To Find You Again (34 page)

Ridge shook his head at her obvious invitation. "No thanks, ma'am."

Josey's practiced smile was replaced by the girl beneath the face powder. She patted his arm. "You enjoy your steak, Ridge. I made Floyd give you the biggest one he had."

"Thank him for me, Miss Josey."

"I will. You need anything else, just holler."

Ridge cut into his steak.

"You know, you oughta take her up on her offer sometime. Might make you less ornery." Ridge smiled as Colt joined him.

"Maybe you oughta take your own advice," Ridge bantered.

The two men shook hands over the table.

"You just get back?" Colt asked, slumping in his chair.

"This afternoon."

"Pushed pretty hard."

"The bull's in good shape." Ridge forced himself to chew a piece of steak. "What's this I hear about Emma Hartwell?"

Colt propped his elbows on the chair arms and clasped his hands. "What'd you hear?"

"That she and her son were in town today."

"You heard right. Her sister was with her." Colt described the short, but disastrous visit.

"I s'pected that'd happen, but it doesn't make it go down any easier." Ridge stared at his steak, his appetite gone. "I heard about Cullen, too."

"Hell, I'm lucky Nyes didn't throw me in the stockade when he let Cullen walk out."

Josey brought two beers to their table and took away the empty one in front of Ridge.

"You know an Indian named Hotah?" Colt asked.

"Yeah. How'd you hear about him?"

"He was bothering the Hartwell sisters and the boy on their way back from the reservation."

Ridge swore. "I told her not to go there."

"That old squaw you talked to died."

Ridge scrubbed his face with his palms. "Dammit. How did Emma take it?"

"'Bout how you'd expect. Good thing her sister was with her. She seems to be a levelheaded gal. Pretty, too." Colt finished his beer and called for another. "It'd be better all around if Emma and her son left town."

"Where the hell would they go?"

"Any place has to be better than here. No one wants anything to do with her."

"That's not true," Ridge said quietly.

Colt took a sip from his second beer that Josey brought. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

Ridge angled a scowl at his friend. "What if I am?"

"First off, old man Hartwell won't allow it. Second, if you manage to get past Hartwell, folks around here won't be forgiving. Third, that boy's going to be running into even bigger problems as he grows up."

"She started helping me figure out words and numbers."

"I thought—"

Ridge angled a look at him. "I just see things different than other people."

Colt shook his head, obviously catching the double meaning. "You always have." He sighed. "If you're hellbent on doing this, I'd be wasting my breath trying to talk you out of it."

Ridge grinned. "That's what I like about you, Colt. You never did like wasting time."

"Except when I'm in a saloon with a beer."

Ridge chuckled and found his appetite had made a rebound.

"I'm gonna take a walk out back," Colt said. He wended his way to the door that led to the outhouse.

Ridge continued eating the steak, washing it down with warm beer. He finished the entire slab and pushed his plate away with a quiet burp.

Just as he began to wonder what was taking Colt so long, Josey scurried over to him, her face pale and eyes wide.

"Captain Rivers is hurt," she whispered hoarsely.

Ridge grabbed his hat and followed the woman out the back door into the alley. A dark figure lay on the ground and Ridge could smell the coppery scent of blood. He dropped to his knees beside Colt as Josey hovered anxiously.

"Go get the doc, Josey. Hurry!" Ridge hissed.

The girl dashed away.

Dark liquid pooled on the ground beside Colt and Ridge frantically searched for the wound. He found a stab wound above the heart, which continued to beat slowly.

Someone had tried to kill him, and might very well have succeeded.

Wings fluttered almost soundlessly in the darkness. Only the sigh of air across feathers gave away the owl's presence. It swooped onto a tree branch, its talons curling around wood with innate grace.

The female wolf peered upward, into the crown of the tree where the owl perched. "I've come."

"The lion is gone."

"The pup?"

"Gone."

"Where?"

"Must find."

The wolf growled. "How?"

"The search must be yours alone."

The wolf lifted its muzzle to the full moon and howled.

Emma lurched up, struggling to breathe past the crushing weight on her chest. She crossed her arms as she bent at the waist, her forehead touching her drawn-up knees.

