“When?”
“When you invited me into your body.”
She flushed scarlet and then went pale. She tried to speak.
Not one sound came out.
With a tenderness that brought more tears to her eyes, Case opened her hand. There was a faint red mark across the base of each of her fingers.
He made a sound as though he had been the one burned. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each small mark.
She shivered and made a faint sound at the back of her throat. The feel of his breath and the gentle brush of his beard against her palm brought back every intimate memory she had been trying to forget.
Especially the end, when he couldn’t even bear to look at her.
Get dressed before you catch a chill.
“Don’t,” she said raggedly. “Don’t do this to me.”
He looked up. His eyes were like green river pools, clear, yet with shadow currents moving deep within.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Did I hurt you before?”
“Yes,” she said starkly.
“When I was inside you?”
She closed her eyes and turned her face away.
“Honey?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not…then.”
He bent over her hand and breathed kisses against her skin.
“When did I hurt you?”
“Afterward. When you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”
His head came up fast and hard. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the floor, thoroughly ashamed.
“I don’t know what I did to disgust you,” she whispered.
“You did—”
“No,” she interrupted desperately. “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter. It won’t ever happen again.”
“It shouldn’t,” he agreed.
Yet even as Case spoke the words, something deep inside rebelled savagely at the thought of never again sinking into Sarah’s sweet, searing fires.
A tear slid down her cheek and caught in the corner of her mouth.
He bent and stole the tear with a kiss.
“Don’t,” she said, trembling. “I can’t take it again.”
“Sarah,” he whispered against her lips. “My sweet, passionate, innocent Sarah. You didn’t disgust me. I would sell my soul to be inside you again.”
Her breath came in hard.
“Then why…?” she whispered.
“That’s what it would cost me to be your lover. What little is left of my soul.”
“I don’t understand.”
He tipped up her face with his hand. Then he kissed her with a tenderness and hunger that left both of them breathing raggedly.
“I don’t know if I can explain,” he said.
She simply watched him with eyes that were a mirror of his own. Hurt and hunger, passion and dark regrets.
“I went to war when I was fifteen,” Case said. “I dragged Hunter with me.”
She bit her lip. The self-disgust in his voice was so strong she could almost touch it.
“My brother was married to a useless little flirt,” he continued. “They had two small children. Ted and Emily.”
Despite his neutral voice, she sensed how hard it was for Case to talk about his niece and nephew. She wanted to tell him to stop.
But even more she wanted to understand the darkness at the center of his soul.
“Hunter didn’t want to go because of the kids, but Belinda and I talked him into it.”
“Your brother doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who is easily led.”
“Hell, maybe he was as glad to be rid of his wife’s company as she was eager to get in bed with the neighbor men.”
Sarah winced at the contempt in his voice.
“I went to war all eager to save honor and civilization,” Case said. “But even young fools grow up, if they survive. I figured out pretty quick that war is pure hell on good women and children, and they were all that was worth fighting for.”
She stroked her cheek softly against his chest, wanting to soothe away the tension that was making him rigid.
“I stayed sane by thinking of my niece and nephew,” he said. “Especially Emily. She was bright as a new penny, full of laughter and sass. She loved everything and everyone.”
He hesitated, then kept talking, his voice a monotone.
“When things were really bad during the war, I would pull out the little china cup and saucer I bought for Emily as a homecoming present. I’d just sit and look at it and remember her laughter and pray for the damned war to end.”
Sarah’s arms stole around Case. She held him, silently telling him that he wasn’t alone with his memories.
“I beat my brother home from the war by a few weeks,” he said. “I found…I found…”
A ripple of emotion went through Case, breaking his voice.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me.”
His arms went around her and he held her as though she were life itself. She didn’t protest the strength of his grip, for she knew that grief was holding him much more savagely.
“Culpeppers,” he said finally.
The sound of his voice made Sarah tremble.
“Southerners,” he said. “Like me.”
“Not like you. Never.”
He didn’t seem to hear. His eyes were open, unblinking, fixed on a horizon only he could see.
And what he saw was unspeakable.
“They beat me to our ranch by three days,” he said hoarsely. “They killed every man in the valley, stole or slaughtered the animals, burned the houses and barns. When they finally finished off the women, they took the children and…”
The silence that followed was even more unbearable than his eyes.
Sarah remembered then what Lola had said about the Culpeppers.
They sold kids to the Comancheros, after doing things to the young’uns that would shame Satan.
“When I finally found Em and Ted, I didn’t have a shovel,” Case whispered. “I dug their grave with my fingernails. Then I went looking for Culpeppers.”
She watched his eyes and wept silently, helplessly, for she knew now just what had driven Case away from laughter and hope and love.
His memories must be even worse than her own.
“Now do you understand why I pushed you away?” he asked.
Silently she looked at him, hurting for him.
“Ted and Em’s death…” His voice died. He shrugged. “It killed something in me. I can’t give you what you deserve.”
