A crashing thunderbolt rolled across the sky overhead. The clouds had darkened the day, and she saw the lightning even while staring straight down at the wooden roof.
She craned her neck and took a hard look at the rocker, which was only partly visible over the roof edge. It was right where she’d left it, but would it hold? Had the rain made it slippery? Could she find it with her feet while hanging on to the pipe? Everything was harder going backward.
“Three years to earn the life I want.” Definitely a prayer now. She needed more courage than she alone possessed to get down from here. And God was the only one here with her.
Swallowing hard, she remembered the battlefield, remembered how to keep going, and eased herself around, fighting with her tangled skirts. She had to stop clinging to the pipe with her arms and only grip it with her hands. Moving with care, finally, with her arms fully extended, her hips reached the eaves. She pushed out and let her legs dangle over the edge.
No chair.
Breathing in and out to calm herself, she searched with her toes, mindful not to kick the chair. Yet she couldn’t find any purchase with her feet. She slid down farther, letting her arms stretch to their limit, until her belly was on the roof’s edge. Still no chair to stand on.
It hadn’t been like this climbing up. She’d grabbed the stovepipe right away while her feet were solidly on the chair, hadn’t she? She just couldn’t remember now.
Thunder sounded again, shaking the cabin a little. How much farther did she have to go? Had the chair fallen somehow when she had her back to it?
How strong was this stovepipe?
Didn’t lightning bolts like stovepipes?
“Three years to earn the life I want.”
The wind gusted and drove icy sheets of rain nearly sideways. Her whole body trembled with cold and fear and growing exhaustion.
She had to get down off this roof.
One more inch. Still no toehold. Her weight shifted, and she slipped down yet another inch. A scream ripped from her throat as she clutched the pipe with only her fingertips. The pipe groaned under her weight and began to bend.
Finally her toes touched the chair, but her feet skidded on the wet ladder-back. She flailed with her feet to get her balance and managed to kick the chair. She heard it fall to the ground.
She began losing her grip on the pipe, feeling her fingernails scraping along its length, and then lost her hold completely and fell.
Solid arms closed around her legs. “I’ve got you, miss!”
She slid over the edge.
The confident hold on her legs stopped her from hitting the ground. Then whoever had her gently lowered her to her feet. Her knees buckled. She sank toward the muddy earth. He swooped her into his arms again and carried her up onto the porch out of the cold rain.
Brilliant blue eyes met hers and echoed with strength and kindness. Looking into those clear blue eyes, she felt safer in that moment than she had since she was eighteen and had put on her britches, sworn her oath, and picked up a musket with her fellow soldiers. Fellow being a particularly important word.
She threw her arms around his neck. The only solid thing in the whole wide world. And she cried.
2
Aaron Masterson had his arms around the prettiest little thing in the whole wide world. And considering she was soaking wet, freezing cold, and crying her head off, that was saying something.
He’d had one good look at her eyes before they’d filled with tears and she’d buried her face against his chest. They were different, deep and haunting. Striped eyes that radiated out brown and green and gold from their black centers, like a flashing starburst explosion used to light up a field during night battles.
And one look at those eyes left him feeling as though his life had just lit up.
He had no wish to let go of her. And since he had no idea what else to do with her, and she was clinging to his neck like hanging on was a matter of life and death, he decided to hang on right back. A sheet of hard-blown rain hit, and he decided he could hang on somewhere other than out here.
He carried her inside the cabin.
A quick look at the tiny room showed a chair in front of a cold fireplace. And why wouldn’t the fire be out? It was July.
But she was soaking wet and quaking like an aspen leaf. Juggling her around, he grabbed a chair by the small table in one corner of the one-room cabin and swung it over to the fireplace. He set it down with a thud and bent to put the little filly down.
She squeaked and held on tighter still. He thought she might be scared beyond thinking. It wouldn’t be friendly to rip her arms off his neck. Besides, he had no real desire to do so.
