"I understand," Shannon said softly. Even her innocence was dead, Kristin thought. There was an awkward silence, but then Shannon came into the room and hugged her. "I like him," she told Kristin. "I like him a whole lot."
"Only because he knows Jeb Stuart." Shannon made a face. "That helps." She sat down on the bed. "What happened here?" she queried softly.
"What do you mean?" Kristin asked her. "So many men are so fine. General Lee is such a gentleman, by all accounts. And Jeb Stuart is so dashing! And then out here…"
"We get the bushwhackers and the jayhawkers," Kristin finished for her. She sat down beside Shannon and hugged her. "And don't forget," she reminded her, "we have a brother fighting in Mr. Lincoln's army."
"I never forget!" Shannon said.
They sat there in silence for a long time. Then suddenly, there was a volley of shots from outside. Kristin leaped to her feet and raced to the window.
Cole was out back with Samson. He'd set a few rows of old liquor and tonic bottles on the back fence to serve as makeshift targets. He'd already shot up the first set.
Kristin watched as he reloaded, then twirled his six-shooter in his hand and shoved it back in its holster. He paused. Then, in the wink of an eye, he cleared away another row. Then he spoke to Samson, and Kristin realized that it was a lesson.
Then it was Samson's turn with the guns. Kristin strained to hear Cole's words.
"Quantrill's boys usually carry four or five Colts, a shotgun or a rifle or maybe both. That's why they keep licking the pants off the Union troops. They're well armed, and the boys in blue are still trying to fire off muzzle-loading carbines. Zeke will always be well armed. So we've always got to be prepared to out shoot him in return. You understand, Sam?"
"Yes, Mr. Slater, that I do."
"Let's try it again. Hold your hand steady, and squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it."
Cole took off his plumed hat, ran his fingers through his hair and set the hat back on his head, low over his eyes. Then he said, "Go!" and Samson drew. He shattered a fair number of the bottles, then laughed. Cole slapped him on the back, congratulating him. Then the men's voices grew low, and Kristin couldn't hear any more.
Suddenly Cole looked up at the window. It was too late. She couldn't draw away.
He smiled and waved. She almost waved back, but then she realized that Shannon had come up beside her and that it was her sister he was waving to, because she was waving down to him.
"We're moving Kristin in!" Shannon called down.
Kristin was mortified. She felt his eyes on her, she saw his slow, lazy smile. She wanted to hit Shannon over the head. She backed away from the window instead.
"You coming up?" Shannon called.
"Shannon!" Kristin hissed.
But Cole shook his head. He looked handsome then, as tall as Samson, and hard and lean in his long coat and his plumed hat. "Tell your sister I'm on my way out to find Pete. Might be gone awhile. If I can take care of some things today, I will."
Shannon turned to Kristin. "Cole said —"
"I heard what Cole said."
"Shannon!" Cole said.
"Yes, Cole?"
"Tell your sister I may be back late. Tell her she doesn't have to wait up."
Shannon turned to Kristin. "Cole said —"
"I heard what Cole said!"
Kristin spun around and stormed out of the room. She returned to her own room and slammed the door. She sat down on her own bed and pressed her hands against her temples. She had a staggering headache, and her nerves were as shattered as the bottles Cole had shot up.
Well, he had shattered her world, too.
She needed to get this over with quickly. She needed him to be around. She wanted him. She hated him.
She wished to God she knew him. She wished to God she could get to know him. But she didn't think he would let anyone get close to him. Anyone at all.
No involvement…
She didn't want any involvement. And he couldn't possibly make her as nervous as Zeke Moreau made her hateful.
Or could he?
If he came back at all that night, Kristin never knew it. She lay on her parents' bed until the wee hours of the morning, and then exhaustion claimed her. When she awoke, it was almost noon. No one came for her. When she dressed and went downstairs, Delilah was busy with a big pot of lye and Shannon was putting their last two-year-old colt through his paces. Kristin longed to do something, to ride somewhere, but
Samson found her in the stable and warned her that Cole had said she should stay close to home. She bit her lip but did as she was told, and Samson proudly showed her something of what he had learned.
Kristin was impressed with his newfound skill with a gun, and she told him so, but then she rested her chin on the fence and sighed. "Is it enough, Samson? Is it enough against Zeke?"
"Maybe not me alone, Miz Kristin, but Mr. Slater had all the boys out here this morning, and he can teach a whole lot about gunplay, as well as practice it."
"You sound like you like him a lot, Samson."
"Yep. Yes, miss, I do. He complimented me on my language this morning, and when I told him how big your pa was on learning he said that he thought fine men came in both black and white, and that he was mighty proud to know me."
Kristin smiled. "That's nice, Samson. That's mighty nice."
They were both silent for a moment. Then Kristin began to grow uncomfortable, wondering what he really thought of what was going on with Cole Slater.
"The world just ain't the same anymore, Miz Kristin," Samson said at last. "The world just ain't the same." He chewed on a long blade of grass and stared out at the pastureland. "No, the world just ain't the same, and we can only pray that it'll right itself when this awful war is over."
Kristin nodded. Then she turned to him and gave him a big hug. She didn't know what she'd do without him and Delilah.
She didn't see Cole again all that day and night. He was still out with Pete and the boys at dinnertime, and later, much later, she heard laughter and the strains of Pete's fiddle coming from the bunkhouse. That night she slept alone again in the big sleigh bed in her parents' room.
In the morning she didn't know if he had ever come to bed or not. For some reason, she didn't think he had, and she wondered why he was taunting her this way when he seemed to have so little real interest in her. Her temper rose, but then she remembered that she should be grateful to have him here. And then she was afraid he would leave.
And then she hated him. He was supposed to want her. They were supposed to have a deal. She was supposed to loathe him for taking advantage of her weakness. But she was the one left wondering and wanting. No, not wanting. Merely curious, she assured herself. But she couldn't deny that she had been in a fever ever since he had come. She simply couldn't deny her emotions.
Then he was there. He was there all day. He passed her in the hallway and tipped his hat to her, a smile of amusement tugging at his lips.
"Wait!" she cried. "Where are you going?"
"Rounding up strays."
"Let me come."
His smile faded. "No."
"But —"
"My rules, Kristin."
"But —"
"My rules."
She gritted her teeth and stiffened, watching him for a moment in simmering silence. He smiled again. "But I will be back for supper this evening. Steak and sweet potatoes and Delilah's black-eyed peas, and blueberry pie for dessert. And then…" He let his voice trail off. Then he lifted his hat again and turned and left.
And she didn't even know where he had spent the night.
It was another wretched day. She fed the chickens. She groomed her horse. She played with little Daniel, marveling in spite of herself at the way the child grew daily. She wandered around upstairs. Then she found herself sitting at the foot of the big sleigh bed.