Raising Kane

by Long, Heather

  The babies would have grown since he’d last seen them and there’d be other changes. It had been nearly five months since he’d left. Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, he closed his eyes and tried the breathing exercise. Images from the ranch kept playing out across his mind’s eye. Spring would have turned the grasses into a deep sea of waving green. Micah wouldn’t stop moving, he’d have young horses to train, cattle to rotate, and foaling—they’d have already had several foals born.

  Spring workloads could be staggering in the best of years and this wouldn’t be the best. They’d been down so many men and Kid’s absence had to add to the strain his brothers already endured. Blinking his eyes open, he glared at the fire. The heat from it had sweat dotting his face, but his mind wouldn’t quiet long enough to focus on what he needed to be doing.

  Get it together, get it done, go home. The lure of the Flying K had never held such a powerful sway over him before, but if he were brutally honest about it—he’d never been away for this length of time except when he and Cody went west and that had only been a few short months. His time on the mountain had already dramatically spanned far past that journey.

  Go to a place in your mind. A quiet and a calm place—a place you feel peace. That was the first step and, once again, a view of the ranch filled his mind. Kid closed his eyes. It was the rocky steppes on the eastern side of the ranch, the outcroppings that sheltered hidden caves and narrow gorges. It was here that he’d found Ben when the young cougar had run away. A second pang rattled against his heart. The ranch held so many memories. It had been both a prison and a paradise…

  I’m an idiot. Laughter burst out of him and he shook his head. The ranch was his quiet place, his calm place. No, it wasn’t always quiet or calm and it could frustrate him to no end, but he loved every inch of that property and he knew it all. He knew every place he could hide, every culvert, and every turn in the river. It was home. The sense of home swelled within him and he could almost taste the air, filled with the scents of sunshine and sweet grass.

  When you have the place, when you can see it and feel it, then you enclose it… He’d imagined the barrier to be like a bubble, gossamer thin, but possessing the tensile strength of the hard iron he’d hammered in the forge. The shimmer of it couldn’t be seen by the mind’s eye, but it could be felt.

  Cody described it like a swarm of hornets—stabbing, stinging, and buzzing so loud, he could barely hear himself think. Kid wrapped the drape of an image around him, a pulsing hum of home filled with familiar sounds—the wind ruffling the trees, the horses whinnying in the pastures, the low hum of masculine voices calling out to one another during work, and further still to the humming of Miss Annabeth as she cooked or the swish of a broom across the floor. So many sounds, so many sensations and all of them familiar. Then something snapped inside of him.

  Opening his eyes, he glanced around, but nothing seemed different. A door thudded closed somewhere in the house and footsteps echoed across the wood. Twisting around, Kid listened, but not even a whisper of emotion announced her before Evelyn walked into the room. She glanced at him with deeply bruised eyes and an exhausted expression.

  “Afternoon,” he murmured. Half leaning toward her, he waited, but despite the obvious physical signs of her upset, only the rush of home filled the air around him. He wanted to shout with laughter, but the droop of her shoulders froze the sound in his throat.

  “Afternoon.” The word was sluggish and filled with a wealth of tired. “Please excuse me. I need to go up and rest.” She didn’t wait for his response and headed for the stairs. Kid made it to his feet and followed her progress with his gaze. He wanted to ask her what was wrong and erase the weariness coating every step she took.

  “She is merely spent,” Quanto said quietly from behind him. “Let her rest.”

  He wanted to ask what they’d been doing and why she looked so damn sad, but instead he asked, “How do you know how to train people?”

  The shaman motioned toward the kitchen and Kid followed him obediently. It was much cooler with the windows turned out to let the breeze in and he went to heat the stove and warm water for the man’s tea. He drank it regularly and Kid had become quite used to preparing it.

  At the table, Quanto sighed as he settled into his seat. “I learn from each of you what you need. No two Fevered need the same type of training. So few of you have the same gift. In Evelyn’s case, I understood her father’s abilities. I’ve seen them used and I know what he did to not use them.”

  “So teaching her would be easier than, say, teaching me or Wyatt out there?” Kid shifted to lean against the wall while he waited for the water to heat. Despite Quanto’s thoughtful frown, nothing leaked off of him. If Kid hadn’t been looking at him, he wouldn’t have sensed anything disturbing him.

  It was a little like being blind and he had to wonder if he could thin the barrier out some at will, but wasn’t quite up to attempting it yet.

  “Easier is an incorrect word. You are all different. You all require different things, different words. Some need patience, some need to be broken down, others merely need discipline.”

  “What does Evelyn need?” He couldn’t help it. The woman’s pain got to him and he wanted to help her, especially if he could manage to be around her without feeding off of her.

  Quanto didn’t answer immediately, his solemn gaze fixed on Kid. “What do you think she needs?”

  “She needs a friend.” The answer came out without hesitation or consideration, but he knew it was the right one. “You’re a teacher and Wyatt’s…something else.” He’d definitely earned Kid’s respect and the intervening months had softened Kid’s wariness of the dark brother, but he wasn’t friendly. At least not by any definition Kid associated with the word.

  “Yes, she does.” The older man nodded.

