Aiming for Love

by Mary Connealy

  Pa didn’t care if he got left alone, and Pa wasn’t going to say that because he didn’t want Mitch to go.

  “Doubt a long, cold ride is a good idea.” Pa sipped his coffee. “What did you do with your company back east?”

  “I sold out. I turned everything I had to cash.” Mitch hadn’t given every little detail about what brought him home. “I was involved with a woman. I thought things might be serious, and I was holding back on a proposal because I’ve always known I wanted to come home, and Katrina was no good fit for the frontier. I liked her though, thought I loved her for a time.”

  He saw sadness in Pa’s eyes and even knew the reason why. If Mitch had married Katrina, there was every chance he’d’ve never come home, not even for a visit. It was a choice that would’ve cut Mitch off from his family for good. But Pa didn’t mention that. He was a man who let another man make his own choices.

  “Then I compared her to Ma and had made up my mind to break things off with her, but before I could get that done, someone tried to kill me.”

  Pa had the coffee cup raised to his lips, but he froze, then slowly lowered the cup. “So you said before.”

  “Yep, and then they tried again. I went looking for answers and found my business partner in cahoots with Katrina. They had plans to kill me and take over my property.”

  Mitch was silent for too long. “It’s a humbling thing for a man to find out his judgment with women is faulty. My judgment with men, too, come to that. I trusted them both. I had to do some very quick and quiet work to sell my companies and convert the money I made into gold. I left a cache of gold coins hidden near the Circle Dash.”

  “And what of your woman friend and your partner? They won’t try and find you?”

  “I laid down a false trail so they’ll think I’m traveling in Europe. It gave me a good excuse to get things in order so my daily presence wouldn’t be missed. Then I hired a man who looked like me to dress like me and get on that ship under my name for a six-week trip. I’m hoping they won’t notice I’m gone for a long time. Then I headed west. I didn’t go by Mitch Warden back east, anyway. I was Mitch Pierce.”

  “Your middle name, why’d you use that?”

  “I had to do some things in the war that made me want to use a false name, and the name stuck. I had a commanding officer who helped me get started in business, and he knew me by the name I’d used while a spy. I never got around to correcting him. When I decided to come home, I sent that man to Europe under my middle name, then slipped out of town on horseback and rode a fair piece before I took a train under a different name, then I’d wait awhile, watch for someone following me. Then I’d travel on. Every time I changed trains, I changed my name. All so I could come home without bringing my past along.”

  Pa rubbed one hand over his head, his hair cut stubby by Ma’s hand. “I’d scold you about living a life that drew gunfire if I wasn’t right now nursing a bullet wound. It doesn’t give me much room to talk.”

  Mitch smiled and relaxed a little. “I didn’t do anything you’d call criminal back east. But many would say I had a ruthless streak. It wasn’t the way I wanted to live out my days. I’m glad to be home, Pa. Dave told me about that high valley I climbed in on, the one he said has a house already on it. If it suits you to have me around, I think I’ll buy it and set up my own ranch.”

  “It suits me, son. Right down to the ground.” Pa nodded. “I’ve got the deed to my land all in order, and Dave owns this meadow. This’ll be his house once I’m back at the Circle Dash. I have some plans to get the ranch back that doesn’t cost a bunch of my men their lives. They’re good men, the twelve hands we’ve kept over the winter. And salty, a lot of former soldiers among ’em. But I don’t want other men, no matter how loyal, dying for my land.”

  “Can you go to the sheriff in Bucksnort?” It was the nearest town and very small. The nearest good-sized town was days away.

  “I know Sheriff Hale. He’s a good man, but he’s only got one deputy. He can’t keep law and order all over the area. He gets paid to be the sheriff of Bucksnort, and he don’t go beyond that, short of forming a posse to chase outlaws who come to town. It’ll do no good to take this to him.”

  “So what plans?”

  “I think I can get a message to the US Marshals’ office. Maybe they can send enough men Bludge will just go away.”

  Nodding as he thought it over, Mitch said, “That might work.”

  “Whatever we decide to do can wait till spring. And we have to survive until then. It’s a harsh winter up here.”

