Comanche Heart (12 page)

Amy forced a smile. It never ceased to amaze her how many topics of conversation Sam could dream up to keep her in his store. He was a nice man and more than passably handsome, but Amy wasn’t interested.

“Lanterns, outdated? How so?”

“The electric light.” Leaning forward at the waist, Samuel folded his muscular arms on the counter and flashed her a grin. His blondish brown hair gleamed as he bent his head. “They say Edison is inches away from developing a bulb that’ll burn for prolonged periods of time. Don’t you keep abreast of the news?”

“I haven’t much time for reading the newspapers. As I said, my students keep me fairly busy.”

His blue eyes warmed on hers. “You should make time. The way things are changing, you ladies need to be on top of things. Why, just this February, President Hayes signed a bill allowing female lawyers to argue cases before the Supreme Court.”

“It’s high time, if you ask me.” Amy put the kerosene on top of her packages, gathered the lot into her arms, and turned to go. “Just put this on my account, would you, Mr. Jones?”

“Sam,” he corrected. “As long as we’ve known each other, Miss Amy, I’d think you’d call me by my first name.”

“That would be unseemly, Mr. Jones. I am the schoolteacher.”

“The committee won’t terminate you for calling me Sam.”

Still smiling, Amy wove her way between the floor displays toward the doorway. As she left the general store, she saw Swift standing outside, his back to her, a shoulder braced against the building. Amy froze. A woman stood on the other side of him.

Leaning out to see around him, Amy identified Elmira Johnson, one of the unmarried girls in town. She stood with her head back, batting her eyelashes and giggling. The silly twit. Naturally a mysterious man like Swift Lopez would fascinate her. At eighteen Elmira was foolhardy and naive enough to be tantalized by danger. If her father, a burly miner, caught her flirting with trouble, he’d have her hide.

Amy gathered her packages close and stepped off the boardwalk, hoping to cross the street and reach Loretta’s while Swift was preoccupied. Unfortunately he didn’t seem too interested in what Elmira was saying and glanced around when Amy moved away from the building. Amy increased her pace. From the corner of her eye, she saw him straighten. She felt clumsy and awkward. Trying to walk gracefully while loaded down with packages was no easy feat.

“Amy! Wait!”

His deep voice had the same effect as a leash around her neck. He strode into the street and, without another word, took the packages from her.

“I’ve been doing for myself for five years, Swift—ever since I moved into my own place.”

Somehow he managed the load with one arm so he could take her elbow. The grip of his fingers burned through the sleeve of her dress. “You don’t have to do for yourself anymore,” he replied, steering her up the street toward Loretta’s. “I’m glad you finally came out of hiding, by the way. I was starting to worry, and so was the rest of the family.”

“The children see me every day, and I wasn’t hiding.”

“Keeping to yourself, then.”

“I always keep to myself.”

“Not according to Loretta. She says you usually come by every day after school. I don’t bite, Amy.” His eyes twinkling with mischief, he slid his gaze to her neck. “Not hard, anyway.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp and hurried ahead, taking the steps of Loretta’s porch at such a speed that she nearly tripped on her skirts. Swift followed her inside, set her packages on the table, and lowered himself onto a straight-backed chair. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed his boots at the ankle and clasped his hands behind his neck, his mouth sporting a half grin.

“Amy!” Loretta cried with delight. Abandoning the dumplings she was making, she came across the room, flour-covered hands held out to her sides, cheek turned for a kiss. “I’ve missed you so. Why haven’t you been coming by to see me after school?”

Amy felt Swift’s amused gaze on her. While giving Loretta a hug, she said, “I’ve just been busy.”

“I’ve extra bread made up for you. And I’ll wager you’re low on eggs.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” Amy fetched the egg basket off the drain. “I’ll go gather my own. Don’t fuss, Loretta. Finish the dumplings. I can get everything myself.”

Loretta gave her a concerned look. “Can’t you take a moment for coffee? It seems like forever since we chatted.”

Amy couldn’t see herself chatting with Loretta while Swift looked on. She toyed with the rust-colored grosgrain ribbon on her bodice. “I, um, actually, Loretta Jane, I’ve a busy evening planned.” She searched wildly for an excuse and seized upon the one she had just given Samuel Jones. “Lessons, you know.”

