Come Spring (37 page)

“Come on, Denton,” Cliff urged his partner, “let’s get out of here and let Virge settle it between ‘em. It’ll be jest us, jest like it was before.”

The gun wavered before Denton lowered it. “No more partners?”

“Never. I promise,” Cliff said, raising his hand.

“Then let’s git. I don’t give a good goddamn what happens to any of ‘em.” Denton frowned down at Virge, looking tempted to finish what he’d begun, then holstered his gun and followed Cliff through the kitchen and out the back door.

Annika didn’t breathe easy until she heard the sound of their horses’ hoofbeats recede into the distance. Weak-kneed, she sank onto the nearest chair and sat staring down at Virge Clemmens, who was slumped against the wall, still moaning and clutching his side, his blood mingling with the layer of dust that coated the floorboards.

Unarmed and wounded, he didn’t present much of a problem at all. She didn’t relish going out onto the streets of a strange place at night, but she reckoned she wouldn’t be any worse off than she had been with the three of them. What she needed now was food, shelter, and peace of mind. The poster still in Virgil’s possession proved her abduction was no secret; everyone would be looking for her. Annika pulled herself together one last time.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Clemmens, once I catch my breath I’m going to take your horse and find the local sheriff’s office. I wouldn’t advise you to try and stop me.”

He tried to stand, but fell back against the wall.

Annika took one last look at him and felt no remorse at leaving a wounded man lying helpless in the empty room.

When she walked out the back door, he was protesting so vehemently that she knew he wasn’t about to die before she sent someone back to find him.

W
ITH
a full moon shining over them, the pines became hulking black shadows that loomed over Buck in the darkness. The snow helped slow his bleeding and the pain finally ebbed enough for him to slip off his gloves and coat, then his shirt. Wishing he had soot to pack into the open wound to stop the bleeding, he tore the shirt into strips to bind his leg in three places then put on his coat again. He shoved his gloves in his pockets so he wouldn’t lose them. The wolves—a pack or just a pair, he wasn’t certain—had come no closer, but while they were holding off he wanted to start downhill to see how far he could go before his strength gave out.

Faint from loss of blood and pain, he shook his head and refused to give in to the unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm him as he pulled himself up, using a tree trunk for support. His rifle proved to be as good a crutch as he could hope for under the circumstances, so he leaned on it gingerly and forced himself to take a step.

Minutes later, he was across the small clearing, hoping the deer and mountain lion carcasses he left behind would be more than enough entertainment for the hungry wolves. Moving slowly and cautiously through the moonlit forest, Buck made his way down the mountain. Sweat poured down his face with his efforts, rivulets of the stuff crept into the collar of his undershirt. Pausing for breath every few feet, he talked himself into going on by thinking of Annika. She would be worried now that darkness had fallen, afraid that something might have happened to him.

If he could have smiled, he would have, knowing how angry she would be when he arrived late. He knew she would fuss and carry on about his wound; it would only add to her argument that he should take Baby and move down into Cheyenne.

He stumbled over a rock in his path, forgot for a second to favor his leg, and growled with the pain that hit him when he put his weight on it. Panting, he leaned heavily on his rifle and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

A doctor. Ha.

She wanted him to be a doctor. Wait until she saw his leg. It would take all his skill to close this wound properly, not to mention all his luck, for infection was sure to set in. He wondered if he could sew up his own leg. He couldn’t quite picture Annika pulling the lips of the wound together and then piercing his skin with a needle. But he hoped she wouldn’t be so mad at him that she would refuse to sit at his bedside and hold his hand.

He guessed it had taken two hours to reach the valley floor, two hours of stumbling, halting, and cursing. At a shallow point in the stream he lowered himself to the ground and cupped his hands for a drink. He splashed water over his face and neck, noting that his temperature had risen and he’d stopped sweating, even though each step was an effort. Fever would be upon him with a vengeance soon.

Thankful for the full moon, he began to pass the more familiar landmarks that meant the cabin was just around the next bend in the creek. By the time he could make out the shape of the wooden structure, he was shaking from chills. The pain in his leg had receded to a dull throbbing ache that was as much a part of him now as breathing. His left foot was nearly numb.

As he paused for what he hoped was the last time before he reached the cabin, he noticed there was no welcome light streaming from the windows. Annika had already gone to bed.

So much for her worrying long into the night, he thought, as he started limping forward. He told himself he should be thankful that she had gained enough confidence in him not to worry. How was she to know that the one night she had gone about her business and hadn’t waited up for him that he was barely able to make it back?

The cabin reminded him of a tiny matchstick box in the moonlight. He was close enough now to make out the door and the tree stump he used as a chopping block in the yard. Squinting, he searched for the door, then shook his head and wiped his eyes again. They had to be playing tricks on him. From where he stood it looked like a black void in the front wall of the cabin. It would only appear that way if it had been left wide open.

He called Annika’s name but there was no response.

Frowning from more than pain, he tried to hurry and cursed the leg that held him back. By the time he reached the well-traveled path that led to the yard, he was huffing and puffing. Hobbling along, he felt his makeshift crutch cut into his side. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. The fire had gone out.
Why?

“Annika!” He bellowed her name, weaving on his feet.

There was no answer.

His horse ambled around to the front of the house, anxious for a handout. It was still saddled.

