Son of a bitch. It was far-fetched enough to be true. A sudden sense of urgency, of danger, had Cole hurrying back to the wagon. As his animals plodded tiredly along behind him, he accepted one thing. Only one person knew all the answers. And right now, she was on the other side of this stand of oaks. With his sister’s kids.
As he neared the far and thinning edge of the thick stand of trees, he decided that he wouldn’t accuse Kate or even question her directly. She’d most likely just lie to him. But he knew he didn’t have to say a word. Because the boys—whom he still meant to have words with for taking off like they had—had most likely already told her everything Cole needed her to know about the lady in the carriage.
So all he had to do was see Kate’s face. And then he’d know. One way or the other. Cole emerged from the oaks and sought his buckboard among the many wagons dotting the landscape. And there they were. Kate was standing in the wagon, her hand on Lydia’s shoulder, Kitty at her other side. The boys were holding on to the wagon’s side. And Joey was looking over his shoulder … back toward Cole. Just then, the boy spotted him. He knew because Joey pointed back in Cole’s direction. And everyone else, including Kate, looked his way, too.
* * *
Kate saw him the instant he broke from the trees. Walking slowly, his long-legged strides sure and firm as he led the mules and his roan by their gathered reins, Cole strode toward her. Even from that distance, even despite the shading provided by his Stetson, she felt his gaze upon her, could see the grim slash of his mouth. Kate could only guess at the nature of his thoughts, could only try to gauge his mood. He’d seen the same woman the boys had, that much she knew from what Joey and Willy told her. Apparently, the lady had made a big splash among the men gathered at the watering hole.
Even now, in their innocence, the boys regaled her with tales of what the men said about the fine lady. Twice Kate hushed Joey and Willy, warning them about repeating such things in front of herself and Lydia. Much to their red-faced chagrin, they’d finally settled on talking about how exciting it was to be here at the actual border of the Oklahoma Country. At any other time, Joey’s enthusiasm and joy—so different from his usual seriousness—would have gladdened Kate’s heart. But right now her entire being centered itself on Cole.
All too soon he was standing there at the buckboard’s side and was tying the mules and his roan to the wagon’s tailgate. To Kate, with her heart beating a steady tattoo in her chest, it seemed he was avoiding looking at her. She swallowed, wondering what he knew, what he thought … and what had happened on the other side of those oaks. Done finally with his task, he leaned into the wagon’s weathered wood and, with a thumb, nudged his hat’s stiff brim up until his black eyes were revealed. He then stared into her eyes … and waited.
Even the children and Kitty quieted, no doubt sensing the air of expectancy between the two adults. The boys and Lydia divided their attention between their uncle’s face and Kate’s. Next to Cole, his roan shifted his weight and stamped a hoof. The mules nodded sleepily, their heads drooping, their eyes half-closed. Even surrounded as Kate and Cole and the kids were by the sea of humanity and all its attendant noises, the quiet air around the buckboard told its own story. Kate could stand it no longer and blurted, “Have you given any thought to where we should set up a camp for tonight?”
As if all it had awaited were her words, the quiet burst. Filling the air now were strangers’ called greetings to one another, their shouts and laughter, a horse’s whinny, a child’s cry, a mother’s singing. Solid wagons rolled noisily by, among them several cavalrymen, in military formation, who cantered their horses alongside the newest arrivals. Thoroughly impressed, Joey and Willy begged permission to dart off for a better view. Cole looked away from Kate to tell them, “You can go. But take your sister and Kitty. Keep a hand on Lydia and stay to one side.”
He wants to be alone with me, was Kate’s fearful thought. But having no choice, in light of his words, she herded Lydia to the back of the wagon so Cole could hand her over to the boys, who grumbled about having to take the little girl with them. For his part, Kitty bounded easily over the wagon’s side and barked for all he was worth as he pranced back and forth and waited for the children to be ready. And then, they were, a brother to either side of Lydia and holding her hands as they walked slowly off, allowing for Lydia’s shorter legs.
