Kora slipped out of her gown and into Winter’s shirt. The shirttail hung to her knees. She cleaned off mud from her legs and arms using the few clean spots from their damp clothes.
When Win returned, he carried a small tub and a bucket of water. ‘‘For your hair,’’ he mumbled awkwardly.
Without a word she knelt and leaned her head over the tub. For a moment Win didn’t move, then slowly he dropped to one knee beside her and the water poured over her head. She shook the dirt from her hair and let her fingers run through the tangles as he slowly poured.
When she finished, he handed her a towel he’d brought in over his shoulder. She covered her head and began to rub the water out.
His large hands lightly touched hers, pushing them aside so that he could dry her hair. Kora raised her head and enjoyed the feel of the warm towel moving over her. He worked the towel down, drying all the way to the ends in long, sure strokes. His towel-covered hand returned again and again to her scalp, slowly moving over her hair.
Kora rested her arm against his leg and leaned her cheek on his knee as he continued to stroke. She was almost asleep when he stopped.
‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered. ‘‘No one’s ever done that for me before.’’
He sat, using the footstool to lean his back on, and pulled her against his side. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he said more to himself than her. ‘‘I enjoyed doing it. Watching your hair turn from warm honey to sunlight as it dried was a pleasure.
‘‘Besides, I should be thanking you for your help. If you hadn’t yelled, we might have gotten to the fire a minute later and lost the barn along with several horses stabled there.’’
‘‘Why would someone do such a thing?’’ She raised to look at him. ‘‘It doesn’t make sense.’’
‘‘Tell me every detail you saw,’’ Win quizzed. ‘‘The markings of the horse, how fast he rode, how tall, anything.’’
As Kora related all she remembered, Win’s frown grew deeper.
When she finished, he whispered, ‘‘You saw no face?’’
Kora shook her head.
Win let out a long breath. ‘‘You may have seen just enough to put you in great danger.’’
He moved his hand slowly over her hair.
‘‘Don’t worry.’’ Kora tried to make her voice light. ‘‘I can take care of myself and Jamie’s always around. After all, it’s only till summer.’’
‘‘Until then’’-Win moved his hand into her hair- ‘‘with all that’s going on, I’d like there to be peace between us.’’
Kora leaned forward and hugged her knees. ‘‘I’d like that, also,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve never lived in a place like this. It’s not the house so much as the way of life. All the men treat me with such respect, and there is so much to do. I guess I thought life on a ranch would be dull and lonely, but I feel like I’m standing in the center of a swarm of bees.’’
Win laughed. ‘‘I feel that way since you moved in. I’ve been alone for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to live in a tribe.’’
She looked at him. ‘‘Is that what we are, a tribe?’’
‘‘Very much so,’’ he answered. ‘‘When I was little, I lived with my mother’s tribe. Everyone took care of everyone else. I saw that tonight with you and Jamie on the bucket line, and again with Dan. I’ll miss it when you’re gone.’’
Kora turned toward the fire so he couldn’t see her face. He’d said he’d miss them, but he hadn’t said stay.
FIFTEEN
WINTER LEFT THE SALOON AND HEADED ACROSS THE street to the mercantile. The ranchers’ meeting had lasted hours longer than he’d thought it would, and he’d downed several more drinks than he needed to keep his head clear. Most of the men felt they had to have their say, even if they were only repeating an idea someone else had already voiced. Then H. D. Worth, who’d argue with a dead frog, had to counter everyone’s speech. And of course Lewis, who’d bet that same frog how high he would jump, felt a need to summarize anything Worth said. All in all, it was a waste of valuable time. They wanted to help, but anyone who knew the land knew Winter’s ranch was the one that would be crossed if the cattle moved. It was in the middle of the only practical trail, and it was too big to be missed.
‘‘Afternoon,’’ Kendell, the mercantile owner, said as Winter forced the door shut against a north wind.
Kendell was a man graying into his forties with the thin look of a buzzard about him. He was always pleasant, helpful, and almost too friendly. He’d inherited the business from his father and married his wife by blind luck.
Everyone except him seemed to know that his treasure lay in her and not the store. But Kendell valued only things he could keystone and sell for double the price.
‘‘Good afternoon,’’ Win mumbled. ‘‘My order ready?’’
‘‘You bet. I’ve got it boxed with the bunkhouse order on the porch, ready to load in your wagon.’’ Kendell glanced at the last box on his counter. ‘‘I was just waiting to see if there was anything you’d want to add to the missus’ order.’’
‘‘Shirts,’’ Winter remembered. ‘‘She said to throw in three new work shirts for me.’’
‘‘Yes, sir.’’ Kendell pulled the shirts from the standard stock. ‘‘How about something for her?’’ His eyes widened in hope.
Win frowned at the insanity of the question. How in the hell was he supposed to know what she might want extra? If she’d wanted anything else, she could have added it to her list.
Before he could say no, Kendell grinned, taking Winter’s hesitation positively. ‘‘I got a pretty brush that came in, or all kinds of new dry goods.’’
Glancing at the case of pens on the counter, Winter asked, ‘‘You have any pen holders and things that go on a lady’s desk?’’
He reached in his pocket and felt the scrap of paper Kora had used to sign over the house to him. She’d completed her grocery list on the other side. The paper had been poor, but her handwriting smooth. The kind of handwriting that should be on quality paper.
Kendell took a long breath, enjoying the smell of money, and opened the case. ‘‘I’ve got a inkstand with double enameled finish on an iron base and a pen rack on the side. It came all the way from Chicago. Fine, heavy, durable, and worth every nickel.’’
Win nodded.
Kendell pulled it from the case. ‘‘And it’s got a pencil box with it that…’’
Win nodded again.
‘‘A letter opener? It wouldn’t be complete without that.’’
‘‘I’ll take the set. Include paper and anything else a woman would need for a writing table.’’ Kora had put the desk in the attic; the least he could do was see it fully stocked.
Win folded Kora’s scrap of paper and slid it into his breast pocket. He didn’t care that the paper gave the house to him. The house was hers. What mattered was that she’d offered. That made the note valuable.
Kendell quickly slipped the most expensive items from the case and began wrapping them. ‘‘This will take me only a minute to total up, if you’d like to look around.’’
Winter only wanted to get back to his ranch, but he waited. He wandered over to the ladies’ corner to say hello to Kendell’s wife. Winter had always liked the woman. She was one of the few people he found it easy to talk to in town. Maybe it was because she wasn’t afraid of him, or maybe it was because neither expected anything of the other more than friendship.
‘‘Afternoon, Win.’’ She smiled at him over her knitting. ‘‘How’s the new wife?’’
‘‘Fine, Mrs. Kendell,’’ Win said, wishing he could ask the woman a few questions. She was ten years his senior, and he’d always thought Kendell got himself a lady of quality when he married Sarah. She treated every customer as though they’d dropped by for tea. There was an honesty about her Winter liked. He wished she would advise him about how he should treat a wife, but judging from Kendell’s example, she might not know.