Early Dawn

by Catherine Anderson

  There were other differences between her and Livvy. Eden would never cling to the back of his belt and peer out at trouble around his arm. She’d be more inclined to step out in front of him and take a bullet. The thought scared him half to death. He didn’t want her to protect him. It was supposed to be the other way around, but he had a feeling he would play heck ever convincing Eden of that. If trouble knocked, she would answer the door and take it on. He had to respect that, because he would do the same himself, but loving a woman like her was going to be a challenge, and he’d probably be worried about her more often than not.

  Before drifting off to sleep, Matthew drew his watch from his pocket to thumb the inscription on its back. Just this one last time. The gold case winked in the moonlight, the flash as yellow as sunlight. That was odd. Normally the timepiece looked like tarnished silver in the darkness. It was probably pure silliness, but he took it to be a sign, a last little message from Livvy that she had given him her blessing. He could almost hear her say, Stop being such a goose, Matthew. Eden is wonderful. Love her with all your heart and don’t look back. Maybe he was just conjuring up the words he wished he could hear her say, but whether they were all in his imagination or not, it felt good to have them play through his head.

  Now that he’d made a commitment to Eden, the watch had to go. He couldn’t expect her to put up with his carrying it. She would know every time he checked the time that he was thinking of Livvy. When he got back to the cave, he would stow it in one of the packs. Someday when he and Eden settled down somewhere, he’d find a special place for it, maybe stored at the bottom of a drawer for safekeeping. He knew without asking that Eden wouldn’t expect him to throw the timepiece away.

  Tucking the watch back into his pocket, Matthew tipped his hat down over his eyes. His last thought as he went to sleep was that he wished Eden were there beside him.

  Over the next three days, Eden gathered edible plants to supplement her stores of food, collected firewood, cooked, cleaned up, took leisurely baths, laundered her clothes, and rested. She couldn’t believe how much she slept. The first morning, she’d lain down again right after breakfast and slept until late afternoon, but even so, she had still been ready for bed when darkness fell. On the morning of the second day, she felt a little less lethargic, but still took long naps in between her chores, and once again slept like a convalescent all night. By day three, she was starting to feel more like her old self. She wolfed down breakfast and then wished she’d cooked more. When she went walking through the woods in search of groundnuts and mushrooms, she felt a bounce in her step again. When she breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air, she felt a pang in her ribs, but the pain no longer nearly bent her double. Matthew had been right: All she had needed was some uninterrupted rest.

  She worried about him constantly. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he heading back toward her yet? Sometimes she envisioned him holed up behind rocks, shooting it out with the Sebastians and running low on ammunition. Other times she pictured him at his campfire, cooking or washing dishes. She prayed for his safety. Oh, how she missed him. It was strange how she’d so quickly come to feel lost without him. She yearned to hear the deep, silky tenor of his voice or the bark of his laughter. She wanted to feel the hardness and heat of his big body stretched out beside her at night. She ached for the touch of his hand on hers.

  On the fourth day, her concern mounted. He had hoped to be gone for only two or three days. What was taking him so long? What if he was dead? All that afternoon, she kept an ear pricked for the sound of a rider approaching, but the thump of hooves on the forest floor never came, and she went to bed with an ache in her heart. Something had gone wrong. She was sure of it.

  By day five, Eden knew she had to come to grips with the fact that Matthew might never return. When the sun began to dip toward the western horizon late that afternoon, she sat beside her small fire, arms locked around her bent knees, face buried in his jeans, and wept. Oh, God. She would never see his crooked smile again, never feel his arms around her, never hear his voice. Why had she allowed him to go without her? She could have kept the pace if she’d really tried.

  When Eden had cried herself empty of tears, she smothered the fire and went to bed with a sharp ache in her chest that kept her awake for hours. Matthew. If he was dead, she would always blame herself. Partners were supposed to stick together.

  In the morning, Eden sat by the fire and had another good cry. Six days. Something had happened. She had to face it: Matthew never would have stayed away for so long by choice.

  So now what? Before leaving, Matthew had asked her to look after herself, and though she hadn’t said she would do that, the promise had been implied when she kept assuring him that she would be fine. She also remembered how she’d harangued him for giving up on life after losing Livvy. Now her own words came back to haunt her. Matthew wouldn’t want her to sit here at the mouth of this cave and die. He’d want her to pick herself up, brush off her britches, and turn her mind to how she was going to survive. She had no horse. The deer he’d left suspended from the tree would soon start to sour, and she’d have no meat. Her brothers were looking for her. She needed to think of a way to signal them so they might find her.

  Eden forced herself to her feet. If Matthew was up in heaven, watching her right now, she wanted him to be proud of her.

  Her first order of business was figuring out how to preserve the deer meat. She unfastened the rope that suspended the partially consumed carcass from the tree limb and lowered it onto a bed of pine needles that she’d gathered. Then she set to work with a knife to trim away all the meat from the bones. Once again, her torn traveling dress came in handy. Saving back some of the meat to cook later, she laid the rest on the spread cloth, knotted the material into a bundle, and used her rib cage binding as a rope. The creek was ice-cold. Constant submersion in water would turn the meat white on the surface, but the chill would preserve it for a few more days. In the meanwhile, she would have to determine a way to get more meat by herself without firing a gun.

