Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

“You are touched in the head. The rain must have given you the fever.” Laura wriggled closer against him. He certainly burned like a furnace, but the way he cradled her breasts didn’t feel in the least irrational.

  “Oh, no. For the first time in my life, I’m perfectly fine. I’ve never made love before. Last night was the equivalent of all the birthdays and Christmases I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re quite a package, Miss Kincaid.”

  Laura smiled and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. Reality was returning. She could feel it creeping in like the dawn, but she ignored it for the pleasure of the moment. Cash’s foolish words were a soothing balm to her damaged pride. His touch was an invitation to forget the past. She wanted nothing more than to lie in Cash’s arms for the rest of her life. Somewhere outside, a defiant mockingbird began to sing, and her smile could no longer be contained. She spread her kisses farther.

  “Well, you’re rather a pretty package yourself, Mr. Wickliffe. I particularly enjoy this peculiar shade of yellow over purple here on your ribs. And the green is quite spectacular. I’ve always admired a man who isn’t ashamed to wear colors.” She traced her fingers over old bruises and new, kissing each new injury. The silken black hair on his chest made her nose tingle, and she rubbed it against him to stop the itch.

  Cash caught his fingers in the thick tangle of her hair and drew her upward. Her skin was pale, but with a translucent glow that made his heart stop and then start again with an insistent pound. In the morning light her eyes were a brilliant green, and he swore they were twice the size as usual. They cut right through him.

  “I’m not likely to indulge your fancy for colors anytime soon, pequeña. They hurt like hell.”

  “Shall I kiss them and make them better?”

  Her eyes danced with mischief, and Cash discovered a new delight in this give-and-take of closeness. Whores got up afterward and held out their hands for money. Sallie hadn’t been much better. But Laura . . . Ahh, Laura wanted a man’s heart. He closed his eyes against the pain and indulged a while longer in the pleasure of her slender hands riding across his chest and belly, creeping ever closer to the place where he most needed those skillful fingers.

  The rattle of footsteps on the stairs followed by Jettie’s insistent cry of “Miss Laura!” down the hall brought them both to their senses with a jerk.

  Laura pulled the sheet over her breasts as Cash swung his legs to the floor. Her eyes grew wide with this first sight of his full male nudity, but she wasn’t allowed to indulge her curiosity for long. He reached in the wardrobe and grabbed a clean pair of trousers, pulling them on as he whispered orders.

  “Go through the other door, Laura. I’ll hold her off.”

  Wrapping the sheet around her, more for protection from the chill than from Cash’s view, she grabbed her gown and petticoat and hurried for the door to the adjoining bedroom.

  “Miss Laura!” Jettie’s voice held a hint of panic at discovering Laura’s bed untouched.

  Laura and Cash exchanged a glance of frustration, desire, and awareness before she finally dashed out of sight. Their brief idyll was over.

  While Laura escaped, Cash swung open his door and yelled at the maid, “What in the hell is the ruckus all about? Is the house on fire?”

  Jettie stopped in her tracks at the sight of Cash’s half- dressed form. Her bold gaze swept over the disheveled black mass of his hair and his unshaven jaw to the discolored bruises of his torso, then back to the glitter of his eyes. With a questioning lift of her eyebrows she answered, “Mark is wailing for his mama, but she ain’t in her room. What you done with her?”

  Cash had to stifle his amusement at the maid’s knowing look. Jettie Mae wasn’t like any house servant he had ever known. She was more sister and mother rolled up into one. He lounged against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. “What have I done with her? I haven’t been able to do anything with her for years. Considering the wreckage of these rooms up here and the fact that most of them were pouring rain just a few hours ago, I daresay she’s found a safer shelter. Have you checked downstairs?”

  Jettie gave him a look that should have quelled battalions, then flounced around and headed for the stairs. Cash held his breath as he heard Laura trip over something in one of the overcrowded rooms, but Jettie kept on going. She might be uneducated, but Ward’s former mistress wasn’t dumb.

