Indigo Blue Page 5

  “I’m used to the rain.”

  As Indigo watched, his lips slanted into a boyish smile that deepened the lines bracketing his mouth and transformed his face. His intent brown eyes delved into hers. An unnameable something arced between them. It reminded her of how the air had felt during the storm, a charged sensation eddying around her.

  Suddenly, the thought of spending hours alone with him, miles from town, didn’t seem such a grand idea. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, or the way she felt when he did. She couldn’t name the feeling. She just knew it frightened her.

  Apparently her father trusted him. There was an innocence about Hunter Wolf, though. Duplicity was beyond his comprehension. It wasn’t beyond hers. A friendly smile could hide a black heart. No one knew that better than she.

  Remembering the strong grip of Jake Rand’s fingers, she dropped her gaze to his hands where they rested on his hips. How could a man eke his existence from a hole in the ground and not have calluses?

  She glanced at the mountain. A mist wreathed its forested slopes. In three hours it would be dark. She doubted Ma would understand if she said she couldn’t go with Jake Rand because he made her legs feel weak. Her parents would think she was making excuses because she wanted to run the mine herself.

  She squared her shoulders. “Well, if a little wet doesn’t bother you, we may as well go.”

  “I don’t mind waiting for you to change into something dry.” Especially a shirt, he added silently. “No point in getting chilled. I’ll lend you my slicker if you don’t have one.”

  “Wet leather is surprisingly warm. It acts like a second skin.”

  Jake had noticed that, yes.

  She plucked at the shirt. “Usually I keep everything waterproofed, but here lately, things have been so crazy I haven’t had time.”

  He gestured at his horse. “If you could show me the barn, I’d like to get Buck settled. After the train ride to Roseburg and the long ride here, he deserves a dry place to rest. The traveling accommodations for stock aren’t as comfortable as for people.”

  “Where did you travel from?”

  Jake hesitated to mention Portland. “From up north.”

  She struck off down the steps. Not about to wear a slicker if she wasn’t, Jake left the coat on the railing and fell in behind her, hunching his shoulders against the rain. After untethering Buck, she led him toward a looming gray building adjacent to the house.

  Halfway there, Jake gave up trying to keep dry. Instead, he watched the jaunty swing of Indigo Wolf’s hips. Her stride was long and graceful, her body a harmony of movement. He tried to picture her in one of Mary Beth’s fancy dresses and grinned. If a bustle were perched on that fanny of hers, the resultant swing would be enough to make a man go cross-eyed.

  Once inside the barn, she became a whirlwind of efficiency. Momentarily distracted by the excited oinking of three white pigs confined in a pen under the loft, Jake stood just inside the door and breathed in the long-forgotten smells. The stables at home were kept clean enough to serve high tea on the floors. Not so here. From the odor, Jake guessed the stalls were badly in need of mucking, yet another sign of Wolf’s inability to keep up.

  Suddenly, the enormity of the situation hit him. Two small women couldn’t possibly handle all this work.

  “Why don’t I finish up with Buck while you wait on the porch?” Jake said.

  “You don’t know where everything is.”

  Indigo uncinched Buck’s belly strap. Jake caught her arm before she lifted the saddle. “I’ll get that.”

  She stepped aside. Jake draped the rain- soaked riding gear over a rail and grabbed a nearby rag to rub it down. Intending to do the same to Buck before putting him in a stall, he turned just in time to see Indigo wrestling with a bale of hay.

  “Whoa.” He dropped the rag and hurried over. “A half-pint like you’ll get hurt hefting that.” Getting handholds on the wire, he swung the bale off the stack. “Where do you want it?”

  She stood back and studied him. In the shadows of the barn, Jake couldn’t be sure, but he thought she looked perplexed. She pointed toward an empty enclosure with remnants of hay on the floor. “There’ll do fine. Once you cut the wire, we’ll fork him some hay into that end stall and give him some grain.”

  As he hauled the bale across the barn, Jake inquired, “Where’s the pitchfork?”

