Tempest

by Beverly Jenkins

  Spring said, “I need to get back. Will you two be okay here?”

  Regan asked Anna, “Do you think we’ll be okay?”

  “Yes,” Anna replied. She then said to Spring, “Thank you letting me stay with you, Aunt Spring.”

  “You’re welcome, and maybe we can do it again sometime soon.”

  Regan added, “And thank you again for my wedding day.” The day had been memorable and the night even more so, even if she had awakened alone.

  They walked Spring out to her wagon and waved as she rolled away.

  Standing with Anna, Regan wondered what they might do to pass the time when a shot rang out. It was instantly followed by another. Regan quickly pushed Anna to the ground and covered the girl’s body with her own. An eerie silence followed. Over her pounding heart, Regan searched the surrounding landscape for signs of the shooter. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “No. I’m scared, Miss Regan.”

  “I know, honey. Just lie still. I hope I’m not crushing you.” She needed to get Anna in the house, but didn’t want the girl to become a target on the way. Wondering who was shooting at them and why, she continued to study the trees.

  To her relief, she saw Spring driving fast in their direction. Regan raised up cautiously. “Stay down, Anna.”

  Spring jumped from the wagon, rifle in hand. “I heard gunfire, so I turned around. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Someone shot at us.” Regan helped Anna to her feet. The small hand in hers was shaking. “You were very brave,” Regan told her and hugged her close. “Let’s go inside.”

  Colt checked on a few patients then spent the balance of the day in his office reading the latest medical journals and trying not to think about Regan. It was a losing battle. Everywhere his mind turned, she was there. He’d left the house while she was still asleep to keep from awakening her to pick up where they’d left off. He and Adele had never shared such a night. He’d never faulted her for her distaste for the marriage bed and he didn’t now. To do so would be disrespectful of her and what they’d meant to each other outside of the bedroom. On the other hand, Regan clearly had no such aversion. She’d been uninhibited, passionate, and as eager to give pleasure as to receive. Colt prided himself on his discipline and ability to keep his wits about him, but she’d left him so witless that all day he’d been fighting the urge to ride home, take her lush little body back to bed, and make her scream his name. The thought made him hard and he ran his hands down his bearded face. The marriage was consummated, there was no need for him to approach her again anytime soon, but the lust in his blood kept reminding him how it felt to sink into her tight warmth, the weight of her soft breasts in his hands, and the taste of her nipples in his mouth. Hardening more in response he cursed silently, drew in a calming breath and told himself everything would be fine—he’d just keep her at arm’s length and go about his life.

  The clock on the wall showed it was time to head home. It occurred to him that in his haste to escape his new wife, he’d left her to fend for herself. How had she spent the day? Had she eaten? She probably thought him a poor husband to have left without so much as a note. Had he been in his right mind, and not so befuddled by their bed play, he would’ve been more considerate. He owed her an apology but had no idea what he might say by way of explanation. He certainly couldn’t tell her he’d fled because of how bewitching she was.

  He gathered his bag and other personal items and left the office. After locking the door and nodding a silent greeting to people passing on the walk, he was about to mount his horse when he saw Spring drive up on her wagon. Regan and Anna were with her.

  “Is Whitman in town?” Spring asked. “Someone took a couple of shots at Regan and Anna.”

  His heart jumped and his gaze flew to his daughter. Quickly approaching the wagon, he asked her, “Are you all right?” He picked her up from the seat and held her against his side.

  “I’m all right. Miss Regan said I was very brave.”

  He took in the terse set of Regan’s face. He noted she was wearing a gun belt over her denims. “What happened?”

  “Anna and I were outside and someone took two shots at us. Sounded like a rifle. I found one bullet buried in a nearby tree. Not sure where the other one went. Is the sheriff here?”

  “No. He’s over in Rock Springs. Problems there with some of the miners. He should be back tomorrow sometime.” He couldn’t fathom why anyone would shoot at them.

  She asked, “The man from the stagecoach. The sheriff said he had family here. Do they live nearby?”

  “Yes, but—” He paused.

  “Would they want revenge because of what happened?”

  With all the hoopla surrounding the wedding, he’d forgotten about the death of Jeb Bailey. His older brother, Dun, was hot tempered, mean, and no doubt angry over the death. That she’d asked the question showed she hadn’t forgotten.

  Anna asked, “Is someone going to shoot us again?”

  He looked her in the eyes. “No.” There was nothing linking Dun to the incident, but Colt planned to put the word out that whoever was responsible might want to think twice before opening fire on his family again because he would hunt them down. He asked his daughter again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He held her just as tightly. Over her head, his eyes strayed to Regan. “And you?”

  “I’m fine.” Angry as well, if the fire in her manner was any indication.

  Anna wiped at traces of mud on her dress. “I got dirty when Miss Regan was laying on me so I wouldn’t get shot.”

  He glanced down at the stains. “It’s okay. You’re safe. No one’s mad about you being dirty.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and turned to his sister. “Spring, thanks for bringing them into town. I’ll let Whit know what happened just as soon as he returns.” Had Anna been shot—he didn’t even want to think about that.

