Chasing the Sun

by Kaki Warner

  It was his favorite time of day.

  Stepping through the iron gate, he let it clang shut behind him to warn her that he was there. As he wove through the markers of all the people who had lived and died on this patch of land called RosaRoja, he wondered how Jessica could ever think he would put it at risk. This was his home too. And these were his family and friends resting here.

  Maybe she was the one who lacked trust.

  Brady sighed. He was kidding himself and he knew it. This wasn’t about trust. It was about fear. His fear of losing her.

  But pigs would frolic like nighthawks in the twilight sky before he would ever admit that to anyone but himself. A man had his pride.

  She looked up when she heard him approach, but said nothing. He was relieved to see she wasn’t crying. Stopping beside her, he thrust his hands into the front pockets of his denims and said, “I made a mistake with the smelter loan. I should have told you but I didn’t want to worry you and I ... I was afraid if you knew, you’d be disappointed and, well ... upset.”

  Christ. Why had he admitted that? He almost reached down to check that his balls were still there. Instead, he stood in embarrassed silence and waited for her to speak.

  It was a long time before she did.

  “You’re such a dolt.”

  Relieved, he sank onto the bench beside her. Lacing her fingers through his, he said, “The ranch was never at risk, Jessica. I wouldn’t have let it go that far. But you have enough to deal with and I didn’t want to add to your worry.”

  “It’s my home, Brady.”

  “As you once told me,” he reminded her with a smile, “it’s just dirt.”

  “But it’s our dirt.” She took in a deep breath. When she let it out, he felt some of the stiffness leave the fingers in his grip. “I know it’s against your nature to ask for help, Brady, but in refusing to do so, whether you intend it or not, you tell those around you they’re not needed.”

  Brady had to laugh. “Not needed? Hell, you’re the reason for everything I do. You, the children, my brothers. Without you, there’s nothing.”

  She didn’t respond, but he sensed a softening in her posture.

  Gently stroking the hand he held in his, he watched evening creep down the slopes, sending long shadows across the valley floor as the sun slipped behind the peaks. Bobwhites would be out soon. Coyotes and crickets would add their voices to the night music that had lulled him to sleep for a quarter-century. He would sooner die than let it all go. “Besides,” he said after a time, “how can you think you’re not needed? I let you tend all the important things, don’t I?”

  She turned her head and looked at him, the side of her face stained pink by the dying sun. “What important things?”

  “Me, for one.” He grinned. “And the kids, of course.”

  She cast her gaze at the darkening sky. “You’re absurd.”

  Undaunted, he added, “And I went all the way to England for you, didn’t I?”

  “After a whole year,” she reminded him. “And after you sent me there.”

  He couldn’t argue that.

  “And as I recall”—she gave him an arch look—“when you arrived, you said you would never push me away again, and that you wouldn’t shut me out of your life, and we would share our problems and concerns with each other. Remember?”

  Not exactly, but he nodded anyway. After kissing her hand to show his sincerity, he lifted his head and gave her what he hoped was a stern, manly look. “But don’t expect me to come belly crawling to you every time I have a problem.”

  “Belly crawling!” She reared back to look at him, an imp dancing in her eyes. Her smile was positively evil. “Oooh. I like that picture.”

  The sassy woman was laughing at him. “You want pictures? I’ve got your picture right here.” Releasing her hand, he reached for his belt buckle.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes pinned to his hands as he undid the top button on his denims.

  “I thought you wanted to share.”

  “Brady!” She looked around. “It’s daylight. Anyone could see us!”

  “It’s dusk. And no one can see us.”

  “But we’re outdoors! Cover yourself!”

  Instead, he opened his trousers all the way and undid the tabs on his drawers. “Remember those riding lessons we shared? Time for another lesson.” And before she could protest further, he swung a leg over to straddle the bench, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her astride his lap.

  “Brady!”

  “Help me out here,” he muttered as he tugged and wrestled her skirts aside. “Shift to the right ... yeah ... there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  JACK HAD NOT BEEN AN EASY PATIENT.

  He had insisted he be allowed up that morning, but Molly had been adamantly against it, afraid that if he walked on his leg too much too soon, he might pull his stitches loose and they would have to start all over again. It had been an ongoing battle throughout the day, but with liberal doses of laudanum and Molly and Daisy and Jessica and Elena all taking turns browbeating him, they had managed to keep him in bed.

  Daisy had needed that extra time to figure out what she was going to do. The moment for a final decision on Brady’s plan was drawing close, but no matter how much she argued with herself, she remained mired in confusion. She loved Jack. But the dream was so much a part of who she was, she was certain if she let it drift away, she would lose the better part of herself.

  It was an intolerable situation.

  That evening, as she headed up to check on Kate before retiring for the night, she still had not reconciled herself to leaving Jack, and she was so weary of fretting over it she felt like curling into a ball in a corner and crying until there were no more tears left. Which would accomplish nothing, of course, other than to give her puffy eyes and a raging headache.

