After the Thunder (6 page)

At that moment, she turned and saw him, lifted her chin, and gave him that same cold look she had used on him when she walked into the dining room at Tall Pine. His loins stirred and began to ache.

She was challenging him. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was challenging him—of course, she had
picked him out of all the men at the table last night in a heartbeat—and it was a challenge that no man, certainly not Jacob Charley, could refuse.

His breath came faster. He could not wait to get that little jade alone in the dark. Yes, oh yes! One time with him, and she’d forget every other man she’d ever known.

He settled his coat more evenly across his shoulders, touched the tie at his throat to make sure it was straight, and strolled toward her.

“Miss Chisk-Ko,” he said. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

She tilted her head and gave him an intriguing smile. A smile that held a lot of promise.

But damn it, the other members of the family were climbing out of the carriage and gathering around her. Jacob greeted them and visited with as much good humor as he could muster even though his blood was heating fast. He could go a long way toward getting her ready to bed if he could talk to her alone for a while.

And he wasn’t going to worry about the fact she was under Chief Tay Nashoba’s protection, either. This was a girl who was accustomed to taking care of herself; everything about her manner proclaimed that as a fact. Tay would never tell it, but Jacob would bet good money that a certain wild streak in her was the reason she was here. After all, she was twenty or more years old, and, from what he’d heard, Texas had a whole lot more men than women, so why wasn’t she married by now?

He turned to Emily, determined to hurry the rest of them along and keep Cotannah behind with him.

“Are you here to get your supplies at Brown’s, Miss Emily? If you’d like, I’ll be glad to send my freight driver with a light wagon to haul your purchases home for you.”

“Thank you, Jacob,” she said, “but that won’t be necessary.”

She shifted the wiggly baby to her other arm and glanced up at his new building.

“I’m glad to see that the workmen are about to finish your new building,” she said, examining it intently. “Didn’t you say last night that the bricks have arrived?”

“Yes. And I got word that the bricklayers will be here today or tomorrow.”

“Tay is so pleased that Wiley Stewart has started that brickyard at Durant’s Station,” she said, “and that you’re using brick made right here in the Nation for the first brick building in Tuskahoma.”

“I’m glad that pleases Tay.”

Actually, he could not care less what would please Tay Nashoba, but he did want to keep on friendly terms with him so he could have whatever influence possible on the Principal Chief. It’d be foolish to think that the Chief would ever side with him against Olmun, though—Tay thought the old man hung the moon.

“Tay mentioned it before we retired last night,” Emily said. “He would have said so to you at supper but there just seemed to be so much going on. We had quite a lot of lively talk, didn’t we?”

She was smiling and speaking lightly, but in her own sweet way she was reproving him for causing the contretemps at her table. There was no doubt about it. He’d been right to think that word of it would eventually reach Olmun and that he would then hear a much stronger rebuke.

“Please do forgive me, Miss Emily,” he said, in his most gallant manner. “I’m afraid feelings at supper may have run a little high last evening because of the stimulation of having the attention of so many beautiful ladies
as yourself and Miss Cotannah and you, dear Aunt Ancie.”

He sketched an apologetic little bow toward the prune-faced old lady, but she never cracked so much as a ghost of a smile in return. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a teasing grin on Cotannah’s full lips. She would love nothing more than for Ancie to take him to task, it said, and she loved knowing that she had had the power, simply by her presence, to stir the men into controversy—for she knew full well he had meant only her when he’d named them all.

Conceited little minx. Surely, in a few moments, he could get rid of the rest of them and get her off to himself. But even Uncle Jumper was sticking like glue, looking Jacob up and down as if he were a horse for sale.

“Lonely bachelors like me and Mr. Phillips aren’t accustomed to having such beauty in every direction we look.”

“Well, don’t you worry now,” Emily said, leaning forward to let the baby go into Ancie’s uplifted arms. “You’ll be getting used to it because Cotannah is with us for an extended visit.”

“I’m truly happy to hear that.” For once, he did, indeed, mean what he said. He gave Emily a warm smile, then turned to look into Cotannah’s laughing eyes. Generously, he smiled at her, too—she wouldn’t be laughing at him long once he got that luscious body of hers beneath his.

