To Have and to Hold (Cactus Creek Cowboys) (8 page)

“You mean people build houses of dirt?”

Colby laughed at Naomi’s look of astonishment. “It’s not as bad as you think. You’ll see large homes built of adobe in Santa Fe.”

“What’s adobe?”

“Dried clay. And don’t make another face. The bricks people use back east are nothing more than baked clay. For that matter, so are the dishes on your table.”

Colby didn’t know when he’d had a more enjoyable afternoon. Naomi was like a child who absorbed everything new with a look of wonder and amazement. Instead of being bored, he found himself looking at his familiar world with the eyes of someone who’d never seen anything like it. It must be as strange for Naomi as it had been for him to find himself fighting a war in Virginia, a state with deep forests and rivers that never ran dry.

Naomi gave him a questioning look. “You have a way of making everything seem ordinary, uninterestingly familiar, even dull. Why?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

They were walking side by side, leading their horses. Naomi bent down to pluck a small blue flower that was nearly hidden in the tall grass. She brought it to her nose, but apparently it had no fragrance. “You don’t seem to get excited by anything. Or like anything. Or even want anything. It’s like you’re here, but you could be anywhere else just as easily.”

Colby was pleased Naomi seemed to have gotten over her fear that he was a danger to her, but he wasn’t comfortable with this examination of his character, especially when she appeared to find it lacking depth. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s not a criticism.”

It felt like it.

“You treat everybody the same even though Norman is an arrogant bully and Ben bombards you with questions. You’re never angry or upset, tired or frustrated.” She looked up at him. “Even when you caught me out in the storm, you didn’t get upset when I refused to go in or angry when I hit you. You don’t like anything or hate anything.”

“I like my buffalo steaks cooked properly, and I hate having arrows in my back.”

Naomi laughed. “I don’t mean that.”

Did this woman have any idea how beautiful she was when she looked up at him and laughed? She couldn’t, or she’d know the damage she could do to a man’s self-control. He would have given anything he possessed—well, not Shadow—to make love to her at this very moment. It wouldn’t have been mere sex. Nothing about this woman was ordinary. It would have been an experience to savor, something by which to measure every woman in his future.

“The only time I’ve seen you feel strongly about anything was insisting that I learn to ride,” she said.

Teaching himself to feel nothing was the way he’d survived. Learning to need no one, to depend on no one, had turned the ache of loneliness into an evenness of spirit that enabled him to accept the world as it was without anger or resentment. How did he explain any of this to a woman who’d been loved, valued, and protected her whole life?

“I have feelings like anyone else. I just don’t allow them to control me.”

Yet in the moments when his defenses were down and the pathway to his heart was thrown open, there were two things he wanted. Love and a family. Having accepted that he would never have either, he’d worked to build a wall around those desires, to enclose them so tightly not a single ray of hope could escape.

“Do you think I allow my feelings to control me?” Naomi asked.

“No, but you can’t feel anger, frustration, dislike, or disgust without influencing your ability to make good decisions.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “You said people out here had to be able to sum up a person in a matter of minutes. You’ve known me four days. That ought to be time enough to know everything about me.”

He touched her elbow and started her walking again. “I think you make good decisions despite the fact that you might wish to do otherwise.”

Her peal of laughter surprised him as much as it startled her horse. He was sure that whatever had caused her to laugh wasn’t flattering to him.

“I’ve never heard a more diplomatic answer. You would get along fine with my father. No matter what he says, he does it without offending anyone. As a consequence, he’s the only one everyone trusts.”

“I take it you would prefer I be more straightforward.”

“Of course. I don’t like wishy-washy opinions.”

Colby decided to give her what she wanted and see if she liked it. “I think you’re a beautiful young woman of spirit who will make some fortunate man an uncomfortable wife.”

Naomi hissed with exasperation but didn’t interrupt him.

“You’re kind, so you’ll spare your friends by keeping your most severe criticisms for those you love. Those judgments will show both the depth of your love and the height of your ambitions for them. You expect a great deal of yourself and will demand no less of others. You’ll forgive them if they fail, but you won’t be able to hide your disappointment.”

Naomi looked shocked. “You don’t like me at all, do you?”

“You didn’t ask me whether I liked or disliked you, just what I thought of your character.”

“But you couldn’t possibly like the person you just described.”

“Of course I can. I don’t expect anybody to be perfect.”

“But you are.”

