‘‘Of course.’’ Hardy nodded respectfully. ‘‘And what business might that be, Mr. McLain?’’

‘‘None of your business!’’

Hardy laughed and winked at Allie. ‘‘Interesting job your husband has, Mrs. McLain.’’

‘‘And stop calling her that.’’ Wes’s mood clouded over. ‘‘Her name’s Allie.’’

Maxwell’s head made tiny little shakes. ‘‘Of course. Yourwifeis named Allie.’’

‘‘That’s right.’’ Wes’s temper promised thunderstorms. Hardy wasn’t a man who knew how to keep his nose out of other people’s lives. Wes couldn’t help but wonder how he’d lived to be so old.

The weather echoed his disposition, for as they walked back outside, it began to rain. Wes pulled the hood of Allie’s blue cape over her hair and tucked her under his arm and they ran for the barn where they’d left the horses.

When they reached the shelter, Maxwell’s buggy stood beside the mounts.

‘‘Allie will be drier riding in the buggy,’’ the old man offered.

Wes agreed but hated not having her with him.

Hardy reached in the boot of his buggy and handed Jason a leather jacket that almost reached to the boy’s knees. ‘‘Better wear this, boy,’’ the old man coaxed. ‘‘And if I may offer, Gideon packed us blankets and rations in the boot to last a week.’’

Wes thought of turning him down. But in truth, the rations might come in handy. ‘‘Thank Gideon for me when you see him.’’

‘‘I will,’’ Hardy answered. ‘‘I’ll see him when I take back Michael’s body. I’ve kept him alive and out of jail for Victoria’s sake. But I’ll not let him kill Allie, and he’s never been a man to listen to reason.’’

Wes lifted Allie into the buggy. ‘‘Do you know how to use a gun?’’

She nodded. She’d seen them used, that should count. It didn’t look all that difficult.

Wes slipped a Colt from his saddlebag and laid it in her lap. ‘‘Keep this handy. I’m not sure what kind of storm we’re riding into.’’

She watched him closely as he covered the gun and her hands with a thick lap quilt.

‘‘I may ride up ahead in this storm. It’ll be hard for you to keep sight of me. But don’t worry. I won’t be far away. If you think there might be trouble fire a shot. I’ll be by your side as fast as I can.’’

Without a word or caring who was watching, she leaned over and brushed his lips with hers.

Wes pulled back, looking surprised. Then, suddenly, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her soundly.

When he finally pulled away, her eyes were shining with pleasure.

‘‘We’ll talk more later,’’ he whispered and vanished from her side.

SEVENTEEN

THE WEATHER DIDN’T COOPERATE. RAIN POUREDdown in their faces. The wind whipped around, slapping them from every direction. After a few hours, Wes ordered Jason into the buggy with Allie, but he was little better protected there. Riding a horse was hard, but driving a buggy became impossible by noon. They pulled into a stagecoach station to wait out the storm.

A friendly old-timer named Owen ran the place and knew the sheriff from as far back as the Republic days. He welcomed them inside and offered them what lodging he had. Maxwell and the boy took two bunks in a long room lined with beds on the second floor. A single hook hung beside each cot for clothes, reminding Wes of a barracks. The owner insisted Wes and Allie take the only private room upstairs. It held only a bed, but he said it was the best he had.

Wes brought Allie’s things in, then excused himself to see to the horses. By the time he returned, Maxwell and the innkeeper were sharing a bottle by the fire. Jason had curled up to sleep on a bench in the kitchen area.

Climbing the stairs, Wes noticed it seemed like evening in the large log greatroom that served as a seating area, dining room and kitchen. The stairs ran along one wall and were open on one side, giving Wes a view of the entire room. The second floor didn’t extend over the main area, leaving the ceiling high in that part of the house.

Owen’s voice drifted through the open area as he talked of the days of President Houston when Texas stood alone as a nation.

A stable hand told Wes a stage was due in a few hours before dark. He said it usually only stopped for a change of horses and a quick bite for the passengers. But the weather might delay it or hold it here for the night.

Wes walked down the hallway on the second floor. He didn’t want more people showing up. There were enough folks around as it was. The more people around, the more he had to watch or worry about.

Opening the door while deep in thought, Wes was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him. Allie had just stood from her bath and was reaching for the towel. The rainy, pearl-light from the windows made her wet skin glow. If ever he’d thought her eyes were enchanted, now her whole body seemed so.

