‘‘Mrs. Adams?’’
A tall man removed his hat. He was dark-headed with sharp features and a mustache that hid his upper lip. The smell of leather and dust seemed layers thick between them. She could hear the heavy breathing of his mount only a few feet behind him and the soft jingle of his spurs as he shifted impatiently. He wore a jacket of wool, but his vest was leather. Leather was also strapped around his lean, powerful legs all the way past the top of his muddy boots. Kora stepped backward, trying to hide her fright. She’d seen the cattlemen in town. They always wore Stetson hats, leather, and spurs on their boots. But they’d never looked quite so frightening as this one, with his wide shoulders and gun strapped low across his hip. He seemed born to wear a holster.
‘‘Mrs. Adams?’’ he asked again in a voice that rumbled like echoing thunder.
‘‘Yes,’’ she whispered and tried to pull her terror under control. If he’d come to kill her, he’d have little trouble doing so. She barely reached his shoulder, and he looked strong enough to snap her bones in half with one twist. She didn’t dare scream for Jamie, or they might both die. Dan would be no help even if he awoke-which was unlikely.
‘‘May I come in?’’ The stranger slapped his dusty hat against his leg.
Kora let out a breath. If he were going to murder her, he’d hardly be asking permission to enter. A man whose Colt was worth more than everything in her dugout cabin wouldn’t need to rob her.
Moving to the table, Kora turned her back to the stranger as she lit the lantern, burning precious oil. ‘‘If you’ve come about the horse and wagon for sale, you’ll have to return in the morning. I have no way of showing them to you in the dark.’’
Winter stooped slightly and moved into the cabin. Her face had been in shadows when she’d answered the door, and now she had her back to him.
‘‘I didn’t come about the horse,’’ Winter said, wishing she’d turn around. ‘‘You’re small. Logan didn’t say anything about you being so tiny.’’
She turned to face him then, her pale blue eyes huge with fright as her hands knotted around her black shawl. ‘‘I’m not tiny.’’
Forcing her voice not to shake, she added, ‘‘You’re the one who doesn’t fit through the door.’’ He was so tall his hair almost brushed the ceiling.
‘‘I guess I am,’’ Winter answered as his eyes adjusted to the cavelike shadows. Her hair reflected in the firelight as it hung to her waist. ‘‘Your hair,’’ he mumbled. Most of the women he knew looked as if they’d spent hours burning curl into their mass of ringlets piled atop their heads. But hers reminded him of his mother’s, straight and thick. Only his mother’s had been as black as midnight while this woman’s was the color of sunshine.
Kora pulled her shawl over her head as though ashamed. ‘‘I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I’d already unbound it for the night.’’ She felt like a fool explaining her actions to a stranger. What did she care if he thought she ran completely wild in her own house?
‘‘I’m sorry to call so late, but time is vital at this point.’’ He tried to stand still as she seemed to shrink before his eyes, folding into her huge shawl and moving away from the light.
Winter had never backed away in his life. He’d always silently enjoyed the fear he’d seen in most folks’ eyes since he’d reached his full height. But he backed down now, not wanting to frighten her. He put as much distance between them as the tiny cabin allowed.
‘‘I’m Winter McQuillen, Mrs. Adams. Most folks call me Win for short.’’
She was so far into the shadows, he couldn’t even tell if she was looking at him as he spoke.
‘‘I’m sorry I frightened you. I just have to talk to you, and it can’t wait till morning.’’
Kora took a step toward the rifle Andrew Adams had left beside the fireplace. She knew it wasn’t loaded, but it was her only weapon.
Winter widened his stance, wishing they were outside. This half-dugout seemed little more than coffin-size. It wasn’t easy to propose twice in as many weeks, but at least now no one was watching. ‘‘I’d like you to hear me out before you answer, Mrs. Adams.’’
‘‘Agreed,’’ she whispered.
