Song of the West (5 page)

“Annie was right, that's a pretty thing.” He lifted his hand and traced his fingers over the curve of her mouth. She started. “Now don't go skittish on me, Sam, I'm not going to use spurs and a whip.”

His mouth lowered, gentle and persuasive. One hand held hers while the other circled the back of her neck to soothe with coaxing fingers. She had only to sway forward to feel his body against hers, had only to lift her hand to bring his mouth firmer and warmer on hers. Before the choice could be made, he drew her away and the decision was taken out of her hands.

“Sam.” He shook his head as if exasperated and lightly amused. “You're enough to try a man's patience.”

With this, he pulled her through to the kitchen.

“Well, so you're off again.” Annie wiped one hand on her apron and wagged the other at Jake. “And don't be keeping her out in that cold too long.”

“No, ma'am,” Jake returned with suspicious respect.

“Thank you, Annie,” Samantha broke in. “Lunch was wonderful.”

“Well, now, that's fine, then.” She gave Samantha a friendly pat on the cheek. “You just come back real soon, and you say hi to Sabrina for me, and that young rascal Dan, too. As soon as she's fit again, I'll be coming by to see her. Oh, Jake, I clean forgot.” Annie turned to him and sighed at her absentmindedness. “Lesley Marshall called earlier, something about dinner tonight. I told her you'd give her a call, then it went straight out of my mind.”

“No problem,” Jake said easily. “I'll get back to her later. Ready, Sam?”

“Yes, I'm ready.” She kept her smile in place, though a large black cloud seemed to have suddenly smothered the sunshine.

Lesley Marshall, she mused, automatically going through the motions of securing her hat and coat. That was the woman Bree had predicted would marry Jake when he decided to settle down. Why should it matter to me? She straightened her spine and accompanied Jake to the waiting horses. I have absolutely no interest in Jake Tanner's affairs.

He's probably had dozens of girlfriends. Well, it's no concern of mine. Vaulting into the saddle, she followed as he set off down the hard-packed road.

They spoke little on the return journey. Samantha pretended an engrossment with the scenery that she was far from feeling. Unhappily, she realized Wyoming's magic was not quite enough to lift her flagging spirits. Snow-capped peaks glistened just as brightly in the late afternoon sun, and the land still spread and beckoned, but as she surveyed them now she felt strangely depressed.

It had been an unusual day, she concluded. Jake had annoyed her, charmed her, angered her and delighted her, all in a handful of hours. His kiss had aroused excitement and a deeper feeling she could not explain.

The knowledge that he was dining with another woman that evening depressed her beyond belief. She stole a sidelong look at his lean, tanned features.

He was undeniably attractive, she admitted, pulling her eyes away from him before he could sense her study. There was a powerful aura of virility about him, which alternately intrigued her and made her wary. Perhaps it would be wise to avoid his company. He confused her, and Samantha liked to know precisely where she stood with a man. She wanted to call the shots, and she realized that this man would never allow anyone to call the shots but himself.

She would keep her distance from now on. Let him spread his charm over this Lesley Marshall, or any of the other women who were undoubtedly thirsting for his attention. Samantha Evans could get along very easily without him. As the Lazy L grew closer, she resolved to be polite and casually friendly to her escort. After all, she reflected, there was no reason to be rude. He was perfectly free to dine with whomever he chose; his life was most assuredly his own. Besides, she added to herself, if she had anything to say about it, they would be seeing very little of each other in the future.

When they reached the ranch, she dismounted, handing Spook's reins to a waiting cowboy. “I had a wonderful time, Jake.” Samantha's smile was faultless in its social politeness as he walked her toward the ranch house, leading his stallion behind him. “I appreciate your time and hospitality.”

Jake's mouth lifted at one corner. “It was my pleasure, ma'am.”

If there was a mockery in his tone, Samantha chose to ignore it. Reaching the back door, she turned to smile at him again as he stood, tall and lean, beside the gleaming chestnut.

“Would you like some coffee before you go?” she invited, determined to be polite.

“No, thanks, Sam.” He continued to watch her, his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat. “I'd best be getting along.”

“Well.” She breathed a small sigh of relief when her hand touched the doorknob and safety was in easy reach. “Thanks again.”

“Sure.” He nodded briefly and turned to his horse, paused and turned back to look at her with a penetrating intensity that turned her legs to water. When he spoke, it was soft and final. “I mean to have you, you know.”

Several moments of silence passed before she could summon up an answer.

“D-Do you?” Her voice was a shaky whisper, unlike the coolly flippant tone she would have wished for.

“Yes, ma'am.” He vaulted onto the chestnut's back and pushed the Stetson back on his head so that she had a disturbingly clear view of his eyes. “I do,” he confirmed, turning his mount and galloping away.

Chapter Five

Often over the next few days, Samantha told herself that her reaction to Jake's kiss had been merely a passing physical attraction. She was a normal woman, wasn't she? So why feel guilty about it?

