Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  “The blood of Ute Indians in me,” Jenny snapped, coming up behind Mac. “And I’m proud of it.” Her glaring look included both men, but it riveted with fury on Sam. “If you have questions about my past, ask me.”

  “There ain’t no need to get riled, Jenny,” Mac said, seeing Robby coming out of the bam cuddling one of the tiger-striped kittens. “I was the one that went pokin’ first. It ain’t no secret, either.”

  Sam refused to back down under her furious gaze. He changed the subject. “Mac, we need to find a pup for Robby. Know of any?”

  “If I ain’t mistaken, I recall hearin’ ‘bout a fella over the other side of Dry Cimarron that had hounds. Best you rode over and asked.”

  Climbing onto the buckboard seat, Sam motioned for Jenny to join him. When she didn’t, he gritted his teeth. “We’d better get supper now or we’ll ride back in the dark.”

  Jenny turned to Robby. How dare Sam sneak behind her back and ask questions she didn’t want asked and never intended for him to have answered?

  “Mom, could I have the kitten? Just till Sam and me find a dog?”

  “Take it, boy,” Mac ordered by way of an apology. “Only if you do, you got to promise me you’ll take care of it even after you get a dog. Wouldn’t be fair to the poor mite to have you love it then let it go ‘cause somethin’ better come along.”

  Wide solemn eyes locked with Mac’s before Robby slowly nodded.

  The words were like knives ripping inside Jenny. That was what Jonas had done to her. She brushed passed Mac, thought better of it, and turned. “I’m sorry, Mac,” she said stiffly.

  “Ain’t no need to say that to me. You got a right to be riled thinkin’ I’d be sayin’ anythin’ bad ‘bout you. But I didn’t, Jenny. ‘Cause I ain’t got no call to.” He smiled when she repeated her apology with more warmth, calling out for him to take care as the wagon headed back into town.

  The boarding house Sarah Parkins owned was set back from the road.

  “I can’t understand why anyone would come here to open a business when the town has stopped growing,” Jenny remarked. “Since Old Man Weaver passed on, this place has been empty.”

  “When I was in the store with Robby, I asked Morro about her. Seems the widow’s been here about five months and the ranch hands like her cooking.”

  “I haven’t been to town in seven months, if that’s what you’re wondering. What you overheard in the store tells you why.”

  “Aw, Mom, why do you let her bother you? She ain’t nothin’ but—”

  “Robby! That’s enough. You should learn to respect your elders.”

  “The boy is right, Jenny,” Sam chimed in. Robby shot him a grateful smile. He tied off the reins and jumped down, reaching up to swing Robby high before setting him down. “You’ll wait here?”

  “You’ve got my son with you, Sam. I’d never run off and leave him,” she snapped.

  “Go wait on the porch for me, boy. I need to talk to your mother.”

  Robby’s unthinking obedience proved how much Sam had become a part of their lives. She was tom with wanting more and shying away from the ultimate price she would pay for caring about Sam. Jonas had walked out for the first time when he learned she had Indian blood. Could Sam be angry with her for not telling him? As soon as Robby was out of hearing, she stressed the lack of a need to talk

  With his hands on his narrow hips, he rocked back on his heels. “Lady, you sure do know how to rile a man when he’s done nothing more than try to please you. We have plenty that needs talking about,” he insisted. “Sure I heard what went on in the store and I listened to whatever Mac had to say. You clam up tighter than a tinhorn with his first honest hand.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he angled his head closer. “I’m not feeling shame for knowing you or being with you, Jenny. If your pride is stung, I’m sorry. When I bought you that present, I never meant to offend you.” He spun around, leaving her.

  “Sam, it’s not you. Please, try to … folks don’t like my having so much pride. When I … I don’t fight back it’s because of Robby getting hurt, too. I am pleased with your gift. I never had a present so pretty.”

  Stepping to her side, he gently cupped her chin. “Don’t remember the past. I won’t ask you for any more now, but promise me that, tonight, when we get home, we’ll talk. I need to know about you, lady,” he added softly, far too aware of how easily the word “home” had slipped out. Lately, it had been tempting to meld the thought of Jenny and home together. His Jenny. His home. “How ‘bout sending me off with a smile, so I know you’re not mad at me. That’s better.” The sparkle flaring in her eyes made him fight the overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her, but he stopped himself, remembering where they were.

