Shadow Walker (7 page)

“I’ll return in a couple of hours. Is that enough time?”

Lucinda nodded jerkily and directed Dawn toward the women’s section of the store.

Two hours later Cole returned to the store. Lucinda Cartwright met him at the door, her face mottled with rage. “You animal! You pig! How dare you beat that poor child? Did you think I wouldn’t see her back? She’s a mass of bruises. I have a good notion to take a horsewhip to you.”

“Hold on a darn minute, lady. I didn’t touch Dawn. I’ve never beaten a woman in my life. Her husband did that to her.”

“Then it’s her husband I’d like to horsewhip. I hope she’s not going back to him.”

“Her husband is dead.”

Lucinda gave him a speculative glance. “Did you kill him?”

“I did.”

“Good riddance. Dawn will be out in a minute. She’s so thin I had to take in nearly everything she selected. Once she puts a little meat on her bones she can let out the seams.”

Suddenly Cole’s gaze shifted past the rotund Lucinda to where Dawn had just emerged from behind a curtain. His breath caught in his throat. He’d suspected that Dawn was lovely but he hadn’t realized just how lovely. Her slimness was eased by the fullness of her breasts. She wore a split riding skirt of butter-soft doeskin that hugged her hips and flared around her ankles. Her blouse was made of practical cotton in a blue color that matched her eyes. Cole could tell by the way the material hugged the curves of her breasts that she wore no corset. Senseless objects, actually, but many women set store by them. On Dawn, a corset would have been as useless as tits on a boar.

Dawn’s hair had been combed back from her face and tied in place with a blue ribbon. Her golden skin and exotically tilted blue eyes utterly captivated Cole. He couldn’t help staring. He knew then that he wanted her.

“She looks lovely, doesn’t she?” Lucinda said admiringly. “I’ve wrapped her other purchases and tied them with string so they can be attached to your saddle.”

After Cole settled the bill, Dawn bade the kindly Lucinda good-bye and followed Cole from the store. She was troubled by the way Cole had stared at her. Had her new finery changed her so much? She was astute enough to realize that Cole wanted her. His hunger was clearly visible in the volatile depths of his green eyes.

Conversation was sparse during the ride back to the cabin. Cole was having difficulty adjusting to feelings he didn’t understand and liked even less. Pity and compassion he could deal with. But another emotion that had nothing to do with pity was plaguing him and it made him uncomfortable.

Dawn’s thoughts paralleled Cole’s. In the general store Cole had looked upon her with desire. She’d seen desire in the gazes of Billy’s cohorts and had learned to fear it. Yet she didn’t fear Cole. He’d been nothing but kind and thoughtful to her, considering how she’d lied to him about the train robbery money. Dawn knew she was no beauty. She was skinny, her skin was golden instead of milk white, her mouth was too wide, and her eyes
tilted at the outer corners. She looked foreign and exotic, certainly not beautiful.

Dawn glanced covertly at Cole, admiring his tall form and easy grace in the saddle. Though his hat covered most of his mahogany-colored hair, she recalled how it turned to flame beneath the relentless prairie sun. His skin was tanned, but she suspected that, like most White men, it was pale in places the sun didn’t touch.

“The cabin is just beyond those trees,” Cole said, breaking into her reverie. “Unless you tell me where the money is hidden, I reckon I’ll start digging again.”

Dawn bit her lower lip in consternation. How could she let him take the money when she needed it so desperately?
How can you keep it when it doesn’t belong to you?
her conscience challenged.

They came out of the trees into the clearing. The cabin sat basking in the midday sun, serene and peaceful. Suddenly Cole pulled up sharply; Dawn reined in beside him.

“What is it?” Did Cole sense something she didn’t? she wondered.

“I don’t know. Instinct tells me something is wrong. Take cover in the woods. I’m riding in. Don’t leave until I tell you it’s safe.”

Cole rode toward the cabin. Everything seemed just as they had left it, but the jangling of Cole’s nerves told him otherwise. Living with Indians had taught him many things. One was to follow his intuition; it rarely failed him. He dismounted several yards from the cabin, tethered Warrior to a post and paused near the shed to study the situation. He heard nothing out of the ordinary. Saw
nothing amiss. Cautiously he crept toward the cabin and kicked open the door.