It was happening again.

The same messenger animals, the same full moon, the same breath-robbing fear.

Her heart gradually slowed its frantic pace and the sweat began to cool, causing her to shiver. She leaned back against her pillows and tugged the blankets up to her chin.

The last time she'd dreamt of the wolf and the owl, the full moon came and went without a ripple of trouble. The trouble had come three nights later when the soldiers found the village.

She mentally calculated the number of days before the next full moon. Would her dreams become increasingly vivid over the next week? Or was this only a remaining fragment of the former vision, meaning nothing?

A horse galloped into the yard, startling Emma. She jumped out of bed and pressed aside her curtain. Blinking against the morning sunlight, she focused on the horse and rider. She recognized the black-and-white horse immediately.

Ridge.

Why was he here? And why at such an early hour?

She donned her dressing gown and tied the sash snugly around her waist. She heard the pounding on the door as she flew down the stairs. Her father, who'd been eating breakfast, made it to the door seconds before Emma and swung it open. His scowl deepened.

"What do you want?" her father demanded.

"Captain Rivers has been hurt," Ridge replied coolly. "I need to talk to your two daughters."

"Why? They don't even know him."

"Yes, we do," Emma said as Sarah, also dressed in her robe, joined them. "What happened, Ridge?"

"Girls, return to your rooms and put on decent clothing," their father ordered.

Martha Hartwell glided in from the dining room wearing her morning wrapper. "Don't be silly, John. Mr. Madoc wouldn't have come calling so early if it weren't important. Come in, Mr. Madoc."

Despite the situation, Emma had to restrain a smile at her mother's graceful maneuvering.

Ridge stepped across the threshold and removed his hat. Sooty smudges lay beneath his eyes and whiskers shadowed his lower cheeks and jaw. Rust-colored stains on his buckskin jacket and tan trousers appeared to be bloodstains.

Concerned, Emma grasped his hand, which was shockingly cool. "What happened?"

"Colt was stabbed in the alley behind the saloon. I think someone was waiting for him," Ridge explained grimly. His shoulders slumped. "I was talking to him right before it happened. He told me he'd spent time with you and your sister and Chayton yesterday."

Her father's lips thinned as he brought his glare of disapproval to bear on Emma. "What was he doing here while we were away?"

Emma didn't hesitate to correct him. "He didn't come to the ranch. I took Chayton and Sarah to the reservation, then we stopped in town. Captain Rivers escorted us from the reservation to Sunset and then home." She was more worried about Ridge and his friend than her father's pique.

"He said Hotah was bothering you," Ridge pressed.

Emma tightened her grip on his hand as anxiety washed through her. "Hotah showed up out of nowhere. He wanted Chayton. He wants to train Chayton to be a warrior in Crazy Horse's camp."

Her father was staring at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye.

"When we were at the village, I heard talk among some of the young bucks that they were going to join up with Crazy Horse," Ridge said. "Hotah might've had a hand in stirring them up. It would explain why there was already bad blood between him and the chief."

"Yet it was Akecheta's village that was attacked by Cullen and the soldiers." Emma felt sick to her stomach.

"One Indian's the same as another to most white folks," Ridge said quietly. "Did Colt have words with Hotah?"

Emma focused on the dilemma at hand. "No. Hotah rode away when he saw Captain Rivers riding toward us."

"How is he, Mr. Madoc?" Sarah asked, her doll-like face marred with worry.

"Doc says he was lucky. He was stabbed in the back. An inch lower and it would've gotten his heart," Ridge answered, his jaw taut.

"Have you been with him all night?" Emma asked.

Ridge gazed down at her and Emma floundered in the eyes she'd seen filled with impatience, exasperation, shame, humor, affection, and desire. And she realized she knew this man better than she'd known her own husband.

"Yeah. It was close," he finally replied with a raspy voice.

"You're going to keel over if you don't rest and have something to eat," Emma scolded gently.

"Emma," her father growled in warning.

"Emma's right. Join us in the dining room," her mother insisted, overruling her husband without a flicker of hesitancy.