  He left Jenny with the hot promise in his hazel eyes that he wanted more than talk from her tonight.

  Chapter Five

  Jenny ignored the chill of the night air as Sam guided the wagon over the rough trail toward her cabin. Warmed by the last few hours and the picnic they had shared with Sam, she knew she would cherish Robby’s delight along with her own.

  Sam. Her sides still ached from laughing with him at the antics of Robby’s kitten. His gentle teasing helped her forget the unpleasantness of meeting Maybelle and Sarah Parkins. Blaming Maybelle for her gossip, she had pushed aside the widow’s vicious insult, but she couldn’t fault the woman’s cooking. The chicken had been perfectly fried, the apple bread crusty, the small crock of honey an added treat. But what had surprised Jenny most was not the three brown-sugar doughnuts Sam uncovered when they were all licking their fingers of the delicious chicken’s coating, it was the brooding grimness he displayed as Robby ate them.

  Glancing at his rough-hewn profile now shadowed by the quartered moon’s light, she sensed a withdrawal in him that forbade questions. She knew too little of him, she cautioned herself. In this case her instincts couldn’t be trusted. The past had taught her that much. Sam was and would remain a stranger until his memory returned.

  Sam’s thoughts were running in tandem with Jenny’s, with one very significant difference; he trusted every sense, feeling, and honed instinct he had. He’d decided that Sarah Parkins not only knew him, but had displayed too much interest in Robby.

  With a grim set to his mouth, his gut wrenched as he replayed the moment he walked inside the widow’s house with his hand resting protectively on Robby’s shoulder. Sarah couldn’t hide her start of fear when she saw them, her voice quivering when she explained she had just started cooking. Her gaze remained averted from his own probing one, and when he explained what he wanted her hands stayed busy smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from one of the blue checkered tablecloths. It was obvious she couldn’t wait to escape into her kitchen.

  When they chose a table in the comer, he sat with his back toward the wall, somehow knowing that in the past it had been his habit to sit facing the door. A man could see trouble if it came that way.

  He scanned the room. A stone fireplace dominated an entire wall. Sunlight filtered through starched white ruffled curtains, streaking across the wood floor, and neatly set tables held bright arrangements of wildflowers. But he couldn’t respond to the surface warmth and welcome of the room; instead he concentrated on the widow’s strange reaction.

  For every moment he sat there, the feeling that she knew him grew stronger. Several times she had come to the kitchen door, her blue gaze shifting from him to linger on Robby. There was no doubt she was fascinated with the boy.

  That fascination led her to come to the table, remarking on Robby’s fairness compared to his mother’s coloring. At one point Sam had almost surged to his feet in anger, longing to defend Jenny against this woman’s viciousness, but he could not stay with her forever, and the next time she would be left alone to face these people. That clamped his anger as nothing else could.

  Now, his lips curled in the dark, his hands tightening on the reins, he recalled he had promised to return the
widow’s basket. He’d keep that promise sooner than Sarah Parkins thought, along with the one he made to himself sitting there: that he would watch her.

  Beside him Jenny murmured, then laughed at Robby’s sleepy response, and the sound made desire tug hard at his gut. He wanted her like this always, filling him with the sound of her warmth. But Jenny, had buried her passionate needs deeply, as deep as the water he headed into, letting his thoughts of Jenny take him where he had no business swimming.

  “Sam? Sam, didn’t you hear me?” she asked, lightly touching his arm, hurt when he jerked away. “Robby’s chilled and I want to cover him. Could you stop and help me lift him up?”

  He gripped the reins tight before he tied them off. He felt fire licked where her body brushed against his as she turned to pull a frayed blanket from under the seat. Lifting Robby into his arms, the boy nestling close to his warm chest, he absently rubbed his chin over the softness of the boy’s curly head. A desperation seized him. He didn’t want to wait until later to ask all his questions.

