by Betty Brooks
Five
Thorne's visage went through a series of expressions. Astonishment came first and he looked stunned. But as comprehension dawned, his dark brows came together in a heavy frown. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened.
"Me?" he questioned roughly. "You really expect me to help you snare Robert Golden?"
"Who else would I ask 'ceptin' you?" She smiled up at him. "You're the onliest one I'd trust, Thorne. They ain't nobody else that'd be willin' to help without expectin' somethin' outta the doin' of it." She waited expectantly for his response. He would do it. She felt certain. Thorne had never refused her before. Nor would he now.
"Dammit, Rainey!" he exploded. "I won't do it!"
His reaction stunned her. "You won't do it?" she asked, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. "But why, Thorne?"
His expression was thunderous. "Never mind my reasons," he grated.
"You're mean, Thorne," she said, turning away from him so he wouldn't see the glitter of tears that suddenly dimmed her vision. How could he refuse her request? she wondered. Was it so much she asked of him? She didn't think so. "You might just as well go home," she muttered. "I ain't gonna talk to you no more."
"Rainey . . ." He gripped her forearm and turned her toward him again. "I don't mean to be harsh, but you must understand. I can 't-"
"You could but you won't," she interrupted huskily. "Now you let go of me and be on your way. An'-an' don't you come here again without an invite, Thorne. If’n you do, you ain't gonna find no welcome waitin' for you."
He stared hard at her for a long moment. Then his fingers loosened and she was free. "Very well. If that's what you really wan t." He released her abruptly.
Rainey swallowed hard around the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat. What had she done? she wondered. Thorne had been her only friend and she'd thrown him away as casually as she would have disposed of a wilted flower. There was a peculiar pain in the region of her heart as she watched him walk away and disappear into the cover of the forest.
Three days later Rainey was still trying to accept the breaking off of their friendship. But it was an impossible task. She felt as though her world had fallen apart. Thorne had been her ally since the day they'd met, and now he'd turned against her.
Why had he reacted in such a manner? It was such a simple thing she asked of him. And yet, he'd not only denied her request but had become infuriated by it.
"He coulda just said no," she muttered, scrubbing the plate she was washing furiously. "He didn't need to stomp off in a huff." She'd forgotten her grandfather's presence until he spoke.
"Why don't you go on down to the farm an' make up with him."
"I ain't done nothin' wrong, Grandpa, an' I ain't sayin' sorry for nothin '."
"You musta done somethin' gal, or he wouldn't of gone off thata way." His tone was rough, and she curbed the impulse to cry.
"Ain't no call for you to come down on me, too, Grandpa."
''I ain't comin’ down on you." His voice was soft, yet gruff. "I'm just tryin' to make you see the sense of settlin' the squabble betwixt you an' him."
"It ain't no squabble," she said. "I just asked him to do somethin' for me and he said no. Then he got huffy and left."
"That sure don't sound like Thorne, young'un.What did you ask him to do . . . slit somebody's throat?"
"No. If that needed doin', I'd tend to it myself."
"Guess you would at that," George grunted. He took out his pipe and lit it. "Why don't you go down to the fishin' hole and ketch us a mess of catfish, Rainey? An' try to settle yourself down whilst you're doin' it. You been nervy as a cat covered with pine sap."
An hour later, Rainey sat beside the creek, fishing pole in hand. She'd chosen the spot not only for the silvery catfish that could be found in the deep hole of water but for the solitude, as well. The latter had been hard enough to come by lately. Since that ill-fated wrestling match Thorne had interrupted, Zeke Brumley and Willis Johnson had been popping up at the most inopportune moments, and she was doing her best to avoid both of them.
Feeling a tug on her line, she yanked it hard to set the hook, then pulled a sizable catfish to the bank. She measured it with her eyes and guessed it would weigh close to five pounds. More than enough for their supper, since there were only two of them.
She wondered if Thorne would ever join them for a meal again and quickly put the thought out of her
mind. Surely he would come around, sooner or later. Surely.
