by Jodi Thomas
“Any man?” Sloan turned toward her.
Damn! he almost screamed aloud as she shrugged again. Why couldn’t she say him? Hell, he’d hold her all night again if she’d just say the word. But she didn’t. Her slight movement had said it all. She wanted to try something and any man would do.
Sloan felt his heart tighten, hardening against the world until he could feel nothing. If he had any sense, he’d hold her and give the lady what she wanted; but somewhere through the years, all the sense must have been beaten out of him. He didn’t want to touch a woman who wanted any man. He wanted someone who wanted him, just him, with all his past and nightmares and scars.
He moved a few inches away. “Maybe if you walk back to the hidetown, May won’t have made it to all the brothers tonight. I’m sure they’ll hold you if that’s all you want and any man’s arms will do.”
Anger fired, battling embarrassment, McCall raised her hand and struck his cheek before Sloan had time to move.
He reached for her, but she was gone, storming back to her bedroll with enough rage to keep the camp warm for the rest of the night.
Sloan leaned against the wagon and swore to himself. He must be losing his mind to have passed up such an opportunity. He slammed his head against the wagon and swore again. Why couldn’t he have settled for being the “just any man” she wanted to hold her?
“Not too bright, are you, son?” Alyce Wren giggled as she poked her face out of the wagon. “I’ve seen crickets in the flour with more wisdom than you.”
Sloan glanced at her, hoping she’d take his stern stare as a hint.
“That girl needs a lover, son, and you don’t seem to be measuring up to the task.” Alyce Wren looked into the night and smiled. “I could give you a few pointers if you like. This trip isn’t going to last forever, and you’re not making much progress. What you know about women won’t hold a raindrop and what you don’t know may drown us all.”
Sloan frowned at her. The old woman was crazy, but she must see that what she was talking about was far left of proper. She might be an old friend of the family, but that didn’t give her the right to pick a lover for McCall and then pester him into considering taking action.
The old woman didn’t notice his silence. She climbed out of her sleeping quarters and sat down on the wagon bench just above him as if she’d been invited. “I heard tell once of a coyote that fell in love with a little red fox. He followed that critter everywhere, but every time he got close, the fox darted away. Finally one day the fox was swimming the river and the coyote jumped in the water at her side. That fox didn’t want to swim nearer to the coyote, even though she had to if she was going to get ashore. The coyote didn’t want the fox going ashore, ’cause she’d just outrun him again. In the water she wasn’t any faster than he. So they both swam on and on until finally they drowned together.”
Sloan lifted his hat from the brake handle and put it on, even though there was no reason to. “Is there a point to this story?”
“Sure,” Alyce snorted. “Don’t fall in love with a red fox unless you’re a real good swimmer.”
Thirteen
FOR THE NEXT three days McCall pushed the small band as hard as she could across the open country. At first she was angry at Sloan for turning her down when all she’d asked for was a hug; then finally she twisted her anger within, knowing that she’d been a fool. She’d always felt she hadn’t been good enough to be Holden Harrison’s wife. He’d taken several opportunities over the years to patiently point out her shortcomings in little lectures. She should have listened more closely, for something was very wrong with her.
“Morning,” Sloan startled her as he passed. “You’re up early.”
McCall turned from the sunrise and faced him. It was the first word he’d said to her in three days that hadn’t been absolutely necessary.
“Morning,” she echoed. He smelled of soap and she guessed he’d just shaved. His hair was slightly damp and he’d combed it back.
He shifted his stance, as if nervous. “I thought I’d ride out early and scout ahead. Why don’t you let everyone sleep another hour, then take their time with breakfast? We’ve been moving these children pretty hard the past few days.”
“All right,” she answered, and noticed he looked surprised, as though he’d expected an argument. “I could use the time to wash a few things.”
He tipped his hat slightly and swung into the saddle. Without another word, he rode off. McCall watched him go, wondering what it was about this man that drew her. Or maybe what it was about her that made her always pull away.
By midafternoon, when Sloan hadn’t returned, McCall decided he had abandoned them. She couldn’t blame him; she’d done everything wrong, including shooting at him. As the hours passed, she waited, hoping she was wrong.
At sunset, Alyce Wren stood beside her, watching the horizon where Sloan had disappeared. “He’ll be back,” she whispered. “I feel it.”
“I don’t know.” McCall fought down any emotion from her voice. “Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he met up with others and decided to leave us behind. Not all men honor a bargain made. You talk about him as if he were a knight, but he was just a drifter, nothing more.”
“He’ll come back,” Alyce whispered. “Not because of a bargain or honor, but because of you. He’d die for you, child.”
McCall looked at the old woman. “You’re wrong. I mean nothing to him.”
“You’re blind, my McCallie, if you can’t see the hunger he has for you in his eyes. A hunger so deep it will take him a lifetime to get his fill. Some men look at women and see someone they’d like to step out with, or have children with, or grow old with. He looks at you as though he knows he’ll be buried next to you.”
“You mean buried by,” McCall corrected.
“No.” Alyce shook her head. “I mean next to.”
