Prairie Song (25 page)

When she didn’t run to him, like he’d hoped she would, he pulled himself up and swore over the pain in his leg. She should be hugging him just about now, he thought. Hell, what did the outlaw have that made Cherish run into his arms? Grayson looked at Maggie, knowing that if he wanted her he’d have to go and get her himself, for she didn’t look like she was going to budge an inch.

He tried a step, but when he put his weight on his leg, pain jabbed into his consciousness and everything faded to black.

Maggie broke his fall with her body, but she couldn’t hold his weight. She crumbled to the ground with him in her arms. For a few minutes she just held him, feeling his pain and thanking God that even wounded he’d come back to her. Then, Bar and Cherish were there, helping her get her man into the house.

It was completely dark when Grayson opened his eyes again. He was lying on a bed in the front room of Maggie’s house with both women staring at him. Cherish looked as though she’d been crying and Maggie looked as beautiful and angry as ever. Several lanterns were lit around him and the smell of lye soap was thick in the air.

“We decided it would be easier to bring the bed down than to try to get you up those stairs,” Margaret said in her matter-of-fact way. “I’ve seen men die with half the injuries you’ve suffered.”

Grayson smiled. For the first time since he’d been shot he felt wonderful. His wounds were expertly cleaned and bandaged and Maggie was softly touching his arms even as she scolded him.

“I don’t plan on dying.” He stared at her.

“I should hope not!” Bar yelled from the hallway. “I’d have hated to waste all that time haulin’ water for a man that just up and died on me.”

Grayson laughed and forced himself to look away from Maggie. “I appreciate it, son.”

Bar smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

A pounding at the door made everyone jump.

“Stay with him,” Maggie ordered Cherish and Bar as she grabbed her gun.

Like a mini-army, they all took their battle positions. Cherish moved to Grayson’s side and handed him back the Colt he’d loaned her. They both relaxed at the sound of Wart’s nervous voice at the door.

“I’m mighty sorry to bother you so late,” he began.

“Nonsense, Mr. Tucker. Come in.”

Wart stepped just inside and removed his hat. While he mutilated the brim, Maggie waited. She didn’t bother to set her gun aside, since his nervousness told her the news he carried was not good.

Finally, he took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but they found your husband dead a few hours ago. Holliday wouldn’t even let me have a drink until I came up to tell you just in case no one else had.”

Grayson couldn’t help but notice that no one in the room looked shocked except Maggie. He breathed a deep sigh, for he’d already decided he’d have to kill one worthless husband before he married Maggie. Someone had saved him the trouble.

“Now, don’t worry, ma’am. We know who did it.” Wart ran his hand through his thinning hair. “An outlaw by the name of Brant Coulter. Two men identified him as the one dragging the body toward the river.”

Cherish looked at Grayson and whispered, “He didn’t do it.”

“I know,” Grayson answered with a wink. “He was too busy making my life hell to try and kill anyone else.”

“Mrs. Alexander, if you’ll step out on the porch, there’s some men needing answers about what to do with the body.”

Margaret nodded as Wart continued, “The murder weren’t robbery ‘cause he had this in his pocket.” Wart handed her a fistful of bills.

Accepting the money, Maggie stepped outside without saying a word or showing any feeling beyond the first shock of learning of Westley’s murder.

As soon as the door was closed, Grayson leaned on one elbow and frowned at Cherish and the boy. “All right. Let’s have the story about how he died.”

They both started talking at once as if thankful to finally lay what they’d seen onto someone else’s shoulders. They had to trust someone with their story. If they told the sheriff, he’d think it was proof that Brant was the killer and never would have believed it could be Father Daniel. Although Cherish and Bar knew it was him, neither had seen his face.

When Maggie returned, no tears were in her eyes. “I’ve made arrangements for him to be laid out at the hotel. He’ll be buried at dawn. I’ll not wear black,” she stated simply; then she disappeared into the kitchen to cook the evening meal. She’d done all the grieving for that man she planned to do. Now there were folks to feed.

Cherish remained with Grayson a few moments. “I’m not sorry he’s dead, but I wish Brant wasn’t the one hunted for his murder.”

“Brant can take care of himself. If he’s smart, he’s fifty miles away from here by now.”

Cherish didn’t reply. She only looked out the window and remembered what Brant had whispered to her about coming to her room tonight. If he came, it could mean his death. If he didn’t, she felt that her heart might break from longing for him.

Maggie returned with a supper of soup and hot bread. She insisted on feeding Grayson, finally threatening to break his good arm if he didn’t allow her to take care of him.

Bar disappeared into his room upstairs, looking exhausted, and Cherish followed minutes later, more to leave Grayson and Maggie alone than because she thought she could sleep.