  “Jen, are you sure Sarah Parkins never met you or Robby before?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Did he come into town with Ben in the last few months?”

  “No, Sam. Why?” But she knew why. She had been dreading this all day.

  “Would Maybelle Hadly or Morro know how much Robby loves honey or fresh doughnuts?”

  “Damn you!” she raged softly, clenching the blanket. “Do you think anyone cares what a boy likes when he’s tainted with Indian blood? You heard them today. How could you—”

  “Not to hurt you, that’s for damn sure,” he snapped, and paused. He couldn’t tell Jenny that he suspected Sarah Parkins knew him. He couldn’t tell Jenny anything until she trusted him.

  “It’s a long story and you’re curious,” she remarked in a deadened tone. “But you told me to forget the past. And, after all, you’re going to be pulling out, aren’t you? It wouldn’t make any sense to involve you.” She motioned for him to place Robby down, wrapping the blanket snugly around him and his kitten. Her hand lingered on Robby’s head, then abruptly she turned around, staring straight ahead.

  His grunt spoke volumes.

  She shot him a damning look he couldn’t see in the dark.

  After a long moment he snapped the reins free. “You’re right about nothing making any sense to me, Jenny, but not the way you mean. And you’re wrong to worry about me getting involved. I already am.”

  An hour later the cabin loomed ahead. Sam carried Robby inside, settling him on his bed along with the kitten. Then he headed down to the bam to unload the wagon. When he strode up the path again, his arms were filled with packages but his mood was lighter.

  When he entered the cabin, Jenny scrambled to her feet from her place by the fire, and took a few of the toppling packages from his arms. After he set the rest on the table, she noticed his new jacket. It was tanned leather, the same yellow gray as his horse, and lined with thick sheep’s wool. Her heart raced as she looked up at his face. His smile was warm and somehow for her alone.

  “Looks like you bought yourself a real good one.

  “I guess I was lucky to find one that fit me.” He was sorting through the packages on the table, setting several to one side. “I got some shirts and pants,” he remarked without looking at her. “Oh, and warm socks like you told me.”

  Watching him, she had a funny butterfly feeling in her stomach. His gaze was warm; his voice more so. Jenny avoided looking at his mouth altogether. The small cabin picked up the slow seeping warmth of the fire. It was far too comfortable, far too right, being here with him, having her small hungers appeased. Ever mindful of the danger Sam represented, Jenny turned and began poking angrily at the fire.

  “I saw Ben’s lamp lit. He’ll be waiting for you, Sam.”

  “I stopped and unloaded his supplies for him. He won’t be waiting up.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you got to say? Not even a tiny bit curious to see what I bought?”

  “I figured you got whatever you need,” she countered with a shrug.

  “What I need I can’t buy, Jenny, so you figured wrong.” The firelight gleamed in reflection of the gold centers of his eyes, making them appear warmed amber. Grinning, he slipped off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Well? Go on, Jenny, open those.”

  “Why, Sam?”

  “Ah, you’re a stubborn woman, Jenny Latham,” he teased, coming around the table to stand in front of her. Grabbing a small package, he placed it in her hands. “Now open it.”

  He watched her with such a strange, expectant look in his eyes that Jenny felt herself tremble. Inwardly she rebelled at the thought of him buying her anything. Morro would have that bit of news spread all over by tonight, giving her one more reason to dread a return to Folsom. Also she could not deny her acceptance would open the door to something else between them.

  When she made no move to open it, Sam gently took the package from her and opened it himself. He shook out a dark blue neckerchief. The firelight played on the soft shimmer of its folds. His large hands trembled as he slowly draped it around her neck. He didn’t tie it, just stood there holding both ends lightly between his fingertips. Her skin felt warm and she swallowed rapidly to combat her nervousness.

  “I knew the color would match your eyes as soon as I saw it, Jen.” He cleared his throat, finding his voice too husky. Gazing at her, it was easy to push aside the questions he intended to ask her. “I owed you one. Robby told me how you ruined yours the day I was shot.”

