A Cheyenne Thanksgiving Page 15

  Between the extra prep work and Jacob’s excitement—his granda had told him all about the upcoming holiday—and the baby, Tess was more exhausted than usual. So yesterday before dinner, when Cam had wrapped his arms around her from behind, she’d been happy to take some of his strength.

  “Tomorrow, Da’s going to watch Jake. Pack some food for us. I’m taking you away from here, Mrs. MacLeod.”

  She’d tried to turn in his arms then, to demand more details, but he’d kissed the side of her neck, effectively trapping her. She’d tilted her head to give him better access. “I can’t just leave, Cam. There’s too much to do before Thanksgiving.”

  “Just one day, Tessa. Pack enough for lunch and dinner.”

  Later, when she was tucked against him in their bed, she’d tried again, asking where they were going, and if Jacob could go with them.

  She’d felt him smile against her back. “Nope. Tomorrow is going to be a day just for you and me. The whole day, no one else to bother us. I’m going to teach you some stuff. Da raised four kids and some of his grandkids. He and Jake will be just fine together.”

  “But naptime will be…”

  “Jake’s been here long enough that Da knows his routine. Lunch, story, song, blankie, backrub. He’ll be fine, and I promise you Jake will love the time and attention.”

  Tess had sighed then, knowing Cam was right. Ian and Jake had a special bond, and the boy would probably love the time with his granda. She’d stopped worrying about her son, and started trying to guess Cam’s plans for the day. She had fallen asleep wondering what he’d meant to “teach” her.

  And now it was the morning, two days before Thanksgiving, and she’d tucked away all of the peeled potatoes, and admonished Ian not to let Jacob mess up the house too much. “Tomorrow I’ll scrub the floors, but if you could make sure he doesn’t track in too much dirt, that would be helpful. And if he’s looking for something to do, have him wipe down the cabinets and tables in the parlor with a damp cloth. And—”

  Her instructions were cut off with a squeal when Cam lifted her onto a mare he’d led up to the front porch. Ian and Jacob stood, hand-in-hand, each grinning as they watched her try to get comfortable on the horse. She figured Jacob was excited to have the whole day without his mother, but she couldn’t begin to guess what Da was smirking about. She gave them both a good glare, to let them know that she meant what she’d said.

  Cam swung up on a horse beside her, making sure the bundle of food was secure behind him. Satisfied, he turned back to the two on the porch. “Jake, mind your granda, okay?”

  “Yah, Daddy.”

  “Da, make sure he doesn’t undo all of Tessa’s hard work, okay?”

  “Aye, son.” Ian’s innocent gaze matched his grandson’s so well that both Tess and Cam had trouble controlling their smiles.

  “Tessa,” she was startled when Cam turned towards her. “Da and Jake will be fine. Try to relax and enjoy yourself, okay?”

  She did smile then, and his answering grin was immediate. “Yes, husband.”

  A quick nod, “Good”, and then he urged his horse towards the gate. She followed, after blowing one last kiss to Jacob, and they were on their way.

  It was a fine day, cold and dry. She was wearing the riding skirt Mrs. Newell had given her when she left Fort Laramie, and a sweater with a scarf. She had her winter jacket as well, but hadn’t needed it yet. Being pregnant had kept her warm enough, although maybe it was because she’d been living in Montana for the last years. The Wyoming winter had been, thus far, nowhere near as miserable as the heavy wet snows up in Montana. Cam told her it would snow plenty during the cold season, but it didn’t usually get bad until mid-winter. So far she enjoyed the colder temperatures, but she hadn’t spent as much time outside as she was going to today.

  After an hour, she was pleased for her thick gloves and her scarf and hat. Cam knew that she wasn’t that experienced with horses, and seemed to be taking it slow for her. They walked slowly along, and he pointed out landmarks and parts of his land she’d never seen. The pride in his voice was infectious; she soon grew excited about the hidden wonders of the ranch, asking questions about the things she saw. She loved the way his green eyes sparkled when he talked about his—their—home, and wondered if they’d match the color of the grass come the spring.

