Jodi Thomas (24 page)

Chance plopped down beside Tobin and silently took a swallow. For once he hardly noticed the fiery liquid burning its way down his throat. Every night for the past month he’d thought about how it would feel to sleep next to Anna. Now all he had to look forward to was a cot in the kitchen. Even when he’d worked to the point that he’d been too tired to eat supper, he’d still lain awake thinking of Anna in his arms.

“Hell of a hole you dug for yourself, son.” Tobin tipped the bottle and gulped down another swallow. “Way I see it, if you back down and wear that damn nightshirt you might as well be roped and tied for brandin’. If you don’t, you ain’t never gettin’ in that woman’s bed.”

“I don’t remember asking you what you think, Tobin.” Chance stared out at the black night. He could hear a lonely owl serenading the moon. Just now, Chance figured, he and that old hoot owl had a lot in common.

“That don’t matter if you ask me, son. I’m happy to help out.” Tobin passed the bottle back to Chance. “I can tell you, though, when you get to that cabin of yours, you best lay the law down or you’ll be sleepin’ in the barn most of your married life.”

“Anna isn’t the easiest person to lay the law down to,” Chance said, more to himself than to Tobin.

“Ain’t a woman alive that doesn’t like her man strong. If you aren’t stronger than her, she’ll have no use for you at all. So you just stand your ground, son.”

Chance turned to stare at the shadowy man beside him. “How did you get to be so smart when it comes to women?”

Tobin chuckled. “I’ve been married a few times. Never found a woman I wanted to warm my bed more ’n one winter. But then I never met a lady like your missus.”

Leaning back against the wall of the house, Chance finished off Tobin’s bottle. He wished he trusted the man enough to ask for advice. But he’d learned a long time ago not to bother asking for or giving any advice. A man could just as easily end up on the open end of a shotgun. He agreed with Tobin about one thing, though; he’d never met a lady like Anna. And he had no idea how to handle her. About the time he thought he was gentling her, she’d fly off the handle like a powder keg left in the middle of a brushfire.

Finally, Chance stood up and walked back into the house. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting outside staring at the moon, but the night had grown chilly. He could hear Tobin snoring, so there was no need to bid him good night. The man was like a barnyard cat: As soon as his belly was full he found a place to curl up and sleep.

The cabin was dark except for the dying fire. Chance stared into the coals, trying to think about where he’d gone wrong. Anna had been happy to see him. She’d moved into his arms as smooth as butter over hot biscuits. He remembered how she’d laughed at his jokes and wanted to know every detail of the cabin and the land. She’d even told him she’d been packed for a week and had walked the road to the edge of town waiting for him almost every day. Yet tonight she’d grown angry when he hadn’t wanted to try on the nightshirt she’d made him.

Chance chuckled, remembering how foolish he’d looked in the thing. He’d felt like a turkey dressed for Thanksgiving with all that lace around his neck and wrists. He hadn’t even bothered to let her see him looking so ridiculous. He’d pulled the thing off and slipped into his pants. Her first husband might have worn such a shirt, but Chance was no country gentleman. He’d be laughed out of camp if any of his friends saw him all duded up like that just to go to bed.

Anna watched him from the bedroom. His tan body glowed golden as he leaned against the mantel and stared into the fire. Somehow, he looked stronger, larger than when he’d left a month ago. There was a ruggedness about him that had been sharpened by living in the open. The muscles across his back were stronger, harder from the work. His face, even clean-shaven, bore the sun-darkened creases of a man who had faced the wind for many a day. His pants fit tightly across his hips as he leaned on one leg to stir the fire. Anna realized how much she’d missed him. Her eyes were hungry for the sight of him. Although she didn’t understand why, Anna wanted to touch him, to reassure herself that he was back and that her dream of a home was going to come true.

She slipped from the covers and tucked Maggie in. The moon shone through the windows as she tiptoed across the floor and into the other room. Chance didn’t look up, but she knew he sensed her presence because she saw his muscles tighten slightly. He lifted his head an inch as he listened to her footsteps approaching.

Touching the warm flesh of his shoulder, Anna whispered, “Chance, I’m sorry.”

He looked at her then, his eyes the crystal blue of a clear summer day. The firelight danced within their depths. He didn’t move, but stood with one hand gripping the mantel, the other stuffed deep in his pocket.

Drawing closer, Anna brushed his hair back from his forehead with her fingertips. “I’ve always been stubborn and quick-tempered, I’m afraid, but the pregnancy makes it worse. Mrs. Basse said she’s two different people depending on whether she’s pregnant or not.” Anna continued to touch his hair, which was still damp from the swim he’d taken in the stream. He was so strong, so self-assured, but there was a little boy inside this powerful man—a little boy who touched her heart with his need.

“You don’t have to wear the nightshirt. I’ll make Maggie a Sunday dress out of it.”

Chance’s smile dimpled his left cheek. “I wasn’t planning on wearing it. I’m not that kind of man.” He saw the confusion in her eyes and continued, “I know you’re used to a gentleman who can wear that kind of thing and treat you better than I ever could. I’ve spent most of my life sleeping on the ground and busting a bronco before breakfast. I think it’ll take more than the months we have left together to make more of me than I am.”

Anna slid her fingers along his shoulder. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to change you. I don’t care if you wear the nightshirt or not. It’s not important. And as for treating me like a gentleman would, I’ve never been treated more like a lady by anyone.”

Anna’s soft words, the whiskey he’d downed, the smell of her hair, all were like a drug to Chance’s brain. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her as her lips begged to be kissed. As he leaned forward to touch her lips with his, Anna turned away.

“I want to tell you something before we leave tomorrow.” She walked to the window and looked out as if the words were painted in the clouds. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to say this now so there is no confusion for Maggie.”

