A second heavy wagon echoed below. The packed wagon looked to be a supply run from San Antonio. Jason studied the driver and the two men traveling with him. Like most people arriving in a new place, they glanced about. It only took him a moment to catch sight of their eyes, and then he skimmed surface thoughts. Categorizing all three as exactly what they appeared to be, he withdrew.
Mariska’s eyes narrowed and her expression turned thoughtful. “You were reading those people below.”
One nod. “I read everyone who arrives. We will not be taken by surprise again.”
“What if they show up when you’re not here?”
“We will deal with it,” he shrugged. They would have to implement other ideas, but soon the town would settle. “The population will stabilize soon enough. Strangers will stand out, differences will be more easily noticed.”
“And they won’t need you as much.” Her swift grasp of the fact surprised him.
“Yes.” When that happened, he would be free to resume his own hunt and eliminate the target his presence painted on the town. “You did not answer my question.”
“No, I didn’t.” Mariska agreed with a hint of a smile. “It is not a subject I feel entirely comfortable discussing with you.”
“Yet you were comfortable enough to ask. What would you have wanted to know had I said yes?”
“If any of them were female.”
He gleaned a great deal of information from her admission. “Which neither Cody nor Ben are, and even if Ben was, he is too young.”
She nodded, the intensity in her startling blue wolf eyes undiminished. “Yes. I am still learning to understand my wolf and my reactions are far more intense, basic—animalistic. Cody accepts this part of his nature and he is comfortable with it. I am not sure why it is such a struggle for me now and…more, I don’t know how it will affect me later.”
Lacking Kid’s insight to what was going on beneath the surface, Jason considered the fundamental differences between male and female. “Talk to Miss Annabeth.”
“What?” Mariska blinked. “She is not…”
“No, but she’s a woman and she’s a mother. She knows how to listen.” If Mariska’s struggles were related to Kid’s absence, then perhaps a confidante would help. While it was all speculation on his part, Jason had little else to offer her.
“I’ll think about it.” The she-wolf nodded and canted her head. A moment later, sounds echoed below, and feminine voices drifted up the stairs. “The other ladies are here. They all brought you gifts.”
Surprised, Jason frowned. “Why?”
“You are too alone,” Mariska informed him. “So you will let us do this.”
Below, the rattling of yet another larger wagon grabbed at his attention and Jason glanced down to find a coach pulling in. The same deep brown as many of the stagecoach services, it had no markings and that suggested a private hire. Alarm rang through him and he focused on the driver—finding nothing suspicious, he considered the passengers. Two emerged from the side of the coach facing the general store. Recognizing the new saloon keep and his wife, he filtered through their surface thoughts. Three passengers had been on the coach, they and another woman.
The third passenger must have emerged on the far side of the coach. Behind him, feminine laughter and voices merged into the din. He identified both of his sisters-in-law, the younger amplifier, Sage, and Delilah joining Mariska. Ignoring them as they explored the apartment and discussed what it did and didn’t need, he continued to watch the street. Passengers offloaded, the driver set the team into motion again and revealed Dorado’s latest visitor finally.
His heart fisted in his chest, his lungs compressed, and hum of sound both internal and external shut off abruptly. Dressed in a deep gray muslin, with a light coat and a bonnet to match, he’d know the woman below anywhere.
She stood on the boardwalk, a long thin walking stick in hand, and though her eyes were closed and her head tilted back as though she were absorbing the sounds and scents around her—he knew what he would see if she opened them.
Spots danced across his vision. She’s alive…
Olivia, Dorado, Spring 1852
The sounds were off. The metallic thud of hammers pinged in the distance. Rough hewn voices—a mingling of guttural foreign accents and a more familiar twang—washed over her in lapping waves of conversation that rose and fell. Picking through the sounds, she searched for what was missing—what should be there. To her left, a woman’s muffled sobs whispered her misery. To her right, a couple’s friendly disagreement took a ribald tone. Across the street, horses stamped their feet, but mud squelched and diffused the thud.
She wasn’t in Dorado. The blacksmith’s should be open and the constant ping-ping of metal was missing. Lavender and lemon verbena should ride a heavy cloud from Madame Pontfour’s and she detected no taste of it on the breeze. The boardwalk vibrated with the passage of others around her, but far fewer in numbers for midday.
The other passengers had been quite certain of the hour as had the private coachmen when he’d helped her disembark. Still, she couldn’t shake the unease. The town didn’t sound right. A three and a half year absence would inevitably result in some changes—that was to be expected. Still, anxiety threaded through her veins and her heart beat uncomfortably fast. Over six months since she’d had any kind of word from her parents. Letters took time; their last missive had been nearly four months old by the time it reached her. Her father had never been terribly comfortable writing her letters, but she’d always had one or two from her mother every few months—and then nothing.
Only silence.
