Cherished (41 page)

* * *

At the precise moment when John Breen fired
his gun into Line McCray’s shoulder, Cole was subduing the urge to
blast Gil Keedy full of holes.

The young Texan’s offense was plain for
everyone to see: He was dancing in the cabin on Stick Mountain with
Juliana, one tune after another. Grinning like a fool, he spun her
around the floor, his arm encircling her waist, his eyes twinkling
like summer stars, his Texas drawl grating on Cole’s ears like sand
across marble.

The other men danced with her, too, of
course—all except Cole—but it was Keedy who really infuriated him.
Maybe it was the way Juliana looked at the red-haired cowboy, her
eyes all sparkly one minute, then soft and dreamy the next. Or
maybe it was the way she laughed so delightedly at everything he
whispered to her, or the fact that when she was dancing with him,
she didn’t appear aware of anyone or anything else.

It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
Cole
asked himself angrily as he sprawled on a chair in the corner and
watched the slender girl whirl like a graceful butterfly across the
room.
She’s turning her attention elsewhere, setting her sights
on Keedy. And why not? He’s all the things you’re not—steady,
good-natured, the settling-down type.
He’d take good care of
her
.

But would he make her happy? Remembering the
rapturous way she’d stared up at him in the feather bed, the glow
and happiness radiating from her eyes, Cole wondered if she could
really feel for Keedy the way she’d seemed to feel about him. It
hurt just thinking about it. But he hoped so, for Juliana’s sake.
Keedy would bring her security and peace.

So why was he having so much trouble
resisting the urge to jump up and shove his fist down that scrawny
Texan’s throat?

I don’t belong here
. Cole took a
deep breath, studying Juliana’s brothers as she collapsed in a
chair beside them at last, taking a sip of the wine that Skunk
handed her. This cabin full of people, full of warmth, comradeship,
a sense of festivity. Even with the danger surrounding them on all
sides, a danger Cole smelled the way he smelled coffee when it was
fresh-brewed and hot—even with all that, the Montgomery gang,
Juliana, and Keedy seemed to belong, to feel comfortable and at
ease with one another, to be able to shed their cares and enjoy the
companionship of an evening dancing and laughing and warming
themselves before a fire. Cole didn’t know how to do that. It had
been years since he’d had any sense of family, any real link with
another human being, and he felt cramped and stifled here. He
wanted to be out there in the mountains, staring into a campfire
beneath the stars, with the wind and the night creatures for
company, and—

He stopped short. He’d been about to wish
that Juliana was part of that picture too. He’d like to have her
out there in the mountains with him, lying beside him on the
fragrant grass, her hair waving in the night breeze and the
moonlight cool, soft upon her face. He’d like to kiss each one of
those adorable freckles marching across her nose, then undo the
buttons of that dress she was wearing, and slowly, relentlessly
make love to her beneath the Arizona stars.

What had happened to his urge for solitude,
pure and simple? He was a loner, right? He didn’t need anybody.

Damn, what had she done to him?

His throat dry, he had a sudden vision of her
the way she’d looked this afternoon, holding that baby. The sight
of it had done queer things to his heart. Tender feelings were new
to Cole. He couldn’t afford them, not in his line of work. A wife
and a baby were loco things for him to wish for.

Besides, wishes didn’t come true. He’d
learned that years ago in the orphanage.

I don’t belong here
, he thought
again, with even more bitter certainty, and he stood up, drawing
the glances of Gray Feather and Yancy from their hotly contested
checkers match. Without looking at Juliana, whose head was bent
close to Keedy’s before the fire, he stalked to the door of the
cabin and left.

Juliana’s heart fell when she saw him leave.
Secretly, the entire time she’d danced with Gil, flirted with him,
and chattered like a mad parrot with everyone in the cabin, she’d
kept waiting for Cole to come over to her, to invite her to dance,
or even simply to glare at her in that cool, infuriating way of
his—anything to show her that somewhere deep down he did care. But
he didn’t. Not once had he tried to speak to her or even glanced at
her with more than passing interest. She felt as though a huge
weight were sitting on top of her heart, pressing out all her
breath, all her life’s blood.