  Mindful of attracting bears and cougars, Eden carried the cut-up deer downstream from her camp until she found a sapling along the bank that would provide adequate anchor. She tied one end of the rib cage binding around the bundle’s knot and the other around the slender base of the alder. Soon the meat was floating in the stream. She crouched at the edge to wash her hands. Cutting up meat was bloody business.

  When she got back to camp, she realized it was time for lunch. She had to eat to maintain her strength, so she prepared a midday meal and then forced herself to eat every last bite. After washing the dishes, she found a small slab of shale to use as a spade and dug a hole so she could bury the deer bones. She was sweating like an overworked horse by the time she finished the excavation, but surprisingly, she wasn’t so tired that she wanted to collapse. All that sleep truly had put her right. Her ribs still hurt, but not as much as they had. She didn’t get light-headed. No knifing pains. She was on the mend.

  So what next? She decided she should fashion a spear for hunting and a pole for fishing. Sitting by the fire, she used a rock to sharpen the knife with which she’d cut up the deer. When it had an edge like a razor, she found a fairly straight branch and went down to the stream to slice off strips of the skirt to use as binding. Soon, she had the meat back in the water and had fashioned a halfway decent spear. Practice at hunting would begin first thing in the morning. She probably wouldn’t get anything for a few days, so she needed to learn that skill while she still had the deer meat to sustain her.

  The sunlight was starting to fade by the time she got around to making a fishing pole, no easy task. It was simple enough to find a limber branch, and she’d salvaged a couple of her hairpins and stowed them in her pants pocket. She could use those to fashion hooks. But she had no fishing line.

  If she unraveled one end of the wool blanket, the strands would be thick and visible to the fish. She needed horsehair, or something like that, but she had no
horse’s tail handy. What she did have was her own mane of hair. She didn’t relish the thought of plucking herself half-bald. It would hurt, for one, and she’d have to triple-strand the line to make it strong enough, but needs must. Her hair was coarse enough to work.

  She sat by the fire and set herself to the task, jerking long strands of hair out by the roots, her scalp smarting with every pull. When she had several lengths, she began working three strands together into a thin braid. It took a lot of tugging to braid a line that was only four feet long. She needed it to be long enough for casting. She truly might be half-bald by the time this project was completed. Her hair would grow back, though. If she starved to death before her brothers found her, there would be no second chances. Clenching her teeth against the sting, she began plucking more strands from her head, determined to have a fishing line made before she started supper.

  “I knew you’d be worried, but I didn’t think I’d find you in such a state that you’d be pulling out your hair.”

  Eden jumped with a start and jerked her head up. “Matthew?”

  He stood at the opposite side of the fire, his long legs braced wide apart, his big hands riding low on his narrow hips. The battered Stetson shadowed his eyes. He wore no jacket, and his clothing was coated with reddish brown dust.

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  Eden shot to her feet, raced around the fire pit, and launched herself at him. When his hard arms closed around her, she let loose with a sob.

  “It’s really you!” she cried. “Thank God, thank God. I thought for sure you were dead.”

  He tightened his embrace, pulling her more firmly against him, and began to sway back and forth, his face pressed against her hair. “You aren’t going to get rid of me that easy. The Sebastians just proved to be a little wilier than I thought, and losing them took me longer than planned.”

  Eden wrapped both arms around his neck and stepped up onto the toes of his boots to hug him tightly. A tangle of emotions coursed through her: relief and joy mingled with a rush of desire. “I’m so glad to see you. So very glad!”

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Eden leaned back to gaze up at his dark face through a shimmer of tears. “Did you lose them, then?”

  “They’re as lost as last year’s Easter eggs. Let’s just hope they stay that way. I’d like to get you to Denver before they figure out the trick.”

  Eden no longer cared about reaching Denver. As long as she had Matthew, she had everything. Her happiness welled so huge that her heart felt as if it might burst.

  He bent to kiss her. The brim of his hat bumped against her temple and toppled from his head. He paid it no mind as he slanted his mouth over hers. Eden’s heart truly did almost burst with happiness then. Matthew. As the kiss deepened, she felt as if every nerve in her body started to hum. She couldn’t feel her feet, and the pleasure made her dizzy.

  When he finally came up for a breath, he flashed one of those lopsided grins that she’d come to love. “Have I ever told you how very beautiful you are?” he asked.

  “That’s a compliment that I will happily hear more than once.”

  “You are so beautiful that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when I look at you.”

  “It felt to me as if your tongue was stuck to the roof of mine.”

  He gave a startled laugh. “Complaining?”

  “No. I hope it takes up permanent squatting rights.”

  He chuckled again. “Will you settle for occasional visits? I won’t get much done if I’m kissing you constantly.”

  Keeping her fingers intertwined at the nape of his neck, she leaned back the length of her arms to gaze up at him. She loved every line and angle of his face. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Matthew Coulter.”

