“I think that’ll hold for now.” His fingers were gentle, touching her carefully, his eyes dark as he scanned her pale features. His gaze fell to the swelling rise of her breasts, where she held one hand protectively, her forearm effectively covering her from his view. From beneath lowered lids, tears flowed, and she lifted her other hand to wipe them.
He reached for her fingers, clasping her hand in his, their flesh sharing the blood of her brother. The stains vivid against the skin of their hands, he rubbed her cold fingers. “Katherine, listen to me. It’s over. We’re safe. That’s what he wanted, you know. He was tryin’ to keep you alive.”
Her eyes were awash with the tears that streamed unceasingly. “I just found him, Roan. And now he’s gone.”
“He saved your life, honey. Don’t deny him that.”
“You’re hard, Roan Devereaux,” she sobbed. The fine bones of her face stood out beneath the pale flesh, molding a tragic mask of sorrow before his eyes. She struggled to sit upright, snatching her hand from his grip, her trembling fingers working to force buttons into buttonholes. Wisely, he sat back on his heels and watched, until her gaze met his, eyes widening in surprise. Then, lashes lowering, she shuddered, swallowing against the bile rising in her throat. She inhaled deeply through her mouth, sobbing beneath her breath as a line of sweat beaded across her forehead and upper lip. “I don’t…” She blinked again and shuddered.
“Don’t go faintin’ on me, damn it,” Roan growled, lifting her from where she sat, rising and looking about, seeking a resting place for her out of the sun.
She was limp against him, her breathing shallow, her head falling back against his arm. And he cursed again as he held her protectively against himself.
Chapter Twelve
His scent was strong in her nostrils, and she rubbed her face against the coarse material brushing her cheek, rousing from the lethargy of her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut rapidly against the glare of the sun.
“Katherine?” His voice rumbled in her ear. “Come on honey. I’m gonna stop here. Let me see your eyes.”
He bent over her, his hat brim shading her vision from the sunlight. She peered at him, vainly attempting to reconcile the weary-eyed, grimy face above her with the voice of Roan Devereaux.
“Roan?” She struggled against his grip, abruptly aware of her precarious position. Across his lap, riding double on the bay mare, she felt vulnerable, out of control. She was at the mercy of his strength, his arms like iron bands around her, holding her firmly as he gentled the horse beneath him. Unused to the double weight, the mare pranced sideways, tossing her head skittishly as Katherine rousted about.
“Damn! Just lay quiet, honey,” Roan told her forcefully, his right hand controlling the reins, his left tucked about her hips.
“Where…” Her whisper was muffled against his shirt, but her movements stilled as she gripped him tightly, her fingers twisting in the fabric.
He bent to drop a quick kiss against her forehead, lifting her against his chest. “I have to get you down, Katherine. I’m gonna pick you up over my left leg and let you slide to the ground. Think you can stand up all right?”
Nodding, she tucked her feet beneath her, helping as best she could to accomplish his goal. Her head throbbed as though a thousand hammers had all aimed for the same place, and she grimaced at the thought. Standing, finally, beside the horse, she took a deep breath and locked her knees to steady herself, valiantly holding back the urge to slide to the ground. Roan had asked her to stand here, and stand here she would, she vowed beneath her breath, her mind cloudy, her thoughts barely coherent.
Beside her, he slid from the saddle and looked over his shoulder, his mind intent on the string of animals following him. One of them bore an ominous burden; his jaw tightened as he considered the next task at hand.
“Katherine, I’m gonna get you under that tree over there, and I want you to rest easy for a bit. All right?”
“Yes,” she hissed, more conscious than ever of the pain radiating from a spot just inches from her right temple. “My head hurts pretty bad, Roan. I don’t mean to complain, but I must have banged it on something.”
“You were shot, Katherine,” he said bluntly, lowering her to the ground, where she slumped against the rough bark of a tree.
“Shot?” Her eyes widened, then blinked as she forced them to focus on him. “I was shot.” Her whisper was unbelieving. And then she shivered as the harsh memories flooded her mind. “I was shot…I killed a man. I thought he was going to shoot you, and I aimed right for his head.”