“I thought you had those done already, from prior years.”

Amy licked her lips. “Yes, well, I still have to go over them.”

Loretta didn’t look as if she believed that. With Swift sitting there, it would be unforgivably rude to admit the real reason for her prolonged absence. Perhaps Loretta would figure it out on her own, if she hadn’t already.

“Well.” Amy turned toward the back door. “I’m off to rob the hens. Be right back.”

After leaving the house, she tucked the ends of her shawl under her sash. When she reached the hen-house, she gathered her green muslin skirts into a loose knot just below the knees to prevent her hem from trailing in the filth. Collecting some eggs took only a few minutes. When she emerged from the pen, she wiped her shoes clean on a clump of grass. As she straightened, she spied a pair of black boots a few feet away.

“Swift! You startled me.”

He stood with his back against a nearby madrona. “It doesn’t take much to startle you. Sometimes I think breathing wrong might do it.”

His gaze fell to her exposed petticoat and he stepped forward, extending a hand for the egg basket. Flustered and horribly embarrassed because she had forgotten she had her skirts hiked up, she relinquished her hold on the basket handle and bent to untie the knot in her skirts.

“How long is this going to continue, Amy?” he asked softly.

She glanced up. “How long is what going to continue?”

“You holing up over there and peering out your window at me. I meant to give you some time to circle me, but you’re cutting a mighty wide berth. If I hadn’t knocked off work early today, you’d have come and gone without seeing me.”

“There’s always Elmira.”

“Jealous?”

She gave a little snort of derision.

When she headed for the house, he stood his ground. “You’re forgetting the eggs.”

She turned back, clenching her teeth and avoiding his gaze as she extended her hand. He didn’t offer to relinquish the basket. Left with no choice, she finally looked up at him. The creases that bracketed his mouth deepened, his lips pursing slightly as he regarded her.

“It’s up to you how we go about this.”

“Go about what?”

He ignored the question. “The hard way or the easy way, it’s up to you. If you go on hiding out over there, I’ll take matters in hand. And you may not like my methods.”

It took all her strength of will to keep her voice steady. “Don’t threaten me, Swift.”

He handed her the basket. “I’m not threatening. I’m promising. You can’t run from this, Amy. You can’t pretend I don’t exist. I won’t let you.”

“What, exactly, are you saying?”

“I wanted to give you a chance to get to know me again—here, with your family around. You haven’t made any attempt.”

“Because I don’t want to know you again.”

A glint crept into his eyes. He took a deep breath, exhaling with exaggerated slowness. “Fair warning. Make hay while the sun’s shining. If you don’t, the first thing you know, I’ll cloud up and rain all over you.”

Amy’s legs felt suddenly weak. She licked her lips, glancing off into the trees.

“I’m going to be bagging gold dust this afternoon, getting it ready for Hunter to take to Jacksonville.” His voice turned low and husky. “Why don’t you help me? Chase and Indigo will be there. We’ll get a big fire going, and Loretta says she’ll make hot chocolate. You can stay for supper. It’ll be fun. Who knows, you might find out I’m not so terrifying after all.”

All Amy wanted to do was run. “I’m busy tonight.”

He sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

She tightened her grip on the wire handle of the basket. He stood there a moment, studying her, then inclined his head at the house. She spun on her heel and hurried ahead of him. When she burst inside, she grabbed some towels off a shelf to wrap her eggs and bread, acutely conscious of Swift’s entrance behind her.

“Did you get plenty?” Loretta asked.

“Enough for a few days.” Amy gathered her packages together, placing her eggs and bread on top.

“I could help you carry that,” Swift inserted.

“Thank you for offering, but I can manage fine.”

Their gazes locked. With a forefinger he touched the brim of his hat, inching it back so he could capture her gaze with his. His eyes had a mischievous glint in them that made her spine tingle. “Don’t be such a stranger from now on.”

Amy’s throat tightened. Though he had said it teasingly, they both knew he meant it as a warning.

“Thank you for the bread and eggs, Loretta.”