Kate was finally alone with Cole Youngblood … who’d just seen a woman who looked a lot like her. Enough like her, in fact, to be her sister. Avoiding Cole’s eyes, Kate put her hands to her waist and looked after the children. “You suppose they’ll keep up with Lydia?”
“They will. And they’ll be fine with Kitty along. He’s not about to put up with any foolishness from anyone bothering them.”
Kate nodded, shading her eyes with a hand as she watched the children’s retreating figures … and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She could not look at Cole, at her husband, who was going to make the land run for her. But after a few quiet moments passed, she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she turned to him and plunged in. “Did you see her, too? The fine lady the boys told me about?”
“I did,” Cole said, nodding and settling his Stetson lower on his brow. Then he undid the tailgate’s hinged fastener and lowered it. Holding a hand out to her, he sought her gaze. “Why don’t you come down out of that wagon, Kate? I expect you’re sick of it by now.”
And she was. Sick enough of it to cry. Sick enough of the fear and the lying and the worrying and the doubts. Sick of it all, and especially of herself. But she couldn’t say any of that. The words just wouldn’t come. So she took the three or so steps she needed to reach Cole and accepted his help getting out of the wagon. She put her hands to his shoulders and he circled her waist, gently swinging her down to the grassy, spongy earth. The land felt good under her feet. Solid and eternal. And Cole’s hands on her were strong and his grip firm.
But to her surprise, he didn’t release her and step back. Instead, he held on to her and looked down into her eyes. “I saw that woman, Kate. Except for her fine clothes, she could have been you.”
Kate nodded, lowering her gaze until she looked at a button on his shirtfront. “That’s what the boys said.” Only belatedly did she realize that she still gripped him by his shoulders, that she was still in his embrace … for all the world to see. But there was nothing she could do, nowhere to put her hands if she let go of him before he released her. And so, she stood there … waiting.
“I figured they would,” Cole finally answered. Then, “Look at me, Kate.”
Inhaling deeply of the clean Oklahoma air, dragging it into her troubled body, Kate did as he wanted. She looked up at him. His sober expression bracketed his mouth with tiny lines … and all but stopped her heart. He knows. “Yes?”
“Tonight, after the kids are asleep, I’d like to have a word with you. I think it’s time.”
* * *
All too soon, in the Oklahoma Country, daylight became nightfall. Stars filled the clear night sky’s canopy. A full moon shone brightly on the hushed assemblage of waiting settlers. At the Youngblood camp, a cookfire glowed with embers. Filling their bellies was a supper of biscuits and beef stew that Cole had helped Kate assemble. She still wasn’t that good a cook, but he was, having had to do for himself all his life. He’d been particularly pleased earlier to show up with the meat of a just-slaughtered steer and the fresh vegetables sold to him by the very merchants here with wagon after wagon of provisions they’d use in less than two days to open their stores.
After that, and availing themselves of the separate bathing areas, which were divided by canvas tarps strung by rope across the cold and shallow stream, and secured around two trees, one on each shore, Cole bathed in the men’s area with the boys. And Kate, shivering and having to fight Lydia every step of the way, did the same on the women’s side. But finally, the children were clean, exhausted, and bedded down in the buckboard. At one end of the wagon, Kitty yawned and settled in
with them, turning and churning a scrap of blanket that Kate had given him until he had it just like he wanted it and felt it was good enough to sleep on.
And then … there was nothing to prevent that talk Cole wanted to have with her. Exhausted herself, but content for the moment, and sitting with her back to the fire so it could dry her hair more, Kate perched atop her little wooden box, the very same one she’d found in Arkansas City and had been sitting on when Cole discovered her crying her eyes out. To her right, his Stetson off, his gunbelt wrapped around itself and lying next to him on his unfurled bedroll, sat Cole. His knees bent, his arms resting atop them, he faced the fire, but sat far enough back that all she had to do was turn her head the slightest bit to see his face. His rugged masculine features were shaded with the night’s dark and the moon’s silver. His silhouette showed the acute tiredness of the man, his expression the heaviness of his thoughts. And the fire’s light showed just how handsome he was.
