Oklahoma kiss (9 page)

      
Adam tossed back his head and laughed heartily "Again, too many dime novels and penny dreadfuls!" he admonished.

      
She was barely able to control her rush of anger. "Oh, be quiet! Go on, get inside the cellar! You've done nothing but make sly and insulting remarks!"

      
His tone was filled with scorn and ridicule, "Yes, ma'am, anything you say."

      
The moment the cellar door was safely locked behind him, Blair lowered the rifle and sighed from relief. Not accustomed to carrying a heavy gun for so long, she doubted if she could have held it,
      
aimed, a second longer. Her heart hammered wildly against her breast as fear and thoughts of what could have happened swept over her like a stormtide.

      
Tillie placed one hand akimbo and wagged a scolding finger at her. "What did Ah tell you, child? Ah told you it was dangerous for a young girl to go off riding alone. Ah warned you 'bout them mean or nesters!"

      
"Yes, Tillie, I know you did," Blair said, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. "But you are wrong about one thing. I don't know what he is . . . but I know he's not a nester." For a moment she could see him in her mind's eye; the way he cocked his head to one side when amused—even though his amusement had been laced with caustic humor, how his eyes narrowed with anger, how his lips tightened in a grim line. No doubt she had seen his ill-tempered attributes and she wondered how he would look clean shaven and in a good mood. Delightful shivers raced over her at that thought. Deep inside her began the fervent hope that he was innocent as he had claimed. There was also a nagging worry that she had pushed him too far, had stripped him of too much pride for him to ever look at her without hate and contempt in his eyes.

      
Sighing wearily, she started for her horse but Tillie stopped her. "Where do you think you are going, child?"

      
"For his horse and gear. The animal is injured and I promised him I would not leave it out there overnight. And there's no use arguing with me about it, my mind is made up."

      
Shaking her head, Tillie shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "Ah'm not about to waste my breath 'cause that's all Ah'd be doing if Ah tried to talk you out of going. 'Sides, Ah haven't lived out here for nigh on to twenty years without knowing an injured animal is easy pickings for the creatures who roam at night. You just be careful and hurry home. Ah'll have supper waiting on you."

      
After the door closed behind him, the cellar became pitch black. Striking a match and lighting the candle located exactly where she told him, Adam made his way over to the lamp and lit it. Within such a dark enclosure, the flickering light cast a warm, amber glow, enabling him to see quite well.

      
Three beds were lined side by side with only a tiny walk space in between. Quilts and blankets had been rolled up and tied, and were lying across the foot of each bed. A scarred table held a set of dominos still scattered about, and above the table was a lantern that could be pulled down for additional light. Shelves on either side of the walls contained many jars of canned food. There was a damp, musty smell in the air even though a flue had been placed in the ceiling for the express purpose of letting fresh air inside. As with all storm cellars in this part of the country, he knew the mustiness came from the red clay soil the land was known for.

      
"Not exactly the comforts of home," Adam muttered aloud, "but I’ve been in worse."

      
Sighing wearily, he sank onto one of the beds and removed his moccasins. Wincing from pain, he stared at his feet, noting that the blisters had popped and his socks were now stained with blood. "Damn!" he grumbled. "If that little . . . heathen hadn't interfered, I could have taken my time getting here and my feet wouldn't be in this bad of shape." He threaded his fingers through his hair. "Damn head hurts too-but not nearly as much as her backside will when I finish with her!"

      
It wasn't so much that Adam blamed the girl for his predicament; if he had not been so careless, she would have never caught him by surprise. But she had humiliated him and that was even worse, because he had a strong opinion about how women should behave, and how they should stay in their place. A woman — regardless if she measured five feet and weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet, or a six-foot Amazon tipping the scales at two hundred pounds — was a delicate creature and a man was supposed to protect her. A woman was lace, silk, and gingham, all rolled into one. A woman had a fresh-baked-bread smell about her. She was a loving mother, she was a songstress whose voice carried sweetly into the night. Granted, a woman living on a farm or ranch was more knowledgeable than a city person. But a real woman did not wear men's trousers, ride astride a horse, talk like a wild-eyed heathen, or brandish a rifle like a man. If that girl had had one ounce of female blood in her, she should have fainted dead away after realizing the danger she was in.

      
Then, a slow smile spread lazily across Adam's face as he recalled her defiance, her bravery—foolish as it was —her iron will and stubbornness. Even he had to admit, if the circumstances had been different, it might have been refreshing to meet a female so full of fire and sassiness. Without a doubt, there was much more to the little girl with the woman hidden—and not very well at that—underneath the dirty face, bad grammar, and tight clothing, and he would like to be around to see the real woman when she revealed herself.

      
Not liking the direction his thoughts were going, Adam gave his head a vigorous shake. "I can't spend my time thinking about that little uncivilized pagan," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I have more important things to do."

      
Knowing his feet needed immediate attention, Adam searched the shelves for something with which to doctor them. Finding a tin of Cloverleaf Salve, and an enamel wash pan, he then carried the bucket of water to the bedside and poured some into the pan before tearing a sheet into strips. After removing his socks, he slowly thrust his feet into the water. The icy shock caused him to wince and suck air between his teeth. With each painful throb, he muttered curse words that only a man should hear, but they were directed at the mere snip of a girl who was miles away collecting his horse and gear.

      
Chapter 6

      
Like a pale blush of pink dotting a woman's cheeks, dawn was stealing slowly across the sky when Blair awoke. Soft sighs of contentment escaped her throat after snuggling into her pillow and deeply breathing the fresh, crisp air that ruffled the curtains at the partially opened window. Stretching languidly, a frown creased her brow when the faint stirrings of an unpleasant dream tugged at her subconscious. Then, her eyes flew open and she bolted upright in bed when the memory of the previous day came flooding back.

