by Alix West
“Henry, everything’s going to be fine,” Nick said gruffly. “Justine’s scrappy and smart. She might not have any sense, wanting to collect animals like some folks collect books or china plates, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s nearby.”
They searched the nearest fields first, riding past the herd he intended to take to Fort Worth in a month’s time and beyond to the wilder pastures where he kept the heifers. The final fields held the bulls. His breath hitched as he opened the gate. He scanned the horizon, praying he wouldn’t see her anywhere near the enormous animals. Henry regarded the bulls, his eyes etched with worry.
“She wouldn’t have wandered this far,” Nick said. “But it’s best we look everywhere. We’ll double back along the river.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “She know how to swim?”
Nick gritted his teeth, recalling the strength of the water’s current. The river had swept Cora away like she was no more than a ragdoll. Justine was even slighter than Cora.
“She knows how to swim,” Nick said. “Or that’s what she told Cora.”
They trotted down the hillside. When the river came into view, both men muttered in dismay. The water tore past, the roiling waters barely contained by the banks.
Nick glanced at Henry. The boy’s face was bloodless.
“I never told her about fish,” Henry said. “Swear to God.”
Halston nibbled a few leaves of a nearby branch, and ate them contentedly as they walked the trail.
“Halston doesn’t think she came to the river,” Nick said.
A slow grin spread over Henry’s face. “That so?”
“That’s so. This old boy’s found more lost animals than you can shake a stick at.”
Henry scoffed. “If you say so.”
“Not everyone can have as fine a horse as this one. No need to be jealous, Henry. That nag you’re riding is older than dirt.”
They rode along the narrow path that ran along the river. The noise of the rapids made it near impossible to talk more than a few words here and there. When the water ran smooth and more quietly, Nick offered more insulting commentary. The boy grinned and shook his head.
“Son, if you’re working for me, you’ll need a decent mount. That’s the first thing we’ll do. Get you a horse that won’t drop dead underneath you. And one that doesn’t hurt a man’s eyes to look at.”
Nick kept the conversation light as they rode the riverbank. He spoke casually, but kept his intense gaze fixed on the rock outcropping lining the river, and he knew that Henry, riding behind him, did the same.
Chapter Nineteen
Cora
Wandering around the barnyard, searching for the girl, Cora had never felt so helpless. She tried not to think of Justine lying somewhere hurt and calling for Cora to come find her. The images in her head fanned the flames of terror. She walked between the fruit trees behind the house. The branches were heavy with blossoms. Bees flew from bloom to bloom. The perfume hung in the air, sweet and floral. Any other time she would have been filled with delight.
In the summer, she and Justine would harvest plums and peaches. They’d make preserves and pies. She pushed away the images of Justine lost and hurt, and thought instead of working together, side-by-side, in the big, sun-drenched kitchen.
A cat trotted through the trees. While Cora couldn’t hear her meows, she saw the way the cat opened and closed her mouth. She wanted something to eat, but it would have to wait. The cat insisted, though, weaving between Cora’s legs and almost tripping her.
She shooed the cat away in irritation.
Painful memories rose from beneath her frantic thoughts of Justine. Her brothers had claimed she’d never be able to care for a child.
No man would be so foolhardy to marry you, Cora…
From the moment of conception, you’d be an unfit mother…
The words stung. Perhaps even more than they had when her brothers first said them. They went on to say she was unsuitable for most every occupation. Perhaps she could find employment as a seamstress, but they didn’t want a member of the Singleton family working as a common laborer.
She stumbled over the cat again. It trotted away, unharmed, and rubbed against a tree trunk. Nick had a handful of cats that roamed the barnyard. Justine had named all of them. This one was probably looking for Justine too, hoping to be fed. The pretty tortoise-shell flopped to the ground and rolled to her back. The cat had young, Cora noted, kittens she’d recently nursed. She stared at the cat. Her thoughts spun. Somewhere this mother cat had a litter of kittens.