“Kate,” he began suddenly but quietly, startling her into tensing. “It’s been a hard three days on you. I know that. And I admire you for all you’ve done.”
Pleased and overcome with a shyness brought on by his kind words, which she hadn’t expected, Kate faced forward and smiled into the night. “I didn’t do anything but what I had to do. Same as everyone else.” She cut her gaze over to him, found him staring at her. Her words stuck in her throat, but she finally got them out. “Yourself included, Cole. You got us here all in one piece. Well, six pieces, if you count Kitty.”
He chuckled, his smile lighting his features as surely as did the moonlight. Kate’s belly tensed with a gnawing want … for him. It always took her by surprise, her wanting this man. Any man. She’d never thought she would, after Mr. Talmidge. But she did. She wanted this man, her husband. And it was worse, this knowing and wanting. Worse than not ever knowing or wanting. It ached, it tore at her. And there was nothing she could do about it. She could only stare at Cole, could only soak up his presence … while she had him in her life.
Staring at him now, entranced by his deep voice, Kate suddenly realized he was watching her watch him. His gaze had warmed up considerably. A slow smile of heated recognition rode his features and challenged her to acknowledge it. Kate’s mouth slacked open. He wants me, too—just like I want him. She wanted to jump up and run away. But she couldn’t move. Nor could she run away from knowing the horrible truth between them. He was Cole Youngblood, hired killer, on the trail of Anne Candless—her, in truth. And that canceled out anything she might feel for him, or he for her.
Kate was quick to blink and smile and pretend to be distracted because of her tiredness. “I’m sorry. My mind is just so tired. Well, never mind. Go ahead. You were saying something to me?”
He sat quietly staring at her, his bemused expression communicating his thoughts to her as clearly as if he’d spoken them: Pretend all you want that you don’t feel it, too, Kate. But we both know the truth. Then he inhaled and … picked up the thread of their almost-forgotten conversation. “I believe I was saying that I do count Kitty.” Then he chuckled and shook his head. “That’s the damnedest name Lydia gave him, isn’t it?”
Kate grinned, glad for this talk of the everyday, even though she knew in her heart that he really didn’t want to talk about the dog. “It surely is. And I feel like the biggest fool when I see the funny looks folks send my way after hearing me call out, ‘Here, Kitty, Kitty. Come here, boy,’ only to have that big old hound come running up and about knock me over.”
Cole shook his head as he picked up a long stick and poked at the fire. “I’ve done the same thing a time or two. Calling out to Kitty and getting the funny looks, I mean. Not knocking you over.”
In a rare moment of levity, Kate quipped, “Well, that ought to have folks fearing and respecting you even more.” The words, though, were no more than out before she realized how close she’d come to the real subject she was avoiding, right along with him. “I mean the dog, too. Not knocking me over.”
Cole sobered … and Kate knew she’d given him the opening he’d probably been searching for. When would she learn not to let her guard down around him? “I know that’s what you meant. But if you’re not too tired, I’d like to talk to you about something else, Kate.”
Feeling the warmth between them evaporate, and shivering in the cool April night air, Kate gave in to the finality that seeped through her bones, weighing her down. “All right. Go ahead. I’ve got to sit here, anyway, until my hair dries.” With that, she hugged her knees to her chest and again stared out into the night—dismissing her growing feelings for Cole—and wondered about her land. Would she live long enough to see it?
“Are you cold?”
Kate tugged back a heavy wave of her drying hair that fell over her shoulder. She stared at Cole as his gaze roved over her, taking in her huddled posture. When his gaze finally locked with hers, Kate raised her chin, feeling very remote from him. And angry with him for being who he was. “No. I’m fine.”
