Stay With Me

by Rita Hestand

  Thinking about what Charlie said, Willa looked at Clay at the table that evening. "Charlie thinks if I wore a white woman's dress, I might be more accepted by the town's people. What do you think?"

  Clay glanced from Willa to his father. "He might have a point. You are after all half white so there's really no reason you shouldn't. We could go into town and you could get a couple of dresses."

  "I have no money to pay for them though." She frowned. "And going into town might cause problems."

  "Well, you're our cook, we need to pay you for your work." Clay insisted. "I tell you what we can go to Farmersville and pick up a couple of dresses there."

  "Alright, then I will buy a dress and when Elan is older, I will dress him like a cowboy too." Willa smiled.

  They all chuckled.

  Clay glanced at his dad who was smiling at the baby, "How are you feeling dad?"

  "I'm fine, probably too much sun."

  "You scared the daylights out of me. What did the doc say?"

  "It's nothing," Charlie tried to brush it off.

  "He has consumption." Willa remarked lowly.

  "Willa…!" Charlie frowned at her.

  "He needs to know, Charlie." Willa told him sternly. "And you must take your medicine and do as the doctor said."

  Charlie got up from the table and walked to the door, "I don't need no nursemaid." Charlie quipped.

  Clay looked at him sternly. "Maybe you do, old man."

  Charlie walked out the door and slammed it.

  "He is angry?" Willa looked shocked. "I am sorry."

  "He'll get over it. He gets contrary when he gets under the weather, but consumption is serious." He looked at her now. "Will you help me keep him under control."

  "Under control?"

  "He's got to do what the doc says, consumption is not to be taken lightly, especially at his age." Clay frowned.

  "I will do my best."

  She looked down at Elan who was smacking his lips.

  "Willa, he didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Clay told her and reached to touch her hand covering it gently. There was something about touching her, her hand felt so right in his. Her heart hammered, and she longed to look into Clay's eyes, but she dare not.

  She didn't move her hand away, she couldn't. It felt so good in his.

  Shocked by the touch, she lifted her eyes slowly to him, and a feeling she couldn't explain went through her. "I know." Her voice was breathless. She barely got the words out.

  "I'm gonna go talk to him now, but thanks for all you've done for him. You let me know if he gives you any trouble." He said squeezing her hand just a tad. He was simply saying thanks and reassuring her, but the gesture startled her, and warmed her heart.

  Mesmerized by his touch, Willa was speechless.

  She nodded slowly but didn't raise her eyes to his any longer as the soft smile on his lips and the touch of his hand had her reacting in a strange way. She forced her feelings aside. It was hard not to react to him.

  He stood up, came closer and with the curl of his finger lifted her chin. "Don't worry so much." His voice was low, almost seductive. His words caressed her softly, as she looked into his eyes now, startled that she could. He stared long and hard.

  But she knew she was reading much to much into his actions. Kindness from any white man would make her take notice though.

  She nodded, and she couldn't stop herself from looking into his face just once more. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, he leaned just a little toward her, his eyes pinned on her lips, she held her breath waiting, hoping, but he must have had second thoughts, as he moved away. That moment was precious to her and she almost wished he had. But instead she silently scolded herself for her weakness.

  When he headed out the door, she let out a sigh.

  "I must control my feelings, I must."

  She pulled Elan closer, "It is hard not to show how I feel, little one. I must be stronger for both our sakes."

  Elan gurgled and she smiled. "Except with you." She kissed his head.

  ***

  Clay found his father out by the barn. He was working on making a new rope and it seemed to relax him. Charlie had made many in his lifetime, Clay noted. "You weren't very nice in there." Clay glanced at him, waiting for some reply.

  "I guess I thought Indian women were different, but they are as busybodies as a white woman." Charlie fretted.

  "She's worried about you."

  "I know that. But I'll be okay. I'll take the medicine and do what the doc said. I just don't have to like doing it." Charlie insisted. "I like the doc, but I don't like him doctoring me."

