by Carré White
Lottie shifted her glance, looking past Colton but still jabbing him in the sternum with her shotgun. Sure enough, a rather pitiful looking mottled horse stood behind the man.
“Ernie,” Colton said to the horse. “Look sad. Convince the lady we ain’t here to rob her or worse.”
Ernie, the horse, neighed.
Despite herself, Lottie chuckled and the barrel of her gun wobbled slightly. In one smooth motion, Colton grabbed the business end of the weapon and lifted it straight up.
“You devil!” Lottie shouted, yanking on the triggers out of instinct. “I knew it!”
Buckshot blasted out the end of the gun and the gun blasted out of Lottie’s hands, straight down, cracking the dry porch wood where it struck.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Colton yelped, sticking his hands straight up in the air again. “I surrender! I don’t mean any harm!”
The two of them exchanged a long glance, then both looked down at the same time, staring wide-eyed at the gun presently lodged in the porch.
“Why did you do that?” Lottie demanded. “I had a gun pointed at you! Why in the world... you could have got yourself shot!”
“Like as to shoot you as you were me, seems,” Colton said. “Jeez’um seed, woman, you almost brought the house down and killed the both of us. Ernie could have eaten all your food. He’d probably prefer it that way.”
Lottie shook her head. “You almost got killed just then, and you’re joking now? How can you start up joshing after such a thing? There are holes in your hat!”
Colton lifted the wide-brimmed felt hat off his head and looked at the cluster of holes in something approaching awe. “Well now that that’s happened, and I haven’t availed myself of your virtue while you were taken with surprise, are you convinced that I mean what I say?”
Lottie blushed again. “Come in,” she said, under her breath. “Wait,” she paused. “No, one more thing.”
Colton cocked an eyebrow then rolled his eyes. “You don’t mean to still question me,” he said. “What else can I do?”
“Give me your gun,” she said, sticking out her hand.
Cold brass poking out of warm leather, and two rather fancily-engraved Colt pistols quickly came to rest in her hand.
“These’re a little fancy for a rancher’s guns, don’t you think?” she said. They were remarkable pistols, handles inlaid with ivory, and intricate patterns running along the barrels.
“A gift,” he said. “My late father’s guns, those were. Now, may I?”
Lottie stepped aside. “After you,” she said. “Don’t turn around too quick. You’re apt to startle me, and we know how that ends up.”
Colton pursed his lips, doing a very good job of not chuckling. “Much obliged, ma’am,” he said. “For your hospitality and for your not perforating me, both.”
Chapter Two
“Now, I simply refuse to put you out for letting me come in. I insist that I’ll sleep on my knapsack out here.” Colton put his hands up. “I won’t hear another word about it, understand, Miss Wright? You’re doing me an awful kind turn by opening your house, and although you did almost shoot me in the head in the process, I’ve moved past that.”
Pushing out her lips and huffing, Lottie finally relented. “Well if you’re not going to let me give you my bed, at least let me make you a pallet. I can’t bear the idea of making you sleep on a hard floor.”
She brushed past him, intent on laying out some blankets, but he grabbed her wrist. Colton’s hand was like iron. Lottie gasped and turned to face him, only to see him smiling in the way that got her to let him inside in the first place.
“I insist, ma’am,” he said softly. “I thank you kindly for the blankets, but I’ll lay them out.”
He was inches away from her, his scent filling her nose with the aroma of saddle leather, work on the trail and dust from the windstorm he’d just endured. Lottie had to pause for a second to make sure she didn’t stammer when she replied. Slowly lowering her arm to her side, Colton patted Lottie’s hand and thanked her again.
“Mr. Howe,” she said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”
Something fluttered on the tip of Colton’s tongue, but instead of saying it, he clapped his lips shut. A moment later, he said, “I’m sorry, it was forward of me to grab at your hand like that. I apologize.”