Colby couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said she was in love with him and wanted to marry him on the spot. His laugh was without humor. “You should have heard what my parents had to say. Besides, you dislike that I don’t display emotion.”

“Okay, that’s a flaw, but only a small one. You’re kind, handsome, strong, smart enough to know everything about traveling in this miserable country, and you’ve managed to make everyone respect you enough to do what you ask without arguing. Even Norman, and he doesn’t respect anyone but himself.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Maybe it was vanity that made him latch on to that first, but he’d spent too many years being told he was an ugly little savage. His parents had wanted an obedient, unquestioning son with untanned skin and perfectly combed hair who kept his clothes neat and clean. Their disappointment became a daily litany.

Naomi cast him a scornful glance. “You know you’re handsome. Why do you think Cassie has been fawning over you?”

“Because she’s alone, scared, and I’m the oldest unmarried man here. She’d cling to me if I looked like a lobo wolf.”

“I don’t know what lobo wolves look like, but if they looked like you, people would probably sacrifice half their livestock just to have them hang around.”

“You
really
think I’m handsome?” Colby was alarmed that Naomi’s thinking he was handsome could have such a powerful effect on him. He’d never worried about what anyone else thought of his looks, not even Elizabeth.

“Yes, I do. So do Sibyl and Laurie. We’ve talked about it.” She favored him with a sly smile. “You didn’t expect women to ignore the presence of a handsome man, did you?”

“Just a few days ago you made it clear on more than one occasion that you didn’t trust me and wanted me to leave as soon as possible.”

She looked away. “I never felt that way about
you
, just about what I thought you represented. Since I don’t think you represent that any more, I feel differently.”

“How do you feel about me?” He had always made it a point never to ask questions like that, it only led to hurt and disappointment, but she had thrown him off guard.

She still refused to meet his gaze. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Not fair. I gave you a direct answer so it’s only fair that you give me one.”

She looked up, met his gaze fair and square. “I really
don’t
know beyond what I’ve already told you. You appear to be an unusual man, one I admire and would like to know better.”

Colby felt a sudden tightening in his chest, the feeling of being pressed too close, of having no room to move. He didn’t want anyone admiring him or wanting to know him better. That inevitably led to them wanting something from him, to
expecting
certain kinds of behavior in return for their good opinion.

Yet he’d opened himself to this invasion by asking her opinion of him. Having done that, did he have the right to cut her off without an explanation? What explanation could he give? That he was a loner, that he didn’t trust people, especially women, that he didn’t want to be close to anyone? He could say all of those things, but were they true? If so, why had he insisted that Naomi let him teach her how to ride? Why had he gone to such lengths to understand her objections to him? Why was he even interested in her opinion of him?

He couldn’t be sure of the answer just yet, but one of the possibilities scared him right down to his toes.

“You wouldn’t find anything very interesting about me. I’m no different from hundreds of other men who’ve grown up out here.”

Naomi studied him for a moment. “I don’t know anything about where you grew up or the people around you, but you’re different, and I’m going to find out why.”

As the wagon train came into view, Colby could feel the fetters tighten around him. In a short while, he would be consumed by his duties and Naomi would be involved with her family. Later they would all go to sleep and leave him to make sure the camp was secure. Then, in the silence and the stillness, he’d try to figure out why he’d let himself become infatuated with Naomi when he didn’t want anything to do with women.

***

The rest of the day had passed without anything more threatening than Paul Hill’s wife saying she was worried the bumping and bouncing of their wagon was going to cause her to have her baby early. Her sister-in-law had stayed with her until it was time for everyone to go to bed. Dr. Kessling would sleep next to their wagon in case he was needed.

The women and children were asleep. A guard was responsible for watching the livestock that had been put out to graze. No wagons needed repair and they had enough water for two days. There’d be no shortage of fresh meat because Frank Oliver had worked off some of his anger and bitterness by killing two antelope. The night was clear with enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes away. Colby had to make one more circuit of the wagons. Once that was done, there was nothing left for him to do but seek his own rest.

Yet he was too restless to sleep.

He’d always preferred night to day, dark to light. In the daylight he was forced to share himself with the world. In the quiet that filled the night, he was able to reclaim himself
for
himself. His parents had said that was selfish, that it showed he was unworthy of the love they longed to share with him. It had been the only way he could survive their idea of love, the only way he endured Elizabeth’s treachery, the only way he survived the horrors of war and knowing he had brothers he would never see.

