Only His

by Lowell, Elizabeth

  Despite Caleb’s grim warning, they found nothing that afternoon but tracks. The land began rising slowly beneath their feet. The river became faster, more narrow, more rocky, and mountains crowded in on both sides. Willow could tell from the horses’ breathing that the altitude was higher than the little valley had been, and they were climbing higher with each step.

  The water course they had been following forked as the land rose once more. The tracks of shod horses followed the right fork. Caleb took the left, for it led toward the place where five lines had intersected on the map that he had burned to ash, wishing that he could burn the past with it.

  But burning all the bitter yesterdays wasn’t possible.

  So be it.

  The words were like rifle fire in Caleb’s mind. Their echo came back as Wolfe’s warning.

  You hear me, amigo? You and Reno are too well matched.

  And Caleb’s own answer, the only one there could be, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life, the past echoing into the present, the savage circle complete.

  So be it.

  Except that it could not be. Caleb could not leave Willow alone in the mountains, no one to protect her, a woman abandoned unwillingly by her man, but abandoned just the same….

  Will she die the way Rebecca did, in agony and exhaustion, bearing her lover’s dying child?

  Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, life for life.

  Bile rose behind Caleb’s clenched teeth as he rebelled against the very idea of hurting Willow. He could not do that to the girl whose only sin was to love too much. She had done nothing to earn such betrayal.

  Nor had Rebecca. Yet betrayal had come, and agony, and death. The man who had brought disaster to her walked free, able to seduce another innocent, abandon her, and create another savage circle of betrayal and vengeance.

  In an anguish that grew greater with each step forward, Caleb searched for a way out of the trap of duty and desire and death. He found none except to let the seducer live, and in so doing condemn some unknown girl to a seduction and abandonment she had done nothing to earn, and then another girl, and then another; for a man’s desire rose with the sun and set only in the dark warmth of a woman’s body.

  As Caleb rode into the dark canyon, he wondered how he could let Reno live and still call himself a man.

  15

  W ALLS of rock loomed on either side of the narrow cleft, blocking out all but a thin swath of sky overhead. High above, the mountain peak was still washed with clear sunlight, but in the bottom of the ravine dark forerunners of night flowed out of every crevice. The dense shadows were exactly what Caleb had been seeking. He dismounted and went back to Willow.

  “No fire,” he said in a low voice.

  Willow nodded her understanding. She had heard the gunfire clearly half an hour before. Two rifle shots. It was impossible to determine the direction of the shots, for the sounds had echoed off stone walls too many times before reaching her ears.

  “How close?” Willow asked quietly.

  Caleb knew she was asking about the shots they both had heard. He looked up at the rim of the gully and shrugged. “Could be the next ravine over. Could be a mile across the basin and up on another peak. Sound carries real well up here.”

  While Caleb picketed the horses fifty feet downstream, Willow rinsed the canteen in the tiny brook that leaped and foamed from a notch high in the rock wall. The water was so cold it made her hands ache. A chill wind blew down the gully from the hidden peak, making her shiver despite her heavy wool jacket.

  “I’ve never felt water so cold,” Willow said as she handed Caleb the canteen. “It made my teeth ache.”

  “Meltwater,” Caleb said briefly. He took Willow’s hands and rubbed them between his own, warming them. “Damn near ice. There’s a snowfield at the top of that notch.” He breathed heat over her fingers before he opened his shearling jacket, pulled her hands inside, and smiled down at her. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Willow smiled and made a murmurous sound of approval as she smoothed her hands over Caleb’s warm chest. Within a few moments, she had picked apart the button just above his belt buckle and eased one hand inside to rest against the heat of his skin. His breath hissed in as her fingers tangled gently in the line of hair that ran down his torso.

  “You’re better than any fire,” Willow whispered as she turned her hand over to warm the other side. “Heat but no smoke to give us away.”

  “Keep that up and there might be.”

  “Really?” she asked softly, laughing up at him. “Where?”

  “Don’t tempt me, honey.”

