Trail of Kisses Page 17

  When they were all gone, Cade steered Lynne over to the last embers of their campfire and had her sit on a barrel. He knelt at her feet, reaching for the water he’d set aside for coffee and a used napkin that was clean enough. He spotted his gun half hidden under a rock and slipped it back into his belt with a frown. There would be time to worry about how it got there later.

  “Let me see,” he said, switching his tone what he hoped passed for tender and soothing.

  Lynne was still breathing quickly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she tilted her head up and exposed the plain of her throat. The cut across was long, but it hadn’t gone deep. It had already stopped bleeding in most places, though a little bit of blood still seeped from the side that was cut deeper.

  “This might sting a little bit,” Cade said as he dipped the napkin in the water and dabbed at her cut.

  Lynne hissed in surprise, then squeezed her eyes shut as he cleaned her up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry?” she squeaked, then cleared her throat and repeated, “Sorry?”

  The full impact of everything that had happened, of everything that could have happened, hit Cade like a bag of rocks in the gut. His hand trembled as he wiped the blood from Lynne’s neck.

  “It’s my job to protect you, and I failed to do that.”

  She shook her head and rested her hand over his. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”

  He happened to agree with her, but it didn’t absolve him of his guilt.

  “I’m not letting you do anything like that again,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let you get so stubborn in the first place.”

  There was a thick silence between them before she said, “I’m glad that you did, though.”

  “Come again?” He stared hard at her and resumed cleaning her wound.

  She waited until he was done before saying, “Papa may call me his brave girl, but he never lets me do anything I would need to be brave about. It’s nice to have someone who lets me get into trouble.”

  “Well, I won’t have you getting into any more trouble like this,” he said. For some reason her words made him want to smile as much as they made him want to roll her up in a blanket and tie the ends so she couldn’t do herself any harm.

  Lynne nodded, then slipped forward off of the barrel and into his arms. She hugged him tight and his heart flopped in his chest. There was nothing steamy or unseemly in her hug, but it meant more to him than any passionate embrace. He squeezed her back as if his life depended on it. He knew that it did in so many ways.

  “I tell you one thing,” he whispered against her ear as he stroked her head. “I’m going to find the man who did this to you, and I’m going to make him answer for his crimes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  If determination alone was enough to catch a killer, Cade would have had the man who attacked Lynne on his knees within seconds. But whoever the blackguard was, he was clever enough not to be caught. Cade chewed over the problem, his mood black, through the night as the wagon train sat parked at the branch of the Platte River into its northern and southern courses.

  They would make the crossing in the morning. A dozen or more different outfits had set up business in the area to take settlers across, for the right price. Pete Evans was in no mood to barter with any of them and had chosen a man he knew and trusted to ferry all the wagons across. It would take most of the day, but Cade was fine with the minor delay. It gave him time to consider each of the men traveling with them to puzzle out who had attacked Lynne.

  “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone running away from the wagon?” he asked Ben for the hundredth time deep into the night.

  The boy shook his head, staring into the fire. “No, sir.”

  He would usually have been asleep at that late hour, but since the attack, Ben had been sleeping as little as Cade did and staying just as close to Lynne. Cade had yet to decide if the boy’s devotion was sweet or frustrating. It had meant he’d had very little time alone with Lynne in the couple of days since the attack.

  “No one at all?” Cade pressed on. “You were up there on the driver’s seat. You didn’t hear anything?”

  Ben kicked his toe against the side of the ring of rocks where their campfire had been made. “I was sleeping,” he said.

  That was all the answer Cade was going to get from him. Judging from the scowl that the boy directed at the fire, he was as angry at himself for not hearing anything as Cade was. Not that Cade had a leg to stand on when it came to judging the boy for falling asleep. He’d fallen asleep on duty once himself. That’s what had started this whole ordeal.

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, staring at Lynne as she slept fitfully in her bedroll on the ground beside him. The sight of her beautiful face relaxed in sleep brought a smile to his lips. For better or worse, falling asleep that night when he was supposed to be guarding George Tremaine’s shipment of silver was the worst, best thing that had ever happened to him. It had led him to Lynne.

  He had to find her would-be killer. He wasn’t about to sit by and let whoever he was hurt one more hair on Lynne’s head. The problem was, he knew exactly who was after her. It was one of the Briscoe Boys, one of them who was brash enough to have taunted Lynne with hints and messages from the time they’d set out. The slashed photo, the threatening note, his boots, and he wasn’t fooled for a moment into thinking the gun he’d bought in Ft. Kearny had just been faulty. No, whoever the Briscoe Boy in question was, he was clever and he was close.

  But where? Where was he hiding?

  Cade stared across the night-black camp, both where there wagons were parked and on to the row of thrown together buildings marking the crossing. Some entrepreneurial folks had set up a couple of saloons and a store at the crossing. The man he was looking for could be in one of those buildings drinking and laughing at him right now. He could be one of the miners heading to the Colorado mines. He could be one of the smiling farmers who kept saying they were going to build a new life in Oregon. Heck, he could even be that odd Reverend Joseph who didn’t seem to know one end of his Bible from the other. The killer could be anyone, anywhere, and Cade couldn’t find him.

