How would she get him home? She knelt in the mud by his side and checked for signs of life. A faint breath from his lips brushed her face. He was alive! Praise God. Her throat clogged with unshed tears.
She shook him. “Drake, please get up.”
He groaned and rolled from his stomach to his back.
“If you can get on the horse, I can get you home.” Annie tugged on his arm until he sat up. “What happened?”
“Someone surprised me and hit me on the back of the head.” Drake put a hand to the back of his head. “I’m bleeding. You look blurry.”
“I’ll care for you when we get home.” She scooted closer until he leaned on her shoulders. “Climb up, and I’ll ride behind you.” She prayed May was able to sit on the other horse alone.
With much effort, Annie helped Drake onto the horse then mounted behind him. Seemly or not, she pressed closer, giving him as much of her body heat as she could. With the reins of May’s horse clutched in her hand, she set off.
Her arms ached from keeping Drake from tumbling to the ground, taking her with him. By the time they reached home, the dugout had never looked better. Annie helped May down and sent her into the house to change into dry clothes before she turned her attention to Drake.
“I’m fine.” He slid down, and his knees buckled. He leaned heavily on her for a moment then straightened. “I’ll put the horses away.”
“You’ll go to bed.” Annie propped her shoulder under his arm. “The horses will have to wait.”
“You’re a bossy little thing.”
“Yes I am.” She struggled to stay upright under his weight and steered him inside and toward the cot. He sprawled on it with a moan. Her face heated as she stared down at him. She was the only one available to strip him of his wet clothes. Well, they were married, after all. “May, hide under the covers. Don’t peek out until I say so.”
Removing the soggy coat was no big deal, but by the time Annie’s fingers worked on the buttons of Drake’s shirt, she was shaking. The fact that he stared at her, eyes stormy, not moving, his chest rising and falling under her hands…made her want to turn tail and run. If doing so wouldn’t put him at the risk of catching pneumonia and dying, she would have without a second thought.
When she moved to the buttons of his long underwear, Drake’s eyes darkened. “Get the fire going and tend to May. I can finish this.” He cleared his throat, his hand resting for a moment longer than necessary on hers.
She slid free. Her breath hitched as she turned away. What had she been thinking undressing him? What must he think of her? She busied herself tending to May. Anything to stay busy and not dwell on how she’d felt tending to him.
Annie Templeton Morgan Carter had fallen in love with her husband and had no idea what to do.
Chapter 7
Yesterday Drake had still had a fever and drifted in and out of consciousness. Today he seemed much cooler but still slept later than usual. Annie sponged his forehead and prayed. Lying on the wet ground for hours had left him struggling to breathe, and other than fighting his fever, she had no idea what to do. She’d tried tea but could only get Drake to take a few sips. What if his fever came back while she wasn’t paying attention?
The dugout was easy to keep warm, but snow fell steadily outside, lazy flakes covering the ground with a light powder. She didn’t know much about caring for stock. The pigs and chickens were easy—she’d had them back home—but cattle were another story. At least she knew how to milk a cow. “Please, get up quickly,” she whispered. “We need you.”
Would God hear her prayers in an underground home? Silly woman, of course He would. Her ma always said He was with her no matter where she abided, but right now, Annie felt alone and helpless.
“Mama?” May leaned against her.
Annie pulled the little girl into her lap. “Are you hungry? I can fix you some oatmeal if you’ll keep putting cold water on your pa.”
May nodded and took the rag from the bowl of water. “I’ll make him better. He won’t die like my other pa.”
Annie prayed not. Each day, May’s affection for her new ma and pa grew. Now one of them lay at death’s door. What would that do to a small child? Annie was almost grown when her parents died of influenza, not a young’un still in need of raising.
One of the cows set up a bellow, reminding Annie she hadn’t done the milking yet or gathered the eggs. “I need to do the chores. Keep wiping his face with cool water until I get back. Then I’ll fix breakfast. Come get me immediately if he gets worse.” She grabbed her coat and hurried outside. She’d need to hurry. What if Drake got worse and May didn’t recognize the signs? What if she came looking for Annie and got lost in the snow?