  “Why not? I’m so very good at it.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed and his heart beat with redoubled force. In the sudden, hushed silence between Caleb and Willow, the sound of the tiny creek was like a river, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover the break in his breathing when her cool fingers dipped below his belt. The width of the gunbelt defeated her attempts to touch him.

  Smiling, Caleb removed his gunbelt and big knife and set them aside. “Try it now.”

  Willow nibbled at the dimple in his chin and the beard stubble that had grown once more. He caught her teasing lips in a hard kiss that made him forget for a few moments the bleak future that was coming closer with every moment they looked for Reno. When her cool fingers slipped inside the waistband of his pants, Caleb made a hungry sound.

  “Much, much better,” she said approvingly as she ran her fingernails down the long muscles of his torso.

  “I’ve got an idea for making it even better.”

  Caleb smiled as he unfastened Willow’s coat and tugged at buckskin laces until he could ease his fingers between folds of cloth and buttons to brush the silky flesh beneath. Her breath caught, broke, then came out in a rush of pleasure.

  Yet Willow’s greatest pleasure was in watching Caleb respond to her. She loved seeing the darkness and tension of his expression change as the result of her touch. She loved taking shadows from his eyes, replacing them with fire. She loved caressing him, feeling his body change. She loved bringing him laughter and release. She loved…Caleb.

  And someday soon he would realize that he loved her in return. Willow was certain of it. No man could come to a woman with such intense passion, such overwhelming tenderness, and not love her at least a little.

  Smiling, watching Caleb, Willow stood on tiptoe, asking for his mouth, needing to taste him once more, to have the small consummation of his kiss. With a growling sound, he took what she offered and gave what she needed, joining their mouths hungrily.

  “Well,” said a sardonic male voice behind Willow, “now I know what you were doing for the weeks you were missing.”

  It was too late to reach for the gunbelt and Caleb knew it.

  “Matt?” Willow cried, spinning around, facing the voice.

  The man had come from downwind of the horses, taking Willow and Caleb by surprise. She peered into the shadows, then made a choked sound and ran into the stranger’s arms.

  “Matt!” she said in delight, hugging him. “Oh, Matt, is it really you?”

  “It’s really me, Willy.” Reno hugged her in return, but there was anger as well as relief in his expression. After a few moments, he set her aside and measured the tall, hard-faced man who was at the moment flipping a gunbelt into place around his hips. “Caleb Black.”

  Caleb didn’t acknowledge the question buried in the two words. He simply settled his gunbelt with a smooth movement and faced the bitter future. “Matthew Moran.”

  Reno’s pale green eyes narrowed at the bleak hatred in Caleb’s voice and at the violence implicit in the other man’s stance—legs braced slightly apart, hands loose and relaxed at his sides, ready to draw the six-gun whose thong had already been slipped off.

  “Looks like Wolfe was wrong about you,” Reno said bitterly. “But much as I’d like to beat the hell out of you for turning my sister into a—”

  “Don’t say it,” Caleb interrupted in a
voice as savage as the light in his eyes. “Don’t even think it.”

  With dawning horror, Willow watched the two men she loved. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She had expected joy, not anger, when she met her brother once more.

  “Matt?” she asked finally, looking at the brother who was as tall as Caleb, as strong, and every bit as furious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you married to him?” Reno demanded.

  The cold chill of the wind reminded Willow that her jacket was undone. She buttoned it and held her head high despite the flush spreading hotly across her cheekbones.

  “No,” she said.

  “Are you promised?”

  Angrily, Caleb started to speak.

  She cut him off. “No.”

  “Christ. And you ask me what’s wrong. What happened to you, Willy? What will Mama say when she knows—”

  “Mama’s dead.”

  Reno’s eyes widened, then closed. “When?”

  “Before the war ended.”

  “How?” he asked roughly.

  “She never was very strong. After Papa was killed, she just gave up.”

  “Where are Rafe and—”

  “I don’t know,” Willow said harshly, interrupting. “I haven’t seen any of my brothers for years. The only family I really had was my memory.”

