Wish Upon a Cowboy

by Maureen Child

  While sweat rained off his broad forehead, she asked, "You know I can do it, too, don't you?"

  "Yes, ma'am." The admission pained him, but he nodded and swallowed heavily.

  "Good." Then, spinning on her heel, she walked away from the man, already feeling better.

  All she needed now was a hot bath, a decent meal, and a good night's sleep, in that order. First thing in the morning, she herself would follow the magic—the faint traces of power emanating from the Mackenzie's presence—and rejoin Hannah.

  * * *

  "What d'ya figure he's doin'?"

  Billy glanced at the man beside him and shrugged. "Hard to say."

  Stretch stood up in his stirrups and craned his neck for a better view of the valley below. Easing back down again, he looked at the younger man and shook his head. "He's still just standin' there wavin' at that rock yonder."

  "Huh." Billy scratched his jaw. "Don't make much sense, but then, the boss has been actin' sorta peculiar here lately."

  "Peculiar don't just say it, boy. Ever since that gal showed up, things 'round here have gone plumb strange." The cowboy shook his head solemnly. "Like my pa always said, women's fine, just so long as you don't try to talk to 'em."

  Billy squinted into the afternoon sun. "I like her."

  "Oh, me, too, son." Stretch said on a laugh. "But look what she's done to that poor fella."

  "What're you two doin'?" Elias rode up behind the two cowboys. "Don't you have some cows to tend?"

  "Reckon so," Stretch said and tugged his horse around. "Although," he went on with a wink at Billy, "you might want to have a look at the boss."

  The older man scowled at him. Stretch Jones was a man with too much time to talk. Once he got down to work, there wasn't a better hand with cattle around. But he did love the sound of his own voice.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Billy spoke up instead. With a nod toward the valley, he said, "Jonas has been down there for nigh on an hour, pointin' his finger at some rocks."

  Frowning to himself, Elias rode a bit closer to the edge of the slope that led down to the valley. Sure enough, there stood Jonas, his horse close by, while he waved both hands at a small pile of rocks. What in the hell was going on around here now? he wondered. But to the two cowboys watching him curiously, he only snapped, "The only way you two could know he's been down there an hour is if you been settin' here watchin' him instead of workin'."

  Billy ducked his head, but Stretch only smiled until Elias's hard gaze landed on him.

  "All right, then," Stretch said a moment later. "Billy, we best get to those cows and leave the boss man to Elias, here."

  Once they'd gone, Elias gave his horse a nudge and started him down the grassy slope. Jonas hadn't spoken to him in a few days now except to give orders about the ranch. It was purely time they had a talk.

  * * *

  Jonas glared at the small pile of stones he'd set up a hundred paces off. Except for rattling precariously a time or two, they hadn't budged an inch. Despite all of his hand waving and half-witted attempts at witchcraft.

  Hell, if he couldn't dispatch a pile of rocks, how was he going to deal with this Wolcott?

  And he would have to deal with him, he knew. There was a feeling rising in him of impending danger. Something was coming and he had a feeling it was the warlock. But was the man coming to fight Jonas or to take Hannah?

  Didn't matter, he told himself. Wolcott would be dealt with. Just because Jonas couldn't marry her, didn't mean he'd stand by and watch that warlock have her.

  But who was he trying to fool, here? He didn't want any other man with Hannah. His fingers curled into tight fists as he imagined her living out her life with some faceless husband who would see her smiles, hear her off-key humming, father her children, and gather her into his arms every night.

  A pain so wide and deep it felt as though his soul were falling into a black pit of despair opened up inside him. Hell, he hadn't been able to stand being in the kitchen without her for half an hour. How would he manage to live a lifetime without her?

  There were only two choices that he could make in this. Marry her and worry every day that he'd lose her. Or lose her now and miss her for the rest of his life.

  And there was still this Blake Wolcott to face. What if he wasn't good enough or strong enough to defeat the warlock? If he was killed in the coming fight, Jonas thought, how safe would Hannah be?