She glanced over her shoulder, barely able to recognize the dugout in the snowy dawn. Surely once the sun fully rose anyone could find their way around, even a child. Annie worried too much.
Or maybe she didn’t worry enough. Her steps faltered. Her hand shook as she reached for the milk bucket next to the cows’ lean-to. Would Drake be out of harm’s way if she’d gone looking for him sooner? How did he get a bump on both the front and back of his head? It seemed to her as if someone had hit him, and he fell forward, striking his head against a rock.
She slumped on the milk stool, her fingers already growing numb from the cold. With Drake gone, she’d have no choice but to sell out. She couldn’t run the ranch on her own, not with the repairs it needed and a cabin and barn to build. She’d put on a brave face when Hayward approached her, but it was all an act. Fear took root in her stomach and grew, spreading its branches through her heart and mind.
For the first time in her life, someone wanted what she had and would do anything to get it. She shook the bad thoughts from her mind and let the splat of milk hitting the tin pail soothe her. Scout whined and sat next to her.
“Where do you stay out of the weather, boy?” Annie feared for him out in the winter cold. If not for Drake already feeling overcrowded, she’d invite the dog inside.
When she finished milking, she forked hay into the manger and moved to the chicken coop. By the time she finished hunting eggs and feeding the stock, the sun sat a few inches over the nearest eastern rise. She didn’t know why, but she expected to see Hayward or one of his men up there, on horseback, watching everything that went on at Birchwood. She smiled. Even if Drake changed the name, the ranch would stay Birchwood to her.
With a basket of eggs in one hand and a bucket of milk in the other, Annie headed back to the dugout. In her hurry, milk sloshed over the rim of the bucket, soaking the hem of her pants.
She shoved open the dugout door and stepped sideways down the steps. After setting the eggs and milk on the table, she turned to the bed. Drake sat up, blanket pulled to his chin, gaze on her.
“You’re up.” Her heart fluttered. He was awake and looking very fine.
“Thanks for your ministrations.” The blanket covering his bare chest slipped.
Annie’s cheeks darkened, and she turned away. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that they were married and her looking upon him wasn’t unseemly, but embarrassment over his vulnerability had him yanking the blanket up to his chin. He glanced at the sheet Annie had hung the first night in order to allow him to strip to the waist in privacy.
She nodded and pulled it partway closed. “Do you feel like some oatmeal?”
“That would be wonderful.” His stomach rumbled. “And coffee, please.” He moved his legs over the side of the cot and tried to stand. He wobbled like a newborn calf. Maybe he wasn’t ready to get up.
“You’d better not be trying to stand,” Annie called from the other side of his privacy curtain.
He grinned. She sure was a bossy little thing. “No ma’am.”
She screamed.
Shoving the curtain aside, he lunged for the table. His hand came inches from a scorpion ready to strike. He jerked upright and fell back, tangling himself in the quilt curtain and falling to the bed.
�
��What is that?” Annie’s shriek rang against his ears.
Drake fought against his fabric prison. “Don’t touch it.”
“It’s a scorpion.” May glanced up from her bowl of oatmeal.
“A what?” Annie’s eyes were huge in her pale face. “Is that a type of insect?”
Managing to free himself, Drake stood. “Yep. Very poisonous, too. Most dangerous part is a person doesn’t know how badly they’ll react until they git stung. Guess he’s been hiding in here because of the cold.”
May grabbed her boot and squashed it. “Gone now. My other pa got bit once. Said it felt like his hand was on fire.”
“Are there more of them?” Annie glanced around the floor, her words trembling.
“Most likely. We do live in a dugout. It’s full of bugs.” Drake leaned against the table, struggling to breathe through lungs full of sludge.
“I haven’t seen any before.” Annie slowly climbed onto the chair.
So, she was afraid of something. Drake had wondered. “Bill built the dugout sound with a good roof. Otherwise, bugs would be dropping on you while you sleep.” He grinned.
“You’re enjoying this!” She crossed her arms. “I want a proper cabin built immediately.”
