Tyler itched to toss Zac back into the snow. It didn't matter that Daisy wouldn't understand. At least she'd be safe. But he couldn't do that. The little beast was his brother. And when it came right down to it, he had been responsible for his wound.
Tyler gritted his teeth and put some water on to heat. Maybe he'd get it so hot it would scald the little weasel. He laid out some lint and strips of cloth for bandages. He glanced up as Zac removed his shirt. They really had made a mess of the wound. Blood was smeared all over his side.
"Does it hurt?" Daisy asked.
"Not much," Zac replied, looking as though the pain was just about to kill him.
"I'll try to be very careful," Daisy said, "but it's bound to hurt some."
Tyler decided Zac had a real future on the stage. His look of martyrdom was perfect. If fact, if he hadn't known his brother so well, he'd have sworn the rascal was the bravest man he knew.
"It's not as bad as I thought," Daisy said. "You smeared the blood all over when you were tussling."
Zac winced. It was a scarcely noticeable movement, an almost imperceptible sound. It was masterful.
Daisy looked stricken to have caused him so much pain. "I'm sorry. Are you sure you don't want Tyler to do it?"
"Please," Zac said to Daisy, his eyes huge and pleading, "I want you to do it."
Tyler itched to take the bandages from Daisy and wrap Zac from head to foot. "As soon as you've finished, I'll put him to bed," he said to Daisy.
"I don't want to go to bed," Zac protested.
"I think it'll be enough if he sits quietly and plays with his cards," Daisy said.
Zac looked at Tyler with a triumphant grin.
Tyler unclenched his fists, rinsed the bloody clothes, and threw out the dirty water.
"How's that?" Daisy asked when she had finished the bandages.
"Perfect," Zac said, smiling up at her.
"Good. Now I suggest you both take a nap," Tyler said. "Neither one of you is fully recovered. You'll need plenty of rest if you expect to ride out of here in a couple of days."
"You think the snow will have gone by then?" Daisy asked.
"It can either be gone, or it can snow several more feet. I don't know which," Tyler admitted. "But you can't leave if you're not strong enough. It's a long ride over the mountain. It's even longer if we have to go around. And you've been up too long. You may feel stronger, but you can never be too careful with a head wound."
Daisy didn't argue, but Zac showed all the signs of not being nearly so agreeable.
"If you have a good nap, you might feel up to a nice roast for dinner," he said, hoping to bribe Zac into being more cooperative. "And maybe something rich for dessert." He paused. "If not, I'm afraid it'll be clear soup again." Tyler knew if Zac had one weakness, it was for sweets.
"Chocolate?" Zac asked.
Tyler nodded.
Zac climbed up into the bunk without a protest.
"Can you really cook all that up here?"
"Sure," Zac said. "He gets someone to bring him milk, eggs, and butter once a week. That's in addition to everything else he gets. He wouldn't stay up here if he didn't."
"I thought you were a prospector," Daisy said.
Tyler couldn't tell whether she was merely surprised or whether she thought he was crazy. Many people did. "Prospectors have to eat."
"I never knew one who made desserts."
"Go to sleep before he changes his mind," Zac said.
"Would you cook a special dish for me if I asked?"
"If I know how. What is it?"
"I'm not sure. If I only get one, I want to make sure it's what I want most."
"You can have more than one."
"I can't go to sleep with all this talking," Zac announced.
"I'll tell you tonight," Daisy said, then disappeared behind her curtain.
Tyler felt unaccountably weak. He sat down, but that didn't correct the feeling. Maybe he was coming down with a fever. It was just the thing to happen with him going in and out of the cabin in all this cold. Wrestling in the snow hadn't helped matters either. He probably ought to lie down as well, but he knew he couldn't sleep.
Daisy couldn't be falling for Zac, could she?
