Chasing the Sun

by Kaki Warner

  She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I can understand that. I’d like to travel too.”

  He felt as if a connection was forming between them, something so tenuous and fragile just to acknowledge it would snap the bond. So he remained silent under her scrutiny, hoping she saw nothing that would alarm her or cause her to pull back. He told himself because of Kate it was important that Daisy accept him. But he sensed there might be more to it than that.

  Kate’s high voice shattered the moment. “Go again! Go again!” She started bouncing on Jack’s shoulders so hard he had to tighten his grip on her ankles. “Ouch,” he muttered when she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged.

  Daisy raised her brows. “You started this.”

  Gently lifting Kate from his shoulders, he leaned over the fence and set her on the ground beside her mother. Immediately the scamp tried to crawl through the rails to get to the horse. Laughing, he reached over and swept her up again. “How about we put Lightning away and go on a picnic?”

  “It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Daisy reminded him.

  “Then we’ll go on a snack. It’s a pretty day and the walk will do you good.” Sensing hesitation, Jack gave her a lopsided grin. “Come on, Daisy. Do it for Kate. You know she’d love it.”

  “She can’t walk very far. She’s still a baby, after all.”

  “Not a baby!” Kate protested, squirming in Jack’s arms. “Go again.”

  Shifting smoothly into his most disarming smile, Jack gave Daisy a wink. “You know you want to. I know I sure do. We’ll go to the creek.”

  Daisy burst out laughing. “Does that really work?”

  His grin faded. “Does what work?”

  “Never mind.” Still chuckling, she pushed away from the rail. “A walk sounds nice. Watch Kate. I’ll get a few things and be back in ten minutes.”

  Thirty minutes later, Daisy stood beside Jack, who had Kate and Kitty on his shoulders, and studied the flooded creek. The cottonwoods and aspens along the bank were just beginning to bud and the warm afternoon sunlight shone brightly through the web of bare branches high overhead. The sound of rushing water created a musical background to the chirp of birds darting through the brush.

  The water was running high and fast, churning with sticks and tinted brown with silt from the spring runoff. Daisy suspected it would be a beautiful spot in summer, but now, with the slippery banks and swirling currents, it was too hazardous for a toddler. “I don’t think this is a safe place for a picnic,” she ventured, watching a six-foot branch bob by.

  “It isn’t. Especially in spring or after a rain. It’s really dangerous then. Hank said they built a bridge farther up. We’ll cross there.”

  The bridge was constructed in the same overbuilt style as the house, with two-foot-diameter logs spanning the water, anchored on either bank to huge rock and log abutments. The spanners were topped by thick, rough planks held in place by railroad spikes, and were bordered on each side by sturdy rails. The bridge was wide enough to accommodate a buckboard wagon, but Daisy still felt uneasy, knowing the rushing water had risen to within a couple of feet of the planks beneath her feet. Once on the other side, they followed a trail that wound past toppled boulders, up through a stand of spicy-scented junipers, finally ending in a large clearing atop a low ridge.

  “Is this better?” Jack asked, swinging Kate off his shoulders and setting her on her feet.

  Daisy would have said yes even if it weren’t. Her arms felt like they’d been stretched on a rack from carrying a pouch packed with blankets, jackets, and toys for Kate. “On the way back, I’ll carry Kate,” she said, letting it thud to the dirt.

  Jack grinned over at her. “I told you we didn’t need all that.”

  “You would have had us sit on the bare ground?”

  His grin widened. “If you’re worried about getting our clothes dirty, we could have taken them off.”

  “And gotten our ... selves ... dirty instead?” She looked askance at the sparse grass pushing up through the sandy soil. “There could be bugs and things. Lizards. Spiders even.”

  “I thought you were a farm girl.”

  “Living on a farm doesn’t automatically mean you like crawling things. Kate, come away from there.”

  “She’s fine.” Jack moved to where his daughter clambered over a pile of rocks. “I’ll check it for snakes.”

