Jodi Thomas (5 page)

Chapter Six

The morning crept by with the sounds of the children playing in a corner of the mess hall and a few of the wives talking as if nothing were wrong. Joanna tried to think of anything but the argument she’d had with Colt. It made no sense. Why hadn’t she just dropped the subject and walked away? Why had she allowed him to upset her so? He had a right to believe or not believe anything he wanted about love.

Buckles hurried into the mess hall just after lunch, his smile spread wide. “The captain said it’s all right to go back to your homes. Seems the rumors were just that, nothing to worry about.”

Aunt Etta jumped up and hugged Buckles. “Praise the Lord!” she shouted.

Joanna couldn’t miss the smile widening across Sergeant Buckles’s face.

He patted Etta’s shoulder gently. “Now, don’t you worry none. We’d fight to the last man to save a cook like you.”

Giggling like a schoolgirl, Etta gathered her things to head back to her own kitchen. “Sounds like you’re trying to wiggle an invitation to dinner out of me, Sergeant.”

“And if I am?” Buckles patted his stomach.

“Then consider yourself invited.”

Joanna smiled at the older couple but didn’t want to be part of their lightheartedness. “I’ll stay behind and clean up,” she yelled after Etta. “You go on without me.”

Johnnie waved good-bye as she and the twins followed Aunt Etta. “Don’t forget the blankets in the cellar, Miss Joanna.”

The child’s memory surprised Joanna, for in truth she had forgotten all about the blankets they’d brought over that morning. She put the cups away and headed down to the cellar, where she’d spread out a blanket for each of them.

As she folded the last one a noise rattled from above her and she wondered if Sergeant Buckles had returned to help her with the load.

But Colt walked down the steps slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. “It’s dusty down here,” he commented as he reached her level. His eyes were still black with anger from their conversation hours before. “What did you need, Miss Whiddon?” The light outlined his frame, making him seem huge as he moved toward her.

“Me!” Joanna’s word was drowned out by the sound of the cellar door closing, cutting out all the light in the tiny room. One moment she could see the captain standing only a foot in front of her, and the next, the room was as black as a starless night.

Colt’s swear words were loud enough for anyone outside to overhear. He bolted up the steps and slapped against the door just after the lock fell into place.

“Open the door, Captain!” Joanna suddenly felt a kind of panic at being trapped in the cellar. “I don’t want to be down here in the dark.” She heard Colt’s body slam once more against the door.

“I can’t.” Colt swore again. “Whoever closed the door threw the lock. We built this place to double as a jail if we ever needed one. There’s no way out from the inside.”

She could hear him feeling his way back down the steps. “Light a candle,” he ordered.

“I can’t,” Joanna answered. “I sent them up top with the girls earlier. They were only stubs and I planned to send new ones over.”

“Why’d you send for me?”

“Send for you? I didn’t!” Joanna fought the urge to swing wildly through the blackness and see if she could hit him. His tone told her he considered this mess to be her fault.

“But Johnnie said you did.” He shot the words at her with such anger she could feel them move across the space between them. “She said I had to come quick.”

Light flickered inside Joanna’s mind, if nowhere else in the room. “Can she lift the door to the cellar?”

“Hell, no.” Colt seemed to follow her thinking. “But all three of them probably could.”

“They wouldn’t,” Joanna whispered. “Why would they do such a thing? All we have to do is bang on the door and someone will let us out.”

“No.” Colt’s laughter surprised her. “I told all the men except the sentries to go back to their barracks and get a few hours’ rest.”

Joanna fumbled her way along the wall until she reached the steps. She felt Colt jump as she touched his shoulder, but she held tight and sat down next to him. “Are you telling me that three little girls locked the commander of this fort away?” She didn’t remove her hand from his arm. Even if she was angry at Colt, she needed to know he was near.

“Looks that way.” Colt moved, scooting closer so that their hips touched.

Joanna leaned into his body slightly and somehow the blackness didn’t seem as frightening. Despite their words something drew her to him, something stronger than just a need not to feel so alone in this place.