Maggie cleared the dishes and pulled her chair close to Grayson’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Grayson raised one bushy eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to sit up with you tonight,” Maggie answered simply.

“I don’t need anyone coddling me like I was a child. I think if I survived the past two weeks in the open, I can last the night with a roof over my head.”

Margaret stood and began to tuck his covers around him. “Stop shouting at me. I’m right here and I’m going to stay right here in case you need me during the night.”

Grayson’s unharmed arm shot out from the covers and grabbed her by the shoulder. He pulled her to him with one mighty jerk. When his lips were touching her cheek, he whispered, “I need you during every night, Maggie, but not as a nurse.” His mouth moved over her face, lightly tasting her skin.

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

“When I’m able to get out of this bed, I plan to get right back into it with you.”

Anger flamed in her indigo eyes. “Turn loose of my neck, you mammoth brute, or I’ll shoot your other leg and you’ll never walk out of this parlor.”

Grayson studied her closely before slowly releasing his fingers from around her shoulder. He expected her to pull away, but her face remained a breath away from his.

“Don’t ever threaten me again, Grayson Kirkland,” she whispered. “And don’t ever use force on me. You may be as strong as an ox and about as bright, but my aim is true. I’ll not be manhandled by you or any other.”

He suddenly wished he’d tightened his grip around her neck a moment before when he’d had the chance, but he didn’t touch her now. When she was all angry and afire she was even more beautiful to him. He’d realized other men couldn’t see her beauty and he only felt sorry for them. For when she was like this, she reminded him of a storm, all flash and thunder and raw beauty.

Her bottom lip brushed his jaw as she continued, “You’ll not get me in your bed with threats or by bullying me. When I come to you, it will be of my own will and for no other reason.”

She moved an inch closer and suddenly her lips found his. Her kiss was slow and filled with the passion he loved to taste. He lifted his arm and lay it gently across her back, then pulled her next to him. Careful of his wounds, she leaned into him until he could feel the light rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. Her back was still as slender as ever, but her breasts seemed fuller, more inviting.

He moved his fingers over the front of her blouse and pulled the buttons free, smothering her protest as he kissed her. When he shoved the material from her breast, her mouth opened wide to him. While his tongue tasted the soft lining of her mouth, his hand covered her ripe flesh. For a moment he spread his palm over its peak and circled, loving the way she arched to his touch. He kept his palm only barely touching as her flesh strained for his embrace. Slowly, he lowered his hand over her full breast. As his fingers tightened around his find, he heard her moan low in the back of her throat.

“Maggie.” He whispered the name of his world as she returned his kiss. Her hands were moving mindlessly in his hair, pulling, stroking, loving.

Reluctantly, his hand left her breast. He gently knotted the mass of her hair into his fist. “You’ll come to me, my Maggie,” he whispered as his lips moved over her face, loving the way her mouth remained slightly open and waiting for his return. “And when you do, I want your hair down and free.” With her hair still between his fingers he returned his hand to her breast. His mouth claimed hers as he moved the silk of her hair over the velvet of her skin.

He wanted all of her at once. She was his woman, the woman no one knew existed except him. His kisses grew hungry, bruising her lips with need while his huge hand closed over her breast, claiming ownership.

Finally, when he could live without the taste of her soft globe no longer, he broke their kiss. With a swift action, he slid his hand down her back and shoved her up so that his mouth could reach its goal. She pushed at him gently in a halfhearted effort to escape, but her cries were only of pleasure. Her breath came fast and ragged as he took his fill of her softness. Her hands gripped the headboard above her as she willingly accepted his loving attack. He brushed his hand along her arm to her shoulder and down. As he stroked her side, she moved closer, filling his mouth with her flesh. When he moved his fingers lower to her long, slender thigh, she began to cry his name in pleasure. He took his time, loving the way she moved against him as his tongue circled her softness. He was mindless with the pleasure of her and the knowledge that she was his alone.

Suddenly, she grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth back to her lips. Now the inside of her mouth was hot with need and wanton with desire. His kisses turned gentle.

When she leaned away, her eyes were filled with a fire not started by anger. “When I come to you,” she whispered, “you’ll have to do more than kiss me.”

Grayson smiled, knowing exactly what his Maggie wanted and needed. “I’d best mend fast or a night with you in my bed might kill me.”

“It very well might, Yankee.” Maggie laughed.

They were too wrapped up in one another to notice the thin black shadow that opened the kitchen door and slipped past them to the stairs leading to Cherish’s room.

