Rocky Mountain Widow (Historical) (15 page)

She knew there was no possibility of him coming courting. So what did it hurt to allow this moment of closeness?

Nothing. Or at least that's what she told herself. The strong shield of his chest protected her from the bite of the wind. He kept her balanced when the snow beneath her gave way. He held her close as if she were the only thing in the whole world that mattered to him. His attention, his protection, his concern. He was simply being a gentleman, doing nothing more for her than he probably did for the women in his family.

But to her, it meant everything. Never had anyone ever treated her with real care. It would be so simple to lean against his chest, close her eyes and hope his arms would hold her sheltered there forever. To listen to his heartbeat and hear an echo of it in her own.

You read too many dime novels, Claire.
Love—and
men—weren't like that. But she didn't care. He held an icy cedar branch to keep it from slapping her in the face.

Her pulse was racing, her hope an eager curl of a sprout trying to grow up out of the frozen earth—it could not survive. She knew that. And still she held tightly to Joshua's hand, and it was as if his blood rushed through her veins.

I want him so much.
Her heart broke with it the same moment his hand left hers. She'd been so focused inward she hadn't realized they were at the crest of the slope. He moved away and she felt a yank in her very essence, as if more than a wish tethered her heart to his. And it was no thin thread but a tie more substantial and helpless.
It's only a wish you're feeling, Claire. This isn't real.

Even if she wanted it to be. Which she didn't, right?

To her amazement the ground shadows moved. There, stretched out in the dense darkness beneath the lowest branches emerged a shade of a man. Barely visible, as was the rifle he held as he came up on his elbows to whisper with Joshua. Liam. She recognized the harsh, unforgiving cut of his iron face, the same profile as Joshua's. The two men disappeared before her eyes, blending into the shadows, a part of the darkness.

Then Joshua's low baritone, a tone lower than the night wind, spoke near her ear. “Come stretch out on your stomach and see.”

“On the snow?”

“Trust me.” His grip settled on her elbow, drawing her down, drawing her forward, and she was surprised
when she knelt onto not snow but something else. A tarp? No, an oiled tarp, she judged by the slight rustling. She was careful not to knock askew her snowshoes.

Trust him? She should never trust any man, especially not one that made common sense fly right out of her head. And yet, all she could do was feel as he stayed at her side. They shuffled beneath the heavy thick boughs of the old cedars until the rise of the earth gave way to night sky and the faint purple-black glow of snow everywhere falling. From the inky roll of the sky to the upraised arms of a mountainside of trees to the small valley tucked below.

“They got a lookout down there in the cabin.” Joshua's words brushed her temple. “In case of predators.”

Her vision had become accustomed to the dark and she could make out lines of the snow-covered soddy where a single stovepipe rose up to puff smoke. And a window, reflecting the night snow, gleamed darkly. She shivered, knowing an armed man was behind those panes of glass. “Where are the horses?”

“Jordan's lured them up just under the ridge,” Liam answered, his low voice like steel. “He's got the rails loose and ready, and James is covering the cabin. He'll give us a sign.”

Joshua stretched out prone beside her, his bulk pressing against her entire side. Although he was absorbed in studying the valley below and conferring with his brother, the memory of their closeness lingered within her. Her blood tingled in her veins.

When she should have felt half-frozen, she felt alive and invigorated. And why? The way he'd held her, the
way her soul had seemed to sigh, had been a moment in time. Not real. Not lasting.

Joshua cupped his hands over his mouth and lifted his face to the downfall. He sent the eerie call of a coyote into the night. His shoulder pressed into hers, or did she imagine the increase of pressure? Thousands of snowflakes tapped on the outstretched cedar branches and on the earth, on the cabin below where the windowpanes remained midnight-black.

Time passed as neither man beside her moved. The snow made a sort of peaceful music in the night; the patter and fall of melody and harmony and finally an answering call wailed through the night.

“James's signal,” Joshua explained as he slid his rifle to the crest of the hill and sited the cabin below. “Jordan's at the fence. Can you crawl up there, do you see him?”