Jake Tanner
was
a very attractive man.
Too attractive
, she added to herself. And he knew too much about charming women. The fact that Jake was abrasive, smug and irritating had nothing to do with the way she had acted. It had just been a passing fancy.
And would certainly not occur again.

***

Finally Sabrina was allowed up from the confinement of her bed. Samantha decided it was safe to leave her sister for a few hours. With a light heart, she saddled Spook and set off from the ranch at a brisk canter. For a while she enjoyed the feeling of Spook's hooves pounding the hard road. The sky hung low above her, and heavy, leaden gray clouds draped the distant mountains in mysterious gloom. There was a stillness, a waiting in the air, unnoticed by Samantha in her eagerness to escape the close confines of the house.

She rode swiftly past the bored, white-faced cattle and the stretches of barbed wire, eager to explore new territory, tasting the joy of motion and freedom. The mountains, grim sentinels above her, stood stone-gray under the unbroken sky. Remembering Dan's instructions, Samantha took care to mark her route, choosing a clump of rocks, a cottonwood tree with a broken limb, and a gnarled stump as landmarks for her return trip.

She led her mount to a crest of a hill, watching as a jackrabbit, startled by her intrusion, darted across the road and out of sight.

Nearly an hour passed before the first flakes began to drift lazily from sky to earth. She stopped and watched their progress in fascination. The snow fell slowly. Lifting her face, she let it caress her cheeks and closed lids. The air was moist, coming to life around her, and she stirred herself out of her dream.

“Well, Spook, this is my first Wyoming snow. I'd like to stay here all day and watch it fall, but duty calls. We'd better head back.” Patting the horse's neck, she turned back toward the ranch.

They rode slowly. Samantha was enchanted with the fairyland that was forming around her. Cottonwoods and aspens were draped in white, their branches a stark contrast to the brilliant etchings of snow. The ground was cloaked quickly. Though the beauty was breathtaking, Samantha began to feel uncomfortably alone.

She took Spook into a canter. The sound of his hooves was soft and muffled. The quiet surrounding her was unearthly, almost as though the world had ceased to breathe. She shivered, suddenly cold in the warm confines of her jacket. To her annoyance, she saw that in her preoccupation with the landscape she had taken a wrong turn, and she began to backtrack, berating herself for carelessness.

The snow increased, plunging down from a sky she could no longer see. She cursed herself for having come so far, fighting down a sudden surge of panic. “Don't be silly, Sam,” she spoke aloud, wanting the reassurance of her own voice. “A little snow won't hurt you.”

The cold became more intense, piercing the layers of her skin. Samantha tried to concentrate on steaming coffee and a blazing fire as she looked around for a familiar landmark. Nothing was the same as it had been. She clamped her lips tight to still the chattering of her teeth, telling herself that it was impossible that she could be lost. But it was a lie. The trees and hills around her were strangers blanketed in white.

The snow fell thickly, a blinding white wall blocking her vision. A wind had sprung up, breaking the silence with its moans and tossing snow, hard and bitter, into her face. She was forced to slow the gelding to a walk, afraid of tangling with the sharp teeth of barbed wire she was unable to see. Her teeth savaged her lips in an effort to control a growing terror.

It's so cold, she thought as she began to shiver convulsively, so unbelievably cold.

The snow had soaked through the wool of her slacks and slipped mercilessly down the neck of her coat. She hunched her shoulders against the driving wind. Snow was everywhere, blocking her in and seeping into her clothing.

She let the reins hang limp, praying that the horse's instinct would guide him back to the warm shelter of his stables. They trudged on, the vortex of white that had begun so innocently now whirling around her. Time and direction had lost all meaning, and though she tried calling out, her voice was soundless against the fierce breath of the wind.

Now she felt the cold. Her body was numbed into submission. Her mind was following suit. The swirling snow was hypnotic, and a growing lethargy was creeping over her. In a small part of her mind, she knew her survival depended on remaining alert.

Horse and rider plodded on. There was no time, no world beyond the unbroken curtain of white. Samantha felt her eyelids growing heavy, but she willed them open with all her strength. The snow piled onto her back, weighing her down until she slumped onto the gelding's mane and clung to him. Staring down at the gelding's front hoof, she began to count each drudging step that Spook took as he continued his slow progress through the blinding storm.

Samantha's concentration on the horse's halting steps began to fade.

If I close my eyes, she thought dimly, I won't see all that white and I can sleep. Oh, how I want to sleep. . . .

The snow was talking, she mused deliriously. Well, why not? It's alive. Why should it sound like Jake? Helplessly, she began to giggle. Well, why shouldn't it?
They both play to win.

“Samantha!” The snow was shouting at her. “Open your eyes. Stop that insane laughing and open your eyes!”

