High Mountain Drifter

by Jillian Hart

  "Rose left the ladder down for you, I see." Iris wandered over to it, tilted her head back to gaze up at the rectangle opening in the ceiling into the attic above. "There is a lot of old stuff up there I still need to go through. I wanted to pick up some more boxes to sort through."

  "I can help you carry some down," Verbena agreed, sidling over, her brown-russet hair tumbling down her back. Walking now with a cane, she only had a slight limp, favoring that hurt ankle. "We've been in a doing mode all day. Why stop now?"

  "My thoughts exactly." Iris gripped the wooden ladder and began climbing. "What did you want to take with you this time, Aumaleigh?"

  "Just start handing down whatever you find," Aumaleigh suggested.

  "Guess that's as good of a strategy as any." Iris's words were muffled as she disappeared up into the attic. "It's a mess up here. And there really are some big spider webs. We'll start with these crates."

  Iris appeared in the opening, handing down a bulky wooden box. "It looks like old papers."

  "We could burn them for you," Verbena volunteered.

  Tempting to simply let them, she thought, grabbing the hard, heavy box and manhandled it to the carpet behind her. "No, I'll take care of it."

  "Okay. Whatever helps." Verbena smiled at her, reaching for the next box.

  Aumaleigh smiled right back. How she loved those girls, but Verbena--her heart skidded to a sudden stop at the seriousness of what could have happened. Craddock wanted her dead. He and that poor George Klemp failed, and that's what mattered, but they'd all come close to losing her for good.

  While she could never be thankful enough that Verbena was still with them, it was a reminder to never waste a moment. To love those in your life all you could with all your heart. The true regrets of a lifetime came from not embracing that truth often enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Verbena stood in the foyer window, watching Aumaleigh gather her reins. The buggy rolled away, stealing their aunt from sight. The tall trees bordering either side of the drive shook and danced, whipped by a harsh wind. The late afternoon sky turned a virulent shade of soot. Frigid air radiated off the window panes, and she shivered.

  Winter was definitely coming and she couldn't help but think of Zane out riding in it. Easy to imagine him riding straight into the wind, his head bowed, hat tipped, teeth gritted, tough as nails. But he wasn't always that tough. She smiled to herself, recalling his gentleness. The kindness she knew was real, not fake the way Ernest's had been.

  Maybe because of Ernest she could see the genuine thing so easily in Zane.

  "Verbena?" Daisy called her name. "Did you hear a thing I just said?"

  "I wish I could say yes, but I can't." She let the curtain fall closed and shrugged helplessly. When a girl's heart wasn't her own, she couldn’t be faulted for it. "What did you say?"

  "I asked if you would mind sewing a new dress for Hailie." Daisy, who'd stopped by after fetching Hailie from school and dropping her off at the cottage, was all business. She had things to get done so she could return to help with supper preparation. Plus, it was no secret she wanted to spend as much time as she could with Beckett. "I wanted to do the sewing myself, but I have my hands full and Hailie ripped her best school dress today and it's really beyond mending."

  "Not a problem. You know me, I love to sew." Verbena ambled down the hall with her sister. "How is Beckett doing?"

  "He's grumbling because the doc hasn't cleared him to go back to work. He's used to being on the go, not sitting around by the fire all day."

  "Right, but I'm guessing he isn't complaining about spending all this time with you." Verbena sailed past the library where her other sisters were reading, sewing or crocheting for a bit before it was time to start supper. "It's been good for you two to spend so much time together. You must be dreaming about your wedding and your life to come."

  "Yes, we've done a lot of talking about that. There's the Christmas wedding, of course. I don't want it too close to the actual holiday because, honestly, we have enough going on." Daisy sailed into the kitchen, practically dancing. "Can you imagine Christmas this year? It's going to be a real Christmas."

  "We can afford gifts." For the first time since the Christmas before scarlet fever struck the family. And even then life had been simple, the gifts practical and few. Not that material things were important in life, but the idea of celebrating, really celebrating, just filled Verbena with joy. "We can have a feast, to make up for all the years when we couldn’t."

