by Anita Mills
"I haven't been honest with her, you know," he went on. "I'd about as soon take my chances in a nest of rattlesnakes than go up there looking for that kid, knowing she's going to be disappointed. It'd be easier to strike gold in California than to find a little girl that's been with 'em this long. But I've got to try, anyway, 'cause that's why she's married me. Hell, maybe I am a fool."
He lingered in the barn until he felt sure enough of himself to go back to the house. He didn't want her to catch him panting after her like a dog waiting for a bitch in heat. He wanted more than that, anyway. He wanted her respect, he told himself. But in his heart, what he really wanted most was for her to love him. If he could have rolled back time and started over, he'd have wanted to be Ethan Bryce before the damned Comanches came.
It was dark, and the air was unusually heavy when he came outside. He took a deep breath, smelling the wood-smoke coming from the chimney, the scent of damp dust that came before a rain. Unless it blew on over, a storm would be moving in before morning. Even as he looked up, he could see the faint flashes of heat lightning along the horizon. The rain probably wouldn't amount to much, he decided. Just enough to settle the dust.
He stopped at the well and pulled the sealed crock up from the cool water, then carried it inside. The smell of frying bacon and baking cornbread greeted him at the door, welcoming him. This was the way a man was meant to live, and tonight he wanted to savor it.
But once inside, once he saw her standing at the cookstove, her hair clinging damply to her temples and her neck, it started all over for him. There was something about knowing she was his wife that made it hard to remember he wasn't supposed to touch her. Not yet, anyway. She needed time.
"It's about ready," she said over her shoulder. "I thought you'd gotten lost outside."
"I was just checking on things, figuring what I needed to do to get ready before we leave," he told her. "Anything I can do?"
"No. I've already set out the plates. I don't guess you saw Spider out there, did you?"
"No. No sign of him."
"I'm afraid he's lost," she said, sighing. "I don't want to go off and leave him out there."
"I'll look around again after I eat," he promised.
If he'd been asked what dinner tasted like later, he'd have had no answer. Trying not to look at her, he wolfed it down, then grabbed the lantern.
"If I'm not in right away, you don't need to wait up for me. You've had a long day."
"And you haven't?"
"I'm used to it. Anything you do to call him up?"
"Just kitty, kitty, kitty—at the top of my lungs."
"Okay." He hesitated at the door. "Look, don't worry about tonight. I was figuring on sleeping in the other bedroom, anyway."
"Yes."
"I've got no ideas," he lied.
"I know. You're a good man, Hap, better than I have any right to expect."
"Don't say that," he said sharply. "It's not your fault."
"You deserve better."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Annie—nothing that time won't take care of, anyway."
Bolting for the door with the lantern, he let himself outside. He held it in front of him as he walked the perimeter of the yard, calling, "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" until he felt like a damned fool. Every now and then he stopped to listen, hearing nothing besides the lonely howl of a distant coyote. The heat lightning still flickered too far away to even hear any thunder. "Kitty! Kitty!" Damn, where could the stupid little thing be? "Kitty! Come here, cat!"
The irony of what he was doing wasn't lost on him. Here he was, a bridegroom for the first time in his life, and he was spending his time walking around in a pitch-dark night on rattlesnake-infested land, looking for a damned black cat. He was just glad there wasn't anybody around to see him. Leaves rustled in the cottonwood tree by Ethan Bryce's grave. Holding the lantern higher, Hap looked up. A big owl blinked back at him.
At least maybe she'd be in bed by the time he went inside. Maybe he wouldn't have to look at her, thinking how much he'd like to be undressing her, how much he'd like to be exploring that pale, pretty skin of hers. The desire that washed over him left him spitting cotton. He found his way to the pump by the well and worked the creaking handle vigorously, then stuck his whole head under it, trying to drown the heat that was overwhelming him.
