Two Texas Hearts

ELEVEN

WINTER SHOVED A CLEAN SHIRT INTO HIS SADDLEBAG. ‘‘What else?’’ He said the words with such controlled anger, his hand shook slightly. ‘‘Or should I say who else? A husband who’s still alive seems a little more important than telling me you’re left-handed.’’

Kora didn’t answer. He continued to fill his bag and mumble to himself. ‘‘I’d kill this one, but another one might turn up next week. Who knows how many exhusbands you’ve got wandering around?’’

‘‘I didn’t ask you to marry me,’’ Kora answered from where she stood by the windows. She’d followed him from the barn without saying a word. She knew he needed, he deserved an explanation, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Anything she said would only make him think less of her. She moved farther away but didn’t leave the room.

Win’s gaze scanned the area. Her face was in shadows as it had been the night they met. He remembered what a mouse he’d thought she was. He was surprised she wasn’t hiding away somewhere now. She’d always seemed so afraid of him, yet when she finally made him furious, she was sticking as close as a newborn calf.

‘‘That’s right,’’ he said more to himself than her, ‘‘you didn’t ask me to marry you. I’ve no one but myself to blame. I walked into this mess sober and plenty old enough to know what I was doing.’’

He made another trip to his dresser drawer. ‘‘I took on playing matchmaker to that hot-blooded sister of yours and agreed to having a mute brother wandering my house at all hours. I even agreed to the in-name-only part for a while, thinking I was being kind. But this I won’t stand for. I won’t put up with a man walking onto my land and demanding my wife go home with him.’’

Kora pressed her cheek against the window. ‘‘I didn’t go, did I?’’ She felt suddenly ages old and very tired.

‘‘No, you didn’t. Which surprised me after all the mourning I thought you were doing for the man.’’ Win swung his saddlebag over his shoulder and took a step toward her. ‘‘And even in the poor light I don’t think you recognized him until he said his name. What kind of marriage did you two have, anyway?’’

She couldn’t explain without telling the whole story. If she told him of how she’d signed a proxy Andrew Adams had offered by mail to another woman, he’d think her mad. If Winter knew she waited until she thought Adams was an hour from death before she stepped forward as his bride, he’d think her a greedy, dishonest gold digger. There was no way she could win. She’d already lost. The cloud of the witchin’ luck had caught up to her once again.

‘‘Tell me the truth, Kora. How long was he your husband? Long enough to kiss you? Long enough to sleep beside you? Long enough to earn a train ticket, or did you stay long enough to…’’ He couldn’t say the words. He’d thought of making love to her all day. Of how it would be between them when she was no longer shy. Of how it would feel to hold her all night.

‘‘What difference does it make?’’ she answered. All she had left was a thimbleful of pride. She’d walk away with that if nothing else. ‘‘There’s no use in your leaving. I’ll pack. Jamie, Dan, and I will leave for town tonight. I knew this would never last, nothing good ever does in my life. I’m sure the gambler will drive us, and there must be somewhere to stay.’’

Win shook his head. ‘‘You’re not leaving. It’s dangerous enough on the road at night without there being men out ambushing folks.’’ He looked at the ceiling and let out a long breath. ‘‘Besides, I need you here,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Someone’s got to help the doc with Cheyenne. I’ve got my hands full with the blockade. I’m already pushing every hand to the breaking point.’’ He hated the idea that he had to depend on her, but all the men were needed to ride the blockade, and even if he could spare one, none would be worth much in a sickroom.

Kora turned toward him for the first time. She saw all the anger she’d expected to see in his tan face. His entire body seemed to be granite, unmoving, uncompromising, unforgiving. But in his eyes she saw something else. A tiny flickering of the pain she’d caused. Somehow, despite all his claims and all his strength, she’d hurt this man deeply, perhaps beyond forgiveness. This man who swore he’d never care, cared enough to be hurt.

She was thankful he turned and ran down the stairs, for she felt herself crumbling.

Winter knew he needed sleep, but he couldn’t shut off his mind. All his life he’d been alone and told himself he wanted it that way. Yet, he could still taste the kiss he’d shared with Kora in the barn. It angered him that he needed her-he needed her for more than to help with the house and Cheyenne. Somehow, in just a few days, she’d become a part of him, and even the rage he felt couldn’t drive her out.

When he’d been a boy, his father died of illness and his mother took him to live with her people in the Indian Territory. The village had been attacked one morning by soldiers when Winter was six. He remembered his mother yelling for him to run and not look back. Those were her last words to him, and it seemed he’d been running all his life. If he forced himself not to care, then no one could hurt him. But somehow, Kora had gotten to him. It was more than the need he felt to protect her, he’d grown to admire her. She had a quiet strength and a deep-water kind of touch that washed over his scarred soul.

Twisting uncomfortably on the sofa, he told himself that as soon as this blockade was over, he’d tell Kora to go back to Andrew Adams. He’d lived without a wife for years, and he could again. If the man’s paper was valid, then Win wasn’t married to Kora. ‘‘And the house isn’t hers,’’ he mumbled silently, vowing to burn the place if she left. Then he would pay the church for the damage.

