Whispers on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  John laughed. “Try the next town, Windy Bend.”

  Sammy turned to look at John. Sammy had a hard, cold-eyed smile. “What do you say we call the marshal out? He’s been dogging our tracks for a couple of years now.”

  “Sounds good to me. But I figure we need a plan. Maybe I can help both our causes,” McCoy added. He raised his glass in a toast. “Do you want to just kill the lop-eared mule or make him sweat a little?”

  Sammy chuckled. “You’re faster than a lizard giving up its tail to a hawk.”

  McCoy smiled at them. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

  Three days had passed and Judith’s fever still ran high. But today Mary and Maria, the housekeeper, had gotten Judith to drink a little chicken broth.

  “At least she stayed awake long enough to eat,” Mary said as she placed the bowl on the night- stand.

  Maria nodded. “I believe I’ll bathe Miss Judith with some cool water and change her gown when she wakes up,” she said as she straightened the sheets.

  “I’ll help you,” Mary told her.

  “You have been in here every day since you’ve been injured, senorita,” Maria said as she plopped down in the chair beside the bed. “I think you need to get some rest Your arm is still sore and needs to heal.” She gave Mary a knowing nod. “I saw you wincing a couple of times earlier. Now, you go—run along, and I’ll stay right here with Miss Judith.”

  Mary smiled. “If you insist. I will be in my room if you need me.” Maria had been correct Mary’s arm was sore, but it felt much better now than it did the night of the opera. She was thankful that whoever had tried to kill her was a sorry shot.

  As she climbed the stairs to her room, Mary felt so weary that her legs were like stiff sticks. She’d spent the last two nights sitting at Judith’s bedside, because she’d been so sick to her stomach that neither of them had gotten any sleep.

  When Mary entered her room, she went to the wardrobe and found her old dress. She searched the pockets for the piece of material. That was the clue that would lead her to the real killer.

  She pulled out what looked like a piece of green wool and held it up to the window. She’d only glimpsed the man at the opera house that one time, but she could swear he had on something very similar to this plaid fabric.

  Mary slipped off her dress and placed it on a nearby chair, then slipped on a comfortable silk robe.

  Wearily, she lay down on the bed. She was still holding the material as she shut her eyes and drifted asleep.

  Again horrible dreams filled her, but this time she saw a man with red hair holding his hand out to her and she began to scream. However, he kept coming at her, holding out his hand. She began to run. But she wasn’t quick enough. He caught her. “Who are you?” she screamed. He didn’t answer. Instead he shook her.

  Startled, Mary’s eyelids flew open and Carter was sitting on the bed, shaking her. “You’re dreaming again.”

  Mary calmed down enough to recognize Carter, and when she did she clung to him. She was actually trembling. “It was such a horrible dream, but I never get to see the face.”

  Carter’s arms encircled her, one hand on the small of her back. She noticed from the shadows on the wall that it must be late. Had she slept through dinner? She hadn’t realized how tired she was, but it was easy to forget everything when she was in Carter’s arms. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, and she felt safe.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what your dreams are about?” Carter murmured from above her. His voice was so husky that it felt like a sensual caress.

  “I wish I could.” Mary sighed. And this time she meant every word. She wanted to tell Carter what had happened. She wanted him to believe her and help her find the killer.

  But she couldn’t take the chance of him hating her. With Carter, everything was either black or white. Mary knew Carter was a disciplined man who might never believe her. And still, she fought a battle with herself because she could no longer deny herself his touch.

  Big Jim had told her that one day she’d find a man she couldn’t so easily dismiss. Why did he have to be a lawman? Mary leaned back and gazed into Carter’s dark eyes, realizing he could very well destroy her, and even with that knowledge, she now knew that she loved him.

  She hadn’t meant to love him, but she did. The admission was dredged from a place beyond logic and reason, aid no matter how hard she tried to talk herself out of making a foolish mistake, she realized she was doomed.

  Obviously love was something that couldn’t be controlled.

  Carter recognized the desire in Mary’s eyes and, damn it to hell, he couldn’t let her go. What was a man supposed to do when he found himself wanting a woman so badly that he couldn’t sleep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quit thinking about her? What did Miss Mary No Name taste like? Was her skin like silk?

  Those dark sapphire eyes told him that she wouldn’t resist his kisses. Each time he saw her, the pull grew stronger. Was he man enough to walk away from her before it was too late?

  Evidently not, because he lowered his head, seeking to touch her skin. Mary’s breath was warm and moist against his face as he kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. God, she tasted good, he thought as he nibbled on her neck.

  His arms seemed to move of their own will. Instead of pushing her away, he was gathering her closer to him, and that was when he heard her moan his name.

  Carter’s blood surged through his body as his lips sought hers in an urgent kiss that left him throbbing and wanting her so badly that it scared the shit out of him.

  And she wasn’t pushing him away.

  That was the problem. He could feel each luscious curve of her body.

  However, even that didn’t stop him as he moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness while his fingers deftly untied the sash to her robe. He slipped the robe down over her shoulders, followed by her chemise. A small gasp escaped Mary’s lips when he cupped her breast, but again she didn’t pull away.

