Whispers on the Wind Page 3

  “That’s what I like about you ... everything is either black or white. There is no in-between.”

  “It’s worked well for me in the past.” Carter grunted as he jerked off his left boot “So I see no reason to change.”

  Rick folded his arms across his chest. “I hate to bring up the subject, but what are you going to do with her”—he nodded toward the bed—“when we get ready to leave?”

  Carter stared at the woman for a long moment. “If she’s awake, we’ll leave her in the good hands of the sheriff. If she isn’t”—he paused, rubbing his chin—“I’m taking her with me.”

  “You’re going to haul an unconscious woman all the way to Windy Bend?”

  “If need be.”

  “I don’t believe what I just heard.” Rick scowled. “I must be plumb loco. But I’m going to ask anyway ... why?”

  “Since I’m a betting man”—Carter paused from staring at the girl to look at Rick—“I’d wager she’s running from something or someone, and I just don’t feel obliged to leave her helpless. Think about it Doesn’t she appear to be about your sister’s age?” When Rick nodded, Carter asked, “Would you want somebody to leave your sister alone to fend for herself?”

  Carter didn’t wait for Rick to answer. Instead he said, “I just want to give her a fighting chance. What if someone is after her? We know she’s safe with us, but someone else could take advantage of her.”

  Rick knew that Carter was probably thinking of his own sister, not Rick’s. That was the one dark cloud that hung over Carter’s head and the one subject that Rick steered clear of. He didn’t even know the whole story, but he had a feeling Carter was seeing his sister lying asleep in that bed. “I guess you’re right, but what if she’s a criminal?”

  Carter’s gaze was steady as he said, Then I’ll arrest her, and she can stand trial like all the other crooks.”

  “Now you’re talking like the Carter I know. What’s that nickname, ‘Coldhearted Monroe’?”

  “Remember,” Carter said, his jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed, “letting emotions into our business shortens one’s life considerably.”

  “I agree.” Rick nodded. “So on that note—Cold-hearted Monroe—I bid you good night.” Rick chuckled and pulled the door shut just as a brown boot bounced off the door. “I’m not sure I envy the woman when she does wake up,” Rick said to himself as he walked down the hall. “It might be the worst luck the woman has ever had because Carter never shows mercy.”

  On the other side of the door Carter was swearing up a blue streak. He wasn’t as coldhearted as Rick seemed to think. It’s just that Carter had never met anyone who interested him. But he wasn’t going to correct his friend, because in Carter’s line of business a bad reputation was a good thing.

  He smiled as he finally tore his gaze from the closed door back to the bed. The nice warm bed... the inviting bed.

  He had intended to sleep in the chair, but as he shoved his boots under the chair, his head felt too much like a large rock perched upon his shoulders, and he knew if he was going to fight that snow tomorrow he had to get some rest And that bed looked very inviting.

  He stacked plenty of wood on the fire so they’d be warm, and then he climbed onto the bed, staying on top of the covers. He also said a small prayer that the female wouldn’t wake during the night— he needed a good night’s sleep.

  His head had barely hit the pillow before he was sound asleep.

  The next morning came much too soon, Carter thought as he stretched and yawned himself awake. He felt much better them he had the night before— until he turned to see that his female companion hadn’t moved at all. She was in exactly the same position she’d been in when he went to sleep, and that concerned him. Leaning up on his elbow, he reached over and felt for a pulse. Thank God there was one. He realized he’d been holding his breath and let it go. He also admitted that he would have cared if the girl died and that thought bothered him. He didn’t know anything about the woman, so why should he care?

  He shouldn’t, he reminded himself. There was no room in his life for emotions.

  Carter slid out of bed with his disturbing thoughts and walked across the cold floor to the hearth, still warm with glowing embers. He loaded the fire down with plenty of wood. One thing he was going to do now that it was morning was to hire some women to give the girl a bath and wash her dirty hair. For that, they needed warmth.

  After he dressed, he went downstairs and asked for some women to see to the girl. Maybe the water would jolt her back to life, but if nothing else happened at least she’d be clean.

  Carter had breakfast with Rick and reported there was no change to the mystery woman. They decided while they waited for the girl that they would mosey over to the local sheriff's office.

  The snow had stopped about an hour before, so maybe they could make some time this morning since they would not have to fight the wind and snow. With any luck, they would be home by nightfall.

  As they entered the sheriff's office, a young deputy, who seemed very excited by the tone of his voice, was describing to the sheriff what he’d seen.

  “It was the damnedest thing I ever saw.” The boy shook his head. “Blood everywhere. The guy was carved up pretty bad. They’re looking for somebody named Mark, Big Jim’s partner, but he ain’t nowhere to be found, so he’s either dead or maybe he did the killing. If n he did, he had a lot to gain since they’d just struck a rich vein of gold.”

  “Sounds like you got trouble, Sheriff Moody,” Carter said.

  Moody smiled. “Good to see you, Carter, Rick.” Moody nodded. “Just heard there was a murder up on the mountain. Surprised there aren’t more. Greed has a funny way of turning men into animals. Marshal Forester is the law in Gregory Gulch and he has his hands full.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Carter said. “I’ve seen my share of scum.”