  “Papa, can we go to Aunt Minnie’s house and get my things?”

  Glad to have something else to think about he replied, “Yes. Spring, can I impose on you a few minutes more before we go home?”

  She nodded. Colt set his daughter on the seat next to Regan and they got under way.

  When they reached Minnie’s, he dismounted. “Anna, how about you sit with Regan and Spring. I’ll be right back.” Colt hoped this would go smoothly but doubted it would.

  In response to his knocking, Minnie opened the door and studied him with hostile eyes. “You come to drop Anna off so you can rut the day away with your new wife?”

  He didn’t flinch. “No, I came for Anna’s clothing. There’ll be no need for her to stay with you overnight from now on.”

  Her surprise was plain. “Why not?”

  “As I told you the other day, she’ll be in Regan’s care now.”

  “That child is my blood. You can’t cut me out of her life.”

  “That’s not my intent but she won’t be staying with you. And, Minnie, if you insist upon telling her she caused Adele’s death, you’ll never see her again.”

  “I told her the truth. She killed my Adele!”

  He snapped, “You don’t say that to a six-year-old child.” He lowered his voice. “Better yet. Just keep whatever she has here. I’ll replace them. Good-bye.” He stepped off the porch and started back to his horse.

  “Don’t you walk away from me! This isn’t finished!”

  Seething, he stopped and turned. “Yes, it is. I thank you for helping me with Anna these past years. Out of respect for Adele and your age, I will continue to see to your welfare. Nothing more.”

  Mounting, he told Spring, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  On the ride home, Regan took in the granite set of her husband’s face as he rode next to the wagon and wanted to applaud him for giving Minnie the dressing-down she’d deserved. That the woman continued to blame Anna for her mother’s death left Regan furious. Seeing Anna physically shrink in response to heari
ng the harsh accusation further increased Regan’s anger. If Minnie was never allowed to see the child again it would be too soon.

  Anna asked, “Is Aunt Minnie mad at me?”

  Spring answered, “Aunt Minnie’s mad at everyone, honey. Don’t let it bother you.”

  “But we didn’t get my clothes.”

  Regan said, “We’ll get you new clothes.”

  Anna didn’t appear convinced but remained silent.

  Regan saw Colt scanning the corridor of tall pines they were driving through and she began doing the same. It was a perfect spot for an ambush. Reaching down, she picked up her Winchester and placed it across her lap. The Colt in her gun belt was good for shooting varmints up close, but the rifle would be better if they needed to deal with a long-range threat.

  Anna viewed the rifle. “Is someone going to shoot us again?”

  “No,” Regan said. “I just don’t want my rifle to jump out of the wagon if we hit a big bump.”

  It was a lie of course, but between being shot at and Minnie’s venomous tongue, Anna had endured enough for one day.

  When they reached the house, Colton questioned her about where she and Anna were standing when they were fired upon. She walked him over to the spot. His face serious, he looked around. “What direction did the shots come from?”

  “West.”

  “Just one shooter?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

  “You said there were only two shots?”

  “Yes. I have the shell I found.” And she pulled it from her pocket and handed it over.

  He studied the flattened copper shell. “Looks like a Springfield cartridge.”

  Regan could identify a cartridge from her ’76 Winchester but was unfamiliar with the Springfield.

  He put the cartridge in his shirt pocket. “Thanks again for protecting Anna. I’m glad neither of you were hurt. Whit and I will find whoever was responsible. I promise.”

  Holding him to that, she followed him inside.

  Later as they sat down to dinner, Regan was disappointed to see Colt place a large bowl of the same bland stew in the center of the table. It must have shown on her face because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She lied, “Nothing.”

  “You raved over the stew the other evening.”

  She met his eyes. “I was being polite.”

  He ladled some into Anna’s bowl and Regan asked, “Do you eat this often?”

  “Most nights.”

  It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

  “We have fish, chicken, and duck every now and then, but usually it’s Ben’s venison stew. He cooks it. We eat it.”

  Regan debated whether starving to death would be better than eating the flavorless dish for the rest of her life. “Do you cook?”

  “Other than oatmeal and bacon and eggs, no.”

  She sighed audibly.

  Across the table, he asked, “You said you’re a good cook, so I assume you think you can do better.”

  She almost responded with, “Goats could do better,” but instead, replied, “I believe so. My aunt is one of the best cooks in the Arizona Territory. I’ve been in her kitchen since I was ten.”

  Anna asked in a hopeful tone, “Can you make cake, Miss Regan?”

  “Yes, I can. Would you like one?”

  “Yes!”

  “Putting it at the top of my baking list.”

  “Thank you.”

  Regan asked Colton, “Is the general store in town well-stocked?”

  “Since I don’t know what you’ll need, you’ll have to see for yourself.”

  “May I go into town with you tomorrow?”

  He paused and studied her. Finally, he replied, “Sure.”

  She wondered about the hesitation but didn’t ask. She still wondered why she’d awakened alone this morning, but didn’t ask that either. “Is there anything that gives you hives or you can’t abide eating?” she asked him.

  He shook his head.

