10 

Though she had taken great offense at the mixed messages Jesse had sent with his kiss, Shiloh couldn’t long hold a grudge. Well, she quickly amended, at least not with anyone other than her sister. Besides the fact they still had a three- or four-day’s journey ahead of them, there was the reality he had saved her life at great risk to his own.

For those reasons, and no others, she kept trying to convince herself she owed him civil if not compassionate behavior. Well, perhaps just one other reason, she thought two days later as she knocked on his bedroom door, a breakfast tray in her hand. Her Christian conduct toward him had been sorely lacking of late. She must amend that for the love of her Lord, if not so much for any charitable feelings for Jesse.

“Come in,” a deep voice responded from the other side of the door.

Shiloh inhaled a fortifying breath, lifted a quick prayer for strength, and pressed down on the door handle. As she entered, Jesse, seated in a chair near the window, looked up from a book he was reading.

He was dressed once more in his leggings and breechcloth, moccasins on his feet. Instead of his buckskin shirt, however, he wore a softly faded, red flannel shirt that she ventured to guess was one of Doc Michaels’s. The color only served to enhance his darkly handsome good looks, and for an instant, Shiloh forgot her resolve not to allow her emotions regarding Jesse Blackwater to get the best of her again.

“Mrs. Michaels was busy,” she said, forcing a smile, “so I offered to help her by bringing you your breakfast.”

His glance lowered back to the page he was reading. “That’s very kind of you. Especially since you must loathe being in my presence these days.”

So, he wasn’t going to pretend to a tenuous truce. But then, she supposed she deserved that, and the responsibility to be the first to extend a peace offering would have to fall to her. She was, after all, the one who claimed to be the Christian.

“You’d be wrong if you thought that,” Shiloh said as she walked across the room and set his tray on the bedside table. “I might get angry at you and think you’re a low-down, no-account varmint at times, but I don’t—and haven’t ever—loathed you.”

“Really?” Jesse lifted his gaze from his book and impaled her with a disbelieving look. “Then, Miss Wainwright, you’re either a very sweet liar, or you’re denying what you truly feel. Because I have been a low-down, no-account varmint. And, for that, I beg your forgiveness.”

She stared back at him, struck speechless by his unexpected apology. She had taken two days to work through her anger at him and had come to the acceptance that she must be the one to turn the other cheek. Well, figuratively anyway, because she didn’t plan to get close enough to him to offer her cheek or anything else.

“Generally,” Jesse offered dryly, “when someone apologizes, the other person is supposed to be gracious enough to accept it. Even if they don’t really mean it.”

Shiloh jerked her attention back to him. Irritation flared. Why did it seem that Jesse was always one step ahead of her?

“It’s not that. That I don’t want to accept your apology,” she quickly amended. “It’s just that I came to ask your forgiveness, even if you refused to claim any responsibility for . . . for what happened the other day.”

“And I beat you to it, is that it?”

“Well, yes . . . so to speak, anyway.”

His mouth quirked. “I’ll bet that makes you mad.”

“What?” She blinked, trying to break through the fog of confusion swirling about her. “What do you mean? Why would I be mad that you apologized?”

He shrugged. “Because I come out the better person, yet again?”

Her gaze narrowed. Jesse was toying with her, but for what reason? Why did he sometimes seem so warm toward her, while other times . . .

A sudden realization struck her. His actions were so contradictory because his feelings for her confused him as much as her feelings for him confused her. And he did have feelings for her. As much as he might have wished it hadn’t happened, he’d revealed what he really felt in that kiss. A kiss he had turned from a friendly peck on the cheek into one far more ardent.

Though Shiloh didn’t know from where the certainty came, her instinct on this was sound and sure. And with it came a confidence she’d never before experienced.

“And you are the better person,” she said with a smile that only widened more at his look of utter surprise, “for your courage in daring to step forward and apologize. Especially considering how terribly rude and angry I was the other day. But I promise to do better in the future.”

“So, you’re accepting my apology?” Jesse looked like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“But of course,” Shiloh replied with a firm nod. “And I humbly ask your forgiveness in turn.”

He rubbed his chin. “Apology accepted,” he mumbled finally, sounding less than sincere. Or maybe, she thought on second consideration, sounding even more confused and disgruntled. Like somehow his plan to keep her off balance and at arm’s length had been thwarted.

