Jodi Thomas (12 page)

Sweat was already forming across Tobin’s forehead. “You know, son, a baby rattler’s just as poisonous as his great-granddaddy. I didn’t even hear the rattles, so I must’ve startled them.”

“I know. How many bites did you feel?”

“Three, maybe four.” Both men knew each bite doubled his chance of death and halved the time until the poison moved from his leg to his heart.

Back at camp, Chance laid Tobin on the ground, slit his pant leg, and removed his moccasins. “If you’d wear boots you’d be better off.”

With a whispered oath, Tobin clenched his teeth and lay back. “I always hated the hard leather around my foot.” He pointed at his bedroll. “There’s chewin’ tobacco and whiskey in my bag. I’ll start on softenin’ a plug after I down some of the whiskey.”

Chance handed him the whiskey; then, taking the wide strip of rawhide used as a strap around the bedroll, he tied it above Tobin’s knee and twisted it as tightly as he could. “That should slow the blood some.”

Glancing up, Chance saw that Tobin was too busy concentrating on his drinking to answer.

Moments later Anna appeared from the stream pulling the horses and carrying a load of wood. She helped Chance start a fire and brought water from the stream as Tobin drank and bit into a huge wad of tobacco.

After Tobin downed the last of the whiskey, Chance pulled his knife from his boot and poked it into the fire. “Anna, keep the water heating. He’s lucky; looks like one bite hit the ankle bone and didn’t do much besides break the skin, but the other two look deep. I’m going to cut them open then loosen the strap on his leg so the blood will run. You pour hot water over the cuts so the poison will come out faster.”

Following orders, Anna set to work. Chance’s hand was steady as he crossed each bite with the hot blade of his knife. Tobin yelled like an Indian in battle all the while, but didn’t move his leg. As Chance loosened the strap, blood flowed out of the cuts and Anna poured hot water over the wounds.

They repeated the bloodletting three times, and each time Tobin’s face grew paler. Finally, Chance took the tobacco from Tobin and smeared it over the cuts. “This will draw more of the poison out,” he told Anna as he wrapped his bandanna around the man’s ankle. “Help me get him up on his horse. I think it’s safer if we move on rather than stay here. We may not make it to the others by nightfall, but we can try. If there are Indians following us it wouldn’t be wise to stay here too long.”

While Chance talked Tobin had been silent, and when Anna looked at him she saw why. His face was gray-white. Although his eyes were open, he was beyond hearing. A chill passed over Anna. This land was a cruel place, pulling the life from people with no warning, as though one person was of little value. Everything here was sharper, more intense, than back in Germany, as if living and dying were painted with bright colors.

They lifted Tobin onto his saddle and tied a blanket around him. Chance walked beside his horse, guiding the animals while trying to hold Tobin in the saddle. “Can you handle Cyoty by yourself?” he asked Anna as he lifted her into the saddle of the huge bay and handed her the reins.

Anna answered, “I used to ride every day at boarding school. Then after I married, my favorite times were early-morning rides.”

Chance patted Cyoty’s neck. “He’s not a boarding school mare; he’s strong, with a mind of his own. I reckon you two are pretty fairly matched.”

Anna pulled the reins taut. “You just have to let him know who’s boss.”

Chance winked. “I’ll remember that.”

Anna didn’t know how to take his wink. She kicked Cyoty into action and was surprised at how good it felt to be back on a horse and in control.

They traveled northeast, hoping to cross the wagon tracks. The day was cloudy and gloomy, darkening the earth and their moods. Tobin sobered from the whiskey, but as the day continued his fever rose, and Anna silently watched the veins along his temple swell as sweat poured from his face. They covered him with another blanket when he complained of chills, but it seemed to give him little warmth.

Near dusk they reached a river with wide, sandy banks on either side, and Chance insisted on crossing in case it rained again during the night. On the far bank was a beach with overhanging cliffs. Anna, tired and irritable from both the ride and worrying about Tobin, didn’t speak as they made camp. Chance built a huge fire under a cliff’s edge, then hollowed out the earth and made Tobin a place close to the fire with a bank of sand behind him to block the wind.

Tobin was mumbling continuously now, making no sense. Anna wiped a cold cloth over his face as Chance checked the man’s wounds. Dark purple veins climbed up his leg like weeds under the skin, and his foot was swollen to twice its normal size.

“What else can we do?” Anna whispered. She covered Tobin with their last blanket and still he shivered.

Chance shook his head. “Nothing left to do now but see if he can fight the poison that’s gotten into his blood. The cold cloth on his head will help, and I’ll keep the fire blazing.” Chance lifted his rifle and handed it to Anna. “Will you be all right for a while? I’ll catch us some supper.”

Anna nodded, but she’d never felt less all right in her life. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sat beside Tobin and watched black clouds gather along the horizon. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but it was miles away.