Her light was still on. Damn it. Why couldn't she just go on to bed? As he watched, she came to the window, opening it to let in the soft breeze. Her white cotton gown billowed around her. Instead of moving away, she lifted her arms and fanned the gown to cool her body. Then she picked up a hairbrush and stood there, brushing her hair with the light of a kerosene lamp behind her.
"Kitty!" he shouted angrily. "Spider, where the devil are you? Kitty!"
Annie heard him and leaned into the window. "If somebody called me like that, Hap, I'd run," she chided him.
"Yeah, well, he wasn't coming the other way either," he muttered.
"You can't see anything out there, can you?"
"Not much."
"I guess if nothing's got him, he'll turn up in the morning. I'll come out and look for him then," she decided. "You need your sleep, too."
"Are you ever going to bed?"
"Yes."
"Then do it."
She was taken aback by the tone of his voice. "All right. I was just brushing all the tangles out."
"I'd say you've about got 'em. Look, I don't want to come in until you've got your door closed, all right? I'm a man, Annie, not a saint."
Her eyes widened, then she backed out of the window. "I'll close it now."
It wasn't really what he wanted to hear, but he'd made his deal with her and he intended to keep his word. Going back around to the door, he let himself in. Her light was out now, leaving the house in total darkness except for the lantern. Lighting his way to the other bedroom, he put it on the little table, then sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.
She probably thinks you're the biggest fool on earth, Hap Walker, his voice told him. You'll burn a long time before she looks at you like you want her to.
Still clothed in the black pants and the now wet collarless white shirt, he lay down, staring up at the fantastic pattern the flickering lantern flame made on the ceiling. He was a patient man when it came to tracking Indians and outlaws, he reminded himself. He had to keep that same patience if he wanted to win her.
Finally, still wide awake, he got up and found his tablet. Carrying it back to bed with him, he pulled the lantern closer, wet his pencil, and began to write. At the rate he'd started, he'd have his whole life told in twenty pages, he decided. But maybe once he had the main things down, he'd go back and fill it in with stories a boy'd like. Things such as what it had been like on the farm where he grew up. Things like what it was really like to spend half a lifetime in a saddle.
It sounded like a rifle crack in the room with him. Hap sat bolt upright in bed as lightning lit the sky outside. The wind screamed, forcing the window curtain straight out into the room. His first thought was a Texas twister was coming through. He made a jump for the window, closing it just as a wall of water hit.
The wind roared like a steam engine, and the house shook. Above, the roof groaned. Groping his way in the dark, he made his way to Annie's room.
"I think it's a twister!" he shouted, reaching for her. "Get under the damned bed!" As his hand closed over her arm, she fought back, screaming. "For God's sake, Annie, it's me, Hap!"
He managed to drag her from the bed, and he rolled underneath it, taking her with him, pinning her down with his leg. She went limp then and lay, passive and quivering, under his weight. Something crashed outside the window, and for a moment he thought the house was going. Throwing his body over hers, he shielded her head with his hands.
It was over within minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. The wind receded, leaving an eerie, silent calm. "Just wait," he whispered. "There may be more."
"No," she moaned, turning her
head. "No, please."
"It's all right, Annie." His hands smoothed her hair. Her face was wet. "Shhhh." Easing off her, he drew her into his arms and brushed his lips over her eyes. He could taste the salt of tears. "I'll take care of you, I swear it," he murmured against her cheek. "You're my wife, Annie— you're a Walker now. You don't have to think about the other, ever."
He kept speaking softly, his lips moving over her face, tracing gentle, passionless kisses from her nose to her jaw to her ears. Gradually, she relaxed against him, and his arms closed around her, holding her close to his body.
"I think it's over," he said finally.
"Yes," she agreed in a childlike voice.
He eased away reluctantly and rolled from beneath the big bed. "Well, since you're all right, I guess I'll have a look outside, then go back to my room. Morning's going to come damned early." Standing up, he leaned down to lend her a hand. "Come on."
It was so dark in the room that he could barely see the white nightgown. She stood there for a moment, not moving, then he heard her say, "Don't go—please."
"God, Annie," he groaned. "Sweetheart, you don't know what you're asking."
