Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides) Read online

  “Yes, I’m here. I won’t leave.”

  Within minutes his breathing grew even, and his eyes closed. An hour later she changed the damp bedding and gave thanks that his fever had finally broken.

  * * *

  “Where is she?”

  On her way past Anton’s room two days later, Rain Shadow paused in the hallway. “Where is who? Sissy?”

  “Of course, Sissy. Who else would I be talking about?” He flounced back against the pillows and winced.

  “In the kitchen. Smells like she’s baking something.”

  “Go down there and tell her I’m sleeping. I’ll be sleeping the rest of the day. Don’t let her come up here and plump my pillows or water the flowers one more time. And tell her I’ll choke if I have to look at another piece of mince pie!”

  “I think it’s apple this time.”

  “Apple, mince, they all taste the same.”

  “Anton, her pies are heavenly. Almost as good as Lydia’s.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” he shouted.

  She leaned insolently against the doorjamb and tried not to grin. “Since when have there been sides? Was a battle line drawn while I was out riding?”

  Frustration lined his face. “At least you can go out riding. You don’t know what I’m going through up here day after day. I really can’t take another minute in this bed. And I can’t take another second of her fussin’.”

  “Seems to me you’d better get used to it.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “She’ll be fussing over you and Nikolaus for a good long time—the rest of your lives actually.”

  Anton’s expression darkened into a scowl. He’d thrust himself smack in the middle of this quandary. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Sissy, yet how in the Sam-hell was he going to live with himself? The more he saw of Sissy, the more he fought the nagging fear that he’d impulsively done something he would regret. The doubt would never have grated on him like this if not for—

  He frowned at the woman who’d undermined his confidence. “You sure know how to depress a man.”

  She pushed away from the doorway and went about her business.

  That night the dream taunted him again—at least at first it seemed like the same dream. It wasn’t. In this scenario, Anton made it as far as the splintered hole chopped in the side of the barn. But the hole was smaller, and no amount of kicking or hitting or tearing at the wood enlarged it. The opening grew so small his face barely fit through. Through it he could see a child trapped inside, a small boy standing still as stone amid the flapping flames. There was no sound from the boy, no screams or cries. In fact, all Anton could hear was the crackle and hiss of the consuming fire.

  “Nikolaus?” No, no. Nikolaus hadn’t been in the barn that day. Intolerable heat scorched his face, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the boy. The flames flickered momentarily, and then dropped to a level that allowed Anton to secure a better view. For one suspended moment, the heat subsided, and the fire almost sucked itself backward. The child’s face came into focus with terrifying clarity.

  “Slade!”

  Anton jerked awake, sitting upright at the bed’s edge. Slade? Why this startling alteration in the dream? His shoulder throbbed as though he’d moved it too quickly. He raised his arm and winced. A knife fight with a lunatic was probably enough to give the most stoic of men a nightmare or two.

  A sliver of light appeared at the door and widened.

  “Anton?” Rain Shadow glided to the end of his bed on bare feet, her white gown lit from behind like an opaque chimney lamp. The hall light defined every curve and hollow of her smooth-limbed form, displayed the size and shape of her perfect breasts and nearly stopped his heart. His body surged with the gut reaction he’d come to expect.

  She scrutinized him. “Anton?”

  “I’m all right.” I’d be better if you’d move away from that light. “Go back to bed.” He adjusted the sheet in his lap.

  She padded around the side of the bed so that her gown was no longer transparent, and he breathed easier. The cotton looked soft to the touch, the cut surprisingly demure. “The dream again?” she asked intuitively.

  Embarrassed but curious, he asked, “How do you know about the dream?”

  “You had it several times during your fever.” She picked up one of his pillows from the floor. Sissy would have plumped it importantly and tucked it behind him, but Rain Shadow held it. “Lie back. Do you want your medicine?”

  “No.” He took the pillow from her hands. Reluctantly, he allowed her to press him back, her cool fingers against his shoulder anything but soothing. The dream had cast an ominous shadow across his already gloomy heart. Ruiz had goaded him into the fight that had landed him here. He’d been in more than his share of scraps, most with his own brothers, and he could handle himself in a fight. But he’d never fought another person who would gleefully maim or kill him. Ruiz would.

