Lone Star Magic (5 page)

But Alrick knew. Though she felt fear, the
part of her that suffered guilt over her beloved husband’s death
wanted to accomplish this one thing. For him, in honor of his
memory.

He wondered why he found the thought so
galling. And why, in a way he felt like he was lying. He’d told
Carly he wanted to stay. But until the Warlord had been
neutralized, her No Name Ranch wasn’t safe. Somehow he had to
convince Carly to leave.

“YOU REALLY plan to work here?” Carly’s
question jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Of course.” For what time he was here, he
would work.

“There’s a lot to be done.” She watched him
carefully, as though she expected him to back out now that she’d
given him permission to sleep in the house.

“I know.” He stretched, noting the way her
gaze followed the movement. For now, he’d keep to himself the
probability they would have to leave once the Warlord stepped up
his attacks. He could protect her better if she wasn’t a sitting
target.

“The place
is
a mess.” She seemed to
be talking to herself, so he didn’t answer. “And I really could use
the help. And you did save TM.” Lost in her musings, she absently
chewed on her thumbnail. “When can you start?”

He kept his expression solemn, though he
wanted to laugh out loud. “When do you want me to start?”

“Now is as good a time as any.”

“Of course.” Pushing himself to his feet, he
gestured at the door. “Let’s go outside then.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of
me?”

Some trace of humor must have shown in his
face. “Absolutely not. Now is… now. I want you to show me what
needs to be done first.”

“Good.” She swept past him and yanked open
the door. “Rebuilding the barn is the first priority. TM needs
shelter.”

As soon as they stepped outside, the searing
heat struck him like a slap in the face. In Rune the sun never got
so hot. Here the days felt like an inferno, searing the parched
earth and turning the once green grass to brown. Little wonder his
people had long ago ceased crossing the veil from Rune to visit
here.

“I agree we need to build a new barn.” Once
out in the yard, he kept an eye out for the telltale burst of
energy that signaled the Warlord. Unlike Alrick, visiting here was
not a matter of simply crossing the veil. The Warlord traveled
across time to hunt his prey. Carly. If he succeeded in his quest,
Carly would perish.

And the future of Rune would be determined.
Not only Rune, if the one known as the Mage was to be believed.
What happened to Rune would also affect the human world.

“There’s a lot, isn’t there?” Her glum voice
again drew him out of his thoughts. She sneezed as her dog ran
circles around them, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Glancing around at the ramshackle yard, he
nodded. He’d known her ranch had fallen into disrepair; the day
before he’d noted the broken fences, peeling paint, and the way her
buildings sorely needed repair. And that was before the Warlord had
tried to kill her by burning her barn.

But, as they tramped in the dust over her
property and he saw the full extent of the damage caused by
neglect, he wanted to curse in frustration.

“How can I protect you if I am so occupied
with repairs?”

“Trying to back out? Sorry.” She smiled.
“I’ll help you. If you’ll show me what to do, that is. If we’re
working side by side, you should have no problem keeping an eye on
me.”

Alrick had to admit she had a point. Still,
though he was no stranger to hard work and manual labor, he
was
a prince of Rune, and unused to endeavors of such
magnitude. All while constantly being on edge, wondering when the
next attack would come. “This is ridiculous.”

“Really?” Her exaggerated sigh spoke of
ebbing patience. “Too bad. It’s too late to back out now. You
wanted work – you got work.”

She was right – he had asked for work as an
excuse to stay. Of course, he could use magic to recreate her barn,
though the consequences of such an action could be horrific. He’d
hate to find out he’d taken out the West Coast by using a spell to
make a barn. No, he would use his hands and build the barn the
old-fashioned way. With Carly. As long as he could protect her. He
mustn’t lose sigh of what was important.

He drew himself up. “As long as you’re with
me at all times, I don’t mind the work.” He let his gaze travel
over her slender frame. “Yet I can’t help but wonder if you’ll be
up to the task.”

She blinked. “What? Of course I’m up to
helping out.”