  “So, husband.” His lips quirked up at her words. “Are you going to tell me why you dragged me out here into the middle of nowhere?”

  “What, can’t I be spontaneous?”

  “You’re a planner. And I packed two pounds of meat, dried fruits, canned beans, and rolls. That’s not exactly spontaneous.”

  There was no hiding his grin now. “OK, so it was planned.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to get you away for a bit. All to myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been married to you for three months, and you’re carrying my child, but we haven’t got to spend any time to ourselves.”

  She flushed slightly at his words, but doubted he could see, behind her scarf. She was his wife, the mother of his child. And despite—or maybe because of—her curiosity, the thought of spending an entire day alone with him had made her feel warm since he mentioned it.

  “And since you’re a planner, did you have any plans for today?”

  “A few.”

  Heavens, the look he gave her was quite… smoldering, and she was suddenly very much looking forward to whatever he had planned. She had to clear her throat before she spoke again. “And do you have a destination in mind for these plans? It’s a little cold to be…entertaining ourselves outside.”

  He laughed then, probably at her choice of words. “You think this is cold? Just wait ‘til February.”

  “Cam.” She managed to make his name sound like an eye-roll.

  “We’re going to my house.” He was still chuckling.

  “I’ve seen your house. I washed its windows yesterday, and cooked breakfast in it this morning. Remember?”

  “Not that one.” That crooked smile made her stomach do little flips. “The one I built. I want to show you the house I lived in when I started the Open Skye, the one Da moved into. It’s nothing compared to our house now, but…”

  But he’d built it himself, and it’d been his home for years, and of course Tess wanted to see it. “I can’t wait, Cam.”

  They rode for another hour. Tess recognized that he was taking it slowly for her, knowing she wasn’t as comfortable on a horse as he was. She was beginning to get hungry, and wondered if they’d stop for lunch before they reached the house, or if they were waiting, how far away it was. Since realizing that she was pregnant, her appetite had doubled, it seemed. Her stomach was already beginning to grow—much earlier than it had happened with Jacob—and she joked that she didn’t know if it was because of the baby, or the extra servings of food.

  But when she finally started to ask Cam how much farther, she realized that he’d stopped his steady stream of information, and was anxiously watching the sky to the north. When he saw her looking at him, he sent her a tight smile that she figured was supposed to be reassuring. “What is it?”

  Thick brows drawn in over those green eyes, he said, “There’s a storm coming through. Sometimes they crop up suddenly, but at this time of year it probably won’t be a nice one.”

  Sure enough, the northern sky now seemed to roil with thick gray clouds, and the day didn’t seem quite so carefree anymore. “Should we turn back?”

  “No, we’re a lot closer to the old house than the new. We’ll hunker down there.” His words were clipped. Not quite ‘harsh’, but Tess could tell that he wasn’t pleased with this development. Strangely, she wasn’t scared, despite his tone. She trusted him to make sure that they would be safe.

  The wind picked up. She twisted in the saddle to slip on her heavy coat, and watched Cam button his up to his chin. Whatever was in that storm bearing down on them, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Tess hoped it wasn’t cold enough yet to snow
, because she didn’t want to be trapped away from Jacob with limited food. But she knew that Cam would make the best decisions. When he suggested they pick up the pace, she didn’t hesitate to kick her mare into a trot behind his.

  When then rain hit, it was icy and thick. It wasn’t quite snow, but cold needles of slush that hit her exposed skin and made the horse shift uncomfortably. Cam urged them both into a spine-jolting canter, and then a gallop, and soon it was all she could do to hold onto the saddle and the reins. All she could see in the storm was his broad back, and she wondered how such a promising day had turned sour so quickly.

