Libby appeared instantly at the back door. “What are you talking about?”
I continued to pull the clothes off the line but took a second to point toward the clouds. “Look what’s coming,” I said enthusiastically, certain that I’d delivered some marvelous news. I wondered briefly if Cade had already seen it.
Libby shaded her eyes with her hand and stared at the storm mass for a moment. “Good Lord.” She pounded down the steps to help me.
I’d expected her to be thrilled, but her tone was one of alarm. I guess it really had been a time since they’d seen rain at the ranch. I smiled as I plucked the last of the petticoats off the line. Libby had taken a more direct approach. Rather than pluck, she’d resorted directly to yanking. One of the sleeves on Charlotte’s blouse was ripped clean free of the garment when she pulled it too hard. Then, for the first time, I noticed the pallor of Libby’s face. She was not rosy with the excitement and happiness I’d expected from incoming rain. Terrified was a much closer description. Her gaze kept shooting over the line of laundry to the distant clouds as if they were some ominous threat about to drop down on us.
I took hold of one of her trembling hands. “I don’t understand, Libby. What has you so distraught?”
“Honey, those aren’t rain clouds. In fact, that is not a true cloud at all. It’s dust. In a few minutes, the sky will blacken and a choking layer of dust will cover everything in its path.” She dropped the skirt she was holding on the ground. “My tomatoes! They’ll be ruined.” She ran to the basket and grabbed out two wet sheets. “Help me cover them, will you Poppy? I think there’s still time to save them.”
I ran to her and grabbed one of the sheets from her hand, and we made a mad dash for the vegetable garden.
“I’ll shoo the chickens inside the barn, Libby, and then I’ll meet you in the garden.”
“Good idea. And slide the barn door shut.” We both looked up at the sky. The storm of dust was moving alarmingly fast.
An unearthly, glowing shadow fell over the yard as I chased the chickens into the barn. Even the stubborn rooster seemed to sense that danger beyond his control loomed, and he raced in after his hens. The horses snorted and stomped in their stalls, and the pigs had already plodded into their three-sided shack. Nonni always claimed that animals were the first to sense danger, and I was seeing it first hand with the farm animals. At first, the thought of a large cloud of dust seemed almost funny, nothing to truly worry about. But it had been the first time I’d seen Libby afraid, so I knew it was nothing to laugh at. As I looked up and saw the breadth and depth of the black mass floating through the otherwise crystal blue sky, the scope of it hit me. Suddenly, it looked as if dusk had come hours too early.
The wind had picked up, and it seemed to have no real direction. It both pushed and pulled me as I ran toward the garden. Libby struggled in vain against the force of the unruly wind, and the corners of the sheets were ripped from her hands as I entered through the small gate. Her makeshift scarecrow fell at my feet. I toppled over it but managed to catch myself. That’s when I first noticed the taste of dirt in my mouth. Grit coated my tongue and teeth, and I had to avoid swallowing to keep from gagging. I half covered my eyes with my arm as I stumbled to the tomatoes. Libby handed me a corner of the sheet she had just retrieved. It was already gray with dust.
“Tie the corner around the stakes holding the plants.” Libby yelled over the din of the squealing wind. “Tie it good and tight. We’ll tent the plants, and with any luck, they won’t be completely ruined.”
The solid piece of linen was nearly impossible to tame as bursts of wind pummeled us from every direction, but I managed to get two corners securely tied. As we worked, the air thickened with grit and bitter tasting dust, and it seeped into our throat and chests with every breath. Libby finished her last corner and raced over to help me but then she stooped over suddenly. Bracing her hands on her thighs, she broke into a fit of coughing.
I grabbed her arm. “I’ll finish the last corner.” It was nearly impossible to talk, and my eyes were closed against the onslaught of dirt. The second sheet flapped in the wind like a sail that had come loose from its rigging.
Libby drew the décolletage of her dress up over her mouth and mumbled threw the fabric. “Leave it. Let’s get back to the house.”
