Rain Shadow (Dutch Country Brides) Read online

  This time he prodded her. “Go on.”

  “Do you like looking at me?”

  Blue fire ignited in his gaze. “Oh yes. More than you know.”

  “That’s how I feel about you, too. I know I’m not a lady, Anton. I could never be the woman your wife was. I’m not sophisticated, and I don’t know what’s proper or what men like. I only know you make me happy, and if—”

  “Wait.” He studied her with surprise. “You’re not sorry?”

  She returned his stare. “For what we did?”

  His lips moved before he spoke. “About the way we...”

  Something vulnerable wavered behind his half-veiled eyes, and she knew what she said next would be important. How could he think she was sorry? “Anton, what we shared last night was beautiful.”

  Shirt forgotten on the bed, he leaned over her, threaded his fingers through her hair and spread it away from her face. “You’re beautiful, and you’re a lady.”

  She smiled. “I am?”

  “You have the wrong idea. With her there was never any peace or satisfaction. She never gave me anything, wasn’t satisfied with our life together...” He stared at the pillow next to her head as if deep in thought. “She always seemed unhappy, and I never found a way to get close to her. We both loved Nikolaus, but there was no joy between us. I felt like a failure. Felt like I made a mistake bringing her here.” His gaze came back to hers. “You gave me more last night than she did in four years of marriage. You’re happy with so little, Rain Shadow.”

  Something raw and painful twisted in her breast. So little. This short, bittersweet time together, the physical release she’d been for him. She’d told him she loved him, and he’d responded with his body, not his heart, as if the admission meant nothing to him—as if he hadn’t even heard it. His beautiful wife had been a disappointment. Emily had dissatisfied him. But he’d loved her.

  Her aching heart was proof of her feelings. Was she happy with so little?

  No. But he would never know. She was a physical outlet. Someone to slake his passion until a proper woman came along. She could give him that. Wanted to give him that. It fleetingly occurred to her that she should get up and dress before the boys came back, but he pulled the sheet away, and her hands automatically came up to his chest. There was time.

  She understood. In some bruised corner of her own heart, she understood. Miguel had never given her anything, either, except heartache and, unknowingly, Slade. And even though he didn’t return her love, Anton offered more than she’d ever had before.

  However temporary, she meant to have it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Falling snowflakes glistened in the morning sunlight when Anton opened the cabin door. Rain Shadow tipped her face heavenward, blinked away the flakes and smiled.

  She turned and found his soft gaze on her. “Suppose we missed breakfast?” he asked.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s still plenty early.”

  He laughed and challenged her to a race. She was more agile, but his long legs kept him ahead of her. She considered faking a twisted ankle, but he slowed and pointed toward Franz and Annette’s.

  Franz ran toward them, coatless, his shirt tails flapping in the bitter wind.

  “What the—” Anton left the question unfinished. His brother raced closer. He broke into a run, Rain Shadow at his heels, and met Franz on a slope.

  Slow dread paralyzed Rain Shadow’s lungs and heart. She held her breath, waiting for Franz’s words, hoping against hope that the stricken look on his face had nothing to do with Slade.

  “The boys,” Franz panted, and her heart turned over slow and sluggish. “They’re gone.”

  “What do you mean they’re gone?” Anton asked, impatiently.

  Her brain seemed to take minutes to absorb Franz’s words. Slade. Slade was gone?

  “Pa must’ve taken them to the outhouse before anyone else was awake. They didn’t come to breakfast, so I went to check. I found Pa on the ground with his head busted, and the boys were nowhere in sight.”

  Not, Nikky, too! Rain Shadow fought the numbing panic that fogged her reactions. How long had they been gone? Johann was injured on top of it all.

  “Why didn’t the dogs bark?” Anton asked, disgust lacing his voice.

  Franz surveyed the landscape. “Ruiz must’ve done something to the dogs. I haven’t seen neither hide nor hair of ’em since last night.”

  Anton swore and ran on.

  Rain Shadow followed.

