Winter Fire (22 page)

Rock exploded everywhere.

Conner whistled again. “That was really slick. Why don't you file off the sight and shorten the barrel of your own gun?”

“One out of three isn't good enough.”

“What?”

“Only one bullet hit the little rock. If I'd been up against three men, I'd be looking like a sieve right now.”

“Oh,” Conner said.

“See that chunk of wood on the next boulder to the right?”

The boy nodded.

“Holster my gun and shoot when I say.”

Conner followed instructions and then looked at Case expectantly.

“When did Ute first start teaching you how to shoot?” Case asked.

Conner blinked. “As soon as he healed up from his bullet wounds. Six of them. That's a tough hombre.”

“Did you pester Ute into teaching you?”

“No, he said a man who couldn't use a gun and use it good would be a dead man right quick. And seeing as how Sarah was so fond of me, Ute thought—”

“
Draw
.”

The order was unexpected, but Conner didn't hesitate. He drew and fired.

The wood leaped up and came down as a shower of splinters.

“Good shooting,” Case said.

“Slow,” Conner said, disgusted.

Case shrugged. “You're big enough to soak up some lead, if it comes to that. Better to be the last one to shoot than the first.”

“I'd rather be first
and
last.”

The corners of Case's eyes changed slightly.

“So would every man,” he said. “But no matter how good you are, there's someone out there who's better. The best fight is the one you avoid.”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“She's a woman of uncommon good sense.”

“She keeps treating me like a kid.”

“She raised you. Takes time to grow out of that, on both sides.”

Conner looked stubborn. The line of his mouth was so like Sarah's that Case could hardly bear to see it.

I never should have touched her
, he realized again.
Now that I've tasted her, it will be pure bloody hell forgetting
.

I didn't know anything could be that sweet
.

Or that hot
.

God, I'll die remembering what it was like to feel her surprise and passion. To taste it. To slide into it and forget
…

The sound of Conner reloading his six-gun reminded Case that he had set out to teach Sarah's beloved younger brother how to survive in the wild land.

“Ute's right,” Case said. “Your sister thinks the sun rises and sets in you.”

Conner lifted his head suddenly. His eyes caught the sun and turned a deep, pure green.

“I would die for her,” he said matter-of-factly.

Case didn't doubt it.

“She'd rather have you alive,” he pointed out.

“I'm planning on staying that way.”

“Good. That means you won't argue when I tell you to go back and get the third revolver, the one that wasn't all filed down and slicked up.”

For a moment the boy looked like he was going to argue. Then he smiled.

“Ute said if I got you to teach me, I should listen.”

One of Case's black eyebrows lifted in silent query.

“He said you were the only man he knew ever to walk away after a Culpepper shootout,” Conner explained.

“I damned near didn't. That's why I'm going to teach you more than shooting. I'm going to teach you about the Culpeppers. All their nasty tricks from ambushes to taking hostages and selling them as slaves to the Comancheros.”

“Have you had a lot of experience with the Culpeppers?”

“My brother and I have hunted them since the end of the war.”

Conner started to ask why, saw the look in the other man's eyes, and thought better of it.

“How many have you gotten?” he asked instead.

“Not enough.”

Conner didn't ask any more questions.

“
C
ould you
take the chow up to him?” Lola asked.

Sarah looked at the cornbread and venison stew the older woman was holding out to her. She tried to think of an excuse not to take Case's supper to him.

He was standing guard on the rim.

Alone.

In the past three days, she had become very good at not being alone with him. Two days ago she had even slipped off to hunt silver by herself.

Her ears still burned when she thought of his response to that solo ride.

Being stubborn is one thing. Being a damned fool is another. The next time you go silver hunting alone, I'll track you down and bring you back tied across my saddle
.

Sarah hadn't gone out looking for treasure by herself again.

Nor could she bring herself to hunt with Case. Just the thought of what had happened the last time they were alone was enough to make waves of heat and cold go through her.

She told herself it was embarrassment.

She wasn't sure she believed it.

“I'm missing one of the goats,” Lola explained. “That little black and white female with the particular fine hair.”

Immediately Sarah forgot her own concerns. “How long has she been gone?”

“She wasn't with the rest of the herd when Ghost brought them in just now.”

Sarah took the plate.

“I'll take Case's supper,” she said. “Go look for that goat. She's the best of the bunch.”

Lola gave Sarah a gap-toothed smile and hurried off.

“But if Case yells at me for going up to the rim alone, I'll sic him on you,” she called after the other woman.

A laugh was Lola's answer.

Sarah didn't bother to chase down a grazing mustang for the trip to the rim. It was quicker just to walk. And that's what she wanted—to get this chore behind her as fast as possible.

When she reached the rim, the sun was sliding down the edge of late afternoon into evening. As always, the immense serenity of the land beneath the golden light called out to her. Motionless, she stood and looked out over the endless networks of shadow canyons hemmed by sun-struck pinnacles, buttes, and mesas.

