A Leaf in the Wind

by Velda Sherrod

  Her shoulders shook at trying to hold back her misery. When she gave up, the tears coursed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. How awful to be crying like a child fearful of the dark in the middle of nowhere with a Comanche brave.

  Wrenched by painful certainty, she shivered, ashamed, unable to meet his eyes and fearing that after all he might have understood. "I don't really want to deceive T.K. Trifling with such matters bothers me. I'm so scared. If I tell him the truth, there'll be nothing left for me but to ride away. And happiness will slide through my fingers like the sand I hold in my hand. What's right and what's wrong? Who comes first? Toddie? Or T.K.?

  "I love T.K. But that wouldn't make any difference. If T.K. knew everything, he'd be ruthless."

  She talked on and on until her throat ached, until she was empty. Red Man nodded and blinked, his expressionless face never changing once. At last she stood. "I've brought everything out in the open. The only thing left is to make a decision." She let her voice trail off. "And I think I've made it."

  With all dignity, the Indian rose and extended his hand and she put hers in it. "Thank you for coming. My wedding day is Saturday. I should be the happiest girl alive."

  They parted at the cottonwood grove. The Comanche and the two horses melted away in the night.

  Clad only in his pants, T.K. placed his forearm against the window frame and leaned his head against it. Below his bedroom window, a solitary figure emerged from the darkness and ran lightly across the yard toward the back of the house.

  There was no mistaking the graceful phantom. Where in the world could Lee have gone at that time of night? Who had she met? Only one name came to mind.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, he waited for her. "Kinda late to be out, isn't it?"

  "Not if you can't sleep." She frowned uneasily. "Is that your problem, too?"

  "As a matter of fact, it is. I keep wondering why my future bride spends time down in the trees. Is she meeting somebody?"

  "Don't be ridiculous." She walked to her room and opened the door. "Sometimes I go down to the big cottonwood to think things out."

  Her voice had a ring of conviction, but he still didn't believe her. She was too pale, and he remembered the smudges he had seen beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. He followed her inside and lighted the lamp. "What things?"

  "None of your business, T.K. Burke. My thoughts are my own. When I want you to know what they are, I'll tell you."

  He exhaled in exasperation. "You'll tell me! My God, woman, I have a right to know why my wife slinks home in the middle of the night."

  "I'm not your wife yet."

  "A technicality." His hands landed on her shoulders. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. "This is no way to begin a marriage, Lee. What's so damned important that I can't know?"

  To his amazement, she burst into tears. "I get so scared when I think about getting married specially this way. Because of Toddie and people talking. They think I'm not fit to be his mother. They say I'm a you know. A whore. And even if they don't say it, they believe it."

  "Sh-h."

  Her eyes betrayed her desperation. "Even you think it."

  "Lee, shut up." He held her from him, then gazed down at her in a long searching assessment. Suddenly he was confronted with a fierce desire to spare her additional pain, to help heal whatever emotional scars she carried from her relationship with Patrick. His grimness disappeared. His voice became low and rough. "Look at me, honey. Do I look like a man who couldn't tell the difference between a" he groped for a word "a wanton and a lady?"

  She didn't look at him, staring instead at the floor. "No."

  He rubbed a thumb along her cheek to wipe away the dampness, then tilted her chin so she had to look at him. "Don't you know that, if I thought such a thing, I wouldn't wait. Nor would I want to marry you. I've had a hell of a time keeping my hands off you. I've got a fire in me, Lee, and every day, I feel my control slipping a little more. I should stay away from you until we're married.''

  Her arms went round his neck. She pressed against him. "Maybe you shouldn't stay away at all, T.K. I'm here. You're here."

  His arms remained at his side. "Why have you changed your mind?"

  "You say you want me."

  "Yes, I want you. But I can wait."

  Her openmouthed kiss exploded through him like a searing flame. He cradled her face in his hands. "We've only a few days."

  "People have already judged me. So why wait?"

  "To prove them wrong."

  He felt the tension radiating from her. Who had she met in the grove? He moved away from her, letting his eyes rake over her moist mouth. "Good night, Lee."

