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She didn't move her hand away, she couldn't. It felt so good in his.
Shocked by the touch, she lifted her eyes slowly to him, and a feeling she couldn't explain went through her. "I know." Her voice was breathless. She barely got the words out.
"I'm gonna go talk to him now, but thanks for all you've done for him. You let me know if he gives you any trouble." He said squeezing her hand just a tad. He was simply saying thanks and reassuring her, but the gesture startled her, and warmed her heart.
Mesmerized by his touch, Willa was speechless.
She nodded slowly but didn't raise her eyes to his any longer as the soft smile on his lips and the touch of his hand had her reacting in a strange way. She forced her feelings aside. It was hard not to react to him.
He stood up, came closer and with the curl of his finger lifted her chin. "Don't worry so much." His voice was low, almost seductive. His words caressed her softly, as she looked into his eyes now, startled that she could. He stared long and hard.
But she knew she was reading much to much into his actions. Kindness from any white man would make her take notice though.
She nodded, and she couldn't stop herself from looking into his face just once more. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, he leaned just a little toward her, his eyes pinned on her lips, she held her breath waiting, hoping, but he must have had second thoughts, as he moved away. That moment was precious to her and she almost wished he had. But instead she silently scolded herself for her weakness.
When he headed out the door, she let out a sigh.
"I must control my feelings, I must."
She pulled Elan closer, "It is hard not to show how I feel, little one. I must be stronger for both our sakes."
Elan gurgled and she smiled. "Except with you." She kissed his head.
***
Clay found his father out by the barn. He was working on making a new rope and it seemed to relax him. Charlie had made many in his lifetime, Clay noted. "You weren't very nice in there." Clay glanced at him, waiting for some reply.
"I guess I thought Indian women were different, but they are as busybodies as a white woman." Charlie fretted.
"She's worried about you."
"I know that. But I'll be okay. I'll take the medicine and do what the doc said. I just don't have to like doing it." Charlie insisted. "I like the doc, but I don't like him doctoring me."
"For a man that doesn't smoke, I didn't think you'd catch consumption."
"It's all the rain we've had or something." Charlie fretted, "but don't you be planning my funeral yet. I've got some years left. I've grown very fond of both of them and I want to see that little fella grow up, healthy and strong and ready to deal with whatever he has to."
Clay chuckled. "I see he's really won your heart."
"You really think she's worried about me?" Charlie glanced at the house.
"I know she is. And it hasn't been that long since her father died. She kind of looks at you like a father, you know?" Clay smiled at him.
"And how does she look at you, son?" He quirked a brow with a question in his eyes.
Clay looked startled, "What do you mean?"
"You're not that dumb, you know what I'm talking about."
"Did you really tell her she should wear a white woman's dress?" Clay asked.
"Sure, I did. I figure it might make people accept her easier if she looked white, instead of Indian."
Clay turned away. "Maybe you're right. I hadn't given it much thought. But it—" He stopped before he revealed too much of his feelings.
Charlie stared at his son with understanding, "It'll make you see her as white too, won't it?"
"Maybe." Clay firmed his lips and turned away.
