Of course, if he were to be brutally honest, there was another reason he favored the elderly with his visits. A reason far less noble. It wasn’t their gold he was after; it was their memories. Memories of an earlier time here in Hanging Tree.
His horse crested a ridge, and Wade reined in to stare down at the lights of town. It was a peaceful scene. Smoke drifting from chimneys. The flickering lantern light from windows shimmering like fireflies. Even from this distance he could make out one or two familiar figures as they strolled toward the saloon or the marshal’s office, moving like shadows across a screen. And yet, for all the familiarity, he felt disconnected from it.
The restlessness was upon him again. Or maybe it never left him. Maybe he’d been fooling himself. Maybe all he would ever manage was a few brief moments of peace before all the old demons would return to torment him.
This wasn’t his town. Hadn’t he said as much to Jade? These weren’t his people. He didn’t need to stay.
He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face in a gesture of utter weariness. He couldn’t return to Millie Potter’s boardinghouse tonight. Nor did he want to spend a cold night under the stars along the banks of the creek.
He turned his mount away from town. And with the feeling of dread pressing down upon him like the weight of the world, headed away from civilization.
“That’s the last of ‘em, Miss Jade.” Farley Duke, whose sawmill supplied all the lumber for the folks of Hanging Tree and the ranchers beyond, was also the man Jade had hired to be in charge of the workmen. He joined the others, who had stood back to survey their handiwork. Laboring from sunup until sundown, they’d managed to set in the last windows and hang the big double doors. “We can get started on the interior tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duke.” Jade couldn’t stop staring at the building. It was by far the biggest structure in town, standing as it did on a slight incline, and rising to two stories. For now, it appeared to be just square and solid and, except for its size, ordinary. But soon, she knew, an artist would add his magic, covering the green lumber with a coat of fresh paint. Dragons gilded with gold leaf would stand guard on either side of glossy, red-winged doors. And the interior would be like no other in Texas.
She sighed. It was time to make plans for that buying trip to San Francisco. But not yet. She wasn’t quite ready to face the long journey. Hopefully she could put it off for a few more weeks.
As the workmen left, eager to return to home and hearth, she settled herself in her carriage and flicked the reins. She hadn’t meant to remain in town so late. She still had a long ride back to the ranch. And dusk was already beginning to fall.
As the team carried her rig up hills and across meadows, Jade found her thoughts drifting once again to Wade Weston. What a strange, complicated man. On the one hand he seemed ideally suited to his profession. Without the encumbrances of home and family, he was free to give all his time and attention to those in need. He truly was charismatic. From his voice, low and deep, to those strange eyes, which could penetrate clear to one’s soul, he was a commanding presence. And he was exceptionally kind. His generosity did not go unnoticed. Everyone for miles around sang the praises of the good Reverend Weston. Still, for all that, he was a man of mystery. He never spoke about himself. He had managed to evade her questions about his childhood, being careful not to reveal even the simplest details about his past.
Was it that air of mystery that attracted her? She thought of another who had piqued her interest. Even now, the thought of the stranger stirred her blood.
Jade was jolted out of her reverie by the sound of a gunshot reverberating across the hills.
Her heart leapt to her throat as she reined in the team in a stand of trees and peered through the gathering shadows. From up ahead came the sound of a man’s voice uttering a vicious oath. This was followed by the rumble of several men’s voices, and a burst of raucous laughter.
The band of outlaws! And she had nearly stumbled right into their midst.
Had they seen her approaching? Was the gunshot meant for her? Or for some other hapless traveler? She prayed it was only a rabbit or deer that had taken a bullet.
She strained to hear what they were saying. But the pounding of her pulse roared like thunder in her ears. All she knew was that the men up ahead had grown strangely silent.
Then a man’s voice called, “What was that?”
“What?” another shouted. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It sounded like someone on the trail. Let’s double back.”
Jade was gripped by a wave of sheer terror. She must not let them see her. But it would be impossible to hide the creaking of harness and carriage wheels. There was no way she could sneak her rig past them. And if she turned around and tried to make it back to town, they would surely overtake her.
Fear made her movements stiff and awkward as she leapt from the carriage and fumbled to unhitch the team. Holding firmly to the neck of one horse, she slapped the second on the rump, sending it racing toward home. Then, pulling herself onto the other horse’s bare back, she dug her hands into its mane and held on.
Unlike Diamond, Jade was far from being an expert horsewoman. But fear and determination made up for her lack of skill. Turning her mount in the opposite direction from the voices, she took off at a gallop.
“Over here,” someone called, and several horses thundered after the riderless animal.
“No. This way,” came another voice. “There must be two of ‘em.”
With a sinking heart Jade realized that at least some of the horsemen had caught sight of her and were on her trail.
Bending low over her mount’s back, she deliberately veered into a heavily wooded area. Brambles and low-hanging branches tore at her hair and raked her flesh. The sleeve of her gown was ripped away, leaving a deep, bloody gash along her arm, but she took no notice of the sticky warmth as she urged her horse even faster.
