by Jillian Hart
No wonder. Panic leaped into his blood, rushing through his veins. He looked up the steep cliff rising up overhead to cut out the view of the sky on one side, and the other was a long falling slope with no way to see the end of it. The slight break in the clouds closed up, shutting out the last of the starlight from the sky above.
True dark descended, leaving only a cloaking blackness and the road ahead all but disappeared. Winn waited, squinting, guiding his horse straight ahead, until his eyes adjusted to the deeper night's darkness and he could make out the black sheen of road stretching out ahead of him. A shadowed movement seized his attention and there, emerging from the trees, scrubby and bent at this altitude, were two long shadows coming closer.
Riders with the long barrels of their rifles pointed at him.
It was Brant.
36
Pure Danger. He didn't have enough time to rein the horse around and send him dashing down hill, and not on the ice. The horse slipped on the road, doing his best as it was on the ice-hardened tracked-down snow. Outrunning them would be suicide. His choices were limited. There was only up, where Brant was ratcheting his rifle, or back down. Either was he was an easy target for the men who'd been lying in wait.
You're outmatched and outgunned, McMurphy. Inevitability thundered through him, as cold as adrenaline, and he recognized the man riding alongside Brant. He was one of the best outlaw sharpshooters in the West, and there was no missing. If he fired, good men went down dead.
That left only one option. He reined to the right and the gelding baulked, sidestepping and he calmed his terror with a steady, firm touch, a calm word and wheeled the horse down the slope. It was death either way, but he'd take his chances and gamble on his strengths. He'd always been a heck of a rider, and the slope was steep, too darn steep, but they plunged ahead and the gelding kept his legs. Down they went, the gelding neighing in fear, but keeping his head when the ear-splitting bang of a gun firing shattered the quiet as snow began to fall around them and Winn leaned forward, belly hitting the saddle horn hard, and sited and squeezed the trigger.
Gunfire flashed, and a lesser horse would have bolted, but the gelding obeyed and kept going, plunging headlong downhill through the depth of snow and skidded, hooves scrambling for purchase. Winn's heartbeat drummed in his chest, and just as he heard one of the outlaw's shout out in painful agony and what sounded like a body hit the ground, his own gelding's panicked neigh seized his attention, and he stood in his stirrups, leaning backward to help the horse gain his balance and stop scrambling and sliding, in danger of falling and tumbling down the slope. "C'mon, buddy, come on. Just a little farther. You can do it."
The gelding leaped and his hooves churned forward in the loose top layers of snow, and he caught himself, gaining ground. "Good boy!" The slope was too steep, too dangerous, and so was the deep snow but, like the cold wind at his back, danger raced toward them. When the gelding sidestepped, unsure he could keep going downhill and downward plunging into the dark, Winn hopped from the saddle, landed almost knee deep in the powder snow and led the gelding by his reins at an angle down the steep mountainside.
It's suicide, plunging down this slope in the black of night. Winn swiped snow from his eyes, ducked behind a thick stand of scrubby pines, urging the horse into the blackest of shadows where they were safely out of sight but easily tracked in the deep snow. He had to keep going. No time for rest. He urged the horse carefully in the inky black shadows of night, breathing hard and half numb from frostbite.
When he reached the road below, the one he'd started on that led up to the summit, he had no choice but to follow the trail back downward, clinging to the shadows and the side of the road the best he could. Maybe they'd been slowed down by his good aim, and he thanked his lucky stars above that he'd missed the sharpshooter's bullet and intended to keep it that way. So he nosed the horse good and fast into the shadows along the trees, straining to hear the faintest sounds of a horse plunging in the deep snow after them. But only the whisper of the wind and the tap of snowfall accompanied him.
Once, the faint murmur of men's voices droned low and indistinguishable on the frigid wind, but he set a quick pace, careful to keep the horse from stumbling and sliding on the snow and the voices faded away. The visibility diminished as the snow fell harder, once again. Adrenaline coursed through him, panic snapping through him like the wind gusts blinding them to all but the few feet of falling snow and mountainside in front of them.