  After closing the door, he started downstairs. She had thrown herself at him. Why? He clenched his fists. Her hair had smelled like wood smoke.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elise draped her buckskin jacket over a handy bedpost. She had a vague longing to touch everything, the washstand, the rocking chair, the desk where she kept her drawings. With the wedding so close, her heart cradled happiness and pain: happiness at the thought of her marriage to T.K., pain at the thought of revealing the truth to him.

  Her mind groped for ways to avoid running into the wedding guests who had arrived early. She couldn't decide which were worse, the nosy ones or the friendly ones. A few did little to hide their scorn, and those she met with a direct look, cool and faintly challenging. All had questions and all were curious to see the woman T.K. Burke would marry.

  Their wagons and tents circled the front of the house like cattle around a waterhole. More wagons trailed in, as if the place were not busy enough already. Never in her life had she seen so many people arrive in so short a time. From her window, she counted a dozen buckboards, that many carriages, twice that number of wagons, and a corral full of horses.

  Glumly, she wondered what she should do? Run downstairs to the circle of wagons and declare herself a fraud? Saddle Drummer and sneak out with Toddie under her arm? She'd have seduced T.K. in the barn, where she was sure he was hiding out, if she had the remotest idea how to go about it. Her last attempt, a strategy that would confirm her lies, had been an abysmal failure.

  Frowning at her inability to come up with a plan, she let some tears drip and swiped them away with the back of her hand. The following evening, provided the world didn't end by flood or fire, she'd be Mrs. T.K. Burke for better or for worse or for about thirty minutes if Patrick showed up.

  She wanted to blame somebody other than herself for the situation, and Patrick seemed a suitable candidate. He was a knave whether he attended the wedding or not. She couldn't in all honesty fault her stepsister, since her stepsister was not responsible for the tornado or for her own death.

  Elise heaved a huge sigh. She was a fraud. When T.K. learned the truth, his eyes would turn that muddy-colored green, a dead giveaway to his angry state of mind.

  Although she knew little of men, she knew he wanted to sleep with her. He'd said as much. Her eyes brimmed. She wanted him to love her, to make love to her, the latter, she was reasonably sure, he would oblige. And for Toddie's sake, he would marry her but to love her? Family loyalty didn't extend to a stepsister-in-law who dealt in false truths a tidy refinement for deceit and treachery.

  If lightning struck, she hoped it wouldn't be during the wedding ceremony or in bed.

  Inexpressible fears overwhelmed her. What if Patrick came and shared the big joke of her identity? T.K. was kind, but would he be so angry, he'd denounce her in front of all the people? Her knees grew weak as she thought about it.

  In a hurry to be alone out of the confines of the house, she stole quietly downstairs and out the door. Thirty minutes later, she came to a sandy ravine lined with a smattering of mesquites, young cottonwoods, and salt cedar. Evergreens, like lonely Christmas trees, dotted the prairie around her. Secluded, out of the wind, a spot of sand washed clean by a flash flood afforded a suitable place to deal with the sorry truth.

&nbs
p; One more day until she would be married with half of Texas looking on. The invitations included one to the governor, his wife, and their five children.

  She could sympathize with Damocles. A sword dangled above her head. Why had she waited until the last stroke before midnight?

  Midnight? It seemed incredible that she had let the situation develop to that point. She shivered nervously, then rose to collect leaves and dry sticks. Remembering Red Man's effortless ability, she coaxed a small fire to life, a meager one that sputtered and smoked. She sank to her knees and fanned her hands over the blaze.

  She had no more than settled with her feet tucked comfortably beneath her when a man's voice spiraled in on the wind. "Ho-o-ooo!"

  Blast. The cowhands were pressing a herd of cows toward her. She waited. When the sound of pounding hooves grew closer, Elise twisted quickly to locate the direction. At the last minute, they seemed to veer, the sound fading away, leaving dust to waver in the breeze.

  She was alone again, confronted by uncomfortable thoughts. Without any training, she had become incredibly sly and remarkably adept at protecting her backside. Mildly stated, she was in the class with horse thieves. Wincing at the less-than-honorable course her life had taken, she closed her eyes, then quickly opened them. They hanged horse thieves, and the hangman was approaching.