  Kid turned to lift the boiling water off the pot-bellied stove and poured it into the tea pot to steep the herbal mixture Quanto drank when the man continued. “She doesn’t need to be seduced, however.”

  Heat flamed in his face and raced through his blood at the mere mention of the word. Kid had done a damn good job of keeping Evelyn’s jewel-like blue eyes and sweet golden hair out of his thoughts, but now all he could think about was the slick pink of her lips when she used her tongue to moisten them.

  “I didn’t plan to seduce her.” The words came out harsher than he meant them to.

  “I sincerely doubt you have planned any of your assignations. But in this I want us to be absolutely clear.” The shaman locked gazes with him. “You have not been with a woman in months. I understand what your habits were before and the why behind them. I want you to work with Evelyn, to train with her. You will be good for each other, but you will not seduce her. She is not a toy for your amusement, nor a body for you to plunder. It would not be healthy for either of you.”

  Picking up the tea pot, Kid carried it over and set it down with one of the hard stone mugs that Quanto favored. Flattening his palms on the table, he met the man’s gaze evenly. “I don’t want to bed her. Her eyes are too sad and her lofty airs about what she is suited for means she’s definitely not the woman for me.”

  The tingle at the back of his neck and a flick of Quanto’s eyes was all that preceded the soft, swift indrawn feminine breath. Kid sighed and bowed his head between his outstretched arms. He’d meant the harsh words to satisfy the shaman’s demand. He’d never intended Evelyn to hear them.

  Her boot squeaked on the wood as she whirled away and Kid looked up in time to see her storm off.

  “You should go fix that damage,” Quanto advised.

  Kid gave him a dark look and pushed away from the table. Yes, he needed to go repair it. The question was how.

  Evelyn, Torment

  She hit the door half-blinded by the tears burning in her eyes. Heat flushed through her and scalded her cheeks. She’d made it up to her room on numb legs, exhausted from conjuring all day long. The exercise had demanded she conjur
e what Quanto asked from her and, since it took an emotional investment, she had to want whatever it was to appear. Ducks. Chickens. Eagles. Horses. People.

  The people had been the worst.

  He described people to her. He wanted to see the townsfolk from Kansas. He’d wanted to see Mr. Lewis. He’d asked to see the men who killed her father. She’d had to summon them, construct them from memory, then dispel them. Over and over.

  When he asked her to call up her father, she’d rebelled. The very idea revolted her and she’d thrown up everything she’d eaten. He’d waited patiently while she emptied her stomach, allowed her to splash water on her face, and then repeated the demand. She’d refused and so they’d gone, over and over. When he’d finally called a halt to it, she’d been tempted to lay down at the edge of the water and sleep, but he’d bullied her into going back to the house.

  Once there, all she’d wanted was to curl up in her bed and pass out. Hopefully forgetting the horrible request. William seemed so compassionate when she’d come in, his greeting tentative, but kind and she’d felt bad by the time she got to her room. She’d all but ignored him and he didn’t deserve that. Unfailingly, he’d been kind since her arrival and she couldn’t say the same about herself.

  Goaded by shame, she’d dragged herself back down the stairs and then…

  “I don’t want to bed her. Her eyes are too sad and her lofty airs about what she is suited for means she’s definitely not the woman for me.”

  It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he’d said it. Dismissing her as though she had come here for him. Her stomach churned and bright lights flickered at the edge of her vision. Her father would have cuffed him.

  No, he wouldn’t have. Daddy wasn’t violent. He would have given him a cold look of dismissal until William fumbled on an apology. She made it all the way back down to the crystal lake before she realized she didn’t know where to go to escape them. I miss you, Daddy.

  For the longest moment, she considered what Quanto had asked her to do earlier and she didn’t have to strain to imagine her father. All she’d have to do was—

  “Evelyn,” William’s voice cut off the thought and her back stiffened. He’d followed her. “I was an ass. You should never have heard that and I should never have said it. Please, forgive me.”

  Refusing to turn, lest he see the tears on her cheeks, she tried to surreptitiously wipe them away. “Then why did you say it?” She hadn’t intended to ask the question, but it came out anyway.

  He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Because I’m an ass.”

  “I believe you said that already” Her lips twitched despite her prim tone.

  “Well, it bears repeating.” Rocks skittered as he moved a little closer, but he was still behind her. “Quanto said something to me, warned me off you, and I wanted to be clear it wasn’t my intention to be less than courteous.”

  Evelyn frowned, incredulous. Turning, she stared at him. “I’m sorry, I fail to see how your crude language and statement assured anyone of intentions toward courtesy.”

  He shifted back a step, his expression wary. “I thought the ‘I’m an ass’ explained that part.”

  Sniffing to avoid sniffling, she arched her brows. She’d once stared at a mirror for two hours to try and perfect her father’s look of concentrated disdain. Never having quite mastered it, she knew she could come close. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. What do sad eyes and—how did you phrase it?—lofty airs have to do with…” She faltered on the words, but when he winced, she amended her own language rather than repeating his. “Carnal relations?”

  “You like to show off your education.” It wasn’t an apology. William spread his hands. The sunlight gleamed on the ripened summer wheat of his hair and turned his deep blue eyes the color of the sky.

