Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (22 page)

“Which part don’t you understand, sweetheart? That I’m crazy about you? Or the thought of you risking your life rather than trusting me makes me mad as hell? Do you think so little of me?”

“You aren’t the problem, Garret!”

“I am sure glad to hear that. Then you should have no problem with being courted.”

“I may be inexperienced with relationships, but I’m quite sure we’ve passed the courtship stage.”

“I’m ready to risk marriage if you are.”

Maggie stared up at Garret’s fierce gaze, hardly able to believe his words. “They must have cracked your skull.”

“Was that a refusal?”

“Of what? You didn’t propose.”

He dropped to one knee and pulled her hand into his. “Then I’m asking.”

Her heart clenched at the picture he made, kneeling before her…he couldn’t be serious. She shook her head. “Garret,
don’t.
”

“Marry me, Maggie.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t mean it!”

“The hell I don’t,” he insisted, straightening to tower over her. “I just blazed across fifty miles to keep you from killing yourself!”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself—I was trying to kill my brother!”

Silence stretched as he stared at her and she knew she’d just hit on the root of his anger.

“Which brings us back to that trust issue,” he said, his voice a rumble of barely controlled fury. “How could you not tell me, Maggie? Did you think I wouldn’t fight for you?”

“This is
my
fight.”

“Anything that affects you, affects me.
I love you, Maggie,
and if you can’t understand that, then there’s no point in even talkin’ to you right now!”

Garret turned away and shoved his hands through his hair. He wanted to hold her, to hug her, but he was afraid if he touched her he’d find a way to stuff her into his back pocket. He struggled to gain a grip on his temper as a combination of rage, fear and adrenaline stormed through his system.

Had he just demanded she marry him?

Holy hell.
As if they didn’t have enough against them, he knew better than to grab a rattler by the tail!

Leaves rustled behind him and he turned to find her sitting in a patch of moonlight, her arms strapped around her knees, her hair covering her face as she looked down at her feet. Dark streaks on her buckskin shirt filled him with new alarm

“Is that blood on your sleeve?”

She glanced at her arm as though just remembering she’d been cut. “Yeah. It’s not deep.”

He crouched beside her and reached for the matches he kept
in a pouch on his belt. She’d nearly been killed by her brother and he’d just raged at her instead of checking her for injuries.

“What are you doing?” she asked, hearing his movement.

He struck the match and she flinched away from the light. “Let me see your arm.” She held out a mostly severed sleeve which had him swearing before he caught sight of the five-inch slash in her soft skin. The cut wasn’t too deep but blood still seeped in spots.

“That needs to be bandaged.” He shook out the match and went to retrieve her pack from her horse. Star stood just a few feet away, grazing on patches of tall grass. He removed her pack and found all he needed. She looked up as he knelt before her and he saw exhaustion clear in every line of her face.

“Let me patch you up,” he said, reaching for the belt at her waist.

She didn’t resist as he removed her belt and then her buckskin shirt. He cut away the sleeve of the cotton shirt beneath. Once he rinsed the long cut and wound a strip of clean cloth around it, he pulled another soft buckskin tunic over her head.

“We’ve about gone through your winter supply of hand towels, haven’t we?”

Her lips shifted slightly as she shoved her arms into the sleeves. She sniffed then wiped at her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Magpie,” Garret said, sitting behind her. “I should have been checking you for injuries before now.”

“I’m not crying because of that little cut.”

He pulled her into his arms and felt a rush of relief as she relaxed against him. “I’d say you’re entitled to some tears. Your own brother just tried to kill you.”

She drew a shuddered breath. “Some things just never change.” She moved closer, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “Thank you,” she said, so softly he barely heard the words spoken against his skin.

“For what?”

“Coming for me.”

He stroked her back softly, wishing he knew the right words to ease the grief he heard in her voice. “Nothing could have kept me away. You never should have gone there alone.”

She looked up, her eyes searching his. “I’ve always been alone.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Maggie.”

