Immortal Cowboy. Alexis Morgan
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waist as together they defied the bad guys.
But then a vision of a gunslinger dressed in black shoved that picture aside, replacing it instead with a man who moved with predatory grace and had a killer’s ice-colored stare. Wyatt McCain. Rayanne flushed hot and then cold. A woman would have to be a fool to think a man like that could be anyone’s hero.
The excitement died just that quickly.
Finally, the last of the trees faded into an open meadow. Her breath caught in her throat as the cabin came into sight. She hit the brakes, bringing her car to an abrupt halt, needing time to adjust to the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. It was almost impossible to sort them all out—relief, trepidation, remembered joy and a great deal of pain that Uncle Ray would never be waiting there to greet her again.
She put the car back into gear and slowly pulled up in front of the cabin. The sun was already sliding down the far side of the sky. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be unpacking in the dark. The idea worried her more than she’d expected it to.
She pulled out the ring of keys that the attorney had given her at their last visit. Each one was carefully labeled in Uncle Ray’s familiar scrawl. She picked up the urn and stepped up on the porch.
As the door swung open, Rayanne stepped back through time. Her uncle hadn’t changed a thing since she’d left all those years ago. Maybe there were a few more books stuffed in the shelves and the sofa was a bit more worn, but that was all. She set the urn down on a small table in the corner and got busy settling in.
* * *
Bedtime always came early on the mountain. As Rayanne brushed her teeth, she studied her image in the mirror. Uncle Ray’s hair had been a little curlier than hers, but the color had been the same, a shade somewhere between blond and red. They’d also shared a tendency to freckle during the summer and the same bright green eyes. In a lot of ways, she’d resembled her favorite relative more than she had either one of her parents. Once again, the thought of him had her eyes stinging with the threat of tears.
It was definitely time to crawl into bed. Would coming here intensify her nightmares? She sure hoped not. The past several nights she’d slept without incident, a huge relief. She stepped across the threshold into her bedroom, happy that her childhood sanctuary had remained unchanged.
She turned down the quilt that had covered the bed for longer than either she or Ray had been alive. Trailing her fingers over the familiar patches of fabric, she wondered again about the people who had worn the various bits and pieces of cloth in shirts and dresses.
Had they been happy in their lives? She closed her eyes as she caressed the cloth, worn smooth and soft by the years. Maybe another girl had slept under this very same quilt, tucked in by loving hands with a kiss and a wish for sweet dreams or maybe the quilt had been a wedding gift for a bride about to start her new life as a wife.
She doubted she would ever know the real answers, but it didn’t matter. The warmth of the quilt gave her a connection to the past, one that appealed to her deep interest in history. Stretching out on the narrow bed felt like heaven. A huge yawn surprised a giggle out of her as she turned onto her back to watch the sweep of the stars and moon through the skylight overhead. Just as she had as a small girl, she fell asleep counting the stars twinkling in the night sky.
* * *
A new energy had arrived on the mountain, altering the patterns and drawing his attention toward the cabin. Ray’s niece was back. He recognized her even though she’d grown into a woman with long legs and ridiculously short hair.
Drifting closer to the porch, he stared up at the open window high up near the peak of the roof. The man’s room had been on the other side. He’d always kept his window closed and the doors locked against the perils of the darkness, real and imagined.
But the girl had her window open to the night. Would she continue to keep it that way if she found out about him and the others? A grim smile crossed his face briefly. Hell, even the others knew to steer clear of him. They certainly recognized bad news when they saw it; maybe the girl would, too.
The light in the window winked out. He lost interest in his vigil and moved away, back toward town. Folks still called it Blessing. What a joke that was, one he doubted the others appreciated. But then he didn’t give a damn what they thought, any more than they cared about him.
He passed through the trees, startling a doe and her fawn. As quietly as he moved, he was surprised they even noticed him. But after one look in his direction, the wary beasts bounded away, covering a lot of distance with each graceful leap. He paused to watch them disappear into the shadows, enjoying the sight. God knew there was little enough that he took pleasure in these days.
His thoughts drifted back toward the cabin and its sole occupant. The redhead had been there before. It had been a long while since she’d last visited the man, although time had become too fluid over the years for him to be sure how long it had been. An uneasy feeling churned in his stomach as vague memories stirred about this girl, now a woman. Used to be, she’d come and run wild through the woods and the town, only to leave right before it all unfolded.
All except that last time.
Damn it to hell and back, how many months had slipped past him unnoticed? If she was on the mountain, it could be almost time. Again. No wonder the deer had fled his presence. He didn’t blame them one bit for running. Canny creatures that they were, they knew when death roamed free on the mountain. He turned his back on the cabin and faded into the shadows, alone and wishing he could stay that way.
* * *
A cool breeze drifted through the open window, carrying a fresh, woodsy scent with it. Rayanne drew a deep breath and smiled without opening her eyes, still caught up in the fading memory of a dream, a good one this time. Instead of fearing Blessing, she’d been walking through the town hand in hand with a handsome man.
That he bore a striking resemblance to Wyatt McCain came as no surprise. After all, he’d dominated her thoughts ever since she’d discovered his picture. Only in her dream world, he seemed less grim, younger and more carefree. She woke up smiling with the sound of his laughter echoing in her mind.
What an interesting start to her day!
The telephone started ringing. Cell phones couldn’t get reception this high up, so Ray had run a telephone line to the cabin. No doubt it was her mother calling to check on her.
Rayanne sat up, hoping if she moved slowly enough the woman would give up. No such luck. As soon as the phone quit ringing, it started right up again in the time it took for her mother to hit redial.
Rayanne reached for the receiver. Figuring on a long call, she stretched out and made herself comfortable.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Well, I guess you made it safely since you’re able to talk on the phone.”
Nothing like a snide remark from a parent to start the day off on a low note. Why couldn’t the woman just admit that she’d been worried?
“By the time I got settled in last night, it was too late to call.”
A small exaggeration perhaps, but it would’ve been rude to admit to the truth, that she’d never even considered calling.
“I can’t believe that you’re really up there.” Rayanne could picture her mother leaning against the kitchen counter, with a nonfat double latte in her hand.
“Of course, I never understood the appeal of the great outdoors. Seriously, Rayanne, I know you loved my brother, but you don’t have to exile yourself up there just to prove it. I should’ve put my foot down about this.”
As if that would’ve done any good. Maybe someday the woman would accept the fact that Rayanne had grown up and could make her own decisions, even ones her mother didn’t approve of.
Especially ones she didn’t approve of.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m safe. I’m happy.”
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