Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance)

by Simons, Renee

  The pattern varied one Saturday afternoon just as the school year ended. Hank and Penny came into Twin Buttes to take part in a family reunion at Martha’s, and Abby had the day to herself. She was happily engaged in stripping the paint from an old wooden trunk when she heard a knock on her front door. She opened it to find Cat standing on the middle step of her porch, a mildly embarrassed smile lifting the rncorners of his mouth. The dark blue plaid shirt he’d tucked into his dress jeans brought a midnight sheen to his black hair, and sunlight danced in his eyes. He looked lean and fit, muscular without being muscle-bound, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

  “What are you doing down there?” she asked with a smile.

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”

  “Then why did you come?” she asked as she walked to the edge of the porch.

  “I’m carrying a message from my mother.”

  She nodded. “I see.” She sat down on the top step and patted a spot near her. “Well, come on up and set.”

  He smiled as he took the place beside her. “Do I detect a bit of the old west creeping into your sophisticated eastern speech?”

  “Old west, midwest...” She shrugged. “The lady in one of my foster homes always said that. She was a good person, and her farm was the best time for me. It just slipped out.”

  She was caught up in the memory and unaware of his eyes on her. “Were they good to you?” he asked softly.

  “I guess. Her boys were decent, treated me like their kid sister... taught me how to ride and shoot.” She smiled. “I even learned to drive a tractor and run a combine. They were good times.” She nodded, then looked at him. “What’s the message?”

  “We’re having a family get-together and you’re invited.”

  Abby shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Not for a family occasion.”

  “It might be better if you came with me,” he suggested.

  “Oh really?” she said testily. “And why is that?”

  “My mother could decide to get everybody down here to persuade you.” He grinned mischievously. “It would embarrass the hell out of you, I’m sure.”

  Abby laughed. “You’re right. It might be easier to go quietly.” She looked down at the way she was dressed. “But I can’t, not like this.” She lifted her head to him. “You go back and tell Martha that I’ll be over as soon as I shower and change.”

  “Oh, no,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll wait right here. I’ve got my orders.” He leaned against the newel post and folded his arms across his chest, obviously prepared to wait. He heard Abby sigh and go inside, and stretched his legs out, shutting his eyes to the bright afternoon sun.

  When his mother had suggested inviting Abby to the gathering he’d found himself wondering how she would get along with his sisters, none of whom had met her yet. He had known how his brothers-in-law would react. They would probably fall all over themselves, he thought with a grimace, trying to make her feel welcome, especially Jared, who was an Anglo, like Abby, and would be thankful to have an ally. Annoyed with himself for not remaining silent, he had nevertheless volunteered to act as escort.

  Now, when he heard the screen door creak, he opened one eye and turned to look at her. Except for the day of the board meeting, he’d never seen her in anything but jeans or cords; he noticed with a pleasant shock that two pretty terrific legs showed from beneath the skirt of her sundress. The dress itself was a shade of deep blue-green that brought out the color of her eyes, and its almost invisible straps displayed her smoothly tanned shoulders to their best advantage. Those poor guys don’t stand a chance, he thought. His brothers-in-law were goners. He uncoiled himself from the steps and waited for her to join him.

  She looked at him with a touch of self-consciousness. “Is this all right?” she asked. “I didn’t know what would be appropriate for a family reunion.”

  “It’s fine,” he answered curtly. He was thinking that she would be the hit of the party, and that if he could find a way of leaving without a fuss, he would.

  The Tallman living room was full of faces, some familiar to Abby, some not. Feeling suddenly shy, she would have paused in the doorway and tried for a quick escape, but Cat placed his hand in the middle of her back and gave her an unsubtle shove. Martha came forward to put an arm around her shoulder and lead her into the center of the room.

  “We’re having a party, Abby. My kids are here, and some of the cousins, and I wanted you to meet all of them.”

  “I hate to intrude on a family occasion.”

  “Nonsense! I already told them to consider you one of us.”

  “And when Mom adopts you, you’ve got no choice but to stay adopted.”

  Everyone laughed, and Martha hooted at the young man who had just spoken, but pulled him over. “This is my son- in-law, Jared. He belongs to my oldest, Connie, and he ought to know. He’s a paleface, just like you. But we let him into the family anyway.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Jared, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I know all the family skeletons--got me in with no trouble.” He pointed around the room. “You see anyone here you like, I’ll pass the info on to you.”

  “Well,” Abby said with a laugh, “blackmail’s sure easier than walking through fire.”

  Amid the general laughter Jared winked at her. “Go get ’em, kid.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Abby could just make out Cat’s shadow, and she felt his displeasure.

  How she and Cat ended up next to each other at the table was a mystery to Abby, though she suspected a lot of planning by Martha. In some ways the seating arrangement made things easier. Beyond the usual polite, “May I have the potatoes?” or “Would you pass the pitcher, please?” kind of table talk, they never looked at each other or conversed. Cat concentrated on the people to his right and Abby on those to her left, and they managed to ignore each other.

