Comanche Rose (29 page)

"I don't know what to do about Spider. I don't let him out except to take care of his business, and then he comes right back in."

"After supper, if you don't find him, I'll take the lantern out and look," he promised. "But right now I'd kinda like to wash up."

"Yes, of course," she murmured, still distracted. Recovering, she decided, "Maybe he's out hunting."

"Probably."

"When he smells supper, he'll come in," she decided.

"What is it?"

"Well, since we were leaving in the morning, I hadn't planned on making a big mess of anything. I thought maybe I'd heat the beans I put down the well last night, maybe fry some greens and make some cornbread to go with it. You like wilted greens, don't you?"

"With bacon?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes."

"And vinegar?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, my ma used to fix 'em like that."

"So did Ethan's mother." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. She didn't suppose he'd want to hear much about Ethan anymore. "My mother wasn't much of a cook," she added lamely.

"It's all right, Annie, I don't mind," he said. "It's not like we were a couple of kids. We both lived a long time before we crossed paths." He forced a twisted smile. "Your face gives you away, you know."

"Does it?"

"Yeah. You're wondering if I'm expecting you to put your memories away somewhere, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'd think there was something wrong if you hadn't loved him, Annie. I'm just wanting to be part of the rest of your life, that's all."

She could feel a lump rise in her throat, and her eyes felt hot with unshed tears. "Thank you," she managed.

To cover the awkwardness he felt, he decided, "Well, I'd better get washed up." He held up his hands. Lake Buell's blood had been rinsed off at Ralph Baker's pump, but his knuckles were raw and swollen. "Don't suppose you got anything for this, do you?"

"Yes. It's horse balm, but E—but we used it for everything. It heals cuts and sores." She took a step closer to inspect his knuckles. "That hurts, doesn't it?"

"Not bad. I've done a lot more damage to 'em before," he assured her.

"Lake looked pretty beat up."

"I wanted to kill him."

"Yes, well, I'm glad you didn't." Moving away, she rummaged in a cupboard and found the jar of balm. "I keep it in here for cuts and burns," she explained, coming back with it. "I burned my hand a couple of months ago putting wood in the stove, and after I stuck it in some snow, I put a little of this on it. It was healed in less than a week."

"Good. We better take some of it with us."

"Yes." She looked up at him. "Sit down, and I'll work on those."

"You don't need to."

"But I want to."

He sank into a chair and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the checked tablecloth, his hands up in the air. She filled a pan of water from the bucket and brought it to the table. Sitting down across from him, she reached out to feel of his knuckles. He winced.

"This could be broken, you know," she said.

"No. I can move my fingers." To demonstrate, he flexed his sore hands. "Fellow had a damned hard jaw, though."

"He's quite a respected fighter in these parts," she murmured, dipping a washcloth into the water. "This may sting," she told him, rubbing lye soap on it. "I thought I'd get everything good and clean, put a little iodine on it, then rub the balm in."

"Big men move slower and fall harder. I reckon we won't..."

But as she took his hand in hers, he lost his train of thought entirely. She had her head bent so he was looking at the shining crown of hair beneath the kerosene lantern. He had to close his eyes lest she look up and see the naked desire there. All he could think of was how close she was. All he could feel was the warmth of her fingers against his.

"Fight again?" she finished for him. "I wouldn't bet on it. He's got a mean temper and a real high opinion of himself. But you shouldn't have let him pick a fight with you, you know. I've always heard he was a dirty fighter."

"I guess I got lucky. I picked the fight with him," he managed, trying not to look at her.

"The skin's split here. I probably ought to bind it."

"No."

"No?" She looked up at that.

"Just let the air heal it," he muttered. "And the balm."

"You're sure?"

He wanted to go across that table, to gather her up and hold her, but he'd promised her time. Instead, he pulled his hands away and stood up. "You've done enough," he said harshly. "I'll finish up." Then, knowing how gruff he sounded, he added, "I don't want to put you out doing something I can do for myself. You just go ahead with supper." Reaching out, he grabbed the jar of balm and headed for the door. "I'd better look in on the team," he said lamely.

