‘‘Allie,’’ he tried again, not wanting to think of her dying out in the wild somewhere. Maybe she was just wanting to run from people. If so, a hundred deaths could be waiting for her. ‘‘Allie, listen to me!’’

He reached for her wrist and pulled her toward him, determined to make her understand.

Like a sudden explosion of dry lightning across the sky, Allie came to life. She jerked the arm he held and fought wildly to pull away.

For a few seconds, Wes’s grip tightened, pulling her closer as if to quiet the terror he saw in her eyes.

But he was the cause of the fear. Her struggle only intensified. She swung her free hand, frantically trying to hit his head. Her bare feet kicked at his legs. Her teeth bared like an animal preparing to bite.

Wes turned loose of her wrist and backed away. He felt like a fool. She was a wild creature, he could see it in her eyes. She would have killed him if she could have. And for what? For asking her full name. If he had any sense, he’d be worried about the wolves who might be unlucky enough to try to attack her. There was no reasoning with this woman. It would be better to allow her to go her own way.

Without turning his back to her, Wes walked to the center of the room. All the pain in his body was forgotten as he watched her slip back into the corner. ‘‘I know you understand me!’’ he shouted, as if somehow he could win a battle he’d already lost.

He tried to pull his nerves together. He’d never been afraid to face anything in his life. He’d always been one to ride headlong into danger, but how could he handle her? No matter what she did, he could never raise a hand against her. But he’d seen the fear in her eyes and knew she’d kill him if he ever tried to touch her again. That made him about the biggest fool on earth, because he knew he’d stand there and let her.

The memory of the woman who’d slept beside him played through his thoughts. He closed his eyes and remembered how she’d let him touch her hair and how soft and willing her body had felt against his.

‘‘I’m not going to say I’m sorry.’’ Wes opened his eyes. ‘‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Allie, only get you to talk to me. I swear I’ll help you find your family. But you’re not making it easy. You have to tell me what you know about your past. Any little detail.’’

She turned to face the rain once more, as if she hadn’t heard his words.

‘‘Can’t you even answer me?’’ He tried lowering his voice, but he’d never had much cause to sound gentle and kind.

Her head dropped slightly, and he thought he saw a tear. He didn’t move to comfort her. He’d already gotten too close once tonight.

‘‘You have nothing to fear from me. We’ll stay married so you will be safe until I find your family, then you’ll be free of me. I owe you that much for saving my life.’’

He could see her shoulders curl in as she pressed against the icy window. He had no idea where she wanted to be, but it definitely wasn’t with him.

‘‘All I ask is that you help me to help you. Nothing more.’’ Wes set his jaw. Why should helping her come any easier than anything else he tried? ‘‘I want no wife in my life or my bed. You’ve no worry or fear there.’’ He had to say the words out loud, even if he was the only one listening. ‘‘As soon as the weather clears, we’ll start the search.’’

He never wanted to see the hatred in her eyes again. But the only way he’d be rid of her was to find her a safe place to stay. He’d have an easier job finding someone to adopt a porcupine.

She avoided him the rest of the evening, acting like he was the enemy. Since he’d been feeling better and moving around, Allie had taken to sitting in the sewing room upstairs with Nichole. She seemed to like Nichole, for Nichole was the only one in the house who accepted her on face value, never asking questions, never demanding answers. Also, unlike the cook, his sister-inlaw felt little need to keep a conversation going when it was one-sided.

Wes undressed for bed and stretched out on top of the covers, not caring that the air chilled his skin. He’d felt lousy all day, but it had nothing to do with his wound. How could a woman who didn’t speak or ask a blasted thing of him make him feel so angry?

Long after the house had grown quiet, the bedroom door slowly opened.

‘‘Evening,’’ Wes said, knowing she wouldn’t answer.

Allie slipped into the room and placed clean clothes on the dresser.

‘‘You still mad at me?’’ Wes waited a moment just in case there was an answer. ‘‘Not that I care one way or the other. A man can’t go around apologizing for something he didn’t do.’’

He watched her closely, wondering where she’d sleep tonight. Since he’d been able to stand on his feet, she’d curled into the chair in the corner every night. He was surprised she stayed in the same room with him if she feared him so much.

The thought occurred to him that maybe nowhere else felt safe either.

Allie wrapped her cape around her and tucked her bare feet up into the chair as she curled into a ball and closed her eyes.

Wes watched her for a while. She looked so tiny. She didn’t stand tall enough to reach his shoulder, and her arms looked thin to the point of starvation.

Her hair was just curly enough to look like it grew wild around her. In the firelight, he thought he could see red streaks running through it. But at dawn, he would swear gold drifted through the strands.

Wes opened and closed his hands. How he wanted to touch it again. Which made no sense, he decided, because he didn’t even like the girl. She was just one more barrier slowing him down in his quest for the Goliad treasure Vince had sworn was just waiting for them. If Wes hadn’t seen her in the cage, he’d probably have the gold in his hands by now. Gold that reminded him of her hair at dawn.

He turned away from her and closed his eyes. She was a long ride from normal and she was driving him to the same destination. They were a fine match. No woman had ever loved him, and no man would ever get close enough to love her. He fell asleep listening to a wind that sounded almost as lonely as he was.

Deep into the night, the fire in the tiny corner fireplace burned itself out, and the temperature dropped so low that rain froze against the window. Wes rolled over and saw her still curled in the chair, hugging the cape around her to keep warm.

He could feel her chill as though it were his own. Slowly, he stood and lifted a blanket from his bed. As silently as he could, Wes crossed to her chair and draped the quilt over her.

