Dare to Dream (14 page)

In the wee hours of the morning, he realized he was in love with the tow-haired girl. His heart had been trying to tell him, if he’d only taken the time to listen. He’d do whatever needed to be done to make her his, not just her body, although he wanted that bad, but her love.

Heart and mind in accord at last, he kept Bess’s nose pointed toward home. They didn’t stop until dusk. Will built a fire, filled her feedbag double, fitted it to her, and rubbed her down. She worked up a sweat on the grade, no sense letting her get chilled by the night air. When the mule was taken care of, he built a fire, dropped some jerky into the pan, added some water, and a chopped potato into it for good measure. He sank down to eat his meager soup with a smile. He’d be home by tomorrow night. The thought warmed him more than the fire.

That night he slept soundly, his arms wrapped around a flour sack.

Morning dawned bright and cold. Will was glad for it. The last part of their trip had the steepest grade and with a full wagon would be a hard pull for Bess. Whether he wanted to or not, a rest stop midday was called for.

No oats for the mule this morning, too much hard work on frozen ground to risk a founder. She’d get hay when she got home and be back on her grain the next day. In consideration of her, Will only drank coffee and skipped breakfast. Bess prodded him with her nose, unappreciative of his sacrifice. She wanted her feed.

The morning sped by, and they made good time. Will spotted a clearing with some grasses as yet untouched by the deer and elk, so he let the mule graze for a bit while he took care of business in the bushes. Feeling a mite more comfortable, he chewed on a piece of jerky and washed the meat down with a cup of water. He gave the remainder of the canteen to Bess.

Refreshed, they began the last leg of their journey. He’d be sorry to tell Meghan he had seen no sign of her friend. It would have been nice to allay her worries some. Had her palsy improved? Had she missed him while he was away? Were she and Charlie getting on better now? He still couldn’t fathom what got into the old goat. He was right friendly with most folks and seemed to be genuinely worried about Meghan in the beginning.

When they reached the last winding mile of road before home, all Will’s thoughts, save one, vanished. Scenario after scenario played in his mind. She would fling herself into his arms and kiss him senseless. Meghan would cry and say how much she missed him. Even they evaporated when he rounded the last bend and the farm came into sight.

Her laughter floated through the air like birdsong as she gripped the stallion’s mane. Spirit galloped around the paddock like a trick pony on the end of the lunge line held by his grandfather.

Obviously Meghan had recovered, thanks, he was sure, to White Buffalo’s ministrations. Hadn’t he wished for that very thing and on more than one occasion? So, why was he so bothered by the man’s presence now?

He saw Meghan’s wave when she spotted him. When Spirit spotted him the stud trumpeted his greeting, tore the line from White Buffalo’s hand, and leapt the fence. Meghan, hung low over his neck, kept her seat even with no saddle to aid her. Will’s heart climbed into his throat, choking him, and then plunged to his feet when he heard her joyous laughter.

He shook his head as Spirit slid to a stop in front of him. Meghan beamed. Her face flushed with cold and excitement as she leaned down to wrap her arms around the horse’s neck. Will drank her in, noting the jeans pulled snug at her crotch as she straddled Spirit’s back. He shook his head even as his lips turned up into a smile.

Sad this habit he was developing, just plain sad to be jealous of his horse.

What, so were they Amish or something, Meghan wondered? The buckboard became clearer as Spirit flew toward Will. The rig looked just like the one Donna found in the shed beside the old lady’s barn except in much better condition. She’d seen no tractor or truck on the place. Not that she’d seen much: cabin, sweat lodge, outhouse, and corral. She hadn’t even made it into the barn, although she was dying to. Perhaps Will would show her around now she seemed better?

The horse slid to a stop in front of the wagon, and Will jumped down to grab the lead. When Spirit stilled, he held his arms up to her.

Her smile might need to be surgically removed. Meghan had always wanted to ride, and now she knew why. The experience compared with nothing she had done before, the powerful bunch and thrust of muscle beneath her. She had control over all that power. She laughed out loud at her silly thought as Will reached to help her down.

