Читать книгу Babes In Arms - Sara Orwig - Страница 9

Two

He turned at the next two corners, drove a block and looked back to see the black car turn on the same street, now three cars behind him. He glanced at her. “Still want out at the Union?”

She bit her lower lip again, and he wondered if she had any idea that something so casual could be so sexy. Maybe she was a high-priced call girl on the run, accustomed to stirring men. He rejected that thought immediately, when he remembered her reluctance to go with him and the fear in her expression when he had driven into the garage and cut the motor. She was far too afraid of him to be a hooker.

Without signaling he turned abruptly, circling the block. As he glanced in the mirror, he saw the black car move into traffic two cars behind him again. “I can lose them and take you to Pawnee or let you out near the Union, but they’re less than a block behind us.”

He heard her draw a deep breath. When he glanced at her she was looking out the window, her head turned. A stray wisp of brown hair had escaped her cap and curled on her shoulder.

“Or I can take you to the police. They’ll protect you,” he offered.

“No!” The emphatic answer was instant, and he glanced at her. She bit her lip and looked away quickly, but not fast enough that he hadn’t seen fear in her eyes again. His curiosity mushroomed. Why did she want to avoid the police?

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go to Pawnee,” she said, as if he had asked her if she would like a trip to prison.

You got yourself into this. Looking at the tumbling snow, he gripped the steering wheel. Now he had to drive to Pawnee in a blizzard. What had she done to cause such a hunt? And why did she cause him to fall all over himself trying to help her?

For a second he was tempted to go to the station and turn her over to the force and let the law answer the questions. The law would protect her from the topcoats and the police would find out why she was running. Colin glanced at her profile and decided he would take her to Pawnee.

Pressing the accelerator, Colin raced into an alley, sliding and skidding as he turned out of it and doubled back, winding through alleys and down less traveled streets to the campus. At the animal-science building he jumped the curb to drive between two buildings, the college kids laughing as he bounced down into the street and sped away before the campus police were called.

He wound through town for twenty minutes and then he took a section line into the country. With satisfaction he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the road behind him was a swirling white emptiness. He slowed and relaxed, taking the highway.

The first peppering of sleet was as faint as pebbles spilling on a sidewalk, but in seconds the hissing and staccato clicks drowned out the noise of the pickup’s ancient engine.

“Katherine, we can’t get to Pawnee. In this I’ll be lucky to get home. I can get good traction in the snow, but nothing has traction on ice.” He glanced at her and was startled by the distrust in her eyes.

“I’m safe for you to be with. If I weren’t, I could have done something back there in the garage,” he stated quietly. Even though she nodded, he could feel her reluctance and her fear.

“I take groceries to my folks. They have a place next door to mine. It won’t take long, but I have to stop there,” he said, wondering if meeting his parents would reassure her.

“Fine,” she replied, and her voice was impassive.

“Where are you from?” he asked. “Tennessee?”

“I was born in Virginia, but I’ve moved a lot since then. Is Oklahoma your home?”

“Yes,” he replied, noticing she had avoided giving him an answer. “My parents are Comanche and my family has been here since my ancestors were sent to Indian Territory. I lived in Missouri for a long time after college, but my folks have always lived in Oklahoma.”

“Are you married?” she asked him and he shook his head.

“My wife died. Are you married?”

“No,” she answered, locking her gloved fingers together in her lap.

They lapsed into silence and the only sounds were the rumble of the motor, the clack of windshield wipers and the drumming of sleet, which had become fine bits of ice again.

The world was a white blur, cedar limbs sagging under the weight of snow topped with ice. Lines and trees sparkled as ice coated thin branches and wires. A rabbit dashed from the bar ditch, racing across the road.

Katherine felt chilled to the bone, even though the heater was keeping the interior of the pickup toasty warm. She glanced surreptitiously at the dark-haired man driving the pickup. He had gotten them out of Stillwater, but was she headed for something worse? A cop was about the last person she wanted to encounter, much less trust with her life. And this man looked strong and tough. She glanced at his hands on the steering wheel, looking at the straight, blunt fingers, well-shaped but large hands. She could imagine the hurt they might inflict.

