by Jodi Thomas
He could feel her stiffen, but she didn’t answer.
‘‘Drink this, darling,’’ he whispered as he cradled her beneath his arm.
She had a death grip on the covers around her, so he touched the cup to her lips. Even in the shadowy light he could tell her lips were swollen slightly.
She made a face as she drank, but she swallowed half the cup of tea. The warm liquid seemed to help her body relax slightly. A thousand apologies came to Winter, but he didn’t know where to start.
Win lowered her head to the pillow and added another blanket over her.
‘‘Good night,’’ he whispered as he put out the light and walked out of the bedroom.
He spread out on the study couch and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He thought of ways he could make it up to Kora, but all of them seemed shallow. In the beginning she’d wanted him, he was sure of it. At one point he knew she was loving his touch as much as he was enjoying touching her. But at some point it all changed. Thinking back, he remembered the glory of entering her. How wonderful she’d felt beneath him. Her breasts pressing against his chest. The silk of her legs as he parted them. She’d opened her mouth wider when he’d entered her. She’d raised her breasts against his chest.
Or had she? Had she been moving with him, or against him?
Winter fell asleep near dawn without an answer.
Win awoke with a sudden jerk as he almost tumbled off the couch. The smell of bacon frying and biscuits cooking was thick in the air. Every muscle seemed stiff and contrary, rebelling to his movements. He dressed as fast as he could and followed the voices to the kitchen. He might as well face whatever happened. There was nowhere to run and he’d offer no defense. He wasn’t even sure he’d bother to dodge if Jamie’s knives started flying.
Cheyenne and Jamie were sitting at the kitchen table arguing. Kora had her back to him as she stood at the stove. She had on a new dress, and he couldn’t help but notice the collar was higher than her other dresses. She also wore her hair down. Usually by now she’d combed it up for the day.
Her hair reminded him of how she’d looked on the blankets when he’d unbuttoned part of her nightgown. She’d been so beautiful. She’d taken his breath away.
‘‘You look like death crawled up from six feet under.’’ Jamie laughed as she spotted her brother-in-law.
Winter didn’t even glance at her. He couldn’t take his gaze from Kora as she turned around. She looked as though nothing had happened. He studied her face. Except for a slight swelling of her bottom lip nothing was amiss. The lady was as proper as always.
‘‘I said-’’
‘‘I heard you,’’ he answered Jamie without taking his gaze off Kora. ‘‘I had a little trouble sleeping last night.’’
‘‘So did I after I heard something.’’ Jamie started telling Cheyenne all about the scream she’d heard.
Winter crossed the room and stepped out on the porch. He dumped a pitcher of icy water over his head and shook hard like an animal. He grabbed the towel and dried off his hair as he walked to the edge of the porch, trying to get his mind awake enough so that he could deal with Kora in the daylight.
There, ten feet away from the corner of the porch, was the washtub filled with water. He saw a patch of a blanket, his shirt, and what might have been a white nightgown soaking in the tub.
For a moment he just looked at them. How like Kora to straighten everything up. She’d have them clean and hanging by full sunup. Too bad he couldn’t put the relationship they’d started back together as easily.
‘‘Coffee?’’ Kora whispered from just behind him.
Winter turned slowly, very much aware that their conversation could be overhead from the kitchen.
‘‘Thanks,’’ he said as he took the cup from her hand. Blue eyes stared up at him. They were the color of a clear evening sky, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed them before. He couldn’t look away. She was almost close enough to touch, almost.
He didn’t know the words to say. Not even as he watched her beautiful eyes brim with tears. She was waiting for the right words, and he’d say them gladly if he could figure out what they were.
‘‘Be careful,’’ she finally said softly and looked away. ‘‘The coffee’s hot.’’
He took a swallow, not caring. Here she was standing in front of him as though nothing was wrong… as though nothing had happened.
‘‘Kora, I…’’
Kora touched his mouth with her fingertips. She glanced toward the open kitchen door. Raising to her tiptoes, she whispered close to his ear, ‘‘We’ll talk later.’’
Then, to Winter’s total shock, she kissed him on the cheek and hurried back to her cooking. For a while he forgot to breathe.