“What I deserve?” she asked, not understanding.
“A husband. Children. Love. It isn’t in me anymore. It’s as dead as little Em.”
“I don’t believe it. Anyone as gentle as you hasn’t lost the ability to love.”
Case looked directly into Sarah’s eyes.
“All I have for you is lust,” he said bluntly. “When a man has seduction on his mind, he’ll do whatever will get him what he wants quickest. You wanted tenderness. I gave it to you.”
Sarah’s smile quivered, yet it was very real.
“Did I ask for anything more?” she whispered.
“You don’t have to. It’s there in the way you look at me when you think I don’t know.”
“Like I want to put a knife in your back?” she suggested, smiling despite her tears.
The corner of his mouth lifted, making him look even sadder than before.
“You can’t fool me,” he said. “You’re like a beehive. Once you get past the sting, there’s nothing but pure sweetness beneath.”
“We’re both fully grown. You want something I can give you and I want it, too.”
He shook his head.
“You just said you wanted me,” she pointed out. “Well, I want you.”
He looked at her scarlet cheeks, tear-bright eyes, and trembling lips.
“Pure wild honey,” he said huski
ly. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Why not?”
“I could make a baby with you, that’s why.”
“A baby,” she repeated softly.
Then she smiled.
Case pushed her away.
“I don’t want a child,” he said. “Ever.”
Her arms tightened around him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then she touched his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
He jerked back as though he had been stung.
“Don’t tease me into making you pregnant,” he said harshly. “I would hate both of us for it. Is that what you want?”
She closed her eyes and let go of him. Without a word she went and picked up the spindle and began the endless work of spinning.
A moment later the harsh sound of corn being crushed between two rocks came from the other end of the room.
Neither Sarah nor Case spoke again.
19
“That hombre is a grinding fool,” Lola said, surveying the mound of cornmeal Case had made the night before.
Sarah didn’t say anything.
“You got a lot of spinning done, too,” Lola noticed.
“Conner is growing faster than a weed.”
“And Case is as twitchy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Lola’s crack of laughter made Sarah wince.
“Don’t you know by now how to take the heat out of a man’s mad?” Lola asked.
“It takes two.”
“You saying you don’t want him?”
“No. I’m saying he doesn’t want me.”
“Horseshit.”
“Amen,” Sarah muttered.
She worked the spindle so hard it became a blur. The pile of wool beneath her fingers turned into yarn with astonishing speed.
Lola didn’t take the hint and drop the subject.
“He’s got a real lust for you,” she said. “Gets hard as a post just lookin’ at you.”
The spindle jerked. The yarn stretched almost to the point of breaking.
“All right,” Sarah said through her teeth. “Case wants me but he won’t touch me because he doesn’t want to get me pregnant. Satisfied?”
Lola snorted.
“Gal, where was your ears when I was talkin’ to you about sponges and vinegar and such?”
Sarah looked up from her spinning. Whatever Lola saw in her eyes made the older woman grin. She pulled a small leather pouch out of her pants and dangled it in front of Sarah’s face.
“Recollect this?” she taunted.
The spindle fell idle. Sarah looked at the leather bag with haunted eyes.
Don’t tease me into making you pregnant. I would hate both of us for it. Is that what you want?
“What if it doesn’t work?” she whispered.
“What if the sun don’t rise tomorrow?”
“Is it certain?” Sarah asked stubbornly.
“Ain’t nothin’ certain except sin and death. It works better on some than on others.”
“Did it work for you?”
“I never whelped no kids. I caught a few times but none took. Then I never caught again. A lot of whores don’t.”
With trembling fingers Sarah accepted the leather bag and tucked it into her pants pocket.
“Good,” Lola said, nodding curtly. “Now we can stop walkin’ on eggs around Case. You recollect how to use them sponges?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re too dainty to tuck it up tight, tell him. He’s got nice long fingers.”
“Lola!” Sarah said, flushing scarlet.
The older woman gave her a sly, gap-toothed grin.
“Well, he does,” Lola said. “And don’t say you ain’t never noticed, neither.”
Rather grimly Sarah picked up her spindle and went back to work.
Lola emptied a bag of lustrous goat hair next to the chair and laughed all the way out of the cabin.
“Cornbread is burning,” she called from outside.
Sarah leaped up and rescued the cornbread. She flipped it out of the pan and onto a rag to cool. Then she added more cornbread batter to the pan, stirred up the fire, and went back to spinning and wondering how she was going to go silver hunting when Case wouldn’t let her go alone and wouldn’t go with her.
“Ma’am?” called a voice from outside the cabin. “It’s Morgan and Hunter. If you’ll just pass out some cornbread and beans, we won’t bother you.”
Hastily she set aside her spinning and opened the door.
Hunter and Morgan took off their hats. Both men were freshly washed and shaved.
She smiled.
“It’s no bother at all,” she said. “Come in and sit down. I’ll get your breakfast.”