  Two Feathers was kneeling over Johann. He turned his head at their approach, the color drained from his stoic features. Jakob’s father laid motionless, bright crimson blood dripping from a gash on his temple onto the frozen ground. Johann, oh, Johann. Rain Shadow’s chest would certainly burst any moment, the way her heart was pounding. She calmed herself with deep, even breaths. She had to stay calm.

  “Let’s get him in the house,” Anton barked.

  “Annette sent Jakob for Doc,” Franz supplied.

  Instinctively, Rain Shadow searched the ground for footprints. Evidence of narrow boots led from the trampled area where Johann lay to a spot behind the barn where a horse had been staked.

  “The tracks point west,” she said to Two Feathers, who watched the brothers carry their father into the house.

  “I should have heard something.” Self-blame rose in his voice.

  “It’s not your fault, Father, she assured him. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “I would have killed the man and kept him from the spirit world. His heart is black. He has caused you pain since we crossed the Great Waters.” Her father kept his stoic profile in her vision, as if he couldn’t allow himself to face her. “Now my grandson.”

  Rain Shadow took his forearm. “Slade will be all right, I promise. I’ll bring him back.”

  Two Feathers met her eyes, and his filled with tears. “Take great care, my child.”

  Cold unnoticed, they stared at one another, snowflakes swirling between them. She hugged him fiercely, turned and ran. More calm and collected than she had any right to be, she reasoned each step, first taking canteens and saddlebags from her lodge. In the cabin, she changed into her leather pants and shirt and was packing food and ammunition when Anton threw open the door.

  She stared into his haunted blue eyes. “Your son, Anton. Your father. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “We’ll find them,” was all he said. He stripped, pulled on long underwear and warm clothing and nodded to her bags. “Everything we need?”

  Their partnership went unspoken. The fact that he considered them a team in this hardship and rescue sealed the bond between them even more effectively than words. Somehow, since the day he’d told her to make herself useful, she’d won his respect. And just in time. The stakes were way too high to waste energy in disagreement. “Supplies are packed.”

  He didn’t check. He trusted her. He grabbed his rifle and took a revolver and bullets from a cupboard. Together they pulled on boots, hats, and gloves.

  The tracks led west, and then veered off in a northwesterly direction.

  “Got any idea where he’s headed?” she asked Anton around noon.

  He shook his head. He’d been silent most of the morning. She wouldn’t blame him if he held her responsible. His son had been involved, thanks to her. His father lay unconscious at the farm. She held tears at bay, wondering how badly Johann was hurt. He could die.

  No. She couldn’t think like that. If she allowed herself one second to consider that possibility, it would only lead to the same thoughts about Nikky and Slade.

  Gray clouds obliterated the sun, and the landscape manifested itself desolate, more and more dreary as the afternoon wore on. Finally, they stopped to build a fire and eat a meager meal. Rain Shadow wondered if Miguel had fed the boys. By now they would be cold, hungry and mighty uncomfortable riding three atop one horse.

  The snow began falling in earnest about the same time they stamped
out their fire. His tracks—their only guide—would soon be obliterated. Rain Shadow avoided Anton’s eyes. She couldn’t bear the stark fear she read in their joyless blue depths and dreaded watching that fear turn to accusation and resentment.

  Night fell, and Rain Shadow constructed a low sleeping tent made of hides. Anton built a fire, and they ate biscuits and bacon. Inside the tent, they removed their clothing and crawled into the blankets together, relying on their combined body heat to warm them through the night.

  Rain Shadow lay with Anton’s solid form along the length of her body, her spine curved against him. He curled himself around her protectively, but made no move to touch her intimately. He hadn’t spoken much their entire ride, and only when necessary while setting up camp. The inch or more of snow blanketing the earth insulated them from even the slightest noise. The only sounds she heard were his heartbeat against her back, his pocket watch in their pile of clothing, and the accusing voices in her head.

