Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides)

by Cheryl St. John

  “So we can be your family.”

  She twisted her wrist loose. “Don’t insult me by pitying me, Anton. I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it.”

  His stomach plummeted.

  She jerked the headband off, tugged the ties from her braids and ran her fingers through the plaits. Beads plunked and rolled like marbles, and feathers fluttered to the floor.

  “Look.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “If you lose, you can still have a family with mine. They’re all crazy about you. Especially Nikolaus, you must know that.”

  She pulled away, grabbed her hairbrush and stroked it through her hair, brushing until the ebony length shone. “So you don’t think I’m going to win? You think I’ll make a fool of myself and be devastated? Thanks for your confidence.” She braided her hair in one long plait, pulling it over her shoulder to tie the braid with a leather strip. “You can go now. You’ve done your good deed. You’ve made the ultimate sacrifice. Your conscience is clear.”

  He stared at her, her anger a perplexity. She untied the dress and slipped it forward. He’d come all this way to assure her, and he’d only succeeded in making her mad. He’d never been able to say things right, to express his real feelings. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes all over again. This outcome was too important. This outcome was everything.

  Deliberately, she dropped the dress to the floor and, dressed only in her thong and moccasins, stepped out of the doeskin puddle and turned to her trunk.

  Anton stared at the ridges of her spine, fighting to control the desire that pierced his composure at the sight of her honey-hued skin.

  She unfolded a dress.

  “I said it all wrong,” he said softly. I’m an idiot.”

  She tossed the braid over her shoulder.

  “Rain Shadow.” He stepped behind her and, without thinking, spanned her bare waist with his hands, turning her to face him. “I meant to say it differently.” Beneath his callused palms, her skin was as velvet-soft as ever. His hands still made her seem like a fragile, delicate creature, though he was well aware of her strength. “I’m a fool. This has nothing to do with feeling sorry for you. I need you. I just hope I might appeal to you as much as the fame you’ve already earned and the notoriety you will surely know before this day is over.”

  She wadded the dress in her fists and met his gaze evenly. “I’m not Emily. I can never be like her.”

  He raised his brows in surprise. “I would never have given you a second glance if you were.”

  “But you loved her. She was everything I’m not.”

  “Yes.” Hurt flickered in her eyes. “I did my best to love her. And you’re nothing like her, that’s true. From the minute I brought her home, she was uncomfortable with me. I never learned how to...connect with her.” He stopped and his voice faltered. “I take all the responsibility for not making her happy.”

  “She was a fool, then,” she declared.

  He’d told her this much, he may as well tell it all. “Her moods changed quickly. Toward the end she behaved more strangely than ever. And then she sent for me, set fire to the barn and locked herself inside.”

  Rain Shadow’s lips formed an astonished O.

  “Lydia had seen that she’d doused the tackle room with kerosene. She told Lydia to go get me and she set fire to the hay. We chopped a hole in the side of the barn to get in. I caught a glimpse of her, but a rafter fell between Emily and the opening. The fire was out of control. I tried to save her.”

  “The dream,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “She was seven months pregnant.”

  Tears welled in Rain Shadow’s storm-sad eyes. “Oh, Anton, I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry. Don’t you see? You’re nothing like her. You’re...perfect.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. I never had a woman want me like you did. You’re open. You’re honest. Unaffected and unspoiled and...”

  Her shimmering violet gaze dropped to his chest.

  “And you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I lived a lot of years with hurt and anger eating me up inside. I never wanted to care for a woman again. That’s why you seemed dangerous to me. That’s why Sissy was safe.”

  “She can bake and keep house and quilt.”

  “She can’t hold a candle to you.”

  Rain Shadow raised her gaze to his mouth. “What are you saying, Anton?”

  One thumb caressed her spine, sending a delicious shiver up her back. “I’m saying I love you.”

  Her heart slowed to a dangerous level. Loved her? Her? A woman who didn’t even know her real name? He could trace his ancestry all the way back to Germany! He loved an orphan with only an illegitimate son and an old Indian for family? He had his own son, father, brothers, nieces, nephews and sisters-in-law. Had he come all this way on a mercy quest... or because he loved her? Loved her? “Is that what you came to say?”

