by Sharon Sala
“Toni.”
Startled by the sound of Lane’s voice, she caught her breath, thankful that the night hid her face from his all-seeing eyes. “What?”
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“Of course. Was there anything you needed?”
Her answer was casual, but the tone of her voice was not. During the day, something had changed between them, and although Lane wasn’t in the habit of trying to placate a woman’s whims, something about this one kept getting under his skin. Maybe it was because she tried so hard not to need anyone. And maybe it was something else he wasn’t ready to face. Whatever it was, Lane couldn’t leave her, or well enough, alone.
“Why do you keep answering a question with a question?” he asked.
Because it’s safer. Because you won’t want to hear what I really want to say.
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware I did that. I suppose that’s what comes of answering to no one but myself.”
Lane shoved his hands into his pockets and ignored the thrust of pain to his thigh.
“All through supper, you seemed...bothered. If it’s something we've done, I wish you would say so. This whole business has probably uprooted every routine you ever had. It won’t be long before we're out of here, and then your life can get back to normal.”
Normal? My life will never be the same.
Toni laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. Lane didn’t have to look to know that there were tears in her eyes.
“You're probably right,” Toni said. “I never did get through fixing that north fence.” She started past him into the house. “I'll see if the men want any more cobbler. It’s never as good the second—”
“Toni...”
She paused. A faint light from within the house cast shadows on his face, once again reminding her that this man was only passing through her life. She sighed and swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Don’t,” she said softly. “In a few days, you'll be gone. Whatever it is you're about to say, you would later regret.”
She walked away, leaving Lane alone on the porch with the night and his thoughts.
I may have some regrets, lady, but they won’t include you. Never you.
He followed her into the house. Without thinking, he locked the door behind him, as if it were his own house. Like the woman, the farm had already claimed its place in his heart. What, he wondered, would his apartment in Tallahassee be like when he returned? Would his footsteps echo from room to room? Would he pace the floor at night, longing for the sound of her voice and a sight of her smile, or would she fade with the memory of it all?
“Hellfire,” Lane muttered, and bypassed the trio in the kitchen who were sharing the last of supper’s dessert. “You know where you belong, Toni Hatfield. You're as much a part of these Tennessee hills as the trees that cover them. If I could be as certain as that, I would know more than I do right now.”
* * *
Breakfast was on the table when Justin Hatfield walked into the house without knocking, just as he’d done for all the years that he’d lived there. “I see you finally got the table fixed,” he said, eyeing the crack on the top and the edges of plywood showing on the sides that Toni had used as patches.
Toni cocked an eyebrow as a greeting. Her brother acted as if he owned the place. As the eldest in the family, she supposed it was his right, although he’d married and moved away years ago.
“Have a biscuit and a cup of coffee, Justin. Maybe they'll give your mouth something else to do besides yap.”
Justin grinned.
Lane eyed Toni’s brother, then the table, and shrugged. He still didn’t remember a damn thing about the whole episode except waking up handcuffed to the maddest woman he’d ever seen. Already a veteran of several meals at the patched-up table, he wisely shifted his plate to the end that didn’t rock and slid into the nearest chair before someone else beat him to it.
Reese and Palmer took one look at the steaming plates of eggs and sausage, the basket of hot biscuits and the jars of jelly, and groaned.
“I may never go home again,” Reese said. “Toni girl, you're going to make some lucky man the best darned wife in the state.”
The smile was halfway to ready on Toni’s face when Justin snorted, and then laughed aloud.
“She would make a better man,” he said. “Say, Toni, that reminds me of why I came. Someone knocked down your mailbox. You better put it back up before the mail carrier comes around.”
Toni froze. It was nothing more than what she’d heard from her brothers nearly all of her life, but to have it thrown in her face in front of three near strangers was almost more than she could bear. Her shoulders were stiff, her expression blank as she set the coffeepot on the table.
“Eat while it’s hot,” she said softly. “I'll be back later.” Without looking back, she walked out of the room.
Lane froze. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Reese and Palmer took one look at their buddy’s face and started talking at once, obviously aware that if someone didn’t change the subject, Justin Hatfield might find himself on the outside looking in.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Lane said.
Justin froze, the biscuit halfway in his mouth.
“Said what?” he mumbled around a mouthful of buttery crumbs.
“You know what,” Lane said, dragging himself to his feet, then leaning across the table until he was only inches away from Justin’s nose. “You don’t want to make me hurt you, do you?”
The biscuit broke into pieces and fell from his fingers as Justin stared back. “Hell, no,” Justin said, leaning forward until they were nose to nose. “But I would like to know why you're so damned mad before we start throwing punches.”
Lane inhaled. He couldn’t believe it, but it seemed as if Justin really didn’t get it.
“You've got about three seconds to clear out of this kitchen and go fix what you sent your sister to do, or so help me God, I'll...”
Justin gawked, then jerked as if he’d actually been punched. “But Toni always fixes the—”
“She shouldn’t have to,” Lane said. “She’s a woman, for God’s sake. Doesn’t anyone around here see that besides me?”
Reese and Palmer stared regretfully at their plates of sausage and biscuits and got to their feet. “We'll do it,” they said in unison.