His smile was grim. “Your pa taught you well, honey. You hit what you were aimin’ at. Saved my skin in the process,” he drawled. “I’m not sure if it was a good trade, but I’m more than grateful for the favor,”
She lifted her chin, stung by his words, drawn from her lethargy as her memory sharpened. “A good trade? I’d do it again, Roan. You’re my husband. You know I’ll protect you if I have to.”
“I think that’s supposed to be the other way around, honey,” he told her with a gentle chuckle. “I’ll have to work at it, won’t I?” For a moment, he recalled the terrible anguish of knowing she was exposed to grave danger, and his jaw tightened with resolution. “I was careless, Katherine. It won’t happen again.”
She looked at him sadly, her thoughts falling into place. “The men who were shot…are they all dead?”
His nod was answer enough, and she sighed.
“Lawson?” Her voice wavered on the name.
“We’ll bury him here,” Roan answered. “I brought him along. Couldn’t abide stayin’ there any longer than we had to, just long enough to gather up your yearlings. Thought it might be wise to make tracks before we set up camp.”
“I’ll help you bury him,” Katherine said stoutly, scrambling up. “I dug the hole for my pa, you know.”
“Well, you’re not diggin’ this one. Stay right here.” He pushed her gently back to the ground and blanched at the thought of this slender woman digging a grave for her father.
She gave in without a murmur, her eyes closing in weary agreement.
He roused her an hour later, his ear attuned to her even breathing, and lifted her against him. “Open your eyes, Katherine. I want to know if you can see me all right.”
“My head aches,” she told him wearily.
“Don’t doubt it, honey.” Satisfied she was aware of him, her blue eyes focusing on his face, he relaxed. Gently, his hands clasped her shoulders as he persuaded her to lie back once more against the blanket he’d spread on the ground.
She was acquiescent beneath his touch, her eyelids drooping as she sighed deeply. “I’m still sleepy.”
“I know,” he told her, his hand smoothing her hair back as she slumbered once more.
It was late afternoon before he roused her for the fourth time. She sat up readily, holding her head at a cautious angle as she looked up at him.
“I’m ready to put your brother in the ground, honey,” he said quietly. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”
His arm supporting her, she walked with him to where the hole yawned, Lawson’s body wrapped in a blanket next to it. Roan lowered her to the ground, and she sat watching as he eased the inert form into the shallow grave, then straightened to face her once more.
“You want to say some words, Katherine?”
She attempted a smile. “I’ll try.”
It was simple. Katherine repeated one of the psalms she’d learned by heart from her mother’s Bible, then spoke a short prayer as she delivered her brother into the hands of Providence.
Dry-eyed, she watched as Roan filled the grave, using a flat stone to scrape the dirt back into place. He mounded the top with an assortment of rocks he’d gathered.
Holding her close to his side, he walked with her to where he’d set up their camp. “Just sit easy by the fire while I fix us something to eat,” he said. “Then I’m gonna take another look at your head before it gets full dark.�
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She nodded and he chanced a grin. “You’re one agreeable woman today, honey. Must be that bullet knocked all the starch out of you.”
“I can get mulish in a hurry if you like,” she told him, her glance darting in his direction. The pain had subsided, her vision cleared, and she flexed her shoulders as she hugged her knees, leaning forward to relish the fire’s heat.
Roan stirred the contents of the pot he’d hung over the glowing wood. “To tell the truth, I missed you yammerin’ at me all day. If you’re up to it, I want to hear why you had to tend to your pa’s buryin’ all by yourself.”
She shrugged, leaning her chin to rest on her knees. “It wasn’t on purpose. I got Charlie to the house and laid him on the floor. I knew I’d have to bury him by nightfall, so I went up on the rise and dug the hole. Then I rode to town for the preacher.”