Wearily, she forced herself to obey the command. Dimly she saw the blur of Jake's features through the flurries of snow. “You would be the last thing I see before I die.” With a moan, she closed her eyes again and sought the silence.

“Tell Dan we've found her,” Jake shouted against the howl of the wind. “I'm taking her back to the Double T.”

***

The darkness was comforting. Samantha gave herself over to it, feeling herself falling slowly into a hole with no bottom. She burrowed deeper into it. Her consciousness swam to the surface.

Bemused, she looked around a dimly lit room. The snow that pooled around her was not snow at all, but a bed with a thick, warm quilt. She allowed her heavy lids to close again.

“Oh, no, you don't.” The lids opened fractionally, and Samantha saw Jake standing in the open doorway.

“Hello.”

His mouth thinned as he advanced to the bed to tower over her. It seeped through the misty reaches of her brain that he was angry. She stared at him with lazy fascination.

“What in heaven's name were you doing out in such a storm? I've seen some dumb stunts, but taking a joyride in the middle of a blizzard tops them all.”

She wanted to ask him to stop shouting at her, but lacked the energy. “Where am I?” was all she could find to say.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew her head from the pillow, then held a cup to her lips. “Here, drink this first, then we'll talk.”

The brandy was warm and strong, and she sputtered and gasped as he poured it down her throat. Its power spread through her, pushing back the mists of unconsciousness.

“Now, to answer your question, you're at the Double T.” Jake set the empty cup aside and laid her head back on the mound of pillows.

“Oh.”

“Is that all you can say?” He was shouting again. He took her shoulders as if to shake her. “Just ‘Oh'? What in heaven's name were you doing out there?”

“It seems so long ago.” She frowned in concentration, closing her eyes with the effort. “It wasn't snowing when I left,” she said in weak defense.

“Wasn't snowing?”
Jake repeated, incredulous. “Samantha, didn't you see the sky? Where are your brains?”

“There's no excuse for insults,” she retorted with a small flash of spirit.

“No excuse for insults? Are you stark raving mad? Do you realize what nearly happened to you?” His hands retreated to his pockets, as though he could barely prevent them from throttling her. “Out here in the middle of a blizzard, half-frozen and helplessly lost! It was a miracle we found you. A little longer, and you'd be lying somewhere buried in it, and no one would have found what was left until spring. Dan was half out of his mind when he got through to me and told me you'd gone out in this.”

“Bree?”

“Knew nothing.” He whirled to face her again. “She was taking a nap. It never occurred to her that you had gone out with a storm brewing.” He laughed harshly.

The memory of the snow and the terror washed over her, and she began to shake. “I'm sorry,” she managed through the tears that threatened to flow. With a brief oath, Jake ran a hand through his hair. He closed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms. “Samantha,” he murmured against her hair. “What hell you put us all through.”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated, and she began to sob in earnest. “I was so scared, so cold.”

He rocked and murmured words she could not understand, his lips brushing through her hair and over her damp cheeks until they met hers. The kiss mingled with the salt of her tears. “I've gotten your shirt all wet,” she murmured after a while.

He let out a deep breath. She saw his smile begin to spread before he rested his brow against hers. “That is without a doubt the worst calamity of the day.”

“It's dark,” she said with sudden realization. “How long . . . ?”

“Too long. What you need now is rest.”

“Spook?” she began as he lay her down on the pillows.

“Is sleeping off his adventure in the stables. He looks a lot better than you, I might add.”

“I want to thank you for everything.” Samantha reached for his hand. In that instant, she discovered there was nothing covering her save sheets and blankets. “M-My clothes,” she stammered, drawing the quilt higher in a purely feminine gesture that caused Jake's mouth to twitch.

“Soaked through, Sam.” Rising, he stood, rocking gently on his heels. “It was necessary to get you warm and dry.”

“Did Annie?” She managed a smile at the thought of the matronly presence of Jake's housekeeper. “I seem to have put everyone to a lot of trouble. Will you thank her for me?”

“Well, Sam, I'd like to oblige you, but Annie left yesterday for Colorado to spend a week with her nephew.” Jake's grin broadened.

“Then who—?” The question caught in her throat, and her eyes became round and impossibly dark. “Oh, no,” she whispered, closing her eyes in humiliation.

“No need to be embarrassed, Sam, you have a beautiful body.”

“Oh, no.” With a moan, she squeezed her eyes tighter.

“Now, don't you fret.” His tone took on the light insolence of the cowboy she'd met a month before in the cold March sunset. “When I took off your clothes and rubbed you down, it was strictly medical. I'd do as much for any stray.” He patted her hand, and her eyes opened warily at his touch.

“Yes, of course.” Moistening her lips, she attempted to see the practical side. “I, well . . . thank you.”

“'S all right, don't give it a thought.” He moved toward the door, then paused and turned back. “Now, the next time I get your clothes off, my purpose'll be completely different.”

He strolled casually from the room, leaving a speechless Samantha.