Bride On The Run (Historical Romance) (10 page)

White-hot fury, fueled by the horror of her own early years, exploded in Anna’s mind. She snatched up a broken limb that the flood had washed onto the riverbank. Then, gripping the makeshift weapon, she charged wildly down the path.

Malachi sat lightly in the saddle, bracing his feet in the stirrups so that the mule’s rocking gait would not disturb his sleeping son. Cradled against his chest, Josh made little wheezing sounds as he breathed. The boy had started the homeward journey on Lucifer, but when he had dozed and nearly toppled off the edge of the trail, Malachi had paused, lifted his son onto his own mount and settled him in his arms.

Malachi had always loved holding his children. But Carrie had long since grown too old for it, and soon Josh would be too old as well. He would miss the sweetness of a small head drooping against his shoulder. For years he had wanted more children, but Elise had not shared that desire, and now it was too late. He could only savor this moment of cradling his sleeping child, knowing that this time would be short and infinitely precious.

Lord, what if he lost his children when the visitors from the Children’s Aid Society came? The very thought of it almost strangled him with pain. He felt as if he were drowning in a cold, black pit, reaching out, struggling to keep a grip on everything he had every loved.

Would the children be better off in Santa Fe? The question had kept him awake for more nights than he cared to count. True, they would live in a nicer home and be able to attend school. They would be taken to church every Sunday, and Carrie’s clothes, if not colorful and pretty, would at least be presentable. But the thought of his children being raised by Elise’s somber, unloving, ramrod-straight parents chilled his blood. They had caused enough damage to their
daughter. He would die before he let them do the same to their grandchildren.

A hush lay over the canyon, broken only by the plodding footsteps of the mules and the call of a wild quail from a nearby ridge. Malachi had used his sleeping son as an excuse to let Sam ride on ahead—a blessed relief from the man’s constant stream of crude conversation. Far down the trail, through the twilight haze, he caught occasional glimpses of Sam on his big piebald horse. He was jogging down the trail with the haste of a hungry man headed to supper.

Malachi could feel the smoldering of his own hunger, like the hot, red core beneath a layer of banked coals. It was a hunger that had had nothing to do with food. The sight of Anna that morning, striding across the yard in those tight-fitting denim pants, her breasts straining the buttons of that boyish plaid shirt, had tormented him all day.

He had long since made up his mind to send her packing—a wise decision he would carry out as soon as he could clear the road and get a wagon in. When it came to satisfying the Children’s Aid people, a woman as alluring as Anna would be far worse than no woman at all. But meanwhile, how was he going to keep his hands off her? How was he going to keep his mind above his belt when the barest glimpse of her quickened his pulse and jerked a noose of desire around his throat?

The warm, humid air of the lower canyon closed around him as the road wound downward. From below, Malachi could hear the rushing murmur of the Colorado. The air smelled pleasantly of wood smoke
from the kitchen stove. Anna would be waiting below, at the end of the road. Heaven help him.

The mules, anticipating food and rest, had picked up speed on their own. Bracing Josh with one arm, Malachi slackened the reins and gave Beelzebub his head. Lucifer, he knew, would follow along and keep up.

Awakened by the increased bouncing, Josh stirred and opened his eyes. “Where are we, Pa?” he asked, blinking.

“Starting down the slope before the last bend,” Malachi said. “We’ll be home in a few minutes.”

The small body relaxed against Malachi’s chest, then suddenly tensed. “I hear something,” Josh said.

Malachi held his breath, ears straining. “I don’t—”

“No, listen!” Joshua whispered. “It sounds like Doubtful!”

Malachi did hear it then, the faint but furious barking of the dog, echoing up the canyon to mingle with the sounds of awakening night.

“Maybe he’s treed that old bobcat,” Josh said. “D’you think so, Pa?”

“Maybe.” Malachi weighed the notion but it didn’t feel right. Doubtful tended to bay when he had an animal cornered. The frantic barking would more likely mean something else. Trouble.