There was a neatly made bed close to the fireplace. He dragged a blanket off it, wrapped the soggy little thing securely in the blanket, and settled in to hold her until she warmed up enough to notice a stranger had her.
He wasn’t in any hurry.
He’d’ve liked a fire. He was soaked, too. The rain had caught up with him when he was closer to the cabin than town. So instead of riding back to Aspen Ridge, he’d rushed for shelter here, hoping Kylie Wilde would take him in for a spell, until the storm passed. But where was he? Had he been caught out in the storm and left his wife to . . . what? Climb around on the roof?
When he thought the word wife, his head cleared and he sat the little woman up, pulled her arms loose from his neck, and finally looked her in the eyes.
Blinking at him, he swore her long, thick eyelashes would wave in the breeze. Even soaking wet she looked beautiful.
Which wrenched a question out of him. “Where’s your husband?”
She blinked again, faster this time as her eyes seemed to focus on him. She smiled, and one glorious dimple popped out on the left side of her face. “I don’t have a husband.”
Her voice was just a little rusty, and deep. Some of it was from the tears, but he thought some was her usual tone, and it scraped something nearly raw inside him.
Aaron was actually sorry she’d said that, because thinking she was married had cooled him down, and he’d badly needed to cool down.
“You saved me.” Those starburst eyes looked at him as if he were a white knight who’d come riding to her rescue. Aaron couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so heroic. He liked it.
“I’m glad I came along when I did,” he said.
Her dimple disappeared. Her shining eyes dimmed. “I was falling. I could have broken a leg. I could have stayed there in the mud while the rain poured down on me. Wolves could have come and eaten me. I would have died.” Her pretty eyes filled with tears, and she flung her arms back around his neck and wept into his shirt.
Well, he was already drenched; a few more tears wouldn’t hurt a thing.
He let her cry until she got all that salt water out. When she calmed down, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and was quiet. Leaning on him.
God help me, she feels wonderful.
Finally she gathered her strength and sat up to meet his eyes.
He’d never seen such a pretty streaked mix of colors in a single set of eyes. Green and gold and brown radiating out. His ma had eyes like this color, although not this pretty. She’d called them hazel. Thinking of his ma cut so deep that he focused all the more on this beautiful woman to distract himself from all he’d lost to the war.
And the distraction amounted to looking at this woman’s lips and wondering if he hadn’t ought to kiss her. That shocking thought broke whatever spell she cast and finally he blurted out his purpose for being here. “I’m looking for Kylie Wilde.”
“I’m Kylie Wilde.”
His head jerked back. “What? No, I’m looking for the man who homesteaded this property. Kylie Wilde.”
“What do you want with . . . ?” Her eyes shifted left and right for a second. A sneaky look. “With Kyle. My . . . my brother Kyle is the homesteader here.”
“You’ve got a brother named Kyle, and your name is Kylie? That must have been confusing fo
r your family.”
Shaking her head, Kylie muttered, “You have no idea.”
“So it’s Kyle who applied for this homestead using a Union soldier’s exemption, is that right? Because I’m sure the paper work has Kylie on it. Not Kyle.”
“A simple mistake, I’m sure. What else could it be? Kyle has terrible handwriting. No doubt it looks like he wrote Kylie, but why would he? I mean, he wouldn’t. Not when his name is Kyle. Unless he just wasn’t thinking. Or he was thinking about me. Daydreaming. Always daydreaming. That’s my brother Kyle for you.” She was babbling.
Aaron saw the minute she realized it and clamped her mouth shut.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she pressed against his shoulders with both hands. He let go of her reluctantly, and she stood. Turning to face the fireplace, she said, “Let me get this cabin warmed up. It will help your . . . I mean, our clothes dry.”
“I’ll tend the fire.” Aaron moved quickly and started grabbing kindling. He noticed she let him do it without protest.
“We c-call my brother . . . Wilde most of the time to avoid confusion. Wilde got a two-year exemption for his war service.”
