Winter Fire (24 page)

“Hell, maybe he was as glad to be rid of his wife's company as she was eager to get in bed with the neighbor men.”

Sarah winced at the contempt in his voice.

“I went to war all eager to save honor and civilization,” Case said. “But even young fools grow up, if they survive. I figured out pretty quick that war is pure hell on good women and children, and they were all that was worth fighting for.”

She stroked her cheek softly against his chest, wanting to soothe away the tension that was making him rigid.

“I stayed sane by thinking of my niece and nephew,” he said. “Especially Emily. She was bright as a new penny, full of laughter and sass. She loved everything and everyone.”

He hesitated, then kept talking, his voice a monotone.

“When things were really bad during the war, I would pull out the little china cup and saucer I bought for Emily as a homecoming present. I'd just sit and look at it and
remember her laughter and pray for the damned war to end.”

Sarah's arms stole around Case. She held him, silently telling him that he wasn't alone with his memories.

“I beat my brother home from the war by a few weeks,” he said. “I found…I found…”

A ripple of emotion went through Case, breaking his voice.

“It's all right,” she said. “You don't have to tell me.”

His arms went around her and he held her as though she were life itself. She didn't protest the strength of his grip, for she knew that grief was holding him much more savagely.

“Culpeppers,” he said finally.

The sound of his voice made Sarah tremble.

“Southerners,” he said. “Like me.”

“Not like you. Never.”

He didn't seem to hear. His eyes were open, unblinking, fixed on a horizon only he could see.

And what he saw was unspeakable.

“They beat me to our ranch by three days,” he said hoarsely. “They killed every man in the valley, stole or slaughtered the animals, burned the houses and barns. When they finally finished off the women, they took the children and…”

The silence that followed was even more unbearable than his eyes.

Sarah remembered then what Lola had said about the Culpeppers.

They sold kids to the Comancheros, after doing things to the young'uns that would shame Satan
.

“When I finally found Em and Ted, I didn't have a shovel,” Case whispered. “I dug their grave with my fingernails. Then I went looking for Culpeppers.”

She watched his eyes and wept silently, helplessly, for she knew now just what had driven Case away from laughter and hope and love.

His memories must be even worse than her own.

“Now do you understand why I pushed you away?” he asked.

Silently she looked at him, hurting for him.

“Ted and Em's death…” His voice died. He shrugged. “It killed something in me. I can't give you what you deserve.”

“What I deserve?” she asked, not understanding.

“A husband. Children. Love. It isn't in me anymore. It's as dead as little Em.”

“I don't believe it. Anyone as gentle as you hasn't lost the ability to love.”

Case looked directly into Sarah's eyes.

“All I have for you is lust,” he said bluntly. “When a man has seduction on his mind, he'll do whatever will get him what he wants quickest. You wanted tenderness. I gave it to you.”

Sarah's smile quivered, yet it was very real.

“Did I ask for anything more?” she whispered.

“You don't have to. It's there in the way you look at me when you think I don't know.”

“Like I want to put a knife in your back?” she suggested, smiling despite her tears.

The corner of his mouth lifted, making him look even sadder than before.

“You can't fool me,” he said. “You're like a beehive. Once you get past the sting, there's nothing but pure sweetness beneath.”

“We're both fully grown. You want something I can give you and I want it, too.”

He shook his head.

“You just said you wanted me,” she pointed out. “Well, I want you.”

He looked at her scarlet cheeks, tear-bright eyes, and trembling lips.

“Pure wild honey,” he said huskily. “Don't tempt me.”

“Why not?”

“I could make a baby with you, that's why.”

“A baby,” she repeated softly.

Then she smiled.

Case pushed her away.

“I don't want a child,” he said. “Ever.”

Her arms tightened around him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then she touched his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

He jerked back as though he had been stung.

“Don't tease me into making you pregnant,” he said harshly. “I would hate both of us for it. Is that what you want?”

She closed her eyes and let go of him. Without a word she went and picked up the spindle and began the endless work of spinning.

