Page 16 of Comanche Magic

  "Did you spend the night in Grants Pass?"

  He put on his black hat and nudged back the wide brim to regard her as they walked. "I’m accustomed to sleeping outdoors. I just shook out my bedroll under a tree."

  "And waited until early afternoon to come calling?"

  He shrugged. "I couldn't show up too early without it looking suspicious. If I had ridden all the way from the landing, it would have taken me most of the morning."

  "I see."

  Only, of course, she didn't see, not at all. Chase could tell that by her expression. "I guess you think I'm incurably nosy."

  "I'm more concerned about what you intend to do with your knowledge of me."

  Chase spun to a stop. "What in hell does that mean?"

  "I'm just having a very difficult time understanding why discovering the truth about me was so all-fired important to you."

  "Franny, I wanted to help you. That's all."

  Shadows filled her eyes. "And now? Are you still so anxious to help me, Chase?"

  They both knew that the answer to that was no longer quite so simple. He swallowed and glanced away, wishing to God he could just say yes. But the truth was he needed time to think. Franny came wrapped up in a bow with a family of eight. Any man who assumed that kind of responsibility better be damned sure what he was getting into before he took the leap.

  When Chase finally looked back down at her, he saw a suspicious shimmer in her eyes that he guessed was unshed tears. Oh, God, he had never meant to hurt her. By the same token, he couldn't make any rash promises, not even to save her feelings. As much as he was com­ing to care for her, he had dozens of unfulfilled dreams beckoning that he'd never in a million years accomplish if he made a commitment to her.

  It was selfish, and he knew it. Unforgivably so. But it wasn't easy to kiss everything he'd always wanted good-bye. Since childhood, he had yearned to own timberland one day. For years now, he had been working his ass off and saving nearly every dime he made to buy forest land. If he allowed himself to love this girl, he would have to give all of that up.

  "Franny, I need time to think all of this through."

  Her mouth twisted in a bitter little smile. "I tried to tell you there was no way out for me, but you refused to listen." Her chin came up a notch. "Don't feel bad on my account. My obligations may come as a surprise to you, but I've been shouldering them for a good long while and have long since accepted that I must continue to do so."

  "Now there's where we differ in opinion," Chase ven­tured hopefully. "Frankie and Alaina are both old enough to contribute to this family's support. You should insist they do so and get yourself another type of job."

  "I see," she said softly. "And what of Frankie and Alaina? I don't suppose either of them should marry and have a chance for normal lives?"

  "Why not? You've sacrificed everything. It isn't fair that you should continue to be the only one to do so."

  The breeze lifted and caught a stray curl at her tem­ple. With trembling fingertips, she brushed the hair from her eyes. "There, you've said it. I've sacrificed everything. There isn't any turning back for me, Chase. From that first night, my fate was sealed. I can't pre­tend it never happened. And even if I could, what chance have I of leading a normal life?"

  "With the right man, a damned good one."

  "While Alaina and Frankie grow old taking care of our family? By the time the other kids are old enough to support themselves and there are only Jason and Mamma to care for, Alaina will be an old maid and Frankie will be a poor catch with a blind mother and idiot brother to shackle him."

  "Ah, I see," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "Better that you make the sacrifice."

  "Yes."

  That simple answer drew his gaze to hers and forced him to look deeply into those green depths. He read a wealth of pain there. "Why, Franny? Don't you deserve a little happiness? It isn't as if it's your fault that your mother and Jason have afflictions."

  "Yes," she whispered again. "It is my fault. Entirely my fault."

  "What?" he asked incredulously. "Blindness and idiocy? Come on, Franny. How can you take the blame?"

  "It's a long story. Just trust me when I say they would both be normal if not for me. As an extension of that, I was also responsible for my father roofing that steeple in the rain." She lifted her hands in a helpless little gesture. "So, you see? I made the decision long ago that it was my duty to look after my family. When the other children are adults, it should still be me who makes the sacrifices necessary to care for Mamma and Jason. Better one life be ruined than three. I want Alaina and Frankie to . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed, hugging herself as if against a chill. "I want them to have a chance for happiness, that's all."

