A Fistful of Dreams Read online

  But you didn’t tell him about me before and he didn’t know. The man stood at the base of the rickety steps leading up to the stage. His patient, gentle expression held no malice and promised no recrimination.

  “How are you doing that?” She whispered the words, lest she disturb the others.

  He grinned and held out his hand. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  “I can’t.” She stole a look around. It didn’t matter because she knew none would remember the exchange. This flew in the face of all she knew to be true.

  “You can. You’re supposed to leave anyway.” He beckoned her. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised when she walked to the edge and accepted his hand. He helped her down, steadying her when the steps swayed.

  “They will see you.” She dropped her voice even more, barely whispering breath to give voice to the words.

  No. They won’t. Such confidence and assurance couldn’t be discounted, but it was wrong. She was an obedient daughter, she kept to Father’s code, and…Delilah, trust me.

  Two simple words, but the request was far from easy to accomplish. If Father saw, if he learned…no one talked about what he did to the traitors, but they were never seen again. Her life might not be much, but it wouldn’t be worth spit if Father discovered her deception.

  Pulling her coat tightly around her, she walked up the center aisle. The man followed her through the vestibule and outside. Father and the others rose from where they waited and filed in. Father gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and she walked toward the waiting buggy. She knew the man was behind her the whole time, but none who waited looked at him. Old enough to no longer need a chaperone, her buggy driver was deaf. He gave her a bored look as she opened the door. A hand on her elbow reminded her of the man, but the driver never noticed him.

  He climbed in behind her and closed the door. The driver clucked and the horses paced away from the theater.

  “He didn’t see you.”

  “I told you they wouldn’t.” The man pulled a blanket off his seat and spread it over her lap. The interior of the buggy was quite cold, but she barely realized it.

  “But how?”

  “It’s a long story and we only have a few minutes until you arrive at your hotel.” Rejection stung. He promised to explain. He covered her bare hand with his gloved one and smiled. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you, I said it’s a long story, and we should talk of other matters first.”

  Frowning, she nibbled the inside of her lip. Insanity. She had finally given in to it. “I don’t know. You resisted my song.”

  “Yes, I did. And you’re not unhappy about it.” He gave her a knowing smile.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She should be distraught about it, but it was a thumb in her Father’s eye. A thumb he would never know she jabbed. “No. I’m not. But this is dangerous.”

  “Yes.” He did her the honor of not lying about it. “And I’m afraid what I have to say is more dangerous, still.”

  “Then I am even more uncertain I want to hear it.”

  He chuckled, a swift, warm sound as pleasing as it was fleeting. “It’s your choice. You aren’t trying to hurt people, but the man you call Father—is.”

  “I don’t know what he does.” She looked out the window. No, she wasn’t certain what he did with the people she charmed and she never wanted to know. Her guilt was already a leaden weight in her belly.

  “I know you don’t. It’s why I’m talking to you instead of shooting you.”

  Her breath choked off and she jerked her gaze back to him. “Shoot me?”

  “Delilah, I don’t want to hurt you. And I promise, I’m not going to shoot you. But you’re a weapon—a very dangerous weapon—and he’s using you against innocents. I know you didn’t know and, for years, you haven’t, but you’re not a little girl anymore. You have your own suspicions and doubts about what he’s doing. Doubts you’re afraid to say anything about for fear of retaliation, which is no way to live.”

  She slumped back against the seat and couldn’t find the will to try and dispute his charges. She didn’t like not knowing what Father did, but what little she learned of his plans she liked even less. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jason Kane and I will be your friend, if you let me.”

  Flying K Ranch, winter 1851

  * * *

  He righted the glass and turned his attention to the colonel. Delilah’s heart hammered and she stared at the water glass. A brush of a hand against her left arm drew her away from the muffled cotton of her mind and she glanced at Buck. He gave her a quick, reassuring grin, and all the sound rushed back in.