She sure was pretty when riled. Sometimes he felt tempted to start a fire between them just to see her eyes spark and her cheeks brighten.
He figured he’d work on a bigger bed before building a cabin and concentrate his efforts on making Annie his wife in every sense of the word. But first, he’d court her. With Christmas looming, he needed to come up with a gift. He’d go back to his burned cabin and see whether he could find his ma’s ring. Maybe, with some polishing, he could make it lovely again. The sapphire stone would suit Annie just fine. He’d kept it in a metal lockbox. Surely, the fire spared that.
Clearing her throat, Annie nodded at him.
“What?” He turned in a circle. “Is there a bug on me? Oh.” His long johns had slipped low on his hips, leaving more bared than not. He grabbed the fallen quilt and wrapped it around him. Face burning, he met her gaze.
Laughter bubbled from deep inside him. Clearly, his new wife wasn’t overly shy. He’d never had time for false, coquettish women. His lips twitched. Within seconds, they both laughed like a couple of loons.
“Isn’t anyone going to clean the smashed scorpion off the table?” May asked, looking from one of them to the other.
This made Drake and Annie laugh harder. Annie finally climbed down from the chair and handed Drake his clothes. “Not that I don’t admire the scenery, but it isn’t proper.”
Her glittering eyes made Drake hotter than his fever had. He hurriedly donned his clothes and scooped up the scorpion with a piece of bark before tossing the thing into the stove. The simple act of dressing left him exhausted. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his forehead.
“You’ve overdone things.” Annie set his breakfast in front of him. “It takes time to recover from a chill.” She placed a cool hand against his forehead. “No fever. That’s good.”
“I’m just weak. It’ll pass.” It had to. He didn’t cotton to Annie having to do the chores that belonged to him as the man of the house.
He took her hand in his. “Sit with me.”
“Okay.” She did, her gaze not leaving his face. “Is there something on your mind?”
A whole lot of things he wasn’t quite ready to voice. “I don’t like to eat alone.”
“All right.” She folded her hands on the table and continued to watch him.
He squirmed under her stare and struggled to find something to talk about. Something more serious than romantic notions about a ranch. “How long have you been afraid of bugs?”
“How long have you been afraid of the dark and small spaces?” She smiled.
“Point taken.” He spooned oatmeal and honey into his mouth. Why did he feel tongue-tied all of a sudden? It couldn’t be because she had caught him stumbling around the dugout in his under drawers. No, it had to be the fact that there was no one on earth in whose company he’d rather spend his time. The feeling was foreign.
Strength seemed to return with food. “I’m going to ride to my burned cabin and see if I can salvage anything.”
“Should you? I mean…” She took a deep breath. “It isn’t my place to stop you, but you’ve been ill.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll keep my wits about me. No one is going to catch me unaware this time.” He scooted back his bowl.
“If you aren’t home by the noon hour, I’ll come looking.”
He patted her hand. “I’ll be home.”
Something bumped under the table. He looked under to see May crawling on the dirt floor. “What are you doing, sweetie?”
“Looking for bugs so Ma isn’t scared.”
“You’re doing a fine job.” He looked into Annie’s teary eyes and clasped her hand. “We’ve a fine little family, don’t we?” Nice, the way it was, but he wanted more. Much more. A big cabin, a passel of young’uns, and Annie by his side until the day he died. Now if he could work up the courage to say so…
She nodded. “The best.” She fussed with her hair and stood. “I’d best clean up from breakfast. Be careful, Drake. I don’t relish being a widow again so soon.”
He chuckled. “I’ll do my best to see that doesn’t happen.” He yanked on his boots and grabbed his coat and hat. With a final glance at Annie’s lovely face, he headed out the door, praying he wouldn’t collapse from exhaustion, and cursing his stubborn male pride.
Something about having a family made him want to be a hero in their eyes. A man had no time to be sick.
Chapter 8
Annie watched Drake ride away then closed the dugout door on the cold winter day. How could she have said the thing she’d said? Heavens, she was as wanton as a saloon girl. If she wasn’t careful, she’d drive her husband away.