  Slowly coming to realize Jake Rand had no intention of letting her help him, Indigo directed his gaze to the pitchfork that stood in one corner. His calling her a half-pint hit a sore spot. Her brother, Chase, called her that, and she absolutely hated it.

  “I’m stronger than I look, Mr. Rand, and I’m used to doing the lifting out here.”

  “I’m sure you are. Your father tells me you’re quite the little worker.”

  Quite the little worker? And a half-pint. Indigo ground her teeth. “I’m full-grown, nineteen years old this month.”

  “All of that?” He forked hay over the dividing walls, hitting his mark in the end stall with amazing accuracy. Through the gloom, he flashed her a grin. “You don’t look that old.”

  Without being obvious, Indigo tried to stand a mite taller. “Well, I am.”

  He paused midswing, a forkful of hay poised over his broad shoulder. She couldn’t read his expression. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He finished the throw and forked another mound of hay. “A tiny frame like yours is attractive on a woman. Until I saw you and your mother, I thought my sister Mary Beth was small. Alongside you, she’s an Amazon.”

  “I’m medium, not tiny.”

  This time he stopped, rammed the fork tines against the planks, and leaned on the handle to study her. After a long moment, he grinned and said, “Okay, medium. I have the feeling I have offended you. If so, I’m sorry.”

  The apology made her feel childish. He’d learn soon enough that she didn’t let her size hinder her. “While you finish that, I’ll get Buck some grain and water.”

  She felt his gaze follow her to the feed room. The fifty-pound sack of grain was nearly empty. Indigo jumped up onto the stack to get another. She had just gotten her arms under each end of a bag when she felt large hands settle lightly on her waist. The unexpected touch startled her. She glanced over her shoulder, directly into Jake Rand’s dark eyes. She could feel the steamy warmth of his breath stirring the hair at her temple. The expanse of his chest filled her vision, and she was suddenly conscious of how large a man he was. She could feel the untapped strength in his fingertips.

  “I can get that,” he said in a low, vibrant voice.

  With a twist of her hips, Indigo escaped his grasp and lifted the bag, determined to show him how hardy she was. “I handle these sacks all the time, Mr. Rand.”

  He stole the burden before she could turn. “And you handle them very well.”

  At her elevated position, she stood as tall as he, her face a scant few inches from his. From up close, she could see the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and the weathered texture of his skin. She felt oddly breathless and jumped off the sacks to put some distance between them. As he watched her back away, his firm lips twisted in a lazy grin that flashed gleaming white teeth, and his eyes filled with what looked like amusement.

  He leaned the sack in a corner, pulled his knife from its scabbard, and slashed the burlap. She noticed that he handled the knife with the same practiced ease that she did hers. With each movement he made, muscle bunched across his back, drawing his wet shirt tight. Indigo stepped around him and darted out the door while he removed the measuring tin from the empty bag.

  Unnerved and uncertain why, she waited for him at the front entrance, conscious of his movements behind her as he got Buck settled in. She wished she could postpone their trip to the mine. Tomorrow, the other miners would be there. If they went this afternoon, they’d be the only two people on the mountain.

  Though she could detect nothing sinister in Jake Rand’s compelling dark eyes, something about him frightened h
er.

  Chapter 4

  THE WALK TO THE MINE PROVED TO BE THE longest in Indigo’s memory. In some places, the way grew quite steep and the rain made it slick, which precluded conversation. While Jake Rand seemed comfortable with the long stretches of silence, she wasn’t. It seemed to her that the air crackled with tension. By necessity, she led the way, and more times than not, she imagined she could feel his gaze on her person. Becoming increasingly self-conscious, she also grew awkward, which was silly. If she had walked this trail once, she had a thousand times.

  Having already put in a grueling day’s work, Indigo began to grow weary on the last stretch of incline. Her soaked buckskins had grown so heavy it took an effort just to move. She noticed that Jake Rand still breathed easily, so she trudged ahead, afraid to admit her legs were giving out.