When he walked back in the kitchen a few minutes later, no one seemed to notice him. Jamie had told Cheyenne about the gambler’s shoulder, and Cheyenne was suggesting that maybe Wyatt had been shot dealing a crooked hand.
No one noticed Winter as he sat down and drank his coffee without taking his gaze from Kora, while she served breakfast. When she pulled her apron off to join them at the table, Winter did something he’d never done. He stood and pulled out her chair.
Cheyenne and Jamie continued arguing as Winter and Kora ate in silence. Winter didn’t even listen to the conversation until Kora touched his hand. ‘‘Win,’’ she whispered, ‘‘Wyatt was hurt the same day Cheyenne was shot.’’
The knowledge fell into a slot he hadn’t even thought existed.
‘‘And,’’ Kora continued while Jamie and Cheyenne talked to each other, ‘‘the man with the torch. I remember thinking it odd that he held the reins in his right hand and tossed the fire with his left. As he rode away the reins were still in his right hand. Wouldn’t a man hold a horse with his best grip, the same grip he’d use for throwing?’’
Winter glanced up at Kora and realized he’d had the same idea. ‘‘He would unless his right shoulder was hurt.’’
‘‘When Wyatt waved last night from the buggy, he lifted his left arm. I remember thinking how the movement looked familiar somehow.’’
‘‘You think he’s one of our men in black?’’ Win mumbled.
‘‘I don’t know.’’ Kora shook her head. ‘‘I like the man. I wouldn’t want to accuse him or anyone falsely.’’
Win leaned close to her. ‘‘I’ll do some checking and let you know what I find out.’’
Kora smiled at the way he included her. He was acting as if they were in this maze of trouble together.
Downing the last of his breakfast, Win stood. ‘‘I have to make a trip into town this morning,’’ he said too loudly to sound casual. ‘‘I’ll bring back anything you need, Kora.’’
Kora also stood and acted as if she and Win weren’t up to something. ‘‘I’ll make a list,’’ she said, as if reading lines from a badly written play.
Cheyenne leaned heavily on his crutch. ‘‘If you’ll hitch a buggy, I’ll ride along with you.’’ His voice was casual, but his eyes said much more. Win and Kora weren’t fooling him.
‘‘Are you up to it?’’
Cheyenne nodded. ‘‘It couldn’t be any more painful than listening to Jamie all day. Besides, I’d like to ask the doc something.’’
Win nodded, knowing just the questions he’d also like to ask the doc. He left and hitched a team to the buggy while Kora made a list of supplies she needed and Jamie helped Cheyenne outside.
Jamie insisted on him riding on a pillow, even threatening to shoot him if he tossed it out along the way. Cheyenne grumbled beneath her mothering, but he took the pillow.
While Jamie pampered Cheyenne, Kora handed Win the list. He leaned slowly and brushed her cheek with his lips, returning her kiss as awkwardly as she’d kissed him earlier. Anyone watching would never guess how they’d kissed last night. ‘‘Is there anything I can do?’’ he whispered. ‘‘ Anything?’’
His hand lightly brushed her collar, knowing the bruises were beneath the lace.
He wished she could name a price for his penance. He’d do whatever she asked. Never step foot in the house. Buy her whatever she wanted. Allow Kora her own account to travel as far away from him as she liked.
She looked up at him with those wonderful blue eyes. He thought he saw a touch of fear, a touch of worry, and to his surprise, a touch of understanding.
‘‘Come back safe,’’ she whispered, brushing his jaw with her fingertips.
If he stayed a moment longer, he’d make a fool of himself. Winter climbed in the buggy and slapped the horses into action.
Jamie was still yelling at Cheyenne when they drove off.
‘‘I’ll never understand that girl,’’ Cheyenne grumbled, uncharacteristically unaware of what was happening to Winter.
‘‘I think Jamie’s starting to like you.’’ Win laughed, suddenly feeling like the sun had come up after a very long night.
‘‘That fact could be the death of me,’’ Cheyenne moaned. ‘‘If I have to stay cooped up with her another day, she’ll drive me to drink. You’ve got to find her a husband fast, Win. Some good man who would take her away and teach her about being a lady.’’
