by Jodi Thomas
After a few minutes a buggy pulled up to the back and Jamie jumped out and broke into a dead run until she spotted them on the porch. She slowed to a stroll.
Moving off the porch toward her, Win yelled, ‘‘I thought you were staying in town.’’
‘‘I thought you died!’’ Jamie shouted angrily. ‘‘I guess that’s what we both get for thinking.’’
He laughed, guessing her anger was directed at someone else other than him. He looked into the darkness of the buggy.
‘‘Evenin’, Doc.’’ Winter tried to hide the surprise from his voice. He’d have bet ten to one on the gambler.
‘‘Evenin’,’’ Steven Gage mumbled with controlled anger. ‘‘Wyatt was out of town tonight, so I thought I’d bring Jamie home.’’
‘‘Is that why she’s so mad? The gambler’s out of town?’’ Winter thought about shouting to his sister-in-law that the gambler was probably running for another state after knowing her for days.
‘‘No,’’ Gage mumbled with uncharacteristic rage. ‘‘She’s upset because we stopped a while back to look at the stars.’’
Running his fingers through his hair, Winter tried to listen without laughing. He’d heard this before. Stargazing seemed to be Jamie’s favorite pastime. ‘‘She didn’t like that?’’
‘‘Oh, she liked it fine until I went and did a foolish thing like asking her to marry me.’’ The doc’s voice rose. ‘‘Then she called me every name she could think of and accused me of trying to put her in chains. She says she’s never speaking to me again as long as she lives.’’
Win almost felt sorry for the doctor. He was a good man who didn’t know how lucky he was. ‘‘Don’t worry, Doc. It won’t last. I can almost promise you she’ll be talking to you sooner than you’d like.’’
Gage shrugged. ‘‘Guess I’m out of practice when it comes to women.’’
‘‘I’m not sure practicing helps.’’ Winter laughed. ‘‘You’re welcome to spend the night if you like.’’
‘‘No, thanks. I’ve got a man to check on in the Breaks Settlement. I promised the old woman they call Rae that I’d take a turn sitting with him tonight. But thanks for the offer. I’ll stop by tomorrow and look in on Cheyenne before I head back to town.’’
Winter waved the doc off. ‘‘Be careful.’’
When he looked back at the house, Kora was inside. He could hear Jamie shouting about how the gambler had left her for some sudden business and she was never speaking to him again.
From the corner of the house Dan walked out of the shadows. Winter fell into step with the silent man, and they walked in a wide circle without either seeming to notice the other.
When Dan finally returned to the sunroom, Winter went to his study. As he closed the door, he noticed a large slice of pie and a glass of milk by the fire. Part of him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he wasn’t Dan, then run up the stairs and prove to Kora just how alive he was. But the reasonable part told him to sit down and eat the pie, then close his eyes and try to sleep. Yet Kora wouldn’t leave his thoughts. Somehow, she’d tiptoed into his life. Her soft words and gentle ways had passed through the barbed wire around his feelings. If he believed in luck, he’d say all his luck was riding on her staying in his life.
FOURTEEN
KORA SNUGGLED INTO HER WARM COVERS AND watched the night sky. In a few minutes it would be time to get up and start the day, but right now was a quiet time when she listened to the music of a sleeping world. She could hear coyotes howling, horses moving in the corral, the house creaking slightly as it shifted in the wind. A few clouds threatened rain, but only managed to deliver enough moisture to occasionally cause a few drops to fall from the roof.
Rising and walking to the window, Kora watched the apple trees slow dancing in the shadows and the windmill beside the barn turning in time as it pumped water.
Far into the night a light flickered like a firefly who hadn’t yet found its mate. Kora watched as the light drew closer.
From the shadows of darkness, came a rider dressed in black.
Alarm brought Kora full awake. Three men in black had shot at Winter and Jamie and wounded Cheyenne! Why would one of Winter’s men be coming in now? Everyone knew the shift changes came at full dawn.
The man came closer. The tiny light became a huge torch.
He didn’t slow as he reached the center ground of the ranch, but raised in his saddle like a black knight preparing to fight. He swung the torch in a mighty arc and let it fly.
