Jodi Thomas (4 page)

Holly followed him to the porch. “Thank you for helping me in there.” She wished she could explain how very alone she’d been feeling until he came. Maybe he understood.

Zach kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

She tried to hide the shakiness in her voice. “As soon as I can slip away, I’ll be out to the barn to check on Cinnamon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he answered with a promise in his eyes that had nothing to do with the horse.

She’d hold him once more before he left, but not now when someone might step on the porch at any moment. “Later,” she whispered, answering his promise with one of her own.

She watched Zach turn and walk toward the barn. He walked tall and proud, yet it was his gentleness that drew her to him. He hadn’t even resented her neighbors for their rudeness, but understood them. For the most part they were good folks, but years of hating take a while to die.

Just before she turned to go back into the house, she saw several men run from the corner of her place to the back of the bunkhouse. A moment later, they crossed in the shadows between the bunkhouse and the barn. Holly felt icy fear coat her heart. Trouble, traveling in a pack, was headed straight for Zach.

7

Holly slipped back into the room and noticed several people watching her closely. She’d only been on the porch with Zach a few moments, but they looked at her as though she’d just committed a crime.

“So you’re too good to dance with your neighbors.” Bret Travis stepped in front of her. He hadn’t more than glanced at her all evening, and now he was talking like they were engaged. Another glance around the room told Holly that Bret’s brother, along with several other young men, were missing.

“None of my neighbors have asked me to dance,” Holly pointed out. She needed to grab her gun and see if Zach was in trouble, but she had to get past this pile of rudeness first.

“Well, I’m asking!” Bret shouted loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Without waiting for an answer, he swept her into his arms and started stomping across the floor. His steps were uneven and unpolished, and his hold was too tight. Holly tried to pull away, but he held to her without noticing her discomfort. Dancing with him was nothing like dancing with Zach.

Finally the music ended, and he released her hand. “So you do dance, Holly McCarter. Most of the men were starting to wonder if you did anything but ranch.” His arm still held her to him. “Shall we see if that Yankee taught you to kiss as well?”

He pulled her beneath the mistletoe and leaned over her. Before Holly could protest, his lips were on hers. The kiss was wet and sloppy with the taste of whiskey on his mouth. She heard several shouts for Bret to let her go, but no one came to her rescue as he continued to grind his mouth against hers, bruising her lips with the force of his kiss.

Holly reacted as violently as a volcano. She jammed her knee up between his legs as her fist slammed into his ribs. When he didn’t let her go at once, her nails clawed into his face, taking layers of skin while her teeth bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Bret Travis jerked away from her, grabbing his bleeding face with one hand while he raised his other hand to slap her.

Before he could lower the blow, the sound of a rifle being cocked stopped all action. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Bret.” Sam’s voice was calm, almost friendly. “If Holly doesn’t want to kiss you, I’d suggest you find someone willing. ’Cause if you ever touch her again, I’ll shoot you myself after she finishes murdering you.”

“Don’t worry,” Bret tried to gain back a little of his composure. “I wouldn’t touch her again if she was the last woman west of the Mississippi. It’ll take more than this ranch to talk a man into marrying her.”

Sam didn’t lower the rifle from Bret’s gut. “I think we best be calling it a night, boys.”

He glanced around to get Holly’s approval, but she was gone. She’d vanished along with her gun belt that had been hanging on the peg by the back door. Sam didn’t comment on her absence as he helped everyone gather up their things, but he had a feeling she was heading straight toward the barn.

Holly didn’t care about the party. It was the farthest thing from her mind as she ran across the yard. She slipped in the side door of the barn and pulled her gun from its holster.

Five men were in the center of the barn. Two were holding Zach between them while a third jabbed one punch after another into his ribs. Judging from the cuts and bruises on all three attackers’ faces, Zach had not been captured without a fight. The other two men were watching the main door, listening for the sound of anyone coming.

One of the watchers tossed the other a rope. “Tie him to the stall when he can’t stand any longer,” he ordered. “Let’s show this Yankee what we do to the likes of him.”

While two men roped Zach’s body to the top board of the stall, the third man stretched a whip across the hay with a
pop
. Zach didn’t move as the whip snapped above his back, marking its target.

Holly moved closer as she heard the first slap of leather against flesh. The sound sickened her all the way to the core, for she knew the whip had just sliced across Zach’s back. Another
pop
sounded as she stepped into the light and fired her gun.

The man with the whip grabbed his hand and yelled in pain while all the others turned to Holly.

“That’s enough!” she ordered as she widened her stance. “Your fun’s over.”

