A Leaf in the Wind

by Velda Sherrod

  She looked up at him, then slowly, carefully, pulled his head down and kissed him on the mouth. "I'm so glad you were with us."

  "Thank God we got here in time." He wanted to tell her he would always be there for them. Trying not to focus on the future, he marshaled his turbulent feelings. "I'll get the buggy."

  Behind her, the doctor coughed discreetly. "Better get some rest when you get home, Mrs. Burke. This has been quite an ordeal for you."

  Elise steadied herself and held out her arms for Toddie. "We can never thank you enough, Doctor."

  "Glad we could make him well."

  Outside, she ducked her head against the glare of bright sunlight and walked into the shadow of the porch to wait. "We're going home, baby. I know you're ready."

  A harsh voice rasped behind her. "Well, if it ain't Miz Dewboze and her fine son. T.K. Burke's got lots of problems. And he's gonna have more one of these days. Then maybe he'll quit feedin' the damned Indians. Is he yore man now? Or did Patrick Burke showin' up again mess up that cozy arrangement?"

  "Stay away from us."

  The man materialized out of a doorway. "What's wrong with me, Miz Dewboze? The way the word got around, you wuzn't so pertickler in Boggy Creek."

  A few curious people gathered to hear, and more came.

  Elise turned her back, but the man wasn't ready to give up his fun. "You gonna try yore luck in Hy-Medder, Miz Dewboze?"

  Suddenly, her fatigue washed away in a flood of rage. Trembling, she lashed back. "My baby has been sick. Let us alone."

  "Which man is Daddy, Miz Dewboze?"

  No one seemed to notice when the buggy came to a stop, nor when T.K. jumped to the ground, "What business is it of yours, Putnam?" His low menacing voice silenced the crowd. "You want to apologize to my wife before or after I beat hell out of you?"

  Putnam's face took on an unhealthy pallor. "Now, Burke, there's things decent folks find hard to look over." He started backing away. " 'Course I didn't know she was yer wife. Being a fair man and all, I'd just naturally let the whole thing die, if I had knowed it."

  T.K. had already shucked his gloves and buffalo-skin jacket. "Are you all right, Lee? Did he hurt you?"

  "No. But he didn't need to bring Toddie into it. I wish I were a man. I'd take a club to him."

  "I know you would. But since you're not a man, I guess it's up to me."

  His first blow landed in Putnam's belly and knocked him into the street. T.K. stood over him waiting. "Get up, Putnam. We're not finished."

  "I ain't fighting you about your wife. Up around Boggy Creek, folks know 'bout her." He raised to one elbow. "There's other things to think about, Burke."

  "You're right. Like apologizing."

  Putnam made a halfhearted attempt to rise. "Sorry. Never knowed you wuz married, Miz Burke."

  He waited to see if T.K. had doubled up his fists. "Last year, the damned Injuns burned out my place, Burke. I ain't takin' that without puttin' up a fight."

  "How does insulting my wife figure in?"

  "Everybody says you're helpin' the savages."

  "Everybody?"

  "Well, Slim Alderson. He says you ain't carin' if Grayhawk murders the settlers and steals beef off the ranchers."

  "And Slim blames my wife because he lost his job. Is that the picture?"

  "Well, everybody knows 'bout her."

  "And you?"

  "Well, I don't know personal."

  "Don't ever again let my wife's name cross your lips. As for Grayhawk, the man refuses to lead his people to the reservation. He hasn't killed any settlers." T.K. let his disdainful gaze sweep the crowd, then return to Putnam still sprawled on the ground. "I should kill you, Putnam, so you couldn't mingle with decent folks. But I've got a sick baby. I need to get my family home."

  He put a protective hand at Elise's elbow. "Sorry you had to be a party to all that." He took Toddie and, holding him in one arm, used his other to help her into the buggy. "Lay the little doggie on the other side of you, Lee. He's nearly asleep."

  They rode out of town without looking back. She comforted Toddie until he slept soundly; then little by little, she slumped in the seat. She appeared vulnerable, young, almost waiflike. He spoke softly. "Lee."

  She looked at him, nervously toying with the edge of Toddie's blanket. "Yes?"

  "Guess you were right about Slim. He's trying to stir up trouble."

