Twelfth Moon (12 page)

Luckily, Jonah and Robert had been assigned to regiments that had been nowhere near each other, so there’d been no opportunities for a chance meeting. Jonah had heard stories from other men, though, of meeting their brothers on the battlefield.

Closing his eyes, Jonah listened to the soft sounds of her breathing, joined intermittently by the eerie hoot of an owl in a nearby tree. He and Cade had already spent several nights sleeping in close proximity to one another. He’d grown used to the pattern of her sleep. Sometimes she tossed and turned, whimpering softly, as though troubled by nightmares. But usually, she was quiet and still, as she was now.

Jonah remembered the night he’d handcuffed her wrist to his and they’d slept side-by-side. He’d awakened to her clinging to him and moaning, her lips inches from his bare skin. What had she been dreaming of – him? It was irksome to admit to a certain degree of male conceit at the possibility.

That kind of thinking could be dangerous. She was beautiful, intelligent, and tough, and she tempted him beyond belief. Not because of any spell, but because of who she was. If only the circumstances were different – if Robert hadn’t assaulted her…if she hadn’t killed him.

And now he was setting aside his duty as a U.S. Marshal to escort her home, instead of to a trial. This action alone could put him in prison. He was not only violating his sworn oath, he was breaking the law by harboring a fugitive. But his blasted conscience wouldn’t allow him to feed her to the wolves for merely defending herself.

He would need to stay away from her, distance himself, and definitely keep his hands off her. The true test of his resolve would come tomorrow night with the full moon, when she will want to
mate
. At least that was according to her story.

CADENCE CAME AWAKE SLOWLY, opening her eyes to morning sunlight slanting through the window. Birds were chirping madly, ready to begin their busy day. She inhaled deeply, the dew-fresh air filling her with pleasant memories. A wave of melancholy swept over her, and suddenly she was homesick. She’d been gone long enough. She was ready to go home.

Looking around, she saw no sign of Jonah, except for his bedroll sitting by the door and the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the dresser. Apparently he hadn’t put himself in a drunken stupor last night. Her gaze swept the room, searching for her clothes. She was about to slide out of bed to go find them when the door opened and Jonah walked in, closing the door behind him.

He carried a small bundle wrapped in brown paper, a dark brown hat nestled in the crook of his arm. “I bought these for you,” he said gruffly. “Thought you might want clean clothes. I also thought it would be best if you continued your getup as a boy.”

Cadence’s breath hitched. Jonah was such a handsome man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his muscled thighs straining against the tight-fitting denims. The light blue flannel shirt, tucked into his trousers showed off a trim waist and narrow hips where his gun belt rode low. The color of his shirt also accentuated his bronzed skin and dark hair, setting off his silver-gray eyes. Those eyes held her attention as he waited for a response.

“Thank you,” she said, her mouth suddenly gone dry. She licked her lips and noticed how it drew his gaze there.

Jonah cleared his throat. “I’ll just leave these here and go get the horses.” He walked over to a chair, his spurs jingling with each step, and set the bundle down, dropping the hat on top. “Oh, and make sure you wrap your…ah…use that binding.”

He turned on his heel, practically sprinting for the door, bending to grab the bedroll. It gave her a view of his well-shaped behind. He straightened, snatching the whiskey bottle. As he walked out, he spoke over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you out front in twenty minutes.”

Cadence suppressed her smile until she was staring at the closed door. Jonah Kincaid, the unflappable U.S. Marshal, had obviously been uncomfortable. She’d never seen him behave with anything other than competence, confidence, and a hefty dose of male arrogance. It made him seem less flawless, and more…human, endearing him to her more than ever.

She climbed out of bed, padding in bare feet over to the chair where he’d set the bundle. Picking up the hat, she plopped it on her head and tore open the paper wrapping. Inside was a pair of tan corduroys and a pale yellow cotton shirt. Underneath those was a pair of thick socks, and white short-pants. She chuckled at the image of Jonah picking these items out for her. She also appreciated the irony of the fact that he
had
offered to buy her a hat when they reached town.