‘‘No!’’ Kora screamed as the fire hit the stack of hay beside the barn and seemed to explode.
She ran down the stairs, stopping only a moment to bang on Jamie’s door. ‘‘Fire!’’ she screamed. ‘‘Fire!’’
Win met her in the hall. ‘‘Stay back!’’ he yelled. ‘‘Until I know it’s safe.’’
Kora was right behind him as he reached the barn. Men were dressing as they poured out of the bunkhouse.
‘‘Wet the barn!’’ Win yelled. ‘‘Let the hay burn.’’
Within minutes, like a colony of ants, everyone had found a job. The well, though closer to the barn, was much too slow a way to get water. A line was formed from the windmill trough. Jamie and Kora both took a link along with the men swinging buckets as fast as they could toward the flames. The wind made the splashing water icy, and almost everyone stood barefoot in mud. Jamie was probably warmest in her buckskins with a rifle strapped on her back.
‘‘Take off that rifle, Jamie!’’ Win yelled from closer to the fire. ‘‘It’ll bruise your shoulders the way it’s swinging back and forth.’’
‘‘No!’’ Jamie shouted in return. ‘‘If that rider comes again, I’ll be ready.’’
Win jerked his head toward the house, where Cheyenne sat on the porch, his wounded leg propped up on the railing. A rifle lay across his lap; another rested beside his chair.
When Jamie glanced at Win, he winked. ‘‘We’re covered,’’ he said, ‘‘but thanks for the offer to protect my ranch.’’
Jamie laughed but didn’t slow the line down as she answered. ‘‘I’m not protecting this place, I’m planning on shooting the fellow for waking me up so early.’’
Several of the men voiced similar feeling toward whoever started the fire.
Within minutes the fire was under control, burning only the hay and leaving the barn and corral safe. The flames were high, lighting the night sky. Kora and Jamie moved toward the house as Win kept watch. The men milled around guessing the identity of the rider Kora had seen.
Just as Kora reached the steps, a scream shattered the air. A horrible cry of someone in great agony.
‘‘Dan!’’ both women said at once.
‘‘The fire must have frightened him.’’ Jamie looked across the smoky night for her brother.
‘‘I’ll get the blanket!’’ Kora shouted as she darted to the house.
Jamie ran as fast as she could toward the open field, screaming Dan’s name as though she believed he might answer her.
Dan was kneeling a few hundred yards from the house. He covered his ears and closed his eyes as he screamed. The fire from the haystack still danced behind him and black smoke bellowed, choking the dawn.
‘‘Dan!’’ Jamie knelt beside him. ‘‘It’s only a fire, Dan. It’s only a fire.’’
Kora joined her in seconds. ‘‘It’s no use calling him,’’ she said. A slow rain began to fall. ‘‘You know when he’s like this, the only thing to do is wrap him tight and carry him back.’’ Tears ran down her cheeks. How many times had she and Jamie found him like this and carried him back, kicking and screaming, to his bed? Sometimes he would have spent all his energy and fall asleep. Sometimes they’d have to tie him down until the madness passed.
Dan pushed them away as they tried to cover him with the blanket. Their efforts only brought louder screams. As he fought his demons, he lashed out, knocking Jamie to the ground without even seeing her.
Jamie jumped up when Kora touc
hed her shoulder. ‘‘Maybe we should let him scream until he’s exhausted.’’
‘‘No,’’ Jamie answered. ‘‘He’ll only make himself sick.’’
Both women moved closer to their brother. His movements pushed them away once more, knocking them both onto the rain-slick ground.
‘‘Wait!’’ Win shouted from behind them.
‘‘Stay out of this, cowboy!’’ Jamie jumped to her feet. ‘‘This is our responsibility.’’
Win glanced at Kora.
‘‘Let him try,’’ Kora whispered. ‘‘He can’t make matters any worse.’’
Dan was now curled into a ball in the dirt. He’d began shouting names from a roll call long dead.
Win took a deep breath. ‘‘Soldier!’’ he snapped. ‘‘ Soldier, stand at attention! You’re getting the uniform dirty.’’