  Neither of them mentioned Patrick's name.

  Once they were out of town, exhaustion gradually replaced her tension. T.K. put his arm around her. His deep voice sounded near her ear. "Rest if you can. Toddie's asleep."

  Her head continued to loll against his shoulder. As they bounced over the rough road, T.K. tightened his hold. "This is a low place that catches snow and water. Makes for deep ruts. The road will smooth out after a while."

  He held her as though he would never let her go, and she snuggled closer, lured to him and the heat radiating from him. When he shifted, drawing her closer, he could feel her warm breath at his throat. He wanted to ignore his longing to hold her. Now was not the time to feel desire, but it was too late. He had heard her sigh. He pressed his cheek to her hair, liking the feel of it. "Comfortable?"

  Her muffled answer came at the same time the buggy jolted into a deep rut. She lifted her head, and he accidentally touched the corner of her lips. The pressure was so slight neither of them moved. Then, gradually, a fraction at a time, he eased forward until he could cover her mouth.

  He rocked his mouth on to hers, tenderly exploring, seeking what she had to give. He kissed her again and again, loving the pliant feel of her, tasting the sweet essence of her mouth. All that was wild and raw and urgent he held in check. All that had gone before this moment he wanted to forget. In some tormented corner of his mind, he knew he should push her away, but God help him, he couldn't.

  At his feeble attempt to free himself, she whispered a protest, and he obliged her, deepening the kiss. And then he knew he could take no more.

  He looked into her dazed eyes. Who was that woman who responded to him with such fire, yet looked with longing at his brother?

  Elise thought their lives would change following Toddie's illness, but it wasn't to be. T.K. came and went regularly, stopping long enough to play with Toddie and to speak courteously to her.

  No mention had ever been made of the snowstorm nor her reason for being at the cabin. T.K. had locked the anger and hurt she had caused him in his heart. Always he would believe she had betrayed him. If they met accidentally, he avoided meeting her eyes, and should they touch, he hurried to put distance between them.

  She lost weight and her clothes no longer fit. Once she caught T.K. looking at her. His easy teasing banter was gone, and the laughter that she loved had left his eyes.

  On the few occasions T.K. and Patrick faced each other in her presence, she tried to act as though nothing was wrong. Patrick usually looked as if he had lapped a saucer of cream. He played with Toddie, patting him, teasing him, other times ignoring him.

  "The kid is taller," Patrick said, laughing. "May grow up to be a real cowman someday. Might even grow to be like his old man."

  By his stance, she could guess T.K.'s thoughts. The more attention Patrick paid Toddie, the more it seemed to annoy T.K. But when his ill humor peaked, it was not directed at his brother.

  "Cut his hair," he snapped at her. "He looks like a girl. Seems like you'd notice things like that."

  "His hair is no longer than yours," she said angrily.

  He stormed out of the house, and shortly after, she saw him ride out of the corral, his bedroll tied to the back of his saddle. Damn him, he'd be gone that nightand how many more?

  Chapter Fifteen

  T.K. settled himself more comfortably in the saddle and urged his buckskin into a lope, hoping to outrun his frustrations. But for all the territory covered, the strife in his soul remained. He wanted Lee, her heart and her body. At night, when his yearning became almost unbearable, only pride kept him fr
om her bed.

  On their wedding night, her eyes brimming with tears, she'd made no attempt to hide her anguish, nor the fact that in her mind she was still Patrick's woman.

  T.K. harbored his tormenting thoughts until the sun dropped over the horizon and the stars twinkled pale, becoming bright in the gathering darkness. He passed familiar landmarks, rock outcroppings, a cluster of evergreens, the grotesque hanging tree.

  A few miles farther, he entered Dusty Flats and cantered to a stop in front of Maggie's Saloon. He slapped the trail dust off his clothes and pushed through the swinging doors. As always, the air was heavy with the acrid smell of smoke. Laughter and loud talk almost drowned out the tinny sound of the piano.

  On the far side of the room, a poker game had attracted an audience, mostly drovers and restless cowboys. A gunslinger with a smooth face and hard eyes slouched indolently against the wall. Intent on the fall of the cards, a sodbuster had inched his chair closer so he could rest his arms across the back.

