“How do we know he doesn’t need us?” It was a fair question.
“We don’t. But if he wants us there…”
“…we’ll go. No questions.”
Sam nodded and switched his attention back to where the flames were beginning to burn nearly pure white. He definitely needed to address how much time Scarlett was spending with Sage. She said she could handle it, but…
“Is she okay?” Jed frowned.
“Yes.” He replied with a confidence he didn’t feel. She will be.
Jo, Haven
The classroom was quiet save for the shuffle of pages turning or the scratch of chalk on slate boards. Cate sat on the floor next to the desk, drawing a picture of a—Jo tilted her head trying to determine what she sketched. It was the side profile of the new Dorado. The bank took shape, along with the marshal’s office and what looked to be a saloon. The likeness was remarkable.
A thud sounded from the last row in the room. “Put your feet on the floor, Gordon.” Another thud and the boy let out a sigh. Like so many of her students, he was at the unenviable age between boyhood and beginning manhood. Twelve years old and nearly as tall as the sixteen year-old Shane, he was all arms and legs and awkward with his body. Another thump and she looked up from Cate’s drawing to frown. Several were taking tests and while others worked on their reading and writing.
Gordon spread his hands, a look of utter innocence on his face. His feet were definitely on the ground. So what was the bang? Another thud had the girls in the first row looking around with scowls. They were the ones testing.
Rising, Jo motioned to Sarah, Noel, and Sabine to put their gazes back on their tests and began to walk the room. The thud was nearly constant now, drumming a cadence and she checked the feet and hands of each student. No one was tapping. Questioning expressions met hers as she paused at each row, but she didn’t see any sign of subterfuge or even a hidden gleam of mischief.
Focusing on the sound, she followed it to the mudroom where the students hung their coats and left their wet boots. The thudding was louder here and it almost sounded like someone knocking on the door. Turning the handle, she pulled the door open. At the bottom of the schoolhouse steps, pawing at a lunch pail, sat a bear. It lifted its head and stared up at her. Jo’s heart seemed to slam to a stop for a moment and then began to pound again.
Cinnamon colored, it was nearly four feet in length and had a broad, flat head and a dirty muzzle that dripped something suspiciously resembling jam.
“Oh!” Cate’s gasp alerted Jo to her presence and she dropped a hand to push the little girl back. “It’s a bear.”
The beast tilted its head looking back and forth between Jo and the little girl. Footsteps thudded behind her and the kids crowded into the mudroom, all eager to see. The more that arrived the more agitated the bear seemed to get. It backed up a step and rose up on its back legs.
And it seemed considerably taller than four feet.
“Jo,” Jimmy’s voice drifted from across the street. “Take the kids back inside.” She could see his rifle from the corner of her eye and she shook her head, nudging Cate back further.
“Go sit down, now. All of you.” For once, her tone seemed to have an effect, they retreated and thankfully Sabine corralled Cate and tugged her along—everyone except Ben. Ben stood rigidly next to her and she could almost feel the growl vibrating him.
So could the bear.
“Ben. Go sit down…” She didn’t look away from the cinnamon shaded bear. “Jimmy, don’t shoot it.”
“Sweetheart, it’s a little too close for comfort.” Micah’s voice drifted at her from the opposite direction.
“Don’t shoot it.” She repeated. When Ben refused to move, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The little boy stopped growling.
“Shhh.” She concentrated, thinking at him and then to the bear. “Shhh. No one will hurt you.”
Would it work? She barely understood how she could hear them or translate what weren’t always words into words. The bear’s nose quivered, and though it remained upright it actually looked puzzled.
“Can you hear me? This is my…cave and that’s our food.” Where did bears live? They didn’t have bears in England, though she’d heard rumors of them at the Royal Zoo. In all her time in the colonies, she’d never encountered one. What she knew about them came from a book she’d read—too long ago to recall all the details.
