Badland Bride (27 page)
He pointed to the paint and without a word Buffalo Killer walked toward the horse. Skeeter mounted the gelding, tucked his thigh beneath her hip. His gaze went to the site of the blast.
Her chin dropped. Who would ever have thought six sticks of dynamite could do so much damage? One would have been plenty. The whole side of the cliff was gone, and what was left of it had canyons the size of swimming pools. Sand and dirt still trickled down the steep slope and dust continued to rise from the ground.
He flipped the horse around, and she latched onto his arm as they galloped back toward the house. She'd just wanted to block off the cave, not destroy the hill. Skeeter certainly seemed upset by the damage she'd done. Maybe he'd had dinosaur bones in there. The dynamite must have come from the excavation site; maybe they'd stored some other things in there too. She bowed her head, having never thought of that. It would take diggers years to uncover them now. That is if they'd survived the blast.
Skeeter's mind and body fought. His flesh was already responding to the warm, supple body in front of him, but images of her wrapped in Buffalo Killer's arms, sitting on the brave's lap as pretty as you please, ate at his brain.
He slapped the reins across the gelding's rump, forcing the animal's speed to increase. Her fingers dug into his forearm, and he gave the reins a slight tug, eased the pace into a smooth lope. It wasn't safe for her to travel too fast.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Buffalo Killer's gaze kept bouncing toward him. He ignored it. A damn fool, that's what he was. Once again, he'd thought he could trust the brave.
When they arrived at the house, he dismounted, looked at Buffalo Killer and pointed to the house before he reached up to lift Lila down. Her hands settled on his shoulders, and the touch made his knees grow weak. Their eyes met. Hers were somber, cloudy. The rock in his stomach grew to the size of a boulder.
He removed his hands from her sides, clenched them into fists as she slipped hers off his shoulders and turned to walk toward the house. At the stairs he took her elbow, making sure she didn't slip on the boards the sun had yet to dry.
Buffalo Killer held the door open. He shot the brave the evil eye as they walked passed, toward the table. Lila sat on the first chair, flattened the material of her dress over her knees. He gestured to Buffalo Killer to sit down next to her.
The anger ripping his guts apart couldn't be quelled any longer. “Damn fine friend you turned out to be."
The brave, half-squatting, still lowering himself onto the chair, snapped his head up. With a humph he stood, patted his chest. “Buffalo Killer friend."
"Like hell you're my friend!"
The Indian folded his arms across his chest, stared angrily across the room.
Skeeter stomped forward, stopped nose to nose. “A friend doesn't steal another friend's wife."
The stern look on Buffalo Killer's dark face went lax before his eyes squinted, snapped with anger. “I didn't steal her! I saved her from blowing herself back into the future."
Skeeter felt his chin drop, turned to Lila.
"Back to the future?"
Her lips opened and closed a couple times before she pointed at Buffalo Killer and said, “He can talk in full sentences."
Skeeter frowned, looked back at the brave. Buffalo Killer had spoken in a full sentence. But the information made no difference. He snapped his head back to Lila. “You were going back to the future without me?"
"No!” Her face twisted. “No, not going, went. I went back to the future—I had to. And when I came back I decided to plug the portal and—"
"You went to the future?” His ears rang. He moved, stepped closer to her so he could assure he'd heard right.
She nodded. A sad glint glistened in her green eyes. “I had to leave a note for my parents. I had to let them know I'm okay."
He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose. “How?"
"I left it in my backpack. It was in the backseat of my car.” She stood, took a hold of his arms. “It would be too hard for you to go to the future. You don't have a birth certificate. You'd never be able to get a social security card without a birth certificate. And you'd never get a job without a social security card. And, and then you'd need a driver's license, which you wouldn't be able to get without a social security card either. Oh, and then the government would wonder why you never filed income taxes before so we'd surely be audited."
He held up a hand. Her explanation was doing little more than make his head swim.
Buffalo Killer took advantage of the moment of silence. “I go now."