  A few seconds passed since the colonel’s question, but none volunteered any information. “I didn’t think so,” he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Adam MacPherson is Fevered, or so we believe. We only have a bare amount of intelligence on him and his actions. But one thing we do know—Harrison Miller worked for MacPherson. He visited with him numerous times in Philadelphia, New York, and Boston.”

  “So why not grab this MacPherson person?” Micah asked, hostility edging his tone. He’d nearly lost his wife to Miller’s attacks. They had lost Antonia and so many others.

  “Because we don’t know where he is. He appears and disappears at will and, by the time we’re alerted to where he is, he’s usually long gone before we can get someone into his camp. We’ve tried to let him recruit our people, but most end up dead. To our knowledge, only one person ever met him face to face and can even identify him for us now.”

  “Who?” Cody demanded.

  Icy heat enveloped her. Father didn’t care for traitors. He never let them live. She swallowed, not daring to look up for fear the others would be staring at her.

  “Me.” Jason leaned forward. “I’ve spent the last few years learning everything I can about him.”

  She felt, more than saw, Buck jerk next to her. Conversation erupted around the table, voices raised, and questions were shouted. She gaped at the man on her right, the man who offered her a chance at freedom. Jason winked at her.

  It’s okay. Trust me.

  What choice did she have?

  Buck slammed the nail home with one strike of the hammer. He moved down the fence board and drove another one home. Anger threaded through his muscles. Throughout the breakfast, Delilah kept her head down.

  Or looked at Jason.

  He swung the hammer and the nail went right through board and split it in two.

  “Hey.” Cody studied him. “What set you off?”

  “Nothing.” He grabbed up the broken board pieces and tossed them onto a pile for firewood. The wind blew steadily from the north. His cheeks burned with the cold, but he ignored all of it to stalk over to the wagon and pull a new board off. The downed fences wouldn’t repair themselves. He reclaimed the hammer from the wolf and nailed the board into place with two swift blows.

  “Uh huh.” Grabbing a few more boards, Cody carried them down the line. “You don’t smell fine.”

  “No, I smell like sweat.” Buck followed and set more boards in place. “Why aren’t you working with the kids?”

  “Because I scare the young cat.” His lips twitched and he set the stack of boards down and returned for another load. The young feline in question, Benjamin Reynolds, was eight years old and his fever turned him into a shifter—a cougar, nearly as large as Cody’s wolf. Cody did more than make the cat nervous, he terrified him.

  “So, who is looking after him?” They’d not been able to leave the young shifter alone, not without someone strong enough to dominate his predatory instincts.

  “Jo.” Cody fetched another hammer and nailed two more boards up in quick succession.

  Buck whirled. “Jo? What is she going to do? Put him in a corner and make him write on a board if he decides to rip into one of the others?”

  Laughter met the question and irritation stretched his nerves taut. He flexed the fingers of his right hand. The urge to slug his brother stormed through him.
r />   “Go ahead. If it will cool you off, hit me.” The wolf’s yellow eyes gleamed at him, drowning out Cody’s blue. “You’re a sore bear with a thorn in its paw, brother.”

  “Violence is never an answer.” Quanto’s words never sounded so hollow. Or maybe it wasn’t the words that were hollow, but Buck himself.

  The blow caught him on the side of his face and he fell backward over the wood. He glared up at Cody’s wry smile. “It doesn’t have to be the answer. It just has to feel good.”

  Spitting the blood from his mouth, Buck pushed himself up. “It didn’t feel that good.”

  “I dunno. It felt good to me.” Cody grinned.

  “Did it?” Rubbing the side of his hand against his lip, he stared at the blood smear.

  “Uh huh. If you’re not going to fight, let’s get back to work.” The blond turned and Buck rushed him. The distraction only bought him a few seconds. Cody’s swift reflexes sent him flying. Bouncing to his feet, he landed a jab to the other man’s chin and another glanced off his ear.

