Smoke River Bride Page 10

  He turned away from Teddy and concentrated on guiding Leah toward the house. She took a single hesitant step, but in the next moment a gray pallor washed over her face and she crumpled to her knees.

  Thad scooped her into his arms and started for the house with Teddy scampering at his heels. They were halfway to the porch when she regained consciousness. She lifted her head, then snuggled her face against Thad’s shoulder, reached her arms around his neck and clung to him.

  That took him by surprise! She needed him!

  He stopped short. Jumpin’ jennies. He hadn’t had a single thought about Hattie all morning. He sucked in a lungful of crisp, cold air, shook his head and tramped up the porch steps and into the house.

  She needed him. What a feeling!

  Chapter Twelve

  Thad thrust open the front door and set Leah down as gently as he could. Her legs buckled, but she managed to grab on to his arm and hold tight. With his help, she staggered across the living room and collapsed into the wide-armed chair by the fireplace. Thad’s chair. She hadn’t the strength to move to the settle.

  Teddy stomped through the door. “I could do that easy, Pa, honest I could. I could ride a horse as good as Leah. She did it, and she’s not near as smart as me.”

  Thad ruffled his son’s hair and then turned away. “I’ll go tend to the horse.”

  Teddy darted after him. “Please, please, Pa. When do I gets to have a horse?”

  Leah was too tired to correct the boy’s grammar. She listened as Teddy followed his dad all the way to the barn, begging for a horse of his own, but she could hear nothing from Thad. Grateful to be left alone, she leaned her head back against the damask-covered chair and closed her eyes.

  Riding a horse was not impossible, she reasoned. It was the before and after that took their toll. Swinging that heavy leather saddle into place took more strength than she had—or thought she had. But when she realized she had managed to do it anyway, she felt a warm rush of pride.

  An hour later, Thad scrubbed his hands and face at the water pump in the yard and waited while Teddy did the same. Together, they had fed Lady, and then Thad had left Teddy to put fresh hay in her stall while he tramped out of the barn and walked the perimeter of his wheat field. Damn, the seedlings look bedraggled, but there was no sense mooning over it now.

  When he entered the house, his first glimpse of Leah by the fireplace brought him up short. She was curled up in his chair, sound asleep, her arms wrapped across her dirt-smeared shirt. He had to chuckle. Their noon meal was definitely not going to be on time, but somehow he didn’t mind. She was worn-out, so he let her sleep.

  He managed to chop up kindling and lay it in the fireplace and get a blaze going without waking her up. Then he rattled around in the kitchen, slicing up a loaf of Leah’s bread for bacon-and-butter sandwiches.

  “Oh, boy,” Teddy chortled. “My favorite.” He chomped a huge bite and chewed noisily. “Leah’s never gonna be ready to ride to town on her own, is she, Pa? I bet I could learn how real quick!”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, son.”

  Teddy snapped his jaws shut and swallowed. “Well, she’s not, is she?”

  Thad flicked a glance at his wife, still asleep in the chair by the fire. Was she ready? Maybe, maybe not. But he knew enough about Leah to know she would consider herself ready, and the first chance she got she’d be halfway to town before he could blink. He had to admire her spirit.

  Leah might look small and delicate, but he was learning that on the inside she could be as tough as tanned leather and determined as a bull. He’d known strapping farm wives who hadn’t near the grit his Leah showed. Hattie, he recalled with a stab of regret, hadn’t even come close. He remembered the morning she’d wept over a rosebud he’d accidentally snapped off.

  He cobbled together an extra-thick bacon sandwich, laid it on a saucer and settled it on Leah’s lap. She didn’t move a muscle.

  “She’s not dead, is she, Pa?”

  “No, son. She is very much alive.” More alive than he expected, in fact. The rush of respect and pride that flooded his heart was even more unexpected.

  “Come on out to the corral with me, Teddy. think you could help me fix the gate?”

  “Sure, Pa. I kin do all kinds of stuff. Something I think you forget.”

