Forever in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they were back on the ranch, Ford worked in the barn until it was dark, and Hannah cooked supper.

  They were halfway through dinner when he said, “One of my mares is fixing to foal any time now and I thought I’d sleep in the barn tonight. She can probably handle everything without me, but if there’s trouble, I don’t want to lose her or the foal.”

  Hannah wanted to argue that he could take Zachery’s room. At least then he wouldn’t seem so far away. But she knew he was trying to make it easier for her. Something was still bothering him, holding him at a distance, and she’d given up trying to speculate as to what it could be.

  “I’ll get you extra blankets. I can smell rain.”

  Ford didn’t look at her. “Me, too. We need it. Seems like spring comes earlier when we get rain.”

  They needed to talk, but Hannah didn’t know where to begin. After taking a long drink of milk, she asked, “Are you going to read a story tonight?”

  Ford shook his head. He downed another quick bite and stood. “I’d better be getting back to the barn.”

  Before Hannah could speak, he was gone, as though he couldn’t wait to be out of her sight. She tried to understand his strange behavior as she did the dishes and prepared for bed. He should be more relaxed when they were alone and didn’t have to pretend anymore, but he’d been like a man forced at gunpoint to be near her.

  When she turned out the lights, Hannah curled on the couch and watched the fire. The wind was blowing again, whipping around the house, rattling the windows. Why was it she always heard the wind when she was alone?

  Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how her mother used to hold her on nights like this and tell her not to be afraid.

  Someday you’ll dance with the wind, child, her mother would say. Until you do, you’ll always be afraid.

  Hannah stared into the light of the fire. That was it, she decided, she was afraid. Like her mother, she’d held on to what she had no matter how hard and dreary it was because she was afraid to step out and look around. Tonight she’d still be working for old Hickory, scrubbing floors, cooking, doing dishes, if she hadn’t seen the murder and been forced to run.

  She was a person who not only never welcomed change, but hid when it came knocking. She’d never done anything in her life but what she had to do to survive. Never in her life had she tried something wild. Never had she tried to dance with the wind.

  She’d never been brave enough to dance with the wind, even once. She’d run, she’d hidden, she’d tried to make herself invisible, but she’d never stood and fought for anything…because nothing in her life had ever had color before she came here.

  * * *

  Ford checked on the mare. She was still hours, maybe even a day or two, away from foaling, but he had to have some reason to leave the house. Hannah’s touching this morning had shattered his reserve. He needed time to pull his emotions together.

  The barn had always been his refuge as a boy. The lowing of the animals and the smell of hay were welcoming to his senses. When he’d been small the barn was the one place Gavrila never ventured. It was his alone. As an adult he realized she’d resented him for intruding in the world she liked to create as a child, and like their father, blamed him for their mother’s death. He’d thought only animals were allowed in the barn when he was small. He could be there because he was more animal than boy.

  Climbing the ladder to the loft, he fought back the childhood memories. He’d been his own man for years now. He’d worked day and night hauling buffalo bones to get enough money for the land, then he hadn’t stopped until his house was built and his herd big enough to matter. There were years Ford didn’t really remember passing as days, only in weeks of endless work.

  He leaned against the opening and looked out on the grassland between his place and the edge of the canyon. The land was so flat a man could be almost to the edge of the drop into the canyon before he realized it was there. Supposedly, Coronado had almost fallen off the rim when he stumbled across it in the middle of a hailstorm. The conquistador led his men down the rock walls, and when the weather cleared held a thanksgiving service for the blessing of the canyon.

  Ford could hear a storm coming in. Moisture was thick in his lungs. The rain was always needed, but he dreaded losing the work time. He’d been piling up little chores he could do in the barn if he should be forced inside for a day. From the look of the clouds, tomorrow might be that day.