The road emerged from the darkness and shadows and, squinting as snowflakes beat him in the face, he kept his horse heading downhill, forced to seriously backtrack. He glanced over his shoulder, but he could not make out Brant or any horse and riders. There was a tiny town not far down the trail, he couldn't weather a blizzard if this renewed snowfall increased, and he could not stop, he would not rest, he refused to give in until he had Brant behind bars where he belonged, or dead.
He rode on, but a hard foreboding like a winter chill wrapped around Winn's spine and remained. The gray of dawn wasn't far away.
* * *
"Jack is going to come stay with us while you work, and there will be no argument, Saydee." Her uncle's voice was firm and kind, not about to yield. "Don't you even think about denying me time spent getting to know our new nephew to be."
"Yes, he's family now, even if it's not quite official yet." Aunt Peg bustled into the kitchen, sweet and pretty as a rosebud dressed in a pale red wool dress and her hair done up in a braid and bun. "I tell you, I slept like a log in that cozy, warm room. What a treat, and so much better than freezing to death in that storm trying to get home. Stan, you showed wonderful judgement in staying here, and I'm just glowing from the fun we had reading. Saydee, I'm afraid we're stealing your copy of The Pickwick Papers so we can finish it at home, if you don't mind. Stan will want to read it aloud while we have Jack with us during the day."
"How can I argue with that? I can deny you nothing." Saydee, arms full of folded towels with wonderfully warm heating irons wrapped inside, circled around the end of the counter and swished into sight. The instant she saw her aunt's face, she smiled, so glad they had stayed here where they'd been safe and warm. The memories of sitting together with them while Stan read very wonderfully, it was all agreed in the family that he should have been an actor on stage with his skill and personality, not to mention talent. What a treat. She handed over the heavy bundle to the man who rushed over to take them off her hands.
"This is heavy, you never should have lifted these. Next time, you wait for me to do it, sweet niece." He headed toward the door. "I miss having Winn here. It's too bad he had to go, but I understand leaving at the break in the weather. What a series of storms! Watch, the rest of the winter might be a bear, but I think it will be nice and mild now. What are you doing, Jack?"
"I'm going to come help you, Uncle Stan." The boy bowed his head, busily buttoning up his wool coat. "No grass grows under my boots, that's what my pa says."
"So I see, and I approve, young whippersnapper." Stan stopped on his way to the door to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. "You ladies wait for me in here where it's warm, while young Mister Jack and I get the sleigh ready for transport home. I did get spoiled awfully well with Jack's father here. Winn took care of the horses and saved me from going out in that cold. Now it's my turn."
His brightness had Jack almost grinning, and Saydee's heart burned with loss and gratitude to her uncle for not asking painful questions on Winn's absence, which would be forever. But that would be addressed when the time came. Right now, she propped one shoulder against the wall to peer out the window. Snow continued to fall, muting the morning light, and her thoughts shot to Winn out there alone in the vast wilderness. Men hunted him. The thought made her fall apart, and she drew in a slow, strengthening breath. Winn was smart, good and mighty, so she had to believe, even a little. Just a little.
What if he were hungry? She hoped he'd been able to eat from the bag she'd packed. What if he were cold an
d freezing? She hoped he'd been able to find warmth and shelter. A distant sound brought her back out of her thoughts and she blinked, aware of the room and people surrounding her once again. Aunt Peg, very much concerned, studied her with a furrowed brow and sad eyes.
"You're too worried," she said. "Is it about Jack being out in that cold so soon after his illness? Or is it the man who left you that you're so sorrowful over?"
How did she answer and keep the truth of her love for the man out of her voice? She did not want to reveal what lived in her heart. She listened to the cadence as Peg tapped closer, sidled right up to her and gazed out the window.
"What a nice little boy Jack is," she praised, fondness already blooming in her gentle alto. "Look at him bending down to wiggle into the foot area of the sleigh to put those hot irons for Stan, why, that boy is as good as can be."
