Dark Warrior: Kid (Dark Cloth Series Book 2)

by Wolfe, Lenore

  But, lately, it seemed as though every little thing had caused another postponement, and Kat couldn’t help but think—maybe some things just weren’t meant to be.

  How could something that felt so right—be wrong?

  She’d loved Kid, from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. And he’d been perfect for her—even when she’d thrown all of Mandy’s dishes at him for making her mad.

  Flushing, Kat looked down at her dress.

  No one had ever stirred up such feeling in her before.

  She’d been too busy fighting men, to think of loving one—or trying to live with one.

  In the end, it hadn’t taken her long to realize that she’d fallen head over heels for Kid. She’d realized that, not long after meeting him, right after Mandy had hired her as a hand on the Northern Rose. And Mandy had done so, right after finding her trying to skin McCandle with her six-inch hunting knife.

  Mandy understood her hate. She’d shared it.

  McCandle had killed her father, and she’d plenty of reasons for wanting to see him dead herself—but she promised Kat they’d take him out, without ending up on the wrong end of a rope themselves.

  Kat stared at the door to the mercantile, remembering how Mandy had been true to her word. They had, indeed, taken him down, ruining him in the process. And when he’d come after her in a rage, and kidnapped her, they’d had to kill him alright—but in self-defense.

  After that, Kat had thought she’d get to live happily ever after on their new ranch, the one Hawk had been only too happy to hand over to Jake and Kid, as soon as he’d learned he’d inherited it. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with his father’s ranch. And Jake and Kid had promised horses and cattle for the Native American tribes, in return for taking over his land.

  Born full-blooded Cheyenne, Kid wouldn’t have done anything else. But he’d spent so much time in the White-man’s fort, he’d often dressed like a White-man—as deadly with the White-man’s pistol as any well-known gunman.

  Kat smiled, thinking about this side of Kid. Being a gunman, and dressing in the clothes of the White Eyes, didn’t stop him from reverting completely to his true nature, whenever he needed to commune with the Great Spirit, or whenever he needed to become one with Mother Earth.

  Kat loved that about him. She had the same needs—so she understood.

  He didn’t stop her anytime she needed to take off to be alone for a couple of nights. But even Kid would ask questions if she tried to disappear for several weeks.

  She’d no idea why that had become a concern, of late. She’d no intentions of ever leaving Kid. Yet, lately, the thought persisted to bother her. And Mandy had been so diligent in trying to help her plan—but something somehow always interrupted getting that dress.

  Kat looked down at her fancy little shoes.

  How could they plan a wedding—if they couldn’t manage to buy the dress?

  She stared down at the dress she wore, taking the last few steps back toward Cord’s Mercantile. Deep in her thoughts, she looked up to find her friend smiling, as she opened the door to the shop and stepped outside. A feeling of dread washed through Kat—but not from what she’d find inside.

  Her gaze had traveled past Mandy’s shoulder, and her hand dropped down to where her colt should have sat, in her gun-belt on her hip. But of course—it wasn’t there.

  Mandy didn’t miss the gesture, and quickly swung around to see who had stirred her friend to want to draw her gun. Kat lunged forward, grabbing her arm and shoving her back inside the store—slamming the door behind them. She lifted the curtain on the window in the door, peering outside.

  “What the devil was that all about?” Mandy hissed, just above a whisper.

  Kat spared her a glance—only to find her ruffled up like a hen. “Just a hunch,” she said.

  She didn’t need to look, to know that Mandy had lifted one fine, dark eyebrow in question. And she didn’t have to wait, to hear what she thought of that answer.

  “I see,” she said. “So you practically threw me through the door, over a hunch.” She stepped close to Kat. “Well, now,” she pressed her face close to Kat’s, to peer out the window, “let’s see what this hunch looks like....” She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh—my.”

  “Yep,” Kat said.

  “Hmmm,” Mandy said. “Hawk’s not going to like this one bit....” She angled her body against the door-frame for a better view. “Neither is Jake—or for that matter, Kid. Speaking of which....”