  T.K. chose a spot at the bar where he could glance up the stairs to Maggie's door. He nodded to the bartender. "Whiskey."

  "Reckon I'll have the same."

  At the sound of the familiar voice, T.K. turned slowly and stared into the face of his top hand. "This isn't Saturday, MacCucheon."

  Mac shrugged. "Had a few days coming. Boswell said it was all right. Thought I'd soak up a little whiskey."

  T.K. threw some money on the counter. "Leave the bottle."

  With the whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other, T.K. motioned with his head for Mac to follow. He led the way to a table away from the crowd.

  Mac pulled out a chair. "Trying to get away from the piano? Or you want your back to the wall?"

  "The piano. The crowd looks peaceful enough." T.K. tightened his hand around his glass. "You following me?"

  Mac grinned good-naturedly and tossed off his drink. "Hate to see a man waste good whiskey drinking by himself."

  At the head of the stairs, dressed in pink satin with a matching feather boa, Maggie began a dramatic descent. T.K. watched her all the way down.

  "What makes you think I'd be alone?"

  "A man has to make up his mind," Mac said, idly eyeing the saloon owner from under the brim of his hat. "I met a girl once. Lived in Kansas about fifty miles from where my folks' ranch was located. She was pretty as a speckled calf. Laughed a lot with everybody, even the half-wit working for her uncle. I wanted her smiles just for me, but it wasn't her nature."

  Impatient to get his mind off his problems, T.K. poured more whiskey into Mac's glass. "What happened?"

  "I left. Stayed gone for a year or more." Mac glanced at the poker table. "After I'd been away a while, I got to thinking I'd been stone blind. Because I lived and breathed for Ellie, I thought she ought to do the same for me. I had no business telling her who she could smile at."

  "Did you go back?"

  "Yeah, to see if she still felt anything for me. She let me make love to her and said she loved me, but she made it clear she wouldn't be bossed by me. Said I had a lot of nerve for trying."

  "Did you marry?"

  Mac smiled. "Her pa gave us a big wedding, and my old man gave us some land and a start in cattle raising. In the beginning, everything was fine by day and better by night. Then things started happening. Maybe I ought to say stopped happening." Mac studied the amber liquid in his glass. "She was always too tired. Didn't talk much. Didn't kiss me except when I asked. Even quit smiling at me. Pride got in the way, and hell, I never was one to beg."

  "Did you do anything about it?"

  "Yeah, I went out one night to find a willing woman. I found one, but before I got my pants off, I got to thinking that, in the morning, I'd still want Ellie.

  "Ellie was crying when I got home. Later, two or three months, the doctor came. Said she had a lung disease. She died not long after that. I never knew whether she believed I didn't have a woman.''

  T.K. knew it hadn't been easy for Mac to share his guilt and despair. He'd shown how, when a man loved somebody, it was easy to make a mistake. T.K. knew he was not the same man he'd been when Lee had come into his life. The change had been gradual. Like Mac, he had come to know loneliness. And like Mac, he carried around a never-satisfied longing.

  "Sorry, Mac."

  "She was pregnant with my baby. I was horny as a longhorn bull, but I've always been glad I didn't get into that other woman's bed." His eyes darkened with thought. "Baby didn't live either."

  "And the spread?"

  "Pa's looking after it. I may go back someday. Or I may go down around San Antone. Kinda had a hankering to see that part of the country."

  "No woman since Ellie has taken your eye?"

  Mac was a long time in answering. "Yeah, but I backtracked before it got serious for me. Maybe it never was for her."

  "Hell, man, why didn't you do something about it?"

  "She married somebody else. Just as well."

  T.K. knew any further questions along that line were useless. "You've got a home at the Lazy B as long as you want."

  "I appreciate knowing that. I won't be leaving for a while."

  "All this time I thought you were too young to shave."

  Mac grinned and rubbed his chin. "I don't very often. Ma's family wasn't hairy. Some of her brothers never had to shave. Guess I took after them."

  "The Lazy B hands haven't been able to figure you. Actions or age."

  "I'm good with horses. Breaking and riding them. Got interested in learning to use a bullwhip. One of these days I expect to settle down. As for age, way I've got it figured, I'm close to your brother."