  A cold chill suddenly raced along his spine, shattering his thoughts and demanding his attention. The small hairs at the back of his neck lifted and he raised his gaze briefly to the cloud-dotted blue sky. No wind stirred the leaves in the trees around him. A warm sun shone down on his shoulders. So the only explanation for that chill was the renewed sense of foreboding building inside him.

  Wolcott was coming.

  He felt it as surely as he did the ground beneath his feet. And a part of him knew that he didn't stand a chance in defeating the enemy readying to face him. How the hell could he? He'd only just found out he was a warlock, for God's sake. How was he supposed to pit his skill against a man who'd been dallying with magic all his life?

  "What's going on here, boy?"

  Elias's voice broke into his thoughts and he half turned to watch the older man ride up. When the horse stopped just a foot or two away from him, the other man looped the reins through his work-roughened fingers and folded his hands atop the saddle horn.

  Leaning in, he looked from Jonas to the rocks and back again. "What are you tryin' to do, exactly?"

  Jonas shifted his gaze from the man's too-knowing gray eyes. The resentment, the anger he'd felt for Elias seemed to have faded away in the last few days. It was hard to remain angry with a man who'd given you everything in your life but your name.

  "Magic," he said sourly.

  "Ah. And how're ya doin'?"

  "Well, let me just show you what all my practicing's done for me."

  Jonas looked at the rocks and slowly pointed his finger at them for the dozenth time in the last hour. Narrowing his gaze, he concentrated on that small cache of stones until sweat beaded on his forehead.

  What he got for his trouble was one tiny pebble rolling down the stack of stones to settle in the dust.

  "That tell you anything?" he muttered in disgust.

  Elias tipped his hat back on his head. "That you need you some practice?"

  "Practice?" Jonas repeated. "You old goat, didn't I just say I've been practicing all afternoon?"

  "I don't figure you can learn all you need to know in a day or two."

  "Or a year or two," he snapped, feeling a rush of frustration fill him. In the distance, thunder rumbled and Jonas took a moment to calm himself. They sure as hell didn't need any more rain. "This is useless," he said when he was settled again. "The only magic I know is this."

  Then he pulled his pistol from its holster, held it waist high, and fired from the hip. A bullet smacked into the tiny tower of stones, scattering them, and an instant later, the brief explosion of sound echoed through the valley.

  "Magic's all right for some folks I guess," he said, "but I'll take my .44." A brief smile touched his mouth before he turned to look up at Elias. "Yeah, I'm a helluva warlock, all right."

  He studied his pistol for a long moment before dropping it back into the holster. "You sure my pa wasn't lying about all this magic stuff?"

  "I'm sure." The older man climbed down from his horse and dropped the reins to the ground, letting the animal crop the meadow grass. "Maybe you're goin' at this wrong."

  Jonas chuckled. "Is there a wrong way?"

  "Hell if I know," Elias admitted. "But maybe you shouldn't be tryin' so blamed hard."

  "What d'ya mean?" "Well, try it more like you just did with your pistol."

  "Huh?"

  Sighing, Elias said. "Instead of aiming and thinking about it too hard, just point your finger and go."

  Jonas laughed sharply. "You mean like this?" He whirled around, pointed his ha
nd at the remaining stones, and instantly they shattered with a bang, sending jagged pebbles whistling through the air like a hail of shotgun pellets.

  Both men dropped to the ground.

  Looking into the other man's surprised gaze, Jonas said in a stunned whisper, "What the hell happened?"

  "You're askin' me?"

  Slowly, they stood up, brushing dry grass and dirt from their shirtfronts. Elias looked at the still-smoking rubble of stones, then shifted his gaze to Jonas again. "Seems to me you're better at this than you thought."

  "You mean worse," he said. "I didn't plan that. What good am I to anybody if I have that kind of power and can't control it?"

  "You can't hope to change yourself overnight."

  "That's exactly what happened, though," Jonas said and let his gaze drift to the near mountains. He rested his right hand on the carved wood stock of his gun. "Overnight, everything changed."