“Well, good.” She gestured to the breakfast tray. “Better eat this while it’s hot. Mrs. Michaels made flapjacks with maple syrup, bacon, and a nice strong cup of coffee. I already ate, and it’s as delicious as always.”

Jesse laid aside his book and rose. Shiloh watched him make his way over to sit on the side of the bed and begin uncovering the plate of food. He still moved stiffly, but he appeared remarkably stronger than two days ago when she’d last brought him a meal. And knowing Jesse, just as soon as he could mount a horse, they’d be resuming their trip.

But that wouldn’t happen for at least a few more days. Time enough to get the lay of the land when it came to him and his feelings for her. Because of this much she was certain: the terrain of their relationship had changed with just a simple kiss.

They left Carbonville early one morning just before dawn, a little over a week after they’d first arrived. After saying their good-byes and reiterating their deepest thanks to Doc Michaels and his wife yet one more time, Shiloh and Jesse headed down to the livery to fetch their horses. Several days before, Shiloh had disassembled the travois, leaving the poles to be cut into firewood and retrieving the blankets to add to the rest of the ones they’d need for the trip ahead. It took only a short time to bridle and saddle their horses, then mount and ride from town.

They soon reached the Roaring Fork River valley and began their trek down it. Eventually, though, they had to divert off to some smaller creeks that crept through side valleys more tightly surrounded by mountains, some of which soared high into the heavens. Snow still capped the tallest peaks, piercing the sky with majestic grandeur.

Jesse tried to ride until near sunset each day, and though he didn’t meet that goal the first day, each day of travel increased the amount of distance they covered. He wasn’t up to any hunting or spearfishing, however, and they had to suffice with the food they’d brought with them, supplemented by freshly made bannocks and hot tea each evening.

Shiloh didn’t talk much, save to garner information or discuss what he’d like at mealtimes. For that, Jesse was grateful. He didn’t quite know how to approach her these days, leastwise not since that morning she’d decided to heal the breach caused by his ill-advised kiss by graciously accepting his apology.

Ever since then, there had been something different about her. She appeared calmer, more confident, and nothing he could say seemed to rile her. It was almost . . . almost as if she possessed some secret knowledge. Some knowledge that had leveled the playing field between them.

He was no longer an adult male dealing with a young, inexperienced girl. Almost overnight, it seemed, Shiloh had turned into a woman. And that both worried and enthralled him.

Best that he safely deposit her at the front steps of Castle Mountain’s main ranch house, then turn and hightail it out of there, Jesse decided the day they hit the top of the last hill separating them from view of the ranch. He caught himself in midthought.

Hightail it out of there . . .

Exactly how many times, since Shiloh had come back into his life, had he told himself he needed to run as fast and as far away from her as he could get? However many times it had been, it was too many. When he had finally decided to put down roots with the People, he had vowed never to run from anything again, be it man, battle, or any hardship that could befall him. Yet now a pretty young redhead threatened to send him scurrying away with his tail tucked between his legs.

Or rather, Jesse quickly amended, not Shiloh actually but his chaotic mess of feelings for her. It was one thing to fight some enemy that originated from outside yourself. But how did you fight your own heart?

Shiloh abruptly reined in her horse. Bemused, Jesse did the same.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, glancing at her curiously.

Her lips tight, her shoulders rigid, she stared straight ahead and shook her head. “No. I just . . .” She inhaled a ragged breath. “Yes, there is something wrong.”

Turning in her saddle to face him, Shiloh met his concerned gaze. “I’m afraid, Jesse,” she softly said. “I’m afraid that we didn’t get here in time, and Jordan’s already . . .”

Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed hard. “I’m afraid she’s already—”

“Already dead?” Jesse cut in, saying the words she couldn’t find the heart to say.

She nodded. “I-I don’t know if I could bear it. We’ve . . . never gotten on since . . . since that day.”

What Shiloh had left unspoken, Jesse well knew, was the fact that she hadn’t made her peace with Jordan. And, if Jordan was now dead, Shiloh would never be able to do so. Living with such guilt could suck the life out of you, even before you were dead.

But what could he possibly say to comfort her, to make things right? Jesse hated seeing Shiloh so miserable, so fearful. If it was within his power, he’d gladly protect her from that pain. Still, though he wondered if Jordan was truly worthy of Shiloh’s love, she was her sister. And most familial bonds were forged strong and hard.

