Colorado Dawn (8 page)

“Home, you say. And where would that be, lass?”

She pulled the shawl tighter and anchored it beneath her crossed arms. “Heartbreak Creek. It’s a little mining town about fifty miles from here.”

“Aye. I was through there recently.” He gave a wry smile. “You’re a difficult woman to track down, so you are.”

“I wasn’t in hiding, Angus—Ash. In truth, I didn’t think you would care enough to come after me.”

Not care enough to track down his own wife and the woman who would bear his heirs? He almost laughed. Yet, in view of her resistance to him, he wondered if he should have bothered to come after her. But he had come this far, and if he was ever to fulfill his duty, he would have to resolve this marriage, one way or the other. A sad state of affairs, so it was.

With a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his crossed arms on his bent knees. Since his wife seemed so set against him, perhaps a divorce would be best.

And yet…

A moth circled above the fire until the heat and smoke sent it plummeting into the flames. He felt like his own life had been in a similar downward spiral since leaving the Hussars. He’d been on the move and under orders for over seventeen years. But now that his military life was over, he no longer knew where he belonged, or
what his duty was. His title was only a courtesy rank given him as the heir to an earldom; no lands or responsibilities came with it. So other than securing the line by producing heirs—which he couldn’t accomplish without a wife—what was he to do with himself? Gamble his nights away? Learn to tie a neckcloth properly? Wait for Donnan to die? Such a useless life was repugnant to him. He almost envied his runaway bride for finding a purpose she could believe in.

“Heartbreak Creek,” he said after a while. “An odd place for a gently bred Englishwoman to call home.”

“I have dear friends there. A family almost.”

“Aye. I met some of them.” He stared into the flames and thought of the loyal blond hotel owner and the tall, overprotective sheriff. “But you have family in Scotland, too.”

“No.
You
have family there. Mine are all gone.”

“Gone?” He turned his head and looked at her.

“If you’ll recall, my parents died in a carriage mishap.”

“Did they?” Why hadna he been told? Then he remembered what an uproar the house had been in when he’d returned—the fevers still running their courses, the funerals coming one upon the other, his own disoriented state. Still, he should have known. “When?”

“Three years after we married. In September of sixty-eight.”

A month after the explosion. “I’m sorry, lass. I dinna know.”

“Yes, Ash, you did. Or would have, if you’d actually read any of the letters I sent you.” With a look of disgust aimed in his direction, she rose from the chair. “I have an assignment in Denver coming up and must return to Heartbreak Creek to gather supplies. Mr. Satterwhite and I will be leaving at first light. We’ll try not to wake you. If I don’t get a chance to speak to you again, I’ll bid you good-bye now and wish you safe journey back to Scotland.”

Ash watched her walk toward the wagon. Not walk—more like parade march, with that stiff-backed stride. The woman had spirit. And a lot of anger. He wondered if it would be possible to rid her of one without breaking the other.

Satterwhite came down the steps to meet her, the rat right behind
him. They spoke for a moment while the rat did her business, then his wife and the dog went inside and Satterwhite walked to the front of the wagon. After pulling a bundle from beneath the driver’s bench, he crossed toward Ash. “It’ll get cold tonight,” he said, dumping his bundle of bedding on the ground beside the fire. “Hope you got something warm to wrap up in.”

Ash looked at the wagon and thought of his wife in there all snug and cozy. With a sigh, he picked up his bedroll. At least he had Tricks to warm his back. “I’m a Highlander,” he said as he spread his blanket on the dirt. “We invented cold.”

“Doesn’t say much for your intellect,” the old man muttered.

Ash laughed. “Oh, it’s not so bad. On cold, clear nights like this you can see every star in the heavens. I’ve spent worse nights in worse places, so I have.” He stretched out, hands clasped behind his head, his dog snug on one side, the smoldering fire on the other, and an endless array of stars winking down at him from overhead.

Silence settled around him, so sharp and clear he could hear Tricks breathing beside him, the hiss and pop of the fire, aspens rustling in a breeze that felt as soft as a woman’s breath on his cheek.