  Leah woke at dusk, gobbled the sandwich she found on the saucer in her lap and gulped down the cup of now-cold coffee Thad had left on the side table. Bless the man. But she must rouse herself to cook their supper. Thad would want more than sandwiches for his evening meal.

  She tried to propel herself up from the chair, but her stiff, aching body and trembling legs would not obey. Lord, she was all but crippled! Finally she managed to push herself onto her feet. Every muscle in her back rebelled, especially across her bottom, but she managed to inch her way into the kitchen. Her legs felt like soft cheese. It hurt even to sit down on a dining chair to rest.

  Doggedly, she consulted Miss Beecher’s recipe book, then limped from the stove to the pantry, gathering up potatoes and carrots for stew with something called “dumplings.”

  When the big iron pot was bubbling away on the stove, she heated a kettle of water, manhandled it into the bedroom and returned for a small enamel basin. Grateful to be alone, she stripped off her dirt-covered jeans and sweaty shirt.

  The water was soothing on her face and arms, but what she really wanted was to plop her bottom right down in the basin and soak in the warm water. She decided not to risk it; she might not manage to get to her feet again.

  She dried off, eyed her new gray skirt and the red striped shirtwaist, and groaned. The prospect of donning the petticoat and the lacy camisole Ellie had talked her into buying was not the least appealing. Instead, she pulled on her blue Chinese-style trousers and the soft, loose overtunic.

  The silk slid comfortingly over her bruised limbs and posterior, and she sighed with relief. Instead of wrestling with starched petticoats, ladies’ scratchy lace shirtwaists and long, cumbersome work skirts, perhaps she would sew more soft silk Chinese garments.

  She jolted upright at the thought. No! Not one single Chinese garment! She might be more comfortable when she wore them, but she would look different from other women. If wearing the constricting Western-style clothes would help her to fit in with Smoke River townspeople, then that was exactly what she would do.

  Tomorrow, she resolved, she would saddle up the mare—heaven help her, could she really manage that again?—and ride to the mercantile in town. And—she bit her lip—purchase lengths of stiff blue American denim and scratchy wool for American lady clothes.

  Thad and Teddy returned to the house after finishing up the evening chores to find Leah in the kitchen, hobbling from the stove to the table. Her motions were so stiff Thad winced each time she took a step.

  Teddy sniffed the air. “Pa, what smells so funny?”

  Leah turned toward him, an iron pot of something in her hands, and tried to smile. Thad jerked forward to take the heavy container from Her and set it in the center of the table. He noted that she’d already put out plates and bowls. Her hip and leg muscles must be screaming.

  Teddy wrinkled his nose. “That’s our supper? What’re those fuzzy white things on top?”

  Leah supported herself against the table with one hand. “Those are dumplings. I found the recipe in Miss Beecher’s book.”

  “Ewww. They look like moldy mushrooms.”

  “Nothing I cook will ever please you, will it, Teddy? I might as well give up.”

  Thad sent her a pained look, then laid his hand on his son’s thin shoulder. “You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to, Teddy.”

  “Okay, ’cuz I sure don’t wanna get poisoned. I told you she don’t like me.”

  Thad ignored him. “Leah, you need to sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her and she edged carefully onto the wooden seat. One glance at her pinched mouth told him she was in real pain. “I’ve got some liniment that might
help later,” he murmured. “For now, what else do you need on the table?”

  “Just milk for Teddy,” she answered in a tired voice.

  He strode into the pantry, returned with a crockery pitcher and poured his son’s glass full. Then he seated himself and began ladling the rich-looking stew and a fluffy dumpling into each bowl.

  Teddy made a show of pushing his single dumpling around and around without taking even a taste.

  “Stop playing with your food, son, or you’ll be the one needing the liniment.”

  “Aw, Pa.”

  Thad silenced him with a look. “Hush up and eat.”

  The boy gobbled down everything except the dumpling, then scrunched up his face and spooned a tiny bite into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes widening.

  “Feels kinda mushy, but tastes good.”

  Thad polished off two bowls of stew, but Leah could eat only a single bite before she laid her spoon on the plate and stretched her back.

  “Go on to bed, Leah. I’ll—” He checked himself as he noted his son’s crestfallen look. “Teddy and I can wash up and then I’ll get the liniment from the barn.”

