Smiling, she closed the drawer then twirled around the room. She had never felt like this before, giddy and excited and afraid all at once. They would be here for almost a moon. Surely, in that time, she would find a way to get him alone.
* * * * *
Chance stood in the middle of the parlor, all too aware that, for the first time in years, he wasn’t alone in the house. There would be someone sitting across from him at the dinner table and it wouldn’t be Cookie or any of the ranch hands, but Teressa. Beautiful, innocent Teressa with her beguiling smile and dark trusting eyes. He had known from the moment he first set eyes on her that she would be his sooner or later. Why was he fighting it? He wanted her. She wanted him. He was here. She was here.
And her mother was here.
Remembering how Rosalia had stood outside Teressa’s door, he had to grin. Men and women had been sneaking out from under watchful eyes for centuries. One frail woman wouldn’t be a problem. Not when he felt his insides go up in flames every time Teressa’s gaze met his. Not when the slightest touch of her hand had him in an agony of wanting. He had resisted what he wanted long enough.
Soon, perhaps tonight, she would be his.
* * * * *
The sun had set by the time Rosalia and Teressa bathed and dressed and made their way downstairs. They found Chance sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. A moment passed and then, as if remembering his manners, he gained his feet and held a chair for Rosalia.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Grazie.”
“Teressa?”
She shook her head. “I…I have never had any.” She sat down in the chair he held for her, shivered as his fingertips brushed her shoulder.
His gaze settled on her face, lingered on her lips. “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”
Her mouth went suddenly dry. Certain she wouldn’t be able to speak, she nodded.
She watched him pull a cup from the cupboard. His hands were large and capable, the fingers long and strong. He took a blue speckled coffee pot from the stove and filled the cup. After adding a spoonful of sugar and a hefty amount of cream, he offered it to her. His fingertips brushed against hers as she took the cup and she shivered again, every nerve ending screaming for more.
He sat down at the table in the chair beside hers. She almost jumped when the toe of his moccasin slipped under the hem of her skirt to softly rub her calf.
“Dinner will be ready shortly.” His voice was as calm as a summer day.
“Grazie,” her mother replied. “I find I am quite famished.”
Chance smiled. “Well, it’s just steak and eggs. It’s filling but not fancy.”
How could he behave so casually when his touch had her heart pounding like that of a stampeding buffalo?
A short time later a wizened old man with wispy white hair and bright blue eyes entered the kitchen. He placed the tray he was carrying on the table, plucked the cloth cover off and jammed it in his pants pocket.
“Thanks, Cookie,” Chance said.
The man grunted softly. “You gonna be taking your meals in here now?”
“For the next couple of weeks.”
“Three meals?”
“That’s right, Cookie. Think you can handle it?”
The old man glanced at the two women. Rosalia returned his gaze without blinking an eye; Teressa smiled at him.
To Chance’s astonishment, Cookie smiled back.
“That will not be necessary,” Rosalia said.
Chance frowned at her. “Excuse me?”
“I will prepare our meals and look after the house.”
Chance stared at her, thinking he wouldn’t have been more surprised if she had declared she was going to share his bed.
Rosalia shrugged. “I will need something to occupy my time.”
“Well. Great.”
“I will need some supplies from town.”
Chance nodded. “Write out a list. I’ll send one of the hands to pick it up.” He looked at Cookie and shrugged. “I guess you’re off the hook.”
“Fine by me,” Cookie muttered. He winked at Teressa, then shuffled out the back door.
“Well, dig in before it gets cold,” Chance said.
The meal passed in relative silence. When it was over, Chance stood up. “I need to go out and check on a few things,” he said. “You two make yourselves at home here. There’s some books in the den if you’re of a mind to read. If you go outside, stay close to the house.”
“Can I go with you?” Teressa asked.
“I do not think that is a good idea, Tessa,” Rosalia said.
“Why not, Mama? I want to see the ranch.”
“Perhaps another day.”
“There is nothing for me to do here,” Teressa argued. “I want to go with Mr. McCloud.”
“I said no, Tessa. And there will be plenty for you to do.”
“Maybe another time,” Chance said.
“We shall see,” Rosalia replied.
Chance nodded. It would be a cold day in hell before Rosalia agreed to let Teressa be alone with him.
Grabbing his hat off the hook beside the back door, he left the house.
It was good to be back, he mused as he walked toward the barn. Opening one of the big double doors, he stepped inside, pleased to see that the men had taken care of patching the hole in the roof.
He spent a few minutes scratching Smoke’s ears; then, moving toward the back of the barn, he slipped a bridle over the head of one of his favorite stock horses and led the animal out of the stall. He smoothed a blanket over the gelding’s back, cinched a saddle in place, and led the horse outside.
“Hey, boss!”
Chance turned to see Roy DeYoung ambling toward him. Old Roy had been on the payroll as long as Chance could remember. Roy didn’t spend many hours in the saddle anymore, but he was still a good hand.
“Howdy, Roy. Everything okay?”
“Sure, sure, never better. That bull you wanted arrived a couple days ago. We put him out in the north pasture, like you wanted.”