  Kat didn’t have to nod. They both eyed the gunman standing against the post outside, staring the door.

  He didn’t move. He knew they watched him.

  But he no longer had all of their attention, as they now watched the catlike Kid, blending like a shadow and fast advancing on the gunman.

  The gunman sensed him too, as a stillness washed over him. And then he, too, blended into the shadows at the side of the tall mercantile, disappearing between the buildings.

  Both women knew Kid would follow him, even while they each hoped he wouldn’t—their shopping expedition, the furthest thing from their minds. Getting to their horses, and getting out of town, now took priority.

  With a glance at her friend, and a nod, they made haste in slipping out the back of the shop toward the stables.

  Kid caught up with them about a mile from the ranch. Riding up close to Kat, he lifted her easily from the saddle, setting her down in front of him. Once there, he sank his hand deep into her wheat colored curls and tipped her head back, nipping her creamy white throat before tilting her head to expose her mouth to his kiss.

  Mandy’s groan broke them apart. She laughed. “Don’t mind me. You two just make me want to get on home to Hawk.” She smiled openly at them. “But then, it’s always been steamy between you two—even when you’re fighting.” That seemed to remind her. “As my dishes can surely attest to.”

  Kid laughed when Kat flushed at the memory, setting her back on her little war pony. Or at least that is what he liked to call the little stallion, a dark red paint, just over fifteen hands high. The pony, well trained, stood steadily, receiving her weight.

  Only then did Kat acknowledge her earlier worry, when they’d left him to deal with the gunman. Her gaze traveled over him in a way that had her friend smiling, and she quickly reined herself in, glowering at Mandy.

  Kid grinned. “Worried?”

  Kat swallowed her groan. “No,” she denied.

  Kid’s grin widened. “Sure you weren’t,” he said, then sobered. “But I see you didn’t miss our visitor.”

  Kat glowered openly at him. “What were you doing in town, anyway?”

  He raised a brow at her, reminding her markedly of his blood-brother, Hawk. Sometimes, she had a hard time believing the two were not actually blood related.

  “I was—ummm….” He ruined it by grinning at her.

  She reined her horse in, staring at his retreating back.

  Mandy stopped her mare beside her. “He’s worried, after that attempt on your life...,” she supplied.

  Kat nodded, setting her horse forward in a slow walk. She’d thought so, but it didn’t make her any happier, hearing it out-loud. “I can’t have him worrying about me,” she said, turning her face away.

  Mandy’s mare stayed right in line with her mount. “Why not?” Mandy said, an edge to her voice. “Oh,” she said, when Kat met her gaze. “You’re not use to having someone worry about you, are you? I can understand that. I had papa and Aunt Lydia. Hell, I even had all the hands—and I still didn’t like it when Hawk tried to rein me in....”

  “He doesn’t,” Kat defended.

  “No?” Mandy smiled, her gaze soft. “So let him watch after you a little.”

  Kat swallowed and nodded as they urged the horses into at trot, heading for the ranch.

  A half hour later, Kat leaned against her mount, depending on her pony to hold her up. She sat well within the cool shadows of the barn, so as not to get caught showing silly emotions.r />
  Something bothered Kat about the gunman in town. And she couldn’t figure out what. After all, she’d faced deadly enemies before. But the gunman didn’t bother her so much—as the dreams. Something about the whole situation didn’t feel right.

  She’d never seen such cold, dead eyes. They reminded of what Mandy probably saw—when she talked about the man in the mask. The one she’d told Kat had been one of the Dark Cloth.

  The one who wasn’t human.

  It had been his eyes which caused her to practically toss her friend back inside the shop.

  She leaned against her painted pony, breathing in his earthly scent, then turned so her friend wouldn’t see her. She set down the brush she’d been using, where the two of them stood in the evening shadows of the barn, currying their mounts to bed them down for the night.

  This should be the happiest time of her life. So why did she see ghosts everywhere?