Tyler felt ashamed of himself for even thinking such a thing. It was none of his business what Daisy did. Besides, Zac was too much in love with himself to love anybody else. Tyler had thought Daisy knew that, but the way she acted made him wonder. He knew it was unwise to underestimate the power of physical beauty. He had seen intelligent men ruin themselves over beautiful women. There was no reason to think a woman wouldn't do the same for a beautiful man.
And Zac was beautiful.
Tyler wasn't. He had felt that difference his whole life. His father had once introduced him to some guests by saying, "This is my ugly son. He doesn't look like his brothers." There were times when Tyler didn't even feel like a Randolph. From birth he'd been lanky and angular. His brown hair and brown eyes lacked the dramatic impact of his brothers' blond fairness or black swarthiness. Even though he was the tallest, he seemed to slip a little farther into the background with every passing year.
Tyler hated to see Daisy blinded by physical beauty, but what could he do? He couldn't say, You can't fall in love with my brother because he's not in love with you, or You can't fall in love with Zac because he'll hurt you.
If Daisy had to fall in love with anybody, she ought to fall in love with him. At least he liked her. Tyler nearly dropped the egg he had just picked up. What was wrong with him? He was jealous of his own brother over a female he hadn't even set eyes on until two days ago. He must have cabin fever. Some kind of fever. Never had he been so obsessed with a woman.
Tyler cracked the egg. He probably ought to leave Zac and Daisy to take care of themselves. They really weren't sick anymore. He could come back when the snow melted. He didn't need to be locked up with Daisy unable to think of anything except her body silhouetted against the sheets.
He nearly dropped another egg.
Damn, he really was coming apart. First chance he got, he'd go hunting even if there wasn't a deer between here and Colorado. He had to get out of the cabin. It was beginning to seem like his life depended on it.
* * * * *
Daisy didn't sleep long. "Do you have any clothes I could wear?" she asked Tyler less than thirty minutes later.
He didn't know what she was talking about.
"I need to wash my clothes," she explained, "and I don't have anything to wear while they dry."
He smiled at the picture in his mind of her in his clothes. "Nothing that'll fit."
"I know, but I don't plan to parade through the streets of Albuquerque."
He thought of offering her some of Zac's clothes, but they wouldn't fit much better. Besides, if she had to wear anybody's clothes, he wanted them to be his.
He didn't understand that. He didn't even want to try.
He found a shirt and an old pair of pants that were too small for him. "You'll need something to keep them up," he said.
Daisy held the shirt up in front of her. It fell to her knees. "I could use it for a nightgown."
He hadn't thought about that. She shouldn't sleep in her clothes. He'd offer her one of the white linen shirts he wore when he went to town.
He could hear her as she moved about behind the curtain. The sun was still out. He could see her outline. She would be changing her clothes any minute now. He glanced over at Zac, but the boy was asleep with his face to the wall. But Tyler wasn't certain he could make himself turn away.
Glancing over the shelves, his gaze fell on two thin blankets he used in the warmer months. He took them down.
"I've been thinking you need something heavier than sheets," he said to Daisy.
She stuck her head out. "Why?"
"It'll help block out some of the noise of us moving about."
"You don't keep me awake."
"Just in case," Tyler said as he hung the first blanket.
"Won't you need them?"
"No." He hung the second and stepped back. Perfect. Daisy came to stand next to him. She looked first at the curtain then at him. It was obvious she didn't believe his explanation. When she pulled the curtain back, her gaze was immediately drawn to the sunlight streaming in the window. She blushed crimson. She knew.
"Thank you."
"You'd better get started on your clothes if they're going to be dry by dinner," Tyler said. "I've never sat down to the table with a lady in pants." He turned back to the stove, but he couldn't keep his mind on his work. He kept thinking about Daisy -- nude, wearing his clothes.
The thought sent chills of excitement racing through his body. They were his clothes. Her body would be brushing up against material that had brushed against his body. Her legs would be in trousers that had encased his legs. He thought of the rough material about to be pressed against the triangle between her legs, and his body exploded with lust.
