by Jillian Hart
Fifteen minutes later, he realized their luck wasn’t going to hold.
The snow had started to fall in thick sheets, clinging to the trees and covering the road in a dense haze of white.
“We’d better find shelter,” he said.
She blinked snowflakes from her eyelashes. Her teeth were chattering. “We’ve got to keep pushing forward. Any delay and we could be too late.”
Bullheaded woman. If he said a lump of coal was black she’d say it was white just for the sake of argument. “You won’t do Deidre any good if you die of cold. The snow is going to get worse. You know that.”
She glanced mutinously at the sky. “But we’re so close.”
They were close now and yet they might as well have been a million miles apart. “Close doesn’t count.” He nodded ahead. “There is a small cabin just down the road. We can hole up there until the weather passes.”
Her fingers clutched the reins. Her shoulders slumped from fatigue. “I don’t want to stop.” When she spoke, her breath puffed from her mouth in white clouds.
He tightened his hands on the reins. “Soon we won’t be able to see five feet in front of ourselves.” In truth, they’d be lucky to reach the cabin.
“I’m pressing ahead.” Colleen’s voice had lost its bravado. The cold was forcing her to see reason even if he couldn’t.
“Suit yourself. I’m bunking in.”
Chapter Four
Colleen knew when she was beat. Like it or not, the snow had her licked for now. If she continued, she’d be endangering her life.
Her teeth chattered as she followed Keith down the road. It pained her to admit he was right, but he was.
The snow was falling hard now, blanketing the rolling hills in white. But what troubled her more than frostbite or the plunging temperatures was spending the day, and likely the night, alone with Keith.
Her skin tingled at the thought.
Neither spoke as they continued down the road. When Keith veered off toward a cabin nestled in a stand of trees, he didn’t ask her to join him. But she noted his head turned slightly to the right to see if she followed.
Seemingly satisfied that she rode behind him, he kicked his heels into his horse’s side and picked up his pace. Soon they’d reached the cabin and small barn. The cabin was one level and by the looks just one room. Two frosted windows faced them and a cold chimney jutted from the freshly shingled roof. The house was by no means fancy but it looked to be in good shape.
The place had once belonged to a farmer named Simms. The old farmer had moved West last spring and headed toward the goldfields of Colorado.
Colleen swung her leg over the side of her horse and dismounted. Her fingertips burned with cold and she could no longer feel her face.
Keith dismounted and moved toward her. His shoulders were wide and straight, and though his cheeks were red he looked as if the cold didn’t really bother him.
His gloved fingers brushed hers as he took the reins. “I’ll put the horses up. Get inside.”
Colleen didn’t argue. She wanted nothing more than to be out of the stinging wind. “I’ll start a fire.”
His gaze lingered on her. She wasn’t sure if he pitied or respected her at this moment.
Too cold to care, she turned to the door. Wrestling with the rusted handle, she wrenched open the door and stepped inside the cabin.
The cabin’s dark interior was only a little warmer than the outside, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing. Rubbing her cold hands together, Colleen’s gaze scanned the room in search of a lantern or candle. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but the snow and thick clouds had blocked out the light. She found a lantern and flint on a small wooden table. Carefully, she lit the lantern and turned up the wick.
She held up the light to survey her haven. Save for the cobwebs and dust, the room looked eerily lived in. Two chairs pushed under a small table, a potbelly stove with a rusted kettle atop it, a row of canned goods on the shelf above a wash-tub, a rope bed with rumpled sheets and blankets, a sink full of washed dishes. Likely when Simms had made his decision to leave, he’d simply taken only what he needed and left.
Colleen moved to a wooden box next to the hearth. As she opened the lid, the hinges squeaked. To her great relief, the box was full of wood and matches. “Bless you, Mr. Simms.”
Without delay, she laid a fire in the hearth and lit a match to the kindling. Rubbing her hands on her arms, she squatted next to the hearth and waited impatiently for the fire to crackle and spit to life.
Outside, the wind howled, blowing swirls of snow on the single glass window. She thought of Keith out there, working with the horses. Guilt stabbed her. Deidre wasn’t his problem, yet he’d given up a warm fire to help her. Until that last day they’d fought so many years ago, he’d always been the one person she could count on.
Slowly the firelight grew and cast a warm glow on the room, banishing the shadows from the corners.
She started when the front door opened. Snow swirled in as Keith, head bowed, moved through the doorway and closed it. He pulled off his hat and brushed the white snow from it and the black duster that skimmed the top of his boots.
He yanked off his gloves, shoved them in the pocket of his range coat and crossed the room in four easy strides. He stretched out his fingers in front of the fire. “The horses are in the barn. They should be fine.”
She could feel the cold radiating from him. “And the weather?”
He glanced down at her. His gray eyes penetrated. “The snow is a good inch thick already.”
She tore her gaze from his and riveted them to the dancing flames. “How could this day have turned into such a disaster? I had such plans.”