By the time Chance returned, Tobin was resting peacefully. Chance laid three fish beside the fire. “I was lucky to catch these before dark.” He cut the heads off the fish and covered them with the sandy mud by the river so they’d cook evenly in the campfire. Then he pushed them into the ashes of the fire. “You’ll have time for a bath if you want.”

“Thanks, I would like that. Every muscle in my body hurts.” She glanced at Tobin. “He’s finally sleeping quietly.”

Chance threw another log on the fire, then stretched out beside his saddle and watched her walk to the water. As she rounded a corner, he tried to picture her slowly undressing in the moonlight. All day he’d walked beside Tobin and wished he was behind Anna in the saddle. His arms had ached to hold her and he’d counted the hours until nightfall. Tobin might have poison in his blood, but Chance could feel something equally dangerous running through his. The fever in him was frightening, and Chance wasn’t sure he couldn’t die of it just as easily as Tobin could die from the snakebites.

Restlessly, Chance stood up and walked toward the water. He relaxed among the shadows and watched Anna as the moonlight reflected off the river in shimmering pale light, making pearls of the drops of water on her skin. The thunder in the north was growing louder, adding a wild harmony to his pounding heart. Tonight she’d pinned her hair up like a crown atop her head. Her skin was almost as white as the cotton camisole that covered her. Feeling a hunger inside him suddenly eating away at his gut, Chance realized he wanted her and hated himself for having such thoughts. She was as far above his grasp as the queen of England. How could he even dream that such perfection would long for him as he now did for her?

Anna ran out of the water, shivering as she wiped the tiny towel over her bare arms and legs. Her chemise clung to her like a second skin. Chance could see the outline of her body, and couldn’t help but study the way her hips curved above her long legs. Lightning flashed closer, breaking his trance as the thunder rumbled nearer, warning of the storm’s approach.

Pulling his coat off, Chance walked slowly toward her. He placed the warm wool on her shoulders before she sensed his nearness. Instinctively, she jerked in fear, then relaxed into the warmth of his coat and arms, loving the way the heat left in his coat surrounded her cold body.

His voice was low in her ear. “A storm’s coming. You’d better get away from the water.”

Anna shivered and Chance pulled her tighter into his embrace, feeling the wet cotton of her camisole soaking his shirt. Her breasts pushed against the wall of his chest with a soft pressure that jolted through his body like a bolt to his heart. Lightning flashed again, and he saw the reflection of the flash in Anna’s huge eyes. He raised one hand and pulled the comb from her hair, letting the shiny silk tumble around her shoulders like a cloud of dark fire.

“I love your hair,” he whispered as he ran his hand over the mass. “It’s as beautiful as you are.”

Anna brushed her cheek against his shoulder. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

Chance wrinkled his forehead in confusion. Was it possible that her husband of five years had never told her of her beauty? He moved his fingers into her hair, filling his fist with the wonderful silk. “Don’t lie to me, Anna. Any man would have to be insane not to see your beauty.”

Resenting his suggestion that she’d lied, Anna pulled away. She’d always been honest with him, and he had no right to pry into her past. It was dead, buried at sea. His words were just words. She’d heard the truth every day of her life. “I’m not lying. My mother told me often enough how I looked. Muddy and ugly, she’d say. Poor, plain little Anna. Better marry at fifteen or you’ll be an old maid. By the time you’re twenty, any bloom in you will be long gone.” Anna’s voice broke.

Chance couldn’t believe his ears. How could a mother tell her child she was ugly? And he could see that Anna, with her tight widow’s bun and plain clothes, somehow tried to make it true. He wanted to hold her, to shout to the heavens that her mother had lied, but when he touched her shoulder, Anna pulled away, hugging his coat around her more tightly.

“Don’t,” she snapped. “I’m no longer cold.”

He fought the urge to grab her and shake the truth into her. “The hell you’re not,” Chance swore. She was so lovely, but her scars were burned deep. He wasn’t sure he could touch them with words. For the first time in his life Chance felt someone else’s pain deeper than he’d ever felt his own.

Anna watched Chance stalk back to the fire. She knew he wouldn’t understand. How could he know how beautiful her mother had been? How she had always been plain little Anna, the plain, sad child who had sacrificed a future to keep her mother’s secret? How could Chance understand that her husband and mother had been lovers, and that she’d been married off to William so that they could live together without gossip. Telling such a thing would shame Anna to the core.

Braiding her hair into one long, thick rope, she dressed in the dark. No, she thought, no one will ever know. Let them think I destroyed William. Let them think my mother was insane. No one will ever know the truth of what happened the night my mother died. No one. Not even this stranger who is so full of kindness.

She picked up his coat and folded it carefully in her arms. The soft wool caressed her fingers as she touched its folds. Holding it to her face, she could smell the scent of Chance deep within the fabric.

When she returned, Chance had the fish cleaned and was ready to eat. Even as she approached, he didn’t look up. He didn’t speak. Anna thought maybe she’d hurt his feelings by pulling away, but better that than have him turn away from her, as he would if he knew the truth. He was only a stranger, a stranger she’d see for no more than a year.