Emma jerked awake in the dark, forgetting momentarily where she was. Then, last night’s ordeal came rushing back to her, and her body trembled as she threw the strange bedcovers off and sat up. The house was quiet except for the rattle of a snore she heard through the walls, and a glimpse out the small transom window in her upstairs room showed a tiny hint of dawn smearing the far horizon. The whole world was buried in a blanket of cottony snow. From what she could tell, the sky was clear and calm.
Lucas! Had he gotten home safely? Did those ranchers attack? What if Lucas was hurt—or had been killed? She clutched the big men’s shirt she’d worn for a nightdress and jumped out of bed. I have to go to him. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened . . . Lucas had promised her he’d be careful. And that he’d come back to her. Well, she wasn’t going to wait; she’d go to him.
She rushed around the room, flustered. She had nothing with which to brush her hair, no clean clothes to wear. Her costly silk dress and petticoats lay strewn over the wingback chair in the corner. This wouldn’t do at all. She would have to find some warm appropriate clothes, and use one of the horses to ride to Sarah’s ranch. She huffed. It wasn’t likely she’d find a lady’s sidesaddle in Hilton’s barn. But none of this mattered.
Her mind in a whirl, she washed up as best she could using the rough bar of soap and threadbare towel lying on the child-sized dresser. She rummaged through the dresser drawers, then the armoire standing in the corner. Nothing but men’s clothing. She wondered whether Mr. Hilton had ever been married. But even if he had, he’d have no need to keep his wife’s clothing. Emma was left with little choice. She gulped down her pride and found trousers, a belt, and a thick wool shirt. She could at least wear her own stockings and boots.
She dressed, thankful the clothes at least were clean, and had to roll up the pants cuffs a bit and hold the sagging waistband with the belt, but in a matter of minutes she was ready. She longed to peek in on Lynette and the baby, anxious to know if they were both all right. But she couldn’t risk waking anyone.
She tiptoed down the stairs, went into the kitchen, and drank down a glass of water, feeling utterly foolish in her attire. In the closet by the front door, she found a long heavy coat, the sleeves of which hung so long, her hands were buried inside. But that will keep them warm. She found a thick pair of riding gloves—much better than using her thin lambskin ones she’d worn to the auction.
The affair in Fort Collins felt like ages ago. She shuddered thinking of the storm and how cold and terrified she’d been. Lucas had brought them to safety, and then delivered Lynette’s baby without complications. Her heart swelled with pride and love for this wonderful, brave man. But she hoped he hadn’t been foolishly brave last night. Emma knew Lucas would do anything to help Sarah and her sons. But the thought of them being attacked in the middle of the night . . .
She couldn’t waste another minute, dreading what she’d find when she got there. Could she even locate the ranch? They’d passed her road yesterday on the way to Fort Collins. In her mind, she saw how the road had turned east, following the river. There was only one main thoroughfare, so how lost could she get? Although, if the snow was deep, she wasn’t sure she would find her way. Hopefully others would be out on the road this early. If she could find horse or wagon tracks, she could follow those.
Just as she was about to rush out the front door to the barn, she heard footsteps on the old plank floorboards behind her. She spun around and faced her father. Her heart sank, and she put her hand to her throat.
He wore an old, ratty robe, and the sight almost made her giggle. Her father’s hair stood askew, and his tired eyes attested to his lack of sleep. To her shock, he reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder, smiling.
“You’re up early,” he said in a whisper, no doubt trying not to wake her mother. “Emma, where are you going?”
She hoped he wouldn’t try to stop her, for she would not let anyone keep her from Lucas. Not now. Not ever.
“Father, I have to go. I must make sure Lucas and Sarah are safe.” She hoped the pleading in her eyes would show him how serious she was. She pulled back and began buttoning up her coat.
He studied her for a moment, then frowned. “You must love him a lot if you’re willing to ride through snowdrifts dressed like that.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. Words tangled in her throat. Did she hear him right? “I do love him, Father. More than the world. I know . . . I know Randall and I are to be married. But I can’t marry him; I don’t love him. Please . . .” Tears threatened to fall, but she swallowed them back.
A smile rose on her father’s face. He took her hands. “You did well last night—helping with Lynette. I’m so proud of you.”
