Rexanne Becnel (35 page)

He shut his eyes and took a long, cooling breath. God help him, but he would stay away from her if it killed him.

Unable to prevent himself from looking at her, however, he stole a sidelong peek. She was standing now, shaking her hands dry as she clambered up the sloping streambank. Water had trickled down her throat and upper chest to dampen her bodice and her breasts thrust high and firm against the cloth. The skirt, wet at the ends, hung heavy, showing the gently rounded shape of her hips and thighs.

He closed his eyes in utter frustration and barely stifled a groan. This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

Without a doubt this had been the longest two weeks of Abby’s life. And definitely the most frustrating. Tanner McKnight was just as her father had said, a cold, hard man who was motivated only by greed. In this case monetary greed. He was also amazingly adept with his weapons, which figured since that was how he made his way in the world. He picked off rabbits with an ease that even she recognized, and they’d eaten fairly well. No doubt that was one of the first requirements of being a bounty hunter: hunting game just as well as you hunted your human quarry.

Despite her bitter analysis of him, however, she was honest enough to admit that he was also the same man who’d charmed her with his references to Venus and his interest in Tillie and Snitch. Though he’d been working hard to keep that side of himself hidden lately, it still surfaced every now and again.

She looked over at him from her perch on one of the saddles that lay now on one side of the fire. She could make out only his silhouette against the fading western sky. Every night while she loosened her hair, combed it out, and rebraided it for sleep, he tended the horses, checking their feet and untangling their manes and tails. And he always sang to them.

Actually he hummed to them, or whistled softly between his teeth. Whatever, it was unexpected and intriguing and utterly beguiling. She didn’t think he even realized he did it, though, so she was careful not to comment on it for fear he would stop.

Some evenings the songs were slow and somber. Mournful. Other times he preferred jaunty little melodies with no words but that were nevertheless memorable.

Tonight he seemed more animated than usual. Ever since they’d topped a low hill and descended into this valley, he’d seemed different—almost excited—as if this place was a destination and not just one more camping spot. But that was probably just because they were nearing their ultimate destination.

Abby frowned at the thought. By tomorrow evening they’d reach the Mississippi River. Once they crossed into Illinois, they’d be but another day to Chicago. The train lines were complete, Tanner had informed her in one of their typically abbreviated conversations. He planned to board his horses in Burlington while he completed his task and delivered her to her grandfather.

Then he’d disappear from her life forever.

She blinked back the sudden sting of tears. How long would she sustain this foolish hope that she could make him change?

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. The whistling stopped at once, but that only made her feel worse. Why was she being so dense about him? Why couldn’t she accept him for what he was and go on with her life?

“It’s a nice night,” his noncommittal reply came back through the shadows. “And this is a nice little valley,” he added, an odd note in his voice.

Once more Abby was struck by his optimistic, almost hopeful mood. She swallowed a sad sigh and with it, her ill temper. “It’s as pretty a spot as I’ve ever seen,” she conceded, for it was. The treeless plains of the Nebraska Territory had slowly given way to the gentle hills and more varied terrain of Iowa. He’d decided to stop earlier than usual today, not that she minded. They’d camped in this delightful valley beside a wide, shallow stream. Oaks and hickory and maple trees dotted the open meadows. Birds sang and she’d spied squirrels, rabbits, and even deer.

“Yes, it is a pretty spot,” Tanner echoed. “It’ll make a nice home for some family someday.”

“It makes me wonder why people want to emigrate to Oregon when such beautiful land is available,” she answered, wanting to continue their conversation. And it was true. Though she was no farmer’s daughter, she still knew enough to recognize fine land. Whether a person chose to farm or raise stock, this valley would provide well for anyone willing to work.

“The Donation Act is what draws people to the Oregon Territory,” Tanner replied. “In Missouri and Iowa land like this costs money.”

Abby stared in his direction, aware that while she could hardly make him out, she was probably visible to him in the last of the campfire’s light. Was he even looking at her? Did he know—or care—that she could forgive him everything. She would go anywhere with him, live anyplace he wanted if he would just—

Just what?