She squinted into the darkness where the cedar grove crowded through the fence lines and filed downhill. Although she knew the youngest Gable brother was there, she couldn't distinguish him in the darkness. She trusted Joshua to nudge her in the right direction. In the inky darkness she could just make out the steady reassurance of his gaze. She could feel what he did not say. Feel the words of reassurance.
Trust me.
She did, heaven help her.
Don't think about the men down there in that cabin with their guns.
Or how angry horse thieves would be to discover they were victims of the same crime they favored. She knew Joshua and his brothers could handle the repercussions. She ignored the sting of snow crumbling inside the lining of her boots as she inched through the darkness.

The lattice of limbs, needles and snow framed a wedge of the valley below and she saw them. The small herd of horses huddled together for warmth in the lee of the grove. Thor! That had to be his wide dark back, standing as he always did with his hind leg cocked, taking the brunt of the winter's wind for his smaller brother. Loki's haunches looked bony.

“We can get 'em to come closer. Watch.” Jordan's words were followed by the rustle of a burlap sack and the sweet molasses scent of expensive grain lifted into the air.

The wind did the work, wafting the aroma of the sweet food to the horses. Thor's nose came up and his nostrils flared. The snow glossed on his coat, making it seem as if he were both fiction and fantasy as the silver-mantled creature appeared to fly up the hill.

Beside her, Jordan hefted apart the rails. He must have sawed through them early and bound them with wire, she guessed, for the sturdy wood gave way silently. “They'll come to your voice?”

“Yes.” With the knowledge that the Gable brothers were keeping careful watch, their guns loaded and ready, she leaned through the icy cedar limbs and whispered her horses' names.

W
hy did Claire's every move affect him like water over rapids? Joshua's focus didn't stray from the possible danger of Logan's gang noticing they were down two horses. The rifle he held was steady and sure, and he had no problem taking the horses.

What he hated was that she was exposed, as hidden as she was in the thicket. He couldn't hear her voice, but he could feel the music of her words, the low timbre of expectation as she let the wind snatch away her whisper. They waited as the big gelding forged past the grain Jordan had flung into the corral.

An owl's
who? who?
sifted upward from the rim of the fence line below. James's call. There was movement in the cabin. Joshua's senses went on alert. The rifle he held cocked and aimed on the void eyes of the windows did not waver. His vision, well adjusted to the night, sought out any shift of shadow within the soddy. James had been watching since sundown. Rick Hamilton had been hunkered down to a nap in the back for a good hour.

Maybe the horses' movements had alerted him, or maybe they'd just gotten damned lucky and the cuss was up to take a leak. Since it was too cold to tromp outside to use the outhouse, Joshua was betting they were safe.

But with Claire here, he wasn't taking any chances. He bellied up a little farther on the ridge so he had first shot if there was trouble.

Sure enough, the horses came to her just like he figured. The big one first, snuffling past the grain to approach his mistress. Jordan snapped a lead on the gelding's halter, pulled him aside with a snap of branches and the raining down of snow from the limbs. Joshua's attention was focused solely on the cabin. That snap of wood was muffled, but enough that if Rick wanted to investigate, Joshua would be ready.

It was a hell of a disappointment that no one challenged them. Joshua would have derived a hell of a lot of satisfaction to have a good reason to shoot that bastard. Although he'd had no further trouble directly with either of the Hamilton brothers, that didn't mean there would be peace between them. Or between them and Claire. Especially since they thought he had killed Ham.

“Got 'em.” Liam's terse tone held a surprising note of amusement. “It may be best if you ride home with the widow.”

Did Liam expect him to jump at the chance? Already his brothers had the wrong idea. It wasn't like him not to argue about it. He wanted to say this wasn't the time or place to set Liam straight, but the truth was that he'd be lying. He wasn't about to trust anyone to accompany Claire home.

Not only did he not trust his brothers—and yet who else did he trust more?—but a glaze of red streaked across his eyes as he thought of any man—even his brothers—alone with his woman.

That's how he thought of her as she came into his arms. He didn't know how it happened, he was simply crawling down from the crest and straightening to his full height in the shadows and there she was, a welcome woman's press of heat and fragrance against his side, her arms snaking around his ribs and squeezing tight.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much.”

She pulled her muffler down, exposing her creamy skin to the harsh cold and her mouth discovered his, inexorably, the way the snow found the earth, the way the wind encountered the air. And there was no frigid night or danger just down the ridge as the world, and his brothers along with it, faded away into the night.

There was only Claire in his arms, only the spiced heat of her velvety kiss, only the thrill of his pulse cannoning through his veins. Common sense fled right along with it, leaving only feeling.