  “Snakes!” She must have shrieked it, judging by the way Kate startled and Jack flinched. “You never said there might be snakes.”

  Laughing, Jack scooped his daughter up in his arms. “Your ma is such a sissy-girl. Not brave like you.” He made slurping noises against Kate’s neck, which sent the child into thrashing giggles.

  “There’s brave and there’s foolish,” Daisy muttered. Bending to pull the blanket from the pouch, she felt again that prickle of uneasiness at the sudden closeness that was developing between Jack and Kate. How was she to shield Kate from the heartache that was sure to come? Resentment eddied through her. Jack was a fine playmate but more likely to chase the sun across the sky than stay in one spot. And this time it would be a confused child he would leave behind.

  As she spread out the blanket, she watched Jack dig through the rocks while Kate, who still had difficulty with the sn combination, called, “Come out, nake,” every time he turned over a stone. With their blond heads together and their grinning faces only inches apart, they made such a beautiful picture it brought a catch to Daisy’s throat.

  I could have loved this man. I did love this man.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  She wasn’t enough.

  Lifting her face to the warm sunshine, she willed the pain away. She’d wept enough tears over Jack Wilkins. She would never let him get past her defenses and cause her that pain again.

  But how was she to protect her child?

  Pushing that dreary thought aside, Daisy concentrated on enjoying the lovely day and watching Jack introduce his daughter to the wondrous treasures all around them—a bird’s nest in a low bush, mouse holes beneath the rocks, shiny bits of quartz and mica in the weeds. The man could make dirt sound grand.

  Daisy smiled as pleasant memories washed over her.

  Jack’s greatest gift was his passion for life. The simplest things brought him delight, and every new experience was a joyful challenge. His enthusiasm was so compelling it pulled one along like a dinghy sucked into the wake of a giant barge.

  The experience was all—the moment, everything—now overshadowed past and future. It had been like a lifesaver for Daisy, newly orphaned and feeling so lost and alone when he had come into her life. He had been the light at the end of a long tunnel of loneliness. He had been the cure for her despair.

  At first.

  She had seen him in the Silver Spur. How could one not notice a man like Jack? Looks and stature aside, his ready smile and laughing eyes were a lure no woman could resist, although Daisy had tried.

  She didn’t think much of him at first. He was just another gambler, another anonymous face. Then she heard the other women talking about Jack Wilkins and curiosity made her take a second look. What she saw was a big, laughing, cheerful man who was such a charmer even the men who gambled against him seemed to take their losses with good humor. Most of them anyway. Those who quibbled often found themselves resting on the floor for a while.

  He didn’t notice her at first either, although she did find him staring at her breasts a time or two. Not surprising, since she was required to wear a low-cut gown when she sang. A whore dress really. Daisy had a time of it convincing the men ogling her that she was a singer and not a prostitute. But Jack didn’t seem to see her that way. In fact, he rarely looked at her at all. Above the neck anyway. Which left her free to look at him.

  He was handsome, for sure. Clean-shaven, with dark brows and lashes in contrast to sandy, sun-bleached hair. Eyes the color of storm clouds, as changeable as smoke, the irises edged with dark bands that made them even more distinctive. Despi
te his size, he moved with the controlled assurance of a man comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t gloat over his wins or pout over his losses, and laughed with the same good-natured enthusiasm when he brawled, whether he was giving damage or receiving it. He wasn’t a smoker and despite his high spirits, he wasn’t that much of a drinker either.

  At first.

  Then something changed.

  For over two months she had watched him every night as she sang. He had become the one joyful aspect of her dreary evenings, one of the few faces that didn’t reflect back her own despair and helplessness. She needed his easy smile and deep laughter to counterbalance the empty days, the bleakness of harsh reality.

  Then suddenly it was gone. The laughter, the joy, the easy banter with the other gamblers. It was as if Jack Wilkins had died. Or someone close to him had.

  He began to drink more and more. He gambled foolishly, lost more often than not, and erupted in violence at the slightest provocation. Soon no one would sit at the table with him, so he sat in a shadowed corner and drank alone.