  A rider's head appeared, then his shoulders, swaying in rhythm with the horse. His back was to the sun, his face in the shadow, but there was no mistaking the whipcord-lean body, the regal lift of the chin. He had seen her heading that way and had deserted the riders.

  Her heart beat frantically, as it always did when T.K. came near her. Why had he sought her out?

  T.K. stopped his horse and dismounted. He considered her a moment and, to her surprise, smiled whimsically. "I owe you an apology."

  Elise gave him a dubious look. "Are you serious?"

  He nodded. "Very serious."

  "Why?"

  Something dark and dangerous smoldered in his eyes. "The other night, I thought you had met somebody in the cottonwood grove. That he had made a campfire. I could smell the smoke in your hair."

  "What made you change your mind?"

  "Here's proof enough you can make your own campfire."

  She didn't know whether his words were a statement, a question, or an excuse to draw her out. "You have trouble believing me, don't you?"

  "Well, it seemed strange for you to be out after dark. Nobody knew where you were."

  Without asking directly, he wanted an answer. Her mouth became so dry that she wasn't sure she could speak. She rose on shaky legs and cleared her throat. "What if I told you"

  His low growl interrupted her, as if he had had second thoughts and wasn't sure he wanted to know. "What if I told you that I wish I could have those moments back when you were in my arms? That I'm sorry I hurt you."

  God, what could she say? She should protest, but she was tongue-tied. His sad, funny expression did something to her breathing.

  When she failed to contradict him, he tried again, his husky voice causing a riot in her breast. "I don't want to cause you pain ever. Can you believe that?"

  She made a small futile gesture and averted her gaze. Since he was there, she should tell him. Then he could tell the guests to pack up and move out there would be no wedding. The words wouldn't come. "I believe you," she faltered at last. "I'm not blaming you for anything."

  A sigh escaped him, and he gazed down at her. "Good. Now come here."

  "T.K., please." But she felt herself moving toward him.

  "I like the way you say my name, especially when you put please with it." He stepped forward to meet her, and when she was close enough, he cradled her face. "Because I sure as hell aim to please." Before she could stop him, his mouth settled on hers, passionate and hungry.

  The kiss deepened and Elise felt the fire and heat. Her heart pounded against his chest. He zigzagged his hands down to her bottom and pulled her closer, laughing at her gasp when his hardness brushed her thigh.

  "T.K., you must"

  "I agree, honey. I must," he said and ran greedy lips over her cheeks, her eyelids, her throat. His hands were everywhere, caressing, loving, seeking. When she sighed her pleasure, he kissed her, luring her closer to fit against him. His tongue sought hers in a wild mating dance, and liquid fire rippled through her.

  When he tried to pull away, she sought to pull him closer. "No."

  "I've got to get the hell back before the men wonder what's become of me." He fondled her breast gently, then possessively. "I don't want them to find me down here in a ditch making love to my future bride before the wedding."

  Oh, God. The wedding. Why hadn't she told him? She wouldn't have another chance. He had created a storm within her, and before she could regain her senses, he was leaving. When she listed her failings, she had forgotten to include weak-kneed and mute.

  T.K. finished his coffee and poured himself a second cup, then left it on the table and walked to the window. He braced himself with arms stretched to either side and watched more wagons roll up, some from as far away as Tascosa. Maggie's Conestoga occupied a conspicuous place in the center of the circle. He knew it was Maggie's. The curtains were pink.

  A thick gray mist had settled over the prairie, obscuring the corral and barn. Water formed on shrubbery and trees. Now and then a gust of wind shook the leaves, sending showers of droplets to the ground.

  How could such a day be his wedding day? He supposed he should go out to meet the newcomers, but he didn't move. What would Lee think about Maggie showing up in a pink wagon? Lee's jealousy had surprised him and, oddly, pleased him. He walked back to drain his cup, before snatching his hat from the hall tree.

  Moments later, he knocked at the back of the wagon. To her mumbled question, he answered, laughing, "Your host, Maggie, the bridegroom."

