Ashes in the Wind (47 page)

As the black hurried off, Cole stepped from the barn, and by the frown he wore, he didn’t look at all pleased. From its lofty elevation, the windmill groaned and creaked noisily. The breeze rustled
through the trees that shaded the yard, sending brightly colored leaves scurrying frantically before it and whipping them against Cole’s legs.

“Is something wrong?” Alaina asked when he drew near.

He lifted her onto the buggy and climbed in beside her before he answered. “Someone threw several saddles and harnesses into the watering trough during the night and dumped salt over them.”

Alama could well imagine the time and effort it would take to make the leather pliable and serviceable again, or the cost of replacing them. “Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

Cole sighed heavily. “I cannot imagine.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“No, never before,” he muttered.

Alaina’s brows drew together in sudden worry. “If you’re thinking that maybe I—Why, I didn’t even know where the barn was until you brought me here.”

“I know that, Alaina,” he assured her quietly.

“And Saul wouldn’t do it either!” she declared emphatically.

“Dammit, Alaina! I’m not accusing either one of you.”

“Considering we’re the only Johnny Rebs around here, it figures we’d be the ones blamed!” she insisted.

“Well, maybe someone else thought that same thing! Or maybe they figured I’d given enough aid to the enemy. Who the hell can say! It’s just a damn waste, that’s all.”

Soldier Boy sat on his lean haunches besides
the buggy and scuffed up a cloud of dust with his wagging tail, waiting for some word from his master. His yellow eyes danced in anticipation until Cole shook out the reins, urging the horse into motion, and whistled sharply.

“All right, Soldier Boy. Come along.”

The dog barked and took off like a shot, matching the speed of the buckboard. The wild ride left Alaina no breath for conversation, and as Cole lent nothing to breaking the silence, they raced along, seeming oblivious to the other. The road passed beneath large trees, and though the land had flattened out, the horse did not slacken its pace one whit. The brush alongside the road opened suddenly into a clearing, revealing a large, vine-covered house deep in the copse. Cole passed without a glance, but Alaina was most intrigued and turned to stare. Though the brownish red mass of leaves hid much of the detail, she caught the soft glint of leaded diamond panes through the tangle of ivy that covered the dark, close-clapboarded siding and, above it, the dull gray weathered cedar shakes of the steep roof and tall, brick chimneys.

“What is that?” Alaina pointed with her chin as she maintained her hold on the seat.

“The old house,” Cole answered without turning. “The Cottage. It was the first house my father built when he came here.” A frown briefly touched his brow as he added, “He had the big house built for my stepmother.”

Though she waited, he said no more. She was curious, but he apparently did not wish to discuss the matter further, and she let it be, for the time being at least.

“You were very generous with Saul. I wish to thank you,” she murmured.

“Simply trying to repay my debts.”

“And what do you think you owe him?” she questioned.

They had come to a fork in the road, and Cole pulled the horse to a halt, half turning to meet her face to face. “The two of you saved my life,” he remonstrated. “That is worth whatever repayment either of you should need.”

“Is that why you agreed to this marriage?” Alaina pursued her subject with straightforward diligence.

Agreed? Cole leaned back against the seat, thoughtfully rubbing his right thigh. What game was she playing now? Did she want some pat answer that would assuage whatever violation she thought she had suffered? Well, if that was what she craved, he’d give it to her. “I felt a certain obligation—and you were kin—Roberta’s cousin.”

A long moment passed as they considered each other in silence. Cole realized his answer was not even close to the one Alaina sought and leaned forward slightly.

“What I fail to understand is why you bothered at all to save me, or risked your neck doing so.”

The slim nose turned upward with all the haughtiness of a much nobler one. When no answer came, Cole pressed on with a stubbornness of his own.

“Why?”

Alaina shrugged indifferently and, accentuating her drawl, gave him some of his own medicine. “You were kin, being Roberta’s husband and all.
Then, I’ve got this thing about hurt animals. I just can’t bear to see them suffer.”

A strange expression came over Cole’s face as he regarded her. “And that is all?” he asked. “Just because I was kin?”

Alaina faced straight ahead. “That’s the way I said it, Yankee.”

