by Bobbi Smith
Overwhelmed by the myriad of powerful emotions that threatened to shatter her into a million jagged fragments of pain, Rori clung to the blessed numbness that had fallen over her. She remained silent, not bothering to answer Nilakla. She concentrated instead on being strong, because that's what Burr expected. She wouldn't think about anything else right now, and she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't worry about what she and Jake were going to do next. Burr had always told her that tomorrow somehow always took care of itself, and she believed him.
Chance stepped out of the tipi to face his brother, and they exchanged saddened looks. They both liked and respected Burr, and they hated to think that he was dead.
"It's over . . ." Chance finally spoke. Rori had to be devastated. He found he was anxious to go back to her, but he waited, allowing her time with Nilakla.
The unspoken truce that had been struck between them earlier when Burr had first been shot was fragile at best, but Chance found himself hoping it would last. He had his doubts, though, for he didn't know what Rori was going to do when she discovered that her grandfather had entrusted her to his care. Chance wondered vaguely why Burr had extracted the promise from him and not from Doug.
"What are you going to do about Rori?" Doug asked, noticing that Chance seemed to be lost deep in thought.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He had given Burr, a dying man, his word that he would take care of Rori, but he hadn't the slightest idea how to begin. Did he take her home to Boston with him or did he leave her there in the territory with someone to watch over her? "What do you think?"
"Have you thought about taking her back to Boston with you when you go?"
"No," Chance replied. He tried to imagine Rori fitting into the strictures of polite society there and grimaced inwardly. Where Boston ladies were quiet and genteel, Rori was loud and outspoken. Where Boston socialites were always perfectly coiffed and groomed, Rori didn't know the first thing about feminine garments and next to nothing about hair styles and perfumes. He didn't even consider that possibility seriously, because he didn't want to see her hurt. "I doubt she would ever be happy there."
"You're probably right. The Boston elite can be heartless. That's why I'd never live there with Nilakla. What if Rori came to stay with the Pima?"
"They are her mother's people," Chance agreed thoughtfully, wondering why nothing seemed to be the right solution for Rori.
"She could stay always with Nilakla and me if she wanted," Doug offered. "I'm going to propose to Nilakla as soon as I can. I'm sure she'd have no objection to Rori living with us."
"At the mine?" Chance frowned at the prospect.
"No. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've decided to close it down."
"Why?" It startled him to discover that Doug didn't care about the riches, that he was ready to give it all up.
"It's too dangerous, Chance. Look at what just happened . . . the girls were kidnapped and Burr was killed, and it was all because of the damned gold. I love Nilakla too much to ever put her in this kind of jeopardy again."
"What are you going to do? Where are you going to live?"
"I'm going to take the gold I've already mined and use it to buy a ranch closer to town. There should be enough money left over to keep us comfortably until I can make the ranch start paying. We could make room for Rori if she'd want to stay with us."
Chance regarded his brother with deep, abiding affection. Doug had grown into a fine man, and he appreciated his offer. "I'll talk to Rori about it as soon as I can."
Later that day, they buried Burr some distance away from the village on a low rise that offered a stunning view of the desert valley. Rori remained quiet through it all. She was bereft and wholly despairing, but she refused to give vent to her inner sorrow. She was dry-eyed and seemingly composed as she stared down at the rock-covered patch of ground where they'd just laid Burr to rest.
Chance had been watching her closely ever since she emerged from the tipi with Nilakla, hoping for an opportunity to speak with her alone. But Rori had stayed close by her friend's side the entire time, her usually sparkling eyes dull, her expression curiously vacant, her manner subdued.
Chance knew Rori had to be in shock. He had wanted to comfort her, to hold her close and tell her that it would be all right, but he knew it would be a lie. Nothing in Rori's life would ever be the same again. Still, he knew he had to try. He cared about her. She was so young and innocent, and he couldn't bear to see her in pain.
As everyone else moved away, Chance stayed behind. It was time for them to talk. Since Doug had decided to remain with Nilakla in Arizona, there was really no reason for Chance to stay on any longer. But he knew that before he could even think about returning home, he would first have to see to Rori's future.
"Rori?" He spoke her name softly when they were alone.
Rori glanced up at Chance, really seeing him for the first time since they'd reached the village. Her weary heart ached as she stared at him. So much had happened and in such a short period of time. Rori thought of how good it had felt when Chance had held her after the attack on Burr, and she suddenly wanted to lose herself in his embrace, to lean on him and draw on his strength. But her sanity had returned now, and with it the memory of the last time they'd made love. She realized, painful though it was for her, that Chance had only helped her because he was being kind, nothing more. Chance didn't love her, didn't really care about her. He never had, and he never would.
Staunchly, Rori denied the longing she felt for him. It wasn't love she was feeling, she told herself. She wouldn't, couldn't love him, for love invariably meant pain. She had loved Burr and he was gone, and she knew Chance would be leaving soon, too.
"What do you want?" Rori asked.
"I need to talk with you."
"About what?"
"Rori, I spoke with Burr before he died . . . before you went in to see him this afternoon." When she didn't say anything, but just continued to watch him with wide, wary eyes, he went on. "Burr made a request of me . . ."
