Small Treasures (18 page)

He groaned and clamped down on the thought. How the hell could he go to her after hurting her like he had that night in the barn? Shit, if he was Abby, he’d have shot him by now!

But it had had to be done, he told himself. He'd had to turn her away. He'd had to protect himself from the pain he'd spent so many years avoiding.

And Lordy, how he'd paid for it. He'd just lived through the longest week of his life. Samuel had never really noticed just how small his mountain property was. Until he'd had to try to find places to keep to himself. He grumbled and shifted position slightly. Hell, he'd done more hunting in the last week than he had in the last year.

Well, he told himself, at least there was more than enough meat to see him through the coming winter now. In fact, there was enough for all three of them. Dammit, why'd Abby ever come to the mountain?

As if she had spoken, Samuel looked up and found her eyes on him. He wasn't surprised to see that she'd already started walking toward him.

And he had nowhere left to hide.

This is ridiculous, Abby thought stubbornly. If he wouldn't talk to her at home, then by heaven, he could talk to her here. She threaded her way through the crowd, her gaze never leaving Samuel's. At least, she told herself, he was willing to look at her.

Samuel straightened abruptly. Didn't she see the two cowboys closing in on her? Even from where he stood, Samuel could tell that the two men were very drunk. Their wobbling steps were determined, though, and taking them directly to Abby.

Someone grabbed her arm, and Abby swung around. A tall handsome cowboy with sandy-blond hair and big brown eyes smiled down at her.

"Hey, pretty lady," he said, breathing the stench of whiskey into her face, "let's you and me dance."

Abby's nose wrinkled and she tried to pull her arm free. "There's no music," she said firmly, "but thank you anyway."

"Don't need no music, little darlin'," said another man, shorter than the first, with black hair, green eyes, and a beautiful smile. "Jas and me, we'll show ya.”

Abby jerked back. He was as drunk as his friend. She wasn't frightened, though. They were in the middle of a crowd, and the two men seemed harmless enough. But they both reeked of whiskey, and the smell was making her sick.

"You go on, Chris," the blond one said. "I found her first."

"That ain't so, Jason," Chris countered, "and you know it. Why, just a bit ago, I said to you, I says, looka there at that pretty little thing… "

Jason pulled Abby closer and glared at his friend. "Hell, the day I need you to point out a pretty woman…"

Chris pulled at her other arm. "You sayin' I can't pick 'em good as you?" Abby flew back toward Jason when the man jerked her away from his friend. "That's what I'm sayin'," Jason countered. "You recall that time in Tularosa?" Chris spit in the dirt. "Hell, that don't count none. I was drunk!"

Abby simply stared at him. A moment later she was pulled back to Jason again and whirled around in a circle, dancing to music only the drunk could hear. No matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to get away. Vaguely she was aware that the crowd of men had turned away from Sarah's girls and were now staring at her. Desperately she twisted her head from side to side, looking for Samuel. Their eyes met briefly, then she was pulled away again.

"Here now, you two," Alonzo Mullins said, trying to break into the little trio, "that'll be enough of that. You boys go on and have another drink."

Privately Abby thought that they'd had more than enough already, but she said nothing.

Both cowboys laughed. Then Jason said, "After we're through dancin', mister. There's plenty of time… "

"Awright, awright," Chris said, tugging at Abby again. He ignored Alonzo completely. "You had your chance, Jas. My turn now."

"Not hardly," Jason argued. "Still my turn!" "You're both wrong, boys!" Samuel's voice boomed out. "It's my turn!"

Chapter Twelve

Strong hands fell on Abby's shoulders. She felt herself pulled from Jason's eager grasp, then she was lifted through the air and de posited safely a few feet away. Gratefully she smiled up at her rescuer. "Thank you, Samuel," she said with relief. "I'm sure they meant no harm, but thank you."

Samuel wasn't so sure. What he was sure of was the minute that cowboy had laid a hand on Abby, all Samuel'd wanted to do was push his fist through that handsome young face. He hadn't even bothered to say the ABCs. Even now his blood was still boiling with rage, but if Abby was really all right, then he was willing to let everything else go. For her sake. He stared down at her and saw her eyes widen with fright.

