Heart of the Hunter (16 page)

“I know. It’s just that I miss you so much when you’re gone.”

“No more than I miss you.” He lowered his head to hers and
kissed her then, savoring the sweet taste of her lips. She was light and life,
banishing the darkness from his existence, and he loved her beyond words. One
last kiss and then he was gone. Gone before his resolve disappeared, weakened
by the tears that shimmered in her eyes and the silent invitation of moist pink
lips.

Kelly stared after him for a moment, then sank into the
chair beside the bed. Taking up the cloth from the bedside table, she dipped it
in the bowl of water, wrung it out and began to sponge Lee’s fevered face, neck
and chest.

He stirred restlessly on the bed, muttering incoherently in
a language she didn’t understand. His hands worried the covers, clenching and
unclenching. Once he cried out, as if in pain.

Dropping the cloth into the bowl, Kelly took one of Lee’s
hands in hers.

“Rest, Lee,” she murmured soothingly. “You’re safe here. No
one will hurt you.”

At the sound of her voice, his eyelids fluttered open. “Kelly?”
His gaze darted around the room. “Where am I?”

“At the Triple M.”

“The Triple M?”

She nodded. “Just rest, Lee, everything will be all right.”

“I thought I saw an Indian.”

“An Indian?”

He stared up at her. “I know it sounds crazy, but…never
mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now. I’m cold, so cold.”

Rising, she went into the linen closet and pulled out
another blanket. After covering Lee, she went into the kitchen, filled the
teapot with water and put it on the stove to heat.

She thought about Blue Crow while she waited for the water
to boil. She was in love with a ghost, but a ghost unlike anything she had ever
imagined. Ghosts were supposed to be invisible, weren’t they? Able to walk
through walls, to make things go bump in the night. But there was nothing
spectral about Blue Crow. He was flesh and blood, as warm and real as any man
she had ever seen. How was it possible?

The whistle of the teakettle scattered her thoughts. She
dumped the herbs into the pot, let them steep until the water was dark green,
then filled a mug with the bitter-looking brew.

Lee was staring out the window when she returned to his
room.

“Here,” she said, “I’ve brought you something to drink.”

“What is it?”

“Herb tea. It’ll do you good.”

She piled the pillows behind his head so he could sit up,
held the cup while he drank even though he insisted he didn’t need her help.

He grimaced as he took a drink. “Tastes awful,” he muttered.

“Drink it anyway.”

“Where’d you get this stuff?”

“Just drink it, Lee.”

He drained the cup and then made a face, as if he were in
pain.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think that hot tea was such a good idea. I need to…
you know.”

“I’ll get the bedpan,” Kelly said. “I don’t think you should
get up.”

“I don’t want a bedpan.”

“Lee Roan Horse, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

“I’m probably the only one you’ve ever had.”

“That’s beside the point.”

She left the room in a huff, returning a moment later with
an old slop jar she had found in her grandfather’s closet. It was an antique.
She had painted blue flowers on it and filled it with a bouquet of dried
flowers, which she now removed. “Do you, uh, need help?”

“No.” Lee ground the word out through clenched teeth. Damn,
but it was humiliating being waited on by a woman, especially a woman he wanted
as much as he wanted Kelly McBride.

With a curt nod, Kelly left the room, grateful that he’d
refused her help.

She gave him ten minutes, hoping it would be enough. When
she returned to his room, the pan was on the floor. She emptied it, washed her
hands, then went back to Lee’s bedside.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Would you lie down with me?”

“Why?”

“I’m still cold.”

She hesitated a moment, then crawled under the covers and
took him in her arms. She could feel him shivering against her, feel the length
of a long bare leg pressing against hers. His arm was heavy across her waist,
his breath warm against her neck.

Her emotions ran riot as she remembered lying naked in his
arms, on the brink of discovery. She looked down at him, at the long black hair
that fell over his shoulders and tickled her cheek.

She tried to think of something other than bare bronze skin,
or the fact that they were pressed intimately together, that she had lost her
innocence, if not her virginity, to this man.

