Rafe's Redemption by Jennifer Jakes Page A

she sleep? In a room so small, she and Rafe would have to sleep close, sleep together. Her blood heated at the possibility of lying next to him, cuddled beneath a blanket, his hard body pressed against her, his arm draped over her waist, cupping her breast, touching her nipple. Ugh.
    She inched closer to the fire and tried to think of something else, anything else to erase the images in her mind. Stew bubbled in a black kettle. She inhaled the fragrant steam, and her stomach growled in protest, reminding her it was supper time.
    “We didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
    “No, no. There is plenty.” Little Owl squatted in front of the pot and sliced a turnip-like vegetable into the stew.
    “Besides, no women live close. I glad you visit.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Cecil tell me what happen in Cougar Creek. You lucky McBride buy you. Skinner Joe bad man. He need this.” She chopped the end off the long root. “Then he not hurt women.”
    Maggie nodded, unable to think of an appropriate comment to such a bald statement.
    “McBride good man,” Little Owl continued. “A nd now I have a woman neighbor.”
    “Neighbor?” Good Lord, they had traveled all day!
    “What about at the fort? A ren’t there women there you visit?”
    Little Owl stopped slicing and turned to Maggie, eyebrows raised. “I not go there. I am Cherokee.” Maggie shook her head. “I don’t understand. Cecil was in town. He’s—”
    “Half white. Soldiers not bother him.”
    “Soldiers?”
    “Since your big war over, soldiers hunt us. The government want us on reservations.” Her dark eyes clouded. “But Cecil would die before he let them take me.”
    A sick feeling churned in Maggie’s stomach. Many people had decided to head West since the war, but she didn’t realize it was at the Indians’ expense. “I’m sorry.”
    “I not tell you to make you sad, just so you understand.” Little Owl pulled a chair close, and poured Maggie a cup of steaming coffee. “In the spring, we move to our other cabin, closer to McBride’s. I will make Cecil bring me so you can see our baby. It will come next month.” She touched her round belly and beamed.
    A familiar tug-of-war roared through Maggie, the want to be a mother, the need to be an artist. But no matter how much she yearned for children, finding a man to let her travel and sketch would prove impossible, so she buried the motherly want where it belonged.
    “Maybe you and McBride have baby some day.”
    “What? Oh, no. We’re not…we don’t.” Maggie gulped her coffee. “I’m very happy for you, but I won’t be here much longer. Not nearly long enough to see your baby.”

    “Why? You McBride’s woman now.”
    “No. He did save me from my cousin, but I have to return to St. Louis. In fact, we were headed to Fort Union today, so I can catch the stagecoach.”
    “Oh.” Little Owl slumped. She squatted to the floor and stirred the stew. “You no like McBride?” she asked over her shoulder.
    “I like him fine.” Sometimes too much. “But I have responsibilities back home.”
    “A nother man?”
    “No!” Good Lord, did everyone assume her affections were scattered willy-nilly?
    “You stay then. He need someone to love him.”
    “Love! Oh, I—”
    The door blasted open with a frigid gust and two snow-covered figures. Rafe dropped the saddlebags onto the floor and dragged the wet hat from his head. Little Owl took the coat from his hand and pushed him toward the fireplace. Shivers racked his body, and his teeth chattered as he shuffled to the fireplace and knelt in front of the flames. His gaze landed on Maggie and scanned her from head to toes.
    “A re you all right?” he rumbled.
    She nodded and watched him chafe his palms together in an attempt to get warm.
    “Here.” She swept the quilt from her shoulders and draped it around his, then pushed her warm cup into his hands. “Drink some coffee. It helps.”
    “Thank you.” He clutched the cup and moved