Bring her home? He finished the kid's question silently. His insides battled. Heart and mind tore at each other. Logic versus emotion. But he knew only too well which one was going to come out the victor. At least this time.
Then clenching his jaw, Brady tightened his grip on the extra blankets, looked the kid dead in the eye and said, "You're damn right I am."
#
Patience slapped both hands over her ears and tried to block out the sound of the voice that had plagued her all day.
Remember.
But it didn't help. The voice was inside her. It came from the heart of her. From her soul. And it wouldn't go away.
Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision, but then there was nothing here she wanted to see anyway. She was alone. Too alone. That's what made the voice so hard to ignore.
"I won't surrender to this," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut, until the tears banked behind her lids, streamed down her cheeks like tiny rivers. She shook her head and her hair, long and loose, flew about her shoulders like a wild black cape.
Sucking in a gulp of air, she muttered, "Whoever you are, stop this."
Yet the voice she recognized but couldn't name went on, whispering, prodding, taunting her with the urge to remember things she had no desire to recall.
What more did she need to know? Patience let her arms fall to her middle, then she wrapped them around herself and held on. Tipping her head back, she stared up at the open beams of the ceiling. But she wasn't looking at the knotty, smoke-stained wood. Instead, she saw the sky beyond it and the heavens beyond that.
"Blast you, make this stop," she said, firming her voice when it would have broken. "I am Patience Goodfellow. I live in Fortune, New Mexico. I'm engaged to be married to Brady Shaw. I love him with all my heart." Just saying the words aloud gave her strength. "I refuse to be insane, do you hear me?"
Releasing her tight grip on her own waist only long enough to plant her hands at her hips, she continued. "I won't lose my life here. I won't lose Brady. I won't lose our future because you want me to remember something that has nothing to do with who I am!"
Remember.
Frustration bubbled over inside her. Her nerves felt as frayed as an old tapestry. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. The air felt thick, almost too thick to breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest and she knew if she didn't move, didn't get out of this place and away from that voice, she would be as crazy as Brady kept telling her she was.
Swinging around, she marched to the door, grabbed the heavy wooden latch, and stopped. Her fingers curled into the old wood, picking at the slivers poking up from the edges.
"It won't help," she told herself aloud, more to hear the comfort of a voice — even her own — than for any other reason. "Wherever I go, that blasted voice will go with me."
Besides, there was the snow to consider. She wouldn't get fifty feet in this storm. As if to prove it to herself, she yanked the door open and was instantly pelted with a rush of frigid air and stinging bullets of wind-driven snow. She squinted into the swirling mass of white and told herself that no one would be able to travel in this weather.
No one, that is, except the man striding toward her from the direction of the dilapidated horse stall. Her heart leaped and then plummeted again all in the space of a few seconds. She'd wanted to see him so badly these last few days. But not now. Not when her mind was whirling and strange voices were haunting her and she felt as tightly strung as a badly tuned piano.
Her hands came together at her waist and she dug her fingernails into her skin as she watched him approach. Why was he here today? What could she say to him? If she told him about the voice she'd been hearing, he'd think her more crazy than he did already.
Oh God, Brady, go home.
But he wasn't going home. He was almost upon her and he had the look of a man who was planning on staying a while.
"Brady?"
Snow sifted down the neck of his jacket and beneath the collar of his shirt, dragging cold fingers along the length of his spine. But Brady was beyond cold and working on numb. His bones ached with it. His feet felt like blocks of ice. Still, the fire in his belly kept him plenty warm.
Seeing her standing there in the open doorway like a damn fool filled him with both relief and frustration. It was good to know she was all right, but if she didn't get back inside, she'd have pneumonia inside a week.
"Damn it, Patience, get into the cabin," he shouted to be heard over the wind.
"Don't you curse at me, Brady Shaw," she countered.
Something inside him leaped with excitement at hearing her snap at him again. And damned if that wasn't a sign that he was getting contrary. What man in his right mind would enjoy a woman's temper?
In a few more strides, he was beside her. Grabbing her arm, he turned her around and all but threw her into the warmth of the cabin. He stepped in after her and closed the door firmly, shutting out the snow and wind.
The first thing he noticed was the heat. Waves of it, crashing around him, gnawing away at the cold that had held him in its grasp for what felt like forever. He felt the ice melting from his hair, his hands, his clothes, and as he looked at her, he felt the ice begin to melt from his heart as well.
Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, her eyes looked red and puffy, and he knew she'd been crying. Why? Over what? Over him? A flicker of something close to hope sputtered to life inside him. Did she still care about him, despite what she'd heard him say about her to Sam? And if she wasn't crying over him, what else had her upset enough to wring tears from her?
He swallowed hard and let his gaze continue raking over her. Her dress was splotched with flour and God knew what else and her skin looked paler than he'd ever seen it before and that was saying something.
