To Find You Again (37 page)

Hartwell swallowed and quickly turned his gaze away. Ridge allowed the man his semblance of privacy and rode in contemplative silence.

"You think he'll come tonight?" Colt whispered from his bed in the doctor's office.

Ridge restrained a yawn. "It's been two days—the word's been spread. It'll happen soon."

"
If
it was Cullen."

Ridge, hidden in a corner filled with dark shadows, leaned forward in his chair. "Now you don't think it was?"

Colt muttered under his breath. "I don't know anymore. Maybe it was Hotah or one of a few dozen other men who have a grudge against me."

"You said Cullen threatened you when he was let out of the stockade. Do you think he meant it?"

"Yeah," Colt admitted. "I just hate laying around and waiting."

Ridge grinned, knowing full well how his friend hated inactivity. "You can thank Emma later. She's the one who came up with the plan."

"Emma Hartwell?"

"Yep."

"Oh." Colt grew silent, but Ridge could tell he remained awake. "I heard a rumor about you and Miss Hartwell."

Ridge flinched. "It's true. The wedding's next Sunday out at Hartwell's ranch."

"So when were you going to tell me?"

Ridge shifted on the hard chair, trying to relieve the soreness of his backside. "I didn't figure you wanted to know."

"You figured wrong. Do you love her?"

"I care for her."

"Do you love her?" Colt demanded in a low tone.

"Hell, I don't know. I've never been in love before."

Colt's deep chuckle startled Ridge. "Damn, you've got it bad, pard."

"Shut up," Ridge said without force.

Colt was quiet for so long Ridge thought the healing man had finally fallen asleep.

"Don't I get to be your best man?" Colt suddenly asked.

"You want to be?"

"Hell, yes."

"All right, as long as you don't pass out during the vows." Ridge smiled. "Get some sleep. Sarge and Pres are outside. If Cullen can get through them, he's still gonna have to go through me."

Midnight came and went. Colt snored softly from the bed across the room. Ridge's eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest, startling him awake. He raised his arms above his head, stretching to relieve the kinks in his back and shoulders.

Surely if Cullen was going to make his move, he would've done so by now. Maybe he'd been wrong about the scout being behind the attack.

He sensed movement and scanned the room, but there was nothing to see. His nape tingled. There. By the window. A shadowy figure reaching out to raise the pane. Only a small screek betrayed the intruder's presence.

Keeping close to the wall, Ridge padded around to the window. The man lifted one leg over the ledge, then swung his upper body through and stood up in the room, a knife held in his right hand. The intruder stunk—like old sweat and dirty buckskins.

Ridge eased back the trigger of his revolver and held the barrel to the man's head. "Drop it."

The man froze, but held onto the knife.

Ridge nudged him with the barrel. "I said drop it."

The knife clattered to the floor, awakening Colt.

"What's going on?" the captain asked sleepily.

"Light the lamp, Colt. We got him," Ridge replied with smug satisfaction.

A match flared and Colt lit the lamp's wick.

Pony Cullen glared at Colt. "You shoulda died the first time, you son of a bitch."

"I would say that's a confession, wouldn't you, Captain?" General Mason entered the room, followed by Sarge and Pres.

"Yes, sir," Colt said with a grin.

"Lieutenant, place the manacles on Cullen and escort him to the stockade," the general ordered.

"Yes, sir," Pres said with a sharp salute.

"And don't let Colonel Nyes release him this time," the general added with a satisfied smirk. "You can also tell the colonel I'll be speaking with him in the morning about a new assignment."

"Yes, sir."

Ridge allowed Pres and Sarge to bind Cullen and take him away. As they left, Dr. Winters slipped inside to check on his patient.

General Mason shook hands with Ridge. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Madoc. If you ever want your old job back, just let me know. The army can always use some honest scouts."

"Thank you, sir, but after Sunday, I'll be a married man," Ridge said.

"That's right. It's been a long time since I've attended a wedding. I'm looking forward to it." Mason turned to Colt. "And you, Captain, hurry up and heal. I'd like to present you with your gold leaves personally."