He held her close, and she slid the length of him. As each point of her body brushed his, flames ignited. Her laughter died in her throat when their gazes met. The darkening of his eyes indicated she wasn’t alone in the blaze. The fire licked at them both, the conflagration threatening to engulf them.

“What’s so funny?” Will asked as he sat her feet on the ground without releasing his hold.

“I thought how neat it was to control so much power. Only I realized I wasn’t. Stupid thought.” She smiled, suddenly shy.

“My grandfather offered to give you lessons?” Any excuse to keep her close and in his arms would do. “He’s quite a horseman—he also fancies himself a ladies’ man.”

Meghan’s laughter bubbled back to the surface at his final remark. “I got that part! He’s not, like, taking Viagra or something, is he?”

Will’s sultry grin disappeared before her eyes.

“I don’t know what Viagra is. Why? What did he do to you?”

Meghan’s emotions cartwheeled. On one hand, she was flattered Will took such an interest, while on the other, pissed by his question. The old guy might be a little frisky, but she was fully capable of handling herself. Before she sorted out her answer, the issue became worse.

“I eased her tension, so her muscles would relax. As you can tell, my methods work well.” White Buffalo stepped around the other side of Spirit grinning like a possum.

His words could have been interpreted any number of ways, but his smile seemed the apparent clincher for Will, or else Meg missed some nuance in the discussion. Will lunged at his grandfather, and both men hit the ground as fists flew. Uncertain what to do, Meg realized something must be done quickly before they hurt each other, assuming they didn’t get trampled first. They rolled out from underneath Spirit, but continued to struggle until they rolled under the wagon and the mule inched forward.

Meg pulled the rifle from its sheath on the wagon seat, cocked it, and fired a round into the air. Only the wagon at her back kept her from being knocked flat on her ass. The shot produced the desired effect. She winced when their faces came into view. Will’s lower lip split wide open, and White Buffalo’s nose might be busted, although, in all honesty, she would be hard pressed to tell. Broken or not, the orifice bled profusely.

“Was that some sort of weird family ritual? Do y’all normally beat the shit out of each other when you meet?”

Both men stared at her like she had two sets of tits.

“You’ve got a fine mouth on you. Didn’t your ma teach you ladies don’t cuss?” Will asked finally, turning a peculiar gaze to his grandfather when he backed up a pace.

Meghan stretched up to her full five foot six and shouldered the rifle. “I didn’t have a
ma
or
pa
in case you’re keeping score. But, the nuns at the orphanage taught manners and etiquette as well as readin’, writin’, and ’rithmatic all by the tune of a hickory switch. So, I eat with my elbows on the table, burp when I want to, and swear like a sailor when I’m of a mind. Like, right now, I think you’re both a couple of fuckin’ idiots!”

Meg stormed up to Spirit and jumped for his back, missed, and slid down his side. She tried again, to the same end. She tossed the gun at Will so she could use both hands, and felt someone else’s on her ass. She gritted the words from between clenched teeth, “Remove your hand from my ass, or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat.”

Either the third time proved to be the charm, or her anger gave her wings. She landed belly down on the horse’s back, swung her leg over, nudged his side, and laid her hand on the left side of his neck. The stallion swung right and headed toward the corral at a dead run with Meghan stuck to him like tree sap.

For a moment she felt weightless, like a bird soaring through the sky. Spirit cleared the fence in one powerful burst. She rode at a trot for several laps then slowed him to a walk, enjoying their time alone. The wagon came meandering toward the house, both Will and his granddad sat peaceably on the seat. She shook her head and slipped off Spirit’s back. Now the adrenaline of the ride and Will’s homecoming had worn off, she began to feel the effects of the approaching night.

Holding the coat tight, she crawled through the fence rails. The stud nickered after her. She stopped to stroke his neck once more then turned toward the house. What was the matter with her? She hadn’t even asked about Donna…Will hadn’t said anything either, which was probably a bad sign.

