High Mountain Drifter

by Jillian Hart

  So he forced his knees to hold him when he stood up, hardened his heart so he wouldn't feel the sting of shaking off her touch and gritted his teeth to keep from saying anything more that he shouldn't.

  He stopped at the door, shifted his rifle to grasp the knob, and tried to resist the urge to look back at her.

  Failed.

  She'd twisted around to watch him over the top of the couch, her chin resting on the edge of the cushion, the shimmer of her red-brown hair framing her face. The sweetest face he'd ever seen. A man could get lost looking at her, fall so hard and fast he'd never even see it coming. There would be no escape.

  "I told you I didn't intend to charge you for hunting down Craddock." The corner of his mouth tugged up. He could joke, too. "I'm going to up my price on you. A dozen of those cupcakes. No negotiating."

  "I'll even decorate them without the flowers." She winked, hooking him.

  How she hooked him. Left him speechless.

  Unaware of her effect on him, she tilted her head to one side, considering. "Maybe we can come up with something manly. Like guns and bullets or something. Rose is really good when it comes to making things out of frosting."

  "I'll take them plain," he said. "I wouldn’t want Rose to have to work too hard."

  "Okay." She smiled. Stunningly.

  In danger of being spellbound and with his knees threatening to buckle again, he decided it was time to skedaddle. He opened the door and stepped into the hall, hoping to drive out the ache for her in his heart. Since he was wise enough to know what a man like him could have--and what he could not--he kept walking.

  He didn't look back.

  Chapter Nine

  Aumaleigh didn't know what to think about the bounty hunter. Mr. Reed certainly looked capable of catching outlaws. She'd never seen a man so tall or powerful, sort of like a bear as he nodded a silent farewell on his way through the kitchen. He was out the door before anyone had the chance to again offer him anything hot to drink on such a cold evening. The door banged shut and he was gone, marching off into the gathering twilight.

  "Goodness," Iris gave a shiver. "I'm so thankful he's here but I never know what to say to him."

  "He doesn't give a girl much of a chance," Rose commented as she lifted the lid on the potatoes to give them a poke with a fork.

  "I like him," Magnolia decided as she counted out silverware from the drawer. "He's going to catch Ernest. Do you think he'll get that other guy, too? The one who was helping him?"

  "I hope so." Aumaleigh's heart still went weak when she thought of all that had happened. She peered out the window, searching the twilight for the big man. There he was, mounting a dark horse. Both were in silhouette against the last blaze of sunset painting the western rim with streaks of fading gold and purple. "Well, you girls will be safe here for the night. Half the men on the ranch will be keeping an eye on you."

  "We feel safe," Iris assured her, shouldering Rose over to lift the pot from the stove.

  At least the girls seemed to be handling this just fine. That was a comfort. Aumaleigh searched the cabinets for a bowl the right size to carry some of those potatoes down the hill. She, however, couldn't help worrying. It was an aunt's prerogative. As soon as she set the bowl on the counter, Iris forked a heap of steaming spuds into the bowl, humming while she worked.

  Aumaleigh covered it with a towel to trap the heat, her thoughts returning to the letter in her pocket. She hadn't opened it upstairs. It had been tempting, but Verbena had been there. Whatever it was Gabe had written, it was private so she was happy to wait. Truth be told, maybe waiting was better. She wasn't sure if her heart could handle knowing what he'd written.

  "And here's some buttermilk rolls to take." Magnolia added a wrapped bundle to the top of the bowl. "Where's the plate of sliced beef? Oh, Rose has it."

  "Here it is." Rose sailed over, tucking a dish cloth around the big plate she held. "Do you need help carrying all this? I could walk with you."

  "No, I don't want you girls out of this house after dark. I worry enough as it is." She patted Rose's cheek before snaring her coat from its wall peg and shrugging into it. "What are you doing standing here? Go in and eat while your food is hot. I'll see myself out."

  "Not without a hug, you won't." Iris swooped over, so pretty with her strawberry blond hair and quiet disposition. Her hug was just as sweet. "Walk safe, and you'd better have one of the cowboys escort you."

  "I'll be fine on my own," she said, buttoning up.

  "No, sorry, you will take an escort," Rose said sternly, moving in for a hug. Her adorable blond curls bounced around her striking, oval face. "We'll worry if you don't."

