He hadn’t meant anything, she told herself after refilling his plate a second time. And he was only being polite to hold her hand and thank her. She was thinking far too much of him as it was. If she had a lick of sense she would stop. Part of her problem was being around him constantly. She reluctantly left him alone with Robby so she could tend her stock for the night.
The man softly swore as he tried turning toward the fire and Robby ran to his side. “Easy … Sam. I’ll help.”
“Don’t think you could, boy. But draw up the chair and talk to me so I won’t think about the pain.”
Eagerly, Robby complied. He’d been curious about the man, more since he’d overheard Ben and his mother whispering about him.
The man studied the boy a few minutes, wanting to ask him how he’d been shot. He was sure Jenny had stopped him from telling. In the next breath he knew he wouldn’t ask the boy to violate his word. “You and your mother always live here alone, Robby?”
“And Ben. His cabin is down the path a ways.”
“Must be lonesome if there ain’t folks around. How far to the nearest town?”
“Folsom’s ‘bout a two-hour ride. We don’t go there much. Mom don’t like Mister Morro. He owns the general store. And it ain’t bad lonesome up here. Ben takes me fishing in the summer when he’s here. Sometimes he lets me help fix his traps and I’m learning to track the wild things. I keep busy.”
“Ben seems like a good man to learn from.”
“It ain’t only from Ben. Mom lets me help with the mares now since I’m nine.” Grinning proudly, Robby responded to the man’s warm smile. “Next time she gets ready to set horse traps up in the canyon, I’m gonna be able to ride with her. If I help her, she said I can keep the money when we sell the horses over at Bent’s Fort. Mom breaks horses for the army and gets top dollar.”
Openmouthed, he stared at the boy. He didn’t want to believe him, yet why would he lie? Even so, Jenny sitting on a raw bronc was a sight that wouldn’t come to mind.
“It’s true enough,” Robby said firmly. “She Indian-gentles the mares. Learned how from her pa. He was half-Ute.”
Nestling his head against the pillow, the man thought that would explain the length of straight brown hair that shimmered like silk when she moved. And the high cheekbones, too. But where had she gotten those eyes? Eyes that made him think of crystal-clear moonless nights, lit only by the stars. Gazing at Robby, he knew the boy must look like his father. Robby was fair where Jenny was tawny darkness. The thought made him smile.
“Her pa’s dead now,” Robby continued. “I never got to know him, but it don’t matter none. Mom does all right by me no matter what some folks say. She gets the best prices for her horses and I’m gonna be just like her.”
“You got a right to be proud, boy. Ain’t easy work for a body, harder being as how it’s a woman doing it. A man would be wanting an Indian-gentled horse if he could find one. They don’t spook at anything. But still, it must get lonely up here for her. No other ranches close?”
“The Hadlys have a big cattle spread down in the valley. Mom trades off mares for feed and sometimes beef from them.”
At Robby’s sour tone a wry smile touched the man’s lips. “You don’t sound like you much care for these Hadly folks.”
“I don’t.” Not quite understanding the need to explain to this man, Robby added, “Ross Hadly is all right. But his wife, Maybelle”—he shot a quick look over his shoulder to assure himself they were alone, leaned close, and whispered—“she’s a loose woman.”
Masking his surprise that the boy even knew about such a thing, he frowned. All signs indicated they lived an isolated existence up here on the mountain. A sudden guarded look on Robby’s face made him close his eyes. It was happening again. Images blurred. The eyes … but no, it couldn’t be. Robby’s eyes were filled with innocence and the ones he saw were hard. But he couldn’t deny they were alike. Thought and voice came together. “Was your pa one of Miz Hadly’s men?” His eyes were mere slits as they met the serious look on Robby’s face. “I’m sorry, boy. I had no right to ask.”
Robby’s scrutiny was far beyond his years. “Don’t matter,” he said after a few tense minutes, shrugging his thin shoulders. “You stay on and you’ll hear talk anyways. Not from Mom or Ben. They won’t say a word.” His small fingers interlocked and he stared down at his knuckles. “He was one of them.”
