been on my mind.’’
His words might be an apology, but there was none in his eyes. Kora had the feeling he might repeat his actions once more before he could finish apologizing. This was a side of Winter she hadn’t seen.
She couldn’t help but smile. He was trying to be considerate even though she could see the hunger in his eyes for more. ‘‘I didn’t mind.’’ The words were out before she thought to stop them.
‘‘You-’’ Winter started.
‘‘Well, I did!’’ A low voice cracked like thunder from the darkness beyond the tack room. ‘‘I happen to mind a great deal!’’
Winter pulled Kora close as he lifted his Colt and pointed it into the blackness. ‘‘Step out!’’ he ordered. ‘‘Identify yourself.’’
A man stepped into the shadowy light of the barn’s lantern. He wasn’t very tall and even in several layers of clothes looked thin. He raised his hands to shoulder height. ‘‘Don’t shoot. I ain’t got a gun. Didn’t figure I’d need one to come a-callin’.’’
‘‘Mister, you’d better give me a good reason for being on my land, and make it fast.’’ Win didn’t lower his Colt. ‘‘Any stranger that comes sneaking in after dark had better be quick on explaining.’’
‘‘First, I didn’t sneak in and second I ain’t a stranger. I made deliveries here all last summer. I could find my way around this place on a moonless night. I came in a few hours ago and decided to wait for you. I must have fallen asleep over there in the hay.’’ He made a hacking sound as though something were thick in his throat. ‘‘I hadn’t planned on going up to the house until morning, but you two came out to me. I couldn’t very well just stand around and watch you handle her, not once I heard her name.’’
The fellow moved a step closer in an awkward gate that nursed an injury.
Kora could smell whiskey on him. She pressed a fraction closer to Winter as she looked into the dirty face of a man who seemed vaguely familiar. Though his eyes were dark brown like Winter’s, his were lifeless and cold, not full of fire and anger. His hair might be blond, if washed, but now hung around his face in straight hunks of brown.
‘‘I’ll thank you to let go of the lady.’’ The stranger lifted his chest as if to make himself more powerful. ‘‘In fact, step away from her all together.’’
Win didn’t move. ‘‘What do you want?’’
The stranger took another step closer, and suddenly he looked determined. ‘‘I want ta talk to Kora alone.’’
‘‘I don’t think so.’’ Win widened his stance. He glanced at Kora. She held her head high, but she slipped her hand between his rib cage and elbow. ‘‘My wife doesn’t seem to wish a conversation, sir, so I have to ask you to leave.’’
‘‘Not without her!’’ The stranger’s words were angry. ‘‘And she knows me well enough. She’s
Kora screamed and the man’s image found its place in her memory. The stage robbery, the dying man, Andrew Adams!
ELEVEN
WINTER SHOVED A CLEAN SHIRT INTO HIS SADDLEBAG. ‘‘What else?’’ He said the words with such controlled anger, his hand shook slightly. ‘‘Or should I say
Kora didn’t answer. He continued to fill his bag and mumble to himself. ‘‘I’d kill this one, but another one might turn up next week. Who knows how many exhusbands you’ve got wandering around?’’
‘‘I didn’t ask you to marry me,’’ Kora answered from where she stood by the windows. She’d followed him from the barn without saying a word. She knew he needed, he deserved an explanation, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Anything she said would only make him think less of her. She moved farther away but didn’t leave the room.
Win’s gaze scanned the area. Her face was in shadows as it had been the night they met. He remembered what a mouse he’d thought she was. He was surprised she wasn’t hiding away somewhere now. She’d always seemed so afraid of him, yet when she finally made him furious, she was sticking as close as a newborn calf.
‘‘That’s right,’’ he said more to himself than her, ‘‘you didn’t ask me to marry you. I’ve no one but myself to blame. I walked into this mess sober and plenty old enough to know what I was doing.’’
He made another trip to his dresser drawer. ‘‘I took on playing matchmaker to that hot-blooded sister of yours and agreed to having a mute brother wandering my house at all hours. I even agreed to the in-name-only part for a while, thinking I was being kind. But this I won’t stand for. I won’t put up with a man walking onto my land and demanding my wife go home with him.’’
Kora pressed her cheek against the window. ‘‘I didn’t go, did I?’’ She felt suddenly ages old and very tired.
‘‘No, you didn’t. Which surprised me after all the mourning I thought you were doing for the man.’’ Win swung his saddlebag over his shoulder and took a step toward her. ‘‘And even in the poor light I don’t think you recognized him until he said his name. What kind of marriage did you two have, anyway?’’
She couldn’t explain without telling the whole story. If she told him of how she’d signed a proxy Andrew Adams had offered by mail to another woman, he’d think her mad. If Winter knew she waited until she thought Adams was an hour from death before she stepped forward as his bride, he’d think her a greedy, dishonest gold digger. There was no way she could win. She’d already lost. The cloud of the witchin’ luck had caught up to her once again.
‘‘Tell me the truth, Kora. How long was he your husband? Long enough to kiss you? Long enough to sleep beside you? Long enough to earn a train ticket, or did you stay long enough to…’’ He couldn’t say the words. He’d thought of making love to her all day. Of how it would be between them when she was no longer shy. Of how it would feel to hold her all night.
‘‘What difference does it make?’’ she answered. All she had left was a thimbleful of pride. She’d walk away with that if nothing else. ‘‘There’s no use in your leaving. I’ll pack. Jamie, Dan, and I will leave for town tonight. I knew this would never last, nothing good ever does in my life. I’m sure the gambler will drive us, and there must be somewhere to stay.’’
Win shook his head. ‘‘You’re not leaving. It’s dangerous enough on the road at night without there being men out ambushing folks.’’ He looked at the ceiling and let out a long breath. ‘‘Besides, I need you here,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Someone’s got to help the doc with Cheyenne. I’ve got my hands full with the blockade. I’m already pushing every hand to the breaking point.’’ He hated the idea that he had to depend on her, but all the men were needed to ride the blockade, and even if he could spare one, none would be worth much in a sickroom.
Kora turned toward him for the first time. She saw all the anger she’d expected to see in his tan face. His entire body seemed to be granite, unmoving, uncompromising, unforgiving. But in his eyes she saw something else. A tiny flickering of the pain she’d caused. Somehow, despite all his claims and all his strength, she’d hurt this man deeply, perhaps beyond forgiveness. This man who swore he’d never care, cared enough to be hurt.
She was thankful he turned and ran down the stairs, for she felt herself crumbling.
Winter knew he needed sleep, but he couldn’t shut off his mind. All his life he’d been alone and told himself he wanted it that way. Yet, he could still taste the kiss he’d shared with Kora in the barn. It angered him that he needed her-he needed her for more than to help with the house and Cheyenne. Somehow, in just a few days, she’d become a part of him, and even the rage he felt couldn’t drive her out.
When he’d been a boy, his father died of illness and his mother took him to live with her people in the Indian Territory. The village had been attacked one morning by soldiers when Winter was six. He remembered his mother yelling for him to run and not look back. Those were her last words to him, and it seemed he’d been running all his life. If he forced himself not to care, then no one could hurt him. But somehow, Kora had gotten to him. It was more than the need he felt to protect her, he’d grown to admire her. She had a quiet strength and a deep-water kind of touch that washed over his scarred soul.
Twisting uncomfortably on the sofa, he told himself that as soon as this blockade was over, he’d tell Kora to go back to Andrew Adams. He’d lived without a wife for years, and he could again. If the man’s paper was valid, then Win wasn’t married to Kora. ‘‘And the house isn’t hers,’’ he mumbled silently, vowing to burn the place if she left.