“I believe I promised you a tour of our new premises, Miss Cotannah.”

He offered her his arm.

“You did, indeed, Mr. Charley, and we are
all
of us looking forward to seeing the first brick building in Tuskahoma before it actually dons its bricks.”

Smiling mischievously, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. So. This was the game she was playing this morning—tantalizing him but not letting him get her alone. Whetting his appetite was what she was doing, and well she knew it. Her laughing dark eyes said that she knew he knew it, too, and she loved having him in her power.

The expression in those big eyes would be different when he had her in his power.

“Isn’t that right, Emily?” she said sweetly.

“Oh, yes, we would all love to see your new place,” Emily said, beaming at Cotannah for behaving so circumspectly.

Poor Emily, little did she know!

And poor Jacob, come to think of it—with his trap all set and no chance to spring it! Oh no! Plus the fact that William would bring that gibbering fool of a false shaman over here at any moment, and then Jacob would be competing for Cotannah’s attention again just like last evening! What a cruel turn of events!

But there was no hope for it; they were moving slowly along the front of the building, surrounding him, making him a prisoner in their midst. Losing this perfect chance to attack the woods rat and having to behave politely to the idiot would make him really angry if he let himself think about it, but that would never do. Somehow, he had to turn this situation to his advantage.

“Miss Emily, we were speaking a moment ago about our unfortunate abuse of your hospitality yesterday evening,” he said, “and I want to apologize to you again. You might be happy to know that just before you arrived I asked my carpenter, William Sowers, to go across the street to Brown’s and bring Walks-With-Spirits over here so that I could make sure that there are no hard feelings between us.”

Cotannah’s fingers tightened on his arm. She probably wanted him to look at her, to talk to her instead of to Emily. Good. It was gratifying to know that she was jealous.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re going to talk to Walks-With-Spirits, Jacob,” Emily said, her voice trembling with pure sincerity. “Our People are so divided right now about so many things that it’s great you’re making peace with him.”

She smiled up at him. Emily was a pretty woman, but she couldn’t hold a candle to Cotannah.

“I’m eager to see these bricks that are made here in the Nation,” Cotannah said, restlessly beginning to walk faster in spite of Jacob’s slow pace.

“There, you little wiggle-worm,” Ancie said tartly, as she bent over to set the fretting little girl on the ground. “You go. Carry your own self, then.”

The baby ran toddling ahead as Jacob escorted them around the corner of the store. The wind was growing stronger, and it blew around the building in swirling gusts, pulling at Cotannah’s hair and lifting her skirts. How he wished he was out there in front of her so he could look up them!

“Well, Miss Cotannah,” he said heartily, “right there you can see our Choctaw-made bricks from Durant’s Station.”

He led the way toward a stack of bricks resting on the ground, staying away from the scaffolding where he had set the trap for his enemy. The board wouldn’t dump the bricks without being tipped or moved somehow, but there was no sense taking any chances.

“These look just as professionally made as any other bricks I’ve ever seen,” Cotannah said playfully.

She let go of his arm, turned, and walked a few steps so she could see the full height of the new building.

“This is going to be a fine mercantile, indeed,” she said.

He hardly heard her. All he could do was look at her and clench his fists to keep himself from walking up behind her and setting his hands on each side of that tiny waist of hers. His palms itched, his fingers ached to close around her—they could easily span her waist, easily, that and do so much more …

The next instant she glanced over her shoulder, but not at him, at the baby. The air was filled with the little girl’s screams and he turned to see that the wind had taken her bonnet, was carrying it away from her, keeping it just beyond her reach. She screeched at the top of her lungs and ran after it, bobbling and stumbling, but never slowing, totally heedless of scattered boards and piles of sand, kegs of nails, and all the other construction clutter.

“Sophie, watch where you’re going!” Cotannah cried.

She grabbed up her skirts in both hands and ran toward the child, covering the ground that separated them faster than he would have believed possible. Ancie and Jumper were hobbling behind her, and Emily ran a little ahead of them.

