Rain Shadow(14)

Anton contemplated the scene with a wry smile, sipped a stein of Ben  Karrson's homemade beer and mentally castigated himself. What in blazes  could he have been thinking of out there?                       
       
           



       

The farmers clustered beside him discussed crop prices. Annette caught  his eye and waved. He returned her smile and watched her walk toward  him, the skirt of her royal blue taffeta dress swishing about her  ankles.

"Does this old married lady stand a chance to dance with a handsome single gentleman?" Her tawny eyes revealed teasing warmth.

"Honey, I'd snap up an old married lady like you in a minute if one was available." He offered his arm.

He waltzed her around the sawdusted wooden floor as if the barn were a  marble-tiled palace. She smelled of lilacs and faintly of...of babies.  He could barely remember a time when she hadn't been part of their  family. Franz had married his childhood sweetheart, as soon as she'd  finished school.

Two years later, needing the same companionship his brother enjoyed,  Anton had placed an advertisement for a wife in the Pittsburgh Gazette.  Emily had been his answer. He remembered her letter. Still had it.

Emily had been to college, raised in a well-to-do family. Her father had  been wrongly accused of embezzling funds from the bank where he worked,  and the shame had driven Emily's mother to the brink of sanity. Emily  had escaped the city, seemingly eager to make a new life with him and  start a family. As much as he'd hoped to make her feel welcome and  loved, he'd failed miserably. There was obviously something wrong with  him that prevented him from making that special connection he'd hoped  for.

He'd seen Emily for the first time at the train station and had been  pleasantly surprised. The dowdy spinster he'd anticipated turned out a  pretty young woman. But he'd had unrealistic hopes for their future.

"You're a million miles away." His sister-in-law curtsied gracefully, and the dance ended.

"Sorry. My brain's addled tonight. Thanks for the dance." His gaze cut  across the room of its own volition. Rain Shadow held the attention of  several children, graceful sign language punctuating her speech. Anton  watched for a moment, then searched for Sissy.

He found her visiting with Nathan Beker. "Let's go for a walk, Sissy."

"I'll tell my ma," she replied. "Excuse us, Nathan."

Anton gulped the beer he held and met her outside the doorway, both of them tugging on jackets. "Will you be warm enough?"

"Yes, thanks."

His boots crunched gravel, his breath visible in the clear moonlight. He  led the way around the corral where the horses waited to reclaim the  barn. His great-limbed bay whinnied and galloped to the rail. Anton  raised both hands and scrubbed the animal's neck and forehead with his  knuckles. He patted him soundly on the shoulder and stepped back.

"What's his name?" Sissy asked softly.

"General Grant."

"He's friendly."

"Sissy."

"Yes?" Hands stuffed in her pockets, she tipped her head to look at him.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

"All right."

He stubbed the toe of his freshly shined and polished boot in the dirt and wished he smoked.

She waited patiently.

"For a long time now, I've been thinking that I need to take a wife."

She didn't move or say a word, but he sensed her anticipation. She stared back wide-eyed.

"Nikolaus needs a mother. We live in the big house with my pa, and I  reckon we'll stay there for a while. Later we'll have a place of our  own. You know the way life is on a farm. It's not easy, but we're  comfortable. The clock shop brings me extra money."

Still she said nothing.

"I'm not going about this right. I can't promise you some fairy-tale  courtship or a perfect life, but I can promise that I'd be a faithful  husband and that you wouldn't want for much." He pulled his hands from  his pockets and hung them at his sides. "Would you consider marrying me,  Sissy?"

She'd been silent for so long, he wondered what she thought-if she  thought. Granted, there'd been no great confession of love, but he'd  asked, and she could say yes or no. If she said no he'd have to go  through this all over again with Helena McLaury.

