MM02 - Until Morning Comes (2 page)

“It
is
rather funny, isn't it? I can hear some of the things my colleagues in San Francisco would say.”

Jo Beth regained her composure. “Then it's settled. You're coming in to supper.”

“How can I resist such an invitation? Jo Beth McGill, you're almost as persuasive as your father.”

“I would have used the stick if you had refused.”

“Somehow I don't doubt that for a minute. But perhaps I shouldn't see your father again. I don't want to upset him.”

“I promise that everything will be okay. He forgets very quickly. And my mother's cooking will make up for any inconvenience.” She started to chuckle again.

“Perhaps you should have captured the moment for posterity before you released me.” He nodded toward her camera. “That's some fancy equipment you're carrying.”

“It goes with the job. I'm a photojournalist. Free-lance.”

They had reached the cabin now. Lights from the windows glowed across the unpainted wooden front porch. One naked bulb cast an eerie glow above the front door.

Jo Beth and Colter climbed the steps side by side. She was acutely aware of him, of the lean solid lines of his body, of the silent way he walked, of that smooth expanse of bare chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see exactly what the porch light was doing to his magnificent skin.

She thought of turning her head just a little to sneak another peek, but sneaking had never been her style. Instead, she boldly admired him.

Colter went still. With one moccasined foot poised on the front porch, he stopped and slowly turned toward her. His face gave away none of his feelings.

The air around them was charged with currents. Jo Beth continued her silent admiration, and Colter took it in stride. Or perhaps as his due, she decided. After all, such a man was probably accustomed to being fawned over.

The moment stretched out until it was fairly humming. A small trickle of perspiration inched from under her heavy hair and dampened the side of her cheek. She thought he might say something clever to break the silence, but he remained as impassive as the snowcapped Rockies, and just as cool.

Great.
She felt as if she had run five miles in the desert, and Colter Gray Wolf wasn't even sweating. He was probably used to women panting over him, too.

“I hope you don't take this personally,” she said.

“Should I?”

“No. It's the artist in me. I always stop to admire a beautiful view.”

“Thank you.”

Her temperature went up fifteen degrees. Good heavens. She'd just bared her soul, and all he'd said was
thank you.
Well, she could be just as insouciant.

“You're welcome.”

She led the way through the front door. Sara and Silas McGill were sitting in rocking chairs with their backs to the door, holding hands. Sara was humming her favorite song, “Amazing Grace,” and Silas was telling about the time he'd hitched a railroad car going West that turned out to be a circus wagon full of lions. The last time Jo Beth had heard that story, the wagon had been full of snakes.

Her heart broke a little every time she heard his stories. They were all make-believe. Silas had almost completely forgotten that he had been a highly respected university professor with a Ph.D. in anthropology and that his only adventures had been occasional digs that turned up nothing more dangerous than a few old bones.

“Mom. Dad. I've brought a guest to dinner.”

Her parents turned at the same time. Colter braced himself for the moment of recognition, but the old man merely smiled at him.

“Is he taking you to the prom, Jo Beth?” Silas asked.

Sara patted his hand. “Now, Silas. Jo Beth is too old for proms. Remember?”

Colter smiled at Jo Beth. “Are you?”

“If you're asking my age, I don't mind admitting to twenty-nine, but not a year more.” She unslung her camera and placed it on the top of a claw-footed oak sideboard. “This is Dr. Colter Gray. He's camping near here. I found him in the...”

“In the desert.” Colter walked forward and bent gallantly over Sara McGill's hand. She was tall and slim, her hair still showing that it had once been blond. Jo Beth might have her father's feistiness, but she certainly had her mother's looks. “I hope my being here doesn't inconvenience you, Mrs. McGill.”

“Not at all. We welcome company out here in the desert,” Sara said.

Colter shook Silas's hand. The old man peered at him closely. “Say, haven't I seen you somewhere before?”

“I don't think so.”

“Why don't you two wash up while Silas and I set the table.” Sara held herself tall as she walked across the braided rug toward the dining room. In the door she turned to her husband and called, “Silas. Are you coming?”