  "Yeah, you don't want us to worry, right?" Magnolia swept up, all buoyant energy, for her turn at a hug.

  Hard to turn down such caring. "Fine, but you girls keep those doors locked."

  "We will, count on it." Magnolia swept away, happily engaged. It was good to see how resilient her nieces were, how determined they were to live without fear when they had every right to. It was painful to remember the five of them showing up on her doorstep that cold night, blowing in with the summer storm. They'd been bedraggled and tired in those old patched clothes they'd worn, shouldering a quiet weariness.

  But thank goodness, they'd bloomed here in Montana and it heartened her to see Iris relaxed and smiling as she carried the roast on its fancy platter into the dining room. She chattered with Magnolia at the counter. Rose, who wore green today, as fresh as spring, humming as she snatched up the bowl of steaming potatoes. Being beaued by the handsome deputy had put a spring in her step.

  And Verbena. The girl ambled into sight, looking like a fright with her colorful bruises. She gripped her cane lightly--her ankle must be hurting her less--as she clunked across the kitchen.

  "Hmm, smells good," she said, trying to act as if nothing were wrong, as if she wasn't upset. But Aumaleigh could recognize it. She couldn’t help wondering what that tough bounty hunter might have said to her. It was easy as pie to read the worried crinkles around her eyes. A worry the girl did her best to smile away. "Aumaleigh, tell me you've changed your mind and you're staying."

  "Nope, sorry." She reached for her scarf. "I've got to get this meal to Daisy. See if she needs any help before I head home."

  "You should think about moving out of your rented rooms in town, maybe live on the ranch," Verbena suggested. "That way you'd be closer to us."

  "I'd like that, but there are too many unhappy memories here." She thought of the letter in her pocket, as heavy as that unhappiness. She gathered up the food. "I suppose I'll make a change eventually. I just want to think it through. You girls have a good evening and a safe night. Do you hear?"

  "Promise." Verbena crossed her heart adorably, and unlocked the back door. "Ooh, it's really windy out there. Don't get blown away."

  To the chorus of "good night" and "good bye" and "we love you" ringing after her, Aumaleigh sailed across the porch and into the darkening evening. Twilight had lost its battle with the night, and she could barely see her way.

  "Don't think you're going to be walking around here without one of us," a friendly male voice spoke out of the darkness. A few thumps of male boots and Kellan ambled into view, rifle slung over his arm. His ready smile put anyone at ease. "Looks like you're heading down to Beckett's."

  "I am," she agreed, walking across the damp lawn in the dark, squinting to try to see where she was going. Too bad there were only shadows.

  "I'll head down with you. The rain's stopped, so that's a plus." Kellan, who walked with a limp thanks to Ernest's attack, still had his good humor. "Looks like the stars might come out if we're lucky. Just had a chance to speak with that bounty hunter Milo brought in. That man knows what he's doing."

  "I agree." She thought of the loner, who was quiet, self-controlled and kept to himself. He'd taken every meal to the bunkhouse, according to Josslyn and Maebry who'd filled plates for him. He was fearsome looking, and not the kind of man she'd want
alone with one of her nieces, but he didn't seem dangerous. Not really. More like remote. An island unto himself.

  The walk went quickly, downhill all the way. Kellan filled her in on all the latest--adding a dash of humor to his tales of the men hearing a rattle in the bushes and surrounding it, guns drawn, ready to apprehend the low-life Craddock, only to discover a rather surprised raccoon. When they'd safely reached Beckett's back door, Kellan tipped his hat and disappeared into the night.

  A little princess with a wooden sword answered the door.

  "Why, hello Queen Aumaleigh of the Meadow Realm." Hailie curtseyed, royalty that she was, and adjusted the paper tiara on her head. Brown curls bobbed around her button face, pink with delight. "Do come in and pardon the dragon. Me and Sally rescued her from the Mountain of Fire."

  "I see." Aumaleigh bit her lip (really, Hailie was too adorable) and closed the door behind her. Since she didn't see a dragon, she reckoned it was an imaginary one, and nodded politely to the space of air Hailie had gestured to. "Hello, Miss Dragon, it's nice to meet you."