  He’d seen it in his eyes that night. Something dark and dangerous. Unmerciful. What did Ruiz want? At first it seemed he wanted Rain Shadow, but—Anton wasn’t sure anymore. Was it Slade he wanted? Something Ruiz had said while Anton lay slipping from reality escaped him. The vaquero was too close to stumbling across the truth about Slade. He had, in fact, uncovered it, but Rain Shadow had been quick to deny it, and Anton suspected Ruiz had been trying to draw something out of her. He’d gotten close. Too close for Anton to rest easy until something was settled. But what could he do?

  The scrape of the rocker against the wooden floor caught his attention. Rain Shadow tugged the chair near, the terror provoked by his dream dissipating as she settled in. “There’s something I want to say now that you’re better.”

  From the strip of light that bled in from the hall, he could see little of her features, and he was grateful. Just the memory of her haunting amethyst eyes was enough to unnerve him, he didn’t want to shame himself in the light. In broad daylight he had seen her perfect breasts and knew the unforgettable, arousing smell of her silken-soft skin. Knowing all that and knowing, too, that she was forbidden was a desolate sort of pleasure-pain. The darkness lent an anonymity that preserved his determination.

  She hesitated and drew a quivering breath. “I heard you because I wasn’t sleeping myself. I can’t get what happened out of my mind. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m responsible for myself.”

  “Yes, you are, but you’re not responsible for Slade and me. You’re not responsible to defend my honor or fight my battles.”

  “Your battles. He provoked me if you recall. You were perfectly calm, so he worked on me. I could have handled it better.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her head lowered as she studied her hands in her lap. “I think he would have found a way, used any means to stir up trouble.”

  “Why?”

  She leaned back once, twice, the ancient rocker creaking beneath her minimal weight. “I don’t know.”

  He’d seen her fear that first time, the day Ruiz had shown up at the house without warning, and his first glimpse of her vulnerability had lodged in his chest, seized something tender near his heart and pounced on it. The bruise was still sore. Her independence was carefully preserved, her determination well-tended. She guarded the security of her tiny, unlikely family like a badger with a litter.

  He stared at the ceiling. Her hand closing over the back of his took him by surprise. “This was my fault. I want you to know how bad I feel. You were nothing but generous bringing Slade here. Getting Two Feathers and I was more than you bargained for, but once you were stuck with us, you did okay. My father hasn’t been this happy in years. Maybe never.” Her thumb brushed lazily across the backs of his fingers. “Slade, too.”

  Her touch fanned sparks he did his damnedest to deny. As whenever he was alone with her, a perpetual blaze simmered. And you, Rain Shadow? What about you? Have you been happy here, too? Don’t care about me now. Not now. Don’t offer me your respect o
r touch me as if you need that physical contact as much I do. I want you so badly I could pull you down with me right here, right now, but I’ve asked Sissy to marry me. “I’ve been impossible, and you know it. Don’t try to make me sound good.”

  The ever-present tick of his pocket watch filled the next minute’s silence, and though he couldn’t see her, he had the distinct impression she smiled. He turned his hand and captured her small one in his palm, wondering when the last time someone had cared for him like this had been. Never. Not since his mother, and she’d died when he was young. What other woman had appreciated anything he’d ever said or done? None.

  Was there another woman as poised and proud and bullheaded as Rain Shadow in the entire world? He doubted it. Her stubborn confidence was appealing, but these rare glimpses of vulnerability drew him to her more surely. There must be something he could do. As much as she would object, he had to find a way to protect her. He could picture her hackles rising if he suggested such a thing, but he had to find a way. Ruiz wouldn’t get to her or her son if he could help it.

  How could he prevent it?

  Chapter Ten

  Standing on Jack's back. Rain Shadow unerringly flicked tin cans from the fence rail with Smith & Wesson’s new model three revolver. The pony routinely circled the corral, obeying commands Anton never heard or saw.

