by Jill Gregory
Morning stole in, shell-pink radiance dusted with lavender and gold, and caught them entwined, sleepy, sated.
The world looked different somehow.
They awoke, sat up, stared at each other. Juliana wished the dawn away; she’d have given anything to live the night again. Her words from the evening before came back to haunt her. Thinking of them, she chewed her lip.
“Well,” she said, almost to herself, “it’s over.”
He reached for her, trapping her hand between both of his. “What is?”
“Our one night.”
“Looks like it is.” Cole sent a sardonic glance at the lightening sky, the creatures beginning to stir around them.
“Yep, it’s over.”
He realized too late what that sounded like. She jumped up, her cheeks bright pink, brighter than the dawn. “I ... I’ll go back now ...”
She shook. Embarrassed. No, humiliated. What had she done? Thrown herself at him, promised it would mean nothing afterward. She had vowed to leave him alone and never bother him again—not in precisely those words, but that’s what it had meant. Just for tonight, she had said. How could she have been such a fool? She wanted to stay with him forever. But in the cold, clear light of day it seemed impossible that he could want the same thing.
Naked, he was even more ruggedly beautiful than he was with his clothes on. She found herself staring as she always did at his muscled, dark-furred chest. She reached for her chemise. No. Time to go. Time to preserve what was left of her pride, her dignity.
There wasn’t much left worth preserving.
Cole fought the urge to catch her in his arms and make love to her all over again. Lord, she was beautiful. And so sweet, a sweetness that was real and honest and whole, that came from the very core of her soul. He wanted to grab her, hold her, tell her she was stuck with him forever ...
But he had to think. He didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep. And he couldn’t keep any promises if he was dead. He didn’t know if he’d live long enough even to try to make it all work, so better to say nothing.
Come live with me and be my love. Words from a poem, half remembered, danced suddenly through his brain as the sun washed the sky with sunlight and Juliana tugged on her gown. His mother had read that aloud to Caitlin many years ago. The words had always stuck in his mind, probably because he had never ever thought they would apply to him. Come live with me and be my love.
He wanted suddenly, fiercely, to say them to Juliana, to beg her to stay.
He’d have to deal with McCray—and eventually John Breen. If he survived that, then maybe ...
She deserved to be loved. Protected. Cherished. If he ever thought he could give her the life she deserved, he would do it in a moment, but Cole wasn’t sure he’d ever get a chance at that kind of life. That kind of happiness was for other people, not him.
She was on her way before he realized it, half running from the gully, a slip of a girl whose every movement tore at his heart.
He could have caught her easily, but he just stared after her. If he survived what lay ahead, maybe they’d have a chance—if she still wanted him. If he could make her happy.
But first he had to settle things with McCray.
He did have a plan, and it was time to share it with Wade Montgomery.
Cole set his mind to the dangerous task ahead and tried not to think about Juliana. It wasn’t easy. The woman was a thief, after all.
She had stolen his heart.
24
Silence filled every corner of the hideout on Stick Mountain as Wade finished outlining the plan.
“Questions?” he asked, letting his glance fall briefly on each person in the room.
Juliana rose. “I have one. Why can’t I go with you?” Meeting her determined gaze, Wade sighed, but it was Tommy who answered.
“Because, little sister,” he said from the bench at the little pine table, “we’re not letting you risk your neck in the heart of this battle. And that’s that.”
“So I’m supposed to sit here doing nothing all day while the rest of you are risking your lives?”
“Yep.” Tommy’s grin received no answering response from the tight-lipped girl.
“You and Skunk will have to keep an eye on Josie. Make sure she’s all right. Besides,” Wade pointed out, coming to her and putting his hands on her shoulders, “if something does go wrong, you and Skunk and Gil are going to have to take care of Josie and Kevin—and all of you are going to have to get to New Mexico pronto. Skunk and Gil know the best trail.”
His words filled her with alarm, but that only made her more determined. “I’m not going anywhere without you and Tommy,” Juliana informed him.
“Course you’re not.” Wade flicked her cheek with his finger. “So wait here like a good girl and we’ll celebrate like blazes tonight when this thing is over.”
