Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  Puffy, cotton clouds were sharply etched in the deep blue of the sky. Tall spirals of towering pines rose like guardian sentinels around the clearing. He walked to the edge of the porch and glanced down the path toward the corral. He could hear Jenny’s husky voice instructing Robby as she worked with one of the horses. He nodded to himself, satisfied that she hadn’t tried to leave without him.

  Finishing his coffee, he grabbed up his boots and walked barefoot down the path. Robby hadn’t bragged idly about Jenny’s skill at Indian-gentling horses. At first he had been afraid for her, but watching closely he had discovered how foolish his fear had been. Now there was pleasure in observing her tame the wild animals, even if he wished she could touch him as easily.

  As he joined Robby leaning against the split-rail fence, he motioned the boy to silence, ruffling his curly hair, not wanting to distract Jenny. She was working a saddle blanket on a pinto mare this morning. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from the graceful curves of her body, curves that made sleep nearly impossible each night.

  Jenny didn’t turn, but she sensed his presence. All her senses came alive. Her face was intent as she spooked the mare by snapping the blanket in front of her nose, then softly coaxed her near so she could rub the coarse wool against the mare’s flaring nostrils. Waiting a few seconds, she slipped the blanket to the ground, then lightly hit the mare’s forelegs. The horse shied away.

  In a crooning voice she explained every move she made to Robby as she continued hitting the horse with the blanket and then rubbing it over the same spot. With her own mix of horse and Indian talk, Jenny worked the dangerous hind quarters.

  “I told you she was good, Sam,” Robby whispered. “When she’s done that mare’ll never spook at anything flapped at her.”

  “I can see, boy.” But his gaze never left Jenny. With her long hair tucked up under her hat, she had the lean, whipcord appearance of a sapling moving in the wind. Nothing was wasted in her motions. He wondered if she lost that control when she made a man a part of herself. Ruefully smiling, he knew he’d go on wondering if it was up to Jenny. A man was entitled to take his pleasure where he could, and for now, for him, his eyes alone touched her.

  He watched Jenny work until the mare no longer trembled when she placed the blanket on her back. She took the time to smooth it down, talking all the while, easing her weight a little at a time onto the mare’s back.

  Nearly an hour later, Jenny, laughing, gave a light slap to the pinto’s flank and casually tossed the blanket over her shoulders. “She’s breaking easier than I could have hoped, Robby. We should be ready to take them to Bent’s Fort in a few days if the weather holds.” Turning, she faced Sam with a bright smile. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she shyly teased. “Was your coffee still hot?”

  He took a bit of her breath away, leaning against the rail with his arms folded beneath his chin, a deeply intense look locking with her own steady gaze. Overcome by a need to touch him, to push that errant strand of hair from his forehead, she shoved her hand into her pocket instead.

  “Perfect.” His mouth gentled into a warm smile. “I’ll need help with these,” he said, pointing down at his boots.

  Jenny dropped the blanket as she slipped through the rail. “I’m running late this morning”

  ‘That’s what I figured. Ben mentioned you planned to go into town. I’m coming with you.”

  “You are?” Robby excitedly cut in. Leaping down from the fence, he gazed up at Sam. “I told Mom to ask you, but she didn’t want to.”

  Jenny’s mouth tightened. She leaned over to pick up one boot, gesturing for Sam to sit on the lowest bar of the fence.

  “Why didn’t you ask me, Jenny?”

  “Yeah, Mom, why didn’t you?” Robby impatiently asked, wondering why they were both frowning.

  Kneeling, Jenny looked up and met Sam’s hazel eyes studying her. Since he’d been shaving, his face no longer held the dark menace of the first few days, but it was still slightly pale, lean, hard, and hungry looking. Except when he smiled, she reminded herself. Holding the boot, she glanced down at his bare feet.

  “Jen, tell me why you were afraid to ask me? Or don’t you want me to come into town with you? Is it talk that worries you?”

