Wildflower

by Raine Cantrell

  “Jen?” He drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Jen. I never meant to let this get out of hand. I swear to you I didn’t.”

  She shivered, hearing the thick heaviness of desire underlying his words. Was he really sorry he had kissed her?

  “I’ll go,” he murmured, lips grazing her temple. Sliding his hand down to the slight curve of her hip, he involuntarily pulled her snug to the cradle of his hips. He tasted her mouth, felt the warmth of her body bringing its seeping fire to him, and remembered the nights he’d spent dreaming of Jenny, dreaming of burying himself deep inside her until they were no longer two but instead joined as one.

  And it would be so easy to take her now…

  But fear is a powerful counterpoint for desire, and Jenny broke the kiss. Today he had learned she was part Indian. Jonas had driven home how men felt about women like her. So she denied Sam. And in doing so, denied herself.

  “Don’t say anything, Sam. I want you to go.” His expression hardened, but he stepped away from her, grabbing up his jacket.

  “It isn’t the end, Jenny,” he muttered, leaving her.

  Morning came with a cold dampness seeping into the cabin. Jenny shoved aside the ashes to feed small bits of bark to the glowing coals of hardwood. Once they blazed, she added a few heavy twigs, then small logs on top before grabbing her quilt from the floor. She had tried sleeping in her bed last night, but with the taste of Sam still on her lips, the reminder of him was too sharp.

  She was frightened of his passion.

  And she had Jonas Latham to thank for it. But she thought of Robby, too. What kind of a mother would she be to take up with a man she couldn’t marry? And without telling him the truth about Jonas, Sam did think she was still married. Not that Sam had offered her marriage or another commitment. And he wouldn’t, she knew, until there was total honesty between them. That meant telling him about Jonas, and she knew she couldn’t. So she eased the ache he caused by reminding herself she was right to have stopped him, and herself, last night.

  Jenny wished now that she had known her mother. She knew too little of the woman who had died giving birth to her. Whom could she ask about the way Sam’s kisses made her feel? Last night was the first time she’d sensed a leashed wildness in him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to test his control again. Having known only Jonas, she had little to judge Sam by, but surely other men didn’t kiss the way he did.

  “Damn you, Jonas! Hell is too good for you!” she cried softly, sure no one could hear. “You destroyed me and never paid enough. Nothing I did to you would ever be enough.” The flames licked hungrily at the wood in a sudden draft of air, hushing her, reminding her that Sam and Robby would pay along with her.

  Annoyed that she had forgotten to fill the water buckets last night, she tossed the quilt over the table still littered with Sam’s unopened packages. Damn that man! Shoving her hair back, she grabbed up a bucket and stomped to the door, throwing it open.

  A chilling blast of cold air nearly took her breath away. That and the sight of Sam, standing there, one hand poised to knock. Her eyes riveted to the open vee of his new chambray shirt, burnished copper hairs curling against his bronze skin. His jacket hung open. Her gaze slid down to his narrow waist. The soft lining of wool and the ruggedness of the tanned leather made her breath catch all over again.

  “Well?” she snapped, disconcerted to find him suddenly grinning.

  “I just wanted to see if you were awake so I could get the rest of my things.” She hadn’t slept well, he thought, seeing the faint smudged shadows under her eyes and the rumpled state of her clothes.

  “So get them.”

  “You’re angry with me,” he accused.

  “No.” She deliberately focused at a point over his shoulder.

  His grin faded. “Give me the bucket, I’ll go fill it. It’s damn cold today and you shouldn’t be out without your jacket.”

  Wordlessly she handed it to him, barely containing the urge to slam the door closed. Why had he sounded like he was talking about her coldness and not the weather’s?

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, backing away.

  Feeling foolish, Jenny stepped back inside. Telling herself that she had a right to be whatever way she wanted, she was moving to straighten Robby’s bed when she heard him open the door.

  Sam set the bucket down by the fire and then reached for the pot.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, coming up behind him.

  “Making your coffee. Saw to the stock this morning, so there’s no need for you to rush outside. And Robby’s down at Ben’s showing off his kitten. We already had breakfast together.”

