Wearing a dress was a new concept, one she’d toyed with for the last year since receiving letters from Bill. She straightened her shoulders. She’d do it. All she needed was to attach the bodice to the skirt, and she’d be decked out in a sunshine yellow calico when her husband came home. Then she’d save her britches for chores.
Drake hefted a heavy beam out of the way and stopped to catch his breath after a fit of coughing. He prayed he’d caught nothing but a cold. It wouldn’t be good to have pneumonia. There wasn’t a doctor closer than town. The fact that his fever seemed to stay away gave him hope, but his head pounded something fierce.
Under the last scorched piece of wood, he found the lockbox, intact. Inside was his ma’s ring, and his deed to his land. He tucked the box into his saddlebag and continued searching through the rubble for anything spared by the fire.
There wasn’t much. A few tin dishes and some tools. No matter. The lockbox was the important thing. He glanced to where the barn had once stood and laughed at the sight of his laundry frozen stiff on the line. He’d forgotten he’d washed a couple of shirts and a pair of pants. Thank the good Lord, he had a change of clothes now. The ones he wore would most likely stand on their own if he let them. He grinned, remembering the sight of Annie’s own stained buckskins.
If she were that pretty in men’s clothes, what would she look like dressed in women’s? He doubted his heart would be able to take the sight without exploding.
Having salvaged all that he could, and with saddlebags bulging, he turned his horse toward home. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he would ever call a dugout home. Went to show it wasn’t the walls a man built but the people who lived within those walls that made the place special—that and the God who put them together.
Once home, he brushed down his horse, gave it some feed, then turned to the house. There were other chores that needing doing, but a nap would have to come first. Exhaustion dragged at him. He hefted his shoulder bags and headed to the dugout, stopping when he noticed unfamiliar hoof tracks in the snow. He sprinted for the house.
“Annie!” He barged inside and stopped.
She turned, wearing a bright dress, her hair piled high on her head, and a shy smile on her face. “You’re back.”
“You look like spring.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, all thoughts of a nap having flown out the slit of a window.
She brushed her hands down her skirt. “Do you like it? I just finished it today. Made May a skirt, too.”
Sure enough, May wore a yellow skirt with her nut brown blouse, her hair tied into neat braids adorned with leather strips.
Drake set his bag on the table. “I think you two must be the prettiest gals in Arizona.”
He thought his grin might split his face in half. For Annie to don a dress meant she might harbor feelings for him. At least he hoped. It had to be a sign of good times ahead. “What’s the occasion?”
“I started sewing it when Bill proposed. I thought it was time to wear it.”
Oh. She’d made the dress for Bill. Stupid of Drake to think it was for him. Why would she go to extra trouble for a man she barely knew? He noted the curtain rehung and headed for his cot. “I’m in need of a nap. Call me when lunch is ready.” He ignored the hurt look on her face and ducked out of sight.
He dropped his boots to the floor with a thud and fell back on his thin pillow. Idiot, harboring dreams that Annie could grow to care for him. Him! Drake Carter, a full-grown man afraid of the dark. Most likely she laughed herself to sleep at night long after she blew out the light.
He heard her shush May and rolled to his side, his gaze landing on the tiny window. Barely any light managed to squeeze inside, but it was enough when he laid eyes on Annie’s face. Now the winter sun barely broke through the gloom in his heart. Hitched to a woman in love with another man. What had he expected? She hadn’t had time to grieve before he’d practically forced her to marry him.
What did she say to make him angry? Annie glanced down at her dress. He didn’t like it. What was she going to do with the red one now? She’d feel foolish wearing it. Didn’t Drake understand she wanted to look pretty for him?
She plopped into the nearest chair. Marriage was confusing. Crossing her arms, she rested her head on them and stared at the fire in the stove. Tears burned her cheeks, leaving paths as hot as the fire’s flames.
“Why are you crying, Mama?” May burrowed her way into Annie’s lap.