The riders behind her were slowed by the dense undergrowth. Once or twice she heard men’s voices, swearing, muttering. Each time, she managed to slip deeper into the woods. Soon the sounds faded into the distance, but still Jade continued whipping her animal into even greater speeds.
Brambles caught at her legs and shredded her skirt until it was little more than tatters. The bodice of her gown was torn and gaping, the elegant black frog fasteners torn away and trampled underfoot. Blood spilled from a dozen different cuts and scratches.
At last horse and rider burst free of the woods and found themselves on a wild, lonely stretch of land cloaked in darkness.
With every mile, Jade continued to glance nervously over her shoulder, terrified that the outlaws would somehow find her. She had no plan in mind now except to keep going, all night if necessary, to make good her escape.
In no time she realized, to her dismay, that she was hopelessly lost.
It occurred to Jade that all she really knew about this wild, primitive territory of Texas was the little town of Hanging Tree and her father’s ranch. To a young woman born and bred in the city of San Francisco, this land was a frightening place. Especially now that night had spread its blanket of darkness, hiding the few landmarks she might have recognized.
Terror rose up like bile in her throat, threatening to strangle her. She swallowed it back and, shivering from cold and fear, resolutely urged her horse on.
As she came up over a ridge, the outline of a cabin loomed out of the darkness. When she realized that it was the deserted shack she had shared with Wade, relief flooded through her. She felt like weeping. At last, shelter. But at the same moment she felt a flicker of new fear. What if the outlaws should find her? Alone in this place, she would be at their mercy. And this time without the aid of her guardian angel.
As she slid to the ground she was startled by the whinny of a horse from the corral. Her hand flew to her mouth. What had she done? Someone was here. She glanced up to see a thin line of smoke coming from the chimney. Oh, dear heaven. It could be the rem
ainder of the gang. If so, she had just walked into a trap.
“Turn around,” commanded a deep voice. “And lift your hands where I can see them.”
At the familiar tone she whirled. Standing in the shadows was Wade.
“Oh, Reverend Weston, thank heaven…” Her words trailed off as she was able to make him out more clearly.
He didn’t look at all like a preacher. Instead of his usual dark suit and starched white shirt, he was dressed in the faded clothes of a wrangler or trail bum.
And in his hands was a very deadly-looking rifle.
It took Jade several moments to regain her composure.
“What…?” She lowered her hands and took a step toward him. But at the fiery look in his eyes, she halted. There was no warmth of welcome in those amber depths. And no smile on his lips. Instead he seemed as tense and wary as a predator.
He continued to stand in the doorway of the cabin, rifle in hand. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I was returning home when I—” her voice trembled slightly “—nearly ran into that gang of outlaws again.”
At once he lowered the rifle and took a step closer. “You saw them?”
“No. But I heard them. And I knew that they had heard me approaching.”
When she told him what she’d done, there was a note of approval in his tone when he said, “That was quick thinking, Miss Jewel.”
“I’m not sure I was thinking at all.” She gave a wry smile. “I was desperate, and acted on instinct. But once I outran them, I realized I was lost. It was sheer luck that brought me here.”
Now that she had found safety, she should feel relieved. Instead, a strange trembling seemed to have invaded her limbs. She started to take a step closer and stumbled. Before she could fall, Wade set aside his rifle, strode forward and scooped her up into his arms.
She heard his voice, low and angry. “Dear God, you’re bleeding. Have you been shot?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” Strange. She couldn’t feel anything except the heat where he was touching her. Suddenly, with his arms around her, cradling her to his chest, she felt warm and safe. All the fear she’d been holding back came rushing out in a deep sigh and a jumble of words. “I don’t know why I’m bleeding. Maybe the branches…” Her words were halted by the sudden sting of tears. “I was so afraid.” Without warning, tears streamed down her face in a torrent.
Like a child she wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, leaving a bloody smear. Her voice was choked. “I don’t know why I’m weeping. I never…”
With a muttered oath Wade carried her into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind him. In quick strides he crossed the room and laid her on his bedroll spread out in front of a blazing fire.
Then he knelt beside her and examined her wounds. She was so small, so fragile. It tore at his heart to see her hurt.
Dipping his bandanna into a basin of water, he began to wash her, marveling at the delicate bones, the soft skin. Her flesh was torn and bloody, her gown, what was left of it, crisscrossed with snags and rips. Despite the amount of blood that smeared her arms and gown, he realized that all the cuts and scratches were superficial.
“If those men had found me—” she began.
“Shh.” He placed a finger over her mouth to still her words. At the touch of her lips against his flesh he was as stunned as if he’d taken a blow. At once he pulled his hand away, making a great pretense of dipping his bandanna into the basin and wringing it out.
While he worked over her a wave of terrible anger rose up inside him, black and blinding. It hit him with the force of a blow that he was beginning to care far too much about this woman. The thought of Jade in the hands of a ruthless gang awakened feelings he neither wanted nor trusted.
She lay still as a wounded bird under his ministrations and marveled that such big hands could be so gentle.
He cleansed the deep wound in her arm, then tied a strip of clean linen around it. As he worked, his hand brushed her breast.