  They didn’t speak, but when Cam yelled directions to her, he sounded angry. She didn’t want to agonize over what would happen to them, so she wondered about her husband’s reaction. Was he angry over the weather? Or his plans gone awry?

  Then there was a particularly nasty clap of thunder, and his horse seemed to trip. The animal went down with a scream and a sickening popping noise. Cam’s yell of pain mixed with the horse’s, and she turned nauseous with fear.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Cam felt his leg twist under the mare, the animal coming down hard on him. He bellowed when he heard something in his ankle pop, and then yelled again a moment later when the pain hit. It was intense; maybe not the nastiest pain he’d ever experienced, but at that moment, he couldn’t recall anything worse. Hot on the heels of the pain came the anger. Anger at his horse for the fall, at the weather for ruining his plans for the day, and at himself for being hurt by something any rookie cowpuncher knew to avoid.

  The mare was stunned for a moment and he needed her off now, so that he could see how badly they were both hurt. He kicked her in the side with his free foot, cursing her and the stinging rain both. She lumbered to her feet, and the release of her weight brought a relief so great his eyes watered. Cursing louder now, to distract himself from the pain, he used the stirrup and the saddle horn to pull himself upright, resisting the urge to drive a shoulder into the horse’s side out of spite.

  He’d always known that he felt things too strongly, and reacted too fiercely. He tended to wear his emotions on his face, where everyone knew what he was thinking. Luckily, he found a lot to be happy about, and even his wife had commented on his constant smiling. But when he was angered—like now, or when he dealt with Willis and Crowley—the rage built up inside him until he wanted to attack someone.

  This wasn’t the horse’s fault, though, and he had to remind himself of that. The weather was just an act of God, too. The horse had been just as blind as Cam had been, and the thunder caused her to step funny. Cataloging the accident helped him calm his fury enough to hop to the mare’s hind leg. He couldn’t tell if it was broken, and he didn’t want to lose her if he didn’t have to.

  Then, and only then, did he allow himself to look at his wife. She’d reined in her horse beside him, her face calm and her eyes wide with fear. Another burst of anger coursed through him at the thought of his delicate pregnant wife sitting in the middle of an ice storm because of his stupid mistake. She must have seen something in his face then, because she started to dismount, as if to go to him.

  “No.” He knew his growl was rough, but he couldn’t help it. Anger and pain made him rough. “Stay there. I’m fine.”

  He could tell that she didn’t believe him, from the way her lips pressed thinly together. But he turned back to his horse, and began to remove the bundles from the saddle bags, transferring them to her saddle. Each limped hop brought a new jolt of pain, and he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. Such a stupid little accident, to hurt so much! The anger seemed to keep the pain at bay, though, so he fanned his disgust at himself.

  Soon there was a white ball of flame sitting uncomfortably in his gut, but it helped him forget his ankle. Then he made the mistake of looking up at Tess again, and saw her worry, which somehow made it worse. She reached out one hand, and said “Let me—”

  “I said I’m fine.” He all but barked at her, and then scowled at his own harshness when her cheeks pinked. He wanted to apologize, but instead slipped the bridle and saddle off his mare, letting them drop to the ground, and slapped her rear. He had no way of knowing if she was hurt too badly to make it home. If she was, it would’ve been kinder to put a bullet in her brain now. But without knowing, and with his own damned injury, he wanted to give her a chance.

  Scowling, he pulled himself up behind Tess, awkward on one foot. She pulled her feet out of the stirrups to let him get comfortable. He just lifted her up and out of the way, settling her back across his thighs. She sat just as stiffly as she had that first time they’d ridden together, that hot August afternoon when he found her. Then it was because she didn’t know him, and was scared. Now it was because… he sighed. Because of his anger.

  “I’m sorry, Tessa.”

  “For what?” Her words were clipped, and he wondered if she was just being stubborn.

  “For snapping at you. I’m angry. At myself.”

  “And in pain.”