Winter lowered his hat against the sun. ‘‘True, but it doesn’t look good when I’m heading to her most likely choice, and I’m not planning a social visit.’’ He told Cheyenne about Kora putting a few pieces together that they hadn’t thought about.
‘‘Too bad the man in the Breaks Settlement died before he could tell us anything.’’ Cheyenne swore as he tried to find a comfortable position on the pillow. ‘‘Kora’s guesses are a long shot, but it seems to be the only lead we have at present.’’
An hour later both men were standing in front of Wyatt as he dealt solitaire to an empty table. Cheyenne had left his crutch in the buggy, refusing to use it in town.
‘‘Morning, gentlemen. It’s a little early for a game, but I’m ready if you are.’’ Wyatt’s gaze darted between the men in a nervous action, though his smile was friendly.
Winter sat on one side of him, Cheyenne the other.
‘‘Morning, Wyatt.’’ Winter waved the bartender to bring a few drinks. ‘‘We didn’t come to play cards.’’ His voice was casual and low, letting the few people in the saloon think that the three men were merely passing the time of day.
‘‘We’d like to talk to you alone,’’ Winter said as he downed his drink and waited for the bartender to walk away. ‘‘How about the back room?’’
The gambler did the unthinkable in his business. He dropped a card. ‘‘All right,’’ he said slowly. ‘‘I’ll have Charlie bring us another drink.’’
‘‘Don’t bother,’’ Winter said as he watched Wyatt stand. ‘‘This isn’t a social call.’’
They walked to the back room and Winter closed the door. Cheyenne moved in front of it, as always, the guard.
‘‘What’s this about, gentlemen? If it’s about Jamie, I assure you I’ve never-’’
‘‘It’s not about Jamie,’’ Winter interrupted.
Wyatt took a breath. ‘‘I’m glad. I think a lot of the girl, but I said from the first I’m not the marrying kind.’’
‘‘I’d like to take a look at that shoulder of yours, gambler.’’ Winter moved toward the smaller man.
‘‘I appreciate your concern, but it’s fine. I’ve had the doc look at it a few times.’’
‘‘Take off your shirt!’’ Winter ordered.
‘‘Now, wait just a minute. You may think you can boss everyone around, but I don’t work for you.’’
Winter thought of fighting the man. He could have used the release from all the tension he’d felt lately, but in truth, he liked Wyatt despite the man’s poor taste in women and obvious dishonesty. He might be short on character, but his personality made him easy to tolerate at least. Also, both Kora and Jamie would be fighting mad if he beat the man up and the poor gambler turned out to be innocent.
‘‘You can show me now, or after I get the sheriff.’’ Win waited. ‘‘He might be interested in knowing the time you received your injury.’’
Frustrated, Wyatt pulled his string tie and unbuttoned his collar, then his shirt. ‘‘All right. I don’t see what the fuss is about. It’s only a scar. And as for the sheriff, he already knows about it.’’
Cheyenne and Winter watched as Wyatt turned his shoulder to them. True to his word, a scar still red from healing dotted his shoulder. Both men had seen enough bullet wounds to know one.
‘‘How’d you get that?’’ Win asked.
‘‘I was shot,’’ Wyatt answered, frustrated at having to explain the obvious. ‘‘The same day Cheyenne was. That’s why I was in the doc’s office the night your men came to get him.’’
Wyatt was being too straightforward to be lying, even for a gambler, Win guessed. ‘‘Who shot you?’’
‘‘Hell if I know. Some farmer who bet away all his money, I guess. I tried to find out, but it was only a scratch compared to Cheyenne’s. Plus, the sheriff had all he could handle with the blockade trouble without worrying about a gambler who got nicked.’’
Win glanced at Cheyenne, then back at Wyatt. ‘‘Sorry to have bothered you, but we’re checking out every man in the county who’s been shot lately to see if they’re related in some way. No offense.’’
Wyatt buttoned up his shirt. ‘‘None taken. I guess if I was in your shoes, I’d be turning over every rock I thought might lead me somewhere.’’ He walked toward the door, then turned back to Winter. ‘‘But think about it, Mr. McQuillen, if I were going to shoot you, I’ve had plenty of chances. And if I was one of the men running the blockade, you’d be my first target. Take you out of the fight and the other ranchers will fall like dominoes.’’ Wyatt flashed his teeth. ‘‘If I were you, Mr. McQuillen, I’d watch my back. And the next time I’d shoot all three riders in black, not just two.’’
