Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) (15 page)

Red couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Sometimes
she couldn't interpret his motives.

"We'd be grateful if you could send a message to the
officials in charge and let them know our status. But I think I speak for the
entire group when I say the message we most desire to send out is to our
families. We're planning to head north to the camps in the Dakotas. If they
receive the message, hopefully they can find us there."

Cowboy nodded. "Understandable. Go on with your names.
I'll make sure the message gets out, but can't guarantee it'll be received.
It's a long shot."

"A long shot is better than no shot at all." The
man paused before offering up their names.

Red continued to watch Cowboy, who leaned on his rifle in
silence.

"Cooper Randolf, Brigham Waldron, Hank Rodgers, Mark
Hunter, Davis Story, Owen Wallace, and John Gatherum."

Red's hands began to shake. She recognized two of the seven
names given.

One—the man who'd nearly killed her.

The other—her brother.

Trace took one look at Red and braced himself.

John Gatherum. Damn. Not good.

She teetered from side to side, fidgeting with her hands and
glancing from one set of gates to the other. She was planning something, all
right.

Just as he feared, she bolted for the east gates.

Damn it
. Trace grabbed the sides of the ladder and
slid down the rails without using a single rung. He caught up with her and
clasped a firm hand over her mouth before she uttered any words. He risked
getting bitten again, but hoped she'd stick to their compromise
. Stick to
the slap.

"Pull in your horns!" He pulled her wriggling body
close to him and tightened his grip. "You're gonna get us all
killed!"

She tossed her head back and arched her body in an effort to
weaken his grip, but Trace anticipated her movements. She might've proved more
of a challenge if she were healthy, but in her weakened state, she was
completely harmless.

"You're hurting her!" Rivers cried. She tried to
pull free from Caroline to come to Red's aid, but Caroline held her back.

"I'm doing this for her own good." That was all
Trace offered by way of an explanation. "You have to trust me. All of you.
Caroline, Wen, you two take Rivers and fill some burlap bags with
supplies." He moved backward as he gave orders, dragging a defiant Red
along with him. "Don't give them too much. Just enough. Then send them on
their way."

Red continued to put up a fight, bucking and twisting, but
he managed to carry her to her room. He deposited her on the bed with an
unforgiving thud, but she sprung from the mattress like a cat in a water
barrel. Trace grabbed her around the waist, threw her on the bed, and pinned
her down with the length of his body. Her eyes bore into him.

"Shush." He whispered into her ear. "Settle
down. This ain't the time to go out there shooting your guns. You're sick.
You're weak. Think of Rivers and what it might do to her, to all of us."

She continued to wriggle under his weight.

He focused on her angry green eyes, trying to get through to
her. "Come on, Red, if you kill John Gatherum with all his men watching,
we'll have a mini war on our hands."

She shook her head and tried to force his hand from her
mouth, but Trace refused to let go. He'd do what he must to ensure everyone's
safety, including hers.

"I know you want to kill him. I get that. Hell, when I
heard his name, I just about shot him myself. But Red, this ain't the time.
We're in this together—you, me, Wen, Caroline, the kids, Ira. Even the smelly
dog. We're a family here." He stared at her with a solemn expression and
swallowed hard. "You guys are pretty much the only family I've ever known
and... I don't want to lose any of you."

Red settled down some, but Trace didn't trust her enough to
remove his hand. The door was closed and the walls were thick, but who knew how
far her voice would carry.

"Do ya understand what I'm saying?"

She blinked her eyes and mumbled something under his hand.
He took that as a yes.

"I need you"—he paused, his eyes tracking
hers—"to trust me."

Red stopped struggling and her body relaxed beneath him. Her
chest rose against his and the heat from her body seeped through her clothes.
She appeared to have calmed down, and he could've removed his hands and let her
go, but he needed to tell her one more thing. Might not be the best time, but
it was the only time he had.

Trace leaned in close and took the biggest gamble of his
life. "I'm fallin' for ya. I'm fallin' real hard."

He kept his hand clamped tight over her mouth, not quite
ready for her response.

She blinked several times, watching him from behind her long
lashes. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and traveled the length of
her cheek, dripping onto his hand.

"I don't want to lose you." His own eyes began to
well, but he refused to let the tears fall. "I'm pleading with ya not to
go after him. Not yet. Stay here with me. With us."