He could almost feel the silky smoothness of her body as she removed her own clothes. They were soft, supple, clinging, worn thin with use. For the second time in the same day, he imagined the dress slipping from her body to fall into a pool at her feet.
Now she was unbuttoning the chemise. The material was so thin it was almost transparent. Her fingers traveled slowly down the middle of her body, across her breasts, down her stomach to her abdomen. One side of the chemise would fall open exposing a small, round, perfect breast. It stood out from her body, young and firm, the nipple in a circle of rosy flesh, soft and pliant to the touch.
Warm to the touch.
Sweet to the taste.
She would slip the chemise off her shoulders, one at a time. Ivory colored, silky smooth shoulders. He could imagine how it would feel to run his fingers over the gentle curve, to rest his head in the hollow. He could hear her soft breathing, feel the slight rise and fall of her chest.
Of her breasts.
She had slipped the chemise over her second shoulder, down to her waist, fully revealing her breasts. The silhouette of hours before was clear in his mind, only now it was drawn in vibrant color. He imagined Daisy's flawless female form, her perfect breasts lifted and separated in their youthful perfection, their roundness accentuated by the circle of her nipples. He could almost reach out and touch her slim body as it tapered at her waist, then flared in rounded hips.
Shivers caused his entire body to tremble. He tried to refocus his thoughts on the meal he was preparing, but it was useless. He may have imagined the almost inaudible whisper of her chemise as it glided over her skin or the soft plop as it fell to the floor, but he knew she was naked. His entire body trembled with a hunger that shook him like an aspen in the wind.
Gripping the spoon, Tyler stirred vigorously. He refused to think of her naked beauty. He refused to think of the white softness of her thighs, of the seductive depression of her navel. He refused to let himself think of losing himself in her softness or of the ecstasy to be found in her arms.
He beat the thick chocolate mixture until his arm ached.
But his need was more powerful than his good intentions. As the speed of his beating slowed, the power and vividness of his imagination increased.
He imagined Daisy lying next to him, her body receptive. Lovingly he explored every inch of her. From head to toe, he tasted, touched, and smelled until his vision became misty with passion. Yielding to the desire that had built from a tiny kernel of want to a thundering crescendo of need, he sank into her, releasing the pent-up desire that had turned his body into an inferno.
Suddenly Tyler felt his groin contract, his body heave in a fruitless spasm. He stood helpless as his body released the tension that had built up within him. It had been a dry run, but it was a close call. Good God! He hadn't had a wet dream since his teens.
He took a deep, slow breath to calm himself. He poured the batter into pans, put them into the oven. Satisfied the heat would hold for the next thirty minutes, Tyler grabbed his coat and headed outside. It didn't matter that he had nothing to do. Just standing around watching the snow melt was safer than remaining inside the cabin. Maybe the frigid air would cool him off.
He laughed to himself, a humorless chuckle. He could take Daisy home right now. All he had to do was lie down and roll He was hot enough to melt every flake of snow between here and Albuquerque.
* * * * *
Tyler couldn't sleep, and it had nothing to do with the bare boards that were his bed. The blankets muffled the sound, but he was positive he heard Daisy crying. He heard it again. A tiny sob choked off before it could grow to its natural fullness. He got out of bed and padded across the floor on silent feet. He slept in all his clothes except for his shoes. "Are you all right?" he whispered, hoping not to wake Zac.
She didn't answer.
"I know you're awake. Is there anything I can do?"
"No."
The word seemed choked, like it was all she could do to get out the single syllable. He waited. The corner was her refuge. She probably wouldn't want him invading it, but he couldn't ignore her. He hesitated on the verge of pulling back the curtain. What could he do? He felt her sadness, her sense of isolation. That he did understand. He had felt alone all his life.
Then he heard it again, only there was no mistake this time. She was crying in earnest.