  "For a man that doesn't smoke, I didn't think you'd catch consumption."

  "It's all the rain we've had or something." Charlie fretted, "but don't you be planning my funeral yet. I've got some years left. I've grown very fond of both of them and I want to see that little fella grow up, healthy and strong and ready to deal with whatever he has to."

  Clay chuckled. "I see he's really won your heart."

  "You really think she's worried about me?" Charlie glanced at the house.

  "I know she is. And it hasn't been that long since her father died. She kind of looks at you like a father, you know?" Clay smiled at him.

  "And how does she look at you, son?" He quirked a brow with a question in his eyes.

  Clay looked startled, "What do you mean?"

  "You're not that dumb, you know what I'm talking about."

  "Did you really tell her she should wear a white woman's dress?" Clay asked.

  "Sure, I did. I figure it might make people accept her easier if she looked white, instead of Indian."

  Clay turned away. "Maybe you're right. I hadn't given it much thought. But it—" He stopped before he revealed too much of his feelings.

  Charlie stared at his son with understanding, "It'll make you see her as white too, won't it?"

  "Maybe." Clay firmed his lips and turned away.

  "You know son, there's nothing wrong with her being Indian. She's a decent, God-fearing woman."

  "I know that." Clay fretted then looked at his father and smiled shyly. "But I've been trying pretty hard not to think of her as a woman at all. It's almost impossible because she's so danged pretty? She deserves our respect dad. I don't want to scare her."

  "Now why would you do that?" Charlie asked.

  "What?" Clay snapped.

  "Why would you not think of her as a woman? Unless maybe you're attracted to her."

  "Because she's our cook and housekeeper, and because she's beautiful, and here, and I'm getting to know her now. It's hard not to get to know her. She's a very decent woman."

  When it got too quiet Clay looked at his dad seriously. "Maybe I need a trip into town."

  "Is that what you really want?"

  Clay's head turned so fast his head was spinning, "No, it isn't," He snapped at his father, then shook his head. "But it's a lot safer. Alright dad, you win, I'm attracted to her. I like her, too. It's hard not giving into temptation. You know, people in town never liked us much anyway. Her being here hasn't helped either. I don't think it's wise to get too close, and yet—"

  "And yet your heart tells you different, doesn't it, son?"

  Clay frowned, he didn't want to go there, and Charlie saw that in his eyes.

  "Then I guess you are gonna have to figure out a way to deal with it, son, because we've invited her to stay on."

  Charlie turned to look at Clay now, "It'd be alright with me, I just want you to know that."

  Clay let a slight smile crease his lips, "Thanks dad, I mean it."

  Charlie walked off with a smile on his face.

  On his way back inside, he started coughing and Clay stared, "Why don't you get some rest now. It's nap time."

  Charlie turned to look at him, "Maybe your right. Maybe I will." Charlie agreed a bit too quickly. "And Clay," he called to him over his shoulder.

  "Yeah?"

  "Don't let what the townspeo
ple think of her, influence how you feel about her. She's a good person, she's clean, she's a good mother, and she's a great cook."

  "I'm not sure how I feel about her, dad. But I'm pretty sure I shouldn't go there. Sometimes you have to turn away from things, to keep the peace."

  "Hard times never stopped you before." Charlie looked at the ground a minute then shot him a quick grin, "Maybe, and maybe it's time you found out exactly what you are feeling toward her."

  Clay walked toward him now. "It's not just how I feel dad."

  "What do you mean?" Charlie reared his head.

  "She doesn't want trouble, and neither do I!" Clay muttered. "She might leave if I—"

  "Son, trouble is part of life. It's how you handle the trouble that matters. And if you find out you love her; I'd bet my bottom dollar you won't let her leave."

  "You are right, you are always right dad, but I'm thinking of her, and her baby. Her being our cook and housekeeper is one thing. If I took things any further, there'd be hell to pay for it." Clay told him. "She's not the kind of woman to have and not claim." He glanced at the cabin and murmured lowly, "She's the kind to marry."

