But he steeled himself against thoughts of failure. He wouldn't lose. Not this time. Not when so much was at stake.
Closing his eyes, Jonas heard Eudora's voice echoing in his mind: The real power in the world is love, Mackenzie… When a man's heart is full he can do anything… But he must listen to himself and open his mind…
Wolcott knew only the lust for power and the need to destroy. He had no love to draw on, to gather strength from.
Jonas slowly lifted both arms wide as he had the night of the stampede, when everything in his world had changed. Opening his eyes, he stared into the dark brown gaze of the warlock bent on destruction, then threw his head back to look at the sky and whatever lay beyond.
Calling out to whoever might be listening, Jonas shouted and his words were snatched up by the wind and carried to the heart of the storm.
"I am the Mackenzie," he called out, and the thunder rolled. Later, he would wonder where he found the words, but as they poured from him, they sounded right. And proper.
"Save her and end this. I call on the magic that lies within us all." He pulled in a breath and shouted, "I call on the power of love. I call on those who would have us win this day!"
And generations of Mackenzies lined up on either side of him. He felt their presence, though even he couldn't see them. Hundreds of them. Spirits, souls, ghosts. It didn't matter what they were called. All that mattered was that they were real. And standing with him. From the first Druid priest to his parents, the members of the Mackenzie family surrounded him, strengthening him, pouring centuries of knowledge and love into the well of his soul.
They filled him with light, with magic, with the power that was his birthright.
Blake Wolcott paled. His raised fists shook. And when the first lightning bolt struck the earth at his feet, he screamed.
Too late, he'd discovered what Jonas had finally accepted. The strength of centuries—of families, of love—cannot be denied.
Jonas watched as bolt after bolt stabbed the ground in a widening circle around the warlock who would have destroyed him. Again and again, white-hot, jagged spears slammed into the dirt. Jonas felt the hammering blows but stood untouched by the wild electrical charge rising around him. A cloud of dust and smoke and a thick gray haze rose up, shrouding Wolcott from sight.
His screams tore from his throat.
Lightning hailed from the sky.
And in a final, horrendous crash of thunder, lightning, and wind, the battle was finished. A silence so thick it seemed to have a life of its own dropped over the yard.
Jonas slumped, drained, and half fell to one knee. The quiet pounded at him. He fought for air and, when he could breathe again, whipped his head around to look for the one person he needed to see.
"Hannah?"
He pushed himself to his feet and, staggering, made his way to where she lay, unharmed. Beneath her, the earth had somehow healed itself, closing up the gaping black chasm that had nearly taken her down.
Hannah smiled up at him. "Jonas," she whispered, and his own name had never sounded sweeter.
Pulling her to her feet, he yanked her into his arms, holding her pressed so tightly to him, he couldn't have said where her body ended and his began. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled the fresh scent of lemons and reveled in the warm, solid feel of her in his arms.
Alive.
Safe.
His.
"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice muffled against his shirtfront.
"I am now," he said, just before he swayed unsteadily.
"Jonas?" She tipped her head back to look at him.
"It's all right," he told her, trying to ease his racing heart. "It's that rush of magic that's left me shaking a bit. Wolcott didn't hurt me."
She lifted one hand and touched a darkening bruise beneath his eye.
He winced and choked out a laugh. "One lucky punch."
Hannah didn't smile, though. Instead, she half turned her head to look toward the spot where she'd last seen Wolcott. A heavy pall of smoke still swirled there, twisting and shifting in the now-soft breeze. "Is he…?"
"Yeah." Jonas didn't need to see a body to know that Blake Wolcott had been destroyed. If the warlock had still been alive, Jonas would have been able to sense it.
Holding on to each other, they walked across the yard and came to stop at the edge of a wide circle of blackened grass. As the smoke cleared, they saw the earth, still smoldering from the lightning strikes, and all that was left of Blake Wolcott. Ashes.
Jonas tightened his grip on Hannah's shoulder and watched as a quick surge of wind lifted those ashes and scattered them.
"It's over," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
"It is, Mackenzie," Eudora said from behind him.
He turned his head to watch the older couple approach.
"A helluva fight," Elias told him with a smile that didn't quite hide the worry still shining in his gray eyes.
"It was that," Jonas agreed. One he didn't want to think about repeating anytime soon.
"You did well," Eudora said.
He met her gaze and silently thanked her for giving him the clue he'd needed to defeat Wolcott. It had been a close thing, that fight. Tipping his head back, he watched as the storm clouds rolled away, revealing a sky so blue it hurt to look at it.
"Thank you," he whispered and knew his family had heard him.
The neigh of a horse caught his attention and he glanced at the corral, where the cowhands and horses were awakening to stumble around the paddock. How he'd explain to them what had happened, he didn't know yet. Smiling to himself, he realized he was too tired to think at the moment anyway.
Speaking quietly, Jonas said to no one in particular, "I need a drink."
Then the world went black, his legs gave out, and he fell face forward into the dirt.