He stood staring at her, unable to look away even if the thought had crossed his mind. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her breasts were high and round, her waist small. He’d always thought of her as thin and short, but everything about her, without the oversized clothes, was in perfect proportion.

‘‘Is something wrong?’’ She pulled the towel around her and faced him, totally unaware of the effect she had on him.

Wes couldn’t speak. He wasn’t even sure he could breathe. All he could do was watch her as she walked around the bed.

She fingered her undergarments. ‘‘They’re still damp,’’ she said. ‘‘Do I have to get dressed yet?’’

‘‘No,’’ Wes managed to force out, thinking he’d like it very much if she stayed just the way she was forever. ‘‘Why don’t you rest until dinner’s ready?’’ He tried to make sense of the way he was reacting. ‘‘By then, your clothes will be dry.’’ Wes figured his would be also, for he could almost feel the steam coming off his damp shirt.

Allie let the towel slip as she crawled beneath the covers.

Wes backed out of the room, allowing his gaze the luxury of watching her for as long as possible. He stood in the hallway wondering if he had the strength to walk away. She’d finally started to trust him. If he moved too fast, he’d destroy that trust and maybe never get it back.

If he moved too fast?The words slammed into the corners of his mind. Until now, he’d never planned to move any way at all, fast or slow. He’d simply wanted to keep her safe. Then she’d kissed him and somehow started a hunger within him that might shatter every plan he’d ever had in his life.

And now he’d seen her, all of her. An invisible clock had been set in his body, ticking down the hours. He didn’t know when, or how, but at some point, he knew he’d make love to her. When he closed his eyes, he could feel her body against his. When he drew in air, her scent filled his thoughts. The taste of her kiss lingered on his tongue.

Wes walked down the stairs and out the front door as if the day were clear.

Just before he closed the door, he heard Owen mumble, ‘‘That fellow’ll be struck by lightning if he goes out.’’

Hardy laughed, ‘‘He already has been.’’


Allie closed her eyes. The layers of blankets warmed her body. The gentle tapping of rain on the window lulled her to sleep. As always, she was back in her cave, moving through the pattern of passages to get to her place. The air felt damp and cool against her face, the ground smooth from where a river ran through the entrances years ago.

When she entered her place, fresh air from a crevice far above welcomed her and a thin ray of light lit the little room she called hers. Everything was still there as if waiting. Her pots, her robes, her pelts. Everything she needed to survive.

In her dream, she spread out on her bed and pulled the thick buffalo robe over her. The nightmares would not come with her to her cave. She would sleep.

Hours later a sound whispered in her cave, then in the darkness of the room, pulling her from her dream.

‘‘Allie? Allie, are you asleep?’’

She rolled over. ‘‘Jason?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ he answered. ‘‘It’s long past dark, and I can’t find a candle upstairs.’’

‘‘What is it?’’ She blinked, trying to make out the outline of the boy at the door. ‘‘Where’s Wes?’’

‘‘He left here a few hours ago with the stable hand. The stage didn’t make it in, and Owen was worried. Wes said he’d ride out and look for it.’’

She heard Jason shifting in the darkness and knew something was wrong. She reached for her undergarments and dressed, knowing the boy would not have awakened her unless he felt he had to.

‘‘After they left, Owen and the sheriff decided to have another bottle and relive the battle of San Jacinto. I think Owen passed out at the table. I can’t get him to wake up.’’

Jason paused as though hating to continue. ‘‘The sheriff-was going to bed, but he only made it up four of the steps before he tumbled. I wasn’t close enough to help him. He didn’t seem too drunk to make the stairs when he started climbing. But with his bad leg, he fell. I…’’

She pulled her dress over her head. She slipped her boots on and moved out the door, buttoning the bodice as she hurried down the hallway and the stairs.

Just as Jason had said, the sheriff lay at the bottom, twisted and unconscious.

‘‘I didn’t know what to do.’’ Panic made the boy’s voice high. ‘‘I tried to help him up, but his leg is busted bad. He tried to stand, then must have passed out.’’

Allie knelt, her fingers running along the length of the old man as she’d seen medicine men do. She wanted to say she didn’t know anything, but that wasn’t what Jason needed to hear. The boy was almost as pale as the old man. He needed someone to help, not complain.

‘‘Help me get him to the table.’’ She tried to think of something. Maxwell’s crippled leg must be broken, for blood stained the knee of his trousers. A bump the size of an egg had formed on his forehead and scrapes crisscrossed his cheek.