“Eating with us?” Anton asked when she delivered the quail to the kitchen, the look in his eyes a direct challenge.
Thus far, she’d managed excuses, but tonight nothing credible came to mind. She shrugged out of her coat and washed her hands. “Where are our fathers?”
“The cabin, I guess. I’d send Nikolaus for them, but I don’t want him out alone. They’ll show up.” One-handed, he set plates around the table.
She stood by awkwardly until he plunked a cutting board on the table and attempted slicing a loaf of bread, then she edged him out of the way. “Let me.”
Watching her deft moves over her shoulder, his gaze fixed on her breasts, bobbling beneath her thin flannel shirt. Instantaneous desire, never far from the surface, sprang to life. Pulled by a force beyond himself, he leaned forward until his face was inches from her neck and inhaled her clean, outdoor smell. Her hand stilled on the knife. She was aware of his closeness, but he indulged himself, the ferocious itch for her blotting out the pain in his shoulder, the hunger in his belly.
She made the last slice, deliberately laid the knife across the cutting board edge and turned slowly. Her dark lashes lifted from his shoulder to his neck, her eyes at last focusing on his, only to drop immediately to his mouth as if remembering the pleasure they’d shared. The tip of her tongue dipped out to trace her lips...unconsciously? The movement stirred him so that his lips parted and his breath lodged painfully in his chest. Seductress.
If only I’d known you first, he thought, regret eating at his gut. If only I’d known you when I could still feel...still love...still hope. Emily had never looked at him like this. Had Emily known him better and found him lacking?
Each time Rain Shadow provoked his response, he compared it to Emily, to the pain loving her had wrought. Learning the hard way had convinced him he didn’t want to go through it again. For the first time, Anton questioned his motives. The distance he needed to keep obviously hadn’t been fair to Sissy, and she’d recognized it. Wisely, she hadn’t cheated herself.
Was wanting her but having nothing to give in return fair to Rain Shadow?
Rain Shadow fought the urge to close her eyes and lean into him. Why did he torture her this way? What did he want? They both knew she wasn’t what he wanted. And she wasn’t foolish enough not to know why. Was he goading her? It would serve him right to call his bluff. They’d reached an almost comfortable coexistence, so why did he risk tipping the boat?
It was plain he wanted her. She’d known it from the first time he’d looked at her just this way. What did she have to lose? Respectability? He already thought her a woman of loose morals. Crazily, she raised her hand and outlined the silky texture of his upper lip with one finger, his nostrils flaring in response. She traced his lower lip, parting her own and reveling in the power it seemed she held in one slender finger, for his eyes darkened and the pulse at his throat beat wildly.
Encouraged, she flattened her palm against his rough cheek, the tips of her fingers sliding into the silky hair behind his ear. Rain Shadow drew herself on tiptoe and pulled his head to hers, meeting no resistance. His mouth clamped over hers, his tongue fulfilling her unspoken request against her own. He groaned into her mouth, a tortured sound that reached her toes.
She pulled away, her body alive with want. No. This was no joke. This was real and crazy and something she’d be denied because she wasn’t Sissy Clanton. She was Princess Blue Cloud, Slade’s mother, contestant for the sharpshooter championship...orphan.
Boot heels clomped on the back porch, and they stepped apart guiltily, Rain Shadow turning her fuzzy gaze to the loaf of bread. Two Feathers and Johann entered with a sidelong glance. They passed an unspoken confirmation between them and silently washed at the sink.
* * *
“I’m glad Sissy ain’t gonna be my ma.”
The fire hissed, and something sounding like a screw rolled on the tabletop in the ensuing silence. Anton studied the clock parts scattered across the scarred table, lamplight glinting off his spectacles.
“She ain’t?” Slade asked Nikolaus innocently. “Why?”
“’Cause her and my pa ain’t comparable.”
Anton cleared his throat and corrected, “Compatible.”
“Yeah.” Nikolaus sprawled on a quilt before the fireplace. He and Slade were munching popcorn Rain Shadow had popped over the flames.