Well, standing in the middle of the street won’t get you any answers. Swallowing her disappointment that her parents hadn’t already rushed out to meet her, she adjusted her grip on the walking stick and located her valise. The coachman had told her he put it down next to her. Gripping it with her free hand, she lifted the bag and set out. She knew the town well. The coachman said he’d let her off in front of the inn. The general store, and her home, would be just thirty steps down the boardwalk. Navigating had grown considerably easier over the years. Tingles slid over her arms, a sensation so like a cold breeze that it raised all the hairs on the back of her neck. Excitement boomed like a cannon in her blood, a hurried step on the wooden boardwalk, and the achingly familiar scents of crushed leaves, leather, and man.
“Jason,” she exhaled his name like a prayer. A fierce grin stretched her mouth and made her cheeks ache. Hands closed over her arms and she stopped. The valise fell from her fingers and she reached forward, pressing her palm to his chest. The thump of his heart—even racing madly along as hers seemed to be—a welcome reminder that she was indeed, home.
“Olivia.” His voice was almost a breathless whisper and chill with a foreign note. One that sounded like disbelief.
“Hello!” Impatient with his distance, she gave him a hug. Threading her arms around him, she pressed her cheek to his chest and held on for dear life. He’d never begrudged her the desire for a hug, not once and she’d known him for as long as she could remember. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
Time elongated and slowly, too slowly, he enfolded her in his arms and she basked in the familiar scent of him. She detected the scent of sweat, grass, and perhaps horse—but beneath it all he was simply Jason.
“Hello there,” an unfamiliar woman greeted her.
Awareness of the impropriety of hugging Jason in the middle of the street shot through her, and she drew back, careful to not hit him with her walking stick.
“Are you going to introduce us, Jason?” A second woman. Movement around them. More than two.
“I’m Josephine Kane,” a third woman said in a distinctly British accent and Olivia’s heart plummeted.
Kane. Did Jason get married? Why didn’t Mama tell me?
“Olivia Stark,” she managed around the hard lump in her throat.
A swift indrawn breath to her right, and a throaty, almost hissed
murmur. “Are you all right Jason? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“You must be new to Dorado,” Josephine continued. “Well, maybe not new, but new to the…” She trailed off awkwardly.
Try as she might, Olivia didn’t hear Jason’s response to the fourth woman. Who were all these women? “No, ma’am.” She kept her voice even, as manners dictated. “I grew up here. I’ve been away at school, but I’ve finally come home.” Did you miss me, Jason? Before you got married? Angry hurt clawed at her belly, but she clenched her jaw. She would save her tears for when she could bury her face in her pillow. Too young, she’d always been too young. She’d had to be patient and grow up, but he hadn’t waited…
“Oh.” Josephine’s voice took on an odd note. The others shifted around her and Jason still didn’t speak.
“She doesn’t know…” Pity sharpened the first woman’s voice.
Impatient, and eager to shed these strangers so she could scream in the privacy of her room, Olivia reached for her valise—only to have it plucked from her fingers.
“Be quiet,” Jason ordered. “All of you. Olivia, take my hand and come.”
She could no more ignore that order than she could not breathe, but it still hurt to slip her hand into his and feel the strength in his fingers as he gave her a gentle squeeze.
“We’re going to cross the street. It’s four steps to the edge, one step down. Fifteen steps across the street, and then one step up.” The women whispered, but Olivia focused on Jason’s voice and nodded.
“I have it.” Following his instructions, and with her hand firmly in his, she ignored the women who continued talking.
“Is she blind?”
“I think so—who is she?”
“Has Jason ever mentioned her?”
Tightness spread through her chest. “I suppose you didn’t tell your wife about me.” She hadn’t meant it come out catty, but she’d waited so long for him—how could he…
“I don’t have a wife,” Jason replied. “Who are you…? Oh. Jo. Jo’s married to Micah. Scarlett’s married to Sam. Delilah and Mariska are the wives of—two others who are new here.”
She barely heard the rest. “You’re not married?”
“Step up.” He shifted his grip to her elbow and she followed the instruction. “No, I’m not married.”
Relief swamped her. “Oh. Good.”
“Good?” Thinly veiled amusement in the chill voice and Olivia grinned.
“Yes, good. You’re supposed to marry me, remember?” Petulant and childish perhaps, but he had promised.
“I am uncertain if extorting a promise to propose counts as a promise for marriage.” A pause, and he released her. A door opened and then his hand cupped her elbow again. “Three steps in.”
“I think it counts,” she felt so much better, lighter even. Jason hadn’t married in her absence. Now, all she had to do was convince him to court her and for her father to allow it. “Either way, a promise is a promise.”
The door closed with a thump and shut out the sounds of the town behind them. The store seemed especially silent, which was odd. “Pa?” When her joyful greeting echoed back at her, Olivia retreated a step. The store was never empty.
Her voice never echoed in here.
“Olivia,” Jason’s hand tightened on hers and pulled her around.
“Where are we?” Maybe he’d taken them into a quieter building for their reunion before going home. They’d crossed the street—and the store wasn’t on this side of the street.
“Olivia, we need to talk.” Careful, considerate words deeply tinged by chill worry.
Her heart began to race. “What happened? Where is Papa?”
Jason sighed. “I need you to trust me for a few minutes more, I want you to sit down.”
