Wolf Shadow (29 page)

Chance swore under his breath. How could he make her
understand that none of them had meant anything to him? Would she believe him
if he tried? Dammit, he had to do something to wipe that look from her eyes.

“Tessa, those other women, they didn’t mean anything. I
never really knew what making love was all about until today. Making love to
you was like making love for the first time.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed with hope. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “You’ve
ruined me for all other women.”

She smiled at him. It was a decidedly feminine smile, filled
with just a hint of self-satisfaction.

“From now on it’s just you and me, darlin’,” he murmured.

And then he kissed her, aware that this kiss was vastly
different than all the others he had showered on her. They had been filled with
passion and excitement; this one was a mark of possession, a brand. She was his
now, and it changed everything.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chance and Teressa bathed in the stream, splashing and
laughing like a couple of kids playing hooky, and then, submerged in the
shallow water, they made love again. Tessa had no words to describe how it felt
to feel his body sliding against hers while the water eddied and flowed around
them. If the first time had been ecstasy, the second time bordered on sheer
rapture. She cried his name aloud as, with one last thrust, he carried them
both over the edge.

Happiness bubbled up inside Teressa, burst forth in a wave
of laughter when she looked up and saw a squirrel staring down at them.

“What’s so funny?” Chance asked and then, following her
gaze, he laughed, too, laughed until he was breathless. It was cleansing,
somehow, to lie there in the water with Tessa and laugh.

And when the laughter died away, he drew her into his arms. Holding
her close, he felt all his hatred melt away, and with it the relentless need
for vengeance that had driven him for the last nine years of his life. In the
back of his mind, he heard the voice of Kills-Like-a-Hawk.
You will never
find the peace you are seeking until you put your hatred behind you.

“Wolf?” Teressa stroked his back. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore, sweetheart. For the first
time in years, everything is just right.”

“We didn’t find any stray cattle,” Teressa mused later, as
they dressed.

Leaning forward, Chance stroked her cheek. “I found
something much better.”

It was near dusk when they returned to the ranch. Rosalia
was standing out on the front porch when they rode into the yard.

Rosalia’s gaze rested on Teressa’s face for a long moment.
Then, her lips tightening, she looked at Chance. A last glance at Teressa and
then she turned and went back into the house.

Teressa turned anguished eyes in Chance’s direction. “She
knows. How can she know?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Chance said, but they both knew
he was lying.

Dinner was a strained and silent affair. Troubled by her
mother’s silent disapproval, Teressa went up to bed immediately after dinner.

Chance was sitting in his office, going over some papers,
when Rosalia entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“I know my daughter thinks she loves you,” Rosalia said,
getting right to the point. “Perhaps you think you love her.”

When he started to speak, she silenced him with a wave of
her hand.

“Teressa is very young. Until today, she was an innocent. I
want you to leave my daughter alone,
Signore
McCloud. Her father and I
have plans for her future. In two weeks, we will be on our way home. Do not
fill her heart and mind with empty promises.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to go with you? What if she
has plans of her own?”

Rosalia lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I am her
mother. Teressa will do as she is told. I am warning you for the last time.
Leave my daughter alone.”

She eyed him for a moment, then opened the door and swept
regally out of the room.

Muttering an oath, Chance sat back in his chair, wondering
how to play the hand Teressa’s mother had dealt him. Did he respect Rosalia’s
wishes, or follow the urgings of his own heart?

Rising, he paced the floor. Time and again he headed toward
the stairs, and time and again he turned away. Tomorrow, he thought, he would
talk to Rosalia tomorrow when they’d both had a chance to cool off.

* * * * *

Chance ate breakfast with the cowhands the next morning,
then rode out with Dreesen to check on the river that ran through the east pasture.
A tree has fallen across it, blocking the water’s flow. He sent Dreesen back to
the ranch to get a couple of men to drag the tree out of the way and cut it up
for firewood, then he rode out to line shack number six to look in on the men.
They were running low on supplies and he made a note to restock their larder.

