Daisies In The Wind (11 page)

She wasn’t breathing. In her eyes was utter
panic and a genuine, horrified fear.

“What the hell ...” he muttered and
instinctively reached out a hand to smooth the tumble of hair from
her cheek.

“Don’t!” she pleaded, flinching. In her eyes
was panic and utter fear. “Please, no! Please, don’t!”

His hand froze, then dropped. “I won’t,” he
said instantly, his voice softening, though he had no idea what he
was not supposed to do. But the sight of Rebeccah Rawlings, who had
faced up to all the challenges in the past day with such feisty
courage and self-reliance, now pale and trembling in childlike fear
stunned him. What was she so upset about?

“I’m not really going to spank you,” he said,
feeling somewhat foolish. “Or hurt you,” he added, and shifted his
weight to let her up.

Like lightning she darted from beneath his
arm and was off the sofa, not pausing until she had put a distance
of a good eight feet between them. Her breathing was labored, her
face sickly pale as she faced him.

“I’ll thank you to leave now,” she managed to
order, though he could see that even keeping her voice level was
costing her a great deal of effort.

“Why are you afraid of me all of a sudden?”
he asked, rising from the sofa, sticking his hat back on his head.
A short time ago he’d have sworn Rebeccah Rawlings wasn’t afraid of
anything. He made no quick moves, so as not to alarm her, and kept
his voice quiet as though he were speaking to a wounded animal that
needed his care. “Don’t tell me you thought I was going to rape you
just now.”

“Get out.”

“That’s what you thought, Rebeccah, isn’t
it?” he asked softly, incredulously.

She said nothing, but only stared at him
through dark, lost eyes.

Someone has hurt her, hurt her
badly
. Wolf was shaken by a violent surge of fury.

Then they both heard the sounds of footsteps
and women’s voices approaching the open cabin door.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing here,
Wolf?” Caitlin Bodine demanded, halting at the threshold. “Mary
recognized Dusty in the yard, but I could scarcely believe it. I
thought you were headed to town. Miss Rawlings?” Caitlin squinted
at the dark shape of the slender young woman, who appeared to be
frozen in the center of the parlor. “I’m Caitlin Bodine, and this
is Mary Adams. We’ve brought you a housewarming present.”

Rebeccah fought quickly to recover her
composure. The reflexive terror was fading. Her heartbeat slowed.
Wolf Bodine was no longer a terrifying figure, but only a tall,
rugged, handsome man with eyes that seared straight through her
like a branding poker crashing through glass. She didn’t look at
him, though. She studied Caitlin Bodine as Wolf performed stiff
introductions, and slowly she felt the color returning to her
cheeks.

Caitlin was perhaps in her late fifties, no
more than five feet tall, yet embodying an air of forcefulness that
made her seem somehow indomitable. A trim little woman, she had a
tiny beak nose, milky blue eyes, and a daintily pointed chin, which
gave her nut-brown, seamed face a sturdy character. Beside her,
Mary Adams, a freckle-faced girl of about fourteen, regarded
Rebeccah with frank curiosity. She carried a large wicker hamper
with a red-and-white-checked cloth across it.

A housewarming present.

“How do you do, Mrs. Bodine,” Rebeccah
managed, despite her surprise. “It’s very kind of you to visit. But
please don’t come in any farther just yet. I overturned the bucket,
and there’s water all over the floor. Let me wipe it up so you can
come in and sit down.”

“Mary will help you,” Caitlin said. “That’s
what we came for—to welcome you to Powder Creek and help you get
settled in. You’re our nearest neighbor—did my son tell you that?
No one’s lived on this property since heaven knows when, so it must
need quite a bit of work. Far too much for one young lady to handle
all alone.”

“Not our Miss Rawlings. She can handle
everything alone,” Wolf commented drily, thinking of the corpse
outside.

“Wolf.” His mother half turned toward him.
“Don’t you have some work to do in town?”

“I might.”

“Well, shoo, then. We don’t need you here—at
least not today. Maybe you can chop some wood for Miss Rawlings
later,” she added thoughtfully. “But right now it’s best if you
leave us women to our chores.”

Rebeccah gazed suspiciously from Wolf to
Caitlin and back again. It was difficult to believe that Wolf
Bodine’s mother—that anyone—wanted to help her settle in. No one in
her life had ever welcomed her anywhere. Yet the old woman didn’t
appear the type to lie. There was a forthrightness about her,
something plain and simple and honest, which Rebeccah recognized
even through her doubts.