“It's Silas this and Silas that.... Silas come and Silas go.” He left his rocking chair, muttering all the way to the door.

Jo Beth smiled at Colter. “He didn't remember a thing. You're safe here.”

His gaze raked over her. “I'm not too sure about that.”

Shivers crawled up her spine, and she couldn't blame them on indigestion.

“I can guarantee it,” she said.

“I've found that life has very few guarantees.”

They assessed each other again, two wary wildcats, and then they washed up and joined her parents at the dinner table. Jo Beth discovered that Colter Gray Wolf was very adept at keeping dinner-table conversation interesting and lively. She guessed he'd had lots of practice at that sort of thing out in San Francisco. She also noticed that he was patient and extraordinarily compassionate when her father ventured off into one of his fantasies.

While her parents were in the kitchen getting dessert, she leaned closer to him.

“You have quite a bedside manner, Dr. Gray.”

“That's what all the women say to me.”

“And a sense of humor, too, I might add.”

“In my profession, it helps.”

“I can understand that—dealing with hundreds of sick people. It's hard enough dealing with only one. It breaks my heart to see Dad this way.” Instinctively her hand balled into a fist.

Colter covered her hand, which lay on the white tablecloth, and gently unclenched her fingers, one by one.

“He's not in pain, Jo Beth. He's not even aware that his words and actions are inappropriate and sometimes foolish. In your perception, he is a prisoner of his failing mind, but to him, everything seems normal. That's a compensation of our Father Creator.”

“Other doctors have told me that, but none so beautifully as you. Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do. After all, if you hadn't come along, I'd probably have spent the rest of my natural life in that outdoor privy.”

Her smile was his reward, and almost his downfall. When she smiled she looked like a mischievous angel. He didn't need any blond angels in his life right now. It was already complicated enough.

“Who wants cherry pie?”

Colter would be forever grateful to Sara McGill for chosing that moment to come through the door. If she hadn't, he might have done something rash, such as run his fingers through Jo Beth's hair to see if it was as silky as it looked.

Silas was not far behind Sara. “You wouldn't believe the trouble I had getting those cherries. Why, I had to take my twelve-gauge gun and shoot the derned tree into submission. And while I was out killing cherries, I ran upon this Indian by the creek....” He stopped speaking in midsentence and looked at Colter. “Jezebel's jewels! It's Toronto! Jo Beth, hide in the closet. Sara, where's my gun?”

Silas dropped the dessert plates to the floor, and then stared down at the broken dishes as if he couldn't figure out where they'd come from.

Jo Beth turned to her mother. “Toronto?”

Sarah shrugged. “Yesterday, Rooster Cogburn; today, the Lone
Badger.”

Hearing his name, Silas started around the table toward Colter.

Jo Beth intercepted him. “Now, Dad, this man is not Toronto. He's our guest. Don't you remember? Dr. Colter Gray.”

She caught his arm, but although he was seventy-six years old, Silas was still strong. He broke loose and launched himself at Colter.

“I took you prisoner. How did you escape?”

“Dad, I—”

Colter shook his head at her. He stood up and held the old man's shoulders. “You were very brave to capture me like that. Most men don't have the courage you do.”

“I'm brave, all right. You didn't think of that when you got out of the outhouse to mess with my daughter, did you?” He twisted his head to look at his wife. “Sara, help me get this prisoner back in the outhouse where he belongs.”

“I'm begging you for mercy, Mr. McGill.” Colter spoke with the sincerity of a contrite prisoner. “You look like a just man. If you'll let me leave, I promise that I will disappear into the desert, and you'll never see me again.”

“We could have made a good team, you and me, but I didn't count on you getting sweet on my daughter. She's just sixteen. I don't want some derned savage taking her captive.”

“I promise I will not take your daughter captive.”

“You won't touch her?”

“No.”

“Then you can go.”

“Let's seal the bargain with a handshake.”

Colter checked Silas's pulse under the guise of shaking his hand. It was a little fast, but not alarming. And his eyes didn't look so wild now. Cautiously, he released the man and stepped back.