“We got here as quickly as we could,” he said, thinking even as he spoke how lame his words sounded. “You did your best, Shiloh. You can’t do better than that. And if Jordan didn’t make it, she didn’t die alone or unloved. Her family was with her. I’m sure if there was any way for her to hear it, they told her you were on your way.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She sighed, then wiped away her tears. “Guess I need to go face it, whatever it is. Nothing’s helped by sitting here.”

He managed an encouraging smile. “That’s the spirit. Let’s go get it over with.”

A tender light flared in her eyes. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you? At least for a few days? I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave.”

How could he refuse her, Jesse thought, in her time of need? How could any man deny such a request, couched as it was and falling from such sweet lips? He stifled a silent groan. Yet again, circumstances were drawing him ever closer to her.

“Yes, I’ll stay for a few days,” he said. “Though I think you’d get a lot more comfort from your kin than you ever would from me.”

Gratitude glowed in her big, tear-bright eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short, Jesse Blackwater. You’ve always been a very special friend of mine, and you always will be.”

A very special friend indeed, he thought wryly, recalling their brief but heated kiss that day in Carbonville. A very special friend who, in spite of everything screaming at him not to do it, wanted to be so very much more.

They must have seen them riding down the road to the main house. By the time Shiloh and Jesse pulled up before it, her stepbrother Cord was just wheeling their older brother Nicholas out onto the front porch. Sarah, Cord’s young wife in her fifth month of pregnancy, stood nearby with her little brother Danny. In her arms she held Jordan’s daughter, now a chubby, nearly eight-month-old.

As she and Jesse dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching post, Cord hurried down the steps and walked over to them. Shiloh exchanged a searching look with her brother, then stepped into his welcoming arms.

“I came as fast as I could,” she mumbled from the depth of his embrace. “Is . . . is Jordan okay?”

Cord released her but still kept his hands on her arms. “Jordan’s still alive,” he said solemnly, “but we don’t know how okay she is. She was unconscious for almost two days and even now can just barely take in enough water and broth to sustain her. And she’s yet to speak a single word.”

“Unconscious? Can’t speak? But how? How did that happen?”

Shiloh’s gut clenched. Her relief at hearing that her sister still lived was almost immediately extinguished by the news that she’d been so debilitated for so long.

Her older brother’s expression darkened. “Robert beat her so hard that it fractured Jordan’s skull. If Doc Saunders hadn’t been a Union surgeon during the war and had experience with removing skull fragments, Jordan wouldn’t even be alive today.”

“Robert . . . Robert beat her?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. True, Jordan’s husband was a possessive man, but her sister had never mentioned him ever hurting her. It was almost too much to comprehend.

“Seems he’d been treating her rougher and rougher over the course of their marriage,” her brother said. “She kept it hidden for a long while. Guess Jordan was too proud to admit she’d made a mistake in marrying him. And, once Cecilia was born, he soon resented the time she had to spend with the baby. When it got to the point Robert was threatening Ceci, Jordan had had enough. She took the baby and came home.”

Confusion filled Shiloh. “Then how did Robert get a chance to hurt her so badly?”

Cord sighed. “After a few days he came riding in all contrite, begging her to come back, swearing he was a changed man and would never lift a hand to her or the baby again. We tried to talk some sense into Jordan, telling her a leopard didn’t change its spots so quickly, but she wouldn’t listen. She said it was her duty to give him a chance, to help him mend his ways. And I think she still loved him, in spite of it all. At least enough to try and reconcile with him.”

“I didn’t know,” she murmured, feeling so heartsick and shamed that she and Jordan hadn’t been able to talk about such private things. “If I had, I would’ve tried . . .” She dragged in a shuddering breath. “Well, it’s too late to prevent what happened. All we can do now is take the best care of her we can, and pray she recovers.”

“Yes, that’s all we can do.” Cord gave her another quick hug, then pulled back. “I’m just so glad you could get here.” He paused, his glance sliding to where Jesse stood a few feet away.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked bluntly.

Shiloh turned toward Jesse, embarrassed that she’d all but forgotten about him. “Cord, this is my good friend Jesse Blackwater,” she said, glancing back to her brother. “He used to work for us. He now lives on the White River Ute reservation, and I made his acquaintance again when I started my job at the Indian Agency there. When I got word about Jordan, Jesse offered to escort me home through the mountains.”

She then turned to Jesse. “This is my brother Cord. He was already gone from home to attend college when you were hired here.”