“Ain’t no accounting for the way a man’s mind works, son,” he found himself saying against his own judgment. “Some men need more’n one woman to keep them happy, and some never find what the/re looking for in any of them.”
“You like that, too?” There was no warmth in Robby’s voice.
Honesty compelled his answer. “I don’t know. Could be.”
“Sorry. I had no right to ask. You know, if my mom had a man to help, she could build up the herd again. Right now, she can’t handle catching no more than four or five horses by herself. Sure would be different if she had help.”
Sam didn’t miss the wishful tone. Sensing what was coming, he tried to distract Robby, suddenly needing to know more about his father. Why the urgency stirred inside him he couldn’t say, but he felt it vital to know more.
“Robby, when did your pa leave?” he asked softly. “Tell me if you want and if you don’t, I’ll understand,” he hastened to reassure the boy, seeing the frown marring the small forehead.
“Mom don’t like me talking about him, but the last time I saw him was two years ago.”
“Long time.”
“Yeah.” Robby stared down at his scuffed boots. The crackle of the fire licking at the logs was the only sound in the cabin. “My pa didn’t just go. He ran off. Took sixty head of horses with him, too.”
Twisting his head so that pain shot down his back, Sam found himself furious. “He just ran off and left you and—”
“And my mom. She”—his voice cracked and he cleared it—” she gets a hundred dollars a head for them at the fort, so it was a lot of money she lost.”
“Lord Almighty, boy.” He had to turn away, lying tensed in the silence that followed. What kind of a man deserted his family? What kind of man left his son with anger for his thievery rather than his loss of a father? Blaming himself for prying didn’t help.
“Talk was he had a woman in town,” Robby whispered, drawn to telling more than he should. “Not Maybelle. It was someone else he ran off with. Mom didn’t tell me, I heard it on my own. I hated him for a long time. Mom wouldn’t go hunting with me, neither. But she’s better now. Ben did what he could to help out and Mom’s a strong woman. She ain’t afraid of hard work. She’s real pretty when she smiles, too. Ben said a man had to be a damn fool to leave a woman like her.”
This last was said so defiantly, Sam gazed probingly back at Robby. The boy was staring at the fire. He wanted to find words of comfort and found himself plagued with the image of an older man’s face slowly turning to look at him. Christ! What was it about this boy that drove the nightmare to surface now? What the hell had him imagining an older face? What did it have to do with him?
Concerned, Robby leaned closer. “You gonna think about staying the winter with us?”
“You don’t know anything about me, boy,” he growled in frustration.
“Sure, I do.” Eagerly, Robby told him. “You ride a blaze-faced bay horse. Your saddle’s seen heavy time, too. Ben said he ain’t ever seen a handgun or rifle so well cared for when you didn’t think as much of yourself. He thinks you’re good with them, too. He told me ‘bout your scars. You’re what Ben calls a survivor.” Tilting his head, he grinned at Sam. “You got a real nice warm smile. You got sun squints, too, all ‘round your eyes so you ain’t a stranger to work. Ben says a man needs to be tough to ride these mountains. Like you,” he added.
Sam tried to hide his smile, but Robby’s grin was infectious.
“See. I can tell a lot by a man’s eyes. Ben knows all ‘bout thi
ngs like that and told me. If a man looks you straight in the eye when you talk to him, like you do, then you can trust him. But when he don’t—”
“You don’t turn your back on him,” Sam finished. “It still doesn’t tell me who I am, Robby. Or even why I was riding near here. A man needs to know these things. Besides, don’t you think your mother should be the one to ask if she wants me to stay on?”
“Shucks! She won’t. Her and Ben think you’ll move on as soon as you’re able. Don’t make sense to me. The moss is growing heavy on the north-facing bark of the trees and Ben said that means a cold winter. A man’d be a fool to get caught in these mountains with no shelter.”
Sam chuckled, wincing in pain as he moved. Catching his breath, he shook his head, hearing Robby’s whisper of concern. “No, boy, it passed. Whoever shot me did a number, all right.”