  "Yes, but Thanksgiving comes first." Daisy went straight to the back door and lifted her wool coat from its hook. "With the way time is flying by, it will be here before we know it. I'll talk to the cowboys about getting us a turkey."

  "Oh, and we have to have cranberry sauce." Verbena's mouth watered. Her favorite.

  "And all the trimmings. We'll make pies." Daisy stabbed her arms into the sleeves and shrugging into her coat, working the buttons. "We should have it here. Beckett and Hailie can come. We'll invite Aumaleigh."

  "Perfect." She sighed, happy at the thought.

  "As for Hailie's dress." Daisy tugged gloves out of her coat pockets and wrangled them on. "I picked up the fabric today when we were out. It's washed and on the line drying. Can I bring it over tomorrow?"

  "Sure. Dare I ask what happened to the previous dress?" she asked, curious.

  "It ripped when Hailie jumped out of a tree at school. Not that she was supposed to be climbing trees at recess, but there was a baby dragon stuck in one of the branches, too afraid to get down."

  "I understand." Verbena smiled, fondly remembering the times when they'd been young, five little make-believe princesses playing in their backyard. "I'll get right on it. It won't take long to work up a pattern, I have something in mind she'll like."

  "Thank you." Daisy reached out and hugged Verbena extra tight and extra long. That hug said a lot--gratitude for the dress, gratefulness for their lives here, thankfulness that they'd gotten through the Ernest crisis. Life would be good from here on out. Daisy stepped back, blinked at the tears pooling in her blue eyes. "I'll be back late."

  As they said their goodbyes, Verbena opened the door for her sister. The wind was like a knife, cutting, icy to the bone. Daisy blew away with the wind, rushing across the porch and down the steps, skirts snapping in the gale. The first flakes of snow sailed down, dazzling white against the gray world. Verbena's thoughts returned to Zane again, a man with no home, no need for one. A man who slept on the ground most of the time, who owned what he could carry on his horse or in his buckboard.

  He was out there. For her. The warm light of the caring within her strengthened, burning more brightly when time and distance should be dimming it.

  * * *

  Twilight settled over the high prairies like a blanket. Zane swung out of his saddle, gave Winchester the command to stay and Scout, trailing behind them with the packs, stood obediently too. Zane hunkered down alongside the road. A few inches of powder snow covered the road. No one had traveled along to disturb it, so he brushed it away with his gloved hand, studied the wheel tracks frozen into the now solid mud.

  Still the same wheel, cracking and worn, wobbling to the left. Zane sighed, stood up, glanced around at the land surrounding him. The long stretch and roll of plains, deep pockets of dark shadow in the draws and hollows, the faint gleam of a town up ahead. He shook snow off his hat, trudged back to his horses standing, heads down.

  They'd been tailing Klemp all day. Following him to Deer Springs, lost his tracks in town but found them on the far end on the outskirts. Those tracks had led him to a small farm, where a man selling everything he owned so he could head back east told of a fellow fitting Klemp's description. How he bought a mule and a cart. When they'd quibbled over the price, Klemp had pulled a .45 and helped himself to some hay and a couple of old quilts and ran off.

  Well, that sounded about right. Sad for the family and hating they'd been victimized, Zane mounted up. He'd spent most of his life e
xposed to the underbelly of humanity, the dark that lived in men's hearts. Hard not to feel weary of it. He reached for the reins, felt the reluctance in Winchester's gait as he trudged along, always obedient. The horses were tired out in this cold, just like he was.

  "We'll find a place to bed down for the night," he told them, knowing Klemp would have to as well. The temperature had dipped, probably in the single digits now, and that mean-blowing wind made it feel colder. A man couldn't rough it easily in this weather. Nothing about Klemp suggested he couldn't rough it, but he was past his prime. He had a limp, and likely the cold would bother him enough that he'd want some kind of shelter.

  The town up ahead might do just fine.

  The horses seemed buoyed by the knowledge it wasn't much farther, and held their heads a little higher. He did too. He'd get them settled in a comfortable, warm stall for the night, bellies full, and then he'd hunt down a hot meal and a hotel. Maybe spend some time walking the snowy streets of town after dark, when most folks were asleep. See if he couldn’t spot a back shed or an alley that might be a good spot for Klemp to hunker down in, something to break the brunt of the wind, maybe offer a place to find shelter from the falling snow.

