“Here!” Kady said rather fiercely. “I want down here.”
Instantly, Gamal halted his horse; then, turning, a smile on his handsome face, he held his arm rigid as Kady used it to swing herself down. The boys had paused in the road, staring up at the two people on the horse. Gamal said something in Arabic to the dark boy, who was unmistakably his son; then, after a polite nod and smile to Kady, he rode away.
For a moment Kady stood on the opposite side of the road from the boys, and the three of them just looked at each other. Young Tarik looked from his friend, a nine-year-old Cole, then to Kady and back again, for Cole and Kady were staring at each other with great intensity.
A man on a horse rode between them, looking at Kady with a grin of invitation, but when she ignored him, he shrugged and rode away. And when he was gone, Kady crossed the street, her eyes on the blond boy, who stood in frozen silence next to his dark-haired friend.
At nine years old, Cole
was a tall boy, showing signs of the man he would grow into, and his big blue eyes and sun-streaked blond hair already told how devastatingly handsome he was going to be.
For a moment, Kady just stared down at the boy, although he was nearly as tall as she was. He was going to live, she thought. Thanks to what Tarik had done, Cole and all his family were going to live. And Cole was going to be able to build his fine house and do what he could to help the town of Legend.
“Hello,” she said at last, her eyes on Cole, but he just stared at her as though he’d never seen a woman before. “Going fishing?” she asked.
Cole kept staring at her in silence, so Tarik answered. “Why were you riding with my father?”
Kady turned to look at him and saw that he was very much like his father. Her Tarik was lighter skinned and maybe his features weren’t as round as this boy’s, but it was easy to see that they were related. “I’m here with a relative of yours. His name is Tarik, too.”
The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “We have no relatives in this country. My father and I are alone.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Cole said, at last breaking his silence, and Kady turned to him with a smile.
“Who are you? Who do you work for?” Cole asked.
“Work for?” she asked, then paused. “Oh, I see,” she said, knowing he was referring to the houses of prostitution that were so numerous below the Jordan Line. How awful that he would assume that any strange woman worked in one of the houses. “I don’t work for anyone. I’m a cook.” It was silly to think that he would remember something that had never really happened, but part of her hoped that—
“You didn’t cook for me,” Cole said, his lower lip jutting out in a way that she had seen him do as an adult.
“I did too,” she said, laughing. “I cooked you a rat.”
At that Cole went into paroxysms of laughter, and Kady laughed with him, while Tarik stood by in silence, staring at them as though they were crazy.
On impulse, Kady hugged Cole to her, and at that moment all indecision left her. Until then she’d wondered if maybe her love for Cole would interfere with her love for Tarik. If she had a chance, would she have gone back to Cole? But the knowledge that he was just a boy had always been with her. Even when she’d been part of his dream and he’d been an adult, there had been something not-quite-adult about him.
Kady pulled away from Cole and held him at arm’s length. In the distance, the motorcycle noise had abruptly stopped, and she knew that soon Tarik would be coming for her. “Listen to me,” she said, looking into Cole’s eyes. “I don’t have much time, and I need to tell you some things. You have a responsibility to take care of this town. Do you understand me?”
Serious, his eyes wide, Cole nodded.
“You own Legend, and you must take care of it, no matter what. These people look up to you, their very lives depend on you. Never allow anything or anyone to stop you from taking care of these people. Do you promise me? Word of honor?”
Again Cole nodded.
“What else?” Kady said aloud, searching her mind. Why hadn’t she prepared for this meeting? To her left she could hear the thundering of horses’ hooves, and she knew without a doubt that it was Tarik coming to take her back to her own time.
“Be happy,” she said quickly. “You deserve it, and take care of your family, and say hello to your grandmother Ruth for me, and . . .” Turning, she looked down the road and blinked at what she saw. Tarik was riding toward her, and thrown across the front of his saddle was the unmistakable body of Wendell. And from the way she was hanging there, she was unconscious—if not dead.
“I have to go,” Kady said, moving toward Tarik. Even at this distance she could see that he was furious.
“Cole, marry a woman who can cook and . . . and put on a feast. The biggest feast Colorado has ever known. And build Tarik and his father a mosque and—”
She broke off as she ran back and hugged Cole again, and she could feel him clinging to her. “I hope I have a son just like you,” she whispered, then kissed his cheek, and when she looked into his eyes, she remembered Mr. Fowler telling her that the mines were nearly played out. “If you need money,” she said with her eyes boring into his, “search for the old man’s face.”
When he nodded as though he understood, she released him, then, and on impulse, she hugged Tarik, too. “Be nice to Ruth,” she whispered to him. “She’d make your father a wonderful wife.” Then she kissed him, too, released him, and began to run toward the horse that was rapidly approaching.
When Tarik reached her, he hardly slowed the horse, but leaned far down, his hand extended toward her. Kady caught it, put her foot into the stirrup, and swung herself upward behind him.
“Your grandfather’s son,” she said into Tarik’s ear as she put her arms around his waist and nodded toward the two boys standing beside the road, both of them staring in open-mouthed wonder. Tarik only glanced at the boys as he kicked the horse forward.