Early Dawn (19 page)

“I hear you. I’ve even used it in stew, believe it or not. Sometimes I don’t have time to hunt.”

Eden was about to stand up with the bedroll in her arms when she noticed a gun belt folded neatly on the dirt near where their pallet had been. The double holsters sported two Colt revolvers. She shot a bewildered glance at Matthew, thinking he might not have put his gun belt back on after rising, but he was wearing his weapons, leather thongs anchoring the twin holsters to his well-muscled thighs.

“They’re yours on loan,” he said, inclining his head at the weapons. “I figure any lady taught to shoot by Ace Keegan ought to be armed. I may be glad of the backup if the Sebastians take us by surprise.”

Eden extended a trembling hand to touch the butt of one revolver. Tears sprang to her eyes. Men of the West prized their weapons and rarely let anyone else use them. For him to loan her his spare guns was a very generous and extraordinary gesture. Having her own sidearms would give her a fabulous feeling of empowerment. She would be able to defend herself now.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

“Strap them on. Guns aren’t very useful unless you’re wearing them.”

Peeling off the heavy jacket, Eden bent to pick up the gun belt. To her immense disappointment, it was too large for her waist, even with the tongue of the buckle in the very last notch. Matthew drew the meat to the edge of the fire and came around the pit, drawing his hunting knife from its scabbard.

“Easy fix,” he said. “I’ll just add another notch.”

Eden shook her head. “You needn’t do that. This is too nice a gun belt to poke holes in it.”

“One little hole won’t hurt it any,” he insisted. “Pull it up tight so I can mark the spot.”

Reluctantly Eden did as he said, making sure the belt rested over her hip bones. As he bent low to twist the tip of the knife in the leather, the side of his face lightly grazed her breast, and she instinctively jerked away. He straightened and met her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”

“No need to apologize.” He grasped the long blade in his fingers to turn the handle of the knife toward her. “You want to do it?”

Eden accepted the weapon. When she finished marking the belt, he sat by the fire with it draped over his lap to add another notch. Within seconds, the gun belt had been altered to fit her. As she strapped it on and leaned forward to knot the holster ties around her thighs, her gratitude was inexpressible. Friend or foe? She was coming to think she finally had an answer to that question.

She felt indescribably wonderful as she straightened with the Colts riding her hips.
Restored
was the word that sprang to mind. Yesterday, she’d felt like a shadow of herself, but now, wearing the guns, she was Eden Paxton again, daughter to Dory, sister to four wonderful brothers who loved her enough to die for her.

“Thank you,” she said again.

She tested the pull of the leather on the revolvers. The weapons slipped easily from the holsters, just the way she liked. Next she began checking the cylinders.

“They’re loaded,” he told her.

Nevertheless, Eden gave each cylinder a whirl. Matthew inclined his head in approval. “Your brother trained you well. Always make certain your weapons are fully loaded.”

She returned the nod. “And well-oiled and clean. You do a fine job of keeping your equipment in first-rate condition.”

“Over the last few weeks, I’ve kept my weapons cleaner than I have myself, by far.”

She settled both revolvers into the holsters and ran her fingers over the looped belt to be certain she had extra bullets. “If they show up now, I won’t feel so afraid.”

His expression turned suddenly solemn. “If they do show up and get the upper hand, save your last bullet.”

Eden needed no further explanation. In hard country like this, a wise woman always saved the last bullet for herself. The long and short of it was, there were worse fates than dying, and for her, falling into the hands of the Sebastians again would be one of them. With the Colts at hand, she wasn’t that worried about it, though. She’d never had to kill a man, and she would be pleased to keep it that way, but if left without a choice, she felt confident in her ability to hold her own. With Matthew standing beside her, her odds of success were even better.

He crouched back down by the fire and repositioned the meat over the flames. “So, Miss Paxton, show me your stuff.”

She nearly laughed, and that felt absolutely marvelous. As recently as yesterday, she’d thought she might never want to laugh again. “My
stuff
?”