Yet tonight he was unable to achieve that inner peace, to find the place inside where all parts of him came together.

“You still up?” Dr. Kessling asked as Colby approached Paul Hill’s wagon.

“Just checking one last time.”

How could he sleep when his mind was filled with unanswered questions? No matter how alluring and interesting, no matter how strong the physical attraction he felt for Naomi, he had no interest in a relationship. He wanted to visit his parents’ graves, get this wagon train to La Junta, and then head off into the wilderness where he could gather the familiar loneliness around him. Loneliness was a remorseless companion, but it shielded him from the folly of hope, the pain of broken dreams.

His steps slowed as he approached the Kessling wagon. Ethan was standing the first watch, Ben was sound asleep under the wagon, and Naomi slept inside. He didn’t understand how, after having known them only a few days, this family could have started to feel like a part of his life. They were essentially strangers. He liked them, but that didn’t mean—

A moan from inside the Kessling wagon claimed his attention. He stopped and listened, but he heard nothing more. He was about to move on when it came again, only louder and more pain-filled. The moans changed to words so muffled he couldn’t understand them. Naomi was becoming more agitated. He was about to turn back for Dr. Kessling when she screamed—

“Blood!”

Without even thinking about it, Colby jumped into the Kessling wagon.

“Blood!”

The single word was filled with such horror Colby knew there had to be more than a simple dislike of blood. He didn’t know whether to wake Naomi or wait to see if the dream would subside. It was difficult to see her in the semi-dark inside the wagon, but he could tell she was truly terrified.

“No!”

Naomi thrashed about so wildly Colby was afraid she would hurt herself. Overcoming his reluctance to wake her, he reached for her hand. The moment he touched her, Naomi came awake and threw herself at him sobbing.

“It was worse than ever this time.”

She pulled him down until he was kneeling on the bed of the wagon next to her, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest.

“I saw Grandpapa lying on the floor,” she mumbled. “Why would he be covered with blood? And who was that other man?”

Colby knew the proper thing to do was to wake Ben and send him to bring their father. But having Naomi’s arms around him felt too good.

“But it can’t be Grandpa,” Naomi said. “He died in bed.”

Colby patted her back and tried to soothe her. But once she fully came to her senses, he knew there’d be hell to pay. Naomi would never want to be caught so vulnerable.

“Why do I keep having these dreams?”

He couldn’t explain that, but it seemed odd she would dream of a violent death for a man who had died in his bed.

“I want my mama,” she moaned.

Those words drove an arrow straight to his core. It’s what he’d always wanted, a mother and father to love him, to comfort and protect him until he was old enough to comfort and protect them in return. He’d spent years trying not to think of that, yet a single sentence had shattered all the barriers and opened the pathway to the part of him that he had spent years trying to ignore.

“Your mother is dead.”

“I know. You’ve told me—” Her body stiffened. She released him and sat up. “What are you doing here?”

“You were having a bad dream. You were starting to get hysterical. I was afraid you’d wake the whole camp if I didn’t do something.”

“I
never
get hysterical.”

“You were becoming
very
upset
. You said something about seeing your grandfather and another man covered in blood. You didn’t understand that because your grandfather died in bed.”

Naomi’s stiffness melted away. “This dream has haunted me for two years. It started after my grandfather died. In the beginning I didn’t see anybody, just blood smeared over the floor and the walls, even the windows. I would wake up shaking. It was like I was drowning in blood. I was sure I’d done something terrible no one knew about. But that’s impossible. You couldn’t do anything in Spencer’s Clearing without everybody knowing about it.”

“Was anybody killed in Spencer’s Clearing?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea why you’d dream something like that if nothing like it ever happened?”

“No.”

“What does your father say about it?”

“He says it’s a reaction to two deaths in the family. My mother died from consumption. During the last year she often spit blood. My father was frequently away tending patients from neighboring towns, even troops on occasion, so I was left to take care of her. But I never dream about her that way, only the way she was before she got sick. I didn’t start seeing anybody until about a year ago. Papa said it was because my uncle had just died from a shotgun accident that left him covered in blood. I tried to tell him my dream was different, but he didn’t believe me. Now I know it was. My grandfather was one of the men. That’s got to mean something.”

Colby agreed with her, but since he didn’t know anything about her grandfather or his death, there was no explanation he could offer. “You’ll have to ask your father.”