  Turning out his light, he stared across the buffalo grass to the dark shadow outline of his canyon. It looked almost like a black river tonight, cutting his land only a hundred yards from his home. Some folks didn’t want to live this close to the drop. They said it was dangerous. But Ford loved the beauty of it. He didn’t even mind the stories he’d heard of how on windy nights like this a man could hear the ghosts of Quanah Parker’s fourteen hundred horses riding the rim. Colonel Mackenzie had ordered his men to run the animals off the walls of the canyon to end the war with the Apache. The strategy had worked, saving hundreds of both Apache and soldiers’ lives, but some said the cries of the horses falling into the canyon still carried on the wind.

  Ford didn’t believe in ghosts, but tonight he could almost believe he saw one dancing in the tall grass.

  She twirled in the wind, her hair flying around her like a midnight cape. Ford watched her dance, letting the wind direct her in first one path, then another. Her long, dark robe circled around her legs, almost like an old-fashioned hooped skirt, and the snow of her nightshirt glistened in the smoky moonlight.

  He watched as she lifted her arms and circled, not caring that the wind whipped her hair into her face. She twirled like a beautiful top, without direction, without purpose, dancing to a melody only she and the wind seemed to share.

  “Hannah!” The realization that his vision was real shook Ford like a blow. Hannah was circling below him with her eyes closed, dancing as if she had no idea that the edge of the canyon rim zigzagged into the land only yards from her feet.

  He bolted from the opening and slid down the ladder without wasting time on footholds. Running across the barn, Ford almost pulled the door from its hinges in his haste.

  Running in long, powerful strides across the field, he closed the distance between them in seconds. He stopped suddenly, his back to the canyon and his feet firmly planted in the buffalo grass. He waited as she twirled toward him, looking far more like a dream dancing with the wind than a real woman.

  She danced with her eyes tightly closed. Feeling a freedom unlike she’d ever felt, she twirled, letting the wind direct her. She hit his chest suddenly, without warning. The wind had drowned out all sound but its own music. Finally she’d answered the wind’s call and danced, loving the freedom she felt. But her folly ended abruptly when she bumped into Ford. For a moment, she hugged him tightly as her mind pulled back to the world around her.

  “Hannah!” he yelled above the storm as she clung to him. “Are you all right?”

  Suddenly resenting his interference and embarrassed that he must have been watching her, Hannah shoved away from Ford with all her strength.

  “Go away!” she screamed, the wind pulling at her hair and clothes as if wanting to draw her back into its own private waltz. Ford had turned down her advances one too many times for her to believe that he could care for her.

  “Hannah!” Ford yelled, grabbing her arms and forcing her against him.

  “No!” she cried, struggling to run. She’d made enough of a fool of herself earlier with this man that she didn’t want him to see her now. “If you can’t care for me, let go of me!”

  The first drops of rain blended with her tears, but she fought on. “You don’t want to touch me!” she screamed, too far beyond reason to care what she was saying. “If you don’t care enough about me to look at me, let go of me now!”

  Ford forgot all about the edge of the cliff only steps away or the rain starting to pound his shoulders. Control a
nchored deep within him snapped, shaking his body to the core. “How could you think I don’t want to touch you?” he shouted. “How can you believe I don’t enjoy looking at you?”

  He turned loose one of her arms and felt the sting of her slap before he could grab a handful of her hair and pull her mouth to his. Wildly, without any thought that she was unwilling, he kissed her, tasting deeply and long of a passion he’d spent a lifetime denying.

  He’d wanted to kiss her like this from the beginning, from that first night in the hotel. He didn’t care that he was bruising her lips, or holding her so tight she probably couldn’t breathe. He wanted to taste her until he’d never forget. The hunger for her was too great to be hidden any longer.

  With one sudden twist, he dropped to his knee, pulling her down against the inside of his leg. She struggled against him, fighting both him and the rain-covered ground. Without lessening his hold, he lowered her in the tall, wet grass and spread himself over her.

