Yesterday's Magic

by Beverly Long

  Attention that he’d have been more than happy to give if Mrs. Bean hadn’t come in.

  One thing was for sure. If there was suitor at home, he was a fool. Because if he’d kissed her, even once, he should have known better than to let her leave his side, let alone the county and the state. Kissing Bella was like having a warm bed on a cold night or a sweet treat after a big meal. It was something to look forward to, something to savor.

  Something he needed to forget. She was just passing through. If he made a fool out of himself over her, everybody in the town would have a good laugh at his expense when she’d moved on.

  Poor Jedidiah McNeil. Just like his old man.

  That’s what they’d be saying. He wasn’t going to give them the chance. If he needed something to rub up against him, he’d get a cat. If he needed something to make his cock hard with need, he’d spend a couple days in Dodge City—there was always a woman there that would spread her legs for the right price.

  Jed drank the last sips of his lukewarm coffee and set his cup down with a thud. He stood, put on his coat and hat, and opened the door of the sheriff’s office. The town was quiet but that didn’t mean he could get lazy.

  The snow outside his office door came up past the top of his boots. He figured they’d gotten at least five or six inches. The buildings in town blocked the wind but he knew that travel on the roads outside of town would be treacherous.

  He walked through the town, stopping to check the doors on several businesses. Everything was locked up tight. He headed back toward his office. He was less than fifteen feet from the door when he saw the horse.

  There was no rider on it and no saddle. Jed walked toward the animal but the falling snow obscured his vision and it wasn’t until he got within twenty feet that he realized it was Rain, Freida’s horse.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  The horse snorted loudly and the sound seemed to carry across the quiet town. Jed took off running. If he was right, then there was no time to waste.

  Two minutes later, he was pounding on Bart’s front door. After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open. Bart stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but his long johns, and he had a gun pointed directly at Jed’s heart. “This better be good,” he said.

  “It’s not good. Freida’s horse just showed up. I suspect that either Freida or Bella or both of them were on their way to town in the wagon and something happened to cause one of the horses to break away.”

  For the first time, Bart seemed to notice the cold and the biting wind. “Damn, Jed. Nobody could last long outside in this.”

  Jed felt the squeeze around his heart. “I know. I’m going to get both of our horses saddled. How fast can you get dressed?”

  In less than five minutes, the two men were riding out of town. The wind whipped the snow around them and with every step the horse took, Jed could feel his anxiety grow. What would have possessed them to make a trip into town?

  He should have stayed. But he’d let Bella shove him out the door—had let his own pride get in the way of doing what was right.

  He and Bart pushed their mounts hard. By the time they reached Freida’s cabin, the horses were panting. Jed fairly jumped out of his saddle, reached Freida’s door in two long strides, and knocked just once before opening the door.

  The lantern next to Freida’s bed was lit, allowing him to take in the cabin with one look. Freida lay in her bed. Her eyes were closed, her coloring was pale, and he could see her chest rising and lowering as she took shallow breaths.

  He walked past the bed, opened the door of the small bedroom, and felt his own breath come hard. It was empty. Bella was gone.

  “Freida,” he said, moving quickly to the woman’s side. “Where’s Bella?”

  He laid a hand on Freida’s forehead. The woman was burning up with fever. “Freida,” he repeated. She opened her eyes.

  “Jedidiah,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Don’t let Bella go out into the storm.”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was too late for that. “Sleep now, Freida.” He patted the woman’s hand.

  He backed away from the bed, coming to stand near Bart. “I’m going to look for Bella,” he said. “Ride back into town and get Doc Winder to see to Freida. While you’re there, get as many men as you can and have them spread out. We need to find Bella and we need to find her fast.”

  “Jed,” Bart said, putting a hand on his arm. “It may already be too late.”

  “God damn it, Bart,” Jed said, opening the door. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

  Jed got on his horse and at the end of Freida’s lane, turned his horse back toward town. He had to assume that Bella had started off in the right direction and that she’d lost her way somewhere between here and her destination. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck and cursed the damn wind. Not only did it make it seem colder than it probably was, but it made it impossible to see any tracks—they were wiped away in a matter of minutes.

  He rode toward town for about ten minutes. He stopped, looked up, located the North Star, and headed that direction. Fifteen minutes later, he stopped riding. Nothing. He turned back, altering his course a bit, trying to cover as much ground as possible. When he was back where he started, he turned his horse to the south.

  He was running out of time. She was running out of time. Something had happened or that horse would not have wandered into town on its own. He was a practical man and since he’d seen Freida’s horse, he’d been preparing himself for the worst. But there’d been some hope in his heart—some hope that he could find her before it was too late.

  But his hope had faded and the growing sense of despair made his bones ache and his chest feel tight. He pulled up his horse and was just about to turn around, when he heard a noise. It was faint but it sounded like something striking wood. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The wind was blowing so fiercely that it was hard to tell but he thought the noise was coming from a grove of trees to his right. He edged his horse in that direction but didn’t see any signs of a wagon. He stopped to listen again. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  He urged his horse on, through the trees. The bare branches scratched at him and he thought for sure he had been mistaken. But then, he heard thump, thump, thump and he pulled his horse sharply to the left. When he saw Freida’s rig, his heart dropped to his stomach. The wagon was in a gully and it was lying on its side. Sunshine stood ten feet away.