“What’s that?” Slade pressed.
Sitting between the boys, attention arrested, Rain Shadow sensed Anton behind her and employed untapped reserves of willpower not to turn around. Her skin flushed from the heat of the blaze.
“They don’t like the same things. Ain’t that right, Pa?”
For the first time she could remember, Anton didn’t correct his son’s grammar. “That’s right.”
“Sort of like you love popcorn, but she doesn’t?” Slade twisted his body to get a better look at Anton.
“Well...” he hedged.
A log rolled in the fireplace, and Rain Shadow focused her attention on it.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist,” Anton said.
“Why’re you glad, Nikolaus?” Slade tossed a kernel in the air and caught it on his tongue.
“She doesn’t act like a ma and she has too many freckles. Did my mama have that many freckles?”
Rain Shadow held her quivering lips taut at Nikolaus’ serious expression.
“No. But, Nikolaus, freckles aren’t a reason not to like a person. Sissy isn’t a mother yet, so how would she know how to act like one?”
“What was a good reason you decided not to marry her then, Pa?”
“Son,” Anton said, an exasperated puff huffing out with the word. “You’re too young to understand. Besides, some things are personal.”
“Did she cry when you told her you didn’t wanna marry her?”
“That’s personal, too.”
“Well, did she, Pa?”
“Nikolaus.”
Suddenly the source of his embarrassment struck Rain Shadow. Laughter welled up inside her and bubbled over. She clasped her hand over her mouth too late and convulsed with mirth. Sissy had turned him down!
“What’s so funny?”
At last she turned toward him.
He jerked his gold-rimmed spectacles from his nose and stood.
“I—I’m—sorry.” His indignant expression provoked another fit of laughter.
“Is my personal life amusing to you?”
She smothered another grin. “A little maybe.”
Vexed, he spun on his heel and stomped toward the kitchen where his father was intent on saving his last two red kings. Anton poured himself a cup of coffee and scowled out the window into the blackness.
“You going to check the animals tonight?” Johann asked.
“I’ll do it,” he returned.
“It’s getting harder and harder to keep Rain Shadow in at night, but we have to be careful. Two Feathers found a cold campsite on the east ridge this mornin’. Ruiz is still out there.”
Anton took a scalding sip of the strong brew without glancing into the room. “Sure wish I knew his intent.”
Two Feathers grunted in agreement.
“Do you think it’s her or the boy?” Anton asked the old Indian.
Wizened black eyes lifted to inspect Anton’s face. “What he wants is for his own profit. Of that I am sure.”
Anton nodded grimly. “I’m sick of waiting around for his next move like a sitting duck. I think I should go after Ruiz. Turn the tables on him.”
“What then? Kill ’im?” Johann asked.
Anton met his father’s eyes. Of course not. But there must be something he could do.
Johann tamped his pipe with fresh tobacco. “Or ride into his camp and say, ‘Would you mind leaving these parts? You’re tryin’ me’?”
Anton plopped the mug down on the table in frustration. “There must be some way to discourage him.”
Johann shrugged
his shoulders. “Too bad she ain’t married.”
Two Feathers nodded sagely.
“Married?” Anton frowned at his father as if he was hallucinating.
“Yup. If it’s Rain Shadow he wants, a husband would clear that right up. If it’s the boy, her husband could sign some papers and have legal rights.”
“You sure about that?”
Johann shrugged negligently. “Could check it out easy enough.”
His pipe held between his teeth, he focused his attention once again on the checker game. A spiral of smoke curled past Johann’s grizzly white brow. Anton grabbed his coat from a hook and wondered at the sheepish look the two old men exchanged. “I’ll be in shortly.”
He’d lain awake nights with his shoulder throbbing, trying to uncover a solution. Sending her on to winter quarters would only relocate the problem, besides removing her from his protection. Ruiz had found her once, he’d find her again. Seeking the law didn’t sound helpful. After all, Anton had thrown the first punch in that free-for-all. Ruiz could plead self-defense. He’d thought the situation over, always ending at a road leading nowhere.
