Authors: Rebecca Paisley

The Barefoot Bride (50 page)

BOOK: The Barefoot Bride

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Chickadee. Her face, form, voice, and personality flooded through him. She was so real to him at that moment, he felt he could reach out and touch her.

His head snapped up. Dammit, what the hell was he doing? If she were here, she'd be cursing him up and down for not defending himself. She wouldn't want him to die! Even now she was probably looking down from heaven, screaming for him to get up and save himself!

He vaulted to his feet. Her image lending strength to his body, his love for her like a shield in his hand, he whirled and faced the bear, damning Hagen for running away with his guns.

Running away with his guns
. Just as the skittish steed had done once before... The memory of that day came crashing back to Saxon, so clear in his mind he could have sworn he saw a flash of red in the rhododendron thicket beside him—just as he had that day. Just as he—

He had no time to finish reliving the memory. The bear was suddenly upon him, its horrible teeth shining with spittle, its black eyes glowing with rage, its bone-chilling roar echoing in Saxon's ears. In one swift motion, it reached out its enormous arms toward Saxon.

Saxon's scream was echoed by the explosion of gunfire. He fell on his back with a horrible thud, but felt no pain. None. The bear must have killed him, he thought. At the very least, he knew then that he must be close to dying. Vaguely, as he lay there in his final death throes, he felt the ground begin to shake beneath him again. Death was running to come get him. He closed his eyes to the blinding rays of the sun, and when he did, a shadow fell over him.

His heart skipped several beats. He didn't have to open his eyes to know whose shadow it was. In his mind, he saw her standing above him. Her eyes, as green as the emerald mountain forests and set in a sweet freckled face, were surely peering down at him. And then Saxon smiled when he envisioned her hair.

Wildly flowing tresses that were sort of red, sort of orange, and sort of gold.

"Saxon, iffen you had any more sense'n what you got, you
still
wouldn't be a half-wit! Are you plumb bereft, a-settin' thar a-waitin' fer that bahr—"

"Keely." Her name left an ambrosial flavor in his mouth as it slipped through his lips. Slowly, savoring the moment, he opened his eyes and saw her. He'd known seeing her again would be wonderful, but he was unprepared for the full impact her loveliness had on him. He could not find his breath.

"I ain't a-tellin' no lie when I say I was as staggered as a stuck hog when you warn't a-doin' nary a thang to protect yoresef from—"

"Keely," he repeated, tasting her name a second time, smiling when, again, it filled his mouth with sweetness. And then he laughed. This wasn't how he had imagined their reunion! He'd pictured her running through the cool forest, calling his name, her arms outstretched for him. And then he would have caught her when she'd flown into his embrace, held her tightly and twirled her around and around while she rained kisses all over his face, their laughter ringing through the hills.

But this? Lying flat on his back and Chickadee standing above him giving him what for? He gave a great guffaw. When Chickadee was involved, nothing in the world turned out the way it was supposed to.

"You ain't never gwine be nothin' but a outlander, Saxon Blackwell," she charged, and snapped her fingers at Khan, who was licking the dirt from Saxon's face. "Iffen I spend ever' second o' the rest o' my life a-tryin' to larn you how to take keer o' yoresef, it still ain't gwine be enough time."

It was a while before Saxon could speak, for he was mesmerized by the mysterious magic that was hers alone. "I couldn't find you. The Beasleys are gone. I came up here to your special place but still couldn't find you. I was certain you were... dead. I didn't want to go on without you, so when the bear... I was going to let him... but at the last second, I realized you'd want me to live. I couldn't deny you what I knew you would want. I'm... I'm sorry you had to kill the bear."

She regarded him as if she couldn't decide what to do with him. "I done kilt one bahr fer you, and I figgered I could jist skeer that'un offen on account o' he didn't git holt o' you good like that other'un done. 'Pears I was right. The Beasleys moved inter the cabin George Franklin builded fer me. I figgered you and me could build us a cabin of our own, so I let 'em have the new one. Thurs was older'n dirt, y'know. And me? Well, I been a-stayin' at ole Misery's place. Misery, God rest his contrary soul, set his bucket down whilst I was up thar in Boston."

How he'd missed her lilting voice, her beautiful mountain dialect, Saxon thought as he listened. "Keely, didn't you know I was here?"

"I knowed it the second that dumb ridin' critter o' yores set hoof on this mountain,"

"Then why did you let me look for you for so long?"

"I warn't gwine to, but when I heared you say you was gwine wrang my neck, I decided to let you suffer fer a while. I don't take too kindly to neck-wrangin' y'know."

His arms ached for her to fill them. But he restrained himself. He had much to apologize for. "I followed my string," he told her sheepishly. "I brought Desdemona too. Keely, I was a fool. I—"

"Was born ignert and been a-losin' ground ever since? Saxon, it's a dang good thang you come back to me. Yore jist as helpless as you allus was. You cain't mem'ry to keep yore gun with you, you let bahrs sneak up on you, and you cain't lie worth a God-burn dang."