Scowling, Cole shook out the reins and, no whit wiser, turned onto the road away from the house. This time there was a definite, almost tangible silence between them, though neither could long ignore the close contact of their bodies as they sat atop the narrow seat. Cole’s thoughts drifted on to other things, but it was no simple matter to ignore the proximity of the woman who so completely engaged his attention.

“With all the faces of your masquerade,” he finally said, “I could not settle on which would greet me at the dock, if you would be the sprite, Al, or better, the slim-hipped, but ever-chiding widow, or even the tantalizing young Camilla Hawthorne. Then, there was another one, and though I held her close, I never saw her clearly.”

“I have no wish to recall that night, sir,” Alaina stated priggishly. Too many whispered pleas and stirring kisses had been exchanged in the dark of that night for her to feel comfortable airing the memory.

She turned her face away from his laughing eyes, and for a long time, she watched Soldier Boy loping alongside the buggy. Sometimes, she thought dismally, it seemed that she would never outlive her role as chore boy, or the other parts she had had to play.

The winds of the storm had gone far in stripping the trees of their brilliant leaves. Only the stubborn
oaks retained more than a smattering of autumnal color. The mastiff ranged the woods on either side, and when the road neared the river and traveled along the bank, the hound splashed joyfully through the shallows, yelping at frogs and fish that scattered from his path, and leaped into the air as a pair of mallards flushed from a backwater pool. As they neared the outskirts of Saint Cloud, Cole slowed the buggy, whistled Soldier Boy into the back of it, and bade him firmly to “Stay!”

“He’s gentle enough,” Cole anwered Alaina’s unspoken question. “But people often mistake his smile for something else, and then, he doesn’t fare well with strange horses.”

Alaina opened her mouth to speak and, remembering her promise to be nice, swallowed the comparison she had been about to make. It was a well-known adage that if one could not say good things, one should hold one’s peace. Thus, the ride progressed in silence.

Several blocks of merchant stores were passed, and at the end of the wide, muddy, well-rutted street they traversed, a yellow brick warehouse squatted. It was to this Cole guided the horse. As they neared, Alaina saw a goodly number of men lounging or napping on the broad wooden loading dock. One of the wide doors had been painted with a gaudy beer advertisement, while the other was crudely lettered with the legend:

Worker’s Hall
Beer 5¢
Food 50¢
Bed: Overnight 25¢ w/ pillow, blanket, 50¢

Cole halted the buggy parallel to the dock and looped the reins around the whip staff, then reached beneath the seat and lifted out, not his usual cane, but a heavier, gnarled walking staff. It was well rubbed with a dark stain, and a knot on its thicker end formed the grip. He smiled wryly at Alaina as he flexed his wounded leg, which had grown stiff on the long ride.

“I have to post notice for hire here,” he explained, and hefted the walking stick. “Some of the lads wax enthusiastic in their zeal to prove their worth, and more than a couple employers have been put to the test. However, if all goes well, I shan’t be more than a few minutes.” He tucked a rolled poster beneath his arm and placed a foot on the dock before he turned a warning eye to her. “I implore you, madam, do not venture from the buggy.”

“I think you need have no fear on that account,” Alaina assured him soberly as she eyed the men on the dock who were beginning to show some interest in the couple.

Cole hoisted himself onto the platform, then snapped his fingers sharply. Soldier Boy leaped from the boot and stood alert where his master indicated. “Sit!” The dog complied. “Stay! Watch!” The long tongue flicked over the broad jowls, and the yellow eyes began to scan the crowd of men.

After taking a last look around, Cole made his way to the door and entered the hall. Once he was out of sight, the men crowded in for a closer look. It was not every day that they were treated to such a comely sight, and the long months in the remote logging camps were drawing steadily nearer. Alaina
appeared not to notice them, yet she casually lifted the buggy whip from the staff and toyed with the butt of it, letting the tip dangle over the side of the buggy where it would be clear for a blow.

One of the men, a huge specimen with long blond hair down to the collar of his plaid wool jacket and a beard that hid the full width and length of his bullish neck, grew bold and strode to the edge of the dock beside the buggy. A low rumble began in Soldier Boy’s chest, but the man ignored him and lifted a foot as if to rest it on the buggy.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Alaina warned him direly.

“Oh, liddle lady, I really worry ’bout dat dog.” The man guffawed loudly, and a round of snickers marked appreciation for his humor. “I break him, so!” Massive hands twisted in a quick, explicit demonstration. “You like de dog, liddle lady, you tell him quiet.”

