Free Where the Wind Blows by Caroline Fyffe

expected. He had to stop several times and rest, closing his eyes to ease the pounding in his head. Lady Luck had been with him. Another quarter inch and he would’ve been dead, without a doubt.
    He was no stranger to close calls. Four times he’d taken a bullet. Been stabbed twice. And once accused of stealing a horse. He would have hanged for that, if Molly hadn’t spoken up. She gave him a truthful alibi, unmindful of what it did to her own reputation.
    The memory burned. They’d been so young. So alone. He’d learned many things from Molly. What it felt like to belong somewhere, to someone. How it felt to build dreams. He’d learned the joy of loving a woman with Molly, too.
    He’d gladly give his own life to bring hers back. “That was a lifetime ago,” he muttered. “But it’s something worth re-membering when I get to thinking I could ever settle in somewhere. Build a life with someone new.” Jessie’s blue eyes shone vividly in his mind.
    Upon his return, Chase found Sarah asleep and Gabe cleaning Jessie’s shotgun. The firearm was apart on the table, and Gabe was oiling each part meticulously.
    “Find anything?”
    “Nada. But that’s not to say someone’s not watching us from up the ridge. I’ll do a thorough search tomorrow.” Chase stripped off his coat, hanging it with his hat on a peg. “Did Jessie wake up?”
    “Nope. It’s been quieter’n a mouse in a cotton patch. Sarah got sleepy and fell asleep early herself.” Gabe snapped the shotgun back together and ran a soft cotton cloth over the barrel. The metal glistened in the lamplight, and Chase could remember the thrill of cleaning his very own gun for the first time when he was twelve years old.
    “Made some coffee.” Gabe rose and walked to the stove, refilling his cup. “Like some?”
    “Sure. Anything to thaw out my insides.”
    Gabe placed both cups on the table and sat.
    Chase looked toward Jessie’s bedroom door. He was feeling particularly edgy tonight. He sipped his coffee slowly, watching Gabe taking his pistol apart for cleaning. A half hour passed in silence.
    “I’m turning in. Leave this lamp on the table burning low tonight. If there’s trouble, I don’t want to be fumbling around in the dark. Wake me if you hear anything unusual.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    At the hearth, Chase gazed at Sarah, asleep in her bed. An overwhelming urge to bend down and reciprocate the kiss she’d given him earlier caught him off guard. She certainlywas a little magnet, but he knew better than to let himself be pulled in. Instead, he leaned over and blew out the lamp flickering dimly on the mantel.
    “Good night…honey,” he whispered, remembering tenderly again the kiss she’d placed on his beat-up ole head. She’d wanted to make him feel better, and all he did now was feel worse.
    Unexpectedly, her eyes opened. Shyly raising her arms to him, she waited. Emotions warred within Chase. He wanted to hold her. But it would only make it harder when he left. Wasn’t it better to confuse her now than to break her heart later?
    Grimly, he nodded to her as if she were just an acquaintance on the street.
    Sarah studied him for a moment. Then without a trace of emotion, she snuggled back into her blanket.
    “Good night, Gabe.”
    “Good night.”

Chapter Twelve
    He was stalling. Lying down next to Jessie was now seriously problematic. He desired her. He wouldn’t be a man if he’d felt otherwise. But, on the other hand, he wasn’t an animal, either. He recognized goodness in this young woman. He’d never do anything to hurt her.
    As he stripped off his shirt and tossed it into the chair, Chase remembered a bit of wisdom he’d heard from a man he’d once ridden with. Mack, older and trailwise, had taught him what it took to stay alive on a cattle drive. “Remember, son,” Mack had said, “if you ain’t got a choice, be brave. Many a man has come through the worst of situations on heart alone.”
    Quietly, Chase sat in Jessie’s