To Find You Again

by Maureen McKade

  He wended his way back to Paint and stood for a moment, leaning against the gelding's side. Ridge had no doubt that it was Cullen who'd stabbed Colt, but to prove it would be damned near impossible. If only Colt could identify Cullen as his attacker, but the captain hadn't seen anything.

  Cullen may not be bright, but he was smart enough to hide his tracks. If Ridge was the same person he'd been fifteen years ago, he would take justice in his own hands, but he couldn't do that anymore. It was simple—he'd have to get Cullen to confess.

  Simple. Right.

  Emma rocked gently on the porch, the chair making soothing creaks with every forward motion. Her gaze followed Chayton who was "helping" Rory take care of the horses. Although she hadn't seen Hotah since the confrontation on the way back from the reservation, he was never far from her thoughts. She made certain Chayton was either in her sight, or in her sister or mother's. Hotah might be desperate enough to come into the yard to steal him away, and Emma couldn't bear the thought of losing her son ever again.

  Rory had taken a shine to Chayton, and didn't hold his Lakota blood against him. More surprising since it was Indians who had been the cause of the hostler's crippled leg. A half-dozen of the other hired hands, including the foreman Bob Tucker, had warmed toward her son, too, but the majority of the men ignored him. Only one or two were openly antagonistic, but Tucker had given them fair warning and the cruel jibes had stopped.

  Although pleased with Chayton's well-being, Emma had worried herself sick the past two days as she wrestled with Ridge's marriage proposal. With the growing acceptance of Chayton, her fears had lessened about their future. Her father wouldn't force her to leave the ranch, especially since Emma's mother was firmly in her and Chayton's camp. But living with her parents for the next twenty or more years didn't set right with Emma, either. She wanted her own life and, if truth be told, she wanted to share it with a man she loved.

  And that man would be arriving in less than five minutes expecting her answer. But how could she allow Ridge to sacrifice so much for her and Chayton? She couldn't deny his sincerity in wanting to marry her, but was it only because he'd enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had? Or did he have deeper feelings?

  She shook her head at her own foolishness. There was no doubt Ridge cared for her and Chayton. There would be fondness and passion in their marriage, of that Emma was certain. And on her side, there would be love. But would that be enough to withstand the criticism and hostility of the townsfolk? Or would tolerance come with time just as it had at the ranch?

  A movement down the road caught her attention. It was Ridge and he would arrive at the house in a matter of minutes. Her stomach lurched, knowing her time for making a decision was rapidly approaching.

  Gathering her composure, she stood and called for Chayton. He scampered across the ranch yard to join her on the porch. When he caught sight of Ridge, Emma had to restrain him from running out to greet him. Only after Ridge dismounted did she allow her son to race over to his leksi.

  Emma's pace was much more controlled as she joined them, and her gaze drank in the sight of the man. Dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie, Ridge didn't resemble the buckskin-clad man with whom she'd spent so much time. But she couldn't find fault in his appearance— no matter what he wore; the sight of him always left her feeling like her corset was too tight.

  Holding Chayton, Ridge swept off his black broad-brimmed hat and smiled at Emma. "Good afternoon, Miss Hartwell. I do believe we have a dinner engagement."

  Emma laughed, enjoying this playful side she'd never seen before. "I do believe you're correct, Mr. Madoc. Won't you come inside?"

  "After you." He motioned for her to precede him, and scooped Chayton into his arms.

  Emma smiled as she listened to Chayton tell Ridge all about the kitties and the horses, as well as his new friends. His words came jumbling out as he mixed English and

  Lakota, but Ridge didn't have any trouble interpreting the constant stream.

  Once in the house, she took Ridge's hat and placed it on the foyer's receiving table. Ridge lowered Chayton to the floor and the boy finally paused to take a breath.

  "Hello, Mr. Madoc," Sarah said as she came down the wide staircase.

  "Miss Hartwell," he greeted.

  "How's Captain Rivers?"

  Ridge grinned. "The doc is threatening to tie him down."

