Texas Brides Collection (14 page)

She moved slightly, and her feet slipped again. His hold on her arm tightened fractionally until she steadied herself.

“I see what you mean.” She peered over the edge to the canyon below. “We’ll have to be very careful leaving here.”

He lifted one brow, the twinkle back in his eyes. “We’re not going anywhere. At least not for awhile. It would be suicide to try to make it out of here just now.”

Her eyes flew to his. “When can we leave?”

Wolf shook his head, picking up the cup of coffee he had sitting on a rock beside him. He took a swallow and grimaced. In the short time April had been out there, it had already grown cold.

He had been standing there drinking his coffee and marveling at the beauty around him when she had come plunging out of the entrance to the cave. Only his quick reflexes had averted a near disaster.

He had felt her heart drumming in her chest and knew that his was pounding in equal rhythm. He looked at her again. It was odd, but he wanted to take her back into his arms just to feel her nearness, to know that she was truly safe. She aroused every protective instinct in him that he had thought long ago dispelled.

With his feelings in such chaos, he knew that it was not a good idea to stay there another night, but he also knew that he had no choice. Were he alone, he would manage it, but with April in tow, he couldn’t take the chance. His horse would have to pick his way carefully back up to the top of the canyon as it was, but he couldn’t walk his horse and hold on to April, too. And he couldn’t let her ride, just in case the horse did slip.

“Mr. Jackson.”

He brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I said, when
can
we leave?”

He threw the cold coffee over the ledge. Without looking at her, he told her, “Another day or two, probably.”

Her appalled look brought a quick frown to his face. “As the day warms, the ice will melt, but by then it will be too late to travel. We can’t camp out in the open in this kind of weather. It would be foolish.”

Her throat worked convulsively. She crossed her arms, shivering against the cold, and met his look. He could see the fearful uncertainty in her eyes. What was she afraid of, anyway? Hadn’t he proved himself trustworthy?

“You mean we have to stay here?”

Without realizing it, his face took on the immobile mask that the Comanche used to hide their thoughts.

“ ’Fraid so.”

She carefully pulled out of his grip and moved cautiously toward the cave. She threw him one last look before ducking back inside. Wolf lifted his head upward, closing his eyes. Somehow, he just knew this was not a good idea.

April stood in the entrance to the cave, her lips pressed tightly together. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forearms to relieve herself of the chill. She couldn’t stay there another day. She just couldn’t. There was some kind of force at work here, and she was very much afraid it wasn’t godly. Why else would there be such undercurrents of emotions between her and a perfect stranger?
Well
, she thought wryly,
not
quite
perfect
.

Her eyes flew open. Could it be that God had brought her to this point to show this heathen the way to Him? He knew about the Lord, but she sensed that it was an area of his life he wished to ignore. Much like her own brother.

She shook her head slightly, frowning at her thoughts. Wolf was no heathen. She could tell that it bothered him not to be considered a gentleman in her eyes, but she no longer believed that to be so. He was everything a gentleman should be, more so than her brother’s friends.

He came into the cave, bumping into her from behind. He grabbed her arms to keep her from tumbling forward.

“What are you doing standing here in the doorway?” he asked, his voice laced with exasperation. “You’ll catch your death.”

“Sorry.”

He dropped his hands, and she moved quickly away. He went to the fire, and picking up the coffeepot, he lifted it enquiringly in her direction.

She retrieved her own cup and held it out to him. While he poured, she studied his face. He had the high cheekbones of the Indian, the proud tilt to the head. His skin was darker than most men she was used to, but he was definitely handsome.

He caught her staring at him and lifted a brow in inquiry. April flushed brightly, dropping her gaze.

“Thank you for the coffee.” She managed a smile. “You make it rather well.”

He grinned. “For a man, you mean.”

Her smile came more naturally. She seated herself on the crate, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Tell me more about yourself,” she encouraged.

He met her look, and both found themselves unable to look away.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked quietly.

“Because I’m interested,” she answered softly, realizing that she really was. He fascinated her more than anyone had in a very long time.

He glanced away. She thought he was going to ignore her request, but he seated himself in his usual spot, leaning back against the cave wall. He turned to her, but it was some time before he spoke.

“I told you about my mother and father. What else do you want to know?”

April shrugged. “What was your childhood like? Where did you live? How did you become a ranger?”

His mouth tilted into a half smile. “I lived as a child among the Comanche. My mother was a typical wife—feeding her family, caring for her child and husband, visiting with other female friends. For the most part, it was a good life.” He stared vacantly at the wall opposite, and April knew that his mind had gone back to that world so different from her own.

“I was taught to hunt and track and kill. I made my father quite proud of me with my prowess with a bow. When they were killed…” His voice tapered off. He glanced at April then, his eyes dark and haunted. She saw in him the same yearning that she had seen in Ted. They were so very much alike in their pain.

“I was never accepted by the Comanche as one of their own, nor by the whites either. I found it better to become a Texas Ranger and live my life alone.”

April’s heart went out to him. She could picture the lonely little boy he must have been. What agony it must have caused his mother to watch her child being shunned by others.

“You said your mother was a missionary’s daughter?”

He nodded, staring deeply into her eyes. She wondered what, exactly, he was looking for.

“She taught me of Jesus and His love, and for a time I believed. Maybe that’s why the Comanche never accepted me. When they danced to their gods, I sat aside. When they gave offerings, I only watched.”