“I appreciate the offer of help, Mrs.
Bodine,” Rebeccah said slowly, wonderingly. She directed Mary to
set the hamper down near the door. Then she looked coolly at Wolf,
trying not to think of the fluttering, hot sensations inside her
when he’d lain across her on the sofa, an instant before the panic
had set in.

“Was there anything else, Sheriff?” she
inquired.

“Nothing at all. Except a little matter to
see to out back. It won’t take long.”

Rebeccah skirted the puddle seeping across
the floor and followed him quickly to the door. “Please—bury him at
the edge of the property,” she said in a low tone. “As far away
from the house as you can. I don’t really want to think about Fess
Jones in his final resting-place every time I step outside my
kitchen door.”

“And I thought you weren’t afraid of ghosts
or dead men.”

“It has nothing to do with fear!”

Wolf stared into those flashing violet eyes,
so filled with anger and rebellion. This was the Rebeccah Rawlings
he knew—not the terrified woman of a few moments ago. He held up a
hand before she could bite out a stinging reproof. “Hold on to your
horses, Miss Rawlings. I’m not planning to bury anyone outside your
kitchen door. Jones is going to the undertaker, and then he’ll be
laid to rest proper in Boot Hill. You won’t have to think about him
or his final resting-place at all.”

She forced the next words. “Thank you.”

Wolf Bodine touched his fingers to the brim
of his hat. His eyes gleamed. “There, that wasn’t so difficult, was
it?” he said so softly that the others couldn’t hear. “You’re very
welcome, Miss Rawlings.”

It was a strange morning. Mary Adams and
Caitlin worked side by side with Rebeccah, washing the curtains,
hanging them out to dry, beating out the old rag rug, and carrying
water from the stream to fill the barrel. Caitlin, whose vision was
apparently strong enough to enable her to make her way around
unassisted and to do chores not requiring precise sight, had
amazing energy and didn’t pause for a breath until noon. By then
Rebeccah had prepared a simple meal from the hamper the others had
brought: succulent meat pies and biscuits and beans and a jug of
lemonade.

“And here’s some of my peach preserves for
your pantry,” Caitlin said, handing her a jar. “Sort of an extra
welcome present.”

Rebeccah’s fingers closed tightly around the
jar. No one besides Bear had ever given her a present before. And
this—a welcome present. Her throat ached. Here she stood in her
very own spotless kitchen, surrounded by the savory aromas of a
hearty meal, with sunlight slanting in, the sharp blue mountains
filling the horizon, and a neighbor smiling pleasantly at her, a
smile of pure friendliness, with no guile or smirks attached.

She suddenly felt a long way from Miss
Wright’s Academy, from Althea Oxford and Analee Caruthers.

“I thank you very much for everything,” she
said quietly, and setting the jar carefully on the countertop, she
turned to grasp Caitlin’s work-roughened hand. “You’re very kind.
In fact”—she took a deep breath—“I’ve never met anyone half as kind
as you.”

Caitlin squeezed her hand. “Mary, dear, will
you wash up these lunch dishes for Miss Rawlings? Then we’ll have
to be going. But in the meantime, Miss Rawlings—”

“Call me Rebeccah, please.”

“Rebeccah, then. Let’s sit on that sofa of
yours and talk a bit. There’s something I want to ask you.”

There wasn’t much resemblance between Caitlin
Bodine and her son, Rebeccah thought as she seated herself beside
the older woman. Caitlin’s face was small, her features neat and
tiny. Wolf’s features were lean, long-jawed, strong. She was aware
of a disturbing jittery feeling inside as she thought of him, and
pushed his image away. Instead she focused on how odd it seemed to
be sitting here with this formidable little woman, feeling not at
all uncomfortable, but strangely accepted.

“Now,” Caitlin began in her brisk, direct
manner, “what’s this about your being a schoolteacher?”

Rebeccah stared at her in surprise. “How did
you know about that?”

“Dear, word gets around quickly in our little
western towns. Apparently some of your fellow passengers were
overheard mentioning it at the hotel, and the long and the short of
it is, Myrtle Lee Anderson came to my door this morning with the
news. All excited about it, she was. You know, we desperately need
a schoolteacher here in town. Haven’t had a real teacher in nearly
a year now. Last one we had couldn’t take our Montana winters and
up and left. You strike me as a hardier sort.”