Nick had said the cats liked to have their young in the hayloft.
Cora hurried to the barn. The cat ran ahead, hopped to a windowsill and vanished through the half-open window. The door to the barn was heavy and had given Cora trouble before. After several attempts, she managed to free the latch. Despite that, the door refused to budge. She tried kicking and shoving. Finally, she resorted to backing up several steps, running at it and hitting it with her shoulder. The door creaked open enough for her to enter.
Rubbing her shoulder, she stepped into the gloom. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light as she walked along the stalls. Nick told her he and Henry had searched the barn, but he made no mention of the hayloft. Or had he? She’d been so frantic, she couldn’t recall his exact words.
“Justine!” she called the girl’s name out of instinct.
The silence inside her head had never been more agonizing. Gritting her teeth and steeling her resolve, she moved past the horse stalls, past the feed room and to the ladder at the back of the barn. The hatch was closed. Did Nick always keep it closed?
She ascended the ladder.
“I’m coming up,” she said.
Dust motes swirled around her. Perhaps she spoke to no one, but her words gave her a sense of relief somehow. A memory flashed in her mind. Her brothers, ten years her senior, invited her to play hide-and-seek. No more than six or seven at the time, she’d delighted in their attention. But they’d tricked her, luring her into the dank basement and locking the door behind them.
The darkness had terrified her. It took hours for her parents and servants to find her. Why would the memory return to her now of all times? She threw it off, climbing the ladder rung by rung. Darkness drew closer with each step. The dust choked her breath. When she reached the top, she paused.
“Don’t look down.” This time she spoke to herself.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to release her grip on the last rung. She set her palm on the door and pushed. The door didn’t lift even a fraction of an inch. Gritting her teeth, she shifted and pushed harder. Still nothing.
She growled with frustration. Lowering her hand, she let her head fall to the top rung and rested her forehead.
How can you hope to care for a baby, when you’re as helpless as child…?
With a growl, she descended the ladder. She went to the feed room, looking for something that might help lift the hayloft door. Looking around, she spied a broom. How that would help, she wasn’t sure. She snatched it from the corner and hurried back to the ladder.
“Tricky business climbing a ladder with a broom,” she muttered.
She gripped it between her thumb and forefinger and climbed the ladder using one hand and three fingers of her other. When she reached the top, she banged the door with the handle. Dust fell between the cracks. Coughing, she ducked her head. Grit and small pieces of straw fell down the back of her neck. They slipped past her collar and settled along her back and waistband.
Muttering a soft curse, she dropped the broom. It fell to the ground.
“Now what?”
A small thump resounded through the rung. She drew a sharp breath and immediately regretted it. Another round of coughing shook her. When it passed, she raised her hand to the door. This time she felt more than a thump. She felt a definite pounding rhythm.
“Justine,” she whispered.
Once more she clambered down the ladder
and ran to the feed room. She could open the hatch, but she would need all her strength. Not just one hand. She searched the shelves and found a coil of rope and an iron crowbar. The rope, she slung over her shoulder and the crowbar, she hooked over the rope.
Climbing the ladder this time was somewhat easier with both hands, but she very nearly dropped the iron bar several times. When she reached the top, she hooked the crowbar on a rung. She tightened the rope under her shoulders and with her teeth managed to knot the ends.
She glanced over her shoulder, but jerked her head around muttering to herself. “Don’t look down.”
Forcing her hands from the rung, she tested the rope’s hold. Satisfied it would hold, she wedged the iron bar between the door and frame. The door lifted a half inch. Not enough, but the movement allowed her to shove the bar and gain more leverage. She pushed harder, prying the door up. This time it moved several inches.
Justine’s slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the door. Cora dropped the crowbar and pushed with both hands. With their efforts combined, Justine and Cora lifted the door. Once it was halfway up, Justine pushed it the rest of the way. It thudded open. The bang resounded through the ladder.