“But why?” Joanna tried to use logic. “Have you ever locked them up?”

Cold sounded offended. “Of course not. They’re my daughters, not criminals. However, when I get out of here, I might give punishment more thought in the future.” He absently slid his hand behind her, offering her back a rest.

Joanna tried not to think of how close Colt was. She could feel the light movement of his chest as he breathed. “Are they angry at you?”

“Of course not.” Colt leaned back against the steps and pulled her with him. “No more than they’re mad at you.”

“We’ve been having a wonderful time talking about Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Johnnie’s been asking me questions all week about how people fall in love.” Joanna sucked in her breath suddenly as an idea struck her.

“What is it?” Colt turned slightly, his knees bumping hers. “Are you all right?” His fingers brushed along her arm in more of a caress than a search. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No.” Joanna meant to push his hand away. Yet when their fingers touched, she had no desire to remove his nearness. “I just figured out why we’re here.”

Colt waited. He slowly turned his hand over and threaded her fingers through his. He knew if someone were outside the door listening, they’d have no idea how close he was to Joanna in the darkness. Or what their bodies were telling one another even while they spoke of other things.

“Remember”—Joanna squeezed his hand loving the game as much as he—“the other morning when Johnnie asked me how people fell in love and I told her by spending time alone together?”

Colt didn’t comment but slowly circled his thumb across her open palm.

“So the girls are giving us some time alone . . . together.” She could feel the warmth of Colt beside her, but he didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Of course I heard you,” Colt answered. “You’re trying to tell me my little girls dreamed up this plan. What about your aunt Etta? She’s the one with the crazy stories. Maybe this is one she’ll add to her collection.”

“Maybe.” Joanna realized she didn’t want to believe her aunt would do such a thing any more than he wanted to believe his daughters were at fault.

“So what’s the plan, Captain?”

“We have no choice but to wait here until the cook comes in to start dinner. My guess, since I can’t see my watch, is that’ll be in about half an hour, maybe more.”

“And what do we do until then, talk about your lack of feelings?” Joanna knew she was being unkind, but cellars had never been one of her favorite places.

“I didn’t say I don’t feel.” Colt’s words were surprisingly calm. “I only said I don’t believe in love.”

“And how do you feel right now?” Joanna asked. “Are you angry, feeling betrayed, or only frustrated that you’re trapped in here with me when you hoped by now I’d be on a train headed back east?”

“I feel”—his voice lowered—“like I want to break that promise I made to you this morning.”

Before she knew he was moving, he pulled her into his arms. His hands gripped her shoulders and slid slowly up her neck to hold her head as his mouth lowered over hers.

Joanna closed her eyes and forgot all about the darkness. The musty smell of the cellar was replaced by the scent that always surrounded Colt. He smelled of fresh soap and spring water from his baths in the stream and wool and brass polish from his uniform.

“Kiss me back,” he pleaded as his fingers plowed into her hair, destroying her bun.

“Is that another order?” she murmured as her hands slid up his shirt and wrapped around his neck. She ran her fingers into his thick hair and pulled his head lower. Joanna felt as if she’d been starving for his touch all her life and now she couldn’t let go even if the door to the cellar were suddenly flung open.

“No,” he whispered as his kiss grew more demanding, bruising her lips with his need as he held her in a warm embrace. “A request.”

He loved the taste of her. Never had a woman felt so right in his arms. Colt found himself holding back for fear he’d frighten her if she knew how great was his need for her.

“I’m not dead inside, Joanna,” he whispered, his lips brushing her cheek. “My guts twist every time you enter the room. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought I’d go mad these past few weeks from longing to touch you?”

Joanna couldn’t believe she was in his arms. She felt she was living out a dream she’d had for years. A dream of a handsome lover longing for her alone.

“Tell me you don’t want me to touch you and I’ll stop.” Colt’s voice was so low it was almost a thought between them. “If you don’t want to be this close to me, I’ll pull back.”

