Rocky Mountain Wife (21 page)

“Thanks, Ma.” Claire was already out the door, pounding down the back steps and racing into the black. She saw a movement-just a shadow, a hint of a man on horseback racing through the field to the road.

A man cutting through the grass, instead of using the road. A man coming from the direction of Joshua’s house. She caught a glimpse of white flank and a black tail—one of her neighbor’s horses—and then it was gone.

A bad, bad feeling gripped her stomach. She took off at a dead run, stumbling and falling and getting up again. Panic ate at her. She cut a straight path across acres and acres of land, charging through the newly planted fields. Her shoes slipped in the soft loam, but she didn’t stop until she was pitching up his back steps. The kitchen door stood open.

That wasn’t right. Not at all. Fear tore through her, and she sprinted through the house and into the bedroom where she found him in the darkness. Belly down on the bed, motionless. Terror charged through her. Was he breathing? She couldn’t feel it. His ribs weren’t moving. Was he dead? Shaking, she ran her hand up to his neck where a faint, faint pulse fluttered.

Relief left her weak. He was alive. Barely. But he was dying.

She lit a match and lamplight flared, illuminating the crimson blood everywhere. Terrified, she pressed her hand down on the exit wound in his back, inches from his spine. Warm blood gushed through her fingers. He didn’t have long.

And she was helpless to save him. He needed a doctor, but she couldn’t leave him alone like this to bleed out. Could she move him? Desperate, she tried to think. She couldn’t. She was hyperventilating.
She was losing another man she loved.

“Uh, Mrs. Callahan?” A man’s voice rang uncertainly in the hallway.

She whipped around, desperately thankful someone was there. Someone who could help her. She squinted. It was hard to make out who it was through all her tears. She saw a big bear of a man with shaggy black hair. She frowned. “Mason McKenna? Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The loner—ex-mountain man, former soldier—lumbered into the room, went down on his knees beside her and turned Joshua to inspect the wound.

“Why did you do this?” She started to shake harder. Fury and disbelief and horror kept her glued in place, when in her mind she was railing against him, hurting him as hard as she could. “Why did you shoot Joshua?”

“Lady, I didn’t do this.” He grabbed the bed sheet and started ripping. “Go find some needle and thread. See if he has some whiskey sitting around and bring it here.”

“He needs a doctor.” She lurched to her feet, frozen to the core. “Because you shot him. I know you did. I saw your horse.”

“Someone stole my horse from his field.” Terse, and a little frightening, Mason McKenna glared at her. “I was on my way to report it when I heard the shot. Go, do what I told you. Do you want him to die?”

“N-no.”

“Then move.” His order boomed, echoing in the small room.

As terrified as she was of the man—of the man suspected to have also started the terrible fire that turned into a firestorm and took Clay’s life—she was more afraid of Joshua dying. She ran. She spotted a whiskey bottle on a low shelf in the kitchen. She rummaged through a drawer in the front room and found tack repairing items. It would have to do.

When she raced back to the bedroom, she found Joshua unconscious on his side, propped up by pillows, and three lamps lit and glowing brightly, illuminating the ghastly sight of the wound in his lower chest. The bullet hole streamed blood in a constant, frightening flow. How long could he go bleeding like that before he died?

“Good. Open that bottle of whiskey for me.” Mason McKenna held out the thick needle she’d found, made for sewing leather. “Pour it over, then onto his chest.”

Her hand shook. She hated being so near to this man, but right now he was Joshua’s only hope. There was no time for a doctor, she could see that. She’d never seen so much blood. One touch to Joshua’s hand, and it already felt lifeless.

He already felt dead.

She splashed whiskey across his chest and over the wound. It mixed with blood, running red across the sheets. When she set the bottle aside, she dropped to her knees to cradle one of his big hands in hers. Her heart stopped beating as she pressed his knuckles to her lips.

“Live,” she whispered, leaning close to his ear so he would know. “You mean so much to me. Don’t leave now, when you finally have a family.”

She didn’t know if he could hear her or if he was already lost to her. A shadow fell across her as Mason McKenna bent to his work, stitching up the terrible wound. She feared down deep in her soul that it wouldn’t be enough to save him.

