Whispers on the Wind (11 page)

“I doubt that,” Mary
automatically replied. “Unless he is the one who dumped me in the
snow.” She couldn’t help laughing aloud.

Must keep Carter off
track,
she reminded herself. She looked
over her left shoulder and found Carter looking her way. “I think
I’d know if I were married.” She held up her left hand. “See, there
is no ring, and no sign that one has been there.”

Carter arched a doubtful
eyebrow.

Mary ignored him and went
back to looking, running her fingers across the leather-bound tomes
as her gaze traveled over each title in search of
Little Women.
Was that
it up above her head? She took a step backwards to see better and
bumped into Carter; she hadn’t realized he was standing right
behind her. She felt his hard chest against her back and her pulse
leapt with excitement

He was so tall she felt as
though he could swallow her up if he wanted to. “I’m sorry,” she
apologized.

She didn’t dare turn around
to look at Carter. He radiated vitality that drew her like a
magnet, and if he could do that without her looking at his face,
into his eyes ... heaven help her if she faced him.

“I think I’ve spotted your
book. Hold still,” he said in that deep voice that made her breath
catch in her throat

It was a darn good thing
she wasn’t attracted to him or she’d be in real trouble.

Carter loomed over her as
he reached two shelves up to extract a fat brown book. His body was
pressed against hers, causing shivers of excitement to run up and
down her spine, and an even more terrifying realization washed over
Mary—she had been lying to herself, for she was very attracted to
this man.

She could feel his warm
breath on her cheek, and if she turned just so, she had no doubt
that she’d be able to feel his lips.

Oh God, the
temptation.

As soon as she’d thought
about turning, Carter stepped back, and Mary was dismayed at the
loss of his heat burning against her—and at the magnitude of her
desire. She wanted to yield to the burning sweetness she’d felt by
his mere touch. She wasn’t sure why. She didn’t care anything about
the man, she told herself. Surely, this attraction must be mere
curiosity. But curiosity could get her into more trouble than she
was already in.

She had to control herself.
So she drew a deep breath for courage and turned.

The expression in Carter’s
eyes was so galvanizing that it sent a tremor through her. For a
long moment, they just stared at each other, saying
nothing.

What would it be like to be
kissed by Carter? To feel his lips on her neck? She wondered as
Carter’s dark eyes held her. She wasn’t sure what to do or say, but
someone had to say something.

Mary thought she’d seen
something very inviting in Carter’s gaze. Too inviting, and
considering the strange way she felt at this moment, it was better
that she not accept his invitation. “Th-thank you for getting the
book for me,” Mary finally managed to get out

But invitation to what? She
didn’t know.

“No problem,” he said in a
voice that sounded as raspy and strained as her own. “Are you going
to your room now?”

“I—if it’s all right, I’d
like to stay here and read until I get sleepy.”

“Help yourself,” Carter
replied as he turned to go. “I’m going to get some shut-eye. See
you in the morning.”

After Carter left, Mary had
to take several deep breaths just to regain her composure. She
wasn’t certain what had just happened between them, but it was
something she’d never experienced with anyone else. It was almost
frightening—like she’d been caught in an erratic summer
storm.

Finally, Mary snapped to
and took her book to the couch. She placed several pillows on the
end, plumped them, then settled down with a small sigh into the
comfort of the goose down pillows.

It sure beat a seat in a
covered wagon. Mary closed her eyes and thought back for a moment
There had been days she’d believed she’d never get off that wagon,
and as she thought back she realized that time had actually been
one of the more interesting in her life.

Mary shivered in the chill
of the big, empty room, so she slipped off her shoes and tucked her
feet under her on the couch, then pulled the cream- colored afghan
over her. The fleecy blanket warmed her, and she wondered what it
would have felt like to have Carter tuck that afghan
aro
un
d
her.

The fire crackled in the
fireplace, and somewhere in the hallway a grandfather clocked
chimed at the same time as the clock over the mantel announced the
hour. She counted each chime. It was ten o’clock, and aside from
the clocks, the rest of the house was quiet. She assumed that the
servants had gone to bed, too.

She thought back. She
really couldn’t remember when she’d ever been completely alone,
except maybe when she’d been with her mother. When her mother had
entertained gentleman callers, Mary had been forced to stay in the
kitchen. She’d had one small corner that was all her own. Several
patched quilts were placed on the floor and that was where she
played with her imaginary friends until she got sleepy. Those
blankets had been her world for a long time. She could remember
grabbing the satin edge of one of the blankets and rubbing it
between her fingers until she fell asleep.

Mary shook her head to
dislodge the memory. That was the past. Looking around the room,
she had to think that things could only get better.

Opening the book, Mary
began to read page after page, trying to engross herself in the
crisp black words on the yellowish paper, but after a while she
gave up. Her mind had too many thoughts running through it to
concentrate on the story. Finally, she rested the book on her chest
and leaned her head back against the fluffy pillows.

Here she was lounging in
comfort while Big Jim was dead. She felt bad that she wasn’t any
closer to figuring out what had happened than she had been several
days ago. She’d been so confused ever since she’d awakened in the
arms of the marshal.

Now that was something she
could write a book about—waking in the arms of a strange
cowboy.

What made the marshal tick?
Mary wondered. She had learned that he was a man of principle, but
would he ever consider compromising? Could he ever look the other
way and not arrest her?

She didn’t think
so.

Mary wasn’t even sure what
she was doing here, living with people she barely knew. At first,
she had convinced herself that it was because she needed time to
heal. She’d been here over a week and the knot on her head had gone
down. But she was still here, having made no plans to
leave.