  “In your position, I’m sure you have.” Sheriff Moody nodded. “There are times when I think the bad guys outnumber the good ones.”

  Carter sat in a chair beside the potbelly stove. “And there are some who are a little nastier than the rest.”

  “So where are you headed?”

  “Back to Windy Bend.”

  When Carter didn’t say more, Rick finished for him. “Hank O’Toole was shot, and on top of that he got influenza. So we’re going down to help out since it’s Carter’s hometown.”

  Traveling will be tough,” Moody said as he leaned back in his chair. “We had one hell of a storm last night.”

  “We’ll make it,” Carter assured him. He pushed himself up out of his chair. “If you or Forester need any help with the investigation, send a wire to Windy Bend, and I’ll swing back this way.”

  Moody nodded. “I’ll do that. Have a safe trip.”

  First, Carter had to check out the lead on his sister’s killers. He’d gotten two of them, and he had two more to go. Revenge had now become his middle name. He’d get them—he’d get them all.

  When they returned to the hotel room, Rick went to get his gear and Carter went to check on the girl. If she was awake, he’d question her and leave her. He reached for the door just as it sprang open.

  Two women shrieked and jumped back upon seeing him.

  “Lord, you got me shakin’ like a frog,” the taller woman said.

  Carter ignored her. “Has the girl regained consciousness?”

  “No, sir. With a knot like that one, I ain’t too sure she’s going to make it, but we cleaned her up reed nice. She’s a right pretty little thing even if she is a mite thin.”

  “Obliged,” Carter said as he handed them a few coins for their work.

  Once in the room, he gathered his saddlebags and put them in the hall for Rick to pick up, and then he strolled over to the bed.

  He couldn’t believe the change in the girl’s appearance. The women had done a good job of cleaning her up. Reaching down, he picked up a lock of golden hair. It was soft and wavy and the color of a whea
t field. Her features were flawless except for the large knot on her head.

  His hand drifted to her cheek, so soft and delicate, and much too inviting. Her lashes were long and black, and her cheeks had a soft rose color. Carter snatched his hand away as if he’d been burnt And he wasn’t too sure he hadn’t been. What was wrong with him? She was just a woman, he reminded himself. One he knew nothing about.

  He sighed. They had to get moving this morning.

  He fetched her threadbare wool coat, which had dried overnight, and returned to the bed. He was going to have to get this coat on her one way or the other.

  Pulling the girl up to a sitting position, Carter managed to get one of her arms into the sleeve. She smelled of flowers as he bent closer to her hair.

  He grunted. He didn’t need to get this close to her anymore. His response had been quick and lustful. Hell, he didn’t even know who the woman was. It was just his damned horny body responding and that was one thing he could control.

  Once he’d gotten both her arms in the sleeves, he let her recline so he could button the front of her coat. A slow smile spread across his lips.

  Since when had he dressed a woman? Usually he was helping women unbutton their clothes, so they could slip them off, not putting their clothes on. But he was going to fasten her coat all the way up to her chin.

  Safe. That’s what he liked. Safe.

  Carter straightened, having finished his task. The girl looked innocent as she slept, so he could imagine all kinds of things about her. It was when she woke up that he’d find out if she was as gentle as she appeared.

  Was she an angel or the devil in disguise?

  It was midmorning when they finally headed out for Windy Bend. Rick hadn’t said a word when

  Carter walked out carrying the girl. It was just as well, because he didn’t want to hear it anyway.

  At least today was a far cry better than yesterday. The sky was clear blue with a bright sun overhead. The sun made the snow sparkle like stars, and was a little blinding as they rode, but thank God the blizzard had blown over.

  If they rode hard all day, they would make it home shortly after nightfall. Carter looked forward to sleeping in his old bed and getting some of his mother’s home cooking, but it would be a while. First, they would have to traverse the mounds of snow that lay in front of them. At least Blue, his black stallion, was sure-footed and dependable in the white fluff. Blue would get them home.

  Carter repositioned the woman in his arms. Now that it was quiet, he’d had time to think and question the logic of dragging an unconscious woman with them.

  Stupid was the first answer he came up with.

  And then he figured there must be another reason. He didn’t normally make spontaneous decisions, and he wondered why he’d picked today to start acting irrationally. Maybe it was because of this damnable weather, and the girl had appeared so cold and helpless.

  Perhaps once she’d recovered, he could make arrangements for someone else to escort her home—wherever that was. And then he could go back to what he always did, keeping the law. And looking for his sister’s killers. Always. It was the one thing that drove him. The Carlson gang had slipped his grasp several times, but one day he’d be ahead of them and they would be his. And they would pay for what they’d done to his sister.

  Yep, they’d pay.

  Slowly, Mary opened her eyes.

  And for the second time, she had no idea where she was, but this time, she felt movement.

  Moving?

  It was dark. She couldn’t see anything. And there was intense heat on her right side. She tried to move, but found she couldn’t

  Dark. Hot. My God, she was in hell!

  She had gone to hell without having a chance to clear her name. Life wasn’t fair.