To both girls’ surprise, Dan slowly stood. His list changed to battle names and numbers dead and wounded.
‘‘Now march!’’ Winter commanded.
Dan slowly began his walk, circling back to his chair. When he finally sat down, he was silent once more. Kora stepped inside and retrieved a dry blanket as Jamie removed his wet shirt and boots.
Win watched as both women wrapped the spider-thin man tightly in quilts. Once again he was touched by the way they cared for Dan. Win had missed that kind of family, and the sight of them made him feel as if there were a cavern in his heart.
He dried his face at the washstand and almost ran for the privacy of his study. Stripping off his wet clothes, Win wished he could clear his thoughts as easily.
As he pulled on a dry pair of pants, Kora walked into the room. She stood just inside the door looking like a child who’d fallen down the chimney. Her nightgown was spotted in black, her feet muddy, her hair a shambles of ashes and dirt from where she’d fallen in the field.
Win stepped aside and reached for a clean shirt. ‘‘You look like you’ve been riding drag during a mud storm.’’
She hugged herself and took a step backward. ‘‘I just stopped to say thank you before I go clean up.’’
‘‘Come get warm first,’’ Win said, offering his fire. ‘‘And no thanks needed.’’
Kora moved closer. As she stretched her hands toward the fire, Win pushed a footstool close for her to sit on. ‘‘That gown looks ruined,’’ he mumbled from behind her as he rummaged for another shirt. ‘‘Why don’t you put this on while I get some more wood? You’ll catch your death if you go back up to the attic all wet.’’
Kora slipped out of her gown and into Winter’s shirt. The shirttail hung to her knees. She cleaned off mud from her legs and arms using the few clean spots from their damp clothes.
When Win returned, he carried a small tub and a bucket of water. ‘‘For your hair,’’ he mumbled awkwardly.
Without a word she knelt and leaned her head over the tub. For a moment Win didn’t move, then slowly he dropped to one knee beside her and the water poured over her head. She shook the dirt from her hair and let her fingers run through the tangles as he slowly poured.
When she finished, he handed her a towel he’d brought in over his shoulder. She covered her head and began to rub the water out.
His large hands lightly touched hers, pushing them aside so that he could dry her hair. Kora raised her head and enjoyed the feel of the warm towel moving over her. He worked the towel down, drying all the way to the ends in long, sure strokes. His towel-covered hand returned again and again to her scalp, slowly moving over her hair.
Kora rested her arm against his leg and leaned her cheek on his knee as he continued to stroke. She was almost asleep when he stopped.
‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered. ‘‘No one’s ever done that for me before.’’
He sat, using the footstool to lean his back on, and pulled her against his side. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he said more to himself than her. ‘‘I enjoyed doing it. Watching your hair turn from warm honey to sunlight as it dried was a pleasure.
‘‘Besides, I should be thanking you for your help. If you hadn’t yelled, we might have gotten to the fire a minute later and lost the barn along with several horses stabled there.’’
‘‘Why would someone do such a thing?’’ She raised to look at him. ‘‘It doesn’t make sense.’’
‘‘Tell me every detail you saw,’’ Win quizzed. ‘‘The markings of the horse, how fast he rode, how tall, anything.’’
As Kora related all she remembered, Win’s frown grew deeper.
When she finished, he whispered, ‘‘You saw no face?’’
Kora shook her head.
Win let out a long breath. ‘‘You may have seen just enough to put you in great danger.’’
He moved his hand slowly over her hair.
‘‘Don’t worry.’’ Kora tried to make her voice light. ‘‘I can take care of myself and Jamie’s always around. After all, it’s only till summer.’’
‘‘Until then’’-Win moved his hand into her hair- ‘‘with all that’s going on, I’d like there to be peace between us.’’
Kora leaned forward and hugged her knees. ‘‘I’d like that, also,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve never lived in a place like this. It’s not the house so much as the way of life. All the men treat me with such respect, and there is so much to do. I guess I thought life on a ranch would be dull and lonely, but I feel like I’m standing in the center of a swarm of bees.’’
