Dark Warrior: Kid (Dark Cloth Series Book 2) (2 page)

Dreams of Wedding Bells

There would be no wedding-dress today, either.
Kat nudged a clump of dried mud with the toe of her shoe. She wanted to kick it—but couldn’t with these stupid shoes on. She stared down at herself. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that the universe conspired against her—to sabotage all her attempts at getting married.

She glanced down at where the mud stained her dainty shoes.

She still couldn’t get over the fact that she’d worn these shoes. That Mandy and Meg had succeeded in talking her into putting them on—more-or-less talked her into wearing them. And not just any shoes, but tiny, fancy dress shoes—when she should be wearing
boots
.

This whole affair of trying to get married made her feel as though she were a fraud. Mandy and Meg actually had her wearing lady’s shoes—and dressing in fancy dresses.

Well, they weren’t all that fancy—if you compared them to those fine city girls that sometimes arrived on the train but, to Kat, any dress spelled fancy.

In spite of all of her efforts to become a good wife, the things that would
turn her into a good wife
, she’d failed at becoming girly. Kat had been trained as a warrior. Fighting had been all she’d ever known. She’d helped Mandy fight McCandle, as the gun-shooting, knife wheeling—fighter she’d become.

Now look at her.

Kat glowered down at her dress, then scowled. Even though that range war had been over for several months, all the proper speaking and dressing in the world hadn’t changed the fact that Kid and Kat hadn’t succeeded in getting married. That they still hadn’t found their way around all these delays that seemed to always get in their way.

Kat had been with Mandy, living on her ranch, then Jake and Kid’s, since she’d come to Cheyenne, intent on killing McCandle for killing her people. Once she’d figured out that Mandy wanted the same thing she did, to take McCandle down, she’d been only too happy to join up with her hands, to help.

And they’d done just that—even if McCandle had given them hell for the doing.

Yet, that had been several months ago, and ever since then, Kat and Kid had failed to get married.

First, there were the deadlines for taking the horses and cattle to the tribes, hiding and starving in Canada. And then, she and Kid had followed Mandy and Hawk up North to help White Wolf, another friend of Mandy’s, with a Captain at a fort who’d chased him for taking his daughter.

Why, Kat wouldn’t be surprised if something else presented itself—any minute now—to derail her marriage plans.

Wasn’t that what her dreams had been warning her about lately? Wasn’t that what they kept trying to tell her was exactly about to happen, again, ever since that attempt on her life?

She really didn’t want to think about that.

Kat had pretty much figured out that fate seemed determined to have its way with her wedding—but fate had dealt her a low blow with whoever had taken that shot at her the other day, while she’d been riding to town. The only reason they’d missed was because Kid had noticed the glint off the gun-barrel—and yelled at her to duck, just in time.

Kat stepped up onto the boarded walk, to get out of the direct sun, from where she stood waiting for Mandy on one of the side-streets of Cheyenne. The sun blazed down on the mud, quickly drying it into the clumps that Kat had been kicking around.

These confounded dresses were a lot warmer than her leathers, she thought.

She glared at the door of the store that Mandy had disappeared into. She knew she’d be in there, talking to Meg about ordering her a dress, with Cord.

Cord ran the mercantile, and Kat had to wonder if he’d been able to work up the courage to talk Meg into marrying him. She nearly smiled. He shouldn’t be trying to solve her and Kid’s union—when he couldn’t figure out his own.

Cord and Meg were always quarreling. Anyone could see they were in love—anyone but the two doing the actual arguing.

Kat scowled at the door to the mercantile, caught up, suddenly, with thinking about love.

She loved Kid. She knew she did. And that fact would be her undoing. She knew trouble followed her wherever she went. She had no doubt about that. She’d seen it come to pass, often enough. And not just because Mandy had her wearing dresses—or these confounded, fancy little shoes.

She still didn’t know how she should feel about all their efforts at trying to get her married. Each failed attempt only proved that it shouldn’t happen at all. Still, she felt even more determined than ever not to let anything get in her way. Not after they’d worked so hard to help her get there. After all, she wanted more than anything to marry Kid, right?

She loved him.

No, Kat thought, still watching for Mandy. She knew love wasn’t the problem. She’d just had a lot bothering her lately. Who wouldn’t? What, with everything that had gone wrong.

Still, they’d made several attempts at getting married—all of which wound up delayed. And somewhere along the line, Kat realized—she secretly feared the marriage itself. Well, maybe not the marriage—but she definitely feared the wedding—the dresses—the measurements—and all the girly stuff that went with it.

Kat reached down off the boarded walk, with the toe of her fancy shoe, and kicked another clump of mud in her irritation.

She knew how to herd cattle. She knew how to fight. But she didn’t have the faintest clue
how to look for a wedding-dress. What did that mean anyway? Was she supposed to stand there and let that woman measure her—the way she’d measured Mandy?

She couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when something caused another delay. She just hadn’t revealed that fact to Mandy.

How could she?

Kat glanced at the door again, waiting for Mandy to come out.

Mandy had worked hard to make this come about for several months, even when that low down, no account, McCandle tried to kill Hawk—and force Mandy to marry him, even when they learned Hawk was McCandle’s long-lost, and hated, brother, and even when he tried to kill Mandy, for marrying Hawk.

And still, her friend hadn’t missed a beat in trying to work this out for Kat. But first, Kat had put it off, while Mandy grew large with her new son, not wanting their wedding to overshadow the birth of their first child. And then, it had been time to take that first herd of cattle up north to the starving Native tribes.

Kat frowned, looking away, down the streets of Cheyenne.

She hadn’t been able to think about a getting married, while they went without food in their belly.