He touched her chin. She leaned up to meet his light kiss. Maggie hugged him tight and Garret counted his blessings.

She was safe.
For now.

“We have two choices, sweetheart. We can make camp or ride through the dark for a few more hours. Either way it will be late afternoon before we reach the ranch. Your call, honey.”

She melded against him. “Five more minutes and I’ll be asleep in your arms.”

“Then we’ll make camp.”

He stood, taking away her warmth. “Wait here.”

“Garret?” Maggie looked up to find him gone, his retreating shadow leading their horses farther away.

As much as she wanted to curl up on the ground and fall asleep, images of Nathan’s angry glare kept her eyes open.

You’re not alone anymore, Maggie.

He’d come for her.

Garret returned a short time later and fanned a blanket over the ground beside her. “I left the horses saddled,” he said as he sat down, using her canvas pack propped behind him for support. “Com’ere,” he said, opening his arms.

That was all it took for her to go to him, to let him guide her down between his raised knees and lean her back against the warm support of his chest. He fanned a second blanket over her as she snuggled against him.

“Here,” he said, holding up a long strip of dried venison.

Realizing she was hungry, she took the dried meat.

“We can’t risk a fire tonight.” He set a canteen on the ground beside them.

Completely drained of energy, she leaned into him as she chewed on the tough meat. They ate in silence, nothing stirring but a cool breeze. His lips intermittently brushed her hair as his hand gently caressed her back, melting away her anxiety.

“How’s your shoulder?” she asked as her eyes began to droop.

“Just fine. How’s yours?”

She smiled. “Fine.”

“What were you thinking, Magpie?” The gruffness of his voice told her he’d soothed her anxiety while holding on to his own.

“That Nathan needed to pay for what he did.”

“You should have told me.”

She turned to look at him. “This is my fight.”

“
Our
fight. We’ll find a way to beat him together. One that keeps us both from hanging.”

“It would have been worth it. He’ll be after your ranch now.”

“Magpie.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I would
never
choose my ranch over your life. I’ll walk away from my business before I see you come to harm. You have to know I care about you.”

“And I care about you,”
she said, leaning back against him. “Fighting for something you care about is never in vain. You taught me that.”

Garret shook his head, flattered and infuriated by her reasoning. He closed his arms around her middle and brushed his lips over the shell of her ear.

“I’m the reason he attacked you, the reason your partner was killed.”

“You didn’t kill Duce. You weren’t the one who sent henchmen to my ranch. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She shifted, her cheek resting on his chest as her arms
slid around him, and Garret thanked God he held her, safe and unharmed.

“Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Just when he thought she’d fallen asleep her whispered voice broke the silence.

“We didn’t get him, Garret.”

“We will,” he said, his arms tightening around her.

A
gray sky loomed overhead as thirty-seven men gathered around the double grave site. Most of them ranch hands and cowpokes Nathan had never met, he couldn’t have named five of them if his life depended on it. He stared at their downcast faces in a kind of wonder as words of a eulogy droned in his ears.

He knew their ranch had expanded considerably, but he had no idea just how many men he employed. Gideon had handled all the ranching particulars. Outside his personal security consisting of Gideon’s gang, he’d never given the rest of them much thought. They’d be looking to him to give orders now.

A strain of panic flared inside him. He
needed
Gideon. It had been a mistake to allow someone to become so integrated in his life.

The men beside him stepped forward and Nathan watched as the five remaining men of Gideon’s gang lowered his casket into the ground—the only men he had entrusted with Nathan’s safety. The moment they stepped back, others from the cattle crews began filling in the wide grave. As he watched dirt spatter onto the wood casket grief and rage clawed at the numbing cloak that had settled over him as he had watched
Gideon breathe his last. Even as death had encroached on him, his blood spilling through Nathan’s fingers, Gideon’s first thought was to protect him as he pressed his revolver into his palm.
“Damn it, Nate, take cover.”