Her father’s eyes glistened. Was he about to cry? First Lynette yelling at Walter, and now this? Her family was certainly changing—but in so many ways for the better.
He continued. “And I will be forever grateful to Mr. Rawlings for all he’s done.” He looked around the small entryway. “For finding us shelter from the storm. For saving Lynette and the baby. For having the courage to tell me about Walter and being willing to risk his life to protect us . . .” He let out a long breath, his eyes showing love for the first time in ages. “He’s a good man, Emma. He’s watched out for you from the moment he met you. At first I questioned his intent. How could I have known . . . ?” His face was apologetic, soft. She was seeing a side to her father she had never witnessed before. “You must understand, Emma, it’s a father’s job to protect his daughter. To—”
“You don’t have to explain, Father. I understand.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his scratchy cheek. “I love you too.”
He swiped at his eyes, then straightened. “But how will you get there?”
“I’ll ride one of the horses. I’m sure Hilton must have a saddle or two in the barn.”
Her father’s face showed fear. Before he could protest, she said, “I’ll be careful. And if I even get a hint of something wrong at the ranch, I’ll ride straight to town and find the sheriff.”
Her father nodded, but Emma knew he didn’t like the idea of her leaving—not at all.
“Come back as soon as you can. I’m sure we’ll be staying here today, and perhaps the next. Lynette won’t be in any condition to travel for some time.”
Emma nodded. “I have to go.”
He smiled again, adoration in his eyes. “I know you do.”
She hurried out the front door, warmed by her father’s unexpected words. She wanted to laugh for joy that he had finally seen what a good man Lucas was. In her heart, she knew her father wanted her to be happy, and he would allow her to marry Lucas now. Then she frowned and her stomach knotted. The fear that Lucas might have been hurt or killed seeped back in. Oh please, Lord, let him be all right.
After finding the privy out back, she ran through the two-foot-high drifts of snow to the barn. With her feet she kicked and pushed the snow from the doors, then finally pulled them open. She felt ridiculous in her attire but at least she was warm. The barn was dark, and she waited a moment for her eyes to adjust.
Next to Mr. Turnbull’s two Cleveland Bay draft horses, stood Mr. Hilton’s two plow horses. Emma came over and petted them, assessing which might be the better horse to ride. Whatever saddles he had, they wouldn’t fit the Bays well, so she’d have to go with one of Hilton’s. She wasn’t sure just what kind of horses they were, but they were both a bit smaller than the Bays, and both geldings. One seemed a little younger, and he was the friendlier one, so she chose him. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind a stranger riding him—and one who’d never sat astride a horse before.
Emma grumbled as she found the tack and then led the horse out of the stall. She should have heeded Sarah’s—and Lucas’s—advice long ago and gotten a proper horse to ride. And learned to ride astride. It had taken her months to concede—due to her stubbornness and insistence on being “proper”—that if she was going to get around on the Front Range, she needed to ride the way people rode in the West. Well, today would be her trial by fire.
In minutes she had the horse saddled, bridled, and the stirrups adjusted. She stuck her foot in the stirrup and swung up and sat. She shook her head, amazed at herself. Lucas will laugh his head off when he sees me. She then remembered his words: “Miss Bradshaw, you could be dressed in sackcloth with ashes streaked across your face and I don’t think there’d be a more beautiful woman in all the earth.” Her chest fluttered, recalling how she felt hearing those words.
She kicked the horse and got him trotting out the barn, stepping lively in the snow to dawn streaking pink and orange on the horizon. The new day glowed bright, and the snow sparkled like diamonds as far as she could see. The beauty of the open prairie draped in such jewels astonished her. A soft cool wind tickled her ears, promising a mild day. Songbirds began trilling in the few bare trees, and the dry air smelled of pine and wood smoke coming from someone’s hearth. As beautiful as a Christmas postcard.
Emma hoped the calm new day boded well for what she’d find at Sarah’s ranch. To her relief, wagon tracks left deep ruts in the road, for as far as she could see. Fence posts peeked out from the drifts on either side. At least she would have no trouble staying on course.
She kicked hard and hugged the sides of the horse with her thighs, noting how much more secure she felt riding astride than sidesaddle. It may not be very ladylike, but it was practical. And she was learning that practical often was the better choice when it came to surviving in Colorado Territory.