The cabin was empty. Cole felt a rush of relief, but it was short-lived. His gut still hurt and the hair prickled at the back of his neck. Maybe he was getting old, he thought, spinning around and directing his gaze to the yard and beyond. He stood in the doorway, alert, his narrow-eyed gaze skimming the surrounding area. He saw an arm and head poke out from behind the shed a second too late. He drew his gun and crouched slightly to the left. It saved his life. Had he been standing, the bullet would have entered his heart. Instead, it struck his left shoulder and exited his back, lodging in the doorjamb behind him.

Cole staggered, regained his balance and remained on his feet through sheer will. Seconds later the gunman recklessly exposed himself, expecting to see Cole laid low by his bullet. Cole was ready. Raising his gun, he aimed and fired. Cole’s aim wavered slightly, but his bullet hit solid flesh and bone. The man gave a yelp of pain and ducked back behind the shed. Cole heard the gunman galloping away just as he began a slow spiral to the ground.

Dawn had heard the first shot and watched in growing horror as Cole’s body jerked and he struggled to remain upright. She had no idea how he found the strength to aim and shoot, but it appeared that he had wounded his attacker. Suddenly Dawn saw a man on horseback burst from behind the shed and beat a path toward her. She had the presence of mind to remain hidden as the man pounded hell for leather past her. He was
bent low over the saddle, a bright blossom of blood staining his shirt, but she recognized him instantly as he thundered by. It was Sam Pickens, a member of Billy’s gang.

She didn’t give Sam a second glance as she broke her cover and rode toward the cabin. She slid from the horse before he came to a full stop and dropped to her knees beside Cole.

“Cole! How badly are you hurt?” She opened his shirt to find his wound. Her panic subsided somewhat when she saw that the bullet had entered his shoulder and exited without shattering bone. Blood was everywhere, but that in itself was good, for blood would cleanse the wound.

Cole groaned and opened his eyes. He tried to move, but an explosion of pain plunged him to the edge of darkness. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on Dawn. She had ripped the tail of his shirt, made a pad from the material and was pressing it to the wound. She appeared to know what she was doing, so Cole concentrated on controlling the pain.

“The bullet went clear through,” he said through gritted teeth. “Make sure there are no pieces of cloth in the wound.”

Dawn nodded. “Can you get to your feet if I help you? You need to be in bed. I’ve done this for Billy before. Do you have some whiskey? Billy always said whiskey was the best disinfectant.”

“In my saddlebag. If I hang on to your shoulder I think I can get up. Damn that bastard! Did you see who it was?”

Dawn bent and placed his arm over her shoulder.
“It was Sam Pickens. He came for the money. I think you wounded him.”

Cole grimaced. “He’ll be back. So will Spider Lewis.”

“All right, easy does it. Up.”

Cole flexed his knees and lifted himself to his feet, trying not to put too much of a burden on Dawn. She was far too frail to bear his full weight. The pain was bearable, but nevertheless he was damn glad to reach the bed.

“I’ll remove your boots and get the whiskey,” Dawn said, concern coloring her words.

Cole thanked God he wasn’t badly injured but was upset at his carelessness. Now this pesky wound was going to put him out of commission for a day or two. He shifted against the cornhusk mattress and closed his eyes, willing away the pain.

Dawn returned with the whiskey and stopped short of the bed when she saw Cole lying so still with his eyes closed. Fear spiraled through her. Upon first glance she thought he was … No, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. Cole’s wound wasn’t serious. He was a strong man. Billy had received wounds more serious than this and survived. So would Cole. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest and chided herself for a fool. Of course Cole would live.

Dawn approached the bed and set the whiskey bottle down on the floor. “I’m going to take off your shirt and cleanse the wound,” she said as Cole sensed her presence and opened his eyes.

Cole cooperated by lifting his torso so she could take his arms from the sleeves.

“This is going to hurt like the devil. Billy always had one of his men hold him down.”

He gritted his teeth. “Go ahead. I’m no stranger to pain.”

Dawn caught her lower lip between even white teeth and angled the whiskey bottle over Cole’s wound. He jerked at the first spill of the amber liquid against his raw flesh and then went utterly still.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” His taut voice and pain-darkened eyes betrayed his agony. “Just get it over with.”