Nathan tucked his hands into his coat pockets, his right hand sliding over the gun. His eyes felt hot as a fist seemed to squeeze his lungs. Not about to disgrace his memory by showing a shred of weakness, he turned away and strode to the house.

“Mayor Strafford?”

He glanced back. One of the cowhands hurried toward him. Gideon’s posse closed in fast behind him. They hadn’t shrugged their duty simply because their leader was laid into the ground.

The cowhand stopped before him and tugged on the brown hat he’d been holding.

“What can I do for you, Mr….?”

“Rawlings. Jim Rawlings.”

Jim Rawlings glanced side to side as Gideon’s men encircled them.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his unease revealed in his tense expression. “Real shame what happened to Smith and Cabot.”

“It was,” Nathan agreed.

“I figure you’ll be needin’ a new foreman to manage the crews straight away and I’ve been workin’ with cattle my whole life.”

“Is that a fact?” Jim Rawling’s
whole life
couldn’t equate to a full twenty-five years. “You think you have what it takes to run this place?”

“I do. Ain’t nothin’ I don’t know about managing stock and I got experience with rough ridin’. Spent some time working jobs with a gang down south, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I believe I do.” The man was a braggart, which meant he likely lacked skill. “I see you wear a Colt .44.” Nathan held his hand out. “May I?”

“Well, sure.” Like the young fool Rawlings was, he passed over his firearm. “It’s a fine revolver. Seen me through a lot of trouble.”

Nathan closed his hand over the grip and tested the weight of the gun. He glanced at the men beside him and noted their slightly amused expressions.

“Smith preferred a .45 Schofield Smith & Wesson. I bet he has two dozen in the house.” He knocked open the carriage, glimpsing a full round. “Impress me, Mr. Rawlings. Who, exactly, were the notable rough riders
under your command?
”

“Well, sir, I rode with—”

“You
rode with?
Did you lead or did you follow, Mr. Rawlings?”

“I held my own,” he said, squaring his shoulders, his young features firming.

“Either you lead or you follow, Mr. Rawlings, or you have no loyalty. These men rode for Smith. Smith did a hell of a lot more than simply
hold his own.
He demanded respect and loyalty. Now I’m curious, how does an unarmed man who claims to merely hold his own expect to run my ranch and evoke such loyalty in his men?”

“Well, I—”

“What do you say, boys?” Nathan glanced at the men standing at his side. “You think Mr. Rawlings here can take the place of Smith?” Rage put a tremble on Gideon’s last name.

“No, sir,” his men answered, their narrowed gazes fixed on Rawlings.

Nathan looked back at the man who dared to compare himself to Gideon as dirt was being shoveled over his grave. “Guess that’s a no,” he said, watching his eyes round as he raised his gun and emptied the chamber into Rawlings’s chest. The blasts echoed across the silent plains as Rawlings fell, dead before he hit the ground.

Nathan tossed the gun onto his bloody shirt and glanced
at the wide-eyed crowd watching from a short distance. “Anyone else interested in being my foreman?”

“No, sir,” came a chorus of low mumbles.

He glanced at the men beside him. “Bury him down by the river and get the sheriff out here. We’ve got murderers and rustlers to round up.”

He turned back to the house and didn’t slow his stride until he was inside.

“Señor Strafford?” His maid approached with a silver tray holding his breakfast.

“Not now.” The moment he shut the study doors, the heavy scent of cigar smoke swirled around him, and a pain like he’d never known gripped his chest. His legs buckled. His knees hit the floor as his vision blurred. He tried to drag in a breath as grief ripped at his lungs. He crumpled forward, pressing his hands to the flood of tears scalding his face.

She’ll pay for this.
He’d see the both of them
dead!

H
e wasn’t about to wake her. The sheer wonder that Maggie had slept soundly so far past sunrise was testimony of her exhaustion.

After easing away from her and tucking her into the warmth of the blankets, Garret had prepared and eaten a small breakfast. He sat by the low fire, still trying to fight the images of Maggie held at knifepoint from his mind.