Skeeter pointed at the brave, but then let his hand fall to his side, having no idea what he wanted to say. Still, wanting the man to know he wasn't happy, he said, “I'll talk to you later."
The Indian huffed a breath of air. “I not steal wife."
Skeeter glared at him, let him know his secret was out.
"Fine!” Buffalo Killer threw his hands in the air. “I didn't steal your wife. I have my own wife. What the hell would I do with two of them?” His broad back stiffened as he walked to the door. “I'll stop by and see you tomorrow."
The door slapped shut, and Skeeter's mind instantly returned to Lila. “You went back to the future?"
"Yes, I had to leave a note for my parents.” She shrugged. “I had to."
"How did you get there?"
"Through the tunnel. How else?"
"The tunnel didn't work. I tried it."
"It worked just fine for me."
"Which one?"
"Which one? There's only one."
"No there's not. Between Buffalo Killer's braves and myself there had to be over a dozen tunnels, and not one led to the future."
She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his waist. He couldn't resist her touch, her closeness, and enveloped her body. Tingling with want, his hands ran over her shoulders, down her back. Her temple pressed against his chin. “I only found one, and it took me right back to the future. Everything was just as you said. My car was in the same spot."
"But how'd you get through the house. I know it collapsed."
"The stairwell was still standing. I had to be careful not to trip since most of the rest of it was a pile of rubbish.” She straightened, dug in a pocket of her dress. “I had this on the way back.” A small, red cylinder sat in her palm. She folded her fingers around it, pushed her thumb on a small silver button and the end lit up like a miniature sun.
Intrigued, he took it to examine closer. With the slightest touch on the button the light would disappear then come back again.
She giggled. “It's a flashlight. I thought you'd like it."
He set it on the table, pulled her back into his arms. “I would have gone with you."
"I know.” She pressed a kiss to the front of his shirt. “But I had to go by myself. I knew I could get back, but I worried if you would be able to."
He shook his head. “No, I mean I would have moved there. Stayed in the future with you."
She laid a cheek to his chest. “I couldn't do that to you. Couldn't make you live in the future. You belong here."
"I belong wherever you are. Always will.” He grasped her upper arms, tugged her tighter to his chest. The aftershock of fear still racked his body. “I was so scared when I realized you'd left. Please don't ever do that to me again."
"I'm sorry. I hoped to be back before you woke.” She lifted her face, kissed his chin. “And I won't ever leave you again. But I hope you understand that I had to leave the note for my parents. I don't want them to worry about me."
He sighed, thinking of how badly her disappearance must hurt her parents. “Honey, I don't think a note will ease their worry."
She nodded. “Yes, it will. I also gave them the miniature picture Eva made of the two of us. I told them how happy I am here. How I had to choose between the past and the future.” Her hands cupped his cheeks. “I chose the past. I'll forever choose you over everything else life has to offer. They'll understand that."
If a heart could physically grow in size—his did, swelled to fill his chest until it hurt. But it was a sweet, everlasting pain. He lowered his face, tasted the lips he'd forever hunger for, and never tire of sampling. Her mouth opened, encouraging him to delve deeper and sip her heady nectar.
The way her hands combed through his hair, the curves of her body molded against his, filled his veins with fire. Skeeter broke the kiss, ready to lift her into his arms and march up the stairs to their bedroom.
She stopped his hands before they hoisted her. “I also told them about the baby."
His hands went limp. “What did you tell them?"
Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip until it went white. She swallowed, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I told them not to worry. That I have the most wonderful husband on earth, and that we already love our baby more than they could imagine."
He blinked against the pressure on his eyeballs. “I do you know."
"Yes, I know. I do too."
"You do?” He grasped her cheeks. “So we're keeping the baby?"
A smile curved her lips. “Is that okay?"
He whooped like a brave on the warpath. Grabbed her waist and twirled them both around before he realized the motion may not be safe for the baby. Setting her back on her feet, he bent and locked her lips with his.
