A Hero's Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

with such passion. Who was he, and what had he meant to her?
    Pale and forlorn, Rachel sagged against the canvas of the wagon, holding the wet cloth to her forehead. She gazed at him with a hurtful, questioning expression, making Wade feel smaller than a pine sapling.
    Sometime during the night, he realized Rachel trembled with cold and he’d wrapped his body around hers, torturing himself with the feel of her body snuggled against his. And when she rolled over in the night, he’d placed her head against his chest, his arms cradling her.
    He’d dreamed all night long of taking her, right there on the ground, under the stars, but Rachel was no whore. And he knew, sober and awake, she wouldn’t be willing.
    Becky was right. Rachel was the kind of woman who wanted marriage, respectability; and he was not the kind of man who offered those things. In fact, he had nothing to offer a woman. No home, no money.
    A home meant stability and family, neither of which Wade was qualified to provide. Money was something that flowed through his hands at the drop of a card.
    Besides, he’d vowed to settle his past once and for all by finding his brother, not acquiring a wife in the middle of nowhere.
    But damn, Rachel Cooke had turned out to be a surprising woman. The memory of her kiss was still fresh on his mind and on his lips. She’d responded to his touch in a way he never would have suspected. She appeared so cool, so devout, and plain on the outside, but beneath the surface lay a passion sweet and pure.
    Wade glanced at Rachel. She leaned against the wagon, swaying with the rhythm of the oxen, the wet cloth pressed against her temple, her face pale, eyes closed.
    Fort Laramie was the end of the trail with the Cooke sisters and as far as he was concerned, it wouldn’t come too soon.
    * * *
    Crossing barren rolling hills, Rachel caught her first sight of Fort Laramie and felt an enormous sense of peace. Civilization and humanity all in one place.
    Built by the American Fur Company, the fort, molded of sun-dried bricks, had clay blockhouses at two of its corners. Pointed wooden stakes formed a fence, with two gates that swung wide at the entrance. The fort was a busy place, with Indians in tepees and an emigrant wagon train camped alongside each other outside its walls.
    Rachel glanced at Wade Ketchum, his broad back swaying gracefully with the rhythm of his horse. The memory of waking up in his arms had stayed with her all day. Yet she had slept soundly for the first time in days. It was the first night she’d felt safe and secure since her father’s death. It was the first time, since Ethan, she’d wanted more than a kiss from a man.
    Bits and pieces of the night before had slowly returned, along with a burgeoning sense of shame. It was a good thing Mr. Ketchum was leaving them at Fort Laramie.
    She watched as he pulled on the reins of his horse, stopping just outside the walls of the fort. He motioned for Becky to halt the wagon, not far from the other emigrants, several of whom waved in friendly acknowledgement.
    “We’ll set up your camp here. You’ll be safe next to these people,” Wade called out to Rachel.
    She purposefully ignored him as Becky set the brake and tied the reins to the handle. The children scampered around the wagon, glad to be exercising their stiff limbs.
    “Mr. Ketchum, would you be so kind as to help me unhitch the oxen before you leave?” Becky asked.
    Wade glanced at Becky, then hesitantly responded, “Sure.”
    Together, they unhitched the team while Rachel climbed down from the wagon and slowly started setting up their camp. Before Mr. Ketchum left, she intended to find out exactly what he’d given her last night and if anything had happened between them. Like nasty mosquitoes, the questions had plagued her all day. Telling all was the least he could do after the comments he’d made that morning.
    Toby and Grace were busily setting up the tent when Wade walked around to the back of the