  “So are you, Eden Paxton. I tried to get back sooner. I knew you’d be worried sick. But I couldn’t shake the bastards.”

  “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  He glanced to where she’d been sitting by the fire. “I know it’s probably a stupid question, but why were you yanking your hair out?”

  “To make a fishing line.” She told him about her day’s activities. “If you were up in heaven watching me, I wanted to show you that I do have what it takes to be a rancher’s wife.”

  He grinned again. “If I had been in heaven, why would that have mattered?”

  “I wanted you to be proud of me.”

  He searched her gaze. “I am. It’s good to know that if something ever happens to me, you will be okay.” He arched an eyebrow. “How are the ribs?”

  “Much better. You were right: All I needed was a lot of rest. I’m feeling good, and my appetite is coming back. Speaking of which, you’re probably hungry. I’ll go down to the stream and get some meat for supper.”

  He loosened his hold on her so she could step away. Then, before she could, he grabbed hold of her hand to give it a hard squeeze. “Don’t be long. I swore all the way back that I’d never let you out of my sight again.”

  “It’s not that far away.”

  “I’ll tend to the animals while you’re gone. Then I’ll help fix supper.”

  While Matthew unburdened the horses and mule and then set to work rubbing them down, his thoughts remained on Eden. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more, a bite of food or a taste of her. She was so damned beautiful. After all she’d been through with the Sebastians, though, he didn’t want to rush her. He decided he’d be smarter to just eat supper and keep his hands off her. She didn’t seem wary of him, but with Eden, it might be hard to tell. She had a way of pretending she was stronger and braver than she actually was.

  After watering the animals and giving them each a bit of grain as a well-deserved treat, Matthew went to the creek for a much-needed bath and shave, washed his clothes, and then joined Eden at the fire. He peeled potatoes while she floured the steaks, put them in the skillet to fry, and started making a salad.

  As he worked, visions of her body ricocheted through his head. Though he’d tried not to look that night when he’d interrupted her bath, he’d taken in details in spite of himself. Her skin was the color of fresh cream, pale and silky-looking. And she had beautiful breasts, small but plump, and tipped with strawberry pink crests. Her narrow waist flared out to temptingly full hips that made his hands itch to stroke them and knead her soft flesh.

  Thirty minutes later, the meal was finished and Matthew was already in need of another dunk in the creek. The realization both frustrated and amused him. As much as he loved being with Eden, it was sweet torture, too.

  Determined to get his mind off sex, Matthew sat beside her and went after his food like a starving man. The lady could flat cook. “I missed your steaks and salad while I was gone. Nothing I fixed tasted half as good as this.”

  She smiled softly. “I hope you missed me for other reasons as well.”

  “Lots of other reasons. Playing hangman by myself was boring as hell.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

  Matthew remembered how much he had regretted not telling her that he loved her before he left. “I may not be much of a romantic, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “What did you say?”

  “I said that I love you. You got cotton in your ears?”

  Her eyes went sparkly. “No cotton. I just didn’t think—”

  “That I’d ever get up the guts to say it?”

  She smiled tremulously. “I thought you’d get around to saying it eventually, in your own time and in your own way.”

  Matthew looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Aren’t you gonna say it back to me?”

  Her cheek dimpled in an impish grin. “I love you, Matthew Coulter. Now that we’ve both said it, what are we going to do about it?”

  Matthew circled that. “Swe
etheart, it pains me to say this, but I reckon we should just sit on it for a while, give ourselves time to get used to the idea.”

  She set aside her plate and mug. “I’m already used to the idea. Now I think it’s time to make it official. Don’t you want to make love with me?”

  He almost choked on a half-chewed chunk of meat. When he finally got it swallowed, he stared at her, not sure how to answer that question. At last a reply popped out. “Of course I do.”

  “Well, then?”

  He gave the last of his spuds an agitated stir. “Well, then, what?”

  “Don’t you think you should . . . do something about it?”

  He gave up on eating what little was left on his plate and set aside his meal. “But we’re not married yet.”

  “If you don’t marry me as soon as you can, I’ll tell Ace to get out his shotgun.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I think you delight in shocking me, Eden Paxton. Maybe your mama never got around to explaining things to you, but this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

  “Ah. I suppose it’s unseemly for a woman to confess that she wants to make love. How improper of me. So how is it supposed to go, Matthew?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I test the water and decide when the time is right. Then I—” He broke off and shrugged. “You’ve been through one hell of a lot. What kind of man would I be if I pushed you before you’re ready? You’re also a lady, through and through. If we do anything, you may regret it in the morning.”

  “Nobody pushes me to do anything I don’t choose to do, Matthew. And I’m as ready as I’ll ever get. I won’t regret anything in the morning.”

  She rose lithely to her feet and disappeared into the cave. When she returned, she carried the bedroll in her arms. After laying it out beside the fire, she straightened to take off her jacket. Her hands went to the buttons of the shirt, and Matthew’s heart started to pound in his chest like the hooves of six runaway horses.