Aaron knelt by the fire and moved tinder around, then struck a match. “Where did he serve?” The kindling caught and instantly began to crackle. Aaron looked over his shoulder at her.
“He was with the Ninth Army Corps, but they moved him around some because he did espionage. He spent most of the war under the command of General Parke.”
Aaron’s chin lifted, and his eyes flashed with pleasure. “The Ninth Army was at Vicksburg. I fought there, too.”
Kylie swallowed visibly. Her eyes shifted again. “Well, according to my brother there were over fifty thousand men involved in that siege,” she said. “I doubt we . . . that is, he . . . you two ran across each other.”
“I fought with troops from West Virginia at first. My company, though, was all but wiped out and I was reassigned. We may have even met. The name’s not familiar, but maybe I’ll recognize his face. Espionage, huh? I did a little of that. I’ll bet we can trade war stories. Where is he? I’d like to meet him.”
“Wilde was on his way to do some hunting this afternoon. He . . . uh, if he gets caught in the rain, he might find shelter and be gone overnight.”
“And leave you here alone?”
“I’m used to it.”
“When will he get here?”
“I’m not sure. And when he does get here, he may not stay long. I never know about his comings and goings. But I’ll tell him I met you. He rides into town occasionally. The next time he goes, I’ll tell him to look you up.”
“Or I can come by again another time.” Like tomorrow. Aaron really wanted to come and see Kylie again.
She bit her bottom lip as if to stop herself from speaking.
“I need to, because I’ve been asked to help during the land rush.”
“Help with the land rush? How are you helping?”
“I’m the land agent for Aspen Ridge.”
Kylie seemed to inhale a bit too hard. Suddenly she was coughing, until he began to worry. “I hope you didn’t catch a chill up on that roof. What were you doing up there, anyway?”
“Making repairs.”
“Your brother left that to you?”
After too long a silence, Kylie replied, “A board needed to be refastened. It came loose after Wilde left. I saw the rain coming. I fixed it, but getting down off the roof about did me in.”
“I have to inspect the homestead claims and make sure that after six months, they’ve got a cabin.”
Something flashed in Kylie’s eyes that Aaron couldn’t quite understand. Anger maybe. With a rather exaggerated sweep of her hand, she said, “Well, you can see he does.”
A gust of wind drew Aaron’s eyes to the window. The rain had nearly stopped, and he had a long ride in the mud to get back to Aspen Ridge. The trails were none too good. Besides, he wanted to stay so bad he thought it was probably best he left.
“Let me bring your chairs inside, Miss Wilde.” He rushed out and grabbed the rocker. She’d kicked it over in the mud, but he’d seen the precarious way it was leaned against the house when he rode up. Proof positive that Kylie shouldn’t be left here all alone.
A chair that matched the other one in her house stood soaking wet beside a hitching post.
Aaron grabbed both of them and brought them under the porch roof. There was a matching rocker on one side of the door, so Aaron put the wet rocker beside it and carried the chair inside.
He turned to see her kneeling beside the fire, adding a few small logs. The ends of her hair had dried, and it too seemed to be a mix of colors. Light brown with streaks of gold and honey where it caught the sun. Starbursts like her eyes. Curls bounced where the ends had dried.
Looking at her made him forget what he was doing, until she finished with the logs, stood and glared at him as if he’d done something to upset her. A far cry from the adoring way she’d looked at first. Somehow he’d gone from rescuing knight to unwelcome intruder in a few seconds’ time. He had no idea why, and he was really sorry it had happened.
He decided then and there he’d apply himself to making her like him again, but best to do it while Kyle was here. This seemed improper, and he knew it wouldn’t have if he didn’t find her so attractive.
“I’ll head back to town then, Miss Wilde.” He realized he’d like to stay and see just how many shades the woman had in her hair. He knew when he started daydreaming about the color of Kylie’s hair, he had to get out.