She dressed quickly, carefully wrapping the binding around her chest. Even though it had been cut by Jonah, she was able to repair the damage. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, buttoning it up the front, and then pulled on her boots. She’d found them neatly placed beneath the chair. She then washed her face and hands, having discovered the pitcher of fresh water Jonah must have brought up while she’d been sleeping.

After taking a quick look around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, Cadence left the room to go meet Jonah. It was still early yet, so the only person she saw on her way through the saloon was the bartender, Cyrus. He was swiping a rag across the top of the bar. Without breaking his rhythm, he looked up as she passed. She dipped her head, hoping the wide-brimmed hat would hide most of her face, and tucked her hands in her pockets.

Cyrus didn’t say a word to her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed her shoulder through the swinging doors, stepping out onto the wood-planked walkway. She continued down the two short steps and rammed straight into a wall. Of course walls don’t jiggle slightly, and they sure as heck don’t reach out and grab a person either.

Before she could step back, she was roughly turned, a hand clamping over her mouth. A thick arm caught her around the waist. She was lifted and dragged around the corner of the saloon. Her hat fell off as she struggled, thankfully forgotten by her abductor. It could serve as a useful clue.

“I got you now, boy,” a voice hissed in her ear. “And yer gonna show me where that treasure is.”

Ned Furley.

Nine

OF ALL THE rotten luck, she had to get herself snatched up by fat, cowardly Ned Furley! Where was Jonah? A sudden stab of fear shot through Cadence. Furley had already killed Mamma Reba. Could he have somehow overtaken Jonah? As impossible as that idea seemed, stranger things have happened.

Furley chuckled. “I hid and I watched that stupid lawman come out and head for the stables, so I stayed where I was, bidin’ my time.”

Cadence breathed a mental sigh of relief for Jonah.

Furley laughed again. “And not twenty minutes later, here you come and walked right into me!” His laughter faded “Hey, how come you ain’t handcuffed or nothin’?” He obviously didn’t expect her to answer since his hand still covered her mouth. Instead, he said, “It don’t matter, anyway. I got you and we’re goin’ back to Devil’s Spur.”

They were situated between the saloon and another building, hidden in the morning shadows. Furley dragged her further back until they reached a waiting horse. She could hear him panting from the exertion, his breaths hitting the back of her neck.

“Aw, shoot!” he exclaimed and continued his one-sided conversation, “I can’t make you walk all the way back, so I s’pose you’ll have to ride with me.”

Cadence felt the hard barrel of a gun poke her in the ribs. “You hold still and no hollerin’, or I’ll shoot ya.” He jabbed the gun into her side again, tightening his hold on her. “You hear me?”

Cadence jerked her head in a nod, feeling that familiar, extremely unwelcome zing sizzle along her nerves.
Oh, Lord!
Tonight was the full moon. This had to be the most absurd predicament she’d gotten herself into. She had to stifle the hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat.

She quickly changed her mind as to who was the last man on earth she would wish to bind herself to.

Ned Furley was a coward and a killer, but he was also a none-too-bright nincompoop. She fought to keep her panic at bay, secure in the knowledge that somewhere between here and Devil’s Spur, Furley was bound to make a mistake. And when he did, she’d make her escape.

Did Furley actually believe a U.S. Marshal would let him make off with his prisoner? She had no doubts Jonah would be on their trail as soon as he discovered her missing. Would he read the signs of her struggle, or assume she’d seen her chance for escape and had taken it?

Something had changed when he’d found out she was a woman – something significant that had nothing to do with the spell. She’d thought it odd that he hadn’t bothered to keep a closer eye on her, let alone the fact that he hadn’t put the handcuffs back on. Instead, he’d bought her clothes, and then left the room as though he trusted her.