Win laughed. ‘‘I feel that way since you moved in. I’ve been alone for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to live in a tribe.’’
She looked at him. ‘‘Is that what we are, a tribe?’’
‘‘Very much so,’’ he answered. ‘‘When I was little, I lived with my mother’s tribe. Everyone took care of everyone else. I saw that tonight with you and Jamie on the bucket line, and again with Dan. I’ll miss it when you’re gone.’’
Kora turned toward the fire so he couldn’t see her face. He’d said he’d miss them, but he hadn’t said stay.
FIFTEEN
WINTER LEFT THE SALOON AND HEADED ACROSS THE street to the mercantile. The ranchers’ meeting had lasted hours longer than he’d thought it would, and he’d downed several more drinks than he needed to keep his head clear. Most of the men felt they had to have their say, even if they were only repeating an idea someone else had already voiced. Then H. D. Worth, who’d argue with a dead frog, had to counter everyone’s speech. And of course Lewis, who’d bet that same frog how high he would jump, felt a need to summarize anything Worth said. All in all, it was a waste of valuable time. They wanted to help, but anyone who knew the land knew Winter’s ranch was the one that would be crossed if the cattle moved. It was in the middle of the only practical trail, and it was too big to be missed.
‘‘Afternoon,’’ Kendell, the mercantile owner, said as Winter forced the door shut against a north wind.
Kendell was a man graying into his forties with the thin look of a buzzard about him. He was always pleasant, helpful, and almost too friendly. He’d inherited the business from his father and married his wife by blind luck.
Everyone except him seemed to know that his treasure lay in her and not the store. But Kendell valued only things he could keystone and sell for double the price.
‘‘Good afternoon,’’ Win mumbled. ‘‘My order ready?’’
‘‘You bet. I’ve got it boxed with the bunkhouse order on the porch, ready to load in your wagon.’’ Kendell glanced at the last box on his counter. ‘‘I was just waiting to see if there was anything you’d want to add to the missus’ order.’’
‘‘Shirts,’’ Winter remembered. ‘‘She said to throw in three new work shirts for me.’’
‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Kendell pulled the shirts from the standard stock. ‘‘How about something for her?’’ His eyes widened in hope.
Win frowned at the insanity of the question. How in the hell was he supposed to know what she might want extra? If she’d wanted anything else, she could have added it to
her list.
Before he could say no, Kendell grinned, taking Winter’s hesitation positively. ‘‘I got a pretty brush that came in, or all kinds of new dry goods.’’
Glancing at the case of pens on the counter, Winter asked, ‘‘You have any pen holders and things that go on a lady’s desk?’’
He reached in his pocket and felt the scrap of paper Kora had used to sign over the house to him. She’d completed her grocery list on the other side. The paper had been poor, but her handwriting smooth. The kind of handwriting that should be on quality paper.
Kendell took a long breath, enjoying the smell of money, and opened the case. ‘‘I’ve got a inkstand with double enameled finish on an iron base and a pen rack on the side. It came all the way from Chicago. Fine, heavy, durable, and worth every nickel.’’
Win nodded.
Kendell pulled it from the case. ‘‘And it’s got a pencil box with it that…’’
Win nodded again.
‘‘A letter opener? It wouldn’t be complete without that.’’
‘‘I’ll take the set. Include paper and anything else a woman would need for a writing table.’’ Kora had put the desk in the attic; the least he could do was see it fully stocked.
Win folded Kora’s scrap of paper and slid it into his breast pocket. He didn’t care that the paper gave the house to him. The house was hers. What mattered was that she’d offered. That made the note valuable.
Kendell quickly slipped the most expensive items from the case and began wrapping them. ‘‘This will take me only a minute to total up, if you’d like to look around.’’
Winter only wanted to get back to his ranch, but he waited. He wandered over to the ladies’ corner to say hello to Kendell’s wife. Winter had always liked the woman. She was one of the few people he found it easy to talk to in town. Maybe it was because she wasn’t afraid of him, or maybe it was because neither expected anything of the other more than friendship.
