Jodi Thomas (42 page)

“I only want to break this insane promise you made when you were a child.”

“I’m a man of honor. Can’t you understand? I have to go.”

Tears flooded Anna’s eyes. Somehow she had to stop him. “You’ve broken your word before. You said you’d lay no claim to me.”

“And that bothers you,” he observed. “Not because I claimed you as my wife in every way, but because you loved it.”

Anna shook her head, but she couldn’t make her mouth call his words a lie. She knew this argument was about far more than his riding out today. It was about all the hopes and dreams she’d foolishly allowed to form in the back of her mind, all the tomorrows she wanted to share with him. But if he left there might not even be a tomorrow. “I thought you were different. My father promised he’d be back but he left forever. I never want to see you again if you think killing this Indian is more important than keeping your promise to me.”

“It’s not that, Anna.” Chance wanted to shake her until she understood, but when he touched her, he felt only ice beneath his fingers. “I have to go. I’ll come back and we can talk.”

Anna jerked free. “No!” she screamed. “If you leave, don’t come back. I can make it without you. I have no use for a man who considers one Indian more important than . . .”

“Than what? Than you? Than love? Or than this farm?”

“This farm,” Anna snapped.

“That’s the bottom line with you, Anna, isn’t it? Not me, not love, not even you, but always this damn farm. You’re not worried about my leaving and being killed at all. You’re only worried about losing the farm.”

Tears rolled down Anna’s hot cheeks. “That’s all I have.”

“You’re wrong, Anna. You had my love, but you never valued it. Whether I die tomorrow or ten years from now I’ll always love you, but all you ever wanted was this farm. Well, now it’s yours. I’ll lay no claim to it, just as I promised.” He swung into the saddle. “Only remember this one thing, Anna Wyatt: This farm can’t hold you at night.”

“Just as you never will again.”

Chance crumpled his hat as he tried to gain control of his turbulent emotions. “Anna, I’m sorry. I settle my own debts. If you wanted a country gentleman or an old man for a husband, maybe you got shortchanged.”

“You’re no gentleman. You’re a savage boy who leaves his family and rides off to kill another man.”

“I am who I am. I’ve never tried to be anything else with you. I’m a Texan and out here men take care of their own debts.”

“If you leave me now, I swear I’ll hate you for the rest of my life.” Anna no longer had any control over her temper.

Shoving his hat low, he answered, “At least you’ll feel some emotion. If you’d just once said you loved me, I’d have held you forever, but I guess you’re not capable of feelings for anything that isn’t measured in acres.” He kicked Cyoty into action. “Good-bye, my love!” he yelled as the horse sped away.

Anna collapsed on the hay, angry and upset. She wanted to scream for him to come back, but it was too late. He’d been right about everything he’d said, but her pride had kept her from admitting it. She was hurt that he would leave her when she needed him and she’d only wanted to strike back.

It was almost dark when Tobin came into the barn, strolling over to her as if nothing were amiss. “Mighty fine pie.” He patted his stomach. “I told the others to give you some time alone, but they were a little worried and wanted me to come out and check on you.”

Anna brushed the tears away from her cheeks. “He’s gone.”

Tobin sat down beside her on the hay. “He’ll be back.”

“No. I told him I never wanted to see him again if he left now.”

“He’s a man. He has to do some things no matter how much it might hurt others or himself.”

“But he might be killed. And for what? To pay a debt that is years old.”

“Would you love him as much if he weren’t bound by his word?”

“I don’t love him at all,” Anna said quickly, knowing it wasn’t true.

Tobin chuckled. “Sure you don’t, honey, and the sky ain’t blue.”

“Even if I do love him, it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone off to get himself killed.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Chance is no babe in the wilderness. He can take care of himself.”

They stood and walked to the barn door. The sun had disappeared over the hills, and Anna pulled her shawl tightly around her, feeling the cold wind chill her bones.

A shadow moved at the corner of the corral. Tobin touched Anna’s arm in warning, but she’d seen it too.

The old man slowly drew his gun as he studied the darkness.

The shadow moved again.

“Who’s out there?” Tobin shouted.