Drat it! Why couldn't she stop thinking about Thorne and the way he'd strode stiffly away from her?
Rainey threaded her fish onto her stringer and began the trip home again. She'd only gone a short distance when a tuneless whistle warned her of another presence. Her lips tightened grimly. Although the whistler remained unseen, she was certain of his identity, had heard that tuneless whistle often enough in the past. It was Zeke Brumley.
Damn and tarnation! she silently swore. Couldn't he leave her alone? She didn't want to see him, had felt a sense of uneasiness whenever he was nearby ever since the day they'd wrestled together. She had seen something in his eyes then that had lingered on.
Her footsteps slowed and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Maybe she could circle around him. The thought had only occurred when she dismissed the idea. She'd be damned if she'd allow Zeke to control her actions! The trail was the shortest way to her cabin and she'd darn well use it!
Her strides quickened. She would hurry around him, not allow him to halt her progress, yet not allow him to see her uneasiness, either. She narrowed her gaze as she rounded a thick stand of trees, searching the forest for him.
There! Beside the mountain laurel. He ignored her approach, fingering a blossom as though he found the petals especially interesting. As she neared him, Zeke looked up and pretended surprise.
"Rainey! What in tarnation are you doin' here?" He sauntered over, hands in his pockets. "Didn't know you was anywheres around."
"I ain't got time to stop," she told him, quickening her steps as she attempted to move past him.
"It don 't matter, I'll just walk a spell with you."
Willis had used almost those same words the day he'd interrupted her bee hunt. But Zeke made her nervous in a way that Willis Johnson never could. Of the two of them, he would be the one to watch.
His gaze touched on her stringer of fish, then lifted to her again. "Nice lookin ' catfish you got there, Rainey. You fryin' them up for supper?"
"I wouldn 't be taking them home if I wasn 't." Her voice was short to the point of abruptness. She hoped it would discourage him.
"You been changing a lot lately, Rainey." His dark eyes swept down the length of her, then stopped at the swell of her bosom. Rainey wished she hadn't left the top three buttons on her shirt undone. "You look more like a woman these days," he went on. "Never noticed that afore." His voice became musing. ''Don't know why, neither. Guess I just got used to seein ' you as one of the boys."
She stopped abruptly and looked squarely at him. "You got something on your mind, Zeke, then spit it out."
His lips twisted wryly. "You ain't changed much inside, Rainey. Not nearly as much as you done on the outside."
"Is that what you want to talk about? The way I changed so sudden-like?"
"Ever'body's noticed it, Rainey. Folks is talkin' about how you made yourself a fancy dress afore you had the teacher over to Sunday dinner."
"Then them folks must be hurtin' for gossip if they don't have nothin' better to noise around," she said sharply. "Did they tell you what I cooked for the teacher? "
"Yep. It was pan fried chicken, taters, turnip greens, biscuits and raisin pie," he answered quickly.
Irritated beyond belief, she said, "You forgot the pan gravy."
"Nobody said nothin' about gravy," he replied with a whine in his voice. “You know how much I like my pan gravy, Rainey. You shoulda-“
"Where's all this leadin', Zeke," she interrupted with a heavy frown. "Why
're you so interested in my doin's lately?"
"I always been interested in you, Rainey," he said. "I was just kind of hangin' around waitin ' for you to grow up. And now it seems you done it."
She pretended ignorance. "Done what?"
"Growed up."
She heaved a sigh. "Zeke, if you got a point I sure wish you'd make it. I got supper to cook, and you're keepin' me from gettin' on with it."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Guess they's no sense beatin' around the bush. Folks say Willis is bent on squiring you to the barn dance on Saturday."
She frowned at him. "You heard right. But that's betwixt the two of us. It don't concern you."
"Heard you turned him down."
"You heard right."
Zeke appeared unfazed by her sharp tone. "Don't you like dancing?"
"You know I don't go to them shindigs, Zeke. An' if I ever decide to go, I don't reckon I need nobody to squire me. I know the way right enough."
