“It’s not terrible at all.”
Rachael set her cup down. “Jason kissed me tonight.”
“He kissed you?”
Rachael blushed. “It was his idea, not mine. He practically forced it on me.” She sipped more chocolate, moving back to sit down on the edge of her bed. “I didn’t push him away at first. I wanted to enjoy the kiss, Lacy. But I didn’t like it at all. The frustrating part is he didn’t even realize I didn’t like it. He said it just takes time for a woman like me to get to like things like that.”
“Time! Honey, if he was the right man, you wouldn’t need any time to wonder.”
Rachael smiled. “Now you sound like my mother again.” She shook her head. “He asked me to think about marriage while he’s gone. I guess I’m just going to have to say it flat out when he gets back—I don’t want to marry him, now or later.” She shivered. “He scared me, Lacy. I have a terrible feeling that Ranger was telling the truth.”
Lacy put her hand on the doorknob. “Well, I don’t blame you if you think of me as a snoopy old biddy, Rachael. I try hard to like that man, but I can’t do it. Still, that didn’t give me a right to butt in like that and spoil your evening. I’ll try not to interfere after this. I apologize.”
Rachael rose again, setting the cup aside. “It isn’t necessary. You’re just concerned, that’s all.” She folded her arms. “I just wish I could make Joshua see the kind of man Jason is. Joshua and the boys think he’s wonderful. And I do appreciate Jason checking up on them like he does. But I don’t want my brothers to be Indian haters. My father and mother wouldn’t want that either. My father was raised by the Cherokee, and my mother came to know them as family, too. But Josh says there’s a big difference between the Cherokee and the Comanche.”
“Well, I expect there is on the surface—but not way down inside. The only difference I can see is that the Cherokee learned to accept what must be. Some of the Comanche haven’t given up the idea yet of keeping this land for themselves. And the Cherokee have been Christianized and educated for years. The Comanche have all that ahead of them. I’m afraid a lot of heartache still lies ahead—for both sides. And once Texas becomes a state, Washington will start sending in soldiers and building forts. They’ll soon take care of what’s left of the Comanche.” She opened the door. “You finish that chocolate. It will help you rest. We’ll talk more another time.”
Rachael nodded. “Thanks again, Lacy.”
“No trouble.” The woman left, and Rachael moved to her bed, bending over to blow out her oil lamp. She moved under the covers, stretching and settling into the feather mattress. As soon as she closed her eyes, the vision of Brand Selby returned. This time she saw him defending the old Indian. It would take quite a man to stand up to Texas Rangers—and quite a man to actually be feared by them.
Rachael placed a dozen eggs into the basket Lacy had given her. “I’ll take a sack of flour, too, Mr. Briggs,” she told the man behind the counter of the supply store.
Rachael felt better today, happy, free. Having Jason gone was actually a relief. She was being accepted as a teacher, making new friends.
“You got a way of getting all this back to Lacy’s place?” Briggs asked with a grin.
Rachael studied her list, paying no attention to the scowl that came over Briggs’s face as the door of the store opened. “Of course I do,” Rachael was answering. “I brought Lacy’s wagon. But you’ll have to carry all these things out for me. Those men Lacy puts up certainly do go through the food.” She turned to a glass jar of peppermint candy to her left. “Oh, give me a dozen or so of these peppermint sticks, will you? I use them as rewards for the children who do especially well.”
Rachael looked at the storekeeper’s face then, noticing he looked almost frightened. “Sure thing, Miss Rivers. How do you like teaching school?”
“I like it just fine, Mr. Briggs. I just wish more children would show up.” She felt the silent presence then, turning to glance at who had just entered. A pair of green eyes met her own, and the sight of Brand Selby was too surprising to give her time to control the sudden flush that came to her cheeks. Her eyes widened, and she realized the man recognized her immediately as the woman by the river. He gave her the almost sly half smile again and she quickly looked away as the storekeeper shoved the candy into another of Lacy’s baskets.
“You better not be eyeing young ladies like Miss Rivers, Selby,” the storekeeper told Brand.
The remark only embarrassed Rachael, the embarrassment doubled by feeling embarrassed for Brand Selby. “It’s all right, Mr. Briggs,” she said softly, wondering how she had managed to find her voice. She was furious with herself for the way her heart was pounding and the clammy feeling that suddenly swept over her. “Be sure to throw in some tobacco. Lacy keeps it around for her gentlemen boarders.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The man looked past her at Brand Selby. “What is it you want, breed?” he asked.
Rachael felt him move behind her. Then he was standing beside her at the counter. She could smell leather and fresh air. She let her eyes move to view his dark, strong hands as they rested on the counter.
“When will the man be by from New Orleans—the one who comes up the river to buy horses?” Selby asked.
Rachael’s surprise was enhanced by Brand Selby’s clear English. Somehow she had expected him to speak in some strange language. The storekeeper turned and took down a piece of slate from the wall, laying it on the counter. “There’s the schedule, Selby. Read it quick and get out of my store. You’re upsetting the young lady here.”
