweet sunniness Melora remembered so well from happier days, and ever since she’d awakened this morning after a good night’s sleep in the same bed as Melora, she’d been talking a mile a minute.

  Except when Jesse was around. She was awed and tongue-tied and flustered whenever the boy who’d saved her from Coyote Jack stepped into the room.

  Jesse wasn’t here just now, however. He’d ridden out after supper to court Deirdre O’Malley, and when Louisa had whispered to Jinx exactly where he was headed, poor Jinx had gone still as a mouse, not even looking up until after Jesse had slipped out the door, saddled up, and ridden off.

  Then she’d walked slowly to the window and watched his galloping figure disappear over the rise.

  It was clear to Melora that her little sister was suffering from her first infatuation. Poor Jinx, she thought, twinges of sympathy winding through her. Jesse was three years older than Jinx and considered her nothing but a child. It was the full-bosomed Deirdre with her flirting eyes and rolling hips that captivated his attention.

  Wait a few years, she wanted to say. The boys will swarm to our door like ants toward a picnic cloth.

  But she knew Jinx would be embarrassed to discover that Melora had guessed her plight, so she held her tongue and said nothing.

  It pleased her enormously, though, that Jinx and Louisa and Cassie had become such fast friends. Will followed her everywhere, begged her to play checkers with him, or marbles, or jacks. He’d even brought his rabbit to sit on her lap this morning after she’d murmured that she missed her cats.

  “Yo
u’ll see Blackie and Speckles and Dot soon enough,” Melora had assured her while sizzling eggs in a pan as Cassie and Lou set the table. The words were said cheerfully enough, but they had brought a sharp pang.

  The Deane sisters were leaving for home the next day on the stagecoach.

  So this cool, starlit, lovely evening held both the happiness of celebration and the sadness of parting.

  Melora’s gaze shifted to Cal as he finished the last notes of the song. How relaxed and peaceful he looked now, surrounded by all the children. Despite some cuts and bruises, he was handsomer than ever. Achingly handsome, she thought, her palms growing warm as an unbidden heat stole through her.

  Firelight bronzed the strong lines of his face. A face no woman could ever grow tired of looking at, she thought wistfully, wondering how she ever could have thought him less than stunningly handsome.

  At that moment his gaze shifted to her, and the cool fire of his eyes rested upon her countenance.

  Her eyelashes swept down to hide her eyes, to hide what naked emotion might show there that she didn’t want him to see.

  They hadn’t had a moment alone together since fetching all the children late last night and returning to the farm. This morning he and Jesse had been busy with Marshal Brock all day, sending wires, filling out paperwork, tearing up the hated wanted posters with Cal’s face sketched across them.

  And putting out a new poster: one marked by a picture of Otis Strong, now wanted in the murder of Craig Deane.

  Before returning to the farm, Cal had purchased Melora’s and Jinx’s stagecoach tickets.

  Perhaps he just doesn’t want to be alone with you. Perhaps traipsing across the country with you was enough, or being locked in the barn together. Perhaps he doesn’t have anything else to say; it’s all been said. And done.

  Pain closed around her heart like a fist.

  Then she remembered the intensity with which he’d looked at her in the Peacock Brothel after he shot Campbell and what he’d said to her: “The only thing that matters is that you’re safe.”

  A flicker of hope smoked up inside her, a wisp so fragile the slightest breeze could extinguish it.

  Melora didn’t dare glance at his face again. She kept her eyes fixed on the scrubbed, shining faces of the four children.

  It wouldn’t do me any good to study Cal anyhow, she reflected bleakly. Never before had she been so unable to read a man’s emotions, to anticipate what he was going to do or say next.

  “Time for all good little children to run along to bed,” Cal announced, setting the harmonica down on the table. Ignoring the children’s groans and protests, he grinned and wagged a finger at Jinx. “Especially you, my little princess, you have a very long few days ahead of you.”

  Melora saw Jinx beam when he called her “my little princess.” The fist around her heart tightened.

  Good-nights were said, cheeks were kissed, hugs exchanged, and extra blankets added to each bed for the night, since chill air had wrapped itself around the mountains.

  “Melora, aren’t you coming to bed?” Jinx asked, struggling slowly back up to a sitting position and hugging her knees as she watched Melora move restlessly around the darkened room.

  “Mmm, not yet. I think I’ll have a glass of warm milk. I’m too wide-awake to sleep.”

  “Tell the truth. You’re going to look for Cal!”

  Jinx’s remark stopped her cold, one hand on the doorknob. “Of course I’m not,” Melora said casually, giving her head a toss. “I’m going to look for a glass of warm milk. Why would you think anything so ridiculous?”

  Jinx folded her fingers together primly. “Because of the way you two stare at each other all the time.”

  Absurdly Melora felt herself blushing. It was certainly warm in this room, despite the cool autumnal air outside. “We don’t,” she said staunchly.

  “Yes, you do. Gee, Mel, I’ve never seen you act so... so—” Her sister struggled for the right words. “So timid with any man before. Usually when there’s someone you like, the charm and the laughter pour out of you, sort of like sunshine.”

  Amused and more than a little embarrassed, Melora smothered a giggle. “Nonsense,” she managed to say crisply, and squaring her shoulders, she went to the bureau, where she picked up her hairbrush. She began sweeping it absently through her hair.

