Two Texas Hearts

TWENTY-SEVEN

JAMIE RODE SILENTLY BESIDE CHEYENNE ACROSS THE open land. He followed a trail only he saw, but at least they had a direction. She’d wasted most of the day riding first one way then another while he’d checked on the ranch and looked for clues. By midafternoon she’d been near hysterics from worry. Kora might think she was the oldest and the leader of their family, but Jamie had always been there to protect her. To make sure she was safe. To prevent anyone from hurting her.

Finally, when Jamie had nowhere else to turn, Cheyenne told her he’d found a trail of wagon tracks and planned to follow them as long as daylight held. Now, not only darkness threatened, but also rain. The clouds were as dark as her mood. If he hurried, he might lose the trail. But if he didn’t hurry, the rain would wash it out before they could find her sister. With each passing minute Kora could be farther away.

After riding beside him an hour, Jamie wasn’t sure he’d been telling the truth, for she could see no trail even though Cheyenne kept watching the ground and moving slowly. Kora had vanished. Even with all her plans and the guards watching, somehow she’d vanished. Jamie knew the men who’d brought Winter home hadn’t taken Kora, so who had?

Jamie glanced around her. Far into the distance she saw two hills that looked familiar. It took her tired mind a minute to figure out where she’d seen them.

Suddenly they registered. ‘‘Saddleback! The farm. Andrew Adams!’’ She’d completely forgotten about the weasel of a first husband. ‘‘Of course, he’s taken Kora!’’ One of the guards had even mentioned seeing his freight wagon crossing Win’s land.

Kicking her horse, Jamie knew exactly where the tracks led. Cheyenne yelled at her to slow down, but she wasn’t listening.

She reached the rundown farm a few lengths ahead of Cheyenne. After jumping off her horse, she ran through the open door with a gun in one hand and her knife in the other. She’d teach Andrew Adams a thing or two.

Cheyenne was only a few feet behind her. What they saw froze them both in place. Blood was everywhere-on the table, the bed, even the door. The once-neat little cabin was a mess with empty bottles, cans, and boxes littering the floor. The home looked more like a battlefield.

As Cheyenne knelt and lifted Winter’s gunbelt, blood dripped off the leather. Jamie saw Kora’s shawl in a puddle of crimson by the bed. Bloody footprints crisscrossed the dirt floor.

‘‘Kora!’’ she screamed. ‘‘Kora! I’m too late.’’ She should have made Kora leave; they both knew the ‘‘witchin’ luck’’ would catch up to them. Jamie should have packed Kora and Dan up as soon as the trouble started.

‘‘The blood’s still warm,’’ Cheyenne said as he studied the dirt floor as though reading a map. ‘‘We couldn’t have missed them by more than ten minutes.’’

‘‘I’ll kill him!’’ Jamie cried. ‘‘If he murdered Kora, I’ll cut his heart out before it has time to stop pounding. I’ll tie him behind my horse and drag him back to the ranch, then I’ll hang him.’’

Cheyenne grabbed her arm and swung her around. ‘‘It may not be Kora’s blood, but she was here with what looks like two men.’’ He shook Jamie hard. ‘‘Jamie, listen to me. It may not be Kora’s blood! The two men could have been fighting, or Kora may have been the one swinging Win’s gunbelt. Don’t fall apart until we know.’’

Before they could say more, they heard a buggy. Cheyenne reached for his gun, then glanced through the open doorway and recognized both the doc and Win. He let the pain in his face show. There was nothing he could do to soften the blow for his friend.

The doctor and Win walked into the shadowy cabin. The doc struck a light, but Win was still. The smell of blood was thick around him. He didn’t need a light to know disaster had struck.

Winter’s face was stone just like always when he was hurt or angry. He moved around the room studying the signs. If the others hadn’t known him, they would have thought he was unaffected by the sight. He lifted her shawl, twisting it in his fist, then he picked up the gunbelt. The muscles across his jaw moved, tightening, hardening against all expression but anger. The pain in his body was working with him now, fighting down the rage so he could think.

Jamie buried her face against the wall and cried uncontrollably.

Win walked slowly over to her and pulled her beneath his arm. He held her tightly as she sobbed tears he could never cry.

‘‘It’s all my fault,’’ Jamie whimpered. ‘‘I should have been close enough to help Kora.’’

‘‘No,’’ Win said as he rocked her in a brotherly hug. ‘‘It wasn’t your fault. We’ll find her.’’

Looking over her head at Cheyenne, he ordered, ‘‘Find her and the men. Pull every man off the blockade if you have too, but find her.’’ He couldn’t bring himself to say dead or alive.

Kora watched as an old woman, mumbling to herself, leaned over Dan. She lived in one of the few shacks that looked strong enough to face the wind in this place. Steven Gage had mentioned her when they’d come here before to take the bullet out of a man. He’d said he thought Rae used to be one of the buffalo hunters’ women. Her man must have died, leaving her stranded out here. She survived by boiling root stew and selling it to men too lazy to cook, and by doing some doctoring.