The pickup bounced across a cattle guard, rumbling over the rise and slowing as Colin headed for a house nestled beneath tall bare-limbed cottonwoods and bushy snow-covered cedars. A streamer of white smoke wafted from a large chimney. “This won’t take long. Come inside and meet my folks.”

“I’ll wait here.” How dangerous could he be when he had his parents within miles? She knew too well that parents weren’t a guarantee against violence in grown sons.

Ignoring her protest, Colin Whitefeather squared his black Stetson on his head, and went around to open her door. Long limbed, at least four inches over six feet tall, his dark skin and dark hair gave him a touch of wildness, as if he spent his time outdoors dealing with the elements. His shoulders were broad, his hands big, and he frightened her, but he was the only hope she had at the moment.

When he closed the car door behind her, he stepped to the back. As he yanked free the ties of the tarp and swept snow to the ground with his arm, a tall, striking woman opened the back door. Waving at them, she had the same prominent cheekbones and dark eyes as her son. Colin picked up two sacks of groceries and handed them to Katherine, taking three more in his arms and hurrying to the house.

Determined to get ahead of Katherine, Colin crossed the yard in long strides.

“Did you have difficulty getting here?” his mother asked, her dark brown gaze going beyond him to Katherine.

He leaned forward to brush his mother’s cheek with a kiss. “Don’t ask questions, Mom. I don’t know her and she’s in trouble.” He stepped onto the back porch and stomped snow off his black western boots and turned as Katherine entered.

“Mom, this is Katherine Manchester. Katherine, this is my mother, Nadine Whitefeather.”

“Co in. I have hot chocolate ready.”

“M it’s icing up out there. We would get home while we can.”

“You can drink hot chocolate,” she said firmly, leading the way into the roomy kitchen with glass-fronted cabinets.

“I thought I heard voices,” Will Whitefeather said, entering the room.

Katherine faced a man only a few inches shorter than Colin and even more broad in the shoulders. Will Whitefeather looked sturdy and strong enough to lift the front of the blue pickup off the ground. His dark skin was lined and creased from the weather, yet as he smiled at her there was something reassuring about him that made her want to drop her guard. And then she remembered how gullible she had been in the past, how pulled into danger she was now.

“Dad, this is Katherine Manchester. Katherine, meet my father, Will Whitefeather.”

“We’re glad to have you, even though it’s a terrible day to be out,” Will said openly and to her relief, her name seemed to mean nothing to any of the Whitefeather family.

“Sit down, Katherine, while I put away groceries,” Colin said. “Mom will be back in a minute and pour the hot chocolate and then, Dad, I’ll help you break the ice and feed the livestock.”

“If you need to get home, Colin, you go on. It’s getting slick and I just heard a weather report. We’re supposed to get more ice and six inches of snow.”

“I’ll take your coat.” Colin Whitefeather stepped behind her, waiting while Katherine unfastened the wrinkled parka. He slipped it off her shoulders and hung it on a peg, turning to motion toward the kitchen chairs. “Have a seat,” he said, his gaze going over her fuzzy purple sweater, which hung to her knees. Shock immobilized him momentarily, now that the bulky coat no longer hid her figure. Katherine Manchester looked six months pregnant.

Aware of his gaze going swiftly over her figure, she felt a flush of embarrassment. Self-consciously she removed her hat; she could imagine how terrible her hair looked. She had put it up in the early hours of the morning and worn the cap all day and she could feel locks that had tumbled loose from the braids. When she handed him her hat, her fingers brushed his in a casual touch that should have been unnoticed, yet the contact stirred a tingling current.

As Katherine turned around, Colin’s dark gaze was on her, studying her features, and her self-consciousness increased. She never intended anyone to scrutinize her so closely. She stared into his dark eyes, conscious of him as a male, too aware of an electric tension snapping between them. Her pulse jumped and then surprise shook her, because she couldn’t recall reacting to a man in such a manner since she was twenty years old.

He turned away to shed his coat and her pulse took another lurch, because beneath the bulky coat he was broad shouldered and slim hipped, a red wool shirt tucked into faded jeans that molded long legs.

