There were too many wolves.
An eerie calm came over Jessica as she raised the shotgun to fire, for she knew it would be a race to see if she got the gun reloaded again before the wolves regrouped and closed in. If she lost that race, her only hope was that one of the men had heard the shotgun’s distinctive bellow and would find her in time.
She triggered the gun. Wolves scattered as buckshot fanned out like wind-driven hail. Some of the wolves leaped aside, snapping and snarling, as though besieged by bees. Fighting to hold the foal and herself in the saddle, Jessica managed to get another shell into the gun before the wolves regained their courage.
When she brought up the shotgun again, the foal began to slip off. Desperately, she held the foal in place while trying to level the shotgun at the wolf that was leading the attack — a big, slate-gray male that had been clever enough to recognize her shotgun as dangerous and leap aside as soon as she had pointed the barrel toward him.
The big male raced forward before Jessica could bring the shotgun to bear again. Abruptly, he somersaulted and fell. He didn’t get up. Even as the sound of rifle fire screamed down through the wind to Jessica, another animal spun away from the pack and lay still.
Back at the edge of the trees, Wolfe took aim and shot again, picking off the animal that was closest to the horses. Despite the fear hammering at him, he shot smoothly, evenly, and accurately, using a hail of bullets to separate the carnivores from their intended prey.
Too damn manywolves, hethoughtsavagely.Whatin Christ’s name was Caleb thinking about, letting Willow come out when there was a Hell-wind blowing?
Suddenly, there were no more targets. The wolves had withdrawn again, vanishing like puffs of smoke on the violent wind.
Reloading quickly, Wolfe rode out into the meadow. He saw Deuce head for the barn at a fast canter, with his rider crouched low in the saddle, hanging onto a foal. One of Caleb’s big Montana mares followed anxiously.
Even as Wolfe admired Willow’s courage in taking on the Hell-wind and wolves, he wished things weren’t so desperate that they needed every hand. But they were that desperate, and they did need every hand, even the soft one of a woman who should have been rocking a cradle rather than riding shotgun over a helpless foal.
THE wind finally died at sunset, bringing relief to men and animals alike. Mares with foals were in the barn, cows with newborn calves had been herded into the corral, and the men traded off riding around the rest of the livestock. The temperature rose with each circuit Wolfe made around the cattle.
Another wind began to blow, a gentle wind from the south. By moonrise, the snow had begun to melt beneath the warm breath of thechinook. Wolfe stood in the stirrups and looked out over the glistening land. He stretched and sighed deeply, weary to his core.
«Go back to the house,» Caleb called from the shadows. «The cattle can take it from here. Any creature that dies of being born in a warm wind is too weak to be worth saving. Besides, as tired as we are, we’d probably shoot ourselves instead of the wolves.»
«They’re gone. They won’t gather like that again until another Hell-wind blows.»
The certainty in Wolfe’s voice made coolness condense along Caleb’s spine. He cocked his head and looked at the man he thought of as a brother but didn’t always understand.
«How long will it be before another Hell-wind blows?» Caleb asked, curious.
«My mother’s mother saw one as a child. Your grandchildren might see one, if they live long enough.»
«Hope they have friends like you to help them.»
«And wives like Willow,» Wolfe said softly.
Caleb didn’t hear. He had already reined his horse away and was trotting toward the horse herd that Reno andRafe were guarding. Wolfe turned toward the house where lights were glowing in welcoming shades of gold.
Knowing how tired Willow must be, the last thing Wolfe expected when he walked into the house was to find it full of the savory scents of cooking. A pan of warm water was on the stove, along with a dry towel and soap. Smiling, he took the hint and began stripping off hat and gloves, heavy jacket and cold boots, vest and shirt and undershirt. He washed as much of himself as he could reach, enjoying the feel of the warm water and the dry towel.
The sound of a woman’s skirt rustling behind Wolfe told him that he wasn’t alone any longer. I Even as he turned around, his blood heated at the thought of catching Jessica and holding her close to his body again. She always smelled so good, so clean. Holding her was like lying in a rose garden in the full bloom of summer.
But it was the scent of lavender rather than roses that met Wolfe. Willow smiled and held out a clean shirt to him.
«If your clothes are anything like Caleb’s have been, they could stand up and shoot for themselves.»
Wolfe put on the shirt, appreciating the clean softness and warmth of the flannel. He looked at the stew simmering gently on the stove and the mound of biscuits, and shook his head in silent wonder.
«They broke the mold with you, Willow. A new baby to take care of, yet you’re washing clothes for four men and feeding them as well, day and night. And in between you rescue foals and shoot wolves.»
Willow gave Wolfe an odd glance. «I’m with you as far as the new baby and the biscuits, but you lost me after that.Jessi did the rest, including the cooking. If any foals got rescued, it was her doing, not mine. All I did was lend her my clothes and a shotgun.»
«What are you talking about?»
«Jessi. She was the one out in the storm, not me.»
Wolfe’s eyes widened. His hands gripped Willow’s shoulders hard enough to make her wince.
«I saw you out there, riding Deuce,» he said flatly. «I saw a wolf leap for you and you fired the shotgun and reloaded it while Deuce was dancing around and you were holding the foal across your lap and I didn’t know if I could shoot that goddamned wolf before he took you and the foal right down into the snow!»
«Jessi,» Willow said succinctly. «JessiandJessi andJessi.»
Wolfe released Willow and began walking quickly toward the bedroom he and Jessica shared.
«If you’re looking for your fancy aristocratic lady,» Willow said dryly, «try the barn.»
Wolfe spun around. «What?»
«Jessiwas worried that wolves might get into the barn. She knows how much store you set by that savagesteeldust mustang. That’s whyJessi rode out into the storm when I saw the mare was missing. That’s whyJessi’s in the barn now with a shotgun. She’s guarding the future the same way I would have in her shoes.»
Wolfe stared at Willow, unable to believe what he was hearing.
«I wanted to go,» Willow continued. «Jessiwouldn’t let me. She said if something happened to me, Ethan would die. But if something happened to her, nobody would die.»
«The little fool.»
«Is she? She may have been born and raised an aristocrat, but she’s not the useless little decoration you believe she is.»
Willow was talking to herself. The door slammed behind Wolfe as he headed for the barn.
17
When thesteeldust caught Wolfe’s scent, she nickered softly in welcome. He leaned over the stall door and looked inside. The breath went out of him as though at a blow.
Jessica was slumped in the far corner, asleep. The shotgun was propped against the wall within easy reach. A newborn blood-bay foal was curled against her, taking advantage of shared warmth. Silence grew while Wolfe measured the changes between the girl who had danced with him in London and the girl he was looking at now.
In London, Jessica’s skin had been as fine-grained and flawless as a pearl. America hadn’t been so kind. She had scratches and welts on one side of her face and her cheeks were chapped by the wind. In London, her color had been vivid, almost incandescent. Now her lips were pale, and exhaustion ringed her eyes with darkness.