He made as if to get up. “I can get you my coat, if you like.”
She put out a hand, urging him to stay put. “No. I’m fine. Really.”
He settled back down. “All right.”
Wordless moments ticked by. Kate thanked the stars for each one of those moments, thanked them for each breath she took … since she had no idea how many more she had left to her. It all depended, she supposed, on what Cole had to say to her.
Then, breaking the silence, he said, “Today, as you know, the boys and I saw that woman who looked just like you.”
There it was. Kate exhaled as quietly as she could. And spoke cautiously. “They told me all about her.”
“Yeah, I expect they did.” Then a frown of vexation shaded his features. “Dammit. I never did talk to them about dropping the mules’ reins and running off like they did.”
“I’m not surprised you forgot. There was a lot going on this afternoon. I expect the kids are just excited about being here.” Then she gave him a pointed stare. “So am I. And I need to thank you for making it possible.”
Cole sobered, then looked away from her, gazing into the fire’s slow-burning flames. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I don’t? Why not?” Kate couldn’t believe herself. Like a lamb to the slaughter, herself being the lamb, she kept moving Cole closer to her truths … and his. And yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself, not even when his expression hardened. Obviously he’d heard the challenge in her voice. But inside her, it didn’t feel like a challenge. Instead, every word she spoke felt more like a knife’s wound in her soul. But nonetheless she was ready to get everything out in the open, no matter the consequences. “Why shouldn’t I thank you, Cole?”
His fierce gaze bored into hers. “Because I’m not sure I’ve done you any favors bringing you here.”
Kate cocked her head at a questioning angle. “What makes you say that?”
Cole exhaled sharply and shifted his weight, looking away from her. Kate could tell he was having trouble putting together the words he wanted to say. Finally, he turned to her—and asked her the one question, spoke the one name, she had been dreading hearing. “Have you ever heard of Edgar Talmidge?”
Chapter Twelve
Even though only moments ago Kate had called herself ready to finally deal with her truth, she found that the lies still came easier. Because they were now her truth. Which made them that much harder to abandon. But she shouldn’t be so surprised, she chastised herself, as she sat there staring at Cole, her mouth dry, her body sweating, and dread filling her belly. Since she’d left New York, the truth of who she was and of the baby she carried had come to mean certain death. Only her lies had kept her alive and had gotten her this far … right to the edge of the Promised Land and her new life. Only now, it could all slip away. It wasn’t fair.
And so, she said, “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I expect everyone has.”
“That’s true,” he answered her. “A rich and powerful man lik
e he is, everyone would know him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d come out here to see the land run.”
“Me, either.” Kate felt fear seeping out of her pores, along with the sweat that trickled down her spine, a sweat unrelated to the fire at her back. Searching for something to do that didn’t involve looking into Cole Youngblood’s eyes, she reached back and fluffed her hair out, feeling it for dryness. It was dry enough. She swiveled her body atop the wood box, straightening her skirt as she went, until she faced the fire. Only then, when she was seated comfortably with her legs straight out in front of her and crossed at the ankles, did she venture onward. “Why do you ask about this”—she could barely get the hated man’s name past her lips—“Mr. Talmidge? Have you seen him?”
Cole shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t know him if I saw him. I never met the man.”
Thank God, thought Kate as she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Or his wife,” Cole suddenly added. “I never met her; either.”
They were back to that—to the fine lady in the fancy carriage. Fear slammed through Kate and nearly had her blurting out everything she knew. Damn you, Cole Youngblood. His way of speaking all around a subject without ever bringing it up just ate away at a person’s will—which was why he did it, she knew from countless conversations with him. Determined not to make it easy for him—oh, he may get it all out of her eventually, she knew that, but she didn’t have to hand him her head on a platter—Kate clamped her jaws shut and said nothing.
“Have you ever met the Talmidges, Kate?” His question came right out of the still night, like a thieving, skulking coyote, intent on stealing instead of hunting for itself.
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