With hope and dread fighting each other in her heart, she galloped down the road—holding on to the saddle horn, just in case.
Lucas downed his coffee faster than he’d have liked, but he wanted to get back to Emma, and check on Lynette and her baby. He’d intended to get up before dawn, but whatever Sarah had given him for the pain last night made him drowsy, and he’d had to drag his body out of bed as if it were a bag full of rocks. The moment he stood up, his shoulder reminded him he’d been shot clean through with a bullet, but the pain had dulled to a bearable throb. When he finally washed up and dressed, he’d found Sarah in the kitchen and breakfast already made. She informed him her boys were still asleep, and the kid they’d tied up was in the room with them—probably getting little shut-eye, seeing as he had to put up with LeRoy’s snoring, which was torture enough.
Lucas took his cup and empty breakfast plate to the sink. “So, do you know who that kid is?” he asked, figuring Sarah had grilled their captive a bit last night, after Lucas had gone to bed.
“No. But he’s young. Maybe sixteen. Still time for him to correct his path. Maybe after last night, he’ll think twice about wanting to be an outlaw.” She went into the sitting room and came back with a small leather pouch. “LeRoy will go fetch the sheriff. Probably when you get back here, he’ll want to question you.”
Lucas nodded, then thought about the four bodies that had been left out in the cold all night. “What will you do with the dead men?”
“Nothing. Best to let the sheriff see where they fell. Explain what happened.”
Lucas whistled. “This is going to make some news.”
“Plenty,” Sarah said. “Those men—some of them—had wives, family. They owned a lot of cattle, property. Influential men.”
Lucas worried how this would affect Sarah and her ranch. When word got out that “red savages” killed a prominent rancher . . . It couldn’t bode well. They might want to hang Eli for what he did. Well, Lucas could claim he’d killed Dunnigan too, but he knew that it was not only wrong to lie but that Eli wouldn’t stand for Lucas covering for him like that.
Sarah smirked. “The sheriff will see—the fire, the ambush. Self-defense. Besides, we have the boy. He’ll tell the truth.” She added, “He’s got a lump the size of an apple on the side of his head.”
Lucas winced. At least he hadn’t killed him. How in the world did someone so young get tangled up with a man like Dunnigan? He hoped he could be set straight. Probably came from a no-good home and felt the need to prove himself a man. Lucas had seen enough of those types in the war, with kids that age enlisting, thinking to prove themselves heroes. They just ended up dead for their stupidity.
“I’ll talk to the kid when I get back,” Lucas offered. Maybe he could find a way to knock some sense into the wanna-be outlaw. It was worth a try.
She gestured Lucas over to sit again at the table. “All the horses are out in the south pasture. Fed and watered. Glad to be out of the barn.”
“Sarah, I really need to get a move on,” he said. “Emma must be worried sick over me.”
“Sit. There’s no hurry. Let me look at your wound.” Her eyes held a secret, and he almost felt she was laughing at him. What was going on in her mind? Well, whatever it was, he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to hurry to Emma’s arms and waiting lips.
He sighed in resignation, knowing Sarah would pester him if he protested. He sat, then stripped off his shirt, moving his right arm with care, wincing at the effort. She examined the bandage and pulled one edge back. She grunted.
“It’s healing well. Try not to shoot any bad guys today.” A big smile came up on her face. “Or hug anyone too hard . . .”
At that moment Hoesta started barking loudly outside the house. Lucas could tell the dog was running down the road. Someone was coming.
Lucas tensed, the night’s shoot-out setting off warnings in his head. More of Dunnigan’s men? His hand went to his gun at his side. But Sarah kept smiling.
“Who?” he asked her. Who would be here this early, after that snowstorm? Most people would be busy shoveling snow off their walks, if they were even out of bed yet.
The barking grew loud again. Hoesta had followed someone to the house. He stood and waited alongside Sarah, who made no move to open the door. He narrowed his eyes at her, puzzled.
The door blew open, and some strange man in baggy clothes ran in. Sarah laughed.
“What . . . ?” It wasn’t a man. Emma?
It was Emma—dressed like a man. Lucas laughed, but not because of her clothing. He was stunned and delighted to see her here.
