Maureen McKade (18 page)

“What do you think, Zeus? How would you like to live in that nice, warm barn? All the oats you could eat? You’d get fat and lazy in no time.”

Zeus neighed.

Jake laughed. “Are you saying if I married her, I’d get fat and lazy, too?” He patted the horse’s neck. “I have a feeling I’d be busier than I’ve ever been, both during the day and at night, if you get my drift.”

Zeus snorted and sidestepped nervously.

Jake sobered instantly. “What is it, boy?”

Barely registering the gunshots, he felt Zeus stumble. Jake instinctively kicked free of the stirrups. Then pain exploded in his skull as he tumbled to the ground with a bone-jarring jolt that sent awareness fleeing into darkness.

Chapter 12

K
it watched Jake until the darkness swallowed him, then dropped the curtain back in place. Loneliness invaded her, surprising her with its sharp pang. It had been a long time since she’d felt so alone.

A pounding on the door startled her; irrationally thinking Jake had returned, she threw it open.

Ethan stood in the entrance. “The roan is gettin’ set to drop her foal.”

Her disappointment was quickly replaced by a surge of excitement. Grabbing her old coat from a hook, she followed Ethan across the yard. Halfway to the barn, faint gunshots broke the evening’s silence.

Kit grasped Ethan’s arm. “Where’d those come from?”

He shook his head. “Sounded like a ways down the road.”

“It wouldn’t be hunters after dark,” Kit said. Her blood ran cold. “Jake left about ten minutes ago.”

“Don’t you go thinking something happened to him. Those shots could’ve been anything,” Ethan reassured.

“Like what?” Kit demanded.

The young man shifted nervously. “Like anything.”

“Were those shots I heard?” Charlie called from the barn door.

Kit and Ethan joined him.

“Sounded like it,” Ethan said.

“I’m going to find out if it was Jake,” Kit said, her voice hoarse with apprehension. She closed her eyes a moment to gather her disarrayed thoughts. “You two stay here and deliver that foal.”

“That don’t take two of us,” Charlie stated. “Ethan, you go on with Miz Thornton.”

The young man nodded curtly. Five minutes later, Kit and Ethan raced down the hard-packed path leading to town. Kit tried not to think about Jake lying dead on the side of the road. She trembled uncontrollably, and Cassie stumbled as if sensing Kit’s anxiety.

“We’ll find him even if we have to go all the way into town,” Ethan said.

Kit glanced up at the boy’s resolute face and mustered a smile for his sake.

She tried to convince herself that they’d find Jake safe and warm at Freda’s. After all, he was the infamous Jake Cordell.

Gunshots rang out all around Jake. He dived behind a water trough, pulling his trusty Colt from his holster as he moved with a grace few men could equal. Raising his head cautiously above his protective barrier, he fired in the direction of the ambushers
.

A bullet kicked up dust beside him and he rolled over, but he couldn’t see any sign of his attackers. His sixth sense told him they surrounded him, waiting to pick him off like a tin can at a turkey shoot
.

Sunlight glinted off a rifle barrel sticking out from a rooftop across the street, and Jake lifted his revolver. Before he could fire, a burning pain exploded in his back. He fell forward, facedown on the dusty street
.

He had to move, to get away, but his muscles wouldn’t
obey his commands. The sun grew dimmer, the pain more intense, and Jake knew he had little time left on this world
.

Backshot by a craven coward. It wasn’t the way Jake Cordell had figured on dying
.

He gazed up at the sky, wishing he’d had one more day, one more hour, to prepare. Ruby red blood poured from his wound, saturating his shirt and disappearing into the thirsty earth beneath him
.

His lungs rattled, struggling to prolong the inevitable a moment longer. Regrets haunted him, and moisture hazed his vision. There would be no one to mourn his passing, and no son to carry on his name
.

Jake Cordell took his last breath and lay still, dying as he’d been destined to do: alone
.

Kit sobbed, then shook her head fiercely. What if she’d brought about Jake’s death?

Suddenly Ethan halted his horse and took hold of Kit’s reins.

“There’s something up ahead,” he said in a low voice. “You stay here. I’ll go check it out.”

“I’m going with you,” Kit stated firmly.

Ethan gazed at her a long moment, and sent her a quick nod. “All right, but stay behind me.”

As Kit followed him, she swallowed the bitter bile rising in her throat.
Dear God, what if Jake was dead? What if he died not knowing he had a son?

