The Heart's Pursuit Page 11

  “Miss Matlock, I believe you could do all of that.”

  She stiffened and her smile disappeared. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Not at all. I meant it.”

  There was a lengthy silence before her shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “Well, I suppose you should laugh. It does sound preposterous. Even to me.”

  “Is that why you agreed to marry Mr. Cassidy? Because you couldn’t have what you really wanted?” He regretted the words. The question was unkind—and the answer none of his business.

  She turned her gaze toward the window. “Yes, I suppose that was the real reason. Although I didn’t realize it at the time.”

  He hadn’t expected a reply, let alone one in the affirmative.

  She squared her shoulders as she faced him again. “If you’re finished eating, I should take the tray and go. The doctor wants you to get lots of rest.”

  “Stay a little longer, Miss Matlock. Please. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I wasn’t offended. How could I be?”

  “Then stay,” he repeated, surprised by how much he wanted her to comply. He was used to solitude and in many ways preferred it. Just not this time.

  A frown pinched her forehead. “All right. For a short while. But only if you tell me more about yourself. Enough has been said about me.”

  “I never have been comfortable talking about myself.” He almost regretted asking her to stay.

  “I know that you grew up on a Kentucky horse farm, that your father and grandfather raised racing stock, and that you have no living family members.” Her voice softened. “Tell me about them. About your family.”

  Something about the tone of her voice and the kindness of her eyes made him willing to answer her questions. “I was sixteen when we got the news that my brothers had died in the same battle. I wanted to join up after that, but my father wouldn’t let me, even though boys younger than me were going off to fight for the Confederacy. He claimed he needed me to help run the farm, but with most of the horses gone, I knew it wasn’t the truth. He just didn’t want to risk losing another son on the battlefield. I understand better now, but I was angry with him at the time.”

  He pictured his brothers as they’d once been, a funloving, mischief-making pair. They’d taught him to hunt and fish and swim. They’d also taught him how to stand up for what he believed and to do his best, no matter what.

  With a shake of his head, he continued, “It wasn’t easy holding on to Fair Acres after the war. Taxes were high, and without breeding stock we didn’t have a way to bring in revenue.” He shrugged. “Even if we’d had horses, there weren’t many who could afford to buy them.”

  “I’m sorry. It must have been difficult for all of you.”

  “My little sister, Katrina, was the one who kept us going. She was full of sparkle and life. Never complained about anything.” He looked at the woman seated beside him. “She was a bit like you.”

  Silver’s disbelief was obvious in her expression.

  “Katrina was too young to remember what Fair Acres had been like before the war, but my father swore it would be great again. He would see that his only daughter had the best of everything. Dresses and parties and—” He broke off as the pleasant memories turned dark, as he’d known they would.

  “What happened, Mr. Newman? Why did you leave Fair Acres?”

  A familiar coldness washed over him. “My family was murdered.”

  She hesitated, and he saw the understanding in her eyes. “You weren’t there when it happened, were you?”

  “No. Maybe if I had been . . .” He closed his eyes, feeling the hatred well up in him again. He would find the man with the scar who’d battered his little sister and left her to die. He would find the man who’d killed his parents. If it took him the rest of his life, he would find him and exact his revenge.

  Silence gripped the hotel room. Jared’s face was a rigid mask. Silver guessed he was remembering the grim details of the day he discovered his family. A part of her wished he would share them with her. The other part was relieved he kept them to himself.

  “It took Katrina three weeks to die.” He looked at Silver, his eyes gone cold. “I will find the man who killed her.”

  “That’s why you became a bounty hunter.”

  “I’ll find him, no matter how long it takes.”

  Looking at him, she saw the boy who’d been raised in comfort, in the bosom of a loving family. She saw the son who’d wanted to fight in the war but had been kept safe at home. She saw the heartsick young man who’d buried his parents and sister. She saw the seeds of bitterness that had been born out of that tragedy. She saw the man who’d been shaped by long days in the saddle, long nights beneath the stars, following fugitives from the law, seeking vengeance on the one who’d taken everything from him.

  She saw Jared, the boy he’d been, the bounty hunter he’d become, and the man he still could be. And as crazy as it was, she knew she’d begun to love all three.

  CHAPTER 19

  They left Green River two days later. By this time, Silver knew Jared wasn’t one to dawdle on the trail. If he was in pain from his injuries, he didn’t allow it to slow them down. He would have kept going until they both dropped dead in their tracks if it weren’t for the horses. The animals he took pity on, but not himself or Silver.

  Three days of riding carried them across the border into the territory of Utah. As if trying to drive them back to Wyoming, the winds blew and the skies wept upon them for another three days. Huge thunderheads with black underbellies roiled overhead. From dawn to dusk, cold water ran in rivulets over their slickers, and they bent their hats into the wind to protect their faces from the stinging rain. It soaked through their boots, drenching their socks. Each night they sought dry shelter with little success.

  At noon on the last day of the storm, they spied a break in the clouds on the western horizon. The wind widened the strip of blue until, by evening, the sun prepared to set with nothing but an azure expanse above it.