"You just put them up."

"Yeah, but I didn't look to see if there was any water."

"Would you bring the beans in from the well when you come back?"

"Sure." Out of the corner of his eye he could see her taking down the lantern. "Where are you going?"

"To pick the greens. There's some just out the back door."

"Oh."

He went around to the front of the house and sat on the stoop to rub the soothing ointment over his knuckles. Then he walked slowly to the barn, where he knew he'd already done everything. Inside, he leaned against the door to old Red's stall, talking to the big roan, trying to take his mind off Annie.

"Guess we'll be leaving in the morning," he told the horse. "It's not going to be just you and me anymore, you know." Red snorted, then moved closer to the door, hanging his head over it. Hap scratched the area between his eyes. "Yeah, I know, you're thinking I'm an old fool, aren't you? You figure if I was to get this far, I could have made it the rest of the way without a wife, don't you? Here I've been telling myself I was too restless to stay at the Ybarra with Clay, and now I'm wanting to settle down on this little farm. Don't make much sense, huh?"

In answer the big animal bumped his hand with its nose, trying to get him to keep scratching. Hap ran his hand down the bone, caressing the short, stiff hairs.

"I haven't been honest with her, you know," he went on. "I'd about as soon take my chances in a nest of rattlesnakes than go up there looking for that kid, knowing she's going to be disappointed. It'd be easier to strike gold in California than to find a little girl that's been with 'em this long. But I've got to try, anyway, 'cause that's why she's married me. Hell, maybe I
am
a fool."

He lingered in the barn until he felt sure enough of himself to go back to the house. He didn't want her to catch him panting after her like a dog waiting for a bitch in heat. He wanted more than that, anyway. He wanted her respect, he told himself. But in his heart, what he really wanted most was for her to love him. If he could have rolled back time and started over, he'd have wanted to be Ethan Bryce before the damned Comanches came.

It was dark, and the air was unusually heavy when he came outside. He took a deep breath, smelling the wood-smoke coming from the chimney, the scent of damp dust that came before a rain. Unless it blew on over, a storm would be moving in before morning. Even as he looked up, he could see the faint flashes of heat lightning along the horizon. The rain probably wouldn't amount to much, he decided. Just enough to settle the dust.

He stopped at the well and pulled the sealed crock up from the cool water, then carried it inside. The smell of frying bacon and baking cornbread greeted him at the door, welcoming him. This was the way a man was meant to live, and tonight he wanted to savor it.

But once inside, once he saw her standing at the cookstove, her hair clinging damply to her temples and her neck, it started all over for him. There was something about knowing she was his wife that made it hard to remember he wasn't supposed to touch her. Not yet, anyway. She needed time.

"It's about ready," she said over her shoulder. "I thought you'd gotten lost outside."

"I was just checking on things, figuring what I needed to do to get ready before we leave," he told her. "Anything I can do?"

"No. I've already set out the plates. I don't guess you saw Spider out there, did you?"

"No. No sign of him."

"I'm afraid he's lost," she said, sighing. "I don't want to go off and leave him out there."

"I'll look around again after I eat," he promised.

If he'd been asked what dinner tasted like later, he'd have had no answer. Trying not to look at her, he wolfed it down, then grabbed the lantern.

"If I'm not in right away, you don't need to wait up for me. You've had a long day."

"And you haven't?"

"I'm used to it. Anything you do to call him up?"

"Just kitty, kitty, kitty—at the top of my lungs."

"Okay." He hesitated at the door. "Look, don't worry about tonight. I was figuring on sleeping in the other bedroom, anyway."

"Yes."

"I've got no ideas," he lied.

"I know. You're a good man, Hap, better than I have any right to expect."

"Don't say that," he said sharply. "It's not your fault."

"You deserve better."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Annie—nothing that time won't take care of, anyway."

