LITMIR.BIZ

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paradise.”

      “Hell in a basket, ma’am. Hell in a basket.” Matt Suede sighed deeply, then didn’t say another word for the rest of the trip.

      From a quarter mile off, Matt saw the very thing he knew to be true. The Harkins place was no better than any other struggling homestead. Maybe it was worse, having been abandoned. There was no trace of a fine wood house gleaming in the moonlight, no barn, no half-grown trees, no trace of Emma Parker’s dream.

      Any second now he would have to tell her that they had passed over the boundaries of her land. He’d rather have a steer stomp on his foot than see the high spirits making her strain forward in the seat turn to slump-shouldered sorrow.

      How did a man find the words to break a person’s dream? Especially the person who had so recently saved his neck from a noose.

      “Whoa!” he called to the team. Emma Parker looked up at him with moonlight caught in the glow of her eyes. “We’re here, ma’am. This is the old Harkins place.”

      Emma climbed over the side of the wagon before he had a chance to help her down. She walked about thirty yards, then turned and glanced all about. She hadn’t taken the time to change out of her fancy gown before they’d headed out of town, so now, standing out in the moonlight, she looked like an angel who’d lost her wings and was searching high and low for them.

      “I think you’ve brought me to the wrong place, Mr. Suede.”

      Matt jumped off the wagon. His footfalls crunching over the dirt echoed across the prairie. Somewhere, not too far off, a cow bellowed and another, farther out, answered.

      “This is what you filed on. It’s the old Harkins place.”

      “But this can’t be it.” He’d come up close enough to hear the swallowed sob in her throat. “Where’s my house? Where’s Pearl’s barn?”

      “There’ll be a dugout around here, most likely. Was your Mrs. Harkins prone to tall tales? Well, even if she wasn’t, the house wouldn’t have lasted the month. Out here, lumber is like gold. Mrs. Harkins’s house is scattered all over the county by now.”

      “Mercy, I don’t even see a single tree.” Emma made a full turn, looking far and wide over her land. “Do you suppose my neighbors took them, too?”

      How was he to tell her that her nearest neighbor was probably a two-hour ride back to town? Pendragon’s crew had taken up so many homesteads circling Dodge that Matt was surprised this one had been overlooked.

      A sudden gust of wind snatched Emma’s skirt. The satin snapped and twisted. Out over the plains, dust began to stir. Cowboys would be herding their beeves toward the shelter of gullies and shallow hills. In another ten minutes a man wouldn’t be able to see his own boots.

      “Darlin’.” Already Matt had to raise his voice to be heard over the moan of the wind. “Unhitch Thunder and Pearl. Take them over to that rise and see if you can find the dugout. Call out if there’s still a door on it.”

      Matt took the canvas cover off the wagon without looking at it. He kept his gaze on the blur of Emma’s gown. For now he could see it, but in a minute or two she could blow all the way back to Dodge and he wouldn’t know it.

      “I found it!” Luckily her voice blew right at him. “There’s no door!”

      He hadn’t expected a door. “Go inside, yell if there’s enough room for the other horses!” He wasn’t sure if she heard his voice, but the half-obscured glow of her gown vanished, telling him that she had gone inside.

      Matt leaped up on the wagon, praying that his bride was a sensible sort and had brought along a few tools.

      “There’s room and more, Mr. Suede.”

      Emma’s voice came from the rear wheel of the wagon.

      “Hell, ma’am, what are you doing out here? You should have stayed put, where it was safe.”

      “You don’t expect me to stay inside while my goods blow to kingdom come?”

      “That’s just what I expect.” Matt hopped down from the wagon. “Here, take hold of my arm and don’t let go.”

      Matt gripped the team’s reins and with the wagon in tow, made slow progress toward the dugout tucked into the hillside.

      Praise be that the trip from town hadn’t taken a few minutes longer. The last thing he needed was to be caught out in a sandstorm with a defenseless woman who fancied herself capable of living in the wild with a blind horse as her protector.

      Emma had taken only a few steps, with her skirts tangling about her shins, before she started to cough. She’d never known a wind that could steal the breath right out of a body. Sand and grit stung her face, forcing her to close her eyes. Thank goodness Mr. Suede had a strong arm to clutch onto.

      “Stand still a minute, darlin’.” A cloth smelling like dust and hardworking male came across her face. She felt Matt Suede’s fingers at the back of her head, tying a knot in it.

      She took a deep, sand-free breath, with her new husband leading the way toward the dugout. She couldn’t see, but she felt safer beside this big, solid man.

      Matt let go of the horses and led her inside. She took the bandanna from her face and shook it out. Even with her eyes uncovered, she couldn’t see Pearl or Thunder at the far end of the cavelike home.

      With no door on the dugout, the wind whipped inside, swirling and moaning off the walls.

      “Mr. Suede, are you in here?” No answer. What could have happened to him? “Mr. Suede?”

      “I’ll be along.” His words came out coughed more than spoken. “Stay inside.”

      Emma heard the jingling of a harness just beyond the opening to the soddie. She took four dust-blinded steps outside before she ran smack into his vest.

      “Hell, woman, I thought I told you to stay inside.”

      “You’ll need this.” Emma felt for his face. Her fingers touched his unshaven cheek. She tied the bandanna around it. “And you can’t tell me what to do.”

      Leather snapped, metal jingled and Matt Suede pulled her and the rented team into the dugout.

      He yanked the bandanna off his face. If she stared hard, she could make out his features in the dark. He didn’t look pleased.

      “Didn’t you vow before God and Mrs. Sizeloff to obey your husband?”

      “You are not my husband, not really.”

      “Do I have to frame that marriage license and hang it on the wall?”

      The wind slapped Matt Suede’s shirtsleeves against his arms. It whirled the dirt on the floor, making it dance about his boots.

      “Did you bring any tools or lamps in the wagon?”

      “Yes, of course. I’m not a half-wit.”

      He gave her a long stare through the gloom.

      “If you tell me where they are I’ll tack the canvas over the doorway. We’ll be able to light a lamp.”

      “You won’t be able to get to them. They’re in the bottom crate toward the front.”

      He yanked the bandanna over his nose and turned to go out. She caught his arm.

      “Please stay inside—we’ll get by until the wind lets up.”

      “It could turn bitter cold.”

      “I’ve been cold before. It never lasts.”

      Emma felt her way to a corner of the room. The wind was quiet here, but he had been right about the cold. The temperature seemed to be dropping by the second. She sat down in the dirt and drew her knees up to her chest.

      This ought to finish off her hard-earned gown. She had

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