Jodi Thomas - Two Texas Hearts

After riding beside him an hour, Jamie wasn’t sure he’d been telling the truth, for she could see no trail even though Cheyenne kept watching the ground and moving slowly. Kora had vanished. Even with all her plans and the guards watching, somehow she’d vanished. Jamie knew the men who’d brought Winter home hadn’t taken Kora, so who had?

Jamie glanced around her. Far into the distance she saw two hills that looked familiar. It took her tired mind a minute to figure out where she’d seen them.

Suddenly they registered. ‘‘Saddleback! The farm. Andrew Adams!’’ She’d completely forgotten about the weasel of a first husband. ‘‘Of course, he’s taken Kora!’’ One of the guards had even mentioned seeing his freight wagon crossing Win’s land.

Kicking her horse, Jamie knew exactly where the tracks led. Cheyenne yelled at her to slow down, but she wasn’t listening.

She reached the rundown farm a few lengths ahead of Cheyenne. After jumping off her horse, she ran through the open door with a gun in one hand and her knife in the other. She’d teach Andrew Adams a thing or two.

Cheyenne was only a few feet behind her. What they saw froze them both in place. Blood was everywhere-on the table, the bed, even the door. The once-neat little cabin was a mess with empty bottles, cans, and boxes littering the floor. The home looked more like a battlefield.

As Cheyenne knelt and lifted Winter’s gunbelt, blood dripped off the leather. Jamie saw Kora’s shawl in a puddle of crimson by the bed. Bloody footprints crisscrossed the dirt floor.

‘‘Kora!’’ she screamed. ‘‘Kora! I’m too late.’’ She should have made Kora leave; they both knew the ‘‘witchin’ luck’’ would catch up to them. Jamie should have packed Kora and Dan up as soon as the trouble started.

‘‘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.’’