Bolting for the door with the lantern, he let himself outside. He held it in front of him as he walked the perimeter of the yard, calling, "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" until he felt like a damned fool. Every now and then he stopped to listen, hearing nothing besides the lonely howl of a distant coyote. The heat lightning still flickered too far away to even hear any thunder. "Kitty! Kitty!" Damn, where could the stupid little thing be? "Kitty! Come here, cat!"

The irony of what he was doing wasn't lost on him. Here he was, a bridegroom for the first time in his life, and he was spending his time walking around in a pitch-dark night on rattlesnake-infested land, looking for a damned black cat. He was just glad there wasn't anybody around to see him. Leaves rustled in the cottonwood tree by Ethan Bryce's grave. Holding the lantern higher, Hap looked up. A big owl blinked back at him.

At least maybe she'd be in bed by the time he went inside. Maybe he wouldn't have to look at her, thinking how much he'd like to be undressing her, how much he'd like to be exploring that pale, pretty skin of hers. The desire that washed over him left him spitting cotton. He found his way to the pump by the well and worked the creaking handle vigorously, then stuck his whole head under it, trying to drown the heat that was overwhelming him.

Her light was still on. Damn it. Why couldn't she just go on to bed? As he watched, she came to the window, opening it to let in the soft breeze. Her white cotton gown billowed around her. Instead of moving away, she lifted her arms and fanned the gown to cool her body. Then she picked up a hairbrush and stood there, brushing her hair with the light of a kerosene lamp behind her.

"Kitty!" he shouted angrily. "Spider, where the devil are you? Kitty!"

Annie heard him and leaned into the window. "If somebody called me like that, Hap, I'd run," she chided him.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't coming the other way either," he muttered.

"You can't see anything out there, can you?"

"Not much."

"I guess if nothing's got him, he'll turn up in the morning. I'll come out and look for him then," she decided. "You need your sleep, too."

"Are you ever going to bed?"

"Yes."

"Then do it."

She was taken aback by the tone of his voice. "All right. I was just brushing all the tangles out."

"I'd say you've about got 'em. Look, I don't want to come in until you've got your door closed, all right? I'm a man, Annie, not a saint."

Her eyes widened, then she backed out of the window. "I'll close it now."

It wasn't really what he wanted to hear, but he'd made his deal with her and he intended to keep his word. Going back around to the door, he let himself in. Her light was out now, leaving the house in total darkness except for the lantern. Lighting his way to the other bedroom, he put it on the little table, then sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.

She probably thinks you're the biggest fool on earth, Hap Walker,
his voice told him.
You'll burn a long time before she looks at you like you want her to.

Still clothed in the black pants and the now wet collarless white shirt, he lay down, staring up at the fantastic pattern the flickering lantern flame made on the ceiling. He was a patient man when it came to tracking Indians and outlaws, he reminded himself. He had to keep that same patience if he wanted to win her.

Finally, still wide awake, he got up and found his tablet. Carrying it back to bed with him, he pulled the lantern closer, wet his pencil, and began to write. At the rate he'd started, he'd have his whole life told in twenty pages, he decided. But maybe once he had the main things down, he'd go back and fill it in with stories a boy'd like. Things such as what it had been like on the farm where he grew up. Things like what it was really like to spend half a lifetime in a saddle.

It sounded like a rifle crack in the room with him. Hap sat bolt upright in bed as lightning lit the sky outside. The wind screamed, forcing the window curtain straight out into the room. His first thought was a Texas twister was coming through. He made a jump for the window, closing it just as a wall of water hit.

The wind roared like a steam engine, and the house shook. Above, the roof groaned. Groping his way in the dark, he made his way to Annie's room.

"I think it's a twister!" he shouted, reaching for her. "Get under the damned bed!" As his hand closed over her arm, she fought back, screaming. "For God's sake, Annie, it's me, Hap!"

He managed to drag her from the bed, and he rolled underneath it, taking her with him, pinning her down with his leg. She went limp then and lay, passive and quivering, under his weight. Something crashed outside the window, and for a moment he thought the house was going. Throwing his body over hers, he shielded her head with his hands.

It was over within minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. The wind receded, leaving an eerie, silent calm. "Just wait," he whispered. "There may be more."