  Irrational resentment flared at how neatly he had taken over. “I see.”

  Swinging around, he growled, “No. You don’t see anything, Jenny. I told you we need to talk and now we are going to.”

  “Talk about what?” Her expression revealed nothing when she placed the cups on the table.

  Running his hand roughly through his hair, he found himself at a loss as to where to begin. This morning it had been easy to plan all he had to say. Now, annoyed with her coldness, bedeviled with the frustration of wanting—which could only get worse—he took a deep breath.

  “You didn’t answer me, Sam.” For a wild moment she longed to recall what had happened last night, wishing they could step back to the uneasy tension of not knowing what the promise of their coming together would be like. She chided herself for her foolish thinking.

  The coffee boiled over, sizzling when it hit the fire. Neither one made a move to pull it off.

  “Sam,” she said softly, “what did you want to talk about?”

  “Us. I did a lot of thinking last night. I want to stay on a while longer. If you’ll let me,” he added, his eyes bleak. His large hand reached out to take hers. “Jen, do you want me to leave? I’ll swear to you nothing like that will happen again unless you want it to.”

  She snatched her hand away as if she’d touched fire. Busying herself with getting the coffee, she served them both and sat down before answering. “What I want is an answer to one question,” she told him coldly. “Are you staying on with the hope I’ll satisfy your curiosity about Jonas?”

  “There can’t be anything between us unless you do. He hurt you, Jen, and I never want to do that.” He couldn’t meet her direct gaze.

  “So stay down at Ben’s. If you want to help out here, that’s fine, but I can’t pay you—”

  “I didn’t ask you to pay me, damn it!” He glared at her bent head, wanting to reach across the table and shake some sense into her. But he didn’t dare touch her; he simply didn’t trust himself to control the ever-present ache of wanting her.

  “There’s no need to shout or swear at me,” she countered, anger fueling her outburst. He wanted too much. And she had made up her mind not to give in. Wrapping both hands around her mug to hide their telltale tremor, she drank. The coffee was scalding, but she swallowed.

  Standing, Sam jammed his hands into his pants pockets, curling them tight to hide his growing rage. “Ben’s right. You’re thickheaded and stubborn as a mule. I don’t know what the hell put the anger inside you and you won’t say. I’ll respect that for now. I owe you, too. But lady, you’ve got no right not to let me explain what I’m feeling.”

  Her head snapped up. Her smile was cold and tight as she searched his eyes. “You’re right, Sam. Absolutely no argument from me. I’ve got no call to deny you your feelings. What I have the right to do is refuse to listen to you talk about them.” Setting the cup down very carefully, Jenny brushed her hair back. “Whether you’re done talking or not, I am. I’ve got four mares that need to be worked this morning.”

  The muscles in his square jaw flexed, reflecting his thoughts. What the hell had happened with Jonas Latham to make her act this way? It had to be more than what he’d heard in town. Jenny was strong—look how easily she had turned him away. Damn Ben to t
he deepest pit of hell for being a closemouthed bastard! And what the hell did it all have to do with him!

  A sensible-thinking man would hightail it out now, he thought as the door slammed behind Jenny as she left.

  Chapter Six

  From her hunched position, Jenny didn’t notice Ben standing near the rail fence until he moved next to her. Her curt greeting brought a paternal look to his eyes. “How’s Robby?” she asked, hoping to forestall one of Ben’s “talks.”

  “Boy’s happier than a pig in mud playin’ with that cat. Gave him a bit of wood so he could use his new knife, too.” Feeling the weight of his age this morning, especially seeing her cool look, Ben plunged right in. “Right kind of Sam to buy that knife for Robby. Tells me there’s a man who understands a boy’s needs. Hear he might be ridin’ over to Dry Cimarron to look for a dog for the boy. Shows a lot ‘bout a man, Jenny. He likes Robby and it takes a good man to do things for a boy that ain’t his own.”

  “I know,” she replied softly.

  “You and Sam have words last night?”

  “You asking or telling me, Ben?”

  “Well, now, it ain’t none of my business.”