  Chase knew she had nearly said she wanted her brother and sister to have a chance at all the things she had missed.

  "What about your happiness?"

  She lowered her lashes slightly so he couldn't read the expression in her eyes. "It isn't important."

  "Not important?"

  Dropping her arms to her sides, she dredged up a shaky smile. "Good-bye, Chase. I trust that what you have learned about me today will remain a secret between us. It would cause untold pain for my family if the truth about me were ever revealed."

  With that, she turned toward the house. Chase grasped her arm. "Franny, wait."

  She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Don't you see?" she asked him in a hollow little voice. "If you truly want to help me, stay away from me. All you've managed to accomplish is to make me wish for things I can never have."

  With that, she jerked free of his hold and spun away.

  11

  Chase spent the following day agonizing over the discovery he had made about Franny. Even though he saw her return to Wolfs Landing in the rented buggy late that afternoon, he didn't visit her at the saloon that night. As sweet and lovely as she was, she came in a package with eight others, and if he married Franny, nature was bound to take its course. Eventually babies would come. Before he knew it, he'd have two large families to support. That was a frightening thought. True, he had done well in timber. He already owned one tract of land, and with what he had in the bank right now, he could buy a bit more. Harvested carefully, the trees would yield him a steady and respectable income for years to come.

  The problem was, he had dreamed of a dynasty, not a modest income. His feelings for Franny threatened that.

  In the end, Chase did what he had always done when he grew troubled; he laid the problem before his father. Without mentioning names, he explained that he had come to care very deeply about a young woman who had eight people dependent upon her for their support.

  A knowing look came into Hunter's eyes. "This young woman must have a very good job if she earns enough to support eight people."

  "Anyway," Chase finished gruffly, "if I married her, I'd have to assume responsibility for her family, and in doing so, I'd see all my dreams of building a timber empire turn to dust."

  They were sitting on the bank of Shallows Creek. Moonlight gilded the night, spilling in a silver mist over the rushing water and dappling the whispering leaves of the trees. Somewhere in the darkness, a bird, disturbed from its rest, chirped frantically, making Chase wondered if an animal of prey had found its nest. It was a harsh old world they lived in, he thought sadly. The helpless always seemed to be victimized. His thoughts turned to Franny, and an ache filled him. Why was nothing in life simple? Why did he have to choose between his dreams and the woman he wanted? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't, no matter how he circled it, not to Franny or him.

  Hunter startled Chase by slapping at a mosquito. Afterward, he rubbed his muscular shoulder and grinned, flashing white teeth in the darkness. "They like this Comanche, eh?"

  Chase slapped at one of the bloodsuckers himself and chuckled. "They like this Comanche as well."

  Hunter shifted his moccasined feet and rested his powerful arms atop his knees. Chase assumed the same position, aware as
he did that his bent leg reached as high as his father's and that his folded arms were as well muscled. Another wave of sadness washed over him, for as a boy he had believed he would be all-powerful and all-knowing when he had grown to be as large as his sire. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

  Silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional cries of the bird and the rushing sound of the water. A musty, moldy scent from the forest floor behind them floated on the moist night air to blend with the fresh smells of summer and rebirth. Chase took a deep breath, comforted by the sense of timeless- ness. God's earth produced life in an endless cycle; things were born, they died, and life replenished itself. It made his own concerns seem smaller and less impor­tant when he fitted himself into the greater circle.

  When Hunter finally spoke, he provided no answers to Chase's dilemma, but asked a question. "When you are a rich timber man, my son, with whom will you share the joy?"

  Chase smiled slightly. Trust his father to come at a problem from the wrong end. "I haven't considered that. Until I have the timber, it's kind of getting the cart before the horse. Isn't it?"

  "Ah," Hunter said. "That is one of your mother's wise sayings, no?"

  "I think that's where I heard it, yes."