“Hang on!” Malachi tightened his clasp around his son’s waist and caught the reins with his free hand. Then he jabbed the mule’s flanks with his boot heels. Beelzebub snorted and burst into an explosive sprint, with Lucifer wheezing along behind. Two faces
flashed through Malachi’s mind as he leaned forward in the saddle. One was Carrie’s; the other was Anna’s.

The wild ride down the rest of the trail took only a couple of minutes. Sam had reached the yard ahead of them, but there was no sign of the dog or anyone else. The house stood dark in the gathering twilight, the door swinging open and shut on its hinges in the light breeze. Malachi felt dread tighten like a fist around his heart. “Down there,” he said as his ears caught the sound of barking once more. “The river.”

Lowering Josh swiftly to the ground, he swung out of the saddle, whipped the rifle out of its leather scabbard and bolted town the path.

Seconds later he burst out of the willows and onto the riverbank. There he stopped cold, stunned and bewildered by the sight that met his eyes.

Eddie Johnson was cowering at the base of the massive dead tree, his face as red as a hot branding iron. A stone’s throw away, Doubtful circled wolf-fashion, alternately growling, barking and lunging. Carrie stood at the river’s edge, fumbling with the buttons of her dress, her wet hair streaming over her shoulders.

“Papa!” She ran to Malachi’s side with a little cry. “Oh, do something, Papa! I think she’s going to kill him!”

But Malachi scarcely heard his daughter’s words. His attention was riveted on Anna. She stood over the sprawling Eddie, both hands gripping a tree limb that was nearly as big as she was. Her eyes flashed as she caught sight of Malachi. The branch quivered in her hands but she kept it high, as if daring the boy to
move so much as an eyelash. Only then did Malachi notice the swelling bruise across Eddie’s cheek.

“What in hell’s name’s going on?” Sam burst out of the willows, cursing under his breath.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, Mr. Johnson.” Anna spoke for the first time, her voice taut and trembling. “I caught your son lying down in those willows over there. He was spying on Carrie and doing—” Her eyes darted toward the girl, then back to Sam. “Well, never mind, I’ll just let you guess!” She glowered at the boy, her small frame vibrating with a fury that only Malachi fully understood.

“That true, son?” Sam did not sound unduly concerned.

The boy’s eyes rolled. “Aw, shoot, Pa, I was only lookin’,” he whined. “I didn’t mean no harm. She wouldn’t’a even knowed about it if this blond bitch hadn’t snuck up behind me and clobbered me with that damned tree limb—” He tried to edge toward his father, but Doubtful lunged at him, growling and snapping, and Eddie shrank back against the tree trunk.

Malachi’s own anger had risen to a murderous pitch. He clenched his fists to hold it in, to keep himself from grabbing the boy with his bare hands and breaking him like a twig. He had taught his children to forsake violence. He could not be a bad example to them now.

He glanced at his wide-eyed daughter—so beautiful and so innocent that it almost broke his heart. “Are you all right, Carrie?”

“Yes, Papa,” she whispered.

“He didn’t hurt you?”

“Hurt her!” Eddie interrupted. “Hell, I never touched her. You don’t pluck a cherry afore it’s ripe, that’s what Pa always says. An that little cherry, I can tell you, she’s got a long ways to go!”

Again, the rage that surged up in Malachi was so powerful that it almost made him nauseous. “Go on back to the house, Carrie,” he said softly, holding himself in check. “Take Josh with you.”

Carrie obeyed him without a word, pausing only to catch her brother’s arm as she passed him. The dog hesitated, then trotted off behind her, into the willows. Eddie slumped on the ground, his Adam’s apple working furiously. Malachi battled the urge to jerk him up by the scruff of his collar and give him the thrashing he deserved.

“I want that boy gone, Sam,” he said forcing each word through clenched teeth. “You, too. By first light tomorrow morning.”

