“I don’t know. I saw someone run into the woods. I thought maybe he was going for help.”
“And Kit was all right?” Clay asked yet again.
“Yeah, the miners were arriving when I left.” Sam grunted, as if moving something out of the way, before he continued, “When I saw One Ear in Black Hawk he said he’d seen my pa just afore he died. Said a griz got him.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, taking a moment to acknowledge the kid’s loss. When Sam didn’t respond, Clay felt the boy had a right to know everything. If for no other reason than to stay clear of the old trapper. “One Ear knows you’re part owner in the mine, Sam. He said your father wanted him to look out for your share. He told me if I signed it over to him, he wouldn’t blow the place up.”
“Don’t know why folks think I need looking after so much,” Sam said gruffly. “Here’s the tunnel. It’s small. I hope you won’t get stuck.”
“I won’t get stuck,” Clay said, dropping to his knees.
“Don’t follow too close,” Sam warned. “I don’t want to kick you in the face.”
Clay waited, giving the kid time to crawl in before he examined the area with both hands and then climbed in. He had to roll his shoulders tight to his chest and inch forward with his forearms. The space was too small for him to rise to his knees, leaving his legs trailing along behind him like a heavy, useless tail, and he could feel blood dripping off the back of his kerchief and onto his neck.
“What happened then?” Sam asked, his voice echoing in the tiny space. “How’d the mine blow up?”
Fear renewed itself inside him, yet at the same time, a smile tugged at Clay’s lips as the picture formed in his mind. “Kit came barreling down the hill and hit him with a board.” He grinned. “His gun went off and the bullet struck the box of dynamite.” Needing to hear she was fine once more, he asked, “You’re sure she’s all right?”
“For Pete’s sake, man, she’s fine,” Sam answered. “I didn’t want her following me, so I put her in charge of the miners. I wouldn’t put it past her to have the entrance cleared by the time we get there.”
Clay not only heard the humor and respect in Sam’s voice, he felt it. “That she might, Sam, that she might,” he readily agreed. “How much farther is it?”
“It’s a ways yet, Hoffman, just hold your horses. You’ll see my sister soon enough.”
“She’s a good person, Sam. She loves you,” Clay said, after maneuvering through a very tight spot. He had to empty his lungs completely, otherwise the sentiments swelling in his chest might permanently lodge him in the tiny crawl space.
“Yeah, well, she loves you, too, Hoffman.”
Clay bit his lips, half afraid he might respond.
“You hear me, Hoffman?”
“Yeah, I heard you, Sam.”
“What you gonna do about it?”
He knew what he wanted to do—marry her today, or tomorrow at the latest. That couldn’t happen, though. He couldn’t take the chance. If Kit left, he would have to go after her, and leave all he’d worked for his entire life. She wasn’t Miranda—he understood that—but she was a woman. Her mother’s daughter. Who had left everything as easily as Miranda had.
“What you gonna do about that, Hoffman?” Sam repeated.
“I don’t know, Sam,” he answered, blowing out a sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you best figure it out,” Sam said. “The opening’s right up here.”
Clay experienced a bout of anxiousness that had him wanting to shove Sam out of the way. But since he could barely slither forward, he quelled the urge. However, the air that filled his lungs when he finally crawled out of the space and stood on his feet had never felt so rejuvenating, even though he had to lean on the wall as his aching head spun.
“This way.” Sam bolted forward.
Clay followed, holding the back of his head with one hand as they hurried toward the cave entrance. Night was falling and the dusky light changed the color of the grass. Clay had to blink several times to make out the difference between rocks and bushes as his dizziness increased.
Lights, lanterns and torches soon flicked in the distance, and he slowed his pace as everything teetered. Leaning against a big boulder, he regained his balance, and his vision cleared enough to see Kit.
She stood by herself a short distance away, as if overseeing the entire operation of mules and men moving rubbish from the mine entrance. Clay’s heart, racing at the sight of her, stopped for a moment when she spun around and planted her hands on her hips.
“Kit!” Sam yelled.
Stomping up the hill, she shouted, “Samuel Edwards, where have you been? We need all the help we can get, and what do you do? Take off for your cave.” Pointing behind her as she marched, she continued, “Clay is buried in that mine and I expect no man on this mountain to remain idle until he’s out.”
Clay waited until she was a few feet away before he pushed off the rock and stepped up beside Sam. “Go tell the men to stop digging, Sam,” he said.
“No!” she shouted, holding up one hand. “Clay,” she said, in that exasperating tone of hers, “Clay is …” Her voice faded and then her eyes, locked on his, flashed brightly. “Clay!” In a single bound she was in his arms with her legs wrapped around his hips, her lips kissing every spot on his face. “Clay. Clay. Clay.”
His mouth caught hers as his arms tightened around her waist, keeping her exactly as she was, clinging to him with all the strength in her wonderful little body. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until his body gave out completely. He tried to stop himself from going down, didn’t want her hurt, but it was useless. And then he saw only blackness.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a while?” Clarice asked. “I’ll sit with him.”