  “Oh, Sam, no. Why d-did … you?” she stammered in bewilderment, looking hastily away. The drugging honey warmth of his husky voice seemed to make the heat of his eyes intense.

  His thumb brushed her chin. “Hey, did I really need a reason to buy something for you? I just did it. I wanted to. I needed … I just wanted to do it,” he repeated, bringing the two ends of the scarf together as if he were tempted to pull her closer. Leaning nearer until his lips brushed her hair, he filled himself with the sweet scent of her, knowing it was a mistake to get this close. “Jen,” he whispered, “I’d better go. I—”

  She gave a choked cry. All the years of being alone crushed down on her. Just once she wanted to give in to the tempting need to be held by him. Once wouldn’t hurt. Couldn’t hurt.

  And while he knew he shouldn’t give way to the desire to taste her lips just once more, his resolve faltered. She felt perfect in his arms, with her eyes gazing up at him, dark and filled with yearning, and the flickering blaze tinting her skin golden. And not once in the seconds passing did she try to move away from him. He wasn’t a saint, he reminded himself, lowering his mouth, softly, tenderly, to sip delicately at her lips. Learning the taste of her forced him to hold back a flaring hunger.

  At first his mouth brushed so gently against hers that Jenny found it hard to tell when the kiss began. His mustache caressed the sensitive skin of her upper lip, its touch a silky tease before his mouth fully covered hers. And then she lost herself in the feverish, coaxing, shifting pressure of his lips as they kindled a passionate need that set her whole being aflame, and when she opened her eyes to see the heartrending tenderness of his own gaze, she did nothing to hide her longing from him.

  “Jenny … I …” He said no more, pulling her closer, his cheek grazing her hair. Like her scent, her sighs went deep, bringing forth a cherishing moan that heightened his desire. Moving his hands soft and easy, he traced the slenderness of her up and down, learning the feel and shape of her. The blaze of the fire burned a little brighter to chase the chill from the cabin, and yet Jenny trembled against him before he felt the hesitant move of her arms coming up to lock around his waist. One of them had to say no, and he didn’t think he could find his voice right now, lost as he was in holding her like this. Warm contentment seeped through him…

  Who was he fooling? Not himself. He wasn’t content to just hold her now. And he sensed the deeper l
oneliness inside Jenny, wanting to end it, and yet knowing he hadn’t much to offer. But one kiss had stirred the sweet heaviness of desire and now, being this close, his desire swelled. Cradling her face very gently between his hands, he pulled back slightly to gaze down at her face.

  “Jenny,” he sighed, “tell me to go.” It was as much of a choice as he could force himself to give her. Her lashes made shadowed crescents on her cheeks, fluttering like a butterfly afraid to light in one place. Her lips were reddened and too full, too soft, far too tempting to ignore. Reaching out with one fingertip, he traced the trembling outline of her mouth. So hot, so velvety soft, and the tremor passed through him, driving to the surface an urge to satisfy his own need. She tilted her head, those eyes, darkly blue and brilliant, gazing up at him. With a groan, he brought his hunger to her mouth and felt an explosive desire rock him to his core.

  Tell him to go … The words were still echoing faintly in Jenny’s mind. From the first she had known how dangerous he would be to her. He had reached inside her to touch a well of giving, a depth of passion she had never known. And as her mouth offered all to him, she became aware of his hands sliding up and down her arms until the warmth of his body pressed against her in one long sweep that left her shaking.

  His arms tightened slowly, inexorably, drawing her nearer so her softness melded with his hardness. He held her with all the desire and power he had fought too long to control.

  But when she felt the heated tip of his tongue seek to part her lips, she twisted her head away in fear. “No … d-don’t do … that.” She buried her face against his warm chest, rubbing her cheek, feeling the hot, aroused maleness of him pressed against her belly.

  For long moments neither of them moved or spoke. Why didn’t he move away? Jenny wondered. She couldn’t, her legs were too unsteady. In the next thought, she didn’t want him to leave at all. Emotions once kept locked away had simmered for weeks, and tonight he had stirred them into erupting. She feared that even his absence would not easily cool them. But the hard lessons Jonas had taught her now helped her to withdraw.