General Mason pivoted sharply and left the two men alone with the doctor.

"I'll be damned. Congratulations, Colt," Ridge said with a wide grin. "Or should I say
Major
Rivers?"

Colt appeared dazed by the rapidity of the events. "What the hell just happened?"

"Cullen's gettin' his due and you just got promoted," Dr. Winters replied curtly. His old face creased with a smile. "And I didn't even have to sew anyone back together again."

Ridge grinned and met Colt's gaze. Things were finally looking up.

Chapter 22

"Goodness gracious, the dress will never be ready on time. Why on earth couldn't the wedding have waited one more week?" Martha Hartwell chirped in agitation.

"Because Ridge couldn't wait that long," Sarah replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Emma managed to smile despite the headache that had plagued her since the early morning when her dreams awakened her. She patted her mother's shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything will work out."

"Easy for you to say. You just have to state your vows and look beautiful," her mother chided with an affectionate smile. She sighed from her place at the dining room table where they'd been finalizing the wedding details. "i have to talk to Mrs. Wright about the food and make sure she has everything she needs." Still muttering to herself, her mother and her list disappeared into the kitchen.

Emma propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. But closing her eyes only made her remember the dream visions with more clarity.

A hand settled between her shoulder blades. "What's wrong, Emma?" Sarah asked with quiet concern. "Are you having nightmares again?"

Emma raised her head and peered blearily at her sister. "How did you know?"

"I've heard you cry out, but every time I go to your room, you get quiet again." Sarah's eyes clouded with worry. "What are your nightmares about?"

Emma waved a hand. "Just nightmares."

Sarah leaned closer. "I don't believe you. There's something you're not telling me."

"There might be a good reason I'm not telling you."

"You're scaring me, Emma. What's wrong?"

Emma slumped back in her chair and stretched out her arms on the table. She stared at a framed picture of the mountains on the wall, although her vision was directed inward.

The dreams always began the same way, with the owl flying out of the night to land in an oak tree. The wolf cub played innocently below on the ground until the mountain lion pounced, batting around the cub with malicious amusement. Sometimes Emma thought the lion's face changed shape to something more human, but she could never see the details clearly. And always, when the female wolf arrived, the lion attacked her. The fight would be brutal, but the cat would gain the advantage. That's when the eagle would swoop down and Emma woke.

Over the last two nights the dreams had changed subtly. Emma now had a sense of another creature in the shadows, but its intentions were unclear, which worried her even more.

She blinked back to the present and found Sarah's troubled countenance in front of her. Emma smiled and patted her sister's hand. "It's probably just wedding collywobbles. I'm sure all brides have them."

The furrows in Sarah's normally smooth brow remained. "Do you love him?" she asked.

Emma considered lying, but found she couldn't do that to her sister who'd been nothing but supportive since Emma had returned with Chayton. "Yes, but it's not returned."

Sarah's mouth gaped. "Any fool can see he's head over heels in love with you."

"I'm not a fool, Sarah," Emma said with a pained smile. "He has feelings for me, but not those kind."

Sarah clucked her tongue. "Think what you will, but the only fool here is you, Emma Hartwell." She stood and shook the wrinkles from her skirt. "I'm going to see if Rory is tired of Chay following him around."

Folding her arms on the tabletop, Emma laid her cheek on them and closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about weddings or love or the future. She just wanted to sleep without dreams.

The sound of her father's office door opening and closing brought Emma's head up from her uncomfortable position. She hoped he was only going outside, or to talk to her mother. Although he'd been more civil toward her and Chayton lately, she wasn't ready to lower her guard.

He entered the dining room and appeared surprised to see her. "Emma, I'd like to have a word with you."

"What about?" she asked suspiciously.

He joined her at the table. "I think it's time your son started learning how to ride."

Her wariness didn't fade. "He's been riding since he was old enough to stay on a horse by himself."

Her father's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked." She failed to keep the bitterness from her voice.

He dropped his gaze and twined his fingers together. Emma stared at his hands. She'd always assumed they were smooth, but there were numerous small scars and his fingers had obviously done more than hold a pen.

