Free Jodi Thomas by The Tender Texan Page A

serious. “My wife does a pretty good job of that without the help of Indians.”
    Anna jerked her head away. “I can take—”
    “—care of yourself,” Chance finished for her.
    True, unrestrained laughter bubbled within Anna. She could no more control it than she could the tears that had fallen earlier. Something about this man and his country had eroded all the restraints on her emotions.
    They laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, then Chance took her hand in the familiar manner of longtime friends and led her to the horse. “Come on, my fiery wife, we have to go back.” He encircled her waist with his hands and lifted her onto the saddle.
    As he swung up behind her, Anna leaned easily into his chest. “I feel like I’ve lived a month this morning. I haven’t cried like that since . . .” She couldn’t finish. She’d never tell anyone what William had done. He was dead. It was over. She forced herself to look straight ahead. “I don’t remember ever laughing so hard.”
    Chance brushed his whiskered chin against the top of her head. She waited for him to speak, but he only nudged Cyoty into action. His silence didn’t worry her, for the gentle way his arm braced her in the saddle told her he cared more than words ever would have. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, remembering the way he’d held her when she’d cried. Anna silently added another brick to the bridge of trust she was building between them—a bridge she’d never even started with another man since her father left her. A tremor of anticipation of what lay beyond the bridge made her sigh and lean more heavily into the foundation of Chance’s embrace.

Chapter 7
    B rown maverick vines twisted among the evergreens that scented the air along the bank of the creek where Anna and Chance set up camp. During their slow ride back to the Indian camp, Chance had talked about the country, which he seemed to know as well as Anna had known her tiny garden in Germany. The spot he’d chosen to spend the night was several yards upstream from the Indians, where the creek twisted, allowing them privacy. As Anna combed the twigs from her hair, Chance knelt and built a fire. The air was warm and an easy silence settled between them.
    Aware that he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, Anna thought maybe his interest was as he had told her, nothing more than the fact that he hadn’t been around many women. She wanted to believe they could be friends; otherwise, this would be a long year.
    Chance stood, lifting his rifle from the grass. Slinging the barrel across his shoulder, he turned his face to the sun. “If you want to take a bath in the stream, I’ll stand guard at that rock.” He gestured toward the rock that marked the bend in the river.
    Slowly, Anna lowered her hairbrush to the fabric-covered box that held her dresser set. Why, she wondered, couldn’t life be as orderly as the dresser set, with its indentations for brush, comb, file, and hair receiver? Right now there seemed to be no order in the world. Maybe a bath would help. “You’ll keep your back turned?”
    “Of course.”
    She wished she could trust him without asking, but old habits weren’t broken in a day. “I’d like to wash out these clothes, but my other dresses are in my trunk.”
    Without a word Chance moved to his saddlebag. He pulled a bar of soap and the white shirt he’d worn on their wedding night from his pack. “You could wear this until your clothes dry.”
    She hesitated a moment, then took his offerings. There seemed something very personal about wearing his shirt and yet it was the only practical thing to do. As Chance climbed atop the rock and sat with his back to her, Anna stripped down to her undergarments. She waded into the icy water and as she rubbed the muddy coat and skirt, the crude soap stung her hands. After several minutes, she tiptoed out of the stream and spread her clothes over the evergreen bushes that grew