Another Dawn

by Sandra Brown

  She snuggled against his warmth and he felt her yawn against his chest. "Goodnight, Jake," she mumbled sleepily.

  "Good night, sweetheart."

  While he was still contemplating the miracle of holding her, another occurred. He fell asleep.

  * * *

  "Good goda'mighty!"

  Jake leaped from the bed, cursing when his long legs tangled in the covers. He stumbled across the floor and glanced out the window. Just as he thought, horsemen were riding into the yard. Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped. A weak sun was shining.

  Banner sat up, her eyes groggy. The sheet fell to her waist. She was as gloriously naked as the man clumsily pulling on his pants.

  "What is it, Jake?"

  "The men. They've crossed the river." He glanced at her tumbled disarray, at her breasts, rosy and sleep-warm, and groaned. "If they find out about last night..." He let the sentence dangle unfinished as he worked his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

  Taking up his socks, boots, and ripping a quilt and pillow from the bed, he raced into the parlor and closed the bedroom door behind him. He flung the bedding down on the sofa, rumpling it to look as though it had been slept on.

  He went to the door just as Jim called out, "Hey, anybody home?"

  Faking a huge yawn, Jake pulled open the door of the house. He was idly scratching his chest as though he'd just awakened. It wasn't all that uncommon to find a man early in the morning without his boots and with his shirt unbuttoned. "Keep your voices down," he warned with a frown. Glancing over his shoulder toward Banner's closed bedroom door, he gave the three riders plenty of time to see the sofa. Then he stepped out on the porch and shut the door behind him. Speaking softly he said, "Banner's been very sick."

  "Sick?" Randy was the first to speak up. He and the others had been stunned speechless by Jake's appearance in Banner's house. Three pairs of eyes looked at him suspiciously.

  "I had to fetch Doc Hewitt from town. Her appendix was about to burst. He did surgery on her and took it out."

  "The hell you say," Peter murmured in awe, glancing back at the house. "And her folks didn't even know?"

  "There wasn't any way to notify them without finding a place to cross the river and I was afraid to leave her alone that long." He shook his head, evoking their sympathy. "She's been poorly. I can't tell you how bad. I thought we were going to lose her."

  The three cowboys were chagrined. They had thought the worst when Jake came out of Banner's house, but here he was telling them that were it not for his care, she would have died. Properly subdued, Pete asked, "Is there anything we can do for her?"

  "Nope. Just get this place back in shape after the rain. Have you ever seen such a wet June? I haven't."

  He directed them into a conversation about the uncanny flooding. "How'd you get across the river?" he asked.

  "We've been working on a raft and finished it last night. Ain't much of one," Pete said, spitting tobacco juice into the mud in the yard. "But it's enough to get a man and horse across. Ross is coming over later."

  "Yeah?" Jake's reply was studiously casual, but his heart jumped fearfully. "Well, I'd better get inside and check on Banner. If one of you will see to Stormy and saddle him for me, I'd be much obliged. We'll ride out and inspect the fences, make sure there wasn't any damage done." He grinned winningly now. ''You ought to see the herd, prettiest cows and the randiest bull you ever saw."

  Randy whooped. "Where are they?"

  "In town. We'll drive them home tomorrow. Let's give the ground one more day to dry out."

  Having received their instructions, the cowboys made for the barn. Jake went back into the house to find Banner hovering near her bedroom door. Her hair was still wild, but he was relieved to see she had put on a robe. Even with sleep-puffy eyes, she looked sexy as all get out and tempting as hell and he resented that he'd risked his job and his life by spending the night holding her in his arms.

  "How do you feel?" he asked brusquely. Beyond her sexiness, she looked as innocent as a babe. He felt as loathsome as a pervert who molested children. And no doubt that's what Ross would think of him.

  "Fine."

  "You sure?" For once he had exercised sound judgment. Last night he could have had her, but he didn't. But maybe if he had, his body wouldn t be putting him through hell right now. His uncontrollable arousal made him angry with her and more so with himself.

  "Yes, I'm sure. Jake, what's wrong1?"