But his father’s suggestion was ridiculous. Who would marry her? That Tall Bear fellow from the show who’d joked about offering her father more horses?
Anton allowed the rich, pungent aromas of animals and grain to soothe his ire. Helplessness didn’t sit easily. He offered Jack a handful of oats and rubbed the bony ridge between his eyes.
“You earn your keep, fella,” he said softly, thinking of relentless circles in the corral, Rain Shadow standing sure-footedly on the animal’s back, defying gravity while taking perfect aim at last night’s bean cans.
Nobody in his right mind would marry a woman like that. Anton fingered Jack’s meticulously braided mane. For days he’d mulled over a solution to protect her and Slade from Ruiz. There was no justifiable reason for him to feel he should be the one to find an answer. His common sense told him to let her take care of herself like she wanted. Every self-preserving instinct screamed for him to mind his own business. But something else, some illogical voice, overstepped all sense and sanity and prodded him to consider his father’s idea.
He kneaded Jack’s ear between his fingers and couldn’t help recalling the loving words and caresses Rain Shadow bestowed on the animal. Earlier he’d had no means to protect her. But if his father was right, he did now. He no longer held a commitment to Sissy. As mad as it sounded, marriage seemed like the all-round best solution so far.
Rain Shadow was surprised to discover sleet needling her cheeks when she stepped off the back porch. The house cushioned noises and weather she was accustomed to hearing inside her lodge. She buried her hands deep in her coat pockets and hurried to the barn.
Anton turned at the sound of the door sliding open and shut.
“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be out here,” she said defensively. “I’m sick of being cooped up in the house.”
“I know the feeling.”
“You mean we have something in common?”
He set a bucket aside.
“Anton, I’m sorry I laughed.”
He shouldered past her without comment.
The gray and white cat sidled against the top of her boot, and she smiled, inexplicably pleased with herself. She’d gotten to Anton, disturbed him on a level she’d never reached before. Why the thought warmed her inside she didn’t know.
* * *
“Wanna ride into Butler with me?” Anton paused on the back porch. Rain Shadow’s hair shone blue-black in the morning sunlight, her braid hidden inside her coat. She looked up from a shirt she’d been mending since breakfast. “What about the boys?”
“Annette’s asked for them to stay at her place today. And our fathers will be close by.”
She considered.
“I thought we’d scout the east ridge on our way, check out those campsites.”
“When do we leave?”
“How soon can you be ready?”
“Only need my hat and holster.” Any other woman would’ve taken a good hour to prepare herself for a visit into town. Not her. She stabbed a needle into the flannel and stood. “Can you help me carry Slade over?”
“I’ll get him. I have to grab a pair of boots.” He ran stocking-footed up the stairs, pleased with the improved movement of his arm and shoulder.
Passing Nikolaus’ room, Anton glanced in and stopped in his tracks. He stared at the empty bed for a full minute. Voices reached him, and he followed the sound. Entering the usually unoccupied bedroom, be discovered Nikolaus and Slade standing side by side in front of a long, low mirror, obviously chosen for its exceptional reflection of their painted faces. He stepped back against the doorjamb. They hadn’t seen him. The boys spoke in husky, guttural voices, absorbed in a game of war paint and imaginary ponies.
Both wore loincloths. Bear claws hung from their necks, and their faces were masterpieces of ferocious black and white geometric designs, apparently painted by Slade. Anton wanted to laugh and tiptoe out to collect Rain Shadow. The thought disturbed him. When had he ever had the desire to share a moment like this with someone?
A realization hit him belatedly.
Slade stood beside Nikolaus, no sign of his splint. His long, narrow leg was every bit as sturdy as the other, and he was having the time of his life.
Anton leaned against the wall outside the door. Why, those two little scoundrels! How long had this trickery been going on? All the while his mother carried him and worried and slept in this house while wanting to be out in her lodge,
Slade had been pulling a fast one. And Nikolaus! His son had gone right along with the deception. What did they hope to gain?
