Wild Burn (16 page)

“Anything.”

“I lost my hat up on the hill yesterday, and the mercantile doesn’t have another straw one that I like.” It wasn’t a lie. “I was hoping you could come with me in search of it.”

He studied her, his dark gaze filled with concern. “I heard about the dog soldiers.”

She barely stifled her flinch. “Yes, well, that’s why I’m not doing something utterly stupid like going to look for the hat by myself.”

He’d already donned a fringe-trimmed leather jacket from the hook next to the door and grabbed an impressively large bow and quiver of arrows. “I am glad you asked me to accompany you,” he said, closing the door behind him as he slung the quiver across his back. “Are you ready?”

She glanced at the hill with some trepidation. Was she? “Yes. So long as I’m not alone.”

John began walking away from the cabin, forcing Moira to follow. “Would you…?” He ducked his head. “Would you like to talk about yesterday?”

“There’s not much to say.” She slipped her right hand covertly into her pocket to finger the pistol she carried. “But…you were right. About the danger.”

“It’s a good thing Captain Crawford was with you.”

“It was, yes.” And she was properly grateful. She knew that had he not been such a good shot, or had she been alone, the situation would have been much more deadly. “He told me to carry a gun from now on.”

“Very smart. Do you know how to use it?”

She sighed heavily as they began to ascend the hill. “Why is it that everyone seems to think I don’t know how to shoot a gun?”

“Everyone?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, one sleek brow raised in question.

“You and Mr. Crawford.”

The hint of an amused smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. “He and I only want you to be safe, Miss Tully.”

She softened at that. “As do I.” They crested the hill, and she scanned the uneven ground for evidence of her missing hat, shielding her eyes from the late-morning sun with a hand. “I don’t see it.” Her breathing turned shallow. She moved past John to enter the nearest stand of trees and gripped tighter the Colt in her pocket.

They quietly wove a path through the forest. All the trees looked the same to her, be they needled or leafy, and she couldn’t remember which route she and Delaney had traversed yesterday afternoon, leaving no choice but to head for the clearing.

The crunch of brush underfoot seemed overloud in her ears, and she couldn’t hear John behind her, though she sensed he was there, studying their surroundings with a watchful eye. Unable to bear the screaming silence anymore, she said the first thing that came to mind. “How did you hear about what happened yesterday?”

“Crawford went to see the sheriff last night, while I was there. We talked about what should happen next.”

“What
should
happen next?”

“We will find the remaining three dog soldiers.”

She kept her gaze firmly on the trees ahead of her, noting the thinning trunks as they drew ever closer to the scene of yesterday’s attack. Tension gathered between her shoulder blades. “And then?”

He was quiet for a moment before answering. “Then we kill them. There is no place for terror in Red Creek.”

“No. No, there’s not.” Stopping at the edge of the tree line, she stared out at the circular expanse of wild green grass. There was nothing to fear here, only beauty. She breathed in the clean scent of wilderness, took in the sight of gray mountains slanting toward the pristine blue sky. “Will Maahe and the other children be returning to my classroom?”

“After the dog soldiers are no longer a threat.” A tall, lean presence at her side, John’s gaze followed hers around the empty clearing. “Until then, it’s not safe for the children to come to Red Creek.”

She frowned up at him. “Surely the dog soldiers wouldn’t hurt Indian children.”

“They wouldn’t. But white people might.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” John’s smile was sad. “Fear is often a catalyst for violence.” Before she could respond, he straightened his shoulders and pointed to the stand of high-branched evergreens opposite them with the top of his bow. “Is that where you saw them, Miss Tully?”

“I think so. Mr. Crawford pushed me to the ground so quick I barely saw a thing.” After that, she’d been running in the opposite direction, back through the trees toward her cabin. “Is it important?”

John moved past her, no longer sheltered by the shadows of the forest, his eyes never leaving the stand of trees across the way. “Perhaps. That is north and east. The mines sit on the other side of that section of forest.”

She frowned, following him out into the sunlight. “But they were sighted to the southwest, weren’t they? The Indians who burned those houses?”

