Sunset Embrace (6 page)

Ross looked kindly at the boy, the muscles of his face relaxing. "It's something to see, all right."

The boy beamed. "Will you be wantin' me to drive your wagon today?"

Ross glanced quickly toward the wagon. "Yeah, I would appreciate that if you don't think your parents will need you."

"Naw. Luke can drive if Ma has something else to do."

"Then I'll saddle Lucky and go hunting. I've been eating only what others brought me since . . ." He paused, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "I'd best find some meat today."

"I'll go tell my folks. See ya, Ross." Bubba went running across the camp toward the Langstons' wagon, where Ma could be heard issuing orders like a drill sergeant.

Ross looked up at the rear of the wagon. The flaps of canvas were closed. He had left the wagon last night when Ma had begun to tuck the girl into the bedding he had shared with Victoria. He hadn't entered it since.

He had rolled up in blankets beneath the wagon and used his saddle for a pillow. Hell, he didn't mind that. He had slept that way more of his adult life than he hadn't. What he couldn't tolerate was the thought of that girl in the bed in which he and Victoria had slept together, in the bed on which Victoria had died.

He didn't think he could bear to look at Lydia, but he would be damned before he'd let the chit and her saucy tongue drive him off his own property. With resolution and anger, he slung open the canvas flaps and climbed into the wagon.

She was sleeping. Lee was but a wad of baby flesh curled up between her protective arm and her breast. Beneath the soft cotton that covered it, her chest rose and fell rhythmically with her breathing. Her hair was fanned out behind her head in a tangle of curls.

He sure as hell wasn't going to be caught standing there gawking if she should wake up. If he was going hunting, he would need bullets. He made an inordinate amount of noise scrounging for the box of bullets when all the time he knew exactly where it was. He shook several out in his hand and dropped them into his shirt pocket.

When he turned back around, she was staring at him. She lay motionless, soundless, and it was damned irritating. It was as if he had intruded upon her and not the other way around. Angrily he yanked up a kerchief from his trunk and wound it around his neck. Still she didn't speak or move, but she watched every move he made. Why didn't she say something? She hadn't said much the night before either. Maybe she was dimwitted to boot.

When he couldn't stand that intense, silent stare any longer, he asked irritably, "Would you like some coffee?"

She nodded her head, disturbing the wisps of curls that encircled her face. "Yes."

He hated himself for asking and stamped out the back of the wagon. He hadn't wanted even to be cordial, much less wait on her like some goddamn servant. Jerking up the coffeepot, he sloshed the boiling liquid into another tin cup. Droplets splashed onto his hand and gave him a good reason to curse expansively and viciously. It felt good. He had tried hard not to curse since Victoria Gentry had 6rst taken notice of him pitching hay in her fathers stables.

Reining in a temper that was tenuous at best, he carried the cup into the wagon, stooping to accommodate his height, and extended it toward her.

She wet her lips with her tongue. "Maybe you should move Lee. I'm afraid I might spill it on him."

Ross looked first at the steaming cup of coffee, then down at the infant, then at the girl lying supine on the bed. He had never felt more awkward or helpless in his life, except maybe the time he had first taken dinner with Victoria and her father in their fancy dining room. But even then he hadn't felt that his arms had suddenly stretched out of proportion and that his hands had grown too large.

Muttering curses, he set the cup aside and leaned down on a bent knee to pick up his son. He stopped dead still, his hands extended but motionless, as he gazed down at the sleeping baby. There was no way he could pick Lee up without touching her.

She seemed to realize that at the same time, because her eyes rose to his and clashed. Then just as quickly she lowered hers. She tried to edge away from the baby, to put space between them, but his little body only rolled against hers and molded to it again.

Goddammit! Was this what it was going to be like? Was he going to let her make him jumpy and nervous as a cat in his own home? Ross thrust his hands forward. One went to the baby's back. The other he wedged between her and Lee's small head. His knuckles sank into the lush curve of her breast. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he quickly lifted the child away and turned.

"Wait!" she called softly. Ross looked back. In his haste, he had picked up the fabric of her nightgown with Lee's blanket. The cloth was pulled tight over her breasts, outlining and detailing the large dark nipples. Ross stood mesmerized.