"You can't just go to a dance by your ownself, Rainey. It just ain't done. A lady's got to have an escort." He grinned down at her."You don't want folks getting the wrong idea about you. Do you?"
Her scowl deepened. "And what idea is that?"
"You know." His grin widened. "They'll likely think you ain't got no use for men."
"Maybe it's just some men I ain't got no use for, Zeke."
"Whatcha mean by that?"
"You ain't dumb, Zeke Brumley! An' neither am I. I know what you're after! Why you and your cousin, Willis, keep on apesterin' me. But you might as well stop your shenanigans right now, 'cause it ain't gonna do neither one of you no good!"
His gaze narrowed suddenly, his expression darkening. "You're gettin ' awful high and mighty these days, Rainey. An' I'm wonderin' 'bout it mighty hard. How come me and Willis ain't good enough for you no more when we always was before. What made you change so sudden-like?''
"It ain't me that changed," she said bluntly. "It's you an' that ornery cousin of yours!"
"We ain't changed. At least, I ain't."
"You have so. And I don't like it one bit, neither. You look at me now an' your face gets all red an' your eyes glitter sornethin' fierce, like a wolf that's cornered a rabbit an' is about to rip into its belly."
"Now, that ain't so."
"It is! An' I know what you're after, but I got no use for the likes of you when it comes to things like that. I got me some big plans for the future and they sure as shootin' don't include you!"
The temper he'd barely held in check suddenly exploded. His hand whipped out, snaking around her waist and yanking her hard against the length of him. She dropped the stringer of fish and lashed out with her fist, landing a blow smack-dab against his right ear. "Let go of me!" she snapped, drawing back her foot
and kicking him hard on his right leg.
Although he flinched at the blow, he didn't release her. Instead, he bent forward, attempting to cover her mouth with his, but she jerked her head aside, evading his lips.
"Keep still, damn your " he snarled.
Her struggles did little to gain her release, but she continued to evade his mouth. "Turn me loose, Zeke!" she cried, pushing at his head to keep it away from her own.
Suddenly, a horse and rider broke through the dense forest and stopped beside them, and Rainey was released as abruptly as she'd been seized. With her heart racing from her exertions, she turned to see Thorne watching them from his position astride his buckskin stallion. Her heart leaped with gladness, then slowed to a steady beat. He'd come to her rescue again. Just like before.
Thorne studied her disheveled form for a long moment, a heavy frown creasing his forehead. "Are you two wrestling again?" he inquired gruffly.
"No," she said quickly, pushing her long, tousled dark hair back from her face. "I don't wrestle no more, Thorne. Not less'n I have to."
"Then what's going on?" His voice had changed, had become as cold as the ice on Muskrat Pond in the dead of winter.
Zeke backed up several feet, and his expression took on a wary look."I was just invitin' her to the barn dance on Saturday."
"An' I told him I don't need no help gettin' there."
Something flickered deep in Thorne's silvery eyes. "You're planning to attend the barn dance, Rainey?"
Rainey felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. They were on speaking terms again. She smiled up at him. "I been thinkin' on goin'," she admitted.
"You can't go alone," Thorne said.
"I told her that," Zeke said, smiling smugly at Rainey. "But she don't have to go by her lonesome, Thorne. I'm gonna squire her to the dance."
"You ain't-" Her protestations were quickly interrupted by Thorne.
"No need to put yourself out, Zeke," he said. "If Rainey wants to go to the dance then she'll be going with me. I haven't been to one in years . . . not since I first came to Thunder Mountain."
"But I offered first," Zeke said angrily.
"And you was refused," Rainey reminded him. She smiled up at Thorne. Once again he'd come to her rescue. "I'll thank you kindly for taking me, Thorne. I was a mite worried about coming home so late at night. They's too many varmints running around these parts. 'Specially the two-legged kind." The last was aimed at Zeke,who flushed darkly, acknowledging the words had found their target.
"Climb up here, Rainey," Thorne said, reaching toward her. I’ll take you home."