Oliver Sanders gave the white and black pinto a hard slap on the rear. The stallion took off, bucking and kicking, racing into the night. With any luck, that Indian pony would keep running until it reached the foothills, join up with a band of wild mustangs and never be seen again.

With any luck, the sheriff would be here soon. Oliver grinned, glad he’d ridden through the tall grasses and left a telltale trail. He dropped Joshua’s holstered Colt .45 on the ground near Mason McKenna’s barn door. The evidence would be proof enough for the sheriff. Wouldn’t it be just like a thievin’ renegade half-breed to steal from the man he’d just shot?

Oliver smiled. He always liked it when a plan of his worked. This way, he would get his hands on both of these parcels of land. Mason McKenna would be tried and found guilty of Joshua Reed’s murder, and his lands would be foreclosed on. He couldn’t make the payment from jail, now, could he? Oliver smirked, untying his horse from behind McKenna’s barn. All it took was a handful of cash to the bank president, and then he would miraculously win the bid on the foreclosed place.

The bonus was that with Joshua Reed dead, little Claire would be in dire straits once again. Anticipation thrummed through him, and he almost came right there in his pants. He mounted up, turning his fine steed around. He was going to get everything he wanted. And Claire—she was going to pay for making him wait. When he was done with her, she would be broken to his will.

And he’d take great pleasure in doing it.

“Claire, you need to take a break.” Lucy poked her head around Joshua’s bedroom door. Her voice held notes of sympathy and caring. “I’ve steeped some tea. Come into the kitchen with me.”

“You know I can’t leave him.” Claire twisted around to look over her shoulder, so full of fear and exhaustion she couldn’t see straight. Hours and hours had passed. The doctor had come and gone, the sheriff had come and gone, and still Joshua hadn’t moved a muscle. He’d slipped into such a deep sleep, she feared that he would never regain consciousness.

His big body lay slack on the bed. She’d washed him and changed the sheets. He looked comfortable, but she fussed with his pillow, adjusting it anyway.

If only he wasn’t so deathly still.

“I don’t think I can leave him,” she confessed. She knew Lucy understood. Lucy was a widow, too.

“You need to take care of yourself too, or what good will you be to him?” Lucy stepped into the room. “I’ll take your place. I will watch over him as if he were my own.”

“I know you will.” Claire wiped tears from her eyes. They were falling again, and she didn’t seem able to stop them. She ached with grief. “But I’m staying.”

“Then I’ll bring the tea to you.” Full of love, Lucy nodded with understanding before disappearing from the room.

Claire leaned forward to gently kiss Joshua’s cheek. Love, great and overwhelming, soared up from the depths of her heart. She’d been lucky to love Clay. She’d spent happy years with him, living and laughing and loving—despite the disappointments.

It was the good memories she got to keep. She realized that now. The laughter, the companionship, the tender moments. She wouldn’t trade those memories for anything, because no matter how hard it had been to lose Clay, love was worth the price.

Love was worth any price.

Joshua stirred, moaning low in his throat. Was he getting worse? Or was he coming to? She laid a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of him. As she gazed down at his face, she accepted how deeply she felt. She loved Joshua completely and utterly.

And then he opened his eyes. His lids fluttered, his eyes were glassy until he gazed at her.

“Claire?” He rasped her name, his voice broken and hoarse, not sounding at all like his own.

“Well, hello there. Welcome back.” Relief hit her like an avalanche. She drank in the sight of him, this man she adored. “You had me worried.”

“You worried about me?”

“Only a little. Very, very little.” The tears in her eyes belied her statement, magnifying the love shining there.

He felt like hell, he couldn’t move a muscle, even breathing hurt. But he was hurting way too much to be dead, so he counted that as a win. “Someone shot me. He walked into my house and pulled the trigger.”

“Did you see him?” Claire held a cup of cool water to his lips. “Careful. Just a few sips.”

He obliged, gritting his teeth and letting the water slide down his throat. Hell, he didn’t want her to see how much pain he was in. “I should get up. See if I can track him—”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Claire’s hand pushed him back. He’d only been able to rise up an inch off the pillow, and that was just his head. A big white bandage covered the lower part of his chest. Whoever had tried to kill him wasn’t the best aim. Thank heaven they’d missed his heart.