“Tell your brother to expect me one day soon.” Aaron strode out of the cabin and caught up the shining black horse that’d stood ground-hitched all this time. He swung up and saw Kylie standing in the doorway, watching him.
He gave her a little mock salute and was surprised when she snapped a very tidy, very proper military salute right back at him.
Strange woman. Strange and fascinating. Strange and fascinating and beautiful.
He’d be back, and needing to meet Kylie’s brother wasn’t even half the reason why.
3
Aaron managed to stay away for a full day and a half. Now he rode for the Wilde homestead while daydreaming about Kylie’s hair. He wished he’d stayed long enough last time for it to dry fully so that he knew every curl.
He’d seen enough to know it was streaked light and framed those vivid hazel eyes. It would accent her tanned skin and that one perfect dimple.
He’d seen a lot of beauty since moving to the edge of the frontier. The aspen that grew straight up the sides of the mountains. Pine forests so elegant they looked like a painting. He’d seen bighorn sheep leaping with impossible grace, and mountain grandeur that struck him to the heart.
But Kylie Wilde topped them all. He’d saved her from falling.
Saved her.
Aaron the Hero had rescued the Damsel in Distress. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.
If her brother Kyle spent a lot of time out hunting, then it stood to reason Kylie was often home alone. So maybe she needed help lifting something heavy or scaring off a cranky badger or patching the roof some more.
She definitely needed help with that.
Maybe she’d need to be rescued again, and there he’d be.
He’d left late enough that Kyle was probably home, but just in case, he urged his gelding faster. Kylie’s pretty face was enough to make any man hurry.
The scent of pine made every breath a reason to enjoy life. It was beautiful in its way and helped him to ignore the deep pain of leaving his beloved Shenandoah Valley.
When he thought of Shenandoah now, he only remembered the ruins, the burned-down houses and barns, the missing livestock.
His family dead. All of them dead.
How had that memory come to him here, on his way to see Kylie? He kicked his horse from a trot to a gallop and bent low over the black’s neck, riding recklessly on the narrow path so it would take all his attention.
For a s
tretch, Aaron clung to the huge gelding, one of the few thoroughbreds big enough to carry a man Aaron’s size. That was why he’d taken it to war with him, and why it was still alive. Everything left behind was dead.
Aaron’s fingers sunk deep in the shining black mane that flowed like silk. They streaked through the forest in a breeze created by a man running away from his memories. Aaron and his horse coming through the war unscratched, while his family stayed behind, left in their graves.
He raced along the twisting path, not wide enough for a wagon but well worn from horse hooves, and at last found himself at Kylie’s house.
The trail he rode on opened up on her small clearing, coming in from the west. He hadn’t had much time to look at it last time. In the heavy rain he’d seen Kylie dangling from the roof and raced forward to save her. After that, he’d been unable to look at anything else but her.
Today he could enjoy the pond he’d barely noticed before. It spread out on the south side of the cabin and reflected the green trees and the blue sky. There was a cascade of water pouring out of a rock with a constant rippling splash. It collected in the little rock basin, the water clear and clean. The cabin stood beside it, a small structure which didn’t look large enough for Kylie and her brother to occupy. But Aaron knew that was often the case with these homestead cabins. The first buildings were modest to the point of being barely livable.
Though the building was small, it was well constructed and well tended—with the exception maybe of the roof. There was a porch with slender saplings forming graceful spindles that appeared to circle the whole cabin. Two rockers were on the south side, where a body could sit and look out at the pond.
The rockers swayed gently in the cool, early evening breeze. A pot of red flowers bobbed between them. There was a stretch about twenty feet long between the cabin and the shoreline. Someone—Aaron would wager it was Kylie—had created a rock garden full of native wildflowers and pretty stones to fill the gap. It made him want to sit on that porch and rest his eyes on the rocks and listen to the rippling music of falling water.
Tried and True (Wild at Heart Book #1) Page 2
