Rain Shadow met Anton's amused gaze. Perched in the rocker, Nikolaus at his feet in a pile of wood shavings, Anton whittled a length of birch.
"All right," she conceded.
Slade grinned.
"Ain't it about time for me and Slade to go to Aunt Annette's?" Nikolaus asked.
Anton glanced at the mantel clock. "Yep, it is. Wrap up warm. I'll walk with you."
"I have to get my bag." Nikolaus bounded for the ladder. "C'mon, Slade. Get your clothes ready."
Rain Shadow glanced from one boy to the other. "What do you mean?"
Nikolaus paused on the bottom rung. "I always spend the night when we pull taffy. Slade'll stay, too, won't he?" Unsettled, she laid the knife down and wiped her hands on a clean flour sack. The thought of Slade not being here with her didn't rest easily on her conscience. Too many troubling things had happened recently. "I-I don't know."
She cast Anton a nervous glance.
"He's as safe with my brother as he is with me," Anton assured her softly.
Three sets of eyes awaited her decision. Time stopped. Anton had brought several dogs home a few days earlier, and there hadn't been an incident since. If Anton didn't have a concern over the boys staying at Annette and Franz's, she guessed it would be safe. He'd been right the other day when she'd panicked-she couldn't hide her son away forever. Besides, how could she let Nikky go without him? "Use the outhouse on the way, and don't go out again until morning."
"Aw-right!" Nikolaus bounded up the ladder.
Slade gave her a quick hug. "Thanks."
Anton stood and brushed shavings from his lap. "I'll clean this up later.' '
She turned to the dinner she'd started. "They'll eat there?"
He nodded and grabbed his coat.
"You don't have to hurry. Our meal will take a while longer."
Their sons returned, laden with the worn saddlebags they played with full to bursting. Slade hugged her soundly, and she kissed his forehead.
Nikolaus stood timidly between her and the door, a half wistful expression on his cherubic features.
"'Bye, Nikky," she said with a smile.
"'Bye, Rain Shadow." He flipped his mittened hand in an awkward wave.
She'd watched the touches between her son and Anton, Anton's enormous hand guiding Slade's narrow one over a wooden horse they shaped, the three enthusiastically wrestling on the floor, the man affectionately ruffling her boy's hair.
Did Nikky crave a motherly touch as much as Slade needed a fatherly one? Rain Shadow feared she would embarrass him, or worse yet-feared that she'd misconstrued his hesitation. How could she have? He was a little boy without a mother.
"Wait." She searched the hooks near the door until she found a woolen cap. Kneeling, she pulled it over his golden curls and flattened it around his ears. "Can't have you catching cold."
Face-to-face, he smiled disarmingly, his sky-blue eyes and freckle-dusted cheeks an angelic vision. His mother must have been beautiful-was beautiful, she corrected herself, recalling the daguerreotype in Anton's room. "Have fun," she said, and dotted his nose with her index finger.
Impulsively, he flung his arms around her neck and hugged her soundly. She wrapped her arms around his back and returned the embrace, her eyes flooding with tears.
How had this happened? She had fallen in love with Anton's son. Nikolaus released her, turned to his father, and the three left, a gust of winter wind swirling about her ankles.
Thank goodness Nikolaus had Annette, and he obviously held a special place in her heart. Rain Shadow couldn't let this be her concern. She wouldn't be here long enough to give Nikky the attention he needed. Annette would.
Staring at the closed wooden door, recognition seeped into her pores. Anton would return shortly. And they would be alone together. The memory of their kisses a few nights earlier brought a flush to her cheeks.
Think about it... think about what you really want...
What did she really want? Before the train had derailed and she'd discovered her son in Anton's dimly lit bedroom, she'd been certain she wanted to be the best sharpshooter known to mankind. Certain she didn't want to be dependent on a man for anything. Those certainties had grown hazy and confusing beneath Anton's somber blue gaze. Her resolve vanished within the heated embrace of his muscled arms. What had he done to her?
