The severing had been more painful than any of them had anticipated. He and Nikolaus had driven Rain Shadow, Slade and Two Feathers in the springboard, their lodge and belongings piled in the box, Jack tied behind. In Butler, they'd waited awkwardly for the train, the boys sitting sullenly side by side against the station on a wooden bench. Two Feathers had poised on the platform's edge like a wooden Indian, arms crossed, craggy face unreadable.
The eleven-fifty's whistle had pierced Anton's composure, and the train steamed into the station two minutes ahead of schedule. Two Feathers gave Anton a resigned nod and boarded the train. At the last minute Slade and Nikolaus exchanged wooden horses and a bow and arrows, then Slade dashed up the stairs, appearing at a window with a glum wave. Nikolaus burst into tears and clung to Rain Shadow's trouser leg until Anton peeled him off. Anton's eyes met hers, Nikolaus' cries and the shrieking whistle preventing any last words.
She'd kissed him then, pulling his head down, pressing herself against his body and closing her eyes tightly. That kiss disturbed Anton's soul, leaving him wanting to hold her, wanting to keep her with him by whatever means necessary, stamping her taste on his lips as the train chugged slowly away from the platform...away from the station...away from Butler, Pennsylvania... and away from him.
Nothing in his life had been in alignment since.
"She called me 'darling,' Pa," Nikolaus said, dragging Anton from his reverie. "Rain Shadow hugged me and made me not be so scared. She loves me, I think."
Anton released his son and took his hand. He didn't know if anything in his life would ever would be on track again.
* * *
Rain Shadow carried a tray through the line and helped herself to a slice of roast, potatoes and gravy. Over the hubbub of hundreds of forks and knives, the buzz of voices in different languages and accents and wooden benches scraping the floor, she glanced around for Slade. Beside her, Two Feathers balanced a slice of pie on his tray, and together they made their way through the throng in the dining tent to a table.
Slade joined them as they ate.
"I wondered where you were." She took the napkin from his tray and placed it on his lap.
"I heard the bell, but I couldn't find you."
"That's okay." She gave him a smile. He hadn't been his usual energetic self lately, and she'd been relieved to see him join the other boys in their games that afternoon. "Did you have fun?"
He shrugged. "It was okay." He took a bite of his meat and chewed thoughtfully. "I wonder if Nikky got my letter yet."
"I don't know," she said. "The mail takes a while to get that far west."
"Think we can go visit Nikky after Philadelphia? It ain't-isn't-too far, is it?"
She met Two Feathers' eyes across the table. "No, it's not far."
"I told the other kids about Christmas. It was somethin', wasn't it?"
Rain Shadow didn't miss the way he'd been leaving the gs off his words the way the Neubauers did. "It was something, all right."
A memory she'd fought off like a bad cold hit her full force. Christmas with its established customs, laced with sentiment and joyful family celebration, had been a grim pleasure. All of Rain Shadow's former Christmases had been spent like any other day. Practice, dinner in the dining tents with some six hundred other members of the show and an evening in front of a fire with Two Feathers. Any slim imaginings of the way others spent the holiday came from books, newspapers and pictures.
She remembered a photograph she'd seen once-a family at Christmas dinner, an enormous turkey gracing the table. She had studied that picture, hungrily inspecting each family member's face, identifying their relationships to one another and imagining their lives. She'd examined their clothing, the dishes, the lace tablecloth, even the clock on the wall, and she'd wondered if they always ate dinner at one-seventeen. That image had lodged in her mind, real family behavior as elusive as a butterfly.
Someday, she'd decided. Someday when she found her family, they would sit down to dinner together, and she would belong. She would experience what others took for granted.
She would never take a family for granted.
Rain Shadow could still smell the tree Anton had cut and carried into the cabin for them to decorate. She could still taste the popcorn they'd eaten faster than they could string it. She could still see the delight on her son's face when Anton had held him up to place his paper star on top of the tree, and-a divine disturbance swelled in her heart at the memories of the man she'd grown to love-she could still feel his strong, healthy body as he'd stood behind her and whispered secrets about the gifts he had waiting in the hay loft for Nikolaus and Slade.
Never would a Christmas Eve be as wrought with dear anguish as that one had been. Everything she'd ever wanted, ever dreamed of, danced ahead of her reach, taunted her with the realization of just how happy she would never be.
None of it had been real.
She had tucked Slade into bed, knowing they didn't belong there. She'd sat near the fire with Anton, coping with the fact that he was her husband but that nothing concrete bound him to her. She'd gone to bed in anticipation of another disturbing day to follow and listened to the cabin's night sounds, hoping Anton would come to her bed, praying he wouldn't.
He hadn't.
Day after strenuous day, she had avoided situations and subjects that would make her feelings for him obvious. She loved him. He wanted a proper wife. They'd come to a stalemate. He still had a chance for happiness. As soon as she was gone, he could get on with his life.
Why couldn't she get on with hers? Rain Shadow slid her hand in her pants pocket and closed her fingers around the gift Anton had given her that Christmas Eve. She pulled out the silver-dollar-size pocket watch and ran one finger over the delicately engraved flowers on the gold cover. An unusual gift for a woman, she'd said without thinking. "You are an unusual woman," he'd replied.
She regarded her son with frustration. How could she put Anton Neubauer behind her when Slade spoke of the Neubauers constantly, begged her to return and had even adopted their clipped speech? Slipping the watch back into in her pocket, she made up her mind to get their lives back to normal. Slade playing with the other boys today was a good sign. They needed time and distraction. "Want to practice with the hatchets tomorrow?"
His black eyes lit with enthusiasm. The trick was one he'd wanted to learn for some time. "Yes-sir-ee!" His gleeful expression clouded over. "What if I hit Grampa?"
She smiled tolerantly. "You won't throw at Grampa until you're very, very good. Grampa didn't take his place on that target until I'd been throwing for a couple of years."
"Aw, heck." Slade laid down his fork and finished his milk. "Good," he continued, his reaction changing from disappointment to relief in the flash of a second. "I was worried about hitting him. Think I'll be as good as you, Ma?"
"You can be whatever you want to be," she replied, imagining him as a lawyer, a teacher or the head of a big industry. That's it, Rain Shadow. Focus on your goal. Get back on track. The contest was less than a month away, and her success depended on giving it her undivided attention.
Her shooting was better than ever. She practiced hours on end every day. Yesterday she'd seen the posters and handbills advertising the contest.
Championship Contest Between
Annie Oakley, Peerless Wing & Rifle Shot
&
Princess Blue Cloud, Superb Horsewoman & Crack Shot.
Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show
Opens April 14, 1895
Delacourt Park, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
It was only a matter of time until her dream came true.
* * *
The dream changed. The nightmare evolved into a sensuous panorama of shapes, scents, sounds, textures and temperatures that titillated and tortured. From the edges of sleep Anton moaned at the sensation of cool, silky hair grazing his hypersensitive heated flesh. Velvet-soft skin gliding along his hard muscle and bone was painfully vivid.
Warm, damp lips and tongue caressing his stubble-rough cheeks and furred chest stole his breath and suffused his body with rock-hard heat.
The sensory onslaught haunted him.
Rain Shadow. Cool satin skin and ardent responses.
His own blazing heat and nameless, crushing fear. Apprehension seized his heart and squeezed the breath from his chest. The gentler her touch, the more suffocating the heat. The more passionate her mouth, the more crushing the dread. He was afraid his blazing desire would rage out of control and burn down the defenses he'd so carefully built and protected.