by Bobbi Smith
When Chance drew away, his gaze probed hers once more, but it was a fruitless effort. Whatever emotions she was feeling, she wasn't about to reveal them to him.
"No knife, little one?" he managed to sound teasing as he thought of all the times she'd pulled a weapon on him and threatened him for touching her.
"I don't need one now," Rori countered lightly, struggling with all her might to keep up the carefree façade and not break down and cry. "I'm safe here and happy, too."
Her flippancy troubled Chance, and he stepped away from her, breaking all physical contact. "That's all I ever wanted for you, Rori . . . your happiness."
"Chance? You ready?" Doug had already kissed Nilakla good-bye and was mounted up and waiting for him.
"Yeah, I'm all set," he answered, then turned to Rori one last time. "Be happy, Rori."
"I will be," Rori replied, giving a slight lift of her chin as if defying him to doubt her. "Good-bye, Chance."
"Good-bye, Rori." The words were final, and he swung up on his horse's back. He stared down at her for a minute and then put his heels to his mount's flanks and moved off after Doug.
Rori stood rooted where she was for a long time, watching Chance until he was out of sight.
"You're going to miss him, aren't you, Rori?" Nilakla ventured, noticing how intent her friend was.
Rori shrugged, but didn't respond. She wasn't sure she could trust her voice enough to speak, and if she did manage to speak, she wasn't sure she was an accomplished enough liar to convince Nilakla that the arrogant white man meant nothing to her.
Without another word, she turned away from her friend and went back to her lodge to be alone. Deep inside, she felt she was a failure. Even looking her absolute best, she still hadn't been able to distract Chance from leaving.
Rori was miserable as she and Jake entered the tipi, and she closed the door behind them. Though it was still relatively early in the day, she didn't care. She didn't want to see anybody or talk to anybody. She just wanted to be alone.
For an instant, anger surged through her. In a white-hot fury, she stripped off the Pima clothing and tore at it as hard as she could, ripping it to shreds. What did she care if the skirt and blouse were the only ones she had? She never planned to dress that way again anyway! Tomorrow she was leaving this place and striking out on her own, but for now. . .
The anger passed as quickly as it had come. Rori stood nude and suddenly vulnerable in the center of the tipi. Refusing to cry, still trying to be strong, she grabbed up her earlier discarded clothes and yanked them on. She dropped down to sit on the bed and, with shaking fingers, began to plait her hair. That done, Rori lay down and closed her eyes, and Jakie came to rest close beside her.
It was then, as she lay grief-stricken and defenseless, that wave upon wave of pain washed over her. It was an aching, wrenching pain that tore at her very soul. Sorrowfully, Rori wondered if she would ever be able to survive the agony of it all . . . the agony of being so alone . . .
"What are you going to tell Mother?" Doug asked in a lighthearted tone.
"I'm going to tell her the truth—that we handled it just like we always do," Chance shot back with a grin.
"I'm sure she'll want all the details."
"She always does." Both men laughed, for they knew their mother well.
"Tell her that I love her and that I'll come home for a visit as soon as I can."
"She'll be thrilled, and when she finds out that she has a grandchild on the way, I may be hard put to keep her in Boston. You'd better make sure you have a guest room at your ranch. I've got a feeling you're going to need it."
Though Chance's mood seemed lighthearted, in truth it wasn't. Rori was on his mind . . . aggravating, irritating, annoying Rori. Damn! Why was it that she, of all females, had the power to drive him crazy? Chance had never known another woman like Rori, and in a way, he doubted if he ever would. She was unique.
It still amazed Chance to think that he'd been in such close contact with her for so long and had never realized that she was a girl. Now that he knew, he couldn't imagine ever having been fooled. She moved with an innate grace and definitely was not built like any boy he'd ever seen. Of course with the cut and bruise on her cheek, it had been hard at first to see that feminine loveliness, but now there was no mistaking it. Rori was a beautiful woman, and whoever claimed her for his would have a prize worth treasuring . . .
Chance let his thoughts drift over what he thought would be her future. She would marry some young, virile warrior and have his children. Then she would grow old here with the tribe, happily doing the domestic things that the Pima women did. She would make baskets and pots, she would tend to her children and grandchildren and, above all, she would be safe in the village . . .
Chance knew he should have been satisfied with that destiny for Rori, but something kept nagging at him. He kept seeing her as she had been when he'd left her. She'd been very womanly, very lovely—downright gorgeous, in fact—and very, very . . . sad . . . It came to Chance then, as he kept going over and over their final conversation in his mind, trying to put a finger on what it was he'd seen in her eyes, that Rori had been filled with sadness. She'd been totally miserable and yet had tried to cover it up with a nonchalant attitude.
Chance wondered why she'd put on the act and then realized that she'd probably done it just to get rid of him. For the first time, he suspected that she was not really happy where she was and that she could never be truly happy there. He'd been so concerned with making sure that she was safe that he'd forgotten what a free-spirited creature she was. Rori could no more survive in the village climate he'd put her in than Jakie could survive being locked in an airless box in the middle of the desert on a hot summer's day.