  Except that every so often his arm would brush hers, or she’d hear him laugh and discover a lump in her throat. And once they both reached out for the bread tray at the same time, and his touch played havoc with her nerves.

  Her apparent acceptance by his entire family bothered Cat more than even he thought it should. He could hear her deep in conversation with his two younger sisters. Particularly unsettling was the way in which Terry, the baby of the family and the most militant of them all, listened to Abby, responding thoughtfully and without her usual belligerence when her turn came to speak. Though they didn’t necessarily agree, they had, it seemed, found a way to communicate.

  After the table was cleared and the dishes done, the group splintered, with people moving off to various parts of the house: Martha and her daughters to look at Connie’s baby; the men to watch television. Abby slipped outside to stand on the porch and watch the day end. The air was still, the sky slate-gray. Up and down the empty street, lights shone from windows and made bright patches on the dusty road. It felt good to break away from people and simply enjoy the silence. She heard the sound of the screen door, but didn’t turn around.

  “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  Abby shrugged at Hank’s question. “I needed to be alone. I don’t do well in situations like that.” She nodded in the direction of the house.

  “I don’t believe that. Whenever I looked over at you, you seemed to be doing just fine, having a great time with Nita and Terry. Everyone likes you.”

  “I like them, too,” Abby agreed. “Especially the girls. They’re intelligent, sensitive, concerned. It isn’t them. It’s me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he argued. “You have every bit as much to offer as they do. More, in fact. I don’t like to hear you talk like this.”

  She turned to him. “I’m sorry, Hank. I do appreciate your concern, but I’d like to be alone.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, and he went inside, unaware of the figure watching them from behind the lace-curtained front window.

&
nbsp; Abby remained outside, trying to reason away the sense of loneliness being with this family had brought to the surface. Observing the love and caring between them, even being a part of it, only served to point up how very alone in the world she was, something she rarely allowed herself to consider for fear of succumbing to crippling self-pity. “That was a touching scene.”

  Abby took in the voice; Cat’s unexpected appearances no longer surprised her, but his sarcasm set her teeth on edge. “Why do you do that?” she asked with annoyance. “What?” His tone was one of mock innocence.

  “Attack. You’re always on the offensive.”

  “You got in a couple of good shots yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m tired of being a sitting duck,” she retorted. “From now on, if you want to take potshots at me, you’ll be aiming at a moving target.” She looked at him pointedly. “We’ll see just how good a marksman you really are.”

  He grabbed her hand and held it tightly, asking with annoyance of his own, “How come you’re so feisty all of a sudden? Feeling kind of powerful now that you’ve won over my family?”

  Abby tried to read his expression, but the coming darkness had put his face in shadow; still, she could hazard a guess as to what he was feeling.

  “You don’t like that, do you?” she taunted. “You’re annoyed because they’ve accepted me, and that means you just might be wrong about me.” She yanked her hand out of his grasp and brushed past him toward the house. “Not that you’d ever admit it.”

  She found the living room empty and a fire burning in the hearth. She sat down in the nearest chair and watched the flames. Damn the man, she thought. Damn!

  Abby felt the fire creep inside, warming her and making her drowsy. It had been a long, busy day, and the temptation to doze in the chair was irresistible. She put her head back and closed her eyes with a sigh. Oh well, she thought, that ought to keep him away.

  She let the sounds of movement and voices in other parts of the house fade into silence and held thoughts of Cat at bay while her body sank deeper into the chair and her mind drifted off into the blackness of sleep.

  But before long something summoned her back, and she struggled to trace the source--a tiny voice calling her name between sobs, and a hand patting hers and clutching at the sleeve of her blouse. Abby opened her eyes to see Penny standing beside her with tears streaming down her face.

  Abby lifted the little girl onto her lap and held her tightly, crooning in her ear, rocking her and smoothing her tousled curls as she listened to the strange new sound of Penny’s voice, tiny and birdlike and full of fear and pain. Finally the child quieted, finding solace in her thumb, a gesture as unfamiliar to Abby as the sound of Penny’s voice.

  “Why were you crying, baby?” Abby whispered, then kissed the top of Penny’s head. “I wish you would tell me.”

  “I thought you was... deaded.”

  So, Abby thought, it wasn’t a dream. “And you got scared?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Are you okay, now?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you like that, but I’m glad you’re speaking to me. I like the sound of your voice.”

  Penny snuggled closer and sighed with contentment. Abby held her, feeling the tiny heart beat against her breast and Penny’s warm breath at her throat. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of the child in her arms.

  Sian would have been almost Penny’s age, she thought. I might have held her just this way and soothed away her fears. But she’s gone, and instead, I’m comforting someone else’s child, giving all my love to someone else’s little girl.

  And because Penny was someone else’s child, Abby hoisted her on her shoulder and carried her into the dining room, where a group had gathered for seconds on coffee. She handed the child to her father and stepped back, unaware that Cat was standing just behind her. Penny wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and, after a last look at Abby, whispered in his ear. A broad grin lit his face as he whirled her around in sheer joy. Abby turned away as tears filled first his eyes and then her own.

