drinking her in. And in return, giving her a perception of a passion within her she’d never known.
Then it was over, and he lowered her head back against the blanket. His hand brushed her hair into place.
Allie felt a sudden coldness in the barn that hadn’t been there before. She’d been floating, and he’d brought her back to ground with a thud. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find Wes sitting.
When she reached to touch his back, he moved so suddenly that hay flew around him. He was on his feet, pacing. His lean body reminded her of a wildcat caught in a confined space.
She watched him for a while, trying to understand. His breath was coming in rapid heaves, as if he’d been running for miles. He dug his fingers through his hair as though he could root out his own thoughts. Something bothered him deeply, but she couldn’t imagine what, unless he’d disliked the kiss as much as she’d enjoyed it.
Allie sat up and tucked her knees up to her chin. At first she reasoned she might have hurt him, but she hadn’t done anything. He’d been the one who kissed her. Then she decided that he must have hated kissing her. But that reasoning didn’t hold water, because he sure took his time doing something he hated.
Finally he stopped pacing and looked at her. His tall shadow was a little frightening but she forced herself to remember he was the one showing all the signs of hurting.
‘‘I…’’ He paced another crossing. ‘‘I didn’t mean for…’’
Allie put her elbows on her knees and held her chin. Trying to figure out this madman was giving her a headache. One moment he could make her feel all warm and wonderful, as if she were in a trance, and the next he tortured her with his pacing.
‘‘Stand up!’’ he demanded. ‘‘I mean, would you please stand up, Allie? I can’t talk to you while you’re on that blanket.’’
She followed his order.
Wes faced her. ‘‘You’re no bigger than a half-grown pup.’’ His words were gruff but more mumbled to himself than aimed at her.
She tilted her head slightly, hoping the angle might make him or his words appear clearer. He was definitely angry about something.
‘‘You’re too short to even dance with,’’ he added. ‘‘Not that I do a lot of dancing. I mean a man likes a woman he can look in the eyes. Not at the top of her head.’’
He paced again, like a rope twisted too tightly in one direction and then the other. ‘‘I’ve never liked brown hair, either. Now blonde, or black, that’s something. But brown. The color of dirt.’’
Allie took a deep breath. She saw no point to his words, for she could do nothing about her height, or hair. Her mind, however, was starting to circle to the beat of his pacing.
He was back suddenly, standing only a few inches from her. ‘‘I’m not promising you anything other than what I have. I want you to understand that. I’m leaving you with your grandmother tomorrow, if she is your grandmother. That kiss means nothing more than a kiss…’’
His voice lowered. ‘‘But damn, Allie, that was the best kiss…’’
Allie suddenly understood. She placed her hands on his face and pulled him to where she could see his eyes.
‘‘Again,’’ she whispered as she raised to her toes and touched his mouth. ‘‘If you don’t mind too much, kiss me again.’’
Wes lifted her off the floor. She could feel his arms around her, holding her in the air while his heart pounded against her chest and his mouth moved over hers. She was no longer cold as once more the fire passed through her.
If the kiss was causing him pain, he showed no sign. When he finally lowered her feet to the floor, her head was spinning from rivers of sensations running in her blood.
His arm slid from her back to her knees, and he lifted her up. He carried her the few feet to the blankets and lowered her.
‘‘Again,’’ she whispered without opening her eyes.
Wes laughed. ‘‘Maybe one more time.’’
The creak of the door broke into his words. In one fluid motion, he pulled the blanket over her and reached for his gun, the kiss forgotten as instinct took over.
Allie wrapped the wool around her as he crawled to the edge of the loft.
After a few silent moments, the sound of someone sobbing drifted up to them.
She recognized the sound before Wes did and was halfway down the ladder when he thought to follow. As they reached the bottom, Wes put his gun away when he saw the boy from the hotel.
Jason was huddled in the darkness between two empty stalls. His head rested on his knees and his arms were wrapped tightly around him as if to shut out the world.
Allie knelt at his side and touched his shoulder.
The boy’s head jerked up at her touch. For a moment, his face was filled with fear and anger.
‘‘I wasn’t crying!’’ he shouted. ‘‘I’m too old to cry. So don’t go telling folks I was, or I’ll call you a liar.’’
Wes squatted down in front of them. ‘‘I wouldn’t want to be called a liar, son.’’
‘‘I ain’t your son.’’ Black-and-blue swelling had almost completely closed his left eye.
‘‘Who did that?’’ Wes pointed with his thumb to the boy’s face.
‘‘No one did nothing,’’ Jason answered. ‘‘I’m just fine. I ain’t complaining.’’
Wes didn’t have to ask more. He knew the times all too well. After the war, there were kids like Jason in every town. Their dads probably died fighting and their mothers worked themselves to death or starved. The kids were left to fend for themselves.
‘‘Do you have any folks anywhere?’’ Wes mentally figured up what it would cost to put Jason on a stage to his brother Daniel’s place. Dan would find someone to take him in.
‘‘No,’’ Jason answered. ‘‘And I don’t-’’
He stopped as Allie reached out and took his hand in hers. ‘‘He is of my tribe,’’ she said calmly. ‘‘He goes with me.’’
Wes opened his mouth to say that he was the one taking care of her. How could she take care of a boy? But the question seemed pointless.
He stood and paced. First he has a wife he didn’t want and now she has a boy. The treasure was moving further and further away; he could feel it. Even if this Victoria Catlin was Allie’s grandmother, there was no guarantee she would want Allie. Or that she was sane. Or that she was able to take care of herself, much less Allie and a boy.
He’d just have to ‘‘lay down the law’’ to Allie. That was it. She couldn’t go telling him this boy was of her tribe. She didn’t even have a tribe, and, for all he knew, she didn’t even have a grandmother.
But when he turned to have his say, Allie was doctoring the boy’s eye. She’d wrapped her blanket around him.
The boy looked up at Wes with a knowing look of what was to come. He was too old to believe in miracles. He knew Wes wouldn’t take him along.
Wes drew in a long breath. ‘‘We leave at nine,’’ he said, as if it had been his planned speech all along. ‘‘If you’re going with us, be ready.’’
Jason watched them closely as Allie and Wes moved back up the ladder. The boy was too shocked to answer until they were in the loft.
‘‘I’ll be ready!’’ he called from below.
‘‘Good,’’ Wes answered as he circled his arm around Allie’s waist. But his mind was no longer on the boy or on leaving in the morning.
‘‘One more kiss,’’ Allie whispered.
‘‘If you insist.’’
FOURTEEN
THE MORNING AIR HAD A DAMPNESS ABOUT IT THATpromised rain. The proper little settlement awoke with the efficiency of an old maid never having been bothered in sleep. Wes heard civilization come alive just outside the