Skunk sighed dramatically. “My one chance to be alone with a beautiful gal and she’d rather get shot at than stay with me.”
Everyone laughed—except Juliana.
He sent her such a beseeching glance that she relented with a tiny, reluctant smile. “Well, I suppose someone has to keep an eye on Josie and Kevin, after all. And make sure you don’t burn the biscuits.”
Wade turned to Gil Keedy. “You all set? Seems to me you’ve got the most dangerous part in all this.”
“Pshaw. I reckon I can drop a hint in those varmints’ ears and get back in one piece,” Gil smiled, unconcerned.
“Well, be careful. Yancy, get together the equipment you’re going to need.” Wade was already moving to his pack, checking it for supplies and ammunition. While a bee buzzed in through the open window, then zoomed out again into the summer heat, Tommy and Gray Feather did the same.
Suddenly, Juliana realized that Cole had disappeared from the cabin. When had that happened? He’d been there when Wade had first started explaining the day’s plan, and she hadn’t even noticed him slip away.
“Where’s Cole?” Her voice sounded loud to her own ears.
She hurried to the window and peered out. Arrow was gone, too.
Wade replied calmly, “He wanted to start out ahead of the rest of us. Don’t worry, we’ll meet up with him.”
He hadn’t said good-bye. Emptiness settled in the pit of her stomach, cold and heavy as a great stone. What if he never came back?
What if none of them came back? She watched in growing trepidation as her brothers readied themselves for the day’s confrontation. They didn’t know if they’d be facing one man—or ten. Juliana shuddered. She couldn’t lose either of them. And she couldn’t lose Cole either.
Clammy fear possessed her as she watched them ride off.
Finding herself alone in the cabin with Skunk and the breakfast dishes, worry knotted her stomach. She came to the realization that by the time sunset came to Fire Mesa, she could very possibly have lost them all.
* * *
Line McCray was pacing up and down Belle Mallory’s carpet when Knife Jackson ran up the front steps of the boardinghouse and banged open the front door.
“Word in town has it that Joseph Wells is selling out to Cole Rawdon. Today,” he announced, fairly exploding with the news.
“What?” McCray choked back a string of epithets. What else could go wrong? Fire Mesa must not be allowed to slip through his fingers. It was the prize piece of land in this entire territory. He was going to build his ranch there—a ranch to rival John Breen’s legendary Twin Oaks. Not to mention the railroad that was to be built through one section of it in a deal already negotiated, guaranteed to bring him a small fortune. McCray’s fury zeroed in on that wishy-washy fool Joseph Wells. He had enough to think about trying to guard his damned payroll tomorrow, without having to whip Wells back into line as well. He was certain the Montgomery gang was planning to hit the gold shipment, but he didn’t have a clue as to where or when. All he knew was that he couldn’t let them get away with another holdup. He’d be a laughingstock if he
did—and it would be damned hard to meet the month’s expenses without that gold.
The Montgomerys had to be stopped. And when he had them, he’d make them pay for all the trouble they’d cost him—and for stealing that widow woman right out from under his nose. McCray couldn’t understand how a bunch of second-rate outlaws could outwit a man of his resources—but somehow they had. Luckily, John Breen was in the picture now. It was Breen who had recommended they post men in all the saloons, waiting and listening. The gang had to get information on the payroll shipment from somewhere, and when they made their move, McCray would find out about it. If they could capture just one of them—anyone asking questions about the payroll shipment and the movements associated with it—it would be an easy matter to force him into revealing the whereabouts and plans of the rest of the gang.
Knife’s gravelly voice broke into his thoughts.
“There’s something else, Mr. McCray. Bart Mueller was in the Ten Gallon with me a few minutes ago and he hightailed it out of there to find Breen. Said you’d better meet ‘em over at the hotel pronto. Something’s up. Don’t know what it’s all about, but he was pretty fired up.”
“Damn.” McCray didn’t know what that was all about either, but he had a feeling he was going to find out. He only hoped it was good news. He and Breen could use a break.