  Oh, there would be talk all right. But it wouldn’t be about him. Not that she could say that. She gazed up. He wasn’t smiling now; if anything, his whole expression was wary. “I suppose there’s no reason for you not to come. You’ll need warm socks and a jacket for winter.” She quickly pushed on his boot and reached out for the other one. “Folsom isn’t much of a town. I don’t know what you hope to find there. Since the miners left for the big strikes in Silverton and Creed, it hasn’t grown any.”

  “I was thinking that I might have passed through there. Someone could know me, Jen. I might find out my name.”

  Her head ducked down as she helped him on with his other boot. He stared at the dark crown of her frayed hat, thinking. She had all of a woman’s softness, but with a quiet strength that was unshakable. How did a man run off from such a woman? He had never again asked about her husband. He had little choice but to respect her wishes on that subject. His grin was forced when she rocked back on her heels, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Robby, can you start getting the harness out? I want to talk to your mother alone, then I’ll lend a hand hitching up the wagon.” Robby was off and running with a whoop. Sam’s eyes followed him.

  So did Jenny’s as she stood up. “My son thinks a lot of you.”

  He raised his brow, hearing the underlying fear. “I like Robby. A man would be proud to have a son like that.”

  “You would think so.” Staring off at the mountains, she chided herself for the bitterness of her words. “You have so much patience with him and you spoil him by never saying no.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever think the boy gives me a feeling of being wanted? I need that, Jen. Part of what’s happening between us is not talking enough.” He enfolded her hand with both of his. Her fingers were long, the skin slightly rough, but warm, so warm against his palms. “I know some of what you’re afraid of, Jenny. But you’re wrong to think I would hurt you or Robby. Hey,” he softly chided, “look at me.” When she refused, he gently cupped her chin and forced her face upward. Her eyes were wide and dark and shinning with all her unspoken fears. Fears he had sensed were building these last few days. “I can’t force you to trust me. Anyway it doesn’t matter. I think it’s time I moved on.”

  “Why?” She made no effort to hide the note of sadness in her voice.

  “I can’t stay on here with winter coming. I need to find out about me. I’ve been putting it off too long as it is.”

  “You could stay down at Ben’s,” she offered impulsively, feeling herself swept with a strange sense of loss. But how could she lose something she’d never had? Bewildered, she pulled her hand free, staring up at him. Had she thought only his smile changed his face? It wasn’t true, she discovered. His heavy-lidded gaze held a desolation she couldn’t begin to understand.

  “Why do you want me to stay, Jen?”

  “Robby will miss you and I…”

  “You still feel guilty about shooting me? That’s all you feel, isn’t it?” His voice was cold, deliberately so. He was backing her into a comer and he knew it. The temptation to hold her and taste heat from her mouth ate at him. Jenny wasn’t offering herself. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she did. The hunger was there, between them, but Jenny wasn’t a woman a man could love and then leave. No matter that her husband seemed to have done just that. He never could.

  Brushing bits of hay clinging to her pants, she gazed down at her scuffed boots. “If you don’t help Robby, it’ll be too late to go into town.”

  She moved to pass him and his hand shot out to grip her arm. “Why the hell be angry with me? Can’t you hear the truth? I can’t make promises that I don’t have a right to make and c
ouldn’t keep. I know that about myself. Besides,” he said with barely bridled anger, “you’re not ready to hear them. You’re so wrapped up in the past you won’t let me near you.”

  If he came into town with her, he’d know her past too, but she ignored this possibility. “You remember more about yourself, don’t you? More than you say?”

  “No. It’s just a strong feeling that’s the way I was. Am. I don’t know,” he said with disgust. These last weeks had strained his control. She was so close and he was no saint. Even with her buckskin jacket on, he could feel the soft press of her breasts against the back of his hand where he still gripped her arm. “Jen,” he murmured, cradling her sun-warmed cheek, inhaling the sweetness of her. Amber flecks brightened his eyes with desire when she trembled. He lowered his head, but she turned away and he released her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jenny Latham. A woman a man would be proud to claim for his own. Let me find the man, then if you want me, I’ll come back.”