“Now, Holly . . .”

Another shot struck the dirt an inch in front of the man who’d spoken.

“The war’s over, boys, and I aim to put an end to the fighting right now.” She fired again.

The leader of the group ventured forward, his hands in the air. “But, you don’t know how those Yankees treated us during the war. Then he had the nerve to walk right in and dance with one of our women.”

Holly glanced at Zach. “I know this Yankee’s got enough scars already, and I’d stake my life he never fought except in a fair fight.” Not a man in the barn looked like he wanted to argue with a lady holding a gun. “As for dancing with me, he did so at my request.”

Several other men reached the barn door as she continued, “If you can’t leave the war behind, don’t set foot on my property again.”

Luther cradled his rifle in his arms. “You heard the lady!” he yelled as Sam joined him. Both men looked younger than they had in years.

The others moved to saddle their horses as Luther and Sam joined Holly. They stood like two aging pillars on either side of her as the attackers left the barn.

When the place was emptied, Holly rushed to Zach. His shirt was sliced open and a long thin line of blood dripped from his back. She lifted his head, but through the cuts and bruises his eyes remained closed.

“We’ve got a bunk set up near Cinnamon’s stall.” Luther untied one of Zach’s arms. “I’ll see to him.”

“No.” Holly brushed the hair from his face. “Bring him to the house. Sam, get a few men to run ahead and move the bed close to the fire.”

“He’s been roughed up pretty bad, honey,” Sam said the obvious.

“I know.” Holly tried to hide her tears. “But he’s my Christmas present, and I’m taking care of him.”

Luther looked at Sam and shrugged. When the Yankee was in good shape, she’d sent him back. Now that he looked like death warmed over in a dirty pot, she wanted to keep him. There was no figuring Holly.

8

Holly tenderly spread the salve over the open cuts the whip had made on Zach’s back. She could feel other scars and knew this was not the first time he’d felt the sting of a whip. This man, so proper and proud in his uniform, was so scarred beneath. She’d found what looked like a gunshot wound in both his leg and the left side of his chest. Besides the marks on his back, she discovered several that could only have been made with a blade. She wondered how Zachary Hamilton was still alive. It was no surprise that all he wanted in life was to watch the sun rise without people between himself and the horizon. He’d probably seen enough of people to last a lifetime.

She gently bandaged his wounds, then with Sam’s help, lay him on his side and covered him with layers of quilts. Zach’s face looked worse than she’d thought possible. One of his eyes was completely closed from swelling, while cuts and bruises seemed to fight for space on the rest of his skin.

“He don’t look so good.” Sam pulled at his belt as Holly put a pillow beneath Zach’s head.

“I’ve seen rabbits caught in a twister who looked better than he does,” Luther added.

“He’ll be fine in a few days,” Holly corrected as she brushed strands of coal black hair from his forehead. “Now get out of here and let him rest. He’ll be better come morning.”

“If he ain’t, we might as well bury him,” Sam added as he moved toward the door. “I’ll keep an eye on your horse. You keep an eye on your Yankee.”

“He isn’t my Yankee,” Holly answered.

Sam and Luther glanced at one another, but neither of them would call her a liar even though they both knew their Holly was not being honest with them, or herself. He was her Yankee, whether she knew it or not.

She closed the door and returned to Zach’s side. His bruises didn’t matter. Somehow, a man had never been more handsome to her. He’d taken care of Cinnamon. He’d danced with her when everyone in the room stared at him with hate. From the minute they’d met, he’d treated her like a lady. Something no other man in the state had done. Even the little things he did, like standing when she walked into a room, were treasures she would tuck away in her heart.

Holly leaned over and very gently brushed the corner of his mouth with her own. After Zach’s kisses, she should have never allowed someone like Bret Travis to kiss her.

“Trying to steal another ‘Yankee dime,’ pretty lady?” Zach mumbled.

Holly straightened in surprise. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to feel your fingers brushing across my back,” Zach answered without opening his eyes. “Long enough to taste the sweetness of your lips against mine.”

“I was only treating your wound.” Holly tried to be calm, but she could feel her heart pounding as if she’d been running.

“And when you touched me other places?” Zach questioned, remembering the soft brush of her fingers over his body.

“I was just making sure there were no broken bones.”

Zach smiled knowing the truth. Her touch had been light, exploring, caressing. “And the kiss?” he asked.

Holly faced him directly. “Why didn’t you tell me all kisses weren’t wonderful?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t find out,” he answered.

“Well, I did and it was disgusting.”

