Wish Upon a Cowboy (20 page)

Hannah nodded and walked toward him. He looked up into the cool green meadow of her eyes as she stopped beside his chair and laid one hand on his shoulder. Smiling, she said stubbornly, "But after a time, something new and beautiful grows from the ashes."

"Sometimes," he said.

"I have to try."

"I know it, but it ain't goin' to be easy," he warned her.

Hannah smiled. "Nothing about the Mackenzie is easy, Elias."

Then she snatched up a coat from the wall peg, draped it over her head and shoulders, and slipped out the door, closing it behind her as the storm swallowed her.

The cat strolled into the kitchen just then and leaped up onto the table to stare at him. Elias glanced at it, the closed his eyes. "I'm gettin' too old for this nonsense, cat."

Hepzibah yowled.

*  *  *

Another few days, Jonas told himself. A week at the most and his share of the spring roundup would be finished. He squinted into the driving rain and scowled. A damn good thing he'd started his men gathering the herd weeks ago. He'd hate like hell to have to worry about keeping a thousand head of cattle calm during a lightning storm.

The two hundred or so he did have to worry about were stamping their hooves and lowing restlessly in the wake of the lights flashing in the sky and the thunder smashing directly overhead. On the far side of the herd, Jonas spotted Stretch Jones and another man from neighboring ranch. The three of them should be able to contain this bunch, he told himself with a furious glare at the sky, if the damn storm would let up.

Instantly, more rain sluiced down over him and he hunched deeper into the folds of his slicker. Tugging his hat brim down low over his eyes, he let his mind wander the storm and the cattle, and the goddamned weather.

Once free to think as it wanted, his brain returned to the notions that had swirled through it since he'd walked away from Hannah that afternoon. Walked. He snorted at the word. Hell, he'd run from her. From her and everything she'd said. Everything she'd tried to make him believe.

He'd raced his horse across miles of open range and still hadn't been able to distance himself from the thoughts careening inside his head. One after another, they presented themselves and were gone again. Hannah. Billy. The gambler's pistol. The burned arm. Feathers. Big green eyes, looking up at him with quiet confidence. Trust.

And when he finally admitted that running wasn't the answer and turned his horse for the home range, he'd dragged this damn storm with him.

The reins threaded through his fingers, Jonas closed his fist around the worn, smooth leather of the saddle horn and held on as if it meant his life. He needed something to steady him. Something to ground him to this place. This world. Before he found himself swept up into Hannah's.

The cattle nearest him stirred again, their horns clacking together like an old man's store-bought teeth. Jonas shook himself from his thoughts and concentrated on the herd. One thing he didn't need at the moment was another problem.

*  *  *

Hannah peered out from beneath the jacket she held over her head and shoulders. The ground was a soggy mess, the mud grabbing at her feet with every step as though he earth itself were trying to keep her from finding Jonas.

Lightning shimmered from behind the clouds, gilding their edges as thunder rumbled in its wake. The wind pushed at her, driving the rain straight at her even as it pushed her back toward the ranch house. And still she went on, bending her head against the storm, to find him. Talk to him.

At the edge of the herd, she stopped, squinting into the gloom. Two silhouetted figures rode past each other as they circled the cattle, but neither one was Jonas. Her gaze swept on, across the backs of the gathered animals churning up the rain-soaked ground. Another man sat his horse on the far side of the herd. Alone. And she knew, without a doubt, she'd found him.

Amid the crashing violence of the storm, Hannah started walking toward him. To go around the pen would take too long and an urgency she couldn't describe refused to allow the delay. A small frisson of fear rippled along her spine at the thought of trusting her own pitiful powers to protect her from the cattle. But then she reminded herself that the man sitting his horse opposite her was the Mackenzie. And whether he accepted that fact or not, the strength and power of his heritage was within him. He would keep her safe. She only had to trust her heart.

And him.

Swallowing back a rising tide of apprehension, Hannah started walking through the gathered cattle, her gaze fixed on Jonas, a blacker shadow against the night.