“Don’t actually fire the gun, of course. A shot may bring them doubling back.” He grabbed the fork to turn the quartered meat. As he sprinkled salt over the works, he glanced up. “But I would like to see you slap leather. I’ve never known a female fast draw.”

“That’s me, a bona fide Calamity Jane.” Eden slipped the guns in and out of the holsters a few more times to get a good feel for them. Noting Matthew’s expectant gaze, she began to feel self-conscious. “I’d feel silly, drawing on nothing. And it’s rude to show off.”

“When your partner wants to know whether or not he can count on you to guard his back, it’s not showing off. It’s a necessary exhibition of your skill.” He grabbed up the square of leather he used as a pot holder and sent it sailing. “Draw on that.”

Taken off guard, Eden forgot to feel silly and snapped the Colts from the holsters.

“Holy hell,” Matthew said, his voice pitched low in awe. “You’re lightning quick, lady.”

Eden’s cheeks grew hot. In truth, she’d been slower than usual because of her hurt ribs. She slipped the guns back into the holsters. “Anyone can appear to be fast,” she said. “But speed counts for nothing if you can’t hit your target.”

“You can hit it.” Matthew’s blue eyes held hers. Yesterday morning, Eden had judged his eyes to be cold, chilling her like ice. Today, a flick of his gaze warmed her skin like a physical touch. “I know good when I see it. You can probably draw that fast and knock a walnut off a tree.”

“An acorn,” she corrected. “At sixty-five yards.”

He arched his dark brows. “A Colt’s only dependably accurate at fifty yards, maybe sixty, at a stretch.”

“Depends on who’s firing it.” Eden donned the jacket again, retrieved the square of leather, and joined him by the fire. “No brag, just information for my partner.”

He flashed one of those crooked grins, the left side of his mouth remaining immobile. “Information appreciated. How did you become that accurate at such a distance?” He’d no sooner posed the question than he added, “Don’t answer that. Ace, again, I suspect.”

Eden returned the smile. “Ace, the bane of my existence.”

Matthew filled a tin cup with coffee and handed it to her. “He was a hard taskmaster.”

Eden took a sip of the scalding brew. It tasted so good she closed her eyes for a moment in pure pleasure. “He wanted me to be ready for anything—high wind, pistol grips slick with rain, swollen holster leather. You name it, he put me through it.” She took another sip of coffee. “Our mother’s second husband was murdered before I was born. Ace was about eleven and saw it happen. Being only a boy, he was powerless to stop it and couldn’t protect Mama, either. I think it troubles him, even now, and I’m sure that’s why he pushed me so hard. He needed to know I would be able to defend myself, no matter what.”

Matthew checked the meat. “Makes sense.” He angled her another thoughtful look. “I’m sorry about your pa.”

Eden’s throat went tight. She considered telling him that Joseph Paxton Senior had not been her father, but then she thought better of it. Matthew didn’t strike her as being a narrow-minded, self-righteous man, but there was little point in putting him to the test by telling him the truth about her parentage. A lot of people looked down their noses at bastards, always had and probably always would.

“Losing him was much harder for my mother and brothers than it ever was for me,” she settled for saying. “I never really missed having a father because I always had Ace. He was twelve years older than me, and by the time I came to realize that most other children my age had a pa, Ace was a grown man. I thought of him as my father and loved him as if he were.” She gave the coffee a swirl and smiled. “Never mind that I wanted to shoot him more times than not for making me do all that infernal target-practicing.”

Matthew threw back his dark head and barked with laughter. When his mirth subsided, he asked, “How on earth could you practice that often, living in the city?”

“It wasn’t until Ace started winning big at cards and had made some lucrative investments that we moved into town. I was about thirteen. Even then, he dragged me to the country several times a week to target-practice.”

“I have a feeling you must have been a handful as a girl.”

“Headstrong,” she confessed, “and cursed with a quick temper. I must have been a handful. Ace never lost patience with me, though. Joseph, the next oldest, was another story. We fought like cats and dogs.”

In case he had only one cup, Eden handed it back to Matthew so they might share the coffee. He obliged her by taking a sip before returning it to her.

“You may meet my brothers, you know. I know they’re looking for me.”

