Both wore loincloths. Bear claws hung from their necks, and their faces were masterpieces of ferocious black and white geometric designs, apparently painted by Slade. Anton wanted to laugh and tiptoe out to collect Rain Shadow. The thought disturbed him. When had he ever had the desire to share a moment like this with someone?
A realization hit him belatedly.
Slade stood beside Nikolaus, no sign of his splint. His long, narrow leg was every bit as sturdy as the other, and he was having the time of his life.
Anton leaned against the wall outside the door. Why, those two little scoundrels! How long had this trickery been going on? All the while his mother carried him and worried and slept in this house while wanting to be out in her lodge,
Slade had been pulling a fast one. And Nikolaus! His son had gone right along with the deception. What did they hope to gain?
Time. Time together as brothers. Time Rain Shadow could ill afford. Anton considered going downstairs for her after all. He considered it for about five seconds, instead padded to his room, stomped his feet into his boot heels and hollered, "You fellas ready to go over to Aunt Annette's for the day?"
Rain Shadow would hit the ceiling if she knew. She'd rant and rave and gather her son and father, pack her lodge and be out of here before the sun set tonight. He couldn't let that happen. For some reason unknown to himself, this burning obligation to protect her from Ruiz grew stronger with each passing moment. He couldn't shield her if she left.
Several deliberate thumps and bumps later, he strode down the hallway, paused to straighten a picture on the wall, and entered Nikolaus' room. Painted and feathered, two sets of wide innocent eyes greeted him. Slade's splints were once again in place.
Anton thumped his chest. "Me friend. Me take braves to aunt's house, make heap good cookies." The boys crumpled on the bed, chortling like conspiring brothers.
* * *
A small figure in a flat-crowned black hat and fringed buckskin jacket dismounted, tying a familiar painted pony to the hitching rail. Beside Rain Shadow the tall, blond farmer looped the reins of his bay over the rail next to hers. Neubauer scanned the street from beneath the brim of his dun-colored Stetson, and Miguel receded into the alleyway. The farmer spoke, pulled a watch from his pocket to show Rain Shadow, then kept her under observation until she entered the mercantile.
Neubauer crossed the street with long-legged strides and entered a one story building with "J.J. Hawkins, Attorney at Law" painted in block letters on a wooden sign above the door. Miguel leaned against the building and drew a cheroot from inside his coat. It had grown too cold to waste nights warmed by a camp fire, and he'd been waiting days for a response to his telegraphed message to Fredrico Avarato. His cash was nearly gone. A man like him deserved more.
How could he get close enough to convince her after that scene at the farmers' dance? Neubauer would be sorry.
No. Rain Shadow was his target, not the farmer. He must keep that in mind. If he could not come by the locket with her consent, he would secure it without. Separate her from her guard and take it. He puffed on the thin cigar, smoke drifting past his black brows. Before snow flew in this godforsaken place, he would have the locket in hand.
Rain Shadow slung her ammunition-laden saddlebags over her shoulder, her boots treading heavily on the wooden boardwalk.
"Rain Shadow!"
She turned and watched Anton lope up beside her. "Finished?"
He nodded, considered offering to carry her bulging leather bags, but instead watched her stride to Jack and shift them from her shoulder to the pony's pack with little difficulty, humiliated to realize he probably couldn't have done as well with his shoulder as tender as it was.
They mounted and rode toward the Neubauer farm, the ground beneath the horses' hooves hard from the cold. They cantered in silence for half a mile, the sky a heavy gray blanket above their heads.
"There's something I want you to think about."
Rain Shadow glanced at him, noting the tall, easy way he sat his bay. She raised one brow in question.
"I had a talk with Jed Hawkins back there. He's an attorney."
She waited for him to get to the point.
"He claims if you were married that your husband could sign an affirmation of some sort and Slade would legally be your husband's child."
Surprised by the idea, she gazed at a barren stand of maple trees. "I guess somewhere in my plans for the future I've thought of marriage. I'd like for Slade to have a father. A boy needs a man-not that Two Feathers hasn't been a wonderful companion and teacher for him," she added quickly. She gave him a sharp frown beneath the flat brim of her hat. "Why would you talk to a lawyer about something like that?"
His eyes diverted to the horizon. "Our fathers came up with a plan."
"A plan for what?" she asked, wariness in her voice.
"They think if we were married, Ruiz would be discouraged." At her shocked expression, he hurried on. "He'd have nothing to hang around for. You'd be taken, and Slade would have a legal father. His two reasons for staying would be gone."
That fever must have left Anton brainsick. Jack stepped over a hole, and she rocked with his gait. "You can't be serious."
His brows drew together and he scowled at her with a look too dark for such a golden man. "Look, I know I'm not the catch of the county. That's been pointed out to me recently. I'm not asking you to fall all over yourself with gratitude. I'm simply suggesting that you marry me to protect yourself from Ruiz."
"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."
His lips drew into a taut line.
He wanted her physically, he'd made that obvious, but he certainly held no respect for her as wife material. "Did you stop at the saloon?"
"This isn't a lifetime commitment we're talking about here. We'd marry, Ruiz would go away, and we'd sign some more papers. The marriage would be annulled. You could go on your way, free and clear."
"Is there such a thing?"
"Hawkins assured me."
"Married people just go to a lawyer, sign a paper, and their marriage is over?"
He looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, only if they haven't..."
"Haven't what?"
"Haven't-consummated their marriage." Consummated their marriage. The image of that act with Anton burned an indelible picture in her mind. She stared ahead sightlessly. Married. To Anton? Married to Anton and not consummate? Ridiculous. The entire idea was ridiculous. "Our fathers had this idea?"
"Turn me down if you want. I live for rejection."
"Oh, Anton, that's not it at all. Even if marriage did solve my problem, what would you gain?"
"Does everyone need a selfish reason to do things?"
The farm came into view. How would she know? The only man she'd ever trusted besides Two Feathers and Will Cody wasn't an example of chivalry. "I don't need your charity."
"Let go of your pride for once."
She jerked her gaze to his blazing blue one. "Slade and I don't need anyone but each other. I've gotten by this far."
"Oh, and you've done so well."
Anger blazed hot in her cheeks. She threw him what she hoped was a shriveling scowl and kicked her heels into Jack's withers. The contemptible jackass. Who did he think he was? She rode hard, her head lowered over the horse's neck. Jack seemed to love the exercise, and stayed dexterously ahead of Anton's much larger bay.
She vaulted from the horse, yanked her bags and the pad she used as a saddle from his back and turned him into the corral. He'd been trained to walk several turns around the enclosure, a means by which he cooled himself, affording her time to get ready for her next performance.
She ignored Anton as he galloped up the drive and dismounted. He led the General around the outbuildings before turning the bay into the corral.
Rain Shadow carried her supplies to her lodge and started a fire.
"Rain Shadow."
She ignored Anton's angry voice outside the flap.
"Rain Shadow!" he called again.
She warmed her hands over the flames that sprang up. Anton flung the tent flap aside and crouched through the opening.
"You can't come in here. I didn't give you permission."
He pulled himself up straight, looking taller and broader than ever in his sheepskin coat. He'd left his hat elsewhere. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"An Indian would never commit such a breach of etiquette. I didn't invite you."
"Yeah, well, I'm not an Indian, am I? And neither are you. Sometimes I'm not sure what you are-except bullheaded."