  Silver slid from the saddle, then turned and rested her forehead against Cinder’s neck, weariness overwhelming her. How she longed for dry clothes and a soft mattress. She’d reached the limit of her endurance. She’d thought she was up for the task, but maybe she’d been wrong.

  “I’ll gather some firewood,” Jared said, “while you tether the horses.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, but he hadn’t waited for her acquiescence. At least he’d found them a good campsite. It was set against a rocky butte. The wall of stone would protect them from wind and weather, and thankfully the soil beneath her boots was hard and dry. No mud to contend with for a change.

  It wasn’t long before Jared returned and built a fire. Then, while Silver prepared their supper, he sat on a large rock and checked their dwindling supplies. His activity allowed Silver to watch him with unguarded eyes.

  Her feelings hadn’t altered since the evening in Green River—the night he’d shared about his sister and she’d realized she was falling in love with him. But what future could be found with a bounty hunter, a man without home or roots? Even if he was interested in her, which he wasn’t. He only cared about the reward she offered. He wasn’t unkind, but she knew he merely tolerated her presence. He would be glad when they found Bob and he could send her back to her home in Twin Springs.

  But it didn’t feel like it was her home. Not anymore. And if she didn’t retrieve the money Bob had stolen, her parents wouldn’t have a home either.

  If only . . .

  Jared looked up from the pack saddle, and their gazes met and held. Her pulse skipped. What if he should read what she felt in her eyes? She didn’t want that. It would be too embarrassing. She’d already proven that her head and heart were not to be trusted.

  Lowering her gaze, she reached for the coffeepot and poured the black brew into a cup. “Would you like some?” She held the tin cup out to him. “It’s ready.”

  “Fit to drink?” It wasn’t the fi
rst time he’d teased her with that question. He always asked it with the hint of a grin, as if they shared a private joke.

  “It’s every bit as good as yours.” She tried to sound insulted but knew she failed.

  He stood, stepped forward, and accepted the cup from her hand, taking a sip. “You’re right.” He grinned. “It is as good as mine. Better, I think.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He hunkered down close to the fire, resting his backside on his boot heels. “We ought to sleep better tonight.”

  “Dry ground will be a nice change.”

  “Yes.” He took another sip of coffee. “Our supplies are getting low. We need to make up some of the ground we lost in the bad weather.”

  “I noticed we aren’t following the railroad tracks any longer.”

  “This is a shortcut.” Jared glanced west. “We’ll rejoin the line by tomorrow night. I doubt Cassidy and Carlton would have any reason to stop in Mormon territory. No gambling here.”

  Silver held out a tin plate toward Jared. “The beans should be hot by now.”

  He took the plate and covered it with a mess of beans, then moved a short distance from the fire and settled onto the large rock again. Silver dished up her own supper, glad for a hot meal, even if it was just beans from a can.

  “The next stretch will be a long and hard one,” Jared added after more silence. “There isn’t much between here and Nevada besides sand.”

  Silver stifled a groan. If what came ahead was harder than what they’d already endured, she didn’t know how she’d make it. Then again, quitting wasn’t an option.

  Jared woke in the middle of the night. A breeze rustled the trees, turning them into swaying black skeletons, visible in the light of a quarter moon. The air was pungent. A mixture of pine and damp earth. The nearby creek gurgled as it spilled out of the steep crag bordering the trail.

  Alert, he listened for a sound that shouldn’t be there. Something beyond the normal sounds of night. He heard nothing out of the ordinary. Neither too much noise nor too much silence. Reassured, he relaxed.

  He rolled onto his side and stared across the campsite. Moonlight had found Silver’s face. In repose, the strain of the journey had disappeared. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. Peaceful. And seeing her peace, he felt some of it spill over onto him.

  He’d always preferred to ride alone, to work alone. He was comfortable with his own company, with quiet and solitude. But these past few weeks, he’d become used to having Silver with him. He was starting to like having someone to talk to around the campfire as he ate his dinner. No. That wasn’t the whole truth. He was starting to like having Silver there to talk to.

  A dangerous admission.

  CHAPTER 20

  Mile after miserable mile passed beneath the horses’ hooves. The icy rains that had drenched them to the skin became fond memories beneath a relentless sun. The dust rose up in billowing clouds to blind their eyes and choke their parched throats. The high-country desert crested and dipped in never-ending waves before and behind them. Always in the distance, there seemed to be the promise of some cool oasis, but it never materialized. Jared and Silver pushed onward with steely resolve.

  It was midafternoon when they saw the small homestead with its windmill. Hoping for some cool well water, they rode toward the weather-beaten house and barn.

  The first shot hit the ground in front of Silver’s mare. The second just missed Jared’s ear. An instant later, Jared threw himself against Silver, knocking her from Cinder’s back. The horses bolted, trotting away in the opposite direction, reins dragging on the ground. Jared searched for better cover. Then he grabbed Silver’s upper arm, pulled her to her feet, and ran, half towing, half dragging her with him toward some thick sagebrush.

  “Hello in the house!” he shouted. “We don’t want trouble. We’re thirsty. We just need water and we’ll be on our way.”

  In response, another bullet hit the dirt.

  “It seems to me you get shot at a lot,” Silver said.