"I'm coming in," he said, then paused to give her a minute to cover herself if necessary. But he heard no rustling of covers, no scrambling about in the bed, just the steady sound of brokenhearted sobbing. He couldn't wait any longer. He pulled back the curtain.
Bright moonlight entering the cabin from the unshuttered window illuminated the bare cabin floor. Daisy sat in the center of her bed, just out of the aura of moonlight, her pale face streaked with tears. She wore the shirt he had given her. Somehow it made her look even younger and more vulnerable, like a child playing dress up. Only she had to grow up now because she had no one but herself.
"Is it your father?" Tyler asked.
She nodded.
What could he do? He couldn't bring the man back. He couldn't make her miss him less. He couldn't even tell her she wasn't alone in the world. He knelt down in front of her. He was intruding. She must want him to leave. He would feel uncomfortable if anyone were to see him crying.
Yet she didn't draw away. She twisted her hands in her lap then put them to her mouth as though to stop the sound of her sobs. To no avail. She brushed away some tears. Not knowing what else to do, Tyler sat down on the mattress next to her and put his arm around her.
Daisy sat rigid in the curve of his arms. He half expected her to pull away at any moment. He remembered George used to hold Rose when she was upset. After she lost the baby, he sometimes held her for hours, not talking, not doing anything but holding her.
So he put his other arm around Daisy and sat still, just holding her. He felt her muscles quiver. Then the rigidity collapsed, and she leaned against him. Her sobs had become less noisy. She seemed to be more calm. She put her arms around him and rested all of her weight against him.
Tyler had the oddest feeling he was going to explode. Then just as odd, the feeling went away leaving him more relaxed than he had been at any time since he pulled Daisy from the burning house. He felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around her, and an odd kind of peacefulness came over him.
He found it hard to believe this was happening to him. Here he was in an isolated cabin on the backside of a mountain covered with ten feet of snow, sitting on a woman's bed, holding her in his arms while she cried her heart out. It was contrary to everything he'd ever done, everything he'd wanted to do.
Yet he was content to remain exactly where he was. A sense of comfort, of well-being flowed through him. It couldn't have come from Daisy. She still whimpered softly, sniffed occasionally. It couldn't have come from him. His entire equilibrium had been destroyed. Yet there it was. And God bless his soul, he was enjoying it.
Maybe he was going crazy. It happened to prospectors sometimes. People said it was all that solitude, their obsession with gold. You started liking your animals better than people. You liked talking to yourself better than to other folks. You found rocks and gnarled trees more beautiful than the ordered streets of towns and cities. You felt more comfortable in a rickety cabin than a well-furnished home.
He didn't think he had progressed that far, but everything in his life was out of kilter. Besides, it was well-known that crazy people insisted they weren't crazy, that it was everybody else who was behaving in a peculiar fashion.
Maybe that was a good sign. He was behaving oddly, and he knew it.
Daisy gave a rather loud sniff and pulled away. "I'm better now," she said.
"You sure?" He was reluctant to release her. Crazy felt pretty good. He wasn't sure he wanted to return to sanity. As he recalled, he'd been pretty miserable the last couple of days.
"Yes. It just gets to me sometimes. My father and I didn't get along very well, but that seems unimportant now." She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and sat up. She didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable with his nearness. She seemed to take it for granted.
But Tyler could sense a difference in her sadness this time. She wasn't crying from shock, hurt, or pain, but from a deep sense of loss. "This afternoon you cried for your father," he said. "You're crying for yourself now. Why?"
"You're wrong."
"No, I'm not." He'd only cried for himself once, but he remembered what it was like. He leaned back far enough from Daisy to look into her eyes. "You didn't like your father, did you?"
"Of course I liked him."
He pulled her close again. "I hated my pa."
"Why?" She pushed him away so she could look him in the eye.
"Because he was a cruel, vicious man. Now tell me why you disliked your father."