slightly. As she placed it gently on his shoulder, her gaze traveled unbidden down the expanse of his darkly furred chest. A disturbing ripple of excitement stirred within her at the memory of lying beside him, caught in his embrace.
Silly, she scolded herself. He was delirious. He thought you were someone else. Someone, she reminded herself, named Amanda who was probably his wife. Did gamblers like him keep wives somewhere? she wondered. Holt hadn't struck her as the kind of man to settle down with any one woman. Kierin shook her head. What did she really know about this man?
Her fingers reached out and brushed a silken strand of dark brown hair from his forehead. She only knew that she cared for him in a way she couldn't yet fully understand. A bond had formed between them in that transient moment between life and death. Her mind burned with the memory of the pain he had unwittingly shared with her last night and the warmth their bodies had imparted to each other.
All of that didn't matter now, Kierin sighed, pulling the quilts up under Holt's chin. All that mattered was that he survive. She eased herself up off the mattress, careful not to disturb him. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she stepped out of the wagon into the dazzlingly bright morning sun.
"Mornin', ma'am," Jacob called to her from the campfire as casually as if he said those words to her every day. With a hand rolled cigarette dangling from his mouth, he was lifting a coffeepot from the fire. He pointed a cup in her direction. "Coffee?"
"Jacob," she cried, "I was so worried about you. Where did you go? I thought you'd be back hours ago. I was afraid they had—"
"I'm fine," he told her, pouring her a cup anyway. "It just took me a might longer than I expected to do what needed doin', is all."
"Thank God, you're all right. Did anyone see you?"
"I don't reckon I was see'd or we'd have heard from them by now," he drawled. He handed her the coffee. "I been back since nigh on sunup".
"Sunup—" Kierin's faced flushed with the knowledge that Jacob must have seen her sleeping with Holt. "Oh, I... I'm sorry I fell asleep. Holt was so cold. It was the only thing I could think of to warm him... and I-"
Jacob waved his hand as if to dismiss her apology. "Probably the best medicine you could 'a give him. Sometimes a man..." He hesitated and looked back at the fire before continuing. "Sometimes a man got's to have a reason to fight his way back from somethin' like that. Someone to hold him gentle—like a woman can. I 'spect that done as much for him as that powder I give ya." Jacob looked at Kierin sideways and smiled.
There was no malice in it. No judgment. Kierin met his smile and returned it. She found that she liked Jacob. But she couldn't let him think there was more between her and Holt than there really was. She wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip. A small sip. Strong hardly described the taste. "Jacob," she began uneasily, "it's not what you think between Holt and me."
Jacob nodded his head, seemingly not surprised by that bit of information. "Brown told me what happened. I seen the papers in Holt's pouch. And a good size stake to boot."
"If Holt had only known what kind of a man John Talbot was, he wouldn't have stayed in that game to bid on my papers and none of this would have happened."
"Don't you go blamin' yourself for that," Jacob told her sternly. "Clay's the kinda man likes a challenge. Fact is, sometime he ain't as careful as he oughta be. That boy got's a wild streak in him." Jacob took a drag on his cigarette, then looked up at the wagon. "A good challenge draws him like a honeybee to a flower. Got hisself stung this time though. Stung good."
Kierin watched the pain flit across the black man's features before he reined in his emotions. It was obvious that he cared deeply about the man in the wagon. She wondered what type of man earned that kind of loyalty from his friends.
Jacob's voice broke into her
Silly, she scolded herself. He was delirious. He thought you were someone else. Someone, she reminded herself, named Amanda who was probably his wife. Did gamblers like him keep wives somewhere? she wondered. Holt hadn't struck her as the kind of man to settle down with any one woman. Kierin shook her head. What did she really know about this man?
Her fingers reached out and brushed a silken strand of dark brown hair from his forehead. She only knew that she cared for him in a way she couldn't yet fully understand. A bond had formed between them in that transient moment between life and death. Her mind burned with the memory of the pain he had unwittingly shared with her last night and the warmth their bodies had imparted to each other.
All of that didn't matter now, Kierin sighed, pulling the quilts up under Holt's chin. All that mattered was that he survive. She eased herself up off the mattress, careful not to disturb him. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she stepped out of the wagon into the dazzlingly bright morning sun.
"Mornin', ma'am," Jacob called to her from the campfire as casually as if he said those words to her every day. With a hand rolled cigarette dangling from his mouth, he was lifting a coffeepot from the fire. He pointed a cup in her direction. "Coffee?"
"Jacob," she cried, "I was so worried about you. Where did you go? I thought you'd be back hours ago. I was afraid they had—"
"I'm fine," he told her, pouring her a cup anyway. "It just took me a might longer than I expected to do what needed doin', is all."
"Thank God, you're all right. Did anyone see you?"
"I don't reckon I was see'd or we'd have heard from them by now," he drawled. He handed her the coffee. "I been back since nigh on sunup".
"Sunup—" Kierin's faced flushed with the knowledge that Jacob must have seen her sleeping with Holt. "Oh, I... I'm sorry I fell asleep. Holt was so cold. It was the only thing I could think of to warm him... and I-"
Jacob waved his hand as if to dismiss her apology. "Probably the best medicine you could 'a give him. Sometimes a man..." He hesitated and looked back at the fire before continuing. "Sometimes a man got's to have a reason to fight his way back from somethin' like that. Someone to hold him gentle—like a woman can. I 'spect that done as much for him as that powder I give ya." Jacob looked at Kierin sideways and smiled.
There was no malice in it. No judgment. Kierin met his smile and returned it. She found that she liked Jacob. But she couldn't let him think there was more between her and Holt than there really was. She wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip. A small sip. Strong hardly described the taste. "Jacob," she began uneasily, "it's not what you think between Holt and me."
Jacob nodded his head, seemingly not surprised by that bit of information. "Brown told me what happened. I seen the papers in Holt's pouch. And a good size stake to boot."
"If Holt had only known what kind of a man John Talbot was, he wouldn't have stayed in that game to bid on my papers and none of this would have happened."
"Don't you go blamin' yourself for that," Jacob told her sternly. "Clay's the kinda man likes a challenge. Fact is, sometime he ain't as careful as he oughta be. That boy got's a wild streak in him." Jacob took a drag on his cigarette, then looked up at the wagon. "A good challenge draws him like a honeybee to a flower. Got hisself stung this time though. Stung good."
Kierin watched the pain flit across the black man's features before he reined in his emotions. It was obvious that he cared deeply about the man in the wagon. She wondered what type of man earned that kind of loyalty from his friends.
Jacob's voice broke into her
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