Justine crouched over the doorway, a trembling smile on her tear-stained face. “I knew you’d find me.”
Chapter Twenty
Nick
Nick rode home at dusk, tired and defeated. For the past hour he’d tried to work out how he would tell Cora he hadn’t found Justine. Where the hell had she gone? The worry had played hell with his mind as he imagined a thousand terrible things, but as he and Henry neared the house, he heard Justine playing the violin.
Henry swore and gave a breathless laugh.
Nick listened, wondering if he was dreaming. Both he and Henry had searched all day and were bone tired. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But no. The music was clear and not a mere figment of his imagination. The notes of the violin pierced the quiet of the evening. Both horses pricked their ears. Halston neighed and broke into a trot without any urging from Nick.
They rode up to the porch and stopped.
Justine lowered her instrument and gave them a sheepish look. She wore a dress, which probably was an apology for giving them a scare. Usually Nick had to sweet-talk her into wearing something other than trousers and shirtsleeves. And usually that only worked on a Sunday.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”
“Where the hell were you?” Henry snapped.
Justine shrank from his words. Her eyes lit with a vulnerability Nick hadn’t ever seen.
“I was in the hayloft. I shut the door, so the kittens wouldn’t fall. Then I couldn’t open it.”
Henry scowled. “We were yelling this morning, looking for you. How come you didn’t yell back?”
“I fell asleep in the hay. I didn’t hear any yelling till Cora came.”
Nick dismounted. “How did you open that heavy door?”
“Cora pried it open with an iron bar.”
Cora came out of the house. When she saw Nick, she hurried down the steps and went to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to receive his kiss.
“Henry and I probably smell about as good as the horses,” he muttered. “But I need to kiss my wife after being gone all day.”
“Don’t be angry with Justine,” Cora said.
“I’m not the one that’s angry.” Nick eyed Henry.
Henry shook his head and turned his horse to the barn. He took Halston with him.
Nick shrugged. “He was worried. We both were.”
Justine watched Henry ride away, her face pale. When she turned her attention back to Nick, she nodded but said nothing. She blinked back tears and the look on her face made his stomach clench. He didn’t want to see her dissolve into tears. It had been a long enough day as it was.
“I need to fix that door.” he spoke gruffly. “I’m sure you’ll be looking for kittens every chance you get. Don’t want you to get trapped up there again, or give you an excuse to avoid your chores.”
Justine gave him a trembling smile and turned away. Everyone, it seemed, had been shaken by the girl’s disappearance. Dinner was mostly quiet. He and Henry were famished after riding all day and missing both breakfast and lunch. After they ate, Henry thanked Cora politely and announced he was ready to call it a day.
That night, as they readied for bed, Nick tried to avert his eyes as Cora undressed. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet, take her to bed and make love to her again. Throughout the day, he’d kept a tight rein on his worries about Justine. Despite his efforts, he’d worried about both Justine and Cora. Both were his responsibility now. He didn’t just want to keep them safe, he needed to keep them safe.
Now that he had Cora to himself, he yearned to claim her once more. He promised himself he wouldn’t. He might crave her touch, but he knew she would be tender from the night before.
He turned down the lamp, got into bed and settled beside her. Almost instantly, she fell fast asleep. The instant he touched her, his body was as hard as an anvil, but he felt content to simply hold her in his arms and listen to her soft breathing.
After a night of fitful sleep, he woke at daybreak. He dressed quietly. Cora stirred, but he kissed her on the forehead and told her to stay in bed. The chill in the air made him seek out a heavy coat, a duster he usually wore during the winter cattle drive to Fort Worth.
A light rain fell and thunder rumbled, rolling across the hills and pastures. He went directly to the barn, and after he fed the animals, he climbed the ladder to the hayloft. He looked around the hayloft. Justine had been trapped up here yesterday while everyone frantically searched and feared the worst. When he built the barn with a crew of Colter Canyon men, he hadn’t imagined family life. Now he needed to think of Cora and Justine’s needs. The first thing to go would be the heavy hayloft door.