* * *
"This ain't right," Elias said for the hundredth time in the last hour.
Hannah handed her carpetbag to the stagecoach driver, who stowed it atop the coach. Looking around the little town, she said a silent good-bye before turning to face the older man scowling at her.
"It is right," she told him and wiped a stray tear off her cheek. Her brain knew this was the only answer. It was just her heart that hadn't accepted it yet.
"You could at least wait till he wakes up."
Hannah shook her head and swallowed heavily. No, she couldn't. It was better that she leave now, while Jonas was still sleeping.
After he'd collapsed in the yard, the men had carried him to bed. Eudora had calmed Hannah's fears, telling her that Jonas was simply exhausted. After serving as a funnel, delivering such an enormous amount of power, his body was drained and he would probably sleep around the clock.
Perhaps it was cowardly of her to slip away before he awakened. But she couldn't bear the thought of looking into his eyes and saying good-bye. This way, while Jonas slept she would ride the stage to the train station. And by the time he woke, she would be miles from here. From him.
"It's easier on both of us if I leave now," she said and tried to smile up at him. "He won't let you go," Elias said gently.
"He has to."
"But you're all alone."
True. For the first time in her life, Hannah was completely alone. Eudora was staying behind to be with Elias and though the older woman had wanted to at least see her off on the stage, Hannah had insisted that she remain with Jonas.
She'd left Hepzibah behind, too, knowing it wouldn't be fair to drag the little animal across the country again.
"I'll be fine," she told him and hoped her voice sounded steadier to him than it did to her. "Creekford is my home."
Though she didn't think she would stay there long. Without Eudora's protective spell, everyone there would know she wasn't a witch. And frankly, she simply couldn't bear the thought of being an object of pity.
"Don't go, Hannah," Elias said quietly. "Stay here. With him. With us. Where you belong."
Such a dear man, she thought, looking up into gray eyes filled with sadness, regret. How she would miss him. Miss them all. Pain rippled through her and Hannah bit back a gasp at the near-crippling sensation.
Elias shook his head, then reached down and grabbed one of her hands.
"Time to go, ma'am," the stage driver announced from his bench seat.
Elias shot him a glare, then turned back to Hannah. "You have to know something," he said, keeping a tight grip on her fingers when she would have pulled away.
"Elias, please don't make this harder…"
"He's never loved anyone like he loves you," the man said, his voice gruff and thick with choked-off emotion. "You're his heart. Hannah. You leavin' will kill him."
Her heartbeat raced and every beat stabbed at her chest. The ache swelled and blossomed inside her until Hannah felt as fragile as fine crystal. One more word would shatter her.
Quickly, she pulled her hand free of his grip, went up on her toes, and gave him a brief kiss. "Help him understand, Elias," she whispered. "Help him know that I'm doing this because I love him so much."
He frowned at her. "Can't help him understand what I can't figure out myself, missy."
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and Hannah turned quickly away. Climbing into the coach, she winced when the door was slammed shut, and kept her eyes closed as the horses lurched into motion and she left Jonas—and her heart—behind.
* * *
"All aboard!"
The train whistle blew and Hannah stood back as her dozen or so fellow passengers hustled forward to board the train. Clouds of steam whooshed up into the air from the engine and swirled across the platform like a wayward fog.
Another blast of the whistle prodded her forward and, clutching her bag tightly, she lifted the hem of her skirt to mount the iron steps.
And stopped dead.
As if she'd run into an invisible wall, she could not put her foot on that step. Scowling, she tried again. And again. First her right foot, then her left.
Nothing.
Irritated, she swung her carpetbag toward the steps, only to have it bounce off something she couldn't see and smack into her chest.
Hannah staggered backward and watched dumbfounded as a little boy raced past her, jumped up the steps, and entered the car. Quickly, she ran forward and tried to board in the same way. She smacked headlong into that invisible barrier, knocking her hat off to hang behind her back, dangling from its pale green ribbons.
Witchcraft, she thought, rubbing a sore spot on her forehead, and wondered how Eudora had managed to cast a spell from such a distance.
"For heaven's sake," she muttered, then gasped as the train started rolling. Shooting a look toward the engine, she shouted, "Wait for me!"
But a blast of the whistle drowned her out and the rising cloud of steam sent her scurrying back from the edge of the platform.
Tears stung her eyes as she dropped her carpetbag and watched the train pull out of the station. Iron wheels clanked, steam huffed, and in minutes the train was gone, its passage marked by a towering rise of black smoke from its chimney stack.
Frustrated misery bubbled inside her. Couldn't her aunt see that she was only making the leaving that much harder? Delaying the inevitable only lengthened the pain.
"I'll just wait for the next train," she said aloud on a sniff. "Or the one after that."
"I'll stop you every time," a deep, oh-so-familiar voice said from close behind her.
She closed her eyes briefly and struggled to still her suddenly racing heart. Then, slowly, she inhaled and turned around to meet Jonas's deep blue eyes.