"I just want you to hold me. I just want to be held."
He sucked in his breath, held it for several seconds, then let it out. "All right. But don't you want to know if the place is still standing?"
"I don't care, Hap. I don't want you to leave me."
He couldn't say anything. Instead, he felt for the bed and eased his body onto it, rolling to the other side to make room for her. Using his fist, he pounded a place for his head in the feather pillow. When he looked back, all he could see was the shadowy form of the nightgown as she climbed in beside him. Resigned to a long night, he turned on his side and reached for her. She burrowed against him. He could feel the swell of her breasts pressing into his chest.
"Is this all right?" he asked hoarsely. "Are you sure you can sleep like this?"
"No. I don't want to sleep, Hap. I don't want to dream."
"Then I guess I don't, either," he managed.
His arms were so strong, so secure, his body so warm, that she wanted to stay there forever. The storm was over, the wind blowing across the room cool now. She lay there listening to his heartbeat, thinking he had to be the kindest man on earth. And she knew she'd cheated him.
"I wish I were different," she whispered. "I really wish it was just you and me, and I could begin my life again."
"You can, Annie." His hand smoothed her hair over her shoulder. "Let me make it happen for you." Even as he said the words, the ache in his breast was nearly unbearable. "Let me be a husband to you, Annie."
She swallowed. "I don't think I can, Hap. I'm afraid I can't—I—"
"You're the bravest woman I ever met," he murmured into her hair. "Let me show you, Annie. Let me show you it can be good again."
His hand slid from her hair down her back, stroking the soft cotton where it clung to her rounded hip. He was so aware of her that his blood pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out thought. She was as still as stone within his arms.
"I want you, Annie, but as God is my witness, all you've got to say is stop."
"I can't," she responded brokenly. "I can't say it."
His hand kept moving over her back and hip, caressing her body as his mind fought to master his. Ever so slowly she began to relax, giving him hope. He eased his body lower in the bed, until he could feel her breath on his face. As he pressed his lips against her wet cheeks, he felt he would burst. His arms tightened around her shoulders, and his mouth sought hers, tentatively at first, then eagerly, and by some miracle she was clinging to him, kissing him back.
He'd meant to be tender, cautious even, but he forgot everything beyond the heat in his blood, the feel of her warm body. And he wanted to know all of it. His eager hands gathered the cloth at her hips, working it up, baring her legs, her thighs, until he could touch skin that felt almost as hot as his.
It had been a long time since she'd been held like this, since she'd felt a man's strong hands on her body. Pretending he was Ethan, she responded with an eagerness nearly as great as his. His hot mouth was pressing impassioned kisses from her ear to the sensitive hollow of her neck, while his hands moved over her hips, molding her body to his. Her fingers kneaded his shirt, moving the length of his hard, muscular back to the waist of his pants.
If she'd screamed, "Stop!" at that moment, he wouldn't have heard her. He slipped his hand between her thighs, found the wet softness there, and forgot everything but the pounding in his loins, the incredible heat of his desire. With his other hand he fumbled with the buttons in front of his pants, freeing himself, worked them downward, and all but tore them off. Then he parted her legs with his knee and rolled over her.
She panicked, and her whole body stiffened as he pinned her beneath his weight. Her cry of "No!" was muffled by his mouth as he took possession of her body. Images of Two Trees flashed through her mind, sending a wave of nausea through her.
But he wasn't Two Trees. And as much as he wanted all of her, he felt the change in her body. Willing himself to stop, he lay still within her as he sought to calm her.
"It's just me, Annie, and I love you," he said softly. "God, how I want you, Annie. More than anything."
At the sound of his voice, she was in her featherbed again, and he was her husband. Her arms came up to twine around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. "Love me, Hap," she whispered. "Make me whole again."
He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the quickening of her passion, until he knew he could wait no longer. Grasping her hips, he rode, straining against her bucking body, losing himself in what he did to her. Panting like an animal, he could hear himself cry out. He could feel the pulsing release carry him to ecstasy, and then he was floating back to earth, cradled within her body.