His breath was barely above a whisper. After a few seconds passed, and neither of them made any more distance between themselves, Lottie tilted her head, looking straight into Colton’s eyes.
“Blankets are,” she swallowed again, relishing his scent. “They’re, uh, over there.” She looked past Colton and indicated a trunk in the corner.
“Much,” he paused for a breath, “obliged.”
Still, no one moved. The two stood there, inches apart, captivated by one another’s eyes.
“Will you be getting them?” Lottie finally asked. “They’re very nice, thick blankets. Soft,” she said, averting her eyes.
Colton did not look away. Lottie could feel his gaze burning against her skin even while forcing herself to look past him.
“Yes’m,” he said in his whispering growl. “Thank you. For the blankets.”
“Well you’d best go to it then,” Lottie said. “You’d hate to leave in the morning without getting a good night’s worth of sleep.”
“I would be remiss to do so. Very dangerous to be on the trail without proper rest.”
Lottie coughed and just couldn’t handle it anymore.
“Well then, very good,” she said with a nervous laugh. “The blankets are... yes, well that’s been covered. Good night, Mr. Howe!”
“Colton,” he said, freezing her in place when she was halfway through the hall leading to her room.
Slowly, she turned. The six-foot cowboy brushed his hair back, but otherwise remained stock-still, exactly where he’d been.
“I’m sorry?”
“Colton,” he said. “That’s my name. I’d like it if you’d call me that. Mr. Howe was my grandfather, God rest his soul.”
Those eyes, I just can’t stop looking at them. So green, they’re like a fire full of copper shavings.
“I can do that,” she said in a whisper. “Colton.”
His name tasted like hot bread dripping with butter and honey, piping hot, just as the sun came up behind a frost-covered barrel cactus. Lottie touched her chest, a little amazed at how brazen she was being, ravishing this man with her eyes.
Why am I doing this?
“Good,” he said.
Another half-grin sent chills down Lottie’s back. She tried again to turn away, but some unseen force, some impossible gravity, kept her locked where she stood, staring at the dirty cowboy in her living room.
“Will you be taking your rest soon?” Lottie’s hands trembled as she asked her absent question, which was just an excuse for her to keep looking at those burning emeralds.
Slowly, Colton crouched down and retrieved a few blankets from the trunk, but never took those twinkling eyes away from Lottie. “These are fine blankets,” he said. “Very soft, just the thing I need after a long day on the trail. If you’d like to stay up and talk more, I’m happy to do it. I’d hate to be a poor guest and send you scampering off to bed before you were good and ready.”
His words hung heavy in the air, circled Lottie’s head.
“N – no, I tend to take to bed around this time.”
“What time is it?” Colton said, eyes burning hot holes through Lottie.
“Night... time?” She had to giggle at her own stumbling. “I’m sorry Mr. Howe – Colton, I mean – I’m so disheveled and confused. A lot has happened tonight and I just can’t seem to keep my mind straight. Surely you’ll forgive me?”
Somehow, she managed to stumble her way into the perfect escape. But was it an escape she wanted?
“I see,” he said. “To be sure. What a day!” He stretched his muscular arms above his head and twisted back and forth, stretchin
g his back.
He crouched, though finally took his eyes off Lottie, and arranged his pallet. “I truly do appreciate this, you’ve no idea. I’ll be gone before you arise, I suspect.”
“Gone?” she said. “But why? What’s the hurry? Surely you’d like some vittles before you’re on your way? We’ve fresh eggs and I can rise early to make a pan of biscuits if you’d—”
“No,” Colton said. There was trouble in his eyes. “I can’t ask that of you. You’re been so kind already, Miss Wright.”
“Lottie,” she said. “Call me Lottie. If you’ll have me call you Colton, it’s only proper.”
The tightness of Lottie’s gown felt for the first time, constrictive, as though she couldn’t get enough air to satisfy her lungs. A gentle tug on the laces binding her collar gave her a bit more room to breathe, but not enough to appear brazen. When her fingertips touched her throat, she thought she felt her skin a bit hot, as though she’d taken a blush.