  She wanted to leave, but Cat stood in her way, looking from their faces to hers, as if trying to understand what had just happened. As silent tears rolled down her cheeks he put an arm around her shoulders and led her outside. Once they were down the steps and had reached the street he withdrew his arm, but he stayed close by.

  They walked silently side by side for a few moments, then he said softly, “Buy you a cup of coffee?” She nodded absently, and he steered her toward the pickup.

  They rode silently for a few minutes, Abby closed off and turned inside herself, and Cat strangely concerned by her obvious unhappiness, and also because he cared--and shouldn’t.

  “You got the kid to talk?”

  “She had a scare,” Abby said simply.

  “You ought to be pleased, not unhappy,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “I’m not...unhappy.” I’m not, she thought, annoyed by his tone. But how could she explain to someone like him how it had felt to see a father and daughter so close and with so much love to give to each other when, at the age of seventeen, she had gone on a search for her own father, only to be rejected by him and sent on her way? She shrugged and repeated, “I’m not unhappy.”

  Some twenty minutes later they pulled up to a small combination restaurant and pub known as Arly’s that stood about a block from the center of town. Abby looked at the yellow and green neon sign and the beer logos shining in the front window and heard a hum of sound emanating through the closed door. She looked at Cat.

  “I’m not sure I’m up to a crowd just now.”

  He gave her a searching look. “You got a problem being seen in public with me?”

  She sighed. “For a smart man you can be awfully dumb sometimes.” She brushed past him and walked toward the entrance, then turned and waited for him to join her, watching his slow, loose-hipped walk, like a cat on the prowl, she thought. Like his name. He reached around her and opened the door, then held her under the elbow as they walked into the small, crowded room.

  “The joint’s jumping,” he remarked ruefully. “Sorry, I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

  Abby shrugged. “It’s Saturday night.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Guess I forgot.”

  Surprised, Abby smiled. “How long has it been?”

  “A while,” he answered. “I don’t come into town unless I have to.”

  “Then why tonight?”

  This time he shrugged. “I thought it might cheer you up.”

  Abby smiled. “Thank you.”

  He grinned and ducked his head. “’Tweren’t nothin’, ma’am.”

  He found them a table in a corner away from the crush of people. “You want coffee, or something more potent?”

  “Coffee’s fine, thanks,” she replied, looking around at the couples dancing to a jukebox, people standing three deep at the bar and a noisy group some twenty feet away. Cat returned from the bar and set down two cups of steaming coffee, then sat across the table from her. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked.

  Abby laughed. “After the meal your mother made? I won’t eat for a week!”

  The noise level rose and fell with a strange rhythm in the dimly lit, smoky room, reaching an almost deafening pitch, then dropping back to a low murmur before picking up again. Behind it all the jukebox played country and western music, and couples moved slowly around the center of the room.

  “Would you like to dance?” Cat asked.

  Abby raised an eyebrow. “Would you be insulted if I said no?”

  He looked at her smiling face and answered with a smile of his own. “No. Despite what you said before, I’m not dumb.”

  “Good.” She rose from her seat. “Then I’ll dance with you.”

  She followed him onto the dance floor and stepped into his arms. They moved to the music, silent for the most part, until Cat said into her ear, “You’re just the right size
, you know?”

  Abby chuckled. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  He held her at arm’s length, searching her face, but for what, Abby didn’t know. Just as he pulled her close again a hand reached out and tapped Cat on the shoulder. Startled, both he and Abby turned to find a bearded young man standing beside them with a grin on his face.

  “Mind if I cut in?” he asked in a voice husky with alcohol.

  Cat looked at Abby, caught her warning glance and answered softly, “Sorry, friend, not this time.”

  The man turned to Abby. “How come a pretty thing like you wants to hang around with the likes of him? Surely you can do better than that.”

  Abby saw the dark look on Cat’s face and the hardening of his eyes, and put a hand firmly on his arm. He turned to her and inclined his head in silent assent, quietly leading her back to their table.

  By the time they had seated themselves again the man was on his way over to them. He pulled out the empty chair next to Abby and sat down, totally ignoring Cat’s presence. He leaned toward her, and she pulled back, repelled by his whiskey-scented breath.

  “Tell me something, darlin’, he got anything better between his legs than us white guys?”

  Cat reacted almost before the words registered on Abby’s brain. He grabbed a handful of the man’s shirtfront and hauled him out of his seat, slamming him up against the dark paneled wall behind them.

  “Watch how you talk to the lady, creep, or I might have to teach you some manners.”

  Then he swung the man around and shoved him in the direction of the table where his friends were silently watching the scene. Cat looked down at Abby, whose face had taken on a ghostly hue in the dim light.

  “I think we’d better go, Abby.”

  He coolly went over to the bar and dropped a couple of bills to pay for their coffee, then took Abby’s arm to steer her toward the door.

  “Why don’t you lay off the white women?” the man called out in a room gone suddenly totally silent. “Stick to your own kind, you half-breed son of a bitch.”