Without pausing to think, she rose to her feet, unaware that she clutched the hairbrush as if it gave her strength. She picked her way barefoot through the soft grass and moss growing beneath the canopy of trees and stopped at Tulip’s head. The mare
bumped Abby’s arm in a friendly fashion. They’d become fast friends on the trail. But though Abby obligingly scratched Tulip’s chin, she had eyes only for Tanner. He, however, concentrated on the horse.

Abby forced herself to speak. “What will you do after? After you leave Chicago?”

He shifted slightly and smoothed a hand along the slope of Tulip’s back and side. “That’s hard to say.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Will you take another job? You know, go find somebody else?”

“You mean hunt them down for the bounty of their head?”

Abby cringed at the ugliness of his description. Once again he was being truthful and she hated it.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Are you going to hunt someone else down? Maybe even for my grandfather?”

He moved to the other side of Tulip. “No. I don’t think so.”

She didn’t know whether his answer should please her or not. “Should I assume that the reward on my head is so high that you won’t need any more money?” she asked sarcastically.

He looked straight at her then. “Listen, Abby. You can’t hold this against your grandfather. You can’t blame him for using his money to find you. You’re the only family he has left.”

“I
don’t
hold it against him!” she burst out. “I hold it against
you
!”

The air suddenly seemed charged with tension. Anger, resentment, fear. Yearning. Abby didn’t know which emotion was the worst.

Even Tanner was not able to completely hide the quick surprise that painted his features. Then his brows lowered, and whatever he felt was hidden by his slight frown. “That’s probably for the best.”

“I’m not asking for your blessing!” she shouted as the last of her self-control shredded.

“Then what the hell
do
you want?” he snapped.

For one long, horrible second they glared at each other. What did she want? For him to love her and want a future with her. But even as the answer formed in her head, he seemed to sense it. With a sharp motion of his hand he silenced her before she could speak.

“There’s only one thing between us, Abby. I was a fool before and I’m sorry. But if you’re with child …”

He let the words trail off, but she knew what he was offering. If she were with child, he’d own up to it. Take responsibility for it. Probably even marry her, if she wanted it and her grandfather approved.

It was one way to keep him, she realized. But not the way she wanted.

She spun on her heel, swallowing a sob though it threatened to choke her. But Tanner ducked around the horse and caught Abby by the arm.

“Is there a chance you could be?” he asked, the words low and urgent.

She tried to shrug off his grasp to no avail.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know,” she muttered, struggling to keep the misery out of her voice.

His taut grip loosened a little at that, and she took swift advantage of it. But putting some distance between them didn’t really help her at all. What if she
was
carrying his child? During the long weeks of travel her monthly cycle had become irregular—not an uncommon occurrence, she’d been given to understand by some of the other women. Was that all it was? Or could it be more?

She knelt down on the bedroll she’d already spread out. As always, Tanner’s lay on the opposite side of the fire. But though she tried to find solace in the comforting routine of prayer, it was a futile effort. What was she to pray for? To be pregnant or not? To be well rid of Tanner, or to have a way to cling to him?

She shouldn’t pray for anything, she told herself. She should just beg God’s guidance and ask that he lead her to the right path.

But Abby was fresh out of prayers. She lay down on the soft blanket, tucking her feet beneath a fold as she stared up into the night. Like the hero of a book she’d once read, she knew she was tilting at windmills, chasing after something she could never have.

Above her the arcing leaves of a hickory tree swayed in the night breeze. An owl hooted, and somewhere beyond her head some small creature scuttled about, seeking a safe hiding place from the night-hunting owl, she supposed.

Snitch hated owls almost as much as he hated cats. Tillie would like this place, though. She’d be happy to live in a house built in a little valley just like this. Abby would be content here, too, she admitted to herself. If Tanner were here as well.