It was near dark when he returned to the ranch. Dismounting
in front of the barn, he removed the saddle and blanket from his horse. He
checked the gelding’s feet, gave the animal a good brushing, then led the horse
into the barn and into a clean stall.

Outside, Chance spent a few minutes watching the stallion
prance back and forth. He shook his head, remembering how easily Teressa had
charmed the wild stud. Tomorrow, he would try his hand at breaking the horse
one more time; if he didn’t have any better luck than he’d had in the past, he
would turn the horse loose.

Walking up to the house, he noticed that there were no
lights burning. No smoke rose from the chimney.

Worried now, he ran up the walkway to the porch. He took the
steps two at a time, flung open the door.

“Teressa?” Standing there, listening to his voice echoing
off the walls, he knew there was no one in the house.

Muttering an oath, he climbed the stairs and pushed open the
door to her room. Even in the dim light, he could see it was empty.

“Damn. Damn, damn, damn!” Removing his hat, he ran his hand
through his hair, resettled his hat on his head, and went back downstairs.

Going out the back door, he crossed the yard to the cookhouse.
“Cookie?”

“Yeah, boss?” Cookie looked up from the dough he was
kneading for tomorrow’s bread.

“The women…”

Cookie punched his fist in the dough. “They lit out this
morning, right after you did.”

“Thanks, Cookie.”

“I reckon you’ll be taking your meals with the men again.”

“Reckon so.”

With a nod, Cookie covered the ball of dough and began
punching up another one.

Chance stared at him for a moment, then went back to the
house. So, he mused as he paced the floor, that was that. Rosalia Bryant had
packed up and quit the field, no doubt deciding her daughter was safer in
Buffalo Springs than under his roof.

He ran a hand over his jaw. “Oh, hell,” he muttered. Maybe
it was for the best.

“Best for who?” he muttered. Rosalia? Teressa? It certainly
wasn’t the best for him. Dammit, the house had never felt so empty.

A short time later, Cookie rang the dinner bell, but Chance
had no appetite, and no inclination to sit around making small talk with the
men. Going into his den, he sat down at his desk and tried going over the ranch
accounts, but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t summon any interest
in the ranch.

Closing the books, he went to stand at the window. The bills
were paid. They’d had a successful calving season. The new bull was everything
he had hoped it would be. The stock was healthy. The rivers and waterholes were
full, there was plenty of grass, hay enough to see them through the winter.

He grunted softly. Now would be the perfect time to resume
his search for Finch but even bringing the last of his mother’s killers to
justice failed to spark his interest. His every thought was for Teressa. He had
been determined to keep her at arm’s length, determined not to let her get
under his skin, yet she had done just that. He had told himself he didn’t have
time for a woman, that he had nothing to offer her, that she was too young, too
innocent. All in vain. He had been lost from the moment he’d first looked into
her eyes, and now, thanks to her mother, it seemed she was really lost to him.

Moving away from the window, he went outside. For a moment,
he stood on the porch and then he descended the stairs and made his way toward
the corral that held the wild stallion.

As he drew near, the horse snorted and bolted to the far
side of the corral. With a shake of his head, Chance folded his arms across the
top rail and watched the stallion pace back and forth, fox-like ears twitching,
nostrils flaring to test the wind as though searching for Teressa’s scent.

“Yeah,” Chance said ruefully. “I miss her, too.” Lifting the
latch, Chance opened the gate wide. “Go on, get out of here.”

The stallion stared at him, then pawed the ground.

Striding into the corral, Chance approached the horse. “Go
on,” he said, making a shooing motion with one hand. “Get before I change my mind!”

With a toss of its head, the stallion pranced toward the
gate, then bolted out of the corral. A moment later, the horse was swallowed up
by the darkness.

“What the hell,” Chance muttered as he returned to the
house. “At least one of us will be happy.”

