Rain Shadow(42)

This time he prodded her. "Go on."

"Do you like looking at me?"

Blue fire ignited in his gaze. "Oh yes. More than you know."

"That's how I feel about you, too. I know I'm not a lady, Anton. I could  never be the woman your wife was. I'm not sophisticated, and I don't  know what's proper or what men like. I only know you make me happy, and  if-"

"Wait." He studied her with surprise. "You're not sorry?"

She returned his stare. "For what we did?"

His lips moved before he spoke. "About the way we..."

Something vulnerable wavered behind his half-veiled eyes, and she knew  what she said next would be important. How could he think she was sorry?  "Anton, what we shared last night was beautiful."                       
       
           



       

Shirt forgotten on the bed, he leaned over her, threaded his fingers  through her hair and spread it away from her face. "You're beautiful,  and you're a lady."

She smiled. "I am?"

"You have the wrong idea. With her there was never any peace or  satisfaction. She never gave me anything, wasn't satisfied with our life  together..." He stared at the pillow next to her head as if deep in  thought. "She always seemed unhappy, and I never found a way to get  close to her. We both loved Nikolaus, but there was no joy between us. I  felt like a failure. Felt like I made a mistake bringing her here." His  gaze came back to hers. "You gave me more last night than she did in  four years of marriage. You're happy with so little, Rain Shadow."

Something raw and painful twisted in her breast. So little. This short,  bittersweet time together, the physical release she'd been for him.  She'd told him she loved him, and he'd responded with his body, not his  heart, as if the admission meant nothing to him-as if he hadn't even  heard it. His beautiful wife had been a disappointment. Emily had  dissatisfied him. But he'd loved her.

Her aching heart was proof of her feelings. Was she happy with so little?

No. But he would never know. She was a physical outlet. Someone to slake  his passion until a proper woman came along. She could give him that.  Wanted to give him that. It fleetingly occurred to her that she should  get up and dress before the boys came back, but he pulled the sheet  away, and her hands automatically came up to his chest. There was time.

She understood. In some bruised corner of her own heart, she understood.  Miguel had never given her anything, either, except heartache and,  unknowingly, Slade. And even though he didn't return her love, Anton  offered more than she'd ever had before.

However temporary, she meant to have it.





Chapter Fourteen




Falling snowflakes glistened in the morning sunlight when Anton opened  the cabin door. Rain Shadow tipped her face heavenward, blinked away the  flakes and smiled.

She turned and found his soft gaze on her. "Suppose we missed breakfast?" he asked.

"Don't flatter yourself. It's still plenty early."

He laughed and challenged her to a race. She was more agile, but his  long legs kept him ahead of her. She considered faking a twisted ankle,  but he slowed and pointed toward Franz and Annette's.

Franz ran toward them, coatless, his shirt tails flapping in the bitter wind.

"What the-" Anton left the question unfinished. His brother raced  closer. He broke into a run, Rain Shadow at his heels, and met Franz on a  slope.

Slow dread paralyzed Rain Shadow's lungs and heart. She held her breath,  waiting for Franz's words, hoping against hope that the stricken look  on his face had nothing to do with Slade.

"The boys," Franz panted, and her heart turned over slow and sluggish. "They're gone."

"What do you mean they're gone?" Anton asked, impatiently.

Her brain seemed to take minutes to absorb Franz's words. Slade. Slade was gone?

"Pa must've taken them to the outhouse before anyone else was awake.  They didn't come to breakfast, so I went to check. I found Pa on the  ground with his head busted, and the boys were nowhere in sight."

Not, Nikky, too! Rain Shadow fought the numbing panic that fogged her  reactions. How long had they been gone? Johann was injured on top of it  all.

"Why didn't the dogs bark?" Anton asked, disgust lacing his voice.

Franz surveyed the landscape. "Ruiz must've done something to the dogs. I  haven't seen neither hide nor hair of 'em since last night."

Anton swore and ran on.

Rain Shadow followed.