  Every fear of Miguel she’d ever experienced had sharply focused into reality. He’d done everything she’d anticipated plus a whole lot more. Why had he come looking for her after all this time? Traveling with the Wild West Show was far from inconspicuous. Should she have left it years ago? Had she been so obsessed with finding her family that she’d ignored a basic step in her son’s protection?

  But how could she have known? Miguel hadn’t wanted her. He’d made that plain enough. She couldn’t have anticipated he’d come looking for her. Wankan Tanka...Grandfather Great Spirit, Tative Topa, God of the Four Winds, return my son to me safely. Return Anton’s son without harm, and restore Johann... don’t let him die. Help me, I pray to You, don’t let any of them die.... She ached with the terrifying thought.

  Age-old remorse and guilt flooded back cold and hard. All of this stemmed from her one mistake, the reverberations continuing like a stone hurled into smooth water, the circles ever widening, touching more and more lives. And the truth sat at the bottom of the pond like that rock—cold and hard and unchanging—she’d brought this upon them.

  Unci Maka, Grandmother Earth, help me. I promise to leave and let them resume their lives the way they were before. Anton had been looking for a wife—a proper, domestic mother for Nikky—and look what Rain Shadow’s intrusion had done. In retrospect, Sissy Clanton’s face came to her from the night Miguel had stabbed Anton—pale, assessing. Sissy probably wouldn’t have turned down Anton’s proposal had she not seen the way he took Rain Shadow’s hand, had she not been witness to the spectacle of him lying on the ground bleeding, Rain Shadow hovering over him with concern.

  He could be married to Sissy now. Or at least planning a wedding. I’m sorry. He still had a chance with one of the other young women.

  Anton’s hand cupped her cheek, and he turned her face toward his. She didn’t know she’d been crying until he wiped the tears from her face with gentle fingers. He kissed her, and she clung to him, choking back a sob.

  Their kiss held an edge of desperation. Long ago she’d learned she couldn’t change the past, so she’d placed all her hopes and dreams on the future. At this moment the future looked bleak—perhaps unbearable. All she had was right now, right this minute, tonight in Anton’s arms. She returned kiss for kiss, touch for touch, taking comfort in the heat of his desire. He prolonged the mindlessness she sought, drawing each physical response to a height and breadth and depth that left room for nothing else.

  I love you. She buried her face against his neck, cried his name and shook with the force of her chaotic emotions.

  “We’ll find them,” he said into her hair. “If it’s the last thing I do, we’ll find them.”

  * * *

  By morning it had stopped snowing.

  “We find new tracks, and we’ve got him,” Anton said, helping her pack their gear. He led their horses from cover against a bluff, and they mounted.

  “Do you think we’ve been heading in the right direction?”

  He settled his Stetson over his forehead before answering. “Y’know, I’ve been wondering if there is a right direction. What if he meant to circle back toward the farm? I laid awake trying to figure out his reasoning. What will he do with them?”

  Rain Shadow squinted against the morning sun glaring off the pristine snow and settled her wide-brimmed hat. “I laid awake trying not to think about his reasoning. I guess what he’ll do with them depends on his purpose.”

  “Think it’s you or Slade?”

  Without an answer, she shrugged and pulled on her snug leather gloves.

  “Seems he’s headed northwest. Why don’t we ride a line from southwest to northeast and see if we can’t cross his tracks somewhere?”

  His plan sounded logical to her, so they rode steadily.

  The morning was still early. She stopped Jack with a soft sound and tilted her head.

  Anton reined the General around to face her. The animal shook his massive head, and its snaffle ring clinked in the stillness.

  “I smell a fire,” she said.

  Anton raised his face and tested the air. Off to the left stood a copse of trees. “They could be anywhere in there,” he said softly.

  “Why don’t we split up and skirt the outside on foot?” she suggested. “If they’re in there, one of us should spot them. We’ll meet back here and decide what to do.”

  Wariness edged his handsome features. Fatigue etched lines under his eyes, and his nose was red from the cold. Finally, he nodded his agreement.