She lay so still beneath him that he was afraid he'd hurt her. Resting his weight on his elbows, he tried to see her face in the darkness. And the tenderness he felt was overwhelming.
"Are you all right, Annie?" he asked anxiously, terrified of the answer.
"Yes." Her hand came up to stroke his jaw, to rest against his cheek. "I'm all right."
"It was too quick, wasn't it?"
"No," she lied. "It was just right."
Rolling off her, he pulled her close and rubbed his chin against her tangled hair. His heart still pounded, and his breath still came in quick, short gasps, but he felt unbelievably good. "No, it was too quick, but I couldn't help it," he said again. "It's been a long time since I've had a woman, Annie. A real long time. But I want you to know I never had anything like this. Never." His hand twined in her hair, pressing her head against his chest. "I'm real glad I found you, Annie."
She felt safe within his embrace, as though as long as he held her there'd be no nightmares. And her throat ached with the overwhelming gratitude she felt.
"I'm glad, too," she managed to whisper.
With the cool breeze blowing across their bodies, he lay there, holding her, savoring the feel of the woman he'd married, feeling incredibly lucky. But like the wedding itself, he knew he'd not done it right, that he'd not really satisfied her. And he didn't want her to have any regrets come morning. His hand moved lower, sliding over her hip, stroking it almost absently.
"You know what I'd like to do, Mrs. Walker?" he asked softly. "I'd like to take off the rest of my clothes, get you out of that nightgown, and love you again. I reckon this time I could do a whole lot better by you."
In the darkness he couldn't see her smile, but there was no mistaking the way she ran her fingers through his thick, wavy hair, or the way she parted her lips beneath his. And he didn't care about tomorrow or any day after. They were the only two people in the world tonight.
CHAPTER 21
He came awake slowly, at first only dimly aware of the tickle in his ear, then of the hair in his face. He opened his eyes into a mass of black fur. As he reached to move it, he frightened the c
reature, and it sank its claws firmly into his head. Afraid it would go for his eyes, Hap groped for his wife's shoulder. "The cat's come home," he mumbled sleepily. "Spider?" She rolled over, saw his predicament, and giggled. "You've got a cat hat, Hap. You look like Davy Crockett."
"Ouch! You little devil!" Catching the half-grown kitten with one hand, he tried to disengage its claws with the other. Lifting it free, he looked up into a pair of round orange eyes. "Damnedest cat I ever saw," he muttered. It stared at him for a moment, then began to wriggle, struggling to get loose. "Not half-friendly, are you?"
Opening its mouth, it gave him a full view of fangs, snarling at him. "Damned if you don't think you're a panther," he decided, grinning up at it. "Spider, eh?"
Leaning to retrieve a small ball of yarn from the knitting basket beside the bed, Annie held it up for the kitten to see, and tossed it across the room. Spider gave a half twist, then escaped from Hap's hands to scamper after it. Annie lay back watching him.
"It won't take long before he's got it undone and hanging from half the things in this room," she murmured. "Then you'll understand."
But Hap wasn't looking at the cat anymore. Seeing her bare shoulder above the covers sent a fresh wave of desire washing over him, nearly robbing him of breath. And he wanted to explore every inch of her body, to feel her beneath him, yielding her softness, coming alive with passion, slaking his need of her.
"See? There he goes," she said, turning to Hap. Her smile froze, and her eyes gave him a glimpse of sudden fear. Unconsciously, she pulled the sheet up. "Oh."
She had to be thinking he was an animal after the way he'd had her twice last night. Willing the heat from his body, he sat up, his naked back to her, shielding his rigid manhood from her sight.
"If you were to close your eyes, I'd get up," he said finally.
"Hap—"
"No, it's all right. I reckon we've got a long day ahead of us, anyway. So while I'm out in the privy, maybe you can get dressed and make the coffee. I think there's enough tinder in the box to get the stove going again."