A shock wave took away his breath, and he grabbed her cheeks, held her face still so he could gaze into those green eyes. That's when he saw it—she was whole. He closed his eyes for a moment with utter thankfulness, knowing without a doubt his little bird had healed. Whatever had been broken, whatever had been gripping her insides with pain and doubt was gone. A new wave of gratitude filled his heart, for even though she had flown away, she'd come back—to live with him, forever.
Lila looked out the window. Time had flown by. It was hard to believe it was Christmas Eve. The sun shining down on the barren ground heated the air well above freezing and meadowlarks took advantage of the spring-like temperature to peck for hidden seeds in the back yard. She ran a hand over her huge stomach. Her load had lowered, made even the simplest movements difficult. She knew she must look like a duck as she turned to waddle to the tree Skeeter had hauled in and helped her decorate.
Gaily wrapped gifts for the brothers, Ma, Jessie, and her and Kid's baby boy, Joel, sat beneath the bottom boughs of pine needles. A couple weeks ago, she'd been sluggish and hadn't had the energy to get the presents ready for the post, and now that a burst of vigor fueled her, it was too late. They'd have to be sent after the holiday.
Joel was three months old now. She wanted to see her nephew, but her loving, doting, husband wouldn't permit her to travel that far. He was right of course. Their baby was due any day now. She still had apprehension about giving birth in the eighteen hundreds, but Jessie had survived just fine, and she had Skeeter. He wouldn't let her down, of that she was certain.
The smell of gingerbread drew her toward the kitchen. Stocking footed, since her huge belly made putting on her shoes very difficult, she padded to the stove and pulled open the oven door to check the cookies. A large bowl of frosting sat on the table, ready to decorate the different shapes as soon as they were done, and cool.
Her heart tightened, wishing her parents could join them for the holiday. It was impossible, and she found satisfaction in knowing her parents knew she was happy. Besides, they were most likely vacationing someplace sunny. Even though her family had settled in Hays for her to attend school, the traveling bug had never left her parents, and Christmas time was always vacation time. Skiing in Colorado or snorkeling in Hawaii was how they usually spent the holiday. The trips had been fun, but she'd always secretly longed for the Christmas's her friends groaned about. Houses full of family and wonderful events. This year she'd become determined to make traditions her children could carry on.
Skeeter thought her crazy as she decorated the tree singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bell Rock. She couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, never could, but he didn't mind. A smile tugged at her lips. Once she'd taught him the words, she'd heard his deep baritone singing under his breath as he helped her decorate. Huge red bows lined the wide staircase and knitted stockings Ma had made hung from the mantle. Her parents would be proud of the home she had, the roots she was putting down.
The heaviness left her chest as she gathered a hot pad and retrieved the cookies from the oven. A smile filled her face. She'd made her choice and didn't regret a minute of her life in the past.
Slipping the hot treats onto a cloth to cool, she lifted her head as the back door opened. A frown tugged at her brows as Skeeter backed in through the open area, struggling to bring something through the doorway.
She set down the pan and waddled over to hold the door. As he backed in further a beautifully carved rocking chair came into view. “Oh, my! Where on earth did you get that?” she exclaimed.
He turned about, set the chair down. “Try it out,” he said. His grin went from ear to ear.
Running a hand over the richly grained wood, she twisted and ungracefully lowered her huge frame into the seat. The rockers instantly began to move, and she leaned her head back, closed her eyes. “It's wonderful.” She grasped the hand rails, rocked back and forth. “I love it. Could sit here all day."
"I'm glad you like it,” a familiar voice said.
She snapped her eyes open. “Snake?"
Her brother-in-law, smiled, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas."
Mouth agape, as he stepped aside, she watched the trail of people stepping into the house. Snake, Hog, Bug, Ma, Willamina, Eva, Jessie, and Kid, carrying a baby in his arms soon had formed a circle around her.
She glanced to her husband. He tried to hide the smile on his face as he shrugged.
"We didn't tell him we were coming,” Ma said. “He looked as shocked as you do when we pulled in the yard.” Stephanie patted one hand still clutching the arm of the chair. “You're time is near, and no little girl of mine is going through labor without her Ma here."