Rainsinger Read online

  “You need a rainsinger,” Luke said.

  Daniel eyed him. “Maybe so.”

  Luke didn’t press. Since his return to the land two years ago, Luke had become more and more traditional, which didn’t surprise Daniel. It happened often to Indians who’d been taken from the land early. They got out in the world and didn’t know what that small, crying hole in them was until they returned.

  Daniel had never gone from it. But he’d never had much to claim, either. By the time he grew up and left, his mother and family were gone or dead. It didn’t matter whether he stayed or left. He stayed, coming back after his stint in the army, stubbornly aligning himself with some of his clan, like Mary Yazzie, the head of the weavers’ project.

  “How’s business?” he asked.

  Luke nodded. “Never better. This is one of the best projects of its kind. Mary is getting calls every day from tribal councils all over the country.” He looked at Daniel. “You must get some, too.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Not so many now. It was never my aim to run the whole thing. Just wanted to help get it off the ground.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened without you, Daniel.” Daniel nodded without conceit. He’d seen something that needed doing, and did it. “It worked out.”

  They reached the ancient tree and stopped. “Here she is,” Daniel said, touching the bark as tenderly as if it were skin. “Winona says she probably is one of the original trees.”

  Luke knelt. He put his hand at the open center, from which the several branches of the trunk grew. “It’s amazing to think of it.”

  “Yeah.” Daniel lifted his head, feeling a brush of the same living reverence that had touched him the other morning under the pink dawn. Now the sky was a musky purple-gray, into which the ancient branches lifted gnarled fingers. The shapes were black and precise, the leaves moving slightly, even though he could feel no breeze. He wondered if his great-great-grandmother had put the roots of this tree into the earth. He wondered where she had died. How she had prevented the soldiers from burning this tree, this orchard, as all the others had been.

  “Will you have a crop this year?”

  “I don’t know. Winona says there are good fruits, but a lot of things can ruin a whole crop.”

  Luke lifted his head. “Tell me about Winona.”

  Daniel took a breath and moved his hand on the tree. It was the subject he wanted to speak of, but now it was hard to find the right words for it, words that wouldn’t make him feel too exposed or give too much away. “Old man Jericho, the old owner, was her uncle. He left the orchard to her.”

  “So who owns it?”

  “We both do.”

  “Who’s going to end up with it?”

  Daniel lifted his hand. “She probably will. She has the more recent claim. I don’t have the funds to pay her what it’s worth. Not even a fraction of it.”

  Luke took a moment to think about that, and Daniel waited. That was how it was with Luke. He took his time. When they were children, it had driven Daniel nuts. Now he’d grown to understand that people were born with some character traits, and it was futile to try to change them. Luke considered; Daniel rushed ahead. Luke was calm, Daniel impatient.

  It made good balance in friendship.

  “Does she know the story of the orchard?” Luke asked.

  “I told her.” Daniel remembered the conversation with a residue of anger, but that’s all it was, residue. “It’s complicated, because she grew up here. She’s a botanist because of these trees, so her need for the orchard is deep, too. Not like a farmer just wanting it for the money.”

  “Ah.” Again Luke went quiet. “What about you and her?”

  Daniel ruefully lifted his brows. “There’s the thing, my friend.” He looked again at the webbed pattern of tree limbs against the darkening sky. “There’s the thing.”

  Luke waited.

  Daniel moved around the tree, thinking of what to say, how to say it. “I’ve had my share of women, but this one...“ He frowned. “This one is making me crazy.”

  “I could see that much.”

  Surprised, Daniel turned around to look at his friend. “What do you see?”

  Luke chuckled. “Enough.”

  “I don’t know how to make pretty small talk with women,” Daniel said at last. “I never wasted time with all that. Either they liked me or they didn’t.”

  “It’s not your way to sweet-talk, Daniel. So don’t do it. Just tell the truth.”

  “I don’t know the truth.”

  “You’re thinking too much,” Luke said. “Love isn’t about thinking—it’s about feeling.”

  “‘Love’ is a bit strong.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.” Daniel bit out the word, feeling that strange, deep popping in his veins. Like firecrackers all exploding at once. “I’m not interested in anything long term. This land is enough for me.”

  “Land makes a lonely bedmate,” Luke said, straightening. “Look, Daniel, I know you were hurt by the way things turned out between you and Jessie—”

  Daniel shook his head. Firmly he said, “It was the right thing for all of us, Luke. It took me a long time to see it, to really let go, but I’ve done it. As much as I thought I loved Jessie, it was the idea of her I loved. Not the real woman.”

  “Then what are you so afraid of?”

  Daniel didn’t try to define the fear. He knew only that it was there, a sense of revulsion at letting himself go like that. The way he did when Winona came near him. He lost control. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It just makes you vulnerable.”

  Luke nodded. “Well, Winona strikes me as the kind of woman who isn’t going to settle for a casual fling. If I were you, I’d keep my distance.”

  Good advice, Daniel thought. Why was he so sure he wouldn’t take it?

