Wolf Shadow (26 page)

“I’ll get Cookie to heat some water for the two of you,”
Chance said. “We’ve missed supper but I reckon he’ll throw something together
for us. Come down when you’re ready. The tub’s in the last room at the end of
the hall. There’s clean towels and soap in the cupboard.”

“Where are you going to sleep?” Teressa asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll bed down on the sofa.”

Rosalia followed him into the hall. She closed Teressa’s
door firmly, stood there like a mama grizzly guarding her cub.

Stifling the urge to grin, he walked toward the staircase. He
could feel Rosalia’s gaze burning into his back, and he couldn’t help wondering
if she intended to stand guard outside her daughter’s door every night for the
next three weeks.

* * * * *

Teressa walked slowly around the room, her hand moving over
the quilt on the bed, the top of the chest of drawers. Knowing she had no
business doing so, she opened the top drawer and peered inside. Kerchiefs,
socks and hankies were thrown together, along with a pair of buckskin gloves
and a single spur.

Her curiosity piqued, she opened the second drawer and found
several pairs of long underwear, more socks, and the other spur.

The third drawer held a small rectangular box. Chewing on
her lower lip, she lifted it from the drawer, placed it on top of the chest,
and lifted the lid. Inside, she found a man’s gold pocket watch, a pair of
wedding rings, a lady’s handkerchief embroidered with pink and yellow flowers,
a string of pearls, and a small tintype of a man and a woman on their wedding
day. His parents?

Feeling suddenly guilty for prying, she closed the lid,
replaced the box in the chest and closed the drawer.

Moving to the bed, she unpacked her valise. She shook the
wrinkles from her new dress, then looked around for a place to hang it. There
was a small armoire in one corner. Opening the door, she saw several pairs of
trousers, all dark colors, on hangers. A shelf held perhaps a dozen shirts, all
neatly folded. The shelf above the shirts held a tan Stetson with a wide brim
and a leather band. Three pairs of boots were on the bottom of the cabinet,
along with a couple pairs of moccasins.

Finding an empty hanger, she hung her dress alongside his
trousers, liking the way it looked there, as if they belonged together. The
thought made her smile.

She moved the items from the top drawer to the second, her
fingers lingering over each item. On impulse, she pressed a kerchief to her
nose and took a deep breath, but all she smelled was soap and sunshine. When
the drawer was empty, she placed her belongings inside, pleased, somehow, that
her garments were now occupying a space where his had been.

Smiling, she closed the drawer then twirled around the room.
She had never felt like this before, giddy and excited and afraid all at once. They
would be here for almost a moon. Surely, in that time, she would find a way to
get him alone.

* * * * *

Chance stood in the middle of the parlor, all too aware
that, for the first time in years, he wasn’t alone in the house. There would be
someone sitting across from him at the dinner table and it wouldn’t be Cookie
or any of the ranch hands, but Teressa. Beautiful, innocent Teressa with her
beguiling smile and dark trusting eyes. He had known from the moment he first
set eyes on her that she would be his sooner or later. Why was he fighting it? He
wanted her. She wanted him. He was here. She was here.

And her mother was here.

Remembering how Rosalia had stood outside Teressa’s door, he
had to grin. Men and women had been sneaking out from under watchful eyes for
centuries. One frail woman wouldn’t be a problem. Not when he felt his insides
go up in flames every time Teressa’s gaze met his. Not when the slightest touch
of her hand had him in an agony of wanting. He had resisted what he wanted long
enough.

Soon, perhaps tonight, she would be his.

* * * * *

The sun had set by the time Rosalia and Teressa bathed and
dressed and made their way downstairs. They found Chance sitting at the kitchen
table drinking a cup of coffee. A moment passed and then, as if remembering his
manners, he gained his feet and held a chair for Rosalia.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“
Grazie.”

“Teressa?”

She shook her head. “I…I have never had any.” She sat down in
the chair he held for her, shivered as his fingertips brushed her shoulder.

His gaze settled on her face, lingered on her lips. “Maybe
it’s time to try something new.”

Her mouth went suddenly dry. Certain she wouldn’t be able to
speak, she nodded.

