Denver (30 page)

“Who did Ta-ne-haddle go to see in Colorado? A fried of Dan’s?”

“A brother of a friend’s fiancée.”

“Sounds complicated,” she whispered, and in seconds Luke heard her steady, deep breathing and knew she was asleep. He smoothed her hair away from her forehead, kissing her lightly before he lay back to stare into the darkness. He knew if Dan sent for Ta-ne-haddle, it was important.

A week later Hattie kissed him good-bye, hugging the children and Catalina before she climbed into the wagon with Noah and April and Aaron. They waved, and Hattie and Aaron rode in the wagon while April rode beside Noah. San Antonio had grown since she had first come with Luke, but the meandering river was still there, and the jacales and adobe houses, the cathedral, and the two busy plazas remained the same. Smells of food came from open doors, and laughter sounded as they passed cantinas.

April glanced up at Noah. His hat was pushed back on his head, and his thick curls were tangled by the wind. April felt a rush of love as she studied him, and she hoped they had another baby on the way. She placed her hand on his thigh, and he smiled at her, draping his arm around her shoulders. He began to sing, and she sang with him. Aaron and Hattie joined them. As they wound away from San Antonio, she thought about Noah’s new hotel that would be so fine.

“Will we see Ta-ne-haddle?” Aaron called, and Noah laughed.

“No!” he called over the rattle of the wagon. He turned to April. “Stages should travel as quickly as the Kiowa. Sometimes I don’t think he requires sleep at all. I’ve hunted with him and Luke, and it’s all I can do to keep up with them.”

I’ve heard you say that, but I find it difficult to believe,” April said. She knew all about Noah’s strength and his years of soldiering in the war.

“Luke’s years with Ta-ne-haddle must have made him adopt the Kiowa’s habits. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of them and have them tracking me.”

“They’re both peaceful men now.”

“Until they’re provoked.”

“Said the rock about the stone,” she said dryly.

“Who, me? You can’t name the last time I had a fight.”

“June tenth, a Sunday afternoon.”

“You made that up!” he said, laughing.

“I love you, Noah McCloud,” she said, hugging him. He squeezed her closer to this side.

“I’ve been thinking, April, we should add some new rooms onto our house and make it larger.”

“It’s rather large right now,” she said, thinking of the sprawling abode they had.

“We only have three bedrooms. I think we should have five. We should have a bedroom for Hattie, another for Aaron, and another for”—he paused and smiled at her—“whoever’s to come. I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to do it.”

She listened to his plans, happy with him, hoping
that Hattie would see Javier when he came, because April knew he was coming.

Dan squeezed cold water out of the rags, and placed them on Michael where he wasn’t bandaged. He noticed that some of the milder cuts had begun to heal. Mary kept crooning and talking softly to Michael, sponging his brow continuously. Suddenly Michael began to thrash and talk. Words tumbled out, making no sense, and then he gasped and groaned. Dan dropped the wet rags and tried to hold him still before he hurt himself. He shook violently and thrashed with a strength that Dan found hard to control.

“Michael O’Malley!” Mary said loudly, standing over him. “Michael, you have to get well! Michael!”

“Mary, he can’t hear you.”

“Yes, he can. Michael O’Malley, you listen to me. You have to get well. I’m telling you, you have to!”

As suddenly as the thrashing had started, it stopped, and he shuddered and gasped and lay still.

“Michael!” Mary said in a low, intense voice, clutching his hand. “Michael O’Malley, don’t you do this. You have to get well.”

Dan felt his throat for a pulse. “He’s breathing.”

“Thank heaven! Michael! Michael!”

He groaned, and to Dan’s amazement, his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened. He gazed to Mary with a blank stare. “Michael, get well, darlin’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mary,” he whispered.

“Lord,” Dan said, amazed she had roused him. He lifted Michael. “Give him some water.”

“Michael, you have to drink this,” she said as Dan held up his head.

He swallowed, slowly drinking the whole cup. Dan looked up at Mary and saw there had been tears on her cheeks. He realized how difficult this was for her. He lowered Michael back to his bed.