  “But with Cal...” Jinx persisted, eyes dancing as she let the sentence trail off.

  “I don’t like him. Not in that way. Not in any way. The man kidnapped me, Jinx!”

  “That was wrong,” Jinx said with a frown, “but he did have a good reason. And he saved you from making a terrible mistake, marrying Wyatt—I mean, Campbell.”

  “And nearly got us all killed in the process,” she muttered, then bit her lip. That wasn’t fair. Cal had rescued her. Just as Jesse had rescued Jinx.

  It all had worked out just fine in the end.

  Except...

  Except for the hollowness inside each time she remembered how he’d turned away from her that night in the barn, how he’d told her he’d made a mistake.

  Ironic, wasn’t it? she pondered with a heavy heart. The one man she truly wished would fall madly, ridiculously in love with her and make a fool of himself over her the way countless others had, and write her silly ballads, and bring her armloads of flowers— that man didn’t want her. He “regretted” the time he’d spent alone with her in the soft, scented hay of the barn.

  “Damn Cal Holden,” she fumed aloud, choking back tears. She whirled toward Jinx, gesturing with the hairbrush. “I don’t want to think about Cal Holden, I don’t want to talk about Cal Holden, and I certainly don’t want to see Cal Holden.”

  “Well,” Jinx couldn’t resist adding, hugging her knees tighter, “suit yourself. But I like him. I like the way he smiles. And the way he takes charge of everything. And the way he looks at you.” Suddenly, with a muffled giggle, she threw herself back against the pillow and tugged the sheet up cozily to her chin. “He’s much better than that other Wyatt Holden,” she concluded. “And you know it, Mel.”

  Melora tossed the hairbrush onto the bureau with a clatter and marched from the room. “Warm milk,” she muttered to herself as she headed through the silent, deserted parlor toward the kitchen. “The only thing I need is a cup of warm milk.”

  “That’s the only thing? You sure, Princess?”

  She jumped a foot into the air as Cal spoke to her from the chair he straddled at the kitchen table. In the lamplight his eyes held a glinting challenge.

  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin, trying not to notice how with his shirtsleeves rolled up she could see the corded muscles in his arms, the fine dark hairs glinting there as he gripped a mug of coffee and raised it to his lips.

  “You scared me out of my skin!” she exclaimed crossly, trying to hide how flustered she was just to be alone with him. Never in her life had she been so shaken, so unsure with a man.

  “And such pretty skin it is too,” he commented.

  At this she raised her brows.

  “Compliments, Mr. Holden?”

  “Isn’t that what it usually takes to woo a woman?”

  “Since when are you in the business of wooing women?”

  “Since I met you.”

  She stared at him. No, don’t do this to me, Cal. You’re driving me crazy. One minute you kiss me or hold me or say something so sweet it makes my toes tingle, and the next you’re pushing me away or walking away or somehow or other putting up a wall between us.

  “Taking lessons?” she managed to say casually as she started for the door.

  He stood up. “Where are you going?”

  “To the well house. I’m going to fetch some milk, and then I’m going to heat it on the stove, and then I’m going to—”

  He blocked the door as she reached for the knob. “Not so fast. We have some things to discuss.”

  “Do we now?”

  “Melora, what the hell is wrong with you? Back there at the Pea
cock Brothel I could’ve sworn you cared about me. I saw something in your eyes when Campbell had the knife to my throat, and I thought... oh, hell, I guess I was wrong. Dead wrong,” he muttered quietly, and with anguish she heard the fine-edged bitterness in his voice.

  “It looked to me as if you cared about me too,” she managed to whisper, dropping her gaze. To her dismay he immediately reached out, grasped her chin, and tilted it up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

  “I do, Princess. Lord help me, I do.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You were only feeling responsible for me, which is quite noble—and quite unnecessary because I’ve always been able to take care of myself, and I plan to continue to do so.”

  “Sure you can, Princess, although you must admit you were in a peck of trouble for a while there with Campbell. It was lucky I heard you screeching all the way down the street. And when I burst in, as I recall, things weren’t going so well.” He paused as she scowled, and he fought the impulse to slide his fingers through the curtain of her hair, to touch those lips that were pouting at him so adorably. “But I know you’re a strong woman, Melora, as courageous and self-sufficient as they come,” he said, pulling her ever so slowly closer to him. “There’s one thing, though.”

  Melora was trying to keep her back stiff and her eyes off the hard, sensuous lines of his mouth. “What’s that?” she asked, trying to sound cool and uninterested. But to her dismay the question came out in a dry croak.

  “I don’t want you ever to have to fend for yourself, not ever again. I want to be there for you. To take care of you. To take care of you and Jinx.”

  “We hardly need—”

  His eyes narrowed. “Everybody needs, Melora. People just need different things.” Cal took a deep breath. “Let me say something I’m damn sure I’ll regret, but if I don’t say it now, I’ll be kicking myself after you get on that stagecoach tomorrow. I don’t know how to play courting games. I don’t know how to sweet-talk a woman, and I don’t know how to make a female fall in love with me. It never mattered much before because there never was anyone I wanted to sweet-talk or to make fall in love with me. Until now.”