  "I'm glad you see that." Charlie smiled.

  "Maybe it all boils down to the fact that she's a woman, and living here with us, and being around her so much. She gets along with you so well, and she's a great mother."

  "She is that. And pretty to boot!" Charlie chuckled.

  "She's beautiful…" Clay murmured. "I think I'll ride into town dad; do you mind?"

  Charlie stared at him for a moment, then rubbed his chin, "I don't mind. You got an itch, I guess you better scratch it."

  Clay didn't smile though. In fact, the way he was acting he looked more like he was going into town for a hanging than to see a lady.

  Charlie wasn't blind either. It would cause all kinds of hell with their neighbors if Clay took Willa for his bride, but Charlie knew that's what was on Clay's mind. Even if Clay didn't.

  Maybe going into town wasn't such a bad idea. If he could satisfy himself with a whore, then he wasn't in love with Willa. Charlie knew that too. But Clay would have to see that for himself.

  Charlie went to the house, and Clay rode off.

  Willa had just put Elan down for a nap and was cleaning the kitchen.

  When she saw Charlie, she smiled and came up to him. "I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn with you."

  "You didn't. But I'm no hand at being sick. I think I'll join the little fella." He chuckled.

  Willa smiled.

  She wondered where Clay got off to, but it wasn't her business to keep up with him too. She had to remember her place here.

  Chapter Nine

  Clay glanced around town, there were a lot of people in town today. But he noticed not many spoke to him, like usual.

  He seldom came to town, only to help his father get supplies and tend to that itch. Today he wasn't certain he was doing right by coming here. He knew it wouldn't change what he felt inside. He knew his feelings for Willa were more than simple respect. Living with her day to day, watching her take care of things, of Elan, of them, and the gentleness of the way she did things. What wasn't to like about the woman? She worked along side them too. He'd never known a harder working woman.

  He couldn't get the picture of her and Elan at the creek out of his head either. Until that moment he had managed to keep her at a distance, but it was impossible not to think of her as a woman now, a beautiful woman in every way. In his heart he knew she fit him like a worked in glove.

  Still, what he felt wasn't practical and part of his brain seemed to fight that. Had it been lust?

  No, he knew the difference. Yes, she had a lovely body that any man would treasure knowing, a face like an angel when she smiled, a heart as big as Texas.

  Clay was sure of one thing, if he took her, she would be his, forever. But never being in a relationship made him back off. Was he falling in love with her?

  He'd rarely felt what most called love for a woman. Admiration was more the word he would use, but that didn't cover it with Willa. When he reached to touch her hand, he saw her face, her surprise and what else? When he pulled her chin around and stared into her eyes, he felt a jolt of something much more. And what shocked him, it wasn't a one way feeling. He saw the razor-edged control she managed to keep their relationship from being personal. Oh, he'd wanted to kiss her, many times. But he knew that a kiss would change everything. The funny thing about it was that he thought she wanted him too. The way her chin quivered against his finger touched her there, the way her eyes met his with question.

  She was as worried about keeping the peace as they were. But her tender heart, good morals and a sweet disposition was also hard to overlook.

  And there were many times when playing with Elan that he felt so close to the tike. He began to realize what his father had been telling him. He needed a family of his own. It was past time.

  One kiss and she'd be his, he knew it somehow. But it would mean marriage, and that would blow this whole territory wide open with hatred, and he knew it. Rock Creek wasn't sophisticated enough to handle a marriage like that.

  Still, that missed kiss sent his body into a stir. He'd wanted it too. Still did. He stared at those beautifully formed lips of hers, that slightly quivered when their eyes met.

  He was almost certain she was feeling the same way, with mixed emotions. He knew that kiss would fill his soul, from the loneliness he felt many times here on the prairie. If she weren't part Indian, she would make him a wonderful wife.

  But damn, could he let that stand in his way? It didn't matter to him personally. She was beautiful no matter what she was. But it would matter to everyone else.

