Early Dawn (32 page)

One evening, Eden launched into a spellbinding tale. “When I was still little, eight men who lived near us went out hunting and disappeared for weeks,” she told him. “Search parties were formed, but no one could find them. Finally one of the wives remembered her husband mentioning a camp along Stillman Creek, so a group of searchers followed the stream up into the mountains to see what they could find.”

“And?” Matthew asked. “Did they come across the men?”

Eden nodded. “All of them but one. They found seven men and eight horses, all dead.”

“Dead?”

She nodded again, then shivered and looked over her shoulder into the encroaching darkness. “It was
strange
. So far as the searchers could see, there’d been no reason for the men and horses to remain in that camp. But they did. Rather than leave, they stuck fast until they starved and thirsted to
death
. Imagine that, with water only a few feet away.”

Matthew bit back a smile because he’d heard this story before, only it had been four men who had disappeared in the mountains of Oregon. “So what happened to the eighth man?”

“That’s the
really
scary part. They found him wandering in the woods, so thin he was skeletal. His hair, which had been black before he left, had turned as white as snow, and he was raving mad. The searchers determined that
something
—they had no idea what—had surrounded the camp, making all the men and horses terrified to leave. So terrified that they preferred to stay in that place and starve to death rather than face the horror that awaited them in the woods. Only one man had the courage to run, and he paid for it with the loss of his reason.”

“Did he ever get better?”

Eden’s expression went sad, and she shook her head. “He never came right again, and he was never able to tell anyone what had happened. To this day, hunters who venture up Stillman Creek still disappear. Only now no search parties will go looking for them. They’re too afraid.”

Matthew strove to keep his expression solemn. “What do you think is up there?”

She shivered and rubbed her arms through the jacket sleeves. “There are evil forces in the world, Matthew—forces we can’t see or feel until it’s too late. That’s what I think is up there, something unspeakably
evil
.”

He finally allowed himself to grin. “It’s impossible for a man’s hair to turn white in a few weeks. Human hair only grows a half inch per month. It has to turn white at the roots and grow out, little by little, to become snow-white.”

Her cheek dimpled in an impish grin. “I know, but isn’t it a deliciously
scary
story?”

Matthew threw back his head and guffawed. “You little minx! You sat there, pretending to look over your shoulder. You don’t believe a word of that tale.”

“No, but it’s still fun to tell it.”

A little later, as they prepared for bed, a loud snap resounded through the woods near their camp, the report rivaling that of a high-powered rifle. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in a forested wilderness area. Limbs suddenly broke loose from trees all the time. Matthew had no fear that it was the Sebastians moving in on them. Those scoundrels would approach like snakes, quietly slithering through the bushes to catch them by surprise. Even so, Eden started so badly that her feet nearly parted company with the ground. Matthew found himself smothering another laugh. She hadn’t managed to scare him with her story, but she’d definitely frightened herself.

When they got into bed, she snuggled close to him, clearly feeling edgy and in need of his nearness.
Sweet torture
. He couldn’t hold her like this without growing aroused. It just happened. Old Glory had a mind of his own. Only tonight, with a shock of wonderment, Matthew realized Old Glory wasn’t the only recalcitrant body part under the blanket. His wrist accidentally grazed one of Eden’s breasts, and her nipple was as hard as a little rivet. He hadn’t touched her there to cause that reaction. Which meant what? That she was as inflamed as he was?

Shit
. He tried to close his mind down, to evict the thought from his brain. But now it was
there
, with roots that ran stubbornly deep. She wanted him. And, God help him, he wanted her. But she wasn’t ready for that yet, and he wasn’t either. Eden wasn’t a woman to use and then discard. If he took her, he had to be prepared to take their relationship to another place—the forever place. That was ground Matthew didn’t want to tread.

Before the night was over, he was back in the creek, freezing his ass off and cursing Old Glory, who refused to give up the ghost.