She sat bolt upright in a tangle of blankets and appeared disoriented.

“Magpie?”

She didn’t look at him. Her complexion pale, her expression tense, she glanced to one side and then the other.

Something was wrong.

“Honey, what’s—”

She threw off the blankets and darted into the woods.

What the hell?
Garret lunged up and chased after her.

When he caught up to her she stood leaning forward, her hand on her knees.

“Maggie—”

“I’m okay,” she said in a pant. “Just…go.”

Go?
His heart was about to thump clean out of his chest. “What can I—”

She leaned over and retched into the shrubs. He stepped close and she waved him off. “Go on. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Garret went back to camp and wet a bandana. When he returned she was reclined against a tree, her hand on her stomach. Her slow, deep breaths suggested she was still fighting the nausea.

“Here,” he said, holding out the bandana.

“Thanks.” She held the wet cloth to her face. “I don’t usually get sick this early.”

This early?
“It’s midmorning.”

She looked up, seeming shocked by the sun’s high position in the overcast sky.

Garret’s mind flashed with the two times in the past few days he’d seen her sick to her stomach.

She sighed and leaned back against the tree as she shut her eyes.

“You gonna be sick again?”

She shook her head. “It’ll pass. Just a nervous stomach.”

A nervous stomach?
Last night she’d had reason to be nervous aplenty but she hadn’t gotten sick. He only knew one ailment that caused a woman to be sick in the morning.

“Holy hell,”
he muttered beneath his breath. Was she hiding a pregnancy from him, as well?

She wiped her face with the cloth again and straightened as she drew a deep breath. Her cheeks began to take on some color. “Thanks.”

Garret moved beside her and pressed his lips to her hair. After fighting last night, he wasn’t ready to start another just yet.

“There’s hot water on the fire,” he said as they walked into the small clearing. “I wasn’t about to toss in herbs and have us both knocked out.”

She grinned up at him as she set to the task. “You’ve been
up for a while,” she said, glancing at the skillet. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed sleep.” Garret settled beside her as she steeped her tea. “I fried up some of your venison and potatoes. Don’t suppose you feel up to eating?”

“I’m starving.”

Garret served her what was left in the skillet. She dug right in, not the least bit hampered by the queasy stomach that had her doubled over not ten minutes ago.

She polished off her breakfast in minutes, but her gaze remained fixed on the low fire, her thoughts having taken her miles away.

Garret took her plate. “What are you thinking about, Magpie?” he asked as he stood and began packing up the rest of their supplies.

Her frown deepened before she looked up at him. “Nathan told me he killed my father.”

“You didn’t know that?” Garret asked, surprised.

“No. When I woke they told me he’d had heart failure. When Nathan found his will and saw provisions had been made for my dowry and to send me away to an expensive school, and he went crazy. He chased me down and started beating me. Our staff was there, but no one would help me. They just stood there…
watching.
”

“Different folks have different reactions to fear. I’ve seen a lot of men freeze up and even die when they couldn’t react to what was happening around them. Or maybe your brother wasn’t working alone. How did you get away from him?”

“He got winded and I ran for the woods. He came after me.”

“That’s when Ira found you?”

“Nathan had knocked me to the ground and Ira…he just appeared. I was so scared. For days I thought someone would come after me. But they didn’t. Nobody looked for me.”

“Your father wasn’t the only one to die that day.”

“What do you mean?”

“My attorney showed me a newspaper clipping about your father’s death. Seven people died that day.
Six
actually. According to Nathan’s accounts there was an Indian raid and he returned home to find everyone slaughtered.”

Maggie shook her head. “No.”

“I reckon he made sure there was no one left to oppose his claims of how he came into his full inheritance. I would imagine he had people in that house who sided with him.”

Everything packed, he went to Maggie and held his hand out to help her up.

“He killed them because of me?” she said as she stood.