  She missed him. Even though they had never spoken, she felt the loss of the man she had come to think of as almost a friend. Until one evening, when she had felt more depressed than usual, and she had sung a sad Irish ballad about a briar and a rose that told of heartbreak and lost love.

  Halfway through the second chorus, he lurched to his feet so abruptly his chair toppled to the floor. Teeth bared, his face twisted in fury, he stumbled toward her.

  Daisy stood frozen, words caught in her throat, not sure what to do, or why he was so angry. She tried to continue the song, but suddenly he was looming over her.

  “Don’t,” he said hoarsely.

  She shrank back as he reached out and clamped his big hand around her jaw in a firm, but not hurtful grip.

  “Don’t sing that. Don’t say it. Just ... don’t.”

  She stared into bleak, empty eyes and felt something long smothered stir within her. Empathy. Pity. A reflection of her own pain perhaps. It sang through her veins in a refrain no woman could ignore.

  He needed her.

  He was broken and she could fix him.

  And God help her, she had tried, only to get her own heart broken in the process.

  But that was years ago. She had stitched herself back together and was whole now. Stronger and wiser. And as she watched Jack weave his magic around Kate, she used more hurtful memories to beat down any softening toward him, to remind herself of the heartache after he had left her, and the terrible loneliness that had nearly driven her off a bridge one foggy night. Never again would she let Jack Wilkins into her heart. She couldn’t survive it a second time.

  “It’s getting late,” she called to them. “I think we should head back.”

  Jack started to argue with her, but Kate yawned. “Titty come too?”

  “Yes, bring Kitty and I’ll pack him in the pouch. Come along, or we’ll miss supper.”

  This time, instead of riding on Jack’s shoulders, Kate nestled against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Before they’d gone fifty yards, she was asleep. When the path widened, Jack slowed to let Daisy catch up. They walked in silence for a bit, then he said, “I would have done the right thing, you know.”

  She squinted up at him through the lowering sun. “About what?”

  His gaze dipped down at Kate. “If I’d known, I would have stayed.”

  “And done what?”

  “Married you.”

  She stumbled, then caught herself. Lifting a hand, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How noble you are.”

  If he heard her sarcasm, he ignored it. “I still will. Marry you.”

  She stopped and stared up at him. “Is that a proposal?”

  “Well ... sure.” And why not? Jack thought. If he couldn’t have Elena, why not Daisy? They’d been compatible once, maybe they could be again. Besides, Kate needed a father. “Marry me, Daisy.” He watched her brows rise until they arced over her eyes in obvious surprise. Her lips parted. But no sound came out. “Rendered you speechless, have I?” He tried to hide his sudden nervousness behind a grin.

  She burst into laughter. Not the nervous titter of someone unsure if she was the butt of a joke she didn’t quite understand. Or the shy breathless giggle of a woman receiving her first marriage proposal. Or even a half-smothered chuckle of delighted surprise. It was a full-out, head-tossed-back belly laugh that went on and on until she was gasping for breath.

  Not the reaction he’d expected.

  “You’re jesting, right?” she managed once she had herself back in hand.

  “No.”

  “You want me to marry you.”

  He nodded, mentally cursing himself for not thinking this through. He should have used a softer approach. Something romantic. Women loved that.

  “Why?”

  Why? He studied her, sensing a trap. But she seemed sincerely curious, so he responded with equal sincerity. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “For Kate?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No.” Turning, she walked quickly up the path.

  He caught up in two strides. “Not for Kate?”

  “No, I won’t marry you.”

  He blinked, shocked by her answer. It had never occurred to him that she might say no. He’d been dodging women for half his life, but now when he’d finally coughed up a proposal, he was refused? It was inconceivable.

  He should have been relieved.

  He should have taken it as a reprieve and let it go at that.

  “Why not?” he asked, instead.

  “Don’t be silly.” She softened the words with a pat on his arm. “Why would I want a gambling, womanizing drunk in my life?”