“He’ll just say I’m imagining things.” Naomi seemed to pull herself together. “Thank you for waking me, but you can go now. I’m all right.”

“What if you can’t go back to sleep?”

“I always do.”

“What if you have the dream again?”

“How could you stop the dream?”

“I couldn’t, but I could wake you before it got to be too awful.” He couldn’t see her expression, but he could sense she paused to consider.

“Suppose I stay until you go to sleep,” he offered. “Then I’ll bed down underneath the wagon with Ben.”

Naomi laughed. “You’ll wake up with bruises over half your body. That boy throws himself about like he’s in a wrestling match.”

“I’ll take my chances. Now go back to sleep.”

“I can’t go to sleep with you so close. It’s not you. It would be anybody.”

“Okay. I’ll sit on the wagon seat, but I won’t go farther than that.”

“You could hear me from under the wagon.”

“Not if I went to sleep.”

He could hear her sigh. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Did anybody ever tell you that you’re a stubborn, frustrating, and often annoying man?”

He chuckled. “You’ll have to go a far piece before you get close to the things my parents said about me. Now stop trying to run me off and go to sleep. We’ll be climbing some hills tomorrow so it’ll be easier on the oxen and mules if everybody walks.”

He didn’t want to go, but he needed his sleep as well.

Yet sleep wasn’t the only reason he needed to leave. Naomi was taking up too much of his thoughts. He knew this wasn’t a momentary interest fueled solely by lust. Lust was there. How could it not be with a woman as alluring as Naomi? Still, how could he have known that merely holding her in his arms would ignite a fire in his loins? It didn’t matter that he knew nothing more would happen. He couldn’t stop thinking of holding her, of kissing her, making love to her. He was sure her skin would be soft and warm. He could almost feel its silkiness beneath his fingertips as he explored every part of her body, seeking out the places that would fuel her need for him. He was certain her lips would be as soft and welcoming as her smile. He could imagine kissing her—
had
imagined kissing her—until they were swollen with desire.

He tried not to think of what it would be like to make love to her, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Yet there was something more than lust happening here, the kind of something that caused men to start thinking of building houses and sleeping in a comfortable bed every night, the kind of something that caused him to want to go home to the same woman every night, the kind of something that changed the thought of having a houseful of children from a man’s worst nightmare to a wistful dream.

When that kind of
something
showed its face, it was time for a sensible man to saddle up and ride like the devil himself was after him.

***

Naomi breathed a sigh of relief when Colby climbed down from the wagon seat. She had tried to sleep, but she could practically
feel
him watching her. It was unnerving…but exciting too.

She hadn’t been concentrating so hard on learning to ride that she’d been unmindful of Colby’s presence. That would have been impossible even if he hadn’t lifted her into the saddle or placed her foot in the stirrups. She wasn’t used to being in a man’s embrace—any type of embrace—but having been in his arms twice before, she was no longer so shocked she couldn’t appreciate his strength or his sheer magnetism. It didn’t matter that she didn’t
want
to be attracted to Colby. Sensuality radiated from him like heat from the sun making her want to reach out and touch him. She had attracted the attention of several soldiers during the war, but none of them had caused her to give them more than a few moments’ thought. She was still reeling for the shock of discovering Colby’s affect on her was entirely different. After seeing two cousins forced into marriages against their wills, she’d thought a lot about the kind of man she would marry. It shocked her to find that Colby came uncomfortably close to fulfilling all her requirements.

***

“Wake up, sleepy head. The day has already begun. You’ll have to hurry to catch up.”

Naomi came awake with a start. She struggled to sit up, but her body felt heavy and sluggish. “What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes vigorously before opening the flap at the end of the wagon. She found herself staring into Colby’s smiling face. “What are you doing here?”

“Coming to wake you up. Your brothers will be shouting for their breakfast before you have time to get a fire started.”

The stars were still out, but the first rays of light could be seen sliding their slender fingers into the far horizon. She wanted to fasten the flap and go back to bed, but she had to get up. It wasn’t her brothers’ fault that she’d lain awake for half the night thinking about Colby.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Okay.” She doubted she sounded convincing.

“Did you get any sleep at all? I know you were pretending so I left.”

It was unnerving the way he could see through her, and she didn’t like it. If her thoughts weren’t her own—okay, pretending to sleep wasn’t a thought, but it was close—what was?