  With every step Winchester took, the smudge of light became bigger and brighter until it turned into a western town full of folks rushing around, on their way home for supper. He tried to focus, but he kept looking back. He couldn't forget the wonder of Verbena tucked in his arms, cozy right here in this saddle, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin, and aware of the softness she put into his old, wrung-out heart.

  A man like him ought to be looking ahead, focusing on his job. But he wanted to turn back time and re-live the morning when she'd gazed up at him with caring, when she'd taken his hand and climbed into the saddle with him. His chest ached, remembering, he'd never known such powerful longing. It filled him up, dug deep in, seemed to own all, and all this for a woman he could never deserve.

  Knowing that made the night darker, the storm and cold harder to bear. But he kept going, chin up, spine straight, eyes peeled looking for the livery. Still, his thoughts filled with her and she refused to leave, as if she were a part of him, a connection that never could be undone.

  * * *

  By suppertime, a couple inches of snow had fallen at McPhee Manor. Verbena wondered about Zane as she'd helped make chicken and dumplings. The kitchen windows had steamed up as carrots and green beans cooked on the stove. When Iris rescued the chicken dish from the oven, gravy bubbling away, the fragrance was divine. Yum. Her stomach had growled in anticipation, and it was impossible not to wish that wherever Zane was, he was enjoying a hot and tasty meal too. That he'd come in out of the weather.

  The snow kept falling while they settled down by the fire for the evening. Iris hemmed the dress she was sewing, Magnolia read aloud. While they listened to Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Rose crocheted on her shawl, and Verbena kept making mistakes on her embroidery. Frustrated, she ripped up more stitches than she kept, all because she couldn’t concentrate. It felt like a part of her was missing.

  By bedtime the snow had turned the outside world into a frozen hush. So cold, the precipitation stopped, northern winds whipped across the foothills and mountains with an eerie howl. Icy air penetrated the windows and walls, and although Rose stoked and fed the fire in the stone hearth in their bedroom, the growing flames could not chase away the chill.

  "The only place that's warm is right here in front of the fire." Rose hung up the iron poker and stood with her back to the grate. "I don't want to change into my nighty. We've gotten spoiled here. Gone soft."

  "I know, it didn't take long, did it?" With a small laugh, Verbena joined her older sister in front of the fire. It did feel good, chasing away the goose bumps and shivers, heating her right up. "Remember the first boardinghouse we moved into right after we lost the shanty?"

  "I try not to remember, I've purged it from my brain completely," Rose quipped, shaking her head. "There was only one fireplace in the entire house. We nearly froze to death that winter, cuddling up together on two beds."

  "And to think when the renovations are done here, we'll all have our own rooms. Each with a fireplace."

  "We won't go cold, that's for sure." Rose sighed. "You're thinking of him, aren't you?"

  "Who?" Her gaze zipped to the window, betraying her. "Okay, I am thinking of him."

  "You really care for him, don't you?" Rose asked gently.

  "In spite of my no man vow. Yes." It was only the truth. "Maybe I care so much because he caught Ernest. There could be a little bit of that hero thing."

  "Could be," Rose agreed with a nod, her golden curls bobbing too.

  "I just know I've never felt like this." She wrapped her arms around her middle, unable to stop the aching sense of loss. "I promised myself I'd never get close to another man again. It's just too risky. I never want to go down the path I've been with Ernest."

  "No, of course not. He scared us all. Not because we were scared for ourselves, but for you." Rose leaned over and gave a shoulder bump. "We love you. You're our baby sister."

  "Ah ha, so I wasn't an abandoned baby you all found on the front step," she teased over the squeeze of sisterly love she felt deep in her chest. "Finally, the truth comes out."

  "A momentary slip, that's all," Rose winked. "I'll deny it later."

  "As I'd expect you to." They laughed together. Verbena rotated around to warm her front. Inside the grate, the fire writhed and danced, spitting out warmth. "Can I ask you about Wade?"

  "Sure, what about him?"