“Let’s go.” McCray grabbed his hat. “Get the boys ready to ride. Bring Dane along, too. Soon as I meet with Breen, we’re going to pay a visit to Mr. Joseph Wells. I’m not playing games anymore—the deed for Fire Mesa will be in my hands by the end of the day—whether Mr. Wells lives to hand it over to me himself or not.”
* * *
Gil Keedy had already spread the rumor about Fire Mesa in the Ten Gallon Saloon. He guessed it wouldn’t take long to reach McCray’s ears, and only wished he could see the expression on the man’s face when he learned he was about to lose that prime piece of property. Gil knew he should leave town immediately, now that his part in Rawdon’s scheme was done. But he didn’t really feel he was in any particular danger. No one identified him with the Montgomery gang, and he had passed on the rumor in such a way that it would be difficult for anyone to trace it back to him. Besides, he wanted to go over to Miller’s store and pick up a few supplies for Josie. She needed some flannel and wool to start sewing winter clothes for the baby. Gil felt the urge to buy her a little something, too. And of course, he told himself, something for Juliana.
Striding across the deserted streets of Plattsville, Gil fretted over his feelings for these two very different women. Juliana was like a moonbeam. Beautiful, magical, elusive. He couldn’t quite catch her in his hands. Even when she was with him, Gil reflected wistfully, her thoughts were elsewhere. He could sense it. When Rawdon was near, Juliana seemed to come alive.
Josie was as solid and real, as warmly attentive and attuned to him as a willow tree rooted to the earth. His heart didn’t buck like a wild bronc every time she smiled at him, the way it did with Juliana, but at the same time, he did have a nice warm feeling when she plunked the baby into his arms while she poured him a cup of coffee. When they had worked together in the house, making that one little room comfortable for her and Kevin, he had found himself imagining how nice it would be always to come home to that warmly smiling face, to the pleasant sound of her voice and laughter.
The more he thought about Josie, the more he felt a sudden urge to see her. But he’d better ride by the cabin first, he decided, and make sure everything was all right with Juliana and Skunk. Then he’d go to Josie with some tins of chocolate from the store, the fabric she’d been wanting, and whatever else he saw in Miller’s that looked as if it would appeal to a lady.
Gil was so immersed in his thoughts as he came out of the general store a short time later with a parcel tucked under his arm that he didn’t notice the cowboy lounging across the street, watching him from beneath the wide brim of his hat. Nor did he see the men staring at him from behind the curtains of the window above the saloon. He headed toward the hitching post where his horse was tethered, pleased that the rumor about Fire Mesa had already reached the merchants in the store, and surely by now, he assumed, Line McCray. He prayed Rawdon’s plan would work. But in the meantime his part in it was over. All he had to do was keep an eye on both Juliana and Josie today until this thing was finished.
Not exactly a chore to Gil’s way of thinking.
He was whistling as he headed out of town.
But Gil wasn’t the only one pleased.
John Breen’s topaz eyes were gleaming with excitement as he turned from the window overlooking the street. “It’s Keedy, all right,” he said to Bart Mueller. “This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.” He slapped his foreman on the back. “Good work, Bart. We’ve just about got her.”
Half turning, he smiled at Line McCray. “If we follow that fellow’s trail, he’ll lead us straight to Juliana Montgomery—and possibly the entire Montgomery gang as well.”
“How do you know that?”
But Breen was already opening the back room door and answered without a backward glance. “No time to explain. Just take my word for it that he’s hooked up with that girl. Get your men together and meet me downstairs pronto. My man Samuels is following him and will leave us a clear trail, but I don’t want to fall too far behind.”
“Hold on, Breen.” McCray cleared his throat as the other man wheeled, frowning. “I’ve ... got a little problem.”
A frown creased Breen’s face as McCray explained about Fire Mesa, and his need to “persuade” Wells to sell to him and not Rawdon before it was too late. Breen heard him out, though he was clearly impatient to be off.
“Take Jackson here and some of the other men, if this is so damned important to you. You can meet up with us later, after you’ve taken care of Wells. Since Keedy headed south, we’ll rendezvous at the river. Someone will meet you there to show you the way. Unless of course,” he added sarcastically, “you don’t want the Montgomery gang as badly as you want this piece of land. In that case, I’ll just grab the girl and be done with it, and the gang can rot in hell for all I care.”