She couldn’t just ride out.
Carter would want to know where she was headed. And what could Mary
tell him when she wasn’t supposed to know her identity? Yet, she
couldn’t stay either. Her dilemma overwhelmed her every time she
thought about it, so as usual she put off thinking about
it.

Right this minute, Mary’s
eyelids were so heavy that she could barely keep them open. Maybe
if she could close them for just a minute while she tried to
remember the pieces of her last day at Gregory Gulch, she’d feel
better.

Slowly, Mary began to drift
off. Drowsiness claimed her, and the warmth of the blanket made her
feel secure. Deeper and deeper she sank until she could see Gregory
Gulch in her mind’s eye.

That morning had begun like
most mornings. She’d fixed gravy and hot buttermilk biscuits with
black strap molasses for breakfast. After the third helping, Big
Jim had asked, “How long you gonna do this, gal?”

Not understanding what he
meant, Mary had given him a confused look and asked, “Do what?” Jim
licked the molasses from his fingers before answering. “How long
you gonna keep hiding in these mountains working yourself to
death?”

“But you’re here,” she
pointed out “Reckon you’re right, gal. But I’m an old man. You, on
the other hand, are a right pretty filly that some man should make
his wife.”

“I suppose I have worked a
lot But what else do I have, Jim?” Mary replied.

“That’s the point, gal.
You’ll never know what you can have as long as yer working up here
with old men. Before long you’ll be as old as I am.”

“I think you’re trying to
get rid of me,” Mary teased.

“Naw. Just want what’s
best for you. True enough, I’d miss you once you were gone.” Jim
tore a biscuit apart and sopped up some molasses. “But I’ve seen
you work your hands until they bleed, and I don’t want to see you
break the rest of your body until they match your hands.” He looked
up at her. “You’re still young.”

“I know you’re right, but
I need a little more money before I call it quits.”

Jim let out a long, audible
breath. “There’s never enough money to be had when the prospect of
more money is out there.”

Mary shook her head. “It’s
different with me. I’ve never had anything of my own. I always wore
clothes the people from town didn’t want anymore. My sister has
money, but that is hers. I want my own. I want to be independent
and in control of my own destiny. I’m not going to wait around for
some man to discover me.”

“And what are you going to
do with your money?” “I want to live like everyone else and be
normal. I want a small house.” She smiled, then added, “One with a
little white fence running around it” “I hate to tell you, lass,
but I just can’t see you as being ordinary.” He chuckled. “How
about kids?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never
thought about them. I can’t imagine getting married.” Mary
sighed.

“Ah, gal, do you not
realize how lovely you are? One day a man will simply take your
breath away, and then you’ll be wanting to get yourself
hitched.”

“I couldn’t count on that,
Jim. But if there is someone, he’s going to have to be one hell of
a man to turn my head.” Mary laughed. “I’m pretty headstrong, in
case you haven’t noticed.”

This time Jim laughed.
“He’s out there somewhere, and I bet when you first meet him, you
won’t like him one dang bit,” Jim said as he stood. “Let’s go find
some gold so you can find your cowboy.”

“I’ll just settle for the
gold,” Mary grumbled, following behind Jim.

As they trudged toward the
mine, Jim said, “Did I tell you that sorry brother of mine thinks
he wants to start working the mine? Got a letter from him the other
day. Said business was slow and he needed something to
do.”

“Are you going to let
him?”

“Don’t know. He always
tends to take the easy way out of things. We’ve never really got
along, but I guess he is my brother—or I should say half brother—so
I gotta consider it. Reckon kin is kin.” Mary punched Jim in the
arm. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and he won’t show up.”

As her thoughts drifted,
she could see herself and Jim working in the mine. Her next memory
was of her entering the front door of their cabin. Jim had gone
ahead of her. When she entered the cabin a stranger stood up, but
he was in the shadows and she couldn’t see his face.

“Mary, I have a surprise
for you,” Jim had said. Mary’s dream faded to black. She couldn’t
remember any more of what happened until she woke up with the
knife in her hand. She saw the blood. She saw Jim. Dead. Lifeless.
No, Jim, no!

She began to scream, “I
didn’t do it I didn’t do it You must believe me, I didn’t do
it!”

Someone was shaking her,
and Mary fought against the restraining arms. “No! No!” she yelled
over and over again.

For Carter, sleep was
elusive. For some reason, he couldn’t get Mary off his mind. Every
time he closed his eyes, he could hear her voice, and worse, he
could picture her sitting across from him with that golden mass of
hair tumbling over her shoulders, begging him to touch the silken
strands.

That was enough. He tossed
the covers aside and slid out of bed. He slipped on his breeches
and his shirt but didn’t bother with his boots. Maybe he’d just
check on Mary. He shouldn’t have left her all alone.

Carter had just entered the
downstairs hallway when he heard Mary cry out. Alarmed, he ran to
the library and shoved the door open. He’d kill any sidewinder that
hurt her, but what he found wasn’t a sidewinder. Mary was on the
couch thrashing about and yelling she didn’t do it

Do what, he
wondered.

He strode across the room
in no time and sank quickly onto the sofa. He shook her shoulders,
gently at first, but Mary was sleeping so soundly that she didn’t
wake. Instead, she fought him and cried out, “Please, I didn’t do
it!”

Carter wrapped his arms
tightly around her and crushed her against him, forcing her to be
still. “Wake up, Mary.” Carter tried to sound calm, but he realized
he was breathing hard from his struggles. “It’s Carter. I won’t
hurt you. You’re having a bad dream.”

Mary still struggled, which
made him wonder what terrible thing had happened to her that it
lurked just beneath the surface waiting to be released. “Wake up,
Mary.”