Carolyn Davidson (12 page)

She smiled, this time a bit more convincingly. “I’ll be all right, truly I will. I’ll clean the cabin and do up the wash. You won’t have to dodge the diapers hanging on the line for a change.”

He nodded, already thinking of the supplies he would carry back up the mountain. Already thinking of the wire he would send to Joel Guinan.

“It was beautiful, Quinn. The way you named him and held him between us, so we could both hold him.” Erin sighed deeply, thinking of the small ceremony Quinn had devised for the giving of Robert’s name. The middle name had been an inspiration on her part, and Quinn had been pleased with his inclusion. Robert Quinn Yarborough.

“Quite a handle for a little fella.” His low chuckle was followed by a moment’s silence as he blew out the lamp over the table and made his way to the bed.

“He’ll grow into it.” Erin lay flat on her back and watched as Quinn drew back the covers and found his place beside her.

“He’s getting bigger every day,” Quinn agreed.

“The sky is clear. The moonlight is so bright, it’s like a lamp in the window.” Erin breathed a sigh. “You’ll be going early on, won’t you?” And then as if she would encourage him, she planned for the morning departure. “I think you should just leave as soon as you eat something, and I’ll tend to the stock later, after the sun comes up.”

He disagreed and turned toward her. “The earlier I milk and feed, the earlier you can take care of the animals tomorrow night. I don’t want you outside after dark.”

“You’ll be home about dark, won’t you?” She moved toward the edge of the bed, anchoring the quilt across her breasts, leaving a space between them.

“Where are you going, Erin? I thought we had this all sorted out. You don’t have to hug the edge of the
bed that way.” Quinn’s-long arm reached out and hauled her closer to where he lay. “I’m going to put my arm around you and you’re going to lie there and keep warm. All right?”

She nodded. “All right.” He’d pulled her beside him, and the weight of his forearm was across her stomach, leaving her no place to put her own hands. She slid them beneath the covers, tugging the sheet to cover her shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you good-night.”

Erin turned her head, watching as he lifted himself, his hand sliding to the bed, holding himself above her. He lowered his head, his lips seeking and finding hers. She felt his warm breath against her, the pressure of his mouth making itself known. His tongue was circumspect tonight, she noted, remaining inside his lips.

“Can you kiss me back?” As if gravel lined his throat, he rasped the words, their lips almost touching.

She drew in a breath, then nodded. “Yes.” The single word was whispered between dry lips, and she slid one hand from beneath the covers to press it against his face. Her fingers traced the whiskers that covered the firm line of his jaw, then moved to bury themselves in. his hair. She pressed firmly against his scalp and he accepted her invitation.

It was a gentle meeting of mouths, and she sensed a withholding on his part again, as if he would not seek a greater intimacy. His lips were warm, his breath faintly scented with the peppermint candy he’d eaten after supper. She pressed her mouth once, then again, to his, and relaxed back against her pillow, feeling less than pleased by the process.

“Best you can do?” he teased in that rasping whisper.

“I don’t know any other way to kiss you.” Except
for what had passed for loving during her marriage, and that she’d rather never experience again. Damian’s mouth had all but eaten hers, teeth and tongue leaving her bruised and nauseated more often than not.

“Can I show you another way?” He waited, hovering over her as if the night were endless and he had nowhere to go in the morning. “I promise not to…do the other, the part that frightened you.”

“Yes, if you like.” She could not refuse him, could not turn down the gentle approach of this stranger she’d married.

If she’d thought that kissing was a task to be performed for her husband’s sake, Quinn’s touch gave lie to that theory. If her memories had prepared her for a painful invasion, she was soon relieved of that threat. She had never known such tender touches could come from a man’s mouth, that such pleasure could be found in the meshing of lips.

“Was that better than last night?” he asked, resting on his forearms over her.

She nodded, aware of tingling lips and a damp spot beneath her ear where his mouth had claimed the flesh.

“When I go to town tomorrow, will you think of me?”

Her heart sped at his words. She’d almost forgotten, caught up in the mystery of his tenderness. “I’ll think of you. Of course.” It felt like a vow, the words a promise she would have no trouble keeping.