But still she was enough to prod his heart into a fierce gallop that threatened to choke him. God, he hadn't even realized how much he'd missed seeing her until he was actually facing her. Every instinct he possessed told him to reach out and grab her. Bury his face in the curve of her neck and inhale the sweet, soft scent of her.
But something in her eyes stopped him.
There was an anxiousness that had never been there before. A sense of worry that jabbed at his own happiness as surely as a hatpin stuck into a child's balloon.
And to cover up his own sudden uneasiness, he looked away from her golden eyes to survey the inside of the old place. Sparsely furnished, it looked pretty much like what it was… an abandoned cabin. Except, he told himself, for the trays of baked goods that were stacked on the chairs and the end of the table. And the stores of flour and coffee and sugar and what all standing like soldiers along the length of one wall.
He thought of the meager supplies he'd brought along with him and almost laughed. Obviously, she wasn't hurting for food.
But before the chuckle building inside him could escape, he noticed something else. Something that damn near took his breath away.
The adobe chinks between the logs of the cabin were splashed with color. Everywhere he looked, flowers were growing from the walls. White, yellow, blue, red, pink. Every color he could think of was represented. Trailing vines of green leaves stretched themselves across the old, battered logs and supported the flowers that by all rights should never have been there.
For one thing, it was the dead of winter.
And for another… flowers just didn't grow out of adobe. Especially adobe that was probably older than he was.
Openly staring, Brady turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. But there was no explanation for it. The flowers were simply… there, filling the tiny cabin with their scent.
"What the —“
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, following his gaze. "I don't know how it happened. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire that started them growing."
"Not likely."
"Well, what other explanation is there?"
"Good question," Brady said, bringing his gaze back to her. Sta
ring into those golden brown eyes that had haunted him for days and nights on end, he forgot about the flowers. Forgot about the storm and everything else in the world but Patience Goodfellow.
He'd come here to rescue her and that's damn well what he was going to do.
"If you get your things together fast, we can get back to town before the heart of the blizzard kicks in," he said.
She took a step back from him. “I'm not going back to town."
Stunned, he just looked at her for a long minute. He hadn't figured on this. Oh, he knew she'd likely be a bit stubborn, but he'd also thought she'd be damn glad to get away from the solitude. But she didn't look glad. In fact, her expression looked nothing short of downright unfriendly.
He sighed. "Damn it, Patience, you can't stay out here all alone with a blizzard blowing in."
"Don't swear at me, Brady," she said, her gaze darting all around the room, looking anywhere but at him. "And I'm fine here."
"Oh yeah," he said, snatching his hat off and slapping it against his thigh. Clumps of snow dropped to the floor at his feet. "I can see that. You look half-crazed…”
Her gaze snapped to his.
“I’m not crazy."
"I didn't mean that, exactly," he said, cursing himself for choosing the wrong words. “But you look Hell, Patience, a blind man can see you've been crying."
Well, perfect. He probably shouldn't have said anything about that either. Instantly, her chin went up a notch or two and her golden eyes narrowed defensively.
"You shouldn't be here, Brady."
Well, that was new. And damned discomfiting. That one short sentence stung bad. He scowled and wondered why it bothered him so that she was finally wanting him to leave her alone.
For damn close to two weeks now, he'd wanted nothing else. But up until today, she'd been all over him. Telling people they were going to be married. Insisting that he loved her. Insinuating herself into his life. Forcing him to accept her and put up with her craziness.
Making him actually give a damn.
And now that he did, she wasn't interested?
He shifted position and crumpled the brim of his hat in one tight fist. The heat of the room did nothing to dispel the chill in her eyes. A fine thing, he told himself in disgust. She'd made him ride into a snowstorm just to save her and now she didn't want to be saved?
"Are you asking me to leave?"
"Yes," she said flatly.
Brady blinked and stared at her. Hell, he'd never been thrown out of any place. And he'd been in some of the worst saloons and bars in the country. There he was welcome. But apparently not in this little cabin in the middle of nothing.
"You expect me to just turn around and ride back to town in this blizzard? Without you?”
"I didn't ask you to come out here," she reminded him.
"No, you sure didn't," he said, stomping across the room to the fireplace. The flames licked and danced at the neatly stacked wood in the hearth and heat streamed out at him. But he still felt chilled to the bone. Glancing quickly at the fire, he looked back at her and said, "No, you came out here to the middle of nowhere and set up house in a cabin that's about to fall down around your ears."
"It's fine."
"Oh yeah." Brady nodded shortly and waved one hand to encompass the tiny place. "It's a damn palace, Patience."
"Don't —“
"Curse at you," he finished for her.
She swallowed hard and he wondered if she was biting back a few curses of her own. "Go away, Brady."
"I'm not leaving you here alone."
She laughed shortly. "I've been alone for three days and it didn't bother you until now?"
He used the palm of one hand to dust what was left of the snow from the front of his coat. "In case you hadn't noticed, we didn't have a storm until today."
"Fine," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "If you're worried about the snow, I can promise not to go out in it."
"That's not good enough."