Loretta rolled her eyes. “It’s part of your teaching contract. If you need more, there’s always plenty. I’ll have Hunter bring you a fryer. How’s your ham and bacon holding up?”

“Fine.”

Amy said her good-byes. Because her arms were full, Swift opened the front door for her, then followed her onto the porch. As she descended the steps, he called, “If you don’t show up here tomorrow, it’ll be a hard row to hoe from here on out.”

Amy glanced back. Four levels above her, he seemed to loom, broad of shoulder, lean of hip, long legs stretching forever. His gaze held hers for an instant, relentless and piercing.

“It’s your choice,” he added. “One more day, Amy. Then we do things my way.”

She struck off up the street. Damn him. She felt as if he had a noose around her throat and was slowly tightening it.

Furious that he had that kind of power over her, Amy rebelled by dragging her bathtub into the kitchen the moment she got home. She wouldn’t let him rule her every waking moment. After hauling in water and setting it on the stove to heat, she made certain all the windows were securely fastened and barricaded the front door with sitting room furniture. Only then could she find the courage to undress. It was the most miserable bath she had ever taken in her life.

 

The following afternoon, Amy went by the dry goods store to select some cloth for a dress. After haggling with Mr. Hamstead on the price, she purchased the yardage in a delightfully lightweight blue serge and splurged on a quarter yard of ecru lace to accent the collar, bodice, and cuffs. She had a gorgeous cut-to-size pattern that she had found in
Harper’s Bazaar,
with a fitted bodice, gently flared skirt, and a three-ruffle pouf in back. While admiring a sewing machine in one of Mr. Hamstead’s catalogs, she gave him a wistful smile.

“Still saving?” he asked with a chuckle. He bound her packages with twine and gave them a pat. “They get more expensive in every issue, you know.”

Amy gnawed her lip, tempted to order one straight away. If she did, though, her savings would be sorely depleted, and she felt more secure with some money set aside. “Never fear, I’ll be in to order one soon. Why, if I had a machine, I could have this dress on its way to being finished after a couple of evenings’ work. I could sew for Loretta and Indigo. Make shirts for Hunter and Chase.” She snapped her fingers. “And be done just like that.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “The wife sure loves hers. And Tess Bronson ordered one last week.”

“She didn’t!” Amy leaned back over the catalog, filled with yearning. “As hard as she works in the restaurant, she deserves it.”

“Being a teacher isn’t exactly light duty,” he reminded her.

“It doesn’t make one wealthy, either,” she came back. “On a single income, I have to watch my pennies.”

“Make Sam Jones a happy man, and he’ll buy you a sewing machine for every room.”

“He’s a very nice man, but I’m not in the market for a husband. I’ll just save up, thank you.”

“Anytime you’re ready to order, I’ll still give you the discount I promised.”

Amy winked at him. “As if I’d let you worm your way out.”

Happily contemplating the day when she could place an order for a sewing machine, Amy gathered her packages, bade Mr. Hamstead good-bye, and headed for the door, promising herself that tonight she would stay busy and never spare a thought for Swift Lopez.

After leaving the shop, she gathered her courage and went to Loretta’s for a visit, as had always been her habit each day after school. As she had hoped, Swift and Hunter hadn’t come home from the mines yet. She nearly grinned with delight. Swift couldn’t very well cloud up and do much raining, at least not for another day. She had shown up. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Is Swift going to work for Hunter?” Amy asked shortly after her arrival. She dreaded the answer but felt a need to know.

“I think so,” Loretta replied, stooped low over the oven to check her bread. “Lord knows there’s enough gold in that mountain to share, and Hunter could use a partner to carry part of the load. Who knows, maybe having Swift here will free him up so he can enjoy life a little more. Those other men who work for him can’t wipe their own noses without him telling them how.”

Amy knew Hunter worked too hard and that she should be pleased there might be an end to that in sight, but she couldn’t rejoice when salvation came in the form of Swift Lopez.

Loretta, cheeks flushed from bending over the oven, closed the stove door and swiped at a stray tendril of golden hair, her blue eyes shadowed with anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” Amy set her packages on the table.