Dawn continued to pour. “Turn over, I need to disinfect the exit wound.”

Beads of sweat gathered on Cole’s forehead as he slid to his side, then onto his stomach. “You … make … a … good nurse.”

“You’re a better patient than Billy. He didn’t dare go to a doctor and expected me to treat his wounds. I’ve dug a bullet or two out in my time.” She worked quickly and efficiently. Once the area was clean, she tore her only spare sheet into strips and bound his wound securely. When she finished, she raised the whiskey bottle, saw there was an inch or two remaining and said, “There’s some left, perhaps you could do with a healthy swallow.”

Cole tried to rise but couldn’t. “I’m going to need help.”

Dawn poured the whiskey into a battered tin cup, lifted Cole’s head and held it to his lips. He drank until the cup was empty. Then he lay back with a sigh and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he’d feel stronger. Tomorrow he’d be out of bed and
able to resume his search for the money. He hoped to God that Sam and Spider wouldn’t show up until his strength returned.

Cole wanted to sleep but couldn’t. He knew there was something he was forgetting. Something he had to tell Dawn. With great effort he opened his eyes. Dawn was still there, out of focus, but still there. He remembered what he wanted to say.

“The gun. Get it.”

“If Sam or Spider show up while I’m still under the weather, take my guns and shoot to kill. They’re vicious men. They’ll stop at nothing to get that money.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn said. “Go to sleep. I don’t think Sam will be back any time soon. I don’t know how, but you managed to wound him.”

Cole tried to concentrate on Dawn’s words, but they seemed to be coming from a long way off. The whiskey was beginning to take effect, and he slipped into a fitful sleep.

Dawn sat on the edge of the bed a long time, staring at Cole’s bare chest. His body looked so fit, so hard. His upper torso was as tan as his arms and face. Few men removed their shirts long enough to tan that part of their bodies. But Cole was different from most men.

Dawn rose abruptly and began pacing the confines of the small cabin, her mind working furiously. Cole was unlikely to awaken for several hours. If she was going to leave, now was the time. She could remove the money from its hiding
place, take one of Cole’s guns and light out of here for parts unknown. Cole’s wound wasn’t serious, he’d heal in time, so it wasn’t as if she’d be abandoning a helpless man. When he awakened he’d probably be well on his way to recovery.

Still she hesitated, recalling how kind he had been to her, how tenderly he’d cared for her when she’d been hurting.
Go!
a voice inside her urged. She looked longingly toward the door, but her feet refused to move. What was this strange feeling? Whatever it was, intuition told her to resist.

“This is ridiculous,” she chided herself. Forcing herself away from Cole, she started gathering up her meager belongings. Except for what she wore, she had few possessions and nothing of value. Deciding it wouldn’t be right to keep the things Cole had purchased for her in town today, she left them. She’d have money to buy her own clothes once she left this place.

She was ready to leave. The door beckoned to her. The money was close, so close. Then Cole moaned. Dawn froze, trying to block the sound from her mind. He moaned again. Dawn was torn. Her conscience demanded that she check on Cole one last time. It proved to be her undoing.

Cole’s face was bathed in shiny pearls of perspiration. His skin was flushed with fever and torrid to the touch. Dawn knew with grinding certainty, and no little amount of disappointment, that she couldn’t leave him. Not now. Only someone reprehensible would abandon a man too sick to help himself.

Sighing in resignation, Dawn shoved all thoughts of the money from her mind and set to
work. She went to the river for a bucket of cool water and bathed Cole’s face and torso with endless patience. Again and again she ran the cloth over his heated flesh. His chest was furred with red curling hair, so soft Dawn felt a wicked desire to set the cloth aside and run her fingers through it. His skin was smooth and firm beneath her fingertips. She was startled to realize that touching him gave her pleasure.

Day turned into night. Dawn returned to the river several times for cool water. Exhaustion finally took its toll and she was forced to rest. Cole was cooler now, his skin no longer burned beneath her touch. Briefly she considered leaving now, as she had planned, but she wondered how Cole would cope if his fever returned. She tried to harden her heart against the railroad detective who had burst into her life without warning, but she could not. Knowing she’d regret her decision, Dawn spread Cole’s bedroll on the floor beside the bed and lay down. Sleep came almost instantly.