“It’s the least we can do for our room and board,” Reese added.
Lane’s eyes never left Justin’s face, and the longer he looked at him the colder they got. Finally, he shook his head once and grinned. It was enough.
“No, boys, finish your breakfast like Toni said. I think Justin was already on his way out the door, weren’t you, buddy?”
Justin gave Lane a considering look and then nodded. “I think you may be right,” Justin said, and took a biscuit with him as he left.
Lane dropped into the chair and shifted his leg so that he didn’t have to bend it to reach his plate.
“Reese, pass the eggs, please, and don’t eat all of the biscuits. Save Toni some. She should be here any minute.”
Less than five minutes later, Lane’s prophecy was proven true as Toni entered the kitchen. As usual, her unruly curls were already on the move. A slight smudge of dust shadowed the upper thrust of her right breast, and she wore a matching handprint on the thigh of her blue jeans. Her eyes were wide and slightly shell-shocked as she went to the sink to wash up.
She would have given a year of her life to know what had been said after she’d left. But whatever it was, Lane’s expression was as unreadable as Justin’s had been when he’d taken the posthole digger from her hands and sent her back to the house with a terse command.
She slid into the empty chair and picked up her fork before she had the guts to look up at the men who were staring at her, waiting for her to make the first move.
Thankfully, Lane took the initiative. “Want some eggs, Antonette?”
Toni took the bowl that Lane offered a
nd spooned clumps of fluffy yellow egg onto her plate without thought.
“How about some sausage, and maybe a biscuit?” Reese added, and elbowed Palmer to pass Toni the jam.
She took what was offered, then stared down at her plate, unable to take a bite. Shame and embarrassment overwhelmed her. What must they be thinking?
“Like the man said, you'll make a hell of a wife.”
Lane’s voice echoed over and over in her ears, drowning out everything except the hammer of her heartbeat.
Chapter 5
By noon Toni’s embarrassment had eased, but she still couldn’t bring herself to ask Lane what he’d said that had sent Justin to the mailbox and her back to the house. And she hadn’t received any information from Justin, either. When the mailbox was fixed, he’d crawled into his truck and driven away without further explanation, leaving no clue to his unusual behavior except for the telling glance he’d given Lane Monday before he’d left.
Now, with lunch out of the way and Reese and Palmer checking on the searchers who were dragging the river downstream for Rice’s body, Toni had hours before supper and plenty to do. If it rained again, the grass might green up in the lower pasture, and she could end one chore by not having to hay. But except for the thunderstorm several days earlier, the spring had been unusually dry, and hay still had to be fed to the cows.
Toni headed for the barn with work gloves in her hand, wishing instead that she were going to the creek to swim. But while the water was slowly receding, it was still unfit for any recreational dip. In any case, she had no desire to prance around on the creek bank in front of a dozen strangers.
So work it would have to be. She backed her pickup truck toward the hay bales stacked at the north end of the barn, then got out and started tossing them, one after the other, into the bed of the truck.
A half hour later, she shifted the last bale into place, then jumped down, tossing her work gloves into the driver’s seat as she walked past. Her blue jeans stuck to her legs, and her old long-sleeved shirt was thin from years of wear. Although she knew that T-shirts and shorts would have been cooler apparel, she also knew that handling hay would have been impossible against all that bare skin. She would trade hot for scratched and itchy any day.
Before she drove up to the pasture to feed the cows, she wanted to check on Lane and get herself a drink. She came out of the barn on a run, and ran face first into the second button down on Lane Monday’s shirt.
“Oh!” She grabbed her nose and staggered, seeing stars as the unexpected thump brought tears to her eyes. If it weren’t for Lane’s quick reaction, she would have fallen backward in the dust.
He caught her as she stumbled, but the grin that he’d been wearing died as she tore out of his arms and pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me,” she grumbled, still holding her nose, and then couldn’t believed what she’d said.
Her shock was nothing compared to the anger that swamped him. He cursed beneath his breath to keep from shouting.
“You can get that indignant expression off of your face right now, lady. I was only trying to keep you from falling on your butt,” he said, then started back to the house, forgetting as he did, why he’d come in search of her in the first place.
“Oh, good grief, why did I do that?” Toni moaned. She was shocked by her own behavior and by what she’d said. “Lane! Please wait.”
Her shout stopped his progress, but the touch of her hand on his arm was the magnet that turned him around.
“What?” he muttered. “And don’t tell me you left something out, because you were pretty damned clear to me.”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to react like some stupid, fainting female. You just startled me, that’s all.”
“Females who faint aren’t necessarily stupid, Antonette,” he said shortly. “And I came to tell you that Justin called. He wants you to call him back as soon as possible.”
Choosing to ignore his assessment of womanly attributes, she frowned at the message instead. “Did he say why?”
Lane shrugged. “Just something about missing chickens and dead dogs.”
“Good Lord,” she said, more than a little startled, and looked toward the barn. The hay would have to wait. This definitely took precedence over her chores.
They started toward the house together, and Lane could tell that she was torn between trying to slow her gait to his and the need to find out what was wrong at her brother’s place.