  Banner stubbornly refused to let him see the threatening tears in her eyes. Her throat was hurting with the effort to keep them back. She had expected him to be as gentle, tender, and loving this morning as he had been last night. Instead he was scowling angrily. She was too well acquainted with the closed, hard expression on his face not to dread it.

  "Nothing's wrong. But Ross is on his way." He shoved his feet into his boots. Banner watched mutely as he pulled on his socks, buttoned his shirt, tucked it in, slipped into his leather vest, and tied a bandana around his neck.

  "Papa?" she asked on a high note.

  "Yes, Papa. Now for godsakes go put on a nightgown and get back into bed." If he was going to sell Ross on how infirm she had been, then by God she needed to look infirm!

  He stamped into the kitchen and made an unnecessary amount of noise brewing a pot of coffee and preparing a breakfast of oatmeal for Banner. When he carried it into her, he noticed his shaving things spread out on her vanity. "Damn!" He swept them against his chest and carried them into the parlor. He dumped them on top of his other belongings, hoping to convince Ross that they had been living close, but separately.

  During all his comings and goings in the bedroom, Banner wouldn't look at him. She avoided his eyes, wouldn't even glance in his direction as she ate her oatmeal in sullen silence. No doubt she was feeling ashamed, sorry that she had ever invited him to share her bed.

  After making certain no traces of him remained in the feminine room, he stalked out and went into the kitchen. There he stayed, even when he saw Ross ride up.

  "Banner? " His bass voice thundered through the house, reminding Jake of God's Old Testament brand of wrath.

  "In here, Papa," Jake heard her answer weakly.

  "Still in bed, you lazybones?" That's all Jake heard after his ears tracked Ross's booted footsteps across the parlor toward the bedroom.

  He remained in the kitchen and sipped his coffee. When he was finished, he set the cup on the drainboard and, garnering all his courage, went toward the bedroom.

  "I don't remember much after that," Banner was saying when he entered the room.

  Ross was sitting in the chair beside the bed, which Jake had frequented of late, leaning forward, his eyes on his daughter's face. He had clasped both her hands between his. His dark brows were lowered into a stern frown.

  "The next thing I knew," Banner continued, "I was waking up, and Jake"—her eyes flitted to where he stood framed in the doorway—"told me the doctor had done surgery to remove my appendix. He's been taking care of me all this time."

  Ross turned his head in the direction of Banner's gaze and saw Jake. He came to his feet and walked forward. When he was but a few feet from the younger man, he raised his arms. It took a conscious effort on Jake's part not to flinch.

  But Ross merely laid his hands on Jake's shoulders and said a heartfelt, "Thank you."

  Jake only shrugged. "Don't thank me yet, Ross. I might have caused you some trouble. That damn quack was going to let her die, said he didn't believe in violating the abdomen. I pulled a gun on him and threatened to kill him if he didn't do surgery on her."

  Ross's mouth thinned beneath the brush of his mustache. "I would have done the same thing."

  Jake nodded. "I thought you would."

  "We've been trying to drum Hewitt out of town for a long time. There's a new doctor—"

  "Yeah, but he was out of town. I had no choice."

  "Don't fret about it. I'll take care of Dr. Hewitt if he raises a fuss."

  Ro
ss turned back toward the bed. "Lordy, Princess, I can't believe you have suffered through this without your mother and me to take care of you. Lydia wilk have a conniption fit when she finds out about it. She wanted to come over and see you this morning. But as you well know, she's terrified of water and wouldn't think of crossing the river on a raft."

  Clancey Russell, Lydia's stepbrother, had given her her fear of water. He had knocked her into a river when she was only a girl and terrorized her by almost letting her drown before he pulled her out. Ross had wished for twenty years that he had been the one to kill Russell. He hoped before he died to find out who Clancey's killer had been so he could thank him.

  "Jake took very good care of me," Banner said quietly.

  Ross faced Jake. "I'm grateful, Jake. You saved Banner's life."

  Jake shrugged indifferently again and pushed himself away from the door frame. "Ross, we go back a long way. If we start thanking each other for favors rendered, we'll be here all day. I've got to see to the business of ranching."

  Assuming correctly that Banner would be taken care of, he left, pausing first in the parlor to collect the rest of his cowboy paraphernalia, a lasso, a pair of leather gloves, his chaps, spurs, and his hat.

