‘‘The blood’s still warm,’’ Cheyenne said as he studied the dirt floor as though reading a map. ‘‘We couldn’t have missed them by more than ten minutes.’’
‘‘I’ll kill him!’’ Jamie cried. ‘‘If he murdered Kora, I’ll cut his heart out before it has time to stop pounding. I’ll tie him behind my horse and drag him back to the ranch, then I’ll hang him.’’
Cheyenne grabbed her arm and swung her around. ‘‘It may not be Kora’s blood, but she was here with what looks like two men.’’ He shook Jamie hard. ‘‘Jamie, listen to me. It may not be Kora’s blood! The two men could have been fighting, or Kora may have been the one swinging Win’s gunbelt. Don’t fall apart until we know.’’
Before they could say more, they heard a buggy. Cheyenne reached for his gun, then glanced through the open doorway and recognized both the doc and Win. He let the pain in his face show. There was nothing he could do to soften the blow for his friend.
The doctor and Win walked into the shadowy cabin. The doc struck a light, but Win was still. The smell of blood was thick around him. He didn’t need a light to know disaster had struck.
Winter’s face was stone just like always when he was hurt or angry. He moved around the room studying the signs. If the others hadn’t known him, they would have thought he was unaffected by the sight. He lifted her shawl, twisting it in his fist, then he picked up the gunbelt. The muscles across his jaw moved, tightening, hardening against all expression but anger. The pain in his body was working with him now, fighting down the rage so he could think.
Jamie buried her face against the wall and cried uncontrollably.
Win walked slowly over to her and pulled her beneath his arm. He held her tightly as she sobbed tears he could never cry.
‘‘It’s all my fault,’’ Jamie whimpered. ‘‘I should have been close enough to help Kora.’’
‘‘No,’’ Win said as he rocked her in a brotherly hug. ‘‘It wasn’t your fault. We’ll find her.’’
Looking over her head at Cheyenne, he ordered, ‘‘Find her and the men. Pull every man off the blockade if you have too, but find her.’’ He couldn’t bring himself to say dead or alive.
Kora watched as an old woman, mumbling to herself, leaned over Dan. She lived in one of the few shacks that looked strong enough to face the wind in this place. Steven Gage had mentioned her when they’d come here before to take the bullet out of a man. He’d said he thought Rae used to be one of the buffalo hunters’ women. Her man must have died, leaving her stranded out here. She survived by boiling root stew and selling it to men too lazy to cook, and by doing some doctoring.
‘‘I can sew him up.’’ The old woman wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘‘But it’ll cost you a dollar.’’
‘‘What?’’ Andrew shouted. ‘‘I don’t even know the fellow. I’m not paying you a dollar.’’
Kora had lived among these kind of people long enough to know the game. ‘‘Sew him up.’’ She stepped from the shadows and faced Rae. ‘‘And I’ll see you get a bushel of apples twice a year.’’
The old woman laughed. ‘‘Sure you will.’’ Then Kora seemed to catch her interest, for she leaned closer, looking Kora over carefully.
‘‘I’ll leave this hunting knife here until the first bushel is delivered.’’ Kora pulled her only weapon from her pocket. ‘‘That and my word is all I have to bargain with.’’
‘‘Now, wait just a minute.’’ Andrew turned on Kora and attempted to take the knife. ‘‘That’s my good knife.’’
‘‘No,’’ she countered, whirling the blade an inch from his gut. ‘‘If you say another word, it’ll be you that needs stitching up.’’
Andrew backed down. The woman took the knife and shoved it into her pocket. ‘‘Are you willing to help me?’’ The question seemed to be more than a simple request.
Andrew hurried to the door. ‘‘Not me. I need a drink.’’ He glanced at Kora. ‘‘I’ll be right outside when you’re finished, girl, so don’t go thinking of leaving without me. We’re together now. As soon as the old hag’s finished, you and me got some settling up to do.’’
He rubbed the leg she’d hit. Kora thought she saw the first sign of doubt that his plan was a good one as he limped out.
‘‘I’ll help you,’’ Kora answered Rae and ignored Andrew. Now that she’d stood up to him, he seemed no more than a gnat bothering her. ‘‘What can I do?’’
For the next hour Kora worked beside the old woman. Though her hands were wrinkled with age, she did a fine job.
When they were wrapping the wound, the old hag whispered, ‘‘You’re Mrs. McQuillen, ain’t you?’’
Kora let out a long breath. ‘‘Yes.’’
The old woman giggled. ‘‘I seen you that night you were here with the doc. You’re a good woman, everyone says so. I reckon your helping now proved it. Most of us didn’t believe a rich lady like yourself would come down here to help the doc. The women who come here are mostly bad. But you done a good job helping, even if the rat you were working on died.’’