A moment later the harsh sound of corn being crushed between two rocks came from the other end of the room.

Neither Sarah nor Case spoke again.

“
T
hat hombre
is a grinding fool,” Lola said, surveying the mound of cornmeal Case had made the night before.

Sarah didn't say anything.

“You got a lot of spinning done, too,” Lola noticed.

“Conner is growing faster than a weed.”

“And Case is as twitchy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“I hadn't noticed.”

Lola's crack of laughter made Sarah wince.

“Don't you know by now how to take the heat out of a man's mad?” Lola asked.

“It takes two.”

“You saying you don't want him?”

“No. I'm saying he doesn't want me.”

“Horseshit.”

“Amen,” Sarah muttered.

She worked the spindle so hard it became a blur. The pile of wool beneath her fingers turned into yarn with astonishing speed.

Lola didn't take the hint and drop the subject.

“He's got a real lust for you,” she said. “Gets hard as a post just lookin' at you.”

The spindle jerked. The yarn stretched almost to the point of breaking.

“All right,” Sarah said through her teeth. “Case wants me but he won't touch me because he doesn't want to get me pregnant. Satisfied?”

Lola snorted.

“Gal, where was your ears when I was talkin' to you about sponges and vinegar and such?”

Sarah looked up from her spinning. Whatever Lola saw in her eyes made the older woman grin. She pulled a small leather pouch out of her pants and dangled it in front of Sarah's face.

“Recollect this?” she taunted.

The spindle fell idle. Sarah looked at the leather bag with haunted eyes.

Don't tease me into making you pregnant. I would hate both of us for it. Is that what you want?

“What if it doesn't work?” she whispered.

“What if the sun don't rise tomorrow?”

“Is it certain?” Sarah asked stubbornly.

“Ain't nothin' certain except sin and death. It works better on some than on others.”

“Did it work for you?”

“I never whelped no kids. I caught a few times but none took. Then I never caught again. A lot of whores don't.”

With trembling fingers Sarah accepted the leather bag and tucked it into her pants pocket.

“Good,” Lola said, nodding curtly. “Now we can stop walkin' on eggs around Case. You recollect how to use them sponges?”

“Yes.”

“If you're too dainty to tuck it up tight, tell him. He's got nice long fingers.”

“Lola!” Sarah said, flushing scarlet.

The older woman gave her a sly, gap-toothed grin.

“Well, he does,” Lola said. “And don't say you ain't never noticed, neither.”

Rather grimly Sarah picked up her spindle and went back to work.

Lola emptied a bag of lustrous goat hair next to the chair and laughed all the way out of the cabin.

“Cornbread is burning,” she called from outside.

Sarah leaped up and rescued the cornbread. She flipped it out of the pan and onto a rag to cool. Then she added more cornbread batter to the pan, stirred up the fire, and went back to spinning and wondering how she was going to go silver hunting when Case wouldn't let her go alone and wouldn't go with her.

“Ma'am?” called a voice from outside the cabin. “It's Morgan and Hunter. If you'll just pass out some cornbread and beans, we won't bother you.”

Hastily she set aside her spinning and opened the door.

Hunter and Morgan took off their hats. Both men were freshly washed and shaved.

She smiled.

“It's no bother at all,” she said. “Come in and sit down. I'll get your breakfast.”

“No need,” Morgan said. “We're used to rustling grub for ourselves.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hunter said. “I've become accustomed to a high order of cooking in the past few months.”

Morgan's teeth flashed in a clean white smile.

“Elyssa is spoiling you like a Christmas puppy,” he said to Hunter.

The other man grinned and didn't disagree.

Rather wistfully Sarah looked at Hunter's smile.

Did Case look like that before little Emily died
? she asked herself.
A smile as warm as summer
.

“I'm afraid you won't get much in the way of cooking here,” she said. “Cornbread, cornmeal mush, peppers and
beans, and whatever some critter hasn't eaten of the vegetables I put in the cellar.”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” Morgan said fervently.

