“You look worn to the bone,” Susanna said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed. You can tell us everything after you’ve rested. Nothing can be done tonight.”
Susanna led them upstairs and Claire started to follow, but stopped when Matt and Logan appeared through the front entryway.
“What’s going on?” Matt demanded. “Whose horse is that outside?”
“It’s Emma.,” Claire replied. “She arrived just moments ago.”
“Is Nathan with her?” Matt asked.
“Apparently not. But she did say he found her.”
“Then where is he?” Logan asked.
Claire shrugged helplessly. “Emma doesn’t look well, but maybe once she rests we can learn what happened. I’m going to see if Susanna needs any help.”
She kissed Logan then hurried up the stairs to join the other women. She had a pouch of dried passionflower leaves with her medicines—she would offer to make a tea for Emma to help her rest.
Matt’s silence was deafening.
“You think Nathan’s in trouble?” Logan asked, wondering the same thing.
“He wouldn’t let Emma come here by herself. Not all the way from Arizona.”
“Let’s talk to her first before jumping to any conclusions.”
“You’re right. But if needs be, I’ll ride at first light.”
“I’ll go with you,” Logan declared.
“You don’t have to. I’ll take Dawson or Hicks. I owe Nathan—he risked his life when Cerillo had me. And you just got married today.”
“Yeah.” Logan was a happy man, and he certainly had no intention of jeopardizing that happiness needlessly. Claire carried their child and the thought made his lips twitch into an almost-smile. He had much to be thankful for. “But you’re right, Nathan wouldn’t have sent Emma out on her own at this time of year. Don’t ride without me.”
His brother looked at him with gratitude. “I’d appreciate the backup.”
“I’ll find pa and tell him what’s goin’ on.”
Matt agreed. “I’ll check on the ladies.” He paused for a moment. “I’m glad Emma’s here. It’s weighed on Molly a lot lately, wondering when—or if—she’d ever see her again.”
Logan saw the relief in his brother’s gaze and realized he hadn’t noticed in the days since his return how much Matt had been concerned about his wife. As he went to find his pa, he hoped all would be well.
* * *
Warm lips nuzzled his ear. Logan woke, still in the parlor, having dozed off while waiting. He pulled the warm body close and Claire wrapped her arms around him. A quick scan of the room told him they were alone.
“How’s Emma?” he asked, burying his hand in her hair. God, she felt good.
“She’s more than just tired, she’s seems almost hollowed out inside. It’s heartbreaking.” Claire laid her head into the nook of his shoulder. “We fed and bathed her, and I gave her a sedative tea to help her sleep.”
“Did she say what happened?”
“They got split up somehow, and she was very upset when she learned he wasn’t here.”
“Matt may ride out tomorrow to look for him.” Logan twined his fingers with hers. “I’m gonna go with him.”
Claire moved closer. “I thought you might, and you should. But please, be careful.”
“Always, darlin’.”
“Can we go to bed?” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck.
He kissed her, his mouth aching for hers. A thought flitted through his mind. Claire Waters couldn’t possibly be here. But she was. She was here beside him, in his life, in his home, and she would lie beside him tonight as his wife, for good. His mouth moved over hers with a hunger that needed privacy to be appeased.
He carried her to his bedroom. Their bedroom.
“It’s a good thing your room isn’t upstairs,” she teased.
“It wouldn’t matter,” he said quietly. He pushed the door shut with his foot. “There’s no doubt in my mind that no matter how tired I was, I’d still be able to make love to you all night long.” He laid her on the bed, and he saw the acceptance in her eyes along with a need that matched his own.
He had her stripped and beneath him in no time, reminding him that he’d had as little patience on their first wedding night. Claire matched his hunger, and the coupling left them both panting and clinging to the other. He ran a hand across her ribcage and felt the scar tissue from the bullet she’d taken in Cimarron.
“Your wound is healed?” he asked.
“Yes, but it took a long time.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to the knotted flesh, savoring every part of her.
Much later, after he’d had her twice more, they lay together, sheets twisted around them and Claire’s hair in a mess across his chest. He thought of the child in her belly, and a sense of peace and excitement engulfed him.
There would be more children, God willing.
He reached over to his nightstand, opened a drawer and withdrew the item he'd kept all this time.
“I have something for you,” he murmured.
“What’s that?” she asked, her sleepy voice stirring him.
He handed her the wood carving of a dove she’d made as a child. She looked up at him in bewilderment.
“Where did you get this?”
“Tia gave it to me for safekeeping.” He’d been unable to part with it, this piece of Claire’s soul. “We’ll give it to the baby.”
“All right.” She scooted against him to bring her mouth to his, revealing an enticing view of the valley between her breasts.
Palomita. The dove had come back to him.
THE END
I'm so pleased you chose to read The Dove, and it's my sincere hope that you enjoyed the story. I would appreciate if you'd consider posting a review. This can help an author tremendously in obtaining a readership. My many thanks. ~ Kristy
About The Author
As a child, Kristy McCaffrey frequently narrated to herself. It soon became apparent that she had an affinity for this writing thing. Raised on a steady diet of sci-fi/fantasy and tales of King Arthur, she transferred this love of mythic storytelling to penning western romances once she decided, at long last, to pay attention to her natural inclinations. Educated as an engineer, she swiftly gave that up to be a stay-at-home mom and aspiring author. She and her husband live in the Arizona desert, where their four children are in varying stages of flying the nest. A great love of travel frequently ends up on her blog, along with attempts at humor. This is often at the expense of her kids, which has led them to proclaim, "We will no longer read your blog, Mom." They also refuse to follow her on Twitter. Kristy believes life should be lived with curiosity, compassion, and gratitude, and one should never be far from the enthusiasm of a dog. She also likes sleeping-in, eating Mexican food, and doing yoga at home in her pajamas.
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