  He’d had to give up holding his breath as he watched her ride, bare feet on the horse’s rump. He would’ve turned blue an hour ago. He forced himself to relax, ease the tension from his neck and look the opposite direction. It was good to be outside, though frustrating that his arm still hurt so much. He walked to keep warm, scanning the countryside, wondering where Ruiz was and how long it would be before he returned. As long as that man was out there, his family wasn’t safe.

  A quarter of a mile north, a wagon was headed for the farm. With his good right hand, Anton pulled out his watch. Three twenty-five. Odd time for visitors. By three-thirty a team pulled Garner Clanton’s black buggy up the drive with Sissy perched beside him, father and daughter wrapped in jackets and scarves. Anton disguised the plummeting sensation in his stomach by waving. Back so soon? Johann had just taken her home day before yesterday.

  He met the wagon and stood, embarrassed that he couldn’t help her down. Her father assisted and turned his ruddy, freckled face to Anton. “I’ll be havin’ a word with your pa. Know where he is?”

  “Barn, last I saw him.” Anton watched Garner’s red plaid back, then turned to Sissy. “Want to go in and warm up?”

  She frowned toward the house for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I want to talk to you.”

  Oh. Was this the day he’d forced from his mind? Had she come to give him her answer to his proposal? He glanced toward the porch, but decided it was warmer in the sun. “Let’s walk.”

  Brittle leaves crunched beneath their shoes, and Anton wondered which of the Clantons had come with a purpose. The longer the silence stretched, the more he wondered. In the back of his mind, he realized Rain Shadow must have holstered her gun in deference to their callers.

  Sissy stopped abruptly. Anton turned and studied her, skin pale in the chill air, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks in sharp relief. Fat sausage curls hung beneath her dark woolen cap. “I’ve thought and considered like I promised.”

  Here it comes. He’d asked for it. His stomach felt sick. He’d ticked off her virtues as fast as a seven-day clock wound tight and thought her the perfect choice. Too late for second thoughts. Too late for regrets. Wasn’t it? What would he do if she said yes? Kiss her? She would expect him to. He should. He managed a nod.

  “I can’t marry you, Anton.”

  He would have to act as if he was pleased, but how was he going to spend the rest of his life with—“What?”

  “Something’s just not right. I like you. I like you a lot, and maybe someday—well, I don’t know. I just know there’s not enough there to start a life on, even for someone like me.” She inspected her gloved hands self-consciously.

  Well, he’d be— She’d turned him down! He stared at her speechlessly. She’d never had a better offer. He wasn’t such a bad catch—never smoked, didn’t drink much, worked hard. He’d fathered a fine-looking son, owned hundreds of acres of prime farmland and worked it well. What did she want? The answer came to him with the chill wind at his back. A pronouncement of love.

  Something he couldn’t give her.

  “Truth is,” she admitted, and brought her gaze to his face, “I have feelings for Nathan Beker. Once he knows 1 turned you down, he’ll court me. He told my papa so.” Her pale cheeks took on high color.

  Anton stifled a self-derisive snort, his ego as ragged as a chipped tooth. If not for his stinking male pride, what did he care? He’d been tied in knots thinking of committing himself to her in the first place. She’d just let him off the hook, free and clear. He could swim away to bluer waters and never look back. The whole idea hadn’t set well from the beginning. The sensation of relief confused him. He shot an involuntary glance toward the barn, unable to stifle the startling thoughts that immediately warmed and exhilarated.

  He was uncommitted.

  No. Don’t even think of letting any part of your shortsighted body influence your brain, Neubauer. Maybe Helena McLaury was the better choice after all. He was marrying for Nikky anyway, not for self-gratification, and Nikky hadn’t expressed any great fondness for Sissy.

  “Well ” He stuffed his right hand in his coat pocket and leaned back on his heels. “It’s best you were honest with me. Thanks for that.”

  “Any hard feelings?”

  “None.” He watched her gaze skitter away, remembered her perceivable tolerance of his kiss and immediately thought of Emily. His wife had tolerated their kisses much the same. He was too wild, too undisciplined for her taste. Anton knew in his heart that Nathan Beker was better suited to Sissy than he.