Chance silently cursed himself for his selfishness. He'd been so caught up in what he wanted to do that he hadn't considered what was really best for Rori. He knew now that there could be no going back to her days of innocence with Burr. He wouldn't leave her there in the village. He would go back and get her and take her to Boston with him. Chance knew it wouldn't be easy. He knew she had lot to learn, but he also knew that Rori was as smart as a whip.
Even as Chance told himself that he was doing it because he'd promised Burr and he wanted her to have a better life, a small voice in the back of his mind told him he was just fooling himself. He wasn't taking her back to Boston with him because of any promise he'd made to Burr. He was taking her back because he was already missing her and he wanted her with him. In spite of all of his efforts to the contrary, Rori had come to mean something to him, and he wasn't ready for it to end between them yet. Although consciously he tried to deny it, he felt driven to return for her.
"Doug . . . " He slowed his horse.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going back."
"Why?"
"I forgot something."
Doug gave him a funny look, for he knew they'd taken great care when they'd packed that morning. "What?"
"I forgot Rori."
"Rori?" Doug was surprised by his statement, but before he could get any more out of his brother, Chance had wheeled his horse around and headed back. He stared after him for a minute and then raced to catch up. He had no idea of what was going on between Chance and Rori, but he wondered why his brother would want to take her back East with him. They had already discussed how difficult that would be when he was considering taking Nilakla back, and now Chance wanted to take Rori?
"Chance!" He shouted to him as he got closer, and he was pleased when he slowed down to allow him to catch up.
"Yeah. What do you want?"
"Chance, how can you even think of taking Rori along with you? We talked about this before. We both know how hard it would be for Nilakla, and Rori's no different."
"I made a promise to Burr to do my best by her, Doug, and I intend to do just that."
"I thought you were happy with the idea of leaving her with her mother's people?"
"If she'd had blood relat
ives there, I would have felt better about it, but, think about it, Doug. Rori's all alone in that village. Even though she put on a good front when we left, I had a strange feeling that she was not happy there . . . not happy at all."
"You're sure this is what you want to do? It's going to be hard, you know."
"I know, but I'll take care of her," Chance answered somewhat fiercely.
At his determined reply, Doug sensed the undercurrent of his brother's feelings and understood. Somehow, wild little Rori had managed to entangle herself in the ever-elusive Chance's emotions. He almost smiled at the thought. He had fallen in love with Nilakla so unexpectedly, and now Chance . . .
Knowing his brother as he did, Doug said nothing about his suspicions. It wouldn't do to tell Chance that he was lying to him and to himself about his motives. Instead, he rode silently along at his side, wondering what Rori's reaction was going to be to his return.
A few villagers looked up as they rode back into the village, but no one said much. Chance took the lead and drew his horse to a stop in front of Rori's lodge. He didn't speak, but dismounted and strode forward to throw wide the doorflap. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked right on inside.
Rori was lying on her bed depressed and lonely, trying to get up enough energy to pack her few belongings and leave the Pima encampment. When she heard the sound of horses outside, she wondered who it might be riding by, but she never imagined it would be anyone coming to see her. After all, who did she know? No one.
"Rori . . ." Chance called her name as he entered unannounced.
Rori had never dreamed that Chance might possibly come back for her. His good-bye had been too final, too devastating. She stared at him in mute surprise, her defenses down.
Chance took one look around the lodge and knew that he'd been right. The clothes she'd worn were now lying in a ruined heap in the middle of the floor. It had all been an act. She was unhappy, and it was all his fault.
Rori was tired of fighting the loneliness and misery that had been her constant companions since Burr's death, and for just that one moment in time, she allowed herself to believe that Chance had come back because he wanted her. As she stared at him across the room, her heart was thudding in a painful but hopeful beat. His next words to her were so callously and demandingly spoken, however, that they jarred her from her young girl's sweet reverie.
"You're coming with me," he ordered flatly in a tone that brooked no argument.
But Chance had forgotten that he was dealing with Rori. Nobody ordered Rori around—nobody.
At his commanding attitude, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. As much as she would have loved to have thrown herself into his arms, kissed him passionately and agreed to go anywhere he wanted her to go, Rori refused to give in to the desire. She knew Chance. She knew him well, and she didn't trust him. She thought he might be up to something, but she couldn't imagine exactly what it might be. His words echoed through her, and she glared at him as she got quickly to her feet to face him, arms akimbo.
"You can go to hell!" Rori snapped back at him furiously. "I ain't goin' anywhere with you, Broderick!"
Chapter Twenty-three
"You want to bet?" Chance didn't know why Rori's vehemence surprised him so much, but it did. He supposed it was because she was looking so lost and defeated when he'd first walked in that he hadn't expected her to react so angrily to his proposal.
"There ain't no bettin' about it," Rori countered. "I'm perfectly happy here in the village."
"You may lie convincingly, Rori, but the evidence tells the true story," Chance told her coolly as he reached down to scoop up her discarded women's clothing.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." She glared at him with open antagonism as he fingered the tattered skirt and blouse.
"Well, unless some young warrior tried to join you and you had to fight him off, I'd say you were real upset about something not too long ago." He held the garments up for her inspection.
