Christine Dorsey (40 page)

Jake fired.

For an instant, like a picture frozen in time, Moore stared at Jake. His expression, the straight-shouldered posture of his body, belied the blossom of crimson spreading across his shirtfront. Then he looked toward Samantha and slumped forward in the saddle. Before Jake could reach him, Moore slid to the ground and a riderless horse pranced into the night.

Jake glanced around and saw Samantha staring down at the rumpled heap on the barn floor.

“Samantha,” he called softly. With a shudder, Samantha dropped the gun and walked into Jake’s open arms.

“He laughed about hanging my father,” she sobbed into Jake’s shirt. “He laughed about Will and he said he’d kill me too.”

“I know.” Jake’s arms tightened around her. “But it’s over. It’s all over now.”

~ ~ ~

But it wasn’t over and Jake knew it even before Seth reminded him that the army would be coming along soon. He’d worn a gun... killed two men with it. And Lieutenant Farrow had made it very clear what would happen if he caught him with a gun.

“I’ll talk to him,” Samantha pleaded when her neighbors were resting around a small campfire and she and Jake had walked out of earshot. “Maybe he’ll listen to me.”

“And do what?” Jake turned and cradled her shoulders. “Give me a reprimand and say it better not happen again.” He shook his head. “Hell, Samantha, that’s the best that can happen.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t live like that. I was leaving anyway. Now I know you really are safe.” He let his hands drop.

Dawn was just breaking across the Missouri countryside and he expected to see a column of bluecoats coming up the road any minute.

“Where will you go?” She shouldn’t question him, Samantha knew that. He was leaving and there was nothing she could do about it. But oh, it was hard.

“I don’t know.” Jake untied his horse.

“Jake.” She rushed into his arms and returned the kiss he gave her with all the passion she could. With all the love and desire she felt for him. He held her close a moment longer, then moved away.

Without another word, he mounted and rode out of her life.

L
ast night’s frost clung to the browned blades of grass growing by the porch steps. Samantha wrapped her shawl more tightly about her shoulders and scattered the grain in a wide, graceful arc. The chickens flocked around their feed and Samantha stood watching them fluster and peck about, her mind far away.

But soon the creeping morning chill coupled with the warmth promised by the smoking stove pipe enticed her inside. She shivered, then moved toward the stove after hanging up her wrap. Holding out her hands, Samantha waited for the heat radiating from the iron surface to warm her.

But she didn’t think it would do any good.

She was empty inside, and cold. And nothing, not the extra quilt at night, or the late autumn sunshine that seemed to warm everything around her, did any good.

Samantha sighed as she brewed herself some tea. Another futile attempt to escape the chill inside her. Today she’d do laundry and clean out the cabin.

Maybe if there was daylight left after that, she’d black the stove, and then maybe...

Samantha sipped her drink and paused. There was only so much a body could do in one day, even if they were trying to stay busy. And that was definitely what Samantha was doing. Trying to keep herself so busy that she had no time to think.

“Sam!”

Will’s voice made her glance toward the door moments before her brother and Charity blustered in. The splints were off his leg, and each day he favored it less. Will set his pail of frothy milk on the dry sink and shrugged out of his jacket. “Looks good,” he said before pulling out a chair and settling down at the table for breakfast.

He scooped a forkful of fried potatoes into his mouth. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Samantha sat across from him. “I had something earlier!” Not a complete lie, Samantha assured herself. She’d munched on a slice of toasted bread.

Her appetite was gone too.

At first she thought her change in eating habits a result of being with child. It was possible, after all. More than possible, Samantha admitted. And she was pleased at the prospect of having Jake’s child.

Not that it would have been easy... for any of them.

But as it turned out, there would be no child. It was not Jake’s baby but the lack of Jake that took away her appetite and the warmth from her life.

“You sure you don’t want to come along? Loni Nelson said she’d love to see you.”

Samantha looked at Will through the steam rising from her cup. “No, thanks anyway, Will, but I have some things to do.”

“You can’t just stay by yourself all the time, Sam. I miss him too, but—”

Samantha pushed out her chair. “If you’re going to spend the day with the Nelsons, you should get started. I baked you a couple pies to take along.” She settled the pastries into a basket and handed it to Will, adding with a smile on her face, “Have a good time.”

“Sam.” Will drew her name out. He looked at her, his freckle-faced expression one of pity. Pity Samantha couldn’t stand.

She faced him, hands on hips. “What, Will? What would you have me do that I haven’t? Take the corn to be milled?” She’d seen that done. “Fix your meals or mend your clothes?” He couldn’t deny she did those things, or anything else that needed to be done. “Well, Will, what do you want from me?”

“Only to see you happy,” came his quiet reply, and Samantha turned away before Will saw the tears well in her eyes.

Will must have sensed her distress. He picked up the basket and, after giving Samantha’s shoulders an awkward squeeze, grabbed up his coat and reached for the latch. “You going to be all right here alone?”

Samantha blinked back her tears and turned toward her brother, a smile on her face. “Of course, I am.” She settled a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “You have a good time and be home before dark.”

“Aw, Sam.”

“Don’t ‘Aw, Sam’ me, William Lowery.” They were back on familiar ground again and Samantha was pleased that they could tease each other and laugh.

But when she stood on the porch watching him ride away on Pru, his jacket collar turned up under his ears and the basket propped precariously in his lap, she couldn’t help the loneliness that swept over her.

She shook her head and went back in the house, deciding to finish her tea before hauling water up from the creek. But she wasn’t going to sit around and sulk. What she’d said to Will was true. From the very first after Jake had left, she’d accomplished everything that needed to be done.