  Releasing her hair, he placed his hands at her waist and moved up along the sides of her slender body, allowing his thumbs to move boldly over the fullness of her breasts as he shoved her arms above her head. As he pulled her wrists high above her, she arched her back, pushing against him with her upper body as her hips moved to be free of his weight against her abdomen.

  She was twisting, struggling beneath him, but his mouth swallowed her protest. He could feel her moving all along him, pressing her body into his, pushing softness against muscle. With only slightly more pressure, he flattened her breasts against his wet shirt and his knee forced her legs apart as thunder rattled the earth and lightning blinked in the sky.

  She tried to move her arms, but he pushed them high, pressing them into the grass as his hands moved from her shoulder to her wrists over and over, stroking her until she was finally still to his touch. He wanted to satisfy himself with the feel of her body in his hands, so he moved over her from arm to waist with bold hands and strong fingers, loving the feel of her moving beneath him as he explored.

  He broke the kiss for a short time, raising up enough to jerk the belt of her robe open and shove his hand beneath the heavy material.

  She didn’t cry out but gulped for air as he spread the robe wide on either side of her. Her hands lay lifeless above her hair and she fought to breathe as rain soaked her body, making every curve visible through her clothes in the lightning flashes.

  He felt the rise and fall of her chest as he slid his large hands over the cotton of her nightshirt. He could feel the peak of each breast and the rounded softness fit the cup of his hand. With a low growl, he lowered his mouth to taste the cotton covering her breast and pull at the peak beneath that was warm and hard and waiting.

  She moved, trying to sit up, but he stroked her gently once more, his hand branding a path over her body, until she was still and allowed him to feast on the tip of the other breast.

  Rolling to one side, he pulled her hip against him just below his waist as he moved his hand boldly over her body. Now he could touch her more freely and she could feel his need for her pressing against her hips. She lay still beside him, stretching her arms above her as he examined every curve. Her eyes were closed and her soft sounds blended together in the storm. The rain seemed to melt away the cotton until he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. Demandingly, he slid his hand lower and watched as she arched her back when he pressed against the warm place between her legs.

  He leaned over her, feeling one breast press into his side as his free hand caressed the other. His fingers twisted into her long, flowing hair and pulled slightly. When she leaned her head back as he’d silently commanded, his mouth closed over the pulse of her throat. She moved from side to side as he licked the rain from her throat and tasted her silky skin. Instinctively, his hand tightened around her breast, kneading gently until she was still once more and he could continue.

  Without a word, he rolled her over on her stomach and pulled the robe away. She curled on her side in the grass as he moved his hands over her back, pushing her hair away so that he could taste her neck as his fingers cupped her hip. He twisted, pulling her leg over him so that he could slide his fingers up from her knee and bare her thigh to his touch.

  He heard her cry out softly as he bit gently into the warm skin below her ear. He moved lower, ripping the nightshirt from her shoulder in his hunger. When she called his name, he reached around her and pulled her against him. Now her hips rested against the center of his need and his hands were free to close over her breasts and catch the points between his fingers.

  There was no hesitation in the way his fingers circled her breasts, tugging, feeling, exploring. When she struggled, he stroked and held tightly until she stilled in his arms so that he could continue. The thunder shattered the land, but he couldn’t hear a thing over the pounding of his heart.

  She shouted again, but he barely heard her above the storm. This was what he’d wanted from the start, he’d wanted her in his arms. When she pushed at his chest and tried to sit up, he moved her atop him until he could cover her lips with his own once more. Now the kiss was deep and hungry, demanding all she had. He loved feeling her soft body twisting above him, torturing him with her softness as he parted her lips again and again, trying to drink his fill of the taste of her mouth. Her breasts were pointed and full and her mouth honey.

  She stopped moving and her body relaxed, becoming softer and more exciting to feel. Now she offered no resistance to his advances. He lessened his hold so his hands could explore, but he didn’t allow her mouth to move away, for he’d captured it and didn’t plan to let go until he no longer felt the need throbbing inside him.