  “It’s not. But you’re going to say what you want regardless.”

  “You know it.” He took a deep breath. “Sam asked a lot of questions when he came in last night. He wanted to know ‘bout you and your pa and—”

  “Jonas,” she finished bitterly. Turning from Ben, she stripped off a bit of dry bark. The wind came whistling down out of the mountains, chilling her, and she huddled deeper into her thin jacket. “He heard too much in town about me. The man may not have his memory, but there’s damn little he misses. So now he’s curious.”

  “Figures.”

  “What do you think about his finding that buckskin?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

  “Can’t argue it’s his. Noticed the horse had a Rockin’ K brand on it. Noticed, too, that that blaze-faced horse he was ridin’ didn’t have a brand. So if he figures the gun ain’t his, maybe those letters carved in the buckle ain’t his either. Just a thought.” He paused, sighed, and added, “Jen, I didn’t tell him anythin’ ‘bout Jonas.” He stifled the guilt he felt in not mentioning what they did talk about.

  “Do you know why he decided to stay on? I was sure he’d pull out now that he’s healed.”

  There was such wishful longing in her voice that Ben knew she wasn’t aware of it. Stroking his grizzled beard, he pretended to give it some thought. “Jenny,” he said after a moment, a hint of laughter in his voice, “have you taken a good look at yourself lately?”

  “Taken a look … what are you driving at?” she asked irritably. “I don’t own a mirror and you know it. Is there something wrong with the way I look?”

  “Wrong? No, there nothin’ wrong. You’ve jus’ turned out to be pretty, honey. Real pretty. I’d be guessin’ Sam’s noticed it, too.”

  Pretty? She stared at Ben. He was smiling in that smug, I-know-I’m-right way of his. Shaking her head, she denied it. That she was good at working with horses she accepted without question. She kept her cabin scrubbed clean and tried to be a good mother to Robby. But think of herself as pretty? Never.

  “It’s true. I wouldn’t be lyin’ to you. So maybe his eyes are sharper than mine. He’s younger than me,” he gruffly admitted. “Maybe I’ve been too close to you and never gave thought to you needin’ to hear it. Might even be an old fool for tellin’ you to let him stay on and give both of you a chance.”

  “You’re wrong! Oh, Ben, I didn’t think he’d fool you. He heard Maybelle call me a half-breed bitch yesterday. She’s wrong on her degree, I’m only one-quarter Ute, but I’m proud of my blood. No man will ever make me ashamed of it again. We both know how most men feel about any woman tainted with Indian blood. Sam just thinks I’ll be easy. But I won’t. I swear that, Ben. I won’t ever be used by any man again!”

  Rarely did Ben allow anger to show, but the eyes he fixed hotly on Jenny blazed. “He ain’t Jonas. You bury that man once and for all,” he demanded. “If Sam was thinkin’ like you’re sayin’, he sure wouldn’t be wantin’ me to wait ‘round here till he talked to you first. You ain’t got the sense you were born with. Being mule headed ‘bout some things is fine, girl, but this ain’t the time or the man for it!”

  “I’m right,” she snapped back. “And I’d rather be mule headed than be used again. You know,” she whispered, pleading suddenly for his understanding, “you called yourself an old fool and maybe you are one. How can you take the part of a man neither of us really knows? Tell me that?” she demanded, grabbing his arm. “Tell me how you can stand there and tell me to trust him not to hurt me or my son? Have you bothered to think about Robby? I have. I’ve done nothing but think and I won’t have my son hurt. He’s been scarred and so have I.”

  “If I’m so damn wrong, why are you so upset? Listen to me, Jenny. Jus’ listen, honey.” He drew her against the thick shaggy hide of his bearskin jacket, cradling her. “I seen you grow, girl. I’ve buried your ma and pa. I held you when you birthed Robby and that skunk left you alone. I’ve watched you grow bitter and I’ve hurt right along with you, Jen. Don’t ever be thinkin’ different. You know how some folks don’t want anythin’ to do with breeds, but your pa saved my life and we took to each other right off. All I’m sayin’ is that I got the same good feelin’ ‘bout Sam.”

