Daisies In The Wind (24 page)

Rebeccah traced a finger along his rugged
jaw. Smiling up at him, she wished he would lean down and kiss her
again, and touch her all over and take off all of her clothes and
let her take off all of his ...

“Wolf,” she began, rubbing the tip of her
finger down his jaw, along his neck, letting it lightly caress the
mat of chest hair above his open shirt collar, “I would be so happy
if you would take off all my—

“What in tarnation is going on out here?”

Lying on the grass, they both jumped. Above
them towered Waylon Pritchard. And coming up behind him was Coral
Mae Taggett, with Myrtle Lee Anderson, Nel Westerly, and Chance
Navarro following right behind.

Like a buzzing horde of mosquitoes, Wolf
reflected in no small irritation.

“Goodness,” Rebeccah remarked, letting her
head flop back into the grass so that she was staring straight up
at the sky. “Who invited all of these people?”

“What’s goin’ on here, Wolf?” Waylon
demanded. “Is Miss Rawlings sick or something?”

“I’m drunk, you fool,” Rebeccah muttered
before Wolf could say a word.

Coral Mae Taggett’s pretty green eyes
widened, and then she covered her smiling mouth with her hand. “Can
I get you anything, Miss Rawlings?” she asked solicitously, though
her voice quivered.

“This is a fine kettle of fish,” Myrtle Lee
proclaimed. “Our schoolmarm is inebriated!”

“It’s all my fault, ma’am,” Chance Navarro
spoke up quickly. He flashed his disarming smile at Myrtle Lee,
who, to everyone’s surprise, smiled uncertainly back. “I kept the
lady so busy dancing, she was exceedingly thirsty, and I reckon I
supplied her with wine when it should have been lemonade. Anyone
can see she’s not the type who’s used to liquor. All she had was
two glasses, but I reckon since she’s not used to drinking, it was
too much for her.”

“Maybe you should arrest her, Wolf, for
drunken misconduct,” Nel Westerly said lightly, but there was a
taut undercurrent to her voice, and in the look she threw at
him.

“No!” Rebeccah bolted to a sitting position
at this, panic flooding her face. “Don’t arrest me, Wolf. Promise
me you won’t lock me in that jail cell! I’ve always been terrified
of jails! Bear used to talk about what it was like all the time,
after he spent some time in a New Mexico jail. Wolf, please, you
can’t arrest me!”

“Nobody’s going to arrest you, Rebeccah!”
Wolf told her harshly. But one look at the sheer desperation on her
lovely face and his tone softened. “I’m taking you home, that’s
all.”

“What about me?” Nel asked, her eyes
narrowing as the lawman scooped the limp Miss Rawlings into his
arms.

“I’ll be back directly. Soon as I get Miss
Rawlings safely into bed.”

“Maybe I ought to come with you. With Miss
Rawlings in this condition, you might need a woman’s help.”

“Waylon and I can see her home,” Coral Mae
Taggett interrupted, stepping forward with a shy smile. “Waylon was
her escort tonight, so it’s only right. And besides, I’d like to
help you, Miss Rawlings,” she added quietly.

But Chance Navarro gently eased her aside and
came up to plant himself before Wolf and Rebeccah. “I feel
responsible for this situation,” he said ruefully. He tilted his
head and smiled beguilingly into Rebeccah’s overflushed face.
“Ma’am, it would be my pleasure, and my duty as a gentleman, to see
you safely to your home.”

Rebeccah smiled mistily back at him.

A little silence fell over the crowd gathered
near the tree stump. Then Nel smoothed her skirt.

“You see, Wolf,” she said, with a sweet,
careful smile, “Miss Rawlings has so very many friends. Why don’t
you let Waylon take her home, or this nice gentleman here—”

“Wolf!” Rebeccah announced in a clear, firm
tone. “I want Wolf Bodine to take me home. No one else!”

Myrtle Lee Anderson drew in her breath.
“Hussy!” she gasped.

“Ma’am?” Wolf turned on her coldly, and she
withered a little beneath his steely glance.

“I said Gussy—Gussy Hamilton. She’s waiting
for me inside. If you’ll excuse me ...”

Wolf started toward the buckboard on the
other side of the school building with Rebeccah in his arms. Waylon
and Coral made way for him to pass while Chance Navarro and Nel
watched in silence.