  “Yes!” Cody laughed and they pounded on each other. Twice Buck landed on his ass in the dirt and twice more he launched at his wolf brother. He couldn’t hurt him, so he didn’t hold back. Swift reactions turned aside blow after blow, but when Cody caught him squarely in the midsection, all the air whooshed out of Buck and he doubled over. “You feel better now?”

  Wheezing, he knelt and steadied himself with a hand against the fence post. “A little.”

  “Told you.” Cody grabbed the water skin off the wagon and carried over. He tossed it to Buck. The bastard wasn’t even winded, but the wild grin on his face was what made their scuffle worth it.

  “Yes, you did.” He took a long drink. Violence wasn’t the answer, so why had it made him feel better?

  “What’s eating at you, brother?” Cody squatted down and began gathering the nails they spilled during the fight.

  “Honestly?

  “Unless you’re feeling extremely compelled to lie to me.” The dry humor held only the whisper of warning. Cody disliked lies. He could smell them. “Is it the colonel’s story about his bogeyman?”

  “Adam MacPherson?” The dreamwalker shook his head. “I need to talk to Quanto about him. If a Fevered has grown so powerful and is really hunting all of us, surely he will know.” He barely listened to the colonel’s words, particularly when they involved Jason Kane and his so-called investigations.

  “Buck?” His wolf brother paused gathering nails and canted his head to the side. “What’s going on with you?”

  “If I said I didn’t want to talk about it, would you leave me alone?” He already knew the answer, but appreciated the moment his brother took to consider the question.

  “No.”

  He sighed. Shoving upwards, he grabbed a hammer and a board, intent on going back to work. “I don’t like Jason Kane.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” They worked in a silence, punctuated by blows to drive in the nails.

  “Not what I meant.” Shoulders down, Buck bowed his head. “He shows up with his secrets and she keeps looking at him.”

  “Then give her something else to look at.” Cody tossed aside another broken board. “You’ve had your eye on her for months, let her know it.”

  “It’s not that simple.” If only it were. Whatever trauma silenced Delilah also hobbled his attempts to get to know her. Only in her dreams did she relax the wary guard she held against the rest of the world. But if Quanto was right—and his father usually was—he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, enter them again until she was aware of what actions he took.

  “Buck, you like her. She likes you. Tell her.” Communication advice from the wolf. If he were less pathetic about the woman, he might have laughed.

  “I didn’t think you were big on talking.” They fit the last of the boards into place and hammered the nails home. The fence line was repaired. They could move more cattle down closer to the ranch house and the shelters they built against the wind.

  The ranch had more work than bodies to take the tasks. The arrival of the Army troops added to the burden. As soon as they were off the ranch, they could pull the more dangerous children back in, along with their brothers, and focus on riding out the winter.

  “It helps.” The wolf shrugged and his tone softened. “Mariska doesn’t like secrets and she believes in stories, sharing, and she doesn’t do what she is told, but if I explain the why of it—she will listen.” The patience and love shining in Cody’s voice was at both strange and inspirational.

  “It’s hard to have a conversation with someone who will not speak.”

  “Even harder when the other person is too stubborn to even try.” Cody gathered the broken boards and carried them to the waiting wagon.

  Buck followed at a slower pace. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

  “What do you want to say?” He dropped the load of boards and secured them. Buck packed away the tools. This fence was repaired. The sun hung high in the sky—it neared mid-day. A storm hovered off in the distance, but the steadily blowing wind promised rain before the sun set.

  What did he want to say? “I don’t know.”

  Cody shook his head. “Do you like her, Buck?”

  The quiet question held him rooted to the spot. “Yes.”

  “Do you want to be her friend?”

  He wanted much more, actually. He wanted to go back to working on his house, sanding wood and building, while she sat and listened to him work. All those long afternoons where she waited for him to finish, but they didn’t speak. They just were.

  A pang of regret echoed in his heart. He missed the quiet time. They had far too little of it since the outbreak. He didn’t even know what she did day after day at the big house, except help Scarlett with the babies. Maybe she needed a break, too. He could invite her riding…or something.

