He grinned. The perfect wife, a preacher once said, was a woman who made a husband want to be a better man. Hank stared out into the night and silently promised he’d be that and more for her.
He watched the old dog follow her back to the house. She looked like she belonged here. Turning, he set to work on the bench, his thoughts full of Aggie. She was shy, and probably more than a little spoiled. He’d have to tell her that putting her fists on her hips and demanding something wasn’t fair might not always work with him.
Suddenly, he laughed, realizing it had.
He heard the back door close and Ulysses run around the house barking at the darkness. Probably a rabbit, Hank thought. That and snakes were the only invaders the place ever had.
Thunder rattled several miles away. He looked up in time to see the next round of lightning. Across the flat land it was easy in the blink to pick out the black outline of the windmill, the bunk house, and a lone rider on horseback waiting just outside the yard light.
Hank froze. No one but trouble would be riding up behind the house this time of night. He reached for his Colt and realized it was with Aggie.
Blowing out the lantern, Hank stood perfectly still and listened. Someone was out by the windmill. Someone who wasn’t a friend or he would have yelled a hello.
Ulysses had climbed on the porch and was barking wildly now, standing guard, Hank decided, protecting Aggie, just where Hank would have wanted the dog. Whoever moved in the moonless night would not step on the porch without being attacked. Aggie would be all right for now.
The only problem was, the shadow lay between Hank and home.
Chapter 9
Aggie washed and slipped on her nightgown with a blue ribbon at the throat. She’d bought it in Chicago and kept it wrapped in paper in the bottom of her bag. Smoothing the cotton, she told herself this wasn’t her real wedding night. But she had to wear it. Dolly had demanded she leave her old one behind. Somehow, even though she’d sleep alone in her bed, it seemed right to start her new life in all new clothes, even a nightgown.
She’d almost finished brushing her hair when she realized Ulysses hadn’t stopped barking. At first she’d thought he’d just been running the night like guard dogs do, but now the sound he made was different. Angry, fierce.
Hank was outside with the dog. Surely he’d silence him with a yell soon.
But minutes ticked by and nothing. In fact, if anything the dog’s growls sounded near panic.
Her mind began to think of all the possibilities. What if Hank were hurt? What if a wild animal had charged him? She’d heard there were mountain lions and bears in this part of Texas. Her father had often said he’d never go west because it was full of mad animals and crazy people. Her sister told her the Indian Wars had been over for a few years, but what if…
She couldn’t stand guessing anymore. Grabbing Hank’s gun belt, she strapped it around her waist, then pulled on her robe without bothering to tie it. If something was outside, she had no intention of hiding indoors.
Without a lamp, she felt her way though the main room to the front door. The barking sounded like it was coming from the back of the house. If she stayed in the shadow of the porch she might see trouble before it found her.
As she slipped outside, the cold, wet boards felt slippery beneath her, but she couldn’t take the time to go back for shoes. Slowly, her fingers sliding along the painted walls, she moved toward the side of the house where she’d be able to see the barn.
Lightning flashed and she froze, knowing that if there was someone, or something out there in the night, they would be able to see her for a few seconds.
But nothing moved.
She continued her progress, one small step at a time. When she turned the corner and saw Ulysses-still barking-facing the barn, she silently pulled the Colt and readied it.
“Easy, Ulysses,” she whispered, not wanting to surprise him from behind. “I’m here now.”
Ulysses lowered to a growl, but didn’t move. Something between the dog and the barn held his full attention. It took her brain a moment to recognize the outline of a man on horseback with something held high in both hands, like a warrior of old wielding a sword.
Aggie waited for the next flash of lightning.
Seconds passed. She and Ulysses stood vigil.
With a sudden flash of lightning, Aggie saw a man again, closer now to the opening of the barn.
As thunder rolled, Hank shouted, “Aggie, get back inside.”
He’d seen her, but she hadn’t had time to find him in the moment’s flash. The blackness that followed swallowed all light. Aggie strained, trying to make out any form, struggling to hear any movement.
The whack of board against bone thundered across the yard. Once! Twice!
Ulysses went wild.
The sound of a horse stomping rumbled near the barn. The animal screamed as a man’s voice shouted a curse. A moment later the horse broke into a run. Aggie raised her Colt and fired as a rider blinked past her. Before she could draw aim again, the horse had taken his dark knight out of range.
Suddenly, Ulysses and she were running toward the barn.
“Hank,” she cried, not sure if she were screaming his name or praying. “Hank!”
Stepping into the barn reminded her of falling into a cave. Velvet blackness on the moonless night. She clambered for the lantern she’d seen Hank set on a shelf just inside the barn, hoping he had only turned it out and not taken it down.
The lantern was there along with an almost empty box of matches. It took three tries before Aggie brought the match to life and lit the lantern. When she turned, spreading light, she might have missed the heap on the ground beside the stall if Ulysses hadn’t been right beside him. At first she thought it might be rags, then she recognized a white shirt.
“Hank!” He lay face down and far too still. Blood dripped from his head and one of his long legs twisted just below the knee at an unnatural angle. A long two-by-four lay beside him, harmless though spotted with blood.
Aggie sat the lantern a few feet from him and ran for the barn door. As soon as she cleared the roof, she lifted her gun and fired three quick shots. Then she ran back to her husband.
By the time Blue Thompson and a woman who had to be his wife arrived, Aggie had wrapped the belt of her robe around Hank’s head and was applying pressure where blood dripped with each of his heartbeats.
“What happened?” Blue asked as he jumped from the buggy.
Aggie couldn’t stop the tears. “I don’t know. I heard something. Someone. Then he rode off and I found Hank.”
“Who would want to hurt Hank?” Lizzy demanded as she knelt beside her husband. Her voice was low, but her hands moved skillfully over Hank’s injuries.
“I don’t know.” Aggie fought panic. “I don’t know.”
Blue slowly straightened Hank’s leg, shaking his head as he worked.
“It looks busted,” Aggie cried. “Oh, God, what if it’s busted?”
Lizzy grabbed Aggie’s chin with bloody fingers. “Don’t you worry none, we’re going to take care of your man.” She forced Aggie to look at her and not Hank. “But we’re going to need your help. You understand?”
Aggie pulled in the frayed strings of her emotions and forced herself to take a breath. “All right. We can take care of him. We can.”
The no-nonsense directness of the older woman had helped and she allowed Aggie no time to think of what might be beyond this moment, this crisis. “First,” Lizzy said in her low, southern voice, “we get him to the house.”
Aggie looked back at Hank. “We can do that.” She raised her chin.
Lizzy smiled. “Right you are.”
“His leg probably is broke.” Blue voiced what they all knew. “We’ll have to be real careful moving him. Once he’s inside and the blood’s cleaned off, we can see the damage. If he’s still breathing, I’ll ride for the doc.”
It took all three of them to lift Hank without moving his leg more than necessary. He moaned once, telling