“The sheriff has already been here.” Claire set the cup aside. “He arrested Mason McKenna about an hour ago.”

“McKenna? My neighbor? That doesn’t make sense.” Joshua stopped to wheeze. It was killing him to talk, but under no circumstances was Claire to know that or she was never going to fall in love with him.

Because that’s what he wanted more than anything. More than life. To have her love him wholly, the way a real wife should. Look at her, so beautiful with the lamplight glowing golden on her hair. She was a dream he’d never dared to dream, and he’d blown it. He’d confessed his feelings to her too soon, and after they were finished making love, she’d left him without a word.

Likely she’d slipped away while he slept, so she didn’t have to face him and tell him she didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t think he could take hearing again how she could never love another man. His heart was breaking, hurting worse than the bullet wound. But he was going to take it like a man. He was going to love her anyway.

“I guess that’s for the sheriff to figure out,” Claire said calmly, swiping away her last tear. “I don’t know why Mr. McKenna would do this either, but he’s rumored to be a bad man. I’ve always stayed away from him.”

“Wise.” Joshua squeezed her hand. It took all his strength, every last drop he had to lift his arm and bring her hand to his heart. Furrows cut into her pretty forehead and curved around her adorable mouth. He cleared his throat. “You really have been worried about me.”

“Of course I have. I’m your wife. I—” She bit her lip, holding back whatever she’d been about to say.

Or maybe she’d been about to admit that there was only a business arrangement between them. Maybe it was her home and her land that had put those tears in her eyes.

“I love you, Joshua.” Tears rimmed her blue, blue gaze. “I love you so much.”

“You do?” He felt confused. Maybe he wasn’t hearing her right. Maybe he was hallucinating from the pain or from infection. Maybe he’d developed a fever and just couldn’t tell dream from reality. She gazed down at him almost as if he were the most important thing on earth to her.

That couldn’t be right. No one was ever going to love him like that.

“I absolutely adore you. And not because you came along and saved me.” Her hand caressed the side of his face, so warm and loving. “But because of you. You made me love you, and I am never going to stop. I am going to love you for the rest of my life, my dear husband. If that’s all right with you?”

“More than all right.” Maybe he’d died and gone to heaven, because this was too good to be true. Things like this did not happen to him.

But as her hand squeezed his, he knew for sure. This was real and no dream. He was loved.

Joy rushed through him, tender and sweet. The sweetest thing he’d ever known. “I love you too, my beautiful, precious wife.”

“I guess this means we have to amend our agreement yet again. It started out as a business arrangement—”

“And then we added the sex.” His eyes glistened. “What amendment do you want to make?”

“No more business.” She settled onto the bed beside him, moving carefully so as not to jar him. It felt so good to be there, against his body, to hear the beat of his heart and see their future in his eyes. “There will only be love between us.”

“Only love,” he agreed. “Great, great love.”

Late August

“Ivy, are you up in that tree again?” Claire paraded down the back steps, careful not to spill the small plate of cookies she held. She peered into the thick boughs of the old maple.

“Yes, Ma.” Ivy pushed aside thick green leaves and eyed the cookies. “Are those for me?”

“Yes, unless anyone else is up in that tree with you.”

“Well, Gramma’s here.” Ivy held up the old spyglass Joshua had found for her. “But if I spot a pirate ship, I’ll open fire and take the captain prisoner, so he’ll be up here, too.”

“Then I suggest you share those cookies with him. You wouldn’t want your prisoner to starve in the brig.” She went up on tiptoe to hand the plate to Ivy, who leaned down from the wooden floor of her pretend ship. “Ma, are you having fun?”

“I’ve never been on a ship before,” Claire’s mother called out, pushing aside a few leaves. “I’m taking a liking to the open sea. Goodness, I think I spy a pirate ship. Ivy, should I load the cannon?”

Claire laughed, leaving the two seafarers to prepare for their imaginary battle. Ivy had warmed to Joshua after realizing he never wanted to take her father’s place. Clay would always be remembered and loved in their house.