Quinn had left at dawn, just before the sky turned pink at the edges. With an uplifted hand, he’d ridden into the trees, the packhorse behind him, his coat collar pulled high to warm his neck. His hat sat at an arrogant angle
and his dark eyes gleamed with a fire that made her body shiver and her mouth soften.

The baby took her attention, and Erin fed him, then washed him before the stove, drying his round little body and dropping a multitude of kisses across the top of his head.

She sang as she rocked him, an assortment of old hymns she remembered from childhood, humming when the words eluded her. And then when the water on the stove sent steam rising, she placed him reluctantly on her bed, pillows on either side to hold the heat next to his sleeping form.

Before long she had a line zigzagging across the cabin, from behind the stove to the doorway and back, leaving her ducking and weaving as she hung the small diapers and simple gowns the baby wore.

“I need to begin calling you Robert,” she sang out, her eyes on the wrapped infant as he slept upon her bed. Humming, and concentrating on washing one of Quinn’s shirts at the scrub board, Erin almost missed the sound of a horse nickering in the clearing. Coming to attention, she let her hands still as she listened.

The thud of boots across her porch jolted her upright and the sound of a fist against her door drained every bit of blood from her head. Erin swayed where she stood, swallowing great gulps of air. Someone-more than one someone, from the sounds of it-was intent on entering the cabin.

“Open the door, ma’am. We know you’re in there.” The voice was harsh, an overlying humor lending it horror.

“What do you want?” She was amazed at the strident sound of her words, and new strength pumped into her
arms as she stepped quickly to the wall, lifting the gun from its place.

“Just a bit of breakfast, ma’am. We saw your man on the trail—thought you might be lonely.”

“It’s long past breakfast time,” she called, her fingers frantic as she checked to be sure that both barrels were loaded. Quinn had prepared it for use and she calmed as she thought of his words.

Knowing you can do it is enough to give you the strength, if the need should arise.

Her breathing slowed as she remembered his words. Quinn had faith in her. In her hands the wooden stock was cool, and she hefted it, liking the balance. Then, with deliberation, her finger curled over the triggers.

“Go away, there’s nothing for you here.”

Whispers caught her ear, then a raucous laugh as if the men considered a private joke. Probably at her expense, she thought, a spurt of anger lending her courage.

The footsteps left the porch and Erin moved to the window, watching as two men ambled toward her shed. They came out after only a moment, one leading her cow, the other her riding horse, her white socks flashing as she jerked against the stranger holding her halter.

“Ma’am?” The bigger of the two men grinned widely, his pistol held in one hand, its barrel aimed at the middle of her cow’s broad forehead. “How would you like me to fetch you a nice beefsteak for dinner?”

His intent was clear, and Erin pushed the curtain back to watch as his gun threatened her milk supply. The cow lifted her head and uttered her own opinion.

“She’s beggin’ for her life, ma’am,” the shorter, stockier man called, his laughter an obscene cackle.

“And then we got this here other animal of yours. Be too bad if you couldn’t get to town anymore, wouldn’t
it, with no horse to ride.” The pistol shifted its aim, and as if she sensed the danger, her horse sidestepped, jerking the rope, causing the smaller man to stumble awkwardly.

“Damn, don’t make me mad at you, horse!” His collection of curse words flowed in a river of filth over the animal, and Erin strode to the doorway.

She opened the door and stood beneath the portal, shotgun cocked and cradled in her arms. “Put my animals away and I’ll put bread and meat on the porch for you.”

“Now, that don’t sound too neighborly to me.” The shorter, scruffier intruder grinned widely. “What do you think, Russell?”

“I think the lady needs some manners, that’s what I think,” Russell answered.

“That’s my best offer,” Erin shouted, stepping just outside the door, the gun still at her side. Somehow she must keep these men away from the baby, out of the cabin. She stiffened her spine and aimed the shotgun. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Damned if the lady don’t look right purty, now, don’t she?” Ignoring her warning, Russell dropped the rope he’d tied to the cow’s halter, and headed in her direction. His gun hung loosely at his side, as if he mocked the weapon she carried.