The man kicked a foot sideways, and Soldier came to a half crouch, his jowls curling back to display inch-long fangs. The rising hackles formed a wide crest down his spine.

“By chiminey, dog! You got no damn respect!” He searched about, then shouldered several others aside and came back with a yard-long length of board. “I teach you, dog!”

He swung the club in a sideways blow, and Soldier took it square across his wide chest. It was like hitting a solid tree trunk. The hound’s jaws dipped down, caught the cudgel, and with a quick jerk of his head, he snatched it from the man’s numbed hand and tossed it aside. The yellow eyes
glared hatred, the long fangs gleamed white, and the growl became a snarl as the huge, black hound moved forward threateningly.

“Soldier!” Cole’s voice rang sharp, and the dog froze. “Down!” Soldier retreated to the spot beside the buggy and obeyed, though his eyes remained watchful and his hackles still stood erect.

The brawny man faced Cole and boasted. “You lucky, man! Gundar break de wolf so!” The hands twisted again in a snapping gesture.

“You were lucky!” Cole snorted and pointed his staff at Soldier. “His kind hunt the wolf down and kill them for sport. Their real work is to drag down wild bulls and the big bears. Soldier would have made short work of you.”

Gundar’s face showed brief awe then anger that he had been made less than a bull or bear. “Ach! You talk too many!” He sought to regain the admiration of his fellows. “You go! Gundar like the liddle lady. We talk more!”

He turned his back on Cole, took one step toward the buggy, then seemed to dive at Alaina only to fall short, sprawling at the edge of the dock with his head jutting out over it. His ankle had been neatly caught by the hooked head of Cole’s heavy cane. The blond man rolled over and sat up, favoring Cole with a furious glare. He thrust a finger into the side of his mouth, then withdrew it, holding the digit before his face to stare at the blood on it. His next few words may have been in English or some other language, and perhaps it was best Alaina could not understand them, but they were as badly chewed as the man’s tongue.

“The little lady,” Cole mocked, smiling down at the injured one, “is my wi—”

The Dane seemed to explode from the planking of the dock with a slanting trajectory, catching Cole about the thighs in a bruising hug and carrying him upward and backward until they slammed squarely into the middle of the beer advertisement. With a gasp, Alaina half rose from the buggy seat, the whip gripped tightly in her fist as if she had every intention of using it. The dog set up an angry barking seeing his master pinned against the door by the snorting Dane who clawed upward for whatever was vulnerable. Cole thrust the heavy cane under Gundar’s chin and over his shoulder, then levered back hard. The Dane was peeled away as his head was forced back, and his opponent dropped to his feet. Alaina sank back to the seat, but every muscle in her body was tense and rigid as she watched the battle.

The grimace on Cole’s face was as much from pain as from the struggle, but this was no time to pamper a pet leg. He stepped aside and dusted the Dane’s broad rear with the cane, eliciting a bellow of rage for his effort. The man whirled, and Cole jabbed with all his strength, catching the other in the stomach, just beneath the ribs, with the blunt head of the staff, and driving the breath from him. Gasping, Gundar staggered back as Cole reversed the cane and followed. He smote the left side of the huge noggin, then the right. It was like hitting a barrel; there was sound but no effect! Cole brought the heavy knotted end up from the ground. This time Gundar’s head snapped back with the impact, and his eyes glazed a trifle.

Cole changed positions of the staff, holding it across his chest like a rifle, and struck out with the thick butt, rolling the Dane up on his heels until he staggered back for balance. At the edge of the dock, Gundar teetered like a tall pine ready to crash down. Cole decided the matter with a light push of his staff against the man’s chest. The resulting geyser of mud startled the horse and caused it to prance nervously. Alaina caught the reins and spoke in a soothing tone until the steed calmed.

Cole braced on his cane and surveyed the crowd with a challenging gaze, but none seemed eager to take up the gauntlet for the fallen Gundar. The groggy Dane pulled his mud-covered form up against the edge of the dock as Cole gingerly lowered that part of his person which had first hit the wall into the seat beside Alaina who watched him worriedly. Cole whistled and slapped the back of the seat to bring Soldier to his place, then with a flip of the reins, the roan lifted his feet high and took the buggy away from the hall.