  Stepping into Kate’s room, she raised the lamp she had brought from downstairs high enough to light her way through the toys and books strewn across the floor. Except the floor was clean—she had forgotten she had packed everything away that afternoon. Seeing the stripped room reminded her that she no longer belonged here, that soon she would be gone from this place and these people she had grown to care for so much. Then she realized Kate wasn’t in her crib.

  Had she crawled over the slatted sides? It wouldn’t be long, Daisy knew, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Kate wasn’t yet two, although she was very agile for her age and had always been an energetic climber.

  Frowning, she crossed to the water closet. Not finding Kate there, she went on to her own room. She wasn’t there either. Retracing her steps to her daughter’s room, she checked the wardrobe and behind the chair. Nothing. Starting to become concerned, she went out into the hall and listened. The house was as quiet as a church on Monday.

  Then she saw that Jack’s door was ajar. She crossed over to it and knocked softly, not wanting to awaken him if he was asleep. When she heard no answer, she gently pushed it open.

  Jack lay sleeping on his good side, the thick lump of his bandage outlined by the thin coverlet. Kate was sprawled beside him, one arm flung wide, the other holding her battered toy cat.

  Daisy felt a knot of emotion tighten her throat. They were so beautiful. So perfectly matched. Was she doing the wrong thing, forcing them apart?

  But if she didn’t, and Kate became even more attached, and Jack left...

  If only . . . she thought for the thousandth time.

  If only she were different and didn’t have this dream burning inside her.

  If only Jack were different and less ... Jack.

  Ah, but then she wouldn’t love him so much, would she?

  With a weary sigh, she tiptoed toward the bed. After setting the lamp on the bedside table, she reached down to pick up Kate.

  “Don’t.”

  Startled, she straightened to find Jack watching her through drowsy eyes.

  “Don’t take her.�
�� He spoke softly so he wouldn’t wake Kate. “Let her stay for a while.”

  “How did she get in here?”

  “I woke up and there she was.”

  “I’ll raise the sides on her crib.” Then she thought, Why? She’d soon be gone.

  She stood in awkward silence for a moment, a little addled by the intimacy of being alone with Jack in his bedroom. Which was absurd, of course, considering they had shared rooms in San Francisco, and she’d been here alone with him last night after Molly had left. But somehow tonight it felt different. Perhaps because when he looked at her that way, she reacted to the man, not the patient.

  “Why don’t you join us?” He gave her a sleepy smile.

  Although he hadn’t shaved, he’d bathed again—she could smell soap, and in the lamplight, his clean, sun-streaked hair glinted like threads of spun gold. He was wearing a new nightshirt, too, and she wondered where he’d gotten it, since she didn’t recall him ever using one in San Francisco. But that sleepy, beckoning smile she remembered all too well.

  “Stay,” he prodded. “It gets lonesome in here all by myself.”

  “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “I’ve been sleeping. I’ve never been in bed so long ... except for that time you and I—”

  “Hush.”

  The grin widened. “So you remember too.”

  Oh, she remembered. She remembered more than she wanted to. Even now her clothing chafed against her tingling skin.

  “Please, Daisy. Stay and talk to me. Tell me about your day.”

  “Well ...” Turning, Daisy looked in the shadows for the chair.

  “No, here.” Reaching over, he patted the mattress on the other side of Kate. “There’s plenty of room.” His expression changed subtly—his right brow rising in an arc, a lazy smile quirking one corner of his mobile mouth. She recognized the challenge behind it. “Stretch out, Daisy. Just for a bit.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Unless you’re afraid.”

  For a moment she blinked at him in astonishment, then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a startled burst of laughter. “My God, you’re unbelievable,” she choked out. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

  “Not around you.”

  “So now I’m supposed to rip off my clothes and leap into bed, is that it?”

  His smile seemed to waver. “Only if you want to.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Still fighting laughter, she leaned over and gave his whiskered cheek a quick kiss. “You do know how to make me laugh.”

  The smile was completely gone now, and she knew she had tweaked his feelings. But really. The man was a drugged invalid, for mercy’s sake.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

  “I know.” Stretching out on top of the covers beside Kate, she carefully tucked her skirts around her legs. “That’s why it was.”

  Aware that he was leaning on one elbow, his head propped on his fist, looking at her, she stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of something to say to restore his good mood. The poor man had had a rough enough day. He didn’t deserve ridicule.

  “How do you feel?” she asked in a kindly tone.

  “Rejected. Hurt. But still willing.”

  She looked over and found him grinning at her again. The man was unrelenting. “One-Track-Jack” indeed. “I meant how does your leg feel?”

  “Rejected. Hurt. Still willing. Oh, that leg.”

  He knew how to provoke her, he surely did. When she started to sit up, he chuckled and put his hand on her shoulder. “Relax. I’ll behave.”

  She doubted it, but lay back anyway.

  Silence stretched between them, and Daisy’s teasing mood became melancholy as she thought of all that had transpired over the last days and all that she owed this man beside her. With so many people around all the time, she hadn’t been able to talk to him about it and she needed to let him know how grateful she was.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t sent us on—I keep seeing that tree heading toward you—and I—”

  “I know.” Reaching over with his free hand, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I keep seeing you and Kate running toward the end of the bridge. Until Brady told me, I didn’t know if you’d made it to the bank or not.”