Chance tried to concentrate on something besides kissing her. “What about Maggie?” he asked.

“When you leave, I want you to know that it would be all right if Maggie stayed with me while you’re traveling. I’ll try to give her a good home.”

Chance’s hopes snapped like dead wood in winter. That was why she’d come to him, then—not because she wanted him; not because she longed for his touch as much as he craved hers. It was Maggie. She was making it plain she wanted him to leave and stand by their agreement, but Maggie could stay. Maggie could be a part of her life, but he was to leave just as they’d bargained.

He shoved both hands into his pockets and his words were sharp in the sleepy air. “I’ll send money every year for her keep.”

Anna looked up at him and he thought he saw a hint of pain in her eyes. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Is a hundred dollars a year all right?” Chance’s words were harder than he’d meant them to be. How could he have thought she’d come out here in the middle of the night to see him? She’d only wanted to remind him that he’d be leaving. Maggie could stay. Maggie was a child so starved for love she’d take it in huge gulps from Anna. But him, he’d stand by the agreement. He’d walk away although his arms ached to hold her. Even now, if he reached for her, he might crush her before he let go. But it would be his heart’s secret, a secret never shared.

Suddenly he wanted her to feel an ounce of the weighty burden of pain he carried. Why had she touched him, brushed his hair back, and then stepped away as if playing a game? His words were angry. “Unless you want more money?”

His reward—the hurt in her eyes—was bittersweet. He knew she was proud and wanted to throw the offer in his face, but she was also practical and knew she might need some money. Her voice shook slightly. “One hundred dollars will be fine.” Her heart flinched under the sting of his words. “If ever you can’t pay, I’ll still keep Maggie with me.”

“Don’t worry.” Chance pushed his anger deep into his pockets with white knuckles. “I’ll do
anything
to get the hundred dollars for her keep.”

Anna had had enough of his baiting. She had no idea why he was angry, but she wanted to return fire for fire. Only the knowledge that Tobin was within hearing kept her from answering. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Chance bowed, acknowledging her dismissal with sarcasm.

“Well”—she hesitated—“that’s all I came to say. Forgive me for my outburst, but Maggie has a home with me for as long as she wants.”

She turned at the doorway. “Good night.”

Chance held himself tightly under control. Even in his anger, he needed her so badly he could feel it in the very roots of his hair. If she had any idea how much he wanted her at this moment it would probably frighten her to death.

He forced his lips to move. “Good night, Anna.”

T
obin loaded Anna’s and Chance’s supplies into the wagon he’d bought with the money he’d made hauling people from the coast. Even with Anna’s trunk and all Chance had ordered, there was still plenty of room for Maggie to play in the back. They started out of town amidst the cheers of friends and the tears of Mrs. Basse.

Chance had learned the country well enough to pick the easiest way back to the Fredericksburg settlement. Anna rode in the wagon, too large with child to walk far or ride a horse. Tobin’s rifle lay across her knees, ever ready in case of Indians. No one spoke of the danger, but everyone except Maggie could feel it in the air. They were being watched, observed like ants in a jar as they moved across the open country.

Each day they camped at sunset, keeping a watchful eye on the night’s shadows. Tobin built a huge fire every evening and told Maggie stories. The old man was totally fascinated with the child and she loved his tales. Anna and Maggie slept in the wagon while Tobin bedded down underneath it.

Chance walked the campsite, constantly alert to possible dangers. He wanted to talk to Anna, but they never had any time alone. Tobin and Maggie were better chaperones than old maiden aunts with perfect hearing. The pain of seeing her was like a wound in his heart that wouldn’t heal. He told himself that they had an agreement and nothing more. She was pregnant and within a few months of delivery. She’d made it plain that she wasn’t interested in him. Yet still he longed to hold her. He admired her more and more each day for her strength and hated himself for his weakness, his wanting her. So by day he kept her in his sight, and by night he paced until he dropped, too tired even to dream.

They reached the farmland late one afternoon. The land rolled out like green velvet between two dark rocky hills. Chance pulled up alongside the wagon. “See that hill up there?”

Anna rubbed her back and nodded.

“That’s the start of your land.” Chance laughed as Anna stood up in the wagon in excitement. “Easy now!” he cried, not wanting her to tumble out.

Anna’s face was filled with joy. “I can’t wait any longer. Take me there now.”

Shaking his head, Chance answered, “The wagon’ll get you there soon enough.”

“Oh, please?” Anna held her arms out to Chance, as impatient as a child.

“All right, if you’ll hang on tight.” He couldn’t deny her request. He cradled her in his arms and nudged Cyoty into action.

As they rode, he pointed out where her land started and where Carl and Selma’s place ended. There was a thick group of trees that separated the two properties. Chance had built Anna’s house on one side of the trees, and Carl had built his place on the other. Only a short distance divided the two homes. Even now they could see chimney smoke coming from the other side of the trees.

Pulling out his pistol, Chance fired twice, quickly, to announce their arrival. A moment later, they heard a single shot in answer. “Neighbors are too close if they can hear a gunshot,” Chance complained with a smile. He was thankful that the Jordans had elected to build so near; when he left, Anna wouldn’t feel so alone. He’d heard that the loneliness in this country was sometimes a woman’s greatest hardship.

Holding his precious cargo tightly, Chance guided Cyoty toward the home. He drank in the feel of Anna in his arms, loving the smell of her hair and its silkiness against his cheek. She was maybe twenty pounds heavier than when they’d ridden double before. Part was the baby, and part, Chance thought, might be from Mrs. Basse’s cooking. Anna’s thin figure had rounded out nicely in the months he’d known her.