She watched him pull a cup from the cupboard. His hands were
large and capable, the fingers long and strong. He took a blue speckled coffee
pot from the stove and filled the cup. After adding a spoonful of sugar and a
hefty amount of cream, he offered it to her. His fingertips brushed against
hers as she took the cup and she shivered again, every nerve ending screaming
for more.

He sat down at the table in the chair beside hers. She
almost jumped when the toe of his moccasin slipped under the hem of her skirt
to softly rub her calf.

“Dinner will be ready shortly.” His voice was as calm as a
summer day.

“
Grazie,
” her mother replied. “I find I am quite
famished.”

Chance smiled. “Well, it’s just steak and eggs. It’s filling
but not fancy.”

How could he behave so casually when his touch had her heart
pounding like that of a stampeding buffalo?

A short time later a wizened old man with wispy white hair
and bright blue eyes entered the kitchen. He placed the tray he was carrying on
the table, plucked the cloth cover off and jammed it in his pants pocket.

“Thanks, Cookie,” Chance said.

The man grunted softly. “You gonna be taking your meals in
here now?”

“For the next couple of weeks.”

“Three meals?”

“That’s right, Cookie. Think you can handle it?”

The old man glanced at the two women. Rosalia returned his
gaze without blinking an eye; Teressa smiled at him.

To Chance’s astonishment, Cookie smiled back.

“That will not be necessary,” Rosalia said.

Chance frowned at her. “Excuse me?”

“I will prepare our meals and look after the house.”

Chance stared at her, thinking he wouldn’t have been more
surprised if she had declared she was going to share his bed.

Rosalia shrugged. “I will need something to occupy my time.”

“Well. Great.”

“I will need some supplies from town.”

Chance nodded. “Write out a list. I’ll send one of the hands
to pick it up.” He looked at Cookie and shrugged. “I guess you’re off the hook.”

“Fine by me,” Cookie muttered. He winked at Teressa, then
shuffled out the back door.

“Well, dig in before it gets cold,” Chance said.

The meal passed in relative silence. When it was over,
Chance stood up. “I need to go out and check on a few things,” he said. “You
two make yourselves at home here. There’s some books in the den if you’re of a
mind to read. If you go outside, stay close to the house.”

“Can I go with you?” Teressa asked.

“I do not think that is a good idea, Tessa,” Rosalia said.

“Why not, Mama? I want to see the ranch.”

“Perhaps another day.”

“There is nothing for me to do here,” Teressa argued. “I
want to go with Mr. McCloud.”

“I said no, Tessa. And there will be plenty for you to do.”

“Maybe another time,” Chance said.

“We shall see,” Rosalia replied.

Chance nodded. It would be a cold day in hell before Rosalia
agreed to let Teressa be alone with him.

Grabbing his hat off the hook beside the back door, he left
the house.

It was good to be back, he mused as he walked toward the
barn. Opening one of the big double doors, he stepped inside, pleased to see
that the men had taken care of patching the hole in the roof.

He spent a few minutes scratching Smoke’s ears; then, moving
toward the back of the barn, he slipped a bridle over the head of one of his
favorite stock horses and led the animal out of the stall. He smoothed a
blanket over the gelding’s back, cinched a saddle in place, and led the horse
outside.

“Hey, boss!”

Chance turned to see Roy DeYoung ambling toward him. Old Roy
had been on the payroll as long as Chance could remember. Roy didn’t spend many
hours in the saddle anymore, but he was still a good hand.

“Howdy, Roy. Everything okay?”

“Sure, sure, never better. That bull you wanted arrived a
couple days ago. We put him out in the north pasture, like you wanted.”

“Obliged.”

“Dave says we’ll have a cash crop of calves come spring,”
DeYoung said, grinning. “That bull’s been working overtime.”

“He’d better be, for what I paid for him. Where’s Dreesen?”

“Out on the south range.”

“Tell him I want to see him when he comes in.”

“Right. Oh, I almost forgot, Gideon’s laid up. Busted his
ankle day before yesterday.”

“How the hell did he do that?”

“He was showing off. You know how he is. Thought he could
top that rank bronc. I told him not to try it, but you know Gideon. He wouldn’t
listen.”