Kit shook her head and once again smoothed the hair off Clay’s forehead with a hand that refused to quit trembling. “No.” Tears threatened to spring up again and she held her breath, forcing them to stay put. She’d cried all the way to Nevadaville, riding in the ore box, holding his head in her lap. He’d collapsed beneath her, and the fear that he’d died had almost killed her. They were at his house now, had been for hours, but he hadn’t opened his eyes.
“It’ll be morning soon,” Clarice said.
Nodding, Kit kept her eyes on Clay, but found the ability to speak. “You should go lie down. You’ve been up all night.”
“So have you.”
Kit didn’t respond. There was no need. She would stay up as long as it took. Would be sitting right here when he opened his eyes.
“The doc says he’s going to be fine,” Clarice said with encouragement. “Just needs to sleep it off.”
Another nod was Kit’s only response.
Clarice’s arms came around her then, from behind, and the woman gave her a long hug. “I’ll be in the room just down the hall,” she said.
“All right,” Kit whispered. Reaching up, she squeezed one of Clarice’s hands as they slipped away. “I just can’t leave him,” she admitted. “I just can’t.”
“I know,” Clarice whispered back. “You don’t need to. Come get me if something happens.”
“I will.” Kit let out a ragged sigh as the door closed, but her gaze never wandered. She watched the steady rise and fall of Clay’s chest. It was comforting to know he was breathing, but until he opened his eyes, she wouldn’t close hers.
The men had carried him into his house, and a good portion of them, as worried as she, were still downstairs. Every now and then she heard a thud or thump that signaled was someone coming or going. The doctor had been there when they arrived and had said head wounds often looked worse than they were, because of the amount of blood, but that Clay should be fine.
Everyone else seemed to have confidence in the surgeon, and she used their faith to conjure up some of her own as the hours ticked by. The words should be fine darkened her mind as intensely as the blood stained the front of her dress. She’d rinsed her hands before washing the bl
ood from his face and body, but she could still feel the stickiness, and feared he’d lost too much.
The sun was starting to sneak through the window, aiding the faint light from the lamp beside the bed to brighten the room, when a muffled moan had her hand pausing on Clay’s cheek. Holding her breath, she watched. Listened.
Another moan, and then his eyelashes fluttered, as did her insides. She barely got a glimpse of those blue eyes she adored so much before the corners of his lips curved upward slightly.
“Hello,” she whispered, leaning closer.
“Hi,” he said, eyes closed again.
“How do you feel? The doctor left some medicine,” she said, moving to reach over the back of the chair.
He caught her arm and then his hand slid around her back. “No medicine,” he said. “Just you.”
“Me?”
Tugging slightly, he said, “Lie down.”
He still hadn’t opened his eyes all the way, and the gruffness of his voice said he was clearly in pain. “You’re hurt, Clay. I can’t—”
“Please. My head won’t hurt so much if you’re in my arms.”
Considering that was the only place she wanted to be, and he sounded as if he truly believed it would help, she eased onto the mattress and carefully stretched out beside him. His arm looped all the way around her and pulled her closer, until she was on her side, the length of her pressed against him, her head on his shoulder.
The next moan he let out sounded less pained, almost pleasure-filled. “I feel better already,” he whispered, reaching over and grasping her waist with his other hand. “Stay right there. Right there.”
“I will,” she promised, cupping the side of his neck with her hand while resting her arm across his chest. It was healing, lying beside him like this. “I will.”
His hold relaxed and she knew he’d fallen back to sleep, yet she couldn’t convince herself to slip off the bed. Furthermore, there was an incredible awareness inside her that said she was where she belonged. Kit closed her eyes, relishing the thought, and made no attempt to fight the grogginess overcoming her.
When awareness brought her out of a wonderful dream, she had to think only for a moment what had wakened her. The hand roaming up and down her side brought a smile to her lips as she tilted her head.
“Hello,” Clay said, those blue eyes once again shimmering brightly.
Happiness floated through her bloodstream like sunshine flooding the window. “Hello.”
His lips touched hers and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling before kissing him in return. She wanted to tell him what she’d discovered. That she loved him with her heart and soul, and that she never, ever wanted to be parted from him. But a knock sounded on the door.
The rattle of the doorknob had her scrambling off the bed, and with both legs twisted in her skirts, she fell into the chair beside his bed as the door opened.
“You’re awake,” Clarice said. “I expected to find you both asleep.”
Kit’s face was so hot she was sure the skin was blistered. She loved him, but getting caught lying in his bed wouldn’t be appropriate, even given the extraordinary circumstances.
Clay’s fingers found hers, threaded between them and squeezed. “We both just woke up.”
Three days later, Clay sat with his back against a boulder outside Sam’s cave, wishing the kid would walk up the hillside. He’d—no, they’d—been here since midafternoon, and for the life of him, he couldn’t get Kit to go home. There was a dull ache in his head, not from his injury—he was healed well enough from that—but from Kit’s stubbornness.
His gaze landed on her, sitting on the other side of the cave opening, flowery hat askew, and he pinched his lips together, stopping the smile before it could form. She should be in town, but no matter what he’d said, she’d refused to stay there. It had been a choice between bringing her with him, or waiting to see who ended up following him—Katherine or Henry or another alias she’d create.