We stooped low to avoid being blasted by the grit but nothing helped. A murky, suffocating darkness surrounded me, and it was nearly impossible to know which direction I was heading. I squinted ahead, keeping Libby in my line of vision. She plowed through the debris, and I followed until my foot once again found the fallen scarecrow. My shoe was caught in the burlap face, and I fell to my knees. I reached back blindly and struggled to free my boot. I could no longer catch a decent breath, and I, too, succumbed to a terrible fit of coughing. By the time I’d caught my breath and freed my shoe, Libby had disappeared from sight.
I crawled across the garden, stabbing my knee on something sharp. Warm blood trickled down my leg as I dropped to my belly and slithered across the rough ground. Grit and sand coated my skin as I searched frantically for the garden gate. And then I was sucked into a blackness that even the darkest night could not provide. It momentarily reminded me of the squalid jail cell I’d sat in on my last night in Salem. I was being smothered in a layer of black dust as if buried alive. Panic pulled me into a tiny ball, and I couldn’t move. I sat huddled against the earth’s vicious assault and wondered how long it would last and if I would survive.
I allowed myself a moment of self-pity before self-preservation squashed it. I stretched back out on the ground. It seemed the air nearest to the ground was the clearest. One thing was certain, there was a great distance between me and the house. The barn was closer and it became my goal. I had no sense of direction, but through the absence of any daylight, I saw a flash of white. The sheets billowed like massive sails over the tomatoes. I headed toward them, ripping up tiny rows of newly planted seedlings as I pulled myself along. Dirt pushed up my fingernails as I sunk my fingers into the garden soil for something to grab onto. My scratched knee burned with pain as I dragged it across the ground. I reached the only remaining sheet just in time for it to collapse beneath the weight of the dust.
There was too much dirt in my eyes to cry . . . or scream. And then through the gritty, dark nightmare, two hands grabbed hold of me.
I was swept up into two strong arms. His face was covered almost completely by cloth, but I knew instantly who held me. Cade folded me tightly into his chest and stooped over before making a run across the yard. We reached the house in alarmingly fast time and within moments I was inside Libby’s kitchen. Someone had turned on a lamp, and I squinted into the light as if I’d been in darkness for hours. Jackson and Samuel stood in the room, their wide eyes standing out in their dust covered faces. Still holding me, Cade dropped to his knees before rolling back to his bottom. I sat across his lap.
Libby dropped to the ground next to him. She was sobbing uncontrollably. Her face was covered with a layer of dust, but tears left streaks of mud on her cheeks. “It was my fault. Me and my stupid tomato plants,” she said between cries. “I nearly got you killed.”
I reached for her hand. My eyes and throat burned. “I tripped. It was my own clumsiness that nearly killed me. Please, Libby, do not be so distraught.” Now tears fell from my eyes.
Cade lowered the cloth from his face.
I peered up at him through blurry eyes. “How on earth did you find me out there?”
His thick thumb reached up, and he wiped some dirt from my forehead. “I don’t really know. I ran in the direction of the garden—” He picked up my hand and placed it over his chest. His heart beat wildly beneath my palm. “—and something just led me right to you.”
Libby had calmed down. She wiped clumsily at her face with her hands, managing to smear dirt everywhere. She looked at the filth on her palms and burst out laughing. Laughter filled the room as we looked around at each other.
Sunlight
returned slowly as if someone were drawing back heavy drapery from the window. There was barely an inch of clean skin or clothing visible in the room, and a fine layer of dust coated everything.
“What a mess,” Libby said.
Cade’s arms still cradled me. “Welcome to Montana, Poppy. You are officially one of us now.”
Chapter 21
Cade
Icy water rushed over my head like a flood from a frozen river. I flipped my long, wet hair back and wiped my face with my hand. “Shit, Samuel, did you bleed a glacier for that water? I think you took just a little too much pleasure dumping it over my head.”
Samuel held the empty bucket and grinned at me. “I was just helping you out. Libby said we had to get clean before she’d let us back in the house.” His short dark hair stood up in wet spikes on his head, and Jackson was rubbing his with a towel.