  Want him? Her stomach knotted in reaction. Raising her eyes to the lean hardness of his face, she was struck by such intense longing for him that it shocked her. But he wouldn’t really want her if he knew she was a murderer.

  He’d want her less after they went into town. Old Man Morro wouldn’t miss a chance to talk about her. And she sensed Sam wasn’t about to settle for half of her; he had to have all she could give. But Jonas had already taken too much of her. She turned away from his searching gaze knowing his eyes blatantly mirrored the longing she tried to hide.

  “I can’t answer that,” she whispered, tormented by need.

  His desire faded to contemplative warmth, and then, without warning, changed to a look of rejection. “You’re right. It’s my decision, my life. But you are afraid of something, Jenny. Either of me or something tied to your past. Your husband—”

  “No! He’s got nothing to do with this!” She twisted free, pained.

  “Who the hell is he? Why do you lock me out the minute I try to talk about him? Christ, Jenny! I’m the one whose memory is gone, not—”

  “I envy you your loss,” she snapped. “He’s gone and you’re planning to leave. What more do you want?” she asked in gentle mockery, walking away.

  “You, for a start,” he sighed, knowing she couldn’t hear him.

  Chapter Four

  The midmorning air was crisp and clear, making the horses frisky. Jenny was glad because it took all her concentration to guide them.

  Robby could not-seem to sit still on the seat, his excited chatter covering the tension between the adults. He claimed Sam’s attention, pointing out everything his bright eyes darted toward.

  “Would you like to go down to the creek and fish tomorrow, Sam? I’d show you my special rock, and the next day we could go hunting. Ben got two big bucks he’s already smoked, but I know where there’s good rabbit hunting. Since you’ve been practicing with your gun I figure you need targets that move. So will you? Will you come with me?”

  “We’ll see, Robby,” he answered noncommit­tally, noting the taut pull of Jenny’s mouth. It was something else they didn’t talk about: his using the gun. The one time he caught her watching him, he could tell she hadn’t liked the ease with which the gun slipped from his holster to his hand. He knew she often echoed his own question. Had he made his living using a gun? He wished to hell he knew.

  “Tell me,” he asked suddenly, “you plan to ride all the way to Bent’s Fort alone with Robby when the mares are ready?” Her curt nod annoyed him, but he persisted in questioning her about the trip until she turned to look at him.

  “Why do you want to know? Were you planning on riding over with us and setting out from there?”

  “I’ve thought about it,” Sam admitted.

  “What do you mean, Sam?” Robby piped up, looking from one to the other. “I thought you’d decided to stay the winter with us.”

  “I’ve thought about it, Robby, just like I told you. I just didn’t make a decision yet,” he went on when Robby frowned up at him.

  Liar! Jenny wanted to yell at him, but bit her lower lip instead. When he continued his questions, Jenny sighed, then answered him. “I told you I continued selling horses to the army like my father did even after the miners came to this area and started a spur to the rail line. When the mines played out, the miners headed to the new strikes in the San Juan mountains near Creed and Silverton and the rail line was abandoned. The army is buying all the horses I can get to them,” she said with a note of irritation, pushing aside her tangled hair. “If I could manage more than a dozen or so a year it would make life easier.”

  “Jenny, if the money is tight I could—”

  “No. I won’t take pay for caring for you after I was the one who shot you.”

  He saw her chin lift in the annoying way it did when her pride was assaulted. Robby pointed to the edge of the trees. Two wolf cubs darted beneath the overhanging brush lining the trail. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

  “I sure would like to catch one,” Robby sighed with undisguised longing.

  “A dog would be better, son,” Sam said, ruffling Robby’s hair and unconsciously sliding his hand down to rest across the boy’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He ignored the guarded wariness in Jenny’s eyes. “A wolf cub,” he explained, “even one caught young enough to be trained, would never be free of the wild. You couldn’t trust him, son. And once he was full-grown, you’d never know when he’d turn. It can be hard to lose something once you start loving it, Robby. ‘Sides,” he couldn’t resist adding with a grin, “your mother wouldn’t want a wolf in the cabin, she’s got enough to handle with me there.” He wasted his teasing; Jenny wouldn’t look at him.