  Now, Rain Shadow... There was a woman who participated in a kiss. He flung the memory away. “C’mon. Let’s get a cup of coffee to warm you for the ride home.”

  She smiled.

  Half an hour later, he waved the Clantons off, his shoulder throbbing. He was glad for the pain, thankful for something to keep the buoyancy from his chest. He turned toward the house, stifling the urge to let loose an earsplitting, Nikolaus-like "Aw-right!"

  Rain Shadow tucked Jack’s curry brush in a leather bag and slapped his withers. “Now that you’re settled, my handsome love,” she said to the horse, “I have quail to cook.”

  Nearly every day since Anton had been hurt, she’d prepared meals, though not consenting to use their stove or oven. Anton had given up on trying to get her to stay in the house but had insisted she go no farther than the corral alone. She resented the restriction. No one had ever monitored how far she traveled or how late she returned. No one had ever come looking for her when she’d been alone for several hours, and accountability didn’t rest comfortably.

  She wanted to bathe in the stream, but knew Anton wouldn’t stand for it. He’d already offered to have their fathers lug and fill the tub the Neubauers used for bathing into their kitchen. Instead, she’d carried water from the well to her lodge.

  A small gray and white cat rubbed himself against the top of her boot, and she knelt to scoop him up. Out of the half dozen cats that had the run of the barn, this particular one had grown attached to her. She scratched its ears, and a contented purr rumbled beneath the silky fur.

  “That’s Runt.” Anton pulled the wooden door shut behind him. “First time I saw him, I wondered if he would make it. Last time I saw him he was tormenting one of the late robins.”

  The cat raised its head and stared through slitted eyes as she scratched the white tuft under its chin. She couldn’t imagine staying in one place long enough to give a cat a name or see it grow. Even seeing a bird’s nest pointed out how transitory her life was. What would it be like to watch a robin build a nest and still be there when the fledglings first tried their wings?


  “Almost done out here?” he asked.

  Rain Shadow placed the cat on the straw-littered floor. “I started a cook fire. Tell the boys to wash for supper.”

  “Will do.”

  Something about his cheerful reply brought her head up to meet his eyes. The spirited look she read there signaled a change. What had happened? As soon as she’d seen Sissy daintily exit the wagon, she’d been foolishly glum. What was it to her if he wanted to marry that sweet, doe-eyed paragon of domesticity?

  He left, and Rain Shadow plucked her hat from a rail post. How would the silly girl ever maintain her prudery as his wife? She’d been mortified at the mere sight of any portion of his anatomy during his recovery. She’d baked and stewed and laundered at the drop of a hat, but Rain Shadow suspected most of those chores were used as an escape to keep her from his room. She couldn’t fathom a mince pie satisfying Anton Neubauer’s appetite on his wedding night.

  “Give the girl a chance,” she muttered to herself, skewering her birds on the spit and suspending them over the fire. She crouched and warmed her hands near the flames. Anton, given half a chance, could warm the frostiest resistance.

  She knew.

  She knew how every callus on his palms felt sliding across sensitive skin. Those hands would thaw Sissy. She knew the hard-soft bulk of his strength against her aroused body. That exciting pressure would light a spark under Sissy’s primness.

  Rain Shadow crossed her arms over her breasts and stared hard at the dressed birds starting to turn golden brown. She’d learned more. Much more than he’d ever have allowed had he been able to prevent it, but he’d been indisposed. He was capable of loving deeply and passionately, but still grieved for his wife and—what Rain Shadow had learned from his feverish ravings—baby. Perhaps the woman had died giving birth to Nikky’s younger brother or sister. The fires in his nightmares confused her, so she easily explained them to herself as hallucinations born of his high temperatures.

  He’d be an unconventional and stormy lover. That would toast Sissy Clanton’s shy uncertainties. Wouldn’t it? Rain Shadow watched succulent juice form on the crisp skins. The audible hiss as it dripped into the coals brought her out of her reverie. What did she care? She had Miguel to worry about.