Suddenly Nel gathered her ruffly skirts and
ran after Wolf.

“Don’t bother your head over
me
,”
she cried as he lifted Rebeccah into the rig. “I know Caitlin and
Billy are going home with the Bradys, so you needn’t bother about
them. And I’m certain Clyde Tyler or Mr. Navarro or
some
other gentleman will see me home, so there’s no need at all for you
to hurry back. I certainly wouldn’t want you to drive all the way
back here out of a mere sense of obligation.”

“Nel, I’m sorry,” Wolf began quietly, but she
gave her head a quick shake and then flashed him the famous
Westerly smile that could light up a desert.

“Sure you are. And you’ll be even sorrier
next time you come to call when my pa runs you clear off our
land!”

And she was gone, dashing back inside the
schoolhouse, with Chance Navarro holding open the door.

“Well, I reckon she told
you
,”
Rebeccah commented sagely as she slumped against him in the
buckboard. Her fingers curled around the soft fabric of his shirt.
Warmth and strength emanated from his body. She gave a deep,
contented sigh.

Wolf found he had to keep one arm around her
while he was driving the team to keep her from falling.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re more trouble
than a skunk in a barnyard?” he asked as the horses ambled down the
uneven road.

“Nope. But Bear used to tell me that I had
more mischief in me than a litter of kittens. I think I’d rather be
compared to a kitten than a skunk, Wolf. Couldn’t you think of me
more as a kitten?”

“I reckon.”

“Well, then?” she persisted, her head nestled
against his shoulder.

He could feel her hair softly tickling his
neck.

“Please, don’t ever call me a skunk again.
Skunks smell. It’s a terrible thing to say to a lady. In all my
daydreams about you, you never ever once said I smelled like a
skunk ...”

“I didn’t say it now, either, Rebeccah. I
said ... oh, never mind.”

“Wolf?”

“What is it?”

“Do you really think I smell like a
skunk?”

The buckboard jolted over a rut. His arm
tightened around her as she bounced against him in the seat. He
breathed in the light, tantalizing flower scent of her and felt his
loins growing heavy and hard. “I think you smell like lilacs and
rosewater and the wild violets that grow in the river valleys in
summer.”

“You do?”

“I do. Rebeccah?”

“Hmmm?” Her voice was dreamy.

“What was Fess Jones doing at your
cabin?”

Rebeccah yawned. She felt so comfortable here
in the buckboard with Wolf holding her tight. It was almost as
nice, in a different way, as when he kissed her, but not quite the
same...

“What was he doing there, Rebeccah?”

“Trying to kill me.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t tell him anything about
the deed to the silver mine ... or give him the map ... or ...
anything.”

“Why not?”

“There isn’t any mine. Or any deed. Or any
map.” She snuggled closer. “But he doesn’t believe me. None of them
believe me. You believe me, don’t you, Wolf? I would know if there
was a silver mine. Bear would have told me. It doesn’t exist. Wolf
...

“What?”

“I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“Will you wake me when we get home? I have to
check ... everything. Make sure no one’s there....

“I’ll check for you, Rebeccah,” he said, a
strange tenderness echoing quietly beneath the simple words. “You
don’t have to worry.”

I don’t have to worry. Wolf will check
everything for me. I can sleep ... just this once ... and not
worry....

Wolf glanced down at the lovely woman curled
trustingly against him. She was sound asleep, looking as peaceful
and innocent as a child. Or a kitten.
Damn
. He did not
like feeling the way he was feeling right now about Rebeccah
Rawlings.

It was the last thing in the world he
wanted.

He scowled to himself as the narrow road
leading to the cabin came into view. A short time later the team
drew up before the darkened house. The scudding clouds overhead
parted for a moment, revealing a fuzzy shimmer of moon. In the
feeble light Wolf studied her fine-boned face, noting the sweep of
her eyelashes above delicate cheeks, the spill of midnight hair as
soft as satin, the way her slender fingers curled against his
arm.

Something twisted painfully inside him.

He gathered her in his arms and carried her
to the house.

Rebeccah roused herself when he set her down
across the bed. As Wolf lit the candle on the bureau, she struggled
up on her elbows, trying to get her bearings. A little glow of
light, and then shadows flickered softly in the room, and she could
make out his commanding form only a few feet away. She blinked. Her
brain was still fuzzy. A light, giddy feeling still floated through
her. The blue lace curtains fluttered at the window, anchoring her
somehow despite the shifting haze.