‘‘I can sew him up.’’ The old woman wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘‘But it’ll cost you a dollar.’’

‘‘What?’’ Andrew shouted. ‘‘I don’t even know the fellow. I’m not paying you a dollar.’’

Kora had lived among these kind of people long enough to know the game. ‘‘Sew him up.’’ She stepped from the shadows and faced Rae. ‘‘And I’ll see you get a bushel of apples twice a year.’’

The old woman laughed. ‘‘Sure you will.’’ Then Kora seemed to catch her interest, for she leaned closer, looking Kora over carefully.

‘‘I’ll leave this hunting knife here until the first bushel is delivered.’’ Kora pulled her only weapon from her pocket. ‘‘That and my word is all I have to bargain with.’’

‘‘Now, wait just a minute.’’ Andrew turned on Kora and attempted to take the knife. ‘‘That’s my good knife.’’

‘‘No,’’ she countered, whirling the blade an inch from his gut. ‘‘If you say another word, it’ll be you that needs stitching up.’’

Andrew backed down. The woman took the knife and shoved it into her pocket. ‘‘Are you willing to help me?’’ The question seemed to be more than a simple request.

Andrew hurried to the door. ‘‘Not me. I need a drink.’’ He glanced at Kora. ‘‘I’ll be right outside when you’re finished, girl, so don’t go thinking of leaving without me. We’re together now. As soon as the old hag’s finished, you and me got some settling up to do.’’

He rubbed the leg she’d hit. Kora thought she saw the first sign of doubt that his plan was a good one as he limped out.

‘‘I’ll help you,’’ Kora answered Rae and ignored Andrew. Now that she’d stood up to him, he seemed no more than a gnat bothering her. ‘‘What can I do?’’

For the next hour Kora worked beside the old woman. Though her hands were wrinkled with age, she did a fine job.

When they were wrapping the wound, the old hag whispered, ‘‘You’re Mrs. McQuillen, ain’t you?’’

Kora let out a long breath. ‘‘Yes.’’

The old woman giggled. ‘‘I seen you that night you were here with the doc. You’re a good woman, everyone says so. I reckon your helping now proved it. Most of us didn’t believe a rich lady like yourself would come down here to help the doc. The women who come here are mostly bad. But you done a good job helping, even if the rat you were working on died.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ Kora answered, wondering why the old woman would suddenly be so talkative.

‘‘So why you with the likes of that trash?’’ She pointed with her head toward the door where Andrew waited on the porch. He’d been nursing a bottle for most of the time, and now Kora knew the drunk would replace the coward.

Kora wasn’t sure what to say. It would take too long to tell the whole story, and she didn’t like the idea of facing the drunk Andrew without a weapon. Maybe Rae could help. ‘‘I don’t want to be,’’ she answered. ‘‘I have to get away.’’

Rae raised an eyebrow that looked evil in flight. ‘‘I figured as much. I’ve heard talk of the trouble your man’s been having from that woman and her kin.’’ She slipped the knife from her pocket and gave it back to Kora. ‘‘You keep this with you until you get back to your man. I’ll trust you about the apples. If you have to use the blade on the likes of him, aim for the middle. You won’t cut him bad enough to kill him, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t recover too quickly. You just run.’’

‘‘I can’t leave,’’ Kora said. ‘‘Dan is my brother. I can’t just abandon him.’’ She twisted a leftover piece of bandage around her finger, needing to talk to someone. ‘‘I’m not sure I should go back to Win, either. I’ve been nothing but bad luck to him.’’

‘‘I’ll take good care of your brother. You get back to that man of yours. I’ve seen him many a time. He’s something. The kind of man that could make a woman real happy if he took a liking to her. Everybody around here thinks he’s hard and mean, but one winter years ago when most of the drifters had moved on, he rode up here delivering food ’cause he knew we was snowed in. I never did thank him for that, so I’d like to repay him now.’’

She moved to the back of her shack and pulled a blanket from across a small opening. ‘‘You go back to him and tell him the old woman from the settlement helped you. He’ll know who you mean. Bad luck or good don’t got nothing to do with loving-you belong with each other.’’

Kora knelt to crawl through. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered. ‘‘I promise I’ll repay you.’’

‘‘I know you will. I’ll be showing up some night for dinner at that big house of yours like I was Sunday company.’’ Rae giggled again. ‘‘And I expect to be treated to the best.’’

‘‘I promise,’’ Kora whispered.

‘‘And one other thing,’’ the woman whispered. ‘‘Tell Win not to misjudge the woman. She’s deadly.’’

‘‘What woman?’’ Kora asked.

But Dan made a noise and the old woman almost shoved her through the opening without answering.

Kora ran along a path slick with rain. She wasn’t sure where to go. She only remembered that the night Winter had carried her home, they’d followed the river until they cleared the shacks, then turned north.

She almost fell into a tarp stretched across what looked like a cave opening. Several horses waited in the rain as men inside seemed to be arguing. At first she thought of asking one of them to take her home, but she wasn’t sure. Win had said he had many enemies among the residents of the Breaks.