  “What about you, Anna? Is there anything that makes you itch or you don’t like to eat?”

  “Lima beans.”

  “Do they make you itch?”

  “No. Aunt Minnie eats them every day, so I have to, too, when I’m there.”

  Regan said, “No lima beans then.”

  “Good!” she whispered.

  Regan was pleased that Anna seemed to be shedding a bit of her shell. A few days ago, she spent most of the time staring at her shoes when Regan spoke to her, but Regan knew she wouldn’t turn into a carefree happy child overnight, if ever.

  Anna asked, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” her father said. “You missed yesterday and today.”

  She looked over at Regan, who replied, “Your education is very important. I agree with your papa.”

  Disappointment settled over her features but neither adult changed their stance.

  At the end of the meal, Regan announced, “Anna and I will clean up.”

  Anna’s puzzled face matched her voice. “But I don’t know how.”

  “Quite all right. We’ll have your papa show us where everything goes and I’ll teach you.”

  “Is Papa going to help, too?”

  The way he froze made Regan smile inwardly. “No, not today. Maybe another time.” He met her eyes and she thought she saw relief. He’d admitted having limited cooking skills, so she wondered if he’d ever washed a dish or cleared a table. “Can you show me where the boiler is and how to heat it?”

  His puzzled response made her wonder if tending to boilers was something else he didn’t think a woman capable of handling, so she explained, “We had boilers back home. I just need you to show me how yours works. If you’re away and I need hot water to do wash or so Anna can bathe, I shouldn’t have to wait until you return.”

  The explanation apparently settled the matter because he walked her outside and showed her what she needed to do. She had a few questions as to how long it took the water to heat and where the wood for it was stored. Once she was satisfied with her ability to master the task, she thanked him.

  “You ever going to stop surprising me?” he asked.

  “I hope not.”

  For a moment, he studied her silently. “Beautiful women aren’t supposed to be as intelligent as you seem to be.”

  “And handsome doctors aren’t supposed to be as plumb dumb about women as you seem to be.”

  He smiled at that.

  In the silence that followed Regan felt desire rise to fill the space between them and she swore she saw it in his eyes, too. “I worried when I awakened alone this morning. Was there an emergency you needed to attend to, or was I so forward last night that you couldn’t bear to be with me in the light of day?”

  “No. I just . . .” For a moment, he looked away as if drawn by something only he could see.

  “So, I was?”

  He shook his head. “No, I was surprised by how forward I was.”

  Regan wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I didn’t think you were, at all.”

  “I’m a doctor of medicine. Keeping my head in a situation is what I’m trained to do but last night, I was . . .”

  “Scandalous?” she offered.

  The look he cut her almost made her laugh. She schooled her features instead. “Did you not enjoy last night—Doctor?” It was the tiniest of digs but she couldn’t resist.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  “I am, almost as much as I enjoyed last night.”

  “Anna’s inside. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

  He walked away.

  Watching him go, she sighed. For the second time since meeting him, she wanted to yell, “Coward!”

  After she and Anna finished in the kitchen, Regan went to her room to try and bring order to the chaos. Colt and Anna were in Anna’s room doing whatever it was they did while Anna prepared for bed. Regan hadn’t been asked to join them. Telling herself she didn’t feel left
out, she cleared the bed of the garments covering it and saw the bare ticking of the mattress. They’d slept on it last night after stripping the sheets. She needed replacements but had no idea where to find them.

  “Anna wants to say good night.”

  His voice drew her to where he stood in the doorway.

  “Okay.”

  She watched him scan the crowded room then shake his head tersely, before silently making his exit. Feeling sheepish about the mess, she followed him out.

  Anna, in her nightclothes, lay in bed. Regan walked over and said gently, “Good night, princess. Sweet dreams.”

  “Thank you for not letting me get shot.”

  Regan caressed her brow. “Thank you for being the bravest girl in the Territory.”

  Anna smiled. “Will you really make me a cake?”

  “Yes, I will. As soon as I can.”

  “I never had my own cake before.”

  Having grown up in a household where cake was as common as the sun rising, Regan found the admission so surprising she turned Colt’s way. His face was expressionless. “Then we’ll have to make sure it’s an extra special cake,” she said to Anna.

  Her father said, “Time to sleep, Anna.”

  She snuggled down under the thin quilt. “Good night, Papa. Good night, Miss Regan.”

  They responded and left her alone to her dreams.

  He closed the door and Regan said, “I’m enjoying your daughter.”

  “I think the feeling is mutual.”

  Regan was pleased. “Where might I find clean bedding?”

  His perplexed response made her explain, “We slept on the ticking last night.”

  She thought that would evoke some kind of response but again, his face told her nothing. “I have some in the chest in my room.”

  He opened the door and she followed him inside for her first look at his domain. It was larger than hers but not by much. A big four-poster bed made of dark wood anchored the space. There was also a wardrobe, chest of drawers, and a nightstand made of similar wood. Dark burgundy drapes trimmed in black covered the windows. Unlike her own cluttered quarters, the place was neat and clean. He opened a chest at the foot of the bed, removed a stack of folded bedding, and handed it to her.