  Hunter nodded. "She is a very stupid woman some­times."

  Chase arched an eyebrow. Never had he heard his father refer to his mother as lacking in intelligence. "Come again?"

  "Her stupidness—it is not because she has no brains," Hunter elaborated, "but because she was raised with the tabeboh within wooden walls, and she was not taught simple truths. Ignorant, I think she calls it. I call it stupidness."

  "I was raised within wooden walls."

  "Yes, and you are very much stupid sometimes." His father turned to gaze at him, his midnight blue eyes near­ly black in the darkness and as polished as jet. "If you have no cart, why would you need a horse to pull it?"

  Caught off guard, Chase considered that and then chuckled. "In other words, if I have no one to share all my riches with, why bother to get them?"

  Hunter shrugged. "Will you turn away from true love to fill your pockets? One day, your pockets will be heavy, but so will your heart. The true riches in life are love and laughter. With this woman who has eight people to feed you will have much love and laughter within your lodge. When babies come, the love and laughter will be multiplied a hundredfold. You will be rich in all the ways that matter, and you will be happy. A happy man has no need of money."

  "Money is a necessary evil."

  "Having enough to get by is necessary. More than that is not. Follow your heart, Chase, not foolish dreams. When winter comes to your hair and wisdom to your eyes, money will not soothe your loneliness. A woman who loves you will."

  "Why can't a man have both wealth and love?" Chase argued.

  "Love springs up from a hidden place. We do not choose the woman, the place, or the time. Walk away to seek dreams, and the chance for love may be forever lost to you."

  Chase sighed. "Sometimes, my father, you are an incurable idealist."

  "Only sometimes? I am disappointed to hear it. I try to always be."

  With that, Hunter pushed to his feet. Chase looked up. "You're not leaving? We only just started talking."

  "I am finished. I have no other words inside me."

  Chase shook his head, "just like that. You've said your piece, and now it's my problem?"

  "It is your heart and therefore your decision. You must reach it by yourself. I can point the way, but you must choose which way you will walk. Just be sure to fix your eyes far ahead of you, my son, and see where it is that you go."

  Shadows swallowed Hunter as he turned and walked away.

  Left alone to make his decision, Chase oscillated, con­vinced he should choose Franny one moment, reluctant to relinquish his dreams the next. Wrestling with his tangled emotions, he avoided Franny yet another full day, hoping that the problem and its solutions might become more clearly defined for him if he gave himself more time to think things through.

  Meanwhile Franny believed the inevitable had occurred. Chase Wolf had finally come to his senses. There was no other explanation. As May Belle had always said, once a whore, always a whore. Franny had known that from day one. For a brief while, Chase had nearly convinced her she might have a chance for something else, and the hard landing back in reality hurt more than she cared to admit.

  Foolish. So very foolish. Hearts carved on gnarled old trees. Walks in the moonlight. Those things weren't for her. She had relinquished all hope of them when she was thirteen years old. What point was there in mourn­ing things that had never been hers to begin with?

  No point, she assured herself. None at all. Even so, Franny found herself sitting near her window all that morning and afternoon, her gaze fixed on the sprawling log house at the end of town. The Wolf home. Chase's home. She imagined him sitting with his parents in the soft glow of lantern light the evening before, joining them for supper at the table, then retiring to a cozy bed to slumber the night away under colorful patchwork quilts. Franny had never seen the interior of the house, but knowing Chase and Indigo had painted it golden within her mind, a place where there was love and warmth in abundance.

  The ache of loneliness inside Franny was so acute, she almost felt sick. At breakfast, she was unable to take a single bite of her egg, and she only nibbled at the toast. Even that much food had made her stomach rebel. Lovesickness, she scoffed. Here she was, twenty-two years old and mooning over a man. At lunch she put forth a more determined effort to eat, but managed to consume only about a third of what was on her plate.

