Chapter Two

Haven stuffed the letter back into her handbag when the porter's rich, baritone voice rose above the din of the passengers. "Next stop, Cobb's Grove, Minnesota!"

The man pushed his nimble frame down the aisle, swaying in perfect sync to every lunge and lurch of the train. Her Matthias had been lofty and powerfully built. She dragged her eyes from the man's torso, turned toward the window again, and tried to dispel the nightmarish images—the reason she'd left the coach in the first place. And truth be told, left home. Despite her best efforts, the visions marched forth, the ache of her loss gnawing at her insides.

Memories, her worst enemy these days.

The sun crept through their bedroom window. Strong hands caressed her skin, awakening her to a new, glorious day. Sable eyes gazed down at her, so heavy with love and warmth they could melt icicles. She had reveled in his potent desire for her.

'I'm lost in your intoxicating scent,' he whispered sending the blood in her veins rushing outward to every limb.

How she had savored their life together, prayed it would never end.

But it had ended, came to an abrupt halt soon after he purchased a two-thousand-pound bull from Zebulon Lager. She hated that beast the moment their neighbor delivered him to their farm. Stupefied with terror, she'd gaze into the creature's wild, bulging eyes, eyes that held the promise of death and destruction.

Her thoughts returned to the day of the accident—that godforsaken day in February, eighteen ninety-two. The images were always there, nudging her brain with the promise of torment.

Brutally cold, Matthias had herded the livestock into the low pasture close to the barn that morning, but the obstinate bull had refused to follow them. She and Matthias had shared a cup of coffee and pored over her sketched plans for a new garden shed he'd build in the spring.

Before leaving to begin his chores, Matthias had brushed his lips against hers. 'I'll be back after I ride out to the south pasture and drag that surly bull in before he freezes to death.'

'If he doesn't have the God-given sense to come in from a blizzard, let him freeze.'

'Now love, even the beasties need our guidance and compassion now and then.'

'I wish you'd never bought him from Zebulon. He's spawned from the Devil if you ask me.'

"Don't worry, I'll ride Champion and take Shep.'

She'd raised a brow. 'And that's supposed to bring me comfort, a twelve-year-old gelding and a lop-eared mongrel bringing the creature to heel.'

'Shep's a good herder; he'll do most of the work.'

She'd watched out the window as Matthias led Champion through the gate with a smile and headed for the south pasture with Shep nipping at the horse's heels. The hours sped by as she busied herself with banal chores, washing dishes and preparing the noon meal. She glanced at the mantle clock when the hands had slipped past noon and again at one o'clock. By two, she had begun to stew. By three, full-blown panic had set in.

After donning a heavy jacket and knitted scarf, she pulled a pair of high-top rubber boots over her woolen socks and thrust her hands into a pair of mittens. The wind howled about her head on the way to the barn, forcing her to pull the scarf across her face. Bluebelle, the sprightly mare Matthias had given her as a wedding gift, balked when Haven tried to lead her from the barn, but soon they were plodding through the heavy drifts, following Champion's tracks. A feeling of dread rode shotgun beside her. The wind continued to groan and keen, the sound ominous and eerie. She pushed the trepidation from her mind and prayed her beloved had merely lost track of time or perhaps stopped to mend a broken fence.

The porter's voice jolted her back from the scenes of Hell. "Cobb's Grove in ten minutes! Prepare to disembark!"

Her heart raced; beads of perspiration erupted on her brow. Bile choked her throat when her mind returned to the nightmarish vision seconds later.

The severed, crumpled bodies appeared in a rush. Blood, so much blood against the stark-white landscape. Shep lay some distance from her husband's body and stomped to death, his lifeless form as flat as a fence board. Sprawled out on his side, crimson streams had arced and pumped from deep gashes in Champion's withers and belly. A pinkish-foam oozed from the horse's nostrils, the once beautiful brown eyes now closed in death. Underneath Champion's still form lay her beloved Matthias his feet still hooked into the stirrups.

She'd clutched her hand to her throat, dismounted in one swift movement and trudged through drifts up to her calves. Dropping to her knees, she'd tried in vain to pull his lifeless form out from under the horse. And then she saw his face. The earth spun out of control. The brown eyes that had gazed at her with so much longing and tenderness that morning were open, like his mouth. His chest was still, his skin pale gray, as if all the blood had been siphoned from his beautiful face.

A long time later, exhausted from crying out her anguish, she turned a ravaged face to the sky and cursed God. Swore she'd never put her faith in him again, questioned his all-encompassing compassion. How could a loving God allow this to happen to Matthias…to her?