‘‘Thank you,’’ Kora answered, wondering why the old woman would suddenly be so talkative.
‘‘So why you with the likes of that trash?’’ She pointed with her head toward the door where Andrew waited on the porch. He’d been nursing a bottle for most of the time, and now Kora knew the drunk would replace the coward.
Kora wasn’t sure what to say. It would take too long to tell the whole story, and she didn’t like the idea of facing the drunk Andrew without a weapon. Maybe Rae could help. ‘‘I don’t want to be,’’ she answered. ‘‘I have to get away.’’
Rae raised an eyebrow that looked evil in flight. ‘‘I figured as much. I’ve heard talk of the trouble your man’s been having from that woman and her kin.’’ She slipped the knife from her pocket and gave it back to Kora. ‘‘You keep this with you until you get back to your man. I’ll trust you about the apples. If you have to use the blade on the likes of him, aim for the middle. You won’t cut him bad enough to kill him, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t recover too quickly. You just run.’’
‘‘I can’t leave,’’ Kora said. ‘‘Dan is my brother. I can’t just abandon him.’’ She twisted a leftover piece of bandage around her finger, needing to talk to someone. ‘‘I’m not sure I should go back to Win, either. I’ve been nothing but bad luck to him.’’
‘‘I’ll take good care of your brother. You get back to that man of yours. I’ve seen him many a time. He’s something. The kind of man that could make a woman real happy if he took a liking to her. Everybody around here thinks he’s hard and mean, but one winter years ago when most of the drifters had moved on, he rode up here delivering food ’cause he knew we was snowed in. I never did thank him for that, so I’d like to repay him now.’’
She moved to the back of her shack and pulled a blanket from across a small opening. ‘‘You go back to him and tell him the old woman from the settlement helped you. He’ll know who you mean. Bad luck or good don’t got nothing to do with loving-you belong with each other.’’
Kora knelt to crawl through. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered. ‘‘I promise I’ll repay you.’’
‘‘I know you will. I’ll be showing up some night for dinner at that big house of yours like I was Sunday company.’’ Rae giggled again. ‘‘And I expect to be treated to the best.’’
‘‘I promise,’’ Kora whispered.
‘‘And one other thing,’’ the woman whispered. ‘‘Tell Win not to misjudge the woman. She’s deadly.’’
‘‘What woman?’’ Kora asked.
But Dan made a noise and the old woman almost shoved her through the opening without answering.
Kora ran along a path slick with rain. She wasn’t sure where to go. She only remembered that the night Winter had carried her home, they’d followed the river until they cleared the shacks, then turned north.
She almost fell into a tarp stretched across what looked like a cave opening. Several horses waited in the rain as men inside seemed to be arguing. At first she thought of asking one of them to take her home, but she wasn’t sure. Win had said he had many enemies among the residents of the Breaks.
Moving against the corner of the tarp, she tried to find shelter from the rain without being seen. She could wait here, then, when the storm passed, walk home.
Voices rose from within.
‘‘Now’s the time to move.’’ A woman’s voice startled Kora. ‘‘We could have the cattle across McQuillen’s land by daybreak.’’
‘‘It’s too risky in this weather. I wouldn’t mind the rain, but this storm is bad. A bolt of lightning could spook the whole herd and they’d scatter for miles. We’d all be dead men if we got caught rounding them up.’’
‘‘It’s too risky to wait!’’ the woman shouted above the others. ‘‘My father’s cattle are dying every day down below the caprock.’’
‘‘All right,’’ a second man, with an age-rusted voice, said. ‘‘My daughter’s right, but we have no choice. If the rain lets up a bit, be ready. But I’m not moving them in a storm.’’
‘‘Storm’s not letting up!’’ someone yelled. ‘‘It’ll pour like this till daybreak. Always does in early spring around here.’’ Metal clanged against metal. ‘‘Pass the coffeepot. We’re here till dawn.’’
‘‘We’ll give it an hour to let up,’’ the older voice ordered. ‘‘If not, we’ll wait until tomorrow night.’’ He lowered his voice slightly. ‘‘Want some coffee, darlin’?’’
‘‘Not out of one of those filthy mugs.’’ The woman’s words were almost lost in the movement.
The men made plans and drank as Kora tried not to shiver. She couldn’t wait for the rain to let up. She had to get home now. Win had to know what was planned. And if he was still too weak, she’d discuss what to do with Cheyenne and Logan.
Carefully taking one step away from the back of the tent, she walked straight into the black wall of a man’s coat.
His hands circled around her like iron as he pushed her back against the blackness surrounding the tent.
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