Heartbreak Creek (24 page)

“Oh, Declan,” she said breathlessly, grabbing his forearm with both hands. “Isn’t it grand? I declare, if it got any better I’d have to hire someone to help me enjoy it. My feet are in agony.”

“We can go if you’d like,” he offered hopefully.

“Don’t be silly. You haven’t danced with me yet.”

“I don’t dance.”

Her grin turned wicked. “You will.”

“I won’t.”

“Stubborn as a blue-nose mule.” She looked past him, then stiffened, her nails biting through his suit and shirt and into his arm. “Oh, no!”

“What?” He jerked around, half expecting to see a war party bearing down on them. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s coming over here.”

“Who?”

“That stinky man.” Suddenly all aflutter, she grabbed his other arm and yanked him around to face her. “Quick. Dance with me.”

“I told you I don’t dance.”

“You have to! He smells horrid. And look.” Releasing his arms, she thrust her hands into his face. The gloved palms were damp and grimy and smelled faintly of . . . wet dog? “He’s filthy. Now hurry before he gets here.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Pretend, for mercy’s sake!” Grabbing his right hand, she slapped it onto her left hip, then gripped his left hand in her right, and thrust it out as far as her shorter arm would allow. “Just stand there and sway. Dancing isn’t that complicated.”

He looked down at her, trapped by those blue eyes and the feel of her hip beneath his hand. “I know.”

“What?” She drew back. “You know?”

“I do.” And before she could cut loose at him, he wrapped his right arm around her back and pulled her so close he could smell her flowery scent and feel the heat of her body from his belt buckle to his chest. “Hold on,” he said and, grinning down into her surprised face, took the first step.

And suddenly Edwina was flying in a whirling, sweeping waltz, around and around, dip and turn, until she felt like her feet were floating above the ground, and all that bound her to the earth was his strong arm around her waist and his dark eyes smiling down at her.

It was heaven. It was the best of the past come alive again. It was youth and joy. It was wonderful.

When the music finally slowed, she settled back to the earth, breathless and grinning and wishing it could go on forever.

“You said you couldn’t dance,” she accused as she struggled to catch her breath.

“No, I said I
didn’t
dance.”

“Why not?”

“I look like a circus bear.”

“You silly man. You’re anything but a circus bear.”

Some of the amusement left his eyes as he looked around. “I doubt they think so.”

She pivoted to follow his gaze and saw the faces staring back at them. Some in envy. Some in derision. Most in amusement.

“I don’t like making a spectacle of myself,” he muttered, a red stain inching up his neck. “Or you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Declan, sometimes you’re so sweet I could just eat you up with a spoon.” And to prove it, she rose on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, which brought a chuckle from the nearest gawkers, and a deeper flush to his face. Turning, she waved past the staring townspeople to the piano player and the ragtag musicians gathered around him. “Another waltz,” she called gaily. “I want to dance with my husband.”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

She laughed. “But, Declan, it’s so much fun.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant dancing was so much fun or goading him into doing it was. Either way, he couldn’t resist the teasing challenge in her lively blue eyes. At that moment, he would do near anything she wanted.

“I warned you,” he murmured against her rose-scented hair. And anchoring her in his arms, they danced. Around and around, clearing the other dancers out of their way with their exuberance, bobbing and dipping and twirling to the rhythmic clapping of the watchers. Until she was panting, and even Declan was out of breath.

Until all the gawking faces were forgotten, and it was just the two of them holding on to each other as they twirled around and around.

Until a scream cut through the magic, and a blood-drenched man with a wooden leg and an arrow sticking out of his back staggered into the light and collapsed at their feet.

Declan stumbled to a stop, instinctively clutching Ed tight to his chest.

Then a man shouted, “Good God, that’s Chick! Indians got Chick!”

And instantly Declan’s experience snapped him into action. Spinning Ed around, he pointed her toward Lucinda and Maddie. “Go to the hotel. Lock the door and don’t open it to anyone but me or Thomas.”

“What about Pru and the children?”

“I’ll get them. Go. Now!”