"You're supposed to be asleep," she accused.
He shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"That's not what I meant." Oh, God, it was so good to see him again. To have one last chance to look into his eyes, watch the sunshine slanting off the midnight of his hair.
"I won't let you leave me, Hannah," he said softly.
"You have to, Jonas," she told him and heard the catch in her voice.
"Why?" he asked. "So we can both be miserable apart instead of happy together?"
"So you can find the right woman to love. To marry."
"I already have."
A lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled along her cheek. She wished it were that simple.
"You have to marry a witch, Jonas." She had to make him understand. For both their sakes. "Don't you see? Blake Wolcott isn't the only dark warlock in the world. Any one of them might come here to challenge you."
"Let ‘em come," he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
She batted his hand away, determined to reach him. "You have to marry a witch, to strengthen your powers, so you're ready for them."
"You make me strong enough to take on the world," he told her with a smile.
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, but she still argued. "You're the Mackenzie. Your children must be able to follow in your footsteps."
His eyebrows lifted and his smile shifted into a grin.
"You mean be ranchers?" Shaking his head, he said, "Only if they want to be."
"You know what I mean, Jonas."
"Yeah, I do," he said and took a step closer to her, closing the space between them to no more than a breath of distance. "You're worried about the Guild. Well, I've figured that out. We can take a honeymoon trip back East, put somebody else in charge, then come back here. This is my home. Hannah. I couldn't stay back East."
"I wouldn't expect you to," she said. She could no more imagine Jonas living in the quiet, refined little town than she could picture Elias flying. "But that's not the point."
"Then tell me what's important enough to make you want to leave."
"Joining with another witch would keep you safe."
"Losing you would kill me."
Simple words, said so quietly, they rang with the clear bell of truth.
And still she tried. "What if, by marrying me, you cheat your children out of their heritage?" Lord, she could hardly think with him this close. "What if they're not witches?"
He shook his head, letting his gaze sweep across her features. "Witchcraft isn't what matters, Hannah." Reaching out for her, he cupped her cheek and reminded her of what Eudora had told him only days ago. "Love is the greatest power in the universe. And with love," he added with a smile, "anything is possible."
Jonas looked into her eyes and saw that she was still only half convinced. How had he lived before this woman had come into his life? A woman who was willing to walk away from what they'd found together, in the hopes of keeping him safe. He had to make her understand that it was her and her alone who had given him the strength to defeat their common enemy.
"You're the reason I was able to defeat Wolcott," he said, willing her to trust him. "Your love gave me more power than any simple witchcraft could have."
"I want to believe that," she said, and the tears in her voice caught at his heart.
"Believe. Hannah," he whispered. "Our children could only be strong and happy coming from our love. Witches or not, they'll be perfect. Every one of them."
Including, he thought as he stared hard at her, the tiny witch she carried inside her even now. Jonas smiled at the almost invisible shimmer of color he saw cradled within her and knew that their first child, a girl, would be as strong and beautiful as her mother, with the crafting abilities of her father.
A baby girl, he thought and waited for the old flash of fear and pain to rise up inside him. But instead, he felt only thankful for this second chance at fatherhood.
And tonight, he'd tell Hannah all about the coming baby.
Now, though, he reached into his coat pocket and slowly pulled out the belt buckle he'd only that morning changed back into the brooch it was always meant to be.
The circlet that had been handed down from generation to generation in his family lay in the center of his palm. He held it up, silently paying his r
espects to the Mackenzies who had gone before him, while letting the sunshine glint off the ancient brass.
Then, slowly, he lowered it again, looked at Hannah, and solemnly said, "I am the Mackenzie. And you are the woman I've chosen. The woman I love."
"Jonas… "
Still arguing, he thought with an inward smile, but with less determination. He pinned the circlet to her coat, just above her heart, then laid his hand atop it gently.
Hannah's eyes widened and she gasped as she felt the rush of his power roar through her veins. Jonas smiled and gave her more, letting her feel every beat of his heart. Every whisper of magic that filled him. Every trace of strength and power that he had was now also hers.
"I don't understand," she said and leaned into him, still reeling from the tingling sensations coursing through her.
He caught her face between his palms and stroked her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Smiling into the green eyes that had captured him from the first, he said, "Love is the real magic, Hannah. And you are the love."
Then he kissed her and the sparkle of magic that surrounded him enveloped her as well enclosing them in a world all their own.
And the circlet gleamed as when it was new.
The End
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Wish Upon a Cowboy
by Maureen Child, originally written as Kathleen Kane
Copyright 2000 by Maureen Child
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child has been nominated for six prestigious RITA Awards from the Romance Writers of America for her sexy, heartwarming romance novels and has had the pleasure of seeing one book (A Pocketful of Paradise) made into a CBS-TV movie called The Soul Collector. Visit Maureen online at MaureenChild.com and Facebook.com/MaureenChild.
When the Halo Falls, CHAPTER ONE
Wish Upon a Cowboy Page 28