  “Could you get me a dog, Sam?”

  “Boy your age should have something of his own to care for, but it’s not up to me, Robby. It’s for your mother to say.”

  “I can’t af—” Jenny caught herself, meeting Sam’s gaze over her son’s head and slowly shook her own. “I don’t know of any pups,” she added weakly. The money again … well, she hadn’t made any effort to hide their situation from him. She had steadfastly refused any part of his offer to use his five hundred dollars, but she was weary of having to say no to her son.

  Robby took her brief nod as consent and slipped his arms around her waist, hugging her. “Can Sam and me look when we get to Folsom?”

  “You look and if you find one, we’ll manage.”

  “Old Man Morro will know if anyone has pups,” he excitedly informed Sam. “Wow! A dog of my own!”

  “Now, Robby,” she cautioned, hating to spoil his joy but not wanting him to count on it too much. Like I did, she warned herself. “Don’t get your hopes up, you might not find one right off. There—” She faltered seeing the hurt look in his brandy-colored eyes. Eyes that reminded her of his father. Once if Jonas had looked at her like that she would have forgiven him anything. “ ‘Sides, you’re counting on Sam and he has—”

  “Nothing but time to look around with you, son,” he finished with a harsh note of warning. Jenny’s eyes snapped angrily at him before she turned to stare straight ahead. He began whistling softly, then louder when Robby joined in spurts and stops.

  Jenny hadn’t been exaggerating when she said Folsom wasn’t much of a town. As they swung into a wider road, two small houses built of stone bordered a stream with banks of pine brush and aspens already turning full gold.

  Jenny held the horses down to a walk as they approached the livery stable. Sam felt his eyes drawn unexplainably to the buckskin standing alone in the livery’s corral blinking sleepily at him. Without a word, he reached over and tugged on the reins in Jenny’s hands to stop the wagon. He frowned, the furrows deepening as he squeezed his eyes tight against the sudden shaft of pain in his head.

  Concerned, Jenny covered his hand with hers. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I … don’t ask me how or from where, Jenny, but I do know that horse.
He’s got a scar across his left haunch from a bullet graze.”

  “But you can’t see that from here.” She shifted her gaze between man and horse as they continued to stare at each other. A shiver chilled the length of her spine. This was what she had been so afraid of. Dread made her voice quiver. “Was he yours?” Having worked around horses all her life, she had no doubt that man and animal knew each other. “Did he belong to someone you know, like the gun?”

  Shaking his head, he met her worried look. “The buckskin has stamina, I can tell you that much. He looks lazy and sleepy-eyed and rides easy under a man, but he has a capacity to belly out on a long run when you need.” Squeezing his eyes shut again against the intensifying pain, his hand closed into a fist. He motioned her to move on. Despair marred the clear hazel of his eyes when he looked at Jenny. “Damn it! Why can’t I remember!”

  Jenny’s steadying hand on his arm drew his attention to where they were. Easing the team to a halt alongside a wooden porch, she wrapped the reins around the pole brake. A faded sign claiming it was Morro’s General Store hung crookedly from the porch roof. A lone man, short and stocky, sat on a nail keg, sweeping beady eyes over each of them with curiosity before settling on Jenny.

  “Mornin’, Jenny.”

  His red lips, full and thick, got a thorough licking before his gaze slid across Robby and locked on Sam. And Sam found his dislike was hot and intense for a man he didn’t even know.

  Forestalling questions, Jenny slid from the seat. “You two go on and I’ll get what supplies we need.” Without waiting for an answer, she stepped inside, hoping Morro would follow her.

  She hated the interior of the store. The smell of brine and oil and leather was rank. It also reminded her of Morro’s eyes, dark, filled with secretive thoughts. He never cleaned anything, reasoning that sooner or later someone would be coming in to buy it. She was afraid he was right. His was the only store within a day’s ride.