  When she was gone, Cash wanted to run after Laura, but he steeled himself against the impulse. He was a grown man who knew the responsibility required of his actions, not an impulsive young boy heedless of the results. What he had done last night was unforgivable. Laura would realize that soon enough. He would have to start repairing the damage.

  Cash could dress faster than Laura, and he was out and gone before she could see him again. She suffered a quiver of fear that he hadn’t lingered to say a word or two before he left, but she couldn’t let her suddenly vulnerable emotions overset the work that had to be done.

  Cash had said things to her last night that she needed time to consider. She wasn’t at all certain that he had meant what he said, or that she had heard him aright. They had both been beyond reasoning. Remembering just how far beyond reasoning they had been, Laura caught her breath and hurried to find her son.

  Quieting Mark, gulping a hasty breakfast, answering as many questions as she was able before she had time to survey the damage, Laura submerged the new sensations bubbling inside of her in the immediacy of work. She stepped outside long enough to view the devastation visible from the house, then, shaking her head, returned to the chaos reigning within. There was only so much she could deal with at one time.

  ***

  While Laura worked her way through the damage in the house, Cash rode the fields in hopes of finding something to salvage. The back of the field where the poorest corn stood had been ravaged by the rain and wind. With careful picking there might be enough to feed the animals through the winter. The rest of the field, however, was a total loss. Marshall’s marauders and the ensuing battle had trampled it into muddy porridge for the birds. There was nothing left to save.

  Counting his losses, Cash pushed back his hat and turned his face to the sky. The wind had blown away the heat and humidity, and a clear sunny day with a crisp breeze greeted him. It was the kind of day to pack a picnic and take your girl and go fishing. He longed to do just that, to forget Stone Creek and Marshall and the past, throw responsibility to the winds, and get on with his life.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just chuck it all and go to Laura fresh and clean of all that had happened. Her cousin was dead and in her grave scarcely a week now, and he had put her there. Her home was destroyed, and he was the man responsible. If he had never returned, Laura would be married to Jonathan now, having babies and doing good works, and none of this would have happened. It was time to pay for the damage and get the hell out.

  ***

  The lawyer looked at him as if he were crazed. Pulling on a fat cigar, he checked the gold watch in his pocket, glanced out over the courthouse framed by the window, and smoked.

  “You can’t be serious,” he finally said. “A woman ain’t got enough sense to keep a fire burning without a man’s helping her. If you want to shuck it all, sell the place, that’s my advice.”

  Smugly he lowered his gaze to take in his unorthodox client. He had known Cash Wickliffe since he was a boy, and he could still see the boy in him now. Those dark eyes glared with a rebel’s fire, but his whippet-slim body possessed a man’s muscular strength. The lawyer tapped his own paunch as he waited for Cash’s reply.

  “I’m not giving the farm to Laura, but to her son. He’s the last of the Kincaids. It should be his decision to sell the place when he comes of age, not mine. All I’m asking you to do is draw up the deeds.”

  “But as the boy’s mother has no father around to claim him, Miss Kincaid will be the one responsible for the farm until her son reaches his majority. Now, surely you don’t want that, Cash. Appoint Jonathan guardian.
They say he’s the daddy, in any case, even if our new deputy sheriff disputes the matter.”

  Cash clenched his hands against pure pulsating rage. He was the father, and he wanted the whole damned world to know it. But he kept his silence. That was Laura’s choice to make, not his. None of this was his any longer. Even Mark, he realized with a longing regret. He had given up his claim to Mark when he married Sallie.

  “Just write up the deed, Will. I’m not worried about Laura’s being able to handle it, so neither should you be. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  Swinging on his heel, Cash strode out. One bridge burned. How many more to go? The new deputy sheriff was an excellent starting place.

  Chapter 34

  “Look Jonathan, the only way I can salvage the place is to sell my ranch in California, and that’s just sending good money after bad.” Cash strode up and down Jonathan’s parlor the next day, struggling with anger and consternation. “You know how Laura is about that farm. She’ll be distraught. All I’m asking is that you be around to help her, just for a little while. I don’t know what decision she will make, but it will be her decision, not mine. I’ve interfered where I don’t belong once too often. I don’t care if she burns the place down. Hell, I’d rather not see the place ever again. But whatever she does, she does it on her own.”