“Don’t wait on me,” Lane said. “I'll get there when I get there.”
She went from walk to run in three seconds flat, and when her long, shapely legs went from step to stride, Lane forgot to follow. He was too lost in watching the beauty of her body as it moved. She was as graceful and lithe as a gazelle, and in spite of her aggressive, independent tendencies, about as shy. He’d already noticed that when Toni got nervous, she slipped into a bossy mode that could make a man nuts.
“What am I thinking?” he muttered. “She’s already made me nuts, and I've only been here four days.”
With that thought came the knowledge that soon he would have to leave. As easy as it would be to stay in the quiet and comfort of these green Tennessee hills, he couldn’t stay here forever. He had a job, friends, people who counted on him. And as soon as he thought it, he knew that when it came time to go, he would be leaving a part of himself behind that had nothing to do with gratitude for his life being saved. Toni Hatfield and her Smoky Mountains had insinuated themselves into his heart as quietly as a sigh in the wind.
He entered the house in time to see Toni drop into a chair, the phone pressed against her ear like the lifeline that it was to the world outside her home. And then he frowned in response to the growing expressions on her face that looked to be a mixture of dismay and despair.
“How many?” Toni asked, and missed seeing Lane’s frown deepen. “When did it happen? Is that Bobby crying?”
She bit her lip and pressed her hand to her belly in response to the shaft of sympathetic pain. She could hear the child’s sobs, even though Justin had claimed that the boy was in another room. Her heart ached for the child’s sorrow, and she wished that she were there to give him a hug.
Without thinking, Lane walked up behind her and slipped a hand across her shoulder. It was instinctive, just a comforting gesture he might have given to anyone in a similar situation. But the moment he touched her, Lane felt her tense like a skittish colt. He sighed, then moved away, wondering as he did, how this woman had ever gotten a date. And then he turned back and stared.
She was twenty-nine. He knew, because she’d announced it one morning at the table as firmly as if she’d asked him to pass the salt. Remembering, he could almost say that she’d thrown the information out like a gauntlet, as if daring him to make something of the fact that she was alone and unmarried and, to all intents and purposes, well on her way to being an old maid.
He snorted beneath his breath. Antonette Hatfield was as unlikely an old-maid prospect as the possibility of his becoming a midget. But something told him that if he was a betting man, he could make money guessing the number of times this woman had gone out with a man who was not her kin.
“Oh, Lord, Justin, I'm sorry,” Toni said. “Yes, thanks for calling. I'll be careful, but I got rid of the chickens when Daddy died, remember? And I'll keep watch on the livestock.” She sighed, then hung up the phone.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
Lane was so fixed upon seeing a smile come back into those dark chocolate eyes that he hadn’t even heard himself call her by an endearment.
But Toni heard. She saw and took note of everything concerning this man who’d washed down Chaney Creek and into her life. And she knew that if she wasn’t careful, he would take the heart out of her when he went home. She shrugged and spread her hands in a defeated gesture as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say.
“This morning, while Justin was over here, something or someone got into their ch
ickens. He thinks it might have been the Sumters stealing food.”
Lane frowned, but thought little of it. This was, after all, mountain country. Keeping animals was bound to hold some risks, even from ne'er-do-well neighbors.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “Is Bobby one of Justin’s boys? I heard you ask why he was crying. Were some of the chickens his pets?”
Toni looked up, then quickly away. She didn’t want to see his sympathy.
“Yes, he’s Justin’s oldest. He’s just past ten. And no, they weren’t his pets.”
She frowned, then walked to the window overlooking her front yard, parting the curtains to glance out before she spoke again. Her voice trembled and her stomach kept rolling. But not in disgust. It was fear that held her thoughts. In all the years that thefts had been blamed on Sumters, not once had anything like this ever happened. She could hardly bring herself to say it.
“Something killed Bobby’s dog, too.”
She spun, and the lace curtains fell into place behind her like a bridal veil. As he stared at her, Lane caught his breath and then forget to take another, so shocked was he by the image that flashed through his mind. But it wasn’t Toni that he’d seen when she’d turned around. Just for a moment, he would have sworn that it was Sharla’s face that he saw—Sharla, silhouetted by the lace. It took everything he had to get back to the conversation and away from the vision that Toni had unwittingly inspired.
He inhaled slowly, relishing the burst of oxygen into his starving lungs, then wiped a shaky hand across his eyes. He had to get back to the matter at hand.
“Would those Sumter kids do something like that?” Lane asked.
Toni frowned, then shook her head. “Justin thinks so, but for some reason, I don’t.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Brownie was a redbone.” When she saw the puzzled expression on his face, she added, “That’s a breed of hunting dog, and the Sumters live for hunting and dogs. I don’t think they would randomly kill one like that.”
“They would have taken it with them, right?”
She nodded. “I would have guessed it was some animal that killed Brownie, but Justin said that there was hardly any blood on or around the dog, and no footprints that he could see. A wildcat would have cut a dog that big to shreds before it died, the same way a wolf would have done. There would at least have been wounds from a fight. And, the chickens were out and running all over the yard. Justin didn’t even know how many were missing until he began to put them up.”