“Obliged.”
“Dave says we’ll have a cash crop of calves come spring,” DeYoung said, grinning. “That bull’s been working overtime.”
“He’d better be, for what I paid for him. Where’s Dreesen?”
“Out on the south range.”
“Tell him I want to see him when he comes in.”
“Right. Oh, I almost forgot, Gideon’s laid up. Busted his ankle day before yesterday.”
“How the hell did he do that?”
“He was showing off. You know how he is. Thought he could top that rank bronc. I told him not to try it, but you know Gideon. He wouldn’t listen.”
Chance grunted. “We should probably just turn that stud back out on the range before he kills someone.”
DeYoung nodded. “Mebbe so.”
“But not until I give it another try.”
With a tsking sound, DeYoung headed for the bunkhouse muttering, “Young’uns. Always gotta learn the hard way.”
With a grin, Chance swung into the saddle and headed out to north range to get a look at his new bull.
Riding away, he realized that for the first time since his father passed away, there would be someone waiting for him when he got home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Teressa tiptoed out of the parlor and carefully opened the front door.
She paused on the veranda, grateful to be outside, grateful to be out from under her mother’s probing gaze. Grabbing a minute here and a moment there, she had managed to explore all the ranch buildings. The bunkhouse where the cowboys lived was long and low. Bunks lined both walls. There were hooks on the walls to hold jackets or hats. Each man had a trunk at the foot of his bed. The one thing that stood out in her mind was the atrocious smell that had assaulted her nostrils when she peeked inside. It seemed to be a combination of sweaty men, cow manure, tobacco, smelly boots, and smoke from the lamps that hung from
the ceiling. She had seen several decks of playing cards, a couple of well-read dime novels, and a worn Bible. A breezeway connected the bunkhouse to the cookhouse. Saddles, bridles, and ropes hung from pegs along the breezeway.
They had been at the ranch for almost a week now and she loved it. Too often, she found herself pretending she lived here and that Chance was her husband.
To Teressa’s astonishment, her mother had not only taken over the running of the house but insisted that Teressa pitch in and help. After all, her mother explained, it was good for a woman, even a wealthy young woman, to know how to cook and clean and run a household else how was one to know if one’s servants were doing things correctly?
Tessa had to admit that, once she got the hang of it, cooking on the white man’s stove was easier than cooking over an open fire, and while she didn’t particularly care for cooking, she loved baking. Mama had taught her to bake fluffy rolls, carrot cake, and apple pie. To Tessa’s delight, Chance had praised her efforts, declaring he had never tasted anything better.
But she didn’t want to bake now. Mama had fallen asleep over a bit of mending and Teressa escaped out the front door, eager to explore more of the ranch.
Descending the steps, she walked toward the nearest corrals. The calves were cute, but it was the horse that drew her attention. It was big and black with one white stocking on its left foreleg. The stallion stopped its restless pacing as she approached. Ears back, it watched her suspiciously.
Teressa held out her hand. “Hello, handsome one.”
At the sound of her voice, the stallion snorted and backed away.
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked.
The stallion shook its head.
“Good. Come here.” Stepping up on the bottom rail, she held out her hand again. “I will not hurt you.”
Snuffling softly, the stallion took a tentative step forward.
“Come on,” she coaxed softly. “Come to me.”
The stallion took another step toward, and then another, and then he was close enough to touch. Moving slowly so as not to spook him, she lifted her hand and stroked his neck. The stallion quivered at her touch, but didn’t run away. Instead, he lowered his head, as if asking her to scratch between his ears. Laughing softly, she did so.
Riding into the yard, Chance swore under his breath when he saw Teressa petting the stallion. Was she out of her mind? That horse was wild. Yet even as he watched, Teressa was stroking the stud’s neck, scratching its ears. Unbelievable.
Dismounting near the house, he tossed Smoke’s reins over the hitch rail, then walked slowly toward the corral.
As soon as he drew near, the stallion tossed its head and pranced to the far side of the corral.
Teressa glanced over her shoulder to see what had spooked the stallion, smiled when she saw Chance walking toward her.
“Sorry,” he said. Moving up beside Teressa, he draped his arms over the top rail. “You’re the first one he’s let get close.”
“He is beautiful.”
“Yeah. But he’s a bad one.”
“He does not seem bad to me.”
“Honey, you could sweet talk a snake out of its skin.”
She frowned at him a moment, her expression so serious it was almost funny. “Why would I want to?”
“Never mind.” Chance looked at the stallion for a moment. “Do you think you could get a hackamore on him?”
“I can try.”
“Wait here.”
Walking back to the house, Chance took up Smoke’s reins and walked to the barn. Inside, he unsaddled the mare, gave her a quick rubdown, and put the horse in its stall. Removing the hackamore, he carried it to the corral and handed it to Teressa.
“Be careful.”
She nodded.
“You’re not afraid, are you? If you are, you don’t have to do it.”
“I am not afraid.” Ducking through the rails, she walked slowly toward the stallion.
The stallion snorted but didn’t back away.
