High Plains Wife. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ deciding maybe he wasn’t beyond redeeming, and hiked her skirts up to her ankles. Dust whirled around her as she climbed carefully through the tricky barbs of the wire fence.

      The crying sounded nearer. Tiny gulps of sobs that lured Mariah through the thick grasses until she spotted a flash of pink between the green stalks. The last thing she wanted to do was to frighten the child. “Hello? Are you lost?”

      The stems parted and the flash of pink became a girl dressed in calico. Her pixie’s face was streaked with tears. “You ain’t my mama.”

      Poor child, lost and alone. Mariah’s heart melted, just like that. She dug in her pocket for a bright shiny apple. “Are you hungry?”

      The girl’s blond curls brushed her shoulders as she shook her head.

      “You don’t like apples?”

      “I got cookies.” The child lifted her heavy satchel, tears trailing through the dust on her cheeks. “But I’m savin’ ’em.”

      “Looks like you’re packed for a trip.”

      “I’m goin’ to heaven. That’s where Pa said my mama went. I’m gonna go get her.”

      Mariah’s heart cinched tight. Sympathy welled up in her so fast, she couldn’t speak at first. She didn’t know what to say to a child who’d lost a mother to suicide. While she tried to figure that out, she knelt until she was eye level with the little girl, who looked so miserable and alone. So helplessly small and precious. “Your pa has to be awful worried about you. He wouldn’t want you to go look for your mama.”

      “He don’t want me.” The child leaned close to whisper, hiccuping on a sob. “He don’t love me no more.”

      Sympathy ached like a nail driven deep in her chest, and Mariah couldn’t resist sweeping a tangled lock of damp curls from the girl’s cheek. Mariah knew what it was like not to be loved, and by all accounts this child of Nick Gray’s was well treasured. The dress she wore was finely made without a wrinkle in it, her shoes dusty but without a single scuff.

      Still, she understood how it felt to have a broken heart.

      “That’s my wagon right down there. Do you see my ox?”

      The girl tilted her head, considering, and nodded once.

      “His name is Bad Boy, but he’s really very nice. If you bribe him with apples.” Mariah held out her hand. “Would you like to feed him one?”

      “I gotta find my ma.”

      “That’s a long, long way. You’d better come with me, instead.”

      The girl’s brow wrinkled as she considered. “I’m awful tired of walkin’.”

      “Good. Your satchel looks heavy. Want me to take it?”

      “Nope. I can do it.” She wrapped both hands around the thick handle and tugged the satchel along on the ground, over every bump and grass hump.

      “I’m Mariah. I bet your name is Georgie.”

      “How do you know?” She wiped the last of her tears on her sleeve.

      “I told you. I know your pa.”

      While Georgie apparently thought about that, she gave her bag another tug. “I’m awful thirsty. Do you got cider in that wagon?”

      “I have water. Will that do?”

      “Yep.”

      Mariah slowed her pace, waiting for Georgie. A chill snaked down her spine. It was suddenly so quiet. No birds were singing. The prairie lay deathly still. Not even the wind blew. Bad Boy was fidgeting in his traces, a sure sign of trouble. With the height of the grass, a wild animal, even a wolf, could be stalking them and Mariah might not see the danger in time.

      She stepped closer to the child. It would be best to get Georgie into the wagon as soon as possible. There was a loaded Winchester beneath the seat, and she knew how to use it if she had to.

      “Let me carry that, Georgie. The faster we get to the wagon, the sooner we can get you a drink of—”

      There was a streak of brown in the field ahead. In an instant it was gone and the green grass stood tall and motionless, as if it had never been disturbed.

      Mariah knew better. It wasn’t a wolf, but a coyote, and they always hunted in packs. She shivered, aware of the cold prickle in her bones. They didn’t want her. It was the small child they’d scented.

      She pulled Georgie to her skirts. Contented coyotes were one thing, but hungry packs roamed these prairies that were settling up fast.

      She had to get Georgie out of this field. She swung the girl onto her hip and held her tight, walking as fast as she dared. Her skirts snapped with her stride and the sound of her breathing rang loud.

      The coyotes emerged soundlessly in a perfect circle, cutting off her escape. There were a dozen of them, crouched, teeth bared, ready to attack in unison.

      She skidded to a stop. What was she to do? Hunger gleamed in their eyes and she recognized an eerie determination. They didn’t intend to back down.

      Well, neither did she.

      “Shoo!” She snapped the hem of her apron at the coyote directly in front of her. You could never tell, maybe that would frighten him off.

      Maybe not.

      The leader of the pack didn’t flinch or lower his gaze. He was hungry, she could see that in the ridge of bones showing through his matted coat. He crept closer, and the pack followed his lead, closing the circle. Trouble. Fear spilled like ice water into Mariah’s blood.

      She had to act fast.

      “You leave us alone!” She snatched an apple from her pocket and threw.

      The apple hit the leader between the eyes. He dropped to the ground and shook his head.

      Good thing she had more apples. She grabbed another and lobbed it at a second coyote. It struck him in the shoulder and knocked him to the ground.

      Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a streak of brown. Georgie screamed the same moment Mariah felt teeth clamp at her nape. A heavy weight settled on her back and threatened to drag her down. How dare that coyote! Mariah whirled around, beating him in the nose with her fist until he slid from her back, taking her chignon with him. Her hair tumbled into her face. There were so many of them. How could she fight them all?

      Georgie screamed again. The leader was on his feet and leaping, lunging for the little girl’s throat.

      Mariah tossed her last apple. The coyote howled at the impact. In pain, he slunk into the grass. Already the rest of the pack was backing away.

      A gunshot echoed across the field, and Mariah swung around to see mounted men emerging over the grassy knoll, their guns raised.

      She’d never seen a more welcome sight. Relief left her weak as the coyotes dispersed into the grasses, disappearing as СКАЧАТЬ