“No.”
He pulled her close. “He killed them because he has no value for anyone’s life above his own. This sure explains why he’s put so much effort into finding you. Murdering his family would be a hell of a thing to come to light if he’s counting on a seat in the senate once Wyoming’s granted statehood.”

“He’s going to be after both of us now.”

The fear and regret in her eyes tore at his heart. The reminder that she’d gone to face him alone had him tightening his hold on her. “Fine by me. Because I’m going to be after him.”

He released her and picked up the supplies. As they reached the horses he shifted the pack into place behind her saddle and Maggie began tying them down.

“You still feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Especially since I ate.”

“How long have you been having an upset stomach like that?”

“Just since leaving my cabin again.”

“A week?”

She gave him a questioning glance. “I guess.”

“And only in the morning?”

She secured a knot in the rope and seemed to ponder the question. “Yeah.”

“Have you thought something other than nerves might be upsetting your stomach?”

“Like what?” Finished with her task, she stepped back, her blue eyes wide with curiosity as she gazed up at him. She wasn’t hiding anything from him—she didn’t have a clue.

“Like, maybe you’re
with child?
”

She reared back, her expression creased as though he’d cursed at her. “I’m pretty sure my belly would swell up instead of turning inside out.”

“Takes about four months before you’d see any signs in your belly.”

“Oh. Then why would you think—?”

“You’ve been sick every morning for a week. Have you had your monthly since we were up at your place?”

Her mouth dropped open. Color flamed into her cheeks as she stared at him and Garret realized that was likely a personal sort of question—no more personal than the woman he loved carrying his child.

“Maggie?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t. I thought…that maybe…”

“You’re pregnant.”

Maggie felt as though the breath had been knocked from her. She never once guessed…“I can’t be.” She’d accepted long ago that hers was no kind of life to offer a child.

Oh God.
“I can’t have a baby.”

“Here,” he said, pressing the reins of her horse into her hand. “You’re coming back to the ranch with me.”

“Garret,
I can’t.
” She’d had enough years behind her to realize her longing for a baby had been selfish and immature. She’d long since given up all hope.

“You’re obviously not thinking clearly. I’m not about to let you ride off alone, sweetheart.”

“I’ve caused you so much trouble already.”

“Hey,” he said, the slide of fingers over her cheek capturing her attention. “You aren’t to blame for the actions of your brother. I’m glad to know you, Maggie. I want to marry you.”

“I wouldn’t be a good wife, Garret. Or mother.”

“Guess I don’t want a good wife. I want
you,
Magpie, the woman of my dreams. And I know firsthand that it doesn’t take a dress or any fancy manners to make a fine mother. You’re the finest woman I know. So get used to the idea.”

Her heart clenched at his description. She touched a hand to her belly, shock staggering her mind as the realization took hold.
A child.
Garret’s child. Her heart didn’t hold a deeper desire than to be loved by him, to love him in return.

That she now had so much to lose horrified her. She’d once lost all she loved—she wouldn’t survive losing Garret, the promise of the life he’d just described for her.

“He wants you dead, Maggie. That part’s clear enough. I’m not leaving you alone. You’re coming home with me.”

“Okay.”

Her easy acceptance surprised Garret. The bleakness in her eyes as she looked into the distance sent a cold wave of dread crashing through him. He knew, too well, the expression of a woman trapped in a fate she didn’t want.

The sun neared the western rim of mountains by the time they reached a high point on the riverbank near his ranch. Even at a good distance, Maggie could see there were an unusual number of horses in the yard.

She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her brass scope. “Here,” she said, holding it out to Garret. “Be careful of the sun’s position. It can reflect off the lens.”

“I am aware,” he said, his lips slightly tilted as he looked through the telescope toward his ranch. “The sheriff.”

“And Nathan,” she said, knowing by the chill in her skin he was among those gathered in the cluster.