Colton gestured as if tipping a hat. “As I was saying, Lottie, no, I need to be on my way. I’ve got a few things to take care of up north, around Kansas way. Business that I expect should take a couple of months to work through.”
“Wh – no, no, it’s none of my affair,” she said, stopping herself short of prying.
He didn’t offer anything further for a moment. Just when Lottie was about to summon all of her will and turn from the beautiful man, he spoke again.
“Though if it wouldn’t be too much of a further imposition,” he paused, apparently reconsidering.
Lottie shook her head. “No, no, of course not. Hospitality’s never an imposition. What is it you’d ask, Colton?” Instead of retreating, she went forward a couple of steps.
“Well, when I’ve finished my business, I’d very much like to come back through if it wouldn’t trouble you too much.”
“Of course! I’d love that, and chances are you could meet my father if you did.”
“That’ll be fine. I’d like to thank him for allowing me use of his house, even in his absence. It’s decided then. A couple months from now, I’ll be back through. We’ll catch up, and I’ll apologize to him for the repairs he’ll have to do owing to the shotgun imbedding itself in the porch.”
Both of them shared a short moment of laughter. Finally, and thankfully, Colton returned to arranging his palette and crouched on the ground before stretching his long legs out in front of himself and relaxing against the pillows he found in the trunk.
“I can’t tell you how nice this feels. Ever since I’ve been on the run, I don’t believe I’ve slept on a...”
“Run?” Lottie said.
“Just an expression.” Colton dismissed her with a wave of his hand and another easy smile. “Us south Texans, that’s what we say when we’re on business.”
“I thought you said you were from further down the panhandle?”
“Well anything’s ‘south’ from here,” Colton said with another of his grins. “Slip of the tongue. You’ll have to forgive my exhaustion.”
That vague strain in his voice returned. Lottie decided to leave it alone.
Not wanting to leave just yet, she said, “You have a very nice looking horse. Ernie? I’ve always wanted to get better at riding, but the horses that father and I have, they’re not exactly young and spry. They do well enough, but—”
“Maybe I could teach you to really get up some speed when I come back through. Ernie’s doesn’t look it, but he’s very quick.”
“Oh yes,” Lottie said, trying and failing to come up with anything else to say to extend the exchange. “That’d be just wonderful!”
It pained her to turn, though she didn’t quite understand why. This wasn’t the first time a visitor had stayed in their house, but there was something about this man she couldn’t finger. As far out of the way as Almos was, it wasn’t rare at all for wayward cowboys to ask for a night’s respite, or for Indian scouts to stay overnight when they were between two forts.
“I’m sorry to bother you again,” Colton said. “But would you mind putting out that lantern by your hand? I find myself beginning to drift off and I’d hate to surprise you with some over-loud snoring.”
Absently, Lottie stared at this stranger’s long legs, his lean torso, stretched out on her floor. A wave of heat, then a chill, worked down her as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his stomach. Colton smacked his lips and rolled over to one side.
“Night, Lottie,” he said in a sleep-heavy voice.
Lottie turned to the wall and snuffed the lantern, then took one last glance at the form on the floor.
Comfortable that she’d never be seen, she smiled at him.
She wasn’t much prone to surprise, regardless of how she reacted earlier. In her twenty-one years of being alive, she’d seen most everything a person can, from the heights of happiness to the worst pits of loneliness. But, never once had she been lifted off her feet by a stranger she was almost certain she’d never see again.
Staring at him, she wondered if this whole evening was actually a strange dream. Though she knew it wasn’t, dream was a much easier explanation, much easier to accept, than the alternative; that this man she watched, and all the things she felt were just fleeting coincidences.
Silently, Lottie closed her eyes and recited a silent prayer for her safety, for her father’s well-being, and for this stranger, whoever he really was. She prayed that he reach whatever place it was he was going. Then she added a hint of selfishness to her appeals.
