Only 05 - Autumn Lover

ever hear of cows going to war?”
    “Hell, no.”
    “Or women?” Elyssa added sweetly.
    For an instant she thought she saw Hunter smile. But she must have been wrong.
    The silence that followed her retort wasn’t broken all the way back to the Ladder S ranch house.

12
    H unter woke up as he had so often during the war—in a wild, silent rush. Yet he neither sat up nor changed the pattern of his breathing. Instead, he lay motionless with his eyes slitted. To anyone prowling around close by, there would be no difference in Hunter’s appearance.
    After a few moments Hunter was certain that no one was in his room. Nor were the dogs barking out by the barn or the bunkhouse.
    The night was absolutely quiet. Everything looked as peaceful as the moonlight pouring through the window at the side of his bedroom.
    Yet Hunter was certain something was wrong.
    With a single, feline movement, Hunter was out of bed. He yanked his pants on and then kicked into his boots while he was buckling the six-gun and holster around his hips. Ignoring his hat and shirt, he crossed the bedroom, stood to the side of the window, and looked out.
    Nothing was moving anywhere along the road to the ranch. Nothing stirred in the yard. In the corral near the barn, horses stood three-legged, dozing in the moonlight that was pouring through a break between thunderstorms.
    Water puddles gleamed in the yard. Water dripped from the house eaves and the cottonwoods. Spun silver clouds piled high and frothed across the sky. Lightning flickered on the shoulder of the mountains. Thunder muttered and rolled sleepily.
    Hunter eased open the window. A faint sound came through the crack.
    A horse snorting. Muffled hoofbeats.
    Quickly Hunter’s head turned toward the sound.
    Leopard was pacing his paddock fence. His coat gleamed in the shifting silver light. The stud was snorting and tossing his head.
    Suddenly the stallion stood stock-still, his neck stretched and ears pricked.
    Leopard was watching the garden intently.
    For an instant Hunter wondered if Elyssa had stolen off to her favorite haunt again. Then he dismissed the idea.
    Hunter knew he would have awakened if Elyssa had tiptoed down the hall outside the room. He woke up every time she turned over in her bed, a bed that was less than two feet from his own, for all that there was a wall between them.
    A glance at the angle of the moon told Hunter that it was too early for Gimp to be up and moving around, readying breakfast for the hands. Cooks got up well before dawn, but this was early by any standard.
    Swiftly Hunter crossed to his bedside table. A flick of his thumbnail opened the big gold pocket watch that had been his father’s.
    Three o’clock.
    Nothing but coyotes, wolves, and their human counterparts prowled at this hour.
    Where the hell are the dogs ? Hunter asked the night savagely. God knows they bark fit for raising the dead when strangers are around .
    Maybe it’s Elyssa out there after all .
    Hunter went to the wall where the head of his bed was pushed snugly against the rough wood. Ear to the wall, he listened intently.
    What came back to him was what haunted him every waking moment he lay in bed. Soft breathing, a sigh, and the intimate rustle of linen sheets as Elyssa turned over in bed.
    Desire shot through Hunter.
    He ignored it. He was getting very good at ignoring his body’s insistent hunger for an unsuitable girl; he had had plenty of practice lately.
    Too much practice. Beneath the denial, desire grew with every day, every minute, every breath.
    With an impatient curse at his unruly sexuality, Hunter grabbed his rifle. He levered a round into the firing chamber on the way out of the bedroom. Moving quickly, lightly, Hunter ran down the hall to the stairs.
    As always, the stairway creaked and popped with every step he took.
    Elyssa was right about that , Hunter thought with faint humor. Even a cat couldn’t sneak up these stairs .
    Experience had taught Hunter that the front door didn’t squeak when it was opened. The kitchen door did.
    Hunter went out the front.
    A cold wind was blowing fitfully. Hunter faded into the shadows beneath the eaves. He moved swiftly, silently, to the back side of the house.
    Night air was chill against his bare chest. The wind tasted of rain. Hunter didn’t notice the cold of the stormy autumn night. His attention was fixed on the kitchen garden.
    The ground is too white , he thought. Even moonlight shouldn’t make it that pale .
    Within