Jesse hesitated, then moved forward to extend his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wainwright.”

Cord took Jesse’s outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. “Likewise. I’m beholden to you for taking such good care of my little sister.” He shot her a teasing glance. “She didn’t talk you to death, did she, or try to order you around?”

“Not too much. After a while, I think she ran out of things to say.”

Her brother gave an incredulous laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter much anyway,” Shiloh said, feeling a bit miffed to be an amusing topic of conversation between the two men. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to say hello to Nick and Sarah, then head inside and see Jordan. A cool drink would be nice too, after such a long ride.”

“Suit yourself.” Cord stepped aside and, with a mock bow and flourish of his hand, indicated for her to proceed ahead of him.

She turned to Jesse. “You come too. I’m sure you can use something to ease your thirst, not to mention someplace to sit down and rest a bit.”

“I’ll be along in a while,” he said. “First, I’d like to put up our horses and get them settled down with some fresh hay and water.”

“Okay.” She paused. “You won’t leave, will you? You said you’d stay a few days.”

“Yes, if it’s all right with your brothers, I’ll stay a few days.”

“Cord?” Shiloh glanced his way.

Her brother nodded. “Of course you can stay. Any friend of Shiloh’s is a friend of ours. Might have to put you up in one of the bunkhouses, though. Space is kind of tight in the ranch house, what with Jordan here, and now Shiloh.”

“The barn will suit me just fine. No need to put anyone out.”

“You won’t be putting anyone out. We’ve got a few empty beds in one of the bunkhouses. You can eat your meals with us, though, in the main house. We’d enjoy your company.”

“That’ll be wonderful,” Shiloh said, not giving Jesse a chance to back out of eating with them. “But be sure and return to this house after you’re done with the horses. I want to introduce you to Cord’s wife, Sarah.”

Jesse’s expression was less than thrilled, but he nodded his assent. “I’ll do that. Now, why don’t you go see your sister? She is the reason we made such a long trip, after all.”

She smiled in gratitude and deep affection. “Yes, she is. She is indeed.”

As still as death, Jordan lay in the bed in the bedroom she’d had as a girl. She was thinner than Shiloh had ever seen her, her head was swathed in bandages, and Shiloh couldn’t discern any evidence of her sister’s beautiful, long blonde hair. At the consideration that, due to Jordan’s injury, it might have had to all be cut off, Shiloh’s throat clogged with tears.

Ever so softly, she moved closer to the bed. It was then that she noted the yellowing bruises on her sister’s pallid face, the almost healed split lip, and the broken nose that had apparently been reset. Jordan, if she survived these brutal injuries, would always have a small bump there to mar her flawless profile.

One arm was also bandaged, and both hands bore evidence of old scrapes. Shiloh gently lifted the quilt covering her sister and found more yellowing bruises up and down her legs. She laid the quilt back down.

A fury she had never known before filled her. How could anyone, and especially one’s husband, do such things? She wished she’d thought to ask Cord what had happened to Robert after the beating was discovered. She couldn’t help herself. She hoped her brother—a professional boxer at one time—had given Jordan’s husband a taste of his own medicine.

Pulling up a chair close to the bed, Shiloh sat and took her sister’s hand. The long fingers were so cool and lifeless. She turned a bit so she could cradle Jordan’s hand between her own two hands. It wasn’t much, but Shiloh felt that if she could at least bring some warmth to her sister, it was something. Some contact, some act of life-sustaining comfort, some proof of her love.

At the action, Jordan stirred and her eyes opened to stare, unfocused, straight ahead. Shiloh’s heart gave a great leap, then commenced a rapid rhythm beneath her breast.

“It’s Shiloh,” she whispered, struggling to keep the tremor from her voice. “I came as quick as I could, once I heard that you were ill. And here I’ll stay until you’re better.”

Swallowing hard, Shiloh fiercely blinked back her tears. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not. But just in case you can, I want to tell you how sorry I am for the way I’ve always been with you. No matter what comes between us, you’re still my sister and I love you. Please forgive me. Please . . .”

She rose, lifted the quilt, and laid her sister’s hand beneath it to keep it warm. Then Shiloh leaned over and kissed Jordan on the cheek. “Get well, big sister,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I so miss our little squabbles.”

As she straightened and glanced down at Jordan’s pale, expressionless face, Shiloh’s breath caught in her throat. A single tear rolled from Jordan’s eye and trailed down her cheek.