Sullivan (4 page)

Three loaded weapons within reach; perhaps she was Jed's sister, after all. "Someone's coming."

She sighed. "I know."

With that, she slipped down onto the floorboard and reached beneath the seat. It was a tight fit, but she was so small the maneuver seemed no effort at all for her. Soft arms brushed against his leg as she reached around him, and her warm breath actually penetrated his denims and touched his thigh. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the pain in his battered body to take his mind off of the tempting, attractive woman at his feet.

She laid her hand on his thigh as she rose and retook her seat, the move innocent and unthinking.
Jed's sister
, he reminded himself. If ever a woman was off-limits...

"Would you like to hold on to this?"

Sullivan glanced at Eden and saw that she offered the six-shooter to him.

"I imagine they're just travelers like us, but as Jedidiah always told me, you can't be too careful."

This from a woman who'd had a bloody, unconscious stranger dumped into the back of her wagon? She called that careful?

He took the six-shooter from her and slipped it into the waistband of his denims. Her eyes met his, and she attempted a small, reassuring smile.

Didn't she know any better than to look at a man that way? Damn.
Jed's sister
, he reminded himself as the travelers to their rear grew closer. Jed's damn
sister
.

* * *

A full day of healing had done little to remedy the evidence of Sullivan's beating. The blood was gone, washed away at the stream before they'd set out, and the second eye had opened a while back. Still, he was cut and bruised and swollen in a way that made her heart lurch when she looked closely at him. It just wasn't right.

He might be a handsome man but it was hard to tell at the moment. With a haircut and a change of clothes, and when his face had a chance to heal... perhaps. Still, she didn't expect he looked any gentler or safer even when he hadn't been recently beaten up. He was definitely not what one might call an upstanding citizen.

She'd known full well the dangers of a woman traveling in this wild country, with only young children for companionship. Being well armed eased her mind a little, as did her caution and the fact that since she'd left the railway in San Antonio and started out in her own wagon, she hadn't run across a single other traveler.

The three men who approached from behind didn't appear to be threatening, but the hairs on the back of Eden's neck stood up all the same. Jedidiah had always told her to listen to her instincts.

"Good afternoon," the one in the lead said affably. "Where you folks headed?"

The man pulled up alongside, but Sullivan didn't slow the progress of the wagon. "West," he said simply, without so much as turning his head to glance at the stranger.

"Us, too," the man said cheerily. "Mind if we ride along with you?"

Sullivan mumbled a reluctant consent.

The man on the horse turned his eyes to Eden, then spared a glance for the sleeping children. "Afternoon, ma'am," he said cordially. "My name's Curtis Merriweather, and these are my brothers Will and George."

Will and George drew closer, one on either side of the wagon. They tipped their hats absently, as if playing at being polite.

Curtis looked down at Sullivan, and if Eden wasn't mistaken, his eyes hardened. "What's your name, mister?"

"Sullivan," he muttered.

Curtis grinned. He had thin lips and a slash of a mouth, and his smile was somehow odd, forced and much too wide. "Fine Irish name. Funny, Sullivan, but you don't
look
Irish."

Sullivan glanced up, and Curtis's smile faded. "Damn, mister. What happened to you?"

Sullivan didn't answer, just continued to stare at the man on the horse.

"Please watch your language," Eden scolded softly, leaning forward. "There are children present, and just because they happen to be sleeping doesn't mean you should pay less mind to your manners."

"Sorry, ma'am," Curtis said with a touch of a condescending smile. "So," he continued, setting his eyes on Sullivan again, "where are you and the missus and the kiddies headed again?"

In an instinctive response, Eden opened her mouth to tell the man that she was
not
Sullivan's missus. A sharp, warning glance from the battered man at her side stopped her, his eyes ordering her to remain silent. Well, perhaps it would be less complicated if the men believed her to be Sullivan's wife, since they were traveling together. For the moment, anyway.

"We're going to see my brother," she said brightly.

"Do tell," Curtis said, apparently happy to turn his attention to her and away from Sullivan. "Well, this is rough country. Me and my brothers, we'll ride along and make sure your journey through this county is a safe one."

