As he neared the section of Middle Fork River that ran through Wyatt’s land, he dismounted and led his horse along the stretch of riverbank where he’d come that September night almost two years ago.
That had been the night he’d freed Dylan from the mountain shack where Bat and his gang had locked him up after beating him. Getting past the guards hadn’t been easy, but Jericho knocked them both out and broke Dylan free from Bat’s hangout.
Only then did he learn Bat had placed a death warrant on Dylan. As long as Dylan remained in debt to Bat and stayed in South Park—even in Colorado Territory—someone eventually would turn him over to Bat again.
And the next time, Dylan wouldn’t get away, not unless it was in a coffin.
Even though Jericho hadn’t been as close to Dylan during those last couple of years living in South Park, he’d still considered him one of his best friends. At the time of Dylan’s run-in with Bat’s gang, Jericho had already quit his position as Elkhorn Ranch foreman and had been readying to leave. It’d been an easy decision to move up his departure and take Dylan with him.
The night they’d ridden out, Jericho hadn’t known where to go. But his horse took him in the direction of the one place he’d thought he’d never return. To his dad’s home in Chicago.
When his dad had sent Jericho and his older brother, Nash, west to Missouri in early ’62 to get away from the War of Rebellion, Jericho had been livid. He’d already had a distant relationship with his dad since his mom’s murder. And with his dad pushing him away even more, he’d decided he never wanted to see the man again.
When talk of conscription had turned into a reality in the early part of ’63, Dad decided to move Nash and him farther west. He telegrammed about the arrangements he’d made for them to drive cattle to Colorado. After gaining experience driving cattle in Missouri, they were just the kind of help Flynn McQuaid had been looking for in moving Wyatt’s new herd of Shorthorns to the high country.
Nash had never once questioned their dad’s decisions, and Jericho had always thought Nash was weak because of it. But now, in hindsight, he understood why Nash had gone along with their dad’s plans. Since their mom’s death, his brother had become a father to him and had wanted to keep him safe more than anything, especially from the long reaches of the war.
Jericho guided his mount closer to the river but then froze at the sight ahead. Ivy. Submerged up to her shoulders in the middle of the river.
The sky wasn’t completely black. The moon was full, and the stars were out in abundance. And he had no trouble seeing the shore, which told him everything he needed to know. She’d discarded her men’s garments and left them in a pile next to her horse. Now she was washing off her disguise before she put on her everyday garments, because she couldn’t very well show up at the ranch dressed like a man.
She splashed more water on her face and scrubbed both hands over her cheeks. With her back facing him, his thoughts turned again to the night he left Colorado, when he discovered her bathing in the stream.
His anger had been swift. Even though she’d only been seventeen at the time, it wasn’t lost on him that she’d been turning into an attractive woman. He’d seen the attention she garnered every place she went. He’d heard the comments men were making. And if any one of them had come across her taking a bath, they wouldn’t have thought twice about seducing her.
He’d sneaked up on her and proven just how dangerous it was for her to be out alone. But apparently his lesson hadn’t taught her anything. Maybe he ought to try to teach her another one. After her stunts at the competition and now this, it was clear she needed someone watching over her better.
Looping his horse’s lead line over a nearby branch, he tossed aside his boots and socks before wading in. For June, the water was still icy, containing the runoff of the melting snow in the higher elevations. As he tiptoed toward her over the slippery rocks on the stream bottom, the water numbed his toes and soaked his trousers up to his knees.
He made it within two steps of her when she shifted and twisted around. At the sight of him, she let out a yelp and dropped further under the water to cover herself.
She couldn’t have heard him. Had she sensed him?
He halted. Though she was shadowed by the darkness and the river, the creamy white of her skin was as evident as the moon overhead. The smooth expanse of her neck. The delicate arch of her shoulders graced with the straps of her chemise. The slight curve of her chest that wasn’t submerged.
Her eyes were large and luminous in the paleness of her face. Her hair had fallen loose from a bun on the top of her head, and strands stuck to her cheeks and neck. A smudge of charcoal remained on her chin.
Blast it all. Her face was the prettiest he’d ever laid eyes on, especially as she peered up at him.
He gave himself a mental slap—just like he’d always done—for letting his thoughts wander to how beautiful she was. Not only did over three years of age difference stand between them, but so did Dylan. He’d promised Dylan from the start of their friendship he’d treat Ivy as a sister and nothing more.
“Jericho.” Her tone was mild but contained an edge. She wasn’t surprised to see him, had obviously recognized him at the competition.
“Buster Bliss.” He might as well let her know he’d figured out what she was up to.
She didn’t bat an eye. “What are you doing here, Jericho? You make a habit of spying on women taking their baths?”
Obviously, she remembered the night of their parting too. “Looks like I make a habit of sneaking up on foolish young girls who still need to learn important lessons about safety.”
“Young girl?” Her voice rose a notch. “I wasn’t a young girl when you left, and you can bet your last dollar I ain’t one now.”
He waved his hand at her, then at her pile of clothes. “This is childish, dangerous, and irresponsible, Ivy. Thought I warned you last time I caught you out here.”
“Childish?” She stirred in the water, lowering her feet.
She wasn’t thinking of standing in front of him in her unmentionables, was she?
Lord in heaven help him. Before she could push herself up, he jerked his gaze heavenward and spun as fast as he could, nearly tripping and falling into the cold water. “Ivy McQuaid! What in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?”
“Reckon I oughta give you a gander at a woman, since you don’t know what one looks like.”
His mouth went dry. “Don’t you even think about it.” From what he could tell from her stillness behind him, she’d abandoned her plan. Regardless, a part of him wanted to turn around and peek. Thank the Lord he had a willpower of steel, and he stood as stationary and straight as a lamppost. “Get out and get some clothes on. Now.”
“I’m not a girl, Jericho. And it’s about time you realized it.”
From the little bit he’d seen of her above the water, he agreed. She was all woman and even more gorgeous than he remembered.
But it didn’t matter. She was still Ivy. And he’d always think of her as Dylan’s little sister, a gangly girl in two braids, a fun playmate during the trip across the Santa Fe Trail. That’s all.
She expelled a long, drawn-out sigh, one filled with exasperation. Then from the splashing he could tell she was making her way toward the shore. She was right there behind him, dripping wet, wearing nothing but her unmentionables and the skin she’d been born in.