  Jesus Christ. How the hell had they ended up here? The road was a good two hundred yards away. “Bella,” he yelled. He kicked his horse sharply in the ribs and the animal bolted through snow that practically came up to its belly.

  He slid out of the saddle and grabbed his rifle. “Bella,” he yelled again. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was coming from under the wagon.

  He lunged forward, almost stumbling upon her. She wasn’t under the wagon, just wedged up against the undercarriage. She was curled up in a ball, in the small space between the front and back wheels, with snow packed high around her. At first he thought she might be dead. Her eyes were closed and she had several blankets heaped upon her. But then suddenly, without even opening her eyes, she reached out an arm. In her hand she held a rolling pin which she thumped three times against the bottom of the wagon.

  It was a glorious sound.

  Her arm fell back down and with an awkward motion, she tucked it back under the blankets.

  “Bella,” he said.

  Her eyes opened.

  “Bella,” he said again. “Everything is going to be fine. I’ve got you now.”

  She licked her lips. “Freida,” she whispered, “needs help.”

  “I know. I’ve seen her. Bart is on his way to get the doctor now.”

  Bella let out a deep breath and she seemed even smaller, more frail. “Be careful,” she warned. “There’s a bear,” she said. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away.

  He je
rked his head up and scanned the area. It was snowing and blowing so damn hard that he couldn’t see more than ten feet in any direction. If there was a bear, it would practically be upon them before he’d be able to see it.

  Christ. Jed’s heart was pounding in his chest. He had to get Bella out of the cold. He pushed aside the snow that she’d piled high around her and pulled her, blankets and all, out of the small space that she’d burrowed into. He gathered her up in his arms and stood. She blinked her eyes and he knew that she was again with him. But he also knew that she was in no shape to ride her own horse.

  The wind blew the snow, which seemed more like ice, toward his face. It cut into his raw skin. He shifted Bella so that her face was pressed against his coat. He stepped up onto the side of the wagon, walked to the very rear, and whistled for his horse. Once the animal was close enough, Jed threw a leg over the saddle and climbed on, all the while doing his best not to jostle Bella.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  The wind carried his words and he knew she hadn’t heard him. It didn’t matter because he wasn’t so much reassuring her as he was reassuring himself. His hands were full of Bella and he used his knees to guide his horse. He passed by Sunshine and whistled and thankfully the horse had the good sense to follow him.

  She was shivering so hard that he could feel her shaking through the thick blankets. He kept one arm wrapped around her and used his teeth to pull the glove off his other hand. He shifted her just enough that he could press the palm of his hand against her cheek. It alarmed him to feel how cold her skin was.

  She’d done her best to stay alive but time was running out. He needed to get her warmed up. Fast.

  Freida lived north of town. He lived south, closer to where she’d somehow ended up.

  He headed for home, praying he’d get there in time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It seemed like forever but it was probably only another ten minutes before he reached his cabin. Once there, he held her tight to his chest and slid off his horse. He braced her body against the wall so that he could free one hand to fumble with the door. Once he got it unlatched, he kicked it open the rest of the way.

  He carried her inside the dark cabin and laid her as gently as possible on the rug in front of his fireplace. Moving as fast as he could, he soon got a fire lit. He threw on a couple extra pieces of wood, knowing that warmth was what her body craved.

  He stood up, reached for the lantern that hung next to the fireplace, and lit it. Soft light flooded the room and it confirmed what he’d suspected but hadn’t been able to see in the darkness. The blankets were wet. Lying on the ground in the blowing snow had taken its toll.

  Now she lay flat on her back, shivering like a wet cat. He quickly pulled away the blankets and her wet hat, too. Her long hair clung to her head and he thought it was likely from sweat. Digging out a place in the snow would have been hard work.

  He undid the front buttons of her wet cloak and as gently as he could, he pulled her arms free. He tossed the garment to the side.

  She wore a big sweater over her dress. It came to her knees and he was sure that he’d seen Freida wear the garment. She’d been smart to wear extra clothes but right now, that wasn’t helping her. The sweater plus the dress underneath it were wet and they were stealing heat from her body.

  “Bella,” he said. “Open your eyes,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

  She did.

  “You need to out of those wet clothes. Can you manage?”

  It calmed him when she nodded and her hands reached for the hem on her sweater. But calm vanished when he saw that her motions were uncoordinated and her fingers could not grasp the edge of the fabric.

  He knew there was no time to waste. He’d seen more than one man succumb to cold over the years and somewhere near the end, they always lost their ability to move with any sense of order.

  With one arm, he propped her up into a sitting position, grabbed the lower edge of the sweater with his free hand, and with one good yank, pulled the wet sweater over her head. He tossed it somewhere behind him.