Reaching up, she tugged at her gown, working it free of his fingers, which couldn't lessen their grip for fear of dropping Lee. When at last the nightgown fell away, Ross moved to one of the stools and sat down. Actually, it was either sit down or fall down. His whole body was trembling.

"Hurry up and drink your coffee," he mumbled crossly, not looking at her as she raised herself to a sitting position.

Lydia winced slightly at the pinching, stretching sensation between her thighs, but the soreness lessened each day. This morning she didn't feel feverish either. Gratefully, she reached for the cup of coffee Mr. Coleman had set aside and sipped at it.

She watched the man over the brim of her cup. He was staring down at his sleeping son with an expression that softened his rugged face. "He slept all night," she said quietly.

"I didn't think I heard him until early this morning."

"He woke up hungry." There was laughter in her voice and he raised his head to look at her. Awkwardly they stared at each other, then glanced away. "He's wet, isn't he?"

Ross chuckled softly as he lifted the baby up and looked down at the spreading damp spot on his pants leg. Yes.

"I don't know how to change him. I guess Ma can show me. Do you have any diapers?"

Ross looked perplexed for a moment. "I don't know. I'll look around. Maybe Victoria ..." He paused on her name. "Maybe she packed some away."

Lydia sipped slowly at her coffee. "I'm sorry about your wife."

His eyes were grim and hard as he looked at her before returning his gaze to his son. He traced the baby's brow with his finger. His hand was about twice the size of the baby's face. It looked dark against the splotchy red skin.

"You're thinking why couldn't it have been me who died and your wife who lived, aren't you?"

His dark head snapped up. The motion was so sudden that the baby flinched, startled, before relaxing once again on his fathers lap. Ross was ashamed that she had guessed his thought, but he couldn't apologize for it. Rather than deny it when it was so obviously apparent, he asked his own question. "What were you doing out there in the woods having a baby all alone?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go. That just happened to be where I dropped."

Her answer vexed him. The injustice of Victoria lying cold in a grave while this woman, who wasn't worth one teaspoon of Victoria, was nursing her baby burned inside him. "Who are you running from? The law?"

"No!" she cried, shocked.

"A husband?"

She averted her eyes. "I've never had a husband."

"Hmm," he grunted smugly.

There was a flash of fire in her eyes when she turned them to him once again. How dare he sit there and judge her! How could he possibly know what she had suffered? She had been subjected to degradation by a man once before; she wasn't going to be again. "What you said last night, Mr. Coleman, about my baby being better off dying. You were right. He was better off dying. And I would have been too. I wanted to. But I didn't."

She pushed her chin up, causing her hair to ripple around her head. "Anyway, I'm here and your wife isn't. God must have seen fit to make it happen that way.
I
didn't have any choice in it any more than you. Little Lee needs mothering and I'm going to mother him."

"You'll wet-nurse him and that's all. He had a mother."

"And she's dead!"

He bolted off the stool with a snarl curling his lip. As her experiences at Clancey's hands had taught her to do, Lydia shrank against the wagons side and covered her head with her arms. "No, please!"

"What the hell—"

"What in tarnation is goin' on in here?" Ma demanded as she heaved herself into the wagon. "The two of you are providin' quite a show for the whole train. Leona Watkins is in a tizzy about the two of you spendin' the night together—"

"I slept outside," Ross said between his teeth. The girl had thought he was going to strike her!

"I know that," Ma snapped. "And so does everyone else by now 'cause I seen to it that they was told. Now give me that young'un. It's a wonder his neck ain't broke the way you're aholdin' him." She took Lee from his father. "And why is Lydia curled up there like she's been beat?" she demanded of the man. His mouth only hardened into a straight, stubborn line. "Lydia, what's ailin' you?" Ma asked.

Lydia, ashamed for seeming like a coward, answered quietly. "Nothing."

Ma peered at her closely, then turned to Ross and eyed him up and down in silent reproach. "Git on out of here. Anabeth and I'll take over the care of Lydia. Bubba said he's gonna drive for you today 'cause you're goin' huntin', and frankly I think that's a good idea. Gettin away from here might clear up your head 'bout some things. Now git."

