by Lisa Bingham
Susan nodded in understanding and, leaving Daniel’s side, hurried toward the train. Not bothering to ask permission, she grasped the reins of the horse being led down the ramp, recognizing it as the one Daniel always rode. Despite the disgruntled look she received from the man who had been trying to unload the animal for himself, Susan tugged the mount back to Daniel.
Daniel looked at her, obviously debating whether he should follow his ingrained sense of duty to his men or stay with Susan.
Reaching his side, she stared up at him. As she searched his pale, tension-carved face, she knew just how close she had come to losing him. “We’re going home, Daniel. Your job here is finished.”
Bit by bit his defiance drained away. Curling his fingers around her neck, he dipped his head to seal her lips with a tender kiss, letting her taste of the fear and panic that had held him in their grip since he’d seen her in Grant’s clutches. “Yes. We’ll go home.”
He swung onto the horse, then reached out to help her up behind him. Her arms curled around his waist and she buried her cheek in his neck, savoring the strength of his body.
“You know where to find me,” Daniel said to Kutter, holding the reins firmly to calm his jittery horse.
The older man nodded. “I’ll be in touch in the next day or so. I might even bring a cow.”
Daniel’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “Thanks,” he said. Both men knew he wasn’t referring to livestock, but to the fact that Kutter had released him from his duties and understood his need to see Susan safely hidden away.
Kutter’s face creased in an uncomfortable frown even as his eyes twinkled with unabashed delight. “Get out of here,” he ordered gruffly. “And make sure you’re not followed.”
One of Daniel’s men returned to give him his revolver. Daniel shoved the weapon into his holster, lifted the reins, and trotted toward the gulch.
Once they were away from the ambush site and moving through the trees, Susan spoke up. “Your wound?”
“Just a crease,” Daniel replied. “We can tend to it as soon as we get back.”
She nuzzled her face into his uninjured shoulder and squeezed him. He returned the pressure, using his free hand to clasp her arm.
Up ahead, the trees rustled. Daniel pulled on the reins, drew his revolver, and held it in a steady deadly aim on the unknown intruder.
A familiar figure edged his horse onto the road.
“Donovan!” Susan cried, shocked to find the man here.
Daniel relaxed. “Good work, Donovan.”
Donovan threw him a mocking salute. “My pleasure. Where you headed?”
“I think it’s best if we disappear for a day or two.”
“Good. Don’t worry about anything at Benton House; we’ll be fine. I’ll alert the town about the Dooleys on my way back.” He gave Daniel his rifle. “You’re going to need this, boy.”
Daniel slid the rifle into the scabbard on his saddle.
“You two be careful now,” Donovan urged. Then he directed his horse toward the orphanage and disappeared down the road.
He grew preoccupied as he urged Chief toward the mouth of the pass. Once they had reached the edge of the canyon, Daniel waited in a concealing screen of trees until he was satisfied that no one lurked anywhere near. Then he prodded the horse into a gallop, heading north, following the line of the mountains and the crooked path of the creek.
After a few miles, Susan asked, “Where are we going?”
“Trapper Pass.”
Chapter 27
Susan didn’t ask any more questions. She sensed Daniel’s urgency and desire to hide them safely away from prying eyes.
Since she’d expected to ride for some time, perhaps long into the night, she was surprised when Daniel guided Chief into a narrow pass through the mountains. He rode over a shallow frozen creek and ascended a small hill. There, nestled in the valley below, stood a small frame house and a barn. In the late afternoon sunshine the buildings rested in shadows, their shapes warm and welcoming.
Susan was almost hesitant to inquire, “Daniel, where are we?”
He spoke softly, but his voice rang with quiet pride. “Home.”
“Home? Is this your place?”
“I bought the spread with the help of a friend about five years ago. My debt to him was paid today.”
“Five years?” she echoed weakly. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you ever live here until now?”
His fingers curved around her knee in a reassuring caress. “Because I expected to return as the conquering hero,” he stated ruefully. “But I made a living out of killing—first in the cavalry, then with the Pinkertons. I didn’t want to come back with blood on my hands.” His mouth tightened. “I wanted to show people I’d made something of myself, that I wasn’t a homeless brat abandoned in the alleys of Bentonburg, Pennsylvania.”
“We never thought that, Daniel.”
“I did.”
At last Susan understood that part of Daniel’s hardness came from the image of himself that he’d been nurturing inside his mind since childhood. He believed himself to be unworthy of love, so he thought everyone else felt the same way.
“You could have stayed here all these years.”
He smiled and twisted in the saddle to meet her gaze, his eyes warm and heated in a way Susan had rarely seen. “If it hadn’t been for you,” he continued, “I probably never would have found the courage to stay here.”
He smiled, and Susan hugged his waist with all the fervor and passion that had been growing inside her. Turning, he nudged Chief forward, heading for the buildings in the center of the clearing.
He led the gelding to the barn, stopping to allow Susan to slide to the ground. After following suit, he jerked open the doors. A musty smell still lingered inside. Although he’d come here several times in the last few days to prepare for Susan’s arrival, a faint air of neglect still clung to the place, a result of the years without an owner and Daniel’s infrequent visits.