The door to the study slowly opened, pulling Winter fully awake. He studied her in the firelight as Kora tiptoed into the room. Pretending to be asleep, he watched her move silently about. She put another log on the fire, then picked up his dirty clothes and placed clean folded ones on the chair.

She turned to go, then hesitated before crossing the rug to where he lay. Very slowly she leaned over him and lightly touched her lips to his. It took all Winter’s strength not to pull her to him. He made his body remain still as she kissed him, then vanished a moment later.

‘‘The deep water may drown me,’’ he mumbled to himself as he rubbed two fingers over his bottom lip.

• • •

Win finally gave up even trying to sleep and pulled on his jeans. He opened one of the tall study windows and stepped out onto the long dark front porch. The captain had built the back of the house to face all the activity of the ranch and the front to face the prairie. For as far as he could see in the moonlit sky was his land. Only tonight it failed to bring him the joy it always had.

Hardly noticing the cold air, he took a deep breath, trying to clear the thought of Kora in another man’s arms. He knew she’d probably be leaving by summer, but that seemed a lifetime away. Until then she’d promised to be his wife. Adams’s appearance had changed all that.

He moved silently across the wooden boards toward the steps. Win was almost atop Kora before he saw her sitting on the first step wrapped in a quilt.

‘‘Excuse me,’’ he grumbled, hating that he wasn’t alone.

Turning to leave, he almost didn’t hear her whisper, ‘‘Don’t go.’’

He thought of ignoring her request. He owed her nothing. She’d lied to him and made a fool of him. But she’d also been kind. ‘‘What is it?’’ He didn’t turn to face her.

For a long moment she was silent and he wasn’t sure she was going to say anything.

Then softly her voice drifted on the breeze. ‘‘I like to come out here. The back porch is always so busy, but around here you can almost believe you’re alone on the land.’’

Win turned slightly, but all he could see was her outline on the steps. ‘‘If you’ve got something to say, say it.’’

‘‘I don’t know where to start,’’ she whispered.

‘‘With the truth would be a new spot,’’ he answered. ‘‘And at the beginning.’’

He watched her head lean forward as she tucked her knees to her chin. She looked so tiny. It was hard to believe she’d come up with such a whopper of a lie.

‘‘My first memory of my father was when he died early in the war. Mama came from a family who had a little money, and Papa had already sold all his land trying to keep her happy even before the war. When he died, we had nothing. Dan was tall enough to run off and fight, leaving me with newborn Jamie and Mom.’’

Kora wasn’t looking at him but out at the darkness. He could tell the words came hard.

‘‘We made do until Dan returned. Mom just gave up trying after that, not caring about anything but being with him. I’m not sure how long she lived after he came home all shot up and silent like he is now, two winters, maybe three. Then we were alone.’’

She leaned her head back against the wood of the porch brace and took a deep breath. ‘‘For a while we lived by me gathering food from other folks’ gardens at night and from the garbage bins in winter. Finally I was old enough to work, and Jamie could watch Dan.’’

Kora laughed suddenly without humor. ‘‘I guess you didn’t mean so far back.’’

Win moved to the other side of the porch steps and folded his arms. ‘‘Continue.’’

‘‘There were months, years that I didn’t see sunlight. I worked at any job that would pay, sometimes two, and Jamie ran the streets. Several years ago we heard about a land where the sun shines every day of the year-

California. So we saved enough to get to Galveston and from there to Houston, then Bryan. We planned to work our way across the West.

‘‘But Dan got sick a year ago, and the doctor’s fee put us in debt. I started working at the mercantile, and Jamie ran the mail.’’

Win shifted. ‘‘What does this have to do with Andrew Adams?’’ He had the feeling she was stalling.

‘‘Everything,’’ she whispered. ‘‘A woman who picked up her mail at the mercantile started writing him and agreed to marry him by mail. But she found another a few days before he arrived and tossed his letters in the trash. Just out of curiosity, I read them and decided to meet the stage, wondering what such a man would look like.

‘‘The stage was late. When it came in, all were dead but Adams. He had four bullet holes in him and the doctor said he’d never live the night. I’d read the letters, I knew he had no relatives, and he’d already signed the proxy. All I had to do was sign the paper, and I’d be a widow with a farm somewhere northwest.’’

‘‘So you lied.’’ Win’s words were hard. ‘‘About him and then to me.’’

‘‘The lie to him only moved us to another place to starve.’’

‘‘But you thought the lie to me would get you to your sunshine in California,’’ Win snapped as he stood.

‘‘That’s right,’’ Kora whispered without looking up.

‘‘If the paper is legal, there’s not much you can do. The law wouldn’t step between a man and wife.’’

‘‘And if it’s not?’’

‘‘Then you stay till full summer with me. I’ll see that you don’t break this agreement.’’ He looked away from her. ‘‘When the six months is over, I want you gone.’’

The sound of him walking away was all she heard.