  "T.K! Surprises happen along all the time. I didn't expect you. Are you coming inside?"

  "No. Are you coming to the house?"

  Maggie preened, touching her hair, drawing attention to her hand and its display of rings. "Do I dare? What would your bride say?"

  He doubted that Lee would be overly anxious to welcome her. "She's a gracious lady."

  "Aren't you afraid someone will see you visiting my wagon?"

  She spoke teasingly, and he could tell she was reading something more into his call than he intended. "I only stopped to say hello." Not the whole truth. As much as he wanted to shield Lee from gossip arising from his visit, he had a reason that had nothing to do with a welcome. He didn't want to appear too eager. So with what he hoped was genuine interest, he put his head through the opening and looked around the interior.

  "Definitely not a man's wagon, but cozy. That's a pretty dress. That color green looks good on you. Guess you're ready for the day."

  Delighted at his compliment, Maggie leaned forward, exposing a little more bosom. "I'm expecting company."

  T.K. frowned, his need to talk about Patrick dwindling to frustration. "Guess I'll be moseying back then."

  "Patrick rode in last night."

  T.K. casually shook the water from the brim of his hat and replaced it, hoping his expression didn't give him away. "Oh, yeah. What motivated him?"

  "Is there any reason he shouldn't be at the wedding?"

  "I suppose not. So you knew all along he wasn't dead?"

  "Remember the time you came to see me and explained about the woman and child being at your ranch? As soon as you mentioned the date of Patrick's death, I knew there was a mistake. I had heard from him a few days before your visit."

  He would spare Maggie the details of his meeting with Patrick in Abilene. Regardless of how much he wanted to know the real reason his brother had come to the wedding, he was determined to wait for Maggie's enlightenment.

  "Don't take his coming so seriously, T.K. Patrick doesn't want your woman. And you yourself aren't sure whether the kid is yours or his."

  Maggie's blatant sagacity carried a sting. Sh
e wasn't above using his own words to gain his attention. And while her observation wasn't as astute as she seemed to think, it did set a swarm of uncomfortable thoughts buzzing in his head of Patrick disrupting the wedding, of Lee changing her mind.

  Suddenly, T.K. didn't want to talk about Patrick at all. He mouthed a few words, all trivial, and turned to leave.

  Patrick spoke from behind him. "One woman not enough for you, brother?"

  T.K. tried for lighthearted familiarity. "Damn, Pat. You made my wedding after all."

  "When I saw you slinking up to Maggie's wagon, I thought you had changed your mind."

  "T.K. just dropped by for a moment, Patrick." Maggie's voice became placating. "I think he must have bridegroom jitters."

  So that was the way it was. Maggie and Patrick. His brother and the saloonkeeper. The reason Patrick didn't want to marry Lee or claim Toddie. Patrick would never commit to one woman, but in his fashion, he could be true to a woman like Maggie. That explained Maggie's secret lover and her obvious dislike of Lee.

  The possibility existed that Patrick was there to see Maggie, that he hadn't come for the wedding. T.K. studied his brother. "Just passing through? Or will you be staying for the ceremony?"

  "Wouldn't miss it." Patrick radiated goodwill. "Not for the world."

  "But what about the men who were after you?"

  "My pursuers? Well" Patrick strutted a little "I got lucky in a card game in Abilene. Lucky enough to pay my debt."

  "You could have asked me for the money at any time. Why didn't you?"

  Patrick laughed. "A generous benefactor might begin to think of himself as a guardian. Could be like having the sheriff after you."

  "You're my younger brother. That's the way I think of you."

  "You think of me the way the old man did." Bitterness edged Patrick's voice. "So he left you the Lazy B."

  "It's your home. You can live here as long as you want to."

  Patrick lost his frown and stretching lazily glanced toward the house. "I just might take you up on that. Yessirree. I sure might."

  The conversation, sporadic at best, ended on a stiff note. T.K. walked away, trying to maintain a rational train of thought over towering rage. Patrick had arrived and could deal a devastating blow. T.K. stuffed his hands in his pockets before they clenched into fists.