Dance on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  “Thunder was in that fight because the other man attacked me in the saloon. He merely protected my honor,” she rushed on. “I assure you, it was a fair fight, Marshal. I want this man and no one else. In a few days, we will be leaving and you’ll never see him again.”

  Ward cleared this throat. “You should listen to the little lady,” he said. “Thunder is the scout for my wagon train and has graciously volunteered to escort Miss Brandy. Otherwise, she would have to stay behind. She and that bunch of kids are tenderfeet. They need him.”

  “We’ll be pulling out in two days, and I’ll assume full responsibility for Thunder until we depart,” Brandy said.

  The marshal rubbed his jaw. “This puts a new light on everything. I’ve never known you to tell a lie, Miss Brandy, and considerin’ this fact, I’m trusting you now. I’ll release him in your custody on one condition. He must stay at the parsonage and out of sight until the wagon train leaves. Probably not safe anywhere else. Someone might want to get even.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked sternly at Brandy. “Is it a deal?”

  Brandy looked at Thunder. Was that smoke she saw coming out of his ears?

  He wasn’t pleased.

  Afraid he might say something and change the marshal’s mind, she quickly replied, “That will not be a problem.”

  Thunder couldn’t believe what had just happened. He was being railroaded, and he didn’t particularly like the way his future was being decided right in front of him without him having any say. No matter which way he turned, he was no longer in control of his destiny. He didn’t like it one bit, but going to jail for something he didn’t do wasn’t to his liking, either.

  “Guess you both can go now,” Marshal Pete said, but added, “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  Thunder felt like shoving a fist into the marshal’s gut. Instead he pulled Brandy to her feet “Are you able to walk now?” he asked roughly.

  “I think so.” As soon as Brandy took a step, she stumbled and reached for Thunder. “Sorry, I must still be a little weak.”

  “That is usually the case right after a fainting spell,” Thunder snapped. He helped Brandy back to the bench “I’ll get my horse. He’s still at the saloon.” Thunder stopped and looked at the marshal. “That is, if you trust me to come back.”

  Ward followed Thunder out the door. After a few moments he said, “I must say you’re taking this very calmly.” He wondered what was going on in his friend’s head. He didn’t like it when Thunder got this quiet.

  “Well, I sure as hell didn’t want to hang,” Thunder said. His lip thinned with anger. “That little lady may have gotten what she wants for now, but will she be able to handle what she has gotten?” He glared at Ward. “She could have just made the worst deal she has ever made in her life!”

  Ward chuckled, then stopped as he realized what Thunder was saying. “Wait a minute.” Ward took his hat off and rubbed the top of his head. “I thought you had already agreed to be her guide. That’s what she told me.”

  Thunder took his horse by the reins. “I told the woman no.”

  “I see.” Ward’s mouth twitched as he mounted his horse. “I’ll check on you later.”

  Once he was away from his hotheaded friend, Ward laughed until his sides ached, and it was all he could do to stay on his horse as he rode back to the wagon train. To say Thunder was mad, damned mad, was an understatement. He was furious! The little lady had hoodwinked him and she was going to have her hands full.

  * * *

  Thunder returned with his horse and went inside to get Brandy. She was standing and appeared to have improved but still seemed a little shaky as he escorted her to the horse. He mounted first, then reached down. “Give me your hand.”

  Brandy could almost feel the anger in Thunder. She reached for his outstretched fingers, and in one swift movement he pulled her up and in front of him. She squealed at the shock of his amazing strength. He ignored her, wrapped his arm around her, and nudged his horse in the sides. They took off at a slow walk.

  He remained quiet as they rode to the parsonage. Brandy wasn’t sure what to say. She tried not to touch him, but finally gave up and leaned against his chest. She felt his muscles tighten immediately, but she held on. She was sure he was angry at the way she’d manipulated the situation to her favor, but she felt she was justified. Surely he would forgive her later.

  She hoped.

  Brandy was going to have to try very hard not to provoke his wrath, but as least she had a guide, and they would be making the trip to a new life. A small twinge of guilt crept over her, but it didn’t last long. She had saved his arrogant hide, and she wouldn’t hesitate to remind him of that fact. He could be sitting in jail right now instead of carrying her home. At least, he could be grateful for that small favor.

  Her gaze swept over his face. The firm set of his jaw demonstrated that he wasn’t grateful. Yet, Brandy liked being cradled in Thunder’s arms. He had been very gentle with her, in spite of his anger. She wondered if this was what it would feel like when Sam held her, and she prayed she would feel something for the man. She found Thunder’s easy breathing comforting, and something deep in her soul seemed to draw her to him.

  Sneaking a peek up at his strong profile, Brandy wondered what it would be like to be kissed by such a man. Would it be pleasant or would he be rough, demanding, and ruthless?

  “Have you ever been married?” Brandy wondered out loud.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I’m feeling much better.”

  “Good.”

  As they rode on, Brandy realized that Thunder hadn’t bothered to answer her question.

  * * *

  The parsonage was built into a square with a large courtyard in the middle. He had passed the front doors before, but figured another door would be on the side for supplies. And, sure enough, when he rode around the comer he saw that a second pair of double doors were mounted at the back of one of the side walls. Formidable, Thunder thought.

