Montana Wildfire (32 page)

How Amanda retained the presence of mind to grasp those cool, work-roughened fingers and pump weakly as her tongue stumbled over her name, she would never know.

Her lips curling into a strained smile, Gail Chandler inclined her head to the man standing behind her. "You've met my husband, Little Bear. And the two bundles he's holding are our sons, Jacob and Kane." She paused long enough for
that
shocking bit of information to sink into an obviously stunned Amanda Lennox's mind. "You look pale, Miss Lennox, not to mention cold. Please, take off that damp cloak and have a seat by the fire. You can warm yourself while I brew a fresh pot of coffee. And then," she paused infinitesimally, "you can explain to me why my brother sent you to us."

"Brother?" Amanda's eyes widened, positive she'd heard the woman wrong. Her heart slapped a beat when she realized that Gail Chandler had indeed called Jake her brother. And, of course, there was the shared last name to confirm it.

Gail had turned to walk over to the counter nailed to the far wall. At Amanda's shocked tone, she pivoted stiffly and leaned back against the chipped but immaculate countertop. Crossing her arms over her chest, and cocking her head to one side, she sent the blonde woman a shrewd glance. "Jake is my brother." The green eyes strayed to her husband, who'd taken a seat on one of the benches flanking the table. She held Little Bear's gaze, though her next words were undoubtedly aimed at Amanda. "Didn't he tell you where he was bringing you?
Who
he was bringing you to?"

"No. I mean,
yes.
I mean..." Amanda drew in a shaky breath. Heavens, she was confused! "What he said, exactly, was that he was bringing me here because he didn't want me caught out in the storm. He didn't tell me who lived here."

"He would never tell you that," Little Bear said as he laid one child atop the table and, holding the wiggling infant still with a massive palm, arranged the other baby over his shoulder. "Blackhawk and my wife are not," a stern glance from Gail made him choose the rest of his sentence with care, "close."

"I see," Amanda said, and glanced at the dark-haired woman. Gail's face was pale, her expression strained as she spun back toward the counter and snatched up a dented tin coffee pot. Without a backward glance or word of explanation, the woman grabbed a red-knitted shawl off its peg by the door, then slammed out of the cabin.

"Did I say something wrong?" Amanda asked cautiously.

Little Bear was busy unwrapping the child on the table. "Yes," he said, not glancing up as he tickled the baby's tiny, naked belly with the tips of his fingers.

"Then I should go apologize," she offered anxiously. Of course it would help if she knew
what
she was apologizing for!

"There is no need. My wife will get water for the coffee, and when she returns she will leave her anger outside." Not taking his eyes off the child, he nodded for her to join him at the table. "Come, Amanda Lennox. Sit beside me and take a look at my sons. I will allow you to tell me how handsome they are."

Amanda peeked at the babies: one cuddling on Little Bear's shoulder, the other laying naked and content atop the scarred plank table. She guessed the infants to be about four months old. Both had Little Bear's inky black hair, and their skin was the same rich shade of mahogany as their father's. On the other hand, both had their mother's luminescent green eyes. The baby on the table giggled and cooed when Little Bear's fingers gently feathered over his belly.

Amanda felt herself soften. She didn't want to—God knows it would be safer for everyone if she didn't—but she simply couldn't help it. The babies were adorable, and their father's pride in them was appealingly open and endearing.

"And what will happen if I don't tell you they are the most handsome babies I've ever seen?" Amanda asked as she untied the laces of her cloak and, slipping it off, flung it over one of the benches beside the table.

Little Bear's shrug was negligent, his voice flat. "Then, Amanda Lennox, I will have to kill you."

Amanda gasped.

Little Bear's head came around quickly. He assessed the white woman objectively, from head to toe, his gaze missing nothing. She was not the type of woman Blackhawk favored—he could tell that at a glance—but she was the type any red-blooded male would want. Her beauty was so striking it stopped just shy of being an actual flaw. She was tall, slender, perfectly proportioned. Her movements and speech were cultured and refined. A lady, if ever he'd seen one.

