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 if they had never been.
“Pa!” Georgie screamed as she slid from Mariah’s arms and waded through the grass toward one of the approaching riders. “Pa!”
With his dark Stetson hiding his face, Nick Gray bent to scoop the little girl into his arms. She held him fiercely, clinging to his wide shoulders. He looked stronger than ever, holding his child.
Mariah couldn’t hear his words, only the mumble of his voice, distant and low and soothing. She tore her gaze from him, fighting to ignore the hitch of longing deep inside. The sharp twinge of emotion shamed her.
She was too old to pine after some man she didn’t even like. Tucking her hair into some order, she gathered her skirts and turned her back on Nick before he recognized her. The last thing on this earth she wanted to do was to have to talk to him.
Riders galloped past her, searching out the fleeing coyotes.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” one of them asked.
“Fine.” She didn’t look at him as she trudged through the thick grasses.
Georgie was safe and in her father’s strong arms. There was no reason for her to stay, or for Nicholas Gray to say a single word to her. She was running late, and she had deliveries to make. She had no time for small talk.
“Ma’am! Wait up.” A deep, captivating male voice rumbled across the prairie.
Nick’s voice.
She cringed. So, he still hadn’t recognized her, had he? She walked faster.
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
Hooves clipped behind her, vibrating the earth. “You don’t look fine. I saw that coyote jump you, and I feared the worst. He scratched you up pretty bad. Your dress is torn.”
So, he still hadn’t recognized her, had he? She kept her back to him and refused to comment. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.
But no, Nick reined his gelding to a stop in front of her. The big brute was