McCall didn’t argue, though she knew Alyce had to be wrong. She remembered her husband saying once that he’d like to be buried next to his best friend, her father. She’d agreed to do so if something happened without realizing that he’d fill the last space in the row, allowing no space for her to be with her parents or beside him.
A movement on the horizon drew her attention. A man walked beside a horse, fading in and out of the cloudy night’s shadows.
For a few minutes McCall couldn’t figure out who it was, then she recognized Sloan’s lean form. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion and it seemed to take great effort for him to keep moving.
She broke into a run and was within twenty feet of him before she noticed the figure on the horse behind him. She walked the last few feet, seeing Sloan straighten, hiding his tiredness when he heard her approach.
“Evening, General.” Sloan looped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her hard against his side. “You miss me today?” He leaned on her as though needing her support.
His body seemed cold and the smell of blood and dirt filled her senses. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “But I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for this little lady.”
McCall looked behind him to the person on the horse. “Eppie!” she cried and ran to the woman’s side. The odor of dirt and blood was more potent. The two smelled like they’d been rolled in blood and battered with mud.
Eppie slid from the saddle, barely able to stand. “Evenin’, lady,” she whispered. “I thought I’d come stay a while, if you’re up to company.”
Before McCall could answer, the short woman began melting to the ground as if she were made of wax and the sun had grown too warm.
“What happened?” McCall asked as Sloan handed her the reins and lifted Eppie into his arms. Even in the darkness, McCall could tell the woman was hurt.
“I found her a few hours after I left,” he said as he moved toward the wagons. “She’s mostly just bruised, but she’s got a few cuts that need tending. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I’m afraid I’m not much of a doctor.”
He carried he
r into the camp and gently laid her down where the light of the campfire was brightest. McCall wanted to hear the whole story, but Eppie needed care first. While Winter helped Sloan take care of his horse, Alyce Wren bathed and doctored the tiny woman. For once Eppie was silent, allowing them to do whatever needed doing without protest.
Three wounds on her legs and one on her arm needed bandaging. Alyce doctored while McCall wrapped. Just having the wounds covered seemed to make Eppie stronger. She managed to sit up while Alyce tried to get a comb through her matted hair.
McCall stepped behind the wagon where Sloan was washing up. She stood beside the basin, silently handing him first a towel then his clean shirt.
When he took the shirt, his fingers covered hers. “Thanks for washing this,” he whispered. “But you didn’t have to.”
“I was worried about you,” she answered, not wanting to talk about the laundry when other things were more important. “I thought you’d left us.” She could feel the warmth of his hand covering hers. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
The pressure of his fingers on hers increased slightly. She wanted to take the step toward him and fold into his arms but wasn’t sure he was offering an invitation. She refused to show a need when she knew men saw need as weakness.
“If I ever don’t come back,” he whispered as he took the shirt from her, “look for my body.” His voice trailed off as though he’d only just become aware of how true his words were.
“I’ll remember that,” McCall turned away and moved back to the fire, forcing back tears. There seemed to be a thousand words that needed to be said between them and no time or privacy to say anything. First must come the children and Alyce and now Eppie.
McCall poured a cup of soup they’d made from potatoes and sat down beside their tiny guest.
With her arm in a sling and one leg bandaged past her knee, she accepted her second cupful of soup. McCall sat on one side of her and Sloan on the other as she began to talk.
“It was the morning after you left,” she said between bites. “My Moses and his brother Adam decided to take a load of hides back to the fort. I figured they’d only be gone four or five days, and by then the rest of us could have finished up and gotten ready to move camp. So I didn’t tag along with him like I usually do.
“They hadn’t been gone an hour when Indians hit us. Apache, I think, maybe Cheyenne. The funny thing was I could swear there was a white man or two with them. The brothers ran them off, and me and May ran into the tall grass to hide. About the time I decided it had been quiet long enough and was safe to go back, a brave rode out of nowhere through the grass and picked me up like I was nothing more important than a sack of flour. I screamed and looked back, but May didn’t try to help me or yell or nothing. She just watched.” Eppie wiped a tear from her cheek. “I thought I was never going to see my Moses again so I fought like crazy. But he wouldn’t turn loose of me. About then another one caught May, still standing there with her mouth open watching me. She looked like a wide-mouth bass waiting for the hook.”
Winter moved closer. “Were the men Apache?”
Eppie looked at the boy. “I thought so at first, but they weren’t like the others and they didn’t try to hurt me or May. They just wanted to take us back to their camp. But I can tell you I was mighty disagreeable as company. May wasn’t so choosy. By the time we made it to camp she was riding behind the man who caught her, holding on to him like he was her long-lost kin. I lost track of them after a time.
“The one who caught me carried me to a canyon where a whole bunch of them were camped and dumped me on the ground so hard I hurt my arm. I figured they were going to kill me, but all they did was talk to me in words I couldn’t understand and keep pulling on this necklace Winter gave me. One woman about fifty came up to me and grabbed the pouch and started screaming at me like I’d done something terrible.”
“Maybe they recognized the pouch as Winter’s,” McCall volunteered.