The solid wall of muscle that could only be Sourdough stepped into the light. His shoulders were covered with a bear-hide cape and his legs were wrapped in warm skins. He said something in words Anna didn’t understand. Tobin answered, then pulled Anna back into the barn.

“The Indian wants to tell you something. He doesn’t want anyone to hear except you and me.”

Anna nodded. “I was hoping he’d come. I have a gift for him.”

Tobin frowned. “Now’s not the time. This is no social call.”

Sourdough spoke again. His words were hard and his face grave. Tobin listened, nodding slowly in respect.

When the Indian finished, Tobin turned to Anna. The lines around his mouth were white with tension as he spoke. “He says Chance goes to a trap. The man who came here earlier has met with Storm’s Edge, and they will be waiting for him.”

“But . . .” Anna felt a chill far greater than the wind.

“Sourdough says all the Indians around know about it. He only tells you because he doesn’t want you to lose your man. Storm’s Edge has twenty men waiting to kill Chance, and Walter help set up the plan.”

“But why?”

Tobin shrugged. “Maybe Storm’s Edge is tired of Chance trailing him. Maybe Walter’s paying him. Storm’s Edge is hated by his own people, so you can bet he’s not a man of honor.”

“I’ve got to warn Chance!” All the questions about her life slid aside and one thing became crystal clear.

“Now hold on a minute, Anna. You don’t even know where he is, and even if you could track him, you’ve got the girls to think about. You can’t leave them and the farm.”

“The girls can stay with Selma. She loves keeping them. You can help me track Chance.”

“Sure, but then no one would be at the farm. Don’t you see? You’re playing right into Walter’s hands. If you leave, he’ll have the society out and have this place claimed for himself. Better you stay here and I go.”

“That would be two against twenty. No, I ride with you.” Anna pulled Cinnamon from his stall. “You saddle up while I get changed.”

“But the farm . . . ?”

“I don’t care about the farm. I have to find Chance in time.” Anna started for the house, but Tobin held her back.

He started to argue, but when he looked into her face he knew no amount of reasoning would help. “All right, but we’d never find him tonight. We’ll leave at dawn.”

Anna didn’t want to wait, but she realized they might pass Chance at night and not see him. Tobin was a good tracker if his stories were to be believed, but no one could track in the dark.

“I’ll be ready before dawn,” Anna answered, and turned to thank the Indian for his help.

But Sourdough had disappeared back into the shadows, along with the two meat pies and loaf of bread she’d left on the porch for him. In their place lay a bearskin and two freshly killed rattlesnakes.

Anna packed the girls off with Selma for the night and tried to sleep. Her new bedroom looked wonderful with all the furniture and rugs, but Anna barely noticed them. Her longing for Chance was a hunger that consumed her dreams. Each time she dozed, she reached for him in her sleep, then awoke with a start, feeling again the pain of his absence.

Sometime deep in the night she came to realize the truth: No matter what else she had, without Chance’s arms to keep her warm the world was a cold and lonely place. He had been wrong. It was not the farm she wanted, it was only him.

A
nna was dressed and pacing the floor by the time she saw Tobin walk from the barn.

Running to the porch, she handed him a saddlebag filled with leftover meat and bread. When he mentioned breakfast, she dropped a biscuit into his hand and without a word, mounted her horse.

Tobin laughed, took a huge bite of the biscuit, and mumbled, “Don’t look like you got much sleep last night. You’re about as cagey as a polecat who’s had his tail braided. Well, don’t you worry none. We’ll find this man you don’t love and bring him back to the farm he doesn’t care anything about.”

For the first time Anna wanted to swear instead of laugh at Tobin’s constant chatter. She was in no mood for conversation, and after a few tries, Tobin gave up and just rode.

They headed north along the river. Tobin had little trouble finding Chance’s tracks, for he’d made no attempt to hide them. They rode hard all day but couldn’t seem to catch Chance.

By the time the sun set, Anna was exhausted and disappointed. All day the vision of Chance surrounded by Indians had kept flashing through her mind. When Tobin suggested they stop, she shook her head. “We have to find him.”