“No reason. Sometimes women cry.” She wrapped her arms around her daughter, breathing in her clean scent. She’d managed to give her a sponge bath before Drake returned. The sweet thing hadn’t fussed much at all, other than completely soaking Annie by the time they were finished.
“You’re crying?” Drake stepped from around the curtain. “Do you miss Bill that much?”
Annie shook her head. “I didn’t know Bill, so how could I miss him?” She swiped her hands across her eyes, wanting him to disappear back to his cot. She must look a fright with her eyes red and watery.
Instead, he knelt beside her. She turned her face away, only to have him turn it back to face him. “What did I do?”
“I put on this dress for you! Oh, you’re such a…a… Oh.” She pulled away and stormed outside.
The wind cut through the thin fabric of her dress. Why couldn’t she have left things the way they were? She didn’t know any other way of letting him know she loved him other than cooking, cleaning, and donning a silly dress.
“Annie?” Drake followed in his stocking feet.
She hid a grin. They’d both freeze to death from their foolishness. “Go back inside before you take ill again.”
“You wore a dress for me?” He stood so close behind her, she could feel his body heat.
She nodded. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”
His arms wrapped around her waist, turning her in toward him. “Of course I like it. I thought you did it for Bill.”
“You silly fool.” She cupped his cheek. “Can’t you see that I—”
A shot rang out.
Chapter 9
Drake shoved Annie behind him and down the dugout steps. He followed, making a beeline for his cot. More shots rang outside. He shoved his feet into his boots. If he should die that day, it wouldn’t be in his stocking feet.
“Of all the days I choose to wear a dress.” Annie shoved aside the curtain and pushed his rifle into his hands. “I’m hampered by yards of fabric, and we’ve a gunfight to tend to.”
She made it sound as simple as gardening. “By the way, I should’ve mentioned that Hayward came by while you were gone. He threatened this very thing when I ran him off at gunpoint.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t have the opportunity.” She planted her fists on her hips. “I’m telling you now.”
“Of all the…” He shook his head and upended the cot to get it out of the way so he could have better access to the window. The last thing he wanted right now was an argument. As soon as Hayward was dealt with, Drake had every intention of getting back to his previous conversation with his wife.
Hayward and six men circled the dugout on horseback, hooting and hollering, firing shots in the air like a bunch of drunken Indians. Drunk was probably true. Why else would the man leap from threats to lawlessness?
“May, get under the table.” Drake pointed and watched as she scampered to do his bidding. “Annie, you, too.”
“I will not.” She grabbed her gun. “I intend to fight with you. There’s power in numbers.”
True enough, and they were definitely outnumbered. If something were to happen to her, though, he’d never be able to live with himself. “Then stay away from the window.”
“Right.” She gave a nod. “I’ll shoot from the door.”
“No.” He yanked her back. “Fine, shoot with me from the window. But don’t fire unless they actually aim for the house. I think they’re only trying to scare us.”
&n
bsp; “Then I’m going out to show them we aren’t afraid.” She whirled and headed for the door. “They won’t shoot a woman. This way, I’ll distract them, and you can protect me from in here.”
“Absolutely not.” The thought made his stomach churn.
“Trust me.” She cast him a smile and sailed out the door.
Rifle aimed, Annie marched toward the galloping men. The winter wind whipped at her skirt and sent shivers through her. Her boots crunched on the thin layer of ice over the snow. Scout’s barking promised to annoy everyone within earshot.
It wasn’t that she meant to act foolhardy. Far from it. But sitting back and waiting for Hayward to make a move didn’t sit well with her. He needed to know they wouldn’t bow to his demands. “Stop this instant.”
The men reined to a halt in front of her, eyes wide, most likely because of her stupid bravery. Hiding shaking legs was one thing a skirt was good for, and hers were as shaky as leaves on a windy fall day.
“So your husband sends you to fight his battles.” Hayward leaned forward, arm resting on his saddle horn.
