Rocky Mountain Widow (Historical) (12 page)

Self-defense is a hard thing, to be forced to kill and to be forced to live with it after. I can't leave you alone, Claire.
His words from earlier this morning haunted her as she watched him straighten and pat the mustang on her flank. The horse trusted him and turned to nuzzle her soft white nose against his gloved hand.

He was not a bad man, not bad at all. And that made it so much more difficult. Because if he was a horrible man, cruel or violent or inappropriate, then she wouldn't get this warm rush of emotion when she didn't think she could feel anything through the dark gray fog in her heart.

Then she wouldn't have this sting of attraction and admiration and bittersweet sadness because she already knew what she felt couldn't be realized.

True love didn't exist, not in this world. Perhaps men did not have the heart for it. Heaven knows she was worn through and too weary to love a man again. The trouble was, Joshua Gable made her want to believe.

Oh, yes he did. He's like a dream, the image of what a man ought to be.
The kind of man she had wished for when she was growing up, taking what spare time and pennies she had to embroider pillowcases for her hope chest and wondering what exciting turn her life might take. What man she would end up falling in love with and marrying.

Life had once seemed packed with promises and possibilities. And now…

Now those possibilities were different, she realized as she double-checked the stove's damper and locked the door carefully behind her. Life was once again hers to make. What became of her future was her choice. Hers to make and hers alone.

Joshua spotted her and gave the mare one last nose rub. “I thought you might want to borrow a horse.”

“What's wrong with Thor or Loki?” Alarm tickled through her and she knew before he said it. “They were taken along with the cattle, weren't they?”

“I've got my brothers keepin' an eye out. We think we know who has them.”

Was it her imagination or was Joshua smiling? Actually grinning, showing his dimples and all. “Does that mean you can get them back for me?”

“Fine workhorses like that, a matched team, could sell for as much as five, six hundred dollars. And the thieves can't take them to the local auctions because someone is bound to recognize them.”

“That was part of the paperwork of Thad's. I didn't read it because there's no way I would sell my horses. They're family to me.”

“I know how that is.” Joshua's smile faded as he stroked the mare's neck. “I'm fairly confident I can liberate them eventually. In the meantime, this is Stormy and she's gentle as can be. Tender-mouthed, though, so keep a loose rein on her and you won't have a problem.”

“She's valuable, Joshua.” This is why she couldn't help liking the man. On one hand, he was domineering, just providing her with a fine driving mare and assuming that it would be no problem. As if he had every right to solve her problems.

And then, on the other hand, he'd been thoughtful enough to care. “I can't accept anything so valuable, whether you're a friend or not.”

“And just how are you getting to town this morning? You don't have wings to fly.”

It ought to be against the law for a man to have dimples like that. Dimples that framed his spare grin and softened the hard, craggy features of his face. How was a woman to stand strong against such a man? “I can walk easily enough.”

“What would the doc have to say about that?”

“He doesn't have bills to see to and a lawyer to hire, does he?” She peeled off one glove and let the mare scent her hand. She was a nice little thing, compact and sleek, with a white-and-brown painted coat that looked like expensive velvet. “I really can't walk all the way to town, although I'd like to.”

“Not so soon after…” Joshua didn't finish his thought.

After complications from a miscarriage.
She fought back a terrible sorrow. One so big it could drown her if she let it. Holding on tight to her emotions, she shoved the thought from her mind. “I meant what I said earlier. I can't accept this. Your help, your involvement. I won't have the Hamiltons wondering why you're here.”

“They already are.” He could see it wasn't just that independent will making her turn down a perfectly sensible solution to her situation. It was pride, too. And conscience. However low his opinion of most women, Claire just kept surprising him. She was a decent woman. “Tell you what. You rent her from me.”

“She's still out of my budget.”

“Then we'll settle up after your cattle sell and we get your Clydesdales back. How about that?”

“It's tolerable.”

“Hell, now I'm relieved. Are you gonna get in the sled, or do I have to watch you ice over?” Annoyed, that's what he was. Not captivated. Because it was impossible. He'd never let a woman get under his skin like that. And yet, he couldn't help liking her, and not just a little.

“This is the end of it,” she said, taking the reins and refusing his offer of a hand as she stepped into the sled. “You ride to town with me and you and your brothers go back to your lives. Don't misunderstand. I'll never forget what you've done, but I'm getting stronger. And I can do this just fine on my own.”

