Jodi Thomas (39 page)

The men worked until dark, with Anna helping. It amazed her how fast the room was going up. Over a supper of dried meat and baked sweet potatoes, Chance and Carl agreed to take shifts sleeping.

Anna slept in the only finished room and both men bedded down outside. She knew that Chance was probably more alert sleeping than Carl would be awake. Anna curled fully dressed atop the bed and tried to sleep. The silent alertness of Chance all day was finally getting to her. He’d worked, as always, with power and force, but she’d caught him glancing at the hills often. And once when he thought no one was watching, she’d seen him touch the ground, as if he could feel the pounding hooves of approaching horses.

T
hree days passed without a break in the pattern. Anna worked alongside the men, not wanting to be alone should Indians appear. They talked of little except the chores, but she knew the fear of an attack was in all of their minds. The fear was slowly destroying the foundation of confidence they’d first felt when they’d settled so near the hunting grounds.

Midmorning on the fourth day, Tobin appeared, bringing news that all had been quiet in town, but that Selma had about driven him mad with requests to come and check on Carl. He offered to help Carl with his crops so Chance and Anna could farm their own land. In exchange, Carl declared that a place would always be made at his table for Tobin.

Tobin rolled his eyes at Anna, telling her he’d already tasted Selma’s cooking and would gladly favor hardtack and beans. Anna hid her laughter in her excitement over going home. She and Chance were saddled and racing toward their farm before Tobin had time to think of some excuse to return to town.

They found the farm as they’d left it except that the cow had gotten out. It took Chance an hour to find her. When he returned, Anna had a lunch of scrambled eggs and ham waiting on the table.

Chance ate in silence now that they were finally alone for the first time since their night together. It seemed as though they were both acting out roles, unsure of what to say. She knew he’d been angry about her coming with him; and she’d pulled away when he’d tried to touch her. Every time she’d tried to talk with him, they’d only had a moment before Carl was within hearing distance. Chance had resented her coldness and she’d resented his silence.

Anna tried to think of some way to explain to him that the night by the stream was a one-time occurrence. Even now she knew his departure would leave a wide hole in her heart. If they grew closer it would be even worse. He wasn’t the kind of man to settle down. The fact that he had a farm he hadn’t seen in years was proof of that. She couldn’t ask him to be penned up after he’d always been free, and she wouldn’t break the agreement they’d made.

Working through late morning in silence, they stored the vegetables in the cool hole Chance had dug in the sand of the cellar. The grain wasn’t ready, so Chance turned his energy to the real house that would replace the dugout they’d been living in. When they stopped for a meal, Anna was amazed at how much work had been done. She’d noticed Chance stacking logs and Tobin hauling lumber for weeks but she hadn’t really seen a house amid the stacks. The stone fireplace had sat alone for several days as a silent promise of her home. She’d watched Tobin and Chance mark off the ground and lay the floor, but now, suddenly, it had all come together. Within hours, there was a roof and walls up to her waist in the room that was to be the bedroom.

As darkness crept in around them, Anna decided that dinner wouldn’t be as wordless as lunch. “I can’t believe how fast the house is going up.” Trying to keep her voice calm, she reminded herself that they were having a meal together just as they had done for months. She tried to push aside the thought that they were alone.

“Rounding up all the lumber is the hard part.” Chance seemed to jump at the opportunity to bridge the silence. “I wanted enough for two big rooms with a dog run in the middle. That way in summer you can move the table between the open space of the two rooms and enjoy the breeze.”

“It’s a fine cabin.” Anna lifted his empty plate from the table.

Slowly, Chance stood up, and he would have touched her, but she moved away as she had for four days. He looked outside, not wanting her to see how much her withdrawal hurt. “I’d best check the fence. I don’t want to lose that cow again.”

Anna forced herself to speak her idea before she grew any more nervous. “I think I’ll sleep down here on Maggie’s bed since you moved the other bed up to the new bedroom.”

Chance didn’t move, but she saw his knuckles turn white as he gripped the dugout’s door frame.