He snorted. “You’re not the only one. This is the first day I’ve taken off in six months. All I wanted today was to read my book.”
She didn’t doubt him. He’d always been a hard worker. And he’d had a thirst for learning. He’d once told her that he’d had to leave school at a young age, but he’d never stopped trying to learn. He was always working on some book.
“You’re losing one day,” she said, hating the guilt that wouldn’t leave her. “Deidre is ruining her life.”
He squatted to his knees so that he could be closer to the fire. “Maybe she is. And maybe she isn’t. Either way, there’s nothing you can do about it now.”
His shoulder brushed her skirt. “You don’t care about this, do you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He reached past her and tossed logs on the burning kindling. Again, his shoulder brushed her leg. And again, she felt the surge of heat in her body. She ached to run her fingers through his dark hair. He’d loved it when she rubbed his head. Once he’d fallen asleep, his head in her lap, as she smoothed the thick strands away from his face.
Colleen caught herself. Lord, but if she didn’t put distance between them, she was going to do something very foolish.
She moved away from the fire to the frosted window. “You gave in to the weather too easily. We could have kept pushing.”
“I know when I’m beat.” His voice was low, full of emotion.
He wasn’t just talking about the weather. There was sadness in his voice that spoke to something deeper.
She couldn’t deal with his heartache. Knowing he felt beaten tore at her own heart. She needed to focus on her anger and ignore the fierce emotions chewing at her.
There’d been a time when she could goad the full force of his temper. She moved back to the fire. “I’ve never known you to give up on a fight. I never figured you for a coward.”
He glanced up at her, his gaze razor sharp. “Well, maybe you really don’t know me that well anymore. Of course, it’s been eight years since we spent any time together.”
His simmering fury gave her comfort. That she could handle. “People don’t change that much.”
He rose. He stood only inches from her. “A smart man knows when to surrender.”
The hea
t of his body felt like a caress. “Are you talking about the war?”
“Sure, why not?”
She’d never discussed the war with Keith. But many a night she’d lain awake wondering if he was alive or dead. “In the store, veterans swapped stories about the battles they’d fought. I heard tales of men charging into battle with bullets buzzing around them like bees.” She’d lost friends. Nate Sampson had returned home without a leg. Bill Jenkins had lost his right arm. Seven boys from the church had never returned home.
“It was the stench that stuck with me the most. Sulfur and the odor of the wounded and dead.”
The war had ravaged the valley and devastated the lives of so many. Suddenly, arguing with him about snow didn’t seem so important. No matter how much she wanted to hold on to her anger, she couldn’t.
“Jamie Newton wrote his wife, Sue. He said you were with Lee’s army in northern Virginia.”
He frowned. “That’s right.”
“Were you injured?” Despite all their troubles it would have broken her heart to see him injured.
Absently, he rubbed his right thigh. “I was shot in the leg in the wilderness.”
She glanced at his long lean legs. “They didn’t take the leg, thank God.”
He grunted. “They would have if I hadn’t threatened to shoot the doctor.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I bet you had those poor doctors in a dither.”
Dry humor sparked in his eyes. “You could say that.”
“How long were you laid up?”
“Three months.”
Three months of pain and anguish. And she’d not been there to see him through it.
“I begged you not to leave.” The words were out before she could stop them.
A cloud of sadness passed over his face as he stared down at her. He raised his hand as if to touch her, then thinking better of it, let it drop back to his side. “You know I had no choice. Virginia needed to be defended.”
“I needed you.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“There was more at stake than you and me.”
“You left me.” The words scraped her throat.
“And you left me back.” The anger had returned.
“I had no choice,” she said.
Bitterness radiated from him. “Looks like life got the better of us both.”
He walked over to the cabinet above the sink and searched until he found a bottle of whiskey. For the first time she noticed the small limp. He poured himself a glass.
Concern washed over her. “Does your leg hurt you now?”
He drank the whiskey in one gulp. “The cold makes it worse.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Keith stared at her a long moment. “No. The pain is a fact of life now.”
Her gaze slid down his tall, lean body and then up across his wide shoulders. If it were possible, the years had hardened his body. She imagined his belly was just as tight and flat as it once had been and that the thick mat of hair on his chest tapered below his belt line.
She’d kissed that flat belly and trailed her fingertips down that discrete line of hair.
Her pulse quickened.
Lord, but she wanted to touch him again.
White-hot desire surged in her. The feeling was so startling, she took a step back. After all this time, she still wanted him.
Colleen swallowed a dry lump in her throat. Suddenly, the cabin felt very, very small.
Chapter Five
Firelight danced on Colleen’s pale face. Keith had seen that look before. Desire. He also remembered the pride he’d felt that a woman as lovely as Colleen had chosen him.
His mind stumbled back to another time when they were courting and they’d been dancing at the Fourth of July picnic. He’d held her a bit too close, letting his erection brush against her. She’d gazed up into his eyes with the same mixture of longing and wanton desire. He’d sensed then, as he did now, that she wanted him.
