‘‘I take it you’re tired of the dugout?’’
‘‘Yes, but I never dreamed I’d have such a room. We’ll survive the heat in summer by opening the windows and the cold in winter with quilts. You’ll see.’’
Win watched her, wondering if she had any idea what she’d just said. She’d done it again. She’d invited him to be a part of this room, this house. She was honoring their agreement to be husband and wife to the world.
‘‘Boss!’’ Logan’s voice carried up from the stairwell. ‘‘The riders are in from the south pasture, and you’d best come down.’’
‘‘I’ll be right down, Logan!’’ he yelled, not wanting anyone to come up. This was their room. ‘‘If this place is going to be a bedroom, I’ll have to build a door.’’
He turned to Kora as he lifted the lamp. ‘‘I didn’t have time to tell you that we’ve got our share of trouble on the ranch.’’
Kora crossed to the stairs, knowing that he was waiting for her to join him.
‘‘There’s cattle from down around San Antonio that are heading this way. Talk is the owners are trying to get them to market up in Kansas before they all die of yellow fever. If they run the sick beeves through the Panhandle, every rancher in these parts stands to lose half his herd, maybe more. And my range is their only clear path to market.’’
They walked down the stairs, Winter two steps ahead of her with the light. Kora rested her hand on his shoulder for guidance. ‘‘What can you do?’’
‘‘We’re riding a blockade. One rider along every five miles of land where they could cross the Palo Duro Canyon.’’
‘‘But if they come, one man can’t stop them.’’
‘‘One Winchester can. As long as the rider gets off a shot, others will respond. We’ll drop every last head at the canyon wall if we have to, but they’ll not climb and cross while I’ve bullets left. I may not be able to stop them from getting to market, but I can stop them from crossing my land, and that will cost them dearly.’’
Kora listened to the anger in his tone and felt once more the power of this man. His talk of killing frightened her, making her aware that the man she married might not be as reasonable as their bargain suggested. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder.
He’d said he didn’t believe in luck, but she hadn’t spent a night in his house and already trouble was echoing. This wasn’t of her doing, she told herself. The problem had been there before she came. It would pass. Then, maybe for a few months, or weeks, she could pretend this house and this man were really hers.
Winter slowed, too lost in his own thoughts to realize she might be afraid. ‘‘I’ve had riders out for three nights now, and tonight’s my turn to take a shift, wedding or no wedding. I’ve a job to do.’’
‘‘Boss!’’ Logan met them halfway up the last staircase. ‘‘We got trouble for sure!’’
Before Winter could answer, Kora glanced at the foyer, where several men waited with guns strapped to their legs and rifles resting on their shoulders.
‘‘Two men are late reporting in down by the south fence.’’ Cheyenne said in a low emotionless voice as Winter approached.
‘‘All hell’s fixing to break loose!’’ another man yelled.
Winter took his hat from the stair railing and combed his hair back with his hand before fitting it low across his forehead. Logan handed him a leather coat, and Winter glanced up at Kora, as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘‘ Gentlemen’’-he cleared his throat and silenced the cowhands below-‘‘my wife.’’
All the men looked up at once as Kora moved down until she stood on the second step just behind Winter.
One man near the steps removed his hat. ‘‘Mrs. McQuillen, I’m mighty glad you’re here. Sorry about the language earlier, ma’am. I didn’t know there was a lady present.’’
All the others seemed to remember their manners and removed their hats.
Kora placed her hand on Winter’s shoulder for strength.
In all her life she’d never been paid such respect. She’d always been poorer than trash, with most folks not even noticing she was around.
Several of the others mumbled introductions, but Kora knew she couldn’t remember them all. First, they all looked alike in their leather and hats, and second, their voices were blurred with a southern drawl.
‘‘We didn’t even know the boss got married,’’ one said louder than the others. ‘‘But we’re mighty proud he has. It’s plain to see he’s a lucky man.’’
Smiling, Kora looked down at Winter. With the step’s height, she was just above eye level with him. He stared up at her with one raised eyebrow and a question in his gaze. She wasn’t sure, but she guessed he was seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. Judging from his expression, he liked what he saw.
‘‘I’ve got to go,’’ he said slowly, as if testing her reaction and very much aware that the men were listening. ‘‘I won’t be back till after dawn.’’
Kora leaned and touched her lips to his cheek with no more emotion than he’d kissed her earlier at their wedding. ‘‘I’ll have breakfast ready,’’ she answered as she looked at the men, ‘‘for everyone.’’
Winter touched his first two fingers to the brim of his hat and backed away. He had to give the lady credit, she must have read a book somewhere on how to be a wife. The kiss had been almost believable. The invitation to breakfast sounded just like what Miss Allie would have said in her day.
He’d about decided he’d made a good bargain when he and Cheyenne entered the barn to saddle fresh horses.
A moment later he reconsidered as they pulled his buckskin-clad sister-in-law out of the hay and out of a young man’s heated embrace. She cursed worse than he’d ever heard a man swear, and the boy looked scared as he fought to slow his breathing to normal and straighten his clothes to presentable. But neither of the young folks, much to Winter’s disappointment, looked as if they had given even a passing thought to marriage.
FOUR
WINTER RODE ALONG THE SOUTH BORDER OF HIS land with Cheyenne half a length behind him. The two men rarely talked, not seeming to have the need. Cheyenne was a few years older and had shown up at the ranch soon after Winter arrived. The captain used to say Cheyenne was the best man with a horse or a gun who’d ever ridden into Texas, but a smile never broke the hard line of his mouth.
To be honest, Winter could never remember Cheyenne being overly friendly to anyone. He didn’t eat with the others in the bunkhouse and had never invited Winter or
anyone else to share his campfire while they were on the ranch. Even though Winter had told Cheyenne his mother was of the Cheyenne people, it didn’t seem to matter. Most of the hands had no idea where Cheyenne slept or if he had another name other than that of his people. They only knew he could usually be found a few feet behind Winter, standing at attention as though silently waiting for trouble.
Sometime over the years, Winter had learned to trust the man as he did no other. The lessons came in a hundred small ways. Winter trusted Cheyenne with his back… with his life. Now Winter could feel two facts seeping clear through to his bones. Trouble was coming and, when it did, Cheyenne would be the one he could depend on.
Winter pulled his hat low against the icy wind. It was good to have the man on guard with him tonight, for he was having trouble concentrating on his turn at watch. The face of the woman he’d married kept slipping into his mind.
She wasn’t ordinary as he’d first thought. When he’d taken the time to look at her, she’d been pretty. Not the kind of beauty like a saloon girl all made up, but a kind of quiet pretty that was easy on a man’s eyes. She had a grace about her that made him want to shelter her. Even now, after hours in the cold, he could still feel the weight of her touch on his shoulder. For the first time in all the years he’d ridden the land, he was in a hurry to get back to the ranch house. Kora would be waiting for him. He wanted to know more about this woman who shared his name.
Pulling his collar up against the first few drops of rain, Win swore beneath his breath. Who did he think he was