‘‘I’ve got a ranch not far from here. Good land with enough grass and water to run all the cattle I can handle. Square in the middle of my land is a house. I’m hardworking, twenty-seven years old, and healthy. Couldn’t swear I never take a drink, but I’ve never downed so much I couldn’t get up at dawn and do a full day’s work.’’
Kora watched him closely. He showed no signs of a man who’d been tilting the bottle, but he was certainly making no sense.
‘‘I’d see that no harm came to you by my hand or by any other.’’ Winter recited the words he’d practiced all the way from town. ‘‘I’ve never gone to church, but if you’ve a need, I’ll do my best to take you every Sunday, weather permitting.’’
Kora began to shake her head. Somehow this cowboy must be mad and think he was talking to another. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ she whispered, not knowing how else to respond.
‘‘I’d give you whatever you needed. When I’m on a drive, my credit’s good at every store in town.’’ Winter took a step toward her. She couldn’t be turning him down! He wouldn’t lose, not this time. Not when all that had ever mattered to him in years was the ranch, and part of that ranch was the house, his house. He’d sworn years ago after losing his mother to Custer’s butchering never to turn loose of anything that was his ever again.
‘‘Name your price, Mrs. Adams!’’
The hollow click of a gun cocking was his answer. For a second Winter wasn’t sure where it was coming from, then Kora stepped out of the shadows with an ancient weapon in her hand.
‘‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister.’’ She tried to keep both her voice and her hands from shaking. ‘‘But I don’t want anything you’re selling. I think you’d better leave.’’
Winter slowly moved his hands to the front of his holster and unbuckled his gunbelt. He propped his foot on a chair by the table and pulled the string holding the weapon against his leg, then lifted the Colt, holster and all, toward her.
‘‘If you’re going to shoot me for asking you to marry me, would you mind using a weapon that will do the job and not some antique that looks like it might blow off your hand if you pulled the trigger?’’
Kora lowered the rifle slightly and took another step forward. ‘‘You’re asking me to marry you?’’
‘‘I am.’’ Winter didn’t take his eyes off the barrel.
‘‘But why? You don’t even know me.’’ Curiosity outweighed fear for the first time.
‘‘I have to have a wife by sunup or lose part of what is mine.’’ He could tell she was intrigued, if not interested in the proposal. ‘‘If you marry me, the house in the middle of my land is yours forever.’’
‘‘I don’t believe in
‘‘Then stay for six months and I’ll buy it from you. Then you can leave. I won’t try to stop you.’’ A touch of hope made him smile and he slowly began restrapping his gunbelt. ‘‘The place will be yours the minute you’re my wife.’’
Kora tilted her head slightly. ‘‘Is this place large enough so that my brother and sister can live with us?’’
‘‘It is,’’ he answered soberly. If she had a little brother and sister she wanted to bring along, that would be no problem for him. They’d probably be company for her when he was on a long drive. He hadn’t expected a widow to come without baggage.
‘‘And the price at the end of six months? Is the house worth enough to buy three tickets to California?’’
‘‘That and more,’’ Win answered with a raised eyebrow.
Kora laid the gun down on the table between them and pressed her palms against her closed eyes. ‘‘This is insane. I can’t marry you.’’
‘‘Why not?’’ Winter leaned closer.
‘‘I don’t know you. I hadn’t planned to ever marry and even if I did, I’ve another half year of mourning.’’ She couldn’t explain to this stranger how all her life she’d been invisible. No man had ever given her a glance. He’d be sorry within hours.
‘‘Did you know Mr. Adams well when you wed him?’’
‘‘No,’’ Kora admitted. She wasn’t about to go into detail about how she didn’t know Andrew Adams at all. This stranger, or anyone else for that matter, would never understand.
‘‘I’ll tell you about me.’’ Winter straightened slightly. ‘‘My mother was Cheyenne, my father Irish. But no man’s ever given me trouble about being mixed blood, at least not more than once.’’ Winter knew he had to be honest now for he’d not have her saying she was tricked. ‘‘If you ask my men, they’ll tell you I’m a tough boss but fair. I