Chance grunted. “We should probably just turn that stud back
out on the range before he kills someone.”

DeYoung nodded. “Mebbe so.”

“But not until I give it another try.”

With a tsking sound, DeYoung headed for the bunkhouse
muttering, “Young’uns. Always gotta learn the hard way.”

With a grin, Chance swung into the saddle and headed out to
north range to get a look at his new bull.

Riding away, he realized that for the first time since his
father passed away, there would be someone waiting for him when he got home.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Teressa tiptoed out of the parlor and carefully opened the
front door.

She paused on the veranda, grateful to be outside, grateful
to be out from under her mother’s probing gaze. Grabbing a minute here and a
moment there, she had managed to explore all the ranch buildings. The bunkhouse
where the cowboys lived was long and low. Bunks lined both walls. There were
hooks on the walls to hold jackets or hats. Each man had a trunk at the foot of
his bed. The one thing that stood out in her mind was the atrocious smell that
had assaulted her nostrils when she peeked inside. It seemed to be a
combination of sweaty men, cow manure, tobacco, smelly boots, and smoke from
the lamps that hung from the ceiling. She had seen several decks of playing
cards, a couple of well-read dime novels, and a worn Bible. A breezeway
connected the bunkhouse to the cookhouse. Saddles, bridles, and ropes hung from
pegs along the breezeway.

They had been at the ranch for almost a week now and she
loved it. Too often, she found herself pretending she lived here and that
Chance was her husband.

To Teressa’s astonishment, her mother had not only taken
over the running of the house but insisted that Teressa pitch in and help.
After all, her mother explained, it was good for a woman, even a wealthy young
woman, to know how to cook and clean and run a household else how was one to
know if one’s servants were doing things correctly?

Tessa had to admit that, once she got the hang of it,
cooking on the white man’s stove was easier than cooking over an open fire, and
while she didn’t particularly care for cooking, she loved baking. Mama had
taught her to bake fluffy rolls, carrot cake, and apple pie. To Tessa’s
delight, Chance had praised her efforts, declaring he had never tasted anything
better.

But she didn’t want to bake now. Mama had fallen asleep over
a bit of mending and Teressa escaped out the front door, eager to explore more
of the ranch.

Descending the steps, she walked toward the nearest corrals.
The calves were cute, but it was the horse that drew her attention. It was big
and black with one white stocking on its left foreleg. The stallion stopped its
restless pacing as she approached. Ears back, it watched her suspiciously.

Teressa held out her hand. “Hello, handsome one.”

At the sound of her voice, the stallion snorted and backed
away.

“Are you afraid of me?” she asked.

The stallion shook its head.

“Good. Come here.” Stepping up on the bottom rail, she held
out her hand again. “I will not hurt you.”

Snuffling softly, the stallion took a tentative step
forward.

“Come on,” she coaxed softly. “Come to me.”

The stallion took another step toward, and then another, and
then he was close enough to touch. Moving slowly so as not to spook him, she
lifted her hand and stroked his neck. The stallion quivered at her touch, but
didn’t run away. Instead, he lowered his head, as if asking her to scratch
between his ears. Laughing softly, she did so.

Riding into the yard, Chance swore under his breath when he
saw Teressa petting the stallion. Was she out of her mind? That horse was wild.
Yet even as he watched, Teressa was stroking the stud’s neck, scratching its
ears. Unbelievable.

Dismounting near the house, he tossed Smoke’s reins over the
hitch rail, then walked slowly toward the corral.

As soon as he drew near, the stallion tossed its head and
pranced to the far side of the corral.

Teressa glanced over her shoulder to see what had spooked
the stallion, smiled when she saw Chance walking toward her.

“Sorry,” he said. Moving up beside Teressa, he draped his
arms over the top rail. “You’re the first one he’s let get close.”

“He is beautiful.”

“Yeah. But he’s a bad one.”

“He does not seem bad to me.”

“Honey, you could sweet talk a snake out of its skin.”

She frowned at him a moment, her expression so serious it
was almost funny. “Why would I want to?”

“Never mind.” Chance looked at the stallion for a moment.
“Do you think you could get a hackamore on him?”