His keen eyes rested on her. “Didn’t anybody else come back with you?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes. Several of the men and Mrs. Tucker, the storekeeper’s wife, came out to the place. She helped me, dressing Pa and everything.” Her voice faltered and she straightened, looking deep into the glowing fire. “That’s about it. The men had to make the grave bigger to allow for the coffin they put together, out in the barn. They were going to send for more folks from town for the funeral, but I just wanted it to be over with. So the preacher gave a good prayer and read from his Bible, and the men carried Charlie up the hill to where I’d dug the hole.”
“Did Orv Tucker’s wife stay with you?”
She shook her head. “No, no one stayed.”
“They left you out there alone?” His voice was harsh in the stillness, which was broken only by the horse’s soft sounds as they grazed nearby.
“I was all right. Wasn’t any point in anyone staying on. I’d have to be alone sometime.”
The silence gathered around them, the fire glowing with flickering flames as he made his way to where she sat, squatting next to her on the blanket.
“Well, you’re not alone now,” he told her gruffly.
“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “I appreciate you taking hold today, Roan. It was good of you.”
“Food’s about ready,” he said. Deftly, he filled their plates, placing hers on the blanket next to her and lifting his own fork to eat.
The darkness settled around them and the night breeze blew sparks from the fire as she looked down at the tin plate he’d given her. Her stomach growled and she realized she needed to eat. The food was warm, and for that she was thankful, chewing and swallowing it in an automatic fashion, uncaring of its taste. She placed the empty plate on the ground and curled up on the blanket, turning her back on the darkness to stare into the fire.
He’s dead. My brother’s dead. The words were a dull litany in her mind as she absorbed their meaning, her breath shuddering on an indrawn sigh. But her eyes were dry, her tears forbidden to flow as she tucked away the remnants of her sorrow into the dark shadows of her heart.
The night was cool, a welcome change after the heat of the afternoon sun, Roan decided. Indian summer, she’d called it. Whatever name you put on it, it was too blamed hot. October in Louisiana had always been a good time of year, he reflected. Harvest over, time to spend hunting.
The mounded grave beneath the walnut tree caught his eye, a flat slab of rock marking it. Katherine had scratched on it with the sharp point of a small stone. L.C. Two letters to mark the grave of her beloved brother.
Now she lay curled beneath Roan’s remaining blanket near the fire, and he watched her, sensing her remoteness, wondering at the visions she saw within the glowing flames. He’d wanted to offer comfort, give her his shoulder to lean against, but she’d shaken her head at his offer, only accepting the blanket he’d covered her with.
“I’m fine,” she’d said, pulling the rough covering over her.
He rose and found his pack, pulling out a heavy shirt and donning it. His fingers worked at the buttons and she looked up, her attention focusing on him.
“You’ll need your blanket.” She lifted herself up on her elbow, ready to unroll from the blankets. “I’ll use the one under me to wrap up in.”
He shook his head. “I’m all right. Rest easy.”
Her frown furrowed the smooth expanse of her forehead as she looked at him, her voice insistent. “You’ll need a blanket under you when you sleep.”
Katherine at her best, he thought wryly, telling him what to do. His grin denied her offer. “We’re gonna share, like always, Katherine. I’ll lay down right behind you, honey. Soon’s you go to sleep, I’ll just snuggle up to your backside, slick as a whistle.”
She debated arguing the issue, then thought better of it, aware of the unyielding force of his will apparent beneath the words he spoke. And suddenly the comfort of Roan’s warm body held a welcome appeal. She would be foolish to deny herself.
“I’m too tired to argue,” she told him, yawning and settling her head in the crook of her arm as she curled once more beneath the coarse blanket.
“Your head hurtin’?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he noted the care she took.
Her nod was brief. “A little.”
“Maybe I’d better take another look at it.” He’d already sacrificed one of his shirts, tearing it in strips and folding several sections into thick pads. It had been a chore he would not want to repeat, cleaning the wound where the bullet had sliced its way, leaving a three-inch crease.
She’d chewed on her lip to a fare-thee-well, squeezing her fists and eyes closed as he worked. Only the tears that had escaped those tightly shut eyes had given testimony to her pain. And those she’d have denied if she could have.