Pointedly, he glanced around the sad little
yard. “Your paint is peeling, and there are numerous repairs that
must be made. If you are so capable, why have you not done so
before now?”

Carly looked away. “I’ve always been too
busy.” She swallowed, head down, and twisted her hands together,
before raising her chin to meet his stare. “The truth of the matter
is, I haven’t really cared. Since Liam died, every single day has
been a struggle.”

Admitting the truth had cost her, he saw. By
the plains of Aldair, was that a tear in her eye? Nearly frantic,
Alrick cast about for another subject, something to take her mind
of her sorrow and deflect the tears. While he could handle most
anything, the one thing he couldn’t was a weeping woman.

Still, she had given him honesty, at great
cost to herself. He owed her nothing less than respect for such a
thing. “If you’d claimed a pressing need to complete needlework, or
wash or cook or clean, I would’ve understood. But then I’m only
acquainted with the ladies of Rune, not with human, `er Texan,
ranchers.” Or, he added silently, the mother-to-be of Rune’s
savior.

“Thank you.” Still sniffing, she wiped her
eyes with her hand. She was, he realized, as relieved as he over
the averted tears.

“I would like your help. Really.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave her body.
“Okay, then. So we’re going to rebuild the barn. What do we do
first?”

Where the barn had stood was nothing but
smoking ash and soot. “Clear away the ash.”

“I can do that.”

He looked around. “We’ll need lumber.”

“I have some – a lot, actually, in the
garage. Liam planned to add on to the house before the accident. I
think there’s enough to build a new barn, plus nails and
paint.”

Alrick considered himself lucky his father
had decreed his education be well rounded. At least he knew how to
build things with his hands as well as with his magic. Though he’d
always worked with a crew of men, not by himself. And, being Fae,
they’d used wooden nails, not metal. Good thing he’d brought
gloves.

“How long do you think it will take?” She
looked up at him before glancing away to the field where TM
grazed.

“I don’t know. I’ve never constructed a barn
by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself. I’ll be with
you.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Have you ever
built a barn?”

“Well, no. But I’m a quick learner.” Rubbing
her hands together, she smiled back. “Well, we’d better get
started. The weather forecast showed severe thunderstorms later
this week.”

He followed her to see the lumber. There
appeared to be enough neatly stacked boards to accomplish their
purpose.

Working under the blazing sun, they cleared
the area. The wet ashes and charred remains of her old barn stunk.
She handed him a shovel and got busy with her own. Before long, his
tunic was plastered to his body, as was Carly’s shirt. They’d
finished one huge bottle of water- Carly’d called the plastic jug a
cooler – and started on another. Before long, they’d made a nice
pile with the ashes, as Carly claimed to have a use for them later.
Then they got started on the actual building. They should have it
framed before nightfall. If, he though dizzily, he didn’t collapse
from the heat.

Still, the human woman surprised him. When
she’d claimed she’d work side by side, she hadn’t exaggerated.
While he nailed boards together to make the frame, she held them
steady. He liked the feel of the tool she’d given him – she called
it a hammer – and wore his gloves to protect his skin from the
little, metal nails. He found they worked much better than the
large wooden ones he’d used in Rune.

By late afternoon, a rudimentary frame was in
place. Glad to know they’d soon have some relief from the sun,
Alrick watched the fiery orange ball make its way down towards the
horizon.

“Enough for the day.” He pronounced. He’d
long since removed his shirt, and the pale skin of his chest had
turned a bright red.

“I think we should go ahead and put up the
roof.”

Draining the last of the third or fourth jug
of water, he groaned. “You must be joking.”

“No.” Her skin looked as red as his. “Even if
we have no sides, at least with the roof up, TM can get out of the
sun.”

Alrick wanted to ask how she meant to keep
the feisty horse there, since they had no stalls built, but decided
to save the questions for later.

When he climbed on top to begin nailing the
roof in place, she followed. For once he was glad of her trousers.
If she’d worn the long skirts women of Rune wore, she would never
have been able to climb – ah, but the view might have been quite
interesting. He forced his thoughts back on track.