Jo Beth started toward him, but he shook his head and continued his walk toward the front door. He didn't even say, “Thank you for dinner,” for fear of setting Silas McGill off again.

He didn't make a sound as he walked from the dining room and through the den. He moved so swiftly and quietly, they didn't even hear the squeaky screen door close behind him.

Jo Beth stared after him for five seconds before turning her attention back to her father. He was sitting calmly at the table, cutting himself a huge hunk of cherry pie, his prisoner already forgotten now that he was out of sight.

“Have some pie, Jo Beth. And whatever happened to your guest? Didn't he stay for dessert?”

“No, Dad. He had to leave early.” She glanced toward her mother. “Mom?”

“Go after him, darling.”

Jo Beth ran toward the door, stopping in the den long enough to jerk the Jeep keys off the top of the sideboard. By the time she reached the front porch, she was breathless. Nerves, that's what it was.

In order to regain her composure, she leaned against a rough-hewn porch post and stared into the darkness. She sensed rather than heard the movement, and suddenly Colter was standing in the path of feeble light cast by the naked bulb on the front porch.

“I promised not to take you captive, but don't tempt me.”

Chapter Two

The sound of his voice caused her to lose her breath again.

“I waited for you,” he said.

“How did you know I'd come?”

“I knew.”

She gazed into his face and wished God hadn't put another perfect man in her path. Colter tempted her to try one more time, just once more, to see if there really was such a thing as sparks and to find out whether she could get them to fly. She sighed. Lord, she didn't have time for sparks anymore. She didn't have time for anything except her job and looking after her parents.

“I'm here,” she said. “But don't get your hopes up.”

“I had my heart set on a ride with you, Jo Beth.”

A hundred images came to her mind, all of them erotic.

“Riding with you could be dangerous, Colter.”

“You never know until you try.”

He walked closer and propped one foot on the lowest of the front porch steps.

She opened her mouth to speak, but words wouldn't come out. He rescued her.

“I'm going to have to break my promise, you know.”

“Which promise?”

“Not to touch you.”

He came up one more step. The porch light shone squarely on his face now. He looked every inch the savage.

“Take my hand, Jo Beth.”

She reached out. His hand was warm and strong as it closed around hers. Silently, she followed him down the porch steps and out into the darkness.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To my camp. I’ll drive.”

She handed him the keys. Without speaking he helped her into the Jeep and climbed behind the wheel. Zar, sensing adventure, jumped into the back. The engine roared to life, and they set out across the desert. She leaned her head back against the seat. Sensations ripped through her—the stinging of wind on her face, the jolting of her body as the wheels took the rough terrain, the gut-wrenching anticipation of setting off into the unknown with this strangely silent man.

The drive was too short. She felt the journey ending almost as soon as it had begun. Colter turned the key, and the engine's roar ceased. The quietness of the desert night descended on them.

“Can you find your way back, Jo Beth?”

“You want me to go back?”

Instead of answering, he leaned across the seat toward her. “I'm compelled to break my promise again.” He lifted a strand of her hair and watched it filter through his fingers. “It's even softer than I imagined. And more fair. As shiny and clear as the teardrops of an angel.”

“Speak sweet beautiful words to me, and I’ll follow you anywhere.” She deliberately made the words light and teasing.

He released her hair and cupped his hand against her cheek. “Your skin is like the first snows that come down from the mountains.” His hand skimmed over her face and touched her eyelashes. “And your eyes. As clear as the brook that runs through my village.”

“Your village?”

“My Apache home. North. In the White Mountains.” He gazed across the desert as if he were seeing a vision. There was pride in his face, and fierceness, and the briefest hint of pain, as if a battle were waging deep within his soul and he didn't know which side he wanted to win.

Suddenly he released her face and sprang lightly from the Jeep. He came around to her side and pressed the keys into her hand.

 “You’ll be safe going home. Your brave dog will see to that.” He closed her fingers around the keys and held on for a moment longer. “And I’ll keep my promise not to see you again.”