  His fingertips stroked down her cheek. Unable to stop herself, she turned her face into his touch, and found his smoky eyes studying her with an unfamiliar intensity. “If I’d lost you, Daisy ... either of you ...” His gaze moved over her face, following the path of his fingers as they traced the arc of her jaw and down the long column of her neck. “It would have killed me.”

  She felt a clenching deep inside as his fingers moved across the front of her worn dimity dress to cup the swell of her breast. “You’re a wonder, is what you are,” he said softly. “You were made for my hands. Made for me.”

  Closing her eyes, Daisy struggled to focus her mind away from the fingers that were slipping the buttons free. But sweet memories floated through her mind. And long-checked needs arose. And when he opened the front of her dress and pulled down the thin chemise and his fingers brushed the arc of her bare breast ... they left fire in their wake.

  “Your heart’s beating as fast as the wings of a little bird. For me, Daisy? Because of this?” His fingers moved to stroke her other breast.

  She arched into his hand. Her nerves sang. She wanted to melt into him. Taste his skin.

  If only ...

  Time spiraled backward. The empty years faded away and all the hurts and disappointments and pain of the past eased under his stroking hand.

  “Ah ... Daisy,” he said. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed the feel of you.”

  Sensing she was slipping back where she couldn’t allow herself to go, Daisy forced open her eyes. Sounding calmer than she felt, she said, “Elena is leaving.”

  The gentle stroking stopped. His hand slid away as he rolled onto his back. She heard him take a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale. “When?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  “I’ll miss her.”

  “As will I.”

  She was aware that he’d turned his head to watch her refasten the buttons on her dress.

  “I like her,” Daisy admitted. “She’s a lovely woman. A good woman. I can see why she means so much to you and your brothers.”

  He looked up at the beams overhead. “Elena was the one beautiful, untainted thing throughout those long blood-soaked years. Keeping her safe was our salvation. I’ll always love her for that.”

  “I know.”

  “But like a sister. Nothing more.”

  When Daisy didn’t respond, he turned his head and gave her a sad but open smile. “I should take her to Val Rosa to see her off.”

  “Yes, you should,” she agreed, and realized at that moment, with those words, the decision had been made. He would go one way. And she would go the other. That was the only chance they had of escaping this tangled web of hopes and dreams and what-ifs. But already she was dreading the moment he and Elena rode out the gate—the last moment she would see him—maybe forever.

  Anger curdled in her stomach. What a coward she was to slink away like a thief in the night. Surely she owed him at least a good-bye.

  Abruptly, she sat up, feeling trapped by her weakness. She should have ended this earlier. She should have left the moment Jack gave her the money. Instead, she had let herself fall in love with him all over again. Fool.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat with her back to him, her hands gripping the mattress beside her hips. When she saw the brown bottle of laudanum on the bed table, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “Have you taken your evening dose?”

  “Just before you came in,” he said around a yawn. “But that’s it. I’m done with that swill so don’t expect me to take more tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. The last full day before she left. Tears clogged her throat. Feeling herself weaken and fearing that if she didn’t sp
eak now she might change her mind, she blurted out the words she had avoided all day. “I can’t stay.”

  There, she’d said it. She’d found the strength to put her foot back on the right path. Now all she had to do was keep going.

  “Stay where?” he asked behind her.

  “Here. Kate and I can’t stay.”

  “Sure, you can. You can stay here as long as you want.”

  She looked back at him over her shoulder. “No. I can’t stay. I have to go.”

  Frowning, he learned up on his elbow. “Have to go, or want to?”

  She wouldn’t answer that. To do so would shatter the resolve she was struggling so hard to maintain.

  “You can’t leave,” he argued. “You need to stay right where you belong. Both of you. With me.”

  She looked away, her throat so tight she could barely breathe.

  “Jack—”

  “We’ll work something out,” he said, yawning again. “I promise.” She felt the mattress shift as he lay back down again. “Just as soon as I get back from Val Rosa, we’ll figure everything out. I promise.”

  She should have spoken then. Told him about the dream and a lifetime of yearning and hope. But she couldn’t form the words. So she sat by his side and watched him as the drug took effect, memorizing the planes and angles and textures of his beautiful face, tucking the images safely away for all the lonely years ahead. When finally he slept, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, lifted Kate from his side, and tiptoed from the room.

  Twenty-three

  THE NEXT MORNING, JACK AWOKE A NEW MAN. IT WAS amazing what a warm, dry bed; a full belly; and a bottle of laudanum could do for a fellow. He’d even managed to get through another gouging and poking examination by his new sister-in-law and now here he was standing on both feet and shaving all by himself without his hand shaking or that woozy feeling from being drugged and kept in bed so long.

  It was going to be a grand day.

  He paused, the straight razor poised above his jaw, and wondered if Hank knew his pretty little wife’s hands had been all over his injured leg. His injured upper leg. And sore chest. Grinning, he resumed shaving. He’d have to tell him.