  She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if that would erase the memory of the man she’d seen in town, but it did no good. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him again, staring through her soul. She actually suppressed the urge to shiver, then frowned at the realization that she’d had to. She’d seen more than her share of killers. So what about this one bothered her so much?

  She closed her eyes, deep in thought. She blinked, then blinked again when she opened her catlike, green eyes, to find her best friend standing there, right before her, frowning, her own grey-green eyes sharp with concern.

  As usual, Mandy didn’t mince with words. “Out with it.”

  Kat winced in spite of herself, turning to gather the bridle off the ledge, between the stalls. She shook her head at Mandy and, for once, her friend let her engage her in small talk, instead, as they left the barn. Though it was still early, she said goodnight, and headed for the bunkhouse—intending to head for bed, to get some sleep. Tomorrow. Well—tomorrow she’d deal with some harsh decisions.

  Chapter Two

  Bitter Dreams

  Kat woke with a start, shaking as she fought to suck some air into her burning lungs. Rubbing her face, she sat half up, trying to still the panic. As her vision cleared, she realized it’d just been another one of her dreams. She ran her hand over her eyes, as if that would clear her blurry sight—and sighed. She’d been having more of these nightmares, ever since she saw him.

  Which only told her that her earlier fears had been correct. Something about this guy had caused an endless sinking feeling in her gut, which for some odd reason led straight back to her dreams. The visions in her dreams forewarned her. And she couldn’t ignore the warning, even if she wanted to. It would seem that her nightmares were not to go unheeded.

  Leaning on one arm, she tipped her head and stared at the walls, sighing again. She couldn’t understand the dreams. She couldn’t understand why she kept playing these same images over and over again, as she slept. And what did the gunman in town have to do with her nightmares, anyway?

  Why had he triggered more of these bad dreams?

  She flopped back onto the wool blanket on her bed, continuing to stare up at the ceiling, remembering the blond, curly haired girl who ran toward a man. He, too, had blond, curly hair—and the same yellow-green eyes as the ones she saw staring back at her every single day—whenever she saw herself in a mirror.

  She sighed, once more, turning over, as though finding a comfortable position would help to drive away the troubling images, then scowled. What was she supposed to understand about these dreams?

  Kat frowned at that. What a silly thought. What could dreams possibly tell her? After all, dreams were just dreams.

  Mandy wouldn’t say so—but Mandy always had visions. And these weren’t visions. They were just dreams.

  Then, why did it feel like they were more like—memories.

  Giving up on sleep, she sat up, scooting toward the edge of the bed and placing her feet on the braided rug, which sat over the cool, wooden floor. In a few minutes, the sun would begin to spread its fingers over the land anyway, and Kat loved to greet the dawn.

  Images of an older man, with curly hair and light-green eyes, mirroring her own, filled her vision as she got dressed. Kat couldn’t deny the foreboding that came with—and she knew this wouldn’t bode well for her.

  Something felt wrong.

  The images bothered her, and unable to shake the feeling that dropped over her every time she remembered them, she headed for the tiny cooking area in the corner of the room. Kat put some wood in the cook stove and cooked up some eggs and bacon for her breakfast, with some coffee to wash it down.

  When she left the bunkhouse an hour later and entered the barn, she noticed Ned, Mandy’s foreman, riding toward the house, and she waved. He saw her, waved, and nudged his mount in her direction.

  “How’s it going?” she said when he got close enough to hear.

  He smiled and nodded in answer. “Kid around?”

  Her smile faltered. Ned didn’t usually get down to business so quickly. He liked to visit.

  “What’s up?” she asked him.

  He frowned, settled his hat farther back on his head with a slight shake of his head. “Hawk heard about the gunman in town,” he said.

  She nodded. She shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that—only that it took him till morning to send for Kid. Hawk never let a gunman go riding through town, without sending him a message not to return.

  She should be thankful, she reckoned. And she was. But some part of her wanted to deal with this particular gunman herself. Yet if she did, she’d have to answer to Kid.