"I'm honored that you asked me, Anton," she said at last, and her voice  quavered oddly. "I don't mind not having the fairy-tale courtship, and I  know life ain't perfect, but I am wondering about the right reasons.  You asked me if I'd consider, and the answer is yes, I'll consider. I'd  like to think about it."                       
       
           



       

Anton shifted his weight back and forth between his feet and flexed his  fingers. Her breath puffed out in tiny white clouds. His was the best  offer she'd ever had. What did she have to think about?

He stepped forward, grasped her upper arms through her heavy jacket and  pulled her toward him. She came compliantly. Maybe she needed something  more to think about.

He kissed her. Her sealed lips were cool and placid.

Kissing Sissy, he didn't think of Emily. He didn't even think about Sissy.

He thought of Rain Shadow, of violet eyes alternately snapping or  laughing, of her proud, indomitable spirit and of the exotic sway of  fringe against sun-kissed skin. And of hot, treacherous kisses...

Merciful heavens, he thought for the second time that night, what had he done?

* * *

Frost crunched beneath Anton's boots early the following morning. He  dropped hammer and nails into a wooden toolbox and lugged it to the back  of the wagon. Belatedly, his good ear alerted him to a set of boots  behind him. He turned his head.

Her. Wearing wool trousers smoothed over softly rounded thighs and hips.  A stab of desire seared his vitals. He couldn't help remembering he'd  been kissed well.

Boots every bit as sturdy as his encased her feet. She wore a lined  waist-length leather coat. No traces of sleep remained on her face,  she'd been up for hours. A band of renegades could loot the farmstead,  and the family would sleep through it, as accustomed as they'd become to  her barely-dawn practice ritual.

"What are you doing today?"

He turned to the wagon. "Winterizing stock tanks."

"Coming back here for the noon meal?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

"If not, I'll pack something to take."

"I'll be back." He climbed onto the seat and turned to stare at her when she scrambled up beside him. "What are you doin'?"

"Going with you."

"What for?"

"To make myself useful. I'm bored sitting around here."

A calf bawled from inside the barn. Anton frowned into her liquid violet  eyes. "I don't need a female getting in my way." If she didn't  constantly get under his skin, he could laugh at her brass-plated gall.

"I won't get in your way. I'm certain I can do nearly any of your chores as well as you."

He picked up the reins. "Get down."

"I want to help with the stock tanks."

"I don't give a sparrow's fart what you wanna do. This is a man's job. Go in the house and find something to do."

"I'm offering my help. You're being rude. This is something I can do. Give me a chance."

Anton shrugged. "Go get another hammer."

She leapt down.

"And you're going to need a shovel and a bucket."

She disappeared inside the barn.

* * *

Two hours later, Rain Shadow carried the umpteenth bucket of manure and  dumped it unceremoniously on the odious pile. Nothing like keeping busy  for clearing her mind. Last night she'd been confused. Long after  midnight she lay on her pallet, sifting and sorting shaken emotions.  Abrasive as he could be, Anton Neubauer drew her like deer to a  sparkling stream. She was attracted to him, she finally admitted to  herself. Why not? He was pleasing to look at, intelligent and sensitive  to his son's needs.

And she instinctively understood his resentment. Against his will he'd  been attracted to her, too, but he saw her as an Indian. A nomad with no  permanent home or family. She was an inappropriate choice, but he was  drawn to her.

Rain Shadow remembered the fair beauty in the daguerreotype on his  bedroom wall, pictured the elegant low-cut dress, and glanced down at  the manure caked to the ankles on her boots. He must feel pretty sullied  having given in to his impulse to kiss her last night. In spite of  herself, she smiled. She'd never been kissed like that.

She hadn't even known kisses like that existed.

From beneath her wide-brimmed black hat, she watched him shrug out of  his coat and toss it on a pile of wood. The blue chambray shirt  stretched across his broad muscled back as he sawed a board in half.  Bent at the waist, he hammered it into place on the frame he'd built  around the stock tank. His body had been warm and solid against hers,  his hands...