  The cool gambler who had won his fortune in hard work and an ability to keep his thoughts to himself was slowly crumbling to human stature, Jonathan thought. Perhaps there was some justice in the world after all.

  “I’m not the one you should be telling this to, Laura is. You’re not planning on heading out without telling her what you plan to dump in her lap, are you?”

  Cash ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. “I can’t go back there tonight. I’ve got a score or two to settle. I thought I’d wait until I had the deed in hand tomorrow. But I hate leaving her there alone. The place is a wreck. I know she can handle it, but I don’t want her to have to do it alone. Just go out and hold her hand, Jonathan. You were real good at doing that before.”

  Jonathan drew himself up angrily and pointed his finger at the door. “Out! Out of my house, Cash. I’ll not be party to whatever it is you’re planning. You go tell Laura to her face what you’re meaning to do. And when you’re done with her, if there’s anything left of you, I’ll gladly pour you on the boat and step in where I should have stepped in long ago. And if you so much as make one move toward her again, I’ll have you nailed to the wall. Do you understand that?”

  Cash tightened his jaw and faced him. “I can’t do that, Jonathan. I did that before, and I’ll not do it again. If she needs me, I’ll be there, but I’ve got to give her time. Don’t you see that? The whole damn town would come down around our heads if I did anything else. And I sure as hell can’t give her time if I’m underfoot every day. I’m a man, Jonathan, not a stick of wood. I’ve been so damned honorable this past year that I don’t know myself. But it can’t last, hasn’t lasted. I’ve got to put some distance between us.”

  That was the last thing Jonathan he wanted to hear. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glared at the man his former ward had become. “Tell that to Laura.”

  With a curt nod of understanding, Cash put on his hat and left. Talking to Laura wouldn’t resolve anything, he knew, but he relied on Jonathan’s support. If the only way he could get it was by talking to Laura, he would do it, but he wasn’t going to like it. Neither was she.

  ***

  Laura hid her sigh of relief when she heard the familiar sound of Cash’s boots on the front porch. It was nearly sundown and supper had already been put away, but she had left something warming for him on the stove. She had feared that he meant to return to Watterson’s without coming by. She wouldn’t have been responsible for her actions if he had.

  Her emotions were still in the same disarray as the house. She needed Cash to help her think. She needed to know his feelings. If what had happened last night meant nothing to him, then she would struggle to cope as she had before.

  But she couldn’t prevent hope from burrowing into her heart as he climbed the stairs to his room to wash. What little she could remember with any coherence of the prior night hadn’t sounded like she meant nothing to him.

  Even if her hopes came true, even if he felt the same as she, they faced obstacles. Laura knew that. But they would be much easier to surmount together. That’s all she asked, that they face them together. She was so tired of facing the world alone. She was willing to sacrifice what little freedom she possessed in a gamble that together with Cash she would know more independence than she had ever known in her life.

  He was making a gambler of her too. Laura smiled to herself as she heard him unconventionally using the back stairs. When he discovered her in the kitchen, Cash seemed taken aback, but he lifted the lid of a pot on the stove to examine the contents. “Mind if I eat first?”

  “First?” With an amused expression, Laura brought him silver and plates. She had sent the servants off for a well-deserved rest, wanting Cash all to herself. “Kitchen or dining room?”

  Glancing around at the usually bustling kitchen, Cash shrugged. “I’ve eaten in kitchens before. Makes no difference to me.”

  Finally sensing his nervousness, Laura laid a place at the old pine-board table the servants used. She didn’t know her place in Cash’s life. So she waited for him to show her what he expected.

  Except Cash had long since developed the habit of waiting for her to speak first. Now that there was no longer any reason for them to keep their thoughts to themselves, he couldn’t seem to break the habit.