*  *  *

Jonas sensed the change in the cattle and his skin prickled. He sat up straighter in the saddle and tightened hi grip on the reins as he studied the herd through experienced eyes. Unsettled, no doubt by the storm, their heavy bodies shifted against each other and uneasiness stirred inside him. He glanced toward the two mounted men, hoping they, too, had picked up on the danger building here.

A stampede was coming. And though it would only be a couple hundred animals strong, it wasn't a thing t' be taken lightly.

His mind already trying to work out which way the animals would run when they bolted, his gaze continued moving until he spotted-her.

Hannah.

Mouth suddenly dry, he blinked once, wiped a sheen of rain from his eyes, and looked again, desperate to believe that his mind was playing tricks on him. But it wasn't. She was headed straight for him, walking through the center of the herd as though she were strolling down an empty country lane.

Fear, heavy and dark, clutched at his throat. She looked so small. So defenseless, surrounded by thousands of pounds of cattle on the verge of stampede.

Lightning flashed and in the brief stab of light he saw her face, pale beneath the coat she held up over her as protection from the rain.

"Go back, Hannah," he muttered as thunder smashed overhead and one of the steers nearest him lowed wildly, its eyes rolling over white.

And then it happened.

He'd been expecting it, but even so, as the restless, spooked animals turned and started moving. Jonas felt his heart stop.

His gaze locked on Hannah. Even through the rain, he could see her turning one way and then the other, dodging horns and hooves. And they hadn't even started running yet.

She'd never make it.

Panic shot through his veins. Terror grabbed him hard and squeezed his lungs until he couldn't draw a breath. She was going to die right in front of him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Helplessness roared through his body, threatening to strangle him as the scene continued to unfold in front of him.

In another minute, the cattle would be running blindly across anything in their path. Nothing would stop them. He'd seen them crash over chuckwagons, splintering the wood into piles of shavings and the men riding them into nothing more than scraps of tattered clothing.

Even if his horse could maneuver through a herd without being brought down by slashing horns, he wouldn't reach her in time to keep her small body being crushed and ground into the mud.

Visions he couldn't stop flooded his mind. Memories of his first cattle drive and the stampede that had killed two of the outriders. There hadn't been enough left of the men to bury.

He tasted fear at the back of his throat.

Hannah…

Instantly, images of the last two weeks rushed through his mind, one after the other. Once more, he saw her charm the neighboring ranchers and mother his cowhands. He heard her muttering her half-baked attempts at spell-casting and saw her standing at the stove, smiling a welcome to him as he entered the kitchen.

He'd never be able to walk through that room again without seeing her.

"Jesus," he muttered, and the wind snatched the word from his throat and tossed into the rumbling roar of a herd on the move. Again lightning flashed, and once more thunder rolled around him. Hundreds of cattle lowed plaintively, sounding like lost souls on their way, to hell.

"Jonas!"

Somehow, he heard her. He felt her fear. Tasted her terror as completely as his own.

"Don't you die, damn it," he muttered desperately.

His mind reached out blindly, wildly, groping for something, anything that might help him. And in that instant, somewhere in the back of his mind, a flicker of instinctive knowledge took root.

A day ago—hell, an hour ago—he would have laughed at the notion. Now he didn't question it. Instead he snatched at it, like a drowning man at a thrown rope. Out of options, out of hope, he put his trust in Hannah's beliefs. In the kernel of truth blossoming in his heart.

He had no other choice.

Dropping the reins, he sat up straight in the saddle, threw his hands high and wide, tipped his face to the howling wind, and yelled, "NO!" with every ounce of his strength.

Instantly, an awesome rush of energy poured into his body, like pumped well water into a jug. His body jerked with the impact as it filled him, flooding every vein, every inch of him until he felt as though he might explode from the force of it.

In that split second, Jonas felt everything around him as he never had before. The wind. The rain. Even the lightning flickering now against the edges of the cloud tossed sky felt different. Stronger. Sharper.

As if he could feel the heartbeat of the world deep within him. Ancient knowledge tugged at the corners of his mind. Memories long dead flickered into life and sputtered out again like candles guttering in pools of molten wax.