Sighing, she stacked the breakfast dishes on the drain board then reached for her yarn. She wanted to knit Drake a muffler for Christmas, along with a scarf and mittens for May. If she didn’t work fast, the holiday would be upon them and she wouldn’t be ready. She checked her seat for bugs then sat down.
It hadn’t occurred to her that a house underground would contain pesky insects. Not that she hadn’t seen plenty of bugs in Missouri, but most didn’t run across the kitchen table with intent to harm. She’d be sure to check her bed covers before sliding in each night. She shuddered. Drake must think her a silly woman.
While May continued to search for bugs, Annie knitted, the click-clacking of the needles soothing her. With each stitch of the blue yarn, she envisioned how it would look with Drake’s eyes. Heavenly, that’s how. It should be a sin to look as fine as her husband. Surely the angels in heaven had nothing on his looks.
Scout barked outside. Annie set aside her work and peered out the window. Hayward sat on his horse, just feet from the house. Why hadn’t the dog barked an earlier warning? What would the man do if Annie pretended not to be home?
“I see the smoke from the stovepipe, Mrs. Carter. I know you’re home.”
Bother. Annie shrugged into her coat and grabbed her rifle. “Stay in the house, May.”
“Yes, Mama. I’m finding all kinds of bugs to toss in the stove.”
Annie shuddered and went out to meet a two-legged pest. “You aren’t welcome here, Mr. Hayward.”
“Now, ma’am, is that anyway to greet a neighbor?” He dismounted and approached her, hands held loosely at his sides. “I’ve come to make another offer on your land.”
“My husband and I have no intentions of selling.” Maybe a bullet in his backside would convince the man. Words didn’t seem to have any effect. “There is no gold on my property, if that’s the illusion you’re under. We’ve told you time and again.”
“It’s still prime land. With what I’m offering, you could afford to build a grand house, worthy of a fine lady such as yourself.” His gaze ran over her pants and scuffed boots. “Maybe purchase y
ourself a wardrobe of fine fashions.”
“I have no need of such things.”
“That dugout must be mighty crowded now that you’ve hitched yourself to Mr. Carter.” He grinned. “Had you taken me up on my first offer, you would be dining on china this evening.”
“Fine food with swine is still slop.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a stubborn, foolish woman.”
She shrugged and lifted her gun. “I’ve been called worse.” Please, don’t let him see my knees shaking. She struggled to hold her aim steady. “Get back on your horse and ride, Mr. Hayward.”
“What of the child? Doesn’t she deserve better than…this?” He waved his arm.
“She’s the princess of her castle and is happy.”
“I found another scorpion, Mama.” At the doorway, May held out a jar with another of the evil creatures inside.
Mr. Hayward laughed. “Some princess.” He turned and marched back to his horse. “There are other ways of convincing folks to sell out. I’ll be back to show you one.” He mounted and galloped away, leaving the gate open behind him.
Annie sagged and eyed the jar with disgust. “Throw that away. Jar and all.” She leaned against the corral fence and closed her eyes. Why did the man insist on visiting when Drake was gone? Did he sit away somewhere and watch to see him leave? She had half a mind to ride to Drake’s property and fetch him home right away. She lifted her gun to fire a warning shot but set it down before doing so.
No, he had his reasons for checking his land. She’d leave him to them. Casting her eyes on the sky, she sent up a prayer for her husband’s safety.
Contentment spread through her as she looked around at all God had blessed her with. A field of cattle and other stock. A warm home for the winter. A husband willing to work hard in order to better their lives. Yes, she was indeed blessed and didn’t need some high-handed cattle baron telling her otherwise.
She looked down at her pants. She had a half-finished dress in her trunk, nestled under the new scarlet gown. Maybe she should finish it. If she did, maybe folks would look at her differently. Even go so far as to give her more respect. She shook her head. If Drake came home to the sight of her in a dress for the first time for no apparent reason, he might think she’d lost her mind. Besides, a dress wouldn’t make people like Mr. Hayward any kinder. She rubbed her face, her mind a muddle.
A Pioneer Christmas Collection Page 29