He walked out of the room.
Cheyenne lowered his voice. ‘‘You never mentioned you thought he might have shot at you.’’
‘‘No,’’ Winter answered. ‘‘And I don’t remember telling him I shot a second ambusher that day you were hit.’’
‘‘Think he’s one of the black riders?’’
‘‘He might be. Or he might just have overheard folks talking,’’ Winter answered. ‘‘Let’s keep him close a few days so we can keep an eye on him. He might be spying. What better disguise than being a gambler with no interest in cattle? And Jamie gives him an excuse to come out to the ranch.’’
Cheyenne nodded. ‘‘If he’s a snake, we’re bound to hear the rattler eventually.’’
On their way out of the saloon, Winter stopped and apologized once more for inconveniencing Wyatt. Then he casually invited the gambler to dinner. When Wyatt accepted, Win added an invitation to spend the night on the ranch.
When the gambler took the bait, Win knew the ante raised and what was at stake came to far more than money. His ranch-his life-was on the line.
TWENTY
THE SKY TURNED DARK WITH BOILING CLOUDS ALONG the horizon as Winter rode home on a borrowed horse behind the buggy he’d driven to town. They’d spent far longer in town than he’d planned and accomplished nothing. The sheriff couldn’t remember talking to Wyatt the night Cheyenne had been shot. After waiting on the doc for hours, he’d been able to shed little light on Wyatt’s injury. He also reported hearing the man at Breaks Settlement mumbling about gunfire, but the doc said his words didn’t make any sense. Mixed in with the screams of being shot was talk of a woman whose aim was deadly. The only woman there that day, Win told the doc, had been Kora, and she hadn’t carried a gun. The dying man must have been mixing nightmares.
Winter was beginning to think he was on the wrong track accusing the gambler. It appeared Wyatt knew nothing and Winter’s only lead was dead. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep Wyatt close a few days and watch his behavior. If the cattlemen were moving a herd north, they’d do it soon. The weather was right and market prices high. If the gambler was involved,
they wouldn’t have long to wait.
Winter could hear Wyatt spinning some long tale to Cheyenne as the two rode side by side in the buggy. Winter smiled. Men who talked a lot eventually said too much.
Kicking his horse, Win pulled beside the buggy. ‘‘We’ll be lucky to make it in before the rain.’’ He was ready to be home, and he imagined Cheyenne was tired of the chatter.
Wyatt slapped the horses into a trot, and Cheyenne swore in pain. They managed to reach the barn just as huge raindrops fell, turning the dry, tan earth to a dark brown.
Winter waved the gambler and Cheyenne inside and took the buggy along with his horse to the barn. He took his time unsaddling the horse and brushing down the animals, not because they needed extra care, but because it was one way he could delay before going in the house. Being home was one thing, facing Kora was another.
He’d racked his brain all day and was no closer to thinking of what he should say to Kora. He’d gone from hating himself to being angry at her for not warning him. She should have reminded him she was a virgin. She should have made him go slower. She shouldn’t have made him so half-mad from kissing her that he wasn’t thinking.
He was no lovesick cowhand who hadn’t seen a woman in months. She was driving him crazy with her soft manner and gentle ways. And after all, she’d been the one who came looking for him in the orchard with her soft plea for him to touch her. The more he thought about it, the more he saw this whole mess as her doing.
He’d told her from the first he would never love her, Win thought. He’d been honest about wanting to share her bed. So she better not come crying and complaining now. The way he saw it, all he’d done was keep his word.
Win marched at full attack across the yard toward the house. ‘‘She got what she asked for and agreed to,’’ he mumbled, figuring there was no need for him to say a word about last night. What happened to her happened to every wife.
As he stomped in the kitchen primed for a fight, the smell of home cooking was all that greeted him. He loved the smell of cinnamon and apples baking. Since she’d been here the aromas always washed over him when he came home, making him forget most of his problems.