“You’re home.” His strong, calm voice came to
her with a ring of quiet comfort, and she relaxed.

“Home, home on the range,” she began to sing
softly, off-key.

“What am I going to do with you?” he
growled.

That stopped her. She threw him a dazzling
smile. “Wolf,” she said. Her voice was low, soft, eager.

He stood over her, every bit as tense as she
was dreamy.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“You’re perfectly safe, Rebeccah. I’ve
checked the cabin. You’ve got a derringer under your pillow,
loaded, but I suppose you know that.”

“Mmm-hmm. But ... I’m still dizzy. I couldn’t
hit a barn with a peashooter,” she whispered, reaching for his
hand.

He hesitated. Her slim fingers clutching his
triggered a sharp reaction deep in his gut. “I’ll bring you some
coffee.”

“No!” She gripped his hand tighter and sat up
so quickly, the room leaped wildly before her giddy eyes. “Don’t
leave me,” she said breathily, her voice catching in her throat.
“Not yet. Just sit here for a little while so I can sleep and feel
... safe. It’s been so long since I felt safe.”

“Why, Rebeccah?” He sat down on the bed,
enclosing her hand in his. With his other hand he stroked her hair.
Each little movement of his fingers seemed to calm her, and that
realization played havoc with his insides. “Because of the men who
are after the silver mine?”

“Yes. But they can’t get to me when you’re
here. Not even Neely Stoner....”

“Who’s he?”

Her eyes were wide. “A very bad man. One of
Bear’s gang—until Bear kicked him out.”

“Why did he do that?”

This question penetrated her haze. He saw
those enchanting violet eyes struggle to focus. She peered into his
face as if wondering how much she could tell him, how much she
could trust him, and her fingers clung to his with a frantic
need.

“Because of what he did to me,” she
whispered. Suddenly she sat up and gripped his shoulders in her
slender hands. “Don’t ask me any more, Wolf,” she begged. “I can’t
talk about it. Just promise that you’ll stay tonight, just stay
with me.”

“Hush, Rebeccah, I’m staying.”

A glorious smile was his reward. She moved
shyly against him and nestled her head upon his broad chest. “Thank
... you,” she said with a sigh.

Wolf sat there a long time, holding her,
feeling her womanly softness against him, listening to the hushed
rhythm of her breathing. She felt so fragile and vulnerable in his
arms.

What had Neely Stoner done to her?

He knew the answer, knew it instinctively,
without her putting it into words. He remembered her panic when
he’d fallen on top of her that day the water had spilled,
remembered the stark terror in her eyes.

Rape.

He stroked her hair, trying to take in the
brutality she’d known, trying to obliterate it from her with the
gentleness of his touch. And all the while a deadly rage took hold
within him. The thought that she had been hurt, not only hurt but
viciously brutalized, made him feel as if he’d been pummeled in the
stomach until all the breath was knocked out of him. And it made
him want to kill. Wolf hadn’t felt that way in a long time. He
killed in his line of work now and then, when it was necessary,
when there was no other way, but he took no pleasure from it and
never had. There was no meanness in Wolf Bodine, not an ounce of
cruelty. He valued life and respected death. He took neither
lightly. But if he ever got his hands on Neely Stoner ...

As Rebeccah gave a little whimper, Wolf
realized that he’d unconsciously dug his fingers into her flesh. He
forced himself to relax, ran his hands soothingly over her back,
and turned his thoughts away from what had been done to her.

When he realized she had fallen asleep, he
lowered her down upon her pillow. She curled innocently on her
side, one knee drawn up beneath the peach gown. He thought about
removing the dress for her, but figured he’d better not. It was
twisted around her long legs and her hips, fully revealing the
sumptuous curves of her body. His gaze lingered on the provocative
swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric, then shifted to the
rounded curve of her buttocks.

Wolf smiled appreciatively. Beneath that
cold, thorny go-to-hell exterior Rebeccah Rawlings was a hungrily
passionate, adorably romantic woman. Whatever Neely Stoner had done
to her miraculously had not destroyed her feminine instincts or
desires. Having kissed her thoroughly, he knew that for a fact. She
was passionate all right—not to mention delectably lovely. She’d
come a long way from that scrawny kid in Arizona who’d spit in his
face and tried to claw his eyes out.