* * * * *

Teressa clung to the side of the wagon seat, unable to
believe that her mother had practically dragged her out of Wolf’s house, or
that they were now on their way to Crooked River to wait for the train that
would take them to San Francisco. She had cried all the way from the ranch into
town, had begged her mother to turn around, to let her tell Wolf Shadow goodbye
or at least leave him a note, but Rosalia had been adamant. They were leaving
and nothing Tessa had said would change her mother’s mind.

She groaned as the wagon lurched over another rut in the
road. She was beginning to think the man her mother had hired to take them to
Crooked River was deliberately looking for ruts. Given a choice, she would have
preferred riding a horse to bouncing around in the wagon.

The road, such as it was, stretched out for mile after mile
ahead of them. Teressa stared out at the ocean of tall grass that surrounded
them on all sides. A few trees were scattered here and there as well as
occasional outcroppings of rock. The driver—Jacko Kilkenny—had told them it
would take four days to reach Crooked River. Four days of this, she thought,
and her backside would be black and blue! It was a good thing their belongings
were tied down in the back, else they would have bounced out long ago.

She slid a glance at her mother, who sat between Tessa and
the driver. Rosalia stared straight ahead, one white-gloved hand clutching the
edge of the seat, the other hand holding her floppy-brimmed hat in place. In
spite of the dust and the wind and the bumpy road, Rosalia looked serene and
unruffled.

Tessa looked out at the countryside again. What had Wolf
thought when he returned home and found them gone without a word? Tears stung
her eyes as she recalled the night they had made love. She had, on occasion,
overheard Eagle Lance and Mountain Sage being intimate late at night. She had
sometimes wondered at the muted sounds she had heard. Now she understood the
soft expression in her mother’s eyes the following morning, the smile that had
always teased her father’s lips, the way they had looked at each other, the
little touches they had exchanged.

She closed her eyes, remembering the wonder of Wolf’s
kisses, the tingling excitement of his touches, the way her whole body had come
alive when he caressed her. She had tingled all over when she touched him in
return, exploring every inch of him, reveling in the way his muscles quivered
beneath her fingertips, the way his body had moved, lithe and sensuous. She had
delighted in the hard planes of his chest, the ridged muscles in his flat
belly, the latent strength in his broad back and shoulders. He had treated her
so gently, so tenderly. He could have crushed her with one hand, yet she had
never been afraid, not for a moment. She had known he would never knowingly
hurt her; indeed, he had done everything in his power to make her first time as
wonderful as she had hoped it would be. She smiled a secret smile. The second
time had been even more wonderful.

And now she was miles away from him. What must he think?
Surely he would know she hadn’t left because she wanted to. Hope burst within
her as a new thought occurred to her. He would come after her. He had to. He
loved her. He had told her so in every way possible.

At dusk, Jacko pulled into a stagecoach way station for the
night. It was a ramshackle building, long and low, with a flat roof and a
chimney with a decided list to the left.

“Will we be welcome here,
Signore
Kilkenny?” Rosalia
asked dubiously.

“Sure, long as your money’s good.” In spite of his bulk, he
jumped lightly to the ground. Tossing the reins over the hitch rack, he turned
to offer Teressa his hand.

As she placed her hand in his big, sweaty, grimy one, she
wished she had taken her mother’s advice and worn gloves.

She glanced around as Kilkenny assisted her mother from the
wagon. In addition to the long, low building, there was a corral filled with
horses, and a large barn. A third building, large and square, stood behind the
barn.

Rosalia was trying to shake the dust from her skirts when
the door of the way station opened and a woman peered out.

“Land sakes,” she exclaimed, “I thought I heard horses. I
told Jed we had comp’ny but he said no, the stage ain’t due for another two
weeks.” She hurried out of the building, one hand extended. “I’m Mrs.
Morganstern. Me and the Mister run this place.” She stared openly at Rosalia
and Teressa. “My, I ain’t seen such pretty clothes in a month of Sundays. Come
on inside you two, you must be about wore out, riding in that wagon.”