Page 30 of West Wind

When she lifted her head she could see the stars. That was comforting, somehow. If Shelley looked up he would see the same stars, no matter where he was. A warm breeze lifted her hair and fanned her face, soft as a lover’s kiss.

He was out there somewhere, sleeping with his head propped on his saddle and his ankles crossed, happy to have her out of his life. Poor Shelley. He’d never asked for the grief she’d caused him.

Suddenly she knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was riding his roan in the dead of night, so anxious to get away from her that he didn’t even stop to rest.

What would happen if she didn’t go to San Francisco? She could open her own general store in a place so remote no one would ever find her. She’d sell tequila and sunbonnets to the travelers who passed by, sell beans and bacon and dried apples. In the evening she’d close up shop and sit in the grass to watch the stars come out. She’d dance and sing by the light of the moon. She’d pick wildflowers for her dinner table, and when the nights were warm she’d sleep outside, with her head on her saddle and her ankles crossed.

What a foolish dream. If she simply disappeared Nicky would be worried sick. She couldn’t do that to him. Besides, sooner or later someone passing through would recognize her and she’d end up being taken to some sheriff, strapped to the back of her own mare.

Dead or alive.

Shelley rode all night without stopping. He was determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and Annie Brown, or whatever her name was. Brat. That was an appellation that suited her, and when he thought of her, if he ever thought of her again, he would think of her only as Brat. A spoiled, overgrown child.

Why had she insisted on making it difficult for him to leave her? Standing there with the light of the fire behind her, her perfect figure, the cloud of hair around her head. He’d wanted to see her face one more time, but it had remained in shadows. It hadn’t been easy to turn his back on her, but he could and would ride away from that woman.

Kansas could wait. There was a saloon in Cheyenne he was particularly fond of. A pretty dark-haired girl worked there. What was her name? Emily? No. Ellie. He couldn’t remember what color her eyes were. Maybe they were brown, not that it mattered.

Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the campfire. He hadn’t liked the way that Butler fella had smiled at Annie, like he knew exactly what was hidden beneath her clothing, like she’d been sitting there at the campfire buck naked. No, he didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t the first time this evening that particular unpleasant thought had intruded on his planning.

Annie wasn’t his problem anymore. She was armed, she was wary, and she was on her own.

He turned his thoughts back to Ellie, the dark-haired girl who’d be happy to see him in Cheyenne. Yes, she’d be happy to see him, would do whatever he asked, and when he left her the next morning she’d send him on his way with a smile, because she’d expect nothing else.

No regrets.

Brat.

“Good heavens, did you sleep out here?” Suzanne’s words woke her from a deep slumber. Annabelle jumped up.

“I couldn’t get to sleep so I came out to look at the stars. I guess I dozed off.”

Suzanne laughed brightly. “I guess you did. Let’s get busy. We’ll have a quick breakfast, load the wagons, and hit the trail.”

As hard as the traveling was, it was clear Suzanne looked forward to the day ahead, to the fifteen or twenty miles they’d progress.

Annabelle helped where she could, but the routine was so well orchestrated she sometimes found herself getting in the way. Eventually she gave up to sit by the wagon and plait her hair. The Castletons’ little girl, Penny, watched closely, never taking her eyes from Annabelle’s hair. When she was almost finished Penny disappeared into the wagon, crawling like a monkey over crates and boxes, emerging moments later clutching a red ribbon. She presented it with trepidation.

“For me?” Annabelle took the offered ribbon with a smile. “Are you going to let me borrow your ribbon?”

The five-year-old smiled and nodded. “You have pretty hair, and the ribbon matches your boots.”

Annabelle secured the ribbon at the tail end of her long, heavy braid that hung almost to her waist. “Thank you.” She hugged the shy girl. “I think I’m going to like traveling with you and your family.”

Penny gave her a smile which was not quite as shy as it had been, and ran off to play while she could. Soon enough she’d have to climb into the wagon and take to the trail.

The morning would’ve been off to a good start for Annabelle’s first day with the wagon train if Jim Butler hadn’t decided to pay her a visit.

“You look awful pretty this fine mornin’, Mrs. Brown.”

It would have been a perfectly harmless comment from anyone else, but she didn’t like the way Jim Butler raked his eyes over her with undisguised interest, his gaze lingering too long on her breasts.

She jumped up and turned away from him, making the excuse that her help was needed. Butler grabbed her arm before she could escape. Annabelle glanced one way and then another. Everyone else was occupied, and on the other side of the covered wagon that shielded them from view. She heard laughter mixed in with the grunts and sighs as they loaded the last of the wagons.

With cold disdain she looked down, staring at the strong fingers that gripped her. “Remove your hand from my arm, Mr. Butler,” she said icily, never letting him see that he frightened her.

“Call me Jim, honey.” He didn’t release her. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“I don’t need another friend, Mr. Butler. And if you don’t take your hand off me this instant I’m going to scream so loud”—she actually grinned as she remembered Shelley’s words—“I’ll split your damn eardrums.”