Few refused Mas orders. Ross cast one baleful eye toward the girl, who no longer looked terrorized, but was watching him warily. Then he stamped out. Once outside, he crammed his hat on his head, hauled his saddle over one shoulder, braced his rifle over the other, and stalked toward the area where the horses had been staked for the night.

The two eldest Langston boys were watching when a few minutes later Ross wheeled the powerful stallion away from the camp and streaked off through a meadow toward the thick woods.

"Know what I think?" Luke asked his brother.

"Naw, and I don't care, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me anyway."

"I think Mr. Coleman could be a mean sonofabitch if he was to put his mind to be."

Bubba stared pensively at the diminishing image of horse and rider. He had seen that fierce expression on his hero's face too. "You could be right, Luke," he agreed. "You could be right."

* * *

". . . and in the evenin's, after everybody had eaten supper, they'd stroll around the camp, aholdin' hands, stoppin' to chat with folks like they was out on a picnic instead of on a wagon train."

Lydia lay on the sleeping mat and listened to the cadence of Anabeths chatter. The girl was lifting Victoria Coleman's personal belongings out of a chest of drawers and folding them into a trunk. Ma had suggested that she do that to make more room for Lydia and the baby in the wagon. Ross had grudgingly consented.

He did and said everything grudgingly, Lydia thought with a weary sigh. For the past three days she had Iain in the wagon recuperating from her ordeal and nursing Lee. Anabeth stayed with her during the day. Ma checked her every morning and brought food each evening. Ross hunted for the Langstons in return for Ma's cooking for them.

He never ate inside with Lydia. She rarely saw him. He made work for himself along the train, often scouting or taking care of ailing horses for others who respected his knowledge of animals. Bubba drove the Coleman wagon. Should Ross come into the wagon, he would avoid looking at her. If he did glance in her direction, he glowered at her malevolently.

She credited most of his ill temper to grief. He was taking his wife's death hard. She must have been something, that Victoria Coleman. A real lady by Anabeths detailed description.

"Sometimes when the sun was shining real bright, she'd sit with this lacy parasol on her shoulder as she rode on the wagon seat." Anabeth popped open the pink confection of lace and silk. Lydia had never seen anything so pretty in her life. She regretted when Anabeth closed it and placed it inside the trunk. "And they'd talk in whispers to each other, like everything they said was a big secret from the rest of the world." The girl sighed deeply. "I only wish Mr. Coleman would look at me the way he did her. I'd melt right on the spot."

Lydia couldn't imagine anything pleasant coming from the looks he cast in her direction. She couldn't imagine anything pleasant happening between men and women at all. But then every once in a while she could remember how it had been when her real papa had been alive.

They had lived in town in a big house with wide windows and crocheted curtains. Mama and Papa laughed together often. On Sundays when they visited neighbors, Papa would hold Mama's hand. She remembered that because she would break them apart and take their hands in hers. They would make a game of lifting her off the ground. Lydia guessed it was possible that men didn't always do bad, hurtful things to women.

Anabeth spoke again. "Mrs. Coleman's skin was as smooth and white as fresh cream. She was right pretty with them big brown eyes. Her hair was the color of corn silk and looked just as soft; nary a hair was ever out of place."

Lydia reached up to touch her own hair. The morning after she had come to Mr. Colemans wagon, Ma and Anabeth had given her a bed bath. They had scrubbed her until her skin was raw and tingling. It had taken some time and effort to brush the debris out of her hair. The next day, with Anabeth fetching and carrying buckets of water, they had managed to wash it. But it wasn't ever going to resemble corn silk.

Mr. Coleman had seemed surprised to see her brushed and washed when he reached into the wagon for a fresh shirt that night, but he didn't comment on it. He had only made a grunting sound.

If he was used to hair the texture of corn silk, then Lydia knew hers must have been a shock to him. Unreasonably, that bothered her very much.

"You gettin' tired?" Anabeth asked when she noticed that her audience's attention had wandered. "Ma said if you got tired and sleepy for me to keep my trap shut and let you rest."