“And Nathan,” he agreed. “I want you to stay here. I’ll circle around before I ride in to see what’s what. If—”

“
No.
You said we’d stay
together.
”

“I’ll come for you. If I’m arrested, you go to my sister’s—”

“They could hang you, Garret!”

“Not with a dozen witnesses on my ranch. Worst Bartley will do is arrest me.”

“And then they’ll hang you!” she whispered harshly. “That’s what they do to rustlers—no questions asked, drop-you-from-a-tree
hangings!
”

“I’ve known Sheriff Bartley for ten years—”

“I’ve known Nathan my whole life—what the hell difference does that make!”

“Nathan brought the sheriff out here because he’s trying to win and save face as mayor. Could be Bartley just wants my statement on what happened.
You
have a dead-or-alive bounty on your head. Promise me you’ll stay here or head on to my sister’s. Either way, I’ll come for you.”

“If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

“
Trust me,
Maggie.”

“It’s
them
I don’t trust. I’m staying right here and keeping my sights on any man who’s near you. So long as no guns are drawn and no ropes aimed for your neck, I won’t pull the trigger. That’s my promise. I’ll wait here until they leave.”

“And if I’m arrested, you’ll go to my sister’s.”

If he was arrested that would mean Nathan had him. “I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, fear shaking her voice.

“Strafford is not going to just go away and I won’t have you anywhere near him. I need to know you’ll be safe. Think of our baby—”

“Don’t say that!” she whispered harshly. She rushed forward and closed her arms around his waist. He didn’t hesitate to pull her close. “I’m too afraid to hope,” she whispered, her cheek against the warmth of his neck.

“I’m not leaving you, Maggie,” he assured her, hugging her tight. “If he intended a quick kill, he wouldn’t have brought the sheriff.” He eased back until she looked up at him. “Let me protect you.”

“I’ll keep watch.”

“And?”

“If I have to…I’ll go to the Morgans.”

He kissed her lips. “Wait for me to come for you.”

Maggie rode toward a massive two-story farmhouse more than twice the size of Garret’s Victorian home. The sun nearly set, light glowed from the many windows. Her gaze moved over a vast expanse of horse corrals. A few men in the yard watched her approach.

I’m trusting him,
she reminded herself. It had taken all her restraint to keep from opening fire as the sheriff of Bitterroot had arrested Garret, cuffing his wrists while her brother had stood an arm’s length away. Garret’s men outnumbered Nathan’s two to one. All of them had set off for Bitterroot.

She reined in before a wide porch and dismounted. Sucking in a deep breath, she ascended the steps. A hum of conversation from inside carried through the rough-wood walls.

I’m keeping my promise.
She’d only promised to come here—she hadn’t promised to stay. If she had any other options to help Garret she’d have used them. She wanted him back. The Morgans would know what to do.

She rapped on the door.

The noise inside seemed to increase before the door opened, a boy appearing in the narrow gap. His white wavy hair caught Maggie off guard. Skylar and Tucker’s son. Around ten years old and about her height, he was the spitting image of Garret but for his deep green eyes.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said.

“Is Chance here?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned and shouted, “Uncle Chance!”

“Right here, Josh,” his approaching uncle said from behind the door. “No need to shout the house down.”

Chance stepped into view, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

“Maggie.”

She stared at the pink-cheeked infant tucked into the crook of his arm. Cora’s baby, she recalled. And Chance’s, and yet the tiny bundle held so gently against his chest didn’t fit her image of Chance. No more than she could envision herself with such a delicate bundle.

Oh God.
It had been too many years since she’d entertained any such notions—to do so now terrified her.

“Well, come on in,” he said, opening the door wide as he stepped back. “Isn’t Garret with you?” he asked, looking past her.

“No,” she said, her gaze falling on the source of all the clatter and chatter. A roomful of children sat at a long dining room table just beyond the foyer. An array of blond braids and orange curls, little girls of varying ages surrounded the table. She’d never seen the like. The room quieted as so many little faces and wide, curious eyes looked in her direction.