“Hungry.” The single word rode an almost sluggish wave. Bears were supposed to sleep in winter. They hibernated. It was still winter here, the late January, early February winds often cutting and cold.
“You want food.”
“Hungry.” The bear dropped back to its feet and nosed at the pail, and thudded it against the steps.
“Micah, where might a bear sleep here?”
“In a cave.” He replied in a tone that told her to give up whatever idea she had in her mind.
“Do you have caves on the ranch?” He’d mentioned some to her, but she’d not had the occasion to explore them. The children occupied so much of their time.
“Yes. What are you planning to do?” The quiet warning in his soft voice actually made her smile. Micah’s patience was infinite, and she trusted him absolutely. She didn’t think she could ever think that of a man again, not after Harrison. But Micah made her feel safe, even when he didn’t like her decisions.
“Food and a cave?” How much did the animal actually understand? She tried to think of what the cave would look like, warm and cozy and dark. Cody told her the images came through far more clearly than the words, but he understood her words, too. Of course, Cody was a wolf who became a man—Oh…
She did a quick mental head count. Not all of the students were in the schoolroom. “Do you know where Lucas and Eric are?”
“Eric’s behind me,” Jimmy offered conversationally, his tone waffling between was-she-insane? And where-was-she-going with it? “No sign of Lucas.”
“Lucas is at the barn with some of the hands. He’s mucking stalls.” Smooth-and-steady. Micah’s calm, even response soothed her.
“It’s an animal, animal.” Ben whispered. “Doesn’t smell like a person at all.”
The bear gave up on the pail and began to sniff around the edges of the steps. “You’re sure?” She murmured to the little boy.
“Pretty sure.”
“Hey teach,” Cody had apparently come to join the show. “It’s a bear.”
“All right then. We’re going to get the bear some food and show it where it can sleep.”
“Or I could just shoot it.” Jimmy said as easily as if he were discussing the weather.
“No.” The bear didn’t deserve to be shot, it was tired and hungry. It probably shouldn’t even be awake. She suppressed a shiver as the breeze picked up. Nudging Ben back, she murmured. “Go finish your work and please tell Ashton to watch the class.”
“No.” Came Ben’s mutinous reply.
Before she could say anything, a low warning growl came from her left and Ben backed up immediately. The bear’s head came up and he focused on Cody, every muscle going stiff.
“Now Ben.” Jo gave him another shove and pulled the door closed. She’d have to forgo the coat because the bear didn’t like Cody and that came across plain and simple as it started to rise up again, a warning noise in the back of its throat.
“Enough.” Enough. She echoed the command mentally as well as vocally. The bear dropped and pawed around. Cave. Food. Come.
“Jo…”
Trusting her instincts on this one, she walked down the steps slow and steady. The same instincts that led her to getting away from Harrison and braving every nerve-wracking part of the journey to come out to this town in the middle of nowhere. A wave of curiosity mingled with hunger and the bear swung its look from Cody to her. Skirting the animal carefully, her heart double-timed it as the bear pivoted and the fur of its side brushed her skirt.
It was terrifically close now. Food. She repeated
and used an image of sandwiches because it was all she could think of and then another of the cave. The bear let out a little protest, almost a whine, but trundled along with her. It seemed young, maybe it was young—the idea of it being an orphan tugged at her heart.
“Someone needs to go supervise the last of the tests please.”
“Jimmy and I are going with you.” Micah’s tone told her not to argue. “And you need a coat.”
Shivering, she agreed with him. “Just tell me the caves aren’t far and that we can get the bear some food.”
“Jimmy has some. And it’s a bit of a walk sweetheart. I’m going to go around and put my coat ahead so you can pick it up.”
She nodded, and kept walking. As long as the bear was moving, so would she. It didn’t seem to be threatening her, but the claws she saw on its feet were not for show. A flash ahead and she saw a sandy colored wolf dropping a coat.
“Or Cody will deliver it,” Micah added wryly and Jo couldn’t help it, she laughed. What a terrifically insane life she led now.
