Prairie Song by JODI THOMAS

met. But somehow she felt no fear as he spread his hands out along her back and pulled her to him with a need pounding in his heart as primal as jungle drums.
    “Three days.” Her voice was lower than a whisper, but it only needed to travel a few inches to reach him. “I dug the bullet out of your chest the first night. The fever had already set in and didn’t break until this morning.”
    “How could I not recover when the sight of you was waiting for me?” He brushed his thumb over her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “You’re even more beautiful than you feel and smell.”
    Cherish smiled. “And you still have some fever. I’ve been afraid more than once that you wouldn’t pull through.”
    “You saved my life,” he whispered in more of a question than a statement. “That’s the second time.”
    “It will all be wasted if you reopen the wound.” She studied him and wondered if anyone had ever gotten him to follow orders in his life. There was a sadness that must have taken years to layer into his gaze. “You should stay in bed,” she added, realizing that his fingers still touched her jaw.
    A slow smile spread across his lips and laughter touched his dark eyes. “So should you, my lady, and I’m willing to share the accommodations.”
    Cherish’s face reddened in shock as she raised her hand to slap his face. Her tiny palm hit his cheek full force, but he didn’t flinch. “How dare you say such a thing to me! I should turn you over to the Yankees and let your body rot to the bone.” Her passion might be untouched, but her temper had long reached full maturity.
    Brant released her slowly as if only just understanding the danger she might bring with her perfect body and soft skin. “Why didn’t you? You owe me nothing. I could have slipped away an hour ago, but I have to know why you helped me.”
    Putting as much distance between her and Brant Coulter as possible, she tried to think of the answer. She turned up the lamp and remained with her back to this stranger who seemed tied to her. “Maybe I think a man is innocent until proven guilty.”
    “I’m not.” His voice was growing closer, but she didn’t move. “I didn’t kill that man down by Bryan but I’ve killed others.” His words were as cold as granite, but his fingers were gentle as he brushed the hair at the back of her neck. “The only thing I ever believed in was the South. I thought we’d win because we were right. Texas came into the Union freely and I believed we had a right to leave freely. The damn Yankees act like it was some holy war about slavery, but it was more than that. A lot of folks in Texas were against slavery too. Now I no longer have the South to believe in. I have nothing.”
    His fingers molded lightly over her shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I thought you should know. I appreciate you patching me up, but I’m a dead man anyway. It’s only a matter of time before a bullet hits a few inches closer to my heart—assuming I still have one.”
    Cherish turned to face him, her eyes filled with sorrow. He was like so many rebels she’d seen in the past months. They were all sons of proud people, generations who had never lost a war, and now they were beaten, left with nothing, not even their pride. The war had drained it out of them one battle, one drop, at a time. They’d fought for their people, their land, and had come home to nothing, not even a hero’s welcome.
    “You can start a new life. Lots of men are heading for the West, where they can forget the war.”
    “No!” Brant’s fingers caressed her throat. “For me there is no future. It’s too late. Meeting you has given me substance for dreams until the end comes, and I thank you for that, lovely lady. For the past few years I thought there was nothing good left in this world and you’ve changed that. But I must leave before I bring you more trouble.”
    “But you can’t go. You’re too weak.” For the first