Respect her? Yep, he did that. He saw the steel in her and that willowy strength. Not one complaint, and not one manipulative ploy since he'd come into her life. He'd see her to town first, and then he'd see.

“I guess I'll ride shotgun this one last time. Did I mention I have a cousin who's a lawyer in town? You might want to look him up.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.” She settled her skirts on the board seat with one hand, keeping her gaze there, although he could see the hint of a smile on those soft lips so temptingly sweet. “How do you stay in such complete charge of everything? Of solving every foreseeable problem?”

“It's a talent.” He shrugged, not at all humble, because he was good at being in charge. He didn't mind that she saw it, too.

All the way to town, he kept a few paces behind her sled. But there was no danger he sensed. No gut instinct that trouble was lurking.

Maybe she was right. The Hamiltons were managed. The danger to her was past. It was a legal matter from here, and his cousin could handle that for her. His part in her life was done. If it made him a little sad to leave her in town, outside Callan's law office, then he ignored the tug in his chest.

Or the sense of something lost, something he couldn't name, as he tipped his hat to her and left her standing in the sugary snow, an image of loveliness and strength that stayed with him.

C
laire's eyes popped open to utter darkness. The night thrummed with tension.

The threads of dreams were gone. There had been no nightmare, and the silence felt heavy in the bedroom as she sat up, letting the warm covers rustle as they fell from her upper body.

What had awakened her? A noise? Some danger in the night? Or simply her own unease at being alone, all alone, on a quarter section of land on the edge of civilization. Then she heard the eerie howl of a wolf right outside the cabin wall. So close she could hear the gasp of breath the creature took as he howled again.

Far away in the distance, another of its kind answered.

There were no cattle to worry over. No horses in the fields. Only Stormy, who was locked up tight in the stable. Alone.

Damn the Hamiltons and whoever had stolen her horses and milk cow. She'd lost her deal with the town's
mercantile. She couldn't very well sell butter if she had no milk to make it from.

And then came her meeting with the banker, where she realized that Annabelle and Thad had emptied and closed Ham's accounts. There had been signed documents from Ham to prove it, although she wasn't sure if Ham's signature was real or forged.

The wolf howled again so close to the house the boards seemed to vibrate with the eerie, hair-raising sound.

That's it. They were way too close. She sat up in bed and fumbled for the match tin. A single strike had a weak flame tossing enough light for her to find the lantern's wick and light it. Illumination chased back the dark shadows, and the pad of the wolf's gait didn't seem as frightening. She'd heard wolves before, but not when she'd been alone.

Her movements echoed in the silent cabin, the darkness a strange living entity, growing thicker and more menacing in the corners as she made her way through the cabin. Tiptoeing, she moved carefully on the wood floor, careful to avoid the planks and joints she knew would creak.

It was important that she make no sound, because Ham hated it when she woke him. He'd go from snoring to frothing rage in a breath's span, and—

Claire, Ham is gone.

The realization lit her mind with clarity. What was she doing, how could she have forgotten Ham was no longer ruling her life? That he never would again. That she'd never have to worry about making noise and waking him up. Or what kind of mood he'd wake up to every morning. Or when he came home from riding the
property, if he'd be violent or if he'd really been out drinking with his buddies.

It's over.
It was as if her heart realized it for the first time. She was free. Really, truly free. She'd never need to tiptoe or work so hard to keep a man from finding an excuse to lose his temper. Never again.

Tears burned in her eyes. Emotion ached in her throat. Her thighs felt shivery with relief so she hauled out a chair from the nearby kitchen table and sank into it, reveling in the squeak the wood legs made against the wood floor. The sound reverberated faintly against the bare plank walls before fading into silence.

Of course, she'd known she was free, but she hadn't realized how deep her habits had become and all the ways she'd changed her behavior because of Ham so as not to upset him.

She was no victim; she'd never crumpled. She would never let a man break her spirit the way her mother's had been broken, but marriage was forever. Once done, the vows spoken, there was no going back. And she never would have married Ham if she'd known the real man beneath the charming manner he'd pretended to have. She'd been tricked, and she'd done her best.

It's over.
Really and truly over. The silence around her answered by echoing back her own stifled sob. Just as it had taken her heart a while to understand what her head had already figured out after her marriage—Ham didn't love her, not at all. Married life was not going to be the way she'd dreamed of it.