April wet her lips, hesitant to ask. “Did you ever marry?”

Wolf jerked his gaze back to hers, wondering what had provoked such a question. Just idle female curiosity? Somehow, he doubted it. She didn’t seem the nosy type.

“No, I never married.”

The set look of his face warned April not to further probe that area of his life. He tilted his head to the side. “It’s your turn,” he told her, smoothly changing the subject.

“There’s not much to tell. Actually, we have something in common. Both of my parents died when I was young, too.”

His face became inscrutable. “At least they weren’t murdered.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “But my mother also taught me about Jesus and His love.”

“What about your brother?” he asked, refusing to be sidetracked into a theological discussion.

“We were both raised to believe the same things, but somehow he’s gotten away from them.”

She didn’t like his smile. “Life has a way of changing us.”

He got up and went to the cave entrance. He took a deep breath of the clean air. April joined him, and he glanced down at her briefly. Again, there was something strange that seemed to be pulling them closer together. They could read it in each other’s eyes, though neither would mention it.

“The ice is melting,” she suggested cheerfully, turning away from his look. He said nothing, continuing to watch her.

“I need to go outside,” she finally told him in embarrassment. “Is it safe yet?”

He nodded. “But don’t go far,” he warned.

She went past him, staying only as long as necessary. Although the temperatures were rising, they were still too cold to stay outside for very long.

When she returned, she found Wolf bent over the fire with a fry pan. He took some flour and water, mixed it together, then poured it into the sizzling hot lard.

“Can I help?”

He shook his head. “There’s not much to do. I’m just making some fry bread to add to the beans.” He grinned up at her. “Not exactly hotel cuisine, but it’ll keep us from starving.”

She was surprised by his reference to a hotel, and she had noticed that his English was as proficient as her own. Again she found herself wondering about his life.

“I think I’ll go crazy if I have to stay cooped up in here much longer!” she exclaimed, dropping to the seat across from him.

“Solitude is good for the soul.”

The look she gave him spoke volumes. “Well, I’m not exactly alone, am I?”

“Bored with my company, huh?”

She could tell he was laughing at her. His eyes crinkled at the corners, though his mouth merely twitched into a smile.

While they ate, Wolf told April about attending college in Boston. There was much he left unsaid, and she thought she could read between the lines. After living among the Comanche most of his life, city living must have been very difficult for him. Although he didn’t mention it, she suspected that being half Indian had probably caused him much grief at school.

After they ate their impromptu meal, Wolf rummaged through his saddlebag. He brought out a small piece of wood with an intricately painted design on it.

“How about a game?” he asked, and April narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“What kind of game?”

“Well,” he told her in a wickedly amused voice, “actually we’ll have to modify it somewhat. It’s usually played by a group of people.”

He explained how the Comanche used the piece in a game both men and women alike enjoyed. “There are two teams. Each one takes a turn trying to fool the other by passing, or not passing, the wood. Someone from the other team will finally call out which man he thinks has the piece.”

She watched him warily. “Then what?”

“You keep score. The one with the highest score wins.”

“Just what exactly does he win?”

His look made her grow warm all over. “That depends on the bet,” he told her softly.

Her eyes widened, and she drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t gamble,” she finally told him in a quavery voice.

He looked disappointed. Sitting back, he smiled ruefully. “That’s all right. We can play the game anyway.”

“How?”

He closed his fist around the wood, then began shifting his hands back and forth. When he stopped, he grinned at her.

“Pick one.”

She returned his grin. “This is like hide the button.” Her forehead puckered in concentration as she studied his hands. Finally, she reached across and tapped his left hand.

“That one.”

He turned his empty palm over. “Wrong. That’s one for me.” Reaching over, he drew a mark in the sand with a twig.

He handed her the wood. “Your turn.”

Giggling like a child, she followed his example. He tapped her hand, and she turned over the palm with the piece in it.

She frowned at him. “How’d you do that?”

Ignoring the question, he took the wood piece again. After almost an hour, he had far more marks in the sand than she did. She looked at him, clearly puzzled.

“How do you always seem to know?”

His eyes roved her face slowly, and she felt her stomach begin to churn.

“It’s your face,” he told her softly. “It gives you away.”

Her eyes widened until they were so large Wolf thought he could walk right into them. He smiled slowly.

“You’re wondering what thoughts I can read on your face.”

April sucked in a sharp breath. That was exactly what she had been thinking. Over the past hour she had found herself wondering what his bet might have been. The look in his eyes made her breathless, and she had wondered if he would have demanded a kiss. Paradoxically, she had hoped that he would.

He leaned across, placing one large hand behind her neck and pulling her gently forward.

“I’ll take my winnings now,” he told her quietly.

She placed her hands against his chest, pushing firmly.

“I told you, I don’t gamble.”

“But I do.”

His lips closed over hers, and she forgot every reason she had for refusing him.

W
olf stood outside the entrance to the cave castigating himself severely. That kiss had to have been the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life! What on earth had gotten into him anyway? He had only known the woman for two days.

He pulled the slip of paper from his pocket, reading it yet again. He tried to use it to bring his anger to the surface, but somehow, he just couldn’t do it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reconcile April’s innocent face with a desperate gang of outlaws.

He was confused by the strange rush of emotions she invoked in him. This was something far beyond his experience, especially where women were concerned.