He shook his shaggy black hair away from his face and crossed the kitchen to help his father, the two bearing a close resemblance in their rugged facial planes, the arrogant hawklike noses and strong jaws.

Trying to ignore Colin Whitefeather, Katherine glanced around the room, which was filled with a clutter of appliances and tempting smells coming from the oven. The aroma of hot chocolate wafted on the air, wrapping around her like a cloak, making her remember moments of her childhood when life had been predictable. Cheerful yellow-and-white curtains were tied back at the frosted windows and thriving green plants hung from hooks. Katherine felt momentarily safe and wished she could politely thank Colin Whitefeather and stay here with his parents until the snow thawed.

“One cup, Mom, and then I’ll help Dad and we’ll be on our way,” Colin said good-naturedly while his mother poured steaming cups of hot chocolate. He leaned back in the chair, stretching out his long legs, and Katherine thought how strong and reliable he looked. Yet she knew far too well how deceiving looks could be.

“You don’t have far to go and you’ll manage it.” Nadine smiled at Katherine.

Colin sipped his hot chocolate as Katherine raised her mug to her lips. The thick pottery mug warmed her fingers and the steaming chocolate tasted delicious, the first hot food in too long.

“Dad, we need to get going as soon as we can. I want to get the chores done,” Colin said, standing and carrying his mug of chocolate to the counter.

“Let’s go,” Will answered, pulling on a heavy coat and jamming a battered wide-brimmed hat on his head.

As the men left, Nadine moved around the kitchen cleaning cups and pouring more hot chocolate. After ten minutes of listening to Nadine talk about recipes and Colin when he was a child, Katherine realized that Nadine had not asked her a single question about her life, and she wondered if Colin had said something or if Nadine simply had her thoughts on her own family.

Dreading leaving with Colin again, Katherine still felt tense, watching the clock until finally she heard the slap of the door to the porch and the men’s voices and footstomping. Colin thrust his head inside. “Katherine, if you’ll get your coat, I won’t even come inside, because it’s sleeting again.”

She moved across the kitchen to put on her coat. Wiping her hands on a towel, Nadine Whitefeather followed her. “I’m glad you stopped by with Colin. Sometimes I worry about him being alone.”

“He won’t be alone tonight,” Katherine said, looking at the sleet that was laying a sheet of ice over the snow.

“Here, take this,” Nadine urged, thrusting a warm sealed plastic container into Katherine’s hands. “It’s chili. Colin can cook, but he has a limited menu.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Whitefeather,” Katherine said, turning to look at his mother. “It was nice to have met you.”

“It was nice to meet you, Katherine. I hope things work out for you.”

“Thank you,” Katherine repeated, startled and realizing Colin must have said something about her to his mother when they first arrived. She opened the back door and crossed the porch, seeing Colin waiting.

As they stepped off the porch, she slid on the ice. Instantly Colin Whitefeather’s arm went around her waist to steady her. His arm was a strong band, nothing more than a friendly, helpful gesture, yet a chilly withdrawal gripped her.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to stiffen and make him aware of her reaction. “I’ll be all right,” she said, pulling away. He took her arm firmly and she had to fight the urge to shake free of his grip.

In minutes they were back in the truck, the chili on the seat between them. “Your folks are very nice,” she said quietly. nervousness increasing at the thought of being shut away in a blizzard with a total stranger who was a strong male and a cop.

“I moved back to Oklahoma so I can help Dad, although he doesn’t need me often. The men who work for me help out over here, too.”

Riding in silence, they crept to the section line and then turned east and Katherine couldn’t see any road. They were going little over ten miles an hour and the sleet was still coming down.

“Lines will be down in this one,” Colin said, wiping the windshield with the back of his hand. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the truck bounced over a cattle guard. He slowed to a halt and climbed out.

“Be right back. Want to close the gate,” he shouted and slammed the door while a flurry of white flakes tumbled over the car seat and melted.

Turning around, she wiped the window and saw he was swinging closed a large gate and padlocking it. Without a word he climbed back into the truck and put it into gear, driving slowly. They crept through an endlessly white world with a blinding lack of color and snow-covered objects that mesmerized and confused.