One option was to simply nail it open. He decided against that plan, electing to remove the door entirely from its hinges. There wasn’t much need to close off the hayloft. It took him some time to gather the necessary tools. Rain drummed on the roof. A blast of thunder split the cold morning air. He was grateful Justine hadn’t gone missing today. He and Henry would have spent the day searching for her in the storm.
Just before he began work, Cora appeared. “Would you like some breakfast?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he let his gaze wander over her features. He’d spent the night fighting his arousal. The sound of her voice brought it roaring back, igniting his blood with need.
“I’d like a kiss,” he said.
Her lips parted with surprise and then curved into a smile. “Shall I come up, or will you come down?”
He crooked his finger, beckoning her. She feigned a pout but did as he asked. When she got to the top, he helped her off the ladder. He pulled her away from the opening. With a smirk, he shut the door behind her, and pulled the bolt across.
“Now you’re all mine, Cora.”
He swept her into his arms and kissed her. She laughed softly, looping her arms around his neck. Unable to resist his need for her, he carried her to the corner of the loft and set her down. He shrugged off his heavy coat and spread it on the hay.
“Mr. Travis,” she murmured, widening her eyes. “Should I be afraid?”
“What are Henry and Justine doing?”
“I haven’t seen either of them.”
He coaxed her down and settled beside her, resting his head on his palm. “I have you all to myself, don’t I?”
Before she could respond, he lowered and captured her mouth in a hungered kiss. She moaned softly. When he stroked her lips with his tongue, she submitted immediately, parting her lips with a sweet eagerness.
He angled his head to deepen the kiss, plunging his tongue past her lips and tasting her. He lowered his hand to her bodice and tugged the buttons free one at a time. She tensed and gave a small murmur
of dismay. He growled, knowing that she could feel his response.
When he had her dress and her chemise unbuttoned, he kissed his way to her breasts. Her nipples were small and the color of pale rose petals. He licked and kissed and teased until she writhed beneath him. Small cries of pleasure fell from her lips. He gathered her skirts, tugging the mass of lace and muslin to her waist.
“Nick,” she whispered. “Here?”
He nodded and smiled with wicked satisfaction.
“It’s cold,” she protested.
“I’ll keep you warm.” As he tugged her pantalettes down, he moved over her, needing to taste more. Her pale thighs contrasted with the dark tan of his hands. The skin was silk. She trembled beneath his touch, but let him part her thighs. Her flesh was a deep pink and glistened. His cock, painfully hard, ached.
Kissing her thigh, he moved closer to her and inhaled her honeyed scent. The shock of his mouth on her intimate flesh made her shudder, and her legs, still clad in stockings, pressed against his head. Gently, he tugged her thighs apart and held them wide. He licked and savored her essence. She shook beneath him, grew slick, and he continued until he felt her trembling grow to deep shudders. She cried out and arched beneath him.
Unable to hold back even an instant longer, he tore at the buttons of his pants, crawled over her, and settled between her thighs. She gazed up at him, her face flushed, her eyes dazed, and her hair a wild disarray. She looked both wanton and utterly helpless to him.
He watched her face for signs of pain. He was wild with need, but still had enough of his wits about him to take care of her. He stroked his cock against her slick folds. Pushing inward, he gritted his teeth. She was so tight. He took slow strokes, acutely aware of her every expression. But she never flinched. Instead, her eyes grew hooded. She tilted her hips and met his thrusts.
She slipped her hands beneath his shirt. Skimming her fingers along his back, she ignited wild, hot need inside him. His skin burned under her touch. Lowering, he captured her mouth for another kiss. His kiss was hard and possessive, but when she threaded her fingers through his hair, he softened. One moment, primitive lust tore at him, the next moment, tender passion.