He had absolute certainty that he would do anything for this woman. Anything. Die for her. Kill to protect her. Sacrifice everything for her happiness. Pure feeling—not one thing was rational about that—but it was as certain and steadfast as the mountains he stood on.

As long as she didn't know how he felt, maybe that would save him. Or so a man could hope. It was with a ripping sensation that she broke away from his side, and he had to look down to make sure everything was the
same. That he was the same. He felt the tug like a rope noosed around his innermost heart, drawing tighter with each step she took.

He stood on the deputy sheriff's land, one of three law officers in the whole of Bluebonnet County, so this was no safe plan. But Joshua didn't feel a lick of fear as he moved away. No, he refused to be afraid of men like Logan and the Hamilton brothers. Determined, calm, he caught the lead ropes Jordan had supplied and instructed Claire to start moving.

Careful but quick, because there was no telling, despite Liam's and James's sharp eagle eyes, that they wouldn't be surprised in these dense woods by the Hamilton band. In these obscure lands horses weren't the only rustled animals.

Now he knew why Ham had taken to terrorizing the sheep on the grassland Joshua leased from the government. Because the swatch of land lay between Ham's southernmost property line, Logan's high-country spread and the livestock trail that wound south to Great Falls and the auction. A route few folks would ever use. And the western edge of the Gable family land—the original homestead Gran had claimed with her husband—nestled close to that trail, the old road south through the rugged Bear Paw Range. And that meant…

He didn't know what that meant. His thoughts stopped like a runaway train derailing and crashed into a thousand pieces. His mind no longer worked.

He could long stare at the silhouette Claire made in the thicket below, where the saddle horses waited pa
tiently. He was suddenly beside her, although he couldn't remember stealthing down the trail and kneeling down to offer her his upturned palms.

With the way her muffler hid her face, he didn't see her smile, but he felt the beauty of it shiver through him like a dream.

You are in so much trouble, man.
There was no denying it as his heart stalled when she placed her boot on his gloves. Within the span of a blink, she was in the saddle and reaching for the Clydesdales' leads.

“I'll handle it.” If there was trouble, he reasoned, there was no way she could hold them.

“They're my horses.” She held out her hand, chin jutting upward through the sheath of the muffler. “At least give me one lead. There's no way you can manage two, so hand it over. You've taken enough risks on my behalf tonight.”

“I'm not done yet.”

He tossed her one of the leads, hauling the larger gelding with him as he swung into General's saddle. He mounted up, secured the lead and carried his rifle at the ready. He heard no sign from his brothers, so he led the way along the downward slope where snow had filled the horses' tracks and made the surrounding trees and landscape change from when they'd arrived.

It was like a whole new world, pristine and full of promise.

He could tell by the way Claire kept turning in her saddle she wanted a good look at the horses. But he kept a fast pace, knowing his brothers watched his back for as long as they could keep him in their sight. But even
tually the twisting path took them behind other hillsides so he stayed alert.

The danger of meeting one of the Hamilton's gang on the road was high enough. If there hadn't been so much snowfall, he would have forged a path through the forest. But as it was, they'd be off the lonely trail through private property soon—sooner enough before they were spotted.

He wasn't going to fool himself. This was going to cause trouble with the deputy and the Hamiltons. As for Claire…this only added a new wrinkle to a real problem. How was he going to keep her safe? Especially if she was traipsing all around the county taking over Betsy's laundry service?

And what was it with women these days and their dang-blasted independence? Next they'd be demanding the right to vote, and think of the consequences. The end of democracy, surely. He liked demure women. Quiet and reasonable and sensible. Life was never that easy, was it? Claire was quiet and demure. And she was just as stubborn and determined as any other woman he'd ever known.

He squinted through the snow on his lashes at the woman shrouded in platinum and shadows, and there went his heart again, falling, as if it had leaped right out of his chest and tumbled straight down a cliff.

What was it about her, he wondered, aside from the fact that she was strong as a willow—she bent but she didn't break. And despite the hardships in her life, she hadn't grown hard or cruel. Not that she was soft, either. He remembered how close she'd been to dying in a storm more deadly than this. She was no wilting bloom.

So why couldn't he at least fall in love with a biddable woman? Was it too much to ask? Even as he thought it, he knew he would never want any other woman.

Just Claire.