  Her dress needed to come off too and there was no way she was going to be able to manage the buttons.

  Oh, hell. He laid her back down and his own hands started to shake. It had nothing to do with being cold. “Bella, I’d close my eyes but you don’t have time for me to fumble around.”

  She didn’t act like she’d heard him but it still made him feel better to say the words. He rolled her so that she was lying face down on the rug. He gathered her long thick hair in one hand and gently pulled it to the side. He looked at the tiny buttons that started at her neck and ending just at the curve of her bottom. He worked as quickly as he could but his own fingers were cold and uncooperative.

  Finally, he spread the wet, heavy material, baring her back, then her shoulders. He stopped.

  She was lovely. Absolutely lovely. Her skin was honey-colored and smooth as silk. That was disconcerting enough but then he saw her undergarment. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen, not at all like the corsets that he’d seen on other women or that he’d seen drying on his sister’s clothesline. No. It was much smaller, barely a couple inches wide. It stretched across her back, hooking in the middle.

  It was the brightest shade of pink he’d ever seen.

  Pink. He’d been with more than a few women in his years, even some sporting women, and they’d never worn pink

  Shaking his head, he tried to keep to the task at hand. As gently as he could, he pulled her arms free of the material. He knew what he needed to do next. He needed to return her to her back so that he could pull the dress down and off. But he was afraid, knowing that if her breasts were as soft and as silky as the rest of her body, that it would be his undoing.

  But he knew he couldn’t allow her to remain in the wet dress, not when she was shivering and he could hear her teeth clicking together. He took a deep breath, rolled her over, grabbed a handful of material on each side, and pulled her dress all the way off. He saw her two pairs of socks and pulled them off as well.

  He sat back on his heels. She had bright red toenails. At first it scared him because he thought it was from the cold but then he realized, they’d been painted.

  He didn’t know any women who painted their toenails. Things were done differently back in Ohio.

  Once he got past her toes, he realized that the material that covered her breasts was nothing but silk and lace and, oh my lord, it matched the patch of pink that barely covered her woman parts.

  He felt warm and out of breath and more than a little lightheaded. She was lovely.

  She opened her eyes. “I’m so tired,” she said.

  Her words were slurred, sounding more like I’m slow trierd.

  “Don’t you dare give up, Bella Wainwright.” He forgot about her soft skin, her narrow waist, her long legs with their delicate feminine muscle. He’d only done half the job by getting her wet clothes off. He needed to get her warmed up and he knew the fastest way. Many a men had saved themselves on the prairie by forgetting their pride and setting aside their personal beliefs about lying close to another man.

  He stood up, yanked off his own coat and kicked off his boots. The he undid his gun belt and set it safely to the side. Then he pulled off his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, and stepped out of them.

  He kept his undershirt and his long underwear on. He walked over to his bed and quickly stripped off the two thick blankets. He returned to her side, lay down beside her, and covered both of them with the blankets.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, until they were touching most everywhere.

  Then he tried to think about castrating pigs.

  When that didn’t work, he visualized leeches and maggots and every other disgusting thing he could think of.

  None of it worked. Not when Bella’s head was tucked under his chin and he could smell the fresh lemon scent of her hair. Not when her slim body seemed to fit so nice
ly in his arms. And certainly not when his cock was so hard that even thoughts of his own castration weren’t making a difference.

  He wanted her. He wanted to fill his hands with her breasts and spread her legs wide. He wanted to taste her and then rejoice when she took him in her mouth. He wanted it all.

  “Bella,” he said.

  She’d stopped shaking and her breathing had evened out. Those were all good things.

  “Bella,” he said again. “You were smart to burrow into the snow.”

  “I saw a special on the Discovery Channel.”

  “What?” Her words were still slurred but was it worse than he thought? Was she so far gone that she was talking nonsense? “A special what?”

  She pulled her head back and slowly blinked her eyes. Twice. Then she smiled at him and it was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. He felt joy blossom in his heart.

  “Never mind. Thank you for saving my life, Jedidiah McNeil,” she said, as she closed her eyes.

  The thought of what might have been if he’d been even five minutes later made him start to shake and he forced himself to take deep, even breaths to calm himself. She’d been a crazy fool to go out alone on a night like this, in country that was strange to her. He couldn’t abide people doing foolish things.

  But, damn it, he had a fondness for people who did brave things—who acted in an unselfish manner. She taken a risk but she’d taken it on behalf of Freida. And she’d kept her head about her, too, when she’d dug herself into the snow.

  She was going to live to tell about her adventure. Jed reached a hand out toward the pile of clothes he’d shed earlier and snagged his watch out of his vest pocket. He flipped it open and it gave him a start to realize that less than an hour had gone by since he’d seen Freida’s horse.

  He felt as if he’d aged ten years. But he couldn’t rest yet. As much as he’d like to stay under the warm blankets with a nearly naked Bella lying in the crook of his arm, there was still Freida to consider as well as any other men that Bart might have gathered to hunt for Bella.