Bending over Chick, he began issuing orders. “Send for Doc Boyce,” he told one man. “You,” he said to another. “Get the women out of here. Hamilton, have the men who can shoot get rifles and meet outside the bank. The rest of you, barricade yourselves inside until we know what’s going on.”

People scattered in a rush. Shouts echoed along the canyon walls. Horses ran past, buggy wheels kicking up dust.

Doc ran up, his black satchel in his hand. Shoving Declan aside, he rolled Chick onto his side and cut open the shirt to reveal that the arrow had passed through Chick’s back to emerge just under his collarbone in front. Both wounds were starting to clot, which Declan took as a good sign.

“Chick,” he said, trying to distract the boy from what Doc was doing. “What happened? Who did this?”

“L-Left me for d-dead.” The cowboy’s voice was a wobbly rasp. His eyes rolled in their sockets. “Tore up the p-place. Looking for you. Oh!” His body twisted, his spine arching as Doc probed the entrance wound on his back. “Sweet Jesus, take me now!”

“Quit whining,” Doc ordered. “You’re not dying. You,” he called to two men grabbing food off the table, “stop stuffing your faces and come carry this man to my office.”

“Who?” Declan prodded as the men came to lift Chick to his feet. “Who was looking for me?”

“T-Tall. Busted nose. A-Arapaho. Holy Christ that hurts!”

Heart pounding, Declan shot to his feet. He spun, looking for a horse, didn’t see one, and started to run.

 

 

Edwina stopped pacing and stared at the closed door, willing it to fly open and for Declan and Pru and the children to come bursting inside.

It didn’t.

She resumed pacing. “They should be here by now, shouldn’t they? It’s been hours.”

“It’s been less than fifty minutes,” Lucinda reminded her, looking serene and composed in her chair opposite Maddie by the window, the only sign of her agitation being the way her fingers traced and retraced the seam on the grip of the tiny four-barreled pepperbox pistol resting in her lap.

“I should have gone to his house to help with the children.”

“You don’t know where his house is,” Maddie pointed out.

“I could have asked.”

“He told you to come here.” Lucinda’s tone was edged with impatience. “And here is where he’ll come when all is safe.”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Maddie soothed. “But I do wish you’d stop waving that huge pistol about, Edwina. It isn’t loaded, is it?”

“Of course it’s loaded. What good would it do if it weren’t loaded?” As soon as the words were out, Edwina wanted them back. Stopping mid-stride, she gave Maddie an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just so worried.”

“I know, dear.”

Edwina counted fifteen steps to the far wall, turned, and counted fifteen steps back.
Two more laps and I’m going after them, by God
.

“I prefer scatterguns myself,” Maddie said. “Angus took me grouse hunting once. I didn’t hit anything, of course. Well, really, how could I? They’re so pretty.”

Edwina made another circuit, then paused to check the day clock on the bureau. Two more minutes gone.

“He was an excellent shot, though. As a soldier should be, I suppose. He was a Rifleman with the Royal Green Jackets of the Light Division. A forward rider, which is very dangerous. Then he transferred to the Tenth Hussars. They’re cavalry and have the loveliest blue uniforms. I believe they use sabers as well as guns. Perhaps I should order one to keep in my gypsy wagon.”

“A soldier?” Lucinda quipped.

Maddie’s laugh sounded a bit forced. “A scattergun. What do you think, Edwina?”

Edwina thought she might scream.

Lucinda sighed. “Oh, do stop pacing, Edwina. This carpet is new and I’d hate to see a path worn in it so soon.”

Edwina opened her mouth to argue, then froze when she heard a footstep in the hall. She leaped into motion, following the plan they had made. Frantically waving for silence, she motioned for Maddie and her umbrella to take a position on one side of the door, while Lucinda took the other, pistol at the ready. She moved to stand in front of it, the pistol clutched in her hand.

They waited.

Visions of creeping Indians filled Edwina’s mind.

More footsteps. Muffled voices.

Edwina’s heart pounded so loud she almost missed the knock. Thumbing back the hammer of her father’s Colt Army pistol, she rested her finger alongside the trigger guard, then nodded to Maddie to open the door.

As soon as she turned the knob, people burst into the room, almost knocking her off her feet. Declan, Pru, the children, and three other men crowding the hallway.