  And ten years older in behavior, T.K. thought wryly, no longer watching the stairs. His hunger for Lee couldn't be satisfied with a visit to another woman or with a load of whiskey. Mac had known that.

  "Think I'll get a room at the hotel." T.K. shoved his chair back. "You interested in staying there tonight?"

  "I'll hang around here awhile. Might try to get in that poker game. Sometimes I get lucky."

  "I plan to leave early in the morning. About sunup. Guess I'll see you back at the ranch in a day or two."

  Mac grinned. "Depends on how the cards fall."

  "Then I'll get on over to Dusty Flats's finest."

  In his hotel bed, T.K. dreaded the night, one more vigil with Lee's face stamped indelibly in his consciousness. In the beginning, he had told himself he wanted her at the ranch to assure the baby would be cared for. How else could he have explained the charged excitement when he first laid eyes on her? Later, aware of his conflict of feelings, he became more honest. He had wanted her and devised ways and means and arguments to keep her at the Lazy B. Their marriage made it easy, but it did nothing for the ache in his heart.

  Just thinking about her set up a relentless craving for her body. When he was with her, he was afraid his raw emotion showed in his face. Heat rippled through him, tightening in his groin. In his mind, he could see the rise and fall of her breasts, hear the provocative way she spoke his name.

  Incredibly tired of struggling with his wayward thoughts, T.K. never knew when he drifted off. He awoke to the urgent, but barely audible sound of his name.

  "Yeah?"

  "Open the door, Mr. Burke."

  T.K. growled and rolled out of bed. "Give me a minute."

  "Don't put on a light."

  T.K. opened the door a crack, then stepped aside so Mac could come in. "What's wrong, MacCucheon?"

  As soon as he had the door closed, Mac struck a match and pulled the curtains together. "Where's the lamp."

  "Behind you." T.K. reached for his pants. Shirtless, barefoot, his hair falling over his forehead, he squinted owlishly at his rider. "What the hell’s so important it can't wait until morning?"

  "Couple of hours after you left, a drifter stopped in for a drink, then decided to get in the game. Got a little drunk. He said the Indians had burned a farmhouse, killed a man, his wife and two kids. They didn't stop there, but went on to
the next settler's farm and massacred the whole family. Turned out the man wasn't a drifter at all. He's down here trying to rustle up some support for the sodbusters."

  "Who led the Indians?"

  "They're saying it was Grayhawk."

  Unprepared for the shock of Mac's words, T.K. cursed. "I don't believe it."

  Mac took out the makings for a cigarette, had trouble pouring the tobacco, and gave up. "The word is it happened up around Medders. Better get your clothes on."

  T.K. did some mental calculations. "Hell, that's a hundred miles from here. Grayhawk's people don't get that far north. More likely Quanah Parker showing some muscle."

  "Somebody's spreading the word that you're protecting Grayhawk."

  "I'm not protecting him. I'm trying to keep him and his people from starving."

  "There're your boots against the wall." Mac tried again and managed to get the tobacco in the paper. "The word is, you'd like to see the settlers gone."

  "I don't have any special feelings for the farmers, and I'd like to see them off the range, but not that way."

  Mac prowled the room, stopping to peer through the window. "That's not all."

  "What else, for God's sake?"

  "With you gone, Grayhawk can't survive. He'll have to go to the reservation."

  T.K. stopped tucking in his shirt. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "There's talk of burning you out."

  Moving swiftly, T.K. buttoned his pants and reached for his jacket. "In that case, I'd better be on my way." He thought of Lee and the baby, and his jaw clenched. Juan, Pablo, and Juan's brother couldn't hold off a bunch of angry men. "It's two hours until first light."

  "Probably ought to ride to the north ridge and pick up the crew."

  T.K. buckled on his gun belt. "You've still got a couple of days. Right?"

  Squinting around the cigarette smoke, Mac whirled the chamber on his gun. "Not anymore."

  Downstairs, they moved quietly through the door to the outside. The safest cover lay close to the buildings, and sticking to the shadows, they made a slow advance to the livery stable. Without speaking, they saddled their horses and trotted down the main street. When they reached the outskirts of town, they kicked the horses into a gallop.