Sam looked pained. “Aw, Malachi, the boy didn’t do nothin’. Just exercisin’ his natural curiosity, that’s all. Boys’ll be boys. You know that.”

“I’ll pay you what I owe you,” Malachi continued as if he hadn’t heard. “And I’ll bring your supper out to the shed. But I won’t have that boy under the same roof as my daughter. And if he so much as looks at her again, so help me, I’ll horsewhip him within an inch of his life!”

Malachi could feel the blood pounding in his head. He was dizzy with anger, not only at the boy but at Sam, who failed to find any fault in his son’s loutish behavior.

Anna had lowered the tree limb so that the end of it rested on the sand. Her face was pale, her eyes wide
and dark in the deepening twilight. Her beauty sapped the strength from Malachi’s knees, just as it had the first time he’d set eyes on her. Had the rush of anger heightened other emotions as well? Malachi was at a loss to understand it, but he knew suddenly that, right or wrong, this was a woman he could love.

Her gaze hardened as she turned toward Sam and Eddie. “Mr. Johnson, if you won’t tell your boy what he needs to hear, then I will,” she said in a voice that defied anyone to silence her. “Eddie, you think it’s all right to look at a young girl’s body. What will you be thinking next? That it’s all right to touch her? All right to force her against her will? All right to hurt her so badly that her life will never be the same again?” The last few words came choking out of her. She closed her eyes for an instant, trembling as she fought for self-control. “I hope somebody teaches you right from wrong, young man. And I hope you take the lesson to heart or next time it may be too late!”

Sam’s eyes had narrowed to angry, porcine slits. “You watch your mouth, lady,” he growled. “I won’t have nobody tellin’ me how to raise my boy or makin’ him out to be some kind of criminal when all he done is a little harmless peekin’. I seen a lot of women, and I know your type! You put on airs and make yourself out to be so high and priss-perfect. But underneath those fancy manners you ain’t no different from any common slut—”

“That’s enough, Sam!” Malachi snapped, battling the urge to punch the man’s face to a bloody pulp. “Nobody talks that way to my wife! Take your boy and your money and get out of here now. You can
camp on the road if you have to. All I ever want to see of you two again is your backsides headed up the road!”

Sam’s upper lip curled as if readying a surly retort, but, in the face of Malachi’s size and anger, the words remained unspoken. “Come on, boy!” He jerked Eddie to his feet. “The sooner we put these highfalutin’ folk behind us, the sooner we can get back to town and wash off the stink of sanctity!” He swung back toward the front yard and lumbered into the willows, dragging Eddie behind him.

Malachi’s whole body ached with tension. He exhaled forcibly, feeling the slow ebb of it. Anna watched him in silence. Although the end of the tree limb rested on the sand, her fingers still gripped the base as if her flesh had grown around the wood.

Words warred in Malachi’s mind, forming themselves into thoughts, then dissolving into nothing. He did not know what to say to her.

He could feel the slow beating of his heart as their eyes met through the gathering darkness. Her lips trembled, and in the first light of the rising moon he caught the glimmer of a tear on her cheek.

“It was too close,” she said, her shoulders sagging as she dropped the limb. “All those memories—I went a little crazy. If I drove your friends away—”

“Don’t, Anna.” Malachi ached to gather her into his arms, but he feared the emotional avalanche the contact would trigger. “Some friends aren’t worth keeping—if they could’ve been called friends to begin with. I’m beholden to you for Carrie’s sake.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” She raked a nervous hand through the loose golden mane of her hair. “Heaven
help me, I don’t know if I even did it for Carrie. When I swung the limb at that young fool, I wasn’t defending your daughter. I was doing what I wished I could have done so many years ago—”

Her voice broke. She pressed her lips together hard, shoulders quivering as she battled the rush of memory.

“Anna—” He took a step toward her, overcome by the need to take her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her.