“What would you have me do?” Zach smiled. “Kill any man who kisses you poorly?”

“No.” Holly laughed. “I can do my own killing.” She leaned closer. “I’d have you kiss me again so that I don’t forget what the good ones are like.”

“With pleasure,” he answered, and pulled her down to his mouth.

His touch was as gentle as it had been the night before, only now his lips lingered in a slow-stirring passion that swept across her as silently as spring air warms the land after winter.

She curled beside him, loving the way he cradled her against his side as though she were of great value.

Pulling back slightly, she whispered against his bruised cheek, “I don’t want to hurt you. Be careful of your back.”

“There is no pain in my world if you’re by my side,” he answered. “I thought I was all broken up inside. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I would have sold my soul for peace. But you’ve taught me differently.” He leaned on one elbow and pulled her closer.

She felt the weight of his chest press against her side, and rolled into the warmth. His sudden intake of breath was from the pain of having pure pleasure resting beside him. His mouth covered hers as he erased Bret’s kiss from her mind. All the longing was satisfied as she answered his need with her own.

When he finished the kiss, Holly stretched beside him in contentment and anticipation of the next touch.

Zach lifted his hand and noticed the bandage she’d tied to protect his bruised and bleeding knuckles. He bit at the cotton, but couldn’t pull it away without taking his other arm from around her.

He lowered his hand to her. “Take it off,” he ordered.

“But your knuckles are cut.”

“Take it off,” he insisted.

Holly unwrapped the bandage, noting that the bleeding had stopped, but the skin was still raw along his knuckles. “It needs to be wrapped.” She lifted her chin in challenge.

“I need to be able to feel without any hindrance.” His voice was as insistent as her own.

When she opened her mouth to argue further, his lips claimed hers once more in a kiss. This time the kiss was hard and demanding, yet his hand gently stroked her side as his lips branded hers.

When he broke their kiss, she was breathless. Her heart was pounding, and her chest heaved up and down against his side. “Did you mean what you said about the war being over on this ranch?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “The hatred has to stop sometime, and it might as well stop here and now. A few of the folks may be angry, but they’ll get over it by next Christmas.”

His fingers spread across her just above her belt and pressed gently before he suddenly knotted the material of her shirt into his fist. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours. Lie beside me ’til then. Let the war between us end.”

Holly started to answer, but he stopped her with his finger on her lips.

“Before you agree, I’ll tell you that if you stay by my side, I plan to love you tonight.” His voice was low with passion. “I can’t catch you if you run, so don’t agree to stay if you’re planning to bolt.”

“And if I stay and fight?”

Zach laughed. “If you stay and fight, you’ll probably kill me. No, pretty lady, if you stay it will be to love, not to fight.”

When she rolled suddenly from the bed, pain stronger than all the blows he’d taken earlier combined shot through Zach’s heart. He leaned against the pillow and closed his eyes. Why had he even hoped to dream that she’d allow him to touch her? Hadn’t she said often enough in the past two days that she’d never care for him? Why couldn’t he have been happy with kissing her? Zach knew the answer. Kissing her was a sweet hell, when he wanted to love her every night for the rest of his life.

“Well?” Holly’s voice startled him. “Are you going to lift the covers, or do I have to stay on top freezing ’til dawn?”

Zach looked up at her. She’d removed her trousers and shirt, and was standing before him in a camisole and white lace drawers that hung past her knees. If ever there was a woman who should have been dubbed an angel on earth, it was Holly—as long as she kept her mouth closed, of course. Her beauty put the sunset he’d seen to shame.

“Well, Yankee?” she snapped. “Do you want me to snuggle next to you for a few hours or not?”

Zach lifted the covers. He couldn’t have gotten a word past his heart pounding in his throat if his life had depended on it. She slid in beside him and cuddled against his side as if she’d been doing it for a lifetime.

“I’ll let you touch me,” she said, as if to make sure he understood who was in charge, “if you continue to kiss me at the same time. I’ve grown to like your kisses more than a little.”

Zach moved his hand lightly over the cotton of her camisole. The lace tickled his palm when he pulled the first ribbon.

She lay very still, watching him moving to the second ribbon. When his fingers passed the valley between her breasts, he brushed her warm skin. “Before this night is over,” he whispered as he pulled the ribbon and revealed more of her flesh, “you’ll like my touch as dearly as you like my kisses.”

“We’ll see, Yankee.” She smiled and stretched, loving the way her movements made him lose his breath.

His mouth lowered over her lips, and all the world but his arms disappeared.