  "Her name is Bitsy," Hailie explained, her imagination in overdrive. "Because she's just a baby."

  "I see. A baby dragon. Did you save her from a terrible fate?"

  "Yes, the evilest of all dragons was about to eat her." Hailie brandished her wooden sword, as if ready for battle. "But Sally and I saved Bitsy and her sister Mitsy. We vanquished him."

  "I'm not surprised, since clearly you are a superior princess." She eased around the spot on the floor where Bitsy stood and set the food on the small kitchen counter.

  Footsteps rushed into the kitchen. Daisy, glowing with happiness. "Aumaleigh, so glad you could stop by. Come sit by the fire with Beckett. Warm up while I set out the meal."

  "You'll do no such thing," she said stubbornly, unwinding her scarf. "I'm helping and that's that. Hailie, perhaps Bitsy would like to set the table?"

  "Okay. She needs to learn and I'm going to train her up good." Hailie skipped over to the round table in the corner, tiara slipping to one side as she went.

  "Milo is taking what happened pretty hard," Daisy confessed in a low voice as she unwrapped the plate and bowl. "He and his daughters were over for a while to visit. I think it was good for him and Beckett to sit and talk things over. They're friends, and friendship makes a difference in this life."

  "Very much so." Aumaleigh shrugged off her coat and hung it on one of the door-side pegs. The cottage was cozy, nothing fancy, but filled with love. Nothing could be better. She thought of her quiet, lonely rooms in town and was glad--no, thankful beyond measure--that Daisy would not know that future. That she'd risked her heart and opened it up to love. She'd grabbed hold of that chance and hadn't let go.

  If only I'd done the same back then, Aumaleigh thought, musing, laying a hand on her pocket. Gabriel's letter was safely there, she could feel the shape of it through the wool. Come to think of it, considering how they left things with both of their hearts broken, maybe it was better off left unread.

  "Beckett is able to sit up all day now," Daisy said, carrying the plate of gravy covered roast beef to the table. "He's getting stronger. When the doc comes by tomorrow, I can't wait to hear what he has to say. Everything is going to be okay, Aumaleigh. I just know it."

  "Me, too." She felt it to the bottom of her soul. "And guess what that means. We have a wedding to plan."

  "Oh, the wedding!" Daisy lit up, absently setting the platter on the table. "It hadn't even crossed my mind, I've been so busy. What do you think about that, Princess Hailie?"

  "I want it at Christmas time," Hailie answered, carefully setting out the forks in all the right places. "Because that's the prettiest time. You know, because the Christmas trees are decorated and because I want a red dress with a Christmas bow."

  "You've thought this all out, I see." Aumaleigh set the bowl of potatoes on the table and knelt so she was eye level with Hailie. "Do you know what that means when you and your pa marry Daisy? You and I are going to be officially family. I hope that's okay with you."

  "Yep." Hailie's smile beamed. "That's a good thing because I already love you, Aumaleigh."

  "I already love you too, sweetheart." Her heart filled--so lonely for so long, but it just kept filling. Grateful, happy tears burned behind her eyes. "And what about Bitsy? She'll be family too. I'd like to get to know her, so why don't you tell me all about her."

  As Hailie lit into a long narrative featuring her imaginary pet dragon and exciting battles, they finished setting the table, Beckett ambled painfully into the room to join them and, after setting a spot for Bitsy, they all sat down together.

  * * *

  In a little protected cubby beneath a rock outcropping tucked in the shelter of pines, Ernest Craddock raised his rifle, the one he'd talked George into trading his horse for. This was a fine rifle, just what he needed, but it didn't solve his most immediate problems. He was angry, he was exhausted and he wanted the comfort of his Chicago mansion, the staff bustling about to do his bidding and see to his every comfort. Another thing he could blame on that worthless rag of a woman.

  Well, she could entertain all the men she wanted in her library. Ernest patted his gun. He'd make her pay for it in the end. Something to look forward to.

  A snap of a twig alerted him someone was coming up the overgrown trail. Heart pounding, Ernest lifted the rifle, aiming it at the tree boughs where the cover broke, ready to shoot whoever was splashing closer--just in case it wasn't George back from town. He eased his finger onto the trigger, at the ready. With any luck, maybe it was that sheriff he hated and he could blow him away before he knew what hit him. He grinned at the thought of seeing the lawman, dead and lifeless, his body sprawled on the ground.