  He dismounted and knocked.

  A young girl opened the doors. “Who are you?”

  “Your new scout,” Thunder said as he tightened his hold on his skittish horse’s bridle.

  “Open the doors, Mary,” Brandy said from high atop the mount.

  They entered through a side door and immediately Thunder’s gaze swept the spacious compound. Good; at least he wouldn’t feel so confined, he thought as he led the horse inside. He tied the horse to a hitching post. Reaching up, he caught Brandy under the arms and helped her down. Every muscle in his body screamed as the length of her body touched his. For some obscure reason, though his head told him to let go, his hands wouldn’t obey. He looked down into her upturned face and stared at her expressive violet eyes. “You are very beautiful, little one.”

  Shocked that he’d actually said something nice, Brandy’s lips parted to say something, but words were not forthcoming. She’d thought Thunder was going to kiss her. Worse, she’d wanted him to do just that. She’d never been kissed, and she wanted to experience it. Her curiosity was shameful, she reminded herself.

  Instead of kissing her, Thunder set her away from him and asked, “Where’s my room?”

  Dizziness assaulted Brandy. Her heart beat a wild rhythm unfamiliar to her, and she realized it had nothing to do with her fainting spell. This new feeling made her feel hot and cold at the same time.

  “Who did you bring home?” Mary said, coming up behind them. “Your new husband?”

  Brandy turned too quickly and swayed.

  Thunder reached for her. “You are going to bed until tomorrow,” he said, his firm voice brooking no arguments.

  “No, I can’t,” she protested and brushed his hands away. “I have to get you settled in first. You have to meet the children.”

  Thunder wouldn’t be put off. As he looked around he wondered if part of her dizziness might come from hunger. “Where is your room?”

  “Who are yo
u?” Mary snapped.

  They both ignored Mary.

  “I really don’t need to lie down,” Brandy protested, but she pointed the way when Thunder would hear none of it as he swung her up into his arms.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the way,” Mary finally said.

  He followed Mary and laid Brandy gently onto the bed.

  “Who are you?” Mary asked again. “And what’s wrong with her?”

  “She fainted this afternoon.”

  “She has always been a weakling,” Mary snapped, her feelings clear from the tone of her voice.

  “We can do without your snide remarks,” Brandy said, pushing herself up. “This is our new guide, Thunder. He’ll be staying here until the wagon train leaves. You can take him to Father Brown’s room, Mary, and I’ll fix dinner.”

  “You’re not getting out of this bed,” Thunder said in a tone that allowed no argument, and pushed Brandy gently back down. “I believe I told you I didn’t want this job. Now that I’m roped into it, you might as well learn that I am responsible for your little group, and you will follow my orders.”

  “Wonderful! Just what we need . . . someone else to give orders,” Mary said.

  Thunder looked at Mary. “Since you seem so talkative, perhaps you can show me to my room. Then you can help your sister wash up.”

  “She’s not my sister!” Mary informed him. “I just had the bad luck to end up here with her.”

  So, there was bad blood here, Thunder thought as he followed Mary to his room. That was just what he needed—two fighting females.

  When he was alone, he looked around the sparsely decorated room. He kicked off his boots, then lay down on the hard bed. He linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. How had he gotten himself into this mess? What should have been a simple journey home was becoming more complicated every day. He should be irritated at Brandy, for making this mess.

  Hell, he was irritated at her! He’d told her a dozen times he did not want this job. He didn’t need the headaches. Now he had them all. But, worst of all, Thunder realized that he did want one thing from Brandy. How many times had his eyes focused on her lips, on her eyes, and the silky hair that should never be pinned up, but left long and flowing?

  Yes, he wanted something from Brandy . . .

  And that fact scared him most of all.

  8

  Brandy stretched lazily, like a cat, then sat up in bed. Last night had been the first night she’d slept peacefully in a long time. Perhaps because the last of her problems was finally over.

  Yawning, she slid her feet to the smooth wooden floor and listened to see if anyone else was up. Birds chirped outside her window, but that was all she heard. This morning would be a good time to try to make breakfast before everyone else awoke.

  She stepped lively as she made her way past the new wagon at the rear of the courtyard. Now that they had a guide and would be heading west, Brandy realized with a pang of sadness that she was really leaving the parsonage. This had been the only home she’d ever known, and the thought that she would never again see the beautiful courtyard and everything familiar to her made her sad. A sigh escaped her lips.

  “Shame on you,” she scolded herself. She should be happy to be finding a new life. Shouldn’t she? She continued across the courtyard before her doubts could surface again. There was no turning back now.

  Entering the kitchen, Brandy decided to attempt one more time to prepare hotcakes. She placed wood in the stove and lit the fire under the black griddle, then grabbed the big, yellow mixing bowl from the shelf.

  She sifted flour into the bowl. Next she poured the milk. When it didn’t look like enough, she poured some more, then added eggs. She began mixing up the batter, wondering if she’d forgotten an ingredient.

  Something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what.

