Desert Angel (15 page)

Hank gave the onlookers a censorious look, as March’s soft voice drifted through the sudden quiet. Turning toward her, he tipped his hat and motioned with his hand toward the corral.

“They’re waitin‘ to see if’en the boss has learned his lessons or not.”

March could see a pair of dusty boots from beneath the horse. “What lessons?”

“Breed’s been a’teachin‘ Jim how to break a horse the Comanche way. Some of the boys figure that only an Indian can gentle-break a horse, and they’ve got bets goin‘ on how soon he’ll be pickin‘ hisself up from the dust.”

The massive horse glowed a fiery red in the sunlight, as the soothing sound of Jim’s voice danced around the nervous animal. Tail and mane as black as a crow’s wing flickered with restless anticipation. March watched as Jim rhythmically stroked the animal, his hands never completely leaving the muscular body.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” she asked, mesmerized by the gentle sounds and touches.

“Hell, ah … durn, missy, that horse ain’t never held a rider. Ain’t no reason for him to start now, lessin‘ he’s of a mind.”

“But do you think he’ll do it?” Her gaze remained glued to the man and horse, as she waited for Hank to answer.

The old man studied Jim’s quiet actions. “Ain’t but one other man who’d ever get more than a leg up on that critter, and he’s the one who’s been a’teachin‘ the boss.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’d say he’s got as good a chance as a snake findin‘ water in the desert.” Jim carefully placed a saddle blanket over the horse’s broad back. Its ears briefly lay back, then slowly resumed their normal position at Jim’s continued soft words and gentle caresses.

“Bet he don’t talk that sweet to a whore, when he’s trying to get between her legs,” one of the men said with a smirk.

Critical glances were sent first in the man’s direction, and then became apologetic as they looked toward March. She carefully controlled the expression on her face, keeping her eyes on the excitement in the corral. She realized that this really wasn’t the place for a woman, and that the men had become quiet since her arrival. If she hadn’t wanted to see what was going to happen so badly, she would have turned around and gone back to the house, but her curiosity was greater than her embarrassment.

His voice never changing in pitch, Jim lowered a saddle onto the horse. As if familiar with its weight, the animal never changed his stance. Every muscle, every sinew, every tendon stood in stark relief beneath the sleek copper skin, as he seemed to wait for the next move from the man at his side.

March caught her breath as Jim reached underneath the animal and grabbed the cinch strap. She wondered if she was the only one aware of Jim’s vulnerability in comparison to the powerful strength of the horse. Jamie squirmed and cooed softly, as if agreeing with her that his father was in grave danger.

“Open the gate.” Jim’s voice never rose in pitch, and yet several men hurried to comply to his soft request.

Biting her tongue to hold back a natural request that he be careful, March watched as he mounted the horse. In a fluid, graceful motion, he and the animal became one. For a heartbeat the horse stood still, then became a storm breaking around the cheering men. After several bone-shaking bucks that failed to dislodge his passenger, the horse did as Jim had hoped he would, he headed for the open gate and the promise of freedom.

“I’ll be gol-durned! He did it!” Hank slapped his hand against a fence post and chuckled with glee.

“But I thought you said he would?” March watched until man and horse were little more than a cloud of dust on the horizon.

“I just said that sos you wouldn’t worry none, but, missy, there ain’t nobody that ever mounted that animal afore.”

“No one?”

“Hell … ah, shoot … that is the meanest critter on four legs. The boss been workin‘ with him all winter, just to get the saddle on him. Never figured that one would let anybody on his back.”

“When will he be back?” Concern clouded her eyes.

“When the horse and man are as one.” March turned toward the deep voice behind her.

The sun shining behind his head turned his blond hair to a mystical aura of white light. She was aware of his size and strength, and a gentle presence that gave her a feeling of protection. It was a strange sensation, one she had never experienced before. She knew that she was as safe with this man as Jamie was in his sling against her breasts, and yet he gave an outward impression of such fierceness that common sense told her to take caution.

“You are Breed.”

“They call me that.”

“Do you have another name? I would rather call you something that you are comfortable with.”

He hesitated briefly, as if fighting with himself before he answered. “I have been called many things by many men. One is as good as another.”

“No,” she argued gently. “A man should be called by his name, not by a word that is meant to lower him in the eyes of others.”

“A wise woman for one so young.” A smile broke his face, and March caught her breath at his masculine beauty. “Breed is an insult to them, but to me it is a reminder of all that I am. I am white by birth, Comanche by fortune. Truly a half-breed, since I am not accepted by the people of my birth, and denied the people of my life.”

The excitement done, the men slowly moved away from the corral and back to their chores. “This is not the place for a lady,” Breed stated quietly. “The little one grows restless. I will escort you back to the house.”

March looked again toward the desert, but saw only the things that belonged there. “Will he be all right?”

“A man will do what he must, to hide behind a woman’s skirts weakens him in his own eyes and the eyes of others.”

“So I’m not supposed to worry?”

“Worry is a woman’s job, but it should be done so that her man is not aware of it.”

“He isn’t my man.” March raised her chin defensively.

“Then why do you worry?” Breed grinned and reached for her elbow.

“Because it’s my job?” She looked at him and matched his grin. “He really isn’t my man, but if something happens to him, then who will raise his son?”

“He will return.” His deep voice, so confidently sure, denied any other possibility.

“Ah, but will he be in one piece or many?”

“That we will have to wait to discover.”

At the front steps of the house, Breed released her arm. “If you are in need of anything, Hank or Woods will be near.”

“You sound like it might be days before Jim returns,” she stated with alarm.