Those were strikes against her in Little Bear's mind, yet there were other areas in which she excelled. It was those qualities he thought of now, those qualities that made him decide to like this woman.

While she was strong in physical beauty, she was stronger in the type of spirit that Little Bear knew and respected. She had shown courage in entering his home, thinking he was alone here, not knowing what he would do to her. And she'd shown enormous trust that Blackhawk would know what was best for her. He admired the respect she showed his friend, but he admired her courage more.

Her gaze lifted, locking with his. She didn't look away, though her expression said she dearly wanted to. Oddly enough, she did not look down at him. Nor up at him. Instead, her stare was that of an equal. A rare display coming from a white-eyes.

His attention shifted, scanning her face. Her cheeks, he noted, were as white as a freshly laundered sheet. Instinct told him that her unnatural paleness stemmed less from her obvious confusion over the situation in general—and more from his just now-remembered threat to kill her.

His dark eyes widened. He had been making a joke. Amanda Lennox, he realized abruptly, had taken him seriously. Her green eyes were narrow with alarm, her gaze dark, contemplative, as though she was trying to decide whether he would really carry through on his threat. And if he did, should she try to run?

It was as he watched her attention volley between himself and the door that Little Bear realized something else. Something shocking. He averted his gaze to Kane, having found all the answers he needed to know in Amanda Lennox's eyes.

Blackhawk had sent his woman here for a reason, and Little Bear now knew exactly what that reason was. Somehow, he doubted Blackhawk knew as much.

The snow was coming down hard, the accumulation heavier than Jake had predicted it would be. He'd wasted precious time making a fool out of himself with Amanda Lennox.

No, he thought, not wasted; never that. Only the making a fool out of himself part stayed firm.

He
had
wasted time after he'd left her at the cabin. He'd wanted to locate the brat's tracks, get a general idea of the direction they headed before snow deepened and covered them. He did eventually find the prints. As he'd suspected, they continued to head east, straight toward Pony.

What Jake hadn't expected, and wasn't at all pleased to see, was that there were now
three
sets of prints instead of the two they'd been following. Another rider had recently been added.

A trickle of uneasiness iced down Jake's spine. The observation was unwelcome, unwanted, yet the course the prints were taking couldn't be denied.
Why
the tracks were heading toward Pony was a puzzle he'd yet to solve. Hadn't Amanda said that was where she and her cousin were heading? Yup. So why would whoever had kidnapped Roger be taking him to the same place the brat had originally been heading? Really, why kidnap him at all?

Suspicion tasted bitter on his tongue. He swallowed it back, but it continued to nag at him. Why indeed?

His mood, already bad, turned sour when, a half hour later he still hadn't found a dry spot on which to build a quick shelter. If there was an inch of ground that wasn't blanketed in moist white snow, he'd yet to find it. Even deep in the middle of the woods the flakes managed to filter through the ceiling of leaves and collect on the ground.

Jake shifted atop the white and sighed. His breath fogged the air as he scanned his snowswept surroundings. His grip on the reins was white-knuckled tight. The muscle in his jaw throbbed with aggravation.

His day was getting worse by the minute. If he hadn't made the mistake of his life with Amanda, he would be somewhere warm and dry right now. Instead, he was cold and tired and wet. His attention fixed on the snow-covered ground. Sure, he'd slept on harder, wetter, more uncomfortable beds than this before. And in worse conditions. If he had to, he could do it again.

Unfortunately, the fact of the matter was that he
didn't
have to. As Amanda had annoyingly pointed out earlier, the only thing keeping him from a dry bed and hot meal was his pride. He doubted she knew how right she was about that... although chances were, by now she'd probably guessed.

The white's hooves crunched over the snow. Jake let the horse pick its way through the woods. Sighing, he reached up and eased the hat back on his head, and let his thoughts wander. As they seemed to do with frightening regularity, his mind made a beeline to Amanda Lennox.

He wondered what Gail and Little Bear's reception to Amanda had been. And what had Amanda's reaction been? Dammit! He should have told Amanda who lived in the cabin. In fact, he almost had. The only thing that kept the information back was, quite simply, he didn't think it was any of her business.

Still... dammit! He should have told her.