Rachael bristled at Briggs’s assumption. “I’m not upset, Mr. Briggs,” she said, irritation showing in her voice. “Go ahead and wait on this gentleman.”
“Gentleman? Ma’am, you don’t call a man like Brand Selby a gentleman. He’s a breed. But don’t you worry. Nothing can happen to you right here in broad daylight.”
“Mr. Briggs!” Rachael’s face was literally crimson. “I will thank you to keep such thoughts to yourself.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Briggs cleared his throat, wiping at his brow with his shirtsleeve. “I didn’t mean to offend or frighten you. What else do you need in the way of supplies?”
Rachael rested her hand on the basket. “Lacy needs a new pair of scissors—the best ones you have for cutting material.”
The man nodded. “I’ll have to go to the back for a minute.” He eyed Brand Selby. “You watch yourself, mister. Get that schedule fixed in your head and get out of here. If you need supplies, come back later after the lady here has left.”
The man turned and went through a doorway to a back room.
Rachael swallowed. “I apologize for his behavior,” she said quickly, worried Briggs would come back before she had a chance to say it.
“I am used to it,” he replied, an odd sadness in his voice.
Rachael turned and looked up at him. He was so tall and strong looking that he seemed to fill up the little store. Up close he was even more handsome than she had remembered, and his closeness brought again the strange warmth she had felt the first time. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it. I think it’s disgraceful the way some people act.”
The hint of a smile came across his lips again. “You are the woman who was by the river.”
She nodded, looking back at her basket.
“You should not be seen speaking to me,” he told her. “Some people would say you’re bad.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I speak to whomever I please.”
He smiled more, but she didn’t see it. To look at him made her feel too flustered.
“You teach school?”
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“I saw you go there once, but you did not see me.”
Rachael did not reply as he proceeded to move the slate in front of her. “Will you please tell me what it says?”
She frowned, looking up at him again, seeing a sudden embarrassment on his part. He apparently
couldn’t read the chart. She looked down at the slate, studying it a moment. “May tenth is the next date. That’s next Wednesday. It looks like the man comes every four months. He doesn’t come back again until the middle of September.”
“Thank you, Miss…Rivers, is it?”
“Yes.” She met his eyes again. Their eyes held for a moment as he reached over to take back the slate, his arm lightly touching her own. Briggs came from the back room then and Rachael quickly looked away.
“You got them dates in your head, breed?” the man asked Brand.
Brand nodded. “Next Wednesday he comes.”
Briggs frowned. “How did you know that? I didn’t figure you could read.”
Brand shoved the slate hard in the man’s direction. “If you thought I couldn’t read, then why did you hand me the slate?”
Briggs just swallowed, taking the slate and hanging it back up.
“You did it to shame me in front of the young lady,” Brand answered for the man. “I am sorry I disappointed you, Briggs. When the young lady is finished, I need some supplies of my own.”
“You got money?”
“You know I do. I’ve bought things from you before.” Selby’s voice was low and sure.
Briggs grudgingly shoved the new scissors into Rachael’s supply basket. “Why aren’t you with your Comanche friends, Selby?” he mumbled. “You didn’t need to pick Austin for settling.”
“I am as much white as Indian. And I have as much right to settle here as the next man.”
“Half-breeds got less rights than full-blood Indians,” Briggs answered. He turned to Rachael with a smile. “Anything else, Miss Rivers? I’m sorry for this man’s presence. Maybe it’s best you get your things and be on your way.”
Rachael felt the slow burn of growing anger. “I believe you call yourself a Christian, Mr. Briggs. But the behavior I am seeing at this moment is as sinful as any I have ever witnessed.” She picked up the basket of eggs. “Lacy said to put all this on her bill. I’ll take out the eggs and come back for the other two baskets.”
Briggs just stared at her dumbfounded as she took the eggs and stomped out the door. His eyes moved to meet Brand Selby’s. Selby just glared at him, saying nothing. Rachael came back inside, and Briggs picked up one of the baskets. “I can carry them for you, ma’am.”
“Never mind. You have another customer, Mr. Briggs, in case you didn’t notice. I can take my own baskets.”
She lifted the basket with both hands and walked out again. Brand Selby turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms and waiting for her to come back. When Rachael entered the store she felt his green eyes on her as she picked up the last heavy basket. She wanted to look at him again but was afraid not for herself but for Brand Selby.
“Good day, Mr. Briggs,” she said brusquely. She left then, and Brand watched through the windows of the double doors as she loaded the third basket and lifted her skirts to climb up into the wagon. She took hold of the reins and drove off, and the strange ache he had felt the first time he set eyes on her returned to tease him again.
He turned back to Briggs, who stood scowling, also staring after Rachael. The man finally looked up at Selby. “You keep your eyes off that young lady if you want to live long, Selby. She belongs to Jason Brown.”