The unmistakable grunting and pawing of a large beast drew her from her misery. Without looking at her nemesis, she pulled her husband's rifle from the scabbard and rose to her feet on that icy battleground. With tear-stained face, her body racked by sobs, she faced the culprit of her agony. A wreath of white snow encircled his massive head as he pawed and stomped at the ground, intent on destroying yet another human who dared enter his territory.

She took aim and emptied the rifle into the monster that had crushed her world, and then she mounted Bluebelle and headed for home in a fog of despair.

Her father and Uncle Jon retrieved Matthias' body. The parlor overflowed with neighbors and friends who'd come for miles and braved the cold to pay their last respects to her husband. Time held no meaning in the following days. Minutes and hours passed in a blur through the three-day wake and then the funeral. She didn't know night from day, couldn't remember names and faces of those who embraced her, offered condolences. Matthias' face took up residence in her mind, and his laughter resonated in her ears. Gazing down at the coffin, she knew what she'd miss the most, his smile, his unbridled laughter, as if it came from the deepest part of his belly. Or would it be the way he had loved her, unconditionally, with all his heart and soul?

The burial, surreal and painfully debilitating, even now, the words rang in her ears: 'We now commit you, Matthias Morgan, to the place from whence you came. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' For a year she'd remained on the farm—alone—until the memories of the love they shared infested every waking thought, plagued every dream. She sold the stock, even Bluebelle, and next the farm, vowing she'd never set foot on the property again. Convinced she'd end up a raving lunatic if she stayed, she moved in with her parents. Perhaps she was too far gone by then for them to help her. But that didn't stop them from trying.

Haven dabbed her forehead with a linen hanky plucked from the sleeve of her calico dress. The wheels of the train clacked out a refrain in her mind. I must get air…I must get air. By the time the train came to a halt, her head throbbed. She rose from the seat, her knees threatening to buckle while she made her way to the exit.

* * *

Cade returned to the coach and slid into the seat across the aisle from Haven Morgan. He picked up the newspaper lying in the seat next to him, the same one he'd been reading before the foolish woman left the safety of the coach. She'd looked fragile and shaky, and for a moment, he wondered if she'd even make it to the door before collapsing. When he saw the lumberjacks follow her, warning bells went off in his head. His instincts never betrayed him.

To say he was surprised to find out she came to Cobb's Grove to teach school would be an understatement. Surprise number two…the woman was married? Her slender finger lacked the presence of a ring, yet she made it clear her name came with a Mrs. before it. He did notice the silver chain around her graceful neck, the one with the locket nestled between the soft swell of her breasts. Hell, a man would have to be a eunuch not to notice.

Something about the woman with the dark hair and emerald eyes summoned the protective element of his nature. He'd noticed her across the aisle gazing out the window. Twice she'd turned and their eyes locked for a brief moment. Hers were the greenest he'd ever seen, like the stone in a pendant his mother wore when he was a child. A mass of ebony hair tumbled to her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face. Her features were delicate, the straight, small nose, sculpted cheekbones and full pink lips. Tall for a woman, he thought about all the womanly curves residing beneath that calico dress, something he shouldn't be imagining at all once he learned she was married.

He smiled. Better to find out now she had a husband at home than allow his mind to wonder what might be once she moved onto Pratt and Charlotte's property. 'Course, he didn't think much of a man who'd allow his woman to travel alone to a new territory, much less accept a teaching position so far from home. Maybe they needed the money or perhaps she couldn't find a teaching position in her neck of the woods.

He folded the newspaper, placed it in the seat beside him and pushed thoughts of Haven Morgan from his mind. Mounds of paperwork awaited him the moment he walked through the door of Brennan's Lumber Mill. A long line of transient jacks would be lined up seeking seasonal employment. He could use two hundred this year.

The porter announced their arrival to Cobb's Grove. Cade stood, stretched his arms over his head and then walked across the aisle to help Mrs. Morgan with her satchel. "Let me get that for you."

Her smile left him breathless when she handed off her bag. "You seem to be my guardian angel today, Mister Kincannon."

"I'm thankful I was on the train to be of assistance, but do you think you can dispense with the formality of Mister after our brush with desperadoes?"

If he thought her smile enchanting, her laugh beguiled him. "Of course, Cade."

"That's better." He led her off the train and to a wooden bench beside the depot. "They'll bring your trunks out soon, and," he cupped a hand over his brow. "I don't see Emery but I'm sure he'll be along shortly." Tipping his hat, he took a step back before turning to go. "Hopefully, our paths will cross again."

She nodded and then scanned the sidewalk in both directions searching for the man with the red bandana named Emery.