"What kind of request?" She was suddenly suspicious.
"Rori," he said quietly, trying to anticipate how she was going to take the news, "Burr asked me to take care of you for him."
Chapter Twenty
For just one brief instant, Rori's battered spirits soared—Chance was going to take care of her . . . She had a fleeting vision of being safe and secure in his arms, of sharing his kisses and knowing his love, but as quickly as the thought came, she banished it. Chance didn't love her. He'd told her so. She was being foolish to even dream about such a thing.
The memory of his rejection stirred her ire, and she was glad to have her anger to hang on to right now. It was going to be just her and Jake from now on. She wouldn't depend on him or anyone else!
"I don't need no takin' care of!" Rori declared hotly. "Least of all by you!"
"Rori," Chance began again with exaggerated patience, sorry that the tentative peace between them was gone, "I gave Burr my word. I'm responsible for you now."
A tidal wave of crippling misery overwhelmed her. The tears that had threatened Rori for so long came close to falling, and she blinked furiously to control them. Her heart was breaking. While it was true she'd lost her grampa and was essentially alone in the world, she still didn't want to be anybody's charity case or responsibility. She could take care of herself. It was obvious to her that Chance thought of her merely as a task he was obliged to see to its proper end, and she chafed at the thought. Her pride was all she had left now, and it reasserted itself with a vengeance. Giving herself a hard, mental shake, Rori lifted her chin mutinously to glare at Chance, her emerald eyes shooting icy daggers at him.
"Forget it, Broderick," she told him angrily. "There ain't nobody responsible for me 'ceptin' myself! My grampa raised me to take care of myself."
"That may well be, but . . ."
"There ain't no 'buts' about it, white man. I'm fine. I got Big Jake, and he's all I'll ever need. You just go on ab
out your business and don't worry about me."
"Burr wanted me to see that you were safe and protected."
"Well, that's real wonderful, but let me tell you some-thin'. I am safe . . ." She gestured toward the peaceful Pima farming village. "And I'm damned well protected!" Rori pulled her knife in a wicked, slashing motion. "Or have you forgot just how good I am with this?"
"It didn't help you much last night, did it?!" Chance retorted angrily in growing exasperation. Didn't Rori realize all he wanted to do was help?
"Look, Broderick, I don't need you!" Rori exploded, just wanting him to get out of her life. She fought against the memory of his lovemaking and his tenderness to her after the shooting. She reminded herself forcefully that she was only an obligation to him, that he felt no deep emotion for her other than mild concern, and he only felt that because Burr had managed to get a deathbed promise from him to watch over her. What else could Chance have done, but agree to it? "I'm letting you off the hook. You don't have to worry about me. I don't need your help."
"Well, your grandfather thought you did!" Chance found his temper flaring at her stubbornness.
"Well, he ain't exactly here anymore to worry about it, is he?"
"That's precisely my point!" They were glowering at each other, toe to toe, neither willing to give an inch. "He asked me to take care of you, and I intend to do just that!"
"The hell with you! You ain't got no claim on me! I ain't goin' anywhere with you, least of all back East!"
"I wasn't planning on taking you back East with me, Rori," Chance announced, thinking that this news would cheer her. He assumed she was reacting so angrily because she didn't want to leave Arizona, and he wanted to assure her that she could stay there. He knew she must love the land just as much as Burr had.
His statement had quite the opposite effect on her. It devastated her. Deep inside Rori, there had still been one tiny spark of innocent hope that she meant more than just responsibility to Chance . . . after all, they had made love . . . But his declaration that he fully intended to leave her behind doused that last glowing ember of sweetness. The truth came crashing in on her with painful clarity. She meant nothing to him. He would see her safely taken care of, and then he would leave the territory as quickly as he could and never look back, never think of her again. Probably the only reason he and Doug hadn't already left was because he had to settle things with her first.
"Good! I'm glad you weren't plannin' on it, 'cause I wouldn't have gone!"
"Rori, if you'll just listen for a minute . . ."
She continued to glare at him, but said nothing more.
"I thought that you might want to live here with your mother's people," Chance offered, thinking the quiet farming village would be a protected place for her.
Rori couldn't believe what he was saying to her. He actually thought she could settle with the Pima and be happy.
"Or," he continued on, "I spoke with Doug, and he said that you would be welcome to live with him and Nilakla."
Live with Doug and Nilakla? Why would she want to? She could do fine on her own. It occurred to her then that Doug was supposed to be going back East with Chance when he left. "I thought Doug was going back with you."
"He's decided that he wants to stay here in the territory. He plans to marry Nilakla and start up a ranch with the money he's made at the mine. He told me earlier when we were talking about you that there would always be room for you, if you decided you wanted to stay with them."
Rori was happy that things had turned out well for Nilakla. She knew how deeply she loved Doug, and how much it would have hurt her had he left. Now, with the baby coming and Doug deciding to stay on, they would make a wonderful family. It pleased her that Doug realized his love for her friend before it was too late for them to find true happiness together.