“You can holler if you want to, Katherine,” he’d told her grimly. “Just don’t wiggle around. I’m tryin’ not to get this thing bleedin’ again.”
“Just get it over with and quit talking about it,” she’d rasped between her teeth.
Now, he touched the warm flesh of her forehead, sliding his hand to her cheek and then to the back of her neck. “I don’t think you’ve got any fever. But I think we better see if we can get you into a town tomorrow. Maybe let a doctor look at this.”
“If I get feverish, I’ve got a drawing salve in my saddlebag,” she told him. “Maybe you better smear some on the bandage.”
“It’ll get all over your hair.” His fingers tightened at the nape of her neck and he bent to brush his lips against her temple. “I’ll wait till morning and see how it looks.”
“Roan?”
“Yeah?” His hand fit neatly about her head as he slid his fingers into the silky strands of her hair.
“You don’t need to wait till I go to sleep, Roan. I don’t mind if you keep my back warm.”
He spread the blanket toward him and lowered his long body to curl about her, tugging his saddlebag once more beneath his head as a pillow. His touch was gentle as he lifted her to lie on his shoulder, his callused fingers snagging in her hair as he brushed it away from her face.
“Your pa would have been proud of him, you know,” he said quietly, his breath warm against her ear.
She nodded, a tiny movement. “I know. Lawson made up for a lot of things this morning, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I think so. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet Charlie knows. Wherever he’s at, I’ll bet he knows Lawson came through when things got tight.”
She snuggled back against him and turned her head carefully to glimpse his face. “Kiss me good-night. Please.”
His grin was tender, his mouth gentle as he captured her lips. “Go to sleep, Kate.” He brushed a second caress against the softness he cherished. “Go to sleep.”
Twice during the night, Roan roused as Katherine shifted in her sleep. He whispered soft assurances in her ear and snuggled her into his embrace. He curved around her back, her woman’s scent teasing him with its elusive lure, and his body reacted with a familiar surge of desire. Easing away from her, fearful of wakening her, he scooted back, aware sh
e needed to rest without distraction. But she followed the heat of his body, wiggling to cuddle close to him, and he tightened his jaw, frustrated by her unconscious allure.
It was a long night. Watching the sky turn pink, Roan waited for the rising of the sun, getting up from his place beside her as it hovered at the horizon. She rolled over, her forehead wrinkling as the bandage on her head came in contact with the ground beneath the blanket. Her eyes fluttered open, mere slits against the pale glow of dawn, then opening wide as she focused on him.
He stood a few feet away, tucking his shirt into his pants, his gaze on her, his eyes openly admiring the early morning dishevelment of her. Her braid had come undone during the night hours, and her hair tangled about her face, spreading beneath her head like a dark stain against the blanket.
“Time to get up already?” she asked, her fingers furrowing through the length of her hair as she sat up, loosening and removing the cloth he’d wound about her head. She winced as she pulled the pad from its place, then frowned as she examined the cloth closely.
“Any pus on that bandage?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It looks pretty clean, just a little fresh blood.”
“Let me take a look at it.” Kneeling behind her, he probed gently at the shallow wound. “We’ll find a place to stay and get you a real bath,” he told her. “But for now, how about if I just pull your hair back to keep it out of the way? I’ll braid it up for you, all right?” His hands busied themselves as he spoke, smoothing their way through the long strands and dividing the thick length into three sections. His fingers worked slowly as he concentrated on forming it loosely into a braid.
“Does anyone need to know what happened?” she asked, her head lowered as he completed his task.
“I kinda doubt anyone is gonna miss that bunch,” he said dryly. “We probably don’t need to spread the word we killed half a dozen men.”
She blanched. “Six? We killed six men?”
“One got away. Guess it was only five.” He frowned at her. “Your brother and I did the most of the shootin’, Katherine. But your shot there at the end probably saved my life. That doesn’t count as a killin’ in my book.”
Loving Katherine Page 15