  “Yes. I don’t pity you. I admire you. And I want you to be my wife.”

  Hoof beats pounded up to the lodge. “Princess Blue Cloud?”

  “I’m changing,” she called.

  “’Bout another five minutes. Will’s looking for ya!” a young male voice called.

  “Tell him I’ll be there.”

  “Yes, miss.” The youth rode off.

  Blinking away tears, Rain Shadow untangled herself from Anton’s embrace and slipped her dress over her head. Anton had picked a fine time to tell her this. She picked up her Stevens rifle and her revolvers. “I’ve worked most of my life for this day. I’m not going to give it all up now.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to,” he replied. “Just remember, whatever happens, I love you.”

  His solemn blue gaze forced her to turn away. She picked up one of her ammunition bags. “I told you I loved you once, and it didn’t change anything,” she said barely above a whisper.

  “Here, let me carry those for you.” He brushed past her and took the bags.

  She sized up his lack of response. Didn’t he believe her? The first time he’d ignored her admission of love she’d been hurt, thinking he had no feelings for her. This time he’d confused her, especially after his profession of love.

  Rain Shadow watched him fold the flap aside and carry her bags out. He’d told her he loved her, yet ignored the same words from her. Without understanding, she followed.

  * * *

  As the cowboy band played a lively march, Annie Oakley walked proudly onto the field amid whoops and hollers from the crowd. They loved her, as always. Today’s performance was not her usual routine. Her title had been challenged, and she meant to defend it.

  She wore one of her leather skirts and a snug-fitting short jacket that emphasized her tiny waist and hourglass figure. Shiny black boots and a flat-crowned hat completed the ensemble. Rain Shadow noticed Annie wore her wedding ring, an unusual occurrence when photographs were to be taken.

  A row of cameras formed a bizarre windbreak in the arena, cameramen’s legs and feet showing beneath the black drapes. Rain Shadow tried to ignore them and gauged the direction of the subtle breeze. Will announced Princess Blue Cloud. From her perch atop Jack, she balanced herself on her moccasined feet and rode into the arena, arms outspread.

  The crowd cheered.

  Nimbly, she leapt from Jack’s back and took her place, the pony obediently trotting to the sidelines.

  Annie Oakley strolled to face Rain Shadow. “The big day’s finally here,” she said, and turned to study the crowd from beneath the brim of her hat where one of her many medals winked in the sunlight.

  Rain Shadow met her gaze when she turned back. “Good luck, Annie.”

  Annie’s brows rose in surprise.

  The band fell silent.

  Finally, Annie offered Rain Shadow her gloved hand. “Good luck, Princess.”

  Rain Shadow shook Annie’s hand, searching her eyes for a glimmer of uncertainty, but Little Sure Shot
was calm and confident.

  Will played to the audience with his exaggerated gestures and smiles. He listed Annie’s accomplishments, and she warmed up, firing at blue glass balls her husband, Frank Butler, threw into the air.

  Will crowed Rain Shadow’s abilities, and Hank Tall Bear tossed balls into the air for her practice shots.

  “And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” Will shouted into his megaphone.

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  “Each sharpshooter will be allowed the same number of shots for a total of fifty! In the unlikely event of a tie, the contest will be rescheduled.”

  Rain Shadow met Annie’s eyes. Highly unlikely. But a boon for ticket sales. They smiled at one another, friends, though each had an enormous stake in the outcome of the next several minutes.

  “The first event is the target shoot!” Will announced. He signaled to the lad who would hold up a red paper square after each shot was fired. Taking his job seriously, the carrot-haired young man stuck the first square in place on the center of the bull’s-eye.

  Annie went first. A skilled sharpshooter, she squeezed off ten perfect shots, reloading her single shot rifle after each hit.

  Rain Shadow took several deep breaths. Her uncanny ability to zero in on a target and block out all distractions served her well. She’d taught herself that even at practice each shot counted. Concentrate. Breathe evenly. Squeeze the trigger.

