Only 04 - Only Love

through his teeth. “You think I won’t leave until I know you’re safe.”
    “No,” Shannon said quietly. “You’re trying to tie me down and make me live the way you want me to.”
    “Damn it, you’re twisting my words!”
    “Am I? I know you’ll leave me, Whip. I’ve known it from the first time I heard you talking about the sunrise you’ve never seen. ‘Nothing is more beautiful. Nothing is more compelling.’”
    “Shannon, honey girl, I—”
    “No,” she whispered, stopping his words by brushing her lips just once over his. “I believed you then. I believe you now. You will leave. And I will stay in my cabin.”
    “I won’t let you.”
    “Yondering man, you can’t stop me.”
    Whip closed his eyes. His mouth was flattened, his lips pale.
    “You’re tearing me apart,” he said in an anguished whisper.
    “I’m just—”
    Whip talked over Shannon’s words, trying to make her understand.
    “I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything— except the sunrise I’ve never seen . I can have one or I can have the other. Do you know how it feels to be torn apart like that?” he demanded in despair and rage. “I would tear the soul out of my body if it meant an end to this pain!”
    Tears burned behind Shannon’s eyes, gathered in her lashes, and slid hotly down her cheeks.
    “I would do the same,” she whispered. “But you can have what you want most, Whip. Freedom. I’m not baiting any traps or building any cages with you in mind.”
    “The hell you aren’t,” he said roughly. “ I have to know you’re safe .”
    “And I have to know I’m free! Like you, yondering man. Free as the sunrise.”
    “You can’t be. It’s not the same for a woman.”
    “Not for a married woman, no. But I’m not married.”
    Whip opened his eyes and saw the tears in Shannon’s.
    “Honey girl, don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”
    “And I never meant to tear you apart,” Shannon whispered. “All I ever asked you to do was dig gold for me. Since that’s too much tying down for you to live with, just ride on and find that sunrise you hunger for so much. Ride on and leave me be.”
    “I can’t,” he said simply. “Not until I know you’re safe.”
    “You have to.”
    “Shannon—”
    “If you stay, you’ll hate me,” she interrupted starkly. “I’d rather die, Whip.”
    “And that’s just what you’ll do if you go back to that damned shack!”
    “My choice, Whip. Not yours.”
    Slowly Whip lowered Shannon to the floor. Then he removed his hands from her arms, turned his back, and went out the front door without another word.
     
    S HANNON looked over the dinner table, checking that everything was where it should be. Normally she wouldn’t have worried, but normally she wouldn’t be feeling used up and wrung out like an old rag. Already she had dropped a spoon, spilled coffee, and scorched her fingers adding wood to the fire.
    “Thunderation,” she muttered, using one of Cherokee’s favorite phrases. “I forgot the plates.”
    If Willow noticed Shannon’s unexpected clumsiness, nothing was said about it. But Willow had her hands full with Ethan at the moment. He was hollering from his crib, outraged that his mother wouldn’t let him polish his walking skills in the kitchen, careening from sink to table and back again, with a heart-stopping run at the wood stove in between.
    “Blazes, but that boy is quick,” Willow said, coming back into the kitchen.
    “He has Caleb’s speed,” Shannon agreed. “Along with his amber eyes. And a dimple at the corner of his smile that is just like Whip’s.”
    Willow smiled. “If Ethan grows up one half as handsome as his daddy or his uncle, all the girls inColorado Territory will beat a path to our door. How is the stew coming along?”
    “It’s ready.”
    “Good. I saw Caleb walking in from the barn when I put Ethan in his crib.”
    “Was Whip with him?”
    “No, but he won’t be far behind. In case you hadn’t noticed, my brother likes home cooking.”
    Shannon ducked her head so that Willow couldn’t see the sudden gleam of tears.
    What’s wrong with me? Shannon asked herself grimly. I know better than to cry. It’s a waste of salt and effort.
    “I noticed,” Shannon said in a muffled voice. “So long as it isn’t his home, of course. Is the bread cool enough to slice yet?”
    “Should be. Mark my words, though. Whip will complain that there aren’t any biscuits.”
    “No, he won’t,”