After the Ashes(3)

“What did he ever do to make you so damned loyal? Nothing as far as I can see.”

“He’s my brother. He doesn’t have to do anything.”

Surprise filled Braddock. The sensation hadn’t touched him in so long, it took him a minute to figure it out. A jolt of dread followed, tightening his gut for this foolish woman who thought she could stand so tall and proud. One hard shove and she’d crumble like the regiments of her slain kinsmen buried beneath the South’s fertile fields. For a moment he almost believed Sullivan was her brother, that she was acting out of familial loyalty. Then he remembered pure nobility existed only in theory. He sure as hell had never seen it.

He mounted his horse. “Tell your brother I’ll be seeing him.”

Riding away, he wasn’t sure if he had just met the stupidest woman in the West, or the bravest.

***



Lorelei Sullivan waited for the stranger to vanish before she sagged against her door, unsure of how she’d found the courage to face him. The man was a big hulking omen of death if she’d ever seen one. Dressed in muted shades of black and brown, mounted atop his blood bay, he’d appeared carved from the desolate landscape. With the sun making a curtain of heat rise from the red earth, he’d seemed to melt back from where he came. At least he was gone. Unfortunately, she had no doubt she’d see him again.

She tried to push open the front door, but it didn’t budge.

“Corey, let me in. He’s gone.” She banged her palm on the barrier’s splintered surface. “Let me in, Corey Lochlain O’Sullivan.”

Wood scraped against wood as he lifted the log blocking her entrance. Corey kept himself wedged in the shadows. “You sound like Ma.”

She shoved the door wide, forcing him to step back. “I ought to whip you like Ma. What was that about? Did you hear the things that man was saying?”

Corey’s gaze didn’t meet hers. When he swayed, she noticed the blood pooling on the top of his bare foot. A dusty black boot covered the other. A second drip splattered onto the dirt floor. She followed the trail to the tip of his pinky. The wound on his arm must have opened. She stopped berating him long enough to guide him through the room to the knotted pine bed shoved in the comer.

“You shouldn’t have tried to get dressed.”

He sank onto the bed’s tangled blankets. “I had to. I was afraid he was going to hurt you.”

“He didn’t.” Corey pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide. “No, huh? I think he liked you, Lori.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She doubted the man liked anyone. His appearance certainly didn’t invite getting acquainted. He looked like he should be the one on a wanted poster.

“I would say he liked you plenty. Didn’t you notice?”

“I notice you’ve lost too much blood. You’re delirious.” She yanked off her brother’s boot. “Who is he anyway? The sheriff?”

“Worse. He hunts down men with bounties on their heads. Doesn’t care how he gets his man, either. He’s been on my tail for days. Thought I gave him the slip.” Corey sighed. “Guess not.”

Lorelei covered him with a red and black Indian blanket. His eyes drifted shut as he settled deeper into the straw-stuffed mattress. But as much as he needed to rest and heal, she couldn’t let him slip off yet.

“Why is he following you? You didn’t really get thrown from your horse, did you?”

“That part’s true.” Her brother opened his eyes. “I did get thrown from my horse, but after I got shot.” Lorelei rubbed her temples. She’d thought the gash in Corey’s arm looked too severe to have been caused by brushing a cactus. “Please tell me you didn’t rob those people and kill—”

“No!” He sprang to a sitting position and gripped her shoulders. “I swear on Ma’s grave I didn’t kill anyone.”

Lorelei pressed him back down. “So what did you do to get shot?”

He slung his forearm across his eyes. “You don’t understand what it’s like here, Lorelei. A man will shoot you for just looking at him cross-eyed.”

“Then why did you let me come? You should have moved home instead.” The nights she’d spent curled up with a kitchen knife, jumping at every howl and screech, had not been overreaction. This land was dangerous. “And what about the Indians killing the people who lived here. Is that true?”

Corey let his arm flop to his side. “They’ve taken care of the Apaches since then. Don’t worry about that.” He eased himself up until his back rested against the bed’s rough headboard, pushed a shutter open, and stared out the window. “Sure, this land’s dangerous, but it’s beautiful and exciting, too. A man can make something of himself out here. Doesn’t matter who you were before or who your father was.”