  He grazed her earlobe and whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

  Mary had never had anyone tell her she was beautiful. She basked in the glow that Carter thought so. He was doing marvelous things with his hands and there was a dreamy intimacy to their kisses. He cupped the soft warm flesh, pushing it upward until her nipple rose in the air, then he took her breast into his mouth. She couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt. Small shivers of delight followed everywhere his hands touched.

  He left her for a moment to remove his clothes, and as the cool air swept over her, Mary wondered if she should put a stop to this, but she couldn’t find the words to stop something she wanted. She knew Carter must feel something for her. She could tell by his tender touch.

  And then he was back, stretching out over the top of her, his warmth feeling good against her skin, his body rubbing all her sensitive places. Slipping his arms beneath her, he pulled her close to him, and Mary could feel his desire as he gave her a fiery kiss, his tongue caressing hers, his lips rough and tender—a kiss that left her breathless and wanting something more.

  Mary’s passionate response was driving Carter crazy. He wanted so much to sink into her warm flesh that he could hardly hold back. She kissed much better than the whores he’d been with, but there was also a hesitancy.

  He positioned himself between her thighs. Mary’s eyes were blazing with desire, inviting him when he finally entered her. She cried out at the same time he realized how very inexperienced she really was.

  “Christ, Mary! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  Carter stopped. He realized he’d sounded harsh. His breath was raspy as he said, “I’m sorry, Mary. I—I didn’t know.”

  Mary didn’t understand what he was saying. “You hurt me.”

  “I know. Lie still and the pain will ease,” he said tenderly, kissing her face.

  After she’d had time to adjust to Carter, he started t
o move again. “Is that better?”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck as she began to move with him.

  “Ah, Mary. You have such fire and you’re all mine,” he murmured into the side of her neck.

  All Mary’s doubts and fears disappeared into the night Nothing mattered but the moment Something stirred within her that she could only describe as both torture and pleasure. She felt nothing but the swift rapture that enveloped her, lifting her toward a peak of something more. As her excitement rose, her hips began to move with his, tentatively at first, then with more confidence.

  He moved faster and faster until he’d taken her to a frenzied state that made her feel as though she was falling off a cliff. “Carter,” she gasped as he thrust one last time and squeezed her so tight that Mary thought he might have broken her ribs.

  A sudden flood of tenderness overwhelmed her and tears filled her eyes, escaping in spite of her efforts to hold them back.

  Carter rose and looked at Mary. Seeing her tears, he wiped them tenderly from her cheek. “Was it that bad, Mary?”

  She smiled. “Quite the contrary. It was wonderful. I never knew—”

  Carter rolled to his side but kept Mary wrapped in his arms. “It was good for me, too. I’m sorry I hurt you. If I had known ...”

  Mary let his words sink in. What had she done?

  Did this mean she was no better than her mother? Mary knew that all good girls saved themselves for marriage. Somehow she’d forgotten all that tonight She had made love to Carter because she loved him, and she thought that he loved her, but as the aftermath of lovemaking wore off, she couldn’t remember him saying anything about love.

  Again she thought of her mother. Could she have been so naive the first time, and given her love to someone who didn’t love her in return?

  But Carter was different—Mary knew he must love her. He had to.

  She liked snuggling in his arms. She loved having her head rest on Carter’s shoulder. Maybe if she fell asleep in his arms, the horrible dream would stay away. She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.

  Carter hadn’t said anything after they’d made love, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Carter?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “We go to sleep.”

  That wasn’t the answer she’d wanted, especially when she felt so unsure of everything. “I mean, what happens to us?” The moment she asked the question, Mary felt Carter tense.

  “Ah, Mary,” Carter said with a sigh. He squeezed her a little tighter. “I don’t have an answer for you. Until we find out who you are, there can’t be much of a commitment.”

  He sounded so businesslike ... so distant Yet he still held her tenderly. But I do know who I am. If only I had the nerve to tell you. “Do you care anything at all for me?” she blurted before she lost her nerve, her hand resting on his chest

  “I care,” he said tenderly. Then he added, “Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning. I’m expecting some important information to arrive tomorrow by Pony Express.”

  At least he wasn’t hopping out of bed like her mother’s “callers” had, Mary thought. “What kind of information?”

  “It’s a flyer from Marshal Forester at Gregory Gulch. It’s a wanted poster with the picture of the person who murdered Jim McCoy.”

  “I see,” Mary said in a rush of breath. Sooner or later, she’d known the day would come.

  At long last it was here.

  There would be no tomorrows for them because she was leaving in the morning. Just as soon as Carter left the ranch. She would flee and forget about the perfect world she’d gotten to see, if only for a little while. She’d forget Judith’s motherly touch. She would forget everything.

  Forgetting Carter wouldn’t be so easy, however

  Chapter Eleven

  Thunder rode into the town of Appleton. He figured it would be the best place to start since Appleton was the first town one came to when leaving the mountain. He wouldn’t have stopped this soon if he had been the one running, but he could hope that Mary had.