"It was Jakie . . ." she lied. "We were playin' and he accidentally grabbed at the skirt and ripped it."
"The blouse, too?" Chance asked, his eyes reflecting his obvious disbelief of anything she had to say.
"There ain't no point in talkin' about this," she said sullenly.
"You're right. Just get your things and let's go."
"I told you," Rori enunciated every word with care, "I ain't goin' with you."
"And I told you, you were. I'm your guardian, Rori, and you'll do as I say." Chance was getting angry over her stubbornness. He didn't understand why she was fighting him when it was so plain that she was unhappy here.
"Says who?"
"Says your grampa, that's who," he spoke curtly.
"Well, my grampa's dead."
"I know, and before he died, he asked me to watch out for you, and I promised that I would. Now, get packed."
Rori was sputtering with rage. "You did watch out for me. You got me all settled in here, and I intend to stay! You just go on and go and leave me alone."
"I wish to hell I could!" Pushed to the brink by her continued resistance, Chance responded angrily before he knew what he was saying.
His declaration sounded to Rori like he hated every minute of what he was doing, but in truth, Chance was trying to deny the driving force that kept Rori in his thoughts constantly. Every time he turned around she was there in his mind, haunting him.
"So who's stoppin' you?! Go!" She fought back, hurt.
Chance was at his wit's end, and he grabbed her up by her shirt front and jerked her to him. They were standing nose to nose as he ground out, "The only way I'm leaving here is with you, with or without your consent. Now, you can come along peacefully or I can rope-and-hog-tie you and throw you over my shoulder." Abruptly, he dumped her back down to her feet.
"You wouldn't?" Rori's green eyes widened at the threat she didn't understand. If he hated having her with him, why was he bothering to take her?
"What's it going to be, Rori?" Chance took a menacing step toward her.
"I thought you wanted me to be happy?" She backed slightly away from him.
"I do." He followed her retreat.
"Well, I ain't gonna be happy with you!"
Those words stopped him. "You'll learn how," he replied stonily, not revealing that he was truly hurt by her statement.
"But I don't want to learn!" she cried, desperate for a way to get out of going with him.
"Too bad." He would tolerate no refusal in his determination to have her with him. "Let's go."
Rori felt like screaming. She didn't want to go with Chance. She'd thought that he was out of her life forever and that it was time for her to go on without him. He'd told her that he didn't love her, so why had he come back here now, insisting that she accompany him to Boston?
"Rori . . ." The ominous edge to his voice set her to moving, for Rori had no doubt in her mind that Chance would do what he'd threatened.
"Why are you doin' this?" she demanded as she moved grudgingly to pack her few meager belongings . . . her saddlebags and Burr's. Tears threatened, but there was no way she was going to let him see her cry.
"I told you. I made Burr a promise, and I intend to see it through. You're my ward, Rori, my responsibility until you come of age, and I'm not a man who takes his responsibilities lightly."
That was about the worst thing Chance could ever have said to Rori, but he was completely unaware of the devastating effect his words had upon her. Rori fell completely silent after his last remarks. There was nothing more she could say. If she refused to go with him, he would simply overrule her and carry her off. There wasn't a single thing she could do about it, either, for no one in the village would dare try to stop him. Burr had, in effect, turned her over to Chance's keeping, and she was stuck with the arrogant easterner.
"I'll be ready in a minute. Why don't you wait outside?" she suggested, hoping he would do it so she could sneak away while he wasn't looking.
But Chance knew be
tter than to give her any time alone. He knew Rori, and he intended to keep an eagle eye on her. "That's all right," he said easily as he folded his arms negligently across his broad chest. "I'll wait here until you're done."
Rori gritted her teeth as she turned her back on him in a huff. She began muttering angrily under her breath as she started to gather her few things, "You may think you've won, but the first chance I get I'm going . . ."
Before she knew what happened, he was beside her, grabbing her by her upper arm and spinning her around to face him. "Like hell you are! The only place you're going is back to Boston with me. Do you understand that?"
Rori glowered up at him, but didn't respond.
"Do you understand me, Rori?"
"Yes," she answered resentfully.
His concession won, he still didn't feel he could trust her. "If I have to, Rori, I will tie you up every night just to make sure you don't run. I'm not going to let you out of my sight. We are going to be traveling together, eating together, and sleeping together."
Rori swallowed nervously. "I understand."
"Good." Chance released her arm. "Now, get your things."
He bent down to pet Big Jake, his manner casual and at ease, and Rori returned to what she was doing, silently cursing him for his composure.
When word came to Nilakla that her husband had returned with his brother to the village, she hurried to find him, wondering what had gone wrong. She had not expected Douglas to return for many weeks, and she feared that they had run into trouble on the way to town. She found him heading from Rori's lodge to their own.
"Douglas?" Nilakla called his name worriedly as she ran into his welcoming embrace. "Has something happened?"
"No," Doug assured her, and then gave her a warm kiss. It surprised him to find out just how much he'd missed her in the short time he was away. "Everything's fine."
"Then why have you come back?"
"Chance found that he wanted to take something else along with him," Doug told her, his eyes glowing with good humor.