  Suddenly, her fist gripped a handful of his hair and yanked hard, pushing his cheek into the mud. Before his passion-flooded brain could react, she rose above him and straddled his waist. He offered no protest as she shoved his wrists into the dirt above his head with more force than he’d thought her capable of.

  “Wait! Slow down!” she shouted above the storm. “Are you attacking me or loving me, Ford, because by heaven, I can’t tell.”

  A pound of the tension and an ounce of the passion left him as he laughed, really laughed, for the first time in his life. “I was saving you,” he managed to say as he made a slight effort to shove her away and was rewarded by her leaning lower atop him. The nightshirt hung so loosely off her shoulder, he could see the rise and fall of the tops of her breasts.

  “Saving me?” She pushed his hands into the mud and straightened her back, affording him a full view of her transparent nightshirt. “Saving me from what?”

  Ford didn’t move as he yelled, “The canyon!”

  Hannah looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced at the dark line marking the canyon rim only a few feet away.

  The rain made it impossible for him to see her face, but he knew what she must be feeling. The sudden realization that she’d almost danced off the edge, where the fall might be a hundred feet before jagged rocks slowed her progress and another fifty feet before she’d tumble to a stop.

  He’d expected her to show fear with the knowledge that she’d almost died, or gratitude to him for saving her, or even a crying fit from uncontrolled hysteria…but he never expected anger.

  Hannah turned on him with an anger that wilted the storm around them. Before he could anticipate it, she slugged him—hard.

  He’d seen this side of her before and decided he’d better react before she bloodied more than his lip this time.

  “Wait!”

  “How dare you!” she yelled.

  He grabbed one fist in midflight to his nose. “How dare I what? Kiss you like you’ve been begging to be kissed?”

  Thunder rattled across the land, competing with them.

  “How dare I touch you all over, completely, the way you’ve been begging me to touch you with every inch of that perfect body of yours?”

  She tried to pull free of his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. “How dare I taste…”


  “Let go of me! I don’t need anyone saving me by throwing me into the mud!”

  Ford opened his hands. Suddenly all his anger was directed inward. He had kissed her against her will. He’d held her down while he’d touched her in places he’d never touched a woman before. He’d ignored her struggles while he’d enjoyed the way her body pushed against him.

  Hannah staggered to her feet, shivering with cold. Her hair was wet and twisted around her shoulders in a mass of mud, her nightshirt soaked and covered with dirt and grass.

  He stood to follow, but she raised her hand. “No! No more! Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me. I’ll bolt my door tonight, and if that doesn’t stop you, I swear the Colt will be fully loaded. I’ll need no more saving tonight.”

  With a sudden cry of frustration, she turned and ran, disappearing into the storm like the dream he’d first seen dancing.

  Ford raised his fist to the wind and yelled a cry from so deep inside him it sounded inhuman. It didn’t matter that the rain cut into his cheeks with icy bites, or the wind froze his shirt to his sides. He didn’t care if lightning struck him dead at this very moment, or if the wind blew him off the rim.

  All his life he’d been fighting against people thinking something was wild and different about him. But until tonight he’d never believed it.

  Now, after the way he’d acted, he knew it was true. He’d attacked Hannah with the instincts of an animal. He’d held her down, he’d tasted her flesh, he’d even branded her with his touch.

  He cried again and dropped to his knees, knowing what he must do for Hannah’s sake. Somehow, he’d find a way to kill the animal within him before the wildness destroyed him as a man and her completely.

  Chapter 19

  FORD STOOD IN the center of the kitchen, feeling like the fool he was. He’d washed his face and hands in the cold water on the porch, but mud was still caked on his clothes. He stayed in the barn until realizing that he’d have pneumonia by morning if he didn’t get into dry clothes. Now that Ford was in the house, he didn’t know how he could possibly knock on Hannah’s bedroom door without her shooting him on sight with his own Colt.