“Fine, but there are only stools in the store, no chairs. We’d have to go upstairs…”
His hesitation scared her more. “Come sit on the steps.” A knock at the door and Jason turned away from her. “One moment, Olivia.”
He opened the door. “Not now. Leave me to tell her. I’ll speak to you all later.” The door shut with an abrupt bang and the bolt slid home. He led her over to the steps and she took a seat. “May I take this for you?” He tapped the stick she’d locked in a death grip.
“Thank you.” It took effort to unpeel her fingers from it.
“I’m putting it one foot away to lean against the railing.” He tapped the railing so she could find it.
“Thank you,” she murmured again, and swallowed. All the moisture in her mouth seemed to have fled and her chest hurt. “Jason, please tell me what’s wrong.”
He sat down next to her, the weight of his presence a great comfort. Catching her hands in his, he sighed. “I have no easy way to say this.”
“Straight truth is better.” Because it had to be better than this horrible sense of wrongness.
“A fever came to the town last summer.”
Her stomach clenched and tears burned in the back of her throat. “Oh…oh no…”
“We lost nearly the whole town…including your parents.”
The world slid sideways and Olivia pulled her hands away to stuff them against her mouth before she started screaming. He didn’t let her get away, but instead wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“I thought—I thought you had been one of those lost.”
Grateful for the bruising squeeze of his arms, she fought to find her footing in this unfamiliar nightmare. “I was at the Perkins School in Boston. I’ve been there for the last three years…I went to learn.” They couldn’t both be dead. How could they have died and no one told her?
“I didn’t know.” Quiet wonder underscored his words. “I swear to you, I didn’t know.”
She believed him. “You weren’t here when I left.” It wasn’t an accusation, but he stiffened around her.
“I know.” He accepted her charge. “I should have been here. I thought…no one told me that you’d gone away to school.”
Odd. Then again Jason had traveled extensively and he’d gone back East to school. The last evening they’d shared together, and he’d sat with her throughout a town dance. She’d been just a month shy of her fifteenth birthday and they’d discussed her education possibilities. Dorado hadn’t much in the way of schools. Though she’d had some tutoring in subjects, most of what she’d learned came from the books Jason or her mother read to her.
“What happened to their things?” She wanted to go curl up in their bed, maybe pretend for a little while they were not gone.
Another silence and the dread ticked over inside of her. “We had to burn the town.” He went on to explain the devastation of the fever, the staggering number of the lost and the decision to burn everything lest they risk a spread of the fever. The dull pain inside of her numbed—it was almost too much to comprehend.
“This is a new Dorado, then?” Because she’d given her instruction to the coachman and he hadn’t acted like he took her to some destroyed town.
“Yes. We’ve been rebuilding it. We’ve also moved the town, the old one—the original one—is a few miles to the west. We’re closer to the Flying K, here.”
The Flying K. Jason’s home. The ranch so far away that he could only see her once every month or two. She’d always wanted to go and visit him on the ranch, but her father’s work in the store kept him busy and her parents never wanted her to go far—too afraid of what might happen if she couldn’t see the danger.
He brushed a finger down her cheek, and she realized she was crying. Hot, fat, damp tears slid down one after another.
“I am so sorry, Olivia.” He repeated the litany over and over, and when she burrowed into him, he held her. Her parents were dead. Her home was gone.
This was not the homecoming she’d dreamed about. But Jason was here…and her heart took solace in his nearness and clung to him for comfort. He didn’t disappoint her, and he didn’t let her go.
Jason, Torment
They could wait.
He’d used the water pump and helped her to wash her face, but her disquiet preyed on him as she walked the empty space—well, nearly empty save for the crates of supplies the women had delivered. They’d apparently brought a great many items in an attempt to settle him in town if he planned to spend so much time here.
“Are you living here now?” Her tear-roughened voice scraped over him.
“I haven’t set up a permanent occupancy, but I am overseeing the majority of the reconstruction.”
“I thought you attended law school,” she walked in a slow circuit, tracing her fingers against the wall. The confidence in her steps was a thing of beauty. From the moment he’d glimpsed her, his concentration splintered. He’d all but run down the stairs and across the street. Once he’d made it to the boardwalk, he hadn’t been certain of his approach. When her colorless eyes struck his, he’d probed, pushed, searched, and scanned.
Nothing.
No sound, no sense of the woman’s mind—just the beautiful silence he’d always heard and craved.
“Jason?” She paused in her pacing, head canted to listen for him.
“Yes, I studied law.” In a manner of speaking… It had been a cleverly constructed lie, a necessary deception and one he’d agreed to—just another in a long line of rational decisions performed to protect his family and the safety of others.
“Then why would you oversee construction?”
He took no insult from the direct question. “Because Sam has children now and we’ve had some issues at the ranch. We lost a fair number of our own to the fever and Micah is overworked. I am more suited to this task” Which was the truth when it came to hunting for those who might do them harm. He didn’t need to wait for them to act to find them.
Wanted: Fevered or Alive Page 5