Just because she’d been a belle in St. Louis,
did that make her think she could snare the interest of any man she
wanted? Cole Rawdon had merely made use of her while she was near
at hand. Then his interest had waned. She’d better accept that and
forget him.

But she had to swallow hard to choke back a
sob of pain.

“Come here, little sister.” Wade drew her to
the corner. His hand clamped her shoulder firmly, but it emanated
loving warmth. It was the first time he’d ever been called upon to
offer advice for this particular type of ailment—Lord knew, Tommy
would have slugged him for it—but the look of misery on his
sister’s face left him no choice. He couldn’t bear to see her so
unhappy any longer, and only prayed, even as he prepared to scold
her, that he would never be afflicted with these despicable pangs
of love. “You don’t have to put on any playacting with me. I can
see what’s troubling you, Juliana—the same thing that’s gnawing at
Rawdon.” Wade sighed. “Hell, why don’t you just go out there and
talk to him? Or better yet, give him a kiss and tell him all is
forgiven!”

Juliana’s mouth fell open. Then she shut it
with a snap. “Wade, you’d do well to mind your own business. There
is nothing to forgive. There is nothing between me and Cole Rawdon
at all. Except perhaps ... gratitude. He did save my life on more
than one occasion.”

“Ahuh.”

The skeptical expression on his face made her
sputter, “Oh, you’re almost as insufferable as he is. Men—how do
women ever learn to tolerate you? Even my own brother ...”

“What’s this?” Tommy loped up, throwing an
arm across her shoulders. “Is big brother giving you trouble,
peanut? Say the word and I’ll wipe the floor with him.”

“Think you can?” Wade’s impatience at having
this private conversation interrupted showed in the cool sparkle of
his eyes.

“Easy,” Tommy returned. “Just watch me
...”

But Juliana threw herself between them. “I
remember when Mama used to have to send you to opposite corners of
the store and give you both chores to do till nightfall to keep you
from fighting. Do I have to do the same thing?”

The challenging look left Tommy’s face. “Do
you remember her, Juliana? Mama, I mean. You were so little back
then ...”

“I do.” Strangely, her mother’s memory was
with her now stronger than it had been for many years. Being with
Wade and Tommy, so different in some ways from the rambunctious
boys she remembered, yet in other ways so much the same, was
bringing the memories back as strongly as good warm kitchen smells
wafting out an open window, beckoning her back to a childhood
before death and loss had left her alone.

“She used to sing while she was cooking
supper. All different snatches of songs, all mixed together. They
sounded pretty, the way she did it. And I remember how her hair
felt like satin when she used to brush it out at night. We’d take
turns. She’d brush mine, and then she’d let me brush hers—oh, a
hundred times.”

Tommy’s eyes had taken on a faraway look.
“She smelled like lemon verbena. I swear I never smell lemon
verbena without thinking of her.”

Wade’s usually keen expression had softened
as the memories flooded over him as well, warm as summer rain. “She
was a fine woman,” he said in a low tone. Of the three of them, he
probably remembered her best. “She was sad a lot of the time. I
think ... she was always grateful for Pa marrying her and taking
her away from that saloon where she used to work. She hated it
there, she told me once. It’s hard to imagine Ma in a place like
that, but I guess she had no one to help her and she needed the
money. But Ma—a saloon was the last place she belonged. Ma was
always gentle, quiet. When I fell off Elam Potter’s roof and broke
my arm, I remember how that night she tiptoed in my room when she
thought I was asleep and just stroked her hand across my cheek,
over and over. It was light as a swan’s feather.”

“You’re right,” Tommy said slowly. “Even when
she’d be so angry with us you’d expect her to shake us, she’d just
tell us how disappointed she was and set us some chore to do, but
she never laid a hand on us in anger.”

“Pa didn’t either, but more times than not he
was sorely tempted,” Wade put in dryly. “Do you remember when we
decided to teach Juliana how to row a boat after Sunday school, and
she fell in the creek and got her new dress muddier than the
Mississippi?”

“I remember that day!” Giggling, Juliana
stared from one to the other of them. “Mama had just finished
sewing the dress the night before. It had pink and white ribbons on
the sleeves and a cunning little pocket made of lace. By the time
you fished me out of the water, the pocket was torn and there was a
tadpole inside it!”

