By the time the doctor arrived, they’d cleaned the wound. Cheyenne was very pale and he hadn’t said a word. His shirt and the sheets were stained in varying shades of drying blood. Winter knew he was very near death, but somehow Kora’s statement about him living eased Winter’s worries. She did all the right things, forcing water down him when he moaned and turning his head sideways when he passed out in pain so that he wouldn’t choke. She covered him in layers of wool to keep him as warm as possible.

Winter sat at the head of the bed and held his friend’s shoulders down as Doc Gage dug for the bullet. Kora was kept busy fetching more towels and water as needed. Cheyenne didn’t fight the pain, but took it silently, only tightening once when the bullet was pulled out.

Finally, after Gage’s nod, they stepped out into the hallway to wait. Winter lightly put his arm around Kora’s shoulder, silently thanking her for everything. She was a woman who must have learned very young to do what had to be done. Despite all Jamie’s yelling, she hadn’t had Kora’s strength. And Win couldn’t even imagine Mary Anna being by his side.

To his surprise, Kora moved into his embrace, circling her arms around his waist and holding tightly.

He felt her sobs against his side more than heard them. Deep, lonely, silent sobs. Winter didn’t know how to react to her sudden need. She’d proved herself strong, so it made no sense that she’d fall apart now.

‘‘It’s all right,’’ he finally whispered, knowing he should say something. ‘‘We did the best we could.’’

After a long while, she looked up, her blue eyes liquid with tears. ‘‘I thought it was going to be you,’’ she whispered. ‘‘When it was your horse, I thought it would be your blood. I was afraid my bad luck had rubbed off on you.’’

‘‘I told you, I believe a man makes his own luck.’’ He didn’t know if she cried because she still grieved and didn’t want to lose another husband so soon, or because she cared that he was alive. With her in his arms, it didn’t matter. For the first time since they’d met, she was letting him close and didn’t seem to be frightened of him. He liked the smell of her hair and the softness of her at his side. He’d never thought he needed a female except once in a while for the night, but a man could get used to Kora quickly. She was a habit already forming, and to his surprise, he had no desire to break away.

‘‘I’m not that easy to kill.’’ He tried to sound light. ‘‘I promised you I’d be home before dark and I almost made it.’’

‘‘In my life, it seems everyone around me is easy to kill,’’ she whispered.

Without thought, he pulled her full into his embrace and held her. She felt so good. After all that had happened today, nothing seemed more right than leaning his face against her hair and holding her so tightly he could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath against his own.

He told himself he was a man that needed nothing, but he wanted her by his side. He admired the way she took care of her siblings, the way she faced him even with fear in her eyes, and the way she took charge making arrangements in details he’d never thought about. He liked her leaning against him now, letting him be her strength if only for a moment.

‘‘Don’t be afraid of me,’’ he whispered. She seemed so frightened of not just him, but of life. How much heartache had she borne?

‘‘I’m not,’’ she answered. ‘‘Sometimes I’m afraid to blink because this will all end. I never figured I’d have a home, or a husband. I’m afraid I’ll awaken and be back in the dugout. Or on the streets of New Orleans without a place to sleep.’’

He turned her face to his. ‘‘What do I have to do to convince you that we’ll stay married for as long you like?’’

Before she could answer, a shadow moved in the foyer downstairs and Winter stiffened. ‘‘Who’s there?’’ he shouted as he reached for the weapon he’d left in Cheyenne’s room.

‘‘Wyatt, ah, Wyatt Mitchell, sir,’’ a deep voice answered nervously. ‘‘I was in the doc’s office when he got the summons, and I thought if there was trouble I’d best ride out with him.’’

The man stepped into the light, and Winter relaxed as he recognized a young gambler from town. Wyatt was a friendly enough fellow, always willing to relieve a man of his extra money at the gaming tables. As far as Winter knew, he was honest, or as honest as any gambler. Which wasn’t saying much.

Winter moved down the first few steps. ‘‘Thanks for tagging along with the doc. You’re right about there being trouble.’’ Win felt Kora’s hand touch his shoulder. ‘‘You’re welcome to stay the night, Wyatt. There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse. Doc Gage said he plans to sit up with my man until he’s out of danger.’’

The gambler twirled his short-brimmed hat. He was of average height with the kind of polished good looks that only come when a person stays out of the weather. ‘‘Thanks, Mr. McQuillen,’’ he said. ‘‘I’d be much obliged. I wouldn’t want to interfere with you and the new missus, but I don’t much care for riding half the night to get back to town.’’

‘‘You’re not interfering.’’ Kora stood on the step behind her husband with her hand still on his shoulder. ‘‘In fact, you’re welcome to breakfast, Mr. Mitchell. I’ll send Jamie out to fetch you in the morning.’’

The gambler smiled. ‘‘Jamie wouldn’t be that vision in buckskin I saw run through here a while back?’’

‘‘Vision in buckskin?’’ Winter raised an eyebrow.

‘‘Yes, sir. She looked like she’d just washed her hair and face.’’ The gambler laughed, a rich laughter that comes easy to those who laugh a lot. ‘‘She had more water on her than she must have left in the tub. Her garments were wet and clinging to her like second skin. The clothes might be buckskin, but the lady was all woman beneath.’’

‘‘Jamie is my sister-in-law,’’ Winter interrupted the man’s memory before it got out of hand.

Wyatt sobered. ‘‘Sorry, no disrespect intended.’’