John Hartwell balked, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Father, are you coming?" Sarah asked innocently as she wrapped her arm around his.

Their father glared at Ridge, and Emma stepped between them defiantly. Her father deflated before her, and allowed Sarah to lead him into the dining room. Emma and Ridge followed.

"When did you get home?" she asked Ridge.

"Yesterday afternoon. You and Chayton should come by and see the bull," Ridge said, attempting a smile, but too tired to complete it.

"We'll do that. Will Captain Rivers be all right?"

"Doc thinks he will. He lost a lot of blood." Ridge took a shaky breath.

Emma considered Ridge's suspicions about the Lakota warrior. "As much as I'd like to blame Hotah, it doesn't sound like something he'd do—stabbing a man in an alley. Hotah might use a knife on him, but not in the back. He has his own sense of honor and I don't think he'd kill a man without facing him. Besides, he wouldn't come into Sunset. He would've ambushed Captain Rivers between the post and town."

"Yeah, I thought about that, too," Ridge admitted reluctantly. "Did you see Cullen yesterday?"

Emma shook her head, recalling too well her hatred of the scout, which far surpassed her dislike of Hotah. "That doesn't mean
he
didn't do it. Stabbing someone in the back sounds more like his style," she said bitterly.

"I think I'll have a talk with him."

"Be careful, Ridge. Cullen reminds me of a mad dog."

She guided him to a chair by the table then went to retrieve a plate of food from the sideboard for him and herself. As she returned, Chayton with his hair tousled and wearing a nightshirt, joined them.

"Leksi,"
the boy shouted. He threw himself at Ridge, who caught him and plopped him on his lap.

"What did he call you?" Emma's father demanded.

"Uncle,"
Emma replied. "It's a term Indian children use for a man who teaches them. Ridge taught Chayton his first English words." She didn't think her father needed to know those were learned over animal tracks and piles of scat.

Father studied Ridge, his expression blank but his gaze oddly speculative.

"You going to live here, too?" Chayton asked Ridge.

Emma choked on her coffee. Ridge leaned toward her and patted her back. After a minute, she nodded that she was fine.

"This isn't my home," Ridge answered Chayton after he settled back in his chair. "Maybe someday you'll see my place."

Chayton bounced on Ridge's lap. "Today?"

"I don't think so, cub. Maybe next week."

Emma leaned over Ridge's arm. "You should eat breakfast, Chayton. I'm sure Mrs. Wright would make up a special plate for you if you ask nicely."

The boy scrambled off Ridge's lap and scampered toward the kitchen.

"I'll go with him and make sure she doesn't spoil him." Sarah rolled her eyes. "He could charm the spots off a cat."

Ridge, Emma, and her mother laughed, and Emma was surprised to see a flicker of amusement in her father's face.

Ridge leaned close to Emma and whispered in her ear, "I think your father might be warming toward Chayton."

Emma nodded, oddly pleased that Ridge had noticed, too. It was like sharing a secret—another secret—with him.

Sarah and Chayton returned from the kitchen, bearing a plate piled high with hotcakes and syrup—Chayton's favorite, which the cook had obviously made special for him.

"It's a good thing you went with him, Sarah," Emma teased her sister.

Sarah's cheeks flushed and she shrugged helplessly.

Emma glanced at Ridge, who grinned and winked, sharing the good-natured jest.

The family ate in companionable silence and Emma's father even stopped glaring at Ridge. Far too soon, empty dishes were pushed aside. Emma was glad, however, that Ridge ate everything on his plate. His haggard expression had lessened and his face had more color to it.

"Thank you, ma'am," Ridge said to her mother. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"You're welcome, Mr. Madoc. Besides, it's the least we could do considering what you've given us—our daughter and grandson," the older woman said.

Over the past few days, Emma's mother had become more spirited and didn't blindly agree with John Hartwell anymore. Emma found it oddly disconcerting, although she approved wholeheartedly. Maybe her mother had just needed a reason to stand up to him.

"I'd best get going," Ridge said, pushing back his chair and standing. "I want to check on Captain Rivers before heading home."

"Emma, why don't you escort him to the door?" her mother suggested.