The Master Fiddler Part 7

A silent message must have accompanied his statement, because the older man nodded and limped away from the doorway. Jacquie tensed, wary now that Choya apparently wanted to see her alone. She decided it was better to attack before he had the chance.

"Your father is expecting me to do the housework," she accused.

"Is there anything wrong with that?" countered Choya. "It's a way to work out your room and board. Unless, of course, you'd rather work out that particular debt in the same way you'll be paying for the other."

"Don't be disgusting!"

"Disgusting, revolting surely you can think of more original adjectives?" His mouth curved without humor. "I'm going into town now. If you have any thoughts of trying to run away while I'm gone, I advise you to forget them, I would simply find you and bring you back."

"I despise you," Jacquie muttered, wondering what she had ever found attractive about the man. But she knew very well how dangerously compelling he still was to her.

"Why?" he taunted. "Because after all these years of calling the tune, you finally have to pay the fiddler?"

On that profound question, he walked out of the room, leaving Jacquie shaking with unvoiced anger.

CHAPTER SIX.

Fuming, Jacquie turned toward the suitcase, resting her hands on top of it. If she tried to leave, she knew he would come after her. Frustration curled her fingers into fists. It was a duty to herself to try, but how? Sam Barnett limped to the doorway of her room. Instead of his cane, he was using a straw broom for support. Fighting to get a grip on her composure, Jacquie could only manage a sideways glance at him as he began awkwardly pus.h.i.+ng the broom around on the tiled floor.

"I'll do that," she said tightly, unable to stand idly while the elderly man, practically crippled with arthritis, cleaned her room.

He hesitated, then handed her the broom. "I been doin' all this for so many years, it's going to seem strange havin' someone else do the work." He didn't hurry out of the room. "Fart is, Choya's wife she died several years ago she left most of the housework to me. And my own Gladys had been gone for over thirty-six USE' r years. This house hasn't known a woman to take care of it, nor have the people in it. I guess it don't look like much."

"It's a very nice home." It was on the tip of Jacquie's tongue to tell him that she was being held a prisoner here, but what was the use?

"I'll go fetch the sheets." Sam Barnett turned, keeping a balancing hand on the wall, and limped from the room.

Jacquie stood for silent seconds, then began sweeping the room. She had completed that and was stoically unpacking her suitcase when Sam returned with the clean bed sheets. He stayed, keeping up a steady monologue of his first years on the ranch. At appropriate spots, Jacquie made the suitable responses, wondering all the while if Choya had told him not to leave her alone.

When she was finished, he showed her the part of the house that she hadn't seen. She found nothing unexpected. All the rooms were plain and serviceable. Then it was back to the kitchen where he suggested a cold lunch, explaining that his appet.i.te wasn't what it used to be.

Jacquie was relieved. She was hungry, but doubted that the nervous churning of her stomach would let a heavy meal stay down.

He instructed her in the location of the various foods, utensils and dishes.

There was very little on her plate, but she managed to get it down. Sam offered to help with the was.h.i.+ng up, but Jacquie declined not out of any belief that it wasn't a man's place, but because she hoped he would leave the kitchen and allow her an opportunity to think in silence. He stayed, reaffirming her belief that he was acting on Choya's orders.

How could she ever get away when Choya had his father acting as a watchdog in his absence? It didn't matter that she didn't have the means of transportation to leave nor the exact knowledge of where to go. What mattered was the lack of opportunity to try.

After she had finished, Sam explained the household schedule; when the meals were eaten, the shopping was done, the clothes were washed and various rooms in the house were cleaned. Jacquie paid little attention to any of it, although she pretended to listen.

Her nerves were taut and raw, as finely drawn as a bowstring. The sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop outside the house sent her heart leaping. Her gaze flew to the wall clock above the refrigerator. It couldn't possibly be late afternoon already!

^g r

"That must be Choya," Sam commented, turning toward the archway to the living room.

At the opening of the front door, Jacquie half rose out of the kitchen chair, wanting to flee and not knowing where to go. There was the rapid thumping of crutches on the polished wood floor of the living room before Robbie burst into the kitchen, his face aglow with excitement.

"Jacquie!" He rushed forward almost faster than his crutches could propel him. "Dad said you were here, but I couldn't hardly believe him. Jacquie, I'm so glad you didn't leave!"

Certain that any second Robbie would pitch headlong to the floor, Jacquie stepped away from the chair, reaching out with her arms to catch him. He practically threw himself into them, discarding the crutches with a crash to wrap his arms around her middle in a fierce hug.

It was such a completely uninhibited and genuine embrace that Jacquie couldn't help responding to it. She returned his hug, the boy's warmth easing the cold fear that gripped her.