Despite her unnerving effect on his body when they went to bed each night, Eden proved to be an engaging companion otherwise, always ready to tease or laugh no matter how weary she was. For Matthew, who had been alone on the trail for so long, her presence became something he prized. He limited their entertainment time each evening to only an hour so she would get plenty of rest, but he enjoyed himself so much it wasn’t always easy to call it a day, especially when he knew he’d end up back in the creek at least once during the night.

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Eden still awakened before he did some mornings, and he’d crack open his eyes to find her already cooking their breakfast. More than once, Matthew thought to himself that she was the damnedest woman he’d ever met, but he didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Eden faced all challenges with her shoulders straight and her chin up. She had an indomitable spirit.

He found it impossible to picture her in some fancy drawing room with a bunch of stuffy society types, serving tea and pretending she had no thought in her head beyond her next dressmaker’s appointment or charity ball. It was equally impossible to imagine that she’d have been happy living that kind of existence.

During their long rides during the day, they sometimes broke up the monotony by sharing stories about their lives and families. She laughed at some of his tales, and he laughed at some of hers. In the sharing, the friendship they had agreed to forge deepened to a level of intimacy that was everything but physical, which Matthew regretted every damned night and was coming to suspect that she regretted as well. He came to care about her in a way he’d never have believed possible when he first met her. Maybe people truly did have different corners in their hearts.

Eden, on the other hand, found herself experiencing those fiery tingles more often than not. Just the brush of Matthew’s fingertips on the back of her hand sent a jolt up her arm, and at night when he held her close, she was filled with yearning. Sometimes she ached to have his hands on her breasts. Other times she felt a peculiar wetness at the apex of her thighs. At first, she wondered if she was developing a female ailment, because her sensitive places felt almost feverish and throbbed with every beat of her heart. But no. She finally decided that the new sensations stemmed from desire.

After what the Sebastians had done to her, Eden hadn’t expected to be physically aroused by a man, ever. But having Matthew’s arms around her made her feel safe in a way that nothing else did, not even wearing the borrowed Colts.

As their weeks in the wilderness moved toward a month, Matthew started to get the whim-whams now and again while they were riding in circles. That worried him, because his hunches rarely proved wrong, and he feared the Sebastians might be somewhere in the general area. He didn’t believe they were close enough yet to pose an immediate threat, but he needed to determine where they were and what they were up to. Not wishing to alarm Eden unnecessarily, he decided a few days later to ride out and do a little scouting. To that end, he stopped to make camp early one afternoon, telling Eden that he needed to go hunting.

“I haven’t seen much deer sign in this area,” he said. “In order to get something, I may be gone until well after dark.”

Eden nodded and glanced toward the trees. “I’ll spend the time looking for edibles.”

Matthew wished she would just rest, but he knew telling her that was a waste of breath. She was already heading into the nearby woods when he rode out. Recalling the circles they’d ridden in and the directions they’d gone over the last couple of days, Matthew decided to ride east for a few hours, keeping an eye out for tracks.
Nothing
. He crossed old back trails of his and Eden’s a few times but saw no sign that the Sebastians had been in the area.

He was breathing a sigh of relief when he came to a narrow gorge, commonly called a defile where he hailed from. As he rode along the west rim to find a way across, he finally saw what he’d been praying he wouldn’t—churned earth. His heart jerked in his chest when he hunkered down to examine the hoofprints. They couldn’t have been any fresher if the horses had still been standing in them.

The hair at the back of his neck prickled. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Shit
. Glancing at his watch, he determined that he had been riding for only two and a half hours. Pulse starting to hammer, he swung back up on Smoky and followed the trail.
No mistake
. He recognized the odd paddle gait of Wallace Sebastian’s gelding. The gang was way too close for comfort.

Matthew longed to stay on their trail to see where they were headed, but another part of him wanted to get back to Eden as fast as he could. While it was important that he learn what the Sebastians were up to, he didn’t want to leave his partner alone for too long.

Matthew felt pulled in two different directions and couldn’t think what to do.
Damn it
. He had just decided to turn back when he heard voices. He dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot from the saddle, then slunk in a crouch to a copse of tall brush, pulling Smoky along behind him.

“When we find that bastard and kill him, I’m gonna take my time with the woman. No more playin’ by the fire at night. I’m gonna rape the little bitch.”