  Panic set in, and Mary’s heart began to race as she struggled. Suddenly, the darkness was shattered by a blinding light, causing her to blink several times before she could focus. And then she saw the face—the face of the devil.

  “Get still!” the devil shouted.

  “Go to hell,” Mary yelled back, and then she remembered she was already in hell. She screamed and fought all at the same time. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Somewhere a horse whinnied, followed by the devil swearing while he tried to pin her arms down.

  She struggled harder.

  The next thing Mary knew, she was flying helplessly through the air until she landed in a mound of cold snow which, thank God, cushioned her fall.

  As soon as Mary was able to catch her breath, she fought through the cobwebs of her confusion, then blinked with bafflement Snow?

  Still a little foggy, she thought. Hell didn’t have snow.

  Quickly, she looked around her. Even that small movement sent sharp pains screaming though her head.

  A voice came from behind her. “Of all the confounded stupid things.”

  This time she slowly turned, and he continued, “I should have left you where I found you,” he snapped, and glared at her with eyes as black as coal.

  Someone was laughing.

  That’s when Mary noticed a second man sitting on his horse, Stetson pushed back on his head, as he leaned on his pommel and stared down at both of them. Laughing, he looked much more friendly than the man beside her. “I must admit, Carter, I’ve never seen you dismount quite like that before.”

  “Go to hell, McCallum.”

  “I thought we were in hell,” Mary said.

  Carter’s lip curled. “Not yet, darling.”

  She warily watched the devil, or whoever he was, as he rose and brushed off his breeches and coat. He reminded her of a bear with his huge heavy fur coat. He looked like someone who could gobble her up. But instead of shivering, she straightened her spine.

  Mary Costner wasn’t afraid of any man.

  Of course, she’d never met a man like this one before. He was very tall, broad-shouldered, and no one she recognized, because she’d remember a face like his. It was hard, rugged, and very handsome. “Who are you?”

  He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he extended his hand toward her. She hesitated, trying to comprehend what was going on. Did she really trust him?

  “Grab my hand before your coat and clothes get soaked.”

  She watched him warily. “Who are you?”

  His expression was one of pained tolerance. “I’m the poor soul who pulled you out of the snow bank where I found you. The wisdom of which, I’m now questioning. Now, grab my hand.”

  Finally, she took his hand. He jerked her to her feet, but her head hurt so bad that she stumbled and fell against him. He was like a rock, she thought as she grabbed her head and groaned. Why did her head hurt so bad?

  “I hope you’re not always this stubborn,” he grumbled. “I could have taken advantage of you a long time ago if you had appealed to me.”

  Mary couldn’t believe the arrogant jackass. “Like your friend told you, go to hell, mister.”

  Carter shook his head. “Such language.”

  “I do wish you’d quit shouting. My head is killing me,” Mary grumbled as she tried to straighten and stand on her own.

  “I guess it does,” he told her. He took her hand and placed it on her forehead.

  “Oh my,” Mary gasped. “How—?” She stopped as she remembered being thrown from her horse. It had been her fault for not paying attention.

  The big man found his Stetson and slapped it against his leg to dislodge the dusting of snow before mounting his horse. “I’d like to stand here and fill you in on the little bit we do know about you, but it can wait We need to get moving,” he told her, then reached down for her hand.

  “Where’s my horse?” Mary asked, but at the same time took his hand and swung up behind him.

  The other cowboy rode up beside them and answered her. “Good question. Did you have a horse or did somebody dump you out there?”

  Mary wrapped her arms around the man in front of her. His fur coat felt soft and w
arm against her cheek. She was getting ready to answer the other cowboy when the sun caught something shiny on his chest.

  Good heavens. He was a lawman. And she’d bet a dollar that the man she had her arms wrapped around was a lawman, too.

  Did bad luck have to follow her everywhere? Couldn’t she get a break just once?

  She needed time to solve the murder. “Ah,” she stammered.

  “That’s okay,” the cowboy assured her. “The doc said you might not remember anything when you came to, but it will come back to you. Just give it time.”

  All right, she could go with that They evidently didn’t know who she was, and she wasn’t about to provide the information. Just as soon as they found out that she’d woken up with a bloody knife in her hand, no memory of what had happened, and a deed that stated if anything happened to one partner then the other inherited—they’d throw her in jail. Hell, she even thought she looked guilty. “I’m just a bit fuzzy. Do I know you? What are your names?”

  “No, ma’am. I’d remember somebody like you.” He smiled before he continued. “I’m Deputy Rick McCallum and the man who looks like a bear is Marshall Carter Monroe. We’re U.S. Marshals, so you’re in safe hands.”

  Damn! Damn! Double damn! Of all the rotten luck! U.S. Marshals? Well, she might as well ask. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Is there any reason you should be?” Carter asked.

  Mary almost blurted out, There is a murder that I’m trying to sort out, but she caught herself. “I—I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t sound too sure. We’ll talk later,” Carter said in a deep voice that she found she liked, even if he did seem to be very disagreeable. “Do you remember your name?”

  “Mary,” she said, but quickly added, “I don’t remember my last name.”

  “Well, Mary, you just hang on, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be in Windy Bend by nightfall.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”