She held him a long time, her fingertips gliding over his
arm. Gradually his shivering ceased, his breathing grew even and she knew that
he was asleep.

She’d get up in a minute, she told herself. Just another
minute. But he snuggled against her, his head resting on her breast, his arm
holding her close. The minutes turned to hours, but she didn’t get out of bed.

Lee woke to darkness, instantly aware that he was holding a
woman in his arms, that their legs were entwined, that her head was pillowed on
his shoulder.

Kelly! What was she doing in his bed?

He frowned. He’d been sick with a fever and she’d cared for
him. He’d had one of his old nightmares, reliving the days he’d spent in that
damned correctional facility. Funny, he always dreamed about getting the crap
kicked out of him, but never about getting even. And he had gotten even. In
spades. He’d found the five guys who’d beat him up. Found them alone, one by
one. They’d never touched him again.

His frown deepened. Had he imagined it, or had he seen an
Indian beside his bed? An Indian who wore a golden eagle on a leather thong
around his neck. The same Indian he’d seen in his vision.

Lee shook his head. He must have been dreaming.

He looked down at Kelly, felt his heart turn over in his
chest. She was so lovely. So young. So innocent. He felt his body harden as he
remembered how she had felt in his arms, how close he had come to stealing
something from her that was more precious than the gold he coveted.

She made a soft sleepy sound as she turned onto her side,
her breasts pressing against his chest, igniting a fire in his body hotter than
any fever.

He tore his gaze from her face and stared out the window.
Someone had tried to kill Kelly. The reason seemed obvious. Someone besides
himself knew about the gold and wanted it badly enough to kill for it. But who?

It had all happened so fast, he hadn’t gotten a good look at
the truck, or the two men inside. He remembered the rifle, though. He’d looked
down the barrel and knew he was looking into the face of death, but his only
thought had been to save Kelly.

He moved his injured shoulder tentatively. It was as stiff
and sore as the very devil. His thigh, too. But his fever seemed to be gone.
And he was hungry. Always a good sign.

He glanced down at Kelly to find her staring back at him,
her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

Kelly wished she could think of something to say, but she
was all too aware of Lee’s bare legs entangled with her own, of the solid wall
of his chest against her breasts, of the very tangible evidence that he was feeling
much better.

Lee broke the silence with a muttered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Kelly replied. She lifted a hand to his brow,
pleased that his skin was cool to the touch.

There seemed to be no graceful or tactful way to extricate
herself from his arms, so she simply rolled away from him and got up.

“I’ll go fix breakfast,” she said over her shoulder and
hurried out of the room.

She washed quickly, changed into a pair of dark blue sweats
and a loose-fitting white sweater, socks and her boots. After looking out the
window, she opened the door and ran to the barn. The horses whinnied at her,
obviously upset because she had neglected to feed them the night before. She
tossed them each two flakes of hay, made sure they had water, threw a couple of
handfuls of chicken feed to the hens, then ran back to the house.

In the kitchen, she made a pot of strong black coffee, fried
up some bacon and eggs and poured two glasses of orange juice.

She’d spent the night in Lee’s arms. Worse, she’d been glad
to be there when she woke up.

She could hear him moving around in the bedroom. A moment
later she saw him walk unsteadily down the hallway toward the bathroom, a
blanket draped over his shoulders. Stubborn man. Why did he insist on doing
everything the hard way?

She was placing his breakfast on a tray when he entered the
kitchen.

“I’d rather eat in here,” he said, sinking down on one of
the chairs.

“You should be in bed.”

“I’ve been in bed for two days.”

“You ought to be in a hospital.”

“Are you always such a nag in the morning?”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m hungry.”

“You are?” She smiled, pleased. Surely that meant he was
getting better.

She handed him his breakfast, put her own plate on the table
and sat down across from him.

He was indeed hungry. He wolfed down everything on his plate
before she’d made a dent in her own meal.