Robbie tipped his head back, pale brown eyes earnestly studying her. "Are you really going to stay? Dad said you were."

The smile on her lips became hesitant as she loosened his grip and bent down to his level. Her hands trembled on his shoulders. How could she possibly tell this little boy that she couldn't leave his home soon enough?

"Only... only for a while," she answered.

He must have sensed her reluctance. He wrapped his small arms around her neck, clinging to her in desperation as he buried his head against her shoulder.

"I hope you stay forever and ever," Robbie declared in a throbbing voice.

Instinctively, Jacquie smoothed the silken top of his head, brus.h.i.+ng a light kiss on the area. She was drawn to the boy as inexplicably as she was drawn to his father. A tightness gripped her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a slight movement near the entrance to the living room. Her gaze swerved to investigate, encountering the muscled frame of Choya. Even in stillness, he possessed a vitality, a charged aura that seemed to crackle about him.

Tawny eyes held her paralyzed look, impa.s.sively studying her and the boy clutching her so possessively. Nothing in the chiseled granite features revealed any portion of his thoughts. There was no indication of how long he had been standing there nor how much he had overheard.

Shaken by the discovery of his presence, Jacquie slowly untangled Robbie's arms from around her neck, keeping a supporting hand at his waist while she retrieved his crutches. Ignoring Choya was difficult as she smiled at the boy.

"Have you seen my room?" Robbie asked eagerly. "I have a whole bunch of Indian arrowheads. Gramps and me, we go looking for them. Now you can come along, too."

"Of course," Jacquie agreed weakly.

"And I want to show you my horse, too. I have one of my very own," he declared proudly, again br.i.m.m.i.n.g with excitement. "No one else can ride him except me Dad said so. I'll let you ride him, though. I can't ride him until I get my cast off. Can you ride a horse, Jacquie?"

"Not very well," she admitted, since her horseback riding had been limited to an occasional outing with a group to a local stable.

"I'll teach you." He s.h.i.+fted his crutches. "Come on, I'll show you my horse. His name is Apache. This all used to be Apache land, did you know that?"

"Yes, I did."

"Save your tour for later, Robbie," Choya ordered. "You have to change out of your school clothes and do your ch.o.r.es first."

Robbie gave his father an impatient glance and turned back to Jacquie. "We're going to have a lot of fun together. After I get my cast off, we can go riding together over some of the same trails that Cochise and Geronimo rode. And there's this place by a water hole where Gramps and I find our arrowheads. We can swim there, too, and have picnics and "

"Robbie," Choya's low voice firmly interrupted his son, "Jacquie isn't here to be your playmate."

With her temper seething near boiling point, Jacquie straightened, the fiery sparkle of battle in her eyes as she met the gold mask of his gaze.

"Did you forget to tell Robbie that I was your playmate, not his?" she challenged.

The thin line of Choya's mouth tightened ominously. Confused by Jacquie's sudden bitterness, Robbie glanced bewilderedly from her to his glowering father. The brittle silence was broken by the soft chuckle of Sam Barnett.

"I was beginning to think that girl had no spirit at all." His blue eyes twinkled as he

glanced at Choya. "She's barely said one sentence to me since you left."

There was a visible relaxing of the hard set of Choya's features, a

glitter of lazy amus.e.m.e.nt in the eyes that swept over Jacquie before

moving to his son.

"Go and change your school clothes, Robbie," Choya repeated in a calmly chiding tone.

Robbie hesitated. "What did Jacquie mean?""It's nothing for you to worry about," was the even reply.The answer apparently satisfied the boy. With an I'll-see-you-later smile to Jacquie, he thumped out of the kitchen in the direction of his bedroom. Sam Barnett gripped his cane and pushed himself from the chair.

"I didn't get my afternoon nap," he announced. "I think I'll lay down for an hour before dinner." Stubbornly, Jacquie maintained her challenging stance, refusing to relent an inch although she had been left alone with Choya. If anything her anger increased. She held his gaze with unwavering defiance.

"Did you tell your father the way you're planning to have me repayyou?" she accused lowly."No." He moved leisurely into the kitchen. "Did you want me to?"She couldn't shake the eerie sensation that she was being stalked."No!" she hissed, and spun away, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Then why did you ask?" Choya questioned smoothly.

"Because he didn't leave me alone for a second," she snapped, turning her profile to him without glancing around.

"If he had, what would you have done?" He stopped behind her, his headdrawn back, increasing the effect that he was looking down at her."I would have run!" Jacquie retorted."Even knowing I would come after you?"

"Knowing that would make me run faster." She tossed her head back, staring determinedly ahead. The awareness that he towered behind her had quickened her breathing to an agitated rate.