He was already turning when she screamed, "Look out, Samuel!" Samuel hadn't even considered not going to Abby's rescue. Even though he knew that most of the people at the gathering would turn from him once he entered a fight. He'd seen it before. A man his size just couldn't act like other men. Folks were just too scared of his strength.

But none of that mattered when he'd seen the shock and humiliation in Abby's eyes. Her trust in him. Her faith. He'd have walked through fire to reach her, and damn to hell anyone who dared step between them.

Then for a moment it had looked as though there wouldn't be a fight after all. He should have known better.

With Abby's shouted warning, though, Samuel ducked into a crouch as he turned and the fist that Chris swung at him missed by a mile. The drunk cowhand turned with the force of his swing and, his balance already gone, spun in a circle again before falling into the dirt.

At that same instant Jason leapt at Samuel's broad back. The young cowhand wrapped his forearm around his opponent's thick neck and hung on, trying to choke the big man.

Samuel hardly noticed. His gaze was centered on Chris, who scrambled to his un steady feet and charged the giant who had broken in on his fun. As the drunk closed in on him, Samuel shot one beefy arm out, grabbed hold of the younger man and tossed him effortlessly into the clamoring crowd.

Chris landed, spread eagle, on one of the townsmen, and they both crashed to the ground. Other men in the crowd, laughing and shouting, pulled Chris to his feet. Once he was up, Chris threw a frustrated punch at the nearest face.

Buck Whitehall's head snapped back with the force of the blow. Growling menacingly, Buck drew his big fist back. Chris ducked and the blacksmith's hearty bash slammed into another spectator's jaw. In seconds the whole crowd was fighting.

The men of Rock Creek and the surrounding farms took to the fight like kids let loose in a candy store. Amid the shouted insults hovering over the once quiet yard, fists flew and bodies hurtled through the air to land with heavy thuds.

Samuel tried to shake Jason off his back again, but for some reason the damn kid wouldn't come loose. Samuel sidestepped awkwardly as one of the fallen townsmen crashed and landed at his feet. The man gave Samuel a lopsided grin before getting up and rushing back into the fray. How the hell did all this happen? Samuel asked himself.

Then he groaned when he saw Chris slip out from under the brawling crowd. Through slitted eyes Samuel watched the stubborn cowhand brush himself offend prepare to charge.

With a death grip on Samuel's neck, Jason hadn't stopped throwing ineffective swipes at the big man's head and shoulders. Jason was more irritating than anything else, but try as he might, Samuel couldn't seem to get a grip on the man clinging to him. He cursed viciously as Chris ran at him, fists ready.

From the corner of his eye Samuel noticed Abby and Luke watching the goings-on. Abby's gaze was filled with worry while Luke jumped up and down beside her, batting his small fists through the air as if trying to somehow help Samuel.

With one palm against Chris's forehead, Samuel held the young man at arm's length. Then he reached around with his free hand and gave a mighty yank. Finally he had Jason off his back. One hand at each man's collar, Samuel lifted the cowhands, then crashed their heads together as easily as he would clap his hands.

Knocked momentarily senseless, the two drunks fell in a heap to the ground.

Samuel took a long, deep breath and frowned down at the two troublemakers at his feet. Before he could move, though, a shot gun blast echoed over the still-battling crowd.

All sound stopped. Men paused in mid-swing, their fists poised just inches from their targets. As one, they looked toward the source of the blast.

Minerva Mullins stood, feet wide apart, still clutching the shotgun with both barrels aimed toward heaven. Behind her stood at least a half-dozen angry women.

"I got one barrel left if you fools ain't ready to listen yet," Minerva warned in a steely tone. A couple of men shifted position, but no one said a word.

"That's better," Minerva stated flatly. "Now, us women say this fight is over right now." A few mumbled comments floated out into the hush.

"Over," she repeated. She frowned at the men sprawled in the dirt and said, "Some of you pick them up and bring 'em over to the tables. We're gonna have dinner now."

Her eyes narrowed, she moved her gaze slowly and deliberately over the grumbling men. Leisurely then, she lowered the gun and smoothed her skirts. After another long pause she and her cohorts turned their backs on the men.