  And nothing would be the same ever again, he knew. He would never be just an ordinary rancher. With every success, he'd have to wonder if it was his skill or magic that had made the difference. With every failure, he'd wonder if he'd somehow hexed himself.

  Rubbing one hand over his eyes, Jonas almost wished he could wipe out the last few weeks. Make it so that none of it had happened. But even as he considered it, he realized that if that wish came true, he never would have met Hannah.

  And that he couldn't imagine.

  "I'm sorry I lied to ya, boy."

  He shot Elias a quick look and shook his head. "Not your fault. I finally figured that much out at least." A short, harsh laugh choked him and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "You gave your word to my father." He looked the older man in the eye. "And you taught me what that kind of promise means."/p>

  Relief colored Elias's features and he looked younger by years as the knowledge that he was forgiven sank in.

  "But," Jonas went on a moment later, as he looked across the land that he loved so much, "everything is still different now and I'm not sure what to do about it."

  "Change ain't always a bad thing."

  "Nor a good one."

  'This ain't all about magic, is it?"

  Jonas snorted and shot him a look. "I don't know what the hell else it could be about."

  "Hannah."

  He inhaled sharply and deliberately turned away from the older man.

  But Elias wouldn't be ignored and if he had something to say, it would get said, like it or not. "You spent the last ten years hidin' from feelin' anything for anybody."

  "Leave it alone."

  "I don't think so." Elias stepped in front of him, meeting his gaze, silently daring the younger man to look away. "I watched you bury yourself in work and pretend it was enough. I sat by and let you beat on yourself because you thought you failed Marie."

  "I don't want to hear this," Jonas said tightly. He'd been through it all with Hannah. Jesus, couldn't these people let Marie stay buried and let him find some peace?

  "That's too damn bad," Elias snapped. "I'm through keepin' quiet about things that shouldn't be secrets."

  "I got work to do," Jonas told him and half turned toward his horse.

  Elias grabbed his arm and held him in place with an iron grip. "First, you'll hear me out. You look at Hannah and want what every young man wants. But instead of claiming her and what you could have together, you turn your back on it all."

  "That's my business, you old goat."

  "Not anymore." Elias's fingers tightened around Jonas's upper arm until the younger man winced. "Not when you're doin' it because of something that wasn't your fault."

  "It was my fault," he said tightly, his voice scratching the still air. "I should have been there. With her."

  "It wouldn't have changed a damn thing." His voice softening slightly, Elias added, "Some things are just meant to be, boy."

  Hannah'd said that, too, he remembered.

  "I don't mean to speak ill of the dead," Elias continued.

  "Then don't."

  "But Marie," the older man went on quickly, "was a spoiled, selfish girl."

  "She was my wife, Elias."

  "She didn't act it."

  "She was only seventeen."

  "You were only twenty."

  "I took her away from her family. Her home."

  "You married her. And took her to your home."

  "She was used to better."

  "And wouldn't make do with less."

  Jonas pulled in a deep breath, closing his mind to the images Elias was evoking. It hadn't been a perfect marriage, he admitted silently. But she hadn't deserved to die. Alone.

  "She might have done some growin' up in time," Elias said, his tone filled with compassion. "But she didn't have the chance. That was fate, boy. Pure and simple. Nothin' to do with you. You tried to make her happy," he added. "Take comfort in that."

  "It wasn't enough." The taste of old failures seemed bitter on his tongue.

  "No, it wasn't," Elias agreed. "It never would have been, with her. " Releasing his grip on Jonas's arm, he gave the younger man a hard slap on the back. "But you've got another chance now. With a woman grown, who loves you, boy."

  Jonas's eyes closed tightly. She did love him. More than anyone else ever had. It was in her touch. Her kiss.

  Her smile. And everything inside him wanted to grab what she offered and hold it close.

  "Don't lose that," Elias murmured. "It's too rare and precious."

  Jonas looked at him and noted the faraway gleam in his eyes. "You still think about her—the woman you loved—don't you?"