  She struggled to her feet and shuffled across the floor to the bedroom. Shaking with fatigue, she shed her tunic and trousers, then donned her silk sleeping robe. The skin on her backside burned as if seared with a hot iron, and the slightest touch was agony. She folded back the quilt, the wool blankets and the top sheet, then very carefully crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees.

  She had been foolish. To earn the admiration of her husband, she had overridden her good sense and her instinct for selfpreservation. Her mother would have called her a goose!

  It wasn’t admiration she needed from Thad, it was acceptance, and she had that. She had had his acceptance from the beginning. What more did she want?

  More than acceptance, she admitted. She wanted him to look at her the way he looked at his son when no one was watching. With a half sob she sank down onto her side and closed her eyes.

  Thad stepped quietly through the bedroom door with a square bottle of brown liquid in his hand. “This oughta fix you up. Roll over on your belly.”

  She gave an involuntary gasp and opened her mouth to protest, but every inch of her body ached. Without a word, she did as he directed, shifting onto her stomach with a groan. The muscles of her abdomen contracted in bands of discomfort; she must have strained them, as well.

  Thad edged onto the bed beside her. “Now, then.” His warm fingers hesitantly skimmed the knee-length, pink silk robe up to her waist and she froze. She didn’t want him to see her naked. She must look awful, all scratched and swollen.

  “Honey, you’ve got bruises like I’ve never seen before. Must hurt like hell.”

  Curiosity battled with her modesty. “What does it look like?”

  There was a long, long pause, during which she heard his breathing catch and roughen. At last he began to slosh the brown bottle up and down. “Looks like a war zone. You’ve got great big patches that are turning purple and black, and some that are green around the edges.”

  Leah cringed in embarrassment.

  “And some yellow splotches,” he added. “And some red, raw places, too. I’m surprised you can walk.”

  She stifled a cry. “I can’t really. To cook supper I dragged a chair halfway between the stove and the pantry and sat down on it a lot to rest.”

  His low chuckle made her catch her breath. “You’re one brave lass, Leah. Hold still, now.”

  He uncorked the bottle and she knew he was dribbling some liniment into his palm. Then she felt his broad, warm hand rest on the small of her back and slowly begin to move. She sucked in air.

  “Hurt?”

  Oh, yes. It felt like fire to be touched. But gradually the skin under his fingers began to grow warm, and a penetrating heat bloomed. Waves of comforting warmth washed up her spine. Thad moved his hand lower, toward the curve of her hips.

  “Feel good?” he muttered. Dammit, his voice was hoarse. Sure felt good to him. Just touching her smooth skin made his heart beat like the hooves of wild horses on the run.

  “Yes,” she murmured against the sheet. “That feels wonderful. Do some more.”

  He bit back a chortle. She liked it, did she? Well, God save him, he liked it, too. He liked it very, very much.

  Too much.

  Hell, what was happening to him?

  Dammit, he knew what was happening. His groin swelled into an insistent ache. He wanted her. He’d reasoned it all out the night before—how it wasn’t the right time yet—but, darn it, he was still a man, and he wanted her.

  He swallowed again and kept moving his hand around in lazy circles on her body.

  Leah began to make soft little moans, whether of pleasure or pain he couldn’t tell. Tentatively, he pushed the pink silk higher, exposing more of her backbone, and waited for an objection. Nothing came out of her mouth but more gentle little sighs.

  He poured more liniment into his palm and smoothed it up and down her spine, moving slowly from the little nub of her tailbone to her hairline at the back of her neck. He sure hoped this was doing her some good; it was stirring up nothing but trouble for him.

  “Leah?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Think you’ve had enough? Liniment, I mean?”

  “No,” she said, her voice drowsy. “Not enough.”

  His heart somersaulted and the bulge in his jeans hardened into a shaft of granite. Heavens above, he couldn’t take much more of this.

  Maybe he’d sleep in the barn tonight.

  For another quarter hour he rubbed and sweated and tried to keep his mind off her warm, silky skin and on her sore muscles.