As long as he could keep that fact to himself, he ought to be safe enough. But more than his emotional safety was at risk. The back of his neck began to creep and crawl and he could sense the danger like the snow tapping across his face.

“Go!” He slapped Stormy's flank. As the mare leaped forward, Claire looked back at him with surprise in her wide eyes.

We've got company. Get outta here.
He willed the thought toward her.

And as if she felt his words, she nodded, turning away. The last he saw of her was the storm and night stealing her away, as she leaned forward in the saddle for an all-out gallop. He was on her heels, but not fast enough. He caught the faint low tenor first, the words broken apart on the wind.

The dark haze of snow separated like a curtain and there was Reed Hamilton, riding with the deputy at his side, not five yards from the point where the main county road met the path.

Joshua turned General hard and prayed the web of storm would hide him from their sight. Since he couldn't be sure, he circled his gelding around, backing her and the Clydesdale down the road as he held the gun steady, finger trigger-itchy.

Come this way, he silently challenged them. But the night must have hid him from their sight.

The band of men, not just two riders, but closer to half a dozen, rode with their heads bowed against the storm, and disappeared south. Maybe too drunk to notice the tracks heading out.

Joshua stayed ready and alert for a long time, long enough to be sure, before he hurried to catch up with Claire. The unseen string binding their hearts yanking him like a yo-yo until he was at her side.

When her eyes smiled at him from above her muffler, that string gave a harder jerk, a noose around his heart. Holding him captive, and he didn't mind, as he rode at her side the rest of the way to her home. At her side, one of the nicest places he'd ever been.

And he knew why a man didn't mind falling so much.

 

Overhead moonlight wrestled with the thinning clouds to twist and writhe between the veils of thinly falling snow. Claire wished she could feel her fingers enough to cross them for luck. The storm was breaking, as if the mountains were great giants ripping apart the thick mantle of clouds and tossing them down.

Snow bled and spurted, and then there was silence. All around her the black velvet sky peered through the dying clouds, stars as white as the snow blinking awake. This wild and rugged land was all hers. It wasn't pride that filled her; it was contentment. Peace. Knowing she was finally safe. That she was in control of her destiny.

And that she would never need to live so desperately or be hurt like that again.

As the snow evaporated, it was as if the earth sighed. The moon beamed bright through the last grasping fin
gers of haze to polish the reverent prairie. Snow shone like a dark opal for miles in every direction, from the long wide infinity of the plains to the rim of the horizon and up the enormous slopes of the mountains, their stone faces hidden by snow and burnished with stardust.

A whisper of an updraft, more like an angel's touch than a breeze, skipped across her like a kiss. Like a promise of good things to come.

And this man beside her? It seemed as if he were a part of those good things, too. As a friend, she decided as she led the way up the sloping hill that would take her home.

As if Joshua felt it, too, he reined his gelding a few inches closer, so that they rode side by side. His presence wasn't stifling; his closeness was companionable. Right. As if he belonged here at her side, and not in his shadow, but as his friend.

Not that what was beating to life within her was friendly at all. Romantic and desiring, yes, but she couldn't hold it back. Too powerful, too irrepressible, it rose like a bubble within her, expanding until it moved through her with a pop and seemed to keep right on going.

“You've gotta be frozen clear through.” Joshua dismounted at the top of the hill. “Hand me over the horses and I'll put 'em up. You go in and get warm.”

“You are always this bossy, aren't you?”

“Bossy? You stand to be corrected, pretty lady. I'm a take-charge sort of man. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Sure, if you're the one giving the orders.”

“It's where I prefer to be.”

His grin was a charming one. What man couldn't be
charming when he put his mind to it? Framed in starlight and the rugged background of the mountains so tall, she had to tip her head back to see their capped faces.

“Go on. Wait—let me come in with you first. Stir up the coals for you. Get a fire roaring so you can thaw out. Then I'll see to the horses,” Joshua said.

“The trouble is, they're my horses. This is my land.” She loved watching the confusion dawn on his rugged face. On the quirk of one brow as he tried to figure out if he'd heard her correctly.

Her willfulness was fun, it was freeing. It was endlessly right as she dismounted, quickly and competently enough that he didn't have time to help her down. “Do you want to go into the house and warm up? I'll be in after a while. Make yourself at home.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” He looked as if he were trying not to laugh. “Give me back the reins.”