  Maybe it would be better if she headed back out to ride fence. If she wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be tempted to go and seek out—and hunt—a bounty hunter. Her nightmares and her lack of sleep didn’t promise a good outcome with that. If she stuck around here—she’d lose the argument, Kat reasoned. Either she went out to clear her head—or she ended up on the receiving end of Kid and Hawk—wanting answers. Answers that Kat wasn’t ready to give.

  Old Charlie came out of the barn with the boy, Tommy, in tow, and as soon as he spotted her, they both headed her way. She’d noted that Charlie had started walking with a limp lately, and it worried her. She wondered if it worried Hawk as well.

  She smiled at Tommy. Mandy had sort of adopted him a few years before—since he’d been orphaned when his father died in a fire.

  Tommy smiled back at her. Kat couldn’t help but notice that he looked like he’d grown at least two inches in the past few months. She blew out a little puff of air.

  Everyone was taller than her now.

  “Who was here?” Charlie asked her.

  Kat glanced at him. She knew Old Charlie had started thinking of her like a granddaughter, almost as soon as she’d arrived at Mandy’s ranch. That touched her heart—because she considered him like a grandfather too.

  “Hawk is hunting that gunman,” she said.

  Charlie nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Figured he’d get right on it. Glad to see he did.” He pointed at the grain as he talked—and Tommy went to feed the animals in the barn.

  Kat watched as Tommy walked away and sighed. It seemed that all the men on this ranch were hell-bent on her leaving this gunman to the men in the family. Even Tommy didn’t seem to think anything of it. Well, fine. That only reinforced her earlier idea, to head for the line-shack before dark.

  Charlie squinted through aged eyes, heavily lined by leathered skin and toughened by the sun. “Girl,” he said. “You don’t much like having Hawk handle your fights, do ya?”

  Kat shrugged. “Just not use to it,” she said, trying not to show she cared.

  She didn’t fool Charlie. He gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Let ‘em handle it,” he said. “You concentrate on that wedding of yours.”

  Kat wanted to make a face, but she nodded. She didn’t feel like arguing. All she wanted to do, right now, was get away.

  She headed to the barn, aware that Old Charlie foll
owed her. He eyed her, as she saddled her pony.

  “Heading out to do some work?” he asked. “He, he, he, need to get away from that boy already, girl?” he said, making a gentle attempt to humor her.

  Kat grinned at his ribbing. She couldn’t help it. Charlie always teased someone. At least he had a way of getting people to smile, even when the chips were down and things seemed bad for them, like with McCandle. Old Charlie had always tried to keep their spirits up.

  She loved him for what he tried to do for her now. It’s how he showed his concern—but she had to get out and ride. She needed air.

  He watched her, then nodded. “You go, girly,” he said. “It will be here when you get back. I’ll tell Kid where you got off to.”

  Kat gave him a nod, reached up to touch the brim of her hat in thanks—and headed out to make it to the line-shack by dusk.

  Kat ate some grub by a campfire and rolled herself up in a blanket near the heat it provided. She slept out in front of the line-shack, not in it. She preferred being out under the stars, to being cooped up within four walls.

  But even though she had to hit the trail early, she didn’t sleep. She still hadn’t been successful in getting the gunman out of her head. She couldn’t get the bad dreams out of her head either. Everything in her sensed a warning. She just couldn’t seem to figure out which direction to point her gun.

  Kat thought about the work she’d been doing for Mandy, when they’d won that fight against Hawk’s deranged brother. She didn’t blame Hawk for not wanting anything to do with his father’s land. The last time Hawk had seen him, as a boy, his father had helped some men kill off all their friends on their wagon train, and then to top it off, he left him hiding in the grass where he’d been found by a Cheyenne warrior.

  Sure, he’d given Jake and Kid the land, along with Star Flower, Hawk’s newly found baby sister. All it held for him were reminders of his father.

  Jake and Kid had worked hard, to make something good come out of all the bad that McCandle had wrought on the local ranchers and the Native American people. Jake had recently added a Red Angus bull to the cattle he’d been raising, in order to take a large bunch of them to the Native American tribes hiding in Canada each year.