“Be careful, darling,” she cried, “slow down so you won’t fall on something that will hurt you!”

He looked for the baby again and his heart leapt up into his throat. Then, he, too, began to run toward her. The bonnet had caught on the scaffolding, high up, too far for her to reach, and she was grasping the leg of it with both hands, now, trying to climb up to get it.

The stack of bricks he had fixed to be too high and unstable was starting to teeter and sway. Cotannah glanced up and Emily screamed, a hair-raising, desperate sound.

He went cold all over, then hot. No! No! He had set
that trap for the woods rat, not for the baby of the Principal Chief! If she was hurt or killed, he and his mercantile both would bear a stigma forever, and Tay Nashoba, who had never given Jacob the respect that he gave to Olmun, would never forgive him even though it would be just a terrible accident.

The thought made him pick his feet up higher, ready to call out.

Too late. Cotannah ran into the space where the bricks would fall. He ran faster.

The wind was moving the large branches of the sycamores now, setting them swaying, knocking one of them against the opposite end of the board that held the stack of bricks. Damn it all to an eternal hell—it would be Cotannah who’d be killed!

Bricks began to fall, fast, hard. One of them, two of them, looked to be striking the child, others rained down on Cotannah, who was grabbing for her.

Then out of nowhere, a blurred figure streaked into sight from the opposite side of the building, coming at a noiseless run. A man. Braids streaming behind him.

And it was over while Jacob was still a half dozen yards away: the man reached Cotannah, who had just picked up the baby. He bent his head beneath the onslaught of flying bricks and pulled them both into his arms without ever slowing his pace. Then he hurtled sideways out from underneath the scaffold, whirling in a circle to keep his balance as he straightened up. Through some miracle he stayed on his feet and kept running to the shelter of the trunk of the big sycamore.

Underneath its swaying limbs, Walks-With-Spirits, Cotannah, and the baby stood safe, wrapped in each other’s arms.

A rage exploded inside Jacob, a rage more murderous than any he had ever felt in his life. The man was a
witch, he did have evil powers, for he had taken the trap Jacob had set and had turned it against him, had used it to make a huge fool of him!

He forced his legs to move faster. If he didn’t hurry up he would look even more foolish because even the two crippled-up old ones would also get there before him. How would Cotannah look at him now? She had saved the baby, that wicked witch had saved her, and he, Jacob Charley, had done nothing but stand with his mouth hanging open, watching. He would be a laughingstock throughout the Nation and beyond it, even among the whites!

The panic that Cotannah always felt when any man’s arms first surrounded her still didn’t come, not even after they’d stopped against the trunk of the tree and she knew no one was hurt. Walks-With-Spirits was holding her trapped against him with muscles that flexed hard as iron ropes across her back, but she felt safe, completely safe, instead of scared.

Yet why wouldn’t she? He had just snatched her from death. Her and Sophia.

“I thought this baby was going to die right in front of my eyes,” she said, barely able to catch enough breath to talk to him past Sophia’s curly head. “Then I thought we’d been snatched up by a … tornado. You’re … as strong as one.”

Walks-With-Spirits smiled, the light burning in his eyes warming her like a fire. Then her gaze drifted down to his mouth and stayed there, on his lips. His mouth was so sensual, so lush when he smiled!

Suddenly that feeling came over her again that she’d had out in the road, that tantalizing sensation that she knew him somehow. From somewhere. But she would
have remembered, she couldn’t have forgotten, if he had ever looked at her this way before.

“If I’m strong as a tornado, then you’re brave as an eagle,” he said. “You dived into a
hard
rain to save this little one.”

“Those were the biggest hailstones I’ve ever seen.”

They both laughed.

Sophia began to struggle between them, but Walks-With-Spirits paid her no mind—he didn’t loosen his grip one bit.

“If … you weren’t holding … us, I’d drop … her,” Cotannah gasped. “My arms feel … weak as water. They’re shaking.”

He nodded and tightened his hold on her.

“I won’t let you fall,” he said. “Nor the little one.”