  The way he saw it, Mary’s horse was missing, so she either rode off because she was scared or because she was forced to. He couldn’t imagine Mary in the middle of that gruesome scene, and he prayed that the blood he saw in her room hadn’t come from her.

  He would always picture Mary as the defiant brat who had wanted to know who he was. Thunder knew that she could be stubborn, hardheaded, and difficult to get along with, but she was family, and that was what mattered. He smiled, remembering the bedraggled girl he’d first met

  As his horse trotted down the main street of Appleton, Thunder spotted the telegraph office and veered his mount in that direction. The first thing he needed to do was send Brandy a telegram letting her know that he was still searching for Mary. How could he be blessed with two such females? Talking about hardheaded, his wife was another one who was definitely hardheaded. He smiled again. Maybe that was what made her so lovable. Or, at least, made him love her.

  After Thunder finished at the telegraph office, he asked for the best place to stay and was told the Stratford Hotel.

  He strode down the boardwalk past the saloon and then past the local whorehouse, where the girls were hanging out on the balcony. A busty woman looked over the rail and hollered, “You looking for a good time, honey?”

  Thunder glanced up. “Not tonight”

  As he entered the Stratford Hotel, he thought a hot bath and a good night’s sleep would help his disposition.

  But then, finding Mary would do that, too.

  “Need a room,” Thunder informed the clerk, who was behind the counter reading a newspaper. The young man jumped at the sound of Thunder’s voice.

  The young man looked over the paper and frowned at him, and Thunder’s temper became even shorter. He knew his hair had grown long, although he kept it tied back with a leather strap, and he probably looked pretty damned savage with his dark complexion, but no matter who he was he didn’t care for discrimination.

  “We don’t give Indians rooms.”

  “I’m not an Indian. You should be glad, because if I were I’d have your scalp for that last statement,” Thunder gritted out

  The boy looked startled, but he stood and said, “No offense, mister. How many nights you staying?”

  “One. And I’ll need a bath drawn.”

  The clerk pointed to the book for Thunder to sign. When he turned the register back around he read, Thomas Bradley.”

  “But you can address me as Thunder.”

  “Odd name.”

  When Thunder made no comment, the clerk handed him the key. “Hope you have a nice stay, Mr. Thunder.”

  “It’s just Thunder, kid.” He leaned forward on the counter and said matter-of-factly, Tell me, kid, do you remember seeing a young woman, about this tall?” Thunder held his hand up to his chest “She has blond hair and blue eyes and maybe came through here about two months ago.”

  “Nope,” the clerk said, then changed his mind. “Wait A young woman with blond hair was brought in here about that time, I think, but I never did get to see her eyes because she was unconscious.”

  “Unconscious?”

  “Yes, sir. A man carried her in here and demanded a room. They spent the night and then he carried her out the next morning.”

  Imagining what the man could have done to Mary, Thunder stiffened, his lips thin with anger. “What did he look like?”

  “Mean-looking cuss,” the clerk said. “And very demanding, but then sometimes U.S. Marshals are.” Thunder stared at the clerk, baffled. “He was a marshal?”

  “Yes, sir. Let me see.” The pages snapped as he flipped back in the book. “His name was Carter Monroe.”

  Thunder nodded. He had no idea what she’d be doing with a marshal, but it was better than her being with the murderer. “Can you tell me anything else about the girl?”

  “Nope. But I bet the doc can.
He was called in to take a look at her. She looked real bad off.”

  Thunder thanked the clerk and then headed to his room. He waited impatiently for the clerk to send up the maid with buckets of hot water. He needed to get clean. The clerk had told him Doc Elliot always ate in the hotel restaurant, so Thunder decided he’d go talk to him tonight

  And being clean would make him a little more acceptable in the restaurant. He really needed a haircut, too, but that would have to wait.

  Thunder felt better after cleaning up and changing clothes. One night in Gregory Gulch had been enough for him, he thought as he walked downstairs. He wasn’t sure how Mary had been able to bear it. The girl had more grit than he’d given her credit for.

  It was about seven when Thunder entered the dining room, prepared for an argument but getting none. The room was small. Eight pine tables draped in white cloth were scattered around the room, and only half of those were filled so it made it easier to find who he’d come to see.

  He immediately spotted a man who looked like a doctor, and he wondered why doctors always looked so unkempt. The man was sloppy, like he’d been in a hurry to put on his clothes. “Are you Doc Elliot?”

  The man took a bite of his steak, placed his fork on the plate, then looked up from beneath gray, scraggly eyebrows. “Yep,” he said, his mouth full. He finished chewing then added, “What’s ailing you?”

  “I’m fine, but I would like to speak with you after you’ve finished your dinner.”

  “I’m not one to waste time, son. If you haven’t eaten yet, pull up a chair and we’ll talk while we eat.”

  “Obliged,” Thunder said as he sat down. A girl hurried over to them and Thunder ordered a steak.

  Doc leaned back in his chair with his cup of coffee. “Now what can I do for you?”

  “I understand that you treated a young woman who was brought in by Marshal Monroe. Can you tell me anything about her?”