  Banner heard the front door close behind him. He hadn't even looked at her before he left, hadn't said goodbye, waved, nothing. Was he so glad to be rid of the responsibility of nursing her? Had everything he told her last night been a lie? Or had Ross's appearance reminded Jake of the woman across the river, the one he really loved? Her tears wouldn't be held back any longer. They collected in the comers of her eyes and her father saw them.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and hugged her. "My little Princess. Are you still in pain?"

  She was, but not of the sort Ross could imagine. She cuddled within the safe arbor of his arms and buried her nose in the hollow of his shoulder. "I'm all right, Papa. I'm just awfully glad to see you. I've missed you all so much. Tell me what's been happening at River Bend."

  Ross sat with her for the better part of the morning, fetching and carrying, creating an atmosphere anything but restful and making her nervous with his awkwardness. He wasn't an ideal nurse, but his efforts to help her were endearing.

  At noon he left her to nap and returned to River Bend. When Lydia and Ma were informed of what had happened, they whirled about like two busy tornadoes. Before the afternoon was out, Micah and Lee were packed down with food and commissioned not to drop it into the river as they crossed it.

  Despite her terror of water Lydia wanted to go to Banner, but was convinced by both Ross and Ma that the raft wasn't a safe means of crossing and that to avoid another catastrophe in the family, she was better off staying at home. Ross assured her repeatedly that Jake was giving their daughter good care.

  As soon as he saw the boys safely across the river, Ross rode into Larsen. He consulted with engineers about building a new bridge, this time with steel supports. He wanted to get it underway as soon as possible.

  Afraid he would finish what Jake had started with Dr. Hewitt if he met the man face to face, he left payment for Banner's treatment in the 'doctor's mailbox.

  * * *

  Banner was brushing her hair when Lee tapped on her bedroom door. "Banner?" he called softly.

  Immediately she pulled open the door and he nearly fell inside. "I thought you were sick in bed," he said crossly when she and Micah burst out laughing.

  "I am, or rather I was. But I'm better. It's good to see you."

  "Did that ol' sawbones really cut you open?" Micah asked indelicately.

  "He really did. Or so Jake tells me. I have the scar to prove it. Wanna see?" she taunted.

  Both young men, knowing the approximate location of one's appendix, flushed to the roots of their hair, and Banner laughed again.

  "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Lee asked.

  "I'm tired of this room!" she cried in frustration.

  She had put on a peach-colored silk dressing gown that had been part of her trousseau. Ecru lace lined the deep V in the front and hung over her wrists from bell sleeves. She had brushed her hair until it shone like the wings of a raven and pinched some color into her pallid cheeks.

  "I don't reckon it would hurt if you sat out on the porch for a spell," Micah said. He glanced toward Lee for his opinion and only got a bobbing head as agreement. "We could move that rocker in the parlor out there. If you sit in the shade it wouldn't be so hot."

  Banner's eyes lit up. "That would be wonderful."

  Their solicitousness was extreme and comical, and before long aggravating and patience-taxing. "Will you get that quilt off my lap," Banner said irritably, shoving it away even as Lee tried to tuck it around her knees. "I don't have rheumatism."

  "If we don't go back and tell Lydia and Ma we treated you like a queen, we'll catch hell," Lee said defensively. But at Banner's fulminating look, he folded the quilt over the porch railing.

  "Your concern is duly noted. And I do appreciate it," she said, softening considerably. "Forgive me if I'm testy. It's just that I've been cooped up in the house for so long. I'm tired of being an invalid."

  "We understand," Micah said sympathetically. He had never known anybody who had had surgery beyond a pulled tooth or an extracted bullet. He looked at Banner with new respect.

  "Thank you for bringing all the food. I don't know how I'll eat it all."

  "It's for Jake, too."

  "Yes, Jake." Her heart tore in two at the thought of the indifference he had shown toward her that morning.

  "Speaking of food, it's getting close to suppertime," Lee said.

  "It sure is." Banner smiled up at them again. "I'd feel better if you cross the river on that raft I've heard so much about while it's still daylight. I just hope Papa doesn't rebuild the bridge before I have a chance to ride the raft!"