The stark lines of the land were more beautiful to her than any gently rolling green hills could ever be. The richness and subtlety of the stone desert's colors, the wind tasting of cold and mystery, and the vast sweep of the land all gave a lift to her spirits.

Nearby a hawk soared on the updraft caused by the cliffs that rimmed Lost River Valley. The bird's flight was both powerful and effortless, a wild song sung in the silence of Sarah's soul.

Smiling, she half-closed her eyes and absorbed the peace of the moment.

Eyes narrowed as though in pain, Case watched from behind a screen of nearby brush. It took all the discipline he had learned in war and vengeance not to walk out and make love to her again, drinking the smiling mystery of her life.

Why did she come up here?
he thought.
For the last three days she's done everything but climb the sky to avoid me
.

Maybe she knows if she's pregnant
.

The thought made his heart jerk.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked. His voice was harsh even to his own ears.

She spun around and eyed him as though he were a wild animal.

Or a Culpepper.

“Lola is looking for one of her goats,” she said distinctly. “She asked me to bring your supper to you. Conner and Ute are both asleep.”

Well
, he thought sardonically,
that answers my question. She's up here because no one else could come
.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You're welcome.”

He grimaced.

“No need to treat me like a stranger,” he said bluntly. “We're considerably more than that.”

She flushed and then went pale.

“Where do you want your supper?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Not flung in my face, for starters.”

Belatedly Sarah realized that she was indeed holding the supper plate as though she planned on slinging it at him just as soon as he got within range.

“Sorry,” she muttered ungraciously. “You startled me. I thought I was alone.”

“Are you pregnant?”

The question was so unexpected that her jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?” she said numbly.

“You heard me.”

“Of all the ill-mannered—”

“Just answer the question,” he interrupted. “Save the lectures for Conner.”

“I don't know.”

“What?”

“I. Don't. Know.” Sarah bit off each word as though tearing out hunks of his hide. “Satisfied?”

“For about ten minutes,” Case said under his breath, “and that was days ago.”

“If you expect me to conduct a conversation with you,” she said sweetly, “quit mumbling in your beard.”

“I thought you liked my beard, especially on the inside of your thighs.”

She flinched as though she had been struck.

“Damn,” he said savagely. “I'm sorry. I have no right. It's just when I think how—”

Whatever he had been going to say was lost in the sound of hoofbeats approaching.

Case changed in an instant, cold and remote and utterly controlled.

“Get in here,” he said. “Fast and quiet.”

Before he finished talking, Sarah was sliding into the brush that screened him.

“Did you bring a gun?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Sorry. I didn't think I would need—” she began.

“You didn't think period,” he interrupted.

She didn't bother to argue. He was right and they both knew it. No one—
no one
—was supposed to go more than ten feet from the cabin without a gun.

But she had been so upset at the prospect of being alone with him that she hadn't stopped to think about anything at all. She had simply rushed out to get the chore over with.

“Go behind me,” he said softly. “About fifteen feet back there's a crack in the stone where you'll be out of sight. Stay there until I call for you.”

Sarah hurried past Case. On the way, she grabbed the revolver he held out to her.

He didn't turn to watch her retreat. The small sounds
of brush sliding over doeskin told him that she was doing as she had been told.

For once
, he thought sardonically.

The hoofbeats stopped.

There was only one path down off the rim for several miles. Case's rifle was covering it.

He faded back into the brush just as Sarah had. While he moved, he never took his eyes off the spot where the riders would have to appear.

A horned lark called from the left. It was answered from the right.

He let out a breath of relief that was also the sweet call of a lark.

The silence that came back was like thunder.

“Whoever is in that brush,” said a voice finally, “we're not looking for trouble.”

“Then you came to the wrong place, Hunter,” Case called. “There's nothing here
but
trouble.”

An instant later a tall, strongly built man burst out of cover, rifle in hand.

“Case?” Hunter demanded in disbelief.

“As ever was,” he said, stepping into the open. “Is that Morgan out in the brush with you?”

“My God,” Hunter said.

He grabbed Case and hugged him hard enough to crack the ribs of a smaller man.

Case looked startled. Then he hugged his brother just as fiercely in return.

“Thank God,” Hunter said again and again. Then, “Morgan, come on out. Case is alive!”

“Of course I am,” Case said. “Have you been drinking Morgan's moonshine again?”

Instead of answering, Hunter thumped his brother on the back, pushed him away to get a look at him, hugged him hard again and released him.

Morgan strode out of the brush. The wiry black rider carried a shotgun easily across his shoulder.

“Howdy, Case,” Morgan said. “Mighty glad to see you this side of hell, suh. Mighty, mighty glad.”

Case shook the other man's hand and thumped him on the shoulder with masculine affection.

“You're looking pretty good yourselves,” he said, “for two such ugly critters.”