From behind her the baby whimpered, then gathered a breath, announcing his displeasure with a wail that reached beyond the cabin door. Erin’s heart skipped a beat as she allowed a quick glance toward the bed behind her.

“Hush, sweetie,” she whispered, even as the cries escalated into an angry squall.

“Sounds like a young’un in there!” shouted the man near the shed.

“I declare, it surely does,” Russell agreed. “I’ll warrant you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that baby, now, would you, ma’am?” He paused, close enough to the cabin that Erin was sure she could smell the stench of his grimy clothing.

His grin was a mockery. “How about it, honey? Got some breakfast for a hungry man?”

“I won’t let you in here.” Erin ground out the words.

He spat into the snow, then grinned at her again, broken, discolored teeth visible beneath his ragged mustache. “Be a shame if something happened to you, and that brat was left here all alone, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll shoot if you come any closer,” Erin warned.

“Aw, I don’t think so, ma’am. I think you’re gonna behave and do just what I tell you, lessen that baby gets hurt.”

“Go on, Russell,” the other man yelled. “I’ll shoot the horse if she gives you a fuss.”

With a disgusted look over his shoulder, Russell took another step, and Erin felt her heartbeat slow, even as she tightened her grip on the trigger. His glance at her weapon was scathing, and he laughed again. “Guess I’ll have to take you up on your hospitality, ma’am. I’ll just leave Toby there to look after your stock while I come in and keep you company for a while.”

A quick glance at the second man allowed Erin a glimpse into eyes that burned with evil, and she found herself faced with little choice.

No choice, in fact. Animals be damned.

“I warned you,” she whispered harshly. With a swift clenching of her muscles, the gun was fired. From
twenty feet away the spread was narrow, and he caught the full force of her first shell in his chest.

She glanced toward Toby as she backed into the cabin’s doorway, only too aware of the limitations of her weapon at such a distance. He cursed loudly, dropping the lead rope he held, his hands scrabbling at the holster hanging at his side.

“I wouldn’t do that. I have another shell with your name on it,” she called, her voice wintry.

“You’d never hit me from this far away,” he taunted.

“Try me.”

Hesitating, he shook his head. “Naw, I ain’t that much of a fool!” His movement was abrupt as he shoved his barely drawn gun back into the holster. “Hell, old Russell ain’t worth it,” he announced. “And you ain’t either, lady.” With a last glance at his companion, Toby headed for his mount, even as Erin stepped back into the cabin.

In front of her the snow was stained with copious amounts of blood. The big man’s hands clenched and opened in a repeated movement that told her he was still alive, and she swallowed the bile that threatened to spill from her throat.

Another backward step took her inside and she slammed the door shut, lowering the bar and stepping to the window. Toby had scrambled to the side of the shed where two horses waited, and with a final look at the body of his friend, he hoisted himself atop his saddle and rode off, leading the other horse behind.

Erin drew in a deep breath, lowering the barrel of her gun, easing her finger from the second trigger. Beyond the mutilated body in her yard, her animals stood, the horse moving restlessly, pawing with one hoof at the
snow. The cow, lifting her head to sound her distress once more, turned and made her way back into the shed.

Erin shivered, aware that the baby had stilled his crying, leaving only the sound of her heart beating in her ears to break the enormous silence. A trembling such as she had never known seized her body, and she bent to place the shotgun on the floor, uncertain if she had enough strength to hang it back on the wall.

“I have to take care of the horse,” she whispered. “I can’t let her run off.”

Her coat was heavy in her hands and she slipped into it woodenly, quickly glancing at the silent baby before she opened the door. There was a risk to be taken, walking across the open yard. But her sensible mind told her that Toby was long gone, his bravado having vanished with the death of his partner.

The sight of the man sprawled just a few feet away drained her courage, and she hesitated. Moving any closer to that still form made her stomach churn, but the thought of her horse making her way down the mountain was an incentive she could not ignore.

Erin sidestepped the outstretched hand, its fingers spread wide, limp and lifeless now. Near the shed, her horse watched her, tossing her head at Erin’s approach. Erin tugged on her rope and the mare obligingly turned back to the warmth of her stall. There she quickly tied the cow in place, then closed the door behind her, making her way back to the cabin.