“And you were muddy from head to toe!” Tommy
finished, groaning.

“And mad as a hornet! You kicked both of us
in the shins and accused us of dunking you on purpose!”

“We did.” Tommy grinned from ear to ear.

Juliana gasped and grabbed him by the shirt.
“I always knew it,” she cried. “But you two denied it up and down
for days.”

“Pa punished us by making us chop wood for
old widow Dodd for a month. Without accepting a cent of payment.
When I think of the blisters I had ...”

“Pa could have done a lot worse,” Wade
retorted. “When I think of some of the pranks we pulled ...”

Suddenly, Juliana’s eyes filled with tears.
Happy tears, mingled with those of sorrow. Their parents were gone,
murdered by drunken outlaws ransacking the store, but Wade and
Tommy were
here
. They were living reminders that once she
had had a home, a family all her own, maybe not the grand house in
St. Louis that belonged to Uncle Edward, but a cozy place that had
been all Montgomery, with love and kindness and shared talk and
meals and dreams. How different their lives might have been if only
that day hadn’t happened, if only she had not come home from school
all alone and found the blood ...

“You never let me see them,” she said
suddenly, and Wade shot her a sober glance. “Mama and Papa. I
remember coming up on the porch—and there was blood seeping under
the door. You and Tommy were behind me, playing tag, and you ran up
suddenly and saw me just reaching for the door. You grabbed me back
and wouldn’t let me go in.”

“Good thing too.” Tommy cleared his throat.
“It wasn’t anything too pretty.”

“As it was you had nightmares for a week
following. Maybe longer. We don’t know all that happened after you
went to live with Uncle Edward and Aunt Katharine.”

I still had nightmares. But my imaginings
were far worse than anything I might have actually seen. Those
dreams ...
She wouldn’t let herself continue the thought. Not
seeing what those outlaws had done had perhaps been worse than if
she
had
seen. Her mind had visualized it all a thousand
times, each scene more bloody and gruesome than the next. Maybe
that was why the very sight of blood always affected her so
intensely. It always reminded her of that puddle seeping out under
the door....

“Wade, Tommy.” She grasped both of them by
the hand. “You’ve never ... hurt anyone in any of your holdups,
have you?”

“No, Juliana.” Wade squeezed her hand. His
expression was fixed intently upon her as he looked down into her
earnest face. “We’ve never hurt anyone, except some gun-totin’
polecats who’ve tried to shoot our heads off first. There seem to
be a lot of ‘em out there.”

“That bounty hunter of yours,” Tommy put in
darkly. “Did you ever ask him that question? He’s the kind of
hombre who might harbor a mean streak.”

“You’re wrong, Tommy.” Wade shook his head.
“Rawdon’s not the mean kind—just fast. Fast as he needs to be.”

“Think he’s faster than me?” Intrigued, Tommy
raised his brows.

“That’s one thing we’ll never need to find
out,” Juliana informed him firmly. “We’re all working on the same
side, remember?”

“I reckon so, but it sure seems strange. I’m
used to avoiding bounty hunters, not inviting ‘em to sleep in my
hideout.” He gazed about through suddenly narrowed eyes. “Where is
Rawdon anyway?”

“He left.” Juliana would have let it go at
that, but Wade wasn’t ready to give up.

“He said he’d be camping out down by the
gully. I gather he’s not used to a lot of company,” he remarked,
trying to catch her eye.

Gil Keedy appeared at Juliana’s elbow at that
moment. “Another dance—or are you too tuckered out?”

She hesitated, gazing into his flushed, eager
face, reading the warmth in his eyes. Maybe Gil was just in love
with love—maybe he didn’t yet know if he preferred her or Josie—or
if he fancied himself in love with both of them, as she’d heard
Tommy was fond of doing.

Why couldn’t it be Cole?
she asked
herself miserably.
Why couldn’t Cole be looking at me like
this, with puppy dog eyes, and his arms outstretched,
waiting?

Because that isn’t the kind of man he is. He
doesn’t show his emotions, he locks them away. Except for that
night ... the night he had told her about Fire Mesa, shared the
horrible ordeal of his childhood, and turned to her for comfort.
That night he had made her feel loved, trusted, desired. Cherished
in a way she had never felt before.