  “Sometimes it seems that way to me too.” Jared peered over the silver-green sagebrush that sheltered them. The door stood open a crack, and he saw the barrel of a rifle sticking out. Silver was right. It was all too similar to what had happened outside of Green River City.

  Turning his head, he confirmed his horse had gone too far away to retrieve his rifle without being exposed to more gunfire. He would have to make do with his revolvers. He lowered himself again, and his gaze turned upon Silver. “We’ve got to have water. We can’t stay trapped here all day. Think you can cover me?”

  “Of course I can cover you. I’ve done it before, haven’t I?”

  Good. He’d irritated her. He would rather have her mad than scared. He removed the gun from the left holster and handed it to her. “Stay put and keep under cover.” He drew his remaining Colt from the right holster, checking the chambers out of habit, although he knew they were full. Then he started to move away.

  “Jared . . .”

  He glanced back at her.

  “Be careful.”

  This wasn’t the best moment to think how long it had been since a woman cared about his safety, so he shoved the thought away. Then, crouching forward, he sprinted toward another clump of sagebrush.

  Darting from cover to cover, he made an arc toward the back of the house. Whoever was inside had to see him working his way around, but no more shots were fired. Was he headed for an ambush?

  He reached the house and pressed himself against the board siding. Forcing his breathing to slow, he inched his way to the side and toward the front. When he poked his head around the front corner, he glanced toward Silver’s hiding place. He could see the top of her ebony hair and wanted to yell at her to get down, but he didn’t dare. The door was still open, the rifle barrel still visible. Sliding sideways, he moved toward the doorway. There was no sound from inside, no indication his presence might be suspected.

  It was a chance, but he took it. He holstered his revolver and reached slowly toward the barrel poking through the opening. As his fingers closed around the metal, still warm from the shots fired earlier, he jerked upward and outward. Then he spun and kicked the door with his boot, knocking it open with a crash. In an instant he had the rifle turned on its owner.

  The boy—and he was definitely a boy—had been knocked to the hard-packed dirt floor when the door flew open. He stared at Jared with a terrified expression. Jared made a quick survey of the room. The lad was alone, although the door to the back room of the house was closed.

  “Stand up,” Jared ordered.

  The boy obeyed, brushing off the seat of his pants as he did so.

  “Anyone else here?” He jerked the rifle barrel toward the closed door.

  The boy shook his head.

  “Why were you shooting at us?”

  “I didn’t know who you was.”

  “Where are your folks?”

  The boy’s expression seemed to crumple. He didn’t cry, but he was close to it. “Dead.”

  Jared took hold of his arm and drew him outside into the daylight. “It’s all right, Silver,” he called. “Get the horses and come on in.”

  The boy was scrawny, maybe ten or eleven years old. His hair was a deep chestnut brown and in need of trimming. Dark brown eyes looked out from a dirt-smudged face.

  “What’s your name?”

  Silver arrived at Jared’s side. She glanced at the boy, then at Jared, then back at the boy. “Was he the one shooting at us?”

  “Yes. Doesn’t seem to like strangers. Says he’s here alone and his folks are dead.”

  “Let go of him, Jared.” She knelt before the boy. “He’s terrified.”

  With a handkerchief drawn from the pocket of her skirt, Silver tried to wipe the dirt from the boy’s face. “You must have a good reason for shooting at two complete strangers. Why don’t you tell us what it is?”

  The boy lost his fight against tears. They welled over and streaked his cheeks
. “I thought . . . I thought he might be comin’ back to kill me too.”

  Silver used the falling tears to wipe away a little more of the dirt. “Who might be coming back? Who was killed?”

  The boy hiccupped over a sob.

  Silver put her arms around the boy and drew his head to her shoulder, her fingers stroking his hair. She waited in silence until the crying ceased. Then she drew back and met his gaze again. “My name is Miss Matlock, and this is Mr. Newman. We’re on our way to Virginia City. We saw your windmill and were hoping to find some water.” She stood, causing the boy to look up at her. “Now you know all about us. If you tell us your name, we won’t be strangers any longer.”

  He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Dean.”

  “Dean what?”

  “Dean Forest.”

  “And where are your parents, Dean?”

  He jerked his head toward the room with the closed door. “In there. They . . . they’re dead. They was killed this mornin’.” He stuck out his chin, trying to look brave but failing. “Pa killed one of ’em. He’s down over that rise there.”

  Jared turned in the direction of Dean’s gaze. “There’s a body over there?”

  “Yessir.”

  It was Jared’s turn to take a knee in front of the boy. “Dean, you need to tell us what happened.”

  “Me and Pa, we was comin’ back with a lamb that wandered off. When we got close to the house, we heard Ma screamin’ something awful. Pa made me go up in the loft of the barn and hide, then he went to help Ma. I reckon there was somebody inside and somebody outside. The one that was inside with Ma, he shot both of ’em dead.”

  Silver felt herself go cold. “You saw it?”

  Dean shook his head. “No. I was hidin’ in the loft, like I told ya. But I saw what he did when I come down.”

  “I’ll need to get them buried,” Jared said softly to Silver.