Chance watched the horse carefully. He didn’t know the stallion’s history. They’d caught the horse off the range just before Chance went looking for Teressa. Chance didn’t think the horse had been born wild. He had the look of a horse with some good bloodlines. Good conformation. Wide, intelligent eyes. But he wouldn’t let any of the men get near him. Chance was pretty sure the stallion had been abused by a previous owner.
Teressa was at the stallion’s head now. She was speaking to it quietly. Chance could hear the sound of her voice, though he couldn’t make out the words.
A moment later, she slid the hackamore over the horse’s head and fastened it in place. Taking up the reins, she led the horse around the corral. It followed her, docile as a puppy.
Chance grunted softly. “Do you think you can ride him?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling.
“Do you want a saddle?”
“No.”
It had been a silly question. She’d been riding bareback for years.
His fingers curled around the fence rail as she grabbed hold of the stallion’s mane and vaulted onto its back. The horse shook its head but didn’t buck.
Teressa stroked the stallion’s neck, speaking softly all the while. Lifting the reins, she touched her heels to the horse’s flanks and, after a moment, it moved out, smooth as you please.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chance muttered. “That bronc has thrown every man on the place, including me.”
Teressa smiled at him as she passed by, her eyes alight with pleasure.
They made a pretty sight, Chance thought. Mighty pretty indeed.
“Teressa Maria Bryant, what are you doing?”
Chance glanced up at the house to see Rosalia standing on the porch, one hand pressed to her heart.
Flying down the stairs, Rosalia ran toward the corral. “Get down from there this instant!”
Rosalia’s words brought the desired effect. Spooked by the woman’s shout, the stallion reared. With a squeal of surprise, Teressa slid over the stallion’s rump and landed on her backside in the dirt.
Rosalia screamed. And screamed again.
Chance grabbed her by the arm. “Mrs. Bryant, shut up!”
She stared at him, stunned into silence at the tone of his voice.
Chance looked over his shoulder. “Teressa, are you all right?”
“Yes.” Gaining her feet, she walked slowly toward the stallion. “Come,” she said, extending her hand. “Come to me.”
The stallion eyed her warily for a moment, then reached out to nuzzle her hand. Smiling, Teressa caught the reins.
Rosalia glared at Chance. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
“Lady, you could have gotten her killed. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not!” She twisted free of his grasp. “Teressa, come out of there this instant. Well-bred young ladies do not ride astride.”
Teressa looked at her mother a moment, and then started laughing.
Rosalia gaped at her.
Chance grinned.
Teressa laughed until there were tears in her eyes, tears of merriment that abruptly turned to tears of sorrow as she remembered riding across the plains with Dawn Song on the way to a new campsite. They had always dressed in their best because it was a time when the young men liked to show off for the maidens. The unmarried warriors dressed in their best, too. Mounted on their finest horses, they rode up and down the line, showing off their riding skills, flirting with the maidens.
“Tessa?” Rosalia took a tentative step forward, but fear of the horse kept her from entering the corral.
“Go back to the house,” Chance said. “I’ll take of this.”
“I will not! I am her mother. She needs me.”
“Just go up to the house and wait. I’ll bring her along in a minute.”
With a look of disapproval, Rosalia turned on her heel and walked away.
Muttering an oath, Chance ducked into the corral. The stallion sn
orted at his approach.
“Easy, fella, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Chance said. Taking the reins from Teressa’s hand, he unfastened the hackamore and slid it over the horse’s head. Freed of the restraint, the stallion bolted across the corral.
“Come on, Teressa.” Taking her by the hand, he led her out of the corral. “What is it, honey?” he asked gently.
She shook her head. Tears continued to pour down her cheeks.
With a sigh, Chance drew her into his arms. “Was it something your mother said?”
“Y…yes…n…no.”
“You can tell me.”
“I was just…what she said…about well-bred young ladies riding…it reminded me of Dawn Song…and…and my mother.” She sniffed. “My other mother. I miss them so.”
“Go on and cry, honey,” he said, stroking her hair. “You deserve it.”
And cry she did, until she had no tears left, until she stood quiet in the circle of his arms, content to be there.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirtfront.
“No charge.”
She looked up at him and frowned. Her eyes were red and swollen, but it was her lips that tempted his gaze. Ripe and pink and slightly parted.
Chance cleared his throat. “You can cry on my shoulder any time, sweetheart, that’s all I meant.”
“Oh.”
He blew out a breath. Dammit, if she kept looking at him like that, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Fortunately, Rosalia Bryant was waiting for them up at the house, and he didn’t think she was likely to wait much longer before she came bursting through the door to see what was taking him so long.
“Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand, “your mother’s waiting.”
* * * * *
Chance stared at the embers in the hearth. He’d been lying there on the sofa for hours trying to get some sleep, but it was impossible. His hearing seemed to have grown more acute since Teressa moved in. He was aware of her every footstep, had been able to close his eyes and follow her progress through the rooms upstairs, had felt his body harden as he imagined her sitting in his bathtub covered with lather and, later, getting ready for bed.
Wolf Shadow Page 20
