Her Cold Revenge

Chapter 9

"Grace?" a voice shouted outside the door.

Joe! What was he doing here? The nerves coursing through her body switched to anger, and she yanked the door open and marched out onto the porch. "You promised me you'd keep your distance! Black Coat won't show up with you here, I told you that."

Joe turned Paint toward the porch and pointed behind him. "Dust storm's coming. I wanted to be sure you were safe."

A swirling cloud of white was approaching Bisbee in the distance, but it was far enough away that they were all right for the time being.

"Looks like a thunderstorm's chasing its tail," Joe added as Grace put her hands on her hips.

Further in the distance, ominous gray clouds hung low in the sky, but that didn't tamp down her annoyance. Her worries that Joe would interfere with her bounty hunting were proving true.

"Don't look at me like that," he said when he saw her frown. "Your outlaw most likely hasn't even got word about you being isolated out here yet. Chances are he won't drift into the saloon until this evening, and with the dust storm I doubt he'll head up out here tonight."

Grace sighed. "You're probably right."

Joe turned and followed her gaze down toward the swirling cloud below them. "We're probably safe from the worst of it here in any case. Most dust storms peter out when they hit the hills."

Grace bit back the question nagging in her brain. If he was so sure the storm would weaken, then why had he come to the cabin? She watched him closely and pulled the door wider. "May as well come in now that you're here," she said grudgingly.

Joe dismounted and shouldered his pack. "No, I just wanted to check on you, to let you know the storm was coming. Like I said, it shouldn't hit here too badly. I'll just set up camp like I planned."

"Why don't you put Paint in the paddock with Bullet?" Her horse would be glad for company. With Bullet's dread of stalls, Grace hadn't stabled him with Widow Burns's other horses. Instead she released him into the paddock so he could run free.

When Joe led Paint to the gate, Bullet raced toward them, mane flying, and he and Paint nosed each other. They both whickered as if greeting an old friend, and she couldn't help wondering if Bullet missed life with the Ndeh as much as she did.

As soon as the horses were secured, Joe followed Grace back to the porch, hesitating when she opened the door. He peered inside, and his gaze lit on the tintype propped on the mantelpiece. "Making the place home-like, huh?" he said lightly.

Grace swallowed. No place could ever be like home again.

Joe's face tightened with remorse. "Oh, Grace, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"It's all right," she whispered, but she had trouble pushing words past the lump in her throat.

"No, it's not. I should have thought before I spoke," he said in a soft voice. "I know what it's like."

The gentleness of his words made tears well in Grace's eyes. She couldn't speak, only nod. He'd lost his parents too, and the Ndeh had adopted him when he was eight. She wondered if anyone ever got over their whole world falling apart.

Joe cleared his throat. "Are you sure you'll be all right this evening?"

Grace kept her voice as even as she could. "I'll be fine. I'm a bounty hunter, remember?" The declaration came out more clipped than she'd intended.

"Right. How could I forget?"

Hurt colored Joe's voice, and Grace regretted her sharpness.

"Have you eaten?" she asked. "I could make you something -"