Comanche Heart (19 page)

“Really? Look at you, moping because a few children laughed at you. You don’t belong in this world? Hog spittle! What’re you going to do, Swift? Go back to Texas and starve on a reservation, daydreaming about the good old days? Or maybe go back to the comancheros? You supposedly came here for a new start. Today went badly, and I apologized for that. I even offered to tutor you privately, and you turned that down. That’s a quitter in my books.”

“Be careful what you say, Amy.”

She sprang to her feet. “Oh, yes, intimidate me and prove what a big, brave man you are. A physical battle with me would be easy. Learning to read isn’t. It takes courage to face a book day after day. Your problem isn’t between your ears, it’s in that backbone of yours.”

He rose slowly to his feet. “Amy, I’m warning you, I’m not in the right frame of mind for this. You can accuse me of a lot of things, and I’ll take it, but don’t call me a coward.”

“Coward, quitter, it’s all the same.” She met his gaze. “I’ll be at my house tomorrow at three o’clock, lesson book ready. If you’re not a quitter, be there.”

 

The next afternoon Amy paced the floor of her sitting room, glancing repeatedly at the clock. Five minutes after three. Swift wasn’t going to show up. She sighed and sank onto her dark blue velvet settee.
The world I belonged in is gone.
If she couldn’t convince Swift to give book learning one more try, those words were going to follow her to the grave.

She would have felt bad about discouraging anyone who had come to her for instruction, but she felt doubly bad about failing Swift. Whether she liked to admit it or not, he had been her salvation once, the only person who had cared enough to spend endless hours forcing his company upon her, giving her hope where she had none, pride that had been stripped from her, and renewed self-confidence. And he had given her all those things with unfailing gentleness and an understanding far beyond his years.

In return, when he had fled his destroyed world in Texas and come to Wolf’s Landing seeking old friends, she had scorned him, spurned him, and then crowned everything by humiliating him beyond repair. No matter what he had become these past fifteen years, no matter what he had done, he deserved better than that, especially from her.

Rising from the settee, Amy grabbed her shawl and draped it around her shoulders. Maybe if she spoke to him one more time, he would reconsider. She stepped to the door and stared at the bolts, heart in throat, well aware of what she was about to do and the possible consequences. If she left things as they were, there was every possibility Swift might leave Wolf’s Landing and return to Texas. She would be a hundred times a fool if she did anything to stop him. And yet, how could she not?

Decision made, she slid the bolts back and, gathering her shawl against the crisp autumn breeze, stepped out onto the porch. As she did, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Turning, she came face-to-face with Swift, who had just planted a black boot on the bottom step of her porch. Their eyes locked, sending messages neither of them seemed able to voice, his angry, hers relieved.

“You came,” she said at last.

Making no reply, he stomped up the steps, swept by her, and went inside the house. Amy stared after him, her mouth suddenly dry. He made her nervous enough when he was acting nice. She followed him inside, closing the door behind her, but not bolting it, just in case.

He went into the kitchen. Jerking out a chair, he turned it, straddled the seat and folded his arms across its back. Amy moseyed toward him, pretending with little success to be unaffected by his stormy behavior. He angled her a sharp glance and inclined his head at another chair. Heart pounding like a kettledrum, she sat down, settled her navy blue skirts around her, and opened her lesson book. Having him here was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She was getting her second chance to teach him something, and she wasn’t about to let it be spoiled. He couldn’t stay angry forever, after all.

Determined, Amy began the lesson with some two-sided letter cards she had made with this exercise especially in mind. She held up the
A
, explained what he was to do, and then waited while he regarded her in sullen silence.

“Swift, I know you recognize this letter,” she admonished him. “Are you going to apply yourself to this challenge or not?”

“Which of us is the biggest coward, Amy?” He leaned forward slightly. “You called me a coward for giving up on book learning, so here I am, willing to let you teach me. Now I’m calling you a coward, for giving up on life. Do you have the guts to let me teach you a few things?”

Amy stared at him, the card still held aloft.