Saydee smiled, trying not to let her true feelings for Winn show. Her feelings for Jack were easy and very fond indeed and so it was easy to manage giving a watery grin. She watched little Jack gaze up with great admiration and hope at the big, strong, older man telling him some fun tale that made Stan grin and the boy's eyes widen with awe. Oh, Saydee thought, she knew how that felt. She still saw Stan that way.
"What a sweetheart, Jack is such a good addition to our family, don't you think? I'd love to know when the wedding is going to be." Peg waggled her brows, her knowing eyes seeing right through Saydee's every defense, too wise to be fooled by a woman trying to bar and shield the deep and singular affection that had claimed her, body and soul.
"Wedding? Oh, I don't think I'm going to be able to talk about that, Aunt Peg."
"I'm not surprised, you don't have to say it, I know I'm being nosy but you know me and how I love to plan things and have wonderful family celebrations. You have to know how much I adore you and want to make sure every little thing in your life is just right for you."
"I know, and it's why I love you and I want even more than that for you, my dear aunt. You're more of a mother to me than my ma ever has been and you have no notion how incredible that makes you in my view and in my heart."
"I do know, and I'll be sure and bide my time and wait patiently until you are ready to whisper the date to me. Otherwise, I'll just stay hopeful and determined, but likely destined to fail, minding my own business."
"That would be a first."
"Well, they say there's a first time for everything, but it's yet to be seen with me."
The levity and warm family ties felt too warm and bright for the feeling that overwhelmed her when she cast her gaze out the window again and to the boy who nodded quietly and walked toward the house alone, without Stan. And in the moment when his momentary bravery ebbed and devastation showed on his round, adorable face, the impact of his grief brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She longed to brush away that sorrow and depth of grief and make it so the boy did not hurt, for well she remembered what it was like to wish for what could never be again, a father forever lost. She glanced down, swallowed hard and blinked away the pesky tears blurring her eyes.
"Oh, what a good little boy come to fetch us." Peg shrugged into her warm winter coat and stopped to fuss with Nola's hat to get it properly over her ears (as if she hadn't done it perfectly herself). But a mother's love never ended, even when their daughter was no longer a child. "Thank you for a lovely stay, Saydee, and don't worry about Jack for one moment. We'll just take him with us this morning and from now on you just drop him by on your way to work and pick him back up again. Oh, the fun we'll have. Stan already has plans."
"Plans?" Saydee asked, charmed to watch Jack open the door. She could see him through the window standing politely on the porch, dappled with lightly falling snow, bundled up in his warm winter coat and let the soft light of affection in. This was now her little boy to love.
"You have no notion all that Stan will force him to do in a day. Listen to him read. Learn to whittle. Right now he's very taken to playing checkers and chess, and what's a body to do? I'll have to bribe the boy to put up with it. A plate of cookies should do it." She turned away to speak to Jack in the doorway. "Why, thank you, our sleigh is waiting for us, is it? You go run ahead and tell Stan I'll be there when I get there."
Loving warmth, laced with kindness, rang like bliss in Peg's voice. "Nola, you go on ahead and let them get you settled in. I'll be right out after you."
"Goodbye, Saydee." Nola waved, sending a look of quiet appreciation and understanding before she swished through the door and momentarily out of sight. She emerged on the porch, where she accepted Jack's arm, as if he were a gentleman all gown up, and allowed him to escort her across the snowy porch and down the stairs.
"Yes, he's going to grow up as fine as his father." Peg beamed her approval as she slipped on her gloves. Her lower lip trembled as she fought down emotion and the happy tears in her eyes. "And here I've been trying to coax Betty Whitson's nephew to move to town because he's supposed to be a very fine man and his engagement didn't work out due to no fault of his own. Well, now I know better!"
Peg's cheery laughter made the morning feel warm and bright even as Saydee shivered when the door opened again and Jack stood ready to escort Peg to the sleigh. "Goodbye and thank you, Aunt Peg."