“Where you think you’re goin’, missy?”

Meghan’s hand clutched her heart when Charlie stepped from the shadows. “You scared the life out of me!”

“You rode the animal, you take care of him.”

Meghan raised an eyebrow. “I cooled him out the way White Buffalo told me. Is there something else I should do?”

“You can rub him down and feed him. Make sure you rub hard to get his blood pumping in his skin so he don’t chill. Oats is in the bin in the barn, scoop’s with them. He gets two and an armload of hay.” He tossed a burlap feed sack at her feet, looking her up and down. “Make it two arm loads.”

Meg stood with her mouth open when he turned and ambled toward the house. She shrugged. “Whatever!”

* * * *

She figured he must be dry and warm by now because her arm ached, and she was a sweat-ball under her coat. She knew better than to take off the wrap in the night air. Meg thought the pelt inside might be dog since she smelled like a wet one, but then again, the odor might be sweaty horse from the feed sack. She tossed the bag over the stall door. Spirit followed her inside and whinnied to hurry her along.

“Hold your—self.” Meg giggled.

Two scoops of oats went in his trough and two armloads of hay in the crib. Job completed, she arched her sore back and stretched her neck, eyes closed. When everything that would crack, had, she opened her eyes to look around. Déjà vu swept over her. Was every barn in Colorado the same, built exactly alike since time immemorial? Each post and beam appeared exactly as she remembered the old lady’s, except brand spanking new. The center support pole still oozed sap. The ladder leading to the loft was still so new the rungs showed no wear. She ran a hand along the rough-hewn wood and picked up a splinter for her efforts. Doves cooed from the rafters. While sucking on her digit, she let her gaze roam upward. Her vision froze on the broken top rung.

Her sight narrowed to nothing but the black tunnel leading to that rung. Of all the insane thoughts!
They don’t own a truck.
Lots of people don’t drive.
They don’t have a bathroom, either.
Well, you know how guys like to pee outside.
There is no refrigerator, and the stove is a freaking antique, only new!
So, what are you trying to say here, Meghan Dennehy, you’re a time traveler?

Oh, of course not! She’d never entertain such a silly notion. Meghan steadied herself with her left hand on the beam, letting her gaze climb the timber as she had the ladder. She saw a smear of blood and a hank of long silver-blonde hair stuck to the beam. It wasn’t possible…

Will lugged the last case of canned goods into kitchen and set them none too gently on the floor. “What the hell is the matter with both of you? She’s barely got over near dyin’, and you have her ridin’ horses.” He flung an arm at his grandpa then turned to stick a finger under Charlie’s nose. “And you got her tendin’ the livestock. Are you tryin’ to kill her?”

“D’ya hear the mouth on her? No lady talks thataway,” Charlie blurted.

“Have I missed something? Did someone hit me over the head when I wasn’t lookin’? I don’t see anyone in this room who can afford to throw stones. Besides, what has she ever done to you? She can’t help if she got hurt. What are you so riled about?” Will stormed around the room.

“He thinks she will steal you from him,” White Buffalo raised the wet cloth from his swollen nose long enough to say stuffily.

“You’re a fine one to talk! You want her for yourself, you old goat.”

“She is a fine woman with much medicine. We would make a good pair.”

Will turned to glare at his grandfather with his good eye. “If you’ve laid a hand—or anything else on her—I’ll cut it off!”

“Only one way may a man keep a woman for himself, Ghost Walking. Until you claim her, she is ripe for the taking.”

Will’s eye narrowed as the older man smiled. “Don’t make me kill you.”

“To die for a woman is not the same as to die in battle, but still honorable.”

“The two of you beat all I ever heard, two blood kin fightin’ over a piece of fluff.”

Will grabbed the old man by his collar, pulling him up tight. “Get your stuff together. You two will be sleeping in the barn tonight unless you’d prefer to take a moonlight ride to the lodge. You can draw straws to see who gets the bunk. I’m going to see what’s takin’ Meg so long. Don’t be here when I get back.”