She knelt beside him and slid her cool palm against his warm cheek. "I was mighty pained that night when you tole me all them mean thangs. Went downstairs and cried nigh on a hour afore it come to me you was a-lyin'. I don't know how I knowed, really, but I suspicion...
suspect
it was love that maked me see the truth. I knowed then that the onliest way to make you see that life ain't worth a dang withouten love was to take love away from you. Y'knowed what love was, but y'didn't have enough faith in it, Saxon. You trusted yore brain more'n yore heart, and you shouldn't orter never do that."

"But how could you have been so certain I would follow? That I would see and understand the message on the quilt?"

"Thur warn't no way I could be shore and sartin. I had my worries, and some days come when I had to force mysef to keep on a-hopin'. I tuk the biggest lay o' my life a-leavin' you to foller me, but I reckon I won it. I was a-playin' the game with love, and when you got love? Well, you allus win no matter the odds. I knowed Desi was gwine be in low cotton over thangs the way they was, and I knowed you'd try to hep her afore the pearly gates swang wide fer her. I figgered you'd see the quilt then, on account o' she don't never go nowhars withouten it. And once you seed it? Well, I knowed love was gwine hep you unnerstand that I was here a-waitin' on you.

"I coulda tried to explain it all to you, Saxon," she continued softly. "I knowed Desi was gwine keep up with them weary dismals o' hers in Boston. Knowed you was too. But you had to see them thangs with yore own eyes. I done tole you time and time agin that some thangs are better larnt by yoresef."

Saxon's whole body cried for the girl who lived by that wonderful advice. He took her into his arms and kissed her. Her lips, pliant and warm beneath his, opened for him, offering that for which he had hungered for months. His kiss deepened as he drank in her sweetness and felt again her magic.

"Grandmother... Desdemona... There's so much I have to tell you, little one," he whispered. "After you left—"

"Saxon? I know yore a-settin' in to tell me the whole knock-me-back story. It ain't that I don't want to hear it, but I'm gwine bust my gizzard strang iffen I cain't tell you my news first. Can I?"

He laughed at her request for permission. "Since when do you have to have my approval before you do something?"

"I'm a-settin' on a nest."

At first, her statement didn't register. "What? You mean..."

She smiled in answer, reached for his hand, and laid it across her nicely rounded belly. "We maked us a baby that night you got shed o' all them bad mem'ries, outlander. I tole you to give me all the hatred inside you and that I was gwine take it an' turn it inter love. Reckon that's exactly what I done."

A million questions erupted inside Saxon, yet his muddled mind could not put a single one into proper word sequence. "I... you... we..."

Her peal of laughter rang through the hills. But abruptly, she became serious. "Tell you what, Saxon. You and me can gee and haw clear inter the night, but not here. Ole Lareny Lester—remember I tole you about him a-ownin' this here land? Well, he's liable to come up here and commence a-shootin'. He's already run me and Khan offen more'n a dozen times this month. Ornery ole varmint."

"A baby. A baby," Saxon mumbled, the shock of pending fatherhood robbing him of the rest of his vocabulary. "Well, I'll be damned... a real baby."

"Saxon? You hear what I said about Lareny Lester?"

"Lareny Lester?"

"The feller who—"

"Lareny Lester!" Frantically, Saxon dug into his coat pocket and withdrew an official-looking document. He picked up Chickadee's hand and placed the paper in her palm. "Keely, no one is ever going to run you off this ridge again."

Chickadee didn't know what to look at—the devotion she saw pouring from Saxon's eyes or the document he'd just given her. Finally, she scanned the paper.

It was a land deed, and her name was on it.

"Y'mean...?"

"I do. Your special place is really yours now, Keely. I stopped in Lenoir, found Lareny Lester, and bought it for you. I want to make every dream you've ever had come true, little one. We'll build the God-burnin'est-best cabin you ever laid eyes on right smack in the middle of the place you love most in the world."

Her fingers quivered, the deed shaking in her hand. "Saxon... you jist cain't know how much this means to me." Impatiently, she swiped at her moist eyes before she buried herself in the soothing shelter of his arms.

Saxon held her close said felt his heart burst with the words he'd never told her and would never hold back from her again. "I love you, Keely. I love every single thing about you. And I will never stop loving you, not ever."

Her tears ran freely as the sentiment she'd waited so long to hear filled her with unspeakable joy.

Saxon bent and captured her lips in a kiss that seemed to have no end. His, now and forevermore, was a girl who would never fail to enchant and amaze him. The thought made him grin and turn his eyes toward heaven.

"Yes, may God always see fit to help me, I love you. Chickadee McBride."

The End