  He didn’t respond, but she softened against him, and patted his thigh gently. Her ease helped him relax slightly, and he concentrated on how nice it was to hold her. If it weren’t for the freezing rain, and the fact that every step of her horse sent another jolt of pain up his left leg, this might have been a nice afternoon ride.

  He hadn’t realized how close they were to his old ranch house. Or maybe the pain and the mind-numbing ride made the time go faster. But Tess was shivering against him when he saw the fence he’d put up eight years ago and knew they were almost there. His mare was still hobbling behind them, despite the pace he’d set, which meant that he’d dropped his saddle for nothing. That realization caused his anger to flare again.

  He directed the animals towards the barns, and slid down to unbar the doors. Smitty and Sanderson had been here within the last two weeks, so he knew everything was well-stocked. Since taking control of the Double-S, he’d intended to keep his original ranch and the outbuildings as a sort of ‘outpost’, but once he’d sold off so much stock, he didn’t need it to be manned all the time.

  Tess sat still atop her horse until he lifted her down, and he wondered if he’d scared her into complacence, or if she just didn’t know what to do. After caring for both animals as best as he could, he was embarrassed by how much weight he had to lean on his wife—his tiny, pregnant wife—to carry the supplies up to the house. But she didn’t say a word, only pushed him into a chair as soon as they were out of the wind and sleet.

  He watched her peel off the hat and scarf, revealing a face even paler than usual. Her teeth were chattering, and that pushed him out of the chair, towards the stack of firewood by the hearth. He heard her start to say something, but then snap her mouth closed again. When he had the fire blazing, he turned back to see her stripping off the wet riding skirt. Whatever he’d intended to say—he couldn’t recall, suddenly—died at the sight of her in a blouse and bloomers, hurrying towards the warmth of the fire. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to drive some of the ice away, but knew that until he got out of his own wet clothes, he wouldn’t be any help.

  It was a struggle, though, to pull off his own sheepskin coat, and he finally heard an exasperated sigh from his wife. “Cam! Can I help you now, please?”

  Tess’s arms were crossed—pushing those pert little breasts up, and why did he have to notice that?—and her foot was all but tapping on the uneven wooden floor. She looked so exasperated that his frustration melted away. She must have taken his pause for agreement, because she hurried to the chair and peeled the rest of the coat down his arms. Then, kneeling before him, she began to work his boots off. The right one came off without any fuss, of course, but his left ankle had already swollen to fit the leather. He was afraid they were going to have to cut the boot off, but he didn’t want to lose his favorite pair. He wouldn’t have taken it off at all, had it not been necessary to take off his jeans to get warm. But as she worked and tugged and slid, he bit his tongue to keep from
crying out. She did enough apologizing and gasping in sympathy for both of them… and the boot came off. The pain was blinding then, as much as it’d been when the mare first landed. Cam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair, and tried not to be sick. Small hands, and an icy blast, brought him back to himself. She’d found a bowl, and gone out to fill it with sleet. Now, carefully, she eased his entire foot into the freezing water… and it seemed to help.

  Desperate, now, to distract himself, he grabbed her hand as she went by. “Tessa, I truly am sorry.”

  She never had a particularly expressive face, and now was no different. But he thought he could see a softening around her lips and in those dark eyes. She brushed the fingers of her left hand through his wet hair. “I understand. It’s alright. Being in pain could make anyone terse.”

  She dropped a kiss to his forehead and slipped away. He could hear her rummaging in the house’s single bedroom. He’d built the house with himself in mind; when Da had joined him in Wyoming, they’d divided off a section of the main room for the older man. It was a rough, simple home… fine for two bachelors, but not to bring a wife home to. Da had tried to tell him that last year. He’d been right, and Cam was glad that the merger with the Double-S had brought him a finer house as well as twice the number of cattle.

  Tess returned with a towel that she used to dry his hair. It wouldn’t do much good, with him sitting in his wet clothes, and they both knew it. “Did the cold water help?”

  “A bit, yeah.”