Time. Time together as brothers. Time Rain Shadow could ill afford. Anton considered going downstairs for her after all. He considered it for about five seconds, instead padded to his room, stomped his feet into his boot heels and hollered, “You fellas ready to go over to Aunt Annette’s for the day?”
Rain Shadow would hit the ceiling if she knew. She’d rant and rave and gather her son and father, pack her lodge and be out of here before the sun set tonight. He couldn’t let that happen. For some reason unknown to himself, this burning obligation to protect her from Ruiz grew stronger with each passing moment. He couldn’t shield her if she left.
Several deliberate thumps and bumps later, he strode down the hallway, paused to straighten a picture on the wall, and entered Nikolaus’ room. Painted and feathered, two sets of wide innocent eyes greeted him. Slade’s splints were once again in place.
Anton thumped his chest. “Me friend. Me take braves to aunt’s house, make heap good cookies.” The boys crumpled on the bed, chortling like conspiring brothers.
* * *
A small figure in a flat-crowned black hat and fringed buckskin jacket dismounted, tying a familiar painted pony to the hitching rail. Beside Rain Shadow the tall, blond farmer looped the reins of his bay over the rail next to hers. Neubauer scanned the street from beneath the brim of his dun-colored Stetson, and Miguel receded into the alleyway. The farmer spoke, pulled a watch from his pocket to show Rain Shadow, then kept her under observation until she entered the mercantile.
Neubauer crossed the street with long-legged strides and entered a one story building with “J.J. Hawkins, Attorney at Law” painted in block letters on a wooden sign above the door. Miguel leaned against the building and drew a cheroot from inside his coat. It had grown too cold to waste nights warmed by a camp fire, and he’d been waiting days for a response to his telegraphed message to Fredrico Avarato. His cash was nearly gone. A man like him deserved more.
How could he get close enough to convince her after that scene at the farmers’ dance? Neubauer would be sorry.
No. Rain Shadow was his target, not the farmer. He must keep that in mind. If he could not come by the locket with her consent, he would secure it without. Separate her from her guard and take it. He puffed on the thin cigar, smoke drifting past his black brow
s. Before snow flew in this godforsaken place, he would have the locket in hand.
Rain Shadow slung her ammunition-laden saddlebags over her shoulder, her boots treading heavily on the wooden boardwalk.
“Rain Shadow!”
She turned and watched Anton lope up beside her. “Finished?”
He nodded, considered offering to carry her bulging leather bags, but instead watched her stride to Jack and shift them from her shoulder to the pony’s pack with little difficulty, humiliated to realize he probably couldn’t have done as well with his shoulder as tender as it was.
They mounted and rode toward the Neubauer farm, the ground beneath the horses’ hooves hard from the cold. They cantered in silence for half a mile, the sky a heavy gray blanket above their heads.
“There’s something I want you to think about.”
Rain Shadow glanced at him, noting the tall, easy way he sat his bay. She raised one brow in question.
“I had a talk with Jed Hawkins back there. He’s an attorney.”
She waited for him to get to the point.
“He claims if you were married that your husband could sign an affirmation of some sort and Slade would legally be your husband’s child.”
Surprised by the idea, she gazed at a barren stand of maple trees. “I guess somewhere in my plans for the future I’ve thought of marriage. I’d like for Slade to have a father. A boy needs a man—not that Two Feathers hasn’t been a wonderful companion and teacher for him,” she added quickly. She gave him a sharp frown beneath the flat brim of her hat. “Why would you talk to a lawyer about something like that?”
His eyes diverted to the horizon. “Our fathers came up with a plan.”
“A plan for what?” she asked, wariness in her voice.
“They think if we were married, Ruiz would be discouraged.” At her shocked expression, he hurried on. “He’d have nothing to hang around for. You’d be taken, and Slade would have a legal father. His two reasons for staying would be gone.”
Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides) Page 15
