Free Defiant by Patricia; Potter Page A

dog. He wagged his tail and then, as if to prove her charge, he darted down the steps and into a yard that was now mostly mud.
    Disregarding the dampness of the steps, she sat down and leaned against the post, too tense to go back inside. Somehow the vast darkness around her was comforting.
    Why wasn’t she afraid of Wade Foster? Because she had already endured much in her life? She had gone hungry as a child when crops wasted away, and she had huddled in hiding with her mother during those times the Comanches were raiding. She had waited in fear with her mother for her father to come home, and years later waited in fear by herself for Jeff to come home.
    Now she was afraid again, not of Wade Foster but of her own emotions, of her need and her loneliness. They had been tolerable until he came.
    My wife made it . She knew she hadn’t been able to hide that moment of shock. She still couldn’t believe it. An Indian bridle. And the necklace was Indian. The necklace that he had so frantically sought when he’d first awakened.
    Jake bounded back up the steps, shaking himself and covering Mary Jo with mud. How nice to be so indifferent to niceties. How nice to have nothing to worry about but a good roll in the mud.
    But now he would have to stay outside the rest of the night.
    She finally stood. “You can be a watchdog tonight,” she told Jake.
    He looked dejected.
    â€œIt won’t work this time,” she said severely.
    He whined, and she almost gave in.
    â€œNo,” she said. Before she could change her mind, she went back inside, closing the door behind her. She wished she didn’t feel guilty, though she knew that in moments Jake would be out exploring, sniffing, and having a good time.
    She wouldn’t be granted the same pleasure. The same perplexing questions about the mysterious Wade Foster would only continue to whirl around in her head.
    Wade’s window looked out onto the porch and he had seen the woman. He’d told himself he should retreat to his bed, that he shouldn’t invade this moment of privacy she apparently sought. Yet he hadn’t been able to take his gaze from her, from the slender form that moved gracefully, that leaned wistfully against the post.
    What do you see in him to like? she’d asked the dog.
    Nothing was her insinuation, and he didn’t blame her. So why did she continue to care for him? Why hadn’t she told the posse he was here? Why hadn’t she just let them take him away? Why had she taken the trouble of retrieving his bridle?
    His good hand clenched. He knew his body’s ability to recover. Two days, and he should have enough strength to leave. But how? No horse. No money. No place to go. How far could he walk? Not to the Utes’ shining mountains.
    And he had no way to repay the woman. God knows how he hated debts. Especially to someone who would have looked down on his wife and child.
    He’d watched her bend her head, her hair tumbling down across her shoulder as she hugged the dog. She puzzled him, interested him in ways he didn’t want to be interested. He had nothing to offer a woman like her, would never have, now that his right arm was smashed. He accepted that. Punishment for the past.
    He limped away from the window and back to the bed. Her bed. It even smelled of her, flowery and fresh. Something in him ached at the thought. He would move over to the barn tomorrow, and then leave as soon as he could.
    He closed his eyes, but he kept seeing her there, on that porch. Almost ethereal in the white gown.
    â€œGoddammit,” he whispered. It was as if the devil weren’t finished with him yet. He’d just devised a new torture.
    Birds were singing when Wade woke the next morning to a soft knock on his door. The sun was streaming through the window, and a light breeze was ruffling the curtains.
    All of which meant the posse would probably be nosing around again.
    But he felt better. The food and rest had