He reached over and snatched it from her taut fingers. “That’s an
A,
as in
ass
.”

Clinging to her composure, she watched him lay the card on the table. “It also has a long sound, as in plate.”

“Or as in waist.” His gaze dropped to her middle. “I could span yours with my hands, if you’d ever let me get close to you.”

Amy set her jaw and held up the next card. He gave it a lazy perusal and said, “That’s a
B,
as in
bottom
or
breast
.” He trailed his gaze to her bodice and arched an eyebrow. “Nice, very nice.”

“It’s also a
B
as in
bastard
!” Amy shot up from the chair, disappointment, embarrassment, and anger warring for supremacy. “I can see you didn’t come here to learn anything. If you think I’m going to sit here, suffering your verbal abuse for an hour, you’ve got another think.”

“Have I made a mistake?
B,
the buh sound, breast. I think I got it right.”

She slapped the cards down on the table, so furious that she dropped several on the floor. He bent over to sweep them up. “That’s an
H,
as in
honey
, and I’ll bet that’s how you taste.” He flashed her an infuriating grin. “Honey, from one sweet end to the other.”

“That is quite enough.”

“No, sweetheart, that’s life.”

“Maybe in your books. But I can do without that particular facet of living, thank you.”

“Because you’re shaking-in-your-boots scared, that’s why. The Amy I knew was a fighter. You ran out and faced a war party of Comanches when you were twelve, toting a rifle bigger than you were. Do you remember that?”

“Loretta’s life was on the line. I had no choice.”

“And now it’s your life on the line, and mine. And you still don’t have a choice. Because I’m not going to give you one, damn it! The Amy I knew didn’t jump at her own shadow and run from what she knew she wanted. Are you willing to let what Santos did to you ruin your whole life? It’s been fifteen years. And he’s still torturing you every day and every night. Fight back, Amy. Bury him.”

Chest heaving, she retreated a step. “How can you claim to know what I want? I have what I want, Swift.” She gestured at the house, her hand trembling. “A home, a job I love, friends. And you want me to give it all up? For what? So you can tell me what to say and when to say it? What to do and how to do it? Maybe my life isn’t what you think it should be, but I’m happy.”

“Are you? Do you even know what you’re missing? Let me give you a taste of what you could have. Haven’t you ever looked at Hunter and Loretta and
wanted
? A home, with a fire in the hearth at night, and kids, and laughter?” He laid the cards that he had gathered on the table. Nodding toward the top one, he said, “That’s an
L,
as in
love
, and I love you more than I’ll ever be able to tell you with words. I want to tell you in other ways. In the way I kiss you. In the way I touch you. In the way I hold you. Won’t you let me say it my way, just once?”

She glared at the upturned card. “That’s not an
L.
It’s a
T.
”

He gave a soft laugh. “I don’t believe you sometimes.”

“The feeling’s mutual. You need your mouth scrubbed with lye soap.”

“Look at me, Amy.”

She knew she shouldn’t, that he was in a dangerous mood and that she was feeling particularly vulnerable, but the gentle plea in his voice compelled her. She immediately regretted complying. The moment her gaze met his, a rush of dangerous emotions swept through her.

“I promised you I’d try to change, because I’m in the white world now and I want—” He broke off, looking deep into her eyes. “I want to live. Really live. And you’re my last chance. Wolf’s Landing is my last chance. Can you understand that? If I can’t make it here, among friends, where in hell can I make it?”

“Oh, Swift, don’t . . .”

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? Don’t make you feel sorry for me? By God, I’ll play on your sympathy if I have to.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “Don’t.”

“Do you think I rode two thousand miles on a whim? I was running, damn it, running for my life!” He half rose from the chair, hands braced on its back. The sound of movement brought her eyes open. “And when I got here, I found you—alive and so beautiful it was like finding a dream. I can’t turn my back on that. I
can’t
! Not because I’m a stubborn bastard, but because there’s nothing else. Nothing. Do you understand?”

The heartbreak was that she did.