“Their only other access is the direction we came from—straight out of town. And the mountains offer no easy passage.” He turned to her, eyes glowing with the excitement of the mystery. “For Cloud Rider to have entered the clearing where you said they did, they would have had to go past the mines.”

“It makes no sense for them to have bypassed the miners’ settlement just to come here.” There were shacks they could’ve burned, and the shareholders’ offices. If the goal was indeed terror and revenge, what better target than the mines?

“If he’d intended to visit my uncle’s tribe, Cloud Rider would have traveled from the northwest, across the river valley. They would camp with Walking Bear over there.” John pointed to the section of forest further south and west than where they now stood, toward the Cheyenne encampment.

Moira squinted against the sunlight as she joined John in the ankle-high grass. “The northwest is where Mr. Crawford appeared on Monday.”

“Because of the river valley. The only path leading toward Red Creek from the north comes in right there, and Crawford was riding in from Fort Laramie.” He nodded in the other direction. “The mines are flanked by mountains. You’d have to be a hawk to get to the clearing from there.”

“Unless you were already somewhere between the mines and the clearing.”

“Exactly.”

“And the only way to get there…”

“Is to have been camped out near the mines since before Monday.” John reached up to absently massage his shoulder near the wound. “Crawford’s been out here every day since, scouting. Hunting. Why would they hide from him?”

“I don’t know.” The wending process of deduction was as thrilling as it was worrisome. “Besides, Mr. Crawford had just told the sheriff he was leaving, only a couple of hours before…before it all happened.”

“Leaving?” John’s dark gaze narrowed, turning as sharp as a hunting knife. “He told Sheriff Nelson he was leaving Red Creek?”

“I… Yes.” John’s sudden intensity unnerved her. “Mr. Crawford told me he thought the threat was nonexistent, so he informed the sheriff he would be leaving town.” John’s frown deepened, and he pointed again toward the other side of the clearing. “This is important, Miss Tully. Are you absolutely certain that was the direction from which Cloud Rider appeared?”

“I believe so. I don’t know.” She was missing something, she just knew it. “What’s going on?”

Laying a hand on her shoulder, more physically familiar with her than he’d ever been, he steered her hurriedly back into the forest they’d so recently exited. “I’m sorry, but we will need to search for your hat later. I must take you back to your cabin.”

“But—”

“I need to track the dog soldiers, as soon as possible, Miss Tully, and I cannot do that with you here.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. He continued to hustle her forward, and for the second time in as many days, she was being herded quickly through the woods toward Red Creek. “Why do
you
need to do this? I thought it was Mr. Crawford’s job.”

“It is,” he replied tersely. “And if he’s still in town, I will find him. After I take you to your cabin.”

“You—” She stumbled over a scrubby bush, losing her train of thought as she flailed toward the ground, one hand still trapped in her pocket around her revolver.

A strong grip steadied her, but it wasn’t John who caught her. She peered breathlessly into the blazing pale green gaze of Delaney Crawford. “Oh.”

“Yes,
oh
,” he mimicked through clenched teeth, obvious anger coloring his menacing tone. “What the hell are you doing out here, Moira?”

Even as she heard John repeat her name questioningly, his hand having fallen away from her shoulder when she’d tripped, she glared up at the man toward whom she’d earlier decided deserved the brunt of her displeasure. “Searching for my hat, Delaney. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“Well, I found it.” Indeed, he brandished the straw hat with its ivory ribbons in his free hand. “You couldn’t have waited until I handled this problem to go frolicking in the forest again.”

“Frolicking? I don’t frolic.” Affront had her raising her voice. “And
you
were the one who said you were leaving town, so why would I think you were handling anything?”

Ignoring their one-man audience, he used his hold on her upper arm to pull her against him. “I would never leave you here alone while there was danger. Never.”

As the tension and anger inside her began to melt at his vehement avowal, she called upon her reserves of frustration, retorting, “I wasn’t alone. I have John, and this stupid gun you insisted I carry.” She drew the firearm from her skirt pocket for proof.

Without even a glance at the Colt, he slapped her lost hat none too gently atop her head and gripped her chin between the rough pads of his fingers. “Fine. You have White Horse. You have a revolver. But, damn it, you also have me, and it’s about time you got that through that stubborn Irish head of yours,” he growled as his lips claimed hers in a devastating kiss.