  * * *

  Winona helped Jessie rearrange supplies in the truck, feeling a distant wistfulness that Jessie should be leaving again so soon. It had been more pleasant than she would have imagined to have another woman close by, someone to talk to. It had been a long time, and she missed it.

  “It was nice to meet you,” Winona said. “I hope you’ll stay a little while when you come back through.”

  “I hope so, too.” Jessie shook a blanket and spread it out in the back. “Though you might be ready to get rid of Miss Chatterbox Giselle by then.”

  “It will be nice for Joleen to have another girl around.”

  Jessie inclined her head. “Don’t be surprised if there’s a little jealousy between them.”

  “Jealousy?”

  “For Daniel’s attention.”

  Before she could stop herself, Winona crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

  Jessie laughed. “He’s a prickly man, isn’t he? I used to want to kill him sometimes.”

  “Were you lovers?” Winona heard the words with horror. “I’m sorry—don’t answer that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Jessie touched her arm, a soothing, mothering gesture that made Winona feel so lonely for women that she wanted to cry.

  “We weren’t lovers. We were very close friends for a long time. He—” She shook her head. “It’s a long story.”

  He loved her. The knowledge stung. Trying to hide her expression, Winona bent and picked up a six-pack cooler, which she handed to Jessie. “That’s it, I think. Sure you won’t take some rolls? There are plenty.”

  “We’ll be fine, thanks.”

  The sound of male voices reached them, rolling low into the darkness. Winona touched the tight feeling in her stomach as Daniel’s deep, resonant laughter reached her. Her skin prickled at the sound, as if it were some cue she recognized only on an instinctive level.

  Next to her Jessie said, “He’s a good man, you know. He’s just a little lost right now.”

  Winona looked up, surprised. What had Jessie seen? Was she so obvious?

  Then the men were with them, and
everyone was saying goodbye and handing outlast-minute cautions and hugs.

  “Be careful,” Daniel said as Luke started the truck.

  “Always.”

  They drove off, leaving Daniel and Winona standing in the drive. From the house came the faint sound of music the girls were playing in the basement, and close by in the brush crickets chirped. Winona lifted her head to take in a lungful of cool desert air.

  As Winona turned to go back inside, Daniel touched her arm. Didn’t catch or grasp, but reached out his fingers and brushed the flesh of her upper arm lightly.

  “Winona,” he said.

  A thousand emotions warred in her. Her skin tingled, and a cursed quivering moved in her belly, through her thighs. Anger rose, too, hot and welcome, anger that he could treat her with such disrespect. “I don’t want to talk right now,” she said, and took a step forward.

  “Please.” The word was gruff.

  She stopped. “What?”

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “It must have seemed that I didn’t want my friends to see me with you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I was just surprised.”

  He moved close. She felt his body heat along her back, down her side, and the desertlike scent of his skin filled her nostrils. “I think you think I’m some kind of ladies’ man or something. Winona, I’m not. I don’t know how to sweet-talk or play games or any of those things.”

  Winona clung to her crumbling defenses, trying to erect a wall against the seductiveness of his voice, which drizzled like warm honey over her nerves.

  His hand fell on her shoulder, his thumb grazing her bare flesh. “So I don’t know what you’re used to,” he said. “But I wish you’d just let me kiss you again.”

  Winona swallowed, clasping her arms rigidly over her chest for strength to resist this onslaught. “Daniel,” she protested. “I don’t do this.”

  “No kissing?” There was teasing in his voice. “Never?”

  “It’s not the kissing that’s the trouble.”

  “I promise I’ll never ask for more than you want to give, Winona. All I want at this moment is to kiss you out here in the night.” He turned her gently, so she was facing him, and cupped her chin in his hands. “Just let me kiss you.”

  In the darkness, his eyes shone as if carrying light within, and his mouth was only inches away. Desperately she wondered what in the world he considered sweet-talk—if this wasn’t it, she’d never heard it.

  For a long moment, she clung to her anger like a tattered shawl, holding it even as it slipped through her fingers. “Daniel, this isn’t fair.”

  “What isn’t? That I’m attracted to you? That all I can think about is the way your mouth is going to taste?” He inclined his head, as if ready in an instant to lower his head and claim the mouth he wanted. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

  The wild being within urged her forward, and she found herself swaying in his direction, lifting her face. “Yes,” she said quietly.

  And then he was all around her, his arms encircling her body, his mouth and hers mingling, tongues dancing. His body was lean and strong against her palms, and he tasted of the ancient air they breathed together. Her body trembled and heated. In her breasts there moved a stirring ache to feel his hands, and a pulse, thick and heavy, beat in her groin. She told herself she should break the kiss, that it was going too long, but his skin—such sleek, gleaming, supple flesh—felt too good against her palms. She rode the contours with her fingers, exploring, thrilling when his hands roved over her body the same way.

  He eased them to a softer place then. Eased their kiss and put his forehead against hers. His breath was heavy. “Not so bad, huh?”