By the time blessed darkness fell, the barn
roof had been built and, at Carly’s urging, they’d even begun
closing in the sides. They’d stopped to eat thick sandwiches she
made with meat and cheese and homemade bread. A sandwich, she’d
called it. Though he’d seen such things before, he’d never sampled
one. He’d had three, without the meat. When she’d asked why, he’d
told her the truth – he didn’t eat the flesh of animals.

She hadn’t said anything, but he’d seen the
strange look she’d directed his way.

Now the evening air felt good on his skin.
Carly announced it was time for supper, a meal that Alrick regarded
with great anticipation. If she could prepare such interesting fare
as they’d had for the midday meal, what would she come up with for
the evening one?

They washed up side by side at the large
kitchen sink. His stomach growled, loudly.

“Worked up an appetite?”

He nodded.

“I’m exhausted.” Splashing water on her face,
she let it run down her throat and disappear in the vee of her
breasts.

He quickly looked away. “Will we be sharing
all our meals?”

Her tired smile faded. “Most of the ranches
make sure their hired hands are fed.”

“Hired hands. That implies a payment.”

“True.” She looked away from him, out the
window at the new barn construction. “I’ve already told you I don’t
have any money.”

“And I have already told you I don’t need
any. Money, that is. I am not a hired hand. But I could use
something to eat.” As if on cue his stomach rumbled.

“I’d cook something if I had any food.” She
indicated the metal box she’d earlier named a fridge. “I need to
make a trip to the grocery store. We don’t have anything to
eat.”

Alrick had just lowered himself into a chair,
and had been concentrating on avoiding a groan. His body ached in
places he hadn’t known could hurt. Now this. “What about those
sandwiches you made earlier?”

“Knock yourself out.” Again she pointed to
the fridge. “All the stuff’s in there.”

“What about you? You must be hungry.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess.
More than anything, I’m tired. I’m going to lie down.” She moved
past him, into one of the rooms down the hall. “I need to
rest.”

She also had to eat. With the Warlord on the
move, she had to keep up her strength. “I’ll knock when it’s
ready.” “Great.” Her disinterested reply sounded anything but. Then
she closed the door in his face.

For the space of a heartbeat, Alrick stared
at the wooden door. Using magic tempted him greatly. If he were
allowed unlimited use of his magic, conjuring up a feast would
entail no more than a snap of his fingers.

But he knew better. Best to save the spells
for times of dire need.

Shaking his head, he made a quick sweep of
the kitchen. The countertops, made of painted wood, gleamed – in
direct contrast to the condition of the barn, which had burned. And
there was an oven, with several knobs and no kindling to make a
fire. Luckily, making sandwiches didn’t require cooking. Even if he
did figure out how to work her oven, he had no idea how to cook. In
Rune his father had employed a small army of chefs to prepare the
meals.

Too bad he couldn’t have brought one with
him.

The fridge with its gleaming metal doors
stood next to the oven. Slipping his hands back into the gloves, he
opened them both.

Carly had spoken truth. The fridge was
virtually empty, save for a loaf of bread, cheese, and a container
of meat.

While the meat turned his stomach, he was
pleased to find the bread and the cheese had both already been
sliced.

A short while later, with a towering platter
of sandwiches on the table, Alrick knocked on her door. She didn’t
answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

Quietly, he turned the knob and opened the
door. It made a little creak. Inside the room, he saw Carly,
facedown on her bed. Deeply asleep. In front of an unprotected
window.

He cursed himself for not forcing her to take
better precautions. But then she didn’t really believe him, did
she? She didn’t know how powerful or how evil the Warlord could
be.

A sound from the bed drew his attention.
Carly stretched and rolled over. Alrick glanced at her, then looked
again. She was lovely. Her curly blonde hair fanned out over the
pillow. This time he cursed himself again for finding her so
enticing.

“Carly.” He called her name softly. “Wake up.
Time to eat.”