"Great," Sullivan mumbled.

The men spread out, effectively surrounding the wagon. One of the brothers. Will or George, rode ahead, and Curtis and the other Merriweather brother flanked the wagon. After a while their attention seemed to drift away from the occupants of the wagon, and they stared straight ahead, seemingly deadly serious and lost in thought.

Eden scooted across the wagon seat to sit close to Sullivan, thigh to thigh. She lifted her chin and arched up to whisper in his ear, "What's your name?"

He looked down at her. "Sullivan," he said, keeping his voice low.

She smiled slightly. "Your given name. If we're supposed to be married..."

"Just call me honey," he interrupted, and she could swear she detected a touch of humor in his voice.

"Really, Mr. Sullivan"—she leaned on his hard arm and looked up into his hazel eyes—"that would hardly be appropriate."

He squinted at her, his gaze hard. He wrinkled his nose and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "Sinclair," he finally whispered.

Her smile bloomed. "What a lovely name. Sinclair." She rather liked the way the name rolled off her tongue. It was an unusual name for an unusual man. Yes, she liked it. "I don't trust them," she added in a lowered voice.

"Neither do I," he muttered through battered lips.

Curtis looked back at them, and one eye narrowed. To ease his evident suspicions, she quickly kissed Sinclair Sullivan on the cheek just above one particularly nasty bruise. Her lips barely brushed his skin, but he tensed and turned his head to glare down at her. The ruse worked; Curtis returned his attentions to the road.

Millie rolled onto her knees and, yawning, leaned over the seat. "Where are we? Who are those men?"

Eden gave the little girl a wide smile. "Millie, sweetheart, we're going to play a game."

* * *

He'd be better off if he were still sprawled in the middle of the Webberville main street, face down and unconscious.

Curtis Merriweather and his
brothers
had decided to camp close by. The seven of them had eaten supper, beans and bacon and dried fruit, together. Millie had quickly and easily fallen into the "game," calling Eden Mama and looking up into Sullivan's face with wide, blue eyes and calling him Papa even when the Merriweathers were not within hearing distance.

The little boy Eden called Teddy remained, thankfully, silent.

Eden got the kids bedded down for the night in the back of the wagon on a bed of blankets, nestled together under a thick, well-worn quilt. She kissed them both good night, wished them sweet dreams, and then came to the campfire, where Sullivan sat on the ground wishing he was far away and face down in the dirt.

Not because of the Merriweather brothers, he decided as Eden lowered herself to sit close to him. But because of
her
.

"Who are they?" he asked softly, nodding to the wagon where the children slept.

Eden pulled up her knees and locked her arms around them, and then she looked at him, wide-eyed and serious, soft and pretty. A lady through and through, but every bit as much a woman.

"Millie has been with me for two months," she said in a lowered voice. "Her mother died and... and no one else wanted her. It seemed best that she come to Texas with me. Maybe a fresh start is just what she needs."

"And the boy?"

Taking a deep breath, Eden hesitated. She looked at him as if she wondered why he was so curious about the children who traveled with her. He wondered if he'd get a straight answer.

"When Millie and I left the rail, I purchased my own wagon and set out for Rock Creek." She pushed back a strand of pale hair that had fallen from the bun long ago. Soft and silky, it brushed against her face. "I suppose we could've taken the stage and shipped my baggage separately, but the route by stage was so unnecessarily roundabout, and the accommodations seemed less than comfortable, so I decided this would be a more sensible way to travel." She looked him square in the eye. "Do you believe in fate, Mr. Sullivan?"

"No."

She almost smiled. He could see it, in a new sparkle in her eyes and a slight crook of her mouth. "I do. Two days after I left San Antonio, I stopped in a small town to purchase supplies. And there was Teddy, filthy and hungry and being chased by a fat deputy who obviously was not accustomed to dealing with children." Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the memory. "I suppose it's rude of me to call the sheriff fat, but he was very well-fed. Anyway, Teddy ran right into me, and, of course, when the sheriff arrived on his heels I insisted on knowing why a small child was being chased about the streets like a criminal."