“No.” Her eyes blazed in the moonlight. “Don’t come any closer, Malachi. No matter what you think, I’m not staying. I answered your cousin’s advertisement because I was desperate and needed a refuge. But I never meant this to last more than a few months. I came to you under false pretenses, and the sooner you can get me out of here, the better!”

She spun away from him and fled into the darkness.

A
nna lay alone in the warmth of the bed, watching the moon creep toward the top of the window. Malachi had long since taken his rifle and gone outside, announcing to all who could hear that he was going to sit in the rocks above the chicken coop and watch for the marauding bobcat. It was a handy excuse. But she did not even have to think twice about his real motives.

Turning over, she punched the flattened pillow to plumpness. Then, still restless, she curled onto her side. Exhaustion was a leaden weight that seemed to fill every bone, muscle and nerve in her body. But she could not sleep. Not when all the alarms in her mind were shrilling at her to run. Now. Before it was too late.

She had made a dangerous enemy in Sam Johnson. The man was petty and unforgiving, and it would be only a matter of time before he saw a poster with her face on it—before he made the connection between the wanted Anna de Carlo and the woman who had humiliated his son.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her hands clasping in agitation. Could she wait for the road to be cleared? Or would it be wiser to get out now, any way she could, before the lawmen and bounty hunters descended on the canyon?

Raking back her hair, Anna stood up, walked to the window and stared out at the waning moon. She could leave right now, she thought, clutching at the possibility. She could stuff a pillowcase with food and a water jug, steal one of Malachi’s precious mules and ride out of the canyon this very night. If need be, she could even set out on foot and hope for the best.

But what was she thinking? It would be suicidal, trying to walk out of this place and find her way back to civilization. And in any case, Malachi would be outside ostensibly watching for the bobcat. If she tried to take a mule, he would be sure to see her.

Anna sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling like a trapped animal. There was no way out for her. Not unless she could persuade Malachi to take her back to Kanab at once by muleback—but no, that idea was useless as well. Once Sam Johnson recognized her, she would not be safe anywhere outside the canyon. For the present, at least, she had no choice except to stay here.

The moon gleamed brightly through the open window, illuminating a rectangle of light on the patchwork quilt. Anna sprang to her feet once more, pacing one direction, then the other. She was no better than a prisoner in this place, surrounded by these towering sandstone walls.

Was this the way Elise had felt?

On sudden impulse she paused, fumbled beneath
the foot of the mattress and brought out the slim leather journal. The frailty of the little volume recalled the woman whose writing filled its pages. The worn leather cover was as soft as human skin, the mildewed pages so damp and delicate that it was all Anna could do to separate one from another without tearing the fine paper.

Carefully she laid the open book in the bright moonlight. With effort, she began to read.

The first few entries were mundane accounts of washing, gardening, cooking and schooling the children. Then, as Anna turned to the next page, a longer section caught her eye.

Anna was startled by the sudden sound of Malachi’s footsteps and his light knock on the bedroom
door.

“Anna?” His rough whisper made her pulse leap. “Anna, are you awake?”

“Just a minute—” She closed the journal and, fumbling with haste, stuffed it back under the mattress. What would happen, she wondered guiltily, if he were to barge in and discover she’d been prying into the most intimate corners of his life?

“Anna?” His voice had become more insistent, though still very low to avoid waking the children. She scrambled to her feet, pattered across the rug and opened the bedroom door. Last night she had nearly given him what his wife had withheld. Was that why he had returned?

His massive frame loomed above her in the darkness. “We need to talk,” he said.

Anna’s heart fluttered, then dropped like a wounded bird. “Yes, I suppose we do.” She slipped out of the room and closed the door softly behind her. She knew all too well what would happen if they tried to have a conversation in bed. And the subtle tightening of his jaw told her that he knew it, too.

“Did you give up on the bobcat?” she asked as he followed her across the kitchen and out onto the moonlit porch.