  The expression on Reno’s face changed, all anger draining out, leaving only sadness. He reached for his sister again, folding her into his arms. Putting his cheek against Willow’s hair, he rocked her gently.

  “I’m sorry, Willy,” he said. “I’m so damned sorry. If I’d known, I would have come back. You shouldn’t have had to face it alone.”

  With a choked sound, Willow threw her arms around Reno and held on. Caleb watched through slitted eyes, remembering the instant when a half-asleep girl had reached for him.

  Matt, oh Matt, is it really you? I’ve been so lonely….

  After a long time, Reno released his sister, blotted her eyes with his dark bandanna, and kissed her cheek. Then he looked over her head at Caleb.

  “You and I will talk later,” Reno promised flatly. “Right now there are ten men out there, and they’re aching to get their hands on me, Willow, and that sorrel stallion of hers. They’d like a piece of your hide, too, but they’re going to have to stand in line. I have first call.”

  “You won’t have to call. I’ll be stepping on your heels every inch of the way.”

  Reno’s left eyebrow rose in a dark arc, but he said nothing, even when Willow went back to Caleb, took his right hand in hers, and kissed its broad palm before lacing her fingers deeply through his. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, Ishmael’s head came up. Ears pricked, nostrils flared, the stallion drank the wind coming down the small, brush-choked ravine.

  Caleb’s right hand jerked, but his fingers were tangled with Willow’s. Reno had no such problem. With shocking speed a gun appeared in his left hand. Willow stared, unable to believe what she had seen. One instant Reno had been standing with his hand at his side. The next instant, there was a cocked gun in it. She had seen nothing but a blur between.

  “Matt…?” she whispered, stunned.

  Reno made a curt gesture with his right hand, silencing his sister. Slowly, he started forward. Caleb’s hand shot out, restraining Reno.

  “No shooting,” Caleb said, his voice a bare thread of sound. “There’s a quieter way.”

  He pulled off his boots, drew his long knife, and glided into the brush on stocking feet with the muscular silence of a cougar.

  A movement from Willow caught Reno’s eye. He watched as she picked up a shotgun and came to stand with her back to him. Together they waited for Caleb’s return, each one guarding a different route out of the ravine.

  The long minutes of waiting gave Reno plenty of time to realize how many ways his sister had changed. The girl he remembered was a laughing, teasing whirlwind who had looked to her older brothers to protect her from their father’s uncertain temper. The sister who stood with her back to him was an unsmiling woman prepared to fight for her own life. And her man’s.

  Willow never knew how long it was before the ghostly cry of a wolf sifted through the ravine, announcing Caleb’s return. She faced toward the sound just as he stepped from cover. Swiftly, she went to him, her eyes going over him like hands. When she saw the blood on his coat, she made a low sound.

  “Easy, honey. I’m all right,” Caleb said, taking the shotgun from her suddenly shaking hands.

  “Blood,” she said.

  “Not mine.” He bent and kissed Willow fiercely, holding her. “Not mine.”

  She nodded to show that she understood, and she clung to him.

  Reno’s pale green eyes missed none of the currents surging between his sister and the grim-faced man who was holding her with surprising tenderness. Reluctantly, Reno conceded that Wolfe had been right—Caleb was a hard man, even a ruthless one, but he was careful of those who were weaker than himself.

  “All clear,” Caleb said to Reno over Willow’s head.

  Reno arched a dark eyebrow. “How many?”

  “Just one. I was going to let him go, but he picked up the track of the horses.”

  Willow didn’t ask what had happened. She had no doubt as to the man’s fate.

  “Recognize him?” Reno asked.

  Caleb nodded. “I had words with him in Denver. He made his choice. So be it.”

  A half-amused, half-feral smile crossed Reno’s mouth. “Wolfe was right about that, too.”

  “What?”

  “You’re an Old Testament kind of man. Was it Kid Coyote out there?”

  “No. Just some no-account claim jumper from California.”