“Oh, I’m as hardy as they come.” Rebeccah
gazed down at her fingers, clasped in her lap. “Bad weather doesn’t
scare me. As a matter of fact nothing does.” Rebeccah had told
herself this so many times, she nearly believed it to be true, and
spoke the words with conviction. “But I’m not certain I care to go
on teaching. I came out here to build myself a ranch. And just
because I’m going to have to build a little more than I originally
planned, Mrs. Bodine, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my ideas. So
I’m afraid Powder Creek will have to find another teacher.”

There, she’d said it. She hated to deceive
Caitlin in any way, but Rebeccah couldn’t bring herself to accept
the teacher’s position too eagerly. If the town knew she wanted it,
they might take their offer away. And she didn’t want all of Powder
Creek knowing how desperate she was now that she’d rid herself of
all of Bear’s ill-gotten gains. It was nobody’s business, and
besides, it would seem disloyal: a public admission of shame over
what he had done. She owed Bear more than that, even if privately
she did lament his thieving ways. And she knew she stood a much
better chance of actually getting the position if she seemed
disinterested in it. Sheriff Bodine’s warnings about the town’s
likely attitude toward her had not left her undisturbed. Maybe some
wouldn’t want to hire her, maybe others would consider it—but if
she seemed anxious for the position, they might be more inclined to
deny it to her. Let them come to
her
, let them persuade
her.

Perhaps she was too proud for her own good,
but Rebeccah hated the thought of giving these townspeople, most of
whom she hadn’t even met yet, the opportunity to hurt her.

Caitlin had accepted her words with nary a
flicker in those milky, near-sightless eyes. After a moment, when
the only sound they could hear was the buzz of bees outside the
parlor window, and the fragrant scent of heather and pine drifted
in as light as a caress, she continued slowly. “Seems a shame, you
being so well educated and all. But then I reckon your father left
you enough money so you don’t need to earn a living or anything
like that.”

“The problem, Mrs. Bodine, is that I didn’t
care for teaching very much,” Rebeccah responded honestly enough.
“And I’m reluctant to get involved with the children of everyone in
this town.” Rebeccah took a deep breath. “I moved out here for
peace and quiet. Montana is big country, beautiful country. There’s
room to breathe here, to just
be
. I don’t want to have to
answer to anyone, to be beholden to anyone, to be involved with
anything other than my own place, my own plans. Of course,” she
said hurriedly, seeing the disappointment flit across Caitlin’s
seamed face, “you’ve been very kind, and I hope we’ll stay friends,
but ... others in Powder Creek might not be as friendly, as your
son warned me, and I’m sure they wouldn’t want me to teach their
children, even if I decided to do it.”

“Oh, so that’s what you’re worried about, is
it?” Caitlin seized on this statement. She patted Rebeccah’s hand.
“Well, we’ll just see about that. You know, dear, I can’t see much
with these old eyes, but I can still tell a whole lot more about
people than some folks with two good eyes in their heads. You may
be an outlaw’s daughter, Rebeccah Rawlings, but you’re no more
disreputable than I am. Now, I had an idea this morning and I think
it’s a good one. Want to hear it?”

“Go on.”

“A town meeting. Will you come? Meet
everyone—talk about your qualifications. We heard you’ve taught for
several years at some fancy private school back east.”

“Miss Wright’s Academy for Young Ladies.”
Rebeccah grimaced. Her voice took on a dry tone. “I possess a fine
education, a teaching certificate, and a number of excellent
books—which I have yet to unpack,” she added with a smile, “but I
don’t think I possess the desire to stand up before a town meeting
and present myself to your citizens—and their judgment. No, thank
you, Mrs. Bodine. I’d rather not.”

“What if Wolf and I can persuade the town to
give you the job? Without your going on display at the meeting.
Will you agree then?”

Rebeccah doubted very much that Wolf Bodine
would persuade the townsfolk to do anything but tar and feather
her. But she knew Caitlin would speak earnestly on her behalf, and
felt an irresistible warming toward this woman. Yet her feelings
were in a tangle. Part of her wanted to accept the teaching
position, because she needed the money. And part of her wanted to
refuse it, because of the very real reasons she had given Caitlin
before. But practicality won out. And besides, she told herself, as
Mary came in from the kitchen and Caitlin thrust herself to her
feet, maybe the children of Powder Creek won’t be quite as
unpleasant as those spoiled girls at the Academy. Maybe I can
actually do some good for them. She would see.