  A few minutes after setting the uneaten plate of food outside her door in the hallway, May Belle paid her a visit. Resembling a ship in full sail in her volumi­nous white wrapper, she swept into the room, bringing with her the overpowering scent of roses, her favorite perfume. "Feeling puny?" she demanded to know. "Gus says you're off your vittles."

  Franny turned her chair from the window and motioned for May Belle to join her at the table. "A little puny, I guess. Mainly just blue."

  May Belle looked relieved. "Thank God. The first thing I think of when a girl gets off her food is that she's pregnant."

  "Bite your tongue." Franny laughed and shook her head. "Not this girl. I use the vinegar-soaked sponges faithfully, I never forget to irrigate, and I take a nightly dose of your powders."

  May Belle smiled. "Yeah, but even my remedies aren't surefire, honey."

  "They've served me well for eight years. Truly, May Belle, I'm just feeling out of sorts. It'll pass."

  "It isn't like you to feel out of sorts. Why don't you go visit Indigo? Get out of here for a while. It might do you a world of good."

  "I was gone all weekend."

  May Belle repositioned the tortoiseshell comb in her brassy hair, her tired blue eyes filled with concern. "Is everything okay at home? How's Jason doing?"

  Franny sighed. "He's doing great. The doctor found a new elixir for him. It's expensive, but Mamma feels he's really perked up since Alaina started giving it to him."

  "And the other kids?"

  Franny realized how gloomy she must look and gave herself a hard mental shake. Her path had been clearly marked the day her father died, and she was being utterly foolish to wish things might have happened dif­ferently. "Everyone at home is fine, May Belle," she assured the older woman with a smile. "I'm just having one of those white-picket-fence days. We all do on occasion, don't we?"

  In the business, "a white-picket-fence day" was an expression prostitutes used to describe the yearning that sometimes struck them for a family and children, home, and hearth. May Belle's mouth tightened. "Jesus, not a man. Give me one guess. Tall, dark, and so hand­some the women drop around him like falling trees."

  Franny plucked at a loose bit of yellowed lace on her cuff. "Stupid of me, isn't it? He could snap his fingers and have any woman he wants. It's insane to think he might be genuinely taken with me."

&n
bsp; "He's a Wolf. Like father, like son?"

  Franny met her older friend's gaze. "Meaning?"

  May Belle shrugged. "His pappy marches to a differ­ent tune. Always has, always will. Maybe Chase is like him." Her eyes gentled. "Honey, you know I've always warned you not to go swallowing any of the lines men might try to feed you. And I meant every word I said. But that doesn't mean there isn't a rare bird or two out there. If any fellow on earth is a straight shooter, I'd put my money on Hunter Wolf. Chase could be like him in that."

  Franny's heart caught. "He knows about my family. I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since."

  May Belle seemed to consider that. "Backing off until he gets things sorted in his mind, you reckon?"

  "Running scared, more like." No longer able to bear sitting, Franny pushed to her feet and began pacing. "Oh, May Belle! No man in his right mind would want

  me. I'm a whore. If he could get past that, then there's my family. The two things combined are just too big an obstacle."

  "We'll see. Who knows? Maybe God looked down and said, 'That little Franny girl, she doesn't belong in that life.' Maybe he's making a miracle, hm?"

  Afraid to let herself believe that, even for a moment, Franny drew the bitterness around her like a cloak. "God doesn't make miracles for whores, May Belle. If you believed that, you'd accept Shorty's proposal and get the heck out of this place."

  "You've got me there."

  Fighting off a wave of nausea, Franny hugged her waist. "I can't afford to get my heart broken," she whispered miserably. "All I want in the way of a miracle is for Chase Wolf to stay away from me. He's like a magic potion. One taste and I was under his spell. He's walking, talking trouble. The minute I forget that, I'll be a goner."

  The next afternoon, Franny cracked her door to answer a light knock and found walking, talking trouble stand­ing in the dim hallway. With one eye, she regarded him through the narrow opening, her heart skipping beats like a schoolgirl's.

  "I've seen your face," he said softly. "I know your real name. Is it really necessary to look out at me through a crack?"