Even frustrated to hell and back, he wasn’t mad at her. He tried to be, but one glance at those brown eyes and his fury melted. Along with his heart. And he still didn’t know what to do about that.
Feeling his stare, she turned. Clay pulled his gaze away, threw the little rock he’d been rolling between his fingers toward the fire pit and then gestured toward the sun dropping behind the mountaintops. “If we head out now we can make it back to town before dark.”
“What about Sam?”
“It doesn’t look like he’s going to make it home tonight. His trapline runs for miles.” He stood and brushed the dirt off the seat of his britches, watching her do the same to the back side of her blue dress. His heart once again took to throbbing elsewhere in his body. The past few days had been like some form of medieval torture, seeing her sitting on the side of his bed every time he opened his eyes. And now that he was better, sitting here alone with her, for hours, was becoming more than he could take.
She, however, would probably kick him in the shin if he came within striking distance. He’d seen her mad before, but today, when he’d discovered Sam had gone looking for One Ear, and he’d told her to stay in town while he went to look for her brother, she’d lit into him like a mother badger.
“Clay,” she said, with the same tone of intolerance she’d used half the afternoon. “We both know Sam isn’t out setting traps.”
He shook his head. “No, we don’t know that, Kit.” There was a one percent chance that’s what Sam was doing, and Clay wanted her to believe that—then he could get to tracking the kid’s trail. He’d hoped she’d see the empty cave and agree to return to town. But that hadn’t happened.
The miner, the same one the trapper had knocked unconscious prior to setting the dynamite at the mine entrance, had discovered Sam gone two days ago, and had sent others after him. But no one had told Clay until this morning. Time was running out and it was hard telling what One Ear might do now. “Come on,” Clay said. “I’ll take you back to town.”
“Take me to town?”
“Us. We. We’ll go back to town,” he corrected, but knew it was too late.
The glare in her eyes didn’t lessen. “You’re not taking me back to town just so you can go find Sam on your own.” She didn’t give him enough time to answer. “I know that’s what you plan on doing, but where you go, I go.”
Anger raced in his guts, proving he was wrong. He could get mad at her. “No, you’re not.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, I am. I’ve told you before I’m not leaving your side, and I’m not. I mean what I say.”
Clay balled his fist at the desire to grab her by the waist and plunk her on Rachel. He chose reasoning instead, and pointed toward the sky. “When that sun goes down it’s going to get cold, and you don’t even have a coat.” To enforce his statement, he added, “You refused to go get one before we left town.”
“Because you would have left without me,” she spouted back.
He had been leaving town without her; she’d just caught up to him before he’d made it out of the stable. Changing his bargaining tactic, he said, “Then how about you stay here and wait for Sam and I’ll go scout the area a bit?” There were still men cleaning up the Wanda Lou, and he could ask them to keep an eye on Kit while he went after Sam.
“We both know he went after One Ear Bob, for what he did to the mine, and we both know you plan on going after him. Even though there are a dozen men out searching, you still plan on going yourself. With a gash in your head, no less. Dr. Jamison said it would be a few days yet before it was completely healed.”
How could someone he was mad at, someone so stubborn he wanted to shake her, be so adorable all he really wanted to do was cradle her in his arms? “Kit,” he said, blowing the frustration out of his body with a long sigh.
“He’s my brother.” She stomped a foot on the ground, but it was the tears glistening in her eyes that snagged him harder than ever. “And you could get hurt again.”
He wrapped a hand around her upper arm. The skin beneath his palm was chilling and he led her into the cave. “Come on, let’s find you a blanket or something.”
Clay didn’t let her stop until he’d set her down on the bed in the back of the cave and draped a blanket around her shoulders. Kit was scared. Sam was out there, tracking that awful man, but she was furious that Clay intended to go after him. There were a million other things going on inside her as well. He still wasn’t completely healed, yet he wouldn’t rest until Sam was found. She knew that, too.
This far back, the cave was dark, but she saw the worry that darkened Clay’s eyes as he sat down beside her. They’d barely spoken since leaving town—except to yell at each other a few times—and she couldn’t take it any longer. Arguing with him was horrid.
He looped an arm around her and briskly rubbed the blanket covering her arms. “That better?”
She nodded. It was him that made her feel better, not the blanket. Her body still remembered lying beside him, and longed to do it again.
“Sam’s fine. We’ll find him.”
“I know,” she answered. “He’s lived on his own too long not to be fine.”
“You’re right,” Clay said.
“It’s you I’m worried about. The doctor said you could be dizzy for days.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been hit on the head before.”
A chill raced up her spine, making her quiver. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. The action loosened a hard knot inside her. “I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”
“Kit—”
“I know why my mother had to leave Chicago,” she whispered. The past few days she’d come to understand many things.
“Why?” he asked.
Desire leaped to life inside her. She’d tell him—that she now understood how a person could love someone so much they feared they couldn’t live without them. But first she had to do something. Know something. Letting the blanket fall, she reached over to cup his cheeks, and brought her lips to his in one swift, easy movement.
Inheriting a Bride Page 21