Brand slowly met the man’s eyes. He had a lot of questions about that statement, but didn’t dare ask them. To show an interest was to invite trouble. “I just want my supplies, Briggs,” he answered, trying not to show his disappointment at the remark about Jason Brown and the young woman who had just left. Somehow he could not believe it. A perky, intelligent, independent young lady like the one he had just seen couldn’t be interested in a bastard like Jason Brown. It didn’t make sense. He chided himself then for even caring. The young woman was white. That’s what he had told himself the first time he had set eyes on her. But ever since that moment she had haunted him, and from the look on her face when she first saw him in the store, he wondered if perhaps it had been the same for her.
Rachael scanned the reader that the children would be using, intending to write down questions she planned to ask about the stories. Finally she set the quill pen aside, and stared at a tablet that held only one question.
She couldn’t concentrate. The encounter the day before in the store kept coming back to her—and the vision of Brand Selby. She wished she had never seen him, for she had just begun to get him out of her mind. And then there he was, like the other time—just standing there looking at her with those provocative eyes and that teasing grin. She hadn’t told Lacy about seeing him. She couldn’t yet—not until she decided herself what it was about the man that gave her these warm feelings and made her heart pound.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She had disobeyed the most important rule. She had stayed at the little schoolhouse until after dark. Leonard Dreyfuss had already left, and she felt a tinge of alarm then when she looked out the windows and realized just how dark it had become. She rose from her chair, wondering how safe it would be to walk home. It was true that people had been killed and robbed by Comanche after dark around Austin, and she chided herself for being so lost in thought that she had allowed the time to slip away from her.
She walked toward the doorway, taking her shawl from a hook nearby and putting it around her shoulders. She checked around the room to see that everything was in place, leaving her own material on her desk. She would work on the questions in the morning while the children read, if any children even showed up. She walked back to her desk to blow out the lamp, then turned to go back to the doorway. She would blow out the lamp near the door on her way out. She nearly reached the lamp when a huge figure moved from the outer entranceway into the main room, looming into the light.
Rachael gasped and stepped back, her heart pounding. At first all she saw was the buckskin clothing and the long hair. Her first thought was that a Comanche man had come to kill her, or do worse.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” came the voice. “I just thought I would wait until after dark, so no one would see me come here.”
She stared in surprise, putting a hand to her chest. It was Brand Selby.
Chapter Five
Brand looked around the room quickly, his green eyes scanning every shadow and corner. “You are alone?” he asked.
Rachael just blinked, stepping back slightly. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement, and she drew a deep breath to control her composure, wondering if she should scream or find something to hit him with.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told her, coming farther inside. “I mean you no harm.”
She moved a hand to her throat, absently fingering at the lace of her high-necked dress. “What is it you want, Mr. Selby?” She quickly moved farther back, edging her way around behind her desk.
“You remembered my name.”
Rachael swallowed, taking on a casual air.
“Mr. Briggs spoke your name in the supply store.” She wondered where she found her voice. He stood there tall and powerful. She realized the harm he could bring her if he chose. But again her fear began to subside under the soft green eyes.
“You didn’t know my name before that?” he asked. “You didn’t ask Jason Brown who I was, after you saw me at the river?”
Rachael frowned. “You know Jason?”
Her heart tightened and the fear returned for just a moment as a cold hatred came into his eyes. “I know him,” he said, his voice lower, almost strained.
The whip! The old Indian man! Was the rumor Lacy had heard really true? Was Jason really that bad, or was it this man who was bad? As Brand’s power seemed to fill the room, Rachael could understand why Jason could be afraid of him. She felt a need now to show him he didn’t frighten her—more than that, a need to somehow let him know she didn’t think Jason the better man. She chided herself inwardly for feeling a sudden defense of the half-breed before her. If he hated Jason, perhaps he had come to kill her because he
had heard she was Jason’s woman.
“I didn’t ask about you that day,” she told him. She gripped the edge of the desk, swallowing, looking straight at him. For a moment she felt as she would feel toward a wild animal. People said if you showed no fear around a wild animal, it would not attack. “I didn’t mention you at all.”
She saw the surprise in his eyes, combined with something close to admiration. “Why not?”
She could hardly believe she was carrying on a conversation with this stranger. Yes, he was handsome. But he was fearsome looking at the same time, standing there in his buckskins, a huge knife and a handgun at his waist, his dark brown hair hanging loose. She began to redden under his discerning gaze, and she felt an odd flutter deep inside as their eyes held, a warm dampness creep across her skin.
“I’m not quite sure,” she answered. “You…looked Indian. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and I know how Jason feels about Indians. So I said nothing.”
“You speak of Jason Brown as though you know him well. Do you belong to him? Are you his woman?”
Her cheeks warmed with a pink glow, his remark surprising and embarrassing her. “It’s really none of your business, Mr. Selby. But since you have asked, no, I am not Jason Brown’s ‘woman,’ as you put it. We’re just friends. Jason would like it to be otherwise, but I have no interest—” She caught herself, feeling ridiculous for sharing such intimate things with Brand Selby. “Mr. Selby, would you kindly state why you are here? You shouldn’t be, you know. If anyone saw you here you could be in trouble, and someone will probably come along any moment. I should have left earlier. People will be worried about me.”
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