  A sudden stillness came over Reno. “Claim jumper?”

  “As ever was.” The smile on Caleb’s mouth was like the blade of a drawn knife. “I suppose he had a notion about some fool finding gold up here.”

  Reno gave Willow a cool glance. “You told him.”

  “She didn’t have to,” Caleb said curtly. “Only one reason a man risks his butt up on these peaks. The golden whore.”

  “There’s nothing base about gold,” Reno countered softly, his voice low and his eyes vivid against his tanned face. “Indians believed gold came from the sun god’s tears. I’m inclined to agree with them.”

  Caleb made a disgusted sound. “More likely the water came from lower down the body.” He looked at Willow. “Sorry, honey. I know you’re tired, but we better find another camp. I stripped the claim jumper’s horse and sent it off on down the mountain at a run, but Jed Slater is a good tracker. Sooner or later he’ll catch us unless we keep moving or a good rain comes.”

  “It won’t rain tonight,” Reno said.

  “Maybe by morning,” Caleb said, looking at the sky.

  “Maybe.” Reno shrugged. “Nothing to do for it either way except get out of here. I have a camp nearby. We’ll wait for Wolfe there.”

  “What’s Wolfe doing up here?”

  “He got to fretting about the odds against you,” Reno said. “About three weeks ago he turned up at my camp and told me you were bringing my ‘wife’ to me and might need all the help you could get.”

  Silently Caleb absorbed the fact that Wolfe had known where Matt Moran was holed up and had said nothing to Caleb.

  You’re too evenly matched.

  Grimly, Caleb admitted that Wolfe had been right about that. Reno was as quick and cool on the draw as any man Caleb had ever seen. The chance of either one of them surviving a duel in any shape to help Willow get out of the mountains was damned slim.

  And if they died, she died. Only not quickly, not cleanly. Willow would die cruelly at the hands of outlaws who cared nothing for her laughter, her quick wit, her courage.

  “Where’s Wolfe now?” Caleb asked.

  “Out there, dogging Slater. Wolfe figured if Slater found you before I did, you’d need help. If he’d known that you were going to
take advantage of Willow’s innocence…” Reno bit back an ugly word and looked at the gun in his hand. “Wolfe would have come looking for you with a whip. He was so sure you were an honorable, decent man. First time I’ve known him to be wrong.”

  Willow’s breath came in harshly, but before she could speak, Caleb did.

  “You’ve got no call throwing stones on the subject of seducing innocent girls and you goddamned well know it,” Caleb said savagely to Reno. “Now, are we going to get out of here or are you planning on waiting for Slater to find us and start shooting us like fish in a barrel? Or maybe you’re planning on using that gun on me right now and to hell with Willow’s safety?”

  Reno returned the six-gun to its holster with an effortless motion. “I’ll wait. Slater won’t. Let’s ride.”

  RENO’S temporary camp was so well concealed by the land itself that Willow wondered how he had ever found it in the first place. The narrow, spruce-and aspen-choked ravine that opened onto a swiftly racing creek looked impassable. Nor was there any obvious reason to force a passage into the ravine. There were many such blind gullies on the mountainside, places where water flowed only at the peak of the snowmelt or after an especially heavy storm. There was nothing about this particular ravine that looked any different. There was certainly no reason to think that it eventually opened onto a high, small bench where part of the mountainside had slumped away from the main mass of stone.

  Before entering the ravine, they had walked the horses in the icy mountain stream for more than a quarter mile, hoping to throw off any trackers. Nothing could entirely conceal the passage of the eight horses, however, except time and a good rain.

  There was no trail into the ravine, no broken brush or scarred trees to mark the passage of man. Reno dismounted from his horse and went to the mouth of the ravine. There he untied thongs that had been subtly weaving together two spruce trees. The trunks of the spruce grew almost parallel to the ground, legacy of the crushing weight of winter’s deep snow. As soon as the thongs were released, branches sprang apart, revealing a dim passageway into the ravine.

  “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Reno said.