“His rifle is aimed at your heart, Mr. Hayward, while mine is aimed at your head. I guarantee we won’t both miss.”
“Should I shoot her?” One of his men glared at her. “She looks like she can handle a gun and might be a threat.”
“Of course she can handle a gun, you fool.” Hayward shook his head. “We don’t want to shoot anyone, Mrs. Carter. Hand over your weapon and the deed to your land.”
“Hard to do when I don’t know where it is.” She grinned. “I’m guessing it’s safe in a bank deposit box in Prescott.” If it needed a key, she’d be in trouble. The only proof she had that she had been married to Bill was a slip of paper in the bottom of her trunk, right under the newer sheet with Drake’s name.
“Bank is open. We could take a ride.” Hayward motioned for two of his men to skirt around her.
“Not a wise move, Hayward!” Drake’s gun barrel showed through the open window. “You put one finger on my wife, and I’ll put a bullet through your gut.”
Annie knew the situation could spiral out of control faster than a twister across the prairie. Somehow she needed to calm the rising tempers. “Gentlemen, there’s no need…” She took a step forward.
One of the men’s horses jerked, yanking hard on its bridle. A shot rang out. Something tugged at Annie’s skirt.
She glanced down to see a rip through the fabric. “You shot my new dress.” She leveled her gun at Hayward. “You’ve come on my land, given orders to me and my husband, threatened the welfare of my child, and ruined a perfectly good dress. I’m starting to get riled.”
Hayward climbed from his saddle and strolled, hands up, to within a couple of feet of her. By the time the rancher reached Annie, Drake had rushed to her side.
“Not one more step.” Drake’s shoulder brushed Annie’s. Immediately she felt as safe as if she were wrapped in his arms. “The land isn’t for sale. Last time we were in town, I informed the sheriff of your actions and filed a complaint. He’s sure to be suspicious if we don’t show up alive within a couple of weeks.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who do you think they’ll look for first?”
Annie didn’t know anything about a complaint. Maybe Drake was bluffing. If so, he had a great poker face. She could believe what he said with very little convincing.
By the way Hayward glared, she wasn’t sure how much he believed. “Sheriff Olson is a friend of mine. I don’t see him taking anyone’s side but mine.”
“Does that mean he can shoot us?” Annie leaned into Drake, her voice barely louder than the horse’s breathing.
“Nobody is shooting anybody.”
One of Hayward’s men fired a shot in the air. “I got a whiskey waiting at the saloon. Either we get this gunfight started or I’m leaving.”
As one, Drake and Annie transferred the aim of their guns to the whiskeyloving man. Annie shivered again. If she’d known it would take so long to run Hayward and his men off, she would’ve grabbed her coat. Her fingers tingled, threatening to grow numb. If it did come down to shooting, she wasn’t sure she could hit the side of a barn.
“Go in the house, Annie, before you freeze.” Drake stepped in front of her and took steps back, forcing her to move behind him.
“Only if you go.” She felt his sigh rather than heard it. She hated to disobey him. After all, she’d vowed to honor her husband, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she hid in safety and left him to the devices of a man such as Hayward.
They shouldn’t be doing this. Meeting violence with violence would not be the way God would have them handle the situation. Sure, Annie tried to reason with Hayward, but on the other end of a gun. She lowered her rifle and put a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Put the gun down, Drake.”
“What?”
“We aren’t handling this right. This isn’t the way God would want us to act.” She was sure of it, even more so as peace flooded her.
Drake nodded and propped his rifle on his shoulder. “Hayward, we aren’t going to fight you over this. If you want our land, take it. By force, by law, however you want, but we will not start a gun battle with you.”
“You’re going to let God fight for you?” Hayward laughed, his steps halting two feet from Drake.