  “Thad?”

  His hand stilled on the curve of her hip. “Yeah?”

  “I should sleep on my stomach tonight.”

  “Sure.” His throat was so thick he found that single word hard to articulate.

  She wriggled her shoulders. “Would you pull my night robe down again?”

  He closed his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he managed to work the silky garment down to cover her hips. His hands shook more than aspen leaves in a stiff wind.

  Yeah, he acknowledged with more than a twinge of regret. Definitely the barn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning Leah was so stiff and sore she could not leave her bed. Thad brought her a boiled egg and some toast for breakfast, and for supper a bowl of beans and two of Teddy’s odd-shaped biscuits.

  Thad confessed he’d spent the night in the barn and hadn’t slept much.

  “You do not need to sleep in the barn,” she had protested.

  “I do. I…well, I don’t want to disturb you when you’re hurting.”

  She could tell by his voice there was something he was not telling her, but she kept quiet. She thanked God for this steady, caring man; he seemed to like her well enough. She had thought he even liked kissing her, but perhaps she was wrong?

  The memory of his mouth moving over hers brought an odd ache below her belly. She wanted him back, lying next to her at night.

  Around noon, Teddy poked his head into the bedroom. “Pa ’n’ me are goin’ fishing. Kin I dig up some worms in your garden?”

  “Pa and I,” Leah said gently. “Yes, there are lots of worms in the garden. Take a tin can.”

  The two were gone all afternoon, and when they returned Teddy showed off his string of five brown trout. “Betcha don’t know how to clean the innards out of a fish, huh, Leah?”

  But I do know, she thought. She refrained from challenging the boy; it was progress enough for him to ask politely for the worms.

  That evening, Thad rubbed more liniment on her sore back and legs, and in spite of her resolve to stay awake, she drifted off to sleep, smiling into the pillow.

  Thad MacAllister was a good man.

  That night Thad again decided he couldn’t disturb her. Hell, he
wanted to disturb her. He wanted to do more than just lie quietly beside her, but he didn’t feel right about it. Once again, he tramped out to the barn and rolled himself up in worn, musty-smelling blankets.

  But he couldn’t sleep for the thoughts roiling in his brain. Physically, it felt right to claim her. But, God help him, emotionally, he felt himself holding back.

  He appreciated Leah’s efforts to learn to cook. She kept the house neat and she cared for Teddy. Some days Thad could scarcely believe his good fortune. It didn’t matter to him one whit that she was half Chinese or if she was not as tough and work-hardened as other farm wives. Thad liked Leah for herself alone.

  He would try like hell to be worthy of her, to wait until he could commit his whole self to her with no twinge of regret or guilt about Hattie. His conscience would not allow him to make love to Leah and think of Hattie; it wasn’t fair to Leah. He knew in his gut it wouldn’t be right.

  In the morning, Teddy plopped down beside him on a hay bale. “Is Leah gonna be okay, Pa?”

  Thad jerked. “What? Oh, sure she is.”

  The boy’s head drooped. “You weren’t even listening.”

  “You’re right, I wasn’t.” Thad touched his son’s shoulder. “Think it’s about time you learned to rope a horse, don’t you?”

  The boy bolted to his feet. “Yeah, Pa! You won’t forget, will ya? Like last time? I guess you musta got mad at me or somethin’.”

  Thad winced. “No, son. I won’t forget. And I’m not mad at you, I’m just, well…I’ve got things on my mind.”

  “’Bout Leah, I bet, huh? He didn’t answer.

  Teddy shot him a look of disgust and busied himself with his shoelaces.

  The next morning Leah rose at dawn with renewed determination to carve out a place for herself in Smoke River. All her life she had yearned to belong somewhere, really belong. Growing up in China she had never felt accepted by the villagers where she had been taunted and excluded because she was “yang guizi,” a foreign devil. She had never been accepted as the daughter of Franklin Cameron and Ming Sa.

  Here in Thad’s world, on the Oregon frontier, she longed to feel welcome. She hungered to belong, not just as Thad MacAllister’s wife, but as herself. As Leah MacAllister.