  Those thoughts and others even worse swirled through Cade’s head all through the night. Ben gave up and climbed into his makeshift bed in the wagon’s seat, but still Cade puzzled on. There was only so much he could do without the law backing him, and unfortunately, with the war raging in the East, law was something in small supply along the trail.

  When the first light of dawn spread across the horizon, he was still sitting on his barrel by Lynne’s side, cradling a mug of coffee. His eyes stung, his head ached, but his heart was more determined than ever. He wouldn’t let any harm come to Lynne.

  “Have you been sitting there all night?” she asked in a groggy voice when she awoke, and blinked back sleep to stare at him.

  All Cade could do was offer her a weary smile. “It’s a big day. We’re crossing the river. Soon we’ll be on the last leg of the journey. There’s a lot to look forward to.”

  Instead of smiling in return, she brushed her tangled hair out of her face and sat up. “So you didn’t sleep.”

  For a moment, the weariness of frustration pressed down on him. “No. I couldn’t.”

  She pushed her blanket aside and stood, stretching, then dragged herself to the barrel next to him. She raised a hand to touch the bandage around her neck, almost as if she had forgotten it was there save for an itch, then quickly yanked her fingers away and folded both hands in her lap.

  “You want some coffee?” he asked. “It’s cold, but it’s still strong.”

  “Strong enough to keep you awake all night?”

  He reached for the pot beside the burned-out fire. “I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you,” he murmured.

  Lynne’s expression flashed from a half smile to worry to something that Cade could have sworn was sadness. “That’s so sweet of you,”
she began, accepting a cup of cold coffee, “but that’s not why you don’t sleep.”

  He had to be honest and answer, “No, it isn’t.”

  She shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Why then?”

  Cade let out a breath. The old shame pricked him as he thought about that night. It was faded now, but somehow the dire situation Lynne was in brought it all back. He’d never told anyone the full story, not even George Tremaine, but he didn’t want there to be any secrets between him and Lynne.

  “It was late last winter, not even a year ago,” he began, looking at the blackened and broken wood that had been their fire. He shrugged. “It’s not much of a story really. Your uncle set me in charge of overseeing shipments of silver being taken from his mine to the railhead. I’d made the trip a hundred times before with nothing to write home about. We had a new hand with us, though, a young man who decided there was more money in working for a mine than in doing the actual mining. Jake was his name.

  “I suppose I was trying to impress him,” he admitted with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees and feeling twice his age. “I spent most of that trip boasting about how experienced I was, how I was such a good shot. He probably thought I was ten kinds of fool, and I’m sure the wagon drivers did too. I was insufferable.”

  He peeked up at her to see if she would agree and make some sort of tart comment. He loved her for those sassy comments, but he loved her even more right then for saying nothing at all. She just watched him, sipping her cold, black coffee, eyes soft and kind.

  “You asked me once before if I’d been in an attack while working for your uncle. It wasn’t an attack at all, not really. I spent three days bragging like an idiot, and then I wrapped up to sleep one night out in the middle of nowhere, telling Jake he’d better look sharp and keep his eyes peeled all night long. It was cold and I was more than happy to turn my duty over to someone else. I woke up the next morning to find the silver and wagons gone, along with half the drivers and Jake. Turns out Jake was an outlaw who infiltrated your uncle’s camp so that he could do just what he did, walk off with a load of silver without so much as a shot being fired.”

  “How did you get home?” Lynne asked.

  Cade blew out a breath. “It was hard. We had to walk back without provisions, and a snow squall blew through on the second day. By the time we did make it back, Jake and his buddies were long gone.”

  “They were never found?”

  “No.” Cade shook his head then lowered it. “I’m surprised your uncle didn’t send me packing right then. I think my father had something to do with that. I know he didn’t trust me, though. I could have sworn he would never trust me again, but he sent me to Missouri to get you.”

  “He must trust you then.” She managed a weak smile. It could have been the coffee waking her up. Understanding dawned in her eyes. “But that’s why you won’t sleep now.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “I do sleep, just not all that much. At first I was just determined to do my duty so that your uncle would trust me again, but,” he twisted on the barrel to face her, reaching for one of her hands, “you mean so much more to me than just a job, Lynne. I don’t know what I would do if you were hurt. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She drew in a breath and smiled. No sunrise could ever be so radiant.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Except… except thank you. It means so much to me.” She hesitated, beautiful, dark lashes sweeping her cheeks before she said, “You mean so much to me.”

  His heart grew and blossomed and burst in his chest. “I swear, Lynne. I swear I will move heaven and earth to find whoever is trying to hurt you and to bring them to justice.”

  “I know. You will,” she replied.

  Then, to his amazement, she set her mug of coffee aside, took both of his hands in hers, and leaned across from her barrel to kiss him. It was a soft, gentle kiss. It was the kiss of a woman who had put her faith in him. No flashing fire and burning passion could have warmed him deeper. He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her back and drawing her off of her barrel to sit on his lap. Then he returned her kiss with all of the joy and longing of a man who was so close to home and had only a few more steps to go.

