Dreaming Of A Western Christmas. Carol Arens
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behind us.”
“But—”
“No time for buts. Come on.” He wheeled his mount and kicked it into a trot, then looked behind him to watch her. When he saw her gig the mare into a canter, he touched the black with his heel and broke into a gallop. He could tell she didn’t know how to run a horse full-out, because the mare’s hoofbeats flagged, then sped up, then flagged again. By some miracle she managed to keep up.
He prayed she wouldn’t lose her nerve. The trail started climbing, then veered into a section of large flat rocks. Her horse’s hooves clattered right behind him and he had to smile. She was probably terrified, but the girl was no coward. A kernel of admiration lodged in his brain.
They climbed up a mountainside so steep the horses began to slow and stumble. He shot a glance at Suzannah behind him and smiled again. Her face was white and set, but she wasn’t falling behind.
More rocks, and more struggle for the horses, and then the trail suddenly leveled out at the entrance to a cave. Bear den, probably. Or an Indian hideout. Didn’t matter. He pulled his gelding to a halt, dropped out of the saddle and waited for Suzannah. When she trotted up, he grabbed for the mare’s bridle.
“Whoa, girl. Easy, now.”
Suzannah’s breathing was coming in hoarse gasps. He waited until she could talk, then signaled her to dismount.
“We’ll hole up here,” he said.
“What? Where?” She leaned over the saddle horn, panting hard.
“In that cave. Horses, too. Hurry up.”
She slid from the saddle like a sack of wheat. He grabbed the reins out of her hand and led both horses to the mouth of the cave.
“Inside,” he ordered. “Quick.” He laid his free arm across her shoulders to hurry her up. She was shaking so hard she could scarcely make her legs work, but she managed to stumble to the cave entrance.
“It’s dark in there!”
“Yeah. Move it!”
She shrank back. “Are...are there wild animals in there?”
He gave her a little shove forward. “Only in the winter.”
She took two steps past the opening and froze, her eyes huge with fear. “But it is winter.”
“Keep moving,” he ordered. He maneuvered the two horses under an overhanging rock near the cave.
“Mr. Wyler, I do not think—”
“Right. Don’t think. Just do what I say, and do it quick. Get the saddlebags and the bedrolls and stash them inside.” He lifted off both saddles and set them just inside the entrance, then grabbed his rifle and a length of rope. Quickly he hobbled the horses, caught his saddlebag as Suzannah lifted it off and dug in the depths for two handfuls of oats.
The cave smelled musty, but it was clean except for wisps of dried grass here and there. Dark as Hades, but safe. When his breathing returned to normal he assessed their refuge.
He assessed Suzannah, too. She’d moved only a few steps past the entrance, and he could see that her body was still shaking. Her breathing was so jerky he thought she might be crying, but a glance at her face told him she wasn’t. At least not yet.
He moved forward and laid one hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be safe here. Not comfortable, maybe, but alive come morning.”
She just stared at him. “And what do we do in the morning?”
He thought her lips were trembling, but in the dimness he couldn’t be sure. “In the morning we’ll find out who’s following us.”
“And tonight?” she said in a small voice.
He hesitated. She was plenty scared, but she wasn’t crumpling up into a pile of jitters. “Tonight we count our blessings and give thanks to the god of caves. Then we eat supper and get some sleep.”
“Can you build a fire? It is extremely dark in here.”
“No fire. Can’t risk someone seeing the smoke.”
“H-how will we keep warm?”
An inappropriate thought popped into his mind. He squashed it flat before it made a permanent home there and swallowed over the sudden thickness in his throat.
“We’ll manage.”
For their supper he handed out cold biscuits and slices of jerky, which he pared off with his jackknife.
After her first bite, she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t guess I care for jerky.”
“Learn to like it.” He handed her his canteen. “Let it soften up in your mouth before you try to chew it.”
Suzannah knew she should be grateful she was alive and sheltered, at least for the time being, and that her stomach was reasonably full. It was strange how having very little in the way of comforts made her value all the more what she had taken for granted in Charleston. She supposed there was a lesson in that, but she was too exhausted to think what it was.
Brand dropped her saddle at her feet. “Where do you want your bedroll spread out?”
“Oh. I—” Despite the impropriety, she wanted it as close to his as possible.
Oh, my. In the past few days she had done things she had never before dreamed possible. At first she had been frightened at being alone on horseback with a strange man. She was also angry, but she guessed that was based on fear. Now she had the oddest sensation, as if her skin was stretching and stretching into some new and different creature.
He rolled his blanket out on the hard floor of the cave, looked at it for a long moment, then without a word stalked outside and returned with an armload of pine boughs. He spread them out, laid his blanket on top, and arranged her bed in the same way. Right next to his.
She should be outraged at his presumption. But she wasn’t. She should be self-conscious about sleeping next to a man to whom she was not married. But she wasn’t.
Something was most assuredly happening to her! She thought about it for the next hour as the cave gradually grew dim and then pitch-black and cold. This was like a dream, but rather than being a terrible nightmare, it was almost an exciting adventure.
She smiled up into the dark. “I miss your coffee.”
“Yeah.” After a long silence he rose and positioned both horses to block the cave entrance, then shoved his saddle to the head of his bed.
“Mr. Wyler? Do you think anyone could find us here?”
“Nope.”
Brand drew in a long, slow breath and stretched out on his blanket. God help him, he didn’t want to think about what was outside this cave, just what was inside. Suzannah and himself.
One of the horses nickered softly. He could still taste the spicy tang of jerky on his tongue, feel the rustle and crunch of the pine boughs under his body. He propped his head on his folded arms.
He could smell Suzannah’s hair, kind of sweet, like violets. He liked the way she smelled, even when her skin was sweaty.
“I miss seeing the stars,” she said abruptly.
Brand did not answer.
Sure was quiet up here. He listened hard to the sighing of the wind in the pines. Sometimes the sound made him feel lonely, and sometimes, like now, it made his throat feel so tight it was hard to swallow.
Except for his baby sister, Marcy, he’d never really understood women. He could never grasp how they could be so blind, how they could marry someone because of some kind of romantic dream, giving their life over to someone else just to satisfy an itch.
Maybe that was why he’d never been tempted to get too close to a woman. At least not a respectable