"Durn women," someone said under his breath. "All the time botherin' a man just when he's havin' a good time… "

" 'Lonzo," another said, can't you keep that woman of yours in line any?"

Alonzo snorted as he pushed himself to his feet. "When you can handle yours, Hiram… then you come talk to me about Minerva."

Samuel just shook his head. He couldn't believe it. It was over. He'd been in a fight and he hadn't killed anyone. His strength had done no more damage than anyone else's. In fact, most of the others looked a lot worse off than the two drunks Samuel had dealt with. He'd never seen so many puffy eyes and split lips in one place before.

He stood quietly in the yard as the battered, dirty men filed past him, dragging the un fortunate few who couldn't walk on their own to the tables.

"Some fight, eh, Sam?" one man whispered as he passed.

"Guess you showed them two somethin' about how to treat our females," another said as he clapped the big man on the back.

Samuel twisted his head this way and that, watching the men and returning the smiles they gave him. They weren't afraid of him. Seeing him in a fight hadn't sent a one of them running. Instead, they'd all joined in. Made a party of it. His forehead creased and his brows drew together as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

All those years of fear. Telling himself that people would be frightened by his size. His strength. Hiding away from other folks to keep himself safe. Shying away from talking to people. Was it possible, he wondered, that the reason he'd never had any friends was his own standoffishness? Could it be that simple? If he had tried to make friends… talked to people, become a part of a community, would they have accepted him?

Abby's hand on his arm snapped him out of the new, disturbing thoughts. He looked down at his own forearm and noted that her fingers were trembling.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

Against his will, his gaze lifted to meet hers. If her touch hadn't been enough to get his heart thumping wildly, the look in her eyes would have done it. Where he'd expected to find fear and dread, he found instead concern, worry. She wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid for him.

"Samuel," she said, her voice mounting in his silence, "are you hurt? Did they hurt you?" He shook his head. "I'm fine. They didn't hurt me any."

She reached up and touched a bruise at the corner of his eye. Already the skin was swelling and turning colors. "I was so worried, Samuel. There were two of them picking on you. I didn't know what to do… " She chewed at her lip nervously. "They might have… "

Samuel knew very well that those two couldn't have done him any damage. Hell, they were both so drunk they could hardly stand up! But he found he liked her concern so much that he didn't want to argue the point with her.

"Boy, howdy," Luke piped up out of nowhere, "that there was some fight, Sam. I never seen the like! An' the way you tossed them two around like they was no bigger'n me… "

"Luke!" Abby turned on him. "That will be enough. Samuel might have been seriously injured, for heaven's sake."

"Nah," the boy countered, waving his hand at the outraged woman. "They couldn't do nothin' to Sam! I'm gonna go see Obadiah. Make sure he seen it all."

Luke made a quick half turn and ran through the crowd in search of his friend.

The last of the staggering warriors passed them before Samuel asked, "Them cowboys didn't scare you any, did they?"

Abby looked up at him, her eyes shining with the trust he'd come to associate with her, and said softly, "Of course not, Samuel. I knew you were close by."

He couldn't think of a thing to say. Her faith in him was something so new, so precious, that he didn't quite know what to make of it. But as she pulled him gently toward the supper tables, Samuel finally admitted to himself how much he needed it. And her.

By the time everyone had eaten their fill, the sun was low on the horizon. Already the afternoon sky was streaked with pale shafts of pink and amber.

It was time to leave.

As Abby was packing up the last of their things, Luke and Obadiah came rushing up to her, pulling Minerva behind them.

"Obadiah says I can stay over to his place tonight, Abby," Luke said, eagerness plain on his face.

"Yes'm," Obadiah added, "Ma says it's fine with her."

Abby looked up at Minerva questioningly.

"Oh, yes," Minerva said with a groan as she tugged her hands free from the boys. "With five of my own, I won't hardly notice one more!"

Abby glanced at the wagon across the yard and watched Samuel move around the horses, hitching them up for the ride back to the cabin. She smiled. It might be just the thing for Luke to stay the night with the Mullinses.

"All right." Abby looked at Luke. "You mind Mrs. Mullins, now."

"Yes'm." Luke took off with Obadiah without a backward glance.