“Yes, I reckon that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Drake shrugged. “If you take Annie’s land, we still have mine. We’ll be fine, unless you plan on killing us outright.” He backed closer to the dugout, raising the barrel of his gun a bit to discourage any eager trigger fingers. Not that he didn’t trust God but rather that he didn’t trust man. If Annie didn’t want a gunfight—and Drake agreed it was the least desirable option—then they’d wait Hayward out in the safety of their home. That Drake didn’t already have a bullet between his eyes attested to the fact that Hayward possibly didn’t want gunfire any more than he did.
“I didn’t come out here to flap my jaws.” One of Hayward’s men aimed his pistol at Drake. “Somebody’s taking a bullet.”
“No.” Annie pushed forward.
Drake tried to shove her out of the way at the same time Hayward stepped up. The bullet took the man in the back, toppling him into Annie. They both fell. Drake whipped his rifle into position and shot the other man off his horse. The five men who had remained silent observers turned their horses and galloped away, leaving Drake and the others in a state of shock.
“Help me.” Annie rolled Hayward off her and pressed her hands to the hole in his shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” Drake pulled her to her feet and ran his hands down her arms, eyeing the blood across her stomach.
“No, but he is.” She kept the pressure on Hayward’s wound, this time using the hem of her skirt. “How’s the other man?”
So much for no violence. Drake knelt beside the man he’d shot and felt for a heartbeat. Nothing. His shot had taken the man in the heart. He leaned back on his haunches, sick at knowing he’d killed a man but comforted in the fact the other man drew first. Drake was only defending the woman he loved. “This man is dead. Let’s get Hayward inside.”
Together they dragged Hayward inside and laid him on the table. “Annie, get the fire stoked. We’ve got to warm ourselves as well as Mr. Hayward. May, can you find me some clean rags?”
The little girl scampered off to do his bidding. Using his Bowie knife, Drake cut the man’s shirt from his body and rolled him over so he could assess the damage. The bullet seemed to have gone through his shoulder and out the upper flesh of his arm. Good. He would survive, and it didn’t look as if there was the need to dig a bullet out of his flesh.
After building the fire, Annie lit another lantern and placed both beside Drake, making it easier for him to see. The way she seemed to know his needs without his expressing them amazed him. It was as if the two truly were one.
“I think if we clean this good and keep him warm, he’ll be fine and on his way home by Christmas.” Another body added to an already cr
owded dugout. Drake shuddered as the walls closed in.
Annie’s once sunny dress was stained with blood, her carefully upswept hairstyle falling around her face in disarray, yet the warm look in her eyes closed out the winter and bloodshed, leaving summer with them instead. With her here, Drake could survive the close quarters.
He could survive anything.
“I’m going to change, if you can care for Mr. Hayward.” Annie plucked at the bodice of her dress.
“I can handle this.” What he wasn’t sure about was the idea of her changing behind a simple blanket while he was wide awake and standing only a couple of feet from her.
Hayward groaned, drawing Drake’s attention back to him. “Don’t move. I’ve got to get a bandage on you.”
May handed Drake a handful of clean bandages. “Is he going to die?” Her eyes were wide and caught the flicker of the fire’s flames.
“No, sweetheart. He won’t die.” Not if Drake could help it. “Why don’t you sit on your bed and say a prayer?”
May nodded and scampered off.
Drake grinned, thinking on how the soft words of his wife had kept him from shooting Hayward himself and possibly having Annie killed in the process. One less thing on his conscience when God called him home.
When he’d heard the shot and seen her fall, he thought his world would stop spinning. Thank the Lord, they were both unharmed. Now he’d do his best to save the life of the man who started it all.
“I’m sorry.” Hayward opened his eyes. “I’m a fool.”
“You saved my wife’s life, Mr. Hayward. There isn’t enough gold in the world for that.” Drake wrapped the fresh linen around his shoulder and tied it tight. “We’ve a few nuggets if you want it. I count it a small price to pay.”
A Pioneer Christmas Collection Page 30