  “The Nordegren women have been doing it, three women alone, for ten years.”

  Quill smiled over that. “Indeed they have. Tough women. We’ll need all their knowledge.”

  Mitch thought of that little imp Ilsa. She did have some useful knowledge, but she was so odd he didn’t trust her.

  “We have a roof over our heads, but I talked it over with Alberto, and we decided to build this house small and fast, then start a bunkhouse for the men. They’d done enough in here. Today they start work on a roof for their own heads. They did this for me, and I’m too useless to help them.” Pa shook his head in weary disgust.

  Mitch looked down at the dirt floor, one bedroom with no door. No furniture except a table and two rough chairs for four people. And yet Pa was right, the men needed a roof more.

  “Then we need to scout windswept stretches where the cows can graze all winter. And considering we’re fighting a man who’s claiming I don’t have a deed to my land, I want you to hold honest deeds to the meadow around the cabin the women ran to, and the one higher than that.”

  “The one I came through when I climbed onto Hope Mountain.” He’d been too weary to look around much, but there’d been miles of grassland.

  “It might risk our lives to go to town and buy it up. I hate the idea of waiting until spring just like I hate the idea of waiting until spring to reclaim my home.”

  “We’ll get it all done, Pa. No one’s gonna buy this land over the winter.”

  Pa didn’t look satisfied by that, and Mitch couldn’t blame him.

  “What doesn’t suit me,” Pa said, “is being a burden. Sleep is pulling on my eyelids right now, and that’s after sleeping the night through. I’m going to go rest and probably sleep until we eat the noon meal, which your ma already has on the fire. She said she might not be back for days.”

  Mitch thought again of Ilsa. Sick. And his fault.

  “I’ll sleep all day today, but this is the end of loafing. After today, I’m going back to work. If I can’t do a lot, then I’ll do a little, but I’m gonna help the men build a cabin for themselves like they did for me. And they can sleep in here on the floor with us in the meantime. Ma would’ve insisted.”

  Mitch smiled. “I’m afraid a nap is about all I’m up to myself. But maybe tomorrow. Especially with Ma and Dave gone to help those Nordegren women. Maybe tomorrow I can jump out of the wagon and help pull.”

  The snow quit falling, and the sun came out.

  Wax had been trapped inside long enough.

  Restlessness drew his eyes to that sheer wall where he’d seen that stranger perched.

  He was new to this part of the country, but all he had to do was look at the snowfall they’d already had, and he reckoned he’d spend good chunks of this winter snowed in. There were no cattle to check, so his main job was feeding his horse. That’d take ten minutes a day.

  The thought of it drove him nearly mad.

  With another long look at that rock wall, and knowing himself for a headlong fool, he made a decision, and he was a man who trusted his own decisions.

  He’d let the fire die overnight, and he didn’t build it up. No sense heating a house that might be empty for a few days. He pulled on a heavy coat, his thinnest buckskin gloves, tied down the guns he wore on both hips, and tugged his Stetson down tight on his head. If it blew off, he wasn’t going to have a spare hand to catch it.

  He stepped out and was
amazed at the beauty and wonder of this snow-covered world. Pines surrounded the ranch yard and scented the air. The cold smell of snow shot vigor through his veins.

  He didn’t bother with his horse even though it was a fair distance to the cliff he was planning to climb. And he didn’t walk straight for the cliff. No sense leaving a tidy row of footprints to tell the world what he was doing, in case some of Bludge’s men came riding in.

  He picked his way along, stepping on spots swept clear of snow, walking along the tops of downed trees, wading through snow when he had no other choice. He was just past the tree line when he heard the sound of approaching riders.

  He turned, eased himself behind a tree, and waited. Hooves were muffled by the snow on the unbroken trail. He expected Bludge’s cowhands.

  Instead, two strangers rode into the yard.

  Two men, outfitted well. Dressed warm, with well-cared-for guns tied down—like his. One man led a packhorse. Their horses were magnificent. Sleek and tall Thoroughbreds. Not many horses like that in the West. A lot of money on the hoof.