McCray followed him down the murkily lit stairway, his determination mounting. “I’ll have Fire Mesa, Cole Rawdon, and the Montgomerys, Mr. Breen.” Confidence nearly made him do a jig, but he kept his zeal in check. “See you at the river by mid-afternoon.”
John Breen’s brain was already clicking ahead, to what the rest of the day would bring. All this time, he’d waited to get his hands on Juliana Montgomery. And now that jackass Keedy would lead him straight to her.
“I want fifteen men at the stables within the quarter hour,” he told Bart Mueller as they paused in the noisy, smoke-filled cave of the saloon. “No one’s coming back to town or getting within a yard of a bottle of rotgut until we’ve got the girl.”
25
An ominous air seemed to envelop the mountains as Juliana helped Skunk with the horses and the chores, trying not to think about what was going on at the main house of Fire Mesa. Even the birds twittered with high-pitched excitement, and the leaves of the junipers crackled nervously in the wind. Or so it seemed to Juliana. Every time a branch snapped outside as some creature stirred across it, every time the wind howled down from the hills, blowing bits of dust and leaves, she jumped.
Had Cole and Wade and Tommy outsmarted Line McCray, or had something gone very wrong?
She told herself again and again that in a little while, they would all come riding back down the trail, rowdy with victory. But her fingers shook as she swept the broom about the cabin and scrubbed the little pine table where they’d all eaten breakfast a few hours ago. She wondered how Skunk could whistle so lightheartedly and hum little snatches of songs as he chopped firewood for the stove beneath the blazing sun. She wanted to scream with frustration.
At noon she could bear it no longer. She whisked herself outside and down to the gully, over Skunk’s protests. She sat alone on a smooth white stone jutting out from t
he wild grasses, and strained her ears, listening. Foolish to think she could hear gunshots or shouts, foolish to think she could discern anything that was going on at Fire Mesa. But the need to know something was burning a hole inside of her.
All the people she loved, all the people she had left in the world, were there, facing danger. She felt useless and helpless in this peaceful neck of the mountain, hidden from the enemies who would destroy all those she loved.
Love. She had come west looking for it, in a fashion. She had wanted to find her brothers, to build a life with them in the glorious freedom of this vast, untamed land. If Wade and Tommy returned today having rid themselves of the threat posed by Line McCray, she could still do it. Yet, when she tried to picture herself in that cozy little home she had once envisioned inhabiting with Wade and Tommy, baking that rhubarb pie she had imagined, a hollow feeling spread through her. Much as she loved them, dear as they were to her, she kept picturing herself instead with Cole—welcoming him home at the door with a kiss that would show him how glad she was to have him there, sitting down to a hot breakfast with him each morning, pouring his coffee, curling under warm piles of woolen blankets with him at night.
Cole. Love. She hadn’t meant it to happen—she had never imagined herself needing, wanting any man so desperately. But this man was so different from all others. When he was near she felt all her responses heightened. When he was beside her, she felt safe.
Pain knifed through her when she thought that maybe he didn’t need her as much as she needed him—that maybe he didn’t love her at all.
She remembered what had happened between them last night right in this very gully, and that other night, in his cabin, that bleak little place that had been transformed into a blissful paradise consisting of the two of them and a narrow feather bed. It had all been too beautiful and too meaningful to be merely an outpouring of lust. Some stubborn instinct inside her still clung to that belief. When she considered Cole’s past, the brutal tragedy of his childhood, his tormented years at the orphanage, and that vicious betrayal by Jess Burrows and Liza White, she realized it must be nearly impossible for Cole to believe in another human being or in love ever again. Any other man would have been scarred for life, scarred with hate and bitterness, with the ravages of the pain he’d known. But Cole was too strong, too tough for that. His inner strength and goodness had enabled the fine qualities he possessed to survive, to keep him sane and whole. Oh, he was lonely, he was distrustful, and he thought he didn’t need anyone or anything at all. He probably didn’t believe for one moment in love—but Juliana did.