“I didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted, but I got enough. Now go away so I can get dressed.” No matter how hot it got during the day, it was cold on the prairie at night. She slept in a nightgown under a quilt.

“You weren’t so shy last night.”

“That doesn’t count. I thought you were Papa.”

Colby’s chuckle as he walked away was just what she needed to set her nerves on edge. And just when she had started to think there might be a warm, thoughtful, maybe loving person hidden under that hard-glazed exterior. She muttered several uncomplimentary observations as she slipped out of her nightgown and put on her chemise and a heavy cotton dress of dark blue. He had no right to treat her like a little sister. Just because he was older and had traveled over half the world didn’t mean he knew more than she. It just meant they knew different things. As far as she could tell, most of what he knew wasn’t worth much unless you intended to live as far from other humans as possible. She pulled on her socks and shoes. She didn’t have time to waste on Colby Blaine. He could do whatever he wanted. She didn’t care.

She hurried to open the flap and climb down from the wagon only to find Colby had already started the fire…and was frying bacon.

“I thought you’d never get up,” Ben said when he saw her. “I got the wood for the fire
hours
ago. Colby said it was my job. I have to eat in a hurry if I’m to help with the harnessing.”

Naomi would have said something rude if her father hadn’t come bustling up in a cheerful mood.

“I’m hungry as a bear,” he announced. “Wilma Hill didn’t have any labor pains last night. I thought I would hate sleeping on the ground, but I slept better than I have in years.” He glanced at his sons. “Why didn’t you tell me it was so relaxing? I’ll have to try it more often.”

“You can have my bed,” Ben offered. “I’ll be happy to sleep in the wagon with Naomi.”

Naomi was measuring out cornmeal, but she turned to her brother. “You can’t sleep in a bed, a wagon, or any other confined space with another human being until you learn to stop kicking like a colicky calf.”

She reached for the milk someone had ready for her use. Probably Colby. He’d done everything else. No reason he shouldn’t have milked the cow, too.

“I could tie his feet together,” Colby offered.

“Don’t forget his hands,” Ethan added.

“Nobody’s tying me up.” Ben took the precaution of edging closer to his father.

“Got any coffee?” her father asked.

Before Naomi could formulate an excuse, Colby reached for a pot nestled in a bed of coals.

“I expect it’s ready now. I know it’s hot.”

She was going to kill that man. She hadn’t decided when or how, but she was definitely going to do it.

“Save a little of that milk,” Naomi’s father said to her. “The cream off the top would be even better.”

Naomi had learned long ago how to pour fresh milk without losing the cream. Everyone knew of her father’s fondness for it. At least that was one thing Colby hadn’t done.

“Good coffee,” her father murmured appreciatively. “Naomi always did know how to make it better than anyone else.”

Ben started to speak—undoubtedly to tell his father Naomi
hadn’t
made the coffee—but Colby clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth.

“Ethan needs help filling the water casks,” he said to Ben. “Why don’t you help him?”

“Wait a minute and I’ll help,” their father said. “I want a few more swallows of coffee.”

“Don’t take long,” Colby said to Ben. “Naomi has breakfast nearly ready.”

The boy glared at Colby before stomping off. Her father saluted with a smile and a wave of his coffee cup. “Don’t drink it all before I get back.”

Naomi managed to hold her temper in check until her father was out of hearing range. She whirled around to face Colby. “Why didn’t you tell my father you made that coffee? He’ll figure it out tomorrow if Ben hasn’t told him by the time they get back. And that doesn’t include starting the fire, milking the cow, and putting the bacon on. You should have woken me up earlier.”

“You had a rough night. I figured you needed to sleep a little longer. Besides, Ben gathered the wood and Laurie milked your cow. She was up before I was. Come to think of it, that’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Naomi decided not to tell Colby about the situation between Laurie and her husband. Some things were better kept within the family.

“Don’t let me sleep late again, not even if I have a nightmare. I don’t want anybody to think I’m shirking my responsibilities.”

Colby studied her a moment, which made her so nervous she nearly forgot to take the corn cakes out of the pan before they burned.

“Everybody falls a little short now and then,” Colby said. “Someone will take up the slack for you. You’ll do the same for them later.”

“Who takes up the slack for you?” she snapped. “Nobody, because you’re perfect. You never fall short. You know the answer to every question. You can cook. You even make better coffee than I do.” She knew she sounded ungrateful, but too much perfection was irritating.