With a little coaxing he could have her now.
She was a young desirable woman and she’d been married to an invalid for eight years. It wouldn’t take much to have her in his arms.
But the sex had been the easy part for them. From the first the chemistry and heat between them had been explosive.
What had been hard for them was finding the resolve to see them through the hard times. Yes, he’d refused to marry her, but in his eyes he’d done her a favor. That last time together, he’d been ready to marry her and then she’d confided that she wasn’t pregnant. He’d abandoned his marriage plans and left her, confident that if he died he’d not leave her with a babe to raise on her own. And if he’d been left maimed, she’d not have been saddled with a cripple. He thought in time she’d see the wisdom of his decision and she’d wait for him.
“How did you know where to find the whiskey?” she said.
Keith knew she was scrambling for something to say. She always did hate the silence. “I keep this cabin stocked for times like this.”
“This is your cabin?” she said, surprised.
The whiskey had dulled the pain in his leg, but it had also warmed his blood and stripped away some of his reserve. He set the glass down. “I bought it from Simms when he headed West.”
“Why?”
He leaned back against the simple counter and crossed his feet at his ankles. “It’s good land. And in truth I like the humble cabin. I’ve never felt quite at home in the highfalutin new place I built. I feel more like myself here.”
“That house of yours was quite the talk when you were building it.”
“It’s too big.” You’re not in it.
Her gaze caught his. She blushed and looked at the stockpile of cans on the shelves behind him. “Simms’s land is a good investment.”
A faint smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “I’ve always got my eye to the future.”
She noticed his smile. “What’s so funny?”
“Josh asked me about this cabin the other day. He wanted to buy it from me. He’d always been content in the bunkhouse and it made no sense to me why he’d want the responsibility of a house.”
Colleen sighed. She crossed the room and tossed another log on the fire. She pulled a straight-back chair to the hearth and sat down. “I wonder how long Joshua and Deidre have been seeing each other?”
He crouched beside her and extended his hands. The heat felt good. She smelled good. Not the lavender like she used to wear, but a musky womanly scent. “I honestly don’t know. He’d made quite a few trips to town this past summer and he was in a real good mood for most of September. I thought he might have a woman, but I never guessed it was Deidre.”
Good thing too. When he’d first met Colleen, Deidre had been a scrawny brat with a big mouth on her. But he’d liked the kid and her independent streak. She was as close as he’d ever get to a kid sister.
“Joshua never said anything to you?”
“No. But then, he knew I thought of Deidre as family. When I ran into her in town, she always had a kind word for me.”
Her shoulders tensed and her breathing grew shallow. “She always looked up to you.”
He stretched out his long fingers, absorbing the heat. “She also kept me posted on you, as well.”
“Like what?”
“Colleen got a big shipment of flour in and unloaded it all by herself. Colleen was looking after the Peterses’ baby girl and that baby sure did look good in her arms. Colleen was thinking about expanding the store.”
She relaxed. “Oh.”
Colleen cried when she thought no one was listening. Colleen still kept the tintype of you in the Bible in her room.
Keith had never acknowledged the girl’s information with anything more than a grunt, but he’d never interrupted her, either. In fact, he’d soaked up every bit of information as if he were starving.
Colleen rose, inspecting the cabin with a different eye. “I can’t imagine Deidre living here,” she said.
“Why?”
“It just seems a little rustic for her. I didn’t have much time for her while she was growing up, so I spoiled her with nice things when I could.”
“This place is nice.” He sounded offended.
“If you’re a farmer or cowhand.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’ve gotten a bit high-minded these last few years.”
“I’ve done without and I don’t want that for Deidre.”
“This cabin is hardly doing without. It’s a sight better than the cabin I first built on my property, and you didn’t have any problems with it.”
“I was young. I had no idea what it took to live in a place like this.”
“When did you become a snob, Colleen?”
She shoved out a breath. “I’m not a snob. I’m just realistic. Love can only carry you so far.”
“Folks do put a lot of stock in love.”
“Yes, they do.”
He flexed his fingers. “It wasn’t enough for us, was it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
A silence settled between them. Both stared into the fire. When he spoke, his voice was so thick with emotion, he hardly recognized it. “Did you love your husband?”
The question caught Colleen off guard. Hesitating, she rose and walked to the counter. She picked up a tin mug from the shelf above the sink and inspected it. She replaced it. “I cared for him.”
“But not love.” She heard the satisfaction in his voice.
She clasped her hands together. “As I’ve told Deidre, there are many kinds of love.”
He expelled a breath and his jaw tensed.
“I know that look.”
“Really?” he bit back.
“You are angry with me.”
“So what if I am?”
Fire singed her veins. “What arrogance this man has,” she said to the rafters.
He shot to his feet. “Come again?”
She marched up to him until they stood toe to toe. “What gives you the right to be angry with me? You’re the one who wasn’t there when I needed you most. You’re the one who refused to marry me.”