There were no self-indulgent pouts for her. Will was the one who had to be coaxed out of his surliness... reminded the corn harvest wasn’t complete. He railed against Jake. Then he switched tactics and blamed Samantha for his friend’s leaving. “If you’d asked him to stay...” Will had said. And Samantha had reminded her brother of Lieutenant Farrow’s order about Jake leaving the area.

“Yes, but if you’d—”

“Stop it, Will,” she finally said. “He’s gone and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

Will had grumped around a few more days. Then because there was work to be done, and because for the first time since her father died, the neighbors had come to help, he snapped out of it.

Will seemed to be over the worst of his disappointment about Jake leaving. Oh, he still talked about his friend, wondering what Jake was doing now, where he was. And he practiced on the harmonica constantly.

Jake had given it to Samantha for Will before he rode away. Something to remember him by.

But where Will had something tangible, Samantha had only memories and the awful suspicion that maybe she could have done something so that she’d still be with Jake.

Pushing away from the table, Samantha carried her cup to the dry sink. She was
not
going to succumb to melancholy. She hadn’t asked him to stay. She hadn’t begged Jake to take her along. And that was that.

If she knew where he was, maybe she’d do something about it. But she didn’t. Texas was a big place. And life went on. Her shoulders squared, her chin raised, Samantha reached for the bucket.

The footsteps on the porch scared her all the more because she hadn’t noticed anyone riding up. Instinct made her grab for the musket over the mantle. She aimed it toward the door just as someone lifted the latch. Samantha’s heart thudded and her palms were damp.

The door swung open.

“Good Lord, Samantha! You’re not going to shoot me again, are you?”

“Jake!” She lowered the gun and her hand fluttered to her throat.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Samantha looked as if she’d seen a ghost and he guessed he was about the last person she expected to see come through her door. Hell, this was the last place he expected to be again. That was till about a week ago.

At the time he was heading south, down through Texas, thinking he’d left Samantha Lowery in his past... where she belonged.

“May I come in?” Jake finally asked after he’d stood in her doorway for what seemed like forever. Not that he really minded because it was wonderful just seeing her again. Her golden hair was brushed back and caught in a blue ribbon that matched her eyes. Eyes he’d seen in every cerulean sky since he rode away.

But as much as he enjoyed studying her, her short, straight nose, the full bow of her bottom lip, the peach perfection of her silky skin, he hadn’t backtracked all this way just to look.

“Oh.” Samantha finally found her voice. “Oh yes, come in.” She set the musket back over the mantle. “Have you eaten breakfast? Are you hungry?”

“No and no.” Jake removed his hat, combing fingers back through his hair. When he noticed her lift her brow in question, he explained, “No, I haven’t eaten. But I’m not hungry either.”

This last statement caused her brow to arch higher. Jake chuckled. “I guess you have a hard time believing that, don’t you?”

“That you’re not hungry?” Samantha smiled. “It is a bit unusual.”

Jake couldn’t agree more. But when he’d risen at dawn to finish the last leg of his journey back, food had been the farthest thing from his mind. It still was.

“How about some coffee, then... or tea. I could just—”

“No, nothing.” Jake measured his hands around the battered brim of his felt hat. Now that he was here, he was nervous. “Do you suppose we could talk some?” Talking wasn’t really what he wanted to do either. But she wasn’t exactly throwing herself into his arms like she did in all the dreams he’d had about this moment.

“Talk?” Samantha realized she sounded like she didn’t understand the meaning of the word. She nodded, her hand indicating the table. “Of course,” she answered calmly, though her mind was racing. Now was her chance to say all the things she hadn’t said to him before. But first she’d find out what he was doing here.

“Didn’t you like Texas?”

Jake sat down across the corner of the table from her. He was close enough to smell her fragrance, a scent that had haunted him for the long weeks he’d been gone. “It was all right. Big,” he added. “But I didn’t get down to the southeastern part.”

“You didn’t?” Samantha realized she was staring and tried to look away. But she couldn’t. He was so handsome. His skin was tanned from the sun and that made his eyes look all the more clear, like the creek on a spring day.

“I ran into a wagon of settlers heading west. One of the boys had been accidentally shot while he and his brothers were hunting.” Jake glanced down at his hands, then back up at Samantha. “I stayed with them awhile.”

Samantha nodded, trying not to smile. “Is he all right?”

“The boy? Yeah, he’s fine... Anyway, when I left the Harrisons—that was their name—I started back to Kansas.”

“Why?” Samantha’s heart was pounding, and when her head felt light, she remembered to breathe.

Jake gathered Samantha’s hands in his. They were cold and he smiled, thinking how he’d enjoy warming her up. “Samantha,” he began. “I’ve made some mistakes in my life. And I’ve blamed myself for some that were beyond my control.” He took a deep breath, not at all sure how she’d feel about what he had to say next. “But the biggest mistake I ever made was leaving here.”

“We’re doing all right, you know, Will and I.” It suddenly occurred to her that he might feel responsible for their well-being. He had before. He’d stayed when he wanted to move on because he thought she and Will needed him. And he was a caring man. She knew that about him.

“I’m glad for you,” Jake said, hoping it was the truth. He couldn’t help feeling a little put out that she didn’t seem to need him anymore.

“Yes. Seth Nelson organized some neighbors to assist with getting our corn to the mill.” Her voice trailed off. “Everyone’s been wonderful.”

“Does that everyone include Lieutenant Farrow?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He sounded jealous—the last thing he wanted to do. And by the confused expression on her face, she noticed it.

Jake didn’t know what he expected from his return—hell, yes he did. He expected... wanted her to fall in his arms and tell him how much she’d missed him. That she couldn’t live without him. Because, damnit, that’s how he felt about her.