But there was nothing another batch of fresh straw and a little spring air couldn’t take care of, he thought with satisfaction. Once the warmer weather came, he’d replace some of the posts that had been gnawed at by horses boarded inside during the winter. Then in time he’d install new pulleys and ropes in the loft. With a load of hay and some animals, the place would look and smell almost new.
After rubbing Chief down, Daniel looked up to find Susan waiting for him in the doorway.
“We really should get you inside and take care of that wound.”
“Fine.” He grasped his Winchester, then held out his hand. “Welcome home, Mrs. Crocker.”
Together they walked toward the house. When she saw the building that would become her home, she felt a thrill of delight. Susan knew she could make a life for herself here with Daniel and perhaps their children—something she had dreamed about but had never really hoped to attain, until Daniel reentered her life.
“The house isn’t much right now, I’m afraid. It’s been out of use for a while. I’ve come here once or twice in the last few days to clean a few things, but it’s still a little rickety. Maybe soon we can afford to give it a coat of whitewash … and I’m pretty handy with a hammer.”
“Daniel, it’s lovely.”
“It is something, isn’t it?” Whooping, he swept her into his arms, sucking in his breath at the yanking pain in his shoulder and setting her back on the ground. He swore and touched the flesh wound.
“Where’s the key?” She smiled at his effort.
“Left breast pocket.”
She burrowed her numbed fingers beneath his coat, savoring the warmth of his skin as she tunneled beneath the buttoned flap of his work shirt and withdrew the watch chain.
“The key with the worn etchings,” Daniel instructed.
Susan noted the brass designs on the base of the key had been rubbed smooth, as if they had been caressed, over and over again, in unc
onscious devotion.
The latch gave way with a grating rasp, demonstrating its lack of attention in the last few years. The swollen back door resisted her push, and Daniel kicked it until it flew open and slammed against the inside wall.
She stepped inside the kitchen, and he followed, setting his revolver and rifle on the counter of the hutch. The room was dim due to the boarded windows, but enough light entered through the cracks between the slats to illuminate the tiny area.
Susan gazed about her, not noticing the cobwebs Daniel had missed in the corners, the secondhand furniture, or the musty closed-in smell. She envisioned how it would look after a more thorough cleaning, with curtains at the windows and a fresh tin countertop on the hutch.
“It doesn’t look like much now,” Daniel said.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I didn’t really have time to get things ready for you. I managed to scrape off most of the dust and scrub down the furniture … and I brought in a few things.” Daniel hesitated like a little boy, obviously wanting to please her. “There’s a pantry here”—he crossed to throw open a door to a tiny two-by-two closet—“and through there is a bedroom.”
Susan joined him at the second door and looked in at the small unfurnished room. Then Daniel was darting toward the middle of the kitchen.
“We’ve got a root cellar, with a trapdoor right in the house, not outside!” He pounded on the hollow spot with his heel, then grasped her arm and pulled her into the hall. “This will be the parlor,” he said, motioning to a small room at the front of the house. The windows promised a wealth of light once the protective planks were removed and the panes cleaned.
“And this”—he hesitated, then opened the final door—“is another bedroom.”
Peeking around his shoulder, Susan saw that, except for the kitchen, it was the only room in the house with furniture. A dresser stood next to one wall, complete with a porcelain pitcher and basin. The rest of the small space was filled with an iron bed. Evidently Daniel had bought it on one of his trips. It now stood resplendent with fresh linens and a quilted comforter.
“ ’Course there’s still a lot to be done. I’d hoped to finish before you came.”
“I’m glad you didn’t finish. I’ll enjoy helping you get it ready.”
He smiled, drawing her into his arms. She allowed herself the luxury for only a moment, then pulled back. “Your shoulder.”
She took him to the kitchen and pushed Daniel into a rickety green chair—which, besides the battered table and hutch, was the only piece of furniture in the room. “We’re going to bandage that wound right now,” she stated firmly.
“No turpentine.”
“No turpentine.”
Susan helped him take off the duster, then his coat and shirt. A streak of blood creased his shoulder. Lifting her skirts, she unbuttoned her petticoat and allowed it to drop to the floor. Daniel watched with one brow lifted in teasing inquiry.
She blushed. “Where can I get some water?”
Daniel gestured to the pantry. “A pump was piped into the house, but not to the kitchen. I primed it a few days ago.”
A pail hung from the neck of the pump, and she filled the container with water, then returned. Using the top of her petticoat, she cleansed his skin, glad to see that while he had lost some blood, the wound was only superficial. She ripped the ruffle off her petticoat and snapped the gathering threads, making a long, narrow strip of cotton. She then proceeded to wrap the makeshift bandage around his shoulder, binding the wound.
“That should do until we can get to the orphanage and find you a proper dressing.”
He lifted his arm, testing the muscle. He winced at the twinge of pain, but his smile of pleasure congratulated her on her efforts. Due to the chill of the air, he slipped his arms back into the shirt.
Susan urged Daniel back into the bedroom and settled him on the edge of the mattress. “You just sit here. I’m going to pump some more water so that both of us can wash. I want you to rest until I get back.”