  Did he honestly have to please everyone else?

  Could he resist her? Could he say no to his heart?

  Well, that's why he came to town, to find out. Would an afternoon delight with a whore satisfy him?

  He shook his head and sighed; he already knew the answer.

  So, how could he hide his feelings for her, how could he resist her? And how long would she continue to resist him?

  The wanting was growing every day inside him. Like he told his father, she was the kind a woman he'd marry, and he'd thought of it, many times in the past few days. More than he should, probably. Would all the hell it would cause be worth having her in his arms, in his bed? Oddly enough, he knew the answer to that question too.

  Sometimes he couldn't take his eyes from her. Sometimes he couldn't stop the wanting to kiss her, he could almost feel her lips on his. And the need to explore those lips tempted him every day.

  He'd never in his life felt this way before. It was like a bond was growing between them and he couldn’t stop it. Didn't want to stop it. And yet, he knew it'd be wise to not go there.

  He'd never worried over what people thought before. Having a real relationship with a woman was foreign to him. And yet deep down, he knew this was it. She was the one for him. She fit his life, she fit here, on their place. Hell, she belonged here with them.

  Admitting that now, shocked him.

  He wanted her in his life, in his bed, in his future. He wanted Elan too. He wanted to make a family, and he knew his dad wanted that for him too.

  Willa brought joy back into his home and both he and his father knew that.

  So, what was he doing here in town?

  Understanding his own needs, his wants, his desires, he faced them like a man. What stopped him was the trouble it would cause. He needed some reassurance from her that she was willing to fight any and everyone for their love.

  Love, that was it. He was in love. He didn't know how it happened, or exactly when. But it was there. And his heart did not doubt it. It was his thinking that kept him from moving toward what he really wanted now.

  He shook his head and smiled.

  It was so simple, he'd waited a lifetime for her, and here she was.

  He glanced around town and then decided to have a beer then he'd go back hom
e and try to keep his hands-off Willa, if he could.

  How did one stop themselves from falling in love? How long could he keep pushing her away when what he wanted was to kiss her sweet lips, caress her and take her to his bed to claim her. She was his, he knew that. So far, the words hadn't come, but he knew that was only a matter of time too.

  What a powerful feeling it was to admit love.

  From his cold greeting here in town, he supposed they'd all heard about Willa and the baby. Well, he knew he'd face some scorn for it. He knew how most of this town would feel about her. They'd fought Indians most of their lives, and he understood that feeling. He'd had some of the same feelings toward them himself. But it had been five years since an Indian uprising, and the peace that everyone felt still wasn't enough to rid itself of the hate it produced too.

  What if he told the town Elan was his? Could they come to accept it easier if he lied? Willa wouldn't like it, but it might make it all easier in the long run.

  But how could he stop the growing affection that he was sure was mutual between them. He could see it in her eyes, in her expressions that she had considered him too.

  Could they somehow make it work between them or was this some kind of off the wall attraction?

  Was it lust, or love?

  No, he knew lust. Lust was like the feeling he got when he came to town to have one of the saloon girls. Love was entirely different. He felt protective of Willa. He felt admiration for her as a woman. And what a woman she was.

  His loins tightened as he thought of her. He wanted her, he knew that, but would a marriage work between them? The odds were against them. Yet fur trappers married Indian women, and no one got upset. What was so different in this situation? Would it be heaven to wake up in the morning beside her, and kiss her luscious lips? Would he die to make her his? Could he take the step that would bring her to him? He was sure it wouldn’t take much.

  He knew the answer to those questions now. Admitting his love for her, answered all his questions.

  He went into the saloon and ordered a beer. Charlotte, one of the saloon girls ambled up to him. He could smell her perfume from a long ways. She was a pretty little thing, but he wasn't in love with her. He'd had her a time or two, but even though she knew a lot about making love, he knew it wasn't love. It was sensual pleasures. It was lust. She eyed him as he drank his beer. She stared at him.