“Ed?” Declan shouted, shoving past the others.

“Here.” On shaky legs, Edwina moved forward.

Relief flashed across his face, then faded when his gaze dropped to the pistol aimed at his chest. His hand shot out. In a single motion, he grabbed the barrel, shoved it toward the ceiling, and jerked the gun from her grip. “Good God.” Then he saw the palm pistol in Lucinda’s hand and the umbrella still clutched in Maddie’s, and said it again.

Laughing and crying, Edwina bobbed up and down, trying to hug one elusive child, then Pru, then another child, then Pru again, until finally Declan pulled her to him. “Are you all right?”

She blinked up at him, steadied by the strong hands gripping her shoulders, wanting to hug him, shake him, burrow into his chest and be safe forever. “Y-Yes.”

“Then why are you crying?” Brin asked at her elbow.

Swiping the back of her hand over her watering eyes, Edwina smiled down into the dirty face that stole a little more of her heart every day. “Because Pru is safe, and you and your brothers are safe, and your papa is safe and because I was so worried that—”

“Got anything to eat?” Joe Bill cut in. “Pa said he would bring something back, but he didn’t, and my stomach is starting to suck on my backbone.”

 

 

It was late. Thanks to the Hathaway woman, his children had been fed and were now settled in a three-room suite, the boys in one bedroom, Ed and Prudence and Brin in the other, while Amos sat guard in the connecting sitting room, his rifle loaded and ready.

It was past midnight when Declan returned to relieve him. After assuring him that Chick would recover, he sent him downstairs to join the Parker ranch hands who were watching the entrances to the hotel, then locked the door behind him.

This suite had no balcony, but Declan made certain the sitting room window was securely locked, then pushed back the curtains. No moon, and only a few stars. Maybe that was good. Maybe not.

Not wanting to make himself an easy target in a lit room, he turned down the lamp as far as it would go, which left just enough light for him to see what he was doing. Then positioning one of the chairs so he could see both the window and the door, he settled in to wait out the night, one rifle resting across the armrests, another propped against the windowsill, and two handguns loaded and ready on the chair table. With a weary sigh, he rotated the kinks out of his neck and shoulders.

He’d been gone most of the evening, walking through the town with Tom Hamilton—the new groom and soon-to-be ex-sheriff—making sure shooters were on the roofs behind the storefronts and lookouts were posted at strategic points in and out of town.

No one knew what to expect, or if the raid at his ranch had been an isolated incident or the beginning of a full Indian uprising. Tom had telegraphed the sheriff in Thomsonville, the nearest town, and Fort Lasswell, which was a day away, but neither place had reported problems. So for now, all they could do was be ready for anything. Hopefully, when Thomas came back from his scouting foray, they would know what they were up against. Then maybe Declan could figure out what to do next.

He didn’t want the sheriff’s job, but he couldn’t take the family home to the ranch as long as Lone Tree was running loose. They wouldn’t be safe out there so far from help. Assuming he had a home to go back to. Chick had said they’d torn up the place, which probably meant they’d slaughtered what they could and burned what was left. He’d know how bad it was when Thomas got back. But he sure hated the waiting.

Beyond the window, stars disappeared one by one as a cloud bank moved over the peaks. The air felt heavy and tasted of rain. Small, sharp bursts of light flashed between the clouds.

Slumping back, he stretched out his legs and wiggled his toes, smiling at the faint soreness along the bottoms of his feet.

Dancing. How many years since he’d done that?

Sally had been a tiny little thing and, because of their height difference, hadn’t liked dancing with him. Said it was like being dragged around by a carnival bear.

But Ed didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if her grin was any indication, she actually enjoyed dancing with him. But then, his energetic wife seemed to find enjoyment in most everything. And she never went at anything in half measures, either, whether she was threatening him with a pitchfork, or trying to manner his unruly kids, or dancing under the stars in a crusty little mining town. It drew people in, those high spirits. As if her exuberance might rub off on a person if he stood close enough, making him feel a little less lonely, a little less weary, a little less burdened. It worked that way with him, anyway. He just hoped those high spirits extended into the bedroom. Now that would be a treat, for sure. He smiled, thinking about it.