Hunter winked at her.

“Don't mind Morgan,” he said. “He's just practicing for the girl who's waiting for him back in Texas.”

“Some might need practice,” Morgan retorted. “I don't.”

Smiling, Sarah set out two battered tin plates, filled two tin cups with water from a pitcher, and began ladling out beans.

“You still have some coffee in your saddlebags?” Hunter asked Morgan.

“Yessuh! Excuse me, ma'am. Put a pot on to boil and I'll be back before you miss me.”

“Coffee?” she asked, not sure she had heard correctly. “You brought coffee with you?”

“Yes'm,” Morgan said. “We never stopped long enough to cook it on the way here.”

“Better stand guard over it with a shotgun,” she called as Morgan vanished. “We haven't had coffee since Ute traded some moccasins and cloth over at Spanish Church.”

Hunter's mouth flattened at the name of the saloon where his brother had almost died.

“Somebody ought to clean out that den of snakes,” he said.

“Waste of time,” she said. “There are plenty of snakes to replace the ones you scare away.”

“Some snakes are worse than others.”

“Culpepper snakes?”

“You don't scare them away. You cut off their heads and bury them under a rock.”

A chill went through Sarah. At that moment Hunter sounded and looked very much like Case.

It was a relief when Morgan came in with a small burlap bag of coffee beans and a hand-sized grinder. Very
quickly the smell of brewing coffee filled the cabin and drifted out through the chinks in the logs.

Case and Ute appeared not long after. Case, at least, was freshly washed.

“I hope you brought your own cups,” she said wryly. “I'm plumb out.”

Each man held out a tin cup. She dipped out coffee for them and prodded the cornbread.

“It's ready,” she said, “but you might burn your fingers.”

Ute filled his plate with beans and cornbread, chose a spot near the fire, and sat on his heels. With the ease of a man who rarely used a chair or a table, he began eating, balancing everything without awkwardness.

Belatedly Case noticed that Sarah wasn't having any coffee.

“Don't you like coffee?” he asked her.

“Sure, but Conner took his cup up to the rim with him,” she said.

Hunter and Morgan realized they were drinking from the only other cups Sarah owned. As one, the men stood and held their cups out to her.

“Sit down,” Case said. “She can use my cup.”

After a moment of hesitation, Hunter and Morgan sat down at the table again.

Sarah began piling food onto a plate. When it was full, she handed it to Case.

“I suppose Conner took his plate with him, too,” Case said easily.

“Packed to the brim with food,” she agreed.

“Then we'll share.”

With no more warning than that, he delivered a spoonful of beans to her mouth. Startled, she took the food without protest at first. Then she realized she was eating his breakfast and started to object.

“Mind your manners,” Case said. “No talking when your mouth is full, remember?”

Morgan coughed suddenly.

Hunter gave his brother a sideways, speculative look.

Case didn't notice. He was too busy feeding Sarah. Every time she opened her mouth to say something to him, she got another helping of food. Only when she kept her lips firmly shut did he begin eating himself.

“Take some coffee,” he said. “Or do you want me to feed you like a baby bird, a spoonful at a time?”

Nervously she licked her lips. The sudden narrowing of his eyes as he watched her tongue made her breathless.

“I don't think,” she said huskily, “that would be a good idea. I'd burn my mouth.”

“Or something,” he said, but his voice was too low for anyone except her to hear.

After that there was silence except for the small noises of men scraping tin plates with spoons and Sarah stirring the fire when she added more wood.

When the last of the food was gone, Hunter pushed back from the table with a contented sigh.

“I haven't had beans like that since Texas,” he said.

“It's those wicked little peppers,” she said. “Ute taught me to like them.”

“Jalapeños?” Hunter asked.

“
Sí
,” Ute said.

“I'll have to find some seeds for Elyssa.”

“I'll send seeds with you,” Ute said.

“My wife would like that. She lost most of her garden when the raiders salted it. We've been scouting seeds and cuttings and such ever since.”