“Yeah.” Robby didn’t look at him. “Ben said he took two bullets out of your shoulder. In the same spot.”
How could someone get off two shots, hitting him in the same place? Sam couldn’t imagine himself standing still long enough to let a second bullet near him.
They both heard Jenny’s approaching footsteps. Robby’s chair scraped the floor in his haste to move. “Mom’ll skin me for keeping you talking.”
“We won’t tell her, son,” Sam whispered back, and was rewarded by a quick mischievous grin as Robby moved to stand before the fireplace.
Carrying a small pile of clean clothes, Jenny came inside. She cast a guarded look at Sam. He turned toward her, the quilt falling to his waist, exposing his chest. All of her loneliness and confusion welded together. An unfamiliar quivering of warmth spread through her. Her breath caught, and though she thought the move was deliberate, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his body. Why didn’t he cover himself? She couldn’t ask him to; it would reveal how much the sight of him disturbed her. An odd primitive warning filtered into her mind when she met the brightened heat of his eyes. Quickly she dropped her gaze to his hands. The fingers were long, resting carelessly against the quilt. She knew every callus on his palm, every intimate detail of his body. An uneasy shiver rippled down her spine. Did he know how aware of him she was, how vulnerable she felt? Unconsciously, she licked her lips. It had been a long time since she had been with a man.
A long, long time since Jonas.
A woman had needs too. Shamed, she forced herself to remember Sam was wounded, barely recovering from a fever, and she turned away.
Setting the clothes on the table, she glanced at Robby. “Are you all right? You looked flushed.”
“It’s just hot standing by the fire, Mom.” “Ben’s waiting for you on the path, so off you go.”
If she was surprised by her son’s fierce hug and kiss, she hid it. He was beginning to think he was too old to express his feelings, and she longed for reassurance of his love. Robby then tossed a wave to Sam before closing the door. Jenny kept her gaze averted as she washed and dried the supper dishes. But once she’d set the last plate in the cupboard, he broke the silence.
“I wish you hadn’t sent Robby off.”
“I am not planning on attacking you,” she snapped.
“I ain’t in any shape to stop you,” he grumbled. “But that wasn’t what I meant.” He could feel himself coloring under her scrutiny. Christ! Why did he have to be so helpless? … “I need a … pail or something.”
“Are you sick?” Why was she looking at him so oddly?
“I’m laying here buck naked, lady. I need to—” What the hell was she blushing for? He was the one in a predicament.
Jenny didn’t wait for him to finish. She ran to the bed, reaching underneath for the chamber pot. But when she tried to help him he ordered her to get out.
When she thought she waited long enough and came back inside, Sam was lying there flushed and sweat sheened, his face turned toward the wall. Jenny quickly disposed of the pot, as embarrassed as he. She had not thought twice about tending to his most personal needs when he was out of his head with fever, but now … Lord! How the cabin walls seemed to shrink around her!
As if sharing her thoughts, the man twisted his head to look at her. “I’m sorry for acting like a crossed grizzly.” Her responding shy smile had him thinking of the sun painting colors at dawn. It wasn’t just her lips this time, but the way her eyes held a sparkle of laughter, too. He couldn’t keep staring at her so he tried to distract himself by looking up at the overhead beams. It didn’t help much. Her hair was almost the same golden brown shade. Had he a woman of his own somewhere? His mind stopped wandering the frustrating path when Jenny spoke.
“I washed and mended your clothes. It’ll be a while before you can get up and around, though.”
“Are you giving me a choice?” Lazy amusement teased in his voice.
“Are you asking me for one?” she quickly countered, glad the tenseness of the last few minutes was gone. “Look, Sam, or whatever your name is, I did what I had to do for you. And until you can take care of yourself, I’ll continue. It isn’t all that easy for me, either,” she added, hoping to relieve his embarrassment.
“I guess that’s the way of it, then.”
The silence grew, becoming uncomfortable for Jenny. She had never been at ease around men. Part of the fault lay with her being raised so isolated up here on the mountain. The unease of sudden quiet, which had never bothered her around Ben or Robby, seeped deep enough for her to make another attempt to talk.