  He broke the kiss when Ben stirred on the wagon behind them. That one small scramble of movement reminded him that there were people around and reputations to protect.

  “You’d best get ready for the river crossing today,” he told Lynne. He couldn’t resist giving her one last kiss before letting her go.

  “One last river to cross, and then we’ll be on our way home.” She stole a last kiss of her own before standing.

  Home. Cade could only imagine how wonderful it would be.

  Lynne had assumed that she would be nervous about crossing the wide, rushing river at the ferry. A part of her still thought that she should be, but the rest of her was flying high in the clouds. It wasn’t at all what she would have expected only a few days after someone had tried to kill her. But Cade was there. She had complete faith that he would protect her. The feeling was both new and startling. When had she ever put her faith in another person to that extent? When had she ever been so in love?

  No sooner did the warm feeling of being protected wash over her than she found herself mounted on her horse, standing on the bank of the river.

  “Are you sure you want to ford it?” Cade asked from where he sat mounted on Arrow by her side. “Ben’s taking the wagon across on the raft. You can always go with him and let me lead Clover across.”

  Ben had just guided the team of oxen aboard the raft with the help of a team of ferrymen. He sat higher and twisted to look back at her.

  Lynne studied the big, thick raft, wondering how it managed to stay afloat with a wagon and four oxen on it. She looked out across the murky waters of the river. “I think I’ll take my chances fording,” she said.

  Cade must have seen her wary look at the wagon on the raft. “I can’t say I blame you. All right, then. Are you ready to get wet?”

  Lynne took in a deep breath. At least she was wearing one of her older dresses and her second-best pair of boots. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Clover took a little more convincing. The Platte was meandering and swampy. Its current splashed around poor Clover’s feet as Lynne nudged her in, but at no point did the river threaten to sweep them away. Several other horses and riders were pushing their way across and some had already come out on the other side. At no point was the water above anyone’s head.

  Still, Clover took one ginger step at a time. Lynne could feel her hooves sticking in the river’s swampy bottom. Before too long, the water reached her feet. Not even a side-saddle was enough for her to keep her boots or the hem of her skirt dry. She distracted herself by checking on the wagon.

  The ferrymen had come up with an ingenious way to get hundreds of wagons across the swirling waters of the Platte. They had ropes strung from one bank to the other and a whole team of rafts. All the wagon drivers needed to do was keep their wagons and oxen settled as strong men took hold of the thick rope and walked down the length of the raft holding it. Foot by foot, it drew the laden rafts across the water to the other side. The method was so efficient that a line of rafts waited in the river while wagons were unloaded and moved on to make way for more.

  “I suppose we’re lucky to be making the crossing now instead of twenty years ago, before it was so well manned,” Lynne called across to Cade as both of their horses stepped and splashed.

  “It does make things easier,” he called back. “Though I remember coming out as a child, and there were a good number of ferrymen living here even then. They make good money.”

  “I suppose they do,” she answered.

  She needed to pay the passage for her wagon from the purse her father had given her as soon as they made it across. It was a wonder that the man who was trying to kill her, who had clearly been in her wagon, among her things at some point, hadn’t taken that pur
se. Then again, it wasn’t money he was after.

  It took no time at all for the horses to make it across the river. Lynne was left soaked and smelling of river water as she rode up on the opposite bank and gave Clover a congratulatory pat on her neck. All she had to do then was wait for Ben to come across with her wagon.

  “Why don’t you go and see if there’s anything you can do to help Mr. Evans get everyone across safe and sound,” Lynne suggested after waiting with Cade and watching the slow progression of wagons for a few minutes. When he looked at her as though her mind had washed downriver in the crossing, she said, “I feel bad for all the trouble we’ve caused. It’s the least we could do.”

  Cade’s expression flashed from exasperated to amused. “So you’re finally willing to admit that we’ve caused trouble?”

  She met his wry grin with one of her own. “It seems a bit dishonest to deny it at this point.”

  To her relief, he laughed. She hadn’t heard him laugh in a week. It was a surprise for her to realize how much she missed that sound or how much she needed it. She needed for everything to settle down and for life to go on.

  “I’ll go,” he said at length, “but I want you to stay right here in the open on that horse where I can see you at all times.”

  She pursed her lips. “I’ll stay right here until my wagon is out of the water, but then I need to fetch money to pay for the crossing and make sure all of our things are safe and settled.”

  Our things. She liked the way that sounded.

  Cade rubbed his stubbly chin, then settled Arrow as he danced, eager to get his feet wet again. “I’ll tell you what. Pete’s stretching all the wagons out into two lines, one heading to Denver City and the rest going on to Oregon, so they’ll be ready to go again tomorrow. I’ll have him let Ben move your wagon to the side over here, beside the river, so that even if you climb inside, I’ll be able to see anyone who rides up to you.”

  Lynne smiled. “It’s a deal.”

  He nodded and kicked Arrow’s flanks and turned his head to start away from the bank to where Mr. Evans was lining up wagons. “Behave yourself,” he told her, pointing a teasing finger at her.