  Ten perfect shots.

  The spectators exhaled in relief and cheered. The contestants changed guns.

  Frank threw clay disks into the air for Annie. Ten times she swung the barrel and fired her revolver. Her accuracy enthralled everyone.

  Rain Shadow took a deep breath. Tall Bear awaited her signal, knowing after weeks of practice that Rain Shadow preferred hers in more rapid succession. She nodded.

  Tall Bear, a jaunty feather standing up from his headband, passed the disks from his left hand to his right, firing one after the other into the sky. Rain Shadow shattered them all.

  Ten glass balls came next, none other than Will tossing them into the air.

  Annie missed the first one.

  A groan rippled through the crowd.

  Rain Shadow’s heart leapt in her breast. She stared hard at the ground and focused her thoughts. Glass shattered, shards falling to the hard-packed ground. Twice. Three times. Rain Shadow raised her gaze and watched. Nine. Annie had twenty-nine points. Now was her chance to get ahead.

  The crowd quieted and waited for the challenger to match Little Sure Shot’s skill. Heart thundering, Rain Shadow stepped forward. Will gave her an encouraging nod, and she returned it, signaling her readiness. The first blue orb sailed into the sky.

  Quicker than a scared rabbit, Rain Shadow aimed and fired. One shattered. Two. Perspiration dampened her brow. Three. Four. Shots volleyed across the arena as she exercised her skill. Five. Six. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she was over halfway there. Seven. Eight. The contest was so close, it could go either way at any time. Nine.

  One more and she’d be ahead of Annie Oakley. One more and she’d hold the title. One more—a queasy feeling tumbled in her belly—and she’d find her family. Rain Shadow held her breath. Her finger trembled ever so slightly on the trigger. The bullet resounded. The blue ball hung suspended for a fraction of a second, then fell to earth, landing with a puff of dust.

  The crowd murmured before Rain Shadow registered that she’d missed and tied the score. Angry with herself, she lowered her hand, the revolver hanging against her thigh. How could she have missed? She never let nerves get the best of her!

  Rain Shadow stifled a curse and calmed herself. All right. They were tied again. Sooner or later Annie would miss.

  Twenty shots left.

  A row of small red flags on long slender sticks became the next challenge. Five each. “The rule is that the ladies have to snap the stick so that the flag touches the ground,” Will instructed.

  Annie took aim and snapped the first stick better than two thirds of the way down. The red flag fluttered before it hit the dirt. One after the other, the sticks tumbled like trees felled by lightning. Five shots. Five red flags in haphazard array on the dirt field. Annie met Rain Shadow’s gaze, raised her gun and blew delicately on the barrel.

  Picking up her Winchester repeater, Rain Shadow smiled, blanked out the crowd’s exuberance and concentrated on her first target. The trick was to snap the stick low enough for the flag to hit the ground when it fell. She took a deep breath, released it, aimed and squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed. The bullet caught the stick barely under halfway, the top falling to the right, and the flag hit the ground.

  The crowd cheered.

  Rain Shadow took aim, squeezed the trigger. The second bullet hit in the same exact spot as the last, the flag careening to the right. The red fabric hit the ground.

  She fired three more shots, each bullet felling the flag on the right side of the stick. The downed flags lay in perfect alignment. The crowd went wild.

  Rain Shadow met her opponent’s pensive gaze and recognized Annie’s first glimmer of apprehension.

  Annie had a past to defend.

  Rain Shadow had a future to build.

  Annie would get over it. She’d still have a position with Will for as long as the show lasted. With the addition of the gauchos last season, Will had hoped to boost profits. But even with tens of thousands attending and a new manager, the show operated in the red. The future was uncertain for all of them.

  Fifteen shots left.

  Both women reloaded their guns.

  Will announced their next challenge. “Ladies and gentlemen, the next feat these skilled sharpshooters perform will astound you! Their targets are not plates or balls or stationary squares of paper! No! Their next targets are these!” He tossed a handful into the air. “Walnuts!”