What was she doing living in this cabin with him, mending his shirts and cooking his meals? His meals! She spun toward the table, praying she'd have an edible one ready. A batch of biscuits wouldn't take long. The stove took a knack she couldn't seem to master. She could outshoot and outride any worthy opponent, accurately throw a knife at a target from twenty-five feet, catch enough game or fish to survive ten winters, but she had yet to prepare a meal without charring something.
In her haste, she spilled milk down the front of her dress. Aggravated, she gathered skillets and ingredients, and cooked over the fireplace, a tried and true method. The bacon, turned often on the trivet, browned evenly. The biscuits, just the right distance from the fire, were golden brown. Rain Shadow opened one of the jars of green beans Lydia had given her, and peaches, too.
Glancing down at her soiled dress and apron, she washed her face and hands, dashed into the bedroom and peeled off the wet clothing. Her underthings were damp, as well, so she hung them over the back of a chair, brushed her hair out quickly and attempted to pin it to her head the way Annette and Lydia did.
"Smells good!" Anton's voice boomed from the other room.
"It's ready. Just a minute!" She reached into her trunk and drew out the first dress she touched, ivory doeskin. She really should wear one of her new ones, but they took so long to adjust and button, and all those underclothes were required. She'd actually fixed a decent meal, she couldn't let it scorch now. She slipped the soft leather dress over her head.
Anton looked up from the wood shavings he'd swept into a tidy pile. His intense blue eyes riveted on her, radiating approval.
Rain Shadow. Undeniably, irresistibly beautiful. Exotic. Try as he did to stick to his idealistic thoughts and plans, her unconventional appearance, habits and spunk entranced him. He watched her grab a flour sack and remove the skillet from the fire. Her pale dress clung to every perfect curve, displayed her smooth, slender calves and ankles. She looked lovely in her new cotton dresses, lovelier than every woman he knew, but this...this was the manner of dress that ignited his blood, drummed it through his veins in a tortuous blaze he was hard-pressed to squelch.
Studying her, he realized her hair wasn't Indian-like at all. The ever-present braid upheld the illusion of straight black hair, but gathered in a loose knot, tendrils curled becomingly at her neck and cheeks. The fire's glow cast alluring highlights. A few pins removed, and the tresses would fall around her like a silken curtain.
He remembered how she'd responded to him the other night, how close he'd been to giving in to his desire. She wouldn't have stopped him. He knew it. Knew with an assuredness he'd never known before. Knew if he gave in now, it would all be over.
And they were completely alone-
Chapter Thirteen
Snowflakes swirled on the frozen ground beneath Miguel's horse's hooves. Clouds played cat and mouse with the moon. He eyed the cabin murderously. The wind caught at the brim of his hat. He unrolled a blanket from behind his saddle and draped it across his head and shoulders.
He should have taken the necklace by force when he found her. Instead he had wheedled and cajoled. After all his watchful, careful plots and plans, she had humiliated him. If she had stepped into the night without her holster he could have had the locket. The puta!
He should have shot her. He should have shot Neubauer. They had made a fool of him! Miguel de Ruiz, descendant of one of the most prominent families in Argentina! She had told him the child was Neubauer's. If not for the conversation he had overheard in the saloon, Miguel might never have known. Resentment flared anew at the memory.
"D'juh hear the oldest Neubauer son went and got hisself hitched again?"
A bleary-eyed farmer had leaned into his beer and peered at his neighbor. "Thought that Clanton girl was being courted by that Beker fella from Accord."
"Weren't her."
The other's brows shot up. "No? Who then? McLaury's youngest?"
"Nope. Done married hisseff that Indian princess from the Wild West Show."
"She's a looker."
"Got herself a kid, too. Nice looking boy. 'Bout a year older'n his own boy... must be 'bout seven. Black hair and eyes. 'Bout as different from Nikolaus as night and day, but I seen Anton with him, and he treats the boy just like his own."