Joanna couldn’t lie. She’d relived their first kiss every night in her dreams and had finally decided it couldn’t have made her feel as wild as she’d thought. But now he’d kissed her again and she knew it was real. His touch made her feel that every part of her was alive. She was no longer waiting on a shelf, but living and loving as she’d always longed to do.

Sliding her fingers from his hair to his face, she touched his strong jaw and the roughness of his cheeks. Slowly she touched his open lips and felt his warm breath against her fingertips. This was the man she’d looked for all her life and she’d only been able to recognize him in complete darkness.

“I’ve never been kissed like you kiss me,” she whispered honestly, wishing she knew how to be coy and play the game of loving so many women seemed to know how to play from birth. “I feel like I’m riding the wind.”

Colt raised his hand to cover hers in the blackness. He pressed each one of her fingers against his lips. “I’ve never met a woman like you, Joanna.” He moved her hands to his chest. “You make my heart pound and my blood feel like it’s running double time.”

He kissed her cheek and moved slowly across her face to her lips. This time his mouth was gentle, giving her great pleasure. She pulled at his uniform jacket, wanting to feel his flesh and not the wool that covered him.

Colt held the kiss as he unbuttoned his jacket and let her hands move inside. He loved the way she explored, hesitantly at first, then with a boldness that surprised him.

He leaned her back and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. With each button freed he felt her tremble, but she didn’t move to stop him or turn away. He gently pulled her blouse open and lifted the cotton camisole. Then, with a feather-light touch, he brushed his rough hands over the softness of her breasts.

She heard his sudden intake of breath as he touched her so tenderly, and she knew there was much loving in this man despite what he said. With a knowledge borne deep inside every woman, she covered his hand with hers and pressed his fingers against her skin. He was still for a moment, then leaned and kissed her fully as his touch grew bolder.

While his hands roamed over her he kissed her with a passion that surprised them both.

Joanna relaxed to his loving, knowing it was right. No man had ever touched her so boldly, but she knew he was taking only what she freely gave.

Silently he moved her atop him and pulled her to face him. His mouth slid along her neck and lower, tasting her skin, warming her flesh to his need.

She dug her fingers into his hair and leaned back, loving the explosions of emotions setting fire to her body.

“This is what feelings are. Not thoughts and speeches, but real,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “Love is flesh and need, not spirit.”

“No.” Joanna didn’t want to pull away, but she didn’t believe his words.

“I want you,” he returned. “But in my life there is no place for hearts and dreams, only reality. I want you like I’ve never wanted a woman in my life, but love is action, not emotion to be played with by poets and fools.”

Joanna understood how he felt; she mirrored his desire. But love had to be more than just convenience or need. It had to be as vital as the pounding of one’s heart. It had to be made up of more than just reality. Dreams and longings and desires also must be its substance.

With a cry of loss she pulled away, stumbling into the blackness and falling over the stack of blankets.

“Joanna!” he shouted. “Don’t do this. Don’t pull away from me.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, but she crawled farther away. Milton had offered a passionless love and now Colt offered only passion. Neither were enough for her.

Absently she buttoned her blouse as though she could close out the pain. “No,” she whispered as she bumped into a corner.

“You know you want me.” His words were low with anger. “Don’t lie and pretend you bargained for only a kiss.”

“Yes, I want you.” She pulled her life back into order. “But your just wanting me is not enough.”

“I have no more to give.” Colt wouldn’t break down the wall and allow another to hurt him no matter how much his arms ached to hold Joanna. Once in his life was enough. The scars were too deep to heal now.

“You have more to give,” she whispered. She’d seen the depth of love in him when he’d danced with his daughters. “You’re just not willing. Not willing to take a chance.”

“Not again,” he vowed. “Never again.”

The silence in the tiny room seemed as thick as Mississippi mud. All that could be heard were footsteps in the distance. Footsteps coming closer.

Chapter Seven

The door to the cellar swung open with a powerful pop and light flooded the dusty room. Colt swore again to himself and stepped away from the stairs, allowing Joanna to leave first.

“Joanna!” Aunt Etta shouted. “Are you all right?”