Anger and panic faded, and around him, as if cut off by a heavenly hand, the storm died. A faint, rain-scented breeze and the sting of air burned by lightning were the only reminders of its wrath.

The cattle calmed, their frenzied movements quieting. The danger was over.

"Jonas!"

Still shaken, he shifted his gaze to the woman whose presence had changed everything in his life. As he watched, unbelieving, the milling cattle slowly parted, creating a wide, unobstructed path between him and Hannah.

She walked toward him and even from a distance he saw the smile curving her lips. As she drew closer, the last of the storm clouds scuttled out of sight, leaving a trail of starlight to lead her to him.

From the corner of his eye, Jonas spotted Stretch Jones riding hard in his direction. He ignored the cowboy, focusing instead on Hannah's face and the terrifying realizations still roiling inside him.

He gathered up his horse's reins and held them tightly in a fisted left hand. Hannah stopped alongside him, lifting her gaze to his. In her eyes, he read respect admiration… and a hint of ‘I told you so.' His stomach clenched.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice raw and harsher than he'd planned.

"Yes, thanks to you," she said and laid one hand on his leg.

He knew that. He knew what he'd done. He just didn't know how he'd done it. But for the moment, it was enough to know she was safe.

Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, Jonas reached out a hand to her and she took it, folding her fingers around his. He pulled her up behind him on the horse and gritted his teeth when she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled in close to him.

"You must believe now," she whispered. "You are the Mackenzie."

"I don't know what I believe, Hannah."

"Jonas, you can't turn your back on who and what you are," she argued, as he'd known she would.

"I can do whatever the hell I want to," he muttered and nodded at Stretch as the other man pulled his horse to a rearing stop. "I'm the Mackenzie, remember?" he finished in a whisper meant for her ears alone.

"You two all right, boss?" Stretch asked, ripping his hat off and shaking the excess rainwater off against his thigh.

"We're fine," Jonas told him and turned his horse toward the house.

"Damnedest thing I ever seen," Stretch crowed. "I always did say you had the devil's own luck."

"The devil has nothing to do with it," Hannah said, "it was—"

"Pure dumb luck," Jonas said, cutting her off and shooting her a look over his shoulder. All he needed was for his men to hear Hannah's wild tales of witchcraft and warlocks. Hell, folks here were superstitious about black cats and spilled milk. Couldn't she see how they'd react to talk of witches? "It's over now anyway, so can we quit talking about it?"

"Quit talkin'?" Stretch echoed on a short bark of laughter. "Hell, I ain't even started talkin' about it. Wait'll the boys hear about this!"

Perfect, Jonas thought. Now everyone within a hundred miles would hear the tale and there'd be no chance of his putting this behind him—where, at the moment, he desperately wanted it to be.

"Did you see that?" another cowboy called as he rode up to join them.

Jonas's jaw tightened enough so that he thought the bone might snap. In the distance, thunder rumbled again and he cursed the thought of yet more rain.

"Son," Stretch told him, "I seen it and I still don't believe it."

Neither did Jonas.

If he accepted what Hannah was saying, believed in what he just did, then he also had to accept that his whole life had been a lie.

Lies told to him by a man he'd always considered a father. And if he couldn't trust Elias, what did he have left?

Inhaling sharply, he jabbed his horse's sides with his heels. Whether he wanted to or not, he had to ask that old man some questions—and hope he could live with the answers.

"I'm taking Hannah back to the house," he said. "You two keep an eye on the herd."

Stretch laughed again. "Hell, boss, I'm fixin' to watch 'em every blasted minute. Who knows what they'll do next!"

"Oh, for God's sake…"

"Mackenzie," Hannah said softly, and something inside him tightened up again.

"What?" His horse jumped into a slow trot away from the cattle and the two befuddled cowboys.

"Not talking about it won't change anything."

"Maybe not," he said, fixing his gaze on the lamplight glimmering in the darkness ahead. "But I'm gonna try."

Even as he said it, though, he knew he didn't mean it. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, something changed for him tonight. Something had reached him and torn his familiar little world apart.