  He already had referred to her as a half-pint. If his manner in the barn was an indication, he didn’t think women should turn their hands to much of anything. If she lost steam climbing a hill, it might reinforce that opinion. What would she do if he forbade her to work at the mine?

  A stitch started in her side. She clamped a hand over the spot and focused on the crest of the mountain. She could make it if she placed one foot in front of the other and didn’t think about how tired she was. She could.

  “I need to rest,” he said suddenly.

  Short of breath and trying to conceal it, Indigo glanced back at him. The rise and fall of his broad chest was even, unlabored. To escape the rain, he ducked under the boughs of an evergreen and sat with his back braced against the tree, one arm draped over his bent knee. She eyed the semidry bed of pine needles and longed to join him there. He patted the ground beside him.

  “Come on. I don’t bite.”

  His white teeth flashed in a teasing grin. The hair on her nape prickled. He looked deliciously handsome sitting there with his black hair wet and wind-tossed and his rain-soaked shirt molded to his shoulders. He was nearly as dark as her father. It would be all too easy to forget he was a white man, something she could ill-afford to do. He might pretend not to notice her skin tone, but a cordial demeanor couldn’t fool her. Not anymore.

  Brushing her hand over her hip to be certain her knife still rested there, she moved toward him. She didn’t have to duck as he had. The pine boughs cleared her head by a generous foot.

  He didn’t look winded or weary. Had he stopped because he knew how exhausted she was? Pride burned its way up the back of her throat. He’d think her a weakling and ban her from the digs. She just knew it.

  “It’s not that much farther,” she said. “We have to get back before dark. Ma’ll be fit to be tied if we don’t.”

  He patted the ground again. “I’ll have you home before dark. A five-minute rest won’t hurt. Take pity on an old man.”

  He didn’t look old. He looked—Indigo clamped down on the thought and jerked her gaze from his darkly handsome face.

  To keep her distance, she sat facing Jake Rand, forgoing the support of the tree against her back. The sharp scent of pine surrounded her. When she shifted on the evergreen needles, she smelled the moldy underlayer of the woodland floor. The network of boughs was thinner above her than where he sat, so more rain trickled through, plunking loudly on her hat.

  After telling him how warm leather was, she’d never admit it, but she was becoming chilled. By this time of day, she had usually had a hot bath and was sitting before the hearth, warmed by the fire and Ma’s hot cocoa. She hunched her shoulders, acutely aware that he watched her, his dark eyes warm, yet relentless.

  “Your father tells me you know this mine like the back of your hand,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “He seems to think someone caused the cave-ins. What’s your feeling?”

  Indigo wished her father would learn to be less candid. Judging from the look in Jake Rand’s eyes, she supposed he had been told everything. If so, there was little point in her being evasive. She tried to hide the shudder that coursed through her. “I agree with my father. I’m not positive about the others, but the last collapse was no accident.”

  His attention shifted to her shoulders, and she wondered if he could see her shivering. “You sound mighty certain.”

  “I am. There were axe marks on the timbers, fresh ones. Someone deliberately weakened them.”

  Jake gazed past her at the rain. He didn’t believe in burdening women with men’s concerns, but in this instance, he didn’t see a way around it. “Do you believe someone intended to kill your father?”

  The ugly hat concealed her eyes. She pursed her lips. He noticed that a faint trace of blue now outlined them.

  “Honey, are you cold?”

  Indigo started. Outside of her family, only Shorty ever called her honey. She knew that Jake Rand’s doing so was indicative of his attitude toward her. If she were all white, he would never dream of addressing her in so familiar a way. “Only a little,” she replied. “As to your question, if someone had wanted my father dead, why not just kill him? They had no way of knowing he’d go into that shaft. No one should have but me.”

  Jake considered that. “Why no one but you?”

  He saw her mouth quiver—whether from the cold or unpleasant memories, he wasn’t certain. She looked so young and defenseless sitting there, shoulders stiff with pride. If he had worn his slicker, he could take it off and drape it around her.