She wouldn’t change one moment of it, either.
Cate, Haven
“I want to take a bear for a walk,” she pressed up to the glass and watched their teacher walk up the middle of the trail leading out of Haven, the bear trundling along beside her.
“No.” Ben nudged her away from the window.
“Shh,” Ashton admonished them both, but Cate didn’t know why. No one was doing what they were supposed to be. Instead, they were all staring out the windows. Ben pinched Cate’s arm until she moved.
“Ow.” She whispered loudly. Ben didn’t stop nudging her until she was back by Jo’s desk and her pencil sketch. Instead of going back to his seat, he sat down next to her and started rolling one of the pencils back and forth on the floor.
“I wanted to watch,” she told him primly, and took away the pencil so she could go back to drawing.
Instead of answering, he pulled one of her braids and she scowled at him. But he made a funny face so she laughed.
“We’re supposed to be doing work.” Ben reminded her.
“So why are you sitting here?” Cate pointed at the row he sat in. “You’re supposed to be there.”
“I’m done.” He shrugged and settled in next to her. One by one the others drifted back to their seats, but no one did any work.
Leaning closer, Cate whispered for real. “Is everyone done?”
“No,” Ben’s eyes drifted half-closed. “They’re waiting to see if Mrs. Kane gets eaten.”
Cate blinked and she looked at the window. “Maybe we should tell someone.”
“Cody went with.” Ben scowled. “He’s too mean for the bear to eat.”
“But what about Jo?” Cate really liked the teacher, not as much as Delilah, but Jo was fun and she told stories and didn’t make Cate do chores when she wanted to read.
Ben shrugged.
Cate really hoped the bear didn’t eat Jo. She didn’t want to have to go live somewhere else.
Again.
Chapter 8
Kid, The Mountain
One week later…
* * *
One day bled into the next and Kid spent nearly every minute with Wyatt. They worked the forge, a tool he’d never before had the occasion to learn, and they built swords. The combination of backbreaking, repetitive work and near emotional silence on the part of the eldest Morning Star had an unsettling effect on Kid.
He was comfortable.
The odd realization pricked at him as he turned a sword over and hammered the end to continue the fold and flatten the molten metal. It snowed again outside, the fat white flakes adding another layer to the already muffled earth. Oddly, Kid found the cold almost as soothing as the work. Utter quiet surrounded the barn where he found himself day in and day out, molding the metal until it began to resemble something from a world long forgotten.
Twice he’d asked Wyatt why the hell they made swords. Wouldn’t it be more practical to make horseshoes? Or some other type of tool? Instead of answering, the man simply stared until Kid finally gave up and went to work. At least when they were heating metal and shaping it Wyatt didn’t ask him to do anything else.
Seven days of the same behavior, however, began to wear on him. He saw Quanto every morning and evening at mealtime. The old Indian still looked fatigued, but greatly improved since Kid’s lashing out in the kitchen. Whatever he’d done that day, whatever door Kid had slammed, remained shut.
It was probably too much to hope it would remain that way. Finished with as much as he could do for the day, he left Wyatt to hammer alone and stepped out of the sweltering barn. The icy wind slapped his face, cold a brutal burn in his chest with every breath and Kid closed his eyes. The ache in his back remained persistent; the fatigue of muscles unused to this type of labor. It would pass—he’d experienced that type of exhaustion before whether it was on the ranch, riding out to check fences or herds or visiting…
The distraction of home provided the melancholy the moment it seemed to have been waiting for. It struck and nearly took him down to his knees. Agony twisted through him. It hurt to breathe, and he swallowed daggers of anger as they sliced his throat. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The bitter ache scraped out the hollowed place inside of him and left him raw.
“Breathe.” A hand locked around the back of his neck and forced his head down. Belatedly, he realized he’d fallen to his knees and the closer his face came to the snow, the more clarity sharpened and froze the agony rending him apart. “In and out.”