She closed her eyes and curled onto her side. Why did she persist in torturing herself this way? Her destiny lay in Chicago now, not in a valley out in the middle of nowhere.

Tanner sat a long time at the dying fire, staring across the starlit meadow, down toward the stream. What had ever possessed him to bring Abby here? He’d worked long and hard to get the money to buy this land. His land now. With a lot more work he’d eventually fill it with the finest horseflesh available. He’d build a little house—and a big barn. Those were dreams that had sustained him for years.

But now that he’d brought Abby here … Now those dreams fell flat. He’d never be able to come here without remembering her. Without imagining her as part of his dream.

And the thing of it was, if he asked her, he knew she’d stay. She’d be happy to be a rancher’s wife in some unnamed valley. Only he couldn’t do that to her.

Abby was going to be rich soon, so rich that she could buy and sell a hundred valleys like this one. A thousand. It wouldn’t be right to let her make the wrong decision now.

He drew a long, weary breath and tossed a twist of grass into the wind. No, Abby wasn’t a part of his dream. Never was, never could be. Better to accept that truth, bitter though it might be, than to torture himself with what might be, but never would.

T
HEY CROSSED THE MISSISSIPPI
River on an ungainly-looking ferry. It floated so low in the water that Abby was certain it would founder. Tanner stayed with the horses, reassuring them during the crossing, while they rolled their eyes at the unsteady footing and the rushing water.

Abby needed reassuring, too, though not because of the water. If they should sink, she could swim. It was her future that she feared. But Tanner was hardly the one to set her mind at ease. So she stood alone at the stern, staring back at the shrinking Iowa shoreline.

Perhaps she should have gone on to Oregon after all. Then she shook her head. Tanner would have stopped her. And anyway going west had not been her goal but her father’s. The truth was, she’d never really had any goals to speak of—other than to become a writer. Where she would write hadn’t mattered to her; she’d never even thought about the possibility of leaving Lebanon. Now, however, she was heading toward Chicago, one of the fastest-growing cities in the country. And all she could do was stare back to the west.

The ferry edged toward a rickety-looking dock. The skinny ferryman tossed a rope deftly to someone waiting on the dock, then extended a plank walk to bridge the short space. Before she was ready, Tanner approached, leading the horses and urging her on as well.

“We’ll get hotel rooms,” he told her. “You can relax there—take a bath or whatever—while I board the animals.”

That was pretty much the sum total of their conversation for the next hour. No elaboration. No indication how he felt about their journey nearing its end. He checked them into a three-story wood-frame hotel that was so recently completed, it still smelled new. But the whole town looked like that. Construction went on everywhere. All due to the new railroad line, she understood. The railroad that connected Burlington to Chicago.

“Lock the door while I’m gone,” Tanner said as he sat her bag on a table in the sparsely furnished room. “I’ll only be gone a short while.”

“Where’s your room?” She didn’t look at him but at the plump bed with its iron and brass fittings.

“Here.” He opened a door that connected to another room very like her own. After tossing his saddlebags on the floor in there he turned to face her.

“When I get back we need to go shopping. Get you some new clothes. A hat.” He fingered the brim of his own hat, which dangled from his hands. “You’ll want to dress up some to meet your grandfather tomorrow.”

Abby sent him a bitter look “Why? So he won’t notice my broken nails and sunburned cheeks?” She laughed at the irony. “If he wanted a lily-white debutante, perhaps you should have brought someone else back to him. I’m not lily-white anymore.”
In more ways than one,
she silently added.

Tanner took a step nearer, crossing the threshold from his room into hers. “Your grandfather isn’t going to be put off by your sunburn, or by the condition of your fingernails, Abby. Believe me. He doesn’t care about anything except finding you. You’re a beautiful woman. Beautiful,” he added more quietly. Then he cleared his throat. “But that has nothing to do with anything. He won’t care how you look, so long as you’re with him.”

The pulse had started to race in Abby’s throat and she could feel color creeping into her cheeks. He thought she was beautiful. “Why … why do you want me to get a new dress, then?”