He gestured at himself. “No conchae, no guns, no spurs, no poncho. I’m clean-shaven. Loretta trimmed my hair last night. And I’m here to try, one more time, to learn my letters and numbers. What have you done to fulfill your part of the bargain? You said you’d try to meet me halfway. What have you done?”

“Nothing,” she admitted. And then in a rush she added, “I don’t know how to fulfill my part. Every time I think about it, I feel—”

“You feel what?”

“Trapped,” she whispered.

“You promised to try,” he reminded her. “And I’ve waited patiently, which isn’t in my nature. I want equal time, Amy.”

“What?”

“Equal time. I’ll learn my letters and numbers, but in return, you have to make an effort to learn to trust me again.”

Amy’s first inclination was to say no. But then uncertainty hit her. These last two weeks Swift truly had made an effort to change, trying every way he knew to please her. But more important was what he hadn’t done, which was to throw her across his horse and run off with her, as she had at first feared he might. Because he hadn’t, her attitude toward him was changing already, which tantalized her and made her wonder. Was the Swift she once knew lurking under the hard, dangerous facade of Swift Lopez? If he was, Amy yearned to find him. For, hesitant though she was to admit it, she had never stopped loving him.

“Equal time,” she ventured hesitantly. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Just how it sounds. For every hour I spend on book learning, I want you to spend an hour with me.”

She nibbled her lip, watching him, trying to read him. His expression gave nothing away. “Would you promise not to . . .”

“Not to what?” he asked softly.

She gathered her courage and plunged ahead. “Not to touch me while we’re together.”

His eyes warmed on hers. “No promises, Amy. The whole idea is for you to trust me.”

“I thought the idea was to get reacquainted.”

He smiled. “Exactly. And I don’t want a bunch of rules muddying the water.”

She made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes again, and an electrical feeling charged the air between them, making her skin tingle.

“Say yes,” he urged. “Trust me, Amy—one more time. You did once, a long time ago. Remember? And I never broke faith. Can’t you take another gamble on me?”

Her heart began to slam.

“I’ve already promised you I’ll never hurt you,” he reminded her. “If you stop and think about it, doesn’t that pretty much cover most of the things you’re afraid might happen?”

In Amy’s experience, it covered them all. Her fear was that she and Swift had different definitions of hurting. “Yes.”

“Well then?”

She licked her lips, feeling reckless, as if something wonderful just beyond her line of vision awaited her and she had only to step forward to see it. “If I say yes, will you give me the option of calling the whole thing off if I’m not comfortable with it?”

He hesitated a moment, as if thinking that over, then grinned. “That sounds fair, as long as you don’t call it off when you still owe me time. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

For a long moment, he looked up at her. Then, so softly she almost couldn’t hear him, he said, “You won’t regret this. I promise you that.”

Legs atremble, Amy perched stiffly on the chair and gathered up the cards again. Swift watched her, looking smugly pleased with himself. She hoped that didn’t bode ill.

Amy had planned an hour’s lesson, but Swift somehow managed to stretch one hour to two. She suspected that he did so with an ulterior motive, which became apparent the moment they finished working. He demanded his two hours of equal time, right away.

“Now?” She glanced up at the small window above them. “But it’s dark. Loretta will be waiting dinner on you. Besides, what could we possibly do to pass two hours?”

“We can take a walk—and talk. I told Loretta I’d be late.”

Amy liked the hesitation in his voice before he said “talk” even less than she did the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“I can’t go walking after dark. It’s out of the question. If people saw us, you know what they’d think. I have my teaching position to think of.”

“Who’ll see us? Do you think people peer out their windows at your front porch all night?”

“But they’re bound to see us walking. People do come and go around town after dark.”

“I have no intention of walking around town.”

Her eyes widened. “Where do you plan to go walking, then?”

“In the woods.”

“What?”

“Trust me, Amy.” He draped her shawl around her shoulders and steered her toward the door. “That’s what all this is about, remember? Trust. Do you really believe I have anything other than your best interests at heart?”