“We have squash, potatoes, beans, corn, and seeds for greens,” Sarah said. “You're welcome to what you need. If you want flaxseed for cloth or oil, or fertile eggs, we have some to spare.”

“Especially the way Conner collects eggs,” Case said dryly.

“My brother hates that chore,” she explained to Hunter.

“I'll take it over,” Case said. “And I'll build a chicken run as soon as my own cabin is finished.”

Hunter gave his brother a startled look. “I take it you're planning on settling here?”

“Yes. The land…” Case hesitated, then shrugged. “The land eases me. I belong here.”

Hunter looked at Sarah. She was very busy scrubbing out the bean pot.

“Well, then we better take care of those Culpeppers once and for all,” Hunter said calmly.

“Amen,” Morgan said. “It's a durned long ride to make every time we hear rumors that you bit off more Culpepper than you could chew.”

“How well are they dug in?” Hunter asked his brother.

“They're lazy,” Case said. “Most of them have brush wickiups that wouldn't stop a bullet.”

“Ab?” Hunter asked.

“He and two of his kin are kind of dug into the side of the canyon.”

“Any good angles of fire?”

“Only one, and it's guarded.”

“Any chance of burning them out?”

Case shrugged. “It could be done, but I'd hate to be the man to do it.”

“Water?” Hunter asked.

“It's called Spring Canyon because water runs year round.”

“Supplies and bullets?” Hunter continued calmly.

“Enough of both for a long winter or a short war.”

“Weak points?”

Ute gave Hunter an approving glance.

“Lack of discipline,” Case said promptly. “There have been unauthorized raids on some ranches in the high country.”

“Any raiders get killed?”

Case looked at Ute.

Ute shook his head.

“Sons of bitches cow chasers can't shoot a fish in a barrel,” Ute said, his voice rich with disgust.

“Any raids here?” Hunter asked.

“Case can shoot,” Ute said succinctly. “We done some buryin'.”

“Not enough,” Case said.

“Are they watching the ranch?” Hunter asked.

Ute and Case both nodded.

Hunter looked quickly at Sarah, who was still scrubbing the pot.

“That's part of the reason they watch,” Case said roughly. “The rest is Spanish silver.”

“I heard some loose talk about treasure,” Morgan said.

“So did the Culpeppers and Moody's bunch,” Case said. “They're hunting silver.”

Sarah looked up from the pot.

“They won't find it,” she said.

“What makes you so sure?” Hunter asked.

“I've been thinking about it.”

Case turned and looked narrowly at Sarah.

“And?” Case prompted.

“They're looking in the wrong place.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Like I said, I've been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I'm not saying one more word until I get to look for it myself,” she said flatly.

“You think I'd steal it?” Case asked, his voice hard.

She looked as shocked as she was.

“Of all the fool ideas,” she retorted. “Of course I don't. I don't think your brother or Morgan or Ute or Lola or the darned chickens would steal it, either.”

Case lifted his left eyebrow and waited.

“I'm getting cabin fever,” she said. “If I can't hunt silver, no one can.”

“It's not safe for—”

“—anyone,” she cut in. “But you come and go all the
time. I'm tired of being a prisoner in my own house.”

There was a tight silence. Then Case swore under his breath and looked at Hunter.

His brother just smiled.

Case turned back to Sarah. The look in his eyes was colder than winter.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked.

“I'll tell you when we get there.”

“Of all the stubborn—”

“Looks like you're going to be busy,” Hunter interrupted. “Morgan and I will divide up your watches.”

Case started to object.

“As long as Sarah is with someone,” Hunter said, “she'll be safer out of the cabin.”

“But—” Case began.

“In fact,” Hunter continued without a pause, “she might consider sneaking out after dark and sleeping in the brush with a guard. This cabin would burn like a torch.”

Case went completely still.

“We've got four men to stand guard over her all the time,” Hunter said to his brother. “If you can't do it, one of the rest of us will.”