Free Oklahoma kiss by Unknown Page B

anything you say."
           The moment the cellar door was safely locked behind him, Blair lowered the rifle and sighed from relief. Not accustomed to carrying a heavy gun for so long, she doubted if she could have held it,        aimed, a second longer. Her heart hammered wildly against her breast as fear and thoughts of what could have happened swept over her like a stormtide.
           Tillie placed one hand akimbo and wagged a scolding finger at her. "What did Ah tell you, child? Ah told you it was dangerous for a young girl to go off riding alone. Ah warned you 'bout them mean or nesters!"
           "Yes, Tillie, I know you did," Blair said, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. "But you are wrong about one thing. I don't know what he is . . . but I know he's not a nester." For a moment she could see him in her mind's eye; the way he cocked his head to one side when amused—even though his amusement had been laced with caustic humor, how his eyes narrowed with anger, how his lips tightened in a grim line. No doubt she had seen his ill-tempered attributes and she wondered how he would look clean shaven and in a good mood. Delightful shivers raced over her at that thought. Deep inside her began the fervent hope that he was innocent as he had claimed. There was also a nagging worry that she had pushed him too far, had stripped him of too much pride for him to ever look at her without hate and contempt in his eyes.
           Sighing wearily, she started for her horse but Tillie stopped her. "Where do you think you are going, child?"
           "For his horse and gear. The animal is injured and I promised him I would not leave it out there overnight. And there's no use arguing with me about it, my mind is made up."
           Shaking her head, Tillie shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "Ah'm not about to waste my breath 'cause that's all Ah'd be doing if Ah tried to talk you out of going. 'Sides, Ah haven't lived out here for nigh on to twenty years without knowing an injured animal is easy pickings for the creatures who roam at night. You just be careful and hurry home. Ah'll have supper waiting on you."
     
     
     
     
     
     
           After the door closed behind him, the cellar became pitch black. Striking a match and lighting the candle located exactly where she told him, Adam made his way over to the lamp and lit it. Within such a dark enclosure, the flickering light cast a warm, amber glow, enabling him to see quite well.
           Three beds were lined side by side with only a tiny walk space in between. Quilts and blankets had been rolled up and tied, and were lying across the foot of each bed. A scarred table held a set of dominos still scattered about, and above the table was a lantern that could be pulled down for additional light. Shelves on either side of the walls contained many jars of canned food. There was a damp, musty smell in the air even though a flue had been placed in the ceiling for the express purpose of letting fresh air inside. As with all storm cellars in this part of the country, he knew the mustiness came from the red clay soil the land was known for.
           "Not exactly the comforts of home," Adam muttered aloud, "but I’ve been in worse."
           Sighing wearily, he sank onto one of the beds and removed his moccasins. Wincing from pain, he stared at his feet, noting that the blisters had popped and his socks were now stained with blood. "Damn!" he grumbled. "If that little . . . heathen hadn't interfered, I could have taken my time getting here and my feet wouldn't be in this bad of shape." He threaded his fingers through his hair. "Damn head hurts too-but not nearly as much as her backside will when I finish with her!"
           It wasn't so much that Adam blamed the girl for his predicament; if he had not been so careless, she would have never caught him by surprise. But she had humiliated him and that was even worse, because he