The harsh order helped. Dropping his palms to the snow, he shoved his fingers into the frosty surface. The sensation sent a different kind of pain up his arms, but the physical pain he could deal with and it shoved the emotional back. His rebellious lungs expanded and he sucked in a deeper breath of air. And exhaled. Bit by bit, he pulled back from the edge and every breath gave him strength.
The hand on his neck went away and a shadow crouched down next to him. “Better?”
“Some,” he admitted with a sour laugh. “No one is out here. What the hell was that?”
“It was you,” Wyatt’s blunt response didn’t offer much insight.
Lifting his head wearily, Kid tried to ignore the vicious pounding awake behind his eyes. “Can we pretend for a moment that I’m an idiot and I have no idea how that could have been me? I was alone. I didn’t feel myself reaching out or touching anyone. I wasn’t even trying to reach anyone.”
“What were you doing?” Wyatt held up a hand, when Kid glared at him. “No, what were you doing in the moment it hit?”
Dragging his hands out of the snow, Kid scrubbed his icy palms to his face. The sting sharpened his awareness of the now and braced him. “Thinking about learning to make your stupid swords. My back hurts. My arms burn. But I like the work and I can get used to anything. Like when I was at the ranch, I could ride for days if I needed. Didn’t matter how tired I got. I could ride to check the fences and the cattle and still have the energy to go and see…” The knot of grief closed his throat and threatened to strangle him.
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. It hurt so damn bad, he could barely breathe around it. A fist squeezed his heart until he thought it might burst.
“And see who, Kid?” The low tone and rough sympathy ripped open a wound that had never healed.
“Caroline.” Just saying her name brought her saucy image to mind. The throaty laughter, her welcoming smile, and the free abandon in her kisses. She’d never denied him an ounce of her affection, enjoying him every bit as much as he enjoyed her. She never asked him for anything or questioned why he would come to her. They’d never needed words.
“So, a woman you loved.” Wyatt nodded as though he understood. But it hadn’t been that and Kid shook his head.
He hadn’t truly thought of Caroline in months, hadn’t allowed the thoughts in, excising them with a rude force. “She died.” Getting the words out around the choking knot in his
throat hurt. “Last year.” Kid didn’t see Wyatt, or the mountain, or the snow. He was on the ranch. So many people were sick and struggling for life. They weakened. Some didn’t make it a few hours, others lingered for days.
Finding Caroline collapsed on her porch, he’d picked her up and remounted his horse in three strides. He rode with her directly to the sick house where Noah tended so many of the ill—among their number men and women and children Kid had known most of his or their lives. He didn’t stop to consider that he should fetch a wagon or tend her there, instead intent on getting her to Noah.
He had to get her to Noah.
The blows struck him from all sides—despair, grief, terror, and abject sadness. A baby passed away and a mother’s wails punched through him. Fighting his way through every acre of travel, he didn’t slow the horse until he drew up in front of the tilted roof cabin they’d transformed to deal with the sick.
As many had already died as were in rough-hewn beds made of linens taken from the house. The bodies of the deceased were wrapped and stacked neatly—like clothed cordwood—in the back of a wagon. Kid didn’t see any of it. Some part of his brain had begun screaming and it hadn’t stopped.
Sliding off his horse, he carried Caroline inside. Noah came to meet him and helped him get Caroline into a bed. Cradling her icy hand in his, he swallowed back his gorge. The smell inside the sick room was worse than a charnel house, a sick morass of decay, sweat, and excrement clogging the air.
Noah bent his head, his dark hand against the side of Caroline’s far too pale and waxy face. Squeezing her hand, Kid forced himself to wait. The healer could fight the damn fever, could help her. The seamstress who never demanded anything of anyone, who’d stayed on at the ranch and earned her keep even after her husband passed, who always opened her door and eventually her bed to Kid whenever he needed her…she had to be okay. Noah would save her.
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