  He looked back and felt good about not leaving a trail. These men could find him if they worked hard, but just studying the yard from horseback, they wouldn’t know there was anyone around. He’d kept his horse in the corral he’d found tucked away in the woods, with two other horses penned there. The corral was on a windswept slope, so there was grazing, and there was a flowing spring so the horses didn’t need to be watered. He hadn’t been out to see the horses yet today, and in fact, not since yesterday morning. It had snowed overnight and covered his tracks.

  That well-hidden corral was yet more evidence that the Wardens had built this place with a lot of effort and knowledge . . . and over a lot of years. Bludge Pike didn’t know what winters were like out here, but Wax would bet anything the Wardens did.

  The riders paused. One of them pulled his gun and fired it three times in the air. They were letting anyone around know they had visitors. Not men slinking around, sneaking.

  They might be more gunmen hired by Bludge, and Wax oughta go out and say howdy.

  He stayed where he was.

  One thing he knew he wouldn’t do was lead these men to that cliff, draw their eyes up, and pin himself against a wall like a duck in a shooting gallery. His climbing would wait for another day.

  The smooth handling of that one gun told the whole story of great skill. The shooter was tall and thin. He wore a white Stetson and had gray hair showing beneath, a long black duster without a sign of wear, and he took care to reload his gun before holstering it again. Everything the men wore was new except their guns. Good guns, the finest money could buy, well cared for, but not new.

  Crouching, wondering, he held his position. Movement, even through the branches of trees swaying in the mild breeze, might draw the eye.

  “No one around.” The voice was low, the same man with the white hat, the shooter. Probably the leader.

  The second man was younger. He wore a black, broad-brimmed hat with a band beaded in white, blue, and red. He was dressed in buckskin but wore good boots on his feet. He had two guns like his saddle partner.

  Wax saw a knife strapped across the younger man’s chest when he dismounted. His coat swung open like a man not much bothered by the cold. He went to the cabin and studied the few prints Wax had left. Too new for anything but to be made this morning. The other man remained on horseback.

  Who were they? What did they want? Were they after him or the Wardens? Were their intentions friendly or deadly?

  Wax figured the way the one man was in charge of tracking meant he was the best. Which meant Wax needed to either go out and talk all friendly-like or get out of here.

  Two easy-moving strangers, heavily armed, well mounted.

  There was no hard decision there.

  He slipped away toward that hidden corral, quiet as a breath. By moving, he was leaving a trail. But the most important part of leaving a trail, in this case, was the leaving part.

  27

  Her fever is higher.” Ma dipped a cloth in the cold water, wrung it out, then pressed it to Ilsa’s spotted forehead.

  Dave’s heart twisted at the sight of Ma’s haggard face. They’d been fighting to get Ilsa’s fever down all day, and Ilsa had only been awake a few times, confused, her words slurred.

  Her blue eyes were glazed.

  Jo brought tea when Ma asked for it, then she looked at her sister, terrified. They’d been fighting Ilsa’s fever since Dave had gone running for Ma yesterday morning. No one slept.

  Ursula hadn’t come back. Jo said she’d probably gone to the cabin in the higher valley.

  Yet another cabin. No, a stone building, that’s what Jo had called it. Ancient and abandoned. Maybe that was right, or maybe the Nordegren women’s grandfather was a building fool!

  Or maybe he just kept moving farther and farther away from his crotchety wife.

  “Ma, we need to start sleeping in shifts. We can’t all stay up all the time. Ilsa’s had her tea, and she’ll sleep now.”

  Dave saw Jo’s eyes go sharply to his ma. She got the message that he was worried.

  Jo jumped in talking, “He’s right, I want my turn sleeping, too, Ma. So, get started.”

  Dave bit back a smile as Ma returned Jo’s snippy expression. Then a reluctant smile eased onto Ma’s face.

  “You’re both right. I need sleep. So do you. But I’m an old woman while you’re a couple of hardy kids. I’ll take the first turn.”

  Jo stepped aside so Ma could get to her feet from where she’d been kneeling at Ilsa’s bedside. Jo nodded toward the room Dave had added to this little cabin.