“If you feel up to it tomorrow, I’ll shave that beard for you. My father used to say a man never felt really good less’n he could shave every day.”
He touched his face with his left hand. There was a thick, heavy growth of hair that must have been there more than a few days. His beard grew like that. Then bitterness filled him. One more tiny clue to who and what he was.
“You didn’t answer me, Sam. Would you like a shave tomorrow?”
He closed his eyes. “Sure. If you got the time, I ain’t going nowhere.”
There was dismissal in his tone, so Jenny let him be. After putting away the linens, she glanced up. His eyes were now shut and the quilt was still barely covering his hips. She moved to his side, thinking to pull it up. The fire was the only heat in the cabin and she didn’t want him chilled. Gently she took hold of the quilt and then stopped. Standing there, a rush of tenderness filled her as she remembered his brief grin and the deeper smile he shared with her. His face changed when he smiled, he lost some of the hardness, yet she had the feeling he didn’t smile often.
“I grow an extra eye up there?”
She released the quilt, backing away as if he caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. “No. I … I just wanted to make sure you were covered. It gets cold.” Realizing she was still backing away, she stopped. “Are you warm enough?”
Insolently, his gaze swept over her. “For now.”
Jenny, unsure what he meant, hurried to put Robby’s clothes away in the bottom drawer of the chest. He turned to watch her. When she opened the top drawer, he caught the scent of wildflowers. There couldn’t have been much inside for she moved nothing to put her few pieces of clothing away. She seemed flustered as she slipped behind the blanket strung between them.
Sitting on Robby’s narrow bed, she pulled off her boots, thinking of the few chores left to do tonight.
“You sleep back there all the time?”
“Robby’s bed,” she answered, staring at the protective blanket. Damn! Why had she let him catch her staring at him? Whatever would he think of her? Ben had warned her to be careful. He’d told her she would be vulnerable to any man who showed some decency toward her and Robby. But Ben was wrong. She didn’t want another man in her life.
Coming out from behind the makeshift divider, she first shot home the wood bolt on the door. Banking the fire, Jenny became conscious of Sam’s eyes watching her every move. It was unsettling. She lit the lantern and set it on the table. From the bottom
of the cupboard she lifted out her mother’s large bowl. Beside it on the table was the last of their buttermilk and flour.
“You baking now?” he asked from the shadows, which played across the room.
“I’ll mix it now and set it to rise for baking in the morning. Since you were traveling light, I’d guess it’s a while since you had bread or a decent meal.”
“I’d guess. It’s damn annoying not be able to answer with certainty.”
Jenny couldn’t help reacting to the wishful tone of his voice with a rush of emotion. “Ben and I talked about that some,” she began, measuring out flour. “The high fever may have caused your memory loss, or maybe you hit your head when you fell from your horse.”
He noted her hesitance to elaborate and studied her hands. He was stirred by the lingering memory of them moving over him, callused yet gentle.
“Ben’s sure you were sick for a long time before you were … well, shot.”
He regarded her with slitted eyes. “And when are you going to tell me exactly how that happened, Jenny Latham?” His voice was soft, almost too soft. “ ‘Cause when you’re done I’ll be expecting to hear about who Jonas is.”
Chapter Three
Jenny fought to control the emotions that his words caused. Suddenly she stilled as if she were the one who had been shot. Her hands clung together, enmeshed in sticky dough, but, thankfully, hidden.
With her profile averted, she stood outlined against the glow of the fire. He could see her breasts rise and fall. Like the rest of her, they were small and neat, just right to fit a man’s hands…
“Jenny?” he called, seeing the shudder passing over her body. He couldn’t deny the anger that came with her silence, but he masked it. “Would it help if I say I’ve a good idea of what happened already?”
She straightened, turning slightly toward him, her lips set in a determined line while she kneaded the dough with startling vehemence.
“Robby tell you?”
“About the shooting? No. He didn’t need to. Your cutting him off the way you did put the idea in my mind. Want to tell me about it now?”
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