The flare of heat was instantaneous.
He glanced down and saw the color that flooded her cheeks. It was all the more obvious because of her pallor.
He strove to give no outward sign of his inner struggle as he wrapped her in his jacket. But his voice betrayed the strain as he muttered, “You’ll be safe now.”
A lie, he knew. In a way, she was no safer here with him than she would have been with that gang of outlaws.
She snuggled deep into the folds, feeling the warmth envelop her like a cocoon. With a sigh of contentment she said, “How did you happen to be here tonight?”
He ladled something from a pot over the fire. With his back to her, he said, “It was too late to head back to town, so I took refuge here. I was lucky to catch a couple of rabbits.”
In one corner she could see the knife and discarded pelts. That would explain the knife and rifle, though she had never before seen Wade with a weapon. But as she glanced around, she noticed something else, as well. The narrow windows had been stuffed with rags, obscuring the view of the outdoors. But why? Was it to keep out the cold? Or could it be to prevent anyone passing by from seeing the light of the fire?
His reason for being here seemed logical enough. After all, hadn’t they been caught unawares one other night? But this time the sky was clear and cloudless. And the town was probably only a few hours away.
Could he be avoiding someone? Why else would a man like Wade Weston prefer a rough shack to the comforts of Millie Potter’s cozy boardinghouse?
Wade handed her a plate of stew and she sat up and ate, grateful to satisfy her hunger.
When she had eaten her fill he took the plate from her hand and offered her a steaming cup of coffee.
After only a couple of sips she returned the cup to him. “Thank you. You’ll never know how grateful I am that you chose this night to be here.”
He grew thoughtful as he refilled the cup from a blackened pot and sipped in silence.
Now that Jade was warm and safe and fed, it was too much effort to stay awake. But as she lay down and drifted on a cloud of contentment, several questions began to spin hazy clouds in her mind. If Wade Weston was truly a man of God, why was he so secretive? Who was he avoiding? Why, since he had already caught several rabbits for stew, was he still holding a rifle when she arrived? And why was he dressed in such strange garb?
Despite her troubling thoughts, or perhaps because of them, she tumbled into a shallow, fitful sleep.
Chapter Nine
Throughout the long night Wade forced himself to stay busy. He rubbed down Jade’s lathered horse before turning it into the corral. After forking hay into the enclosure, he hauled several buckets of water from a nearby stream and poured them into a trough.
With rifle in hand he walked the nearby hills, keeping an eye out for intruders. He made half a dozen trips to the nearby woods, returning each time with his arms laden with firewood. By the time he’d finished, there was nearly a cord of wood stacked neatly beside the wall.
When he ran out of chores to occupy his time, he reluctantly returned to the little cabin. Straddling a rickety chair in one corner, he studied Jade as she slept.
She was so beautiful, so perfect, she might have been someone he’d imagined, just to satisfy an emptiness in his heart. But she was real. Far too real. And far too tempting.
God, he wanted to roll a smoke. He wanted a drink. He wanted… Jade.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The last time they’d been alone in this cabin he’d had to fight an almost overpowering temptation. And he’d succeeded. But that was different. Tonight…
Why did she have to pick this night to return? To need him? To trust him?
Trust. He chided himself for such foolishness.
She sighed in her sleep and he felt the tightening in his loins.
Most of the time he had strength to spare. But tonight he’d just run out. He had demons of his own to fight tonight. And the presen
ce of this woman was threatening to push him over the edge.
Her breathing became shallow and she began to murmur a few incoherent words. He realized that she was having a bad dream, reliving the fear of the chase.
“No…hide…find me.”
He took a calming breath and knelt beside her, taking pains not to touch her. “Jade. Wake up,” he said gently.
When she continued twisting and writhing, he had no choice but to touch a hand to her shoulder. He said more sharply, “Jade. Come on. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
With a cry she sat up. The jacket slipped from her shoulders, revealing the torn sleeve, the gaping bodice. For the moment she took no notice. But Wade did. And felt his throat go dry at the sight of her.
Her hair, sleek and black as midnight, fell in disarray around a face that stirred him each time he looked at it.
Fear made her eyes wide. She shrank from his touch. “Who…? What…?” As realization dawned, a long, deep sigh was wrenched from her. She leaned forward, touching her cheek to his in an achingly sweet gesture. “Oh, Wade. I thought for a moment…”
“I know.” The touch of her cheek against his was causing the most bittersweet agony of his life.
He brought his hands to her shoulders, intending to hold her at arm’s length. But one touch of her, and all restraint vanished.
She was so incredibly sweet. And trusting. And he needed to hold her. Just for a moment.
With great tenderness he stroked a hand along her back. She sighed and leaned into him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to press his lips to her temple and murmur words meant to soothe.
“It’s all right.” It had been a long time since he’d felt this quickening of the pulse. “You’re safe now.” As safe as any lamb in the clutches of a wolf, he berated himself.
“I know. And I’m so grateful you’re here.” She closed her eyes and absorbed his quiet strength. “If you hadn’t been here, I’d be alone and cold and hungry. And afraid,” she whispered. “So afraid.”