  The boys were laughing as they rode away. They could report to the folks at River Bend that Banner might have suffered an ordeal, but she was her old feisty self again, wanting to cross the river on a raft.

  She was still sitting on the porch in the rocker when Jake and his three hired hands rode into the yard and reined in their mounts at the edge of the porch.

  "What are you doing out here?" he asked without preamble.

  "Getting some fresh air," she snapped.

  Jake was vexed that she was sitting in plain sight of the other three men wearing a dressing gown that would turn the stoutest man's heart to mush. She looked so damned feminine, touchable, with her skin glowing from the warmth of the sun and a breeze lifting her hair around her face. The sinking western sun formed a halo around her.

  The men spoke to her respectfully and inquired how she was feeling. Randy, typically bolder, slid from his saddle and stepped onto the porch carrying a bouquet of roses in his gloved hand.

  "I'm glad you're out here, Banner. These roses were brave enough to poke their heads out today after all that rain. I was going to ask Jake to give them to you. Now I can give them to you myself."

  Delighted, Banner reached for the flowers. She carried them to her nose and sniffed daintily. "Thank you, Randy. They're beautiful." She blessed him with a dazzling smile so potent he stumbled on his backward desent down the steps. Jake ground his jaws together.

  Banner knew damn good and well that she looked as pretty as a picture sitting there, swathed in lace and bathed in sunlight. She had done it on purpose to drive him crazy, and she was playing the scene to the hilt, looking as vulnerable, helpless, and frail as those damned roses that he should have picked for her himself.

  "We've got a busy day tomorrow. Meet me here at dawn. We'll ride into Larsen and herd the cattle back." That was a foreman's dismissal and the three cowboys recognized it as such. They doffed their hats to Banner and rode off, the hooves of their horses tossing up clods of drying mud.

  Jake dismounted. Banner stood up. For the first time that day, they looked each other straight in the eye.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked at last
.

  "Better. Much stronger."

  "Is your incision bothering you?"

  She shook her head and turned toward the door. "I'll get supper on the table while you wash up."

  "You don't have to, Banner."

  She whirled on him angrily. "Our mothers sent over enough food to feed an army. You might as well eat." With that ungraciously extended invitation, she went in, slamming the front door behind her.

  Jake entered the kitchen by the back door a while later, having taken care of Stormy, and washed. The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick with hostility. Banner glanced at him when he came in, but didn't speak. He glared at the roses which had been placed in a vase and given a position of prominence in the center of the table.

  He had spent so much time in the kitchen recently, cooking for her, he was at home in it. He went to the stove and pouted himself a cup of coffee. Bracing his hips against the dry sink, he sipped it. "We didn't find any permanent damage from the storm, though the ground will be soggy for a while in the shady spots."

  "You're bringing the herd there tomorrow?"

  "Yeah, but the horses will have to stay at River Bend until the new bridge is built."

  "Well," she said, sighing, "I can't ride for a while anyway."

  "You weren't kidding about all the food," he observed. There were several napkin-lined baskets scattered around the kitchen.

  "We're having tried chicken tonight. Ma plucked it fresh this morning, Micah said. By the way, she asked about you. I sent her your regards and told Micah to tell her you were fine."

  There was a question in her eyes as she looked at him. He only nodded and took another sip of coffee. She turned back to the chore of getting food on the table.

  The baskets contained jars of preserved vegetables and fruit, a ham, a crock of pinto beans, pickles and jellies, several loaves of bread, a pound cake, and teacakes sprinkled with sugar the way Banner liked them. She had already sampled them and they had melted on her tongue like butter. Only Ma could bake them like that. But her pleasure in the mouthwatering food was diminished by Jake's reticence.

  From beneath her lashes, she studied him. He hadn't taken off his chaps. They disturbed her. The chamois flopped against the outsides of his legs when he walked, but where they buckled onto his lean hips, they tft with disturbing accuracy. The opening framed his sex, called attention to it, emphasized the bulging fly of his pants. Thinking back to the way he had held her close the night before made her stomach feel weightless when she looked at that spot.