Jodi Thomas - Two Texas Hearts

Win looked around the room lined with trunks and boxes packed away long ago. ‘‘Miss Allie told me once she’d built the attic with lots of windows to use as a quilting room. But by the time I knew her, the extra flight of stairs was too much for her.’’

‘‘I thought I’d make Dan’s bed in the sunroom. Then he can slip out for his walks without waking anyone.’’

‘‘Will he get lost?’’

‘‘No,’’ Kora said as she studied the huge attic. ‘‘We’ve moved several times since my mother died and he never does. I think he just walks in a circle, never looking at anything along his way, never stopping. He’s no trouble. He seems to live more with his ghosts than with us. All we have to do is put his chair in the wagon, and he goes with us.’’

She didn’t want to talk about her family. There would be time later to tell Winter of all the treatments they’d tried to help Dan. Right now, she wanted to know more about this man and his house. ‘‘You inherited this place a month ago?’’

Kora walked around the room, loving the way the moonlight played across the wood flooring. All the windows were framed into the roof line, making the ceiling high in places and low in others.

‘‘No.’’ Winter’s voice hardened slightly. ‘‘I worked, or won, every inch of the ranch. You inherited the house the minute you married me. I imagine Logan will have the papers in order by the time we go downstairs.’’ He stared out into the midnight of his land, not seeing the stars above. ‘‘The old man we all called ‘Captain’ left my wife the house in his will, not me. The house will be fully yours on our six-month anniversary.’’

She wanted to ask more, but she could feel the tightness of Win’s stance, as though she’d reached out and touched him and he’d pulled away from her. He had his forbidden topics as well.

Stepping off the room in wide steps, Kora decided to ask about the captain later, when Winter’s wounds were less raw. ‘‘Did you mean it when you said I could do anything I wanted with the house?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ he answered as he leaned against the windowsill, only half listening as he looked out over his land. ‘‘I’ll even move back to the bunkhouse. Or I’ll sleep in the study if you like. It doesn’t matter to me.’’

‘‘Could we have our bedroom up here?’’ she whispered, afraid to hope such a thing was possible.

Winter turned from the darkness outside to her. Though the moonlight was strong enough to highlight her hair, he couldn’t see her face. They’d moved too far away from the lamp for its light to be more than a yellow glow several yards away. But her hair seemed to have lights of its own. Or perhaps the strands had stolen the starlight.

He almost laughed aloud at the foolishness of his thoughts. ‘‘It’s cold up here in the winter and hot in the summer,’’ he said, folding his arms and moving toward her slowly. His words were meant to put an end to the discussion.

‘‘But we’ll have the stars,’’ she countered unexpectantly. ‘‘And the moon. I love seeing the moon. With these huge windows we can watch the sun rise and set and see storms coming in from miles away.’’

Stopping his progress, he tried to see her face once more; but she was looking about the room, as though already moving furniture in her mind. Kora had done it twice more, casually-she’d used the plural to the room as though it were understood that it would also be his. Was she making him a part of this house when the captain never had? Was she offering more than an occasional hour in her bed?

‘‘I’ll have the men move up anything you ask,’’ he said, still not believing she meant to include him. ‘‘If you want this room for a bedroom, you’ll have it.’’ She’d challenged in such a gentle way, he’d surrendered without defense. ‘‘I said I’d give the moon for a wife. You might as well be able to see it.’’

Kora whirled, her hair flowing like a cape around her. ‘‘Thank you.’’ She laughed. ‘‘Finally I’ll be able to sleep without the smell of dirt surrounding me.’’

Winter couldn’t help but laugh as well and was surprised at how much pleasure seeing her happy brought him. ‘‘I take it you’re tired of the dugout?’’

‘‘Yes, but I never dreamed I’d have such a room. We’ll survive the heat in summer by opening the windows and the cold in winter with quilts. You’ll see.’’

Win watched her, wondering if she had any idea what she’d just said. She’d done it again. She’d invited him to be a part of this room, this house. She was honoring their agreement to be husband and wife to the world.

‘‘Boss!’’ Logan’s voice carried up from the stairwell. ‘‘The riders are in from the south pasture, and you’d best come down.’’

‘‘I’ll be right down, Logan!’’ he yelled, not wanting anyone to come up. This was their room. ‘‘If this place is going to be a bedroom, I’ll have to build a door.’’

He turned to Kora as he lifted the lamp. ‘‘I didn’t have time to tell you that we’ve got our share of trouble on the ranch.’’

Kora crossed to the stairs, knowing that he was waiting for her to join him.

‘‘There’s cattle from down around San Antonio that are heading this way. Talk is the owners are trying to get them to market up in Kansas before they all die of yellow fever. If they run the sick beeves through the Panhandle, every rancher in these parts stands to lose half his herd, maybe more. And my range is their only clear path to market.’’

They walked down the stairs, Winter two steps ahead of her with the light. Kora rested her hand on his shoulder for guidance. ‘‘What can you do?’’

‘‘We’re riding a blockade. One rider along every five miles of land where they could cross the Palo Duro Canyon.’’

‘‘But if they come, one man can’t stop them.’’

‘‘One Winchester can. As long as the rider gets off a shot, others will respond. We’ll drop every last head at the canyon wall if we have to, but they’ll not climb and cross while I’ve bullets left. I may not be able to stop them from getting to market, but I can stop them from crossing my land, and that will cost them dearly.’’

Kora listened to the anger in his tone and felt once more the power of this man. His talk of killing frightened her, making her aware that the man she married might not be as reasonable as their bargain suggested. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder.

He’d said he didn’t believe in luck, but she hadn’t spent a night in his house and already trouble was echoing. This wasn’t of her doing, she told herself. The problem had been there before she came. It would pass. Then, maybe for a few months, or weeks, she could pretend this house and this man were really hers.

Winter slowed, too lost in his own thoughts to realize she might be afraid. ‘‘I’ve had riders out for three nights now, and tonight’s my turn to take a shift, wedding or no wedding. I’ve a job to do.’’

‘‘Boss!’’ Logan met them halfway up the last staircase. ‘‘We got trouble for sure!’’

Before Winter could answer, Kora glanced at the foyer, where several men waited with guns strapped to their legs and rifles resting on their shoulders.

‘‘Two men are late reporting in down by the south fence.’’ Cheyenne said in a low emotionless voice as Winter approached.

‘‘All hell’s fixing to break loose!’’ another man yelled.

Winter took his hat from the stair railing and combed his hair back with his hand before fitting it low across his forehead. Logan handed him a leather coat, and Winter glanced up at Kora, as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘‘ Gentlemen’’-he cleared his throat and silenced the cowhands below-‘‘my wife.’’