"It will have to be."
Frustration, something he'd become all too familiar with since Patience's arrival, rose up inside him, threatening to choke him. But he wouldn't give in to it. Not now, anyway. There'd be time enough later to figure out what the latest mystery concerning Patience was. For right now, though… There was something going on here. Something that she wasn't saying. Something she didn't want him to know.
And he wasn't about to leave her until he knew just what that was.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it across the back of the nearest chair. Throwing his hat onto the table, he planted his feet wide apart, inhaled deeply and crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her defensive stance.
"Just ease your mind around this one fact, Patience," he said tightly. “I’m not leaving until I find out why you're so anxious to get rid of me."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"I'm not trying to get rid of you," she lied and hoped he didn't see the untruth in her eyes. "But I'm… enjoying the peace and quiet out here" — another lie — “and I'm not ready to give it up yet."
"That's too damn bad," he said, much too quietly.
"Don't —“
"Swear."
Her gaze flicked up to his and she watched his pale blue eyes muddy and darken. Anger sputtered there, along with a frustration that almost shimmered around him. But she couldn't do anything about that. How could she possibly help him when she couldn't help herself?
"Brady," she said, running her hands up and down her forearms, to stave off a chill that seemed to be seeping into her bones. "Can't you see that I don't want you here?"
"Yeah," he said tightly, barely moving his mouth to form the words. "I can. And I want to know why."
Was that hurt she saw flash briefly across the surface of his eyes? Guilt tugged at her heart and changed nothing.
"What difference does it make?" Patience asked, wishing he would just leave. Now. Before she forgot that she didn't want him to see her as she was at the moment. Nervous. Worried. Even silently she didn't want to acknowledge the word "afraid."
A part of her was so happy to see him, so grateful to not be alone out here with the wild thoughts plaguing her. But she couldn't let him stay. No matter how much her heart urged her to.
Steeling herself to do the right thing, she said, "You've made no secret of the fact that you're not happy to have me around." She shrugged, easing the pain of that statement off her shoulders. "Well, now I'm not. So go home. Enjoy being without me."
"Is this about what I said to Sam the other day?" His voice came soft and she heard the tinge of regret coloring its tone.
Instantly, the memory of his words slapped at her and she recalled perfectly the sting of hurt she'd felt. The humiliation of hearing him deny her to his friends. And yet, that awful moment paled beside what she was feeling now. Shaking her head, she said simply, "No."
“Then what is it. Patience?" he snapped, his tone more forceful now. More demanding. "What the hell has got you so upset that you're willing to stay out here by yourself in what looks to be the worst blizzard in these parts in years?"
She couldn't tell him. Couldn't share the fear that had its claws dug deep into her stomach. So she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin even higher than it already was. "That's none of your business, Brady."
"That's where you're wrong, Patience."
"Pestilence!"
"The minute you waltzed into my place telling everybody and their uncle that we were engaged, you became my business."
She whirled around, turning her back to him briefly before turning back to face him. After all, there was nowhere to go in the tiny cabin. She couldn't very well rush off in a huff. She'd freeze to death — and dying wouldn't solve her problems. It would only create more of them.
"If you aren't the most stubborn —“
"Hah!" A short, sharp bark of laughter that was absolutely insulting in its lack of humor. “I'm stubborn? Patience, you could give lessons to a rock."
"Because I can't very well leave you out here unprotected."
Not because he loved her, she told herself. Not because he couldn't bear to be away from her any longer. But because she'd become a sort of responsibility. His duty. His charge.
Fresh pain lanced at her, but she buried it and answered him. "Unprotected from what?" she nearly shouted, but caught herself just in time. "The snow? I have a roof. I have a door. And a fire."
He shoved one hand through his hair. "Not just the storm, though that's enough by itself." He crossed the room to her in a few long strides. “There's animals out here too, you know. Some with four legs and too damn many with two."
She swallowed hard. "No animal is going to be able to open the door and I'm not going out. I've already told you I won't."
"And what about the two-legged kind?"
She flushed as he laid both hands on her shoulders and squeezed hard. Heat rushed into her body and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him. To take advantage of his hard, solid strength. But she couldn't. Couldn't risk that. Not until she understood what was happening to her.
"You mean men?"
"Yes, I mean men." he told her, giving her a shake as if she were a foolish child. "Somebody out riding in this mess spots the smoke from your chimney and comes right on in. How're you going to keep 'em out?"
She didn't have the slightest idea. And in fact that particular worry hadn't occurred to her even once during the last three days. "I —“
"You won't be able to."
Probably not. But planning for an attack by imaginary intruders was the least of her problems at the moment. “I’ll be fine.”
"If you say that enough, maybe you'll believe it. But I sure as hell won't."
She stared up into his eyes and read the fury banked there. He narrowed his gaze on her and she felt the strength of his pale blue eyes boring deep into her soul. She had the feeling that he was seeing far more than she wanted him to see.
When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance Page 16