Cherish was curled by the warm fire, almost asleep, when she heard her door slowly open. She’d gone two nights without sleep and her mind drifted between dreams and reality. For a moment she listened to the creaking and didn’t move; she’d known he’d risk everything to keep his promise. Somehow, no matter the danger, Brant had come to her tonight.

“Brant,” she whispered as the thin black shadow moved into her room.

Abruptly, the shadowy figure brought back all the evil she’d seen the night before. She could smell Westley’s blood once more and feel the depravity as thick in the air as humidity. The stranger was not her lover, but the devil she’d seen murder a man with no more care than if he were slaughtering an animal.

Jumping to her feet, Cherish ran toward the gun at her bedside table. Her only chance was to shoot before he pulled the knife from his boot. The memory of the night on the train when it had been Brant’s hand that held a knife flooded back to her. Daniel and Brant blended in her tired mind until they became one. The scars were not on one’s left and the other’s right arm, but on both arms of one man.

As she touched the weapon gloved fingers covered her hand. With only the firelight to see by, the darkened figure above her seemed huge and frightening. The leather of his glove was cool against her hand as his fingers pried the gun free of her grip.

Cherish jerked away, fighting wildly. Terror fed upon her wildest nightmares and grew in her mind. She would not die, helpless, on her knees, as Westley had, but fighting.

He twisted her violently toward him and covered her mouth with his free hand.

“Cherish,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s me.”

Cherish froze, trying to understand his words. She looked up, but his face was in shadows.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered and the sorrow in his voice touched her heart.

She melted into Brant’s arms. The horror of her nightmare vanished as the memory of his love surrounded her. Suddenly she was crying and laughing at the same time. “I thought you were …,” she whispered as he kissed her tears. “I was so afraid.”

Brant cupped her face in his hands. “You thought I was who?”

Cherish closed her eyes, not wanting to tell Brant the truth about his friend. “The priest,” she finally answered in a voice so low it could have been a thought that passed between them.

“Has Daniel harmed you?” His fingers were rough in his need to know. “Has he done something to you?”

“No,” she answered, realizing how important her reply was to him. “Bar and I saw him kill Westley last night. He looked so much like you did just now, that for a moment I thought it was Father Daniel in my room.”

Brant released her and stepped away. He yanked his gloves off and threw them on the bed. “He has used the resemblance for too long.”

Slowly, he offered his hand to her. When she accepted, he led her gently to the chair and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “Cherish, you have to tell me everything you saw and heard last night. Daniel is mixed up and I’m not sure how to help him.”

“But if I do …” She hesitated. Now the firelight shone on Brant’s face. She could see his warm chestnut eyes, not Daniel’s cold ones. “Are you going to turn him in?”

Brant laughed. “That would be a real joke. I could just see how the sheriff would laugh if Brant Coulter tried to turn in Father Daniel for a murder. No, I could never let the law have him. Daniel would die in a prison. Even when we were children he could never pass through the tunnel without a light. I promised him years ago that I’d put a bullet in his brain before I’d ever allow anyone to chain him up in some dark place.”

“You care about him.”

“I owe him more than once for my life. He’s the closest I’ve ever had to family.”

“But he uses you. He has killed and allowed you to take the blame.”

Touching her hair, Brant answered, “I really didn’t care before I met you. I figured I would have died years ago if he hadn’t saved my life, so I kind of owed him one. Plus, I guess I’ve done enough wrong to be hanged without Daniel’s help. He couldn’t have used my reputation if I hadn’t started it in the first place.”

Cherish shook her head in disbelief. “No, not you. I’ll not believe ill of you. You brought Grayson back. He told me he would have died if you hadn’t helped him. You risked your life to help and you didn’t even know who he was.”

Brant shrugged. “I had my reasons.”

Cherish rubbed her cheek against his jaw. “You did it because you are good and kind. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met and I love you dearly, Brant Coulter.”

Brant shook his head. He’d given up trying to convince her otherwise. She saw only good in him and somehow her sight changed him within. She was not a child but a woman who’d seen years of pain and war. He was no saint, but it did no good to argue with this lady. Her trust might be almost childlike, but there was nothing childlike about the body that leaned against his.

“I missed you,” she whispered as her bottom lip slid over his cheek. His face was smooth from a recent shave and he smelled of springwater and soap. “I’ve felt as though half of me was missing since you’ve been gone.”

He folded her into his arms. “I’m beginning to think I’m addle-brained. All I’ve thought of this past month is you. I’m going to show you just how much I thought of you.”

“By doing what?” she murmured as her lips traced the outline of his ear.

He pulled her against him. “By loving you all night long.”

Cherish laughed. “And if I scream?”

“Oh, you’ll scream, my love, with pleasure.” He lifted the curtain of her hair and kissed her neck lightly.