“No need,” Morgan said. “We’re used to rustling grub for ourselves.”
“Speak for yourself,” Hunter said. “I’ve become accustomed to a high order of cooking in the past few months.”
Morgan’s teeth flashed in a clean white smile.
“Elyssa is spoiling you like a Christmas puppy,” he said to Hunter.
The other man grinned and didn’t disagree.
Rather wistfully Sarah looked at Hunter’s smile.
Did Case look like that before little Emily died? she asked herself. A smile as warm as summer.
“I’m afraid you won’t get much in the way of cooking here,” she said. “Cornbread, cornmeal mush, peppers and beans, and whatever some critter hasn’t eaten of the vegetables I put in the cellar.”
“Sounds like heaven to me,” Morgan said fervently.
Hunter winked at her.
“Don’t mind Morgan,” he said. “He’s just practicing for the girl who’s waiting for him back in Texas.”
“Some might need practice,” Morgan retorted. “I don’t.”
Smiling, Sarah set out two battered tin plates, filled two tin cups with water from a pitcher, and began ladling out beans.
“You still have some coffee in your saddlebags?” Hunter asked Morgan.
“Yessuh! Excuse me, ma’am. Put a pot on to boil and I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“Coffee?” she asked, not sure she had heard correctly. “You brought coffee with you?”
“Yes’m,” Morgan said. “We never stopped long enough to cook it on the way here.”
“Better stand guard over it with a shotgun,” she called as Morgan vanished. “We haven’t had coffee since Ute traded some moccasins and cloth over at Spanish Church.”
Hunter’s mouth flattened at the name of the saloon where his brother had almost died.
“Somebody ought to clean out that den of snakes,” he said.
“Waste of time,” she said. “There are plenty of snakes to replace the ones you scare away.”
“Some snakes are worse than others.”
“Culpepper snakes?”
“You don’t scare them away. You cut off their heads and bury them under a rock.”
A chill went through Sarah. At that moment Hunter sounded and looked very much like Case.
It was a relief when Morgan came in with a small burlap bag of coffee beans and a hand-sized grinder. Very quickly the smell of brewing coffee filled the cabin and drifted out through the chinks in the logs.
Case and Ute appeared not long after. Case, at least, was freshly washed.
“I hope you brought your own cups,” she said wryly. “I’m plumb out.”
Each man held out a tin cup. She dipped out coffee for them and prodded the cornbread.
“It’s ready,” she said, “but you might burn your fingers.”
Ute filled his plate with beans and cornbread, chose a spot near the fire, and sat on his heels. With the ease of a man who rarely used a chair or a table, he began eating, balancing everything without awkwardness.
Belatedly Case noticed that Sarah wasn’t having any coffee.
“Don’t you like coffee?” he asked her.
“Sure,
but Conner took his cup up to the rim with him,” she said.
Hunter and Morgan realized they were drinking from the only other cups Sarah owned. As one, the men stood and held their cups out to her.
“Sit down,” Case said. “She can use my cup.”
After a moment of hesitation, Hunter and Morgan sat down at the table again.
Sarah began piling food onto a plate. When it was full, she handed it to Case.
“I suppose Conner took his plate with him, too,” Case said easily.
“Packed to the brim with food,” she agreed.
“Then we’ll share.”
With no more warning than that, he delivered a spoonful of beans to her mouth. Startled, she took the food without protest at first. Then she realized she was eating his breakfast and started to object.
“Mind your manners,” Case said. “No talking when your mouth is full, remember?”
Morgan coughed suddenly.
Hunter gave his brother a sideways, speculative look.
Case didn’t notice. He was too busy feeding Sarah. Every time she opened her mouth to say something to him, she got another helping of food. Only when she kept her lips firmly shut did he begin eating himself.
“Take some coffee,” he said. “Or do you want me to feed you like a baby bird, a spoonful at a time?”
Nervously she licked her lips. The sudden narrowing of his eyes as he watched her tongue made her breathless.
“I don’t think,” she said huskily, “that would be a good idea. I’d burn my mouth.”
“Or something,” he said, but his voice was too low for anyone except her to hear.
After that there was silence except for the small noises of men scraping tin plates with spoons and Sarah stirring the fire when she added more wood.
When the last of the food was gone, Hunter pushed back from the table with a contented sigh.
“I haven’t had beans like that since Texas,” he said.
“It’s those wicked little peppers,” she said. “Ute taught me to like them.”
“Jalapeños?” Hunter asked.
“Sí,” Ute said.
“I’ll have to find some seeds for Elyssa.”
“I’ll send seeds with you,” Ute said.
“My wife would like that. She lost most of her garden when the raiders salted it. We’ve been scouting seeds and cuttings and such ever since.”
“We have squash, potatoes, beans, corn, and seeds for greens,” Sarah said. “You’re welcome to what you need. If you want flaxseed for cloth or oil, or fertile eggs, we have some to spare.”
Winter Fire Page 25