  Sarah laughed. "I have to go into town tomorrow. Maybe I'll stop by to see him."

  "He'd like that."

  "So would Sarah," Emma whispered loud enough for Ridge to hear.

  "Dinner will be ready in half an hour," Sarah announced. She held out her hand to her nephew. "Come on, Chay. I'll help you change for dinner."

  With a wave to Ridge and Emma, Chayton took Sarah's hand and they ascended the stairs.

  "He's settling in well," Ridge commented.

  "Better than I expected. Sarah and Mother have made a big difference." Suddenly alone with him, Emma's mouth grew dry. "Uh, would you like to go into the parlor?"

  "Sure."

  Ridge offered her his arm, and she threaded her trembling hand through the crook and rested her palm on his forearm. Even through the wool suit, she could feel his planed muscles.

  "Have you found out anything more about the attack on Captain Rivers?" she asked in an attempt to postpone the marriage proposal conversation. She felt his muscles bunch beneath her touch.

  "I paid a visit to Cullen. He admitted to being in town the night Colt was stabbed, but said he didn't do it," Ridge said disgustedly.

  "You don't believe him?"

  "No. That sorry excuse for a human being did it, but i can't prove it."

  "Captain Rivers didn't remember anything?"

  Ridge shook his head. "He remembers going out to the alley, and the stink of dirt and sweat, but that's it." He sighed and raked his fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

  Emma caught a whiff of soapweed scented with sage, reminding her of happier, more carefree times spent with the Lakota. "So what can you do?"

  "If it was anyone but Colonel Nyes, I'd go to the post commander."

  They entered the parlor, where flames flickered invitingly in the fireplace. Emma motioned to the loveseat. He waited until she sat down, then perched on the stiff cushion at the other end.

  "Father was telling me that a general is coming to visit the fort," Emma said.

  "General Mason. He showed up this morning."

  "Would he listen to you?"

  "I doubt it. I don't know him."

  "I do," John Hartwell said as he entered the room.

  Emma curbed her irritation at his intrusion. By all rights, she and Ridge should have a chaperone, although after all they'd gone through together, it seemed a ridiculous issue.

  Her father sank into the high-backed, floral chair across from them. "He's a fair man, intelligent, not like that idiot Nyes."

  Emma couldn't help but smile. "That makes two things you're both in agreement on."

  Ridge scowled, but it was halfhearted. "What's his stand on the Indians?" he asked her father.

  "He'll do what he's ordered to do, but doesn't condone killing for the sake of killing, unlike Nyes."

  "And Cullen."

  "The one you think backstabbed the captain?"

  Ridge nodded grimly.

  "Talk to General Mason," the older man suggested. "Maybe he can help."

  Emma leaned back, amazed that her father was having a civil conversation with Ridge, as well as offering assistance. But, then, Ridge had offered to take responsibility for her and Chayton, a burden John Hartwell would be glad to be rid of.

  Ridge scowled, but it was directed at himself rather than her father. "I don't see how. It's my gut feeling against Cullen, and he's backed by Nyes."

  "How about setting a trap?" Emma suggested.

  "What're you talking about, Emma?" her father asked.

  She leaned forward and her hands flowed with her words. "Ridge said Captain Rivers
didn't remember anything, but what if his memory miraculously returned? What if the rumor was started that the captain knew who did it, but would only speak to General Mason? What do you think Cullen would do?"

  "He'd try to finish the job he started," Ridge murmured.

  "But what if he doesn't?" her father asked.

  Emma shrugged. "We're in the same place we are now—nothing gained, nothing lost."

  Ridge's eyes glittered. "It just might work. Do you think General Mason would agree to help?" he asked her father.

  "If I'm with you when you talk to him, he might." He stroked his chin. "I might even mention to him how Colonel Nyes refused to send out a search party for Emma."

  Ridge smiled with reluctant admiration.

  "I'll set up an appointment with him and let you know when it is," her father said. "I'm looking forward to bringing Nyes down a notch or two."