“He’s asleep again.” Dan moved the wet cloths and water and went around the bed to place his hands on her shoulders. “You go get something to eat and put
shoes on your feet. You’ll get sick like that. I’ll watch him.”

She turned to look up at him, and he saw she was on the brink of losing control. “Mary, he’s hanging on, and he looks strong as a bull.”

He started to reach for her. She looked as if she wanted to fall into his arms and cry, but the moment he reached out, he remembered the previous night. He saw a fleeting expression cross her face, but he suspected she remembered too, because her cheeks grew pink and she moved away.

“Thank you, Dan. I’m all right,” she said in a breathless voice as she skirted past him, going in a wide circle and avoiding his gaze. He turned to watch here disappear behind the blankets, and pulled his coat.

“Mary, I’m going outside. You watch him.”

“I will.”

Dan went out back, inhaling deeply. He was glad to get out of the cabin and into the cold air. He could hear picks striking rock, and knew some of the men were working. He walked around the side of the cabin and thought he saw someone disappear around the corner. Dan quickened his stride, moving rapidly. No one was in front of the cabin, but he wondered if the person had merely circled on around it, because he could have sworn he saw a man move quickly out of sight. He glanced at the cabin and decided that for Mary’s sake, he needed to wear a pistol.

Mary pulled on stockings and shoes, buttoned her dress, and went to sit beside Michael while she braided her hair. Michael breathed deeply and evenly, and when she felt his forehead, she didn’t think he was as hot as before.

They spent the rest of the day tending Michael constantly, trying to keep his fever down. They took turns sitting with him through the night, and the next morning, to Mary’s relief, Michael felt cooler.

She moved around the cabin, building up the fire and setting out a skillet to cook some of the provisions they had brought. She made another kettle of stew, and
poured them both apple juice Dan had brought. Her thoughts were on Dan, and they were as stormy as before. He came inside, and she glanced at him quickly. She was aware of him every second, of where he was, of when she caught him looking at her.

She knew she mustn’t let anything happen again. It had only happened because Silas had been gone so long and because she and Dan were isolated with Michael. She repeated her arguments to herself all through the afternoon, aware that Dan said little to her all day. He stayed outside a good part of the morning.

“I think his fever has gone down,” he said once. Later Michael stirred, and together, she and Dan got some stew and more water down him.

‘That should help him,” Dan said. He studied her, noticed her hair was braided around her head again, but he didn’t think he would ever forget that first moment she had appeared in her white gown with her hair down over her shoulders.

She looked up and caught him watching her. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she glanced away quickly. For the first time, she was at a loss for words. She tried to forget, to ignore him, but she couldn’t. During the afternoon Dan said he would sleep so he could sit up at night. He stretched on the bed across the room, but he was opposite her, directly in her line of vision, and it was impossible to keep from studying his long lean body. Once both men slept peacefully, and she threw a shawl around her shoulders and started outside to the privy. Remembering Dan’s warning about carrying the pistol, she picked up a thick piece of kindling and went outside.

“ ’Morning, little lady,” came a deep voice, and she spun around.

Sorghum leaned against the wall of the cabin.

He smiled and came closer. “Sorry if I startled you. How’s Michael?”

“I think he’s better.”

“I thought I’d come see how you folks are doing. Do you need anything?”

“No,” she said, gripping the wood tightly. Sorghum’s gaze dropped to the piece of kindling.

“Looks as if you’re scared you’ll meet a bear.”

“There might be snakes.”

“I’d be obliged to shoot them for you.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning back for the cabin.

“I thought you just came out.”

“I did, but I forgot a bucket. I need to get water. It was nice to see you, mister,” she said, trying to be polite, hoping he would go. He made her nervous, as his gaze constantly raked over her.

“Hello there,” another voice said, and a man she hadn’t met came around the cabin, moving to block her path to the door. She looked from one to the other of them and wondered if she should yell for Dan now.

“Dan and Michael are right inside,” she said quietly, backing up, and wishing she had picked up a larger piece of kindling. Both men began to move closer. She took a deep breath. “I’m going inside now.”

She heard a twig snap behind her. Before she could move, an arm clamped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, and a hand clamped over her mouth. She kicked as hard as possible, and the hand was gone.

“Dan!”