Moving against the corner of the tarp, she tried to find shelter from the rain without being seen. She could wait here, then, when the storm passed, walk home.

Voices rose from within.

‘‘Now’s the time to move.’’ A woman’s voice startled Kora. ‘‘We could have the cattle across McQuillen’s land by daybreak.’’

‘‘It’s too risky in this weather. I wouldn’t mind the rain, but this storm is bad. A bolt of lightning could spook the whole herd and they’d scatter for miles. We’d all be dead men if we got caught rounding them up.’’

‘‘It’s too risky to wait!’’ the woman shouted above the others. ‘‘My father’s cattle are dying every day down below the caprock.’’

‘‘All right,’’ a second man, with an age-rusted voice, said. ‘‘My daughter’s right, but we have no choice. If the rain lets up a bit, be ready. But I’m not moving them in a storm.’’

‘‘Storm’s not letting up!’’ someone yelled. ‘‘It’ll pour like this till daybreak. Always does in early spring around here.’’ Metal clanged against metal. ‘‘Pass the coffeepot. We’re here till dawn.’’

‘‘We’ll give it an hour to let up,’’ the older voice ordered. ‘‘If not, we’ll wait until tomorrow night.’’ He lowered his voice slightly. ‘‘Want some coffee, darlin’?’’

‘‘Not out of one of those filthy mugs.’’ The woman’s words were almost lost in the movement.

The men made plans and drank as Kora tried not to shiver. She couldn’t wait for the rain to let up. She had to get home now. Win had to know what was planned. And if he was still too weak, she’d discuss what to do with Cheyenne and Logan.

Carefully taking one step away from the back of the tent, she walked straight into the black wall of a man’s coat.

His hands circled around her like iron as he pushed her back against the blackness surrounding the tent.

She opened her mouth to scream a moment before his fingers gagged her. He leaned close against her and whispered, ‘‘Quiet, Kora, or we’re both dead!’’

‘‘Wyatt!’’ Kora mumbled as he folded her into his slicker and pulled her away from the tent. ‘‘What are you doing here?’’

He ran, half carrying her, half dragging her for several yards.

‘‘Did Win send you?’’ Kora asked as she ran.

‘‘No,’’ Wyatt answered. ‘‘I know these men, but I’m not like them. Cattle are not worth a war.’’

‘‘But…’’

He found a horse hidden in the trees and tossed Kora roughly up. ‘‘I haven’t time to explain!’’ he shouted above the rain. ‘‘If you’re found here with me, we’re probably both goners. If they find out I’ve helped you, I won’t be seeing daylight. So be careful and ride!’’

As he said the last word, he slapped the rump of the horse, and Kora leaned close to the neck to hold on as the animal took off. Rain blinded her to the little the moonless night would have allowed her to see. She let the horse find its way as she held on.

Finally, when she was well away from the campfires, she managed to grab the reins. ‘‘North,’’ she whispered as if the horse might know his directions. ‘‘I have to go north.’’

Kora closed her eyes and buried her head in the horse’s mane. The animal kept moving, galloping across the open land as though he’d understood.

For a while, all she heard was the steady thumping of the hooves and the rain, but slowly she heard another sound.

Kora straightened as two riders came out of the night in front of her. They circled wide around her and flanked her. Fear made her shiver uncontrollably. Their horses were too powerful to belong to Andrew, and their slickers and hats made it impossible to see their faces. If they were the men Wyatt had been with, she might very well be signing her own death certificate as well as Wyatt’s.

She thought of trying to outrun them, but she was having enough trouble just holding on and they seemed seasoned horseman.

‘‘Kora!’’ Jamie shouted above the storm as her hand crossed the distance between the mounts and touched Kora’s arm. ‘‘We’ll see you home.’’

Kora glanced to the left and saw Cheyenne tip his hat slightly, spilling rain as he did. ‘‘Hold on tight!’’ he yelled. ‘‘Jamie, let’s ride.’’

‘‘Home,’’ Kora whispered, finding it hard to believe it had only been hours since she’d seen Win and not days.

Win paced the attic room. His head was swimming, his body ached, and he knew he needed to lie down, but he couldn’t stop. Kora was gone. How many times had she told him she didn’t believe anything lasted? Had she been fearing this time, predicting it, or planning it?

He walked over to her dressing area. Nothing was missing. She’d been kidnapped, he was sure of it.

Then he remembered how she’d cried out when they’d made love. Maybe she’d just been waiting for her chance to run. The snakes had given her that opportunity, and she wanted nothing of his to take with her.

Win slammed his fist against the dressing table in anger. The blow shattered the thin board and sent the perfume bottle flying. It hit the windowsill and broke, the thin blue glass still held in place by the decorative metal frame.

Win ignored the destruction he’d caused and knelt beside the window. He picked up the broken bottle and stared at it as the perfume dripped through his fingers.

Like the bottle, if Kora was gone, he was only a shell, broken inside and empty. Somehow, with her quiet gentle ways, she’d crawled into his heart, leaving it open for a pain he swore he’d never allow himself to feel again.