Susan returned to the kitchen, retrieving the pail she’d used earlier. Crossing to the door, she dumped the soiled water into the snow, then went to the pump and filled the container with clear water. Humming beneath her breath, she set the bucket on the table and returned to the chilly porch to remove a few sticks of wood from the stack piled against the outer wall. After shutting herself into the relative warmth of the kitchen again, she dodged into the parlor, where she’d seen a fireplace.
“Daniel?” Since she could find no matches, she went back into the bedroom to ask Daniel where he had hidden them.
She found him fast asleep on the bed. It appeared the events of the day, combined with the shock of his wound, had proved to be more than his body could handle.
Shivering, Susan foraged through the drawers in the hutch until she discovered a tin of matches. Crowing with success, she took the bucket and hurried to the parlor and lit a fire.
Soon she had enough of a blaze to heat the water and allow her to wash. After scrubbing her skin clean, she grimaced in distaste when forced to don her suit again. The purple fabric was streaked with mud, and the snow had caused some of the dyed braid to bleed.
Emotionally and physically drained after all that had happened since that morning, Susan gathered up Daniel’s coat and padded barefoot into the bedroom. She climbed upon the bed, nestling up to her husband and wrapping her arms around his waist as if to assure herself that he was warm and safe.
Daniel awoke with a start. Turning his head, he found Susan studying him with such adoration in her eyes that his chest swelled.
She removed the watch from his pocket and lifted the lid. “It’s barely six. You’ve been asleep less than an hour. You should try to rest.”
Daniel rubbed one hand over his face, attempting to still the adrenaline that continued to race through him after all that had happened. He kept telling himself it was over, but his mind and body refused to believe that. After ten years with the Pinkertons he was finding it difficult to leave that life behind and move on to another.
“How’s the wound?”
He flexed his arm. There was a dull throb in his shoulder and he could feel the muscles growing stiff, but he was alive and he’d survived worse. No doubt he’d survive this, too.
“It’s just a twinge. It’ll be better in no time.”
They lay for long minutes in peaceful silence. Then Susan’s stomach growled and she giggled. “I don’t suppose that among the things you tucked away in this house there might be some food?”
“As a matter of fact …”
He found a tin of beans and another of peaches. They spread one of the blankets on the parlor floor and ate their meal straight from the cans. They used Daniel’s knife as a makeshift utensil, since he had neglected to bring plates or flatware.
When they finished, Susan’s fingers were sticky, but her appetite was satisfied. “So what are you going to do now that you’re not a Pinkerton?” she asked.
“I thought I’d raise stock and some horses. My years in the cavalry and with the Pinkertons have made me a good judge of horseflesh, and I think I can earn a living at it. For both of us.”
She liked the sound of that. Both of us.
Daniel edged closer. “I hope you’ll be happy here, Susan. It might get lonely. Sometimes the pass isolates us from Ashton in the winter.”
“Then we’ll never have to worry about privacy.” Her gaze flicked to his lips, wondering when he would kiss her.
Daniel kept talking, avoiding that look. “In the spring it will be muddy and the road will be impassable.”
“So we’ll have no unwelcome guests.”
Daniel didn’t continue. He couldn’t. Susan’s hair spilled about her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed like deep summer streams. She was so beautiful, he wondered how much longer he could wait until she became his in every way.
When Daniel remained silent, Susan added, “You’ve
forgotten summer, Daniel. In summer we’ll be shaded by the hills, and a fresh breeze will cool the house. Then in autumn the leaves will explode with color, and we’ll be protected from the first chill of winter.”
He touched one of her fingers, then moved on to the next. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, so enticing. “I’m offering you a hard life, Susan. There won’t be a lot of money at first.”
“I don’t need money.”
“For a while I won’t be able to hire any help.”
“I’ll help.”
“And this house is small and cramped. It may be years before we can build an addition.”
“I don’t want another room, Daniel.”
He abandoned his examination of her hand and looked up. What he saw in her gaze made him pause. Need. Desire.
“I have everything I need. Right here,” she said. “You’ll see. We’ll be happy. So happy.”
The expression on his face told her clearly that he didn’t know if he should believe her. He’d lived his whole life alone—and now that there was someone to share it, he felt he wasn’t offering her enough.
She leaned forward. “This house and this land are more than I ever dreamed of having, Daniel. But I’d give them up in a second if my having them meant I’d never have you.”
Her voice grew husky as she remembered the moment when Grant Dooley had stood above them, his revolver aimed at Daniel’s head.
“I’ve been followed by a damn unlucky star. Until now,” Daniel whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”
She shook her head, still not understanding why he couldn’t see that she didn’t care about his past—not when they had a future. Together.
“Why not, Daniel?”
He didn’t answer. He merely twisted to plant a kiss in the center of her palm. Susan made a fist as if she could capture the warmth of his lips.
In a lithe, simple movement, Daniel turned her away from him and drew her back against his chest, closing his arms around her waist. They remained that way for some time, watching the slivers of light from the boarded windows crawl across the floor as dusk fell and darkness closed in upon them.