She shivered, wondering about his past, worrying about the present. She would be alone with him, miles from anyone, caught in a storm. She shivered and rubbed her arms, telling herself to stop being such an idiot.

Finally through the tumbling snow the darker bulk of a building loomed up. As they drove closer, she saw the house and attached garage. Pressing the garage-door opener, he waited while the door slid open. Fear wrapped around her more tightly than the coat she pulled close.

They entered a three-car garage that had an empty space, a Jeep and a space for the pickup. The noise of sleet hitting the truck dimmed to a staccato sound peppering the garage roof.

When the engine died, Colin climbed out. With a mounting reluctance, Katherine slowly opened the pickup door. They were in a large garage that adjoined a house. A black shadow dashed from a corner, followed by a great, shaggy gray dog. She gasped, her heart thudding and then calming as Colin Whitefeather turned to pet the animals. “This is Buster. The wolf is Lobo.”

She was still in the pickup and she eyed the dogs. “He’s really a wolf?” she asked, trying to take time to deal with her fear. The animal had to be a wolf. She gazed into yellow predator eyes. He had long legs and thick gray fur and his ears cocked forward as he studied her. “You’re certain it’s safe for me to get out? They look ferocious.”

“They’re lambs. And they know if I brought you in my car, you’re my guest.” He gave a short whistle and both dogs trotted to him. He petted them a few seconds. “Sit.”

Both animals sat down. “They won’t bite. I promise.”

She climbed out of the pickup. “They don’t have to sit. I’m just on edge.” She patted her knee as an invitation to them.

“Good dogs,” he said and they ran to her to mill around her. Katherine petted them, scratching their ears. “They’re beautiful animals.”

“Buster is a Border collie and Lobo is just what his name implies. I found him when he was a pup and I was up north. He was hurt and I brought him home with me.”

“So you take in strays often, Colin Whitefeather,” she remarked, giving him a faint smile.

He shook his head. “You two are it,” he said, gathering sacks into his arms.

Doubting his last remark, she picked up the chili and a sack of groceries and followed Colin inside a kitchen that was much newer than his parents’ kitchen. Buster ran past them and stood near an empty dog dish. Lobo came inside to sit and watch Colin. The cozy kitchen held a huge fireplace built with large slabs of sandstone. Knotty-pine cabinets lined the walls. The kitchen formed an L-shaped room with the living area, which had bookcases, a pair of navy wing chairs, a maroon-and-navy sofa and another huge stone fireplace. The living area was paneled in pine, with louvered shutters at the windows. Beneath beamed ceilings, the room held the same cozy, rustic, masculine look as the kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” Colin said, setting groceries on a long oak table. “There’s only one bedroom,” he added with a shrug, “but that sofa makes into a bed.”

Colin hung his coat on a peg by the door, motioning to her to do the same. “As soon as I light a fire in here and put away the groceries, I’ll give you a tour so you’ll know where everything is,” he said.

When she removed her coat, Katherine felt stiff and cold and wary. She watched while Colin Whitefeather put away his groceries, seeming to ignore her as if he had forgotten her presence, and she found his lack of attention to her reassuring, yet she was afraid to let down her guard.

He picked up a phone and after a few moments she gathered he must be talking to his ranch foreman. She hadn’t given much thought to other men on the place.

“Bud,” Colin said, “tell the others that I locked the gate and I’ll turn on the alarm tonight. I brought a guest home with me, and some guys are after her. They look dangerous,” he said, finally turning to give her a level look.

It sounded worse to hear him talk about the men after her.

“If any of you see strangers, be careful and get word to me at once. They’re armed, so the men better be prepared. Any shooting starts, call 911 as quickly as you can.”

She rubbed her arms, wondering how many men she had placed in danger by coming home with him.

“Sure, I will. No one can get through in this. I let the dogs out. Good. Thanks. See you in the morning.” He replaced the receiver.

“I’ve brought danger to you and to others,” she said quietly.

“I want them to be aware of the danger, but they can take good care of themselves and those goons aren’t after any cowboys. Don’t worry about it.”