“Wasn’t the bobcat I was worried about.” Malachi closed the door and lowered his long body to the edge of the porch. “After the scare Doubtful gave him, I don’t think he’ll bother us for a while. But now that Sam’s riled I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak back down the trail and carry off a thing or two. I’ve seen how he treats people he doesn’t like.”

His words tightened the knot of fear in Anna’s stomach, but she chose to ignore it for now. “I thought maybe it was me you were avoiding,” she said lightly, settling herself a few inches away and drawing her knees up under the loose flannel body of the nightshirt.

Malachi’s breath caught. “Let’s not even get into that,” he rumbled. “You’re leaving. As far as I’m concerned that cancels all contracts between us. So you’ve no call to wonder about my claiming my husbandly rights. It’s not going to happen.”

“Of course it isn’t.” She glanced at him, remembering Elise’s disturbing journal entry. How could any woman refuse this big, strong, stubborn, tender man? she wondered. If she had been in Elise’s place, the house would be overflowing with children by now.

“You said you came here under false pretenses.” His words cut into her reverie. “Since I paid your way here, I think the least you owe me is an explanation.”

“You weren’t exactly honest yourself,” she parried. “Carrie told me about how her grandparents were trying to take her and Josh away from you. That’s something I should have learned from you.”

He stiffened beside her. “How the devil did she—” He broke off, his shoulder’s sagging as he exhaled. “Never mind. She’s a smart little girl. And no, I didn’t tell you. Seemed to be no point in it after we met, and I realized you weren’t the woman I expected, let alone the woman I needed to convince those starch-shirted vultures my children were getting proper care.”

“I see.” Anna stared into the darkness, struggling to ignore the sting of his honest words. The late-night breeze was cool on her hot face, the moon now low above the western towers of the canyon. Bats darted and dipped above the willows, hunting the insects that swarmed along the riverbank.

“So when will the people from the Children’s Aid Society be showing up?” she asked.

“Any day now. You know how uncertain travel can be in this country.”

“So there’s not time for you to bring in a more, uh,
respectable
wife? One who doesn’t look like she spends the night hours singing in saloons or maybe worse?”

“Damn it, I didn’t say that. Worst thing is, I don’t know if it would make any difference. Whoever the court sends from Santa Fe is bound to be prejudiced in favor of Elise’s parents. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell they’ll find in my favor.”

“So what are you going to do?” Anna asked, aching for him.

“I don’t know.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “Lord help me, Anna, I don’t know. My whole reason for living will be gone if I lose those two youngsters.”

He hunched his shoulders and fell into a long silence. Anna could sense the pain in him, the gnawing, desperate anxiety. What had she done to this man and to his children? Maybe if she hadn’t answered the advertisement and charmed the socks of Stuart Wilkinson, the lawyer would have chosen another woman—the right woman—to make this journey and become Malachi’s wife.

She had to help him now. After what she had done, she owed him that much.

Her hand stole upward and settled gently on his shoulder. She felt him shudder beneath her touch, like a wild stallion flinching at human contact. “There’s got to be a way,” she said. “We just have to find it.”

“We?” His eyes sparked like flints in the darkness. “Since when did my children and I become your concern?”

“That’s not a fair question.” Her hand slid off his shoulder and dropped to her lap. A cloud had slipped over the moon, leaving the canyon cloaked in deep-black shadows.

“I thought we’d agreed that you were leaving,” he said.

“I thought so, too. But I’m here, Malachi, and I care enough about your children to want what’s best for them.”

Malachi sat as still and as silent as one of the massive stone pillars that rose out of the canyon floor. An eternity seemed to pass before he coughed slightly, then spoke.

“One thing I grant you,” he said. “You’ve got an unholy talent for turning any conversation away from yourself!”

“Is that a compliment?” She feigned a lighthearted little laugh.

“Take it any way you want. But I’m wise to you, Anna, and you’re not getting away with it again. I want to know who you are, where you came from and what you’re doing here.” His iron-hard hand shot out and locked around her wrist. “And you’re not going anywhere until I have my answers.”