As much as he would've liked to keep his hand over her mouth
forever to avoid the possibility of being crushed, there was only one way to
find out how she felt about him. He peeled his hand back from her mouth and
waited.

Wen barged through the door. "They're gone. It's safe
to—" He looked from one to the other before casting his gaze down at the
ground. "I guess I'm interrupting, aren't I?"

"Get off me!" Red wiggled and began to buck all
over again.

"Whoa! Wait till I leave." Wen started to shut the
door.

"It's not like that." Trace shot a glare at Wen
before turning his attention back to Red. "Knock it off, will ya! Settle down
and I'll let ya go."

She whipped her head on the pillow and looked at Wen.
"They're gone? Since when?"

He shrugged. "They went up over the ridge about
fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago."

"I need to borrow a horse."

Trace couldn't believe his ears. He'd risked everything and
told her how he felt, begging her to stay with him and give up the pursuit of a
crazy man who nearly killed her, but she wanted to go anyway. Her answer
couldn't have been clearer.

He climbed off of her and sat on the edge of the bed,
resting his forearms on his knees. "You can take mine."

Red gathered her skirts, scooted past him, and stood. She
walked over to Wen. "I need supplies—food, water, bedding, guns. I need
your help."

Wen cast his eyes to Trace in search of direction. Trace
only shrugged.

"But you're not well." Wen tried to protest.

"Doesn't matter. I don't have a choice—"

"That's not true." Trace stood and looked at her
for a moment. "You have a choice. You're just making the wrong one."

He pushed past her and walked out the door.

***

Trace adjusted the straps under the belly of his horse to
secure the saddle in place. He checked the saddlebags again—enough food to last
about a week, but after that, she'd be on her own. He tucked a few bills into
the pouch. If she was lucky enough to make it to a town, she'd need it. He had
his doubts, but no sense arguing with Red once she'd made up her mind.

He didn't plan to follow her, which she wouldn't want
anyway. Her pig-headedness would get her killed, and he didn't want to be
around when it did.

"It's all clear." Wen entered the stables with Red
following behind. "Nothing on the horizon except dust and a brewing
storm."

Trace noticed she'd given up the dress in favor of pants, a
shirt, and a man's coat that drowned her with its dropping shoulder seam. The
pants were also ill-fitting and tied about her waist with a bit of rope.

Wen's eyes expressed concern; his emotions were always close
to the surface.

Red had likely picked up on it as well, but chose to ignore
his fears. She ignored everyone.

"Here's another blanket." Caroline handed the
rolled wool bedding to Trace.

He took it and secured it behind the saddle with the other
one. Two blankets. With winter approaching, it wouldn't be enough. They all
knew that, but a horse could only carry so much.

"I don't want ya to go." Rivers threw her arms
around Red and hugged her.

Red winced with physical pain, though she must have suffered
emotional pain as well. He could see it in her eyes.

How does she plan to ride a horse for days on end if she can't
even handle a child's embrace?

"You need to find some sort of shelter by nightfall
tomorrow." Trace avoided her eyes and rechecked her supplies once more.
"Storm should be here by then. You don't want to be out in the open when
it hits."

With such little fat and muscle on her tiny frame, the
winter storm would freeze her solid in a manner of minutes. He couldn't think
about it, so instead he tugged on the saddle to make sure it sat firm on the
horse's back.

Red looped the reins over the horse's head, hooked it to the
horn, and then grabbed onto the horse's thick mane for leverage. When she
placed her foot in the stirrup to mount him, the horse neighed in protest and
shifted his legs around. It was hard enough to mount a horse set against it,
but add in Red's physical illness, and it became darn near impossible.

"Here, let me." Wen moved to help her, but Trace
shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't help her," Trace said. "If she's gonna
do this, she needs to get on the horse herself."

Red pressed her face against the horse's neck and tried to
calm him. She put her booted foot back in the stirrup and managed to pull
herself up halfway, straining to get into the saddle as the horse shifted his
weight and neighed his displeasure.

Trace hated watching her lose the battle, but he refused to
help—she wasn't the only stubborn person in the barn.

When her hands slipped, instinct kicked in and he caught her
in his arms. No matter how angry, he'd never let her hit the floor.

