Only 06 - Winter Fire

and deftly, and tried not to think about the future.
    It was impossible.
    Conner is growing up too fast .
    Though she would have died sooner than admit it, she was frightened that she wouldn’t find the Spanish silver in time to save her young brother from the rootless life lived by too many Western men.
    And now I have those Culpeppers and Moody’s gang to worry about .
    She bit her bottom lip and kept on spinning without a pause.
    I’ll spend so much time looking over my shoulder that my only chance of finding the silver will be to trip over it on my way to the privy .
    Next time I’m out I’ll try the land north and west of the ranch. The outlaws don’t go there much. No reason to. In most of the canyons there’s no water, no forage, no hunting .
    No silver, either. Not yet .
    But there will be .
    There has to be .
    Despite her bleak thoughts, her fingers never stopped working. Conner’s wrists were hanging out of the last jacket Lola had woven for him. There was no money to buy another.
    Spinning and weaving, spinning and weaving , she thought. Lord, I wish all of life was so simple .
    She knew it wasn’t. On the other hand, spinning and weaving at least accomplished something. All that treasure hunting had done was to wear out her moccasins as fast as Ute could make them.
    Conner came back inside, bringing a gust of cold air with him. Though there was no snow yet, the land itself was icy at night.
    Without a word, he put some beans to soak. Then he curled up on his pallet near the fire. He was asleep between one breath and the next.
    With a small sigh, Sarah stretched her back and ran her fingers through her freshly washed hair. The scent of wild roses drifted up from her fingers. She had taken advantage of her brother’s absence earlier to have a thorough bath, something she did so often that Ute swore she was going to sprout scales and fins.
    Her waist-length hair was cool and still faintly damp to the touch.
    Not dry enough to braid yet , she decided. I might as well just stay awake until it’s time to change the bandages and coax Case into drinking some more water .
    She picked up her spinning again and settled in for more quiet hours of spinning, caring for Case, and fretting about Conner’s future.
    Â 
    When fever released Case from its grip, a rhythmic kind of whispering was the first thing he heard. Most men in his situation would have opened their eyes to find out where they were, or moved, or made a sound.
    He gave not one sign that he had awakened.
    His senses told him that he wasn’t alone. Since the only person he trusted was clear over in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada, the fact that there was someone nearby meant danger.
    Hidden beneath blankets, his left hand moved, searching for the weapon that was never far from him even while he slept.
    The six-gun was there.
    And he was naked.
    Very carefully his fingers closed around the gun. Secretly he gathered himself to fight.
    Despite his iron self-control, the sudden stab of pain in his right leg when he moved it almost tore a cry from him. Memories followed the lightning stroke of agony. Some were as sharp as the pain itself. Some were dreamlike in their softness.
    The fight at Spanish Church was one of the sharp memories.
    Did Ab Culpepper track me down?
    As soon as the thought came, Case dismissed it.
    If Ab had found me, I wouldn’t be waking up at all, and I sure as sin wouldn’t have a gun in my hand .
    I was wounded , he remembered painfully. I tied myself to Cricket, spurred him into a run, and …
    Memory ended in a swirl of agony and darkness.
    He listened intently, but heard no sound that told him Cricket was grazing nearby. All he could hear was a soft, somehow reassuring sound, like whispering breaths.
    But it wasn’t breathing. Not quite.
    Spinning , he realized suddenly. Someone is sitting close to me and spinning yarn .
    Other memories came, the scent of roses and warmth, gentle hands soothing him, water easing between his lips to cool the fiery thirst that was consuming him, a woman’s long hair outlined by lantern light.
    Sarah?
    Fragments of the past cascaded over Case like colored glass, sharp-edged and beautiful at once.
    Gray eyes and hair the color of cinnamon .
    She tastes even sweeter than she smells .
    I never should have kissed her .
    Dumbest thing I ever did .
    Really dumb .
    Cautiously he opened his eyes just enough to see without revealing that he was