The memory of how she’d fought him was thick in his mind, as he looked down at her huddled between the arms of a wooden chair. Carefully, he wrapped the blanket around her and lifted her. Ignoring the pain that shot through his back, he carried her to the bed and placed her where his body had already warmed a place. Then, very carefully, he stretched out beside her and pulled the remaining covers over them both.

Wes lay still, expecting her to bolt at any moment. But she didn’t. After a few minutes, she stretched beneath the warmth and curled against him in sleep.

‘‘I promise,’’ he whispered as her hair brushed his cheek, ‘‘I promise I’ll never hurt you, Allie.’’

EIGHT

ALLIE PRESSED HER BACK ALONG THE WALL BEHINDthe door to the kitchen and listened. In the days since she’d been at the doctor’s house, the rhythm of their words had become natural to her once more. She knew what they were talking about most of the time. Sometimes, when she knew no one could see her, she’d mouth the words, practicing the patterns.

She was still firmly convinced the entire McLain tribe was a full measure short of normal sense. Her best plan would be to escape as soon as possible. At first, she waited because of the weather, but now, a curiosity held her here.

‘‘The telegrams went out to every lawman in the state,’’ the doctor’s wife was saying. ‘‘We may get answers for weeks as the word passes.’’

Allie leaned closer to the door, trying to see through the crack.

‘‘We’ve had several replies.’’ Nichole sounded pleased. ‘‘Some people are already on their way to see her.’’

Allie could see Wes at the end of the table. He held his coffee cup in both hands. As always his face looked like it was trying to mock a thunderstorm, all dark and angry. ‘‘I don’t want people gawking at her like she’s a freak. I’ll not have people just dropping in to see her like she’s a sideshow.’’

‘‘She’s starting to matter to you.’’ The woman’s voice drifted to Allie.

‘‘Nonsense,’’ Wes answered. ‘‘I’m not the kind of man who knows how to make a woman care. Men like me were meant to be alone. I’ve learned that lesson plain enough. I’ll never love a woman the way Daniel loved May or Adam loves you. I can’t see myself settling down and forcing some poor woman to look across the table at me every morning.’’

‘‘Of course you will,’’ Nichole started. ‘‘That scar-’’

‘‘No,’’ he interrupted. ‘‘It’s not meant to be. Daniel swore he’d never marry again after May died delivering the twins. And I know the closest I’ll ever come to marriage is this farce we’re playing to protect Allie.’’ He sat his coffee mug down with a thud. ‘‘Or whoever she is.’’

A knock at the door echoed the sound of his cup. Allie jumped and darted to Adam’s study before anyone could come from the kitchen to answer the summons.

A few minutes later when the guests were ushered into the room, Allie tried to melt into the wall space between the curtains. Her dark brown dress and hair seemed to blend with the mahogany as she found herself in the presence of strangers.

‘‘I’m Marvel Pickett,’’ a stout woman announced. She walked straight to the fire and began warming herself as though the blaze were hot enough to penetrate her multiple layers of long clothing. ‘‘This is my husband, Harold Pickett. We’ve come all the way from Tyler to look the savage girl over.’’

Allie watched Nichole stiffen and step between the new arrivals and the windows. ‘‘You think our Allie might be your relative?’’ Nichole’s voice hardened slightly as the stocky woman helped herself to a muffin on a tray that had been set for Allie’s breakfast.

Wes followed Harold into the room. As Harold joined his wife, Wes leaned against the corner of the desk in the center of the room. Only a slight limp showed he favored his side. He pulled the top drawer of Adam’s desk open a few inches. Between them, Nichole and Wes formed a blockade to Allie.

‘‘We think we might be her kin,’’ the woman mumbled as she chewed. ‘‘She’s about the right age. My sister and her husband had a bushel of brats. When he died, she loaded them up and planned to come live off of us. Their wagon was ambushed about the Arkansas-Texas border. She never made it. An express rider found her dead, but not one body of a child. They must have all been taken to live with the savages.’’

‘‘What were your nieces’ names?’’ Nichole glanced at Wes and shook her head slightly.

The chubby woman frowned and wiped her mouth with the tips of her fingers for a duster. ‘‘I don’t remember. Never having children of my own, I thought learning their names didn’t seem all that important. All I know is if this girl is likely one of them, we’ll take her off your hands. Me and Harold ain’t getting any younger, and we could use the help around the place.’’

Allie saw Nichole’s fingers open and close as she asked the woman, ‘‘Would you describe your sister and the girls? Hair color, eye color, general build?’’

The large woman placed her hands on her side-shelf hips. ‘‘What does it matter? Just show me the girl. I’ll tell you if she’s the right one.’’

Harold crushed his hat with big work-worn hands. He didn’t look directly at anyone as he asked, ‘‘She is in good condition, ain’t she? Not sickly or anything?’’

‘‘Why?’’ Nichole glanced again at Wes. But Wes was stone silent.

Harold remolded his hat with greater speed. ‘‘We’re worried since she’s here at a doctor’s house. Thought she might have some problems.’’

‘‘If she’s sickly, she ain’t my niece,’’ Marvel added. ‘‘I’m from sturdy stock. I ain’t paying no bills for some sickly captive who can’t remember who she is. Now if she’s healthy, she might be my kin.’’

‘‘She’s not the one you’re looking for,’’ Wes’s voice was hard, with an edge Allie hadn’t heard before. ‘‘See them to the door, Nichole. They’re wasting our time and theirs.’’

Marvel Pickett bristled like a wild hog and headed straight toward him. ‘‘And what makes you know that? I ain’t saying the creature ain’t mine until I see her with my own eyes. I figure I’ll know my own.’’

‘‘Is she or is she not healthy?’’ Harold asked. ‘‘The sheriff said she was.’’