The deep male voice rang as clear as it would have if the speaker and Matthew had been standing face-to-face. He cupped his palm over Smoky’s muzzle, a signal for the horse to be quiet. If the gelding so much as snorted, the Sebastians would hear him. Perspiration ran into Matthew’s eyes. He didn’t dare draw his hand from the horse’s nose to clear his vision.

“About time you smartened up, Wallace,” another man said. “To hell with sellin’ her across the border. I never thought it was a good plan, anyway.”

“Me, neither. Makes me mad that we didn’t enjoy her proper while we had her.”

“Oh, shut up, all of you! I done what I figured was best. She’d still bring a fine price. I’m just too riled right now to care.”

“You’re riled?” another man cried. “It was my damned bay that got stole. It ain’t you who’s stuck with a draft horse. When we stop at night, I feel like I been split clean in two. I ache from my gonads clear up to my gullet. I’ve never seen a horse this wide across the back.”

“Oh, stop your bellyachin’. At least you got somethin’ to ride.”

The men had come abreast of the copse where Matthew was hiding. Peering through the branches, he was afraid to even breathe. He could have lobbed a pebble and hit any one of them. They were just that close. If Smoky blew or fidgeted, Matthew would be in a fine fix. He wasn’t afraid to swap lead with the five men. He wanted to. But he couldn’t put his life at risk when Eden was counting on him.

Using the arm with which he held the reins, Matthew wiped the sweat from his eyes with his jacket sleeve so he could see more clearly. Pete was the one riding the draft horse. Even at a distance of several feet, Matthew noted a gray tinge on the man’s skin—the kind that came from months of not bathing. The stench of unwashed bodies drifted to Matthew on the afternoon air. The smell was so bad it burned his nostrils and gave him an urge to sneeze. He swallowed hard and held his breath. If he sneezed—well, he just couldn’t—that was all.

Pete continued to complain about the discomfort of riding such a huge horse. “I hate ridin’ bareback. His goddamn backbone is crushin’ my balls. When we catch up with that son of a bitch, I’ll be too sore to dip my pecker in that little whore’s honeypot. Why can’t we stop for a break?”

No
, Matthew prayed. They had to move on. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep Smoky quiet.

“Confound it!” Wallace cried. “I swear, Pete, you’ve gone softer than a down-filled mattress. We took a break two hours ago.”

“Only for a few minutes. You try ridin’ this sunbuck and see how you like it.”

A few yards beyond the copse, the brothers dismounted, tethered their horses, and sat in the shade of a tree. James drew a jug of whiskey from his saddlebag before joining the others. They passed the bottle, each of them swilling the liquor as if it were water. Matthew had little hope that they’d drink themselves into a stupor so early in the day, and his heart jumped inside his chest like a child playing hopscotch. Smoky was bound to snort or whinny sooner or later.

“So which way you reckon we oughta go next, Wallace?” Pete asked.

“My gut tells me they’re west of here.” Harold wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand and returned the bottle to James. “I think we should go that way again.”

“They ain’t west of here.” Wallace snatched the jug from his youngest brother and took another slug of booze. “We went that way yesterday and didn’t see any fresh tracks.”

“I think that Coulter fella is rubbin’ ’em out,” Harold retorted.

Matthew was startled to hear the man call him by name. Except for the night when he’d rescued Eden, he’d seen only one of the Sebastians in the flesh, and that brother hadn’t lived to tell the story. How the hell did they know his name? The answer came to Matthew straightaway: He’d gone into a number of towns over the years and asked questions about where the gang had last been seen. The Sebastians must have visited some of those places and been told that a man named Coulter was tracking them.

“He couldn’t have rubbed ’em
all
out.” Wallace snorted in disgust. “I swear, Harold, if I looked in your ear, I’d see daylight out the other side. After riding cut for a few days, we’re headin’ south. No more tryin’ to follow the son of a bitch. He’s goin’ in circles, no rhyme or reason to it. The only way to find him is to ride every which way ourselves until we cut across fresh tracks.”