  Rain Shadow almost smiled. She’d shot enough walnuts out of the sky to feed all the squirrels in Pennsylvania. One of Nikolaus’ favorite pastimes had been tossing walnuts for her. She’d learned speed and accuracy in spite of a six-year- old’s aim.

  “First I’ll toss one. Then two. Then three. Then, ladies and gentlemen—four!”

  The spectators roared.

  Annie took her position. Will tossed the first nut, and she picked it off easily. He tossed the two, and she hit them. Three. Annie reloaded. Four rapid shots and she’d hit all ten.

  Rain Shadow traded the rifle for her revolver and took her place. One. Piece of cake. Two. Both burst in the air. Three. Rain Shadow reloaded. Thanks, Nikky. Four—all close together. The tie was unbroken.

  Five shots left.

  The next four were paper targets affixed to a platform on a horse’s back. The target had to be hit as the horse ran past a scenic backdrop. Annie’s shots were exact, as anticipated.

  Rain Shadow matched her perfect score.

  One remaining shot.

  Will stood garnering the audience’s attention. All eyes focused on him. He lit a cigar and puffed smoke into the cloudless blue sky. From inside his jacket, he withdrew another cigar and lit it.

  Frank Butler and Hank Tall Bear approached him. Will handed them each a cigar. “Miss Annie Oakley and Princess Blue Cloud will attempt to shoot the end off a cigar held in the teeth of a man at fifty paces!” Will shouted.

  Rain Shadow watched as Frank and Tall Bear separated several feet. Will called out the paces as they took long-legged strides away from the women.

  Rain Shadow glanced at Annie. She was watching her husband and Tall Bear, her rifle cradled in her arms like a baby. Rain Shadow caught Will’s gaze as he finished counting, “Fifty!”

  If Annie was going to miss at any of these last events, it would have been the walnuts. They would have to reschedule the contest after all.

  “Quiet, please!” Will shouted.

  Frank Butler puffed on the cigar and turned to face the crowd, the cigar jutting from his mouth. Annie swung her rifle up and took aim. The arena
had grown silent. Rain Shadow felt the sun on her shoulders and the light breeze tickling the hair at her nape. The moment hung suspended like a dream.

  Annie fired. Frank flinched as the cigar flew from his lips. The crowd burst into applause.

  Rain Shadow glanced from Annie to Will. She gave the stands of cheering onlookers the once-over. Somewhere in that ocean of faces, Anton watched her at this very moment. Wondered if she’d make this shot. Hopeless man. He’d traveled all this way to offer her a home with him if she lost. There was no way she could lose now.

  If he’d told her he’d loved her months ago, would she have continued with the contest? Probably. They both knew she wasn’t the woman he was looking for.

  But he’d come for her. He loved her.

  Rain Shadow realized the crowd had quieted. All eyes focused on her. She drew a cleansing breath and faced Tall Bear. He smiled and turned toward the crowd, the cigar held between his teeth.

  Rain Shadow raised her rifle.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Above Tall Bear, an eagle soared in the radiant spring sky. Rain Shadow waited for the distraction to fly out of range before she raised the barrel. A horse neighed. A baby cried, reminding her of Anton’s dreams. Feverish from his wound, he’d cried out for the baby. She remembered the anguish in his voice, and now she knew why.

  She couldn’t imagine the hurt and suffering he’d experienced. All he’d wanted was his family and a wife to love him.

  She was his wife, and she loved him.

  In a startling moment of clarity, Rain Shadow realized they’d both wanted the same things all along—roots, stability, two parents for their children. Her heart pounded.

  Anton had said he needed her, loved her, wanted to become her family. What more did she want? What more could he offer?

  Rain Shadow took a calming breath, released it and aimed.

  Steady.

  Slow.

  Squeeze the trigger nice and easy.

  Tall Bear’s jaunty feather snapped and hung over his eye. He jerked his head toward her in surprise.

  It took a few startled seconds for the crowd to realize what had happened. A mixture of remorse and joy rippled in their voices.