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Rain Shadow(53)

By:Cheryl St.John


He wanted her.

"Rain Shadow, I'm crazy for sticking my neck out like this again, but I  love you." Quick-shifting apprehension flitted across his expression.  "I'm afraid you won't love me back," he whispered.

His honesty reached her heart and twisted it painfully. "Anton, I love you. I told you that."

Behind his eyes exultation melted into confusion and then... embarrassment? "You told me?"

She nodded.

"When?"

"After we made love... the second time that night."

He skimmed his palms up and down her bare arms. She wanted to close her  eyes and revel in his touch. He slid his hands to catch and hold hers.  Studying the front of her dress, he asked, "Did you say it softly?"

"I think so."

Color tinged his cheekbones.

She waited, watching his gaze drift slowly across her breasts, then back to her face.

"I can't hear with my left ear. I didn't hear you."

Rain Shadow digested that bit of information. "How come I didn't know? Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want you to know."

She took his face in her hands. "Why not?"

"I never thought to. Or maybe...I didn't want you to think less of me."

"Nobody's perfect, Anton."

His eyes answered for him.

Beneath her palms his cheeks were smooth from his morning shave. She ran  her fingertips across his face, his sun-kissed brows. "You blame  yourself for too much. You feel responsible for Emily's problems, for  her death. Perfect hearing wouldn't have changed any of that."                       
       
           



       

"I know that.

"You're self-conscious of that scar." Rain Shadow touched the spot through his shirt.

He shrugged. "Two scars now."

"I like them because they're part of you. I hope you don't expect me to be perfect."

His eyes darkened. "You are perfect."

"I'm not. The toes on my right foot are a little crooked, and I have a scar on my knee from falling off a horse."

He grinned. "I've seen it."

She pressed herself against him and dropped her head back. "I love every  stubborn inch of you. Every time you touch me my heart pounds. I could  kiss you forever and not tire of it."

His golden eyelashes fluttered shut, and he inhaled a deep breath.

She slid her fingers through the thick hair at his neck and pulled his  head down so that her lips touched his good ear. "I love you."

His hand trembled on her spine. "I want to trust you."

"You already do. You let me shoot at you."

He straightened enough to look at her. "That Tall Bear fellow trusts you enough to let you shoot at him, too."

"Ah, but he knew I wouldn't blow his nose off. You weren't certain."

He smiled. A smile as warm as the afternoon sun.

"Kiss me, Anton."

"Does this mean you'll come home with me?"

"Yes."

He kissed his wife until her toes curled.

"Ma! Anton!"

"Rain Shadow! Pa!"

Childish voices interrupted their embrace. Anton raised his head.  Beneath her hand, his heart thundered. "I have a hotel room," he  suggested.

"I have a very understanding father."

They smiled into one another's eyes.





Epilogue




"You know, watching the wedding ceremony in the show made me think,"  Anton said from his comfortable position on the bed. "I don't have a  herd of white stallions."

Rain Shadow trailed her fingers through the suds. Replete from their  lovemaking, she lay soaking in the enormous tub Anton had ordered  carried to his room and filled with steaming water. He watched her, his  shoulders propped against the pillows, chest and feet still bare. "If  you'd stolen a herd of stallions," she drawled, "you'd be in jail, not  making love to me all evening."

"I mean I don't have anything to offer your father except a home." He stacked his hands behind his head.

"The show is the way life was years ago, Anton, not the way we live  today. A home is exactly what my father needs. Slade and I too. We've  missed the farm. I can't wait to go back."

"Jakob and Lydia had a girl this time."

She smiled and tilted her head in a pretty, feminine gesture. "They must be happy."

"Mmm," he said distractedly. He watched her minutes longer, thinking of all he had to tell her. "Isn't the water getting cold?"

"I'm used to cold water."

"You'll shrivel up."

"It feels too good to get out."

He sat up. "I have something to tell you that will make you feel even better."

"Better than this? What is it?"

"Get out, and I'll tell you."

Reluctantly, she stood.

Even now, the sight of her body sent a shaft of desire through him. He  met her with a towel. With gentle hands, he dried her body, wrapped her  in a dry towel and led her to the bed. Tendrils of damp ebony hair  spiraled at her neck and temples. He touched his fingertip to a droplet  of water he'd missed on her collarbone. She relaxed against the pillows.

Sitting beside her, he leaned forward and kissed her. He'd almost been  foolish enough to lose her. He'd never take that chance again. "I love  you, Rain Shadow."

She placed her hand on his arm, watched her fingers glide across his skin. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"No." His gaze skittered to his satchel beside the bed. Bending, he  retrieved a bundle of papers and letters. "I went through Ruiz' things  before I took his body to town. I found a passenger list for a wagon  train that set west in 1875 and a few letters from a man named Avarato  in Boston."
                       
       
           



       
Bolting upright, she sat on her knees and stared at him. "A wagon train?"

He smiled at her excitement, pleased he could give her this. "Uh-huh.  Seems this Avarato fellow had a daughter who married a man the family  didn't approve of and headed west with him."

"Who was she, Anton? Why did Miguel have these papers?" She grabbed the  stack from his hands and rifled through them, skimming return addresses  on the envelopes until she came to the yellowed list. "Why are all these  names circled?" She pointed to the names on the parchment. "And these  checked off?" She grabbed his arm. "Anton?"

"Let me tell you. The letter hinted at the fact that Ruiz knew where  this man's daughter might be. It seems Avarato was paying Ruiz to track  her down-or her locket, anyway-"

"Locket!" Her hand flew to her bare chest.

He'd been surprised that she hadn't been wearing it that afternoon when  he'd removed her clothing, and then he'd recalled she hadn't had it on  earlier in the day when she'd undressed in front of him. The day after  Ruiz' death, Anton had handed the locket to her. She'd stared at it for a  moment, and then tucked it into her pants pocket. "Where is it?" he  asked.

She let her hand drop to her bare knee. "In a trunk. Somehow I couldn't  wear it after he had it." She shook her head. "Anton, is my locket the  one this man wanted?" A look of astonishment flattened her features. "Is  Avarato my family?"

"I'm convinced it's the same locket he gave his daughter years ago, but  no, she wasn't your mother. I have a feeling Ruiz wanted you to pretend  she was to bleed Avarato."

"How can you be sure?" she asked, disappointment tingeing her voice.

"Avarato had done most of the work in going over this passenger list. He  hired private investigators years ago, and followed up periodically.  His daughter had no children."

"But it's the right wagon train?"

"It is. How else would you have gotten her locket? Two Feathers found you wearing it, right?"

She nodded fervently.

"We can only guess that Juanita Avarato, her name was Wilkins by then,  gave it to you. Or maybe you just picked it up while you were wandering  around after the attack."

Rain Shadow's heart pounded so hard Anton could likely see it. She ran  her fingers reverently over the aged paper. "That means my parents are  on this list."

Anton nodded. He slid a few envelopes from the stack. "Over the years  Avarato or his men looked into all of the names. Ruiz checked out the  sources and obviously agreed with their findings. Avarato's daughter  died."

"But after all these years how would we ever find these people?" The task sounded impossible.

"Avarato contacted the families years ago. He kept names and letters and  telegrams. When I wrote, he was sympathetic to your cause and gladly  gave me all the names and addresses of survivors. All I had to do was  write each one. Several came back without being delivered. Most came  back with replies saying they knew of no dark-haired little girl on that  wagon train."