  Winona couldn’t speak. It was bad. It was terrible. He might know when to stop, but she didn’t. All she wanted at this moment was to go inside with him, take off all his clothes and put her naked body against his. Even the thought of it made her feel faint. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  She lifted her head. “I’m a product of my environment, Daniel. It’s impossible for me to indulge in casual sex.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “I know that. But you make me want to. I lose my head. I don’t like feeling that way. It’s wrong, and it would be wrong for me to do it.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge later. It isn’t sex tonight. It was only kissing.” He smiled, and the expression was gentle and rich and deeply understanding. “I mean it, Winona. I won’t go with you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

  She made a pained sound. “That’s just it, Daniel.” With a fierce grip, she put her hands on his arms. “I haven’t ever met a man who made me want to. You do.” Caught in the moment, she lifted her hands and touched his hair, his face. “All I think about is your hair loose the way it was the first night, the way it was the other morning.”

  She sighed.

  He laughed. “These are bad things?”

  “Don’t laugh at me. I’m trying to tell the truth.”

  He caught her when she would have fought free of him. “I’m not laughing at you, Winona.” He pulled her close and put his hands low, on her bottom, skimming his hands in evident enjoyment. “You want to know what I think about?”

  “Fair is fair,” he interrupted smoothly. “I think about your body all bare in the morning, in the shower when you think nobody else is up. I think about the water on you then, and I think about licking it off.”

  Her pulse thudded to a stop, then took up a languorous, loud beat that she could feel in every single molecule of her body, especially where her flesh met his. “Don’t, Daniel, please.”

  “I think about all your pretty underwear and I wonder how it looks when that’s all you’re wearing.”

  His warm breath soughed along her jaw, and she could tell by the rhythm of it that he, too, was desperately aroused.

  “I really think about taking it off with my teeth.”

  She melted. There was no other word for it. She got dizzier and dizzier at the sensation his words wrought, and her hips grew weak and she let herself sink against him, her face against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. “That’s not fair,” she whispered.

  He tightened his hold, chuckling low. The sound rumbled into her body through her chest, a delicious sensation she’d never experienced. “Do you want me to let my hair down?”

  “No!” she said emphatically, lifting her head in alarm.

  Daniel laughed.

  “You are,” she said distinctly, “an evil man, Daniel Lynch.”

  “No, I’m a strong-willed man.” His tone was sober now. “I won’t act, and neither will you. Okay?”

  It was tempting to turn her head that little bit and press her lips against his neck, just to see if his resolve was as strong as he thought it was. Instead she took in a long breath and let it go, putting herself away from him. “Okay.” With a great effort of will, she stepped from contact with him and smoothed her clothes. “Shall we go see what the girls are doing?”

  They found them in the basement, tossing popcorn up in the air as they danced to the music blasting from the stereo. The music was so loud they didn’t hear the adults approaching, and Winona smiled at the picture they made. Joleen had changed into a pair of jeans—evidently from last year, by the close fit—and an oversized baseball shirt. Her hat was off and the glasses were on the table. Stunned, Winona paused and lifted a hand to stall Daniel.

  Grinning, he pushed by her and jumped into the middle of the two girls, grabbing each one by the hand. “Show me what to do,” he yelled.

  “Grown-ups can’t do kid dances!” Giselle protested, laughing.

  Joleen froze, and Winona saw her try to tug her hand free, but Daniel held her hand fast. He bent and murmured something in her ear. Joleen turned bright red, but she stopped fighting. Her free hand went to her hair, smoothing it.

  Winona moved into the room and sank into
a chair to watch, her heart aching a little as she looked at her younger sister. Joleen was acting like a real kid. After a moment, she forgot her shyness and danced freely to the rock and roll. Without the glasses, her big blue eyes blazed in her narrow face with its seductive lips, her short hair gave her an appealing, elfin look; and her jeans showed off her developing curves.

  The child was going to be okay, Winona thought. She was going to recover after all. How much of it was due to time and how much to being here, being around Daniel?

  It was a sobering thought. In her hormonal lusting, she certainly hadn’t been giving much thought to her little sister, to the example she was supposedly setting.

  Some example.

  Winona recalled the kiss of a few minutes ago. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that the possibility she’d leave El Durazno without making love with Daniel Lynch was growing slimmer by the second. Proximity and the crackling chemistry between them would sooner or later flare into a fire that would consume them.

  She wasn’t even sure anymore that she wanted to bypass the chance to give in to her passionate side. How many more chances would she have, after all? Wouldn’t it be better to carry some sweet memories with her when all of this was done, rather than always wonder what might have been?

  But that didn’t take Joleen into account. What kind of message would it send to the girl if Winona indulged her need for passion? It was contrary to everything their parents had taught them. The Snows had not been prudes by any stretch of the imagination—they had considered sex wonderful and intimate and a pinnacle of human experience. But it was only to be indulged within the confines of a monogamous marriage.

  In addition, Winona had to remember that Joleen had a major, painful crush on the handsome Daniel. She’d feel betrayed by them both.

  Or would she? Maybe Winona wasn’t giving Joleen enough credit.

  With an unconscious groan, Winona dropped her head in her hands. She was in so far over her head she couldn’t even think anymore. Maybe they ought to cut their losses and leave now.