I reached for the towel Libby had hung over the porch railing and dried my chest. Muddy water pooled around my feet. “All I know is that this better be the last damn time I bathe out here on this porch.” I reached for the clean shirt Libby had provided as well.
Samuel finished buttoning up his shirt. “Well, I guess I’ll start the clean up in the barn.” He hopped over the porch railing.
“We need to see how many cattle are down first,” I called to him.
“I ain’t riding out without my horse, so I might as well start in the barn.”
I glanced around at the yard. It looked nothing like the yard I’d seen in the morning when Poppy and I had ridden out. Tumbleweeds dotted the landscape, and two of Libby’s rose bushes had been uprooted. A thick layer of rusty orange dirt covered everything.
The screen door swung open, but it hung from only one hinge now. I’d been the cause. “Remember to leave those dusty clothes out here,” Libby said. “Poppy’s in the tub, and I’m going to help her wash her hair.” My thoughts immediately wandered in the direction of Poppy bathing.
“I’ve got to mop the kitchen before we can start supper. Is cold chicken all right?” Libby asked.
I knew Libby had continued talking, and she looked at me now, apparently waiting for a response, but I’d missed the question.
Jackson flicked my stomach with the end of his wet towel. “Christ, Cade, pay attention.” He looked at Libby. “That was your fault for bringing up Poppy and bath in the same sentence. Or, for bringing up Poppy at all, for that matter.” He tapped the side of his head. “He loses focus very quickly when you mention her.”
“Jacks, has anyone ever told you, you look like a plucked chicken when your hair is wet?” I said.
“Real nice, go after the guy with the thinning hair,” Jackson said angrily.
“You boys go ahead and exchange insults. I’ve got to get in to Poppy before the water gets too cold.”
“If you need any help with that, let me know,” I called to her.
“Over my dead body,” she called back to me.
Jackson grinned at me. “She has no idea, does she?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Libby called again.
“Jeez, that woman has the hearing of a Jack rabbit.” Jackson flicked his towel at me again, and the clean shirt I’d draped over my shoulder fell into the muddy puddle.”
I kicked it into the pile of dirty clothes. “Now you’ll have to go help Samuel why I get a new shirt.” I dried off my feet, picked up my boots at the doorway, and headed inside.
The door to the bathing room was slightly ajar. I fought with myself for only a second and then pressed my eye to the sliver of an opening. Poppy leaned forward as warm soapy water cascaded down the naked curves of her shoulders and back. I could see the faint outline of her bear scars as she stretched forward. Long, golden strands of hair clung to her wet skin, and I held my breath, wondering why I was putting myself through this torment. But I could not pull my gaze away from her silky, wet skin. The sliver of soap slipped from her hand, and she turned to reach for it. She lifted her arm, exposing the round curve of her naked breast, and I swallowed hard. Every inch of her was tempting and perfect. I’d never wanted a girl as badly as I wanted my runaway angel.
Libby handed her a towel, and I had to suppress a groan of agony, agony that was self-inflicted and entirely worth it.
“If you don’t get your eyeball out of that doorway, Cade Tanner, I’m going to pluck it right out of your skull,” Libby said without looking my direction.
Poppy gasped and clutched the towel against her, and I left before Libby followed up on her threat.
My heart pounded in my chest as I pulled on a new shirt. I needed that cold bucket of water more than anything now. Water remained in my basin from the morning. I scooped it up and splashed my face in a pathetic attempt to cool the vision from my head. She was so damn bewitching, I was starting to believe Jackson. Maybe the girl truly was an angel.
I picked up my hat and pressed it low on my head. It had survived the dust storm, mostly because I’d taken it off and placed it on the kitchen table before Libby had blurted that Poppy was still out in the storm. I had slammed out of the house so fast, I’d knocked the screen door off its hinge. My heart had been pounding then too but for a whole different reason. It took what seemed hours but in reality were only minutes to reach the garden. And when I had her safe in my arms, I realized that I never wanted to let her go . . . ever. I wanted— no needed, Poppy to stay with me.