Tobin studied the terrain like a fortune-teller examines a rich man’s palm. “If I was him, I’d be beddin’ down in them hills up ahead a few miles. I reckon he’ll figure he’s too close to the Indians to light a fire, but if you give Cinnamon his head, that Indian pony might just lead us right to Cyoty. Horses have a way of finding their own in the dark.” Tobin reined in his mount.

Anna did as Tobin had suggested and Cinnamon headed into the woods. She was too tired to do more than dodge the branches that hampered her way. Leaning low, she tried to stay awake. The night was black and the moonlight was blocked out by thick pine trees. The constant winter wind had frozen her cheeks, and her fingers were sculptured in a grip around a knot she’d tied in the reins.

Tobin slung one leg over the saddle horn and dusted his pants as though just noticing the mud that had been caked there for days. “I’ll ride uphill and come down along the riverbed. If you reach the water without finding Chance, wait for me there.”

Anna pulled her coat tightly around her and agreed. A sudden violent gust of wind threatened to tear her from the saddle, and she pulled her hat low as Tobin vanished into the frosty night.

The tree branches swished past her as Cinnamon continued moving, his steamy breath rising in white puffs as he picked his way between trees and dried brush. She had no idea if the huge sorrel knew where he was going or if he was simply searching for a warmer place to spend the night, but she was too tired and numb to question him.

A branch snapped beside her and Anna leaned into Cinnamon’s neck, bracing herself for a blow.

Without warning, a long arm grabbed her, pulling her from the saddle with such force that Anna felt the air leave her lungs. She rolled like a rag doll onto the hard ground, unable to suck in enough air even to scream. Powerful hands slid along her arms and pinned her on her back as the assailant straddled her. Anna struggled with her attacker, angry at herself for having stumbled into death’s arms without a weapon ready. Her knife was out of reach and his hands cut like bands of iron into her wrists.

As she clawed to free herself, she twisted her leg, slamming her knee into the attacker’s side. The movement caught him off guard, and he released one of her hands. In an instant, Anna grabbed her knife and slashed it toward him blindly, praying she’d hit her mark.

His arm blocked the blow and he twisted the knife from her fingers. “Hold on, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Anna relaxed suddenly. “Chance?”

Chance froze for a moment above her. He slowly released his grip and slid his hand along her side. “Anna?”

She rose into his arms, holding him with all her strength. “I found you,” she whispered as her cheek brushed his. “I was so afraid you’d be dead before I could catch up to you.”

Chance pulled her a few inches away, twisting her hat off, but the night was too black to see her face. His words sounded angry, but his touch was gentle. “Anna, what are you doing here?”

She didn’t want to talk for a moment. All that mattered was holding Chance close. Moving her hands up his chest, she cupped his rough, stubbled face. Before he could ask more questions, she kissed him with such boldness she felt the shock run through his system.

For a moment she thought he’d pull away and demand an answer, but slowly his mouth warmed to her kiss and his arms pulled her against him. He lowered her in the dried leaves and covered her with his warmth. Anna pushed her hands into his coat and slid her fingers over the cotton of his shirt. He moaned with her touch and his kiss deepened to a passion that made them forget the cold.

When finally he broke away, Anna continued to play with his hair and brush tiny kisses along his throat.

“God, woman, how I missed you! All day you were on my mind.”

Anna laughed softly as she tugged at his hair until he kissed her again. The cold, the night, even the Indians didn’t matter as long as she was in his arms.

When his lips left hers again, he whispered into her ear and his hand pushed the material aside at her waist. “Before you say anything and I get madder than hell for you being out here, I have to tell you something. Anna, I am who I am, only half as civilized as you’ll want me to be, but one thing’s a fact, Anna Wyatt.” He pushed his hand beneath her clothes until he felt her bare skin. “You’re my wife and nothing under God’s heaven can change that.”

He kissed her soundly, and Anna laughed with sheer joy for the first time in her life. She didn’t care that they were exhausted and rolling in the dirt, for she was with him and that was all that mattered. Her Texan was alive and warm in her arms.