  “You have an idea.” Cody clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Excellent. Now maybe we can finish this grunt work before the sun sets.”

  Buck shrugged him off and laughed. “We’re done with the fences. We need to go move the cattle.”

  “Okay, let me change. They’ll move.” Cody stripped off his shirt and the rest of his clothes, tossing them onto the wagon for Buck to gather. He gave his brother privacy as the man strode away. He never changed in front of the others if he could help it.

  Wolf wrangling…hopefully our Army friends are too busy to notice. He stuffed Cody’s clothes into one of the bags and climbed up onto the seat. Gathering up the reins, he turned the team back toward the barn. He needed to swap the wagon for a horse and saddle. If they moved all the cattle down, he could take tomorrow off.

  Relief flowed over his too tautly wound nerves. He could see Delilah.

  Without Jason Kane.

  Chapter 4

  Delilah cuddled little Cobb to her chest and hummed a lullaby. The gentle swaying motion of the rocking chair was as soothing to her nerves as it was to the baby in her arms. Unlike his adopted sister, Cobb did not sleep easily. Though neither infant showed gifts yet, it was only a matter of time or, better, a matter of age. She was nearly four before what she could do became clear.

  The door opened and she swallowed the next notes. Scarlett peeked inside and smiled. “You are so good with him.”

  Summoning a smile she hoped conveyed her thanks for the compliment, Delilah nodded to the other woman. She liked Scarlett. The others often mentioned her fiery temper, but Delilah had yet to actually glimpse it. If anything, she saw a woman devoted to her family and growing into a fierce mother. Scarlett was younger than she by one year, but wore her confidence like a finely made dress.

  “Why don’t you let me take him for now and you can go get some rest. You’re always with the babies, but you need to take time for you, too.”

  She had no choice but to surrender the infant to his adopted mother. Antonia really hadn’t meant harm when she lied to the Kanes about Kid being Cobb’s father, and she offered them truth before she passed
. While her friendship with Antonia had never been a deep one, the woman took risks to protect her—risks she needn’t have taken—and she undertook an arduous journey knowing she was pregnant.

  Scarlett nuzzled Cobb’s head and murmured. “You have black hair, handsome. I love it.”

  The hair color must have come from his father, whomever he was, for Antonia’s had been very blonde. Rising, Delilah set Cobb’s blanket into the wooden crib and straightened the bedding.

  “Delilah?”

  Looking back at the fiery haired woman, Delilah lifted her brows in silent inquiry.

  “You know you can talk to us, any of us? You’re a part of this family now, too.” The earnest tone captured Delilah and she hesitated. Scarlett closed the gap between them and caught her hand. “I mean that—we all do. I know it hasn’t been the easiest time for you, but you’re not alone.”

  How she wished she could believe Scarlett’s words. They were all so comfortable with their abilities and they didn’t disguise them—at least when strangers weren’t around. She knew they’d taken precautions with the arrival of the Army, but even the non-Fevered hands and families who survived the outbreak on the ranch knew what they could do and accepted them.

  Squeezing the other woman’s hand, Delilah offered a weak smile. Yes, it might be easier to talk—but she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t risk their wrath if her need to be accepted translated in her voice.

  Scarlett sighed and let her go. “Well, when you’re ready—”

  A knock at the door interrupted and Buck poked his head inside the room. “Good morning, ladies.”

  “Hello, Uncle Buck. Did you come to see your nephew?” Warm affection filled Scarlett’s voice and the handsome man leaning against the doorframe grinned.

  “No, I came to find Delilah, but seeing the two of you is lovely.” He winked. Delilah blinked. Me? He came to see me? A kernel of hope flared inside of her. Since all the upset, she hadn’t been able to escape the plethora of people coming and going to sit at his cabin. She liked spending time with Buck. He made no demands on her and never asked her to talk. He simply accepted her.