No doubt she was angry as all hell. The worst part was, she had every right to be. Wouldn't he want to know up front what type of situation he was walking into? Damn straight he would! He didn't like being taken by surprise; he would have
demanded
to know the facts beforehand. Looking back, he thought he owed Amanda the same courtesy he would have taken for himself.

Then again, she hadn't asked. Oddly enough, Amanda had trusted him in the end to know what was best for her. It was exactly that reluctantly placed faith in him that was really eating at Jake now. He wasn't thrilled to admit he'd paid back her trust by slapping it right back in her face.

It eased his conscience a bit to think that, after her initial shock had faded, Amanda had no doubt handled herself just fine. She was made of stronger stuff than she thought. She would get through the awkward spots the way she did everything, with dignity and grace.

So would Gail and Little Bear. Jake was sure of it. While he hadn't seen his sister in years, he knew Gail. She wouldn't hold family squabbles over an innocent woman's head for long. Gail would thaw to Amanda quickly because... well, Jake of
all
people knew how hard it was to dislike a prissy white princess who could, when the occasion warranted, swear like a trooper and had enough gumption to conquer an army. Hell, hadn't he tried his best not to like her? He had. And he'd failed. Deep down, he knew Gail would fail to dislike Amanda, too.

The white stopped. The unexpected stillness jarred Jake's attention back to where it ought to have been in the first place—to finding a relatively dry spot to make camp. He wasn't overly surprised to find he'd unconsciously let his mount wind its way back up the hill, or that he'd come to a halt in the exact spot where he'd sat and watched Amanda enter the cabin.

The snow was coming down hard enough now so he could barely make out the small, square structure. He could see the chimney, though, and the wafts of gray smoke curling up from it. The aroma of a hearty stew hung tantalizingly thick in the air.

Though the day had started somewhat warm, the storm had blown in fast. The brisk air turned Jake's breath to steam. He shivered and pulled the blanket he'd tossed over his shoulders closer to his chest. He hadn't brought a coat. He hadn't thought he'd need one, hadn't expected to be at elevations this high, or to be hot on the trail of some brat for the past five days.

He shivered, his gaze shifting to his sister's small, ramshackle old barn. The thing hadn't been used in years. The roof had started to rot over a decade ago. The walls were slowly crumbling in on themselves. Little Bear, having no need for a barn, hadn't wasted time trying to repair it.

Jake eyed the decrepit building carefully. It was probably the warmest, driest place he was likely to find.

Another waft of stew teased him. His stomach grumbled, even as his ungloved, ice-cold fingers flicked the reins. He wouldn't have his sister's hearty stew to fill him, he knew, but he would have an essentially dry place to bed down for the night. For a man accustomed to making sacrifices in the name of pride, it would have to be enough.

"He is in the barn," Little Bear murmured to Gail in his native tongue. He watched his wife's back stiffen, watched her green eyes fill with three years of unshed tears. If he had the power to take her pain away, he would have done it. But only one man had that power. Blackhawk. And he refused to use it.

Little Bear gave his wife's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He watched as she swiped a few dark curls from her brow, then set about scrubbing the plates in the wash bucket with a vengeance. "Did you hear me, wife?"

"I know where he is, thank you. I've known for hours," Gail snapped. Her harshly whispered answer came in the guttural tongue her husband had taught her years ago and which now came to her naturally. In truth, she found it more awkward speaking English to their guest. And speaking of their guest...

Gail shot a glance over her shoulder. Amanda Lennox had pulled a chair closer to the hearth and now sat rocking Jacob to sleep. Kane cooed from the padded wicker basket on the floor beside the chair. If Amanda Lennox heard their conversation, she gave no sign. Not that a woman like her could have understood the words even if she
had
caught a phrase or two.

Reassured, Gail shifted her attention back to her husband. "All right. What is it you expect me to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Nothing."

One inky brow cocked as Little Bear's hand slipped off her shoulder. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. Jake is in our barn. So what? I won't rush out there and greet him warmly, as though nothing ever happened. Don't you dare ask me to forget all those hateful things he said to me, Little Bear, because I won't. I
can't."