I left my room, headed to the stairs, and smacked directly into her. Libby had draped her in a clean white sheet. She smelled of lavender and rosewater. Her wet hair had been combed back off her face, a face that was now scrubbed pink.
She smiled and looked down at the floor as she scooted past me. The sheet slid down, exposing her naked shoulder.
“Woman,” I said on a sigh, “you are torturing me.”
She stepped into her room, poked her head out once to look at me, and shut the door.
I reached the bottom step and stopped. With the exception of the noises coming from Poppy’s room, the house was silent. I willed my feet to move forward. There was plenty of work to do now that the ranch had been overrun by a dust storm. I reached the back door and opened it. In the distance, I could hear Samuel and Jackson yelling at each other about something. Libby was standing over the old water pump cranking the handle violently up and down. Mud would flow from the pipes for days, making the old pump a necessity. I’d almost talked myself into stepping outside . . . almost.
I turned and raced back up the stairs. I knocked once but didn’t wait for a response before opening the door. Poppy stared up at me with those amazing brown eyes. She’d pulled on her dress but had not had time to button it. The tops of her round breasts peeked up above her corset. I was across the room in two steps. She didn’t back away as I reached for her, and I knew she wouldn’t.
My fingers wrapped clear around her thin arms as I pulled her face up to mine and kissed her. She melted against me, and her head dropped back. I took advantage of her exposed neck and trailed my mouth lightly over her soft, smooth skin. A tiny moan of pleasure rolled up from her throat.
“Libby is waiting for me,” she said breathlessly.
I lowered my mouth to her shoulder. “Uh huh,” I mumbled against her skin.
“She— needs me— to help with— mopping.” Her fingers reached up and she clutched the front of my shirt to steady herself.
I could not stop myself from trailing my mouth over the tops of her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Cade,” she whispered hoarsely, and the sound of it sent white hot heat through me.
Downstairs, a crash, followed by a rush of water and a string of Libby’s favorite cuss words, wrenched us from the intimate moment. Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from her skin and gazed down at her. Her face and neck were flushed pink and the gold specks in her dark eyes sparkled.
“I’d better go help her,” she said shakily. Her fingers trembled as she attempted to button the front of her dress.
I reached up to the buttons. “Let
me help.”
Her warm breath fell fast and steady on the back of my hands as I fastened the tiny buttons. She blinked at me as I stepped back.
“Do I look all right?” she asked.
I smiled at her. “Straight out of heaven.”
She jumped forward, and her small hands slid beneath my hair as she pulled my neck to bring my face forward. She kissed me once and ran out of the room.
Chapter 22
Poppy
The murky water splashed my boots as it sloshed from side to side in the pail. Soon my feet would be as raw as my hands. I hadn’t realized the marvelous convenience of the indoor water pump in Libby’s kitchen until we had to start dragging in the cleaning water we needed from the outdoor pump. The good news was that it now only took several minutes of pumping to reach the usable water.
There had been so much cleaning to do after the storm that for two days no one on the ranch had a moment to sit and rest, with the exception of Charlotte, who’d managed to walk up and down from her room several times a day for a snack, but had insisted she was in far too much pain to help.
I found that the hard work was both diverting and satisfying. It kept my mind from being overwhelmed by my feelings for Cade. And, after all Libby had done for me, I was thrilled to repay her with help.
I poured the water I’d managed to carry back successfully into the wash basin. We’d had to rewash all the laundry from that dreadful day, although much of that day had been far from dreadful. In my head, I’d relived the intimate moments, every emotion and physical sensation, with Cade hundreds of times. Growing up, Nonni had always chided me for being a silly romantic, dreaming about my heroic knight coming to my rescue, sweeping me up in his arms, and ravishing me with his kisses. But never had I expected to have it happen in real life. And never had I expected a man to invade my soul and every inch of my being as Cade had done. I kept reminding myself that I needed to keep my head about me and not let my emotions carry me away, but that grew more difficult each day.