Free Surrender the Wind by Elizabeth St. Michel Page B

the house. The screech of wagon wheels braked to a stop. She managed to twist from his embrace. Their breathing came in unison. Time froze.
    His hands fell to her waist. Yet, he did not release her. At full attention, battle ready, he focused on the anonymous visitor.
    She peeked around the barn and shook her head. “Dinkle, from the dry goods. Samuel was supposed to deliver the rest of my order. Dinkle must not see you.”
    He held her hand. “It was a mistake…for both of us. It won’t happen again. I’m leaving—tonight.”
    A mistake…leaving…tonight? Catherine stood motionless. “Why?”
    He said nothing.
    A sob trapped in throat. Before she became a pawn in his game…like his Molly, she grabbed her spectacles and ran for the house.

Chapter Six

    It was well past midnight when the wagon pulled up in front of her house. When Elias Dinkle had delivered her purchases earlier in the afternoon, she accepted his invitation to a church dance—anything to get away from General Rourke. Of course, she had insisted it was too much of an inconvenience for Elias to return for her. So startled had been Elias when she climbed into his wagon that he started hiccupping.
    The social turned out to be a fiasco with someone spiking the punch, and church revelers falling drunk all over the dance floor. Catherine was spared this humiliation for Elias could not dance. The evening might have had a bite of humor except for Elias’s endless bout of hiccupping that matched the movement of his Adam’s apple to the rhythm of the band music. After listening to Elias’s soapbox standing on the perils of bird watching, she didn’t even have to feign a headache and begged to go home.
    The house remained dark. Good. No doubt the almighty General John Daniel Rourke of the Confederate Army had taken himself south. She dreamed of spending a peaceful night—alone in her bed.
    On her porch, she searched for the key in her reticule and missed the strange forward motion of Elias Dinkle. He locked his arms around her.
    “Elias Dinkle! What on earth are you doing?”
    “I thought you and I could spend a little time together. You living here all alone…no one to keep you…warm.” He hiccupped. His breath reeked with the foul stench of liquor.
    “You weasel.” Shaking off her surprise at his complete change in disposition, she jerked to the side just as he lunged forward, his wet lips puckered for a drooling kiss. She smacked him with her reticule.
    “Please, Miss Callahan, just one smooch. Your perfume does funny things to my mind.” His hands were everywhere, her spectacles went flying and her hairpins clinked on the planks.
    “Elias, get a hold of yourself and release me this minute.” But Catherine had hardly pushed at Elias, before he went flying across the porch, seemingly on his own volition.
    Leaning casually against the door frame, his arms folded in front of him, stood John. Was that glowering murderous rage directed at her or Elias? He inclined his head toward Elias and drawled through clenched teeth. “Is that the way you treat a lady?”
    Elias’s Adam’s apple bounced moonbeams in the dark but the liquor fortified his gumption. “She’s fair game, the schoolteacher.”
    Before Elias could get one more word out, John had him picked up by the shirt collar and bent the smaller man back over the porch railing. “You owe, Miss Callahan an apology.” A chill hung on the edge of his threat.
    “I-I apologize. Who are you?” Elias choked, and appealed to Catherine, then glanced to the man holding him.
    Catherine put her hand on John’s sleeve, before he said anymore, his strong southern accent forming questions in the storekeeper’s mind. Elias could wreak a lot of damage. “He’s my cousin…remember the one I told you about.”
    Elias frowned. “No way does he look simple. He looks plain dangerous. Were you really dropped on your head?”
    “Dinkle, you’re either stupid or a fool.” With one punishing right hook,