Chapter Eighteen

To say Del realized too late what it meant to kiss Moira in plain view of someone else would be a lie. He knew exactly how reckless he was being, but hell if he couldn’t stop himself, and as soon as his mouth covered hers, he didn’t want to.

Her hat fell off almost immediately under the force of his kiss, but the moment he had her lips he could finally breathe again. For the first time since the run-in with the dog soldiers yesterday, Del could breathe freely, and if his mouth weren’t so busy with her he’d be sucking in great gulps of air. It felt incredibly right to be holding her this close—clutching her, in point of fact—and that she was safe, in one piece and in his arms soothed the tension that had been riding him for what seemed like years.

The most wondrous thing was, she kissed him back, just as fierce and just as possessive. She had his shirtfront curled in one fist, keeping him in place for the giving heat of her mouth. She was open for him, lush and pink, with a tongue that danced like a brothel girl’s for him. Warm, she tasted warm, and she felt hot, and he burned for her.

Yanking him closer, she moaned into his mouth. Liquid flame engulfed him as he wrapped both arms around her, attempting to meld her lithe body with the hard lines of his. And he was hard. So hard, and the relief of touching her did nothing to loosen the taut steel of his muscles, because his claim on her was incomplete. He needed a bed, or a floor, or maybe just the ground between his boots. Though he’d meant to be courting her, he didn’t have the patience or the strength of will to hold out against the siren song of Moira Tully.

A discreet cough dragged him abruptly back to reality, and he tore his mouth from hers with a harsh exhalation. His gaze met John White Horse’s dark, inscrutable eyes, and he waited for the other man to speak.

John didn’t disappoint. “Crawford. Will you be…seeing Miss Tully back to her cabin?”

“Yeah.” Back to her cabin, where there was a bed and a floor and a sturdy door to keep out prying eyes.

Never breaking eye contact, John moved steadily backward, away from him and away from Moira, who’d buried her face in the crook of Del’s neck, likely from embarrassment at being caught kissing him so lustily. He found himself fighting a grin—to think, the woman had been a
nun
only months earlier.

He was the luckiest man alive.

Before John melted into the shadows of the forest, he called out, “Crawford. Which direction did Cloud Rider come from, in the clearing?”

That sobered Del momentarily as he thought back on the events of yesterday afternoon. “Northeast.”

John nodded. “Then we have things to discuss. I am going to scout to the north and east. Join me when you have delivered Miss Tully home again.”

Del wasn’t inclined to argue. He knew the dog soldiers needed to be dealt with, and fast. “Will do.” He paused. “Thanks for looking out for her.” He dipped his head to indicate Moira, who still hadn’t put any distance between his body and hers.

John disappeared into the trees without another word, leaving Del and his woman alone.

“Is he gone?” she mumbled against his chest.

Del glanced down, noting the flush that had crept to her hairline, though he couldn’t see her face. “Yeah, he’s gone, honey.” He reached up to stroke a few loosened strands of auburn hair back from her temples.

Her response was a muffled groan before she lifted her head. “I’ll never be able to face him again.” A forlorn expression scrunched her pretty features. “Not after I…we…”

“I’m sure John understands.” He nearly smiled when she sighed. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

“I— What?” Quick as that, she was glaring at him once more, and damn, he liked that glint in her blue eyes.

He nodded solemnly, tipping his hat back on his forehead with one knuckle. “Whole world likely knows you don’t enjoy—what was it?—
being told what to do
. I was just asking for retaliation, wasn’t I?”

“You kissed me, not the other way around.”

“And I apologize for taking the liberty.” He attempted to placate her, doing his best impression of the charming Southern gentleman he’d once been. “Especially in front of your friend. However, I’m certain he could tell that I was suffering punishment.”

“Punishment,” she parroted, her brows drawn together as she watched him warily.

“For daring to think I had any sway over you.” He laid a hand over the top of hers where it fisted in his shirt. “John’s a smart man. I’m sure he knew you were just putting me in my place by kissing back.”