  "Ernest?" A voice called out. George.

  About time. Disappointed, he lowered his rifle, watching as a familiar shadow emerged on the trail. George--thin, stoop-shouldered, past his prime. Clearly, he'd had too much fun in town playing checkers at the feed store, collecting local news and gossip.

  "What took you so long?" Ernest set his rifle aside. "I'm starving here."

  "Sorry, had to make sure to cover my tracks real good." George sounded weary. Worse, George was weak. He said he wanted revenge on the Rocking M, that he wanted that family to pay for what was done to him, but he lacked the real spine for killing in cold blood. As soon as Verbena got the lesson coming to her, he'd be a liability. A witness that would need to be dealt with.

  "No one followed you, right?" He had to make double sure. That sheriff was tricky. "You sure?"

  "I know what I'm doin'." George frowned. His old, wide-brimmed hat sagged almost as much as his grizzled face. "Ain't I kept us safe so far?"

  "There's always a first time." Ernest limped out of the shelter. Pain radiated up his leg, the break from that fall last summer had mended but it didn't like the damp or the cold. Well, if his plan came together, he'd be heading for a warmer climate soon under an assumed identity. Something else to look forward to.

  "What'd you find to eat?" he demanded, stomach twisting with hunger pangs. The sheriff had the town zipped up so tight, they had to resort to living in the woods like squirrels. "Give me that saddlebag."

  "I got fried chicken." George slung the pack off his shoulder. "It ain't much, but I snuck into the Gunderson's kitchen. Took the leftovers right off the counter. They were gabbing in the parlor and didn't know I was ten feet away."

  "Fools." He could smell the food as he yanked the pack out of George's grip, tossed it on top of a boulder and loosened the buckle. "Good job, George. About time you did something right."

  Instead of answering to that, George clamped his lips together, angry, his weathered face sagging as he frowned deeply, his mouth an upside down U. He didn't look happy. He sighed. There was no fight in him. He didn't even argue, just let the insult go by. "I got biscuits too."

  The delicious aroma of herbed chicken rose up strong and steamy the instant Ernest tossed back the leather flap. He reach
ed inside the pack and fished out a chicken breast, still warm. He tore in with his teeth. "Did you find out about that man, the one sniffing around Verbena in town? The same one I saw alone with her in the library."

  Then the curtains had shut, blocking his view. Remembering Verbena and that man, anger churned in his blood, lava hot. No telling what had gone on there. You had to watch women, you couldn’t trust them. Batting their eyes, thinking all they had to do was snap their fingers and get their way.

  Well, no woman could brush him off, decide she was done with him. He was Ernest Craddock. No little female could dictate to him. She was his to do what he wanted with. She hadn't learned that lesson well enough.

  But he would teach her. His heart ached with the need to throttle her. To squeeze until her eyeballs bulged, to watch the life drain from her, feel it leave her body. That's what she deserved for leaving him. Ernest reached for the flask he kept tucked in his coat pocket and took a few swallows, head pounding with fury.

  "It's bad news about that man." As if resigned, George bit into a chicken leg. Chewed. "He's a bounty hunter."

  "What? No, that can't be." Ernest ripped into the chicken, gnawing off another bite. "There's no bounty on me."

  "Milo brought him in." George sounded choked. His hands shook as he rotated his piece of chicken, but didn't take another bite. Just stared at it. "As a favor, the bounty hunter is here to track you down."

  That sheriff. Again. Getting in his way. Ernest ground his teeth, seething. He threw the flask and smashed it against the rock wall, heard the satisfying crash. He saw red. "I ought to kill him first."

  "You ain't gonna get the chance." George set down his drumstick, put his hand to his chest like he was having some sort of an attack. "The guy's some famous bounty hunter. They say there ain't a man alive he can't find and capture. Alive or dead don't matter none to him. He gets the job done. He don't ever fail."

  "Well, you're a good shot, you've got your uses. If I see him coming you'll put a bullet between his eyes." Blood pounded through him hard and fast, making him shake. He stared down the hillside, at the faint glow of light from the McPhee mansion's windows. Their curtained windows. "No bounty hunter is going to catch me. What do you look nervous for?"