  “Ben, I’m so—”

  “You’re scared, honey. That’s all right. Makes a body cautious. The man’s only askin’ for a chance. Sure he wants to find out ‘bout himself. All he talked ‘bout was you and Robby. Bein’ here alone all winter, he’s worried you won’t have enough money to buy decent clothes and enough food. The man’s drivin’ himself thinkin’ of you goin’ huntin’ for meat and maybe havin’ some man find you. One who wouldn’t be carin’ ‘bout hurtin’ you, Jen. Now, if you’d been listenin’, does that all sound like a man who’d be thinkin’ of usin’ you?”

  “No. Not when you say it like that,” she was forced to admit.

  “It’s the only way. And all I asked you to do is see things the way they are. You know you’ll be needin’ to tell him ‘bout Jonas.”

  “I can’t!” She pulled away from him. “Don’t ever ask that of me. I can’t tell him. I can’t tell anyone and risk the law or Robby finding out.”

  “You’ll jus’ do it your way no matter what I try tellin’ you.” He watched her slip past him. Jenny needed time. All he could do now was keep Robby away and leave her to sort out her feelings.

  After Jenny and Sam finished the evening chores, they returned to her cabin, but she made no move to go inside.

  Waiting until he rolled himself a smoke, she wondered what had become of the packages in her cabin, for even the blue neckerchief was gone. But when she spoke, all she asked was: “Where did you go today, Sam?”

  Her question startled him. “I didn’t think you noticed I’d gone anywhere. You made sure you kept busy working the bridle and rope on the mares all day.”

  “I work those horses because that’s what I make money doing. Anyway, I love the feeling of gentling them without breaking their spirits, even if it does take longer. Too many men use force when there’s no reason for it. But you never answered me,” she tartly reminded him.

  “I went into town, if it matters. I had to return the widow’s basket.”

  “You sound as sulky as Robby when he doesn’t have his own way.” But she was disturbed by the thought that he couldn’t wait to see Sarah Parkins again. But then, the woman was lovely and Sam … well, he was a man.

  The glow from his lit cigarette showed his sharply etched profile. Taking his time about talking, Sam blew the smoke from his lungs, letting it curl up and around him. How much could he tell Jenny about what he had learned? And how much could he trust her? he asked himself.

  “I missed being with you today, Jen. I missed your smile and missed being with Robby, and I h
ated the way we ate tonight.”

  “Is that all?” she replied, a tinge of sarcasm coating her voice. She only meant to prove she didn’t need him here. But he didn’t answer, and a quick look showed him taking another long drag of his cigarette before he dropped it and ground out the butt with his boot heel. When he was done, he turned to face her.

  “No, Jenny, that wasn’t all by a long shot. But it sure as hell is all I’m going to say now.” Her arms were folded across her chest, hands hugging her shoulders. He wondered if she was cold or just sending him her own silent message to stay away. What the hell! He wasn’t going to find any answers standing halfway across the porch from her. He closed the space with slow measured steps, but didn’t touch her. He couldn’t trust himself yet.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, I’m fine. Besides, I was raised in these mountains. Before winter sets in it will be colder than tonight.”

  Barely able to see her face in the shadowed comer, he grinned. “I don’t think anything could be colder than you are right now, Jen.”

  He was right. Damn him, but he was right! She was cold inside, but not from the chilling wind. It was from today, from expecting to see him around splitting wood, his quick grin flashing, from not laughing or teasing with him and a hundred things that shouldn’t have meant anything but were everything. The sharing had built up slowly between them and she had destroyed it because of her fears. Then she recalled where he had been today, in town with Sarah. But he was here with her tonight. More confused than ever, Jenny stared at him. If she couldn’t solve her own problems with Sam, at least she could protect Robby.

  “Sam, please don’t hurt my son,” she murmured softly.

  “Why the devil say that? I wouldn’t hurt Robby.”

  “Not knowingly maybe, but you could just the same. My boy is too soft and open to you now. And if you don’t understand that kind of opening up, I’ll say it plain: he’s coming to care too much for you.”