      
Had she actually captured a possible cattle rustler and murderer, then marched him in at gun point? Searching her mind, she hugged her knees to her. There was no denying it, it had happened! At the thought of what she had done, gooseflesh popped up on her arms and back and she sat there, amazed and very shaken. How could she have been so foolish as to risk her life by attempting to capture such a dangerous man?

      
Then, an astounding thought struck her that left her senses reeling. Did she really feel foolish, or was it just an emotion her conscience demanded she have?

      
"Now why would I think something as ridiculous as that?" she mused aloud. "He is a dangerous man . . . and the fact that he is also handsome shouldn't matter in the least. I’ve read that many diabolical men have hard, lithe-muscled forms, arms rippling with power, and lips. ..."

      
Shaking her head vigorously, Blair could not believe what was going through her mind. "That man was certainly right about one thing! I have been reading too many dime novels! Imagine, having romantic notions about ..." She hesitated, blinking with bafflement and exasperation. "There my vivid imagination goes again!"

      
Swinging her legs from beneath the heavy quilt, she pulled on the robe lying across the foot of her bed. "I have better things to do than burden my mind with such foolish thoughts."

      
Since apparently none of the hands had returned to the ranch during the night, there would be chores to do. Her bare feet felt the early morning chill of the wood floor as she crossed to open the door leading into the hall.

      
When the door was opened, Tillie, who had been dozing in a chair, came instantly awake. Blair gasped and stammered in profound confusion, "What on earth are you . . . Did you sleep here last night?" she asked, dismayed.

      
Tillie stood and stretched, her bones popped and snapped from the movement. "No, Ah can't rightly say Ah
slept
here, but Ah did sit here though."

      
"In heaven's name, why?"

      
Tillie never batted an eye. "Didn't want to chance that man bustin' out of the cellar and coming in here and murdering us in our sleep."

      
"Oh, Tillie," Blair muttered impatiently, "we were in no danger. That cellar is strong enough to hold ten men." Seeing the weariness on the old woman's face, she smiled tenderly and placed a kiss on her cheek. "But I thank you for looking after me. Now, you go on to your room and get some sleep while I take care of the chores. I don't want to give Warren anything else to be angry about, and you know what a stickler he is about the chores being done first thing in the morning."

      
"You sure you don't need any help?"

      
"Positive. Actually, there really isn't that much to do. Yesterday when I saddled the mare, I noticed there was only one milk cow; all of the others haven't come fresh yet." Suddenly she giggled. "Gracious, it feels good for someone to understand me when I say something like that! The girls at the school would have no idea that the term 'coming fresh' refers to a pregnant cow who can't give milk until she has her calf. But, as I was saying, the hands have taken most of the horses, and the ones that are here can graze in the pasture. So the chores shouldn't take more than an hour at the most."

      
"What 'bout that man?" Tillie asked, her voice lowered fearfully.

      
Blair shrugged, pretending indifference. "He has plenty of food and water, he'll keep until Warren gets here."

      
Tillie placed a restraining hand on the girl's arm. "Missy, could Ah ask a great big favor of you?"

      
"Of course you may."

      
"Yesterday, I know you were powerfully angry at Warren, and the only reason you dressed in Coy's clothes and went riding off was to spite him. But today is a different matter. Warren be home most anytime. He's going to be powerful upset 'cause you came home from that school 'fore you were supposed to. He’s not going to take it too kindly that you have a bad man locked in the cellar. Why don't you put on one of those pretty little dresses Ah took out of your trunks and tie your hair back with a ribbon? You know what folks always saying 'bout catching more flies with honey than with vinegar. If’n Warren sees you all dressed up like a lady, he might not get so mad at you. And you know him, once his hackles are raised, why he might take a notion to send you back to school. Ah'll declare, don't know who is more stubborn, you or him . . . that's why the two of you were always arguing."

      
Blair opened her mouth to protest, then she clamped it shut. She could not disagree with Tillie; everything the woman said had been the truth. Perhaps wearing a dress and hair ribbons was a small price to pay if it would help keep peace in the family. At least until Warren had a chance to get used to the idea that she was home to stay. Besides, dresses and hair ribbons were really not that bad.

      
Making her way through a flock of cackling chickens, Blair was careful not to spill any milk from the huge wooden pail as she hurried toward the house.

      
Judging from the sun's position, the chores had taken a bit longer than she had anticipated, but then, taking into consideration it had been four years since she had performed such tasks, perhaps she hadn't done too badly.

      
Blair turned the corner of the last shed before the house and stopped abruptly. Standing in front of her was an enormous dog; his hackles were raised, his ears were laid back, and his snarling mouth was open, revealing teeth that could have easily torn her apart.

      
"Take it easy, boy, nice dog, nice dog." Although she spoke in a soft voice, it was tightly controlled. If the animal sensed her fear, she knew he might attack. "Are you hungry? Do you want some milk?" She started to set the bucket down but quickly decided against it. If he did attack her, the bucket was the only weapon she had.

      
Tillie's trembling voice came from the back door. "Missy, you be careful, child, you hear? One wrong move and that old dog will be all over you."

      
Forcing a casual tone to her voice, Blair asked, "Have you seen him before?" She did not take her eyes off the still-snarling mongrel.

      
"No, ma'am. Ah shore haven't. Ah was a-laying down and Ah heard a powerful loud growling so I came here to the back door and that mangy o’l cur wouldn't even let me outside. Each time Ah tried to open the door, he'd pounce against it like he wanted to eat me for breakfast, then he'd run over to the cellar. Lands o'sake. Ah ain't never seen the like! Do you think he's got that . . . that . . . hydrophobia? Don't see him foaming at the mouth though."