Jodi Thomas (34 page)

Smiling, she curled against him and let her breast push against his side. His whispered oath made her laugh.

At dawn Anna awoke alone. She ran outside, afraid of what might have happened to Chance. She’d known since the fight that he was in more pain than he’d allowed her to believe. What if their touching this morning had been his good-bye and he was lying outside somewhere, dying?

A noise drew her to the barn, where she found him feeding the stock. He looked up when she entered as if puzzled by the alarm in her eyes. “Morning, darling,” was all he had time to say before she stormed toward him.

“You should be in bed.” Her words rose with anger. “You’re in no shape to be up. I can take care of the animals.” She grabbed the bucket, angry with him and with herself for being so frightened at the thought of not knowing where he was.

“I’m fine, just a little sore.” No matter how much he’d like to stay in bed with her forever, he had something he had to do. “I figure I’m not in any shape to work on the house today, but I could ride in and see how the settlement is doing.”

She looked at his split lip and blackened eyes. The cut on his head had finally stopped turning every bandage crimson, but he didn’t look fine to her. “We can all go in a few days. You’re going back to bed.”

“I’m riding out in an hour.” He folded his arms gingerly over his chest and widened his stance. No one had told him what to do in years and Anna wasn’t about to start now.

A sudden spark of stubbornness danced in his blue eyes before he turned away to lift a bucket of grain.

Anna watched him closely. “There’s another reason you are going into the settlement?”

Chance didn’t look up at her. “Maybe.”

“I remember Walks Tall saying something about that Indian you’d sworn to kill. You’re going to look for Storm’s Edge, aren’t you? You can’t even wait until you heal from one fight before you go looking for another.”

“Maybe.” Chance pulled his saddle off the fence railing. He knew there was no use lying to her; she knew him too well by now to believe a half-truth. How could she be so beautiful and soft one minute and so bossy the next?

“You’re in no shape to fight him.” Anna resented his obstinacy. “That was an oath you took when you were twelve years old. You can’t fight him now.”

“I know.” Chance finally turned to face her. “I’m only going to check around and see if anyone else has seen him. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“I don’t think you should go and I’m sure Carl and Selma would agree.”

“I don’t live my life by a neighborhood poll.” Suddenly the number of people around him seemed suffocating.

Anger set her forest green eyes ablaze. “It’s too soon. I need to check your ribs and rebandage that head wound.”

Chance laughed. “Maybe I’ve had enough mothering. You know, I’ve been living for several years on my own without you to look after me. I’ve crawled off from fights worse than yesterday’s and always managed to recover.”

Each of his words kindled Anna’s temper. “I am not mothering you.”

“Then stop telling me not to go. You act like you have the majority vote on my actions.”

“You’re going no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“You guessed it, woman.” Chance sighed, relieved that the discussion was over.

Anna lifted a bridle from the barn wall. “Then I’m going also.”

Her words took a moment to register. “Oh, no.” He held up his hand as if to stop her, but she continued.

“I’m not having you fall over dead along the road and have me learn of it days later. I’m riding into town with you.” She passed him, throwing Cinnamon’s bridle over the horse’s neck before he could think of what to say. “We’ll be ready in an hour.”

Chance twisted the bridle in his hands. He marveled at the way she had of making him almost insane with love one moment and crazy with anger the next. She had no business going with him. She’d only slow him down. He needed to find out what he could about Storm’s Edge before the Indian moved on. The last thing he needed was a wife, a baby, and his little sister with him.

But by the time Chance got the horses saddled and the cow milked and fed, Anna was dressed and ready. She’d tied her shawl around her neck with a wide sling in front. Cherish was nestled in its folds. Maggie danced around wearing her new dress made of Chance’s rejected nightshirt. Her black hair was tied into a ponytail and ribbons curled around the ebony mass.

Chance had to smile. They might be a nuisance, but they surely were a fine-looking group of females.

Anna climbed carefully onto Cinnamon, who always seemed as gentle as a hand-fed old nag around Anna’s touch. The huge sorrel knew his mistress and never failed to read her every command.

Anna smiled down at Chance’s scowling face as he lifted Maggie up behind her. “We could stop by and see if Carl and Selma want to go with us,” she teased.

“No!” Chance snapped. He’d felt fine when he’d gotten out of bed, but his bruises were already starting to ache, and his head was pounding to the point where he was sure anyone could see the throbbing from ten feet away. Although he wasn’t about to admit that Anna might have been right about him waiting a few days, he was already dreading the hours of riding.

He swung onto Cyoty’s back. “I already feel like an Indian with my tribe following me. All I need is Carl and his lovesick midget of a wife along.”

“Selma’s not lovesick,” Anna protested, somehow enjoying getting under Chance’s skin.

“She’s always flitting around him like a butterfly. Won’t let him get any work done.” The corner of Chance’s swollen lip rose. “She follows him everywhere.”

Lifting her chin as if she hadn’t heard his innuendo, she added, “Some men need more help than others.”

“Some men feel a little smothered with too much mothering.” He rode close to her. “Indian women don’t ever question their men, and they always ride behind.”

Anna laughed. “Maybe if they’d question, they’d be living in more than skins.”

Chance leaned and ran his hand along her leg to her knee. The soft leather of her high-strapped moccasin was cool compared to the warmth of her flesh at the knee. “You don’t appear to complain about wearing skins.”

Kicking her horse, Anna rushed ahead. “We’d better ride or we’ll be all day getting to Fredericksburg.”

Chance laughed and followed, suddenly very glad she’d come along.