  "Does he make you feel, oh, I don't know, better, like you're more than you are, when you're with him?" The memory of Zane towering above her on horseback, sweeping her up into his saddle made her miss a breath, go a little dizzy.

  "Wade?" Rose rotated too. "Not Wade. He's more the steady type, you know, nothing exciting. He doesn't dominate a room when he enters it, the way your Zane does. But he's nice. A good man."

  "Then you aren't falling in love with him?"

  "I don't know. Maybe I will. That's why I'm dating him." Rose shrugged. "To see what will come of things."

  "He doesn't make your head spin?"

  "When you say it like that, I get the picture of my head going around in circles like an owl," Rose quipped. "No, Wade doesn't turn my head, he doesn't make me breathless, my heartbeat doesn't skip when he holds my hand, the way Daisy's talked about with Beckett and Magnolia with Tyler."

  "Oh." Verbena stared down at the toes of her shoes peeking out from beneath her skirt ruffle. "Every other beau I'd ever had was like that. It was pleasant, it was amiable, even rather nice. But it wasn't as if my heart had been struck by lightning."

  "Is it like that with Zane?" Rose asked.

  "Yes." She heaved the word out on a sigh, deeply troubled. "It can't be a good sign that I feel so much for him, can it?"

  "I don't know. It sounds pretty good to me." Rose said in her gentle, understanding way. "All I know is that there's the real thing, that rare, true love that happens maybe once in a lifetime. Maybe. I don't know if it's always destined to work out, though. Look at our family. Ma and Pa."

  "Grandmother and Grandfather."

  "Aumaleigh and the man she loved in her youth," Rose finished. "So that's why I'm going to keep seeing Wade. He's a good, decent man and he treats me well. I don't need all the bells and whistles. I don't need the once-in-a-lifetime true thing. I just want a comfortable, dependable kind of love. Something I can count on."

  "That's sensible." If only she could make herself believe the same. But it was too late, Zane had touched her heart and there was no undoing it. No going back. Even if it wasn't fated to last. "I'm happy you've found someone so nice."

  "Me, too." Rose smiled sweetly. "It's not easy being the middle sister. You are all so gorgeous--"

  "You are too," Verbena cut in to argue.

  "Well, I've been the only one of us who never
had a beau. I'm twenty-five years old. That's spinster age." Rose pivoted a quarter-turn to expose her left side to the fire. "I don't feel desperate or anything, but it would be nice to have a husband who loves me. To have a couple babies and raise them up. Have my chance at that kind of a happy life."

  "That's what you should have." Verbena squeezed Rose's hand, a show of support. "It sounds wonderful to me."

  "Zane is going to ride away forever when he's found that Klemp guy, isn't he?" Rose's face scrunched up with concern. "Your Zane will be gone for good. He doesn't look like the settling type."

  "That's right," Verbena agreed, heart aching. Just aching. "I don't think he's the marrying type either."

  "I'm sorry." Rose's voice dipped, her face wreathed with sympathy. Her soft understanding meant everything. There was no need to say that she was half in love with the man. No need to say she wouldn't break her no man vow for any other--just him. Rose already knew.

  Hoping he was safe out there, Verbena spun away from the fire and fetched their nightgowns. It was time to go to bed. She hoped she could sleep.

  * * *

  Zane closed his hotel door, pocketed his key and headed down the hall. The place was quiet this time of night, most folks were tucked into their rooms after a hot meal in the dining room. He'd taken his food to go, ate in his room going over maps of the area and grabbed an hour nap. Now it was hunting time.

  "Uh, do you need anything, Mr. Reed?" the desk clerk asked, running a nervous hand across his mustache.

  "No. Just going out for a bit." He pushed through the door and onto the icy boardwalk.

  Not many folks out here either. Couldn’t blame them. It felt colder than the North Pole, the air so heavy, it hurt to breathe it, but that didn't stop him. His boots clomped on ice, crackling it as he thundered down the way. Stores and shops were closed up tight for the night, only a faint rise of noise and light came from the saloons one street over. Might be a place Klemp would retreat to, grab a cheap meal and some whiskey to soothe his nerves and help him sleep. Best to check each saloon first. He'd caught a lot of wanted men that way.