Ethan dismounted by the body lying on the dirt road, and Kit joined him. She recognized Jake’s coat immediately, and at the sight of the bloodstains soaking the collar, blackness crowded her vision as the world spun around her.

“He’s still alive,” Ethan said, his voice sounding far away. “Looks like a bullet grazed his head. That’s why there’s so much blood.”

Jake came back into focus, and with shaking fingers,
Kit touched his marble-cold cheek. “We have to get him back to the ranch.”

Ethan nodded shortly.

Working together, Kit and Ethan managed to lift Jake into Ethan’s saddle. Kit held the horse steady while the young man got up behind him and put his arms around Jake’s chest to keep him from tumbling to the ground.

The ride back to the ranch seemed to stretch into hours. Charlie came out to help Ethan carry the wounded man into the spare bedroom and Kit scrambled about the kitchen, heating water and gathering clean rags and bandages. In her haste, she splashed hot water on her hand, but ignored the pain.

He couldn’t die, not before he knew Johnny was his son. How could she live with herself if that happened?

Kit entered the bedroom carrying a pan of steaming water. Her gaze fell on Jake’s blood-smeared face, and her stomach dipped. “Any change?”

Ethan shook his head.

Kit squeezed the excess water out of a cloth, and began to dab at the drying blood on Jake’s forehead. “Ride into town and get Dr. Lewis.”

Ethan grabbed his hat and hurried off to do as she’d bid.

“How’s it look?” Charlie asked.

“He’s bled a lot, but that’s normal with head wounds,” Kit replied. She cleaned the shallow furrow on the side of his forehead.

“You need any help?”

Kit shook her head. “I can handle it. How’s the mare doing?”

“Should have a new foal in a few hours,” Charlie replied.

“Good,” Kit said. “As soon as I can, I’ll come out to see her.”

Charlie laid a hand on her back. “You stay with Jake. I can deliver the foal by myself.”

The hired man left the room, and Kit wrapped a bandage around Jake’s wound to staunch the trickle of blood. Completing her task, she rested her elbows on her thighs. Her body trembled with exhaustion and concern.

It was past midnight when the sound of hooves alerted Kit to Ethan’s return with the doctor. A few minutes later, Dr. Lewis trudged up the stairs, his shirttails haphazardly tucked into his pants. His unshaven face and rumpled hair told Kit that Ethan had gotten the doctor out of bed.

“What’s this about someone getting shot?” Dr. Lewis demanded.

Kit pointed to Jake lying on the bed. “Somebody ambushed him as he rode back to town.”

“Damned inconsiderate of him,” Lewis muttered.

“It wasn’t Jake’s fault,” Kit defended.

He leaned over Jake and lifted the bandage, then examined the wound. “Looks like he was shot.”

Kit glanced at Ethan, who stared at Lewis like he was a few pickles shy of a barrel. She reminded herself of the doctor’s eccentricity and kept her voice calm. “That’s right. A bullet grazed his forehead.”

“Well, if you knew that, why’d you drag me out here?”

“I want to be sure it didn’t crack his skull.”

Dr. Lewis re-covered the injury. “No such luck. He’s got a head harder’n my late wife’s flapjacks. She was a good woman, just couldn’t cook.”

“So he’ll be all right?” Kit asked.

“Why wouldn’t he? Keep that wound cleaned good.” He reached into his bag and gave her a bottle. “When he wakes up, he’ll have a whale of a headache. Give
him some of this powder mixed in a glass of water, or whiskey would work, too.”

“I think I’ll stick with the water,” she said dryly.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter none to me.”

Kit sighed. “Thanks, Dr. Lewis. I really appreciate your coming out to check on him.”

“No problem, Miss Thornton. Been proven folks get too much sleep, anyhow. Me, I try to keep it to about four hours a night.”

She wondered if she should suggest he get a few more, but thought better of it. “Why don’t you go down into the kitchen with Ethan and have a cup of coffee before you head back?”

“You got tea? Coffee gives me the jitters.”

“I’m sure we can find you some tea,” Kit assured him.

She watched Ethan escort Dr. Lewis out of the room.

Relieved that Jake wouldn’t suffer any lasting effects, Kit allowed herself to relax. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and studied his pallor. Smoothing back the burnished hair from his forehead, Kit rested her palm against the side of his face. His whiskers rasped her skin, sending liquid heat spiraling through her veins.