  Emma's mother stepped into the parlor. "Dinner is served."

  The meal passed in lively conversation, with her father and Ridge even managing to discuss ranching without raising their voices. Emma's father seemed sincerely interested in Ridge's plans, and although Ridge was cautious, he answered his questions honestly. Emma wondered how much of it was because he might very well become Ridge's father-in-law.

  After everyone was done eating, Ridge asked Emma to accompany him on a stroll outside. Emma's pulse skittered out of control. The moment of truth had arrived.

  Emma wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders since the evening had cooled considerably. Ridge guided her out the door with his fingertips resting lightly at her waist. They walked in silence to the corral and stopped to watch the yearlings prance around. The sun still peeped through the mountain range in the distance, but it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely.

  "Your father surprised me," Ridge said.

  "Me, too," Emma admitted. "I wonder what his ulterior motive is."

  Ridge shrugged. "Maybe he just wants to help."

  "Maybe." Emma shivered.

  Ridge stepped behind her, his chest to her back, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Almost against her will, she leaned into his strong embrace and covered his clasped hands with hers.

  "What's your decision, Emma?" he whispered, his lips caressing her ear.

  She couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel his hard body flush against hers and his breath wafting warmly across her neck. All sensation shifted to her breasts and between her thighs as longing flowed through her like thick molasses. Ridge's groin pressed against her backside, and even through all the layers of clothing, she felt his desire.

  "I-I don't know," she said huskily.

  He kissed the underside of her jaw. "What's your answer, Emma?"

  Her knees wobbled like a newborn foal and the temptation to press her lips to his freshly shaven cheek was almost overwhelming. "Why-why do you want to marry me?"

  "I told you. I want you in my bed and I want to raise Chayton as my own. In exchange, you'll have my name and protection. Not to mention—" He licked a path from beneath her ear down to where her shoulder met her neck. "Me in your bed every night."

  Emma trembled, wishing she could deny his body's claim over hers, but that was the only thing she was absolutely certain of. Ridge Madoc knew her body better than she knew her own, and she knew his—every delicious nook, cranny, and hard muscle.

  Physical love was better than no love at all.

  She nodded. "Yes. Yes, Ridge, I'll marry you."

  Without releasing her, Ridge shifted around until she faced him. His eyes glowed and his smile brought creases to the corner of his eyes. "Thank you, Emma. I promise I'll make you happy."

  They weren't the words she wanted to hear, but they were close enough.

  "You already have," she whispered, then wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his head down so she could taste his lips.

  After long minutes of kissing and fondling, Emma drew away. Panting, she laid her forehead against Ridge's chest. "When do you want the wedding?"

  Ridge pressed his hps to her hair and rubbed his groin against her belly. "The sooner the better."

  Emma laughed. "I have this feeling we'll be spending an awful lot of time in bed."

  He cupped her buttocks. "Or in the grass or beside the river or in the barn."

  Emma smacked his chest playfully. "Let's start with a bed—a bed wide enough for both of us," she said, recalling the narrow bed in the cabin where they'd first made love.

  Ridge kissed the tip of her nose. "I can do that."

  They remained standing with arms around one another, drinking in the quiet of the evening before returning to the house to share their news.

  The meeting with General Mason and John Hartwell went amazingly well. Between Hartwell's criticism of Nyes and Ridge's own experiences with the colonel, the general's eyes had burned with angry indignation. He'd even promised to sow some seeds of gossip with Nyes and around the post. If Cullen was responsible for the attack on Colt, the scout was bound to get nervous. Hopefully, nervous enough to make another attempt on Colt's life.

  As Ridge and Hartwell rode away from the post, silence surrounded the two men, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Emma had provided a bridge between them, and although Ridge doubted Hartwell would ever be a good friend, they could now be in the same room together without wanting to kill one another.

  "Why did you offer marriage to my daughter, Madoc?" Hartwell asked after they'd traveled a mile or two.

  "Why wouldn't I?"

  Hartwell's face flushed and he tugged his hat brim lower on his brow. "You know why."