  Nodding, Elias stared dead into his eyes. "Every damned day, boy. Don't you live like I have. Alone. Missing the one woman who could have made you whole."

  Hannah did make him whole, he thought. She filled empty places inside him he hadn't even known were there.

  "But," he said, more to himself than to Elias, "what if it all goes to hell again?"

  "Don't turn your back on love because of fears of the past." His voice lowering, Elias added, "We've both hidden from the past too long, Mac. It's time we let it go."

  Maybe, Jonas thought as another chill crawled through him. And maybe the past couldn't be buried without a fight.

  * * *

  Massachusetts

  Blake Wolcott boarded the night train west, carrying only one bag. He didn't need much baggage, after all. It would be a short trip.

  With Ed Thistlewaite's telegram tucked into his suit coat pocket, Blake smiled and took a seat at the front of the car. In a few short days, he would be reunited with Hannah.

  With his destiny.

  * * *

  The dream came again and Jonas woke up in a cold sweat, air heaving in and out of his lungs.

  He sat up, stared around his darkened bedroom, and tried to tell himself that it was only a nightmare. But it was more than that. Much more, and he knew it.

  A chant danced through his mind, repeating itself over and over.

  He's coming, he's coming, he's coming…

  Jonas couldn't quiet the voices any more than he could ease the chill that seemed to have settled around his heart. Then Elias's words ran through his mind again and he couldn't help wondering if his destiny was to always lose the women he loved.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elias looked at the two of them sitting on opposite sides of the breakfast table and told himself that stubborn wasn't always a good quality.

  He shot a look at Jonas, whose eyes were shadowed by a lack of sleep and haunted by old memories and new fears. Hannah's eyes were clear; it was her expression that told her tale. Staring at Jonas, she looked like a soul peering through the Pearly Gates at Paradise, knowing she hadn't a prayer of stepping inside.

  His fingers tightened on the handle of his coffee cup. Ordinarily, he wasn't the man to stick his nose in where it might get punched, but damned if these two didn't need a good push.

  "Y' know," he started, and both of them turned to look at him. "I'm not a nosy man."<
br />
  Jonas snorted.

  Hannah scowled at him before turning to the older man again. "Go on, Elias."

  He frowned at Jonas and said, "I intend to, missy. Now, the way I see it is –"

  "I already know how you see it," Jonas interrupted and pushed up and away from the table.

  "Well, I don't," Hannah snapped and stood up, too. "I'd like to hear what he has to say."

  "Thank you, missy."

  "This has nothing to do with him," Jonas told her.

  "Of course it has," she said, leaning toward him. "He's been a father to you your whole life. Who has a better right to offer an opinion?"

  Elias sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and watched the fun. For the moment, they'd forgotten all about him. They were too caught up in each other. As it should be. His gaze shifting from one to the other of them, he could have sworn he saw sparks fly.

  "This is between you and me, Hannah," Jonas said flatly, his gaze spearing into hers. "We decide. Nobody else."

  "Oh!" She laid one hand on her breast and widened her eyes innocently.

  Elias had seen that look from females before and if he'd had a chance, he'd have shouted a warning to the boy.

  But she rolled right on. "Then you're saying I actually have a say in what happens between us?"

  "I couldn't stop you if I tried," Jonas muttered. He'd never known a more hardheaded woman. It didn't seem to matter how many times he told her he wouldn't marry her, she didn't quit.

  And a part of him loved her for it.

  "No, you couldn't," she agreed and stepped around the edge of the table to stand in front of him. Stabbing the tip of her index finger against his chest, she went on. "And you've been deaf to me too long."

  "If I'm deaf to you, how come all I do is spend my time arguing with you?" he demanded, looming over her, hoping for intimidation.

  It didn't work.

  "I don't know why you're arguing with me, Mackenzie," she said, leaning in and going up on her toes. "I tell you I love you and you act as though I'd stolen one of your precious cows."

  Elias chuckled and they both glared at him briefly.