  “We planned to dynamite that morning. I’m the powder monkey and should’ve been the one who went in to place the charges.”

  Jake tried to conceal his surprise and knew he did a poor job of it. The powder monkey? One mistake, and she’d blow herself and everyone else to kingdom come. It didn’t seem right that a girl should be allowed to take such risks.

  “It was one of those freak things,” she went on. “When I was about to go in, I couldn’t find the fuse spool. The night before, I’d asked Shorty to round up everything I’d need from the powder shack and have it ready.”

  “And he didn’t?”

  “He thought he had.” She waved a hand. “Shorty’s memory’s about an inch long. Anyway, I went up to the powder shack to see if I could find the fuse.”

  Her small chin came up a notch. Though Jake sensed how difficult it was for her to continue, he couldn’t help but smile. Somehow she reminded him a little of Mary Beth.

  “While I was gone, Father decided Shorty might have taken the spool down the night before to the spot where we planned to blast. He went to check. I had just returned to the main entrance when—” She took a deep breath. “We all heard the cave- in. At first, I didn’t realize my father was in there.” She grew so quiet for a moment that Jake wondered if she meant to continue. “It should have been me down there, you see, so it couldn’t have been an attempt on his life.”

  Did she feel guilty because her father had been injured instead of her? He hated to press her further. “How can you be sure it wasn’t an attempt on yours?”

  “Who’d want to kill me? For that matter, who’d want to kill my father?”

  “Who is this Shorty fellow? Can you trust him?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re certain he didn’t deliberately forget the fuse spool so your father would go into the mine?”

  Indigo bit back an angry retort. Jake Rand had never met Shorty, so he couldn’t know how outlandish a suggestion that was.

  As if Jake Rand read her thoughts, his expression softened. “I don’t mean to elbow my way in and start making accusations. It’s just—” He sighed and swiped a wet hank of hair from his forehead. “It’s not too often I take an instant liking to people, but there’s something special about your father.” His mouth quirked at the corners, suggesting a smile. “He has a way of looking at you, a rare honesty. I want to help him if I can.”

  He could have said a dozen other things, all of which she might have discarded, but this had a ring of truth. There was something special about her father. She had seen that look herself. Rare honesty seemed as
good a way as any to describe it, though Indigo had always thought of it more in terms of goodness. Some of her reserve fell away. Maybe her father was right in trusting this man. She had a bad habit of being too suspicious of strangers.

  Still, there was something in Jake Rand’s eyes—a hooded look, as if he was hiding something. That bothered her. Lots of people were a little reserved with strangers, though. She shouldn’t form an impression too quickly.

  “Shorty is an old friend. My father trusts him, and so do I. I think whoever was trying to sabotage the mine weakened the timbers, hoping the shaft would collapse when the dynamite discharged. If a powder monkey doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can collapse an entire tunnel. Because I’m a woman, everyone would’ve figured I made a stupid mistake.”

  Her assessment of the situation didn’t sit well with Jake. Just as Jeremy had guessed, someone had been in the wrong place at the right time. “So, instead of causing anyone physical harm, you think the intent was to cause damage to shut you down?”

  “Some folks don’t like having Indians nearby, and they’re particularly leery of my father because he’s Comanche.” She gave a slight shrug. “I’m sure you’ve heard the tales about us, the most bloodthirsty of the lot. If you turn your back on one of us, you can kiss your scalp goodbye. If something comes up missing, they’re certain we stole it.” Her mouth turned down and deepened the dimple in her cheek. “They don’t want him dead, mind you, just out of here.”

  “One thing bothers me. How could anyone have known you planned to blast that particular morning?”

  “We don’t make a secret of it. To the contrary, on blasting days, no one’s allowed into the shafts until we’re finished, so we let the miners know in advance that they can come in to work a little later than normal that day.”

  “So everybody in town probably knew.”

  “Yes. Just as everyone knew nobody would be in the mine.”

  Jake focused on her lips. The little hoyden was fibbing about not being that cold. “They knew you’d go in, though. Correct?”