“There’s more,” she said, and before he could argue, she got
up and refilled his plate. “More coffee?”

Lee nodded. “Thanks.”

After breakfast, she insisted on checking on his wounds. Lee
frowned when she took the bandage from his shoulder.

“Did you do this?” he asked, gesturing at the poultice on
his shoulder.

“I…” Her gaze slid away from his. “Of course.”

Lee looked at her suspiciously. “This is an old Indian
remedy.”

“Is it?”

Lee stared down at the table for a moment, trying to
remember what he’d seen, what he’d heard, but it was all so hazy.

Muttering an oath, he fixed his gaze on Kelly’s face again. “He
was here, wasn’t he?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name. Until now, I thought I’d dreamed it
all, the chanting, the smoke, everything. But it was real, wasn’t it.”

Lee leaned across the table, his gaze holding hers. “Who is
he, Kelly? What was he doing here?”

Chapter Twenty

Kelly put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dammit, Kelly, no city girl would know how to mix a
poultice like this. There was an Indian here and I want to know who he is.”

“His name’s Blue Crow.”

“Blue Crow!” It couldn’t be, Lee thought. It had to be someone
else. Either that, or he was going slowly insane. “What does he look like?”

“He looks like you.”

“Like me?” Lee dragged a hand through his hair. He had seen
the resemblance between himself and the Indian during his vision, but he had
thought it was part of his medicine dream, that he was seeing himself a few
years down the road. “Does he wear a gold eagle on a thong around his neck?”

Kelly nodded, wondering at Lee’s agitation.

Lee sat back in his chair. It couldn’t be, but it was. Blue
Crow had been the warrior in his vision, the man Charlie McBride had killed
over a hundred years ago.

Kelly leaned forward, worried by Lee’s sudden pallor. “Are
you all right?”

Lee shook his head. He was going out of his mind that was
the only answer that made sense.

“Come on,” Kelly said, rising to her feet. “I think you’d
better go back to bed.”

“Yeah,” he muttered bleakly, “I think you’re right.”

Kelly helped Lee back to bed and when he insisted he wanted
to be alone, she went back to the kitchen and washed the dishes.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the world looking
bright and clean.

Lee slept most of the day.

Left to herself, Kelly wandered through the house. She found
her grandfather’s photo album on a shelf in the hall closet and spent an hour
looking at old pictures, remembering the balmy summer days at the ranch when
her grandfather had taught her to rope and ride. They’d gone fishing together,
too, though Kelly had never gotten over her queasiness at baiting a hook or
gutting a trout.

She wished now that she had spent more time with her
grandfather during the last few years, but instead of taking the time, she’d
made excuses, she was busy at work, she was taking an accounting class, she
couldn’t afford the plane fare. Sorry excuses, she thought, and even the knowledge
that she’d called often and sent cards on his birthdays and holidays didn’t
ease her conscience.

“I did love you, Grandpa,” she murmured. “I hope you know
that.”

Lee woke up long enough to eat dinner and use the bathroom
and then he went back to bed, quickly falling asleep.

Kelly dashed out to feed the horses before it got dark, then
ran back to the house and locked the door.

Once she was safe inside, she felt foolish for sprinting
across the yard as if she were being pursued by demons, but she couldn’t shake
off the memory of those gunshots, or ignore the fact that those men had meant
to kill her. Most frightening of all was the possibility that they might come
back.

Unable to shake off her fears, she turned on all the lights
in the house, then built a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Changing into her nightgown and robe, she curled up in the
corner of the couch with her favorite author’s latest romance, but as good as
the book was, Kelly couldn’t concentrate on the printed page. Every night
sound, every creak, every shadow made her jump.

Maybe, if Lee felt better tomorrow, she’d leave him long
enough to go into town and buy a big dog and a couple of geese, she thought.
She’d keep the dog inside, for company and protection, and let the geese patrol
the yard. Their noisy honking would alert her to prowlers and maybe the dog
would make intruders think twice about trying to get into the house.