But, lately, it seemed as though every little thing had caused another postponement, and Kat couldn’t help but think—maybe some things just weren’t meant to be.

How could something that felt so right—be wrong?

She’d loved Kid, from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. And he’d been perfect for her—even when she’d thrown all of Mandy’s dishes at him for making her mad.

Flushing, Kat looked down at her dress.

No one had ever stirred up such
feeling
in her before.

She’d been too busy fighting men, to think of loving one—or trying to live with one.

In the end, it hadn’t taken her long to realize that she’d fallen head over heels for Kid. She’d realized that, not long after meeting him, right after Mandy had hired her as a hand on the Northern Rose. And Mandy had done so, right after finding her trying to skin McCandle with her six-inch hunting knife.

Mandy understood her hate. She’d shared it.

McCandle had killed her father, and she’d plenty of reasons for wanting to see him dead herself—but she promised Kat they’d take him out, without ending up on the wrong end of a rope themselves.

Kat stared at the door to the mercantile, remembering how Mandy had been true to her word. They had, indeed, taken him down, ruining him in the process. And when he’d come after her in a rage, and kidnapped her, they’d had to kill him alright—but in self-defense.

After that, Kat had thought she’d get to live happily ever after on their new ranch, the one Hawk had been only too happy to hand over to Jake and Kid, as soon as he’d learned he’d inherited it. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with his father’s ranch. And Jake and Kid had promised horses and cattle for the Native American tribes, in return for taking over his land.

Born full-blooded Cheyenne, Kid wouldn’t have done anything else. But he’d spent so much time in the White-man’s fort, he’d often dressed like a White-man—as deadly with the White-man’s pistol as any well-known gunman.

Kat smiled, thinking about this side of Kid. Being a gunman, and dressing in the clothes of the White Eyes, didn’t stop him from reverting completely to his true nature, whenever he needed to commune with the Great Spirit, or whenever he needed to become one with Mother Earth.

Kat loved that about him. She had the same needs—so she understood.

He didn’t stop her anytime she needed to take off to be alone for a couple of nights. But even Kid would ask questions if she tried to disappear for several weeks.

She’d no idea why that had become a concern, of late. She’d no intentions of ever leaving Kid. Yet, lately, the thought persisted to bother her. And Mandy had been so diligent in trying to help her plan—but something somehow always interrupted getting that dress.

Kat looked down at her fancy little shoes.

How could they plan a wedding—if they couldn’t manage to buy the dress?

She stared down at the dress she wore, taking the last few steps back toward Cord’s Mercantile. Deep in her thoughts, she looked up to find her friend smiling, as she opened the door to the shop and stepped outside. A feeling of dread washed through Kat—but not from what she’d find inside.

Her gaze had traveled past Mandy’s shoulder, and her hand dropped down to where her colt should have sat, in her gun-belt on her hip. But of course—it wasn’t there.

Mandy didn’t miss the gesture, and quickly swung around to see who had stirred her friend to want to draw her gun. Kat lunged forward, grabbing her arm and shoving her back inside the store—slamming the door behind them. She lifted the curtain on the window in the door, peering outside.

“What the devil was that all about?” Mandy hissed, just above a whisper.

Kat spared her a glance—only to find her ruffled up like a hen. “Just a hunch,” she said.

She didn’t need to look, to know that Mandy had lifted one fine, dark eyebrow in question. And she didn’t have to wait, to hear what she thought of that answer.

“I see,” she said. “So you practically threw me through the door, over a hunch.” She stepped close to Kat. “Well, now,” she pressed her face close to Kat’s, to peer out the window, “let’s see what this hunch looks like....” She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh—my.”

“Yep,” Kat said.

“Hmmm,” Mandy said. “Hawk’s not going to like this one bit....” She angled her body against the door-frame for a better view. “Neither is Jake—or for that matter, Kid. Speaking of which....”

Kat didn’t have to nod. They both eyed the gunman standing against the post outside, staring the door.

He didn’t move. He knew they watched him.

But he no longer had all of their attention, as they now watched the catlike Kid, blending like a shadow and fast advancing on the gunman.

The gunman sensed him too, as a stillness washed over him. And then he, too, blended into the shadows at the side of the tall mercantile, disappearing between the buildings.

Both women knew Kid would follow him, even while they each hoped he wouldn’t—their shopping expedition, the furthest thing from their minds. Getting to their horses, and getting out of town, now took priority.

With a glance at her friend, and a nod, they made haste in slipping out the back of the shop toward the stables.

Kid caught up with them about a mile from the ranch. Riding up close to Kat, he lifted her easily from the saddle, setting her down in front of him. Once there, he sank his hand deep into her wheat colored curls and tipped her head back, nipping her creamy white throat before tilting her head to expose her mouth to his kiss.

Mandy’s groan broke them apart. She laughed. “Don’t mind me. You two just make me want to get on home to Hawk.” She smiled openly at them. “But then, it’s always been steamy between you two—even when you’re fighting.” That seemed to remind her. “As my dishes can surely attest to.”

Kid laughed when Kat flushed at the memory, setting her back on her little war pony. Or at least that is what he liked to call the little stallion, a dark red paint, just over fifteen hands high. The pony, well trained, stood steadily, receiving her weight.

Only then did Kat acknowledge her earlier worry, when they’d left him to deal with the gunman. Her gaze traveled over him in a way that had her friend smiling, and she quickly reined herself in, glowering at Mandy.

Kid grinned. “Worried?”

Kat swallowed her groan. “No,” she denied.

Kid’s grin widened. “Sure you weren’t,” he said, then sobered. “But I see you didn’t miss our visitor.”

Kat glowered openly at him. “What were you doing in town, anyway?”