“The horse is one of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. It may take that long before he accepts what he can not change.” He nodded, turned, and walked away.

The day dragged by, March searched for ways to keep occupied. She had to force herself not to watch continuously for Jim’s return. Deciding that he would be hungry after his adventures, she lit the stove and began preparations for the evening meal — a meal he might not return to eat.

Once the roast was in the oven and beans bubbling gently on the stove top, she carried Jamie outside. She had never seen any of the men around the back side of the house, so she felt no concern about nursing him as she wandered around in the shadows afforded by the structure.

She decided that the perfect place for a garden was just outside of the kitchen door, protected from the burning rays of the afternoon sun. Plenty of morning light would reach the plants, but the house would provide shade when the sun was at its highest peak. It was only a short walk from the well, making the necessary job of watering much easier.

Visualizing neat rows of corn, beans, and peas, March was startled at the long, slow whistle of appreciation that interrupted her thoughts.

“I ain’t never seen nothing so pretty as that tit that young’en suckin‘ on.” Lust-filled eyes rested on March’s bare breast. “Why don’t you just pull him off of it, so I can show you just what it was made for?”

TEN

Without taking her eyes off of the intruder, March attempted to cover her breast from his leering gaze. Cursing her own foolishness for exposing herself to his threat, she looked briefly toward the house. She knew it was just a few short steps to the door and safety, but it looked as faraway as the moon. Even as she accepted the fact that he’d reach her before she reached it, fear made her wonder if she should give it a try.

The glow in his eyes warned her that he would relish the chase, and his swaggering arrogance proved that he had no doubt who would win. March’s only choice was to hold her ground … and scream loudly enough to waken the dead if it became necessary. Surely someone would hear her and come to investigate.

Since escape to the house was impossible, and reluctantly deciding that it would be a poor choice even if she could get to it since it would give him the advantage of privacy, March changed directions and backed slowly toward the corner of the structure.

“That’s far enough, missy.” His smile was so filled with his intent that she cringed. “I like it hot and hard and with just a little pain to make it more excitin‘, but I don’t need no witnesses. The boss might think you’re his special territory, and we don’t want no one tellin‘ him that I mounted his favorite mare while he was gone, do we?”

As she listened to his boasting, March felt anger slowly replace her fear. She had heard all of the threats, all of the crudities, before. She had lived before in fear that every man who saw her would insist on using her. Not again, never again! No one could live in constant fear, no one deserved to.

As anger grew to rage, she knew that she’d never back down from this arrogant man who, like a spoiled child, believed anything he wanted was his for the taking.

Squaring her shoulders, knowing that half of her breast was still exposed to his gaze, she refused to cower. “Turn around and walk away, before you live to regret it,” she advised firmly.

“Now, little lady, you don’t want me to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But then you’d be missin‘ out on the best lovin‘ in your life.”

“What you have in mind is as far from loving as chocolate cake is from loco weed.”

“Honey, I’m a’bettin‘ that tit of yours will taste better than any chocolate cake, and will drive me out of my mind surer than loco weed.”

He advanced several steps closer, forcing March to back further away. “I done told you not to move. You’d best be careful that you don’t make me mad. You wouldn’t like what I’d do to you, if I get mad. That pretty face of yours wouldn’t look so pretty, when it’s been beat up a little.” She smiled bitterly at the memory of beatings so severe that she’d been unable to walk, of bruises so deep they had taken weeks to fade. Misinterpreting her smile for one of derision, the cowboy clenched his hands into fists as anger reddened his face. No one — especially a woman- laughed at him!

“Honey, I’m gonna wipe that smile right off your face.” His voice lowered to a growl. “I could’a made it good for you, but now when I get through, you ain’t gonna be smilin‘ for a long, long time.”

A long, lean shadow was the first evidence that they were no longer alone. March bit back a sigh of relief as Breed moved around the corner of the house. His alert silver gaze looked first at her to see that she was unharmed, and then at the baby in her arms. When he was satisfied that neither of them was hurt, he turned his eyes toward her antagonist.

“This ain’t none of your affair,” the cowboy snarled.

“You’re threatening the lady — “

“She ain’t no lady,” he smirked. “Ever’body knows that ain’t her kid, but she’s feedin‘ it like any mama.”

. A lady I’ve promised to protect. That makes it my business,” Breed continued, as if he hadn’t heard the interruption. “I don’t make promises lightly.” He turned toward March and nodded slightly. “Go into the house and take the baby upstairs.”

His intentions were so clear that March shivered at the softness of his voice. She took several steps toward the house before stopping and turning back to him.

“Be careful,” she said quietly.

“You’re worrying again,” he replied, a smile lightening his eyes.

“Just trying to do my job.” March looked toward the cowboy who waited, his cockiness wilting as he realized that maybe he hadn’t made a wise move in confronting the woman.

He was really only a boy, she thought sadly, too sure of himself to think or care about anyone but himself. He was about to discover, the hard way, that he had crossed the boundaries of common decency. She had little doubt that when Breed was finished with him, the cowboy would have learned a lesson he’d do well to remember. And maybe if he was smart enough, he’d grow old. But she doubted it. Some people never learned until it was too late.

“He isn’t worth a drop of your blood.”

“Or a minute of your worry.” Breed motioned toward the house. “Go inside.”

“Just don’t forget to quit while he’s still alive,” she replied gravely, turned so that only Breed could see the twinkle in her eyes. “A body is such a nuisance to get rid of. It’s too hot to dig a grave, and you’d have to ride a long distance so that the smell didn’t drift back here.”

“I’ll remember.” His voice was equally solemn, but a hint of admiration lurked deeply in his sparkling gaze.