She’d never really thought about the differences between men and women, until Jake. Her face was smooth, while his was rougher, more rugged. She took hold of his hand, clasping it between hers, willing him to wake up. Her fingers were long and slender, his blunt and callused. Brushing a fingertip across the back of his hand, she felt a light dusting of hair. The sensation triggered a tingle in her stomach.

“What happened to Mr. Cordell?”

Johnny’s frightened voice startled her, and she turned to see her son standing behind her, his eyes wide with fear as he stared down at Jake.

Kit gently rested Jake’s hand on his chest, then put
an arm around her son’s shoulders. “He was shot, honey, but Dr. Lewis said he’ll be all right.”

“Is he sleeping?”

“In a way,” she replied. “It’s his body’s way of trying to make him better.”

Johnny moved closer to Kit, wrapping his arm around her neck. Settling the boy on her knee, Kit rested her cheek against his soft, thick hair, so much like his father’s.

“When will he wake up?” Johnny whispered.

“I don’t know. Remember when Ethan got thrown by Midnight?”

Her son nodded. “Charlie said he’d be okay because he had a hard head.”

Kit smiled. “That’s right. Well, Mr. Cordell has a hard head, too, but just like Ethan, he’ll sleep for a while until his body heals some on its own.”

She tightened her hold around him. “Don’t worry; he’ll be all right.”
He has to be
. She eased Johnny down to stand and released him. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I’m sure Mr. Cordell will be better in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Johnny did as she’d said.

Sometime later, Charlie came up to let her know the roan had had a healthy colt. Pleasure mixed with sadness. It was the first foaling Kit had missed, and it might be the last one she’d have a chance to witness on her ranch.

Remaining beside Jake all night, Kit dozed lightly in the chair a few times. By early morning some color had returned to his cheeks, and he seemed to be resting easier.

Johnny joined her in the coral glow of the sunrise, and he reclined on her lap quietly. It was as if he sensed her need to hold him, and ease his anxiety.

As she stroked Johnny’s downy hair in an absent caress,
her thoughts centered on Jake. He deserved to know the truth about Johnny. Maggie had known the young hellraiser, not the man he’d become. Though he was a man who said he didn’t know love or want a family, Kit had seen what lay behind his defensive shield. He’d been searching for a place to call home his whole life, and she had it in her power to give him his family, a reason to plant roots.

She listened to the even breathing of father and son, able to admit she’d done wrong by both of them. After Jake recovered, she’d tell him the truth and face the consequences. She only hoped they both could forgive her.

The buzz in Jake’s ears increased to a dull roar, and he pressed his hand to his temple. Pain exploded at the point of contact, and he grunted. Opening his eyes, he blinked at the dimness surrounding him. Disoriented, he tried to distinguish anything that would give him a clue as to where he was. He wasn’t lying on the hard ground, but it didn’t feel like his bed at Freda’s, either.

Frowning, he attempted to push back the opaque veil that hid the events following his departure. He’d spent Easter day at Kit’s, and had left in the evening. His memory surged back. He’d been shot.

Gingerly, he touched the bandage on his forehead. The bullet must’ve grazed him. No wonder his head throbbed like a hangover. Of course, if his ambusher had had better aim, a headache would be the least of his worries. He’d have been busy trying to talk his way out of an overdue appointment with Old Nick.

Shifting his position, he could make out a figure sitting in a chair beside the bed. He blinked and the image coalesced into two persons, a child on a woman’s lap.

Kit and Johnny.

They must’ve found him and brought him back to the
ranch. His eyelids drooped, demanding more rest for his injured body, but Jake kept his gaze focused on Kit and her son. Nobody had ever sat with him, worried about him. Now twice in less than a month, Kit had given him her concern without any strings attached.

His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t want to contemplate a life with her always caring for him, a life with Johnny as he watched him grow to become a man. He didn’t want to think about those things, but his mind was too weary to hold the images at bay. Giving in to his body’s need for rest, he closed his eyes and dreamed of living in a real home.

When he awoke again, light streamed in the uncurtained window and he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunshine. The chair where he’d seen Kit and Johnny earlier sat empty.

Kit breezed into the room, dressed in her customary trousers and man’s shirt. A bright blue kerchief around her neck added a splash of color and enhanced the warmth of her eyes.

She glanced at him, then looked again. A relieved smile lit her features as she leaned over him. “Good morning. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up.”

Jake licked his dry lips, his mouth as arid as a desert. Kit poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser. She slid her cool hand behind his neck, raising his head so he could drink. After a few swallows, she withdrew the cup.

“You might get sick if you don’t go slow,” she said.