“Let the lady go,” came his deep voice, and he stood in the open doorway, Michael’s gunbelt on, a pistol on his hip, his own tucked into his waistband.

In an instant two men drew on Dan. Quicker than Mary could see, he drew both pistols and fired, sending the other pistols flying from the men’s hands. They stood staring at him in openmouthed wonder that Mary shared. She had never seen a man use six-shooters with the expertness Dan had just exhibited. No one moved a muscle, but Sorghum’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Dan intently.

“Who the hell are you, mister?”

“You know my name. Come inside, Mary. Now, stay the hell away from our cabin. We don’t have any quarrel with anyone. We just want to tend Michael,
but don’t come near Miss O’Malley. The next time, it won’t be your pistols I’ll shoot.”

Mary scurried past him. Her heart was pounding and she was still shocked and awed by his marksmanship. She stared at him as he bolted the door.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“I told you what I did before,” he said grimly. Dan saw the shock in her eyes and wondered if it was the first time the truth about his past had become a reality to her.

“It’s so unlike you,” she said.

“Where’s the pistol I told you to carry?”

“I don’t know anything about revolvers, Dan.”

“If you want to go outside, I’m sure they’re gone now. I’ll stay in the doorway.”

She nodded and picked up a bucket. He took it from her hands, and his hands brushed hers. The slightest touch by him brought back memories of his arms around her, his lips on hers. He clamped his jaw shut and jerked his head for her to go outside.

She hurried to the privy while he pumped water and kept his eyes open constantly, watching for any of the men to reappear. Dan didn’t think they would be so open about it again, but he knew he had made enemies. He wondered how long it would be before Sorghum remembered him.

Sunshine warmed the camp that afternoon, and they left both doors open to let in fresh air. Dan was getting restless, cooped up in the small cabin. He was conscious of every movement of Mary’s and found the tension between them growing. She wasn’t relaxed around him as she had been once, and her gaze avoided his often now. He watched her move around the cabin, stirring the stew that filled the cabin with an enticing aroma. He tried to blame his reactions to her on isolation, frustration, all sorts of reasons, but she was growing more desirable as he watched her.

Dan took the ax and split more logs for kindling, stacking them inside and working up a sweat in the sunshine, until he peeled off his shirt and tossed it
aside. He enjoyed the activity after sitting in the confines of the cabin.

Mary stood by the window watching him. Sunlight played over his rippling muscles as he swung the ax. Her gaze ran over his long frame and down his legs. He paused, wiping his brow, and she realized how hot he must be. His chest was covered in golden curls. Unobserved, she stood quietly, studying him, his narrow waist and low-slung pants, the gunbelt hanging still lower. She turned away, picking up the dipper to fill a cup with cold water to take outside to him.

“Want some water?”

“Thanks,” he said, glancing down at his hands, which were grimy from handling the kindling. He took the cup from her and drank, and she couldn’t stop watching him. She tried to avoid the pull, but was unable to do so. She let her gaze slide down over his chest. She looked back at him to find him watching her as he wiped his mouth with his arm.

“Thanks, Mary,” he said quietly, staring at her with that same brooding intensity that he had had all morning.

She nodded and hurried inside, her heart pounding. When she was near him, her heartbeat speeded up, her breathing changed, and she was acutely conscious of him. She heard the ax again. Michael groaned, and she went to the bed. It was impossible to hold him up without Dan, so she called to him.

He came at once, and she asked, “Will you help me?”

Dan filled the dipper with cold water for Michael. He held him while Michael drank. Michael struggled to sit up. Mary felt his forehead. “He’s still feverish.”

“Get me up,” Michael whispered. Dan leaned down to help him, taking his weight. He realized Michael O’Malley was heavier and about two inches taller than he himself was, and he was solid muscle.

Each step was slow, an effort for Michael that made him wheeze and groan. “Mary, watch the cabin while we’re in back,” Dan said. He realized how vulnerable they would be if any of the men caused trouble.

Mary left them, hating to see Michael struggling so to walk, yet thankful for each step he took. She moved to the front door and brushed angrily at tears. It upset her to see Michael hurt. She went to the back door to meet them when they returned.