Lottie prayed that he did make his way back.
When she finally turned and went to bed, closing her door with a soft click, she couldn’t help but open it again.
Just a crack, she left it ajar, silently warming the wood with her hand.
As she lay in bed, letting the day’s events swirl around in her mind, she listened to the gentle rustle of the small trees her father planted on either side of the front door. She heard the gentle whistle of wind outside, passing through the branches.
The wind that drove him into my house.
She closed her eyes, feeling her soul lifted on those gusts, carried to the clouds.
When her spirit came back to earth, Lottie’s hand fell to the side, thumping against her mattress.
From downstairs, she heard a faint snore as her consciousness slipped away.
A snore that she quickly joined.
Two hearts, separated by a hundred feet and two pinewood walls, beat as one.
Chapter Three
Lottie woke up to a clatter, and a clang.
Then she heard two rapid, soft taps on the door.
She opened one eye, looked around the room, and then to the window, where it was already full light outside. Sitting up quickly, Lottie hoped that Colton hadn’t yet gone, but from the increasingly intense knocking on her door, she thought probably her hope was in vain.
“Just a second,” she called. She pulled on the dress she’d worn the day before, and tied the laces. A quick glance in the mirror got an irritated grunt, and she set to fixing her mussed-up hair.
Another series of knocks, much more serious than the first, rattled both Lottie, and the door, which clattered wildly against the doorframe.
“One moment!” she shouted again, first brushing, and then pinning her hair. “You’ve come rather early to be so insistent!”
More knocks preceded a loudly clearing throat. “Texas Ranger, open up.”
Lottie shot herself one more glance in the mirror as she pursed her lips with realization. Coming through at night, in a huge hurry to leave, not willing to wait for breakfast? It all made sense, but at the same time, Colton was perfectly mannered, and didn’t press her decency. If anyone had butted up against propriety, it was Lottie, with all her staring.
“Ranger! Open the door!”
Whoever was outside banged his fist against the screen door, opened it and tested the knob, but found it locked. He let out an irritated sigh and went back to knocking.
“Sir
,” Lottie said, undoing the clasp and opening the door, “I don’t know what the meaning of—”
The man in the long black duster coat shoved her aside and strode into the living room, casting quick glances to every corner of the small, square room.
The chickens, which she’d neglected to remove to the coop last night, clucked.
Rolf drew up just like he had with Colton, ready to pounce, but not quite brave enough to attack. Instead, he chose to let out a long, drawling growl before he started circling wide around the intruding lawman.
Flustered, Lottie tapped the man on the shoulder. “Sir, what is the meaning of this? I’m well familiar with the Rangers, but you can’t simply barge into my home after banging at my door for a few seconds.”
Fire burned under brushy gray eyebrows. The Ranger’s salt and pepper mustache twitched as he pursed his lips. “Looking for an outlaw. I lost him down south a ways. Er, he got away, is more similar to my meaning.”
A quick glance around revealed no trace of Colton. Before he left, he’d been so kind as to fold the blankets and replace them in the linen trunk. He even cleaned up the dust that his boots left when he came into the house. The only thing out of place was a slip of paper folded up and slid between the slats on the table which sat off to the side, behind the Ranger, and as yet unnoticed.
She stepped around him under the pretense of shooing Belle, and snuck the slip of paper under the wrap that went about her waist.
After a moment’s more silence, the Ranger spoke up again. “I had tracked him to the Red River where he just vanished. No sign of him. Damndest thing.” He coughed. “Beg your pardon for my vulgarity.”
“No, no problem, sir,” Lottie said. “I’ve certainly not seen any outlaw. Not for a time anyway. Last year a man running from a cattle rustling charge came through heading north, but,” she trailed off, connecting the dots. She shook her head. “At any rate, what makes you think this man came all the way up here? We’re quite a way from the Red.”