  They exchanged a few words as Cash offered to help her with the pot, and she asked if he wished the salt. The commonplaceness of the exchange didn’t lighten the tension. Laura picked up the polishing cloth and the silver she had been working on while Cash ate.

  He watched her work, admiring the glint of her hair in the light of the oil lamp, enjoying being able to watch her without reservation. She had long lashes that swept over her cheeks when she looked down, and her cheeks were gradually acquiring a rosy hue with his scrutiny.

  Her hands were long and slender, quick and efficient in everything they did. For a long time he had known that the daintiness disguised a rare tough diamond. He didn’t give a damn whether she came in blond or brown, tall or short. He no longer cared if other men’s heads were turned by the woman on his arm. Sallie had cured him of that.

  What Cash wanted was the woman in that slender package. He needed Laura’s strength, her caring, her passion. He had been a fool to believe that he would be happy by buying respect. He couldn’t buy respect. He had to earn it. And he wanted to earn Laura’s. But first he had to give her the freedom to make her choice.

  “Laura.”

  Her head lifted expectantly, and Cash nearly drowned in the luster of her eyes. Jonathan had been a fool to send him back here. Last night rushed back to him so clearly that he knew he could just reach out for her and she would be in his arms. And bed. That thought jarred him back to the kitchen.

  “I think it’s best for you if I go away for a while. I’ll sleep over at the Watterson place tonight. I’m having the farm put in Mark’s name, where it belongs. I’ll have someone bring you the deed when it’s ready.”

  Giving her head a confused shake, Laura inquired politely, “You’ll do what?”

  Cash knew that tone. The polite little girl who said “yes, sir” and “no, sir” while boiling with fury used that tone. The same little girl who had once loosed a killer dog on a man she had decided needed to die. He preferred it when she unleashed that fury, as she had last night, but then, they both knew what had happened last night.

  Sighing, running his hand through his hair, Cash rested his forehead in his palm and tried to gather his defenses. “You heard me, Laura, and you know I’m right. You’re grieving, and you haven’t had time to think about the future. I forced something on you last night that you shouldn’t have to contend with right n
ow. And if I stay, I’m likely to do it again. Jonathan will be here to help you. You’ll have to decide how much you want to spend on repairs. I wanted to leave the place in better shape, but as it is, I’d better just leave.” He wore a look of desperation when he looked up. “I’m trying to do what’s best, Laura.”

  Laura thought she had spent the best of her fury last night, but she was wrong. Cash was perfectly able to kindle it all over again. Why had she ever thought that she could get along with this mule-headed man? She must have clouds for brains. He had gambled and lost and now he was about to walk away, as if she were a deck of cards to be thrown on the table. But this deck of cards could talk.

  Shakily she rose from the table, holding her hand against the wood to balance her rage. “What’s best for whom, Cash Wickliffe? For me? For the boy upstairs who needs a father? For the servants who need to know they’ll have jobs come next year or they’ll starve? Who do you think you’re helping by running away, Cash? I’ll tell you who—yourself! You are the only one who benefits by your departure. You can forget the trampled corn, the crumbling house, old grudges, and cantankerous neighbors. You can forget those rotten thieves who would bring the whole world down to their stinking level. You can forget that grave out back and all the dreams that died with her. You can just ride away and be free again, leaving me to deal with all of it. You’re a coward, Cash Wickliffe, and if you walk out of here tonight, I never want to see your face again!”

  Cash stood up when she did and took her words like blows to the stomach, but when she was done, he curled his knuckles against the table and leaned forward to lash back. “You didn’t even wait to hear how far I meant to go or how long I meant to stay. You couldn’t wait one second to condemn me, as your neighbors have been condemning me for years. It never occurred to you to listen to my side of the story, did it? If that’s what you think of me, then fine, it’s a good thing we have it out right now so neither of us gets any fancy notions. Perhaps you have some right to hate all men, Laura, but I thought I’d given you some reason to think differently of me. It seems I was wrong. I’ll send Jonathan to you with the deed in the morning. It’s been good knowing you.”