"Of course you did," Sullivan muttered.

"Teddy had been pretty much living on his own for months, since his uncle passed away, and they were going to ship him to an orphanage." She turned her eyes to the dying fire. "It was clear to me that no one there had his best interests at heart, that no one cared what happened to that frightened, lovely child."

"So you took him?"

She looked into his eyes again, as if testing him. "I couldn't just leave him there. No one minded. Not the sheriff, nor the blacksmith who was supposed to be caring for him, nor the gaggle of women who gathered to watch us take our leave. I feel quite sure they were glad to be rid of him.

"He hasn't spoken, but he does understand." She stretched her legs out and leaned back slightly to look up at the sky as if she'd never seen it before. Her expression turned dreamy and hopeful. "I think I was meant to find these children, to take them in and care for them. That's why I wasn't on the stage. That's why I was in that town at just the right moment."

"Fate," he said softly.

Eden shot him a quick glance. "I take it from the tone of your voice that you really don't believe."

He shook his head.

"What do you believe in?"

"Nothing."

She didn't like that answer, not at all. "You must believe in something."

"I believe that before sunup we're going to have trouble with the Merriweather brothers." He turned his eyes to the second campfire not too far away. A rumble of coarse voices drifted their way, but he couldn't tell what the brothers said. If Eden wasn't sitting beside him he'd head over that way to listen, but then if Eden weren't there he wouldn't be, either.

"Perhaps it's fate that I found you, too, Sinclair Sullivan," Eden said softly. "Why think of the trouble I might've had handling the Merriweathers on my own."

He looked at her, hard and unflinching. She was naive, sweet, so damned gentle... She didn't belong here, and she definitely didn't belong in Rock Creek. "If Jed is half as smart as I think he is, he'll escort you back to Georgia before you get the chance to spend a single night in Rock Creek."

She smiled at him as if the thought had already occurred to her. "Oh, don't you worry about Jedidiah. I can handle him."

* * *

Most nights she slept in the back of the wagon with Millie and Teddy. It wasn't the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in, but it was tolerable. There were blankets and a few pillows and even a tarp in case of rain. She had not yet had to use the tarp, thank goodness.

Last night they'd given Sullivan exclusive use of the wagon bed, and tonight... Well, climbing into that wagon bed with the Merriweathers close by didn't seem wise. They'd be like fish in a barrel, wouldn't they? The children were safe there, since there was an eagle eye between them and the other travelers, but if she or Sullivan joined them and the Merriweathers made their move, well, it wouldn't be safe at all.

Eden lay on her side, facing the few remaining embers from their campfire. Sullivan lay close behind her, his head propped up in his hand as he kept watch. They hadn't heard a sound from the Merriweathers' camp in a good while. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe the brothers were innocent travelers after all. She wanted to believe that. With all her heart she wanted to believe. Unfortunately, she didn't. Those men were definitely trouble. She saw violence in their eyes.

She rolled over to face Sullivan. "I don't think I can stay awake all night," she whispered.

"I can," he whispered back. There was reassurance in that emotionless voice, and she was reminded that without Sullivan at her side she might be in a real fix. Jedidiah would skin her hide when he found out she'd traveled all this way on her own. Well, no. He wouldn't ever lift a hand to actually hurt her, but he would have his say in the matter and it wasn't likely to be pleasant.

"Sinclair," she whispered." That really is a lovely name."

"Everybody calls me Sullivan."

"Sullivan is a fine name, also," she said, scooting slightly closer so there was no need to raise her voice. "But I like Sinclair. May I call you Sinclair, even when we're not pretending to be married?"

He tensed, his entire body going rigid. She noticed the instant change, even though she couldn't see him at all well by the light of the half-moon. "Call me whatever you want, lady. I don't care."

Sullivan's voice was gruff, his eyes set unerringly on the other camp, and yet she didn't buy the tough act he was putting on. She reached out and laid her fingers on his jaw. She got the feeling that he wanted to flinch, to draw away from her hand, but he didn't.