The question remained as to whether she wanted him to catch up with her, or if she should find her way back to New Orleans without him. But first, she had to get away from Furley. There was no way in this lifetime, or any other, for that matter, she would want the man to touch her intimately. At least he still thought she was a boy.

“Get on the horse,” he ordered. “I got this here gun, so no funny business.”

Apparently, he was too dumb to realize that if he shot her, she couldn’t take him to the treasure, which she knew nothing about, but she couldn’t take the chance. She attempted to climb up, putting her foot in the stirrup, but as usual, had trouble getting into the saddle.

With a grumble, Furley gave her a push. “We ain’t got all day,” he snapped, and then climbed up behind her. His heavy bulk forced her crotch painfully against the saddle horn, his fleshy belly pressing into her back.

He turned the horse and they trotted out of the alley, coming out behind the saloon. As soon as they reached open ground, he kicked the horse into a gallop. She had to grab hold of the animal’s mane to keep from falling off, but at least it put some space between their bodies.

JONAH STARED AT the hat lying on the ground by the steps of the saloon. When he’d returned with the horses, there’d been no sign of Cade. Just the hat. The very one he’d bought for her not two hours ago. He narrowed his eyes, carefully scanning the area, scrutinizing the ground at his feet.

He crouched, picked up the hat and brushed it off, resting it on his knee. Looking down, he examined the dirt where the hat had lain. There were two sets of footprints. One was small, the other much bigger. There’d been a scuffle. His gaze followed the trail of two distinct drag marks that abruptly disappeared, leaving only the larger footprints leading around the corner of the saloon. He stood, his narrowed gaze locked on the shadowed space between the saloon and the building next to it.

There was no reason to go back and check the room. He knew what had happened. Someone had taken her. A black rage roiled in his gut, pushing against his chest from the inside, his breaths blowing in and out through his nose like a hard-ridden horse’s.

Words floated like phantoms through his brain:
“Someone has your woman.”

That possessive, primal part of him wanted to kill whoever had taken her – taken what belonged to him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw aching from gritting his teeth so hard. He had to get a grip on this violent burst of emotion. He needed to clear his mind so he could follow their trail. Gradually, his fists unclenched, he relaxed his jaw, and slowed his breathing.

Jonah turned toward Athos, taking his reins and leapt into the saddle. He’d have to leave Cade’s horse behind. Bringing it along would only slow him down. He looked around and saw Jimmy coming from the stable, kicking a stone ahead of him as he went. Jonah called out to him and the boy abandoned the stone, trotting up to him.

Jonah pulled the reins, swinging Athos sharply around and headed into the alley. There he followed an obvious trail out the back and onto the open plain. They couldn’t be that far ahead, since not much time had passed since he’d left Cade to get the horses.

Once out in the open, he spurred Athos to a gallop, slowing every so often to check the tracks. Whoever had taken her had put her up on the horse with him, making the imprints deeper and easier to follow. Her captor was either a complete idiot, or didn’t care that he might be followed. They were heading west; the same direction Jonah and Cade had just come from.

Something nagged his memory, the name Ned Furley coming to the forefront. The suspicion that it was he who’d taken Cade added a new sense of urgency to Jonah’s mission. As bumbling as he was in leaving a clear trail, Furley was a killer, had managed to stir up a lynch mob against an innocent person – someone who, as far as the townspeople knew, was a young boy.

Last night, Jonah’s intuitive feeling that danger was near hadn’t been a false one. As a rule, he never ignored his instincts, but unfortunately, there’d been nothing for him to act on. He should have paid more attention – shouldn’t have let her out of his sight. But berating himself for not being more diligent wouldn’t change the fact that she was out there, in the company of a ruthless man.

How strange that he could be so concerned for her safety, Jonah thought, knowing that she, herself, had killed. But where she exhibited an immense amount of remorse for actions committed in self-defense, Ned Furley had stood by while an innocent boy was hanged in his place.