“Or maybe they thought you’d taken the pouch from my mother. She has one just like it,” Winter whispered. “You could have been with some of my people. They wouldn’t have hurt you none. Not my people.”
“Well, they weren’t too friendly, boy. After dark, they tied me to a pole and didn’t bother to feed me. It took me until almost dawn to work free, then I ran. I looked around for May, but didn’t see any sign of her. I can’t remember how many times I fell and tumbled in the mud. I was about ready to give up when I spotted Sloan.”
Eppie leaned back to take a long drink of coffee and Sloan picked up the story. “I wanted to bring her back here, but first I had to retrace her steps and find the camp. I figured you’d want to head that direction come morning, General.” He winked at McCall, but she didn’t respond. “By the time I found the camp and we headed back, it was midafternoon and Eppie was starting to worry me because she wouldn’t stop bleeding. Twice we had to lay low to avoid being seen, but we made it.”
“She’ll be fine now.” Alyce Wren folded her herbs away. “As fine as any of us are.”
“I got to get back to my Moses. He’ll go crazy if I’m not there when he gets back from the fort.”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” McCall patted her hand. “You get some rest.”
Eppie curled into her blanket like a child and closed her eyes. McCall helped Alyce get all the children down, then walked to the head of the first wagon where Sloan had set up guard.
“You really need to sleep,” she whispered as she folded her shawl around her shoulders. “I’ll stand watch for a while.”
He pointed with his hand toward his saddle. “Have a seat.”
McCall sank onto the blanket and used the saddle to brace her back. Sloan handed her his rifle.
“Normally, I’d argue with you, but I could use a few hours’ rest.” He sat beside her and leaned his chin on one knee. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”
McCall was suddenly glad to have someone to talk to. “I don’t know. If we don’t find the camp fast, they may move and we’ll never find the parents—if that is the right tribe. But I know Eppie wants to get back to Moses as fast as possible.”
“You’ll figure it out, General,” he said as he reclined back and rested his head in her lap. “You always do.”
McCall felt her body stiffen, but she didn’t say anything or push him away. He seemed to be trying hard to make his nearness natural, but his actions weren’t smooth enough to be casual. She reminded herself that she was the one who came to him tonight.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she whispered, very much aware of the man now using her for a pillow.
“It fits you. You’re so proper and in charge. You would have made a great general.” Sloan closed his eyes and moved his head slightly. “I know I’d have followed you.”
“But I’m not a man,” she answered.
He nestled his face against her middle. “A fact I’m very much aware of at the moment. You smell so good. You remind me of a dress shop I stepped into by accident once. All starch and fresh-washed.”
McCall brushed her fingers over his hair. “You need sleep,” she whispered. “I didn’t come out here to talk about the way I smell.”
Sloan’s arms circled her waist and pulled her a few inches down as he moved up. The action left them face to face. “I need a lot of things, McCall, and talk is far down the list. Right here, right now, I need to feel you next to me so badly I can’t think of anything else.” He made no effort to kiss her, though their faces were only an inch apart.
“I…”
“Don’t say anything!” he ordered. “Don’t tell me of how dead you are inside or how you’ll kill me in the morning. I don’t want to hear any of what you think you should say.”
McCall’s heart felt like it was pounding all the way to her throat but she didn’t move.
His fingers moved through her hair and pulled the band holding her bun free. He pressed his face into her curls as his body spread out over th
e length of her. “Don’t fight me tonight, McCall. I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to hold you close. I thought of having you this near all day. Sleep beside me like you did in the hidetown. Just sleep next to me.”
She didn’t move. His chest pressed so hard against her she could barely breathe, but she didn’t try to push him away. She liked the feel of him blanketing her and the roughness of his whiskers against her chin.
He rolled to his side, pulling her against him. He kissed her forehead, then her eyelids, then her cheeks. “You want me near as much as I want you,” he mumbled against her throat. “If not, go now. Otherwise, I plan to hold you all night. I want to feel your heart pounding against my chest until sunrise.”
McCall placed her hands on either side of her and gripped the blanket in tight fists. Her heart was racing, her breath was coming in shallow gulps, but she wasn’t moving.
Sloan leaned away slightly, giving her a chance to escape. When she didn’t, he ran the back of his fingers slowly down her arm. “Close your eyes, McCall. You might even learn to feel again.”
She knew all she had to do was move away. He wouldn’t try to stop her. But instead she followed his instructions and closed her eyes.
Sloan lay beside her, watching her for several seconds. Everything about her told him she was afraid, but she wasn’t moving away. For some unknown reason, this woman seemed to want him near. Go slow, he reminded himself, though most of his body wanted nothing more than to make love to her. But this was not the time or the place. He’d not take her on the ground with the children and Alyce Wren within hearing distance. She deserved more than that, far more.
“You’re staying, then,” he whispered as he curled her into his side.
“I’m staying,” she answered, and it was almost a challenge.
At first her body was stiff against him, but slowly she relaxed. He stroked her arm gently and played with her hair. As she softened, he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her breasts pressing against his side.