“Lucas!” she said, running into his arms. “Oh, you’re safe. Thank God!” She kissed his lips and ran her hands through his hair.
Lucas gritted his teeth as pain shot down his side. Sarah was right about hard hugs.
Emma pulled back and looked at him. He still had his shirt off, and her eyes went wide. “What happened?” She turned to Sarah. “Are you all right? Your sons?”
Sarah nodded, chuckling—no doubt at Lucas’s shocked expression.
Lucas said, “We’re all fine. This is just . . . a scratch.” He’d tell her later—everything. But for now he didn’t want her upset.
He drank in the woman he loved—her long ebony hair tangled over her shoulders, her shining eyes and gorgeous smile, her strange men’s clothing that hung on her slender frame. Not even those ugly clothes could hide her beauty. Then he realized if she was here alone, she must have come on horseback.
“You rode over here? On what?” He never imagined he’d ever see Emma like this. He thought back to the day he’d found her knocked off her horse. How concerned she was with her appearance, wearing all those fancy clothes and riding her hot-blooded Arab. How offended she was that he suggest she get a proper horse and learn to ride astride.
Emma laughed. “I’ll show you.” She took his hand and dragged him out the door. Sarah followed. “I apologize for my appearance, but my maid wasn’t there to help me dress, and there were no proper women’s clothes on hand.”
Lucas chuckled. Then, when he stepped outside, he saw the horse she’d ridden. “You’re kidding me,” he said. Sarah clucked her tongue. “Emma, you are full of surprises.”
She came to him and put her hand on his cheek, her eyes brimming over with love. “I couldn’t wait for you to come back to me. I had to know you were safe.”
Sarah laughed. “Come inside and I’ll fix you some breakfast. There’s coffee. And I have some things to give you before you go on your way.”
Emma looked at Lucas. “Just coffee, thank you. We should hurry back to Hilton’s. My father will be worried.”
Lucas nodded. “How is Lynette, and the baby?”
Emma sat down at the table, and Sarah handed her a hot cup of coffee. “Oh, thank you. It was a cold ride.” She turned to Lucas. “I don’t know. They were asleep when I left. But I’m sure they are fine. The house was quiet.”
“You snuck out? Did you leave a note?” Lucas asked.
“Well, I’d tried to, but my father caught me.” She sipped and sighed. Lucas couldn’t take his eyes off her. He reached over and pushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face, and she took his hand and rested it against her cheek. “But, Lucas, he said kind words about you. He admits he was wrong, that you’re an honorable man. I told him I loved you and was going to marry you.” Her smile lit up her face. “He wants me to be happy. I don’t think he’ll object now.”
“But what about Randall?” Lucas asked. Emma had told him Randall was due back in a few days from Denver. He felt bad for him in a way, but Lucas knew Randall wasn’t right for her, and she’d never truly be happy with him. He hoped Randall would understand—and would want Emma to be happy.
“I plan to meet him at the train. I’ll tell him then.” She tried to look confident, but he could tell she was nervous at the prospect.
“Here,” Sarah said, laying some things out on the table. She opened a glass jar the size of her palm. “This is Prairie Puffball—to prevent chafing. For the baby. This pouch has milk medicine—to help her milk flow. And sweetgrass tea, for long life and health.” She took a pinch of the dried sweetgrass and set it on a plate on the hot stove. Soon the room filled with a sweet aroma, like hay and honey.
“Thank you,” Emma said. “I am sure Lynette will appreciate your gifts.”
“The Cheyenne have many traditions tied in with the birth of a baby. There are blessings to be said over a newborn. And some plant a tree, which becomes the baby’s life tree.”
Emma’s eyes suddenly widened. She became thoughtful a moment, and then said, “Would you be willing to do a blessing ceremony for the baby?” she asked Sarah.
Sarah questioned Emma with her eyes. “Here?”
“In Greeley. At my brother’s house.”
Lucas wondered what Emma was thinking, but he said nothing.
Sarah said, “If they would like me to come, I would be honored.”
Emma thanked Sarah and stood, then frowned. “Is it possible you might have a better saddle—one I won’t slide around on?”
Sarah chuckled and gestured her to follow her outside. “I have a better idea.”