  "I lived with the Indians off and on before I joined the cavalry. I got nothing against them."

  "But—" Hartwell cleared his throat. "Emma laid with one."

  "She was his wife." Ridge grinned with wry amusement. "Seems to me when a man and a woman are married, they're going to lie together. It doesn't matter what color they are."

  Hartwell studied him. "You really don't care that she was married to an Indian and has a half-br—half Indian child?"

  "Do you love her less than before she disappeared for seven years?"

  "No, of course not. She's still my daughter."

  "That's right, she is." Ridge took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Emma braved the weather, the rivers and mountains, the Indians, and her own family to find her child. No man could ask for a stronger, more loyal and courageous daughter. And I want that woman to be my wife."

  Hartwell swallowed and quickly turned his gaze away. Ridge allowed the man his semblance of privacy and rode in contemplative silence.

  "You think he'll come tonight?" Colt whispered from his bed in the doctor's office.

  Ridge restrained a yawn. "It's been two days—the word's been spread. It'll happen soon."

  "If it was Cullen."

  Ridge, hidden in a corner filled with dark shadows, leaned forward in his chair. "Now you don't think it was?"

  Colt muttered under his breath. "I don't know anymore. Maybe it was Hotah or one of a few dozen other men who have a grudge against me."

  "You said Cullen threatened you when he was let out of the stockade. Do you think he meant it?"

  "Yeah," Colt admitted. "I just hate laying around and waiting."

  Ridge grinned, knowing full well how his friend hated inactivity. "You can thank Emma later. She's the one who came up with the plan."

  "Emma Hartwell?"

  "Yep."

  "Oh." Colt grew silent, but Ridge could tell he remained awake. "I heard a rumor about you and Miss Hartwell."

  Ridge flinched. "It's true. The wedding's next Sunday out at Hartwell's ranch."

  "So when were you going to tell me?"

  Ridge shifted on the hard chair, trying to relieve the soreness of his backside. "I didn't figure you wanted to know."

  "You figured wrong. Do you love her?"

  "I care for her."

  "Do you love her?" Colt demanded in a low tone.

  "Hell,
I don't know. I've never been in love before."

  Colt's deep chuckle startled Ridge. "Damn, you've got it bad, pard."

  "Shut up," Ridge said without force.

  Colt was quiet for so long Ridge thought the healing man had finally fallen asleep.

  "Don't I get to be your best man?" Colt suddenly asked.

  "You want to be?"

  "Hell, yes."

  "All right, as long as you don't pass out during the vows." Ridge smiled. "Get some sleep. Sarge and Pres are outside. If Cullen can get through them, he's still gonna have to go through me."

  Midnight came and went. Colt snored softly from the bed across the room. Ridge's eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest, startling him awake. He raised his arms above his head, stretching to relieve the kinks in his back and shoulders.

  Surely if Cullen was going to make his move, he would've done so by now. Maybe he'd been wrong about the scout being behind the attack.

  He sensed movement and scanned the room, but there was nothing to see. His nape tingled. There. By the window. A shadowy figure reaching out to raise the pane. Only a small screek betrayed the intruder's presence.

  Keeping close to the wall, Ridge padded around to the window. The man lifted one leg over the ledge, then swung his upper body through and stood up in the room, a knife held in his right hand. The intruder stunk—like old sweat and dirty buckskins.

  Ridge eased back the trigger of his revolver and held the barrel to the man's head. "Drop it."

  The man froze, but held onto the knife.

  Ridge nudged him with the barrel. "I said drop it."

  The knife clattered to the floor, awakening Colt.

  "What's going on?" the captain asked sleepily.

  "Light the lamp, Colt. We got him," Ridge replied with smug satisfaction.

  A match flared and Colt lit the lamp's wick.

  Pony Cullen glared at Colt. "You shoulda died the first time, you son of a bitch."

  "I would say that's a confession, wouldn't you, Captain?" General Mason entered the room, followed by Sarge and Pres.

  "Yes, sir," Colt said with a grin.