Joanna climbed the steps, praying she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt. “Yes,” she answered as she climbed. “I fell over some of the blankets and hit my head.” She knew her words sounded stupid, but she couldn’t think of any other reason her hair would look such a mess.

She blinked away the darkness and glanced around. There, hiding behind Aunt Etta, were the girls, their cheeks crimson with mischief.

But before she could reach them, someone stepped in her path. “Joanna!” a male voice shouted. “Are you sure you’re uninjured?”

“Milton!” Though she only whispered his name, it seemed to bounce off the walls and slam back into her ears. Standing before her, solid barrel chest and broad stocky shoulders, was the man she’d known and loved since childhood. But for the first time she really looked at him . . . his thinning hair . . . the hardness around his eyes of one who only saw the straight and narrow path. She also saw worry and an unsureness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Milton held her elbow as though she might need help in walking, but his voice was colored more with anger than concern. “We were so worried about you. No one seemed to know where you were, and what with wild Indians in this awful country—” He stopped suddenly as Colt stepped from the cellar.

“Sir.” Milton straightened to his full height. “Am I to understand you were locked in that place with my betrothed?”

Colt’s long legs were headed straight toward his daughters. “Not by choice, I assure you.” He glanced at Milton, his eyes seeming to narrow at the hold Milton had on her arm. “But if you wish to take exception?”

Joanna could see the fire almost bouncing through Colt’s body as if it were trapped inside and looking for a victim to vent itself on. There was nothing he’d like better than a fight. “Of course Milton understands. You couldn’t very well have locked us in from the inside.” Her head felt like she really had fallen and suffered a blow. “Come along, Milton. I’ve got to put a cold rag on my head.”

As Milton backed away from Colt, much like a sensible farmer backs away from an angry bull, Colt turned his attention to his children, who giggled and ran toward home. Their lack of any real fear of their father told Joanna the punishment would probably not be stern enough no matter how angry the captain looked.

* * *

By dinnertime the confusion was about to drive Joanna mad. Milton had planted himself in the kitchen and refused to leave until he talked to Joanna. Aunt Etta had been cooking around him, telling him stories of Texas as though in her few weeks here she’d personally lived through every one of them.

Sergeant Buckles, for some reason, didn’t think it was proper that Milton was in the house with the ladies without a chaperon, so he’d camped at the kitchen table as well.

The only one who had the sense to disappear was Colt. He’d talked to his daughters, then walked through the house without a word and simply vanished.

“I have to talk to you!” Milton had been saying the same thing for two hours, only now he was ordering, not pleading or asking.

“We have nothing to discuss.” Joanna held the rag to her forehead as if there really was a bruise from a fall there.

“I wish to talk with you alone, dear Joanna.”

“There is nothing you can say that can’t be said in front of everyone in this house.” She was afraid if they were alone he’d try to kiss her as he had so many times in the past. His lips were always watery soft, and after Colt’s kiss she didn’t think she could stand Milton’s.

As Aunt Etta passed the plates out on the table, she looked at the farmer. “My advice is you’d better catch the next train back home, Milton Miller.”

Milton’s patience wore thin. “I don’t remember asking you.” He didn’t even look at Etta, for like most of Joanna’s family, he’d fallen into the pattern of not even realizing the woman had feelings.

Sergeant Buckles and Joanna were on their feet faster than prizefighters at the sound of the bell. As Joanna opened her mouth Buckles beat her to the draw. “I think you’d best be apologizing to Miss Etta, mister.” His balled fists left no doubt he was issuing an order, not making a request.

Milton looked disgusted. “Are you kidding?” He flipped his hand as if to shoo the soldier away.

“No.” Buckles pulled his breeches up and shoved out his chest. He might not have the youth of Milton, but there was still a great deal of fight in him. “I’ve been sitting here listening to you whine and beg all afternoon, but I won’t tolerate you being rude to a lady.”