Now it was Winter’s turn to smile. ‘‘None taken.’’ He glanced at Kora, then back at the gambler. ‘‘You are a single man, I take it?’’

‘‘Yes.’’ Wyatt rocked back on his heels. ‘‘I never thought much of settling down.’’

Winter took Kora’s hand and moved back up the stairs. ‘‘Neither did I until recently. Who knows, Wyatt? The thought may cross your mind sooner than you think.’’

NINE


‘‘YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!’’ KORA SAID AS SHE MOVED around the attic room lighting the lamps. During the day she’d brought up several pieces of furniture and three rugs, but the room was far too big to ever be a cozy bedroom.

‘‘I’m dead serious.’’ Winter pulled off his shirt and stepped in front of the washstand. The little bowl had been replaced by a large basin, and a rug now circled the floor within splashing distance. ‘‘What’s wrong with the man?’’

Kora moved behind a screen that blocked off one corner of the room. The panels of thin wood had been painted years ago with flowers that had faded into echoes of their former beauty. ‘‘He’s a gambler!’’ she yelled over the wooden wall separating them.

‘‘Any man who lives in this country is a gambler. If disease doesn’t kill the cattle in the summer, snow freezes them before spring.’’ Winter watched in the mirror as her dress lapped over the screen. ‘‘Had you rather your sister find a farmer? Now, they’re real gamblers.’’

She was silent for a moment. A white petticoat floated over. ‘‘No,’’ she finally answered.

He could hear her moving as she continued, ‘‘I only want her to be happy. She needs to get away from Dan and me and make a life of her own. You can introduce him and see what happens. If Jamie likes him, then I’ll be happy to see them married.’’

She stepped from her paneled blockade, her cotton gown buttoned to her throat. He stared at her in his mirror. The sleeves of her gown were too long, almost swallowing her hands, but the hem seemed an inch too short, for he could see her feet and ankles.

Winter suddenly felt the need to be interested in lathering the soap. He tried to watch what he was doing, but she kept moving past his line of vision in the mirror. The gown was thick cotton, but it still revealed the line of her body when she moved, as a dress would never do.

It was most distracting having this woman around, he thought. If she didn’t light somewhere, he’d slit his throat trying to shave. Another man in the room never bothered him. He’d shared quarters with sometimes as many as twenty in the bunkhouse. But this woman was different. A fellow could look at a man once a year or so and remember him. But not Kora. Every time he looked at her, she seemed to change. He felt a need to stare just so he could catch her in the act. One minute she was all prim and proper, the next all soft, like now, with her hair down and lace brushing against her throat.

He almost ordered her to stop walking back and forth behind him so he could get on with his shave. But when she crawled up in the center of the bed and tucked her feet beneath her, he found her no less interesting. He shaved slowly as she brushed through her hair and braided it into one thick braid.

When he finally leaned to wipe the soap from his face, he glanced back in the mirror to find her watching him. She’d raised her knees beneath the cotton gown and rested her elbows on them, reminding him of a child.

‘‘Do you always shave at night?’’ she asked.

‘‘Never have,’’ he answered honestly.

‘‘Then why tonight?’’

Winter turned toward her, forcing himself not to react to the sight of a woman sitting in the center of his bed. ‘‘ Logan told me yesterday that a married man always shaves at night. I figured if he knew something like that, him not even being married, then it must be some kind of rule.’’

‘‘But why?’’

‘‘You’re a widow, you must know,’’ he answered as he moved toward the bed.

Kora appeared suddenly nervous. ‘‘Oh, yes.’’ She looked around her as if trying to find something, anything, to focus her attention on besides him. ‘‘But, I mean, there is no need for you to shave at night. Logan must have meant men who are fully married.’’

He didn’t like being reminded of their agreement. He wasn’t likely to forget. ‘‘I thought I’d get in practice,’’ he said roughly, ‘‘for when your mourning time is over.’’

Without another word, he sat on the side of the bed and stripped off his jeans.

Kora moved to the edge as far away from him as she could. ‘‘Don’t you sleep in a nightshirt?’’

‘‘I never have,’’ he answered. ‘‘I usually just sleep in my long drawers in winter. Sometimes an undershirt if it’s really cold.’’

‘‘And in summer?’’ She moved off the bed.

‘‘Nothing,’’ he answered as he slipped beneath the sheet and leaned back. He didn’t pull the covers past his waist. She might as well get used to the look of his bare chest, because he wasn’t wearing one of those lacy nightshirts for the next thirty years.

She grabbed her wrapper. ‘‘I think I’ll go check on Cheyenne to make sure the doctor doesn’t need anything before I go to bed.’’ She glanced at the rafters. ‘‘And I’m not sure I laid out the things Dan will need after his evening walk.’’

‘‘Kora?’’ Winter stopped her with a word.

‘‘Yes?’’ She turned toward him as she tied her wrapper.

‘‘I’m not going to touch you. You can come to bed. Whether I have on a nightshirt or not will make no difference in my keeping my word.’’

‘‘I understand.’’ She moved away. ‘‘I’ll be back as soon as I check on things.’’

Winter closed his eyes and leaned against the pillows. Why had the woman insisted on him sleeping up here if she was still scared to death of him? If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have followed her and tried to talk to her. Maybe he should move back to the couch. He was starting to believe that two floors between them might help him remember his promise.

But the long day caught up with him and Winter fell asleep in his own bed, in his own room, for the first time in his life.