“I’ve been giving it some thought. It’s better this way.” She could almost feel his anger vibrating in the air. For a moment she wished he could see her pain. How could he understand that she’d miss him every day for the rest of her life? Every time they touched would be one more memory to carry when he was gone. He must see that a clean cut now would be the only way the wound of his leaving might heal. “I tried to tell you before. What happened that night by the stream was only one night. It does not change our agreement.” She would not let her need for him bind him to her when all he’d ever been was free.

Slowly, as if forcing every step, he left the dugout. She heard him working on the cabin until dark. Each slam of the hammer rattled the countryside with his anger and was an intangible blow to her heart.

It had to be said, she told herself over and over. She had to stop what was growing between them before it went further. Only a fool would nurture a love that would only be uprooted before it bloomed. He would be gone in three months, and she could not bear it if she allowed his impending absence to become any more painful than it was already.

Anna bathed and dressed for bed without lighting a candle. The night grew darker, low clouds hiding the moonlight. She crawled into Maggie’s high little bed and hugged herself, wishing the children were there to ease her loneliness.

Sleep wouldn’t come. The rumbling sky twisted her nerves and faraway lightning made her restless. The sound of Chance working above her by lantern drifted to Anna and she knew he would work until he dropped.

When finally she dozed, she dreamed of being back in Germany the night William had raped her, the night her mother had died. The thunder of the night blended with her nightmare and the lightning flashed terror through her mind. She could see William’s drunken face above her as his fists silenced her screams. The nightmare rolled on in angry waves. She was alone again, crying for a mother who would never come, screaming for help when she knew there would be none.

She could feel William’s hands pawing at her, ripping her gown as she screamed. The storm outside the dugout outmatched her cries and the rain drowned her tears. In her dream the storm was the same as before and terror ripped reality from her mind.

The door slammed against the dugout wall with a sudden, violent explosion. Anna jerked upright in Maggie’s tiny bed, almost hitting her head on the ceiling. Fear danced across her flesh as she strained to identify the shadow blocking the door. His chest was heaving for air and his fist was wrapped around the handle of a hammer. She was lost in a hell between the nightmare and reality.

“Anna!” Chance’s voice echoed in the dark room.

She didn’t speak, but instead clutched the covers to her.
This was it,
she thought as haunting fears and reality collided. The dark side of him that she knew would someday surface no matter how kind he’d been was now at hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she slid her fingers along the windowsill in search of the knife he’d given her. She would face the animal that lived in all men with a weapon this time. He wouldn’t beat her senseless as William had without suffering also. A clap of thunder strained her every nerve and tightened her grip on the knife.

In the flash of lightning that followed, Chance saw Anna huddled in the bed, her face pale with fear, her hand gripping the knife as if the devil himself stood before her. Her eyes were wild with hate and terror.

“Come closer and I swear I’ll kill you!” Her voice was high and unnatural with the nightmare that still overshadowed her reasoning.

“Anna!” he shouted, not knowing if his words would reach her. “Are you all right?”

Anna stared at him with hate-filled eyes. “What do you want?”

Moving a step closer, he answered, “I heard you cry out. I thought you were hurt or afraid of the storm.”

Anna lowered the knife as she tried to sort dream from reality. Had she cried out in her sleep? The nightmare slid into blackness and the truth registered.

“I had a bad dream. When the door slammed open, I thought . . .”

Something heavy flew across the room and slammed into the fireplace as Chance swore. “You thought I’d come to rape you!” he yelled above the storm.

“You were angry at me. You’ve been angry since we left Fredericksburg.”

“Hell, Anna, I’m still angry. I want you safe.” He slammed his fist into the table as his words cracked the air between them. “But my anger has nothing to do with the look you just gave me. I am sick to death of seeing hate and fear in your eyes. What do I have to do to convince you I’m not William? No matter how mad I might get, I’ll never take you against your will.”

He stormed up the steps as Anna realized how much she’d hurt him. He was a strong man trying to do what was right, and she’d let the cruel injustice of her nightmare judge him.