"Why, I should be thanking you. My, what a pleasant stay we had. See you this afternoon!" Peg plunged headlong into the powder-fine snowfall, accepted Jack's arm and gave a finger wave at the window on her way to join her husband and daughter, leaving Saydee feeling very much alone.
The snow tumbled down in a hazy veil that made the people tucking into the warm robes of the sleigh hard to see, but she stayed anyway, watching the red of Peg's hood and the blue of Uncle Stan's hat and Nola's maroon knit hat add pops of color to a white and gray world. The horse drew them away into the veils of snowfall, stealing them from her sight.
Since she'd turned down the damper and banked the coals in the stove, all she had to do was to gather her books and the prepared coursework for her little private student's day, walk through the house checking on the lamps and turning down the wicks of the ones still burning so that darkness and shadows accompanied her to the front door. When she tugged open the barn door, Romeo greeted her, hitched and waiting and tied to the ring in the wall. She sent a heartfelt thank you to her uncle for having him all ready to go and set out for the short drive to work.
Her workday went too fast, spent as usual thoroughly charmed by her little pupil. Emilyleigh was very busy with her love of poetry and wrote six verses about her cat which she read aloud to her adoring mother, who held future pupil number two in her arms. Little Blythe would be needing a private governess next fall, and so her employment prospects were continuing to look up, and that meant peace of mind financially. How she loved her work.
By the time late afternoon rolled around, she left Emily with her appreciative mother, thanked the stableman for hitching up Romeo and for taking such good care of him and headed out on the short drive to her aunt and uncle's. Snow was mushy, for the series of storms appeared to be nearing an end and the warmer wind had brought chinook-like melting that made the drive hard on the horse and the poor sleigh runners refused to glide well now and again, but they splashed intrepidly on, Romeo very determined, and reached Stan and Peg's house in perfect time.
After plenty of praise and recounting a day spent keeping Uncle Stan busy and in good company, Jack settled into the sleigh and they shivered all the way home as the cold wind brought mist and fog, changing their normal world into a veiled mystery. She found the turn for her driveway just in time as the misty fog settled like a damp, moist cloak over the freezing snow and mist. Rain was in the air. The horse slipped his way to the barn, where she welcomed Jack's expert help in unhitching Romeo, caring for him and making sure he was cooled off enough to enjoy some warm oats in his roomy, soft bed of a stall.
So, this was her life now. With a silent Jack, so grieving and trying hard to be a good boy and a gentleman in training, and with her heart b
roken aching for a man who was forever gone. Like the mist, she felt iced over too, at heart. And likely forever. She missed him with a depth of passion and devotion that would never leave her, this man who had changed her life so much.
* * *
The little mountain town bustled with activity now that daylight bled from the sky as sunset drew near. Winn grabbed his hat brim and tipped it down far enough to disguise him, and burrowed his chin and mouth into the black wool scarf he'd picked up at the mercantile and, satisfied he couldn't be recognized, he stepped off the covered boardwalk and into the cold bite of icy rain. His foots splashed and slid in the mix of ice, snow and puddled water and he paused to let a horse drawn sled skip and skid by, struggling in the difficult conditions. Not many were out and the main street felt almost deserted.
Good thing. Brant was on the loose, and if his outlaw friend was down and Winn's shot had hit true, then that was good news. He'd evened up his odds. Wasn't that a bit of luck? He had no way of knowing what ambush he was walking into next, or if the gunman had survived, patched himself up during the day, laying low just the same way he'd been and was gearing up to go hunting for him again tonight. In fact, he would never have stopped.
And neither have I, Winn thought, jaw clenched, spine tense with determination, his goal set. He'd faced Brant's man once and lost, and he had the bullet wound to show for it, slowing him down and hurting, man, it was hurting. And he thought of the murdered sheriff back in his hometown and walked right on by anyone who could help him. He'd take the bad men down and likely die in the success of it. But do it he would.