His fingers closed over her arm to turn her around. Jacquie obeyed willingly, las.h.i.+ng out with her free hand at his sun-browned cheek. Her open palm didn't reach its target as his lightning reflexes had his other hand checking the swing in mid-flight. Brutally he twisted her arm behind her back, arching her rigid body against his.

At the involuntary flash of fear in her eyes, he laughed softly, almost silently. "Are you afraid I might decide to make love to you now?" The grooves deepened around his mouth as he mocked, "Antic.i.p.ation, remember? I shall enjoy waiting and watching you wonder if it will be tonight, tomorrow, the day after or even longer."

A gasp of protest and dread filled her lungs as he set her away from him as quickly as he had captured her. It was a chilling sentence. The punishment would be mental as well as physical and she was helpless.

Before Choya could consider changing his mind, Jacquie ordered her weak legs to carry her from the kitchen. He didn't try to stop her. He must have guessed that she was only running from his presence and not attempting to escape.

Too shattered to go far, she ended up in her small bedroom off the kitchen. There was no lock on the door, so she quickly slid the straight-backed chair beneath the k.n.o.b. As she moved away, there was a knock on the door and she froze.

"I'm going to do ch.o.r.es," Choya stated, not even testing the doork.n.o.b to see if it would open. "Have dinner ready in an hour."

Striding footsteps carried him away, followed by the slam of the outside door. Jacquie stood in the center of the room, huddling in despair. Then she realized that that was what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to be on tenterhooks, to turn her into a quivering ma.s.s of nerves.

Jacquie raised her chin. She would never bow her head to any man, least of all Choya Barnett. She had fled from him for the last time. He might take her, but he would never find any satisfaction.

There was a laundry room and small bathroom across from her bedroom. Jacquie used it to splash cold water on her face. The reviving chill was just what she needed to bolster her resolve as she entered the kitchen. The secret would be to not let her mind dwell on the reason she was in the house. She banished all thought of it as she concentrated on the menu for the evening meal. Never much of a cook, she kept it simple fried chops, potatoes, a vegetable and a salad. The stove proved to be a worthy opponent to her effort, can tanker The Master Fiddler ously refusing to light, then stubbornly resisting her attempts to regulate the flame.

Finally the potatoes were boiling and the chops were in the iron skillet and the vegetable was in a pan waiting to be heated. Jacquie felt secure that she could leave the food to cook while she fixed the cabbage salad.

As she was nearly finished tossing the canned milk, spices and sugar with the chopped cabbage, she heard a sizzling hiss from the stove. A quick glance saw the lid of the potato pan bouncing while boiling water bubbled down the side. At the same instant, she noticed smoke rising from the skillet.

Grabbing a pot holder from the drawer, she dashed to the old black and white stove, hesitating over which to rescue first. Deciding on the potatoes, she leaned forward to reach the pan on the rear burner. Her long hair fell forward. The outside door slammed, followed by footsteps. "What are you doing?" Choya demanded.

Jacquie checked her movement to dart him a quick glance, then reverted her attention to the pan. "The potatoes are boiling over," she stated crisply.

An iron band circled her waist, lifting her off her feet and simultaneously pus.h.i.+ng her away from the stove. She staggered backward at his abrupt release as he took the pot holder from her hand and set the pan aside.

"Don't you know you can catch your hair on fire leaning across a stove like that?" he glowered. "Especially when it's as long as yours.""

"I didn't think," Jacquie breathed, then glanced at the stove. The smoke was really billowing from the skillet now. "The meat!" she exclaimed.

Choya turned, wrapping the pot holder around the handle and lifting the skillet from the fire. Quickly he shut off the burner before setting it back down. With a fork, he turned over the chops, revealing the charred sides. His glance at Jacquie spoke volumes.

"I never claimed to be a cook," she defended herself from his silent condemnation.

He lifted the lid on the pan of potatoes and a vague scent of something scorched filled the air. She brushed a hand across her forehead.

"All you had to do was turn the heat down," Choya said dryly.

"That's easy to say," she protested, feeling his criticism was unwarranted. "That stove is an antique. Only my grandmother would know how it works."

"Sam doesn't have any trouble with it."

"Which proves he's as old as my grandmother!" Jacquie retorted.

There was a glint of laughter in his eyes, then he turned toward the stove. "Come here. Let me show you how it works."

Ignoring the tingle that danced down her spine at standing so close to him, Jacquie listened attentively to his instructions. He spoke clearly and concisely, sliding a mocking glance at her only when he had finished.

"Now see what you can do about salvaging the meal while I wash up," he ordered.

"I'll try," she sighed, and poked a fork into the pork chops to see how badly they were ruined.