Milton opened his mouth to argue just as Colt stepped through the backdoor. He was dusty from head to toe and his boots were caked with mud. “Evening.” He slapped his hat against his leg casually, as if he didn’t notice the air was charged as if lightning had been bouncing off the walls in the kitchen. “Supper about ready?”

Etta took his cue. “Will be by the time you get cleaned up, Captain. I made your favorite tonight—fried chicken. Guess you can see we’re having two extra for supper.”

“Chickens or guests?” Colt laughed and walked through the room without looking at anyone except Etta.

Etta smiled and looked at the two men at her table. “One guest and one I’m not too sure about.”

Milton stood and stormed to the backdoor. “Joanna, I want to talk to you on the back porch. Now!”

Joanna turned back to Etta for help, but found the old woman wasn’t even looking at her. Buckles was handing her aunt a piece of crumpled paper he must have carried in his pocket for some time. Joanna watched as her aunt slowly unfolded the paper and stared at it for a long moment before looking up at the sergeant.

To Joanna’s surprise they didn’t even seem to know she was still in the room. Etta raised her hand to cup Buckles’s cheek and he kissed her palm softly, holding her hand in his as if holding a great treasure.

“Joanna!” Milton snapped from the porch. “I’m waiting.”

Joanna stepped outside, more to allow Buckles and Etta privacy than out of any desire to talk to Milton. “What is so important?” she asked as she looked at Milton, wondering how she could have thought she loved him for so many years.

“I have some things that need to be said.” Milton folded his arms over his chest. Out of his element, he didn’t seem as strong and powerful as he had back in Ohio. “Your father thinks he may have acted in haste last month.”

“May have?” Joanna suddenly found the conversation more interesting.

“He says if you’ll come back home, he’ll give you more time to decide before you marry me.” Milton’s manner left no doubt of how fair he thought her father was being. “I can go ahead come spring and farm the land like it was already ours, but you can take your time and set your own wedding date. He said you can even teach, if you’ve still a mind to.”

“How generous,” Joanna answered. “And what about Aunt Etta?”

“She’d keep house for your father, of course. Then when you have babies, she can come stay with us as long as she’s needed.”

“What about when she’s not needed?”

“I know you care deeply for her and I’d be willing to say she’d always have a home with us if that’s what you want.” Milton looked at her like she was a child. “Someone else will probably let her live with them, though. You’ve got a large family.”

“I suppose.” Joanna looked out into the vast sunset of this land called Texas and realized she hadn’t missed her home at all. “Why do you want to marry me?” she whispered.

“What a question!” Milton had the sense to look offended by her statement. “We’re alike. I want to marry you and build a future together. In ten, maybe fifteen years we could have one of the richest farms in the state.”

Joanna sighed, as if just realizing something was gone that had died a long time ago. He hadn’t mentioned love.

“But you didn’t always feel this way. I remember when we were in our teens, you used to spend hours telling me of your love for others.”

Milton looked down at his feet. “I was a fool in love with first one then another before I realized what was best for me. Marry me, Joanna. I’ll make you a good husband. Our families are alike. We were made for one another.”

Joanna looked him straight in the eyes. “One important question. What day is it tomorrow?”

Milton smiled as if he never doubted the answer. “February fourteenth. The same day the train will pull out of the nearest station for home.”

Joanna looked past him and saw Sergeant Buckles and her aunt holding hands across the table. He’d given her a paper valentine, Joanna realized. One he’d carried all day—waiting for the opportunity.

Joanna took a deep breath, clearing her mind. She wanted that kind of love. The kind that’s willing to take a chance of being a fool. She wanted it so badly she was willing to wait until she was Aunt Etta’s age to get it.

Milton was talking about the ride home, but she wasn’t listening. Joanna was formulating a plan. She’d force Colt’s hand tomorrow and one way or the other she’d know if it was meant to be between them. She was twenty-five and it was time she took full control over her life.

If Colt didn’t love her, she’d go with Milton and tell him on the train that she would never marry him. Then she could go home and pull her life together.

Milton leaned and kissed her cheek, putting a wet period to any thought she’d ever had of marrying him.