Malachi watched her, gauging her response to his demand. Her features, like cast pewter in the cloud-veiled moonlight, had not altered their expression at all. Even the sinewy flesh of her wrist, where his hand gripped it, remained taut and cool. He had held this woman in his arms and felt her turn to molten flame at his touch, Malachi reminded himself. But now she was ice.

“Well?” he asked, probing impatiently.

“What difference could it make?” She gazed toward the river, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I’ll be gone one of these days, and suddenly nothing we did or talked about will be important anymore. In time, you won’t even be able to picture my face. I’ve already told you more than you need to know. Why should I bare more of my dark little secrets?”

“Because you’re my wife,” Malachi said quietly.

“Your wife!” She swung around to face him then, eyes blazing. “I’m not your wife, Malachi Stone! We may have signed a legal contract, but that doesn’t make us truly married! I’m no more wife to you than one of those mules out there in the corral!”

She strained upward and might have sprung to her feet and gone storming into the house if he had not kept his grip on her arm. “We could change that,” he said huskily, feeling the heat of desire seeping through his body from the point of contact. “It would be all too easy, you know that as well as I do.”

She glared at him—a mental slap. Then her gaze dropped and her shoulders sagged in dejection. “What is it you really want from me?” she asked.

“The truth. You lied your way into this mess. It’s
going to take you more than lies to get you out of it.”

She tightened her jaw, pressing her lips together. In the silence, Malachi was aware of the dog slipping up beside him, nosing his free hand. The moon had emerged from the cloud, bathing the canyon in silver.

“So, what are you going to do if I won’t tell you anything,” she challenged him, “twist my arm off?”

Malachi released her wrist. “You’re the stubbornest damned women I ever met!” he exploded.

Anna laughed softly, sensually, in the darkness. “Thank you. I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malachi. You’re not very free with compliments, you know.”

“Take it any way you like,” he muttered, thrown by the sudden change in her demeanor.

“Truce?”

He blinked, still reeling, then forced himself to shrug. “What the hell. All right, truce it is.”

“Done!” She edged a little closer to him, her loose hair brushing his shoulder. “We’ve no time to lose,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “As I see it, if you want to keep your children, you’ve got two choices. You can hustle me out of here now, and take your chances alone,
or
you can swallow your manly pride and allow me to stay here and help you.”

“Help me?” He stared at her gloomily, feeling as if he were about to step over the edge of a precipice. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“By putting on a performance that will rival anything on the New York stage!” Her eyes danced in the moonlight. Malachi willed his own responses to slow to the pace of cold tar on a winter morning. He
could not afford to let himself get caught up in a frenzy of false hope—especially over any scheme that involved Anna.

“Well?” She was gazing openly at him, her head cocked like a curious little bird’s.

He allowed himself time to breathe. “You are a devil of an actress,” he said. “Having seen you perform, I’ll grant you that.”

“I’ve had to be. It’s a matter of survival.” Her features dropped into shadow for a moment, but when she looked up, the bright mask was in place once more. “Now, how long can you get away with keeping the road blocked?”

“That’s hardly a matter of choice. My livelihood depends on keeping the ferry open. If it’s closed for any length of time, word will get around, and the people who would have crossed here will go around by way of Lee’s.” He scowled, his own thoughts racing. “Working alone, it’ll take me at least another week to clear the slide. But there’s no guarantee it would keep the Children’s Aid people out. In a buckboard, yes, but not if they came on horseback.”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.” Her eyes were alive again, glittering with vitality. “Your children are well behaved and well schooled,” she said. “That much, at least, we won’t have to stage. As for the rest…”

She glanced around at the moonlit yard and the corral, the barn and coop, the ramada and the garden, and finally back at the house. Malachi could guess what she must be thinking. The place had gone to rack and ruin since Elise’s death. It had been all he could do to run the ferry and the ranch, maintain the
road and keep his children fed and schooled. There’d been no time to worry about how things might look to outsiders.