survived it. I figure that makes you about the bravest person I know. No matter what life’s thrown at you, you live on like a strong tree that stands against all weather.’’
He reached the door to their room. ‘‘So, if you don’t mind, I’d like the bravest person I know to sleep beside me.’’ He lowered her on the bed. ‘‘To keepmynightmares away.’’
She watched him move around the bed and slip beneath the covers. ‘‘You have nightmares?’’ she asked.
Wes smiled, knowing he’d guessed right. ‘‘Horrible nightmares.’’ He stretched his arm toward her. ‘‘Mostly of the war. In daylight, they seem far away, but with the dark, they drift into my sleep.’’
Allie cuddled into his embrace. ‘‘Me, too,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Sometimes I try not to sleep so I can keep them away.’’
Kissing her forehead, Wes slid his free hand to her waist and closed his eyes. ‘‘Maybe I’ll keep yours away the way you keep away mine.’’
Studying his face in the candle’s light she watched as he relaxed. In truth, she hardly noticed the scar anymore. There was so much more to this man. The thin white mark on his cheek seemed only a character line. His hair was longer than his brothers’. As his breathing slowed, she decided she liked his mouth the most. She liked the way he kissed her as if he were touching something treasured.
He’d called her brave. Proof that he was crazy, she thought. All she’d ever done in her life was try to run and hide. But he was right about one thing: she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. And if she could trust one person, maybe someday she could trust another.
All the men of any nation she’d ever known had been hard. At the worse, they’d been cruel. At best, indifferent to her. No matter how much she’d tried, she could remember nothing about her father except that he yelled and seemed angry. He’d set the pattern she’d grown to expect.
No man had ever called her brave or treated her so kindly. Allie studied Wes carefully. She must stand brave in front of him. It was wrong of her to allow him to see her fear as she had earlier. He was a good man and, little by little, he’d help her lose her fear of people. But tonight, she’d start with this one man.
‘‘Wes?’’ she whispered, testing to see if he was asleep.
He didn’t answer.
Allie moved her lips to his, tasting while he slept.
She raised to one elbow and lightly traced his jawline with her fingers. When he didn’t react, she felt his thick walnut-colored hair. He was of the earth, this man, with his brown hair and eyes.
Slowly, she lowered her hand to his throat where she could feel his pulse. He slept soundly, telling her how tired he was or, maybe, how much he trusted her. She knew he’d been a warrior, and he wouldn’t have fully relaxed if he thought he was in any danger.
Allie rolled on her back and took a deep breath. Now she could sleep, and she knew the nightmares wouldn’t come. Somehow, they’d fight them together as they slept.
Before she closed her eyes, there was one more thing she had to do. She had to know that the feel of all men was not the same.
Her fingers circled his wrist, resting at her waist. With determination she pulled his hand up until his fingers spread across her breast.
Allie held her breath, waiting for the pain.
But it didn’t come. His hand relaxed over her flesh, curving around her mound gently.
She took a deep breath and felt the rise and fall of his hand over her. Her breast seem to swell to fill his palm. Through the thin cotton, she could feel the warmth of his fingers. To her surprise, his touch felt good, brushing away memories of pain.
Spreading her smaller hand over his, she pressed. But his touch brought her no pain, and no terror blocked her screams.
Quickly, she moved his hand to her other breast. No pain again. Clearly, the past harm had come from the man and not from the act of being touched. For Wes’s hand brought her only the warm feel of his fingers touching her sensitive flesh.
She returned his hand to her waist. Somehow, her testing had removed an ounce of terror that she knew would no longer haunt her dreams.
‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered.
‘‘You’re welcome,’’ he answered.
NINETEEN
WES POURED HIMSELF A THIRD CUP OF COFFEE ANDpulled a chair by the window so he could watch the sun rise. From the kitchen, he heard Owen swearing that he’d never drink again.
Looking out on the gray morning, Wes set his mind to what had to be done. The dream of the Goliad gold was just that, a dream. He had to turn it loose. Allie was in danger, and the best way he could protect her was from his home base. The ranch he’d bought the first year he came to Texas hadn’t been much of a home. He’d mostly used it as a stopping-off place between trail drives. But it had a bluff backing up to the dugout, making it accessible from only one side. She’d be safest there.
He also had to consider that the sheriff needed a place to recover and Owen was worse than nothing as a nurse. Wes didn’t know of any relatives the sheriff might have, so he’d have to recover at the ranch. Adam was close enough to ride over and check in on the old man now and again.
And then there was Jason. He needed a place to grow. Being on the run from trouble was no place for a boy.
Wes took a long drink, allowing the coffee to warm him. He knew the gold wouldn’t wait. Vincent had told him there were other men looking for it. This had been his one chance. He was within a day’s ride from it, but he was outgunned, fighting an uphill battle. He couldn’t leave them unprotected, even for a few days to follow his dream. Allie meant more to him than the gold.
Sheriff Hardy moaned and tried to rise.
Wes moved to his side. ‘‘Easy now, old man. You’ll break a few more bones if you fall out of bed.’’ Sweat dotted the sheriff’s face, warning Wes the fever had begun. He only hoped that Hardy was strong enough to fight a fever and the pain.
The sheriff grumbled. ‘‘Get this contraption off my leg!’’
Wes placed a firm hand on Hardy’s shoulder. ‘‘I can’t. You’ve got to give that leg time to heal. I figure I can take you back to my place for a few months. It’s not much, but we’ll make it work.’’
The sheriff leaned back as realization cleared his bloodshot eyes. ‘‘No,’’ he finally said. ‘‘Take me to Victoria.’’
‘‘More likely hell than there,’’ Wes answered as he tried to put a towel across Hardy’s forehead.
‘‘No, listen,’’ the old man mumbled, his voice growing weak. ‘‘That’s the only place we know Michael won’t go. He hasn’t set foot on his mother’s land in twenty years. It’s the only place in Texas where I’d be safe. I can’t let Michael find me when I’m down. It’d be the chance he’s been waiting for.’’
‘‘I thought you said you saved his life?’’
‘‘I did, and the fact that he owes me a debt has been festering in him ever since. He’s been waiting for me to get old and drop my guard.’’
Hardy grabbed Wes’s arm with surprising strength. ‘‘If not for me, take us to Victoria for Allie’s sake. You can’t protect her and the boy every moment. Michael’s getting closer, I can feel it.’’
Wes knew the old man was right. ‘‘Are you sure he won’t show up at Victoria’s?’’
‘‘I’m sure. When he left, in his youth, he swore he’d never return, not even to bury her.’’
Nodding, Wes gave in. ‘‘How long until you’re able to leave?’’
Hardy relaxed, as if he’d won a fight. ‘‘I’m ready now.’’
Wes knew the longer they stayed here, the greater the chance Michael would find them. If what Maxwell Hardy said was right, it might be worth risking the old man’s life to get him to safe ground. ‘‘I’ll see if Owen will trade your buggy for a wagon. We’ll pack it with straw and blankets.’’
Ten minutes later, he’d made all the plans and had Jason help Owen get everything ready. All that was left to