As if he had dismissed the whole thing from his mind, he squatted in front of the fireplace to stack logs for a fire. She watched him work and knew she should relax. The man was ignoring her most of the time, but she couldn’t let down her guard.

“C’mon.” he said when a fire blazed. “Tour time.” He left the kitchen and she followed, keeping her purse at her side, feeling wary of him even though he sounded pleasant.

He led her down a wide hall and he motioned at an open door. “Here’s the one bathroom,” he said. “Towels are in the cabinet.”

She glanced inside, aware she had to move within inches of him. She peeked into a room done in maroon-and-navy decor with an old-fashioned footed tub and an open door to her left that probably led to his bedroom.

She was aware of standing too close to Colin Whitefeather. He was a tall man, tall enough to make her look up when she gazed into his eyes, something that she rarely. had to do with any man. Even Sloan was only inches taller than she.

Colin’s size added to her nervousness because she felt vulnerable. He was broad shouldered, long armed and powerful. She glanced at the bathroom and moved away quickly.

Colin led the way through the open door at the end of the hall. “Here’s my room, and I wasn’t expecting company.”

When she stepped inside, her attention was caught by the panoramic view through large windows and glass doors that opened onto a deck. Snow fell in big, tumbling flakes and the countryside looked like a Christmas-card scene. She glanced around the room at the king-sized bed with rumpled covers, jeans tossed on a chair, a shirt draped on a television set. Fishing poles were in a corner and boots kicked off on the floor in the middle of the room.

The bedroom had the same pine paneling and the same navy-and-maroon decor as the rest of the house. A potted plant in the corner had one of his ties draped over it.

“I’m not compulsively neat,” he said, flashing a grin. Katherine’s heart missed a beat because the smile gave him a come-hither appeal. Creases lined his tanned cheeks and his teeth were white against his dark skin, the grin softening the harshness of his features. And she was surprised at herself and her reaction to his smile. Until this moment, she would have bet all the money in her purse that she would not find any male appealing for a long time.

“I’m glad to be in out of the storm. I don’t mind the clutter,” she replied, turning away from him.

“This is it, my small castle. Let’s get Mom’s chili on the stove. Do you eat chili?” Colin asked, aware she was still clutching her purse tightly, pressing it against her side beneath her arm. He remembered a skittish colt that he had purchased. The animal was terrified of anyone coming within yards of him and Colin suspected the former owner had beaten the animal badly. It had taken a long time to calm the colt and to finally turn him into a riding horse.

“Yes. It smelled wonderful at your mother’s.”

In minutes they had both washed up and Katherine moved around the kitchen, tearing greens into a bowl for salad while Colin reheated Nadine’s chili. Katherine worked silently, and Colin noticed she was never too far from her purse. Once when her back was turned, he picked it up, feeling the heft of it and deciding she was packing a pistol.

Colin’s gaze shifted back to Katherine, and he wondered about the hair pulled up and pinned close to her head, wisps escaping the pins to wave slightly over her ears and her slender neck. Diamond stud earrings were in her ears, but she wore no other jewelry. Since they arrived at his house she seemed tense, and he suspected if he made a sudden noise, she would jump a foot into the air.

They sat down to eat over steaming bowls of chili, hot corn tortillas and bowls of green salad. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

He wondered again if she was a showgirl, yet she was a long way from Vegas or Reno. Someone with money was involved, for three men to be after her.

Colin glanced at the darkened windows, feeling safe with the storm raging outside. Where were the men now who were after her today? In a Stillwater motel? In this storm they couldn’t scour the countryside, so they had to be holed up somewhere.

Colin stretched out his arm and picked up the television remote control. “We might as well have the television on in the background.”

“Do you mind if we don’t?” she asked hastily, her eyes wide and fear plain in their green depths. His gaze locked with hers while the air seemed to crackle with tension between them. A log fell in the fire, yet all of Colin’s attention focused on the woman facing him. Her lashes fluttered and she turned away abruptly.

Studying her, he placed the remote control on the table with deliberation. “You don’t want to go to the cops. You don’t want the television on. Maybe it’s time you tell me a little about the trouble you’re in.”