  “I have an education. Why shouldn’t I use it?” She shook her head, trying to clear away the distraction of his appearance. How he looked had nothing to do with the situation. Neither does the fact I can’t stop wondering what a real smile would look like on his face…or trying to understand why he doesn’t like me.

  Another sigh and he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. Apparently her line of questioning made him uncomfortable. A very petty part of herself took note of that fact and enjoyed it. As swift as the enjoyment came, shame chased it away.

  “I don’t understand you,” she said before he could respond to her earlier question.

  “Ma’am?” Confusion added to the discomfort in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. No man should be as handsome as this one, especially not after what he’d said.

  “When I arrived, you were so kind to me. You said you’d help me.” She’d remembered those words, repeated them over and over in her mind like a mantra. Even when he treated her with indifference and seemed more interested in putting distance between them, the sense of security she found in his presence didn’t diminish. She barely understood the feeling much less the reason behind it. “And then you were so impatient with me in the barn. Over the last several days, you’ve been nothing but distant. Most of the time it feels like you don’t want me here.”

  “It’s not that.” He looked at her with such absolute caution, it took her a moment to realize she’d closed the distance while speaking until she stood less than a foot from him. At this distance, he couldn’t mistake her swollen eyes for anything other than a sign that his words injured her, but she didn’t care. The rich masculine scent of him filled her nostrils. He smelled of sunshine, wood smoke and, she could have sworn, horse and hay and fresh grass, like spring. The kaleidoscope of sensations confused her.

  “Then what is it? If I’ve given you some offense, allow me to make it up.” Why the hell was she apologizing to him? She hadn’t said anything as reprehensible as he had.

  His eyebrows tightened into a frown and the shock on his face reflected the disquiet in her own soul. “Ma’am, it’s genuinely not you. Really. You’re a little high strung, but I figure you’ve a right to be.” Another wince and he eased back a half step, rubbing his hand over his face. “I really can’t seem to say anything right to you.”

  High strung? She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to slap him. She’d been raised on a steady diet of rational thought and purposeful argument. At no point in her existence had anyone referred to her as anything other than poised, calm, cogent…high strung? Her mouth opened and snapped shut again. Had she truly not been herself since she arrived? Turning the concept over and over in her mind, she tried to view her actions through the eyes of the men who’d opened their home and their lives to her, a perfect stranger. A woman who’d arrived, bloodied and covered in filth from her desperate flight across nearly eight hundred long, painful miles. She’d been desperate, needy, and carried the worst of news. They’d treated her injuries, fed her, and helped her from the moment she arrived and asked very little in return, save for the chores.

  She’d argued against them, resented the assignments, and allowed William to do all of her work the first couple of days—complaining when she didn’t get her way. He’d even gotten into trouble for her and each time he showed her kindness, she’d been a bit dismissive.

  Laughter won out and she glanced up to find his head moving up and down as though following some hidden vision. The perplexed look crinkled the corners of his eyes and curved his lips downward. “I’m sorry. I think I’ve been terrifically bad company and your assessment of my lofty airs and sad eyes may have been far more astute than I’d initially realized.”

  Puzzlement gave way to genuine concern. “Evelyn, your father died. I think you have the right to behave any way you choose.”

  She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug, the laughter spiking through her and she couldn’t stop chuckling. “But I have been so awful! I don’t know the first thing about cleaning a stall. I got a horse from very kind men who gave me the most rudimentary of lessons in equine management. Then I set out across the desert on the most miserable ride I’ve ever taken with no idea what I
would find at the end of the journey. I’ve been living with three men I don’t know and not once have you ever taken advantage of me.”

  The words tumbled out of her and she was an absolute riot of conflicting emotions. It took her a moment to even realize tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “And all that damn shaman wants me to do is conjure my father.” Her voice broke while sobbing laughter burned her throat. William’s arms were suddenly around her and she was cradled against a hard chest. The thunder of his heart beat against her ear and, no matter how inappropriate it was to cling to him, she needed the promise of security and comfort he offered. She needed this illusion.

  The thought turned her cold and she went stiff. His hand moved in slow strokes against her hair and she heard his soothing murmur. “It’s okay.”

  “No.” Her hands fisted on his shirt. “I didn’t do this.”

  “Evelyn?”

  “No.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn’t conjured the man because she needed him. Her control was so much better than that, wasn’t it? In fact, the shaman accused her of having too much control. She’d locked her gift down for years, obeying her father’s every instruction until the ingrained habits took conscious effort to overcome. “I’m sorry.” She had to make him go away before the real William came down here.

  “Evelyn.” Hands gripped her arms and held her away from him, but he didn’t let her go. He gave her a little shake when she wouldn’t open her eyes. “Look at me, Evelyn.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Lord, I hope the real you doesn’t see this.” Shame burned her cheeks. What did it say about her that she conjured him just to find comfort in his arms?

  His fingers bit into her arms and, though the deep scratches had mostly healed, the sting still broke through her mania. She looked up at him and their gazes clashed. “I am the real me.” His voice deepened to something sterner than she’d ever heard him sound.