And now she saw the truth of her life. She had peace,
she had her life back. Hers alone. No man could ever have the right to rule her again.

The wolf outside had followed her through the cabin. She could sense his presence on the other side of the wall. The cabin wasn't well sealed, and the icy cold had frosted on the table and the floor at her feet, turning the nail heads an icy white that glistened whenever the lantern light touched. She could hear a second padding gait through the tiny cracks between the boards. They were pacing, still they weren't stalking yet.

But they would be.

She swiped the dampness from her lashes. This was her property to defend. Hers and hers alone. Leaving the lantern on the table, she waded through the shadows to the mantel, the hearth beneath it dark, the embers well banked, and let her fingers wander among the handguns.

There were several different kinds, but she knew next to nothing about guns. One revolver slung in a hook on the wall caught her interest. It was like the one Joshua used. A deadly iron nose and a smooth wooden handle that felt oddly powerful against her palm.

She spun open the chamber as she'd seen Ham do a thousand times. The lead of the bullets gleamed dully back at her. Good, she wouldn't have to worry about loading the thing or which bullets to use. She'd rather not waste any more time.

The window was iced and the sill groaned and crackled when she gave it a push. Too much noise, more than she'd been hoping for. But one glance through the frost-glazed glass told her that the wolves hadn't moved. Not
two, but three giant creatures, too wild and dangerous to ever be thought of as doglike, had backed up to get a good look at her.

The faint starlight trickling between the heavy banks of clouds above was enough to dust the snow like silver, making the wolves nothing but black shadows and gleaming feral eyes.

The biggest—the leader—paraded forward, his mouth open to show the sharp edges of fanged teeth and hunger glazing his eyes. They weren't after the horse in the stable. They'd wanted her.

Chilling fear snaked down her spine. They couldn't somehow get into the cabin, could they? They'd never tried this before, but then they could have scented the danger of an armed man on the premises. Now that powerful male presence was gone.

Fine. She could handle a few nasty predators. She could tell the lead wolf didn't think she was a threat to him. He brazenly stared back at her, as if he were well aware she had opened the window, perhaps, in his view, giving him an opening.

She wound the gun into her nightgown so the click was muffled as she thumbed back the hammer, something she'd seen Ham do countless times. The wolf's ears lifted, as if he'd heard the sound but was wondering about it. He froze but didn't retreat.

Okay, Claire, you can do this.
She hadn't fired a gun before, but how hard could it be? She had to be steady. She had to make this count.

The wolf dismissed the faint click and padded forward another few paces. The two friends stalked nearer
to join forces with him. The air tensed, as if waiting for them to attack.

They were huge animals up close. Much bigger than she would have guessed. Her forefinger slid into place around the trigger.

Just point and pull the trigger.
That's all she had to do. As she raised her arm, bringing the gun up to the crack in the window, the lead wolf sprang.

Enormous paws clawed at the two-inch gap in the window. Horror rushed through her as she realized the window was opening. A black nose and white teeth flashed as one paw hung onto the sill and the wolf's head butted the widow frame until the glass cracked. Saliva dripped onto the floor.

Shoot!
It was as if an outside force had steadied the revolver and squeezed around her finger. The .45 fired with a flash of light and smoke and the wolf tumbled away in silence, leaving a wet, dark smear on the fractured glass.

Blood? Before she could think about that, a dark force hurled against the window.

One of the panes shattered, spraying shards over her nightgown as a snout penetrated and fangs snapped open. Lethal hatred flashed in those soulless eyes before she pulled back the hammer and squeezed again.

And again.

Until there was nothing but smoke and silence.

Alone in the kitchen, her breathing rasped fast and shallow and seemed to echo in the open beams overhead. Adrenaline kicked like seven cups of coffee in her blood. She stared dully at the open window, where trees
sat frosted and still. A glimpse of the sky showed her the last of the stars had been swallowed up by clouds, leaving it too dark to see anything more than the faint humps of three wolves outside.

Were they dead? Or would they spring back to life, injured and enraged by pain? Whatever she did, she'd better figure out how to cover the window, because she remembered the distant answering howl from earlier. These were not the only wolves in the area.