"Is revenge worth all this?" He continued to hold
her. "Is it? Come on, Red, don't do this."

"I'm not doing this because of John Gatherum." She
pushed herself up out of his arms and stood in front of him with tears running
down her cheeks. "I'm doing this for my brother."

Trace didn't know what to make out of that.
"What?"

"Davis Story." She choked on her words. "He's
in that group of men and he's my brother—
my brother
." The tears
fell faster. "He's alive and he's with that evil man. I have to
go"—she grabbed the horse's mane again—"I have to stop him."

The horse protested again—neighing, stomping, and shaking
his head.

"What's wrong with your horse?" she asked.

Trace wondered the same thing himself. He'd never seen him
act that way before, but he sure as hell didn't plan to stop him. The more
problems the horse caused, the better.

Davis Story
. It hadn't dawned on him that Red and
Davis Story could be related. He knew Red's name—he'd seen it on the wanted
poster—but it never even entered his mind.

Her third failed attempt to mount the horse nearly broke
Trace's heart, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Red, I'm sorry.
I didn't know."

She slumped against him and buried her head in his chest,
sobbing.

He placed his hand on the back of her head. "It's gonna
be okay.
He's
gonna be okay. We'll find him, we will. But you've got to
get healthy first. You're not gonna do him any favors going after him in this
condition. You'll likely get him killed, along with yourself."

Her red curls bounced with the movement of her head. Trace
couldn't believe it—she was actually
agreeing with him
. He held her a
little tighter as she pressed her hands against his back, clinging to him.

Don't let go,
he wanted to tell her, but he found
contentment in just holding her, grateful she'd finally come to her senses.
Watching her go would've been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

***

A fire crackled in the stone fireplace and cast the room in
an orange glow. Snow silently fell in cotton clumps outside the window. Trace
added another log to the fire and stirred the embers before slipping off his
clothes and climbing into bed. He shivered against the coolness of the blankets
and vowed to place a warming brick under the covers the next night to take away
the chill.

Red had decided to stay, not because she wanted to, but
because she
had
to. Trace knew someday, when she was well enough, she'd
leave. She'd go after her brother and save him. Everything else was just
temporary for her, unless he could find a way to convince her otherwise.

A soft knock at the door caused him to sit up, but before he
could call out, the knob turned and the door opened just enough to allow a
wispy figure to enter.

She quickly shut it behind her to keep out the cold, and
leaned back against the wooden wall. Downy crystals glistened in her hair,
catching the light of the fire before melting away. Tiny droplets fell from her
curls onto her thinly covered shoulders, and he caught sight of goose bumps
rippling across her skin.

He lifted the edge of his blankets for her, but she held up
her hand. They watched one another from positions on opposite sides of the
room.

"I'm falling for you, too." Red broke the
stillness that had settled over the room.

Trace pulled himself into a sitting position. She'd said
exactly what he wanted to hear, but something in her eyes and the way she held
herself kept Trace from going to her.

"I'm scared." She bit her lip and hugged herself.
"Loving you scares me."

Trace stood but didn't approach her. "Maybe we're
supposed to be scared. Maybe it's just a part of loving someone."

"I'm afraid of losing you, too."

Trace took a step toward her. "I'm afraid of the same
thing."

She reached up and pushed the damp curls out of her eyes,
her lip trembling. "So what do we do?"

Trace took another step toward her, close enough now to
touch her cheek, but he held back. "We hold onto each other for as long as
we can." He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she needed to be the one
to make the first move.

She blinked several times and then slowly released her
breath in a satisfied sigh. "Okay."

"
Okay?
" He moved closer.

She smiled and touched his face, sliding the tips of her
fingers along his jaw line. "Yeah," she said, her voice slightly
above a whisper.

That was all Trace needed to hear. He cupped her face in his
hands and drew her lips to his own. He kept the pressure on her tender lips
light, determined to take it slow. But when she slipped her cool hands up the
length of his arms and parted her lips, he pushed down on them, needing her
more than he needed air. She responded with a desire that matched his own,
welcoming his soft exploration. Trace could barely contain himself. He pulled
her against his chest and relished the sensation of her warm breath mixing with
his own. He wound his hands through her hair, still dripping from the snow, and
drew her even closer.