It was odd sleeping in the open without the sound of soldiers moving around him, voices calling out on the picket lines, or the distant boom of cannon and crack of rifle fire. Usually he liked the solitude of it. But tonight he felt a little lost in all the dark stillness. Like one of those lonely stars hanging overhead.

“So,” he said to the old man, suddenly needing to fill that empty silence. “Tell me about Heartbreak Creek and these friends she has there.”

Four

T
he first thing Maddie saw when she opened the door of her wagon the next morning was Ash coming up the trail that led to the creek, his hair wet, his braces off and dangling by his thighs, and his shirt hanging open.

The second thing she noticed was the puckered web of ropey, purplish scars that covered the left side of his rib cage. She gaped in shock. When had he suffered such a massive injury?

Then she remembered the explosion he’d said had left his horse deaf and himself so badly injured it had ended his military career. But that had happened two years ago, yet the wound was still red in spots, as if it had only recently begun to heal. Had he been recovering all that time? And why hadn’t she been told about it? Hadn’t she the right to know if her husband had been so gravely injured?

But then, how would anyone have known where to reach her? Other than her publisher, and now her husband, no one had ever tried.

Agnes darted past her through the open door and down the steps, then came to a full stop when her toes touched the cold, dew-frosted grass. Balancing on her front legs, she lifted her rear high off the ground and glanced back at Maddie for help.

“Go on, you silly thing. Do your business.”

Her voice drew Ash’s head up. When he saw her in the doorway of the wagon, he pulled his shirt closed and angled toward her, sidestepping Agnes as she ran to greet Tricks. “So you’re finally up, lass. Will you be wanting breakfast, before we go? I believe there’s some of Satterwhite’s hardtack left.” He stopped at the foot of the steps, which put their eyes at the same level. “I saw how much you enjoyed it last evening.”

He had the finest eyes. Green and lively and full of laughter. They were the first thing that had drawn her to him. Even now, she felt their power and had to force herself to look away. “No. But thank you.”

“Then stow your belongings,” he called back as he walked on toward the cold fire where his jacket and bedroll lay draped over the log. “We’re hitched and ready to leave whenever you are.”

We?
“You intend to travel with us?”

“Aye.”

“Even though we’re headed in the opposite direction?”

“Opposite from what?” he asked over his shoulder as he tucked his shirt into his fitted cavalry-style trousers.

The fabric of his shirt clung to his damp skin, giving her an inspiring view of his sturdy body in motion. As she let her gaze drift over him, a sudden image flashed in her mind—that long back, the gentle dip of his spine, those broad shoulders and narrow hips tinted pink by the setting sun as he had dressed by the window before he had left to rejoin his regiment. She remembered lying in bed, watching him, a feeling of possession taking hold as she realized that for the rest of her life that fine strong body was hers to touch, to claim, to enjoy.

If she’d only known then the pain that awaited her.

“Opposite from the direction you’re headed,” she finally answered, coming the rest of the way down the steps.

Dipping his shoulders, he shrugged on his braces, then turned to face her. “And what direction is that, lass?” he asked, reaching for his jacket.

Away from me.
“East. Toward Scotland.” She waved at the trees.

“That’s south.” With a broad hand, he smoothed back his damp hair. It needed a trim, and where it had started to dry, the gray hairs glistened in the sun like spun silver. “And will you be coming back to Scotland with me?”

“No.”

“Well then.” Bending, he picked up his bedroll. “I’ll not be going to Scotland, either. Not yet, anyway. Come, Tricks.”

Maddie frowned after him as he and his dog crossed to where Lurch stood saddled.
Blast.
The last thing she wanted was for her husband to insinuate himself further into her life. He’d happily ignored her for the last six years—why couldn’t he leave her alone now?

With a huff of irritation, she looked around for Mr. Satterwhite and spotted him at the front of the wagon, harnessing Buttercup and Maisy. Careful of her footing on the slick, frosty grass, she marched toward him. “He’s coming with us,” she muttered when she reached the old man.

“If you mean the foreigner,” he said as he tested the curb on Maisy’s bridle, “I know.”

“But why? He has no reason to hound me all the way to Heartbreak Creek. I’m not going back to Scotland with him. Ever.”