Two Feathers was kneeling over Johann. He turned his head at their  approach, the color drained from his stoic features. Jakob's father laid  motionless, bright crimson blood dripping from a gash on his temple  onto the frozen ground. Johann, oh, Johann. Rain Shadow's chest would  certainly burst any moment, the way her heart was pounding. She calmed  herself with deep, even breaths. She had to stay calm.

"Let's get him in the house," Anton barked.                       
       
           



       

"Annette sent Jakob for Doc," Franz supplied.

Instinctively, Rain Shadow searched the ground for footprints. Evidence  of narrow boots led from the trampled area where Johann lay to a spot  behind the barn where a horse had been staked.

"The tracks point west," she said to Two Feathers, who watched the brothers carry their father into the house.

"I should have heard something." Self-blame rose in his voice.

"It's not your fault, Father, she assured him. "There's nothing you could have done."

"I would have killed the man and kept him from the spirit world. His  heart is black. He has caused you pain since we crossed the Great  Waters." Her father kept his stoic profile in her vision, as if he  couldn't allow himself to face her. "Now my grandson."

Rain Shadow took his forearm. "Slade will be all right, I promise. I'll bring him back."

Two Feathers met her eyes, and his filled with tears. "Take great care, my child."

Cold unnoticed, they stared at one another, snowflakes swirling between  them. She hugged him fiercely, turned and ran. More calm and collected  than she had any right to be, she reasoned each step, first taking  canteens and saddlebags from her lodge. In the cabin, she changed into  her leather pants and shirt and was packing food and ammunition when  Anton threw open the door.

She stared into his haunted blue eyes. "Your son, Anton. Your father. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"We'll find them," was all he said. He stripped, pulled on long  underwear and warm clothing and nodded to her bags. "Everything we  need?"

Their partnership went unspoken. The fact that he considered them a team  in this hardship and rescue sealed the bond between them even more  effectively than words. Somehow, since the day he'd told her to make  herself useful, she'd won his respect. And just in time. The stakes were  way too high to waste energy in disagreement. "Supplies are packed."

He didn't check. He trusted her. He grabbed his rifle and took a  revolver and bullets from a cupboard. Together they pulled on boots,  hats, and gloves.

The tracks led west, and then veered off in a northwesterly direction.

"Got any idea where he's headed?" she asked Anton around noon.

He shook his head. He'd been silent most of the morning. She wouldn't  blame him if he held her responsible. His son had been involved, thanks  to her. His father lay unconscious at the farm. She held tears at bay,  wondering how badly Johann was hurt. He could die.

No. She couldn't think like that. If she allowed herself one second to  consider that possibility, it would only lead to the same thoughts about  Nikky and Slade.

Gray clouds obliterated the sun, and the landscape manifested itself  desolate, more and more dreary as the afternoon wore on. Finally, they  stopped to build a fire and eat a meager meal. Rain Shadow wondered if  Miguel had fed the boys. By now they would be cold, hungry and mighty  uncomfortable riding three atop one horse.

The snow began falling in earnest about the same time they stamped out  their fire. His tracks-their only guide-would soon be obliterated. Rain  Shadow avoided Anton's eyes. She couldn't bear the stark fear she read  in their joyless blue depths and dreaded watching that fear turn to  accusation and resentment.

Night fell, and Rain Shadow constructed a low sleeping tent made of  hides. Anton built a fire, and they ate biscuits and bacon. Inside the  tent, they removed their clothing and crawled into the blankets  together, relying on their combined body heat to warm them through the  night.

Rain Shadow lay with Anton's solid form along the length of her body,  her spine curved against him. He curled himself around her protectively,  but made no move to touch her intimately. He hadn't spoken much their  entire ride, and only when necessary while setting up camp. The inch or  more of snow blanketing the earth insulated them from even the slightest  noise. The only sounds she heard were his heartbeat against her back,  his pocket watch in their pile of clothing, and the accusing voices in  her head.