Something snapped in the wooded grove just beyond the house. That was her answer. More were coming. And she had only two bullets left. There were boxes of ammunition by the front door, but it was several paces away, too far to go to leave the window undefended.

Well, she'd stop as many wolves as she could and then she'd worry about it, because there was a faint shadow rearing up out of the trees. Adrenaline surged through her, making her arms jerky so she nestled the .45's nose on the wooden sill and lined up the siting notch with the center of the moving shadow.

“Claire?” Joshua's voice came as quiet as a hush, but welcome.

So incredibly welcome. The revolver slid from her grip and tumbled to the floor. “You. What are you—You're not supposed to be out here.”

“Guilty. It didn't quite sit right with me to leave you out here all by your lonesome. But maybe you don't need anyone watching out for you after all.” He halted near the window, where the lifeless wolves lay. “Impressive shot.”

“Th-thank you.” Every part of her trembled. “Joshua.
It's not safe out there. I heard other wolves.” Her mind was spinning. Of course Joshua knew about the dangers.

“Hold on. I'll be in to fix that window. You'll unbolt the door?”

She nodded. Nausea gripped her stomach as she plucked the Colt from the floor and nudged the weapon onto the table. Joshua was gone. He'd merged with the darkness. The night seemed to be only a thousand shades of black.

After unbolting the front door, she listened for Joshua's footsteps as she knelt with the broom and dustpan to do something about the broken glass. Keeping her hands busy kept her from thinking about what could have happened.

By the time the door swung open, she had the floor swept clean and the broom and dustpan back in place in the pantry. She'd managed to calm her frayed nerves as well. Joshua didn't look at her but went straight to the window and right to work.

She brought a lamp from the front room and set it, lit, on the table for him to see by. He didn't seem to notice as he tapped thin nails into the wooden frame and sill until the thick square of board, a scrap he must have found in the barn, neatly covered the gaping hole.

“That ought to keep the wolves out. As long as you don't go opening any more windows.” Joshua set the old hammer from the barn next to her Colt on the table and hauled out a chair. The backs of his knuckles were bruised and swollen. One had a cut that looked as if it was trying to heal over. She'd seen wounds like that before.

She blinked, aware she was staring. She could feel
his gaze, curious, on her. He'd caught her noticing. She licked her dry lips and realized her tongue was dry, too. “Do you want me to heat some tea water? Or coffee?”

“I don't have time and you don't need the bother.”

“Me? What about you? You bothered to come all this way when you should be warm and safe in your bed. I could have shot you tonight, Joshua. I never could have lived with myself if anything like that had happened. I…”

Dismay flowed through her. She heard the raw, unmasked emotion in her voice as she covered her face with her hands. She'd had no intention of caring about Joshua Gable so very much. “What I meant to say is that I couldn't live with shooting anyone, and you've done so much for me.”

“Sure.” He nodded, as if she'd said the sensible thing. “Then I figure you know how I gotta feel. Being told you didn't want me around when you need protection, Claire. The Hamiltons are out of jail—the sheriff let them go—and to tell you the truth, unless you pick a man to marry and get him to move in here with guns enough to protect you, the Hamiltons aren't going to rest.”

Her hopes sank. “Especially after this morning in town and finding out the family drained the bank accounts. Thad supposedly had documents with Ham's signature, but Ham was too protective of his money. He wouldn't have trusted Thad to have paperwork like that.”

Joshua's hard face showed no hint of surprise at the news. “What did my cousin say?”

“That I was right. Thad and his wife were trying to take the land. Your cousin was very helpful, but the truth is, I have nothing but debts and there will be a legal
fight about the land. He won't know until he puzzles the mess out. And for your information, I have no intention of marrying again.”

“It's what widows your age do.” He watched Claire's creamy complexion turn pink, and he'd lived with enough women over the years to recognize the spark of temper that flashed in her eyes and bracketed her mouth. “Now don't go getting het up.”

“I'm not upset.”

“I only meant that most widows wind up remarried. It's the sensible solution. Most have children or debts or land to take care of, and it's hard for a woman to learn to be a rancher overnight. Of course, some are like my stubborn sister and sell off their land and move to town and start a business…never mind.”

He tamped down anger that had nothing to do with Claire and everything to do with the sister he'd been doing his best to protect. Not that she'd made it easy for him. And neither had Claire, come to think of it. “I only meant you're a sensible woman, Claire.”