But as for herself, she grew resentful of Chance's almost casual discussion of her own life. Who did he think he was? He had told her before that nothing existed between them, that this emotion they felt for each other was simply lust and nothing more. So why did he think that he had any right to order her around? He didn't have any claim on her.
Her pride surged forth, stiffening her determination to distance herself from him. Sure, Burr had made him promise to take care of her, but so what? She was capable of handling her own destiny. She didn't need Chance Broderick sticking his nose in her business. She wanted him out of her life, and, if pretending to go along with one of his solutions would satisfy him, she would do it. Once Chance was on his way back to Boston, she could do whatever she wanted and he'd never know.
"I couldn't live with Nilakla and Doug, not with them just being married and all," Rori answered coolly, believing that she'd outsmarted him. "I'll stay here in the village."
Rori had gone from being hostile to consenting so quickly that Chance studied her suspiciously. When he could find nothing devious in her expression, though, he dismissed the thought that she might be up to something. Rori had probably just come to her senses and recognized that the village would be the best place for her. Here she would be accepted and would, no doubt, in time fall in love with some Pima warrior and marry. Her future would be assured.
"I'll speak with Lone Hawk," Chance said slowly.
"Thank you." Rori was calm as she turned and walked away from him with Big Jake at her side.
It was a very civil ending to their encounter, yet it left Chance wondering why he felt so damned rotten when everything had turned out so well.
After leaving the gravesite, Nilakla had started off toward the village to find her father. She was ready to reconcile with him, to let him know that she wanted to come home to her people. Doug's earlier confession of love had confused her a bit, but it hadn't deterred her from her plan. What did it matter that he told her he loved her if he wasn't going to stay?
"Nilakla!"
At the sound of Doug's urgent call, Nilakla turned to find him coming after her. She studied him as he strode purposefully toward her, his striking good looks leaving her breathless as always. In desperation, she realized that, even now, he still had too great a hold on her heart.
Her sense of self-preservation told Nilakla to stay away from him. His nearness was too overpowering, his kisses too potent. If he touched her, she knew she would probably melt at his feet, and she couldn't allow herself to be that weak. She had to be strong, for herself and her child. She wanted Doug to go so she could start trying to forget him and get on with her life.
"I'm on my way to see my father," she told him in a tone meant to discourage him. "What is it you want?"
"I want you, Nilakla," he responded.
"For what?"
"First, to talk." His dark eyes sought out and held hers. "I have something I have to say to you."
"There's really nothing left to say. I'm staying here to raise my baby . . ."
"Our baby . . ." he interrupted. The desire to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless was fierce, but he restrained himself. He had to tell her what was in his heart first. Later, there would be time for loving.
"And you're going back to Boston with Chance," she finished.
"That's where you're wrong, love," he said seriously as he took her hands.
Just the touch of his hands on hers sent excitement coursing through her, and she silently pleaded with the gods to give her strength enough to resist him. She thought about breaking away from him, but didn't want to let him know that he could affect her so easily. Instead, she stood quietly, waiting for him to finish. "What to do you mean?"
"I know you didn't believe me when I told you earlier that I loved you, but, Nilakla, it was the truth. I love you."
Doug was so earnest about what he was saying to her that her pulse quickened at his statement. Still, as much as she wanted to believe it, she wouldn't allow herself that luxury.
When she didn't respond to his statement, Doug went on. "It took almost losing you last night to make me realize how much you mean to me. The thought of
living without you left me frantic, love. I don't want to be apart from you. I want to stay with you always."
"You do?" she whispered, hoping against hope.
"I do. I've already spoken with Chance and I've told him that he'll be traveling back to Boston alone."
Nilakla stared at him in stunned surprise. Douglas wasn't leaving her! Douglas was staying here! It was her most ecstatic dream come true, but she couldn't believe it was really coming to pass; she was afraid to believe it.
Doug read the last fragment of doubt in her expression and hastened to clear everything up between them. "I know you think that it was my finding out you were pregnant that forced me to admit my feelings for you, but you're wrong. You mean the world to me, Nilakla . . . you are my world. Our baby is just that much more love in my life."
She was quiet, studying him, doubting him, loving him.
"I've decided to close down the mine, I'm going to take out the gold we've already dug and use it to buy us a ranch somewhere closer to town.
Nilakla stared at him in mute surprise. "You're going to close down the mine?"
"It's too damned dangerous," he explained tenderly. "I'd be a fool to put my wife and child in this kind of situation ever again."
"Your wife?"
Doug gave a self-conscious laugh as he realized that he'd been so busy explaining everything that he'd forgotten the most important thing. "Nilakla, will you marry me?"
Nilakla's disbelief and distrust had faded before his earnest, solemn explanations, and at his proposal her heart swelled within her breast until she thought she was going to burst from the thrill of it all. Douglas did love her! He wasn't going to leave her! He wanted to marry her! They would be married and live happily together forever!
"Oh, yes, Douglas! Yes, I'll marry you!!!" She went into his arms, and they kissed in passionate devotion.
Doug had hoped that she would believe him, and he gave a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn't rejected him outright before giving him the opportunity to explain himself. Every word he'd told her was the truth, and he knew he would never leave her.