  He reared back in offense. “That’s not fair. I’m not a drunk. Not anymore.” He shot her one of his best smiles, a boyish grin guaranteed to disarm. “And we do have a daughter, so you must have wanted me in your life at one time.”

  “In my bed, perhaps.” It took all of Daisy’s strength to keep up this nonchalant charade when her heart was screaming, Do it! Say yes! But if she couldn’t be first in Jack’s heart, she didn’t want to be there at all. “Oh, don’t look so offended,” she said with a brittle laugh. “You were, as I recall, in love with another woman. And still are, it would seem.”

  She watched his face. Saw surprise and maybe a flash of guilt. Surely he hadn’t forgotten about his true love?

  “Elena will leave in a few days. I’ll never see her again.”

  “But that won’t change the way you feel about her, will it?”

  Daisy waited for his answer, dreading it but needing to hear it, as if it might cut through the hope and anger and hurt to finally sever the emotional tie that still bound her to this man.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  Ever honest, Jack was. He would kill her yet. She continued walking down the trail, mildly surprised that she still could. The sun was sliding behind the peaks, staining the high snowfields a soft pastel pink. The cloudless dome overhead was a wash of color ranging from a dusky blue in the east, growing brighter and more vibrant as it bled into oranges and fiery reds in the west. On distant ridges, trees rose in stark silhouette and the breeze sweeping down the slopes was fragrant and cool.

  Too beautiful a day for hope to die.

  Jack caught up and matched his pace to hers. From time to time, she felt him watching her over Kate’s head, but she didn’t look his way.

  “So it’s just the money, then,” he said after a long silence. “That’s all you want from me.”

  Daisy nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Then you’ll go back to San Francisco?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And do what? Sing in another saloon?”

  She turned her head and looked at him. Frustration tightened his mouth, and his beautiful eyes showed bewilderment and maybe a touch of anger. Saddened, she looked away again.

  Poor Jack.
Usually he could so easily bend a woman to his whims. This must be a shock, and as difficult for him as it was for her, although for wholly different reasons.

  “And what about Kate?” he persisted. “Who’ll watch over her while you’re flaunting yourself in some filthy saloon?”

  His accusation ignited her own anger. “Was I flaunting myself? I thought I was singing. Or trying to, over the catcalls and whistles and vulgar remarks from your friends.”

  “Christ.” Savagely, he kicked a pinecone from the path. “They weren’t my friends.”

  “No? But you fit in with them so well.”

  Stopping abruptly, he grabbed her arm to pull her around to face him. “I don’t want you going back to that kind of life, Daisy. You deserve better. Kate too. Marry me and you won’t have to spend your nights in such places.”

  “And where will I spend them, Jack?”

  He seemed taken aback by the question. “With me.”

  She felt like laughing. Or weeping. She didn’t know which. “With you. You’ll stay and be the father Kate needs and the husband I need. Is that what you’re saying, Jack? You’ll give up your wandering and stay with us?”

  “Well, I ...”

  His hesitation said it all. And one more time, her hopes lay in shambles at her feet. Silly woman. “You needn’t worry, Jack. Go see the world. I can take care of myself.” Bill Johnson was proof of that.

  She resumed walking. He fell into step beside her. For a moment, neither spoke, then Jack asked in a challenging voice, “What is it you want, Daisy? A white-fenced cottage? Church socials and singing in the choir? Neither of us could tolerate that. I know you. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you sing. You’ve got too much spirit to bury yourself in a life like that. So what is it you really want?”

  You, she almost said. All of you. For you to say just once that you love me.

  But that could never be, and since she wouldn’t allow herself to settle for anything less, she threw out the bald truth, harsh as it was. “Money, Jack. That’s all I want and all you can give me. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  “You want money? Fine.” Grabbing her arm with his free hand, he swung her around. Gone was the laughing Jack she remembered. In its place was a big, bristling male with fury in his eyes. “I’ll give you however much you want. Just name your price. Then I get Kate.”