  “We’ve been comfortable here thanks to you, Ma. And thanks to all the supplies you sent up out of your own stores. Blankets and food and firewood. You might as well use the new room.”

  Ma gave her a weary smile, and though he wanted to, Dave didn’t hop up and help Ma get to her room. She wouldn’t thank him for behaving as if she were too old to put herself to bed.

  “Try and keep the noise down.” Ma pulled the door shut to the new room and was snoring lightly just as the front door slammed open.

  Big brother had arrived.

  “How is she?” Mitch heard Ma’s snores cut off. A second later she came to the bedroom door. He’d woken her. He winced with regret, but it was too late to leave now.

  “Terrible,” Ma said. “Her fever is higher than yours was. I’m afraid this is hitting her harder than it did you.”

  Jo gasped.

  Mitch looked at her for a second, but it was all he could do to tear his eyes away from the tiny woman sleeping like a princess under a spell.

  That led his thoughts in unexpected directions, so he turned to Ma. “You should go on home. Pa’s all right, but you need rest, and I can help.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, it’s absolutely out of the question.”

  Dave felt his brow furrow. His ma always scolded a little, but mostly she’d been acting like her only goal in life was to wait on Mitch and tell him how thrilled she was to have him home.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I can’t leave two young, beautiful women here alone with two young, handsome men. That would be outrageous.”

  “Oh.” Mitch thought for a second. “You’re right. It never occurred to me to think such a thing. It seems more like we’re taking turns working in a hospital. But no, you can’t go.” He turned to his little brother. “You go.”

  This time Dave closed his eyes as if he were in pain. As if Mitch was a pain in the neck.

  Having Mitch barge in here was a pain in the neck.

  Ma needed sleep.

  Jo needed to be doctoring.

  Her little sister needed quiet.

  Add to that, Mitch couldn’t talk to Ilsa without snarling. Leastways not up until now.

  Maybe having her be mostly unconscious would help that last problem.

  Ma went in the bedroom and closed the door. Jo whispered, “Hush, try to
be quiet for Ma’s sake.”

  “Try harder, I can still hear you,” Ma said from behind the closed door.

  Jo flinched. Dave smiled. Ilsa’s glazed eyes went to Mitch.

  Dave was closest to a bedside table. He got a tin cup of water. “Take a drink,” he said so quietly it was mostly his lips moving.

  Ilsa sipped, then her eyes fell shut as if each lid weighed five pounds.

  Jo hoped she’d sleep awhile because she’d been so fidgety from the fever that she couldn’t be getting any real, deep healing sleep.

  “Dave,” Mitch said, “why don’t you try and get some rest.”

  Dave straightened and frowned at Mitch. Jo noticed the man seemed to affect everyone the same way. “You’re the one who’s been sick. You shouldn’t be out riding yet. You could end up back in bed.”

  Mitch looked at Dave for a long stretch. Jo noticed how much taller little brother Dave was. He was stronger, too, at least he looked it. He worked long, hard days fighting nature, wrestling cattle, breaking horses, mending fences. Near as Jo could tell, Mitch’s work involved sitting at a desk and maybe getting up to count his money from time to time.

  But from his attitude there was no mistaking who was the big brother.

  Then Mitch closed his eyes, shook his head, and said, “You’re right. I’m going to rest awhile. The ride really took the starch out of me. But I’m half-loco from lying around all day like a pine log. I’m here now. I’ll rest. But later you’ll need rest, too, both of you, and if she has a lick of sense, Ma will sleep for a long while.”

  “I can still hear you,” Ma called from her room.

  Mitch smiled and Dave matched him. Then, with a shake of his head, Mitch got to his feet, went and grabbed a blanket, and rolled up in it near the fire. The cabin was so small everything was near the fire, so that was no great trick.

  Dave heaved a sigh of relief. Jo could tell he didn’t like taking orders from his newly returned big brother. But he didn’t like fighting with him, either. He must be content with the way this had worked.

  Turning back to Ilsa, Dave’s eyes met Jo’s, and she saw deep concern for Ilsa. And beneath that the shared memory of their kiss.