Pulling the blanket around her, Anna followed him into the rain. She had to convince him that it was her past and not a fear of him that brought on her doubts.

He was standing in the center of the yard letting the cold downpour wash away his anger. His stance was wide, with his fists raised to the sky as though he challenged the storm.

She touched his shoulder, but he remained like a statue before her. “I’m sorry!” she shouted above the rain.

He didn’t move.

“You’ve never hurt me. I had no right to say what I did.” She saw the raw pain in his strong, blue eyes.

His words were as cold as the wind from the north. “Sometimes I hate you.” Running his fingers through his wet hair, he added, “And I hate myself for wanting you.”

“I want you, also.”

“Then why did you sleep in Maggie’s bed?”

“I didn’t want to make it any harder for us to say good-bye.”

“Could the pain be any greater than sleeping only a few feet apart for the next three months?”

Anna couldn’t answer, for his hand moved over her wet nightgown, warming her with his touch. She closed her eyes, remembering the gentle way he’d made love to her.

Without a word he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the newly built bedroom. He pulled off her gown and wrapped a dry blanket around her, then he sat her atop the high workbench.

She watched as he stirred up the fire until it blazed in the half-finished room. The lye he’d used to make the mortar was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh-cut wood and the cedar fire.

Finally he stood, the fire alive behind him, the sounds of the storm echoing between them. “I’ve thought about our arrangement. I’ve gone along with every rule you’ve set, but not this time.”

He moved to stand before her, their eyes level. “Tell me you hate my touch and I’ll stop, but don’t lie to yourself or to me, Anna.” There was no end to the depth of love in his eyes. “Don’t push me away when we both want to be together for the little time we have left.”

Cupping her face gently in his hand, he whispered, “I’m going to love you tonight and every night until the year and our agreement is up.”

“But . . .”

His lips brushed hers lightly. “You’re going to sleep next to me for as long as we have left and I’ll let no nightmares haunt your dreams. I’ll see no more fear in your beautiful eyes.”

“It will only make the pain greater.” She touched his wet shirt with her fingers, delighting in the way the thin material covered his warm flesh.

Pushing her blanket from her shoulders, Chance pulled her against him. “Then let me die in three months, for I would have this time of heaven.”

He lifted her onto the bed and rolled beside her.

Anna heard the thunder and saw the lightning, but she was no longer afraid, for she felt warm and protected in Chance’s arms. He loved her with a tenderness and a passion that was even greater than their night by the stream.

Later, when the storm had quieted to a slow drizzle and their passion had been spent, Anna heard Chance whisper her name in his sleep. She cuddled close to him and memorized his young face, now relaxed in sleep. A single tear drifted from his eye, burning its way into her heart with its slow journey down his tanned face, and Anna tried to imagine how she would ever survive without him.

M
ornin’, folks,” Tobin shouted on the other side of the four-foot barrier that would soon be a bedroom wall. “I would have knocked, but I couldn’t find the door.”

Jumping from the bed, Chance grabbed his pants while Anna pulled the covers over her head in embarrassment. Tobin only chuckled and strolled down to water his horses. When Chance joined him a moment later, Tobin was smiling from floor to ceiling.

“I know it ain’t good light yet, son, but it ain’t like you to sleep so soundly. If I’d been a liquored Indian lookin’ for a scalp to hang on my belt, you’d be a dead man.”

Chance splashed water on his face and steadied himself for more teasing.

“Course, when I was young, I could go all night with a good woman and still be up before the sun.”

“Of course.” Chance tried not to swear. He patted the team hitched to Tobin’s wagon, wanting desperately to change the subject. “Where’re you headed?”

Tobin laughed. “I just thought bein’ in town with Selma was bad. It took her three days to talk me into coming out to check on Carl, but it only took that slow-talking German a day to convince me to go get her. I also visited with Anna’s Indian. He kind of likes being called Sourdough, by the way, and said there weren’t no trouble around these parts that he knew about.”