"I'd like to give him one of the new foals after it's weaned," he said. "I know you'll be living with Madoc, but I wouldn't mind coming by to help the boy work with it."

"The boy's name is Chayton, or Chay, whichever you prefer to call him," Emma said sharply.

He stood and glared at his daughter. "If you don't want
Chayton
to have a horse, that's fine. He's your son."

Emma's anger died as quickly as it flared, and she said quietly, "He's also your grandson." She thought about what he'd said. "Are you serious about helping him train the foal?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."

Emma noticed the flush in his cheeks and the uncertainty in his face.
This
was the man who'd embraced her and shed tears when he'd seen his daughter for the first time in seven years after she was believed dead.

Emma rose and walked up to him. "I think Chayton would like his own pony, and he'd like his grandfather to teach him."

Her father's eyes glimmered suspiciously, and Emma reached out and hugged him. "Thank you," she said, her throat tight.

He returned the hug, enfolding her within his arms. "You're welcome, Emma."

His voice was as husky as hers.

The day before the wedding Emma awakened with a scream trapped in her throat. She gasped and panted as her heart beat a harsh tattoo against her breast. The dream had been so real—she could almost smell the lingering feral scent of the mountain lion and the wolf.

The dim light in the room told her it wasn't even dawn, and she could sleep another hour or two, but the dream's memory was too vivid. She leaned over to glance down at Chayton, assuring he was safe. His mouth was open as he snored softly in his trundle bed. Smiling, Emma rose quietly and peeked out her curtain. The fat moon hung high in the sky—tonight it would be full.

Just as in her dreams.

Her smile disappeared and her stomach clenched. She had to talk to Ridge. He was the only one who would believe her.

After donning a split riding skirt and plain tan blouse, Emma tiptoed out of her bedroom, carrying her boots. She wrote a short note telling her family where she'd gone, then pulled on the boots and a jacket in the foyer. Tightening the chinstrap of her wide-brimmed hat, Emma stepped out into the morning's tranquillity, a sharp contrast to the dream visions which continued to haunt her.

Even Rory was still asleep when Emma saddled Clementine. By the time she led the mare out of the barn and mounted her, a rose tinge was dusting the eastern sky. As she rode to Ridge's, she watched the mountains transform from dark blue to coral and pink, and by the time she arrived at his place, the sun peeped above the horizon. The cabin's door opened and Ridge stepped out wearing brown trousers, moccasins, and an unbuttoned undershirt, with a pair of suspenders hanging down the side of his lean legs. For a moment, she could only stare as her mouth grew dry at the tempting sight.

"Emma, what're you doing here?" Ridge demanded, hurrying over to grab Clementine's bridle.

She smiled, already feeling the crushing weight of her nightmare easing. "I know it's early, but I need to talk to you."

Ridge's hands spanned her waist as he helped her to the ground. "I just put some coffee on. It should be ready in a minute or two."

He took her hand and she curved her fingers around his. Despite her exhaustion and fear, the intimacy warmed her and reassured her that she'd made the right decision in agreeing to marry him, even if he didn't love her. Once inside the cabin, Ridge urged her into a chair and she thankfully sank down onto it.

As Ridge retrieved two cups and poured the coffee, Emma took the time to examine the one-room cabin that would be her home after tomorrow. A ladder led up to the loft, and she envisioned Chayton climbing up to his bed every evening. It was a cozy, homey picture.

An Atlantic Box stove, used for heating and cooking, sat in the center of the cabin. A table and four chairs had obviously been made by Ridge's meticulous hands, and smoothed by his sensitive fingers. They were solid and steady, much like the man who'd created them.

Her attention wandered to the bed. The cot that had been there was replaced by a store-bought four poster bed, large enough for two to sleep—and make love—comfortably.

"Coffee?" Ridge's voice broke into her musings.

Startled, she jerked her attention back to him and accepted the cup with a murmured "thank you."

"I know this place ain't much, but I already have plans to make it bigger," Ridge said awkwardly.