“Annika! Baby!” Barely able to stand, he reached the yard and stumbled toward the open door. “Annika, damn it, where are you?” He shouted into the void.

“Annikaaaa!” The hollow sound reverberated off the mountainside and echoed around him.

Arms wide, he grasped both sides of the doorway for support and called her name one last time as pain greater than any physical wound assailed him.

There was no answer.

He was welcomed by nothing more than the cold darkness of the empty cabin.

   19   

T
HE
ride from Busted Heel out to Buffalo Mountain Ranch had not taken as long as she had expected. Annika sat in the buggy with Buttons asleep on her lap. She studied the wide-open landscape and the two-story house that reigned over the empty plains like a grand monarch of all it surveyed. The rolling land around the ranch house and outbuildings was dotted here and there with new spring grass and an occasional tree bent by wind and time. As she watched the grass blow in the wind, she wondered how the tender shoots withstood the onslaught that blew her tangled hair into her face.

Zach Elliot had met her train in Busted Heel. The last time she had seen him she had been seven years old, but even time had not dimmed her memory of him. There was no mistaking the grizzled white hair beneath the floppy-brimmed leather hat, the scar down the side of his face, or the chaw of tobacco under his lip. He’d given her a big hug when she stepped onto the platform in Busted Heel, glanced once or twice at Buttons, but hadn’t asked a thing about her kidnapping. She guessed he was leaving the interrogation to Kase.

As they pulled up behind the house, he pointed to the back door and suggested, “Why don’t you go on up? I’ll ride out to the far corral and fetch your brother. Rosie’ll be anxious to see you.”

As if on cue, Rose Storm opened the back door and stepped out onto the wide veranda that wrapped around the entire house. As the buggy drew closer to the steps, Rose recognized Annika. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and then waved and was soon off the porch with more speed than Annika thought would have been possible, given the diminutive woman’s heavily pregnant state.

Smiling, even as tears slipped down her cheeks, Rose stood beside the buggy while Zach climbed down with Annika’s valise in one hand. He reached up for Buttons and held the sleeping child while she climbed down. Rose’s questioning gaze briefly touched on the child, but like Zach, she didn’t ask about Baby. Instead, she prompted Annika, “Come, we go into the house and wait for Kase. You will get him, no, Zach?”

“No. I mean yes, ma’am.” He turned to Annika and said, “Sometimes when she starts talkin’ at me in that Eyetalian-English, I get a little mixed up.” He turned back to Rose. “Kase out by the far corral, ma’am?”

“Sí.
Yes. With the buffalo, as always. He will be so happy, so relieved.” She shook her head as she put her hand on her sister-in-law’s arm. “Come, Annika.” Rose ushered her up the steps. “Come, we will sit and you will tell me how you are.”

Dead tired,
Annika wanted to say.
Worried about Buck.
Wondering when he’ll get here and how my hotheaded brother will react. But instead she said nothing as she followed Rose into the kitchen and wearily let her hostess pull out a chair at the table for her. Her sister-in-law made her feel like a mess. Rose was neatly dressed in a navy serge gown with a crisp white apron tied about her expansive waistline. Her hair was wound in a coronet of braids about her head in much the same way Analisa often wore her hair. There was something similar about the two women that Annika had noticed the first time she’d met Rose. Perhaps, she thought, it was the fact that they were both originally from Europe.

Rose clasped her hands over her swollen abdomen. “Sit down, sit down, Annika, and have something to eat.”

“Not right now, thank you, Rose. I’m really not hungry.” Annika watched the heavily pregnant little brunette open the tin-fronted pie safe and take out a plate of cookies. Coffee was already simmering on the stove, adding to the heady, homey scent of cinnamon, warm bread, and basil. As if she were a stranger in a strange land, Annika stared around the tidy kitchen, took in the eyelet curtains at the windows and the hooked rug on the glossy yellow wood floor. A collection of teapots and rose-patterned cups and saucers lined the open shelves. Everything was in its place, and yet there was an immediate sense of comfortableness, as if anyone was welcome to help himself to anything in the place.

“Do you want to put the
bambino,
to bed?” Rose stood in front of Annika, the plate of cookies forgotten as she stared down at the child who had fallen asleep with her head on Annika’s shoulder.

Annika shifted the sleeping child on her shoulder. “That’s all right—she’s not heavy. I’m getting used to holding her.” Surprised at her own response, Annika realized she was not just making conversation. It was true. Buttons was no burden.

And as long as she held the child, she felt close to Buck.

Rose was staring hungrily at the little girl. Annika smiled up at the dark-eyed Italian. “Would you like to hold her when she wakes up?”

Rose nodded.
“Che bella chicca.”
She reached out to pat Baby’s back. “Beautiful little girl. Whose baby is this?”

Annika took a deep breath and tried to smile. “She belongs to the man who took me off the train. Her name is Baby, but she likes to be called Buttons now.”

Knowing how much Rose and Kase wanted children, and how many infants they had already lost, Annika knew without a doubt that her sister-in-law would keep Buttons without hesitation. Kase, however, was another matter.

She immediately put the thought out of her mind. After all, Buck would arrive soon, maybe even this afternoon, looking for them. He would come for Baby and he would come for her, and when he did she would have to decide what she was going to do.