“No,” she cried as she pulled his mouth to her lips. She loved the feel of his mouth against her flesh almost as much as she loved his kiss. Tonight, she planned to have a banquet of both.

He stood with her in his arms and crossed the room. He dropped her onto the bed, then fell beside her. Her laughter made him smile, for he knew she’d had little to laugh about in the past few years. Now he could give her one more joy at least for a moment, if not for a lifetime. And pure joy was in his plan for the night.

He pushed her hair from her face and studied her, loving the way she looked up at him with such trust. “Don’t ever be afraid of me,” he whispered.

She pulled him close above her until her breath brushed his ear. “If you don’t keep your promise, you’ll have reason to fear me.” Her lips moved along the tender area below his ear.

“What promise, my love?” he whispered into her hair, already drunk on her nearness.

Cherish giggled and nipped at his earlobe. “To make me scream with pleasure.”

There were no more words then, for the only language either could hear was in the pounding of their hearts. At first his actions were rough with desire, but as he touched her willing body, his fingers grew gentle and his kisses deep and loving. She had a way about her that made him always want to be a little more than he was.

He suddenly wanted to please her, to give her a touch of the heaven that she’d given him. His fingers moved over her body, sliding into every curve, and gently molding passion’s sculpture. He loved the way she moved to his touch and cried softly from her very heart when he’d truly pleased her. The wonder that filled his head more than any liquor was the fact that she wanted him. They were a blending, not only of flesh, but of dreams and need. She took each feeling he gave her as if it were a wonderful gift she’d never known existed before, and in return she held back nothing. Her love made up for all the love he’d never known in his life. Her love made him whole.

When he entered her, her body reached to enfold him and he touched heaven as he had before in her arms. He pushed deep into her and felt her arch to meet him, her breasts flattening into the hardness of his chest. He held her to him, loving the feel of her softness and the smell of her flesh. With each thrust, he heard her mindlessly whispering the same word again and again. When he turned her head so that he could hear the word, her voice shattered all the barriers he’d built around his heart. For she whispered his name.

He caught her cry of pleasure in his mouth and kissed her gently as she floated back to earth. Their bodies were damp with sweat and hot from a fire they’d built of passion and need, but they didn’t pull apart. They held one another through the night as if there would be no tomorrow.

When light turned the room from black to gray, Brant stood and pulled on his clothing. He stopped, watching her sleep and wondering how God could make such a woman. He’d always thought everyone had both a little good and a little bad in them, but Cherish was perfection in every form.

She stretched and reached for him. When her fingers didn’t find him, she opened sleepy eyes. “‘Morning, my love,” she whispered, unaware of how beautiful she was and of how the sight of her warmed his blood.

“I’d better go,” he answered as he leaned toward her and lightly kissed her passion-swollen lips. “It will be light soon.”

“Will you come back tonight?” She stretched and the covers fell below the curve of her neckline.

He’d meant to tell her no. There were a million places he’d be safer than here. But looking at her now he could only answer, “If I’m alive, I’ll come back to you.”

Cherish slid from the bed and pulled her wrapper around her as he pulled on his boots and shirt. “I’ve been thinking,” she said casually, as if their future were as easy as every couple’s to plan, “we could go to Colorado and live. I’ve heard men say that there’s work in the silver mines up there. No one would know us. We could start a new life.”

Brant slipped his finger from her chin to between her breasts, pulling the material aside until he could see the swell of her mounds. He didn’t want to take the hope from her eyes, even though he knew that there was nowhere he could go that would be far enough to outrun his past. Someone would find him if it took a year, or even five. There was too much money riding on his head to allow him to slip away.

“You’d go with me?” he asked as his fingers explored beneath the material of her wrapper and lightly brushed one breast.

Cherish closed her eyes with pleasure. “Yes,” she whispered.

She would have closed the distance between them, but he held her away as he spread his palm over her softness and ran his hand along the velvet beneath her wrapper. His voice was low and filled with desire. “Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you,” she answered as he pulled the wrapper free.

Again she would have advanced, but his hand held her away. His fingers took great pleasure in moving over the curves of her body. “And you’d go anywhere with me?”

“Anywhere,” she answered with her usual clear decisiveness. She raised her arms out to him.

Brant could not hold her back any longer. He moved into her embrace with all the passion of a lifetime of need. “Then go with me to heaven now, for there is no place where I could be happier than here with you in my arms.”

Suddenly, she was against him, as loving and wild as he’d ever dreamed she’d be. She was a feast to his senses and he’d been starving for her all his life.

He lifted her off the floor and carried her back to bed, knowing he should be miles away by now, but willing to risk his life for one more hour with her.