Morgan laughed and rubbed his hand across his tightly curled black beard.

“Who are you calling ugly, boy?” Morgan drawled. “You're as furry as I am. You hiding out as a grizzly?”

Shaking his head, Case turned back to his brother.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked.

“Word came to the Ruby Mountains that you had been killed by Culpeppers,” Hunter said bluntly.

The harsh, weary lines of his face said more than his spare words.

“It was a near thing,” Case admitted.

“How near?”

“Reginald and Quincy were the fastest Culpeppers I've ever drawn on.”

Hunter whistled soundlessly. “What happened?”

“They each shot twice before I finished them. I took some lead.”

“You look fit enough now.”

“I had a good nurse.” Case raised his voice. “Sarah, come on out and meet some friends.”

After a few moments she came out of the brush. There was no sign of the supper she had brought to Case. His six-gun, however, was very much in sight.

Her eyes were wary until she saw Hunter.

“From the size and cut of you,” she said, smiling, “you must be blood kin to Case.”

“Mrs. Kennedy,” Case said formally, “meet my brother Hunter Maxwell and our friend Nueces Morgan.”

“Ma'am,” Morgan said, lifting his hat. “It's a pleasure.”

Hunter took off his hat and bowed to Sarah.

“Thank you for saving my brother's life,” he said. “If you ever need help, send to the Ruby Mountains. I'll come at a dead run.”

“There's no debt,” she said. “I've saved more useless critters than your brother.”

“But not too many, I reckon,” Morgan said dryly.

She laughed, liking the wiry rider.

“You're welcome to supper,” she said, smiling at Hunter and Morgan in turn. “Venison stew and cornbread, just as soon as I mix up another batch.”

“That's very kind of you, Mrs. Kennedy,” Hunter said.

“Thank you, ma'am,” Morgan said fervently. “We've been living on hardtack and water so long my stomach thinks my throat was cut.”

“Hardtack and water?” she asked.

“We were in a hurry,” Hunter said simply. “A drifter told me that Case was dead.”

Her eyes widened and her heart turned over at the thought of what Hunter must have been through.

“You poor man,” she said. “No wonder you look so weary. I know what it's like to lose your closest kin.”

Hunter was touched by the compassion in Sarah's mist-gray eyes.

“You're a fine and gentle woman, Mrs. Kennedy,” he said.

“I'm sure your brother would disagree,” she said tartly. “And please, call me Sarah. I've been widowed longer than I was married. I've never worn the Kennedy name comfortably.”

“Sarah,” he said, smiling. “Call me Hunter.”

She smiled in return. The smile was like her voice—feminine, generous, and welcoming in a way that wasn't at all flirtatious.

“You can save your girlish wiles for someone else,” Case said sourly. “Hunter is married to a fine woman.”

Sarah gave Case a narrow, sideways look.

“I have even less girlish wiles than you have man
ners,” she said distinctly, “and that means not enough for an ant's breakfast.”

Morgan and Hunter laughed out loud.

Case said something under his breath.

She smiled at Hunter. “You're his older brother, aren't you?”

He nodded.

“Looks like you had as much luck teaching him manners as I've had with my younger brother,” she said.

Hunter hid his smile by smoothing his sleek black mustache.

“We had our dust-ups,” he agreed.

“I'll just bet you did,” she said. “At least you were big enough to whale the tar out of your little brother. Conner is only fifteen and would make two of me.”

“Closer to three,” Case said. “The boy eats like a plague of locusts.”

“You, of course,” she retorted, “have such a dainty little appetite.”

Morgan coughed.

Hunter didn't even bother to disguise his amusement at the tart-tongued widow. He simply threw back his head and laughed out loud.

“Well, I see I won't have to worry about standing guard,” Case said sardonically. “All your braying will scare off the Culpepper mules.”

Shaking his head, Hunter threw his arm around Case's shoulders and hugged him hard, laughing all the while.

Case didn't smile in return, but his features softened as he returned the one-armed hug.

The clear affection between the two brothers made Sarah smile even as her throat closed around a sadness she hadn't acknowledged until this moment.

Someday Conner will leave me and find his own life
, she thought.

Yet even as sadness came, so did a measure of peace.

That's the way it should be. I didn't raise him to keep me company
.

But dear God, it will be lonely without him
.

“Shall I get the horses, Colonel?” Morgan asked.

“I'll come with you,” Hunter said. “Six is a handful.”

“Six?” Sarah asked, dismayed at the thought of that many men to feed. “Are there more of you?”

“No, ma'am,” Morgan said. “We didn't want to kill horses getting here, so we brought three apiece.”

She looked at both men more closely.

“Did you sleep along the way?” she asked.

“In the saddle,” Hunter said. “It's a soldier's trick.”

“How long have you been riding?”

“I don't know,” he admitted, rubbing his face wearily. “I'm just damned glad we weren't rushing to a funeral.”