“I’m sure they are. If someone took one of my sisters, my brothers and I would be out for blood.”

“Yes, well, if mine catch up with us, stand aside and let me do the talking. If my brothers think you were in on abducting me, they’ll bury you first and ask questions later.”

Matthew nodded as if that made perfect sense to him. Given the fact that he’d been dogging the Sebastians for three long years, probably to avenge his wife, Eden figured he understood how her brothers might be feeling even better than she did. She admired Matthew’s stick-to-itiveness. Such tenacity showed the true nature of a man’s character. He wasn’t a coward or a quitter.

Eden realized that she’d told him quite a lot about her family and he’d said very little about his own. Setting aside the cup of coffee, she sent the square of leather sailing high into the air and cried, “Draw!”

Remaining in a crouch, he whipped around and drew both of his Colts with such speed that Eden barely saw his hands move. “Not bad,” she told him. When he shot her a disgruntled look, she grinned and added, “Even Ace would give you high marks. All the practicing paid off.”

“No fair. You gave me no warning.”

“Neither will the Sebastians,” she reminded him. “And you were still impressively fast.”

He slipped the guns back into their holsters and returned his attention to their hodgepodge meal. “Four acorns, sixty-eight yards.”

“No matter what the terrain or weather?” she asked incredulously.

“I practiced on the trail. I didn’t have your brother to prod me, but the weather and terrain had a way of changing on a daily basis.”

Eden took another sip of coffee. “As a partner, you’ll do. You’ve got me beat slightly in distance, but I have you bested in acorns. I’ve emptied both guns and taken off an acorn with every bullet.”

“Ha, now you tell me. Sounds like a tall tale to me.”

“No brag, just fact.” She sent him a teasing smile. “If we get out of this with our hides intact, I’m up for a shooting match. How about you?”

He bit back a smile. “You’re on. Just don’t be disappointed if I whip you.”

Eden laughed. “Same goes. I would hate to bruise your male ego.”

That earned her another lopsided grin. He dished up some meat for each of them, accompanied by some of the trail bread he’d made last night. Between bites, Eden said, “I’m guessing my brothers headed for the border after Mama told them what happened. Otherwise they would be here by now. They must have thought the gang would head for Mexico.”

Matthew bit off a chunk of rabbit and pocketed it in his cheek. “Normal-thinking criminals would have. That’s the trouble with the Sebastians. They never do what normal-thinking people believe they will. Since I’ve been tracking them, I’ve ridden with a few posses, and the Sebastians always gave them the slip. Every damned time, it was because the lawmen tried to anticipate their next move. With the Sebastians, you can’t do that. They’ll do the exact opposite of what I think they will every single time. In ways, they’re dumber than stumps, but they’re also wily as foxes and completely haphazard.”

“They’ll eventually head for the border. They spoke of a hideout somewhere in Mexico, and I got the impression it was near the Rio Grande. I also think it must be near a town because—” Eden broke off and averted her gaze. She preferred not to recount the gang members’ conversations about the Mexican whores they looked forward to bedding. “Wallace said a few things that led me to believe there might be a cantina within easy riding distance of their hideout. A place called Margarita’s.”

Matthew frowned thoughtfully. “Thanks for the information. It may come in handy someday.”

After finishing their meal, Eden cleaned up the mess while Matthew readied the animals for the trail. Then he set himself to the task of erasing all trace of their camp. After dousing the fire with water, he carried the charred wood into a copse and buried it. Then he threw dirt over the blackened earth and brushed away all their tracks with a leafy branch.

“Will that fool them, do you think?” Eden asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. I just don’t want to leave them an engraved invite if they’ve somehow covered enough ground to circle around and come in behind us before we can get out of here.”

“Do you think that’s likely?”

He shook his head. “I doubt they got all their horses gathered back up until yesterday afternoon. Even if they rode all last night and managed to find our tracks where we left that stream, no easy task in the dark, we’ve still got at least a good eight hours’ jump on them.”

Before Eden knew it, she was once again in the saddle. At least this morning she felt more rested. “I forgot to brush my teeth,” she called out.