  Brandy placed thin slices of slab meat in a big, black skillet. Then she continued to stir the flour mixture. Soon the sound of sizzling bacon and its rich aroma filled the room. She smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaving a smudge of flour across her cheek. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of this.

  She dropped a little of the mixture on the hot griddle to see if it was ready, then began to pour what should have been a thick batter onto the black surface.

  “Oh no, it’s too thin!” She paused and blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Well maybe, just maybe it will thicken as it cooks,” Brandy said, attempting to convince herself as she watched little bubbles pop up in the batter. She could remember Rosa saying that when the bubbles appeared it was time to turn the hotcakes over. Grabbing a spatula, she attempted to flip the first hotcake, but found it had stuck to the pan.

  “What’s wrong with this damned thing?” Brandy realized she’d picked up Billy’s bad habits. Father Brown wouldn’t have approved of her swearing. Scraping up the batter became next to impossible as it turned black and smoke started to fill the kitchen. She worked harder.

  Grease! She’d forgotten to grease the griddle.

  She began to cough and tried to wave away the smoke.

  * * *

  Thunder had little choice but to sleep in his clothes since his gear hadn’t been sent over. Ward had promised to bring a few of his things over today.

  Of course, Thunder would prefer a bedroll under a starlit sky, but white men seemed to like soft beds. He hated to admit it, but he had slept well last night, soft bed or not.

  He rubbed his jaw, then stretched. He was surprised he hadn’t awakened in a bad mood today. His disposition was far from being sour. He attributed everything to the fact that he had been so tired. There wasn’t much of a possibility he liked it here, especially when he was being forced to do something against his will.

  One thing he knew for sure: he was hungry. Deciding it was time for breakfast and hoping the meal was ready, Thunder pulled on his black cavalry boots. He could use some good food this morning.

  He stepped out into the courtyard ready to inhale the fresh morning air, but something tainted it.

  Smoke! He smelled smoke.

  Gray clouds of smoke filtered out of the small cookhouse. Wasting little time, Thunder ran to the kitchen door just in time to hear Brandy swearing from somewhere in the midst of the grayish-white haze.

  “I take it you don’t have much experience with cooking,” Thunder said from the doorway.

  Brandy jumped with surprise. “You scared me!” She squealed and, in the process, inhaled more smoke, producing another bout of coughing. “I—I seem to be having a few problems. Don’t just stand there,” she blustered between spasms. “Help me!”

  In two long strides, Thunder stood beside her. He took the pan from her hand and tossed it into the sink.

  He jerked open the window and began to fan the fumes outside. As the haze cleared, he looked down at the griddle to find a small piece of something black Evidently, that had been breakfast.

  Brandy groaned.

  Thunder looked up. The first thing he noticed was she’d forgotten to put her hair up, and wisps of it clung to her damp face. She had a smudge of flour across her cheek, and her eyes were red. She looked like she’d been in a battle this morning, and she definitely hadn’t been the victor.

  “I guess I burned it.” She sighed and added quietly, “Again.”

  “You could say that,” Thunder agreed. “Surely, you have a talent for something.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” Brandy said doubtfully. “I can’t seem to do anything correctly.”

  “What will you do when you have to cook for your husband?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps he will know how to cook” She took the ends of her apron and wiped her face. “I’ll worry about that problem when the time comes.”

  Thunder finally chuckled. “You live dangerous, lady. Hell, he’ll probably pay me to bring you back here.”

  “That’s not funny!” Brandy snapped and straightened her stance to show her irritation.<
br />
  He moved toward the stove. “As a peace offering, I’ll cook breakfast. You can do something safer—like set the plates on the table. You have done that before, haven’t you?”

  Brandy ignored his sarcasm and watched as he made breakfast look like something a child could do.

  In no time, the bacon had fried crisp, and the hotcakes were a golden brown. “You can cook?”

  “Among other things. I can even eat with a knife and fork,” Thunder added dryly. “My grandparents taught me many things, some of which were civilized manners.”

  Brandy didn’t understand his statement about his grandparents. And she wondered why his mood had changed so quickly. He seemed insulted. She wanted to inform him that she hadn’t meant to offend him at all, but before she could, Scott, Ellen, and Amy entered the kitchen.

  “Something sure smells good.” Scott sniffed the air. “Brandy must not be cooking.”

  Thunder laughed. “I see you have eaten her cooking before.”

  “Sure have.” Scott put his hands around his throat, pretending he was choking.

  “I’m sure there are other women in this country who can’t cook besides me. And I don’t see your ribs showing,” Brandy protested primly.

  “That’s because Ellen and Mary saved us.” Scott giggled. “How come it’s smoky in here?”

  “It’s a long story.” Brandy wasn’t about to tell the children what had happened. They already thought her useless as it was.

  Thunder figured young Scott was apparently the lively one. It showed in his eyes. “Have a seat, young man, and we will see if I can fill you up.”

  “Who are you?” Scott must have finally noticed Thunder for the first time.

  Evidently Mary hadn’t told the rest of the children about their new guest last night, Brandy thought.

  “This is our guide, Thunder.” Brandy nodded toward him. “He’ll help us on the trip to Wyoming.”