  “Anton,” she whispered. “Move slowly. Stop often to listen and sniff the air. What you don’t hear is as important as what you hear.”

  With a curt nod he hobbled the General and moved away from her.

  Rain Shadow drew a deep breath, untied her holster thong and slipped silently into the trees, following the outer edge of the forest, the cold forgotten. Time had no place or meaning here. Tree trunks stood in stark contrast to the harsh white expanse above and below. Above, the canopy of branches hung low with snow and ice. Below, every twig her boots snapped sounded like gunfire. She kept her eye on the position of the sun through the filtering branches, calculating how far she’d come.

  The scent of smoke drifted to her again, and she paused to listen. Nothing. Not even the sound of birds or small animals. Her scalp tingled. This wasn’t good.

  “I do not suppose you came alone.”

  The thickly accented voice stopped her dead. She turned her head slowly, her heart thundering in her chest. “I’m alone.”

  “You think me a fool, querida.”

  She scanned the frozen woods, her hand moving toward her holster.

  “I would not do that if I were you. Throw the gun toward my voice.”

  With deliberate slowness, she drew her revolver from its holster, turned the butt away from her and tossed it toward the pine trees.

  “Now your knife.”

  It angered her that she’d missed the signs and walked into his trap. Bending, she slid her knife from her boot and aimed it at a trunk, wishing it was his heart. The knife lodged with a solid whack.

  As if sensing her hatred, his insolent laughter punctured the stillness. A movement caught her eye. He rose from the ground where he’d blended like an animal in its natural surroundings, shook the snow from his clothing and hat and gestured at her with his rifle. “This way, my lovely. My son has an unrealistic opinion of his madre.” Miguel picked up her gun and tucked it in his belt. “He thought she would shoot her way into my camp and rescue him.”

  Rain Shadow had no choice but to walk to him.

  He nudged her forward with the gun barrel. “He doesn’t need rescuing from his own father, now, does he?”

  She smelled the fire before she saw it. A few scant feet from the fire, huddled beneath a blanket with their backs against a tree, sat two small forms, woolen hats pulled low.

  “Mama!”

  “Rain Shadow!”

  Ignoring Miguel’s warning, she ran to them. She pulled their heads against her coat f
ront and hugged them tightly. She peeled off her gloves and wiped the tears from their cheeks. “Don’t cry any more. I’m here.”

  Pulling back the blanket, she discovered their bound hands. A rope at their waists secured them to the tree. Both children were cold and frightened. Rage consumed her. She stared into her son’s eyes.

  “Move away from them,” Ruiz said from behind her.

  “They’re cold!” she accused. “Untie them both and let them sit by the fire.”

  “I said move away!” Ruiz poked her shoulder sharply with the rifle barrel. She caught her balance and covered the boys’ hands, pulled the blanket to their chins and backed away. Brazenly, she turned to face the man who threatened everything she held dear. “What do you want?”

  Quick as lightning, he grabbed her coat front in a fist and hauled her face up to his. “Why did you keep him from me?”

  Rain Shadow stared into obsidian eyes so like her son’s. “Why do you think, Miguel?”

  He shook her, and her teeth rattled. “I had a right to know! I had a son all this time, and I should have known!’’

  A thin blue vein stood out in the center of his forehead.

  “You used me, Miguel!” she shouted, and hated the way her voice cracked. “I was sixteen years old, and you let me believe we would get married in London! No sooner did the ship dock, and you married another woman! What do you think that did to me? What kind of person would do that?” Rain Shadow drew a ragged breath and pinned him with her furious gaze. “I swore I’d make something of my life and my son’s life, that I wouldn’t let your cruelty ruin our future. And I’ve done that. I’m proud of myself, and I’m proud of my son.”

  The look in his eyes changed. Her words had disturbed him. His grip on her collar loosened. “I could have been proud of him, too.”

  “How could I think a man who would lie to seduce me and then marry another woman would be a decent father?”

  Abruptly, Ruiz released her and shoved her toward the fire. “Sit.”