“So you said.” Satisfied with the rigging, the old man walked back toward the front of the wagon.

Maddie followed. “Besides, the man eats like a horse and we’re already running low on supplies. You said so, yourself.”

He climbed up into the driver’s box and unwound the reins from the brake handle. “I know.”

“You
know
?” Maddie gripped the wheel, the metal rim cold and gritty against her palm. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll help me.”

The old man sighed heavily. He muttered something under his breath, then turned to her, an impatient look in the faded blue eye pointed her way. “Help you do what, missy? Shoot him?”

“Heavens, no!” She drew back, her whole being recoiling from the suggestion. “How could you even think such a thing, Mr. Satterwhite?”

“I wonder.” Another sigh. “He’s your husband, missy. And he seems a good man. I’d give him a chance. You riding up here, or in back?”

“What? I—in back, I guess.” Why was he acting this way?

“Then get your dog and let’s be off. It’ll take us three days to reach Heartbreak Creek as it is.”

Hurt, Maddie whirled and marched to the rear, her eyes stinging. She desperately needed her friends. Lucinda and Pru and Edwina would help her figure out what to do.
They
wouldn’t let her down.

She came to an abrupt stop when she found Ash waiting by the step, Agnes tucked under his arm. The wretched beast was licking his stubbled chin like it was coated with honey.

God.
Was everyone turning against her?

She glared at him.

He smiled back, and the wicked twinkle in his eyes told her he must have overheard every word of her conversation with Mr. Satterwhite.

“Up you go, love, so I can secure the stair.”

“ ‘Love’?” she mimicked. “What happened to ‘lass’? Or have you suddenly become English now that you’re a member of the peerage?”

He grinned and sketched a bow. “I’m a bit of both,
leannan
, with a wee drop of the Irish thrown in.”

She snatched her traitor dog from his arms and stomped up the steps.

“And don’t fret about going hungry,” he added as she opened the door. “If it’s fresh meat you’re needing, I’ll be sure you get as much as you want. As you’ll remember, wife, I’m verra good with my gun.”

She slammed the door so hard the window rattled.

·  ·  ·

It was midafternoon, and the ache in Ash’s side was so constant he could hardly sit the saddle when Satterwhite finally reined in the team.

“How’s this?” the old man asked Maddie, who had long since released herself from her self-imposed isolation in the back of the wagon and moved up front to the driver’s box.

“It’s lovely, Mr. Satterwhite.” She turned to Ash with a tight smile. “But does it meet your approval, Lord Ashby?”

Still miffed, he saw. He had already rejected a similar meadow that would have been impossible to defend. Old habits in old soldiers die hard, he’d found. Assessing this one with a military eye, he saw a grassy clearing with a wee creek on one side and a rocky bluff on the other. “This will do, Satterwhite. If you’ll set camp, Tricks and I will forage for supper.”

He let Lurch and Tricks drink in the creek, crossed, then rode a short way past it before reining in behind a jumble of boulders. “Shite,” he hissed, using his arms to hold most of his weight as he swung his leg over the saddle. Gripping Lurch’s mane, he leaned against the stirrup leathers, teeth gritted, his eyes closed, and waited for the pain to dim to a dull throb.

Earlier, he had been about to trade his saddle for a seat beside Satterwhite when his wife had decided to move up front. He could have taken her place in back, he supposed, but his pride wouldna allow it. Now he was paying the price. “Buggering, bluidy, humpin’—”

“What’s wrong?” his wife asked, startling him so badly that when he whirled to face her he almost lost his footing.

“Hell and damnation, woman! Are you daft, sneaking up on a man that way?” He saw her frowning at the hand he held clasped to his side, and jerked it away. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe for you to be wandering about alone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Of course I’m not—”

“It’s your injury from the explosion, isn’t it? I saw the scars this morning when you came up from the creek.”

“So you’ve come for a second look, have you?”

Instead of being put off by his insulting tone, she came closer. “The wound looked relatively fresh.”

“I was about to relieve myself, madam. If you plan on watching, I’d advise you to step back.”

“Don’t be crass. When did it happen?”

The woman was bluidy relentless. “In spring. Leave.”