She hurried to accept the invitation. "Thankee kindly, Thorne," she said with a wide smile. Then, snatching up her fishing pole and stringer of fish, she curled her hand around his and mounted behind Thorne. He waited until she was settled there, then urged the buckskin forward again.
When Zeke had been left behind, Thorne said, "I take it he was giving you trouble? "
"He was, for a fact!" She sighed heavily."I don't know what's got into him and Willis. They follow me around all the time now. Ever since--" She broke off quickly, unwilling to remind him of the wrestling match.
"That young man would bear watching," Thorne said gruffly. "Take care not to be alone with him again, Rainey."
"I'm trying," she complained. "But I got my trap lines to run and my bee line to follow. And ever' time I go out, I find one of them waiting in the trees for me to pass by. I'm gettin' plumb disgusted with the two of 'em!"
He fell silent then, allowing Rainey time for her thoughts.
She envisioned herself at the barn dance, dressed in her new gown. Men were clamoring around her, begging for a dance, each of them wide-eyed at her beauty. And she would be like all the other women there, she decided. She would be as female as the rest of them, her boyishness a thing of the past.
Closing her eyes, she dreamed of the dance. She would be waiting when Robert arrived. He would enter the room and he would see her there, standing amidst a crowd of masculine admirers. Robert's eyes would meet hers. He would walk straight to her then, across a roomful of people, ignoring those who spoke to him, seeing no one but her. And then they would dance together. Oh, Lordy, how they would dance. And when the dancing was over, and the fiddler had laid aside his bow, Robert would take her into a quiet, moonlit place and ask her to marry up with him.
"Yes," she enthused exultantly.
"What did you say, Rainey?"
Thorne's voice jerked her back to reality, and she realized they had already reached the cabin.
After dismounting, Thorne turned to help her down, curling his hands around her waist and settling her on the ground before him. He fingered a long lock of dark hair, letting it slide slowly through his fingers.
"Maybe I'll just run along and have a talk with both Willis and Zeke," he said. "I should have done it long before now."
"Talkin' ain't gonna do one bit of good," she said. "They'll say whatever they think you wanta hear, and when you're gone they'll do whatever they've a mind to do. You can't follow me around the mountain to keep 'em from bothering me, Thorne. It makes more sense for me to start packin' my pistol whenever I leave the ca
bin."
"Would you shoot one of them if it became necessary?"
"I can't say for sure. Never had to shoot a man before. I guess it would depend mostly on what he had in mind."
"I think by the time you discovered their intentions it would be too late to stop them," he said harshly. "They would have dispensed with your weapon by then."
"Maybe. And maybe not."
"You may be willing to take the chance, Rainey. But I'm not."
"It ain't you that's being bothered," she said shortly.
"You're wrong there." He cupped her chin and tilted her head slightly, holding her gaze with his own. "We're friends, Rainey," he said softly. "If you're bothered, then I'm bothered."
She smiled up at him. "You been a mighty good friend to me all these years, Thorne. Don't know what I'd of done without you. You was always there when I needed a helpin' hand or just somebody to talk to when I got riled at Grandpa's shenanigans whilst he was still a drinkin' white lightnin' so heavy. If n it wasn't for you, he'd never stopped, neither." Her voice softened with remembrance. "I still mind the day you lit into him about his temper. You wasn't the least bit skeered of 'im, an' he was a big man then. It sure made life easier
for me after that. Grandpa still gets liquored up some, but not like he done before you skeered the bejesus out of him." She lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked it softly. "I felt awful when you was mad at me, Thorne.
You ain't never done that before, an' I hope you never do again. I know I ain't one to show my appreciation much . . . it comes kinda hard to me ...but I'm a tellin' you right now that you mean a lot to me. An' I'm thankin' you for bein' my friend."
The look in her intense blue eyes, and the feel of her hand against his cheek, was almost his undoing. Thorne wanted to take her in his arms and hold her against him, to feel her breasts pressed against his chest, but he forced himself to stand still beneath her touch, lest he frighten her away.