They rode slower than he would have, but he enjoyed her company. When they stopped to rest the horses, Chance watched Maggie collecting flowers as Anna nursed Cherish and he wondered how he’d ever thought he’d enjoy a little time to himself.

It was midday when they arrived at the settlement. Anna couldn’t believe how it had changed in only a few months. A small town had grown overnight, with shops and homes and even the beginnings of a church. The roads were wide enough for a team of oxen to turn around and people were everywhere. There were farmers selling early crops and fruit as well as wagons bearing newly arriving immigrants, and everywhere Anna heard the music of her native tongue. German was spoken in trading, yelled in chants from the children playing, and whispered among friends and lovers. She hadn’t thought about how much she missed hearing her own language.

Chance stopped at John Meusebach’s office to check on how the leader of the settlement was faring. As usual, times were hard. More people were coming every week and there was little money to get them inland from the coast. John was a true leader, a genius at figuring out ways to make a few dollars stretch into enough, but he was the leader of a small group trying to fight a landslide of problems.

Chance left him, promising to call later that evening. He wanted to talk to John and several others alone, and the easiest way to do that was take Anna to Mrs. Basse, who’d moved her family from New Braunfels. The Basses’ friendship with John had led them once more to settle as neighbors. With the sound of their many children filling the air for a block, Chance had no trouble finding the family.

Just as he’d suspected, Mrs. Basse almost swallowed Anna in welcome. Cherish was enveloped by her daughters, who made funny sounds as if they had never seen a baby, and Mrs. Basse couldn’t have looked prouder if she’d been the grandmother herself. She ushered Anna and Maggie onto the porch and pushed Chance aside, telling him to go on about his business while they had a visit.

He heard her shouting over the noise of her sons wrestling in the yard. “A daughter’s a fine thing. Gentle, like a flower to raise. Now sons, all you need to do is feed and water them. They grow up wild like weeds. But a daughter is a mother’s song and the answer to a father’s prayer as he ages.”

Chance raised an eyebrow at the tough group of boys playing around him, compared to the fine dainty group of girls on the porch. Weeds and flowers were an accurate way of describing her brood.

A few hours later he thought of a few other names for her sons when they tricked him into letting them tie his arms behind him against the horse’s stall. They all laughed and ran in to dinner, leaving their catch of the day hanging.

Chance twisted against the knots, praying he’d get free before Anna decided to come looking for him.

His prayers weren’t answered.

A
nna walked into the barn looking for Chance. She’d seen him ride in thirty minutes before, yet he hadn’t come in when everyone was called to dinner.

The barn was cloaked in evening shadows. Huge piles of hay blocked the sun’s dying light coming through the high windows running along the west wall. Anna paused, letting her eyes adjust while she enjoyed the solitude after spending the afternoon surrounded by all the talkative Basses. Before, she’d wondered why Mr. Basse never seemed to be around. But after only a few hours of their full-volumed household she understood his absence.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, Anna strolled to Cinnamon’s stall. The huge sorrel greeted her with a snort and she patted his long, wide head. He was a fine animal and well worth the loaf of bread he cost her each week.

Wood creeked in the darkness as though someone were straining against a thick stock of lumber. She turned, suddenly aware of a man standing across from her. A tall form materialized from the dusty interior.

“Chance,” she whispered in relief. He was leaning against Cyoty’s stall, his arms behind him. “Why didn’t you come in to dinner?”

Anna moved closer, puzzled by his stillness and the vexation in his eyes. Anger was reflected in the twitch of his jaw and the cocky way he always leaned his head to one side when he was controlling his rage. She was within a foot of him before he spoke.

“You should ask those demons Mrs. Basse calls her sons.”

“Ask them what?”

“It seems I’ll be late to dinner because I’m tied up at the moment.”

Anna noticed the ropes as he spoke. Laughter erupted from her even as he jerked in anger.

“Oh, no.” She was laughing almost too hard to even talk. “They wouldn’t.”

“The hell they wouldn’t! This place is a breeding ground for savages.”

Leaning beside him, Anna continued to laugh until tears streamed from her eyes. She placed her hand on his shoulder in a comforting touch.

Chance jerked away from her sympathy. “Stop acting like your brain’s in the clouds and untie me.” Although her laughter warmed his soul the way her touch set fire to his flesh, he didn’t want to be the object of her mirth.

Suppressing her amusement, Anna faced him. “I think not.” She raised one eyebrow. “The little darlings may have done me a favor. I’ve been trying all day to get you to hold still long enough for me to check your bandages. This may be the perfect time.”

Anna retrieved her carpetbag from beside her saddle and plopped it down in front of him.

“Untie me, Anna, or I swear I’ll . . .” Chance was in no mood to be teased, but his anger only made Anna laugh more.

“You do far too much swearing if you ask me. I’m no longer frightened by your growl.” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt with feather-light touches. “Don’t threaten someone who’s mothering you. She might just leave you and go back into the house. It could be hours before the boys return. And then there’s no telling what they might do to someone as mean-tempered as you.”

Hesitantly, she pulled his shirt free from his pants and slipped the cotton garment off his shoulders. With the nervous caution of an explorer determined to cross unknown territory, she unwrapped the bandage around his ribs. Chance stopped twisting and allowed her hands to glide over his chest. Each time she circled the wrappings behind him, she pressed against him with her shoulder and the softness of her breasts. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her nearness and cursing the ropes that kept him from holding her. The memory of their closeness before dawn now flooded him at full gale.

Her voice was the whisper of slow-moving silk against his ear. “That’s better. Just hold still and I’ll be finished in a minute.”