InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ Chapter fourteen ( Chapter 14 )

I've had it mentioned twice that I've misspelled Kouga (or with an `) and I assure you that I have been corrected. I'll repeat, though, that simply for regulation, I will continue to use Koga. Thank you.

Sorry for the short delay. I'm on vacation currently, and this is the first access to a computer I've had with which to type and post any of the pile of handwritten pages I've been gathering. Thank you for you patience, and I'll try to get the next chapter along shortly.

Thanks again to all those who continue to read this, despite my inconsistency.

The Short Straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter Fourteen

Koga wasn't sure what to expect from Kagome when he saw her at breakfast. But since a pile of hay had proved a scratchy and uncomfortable bed, He'd had plenty of time during the night to contemplate the possibilities.

His favorite image was of Kagome repentant over her display of temper the night before. He'd walk out and find his breakfast laid out for him-mounds of fluffy biscuits, bacon sizzling on the stove, and Kagome poised to cook his eggs. Those big dark eyes of hers would be soft and warm-and just a little red from crying tears of regret. Her smile would be a little trembly around the edges, her look asking for forgiveness.

He might not give it right away, he decided, gingerly touching the wound on his forehead gingerly. But eventually he'd forgive her and they'd make up. A faint smile curved Koga's mouth as he considered just what form that making up might take. When he was a boy, he'd once heard his pa say that making up was the best part of having a quarrel. He hadn't understood it then, but he could certainly understand it now.

Maybe Kagome would offer to kiss every bruise she'd inflicted, he thought, letting his imagination run wild. She could start with the scrape on his forehead and work her way down to the bite on his thigh. The image brought a new kind of ache to join the one he already had.

The hay rustled under Koga as he shifted uncomfortably on his scratchy bed. Dammit all, he didn't see why making up had to wait until morning. What was he giving her time to think about, anyway? He was her husband. He had certain rights, and the least of them was the right to sleep in his own bed. If Kagome didn't want to share it with him, let her spend the night in the barn.

Righteous indignation had him sitting up, ready to go back to the house and inform his recalcitrant bride of his decision. He was halfway to his feet when he suddenly saw Kagome's soft brown eyes flashing with rage but with an underlying hurt in them. He sank back on the blanket, the righteous indignation fading to something uncomfortably close to guilt. Maybe he'd allow her some time to think things over, after all.

He just hoped that her temper would wear off by morning. If it hadn't, he might be wise to insist on her tasting any food she served him. Mad as she'd been, he was likely to find himself with arsenic in his biscuits.

As it turned out, Koga didn't have to worry about the possibility of finding hazards in his food. Nor did he have to concern himself with his bride's mood. Kagome solved both problems for him by not making an appearance at the breakfast table. Which was just fine, Koga told himself as he sliced bacon into a skillet. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a temperamental female first thing in the morning.

Koga'd just poured his first cup of coffee when Miroku came in. "There's coffee," He said by way of greeting. He sliced more bacon into the skillet as his brother poured himself a cup of the syrupy black brew.

"Where's Kagome? Miroku asked, after taking his first swallow of coffee and finding it nearly thick enough to chew and strong enough to strip paint off a house-just the way coffee should be.

"She's sleeping in," Koga said shortly.

As if on cue, they both heard the sound of footsteps in the bedroom overhead. Koga clenched his teeth and cut another slice of bacon, nearly taking a piece of his thumb with it.

"She feeling all right?"

"She's fine."

There were a few minutes of silence while they watched the bacon sizzle in the pan. Koga knew his brother well enough to know he wasn't likely to let it rest there. He used a fork to pull the bacon out of the pan then began cracking eggs into the skillet. Miroku found a loaf of bread Kagome had made the day before and began cutting thick slices off it. It wasn't as good as the fresh biscuits Kagome would have made, but it would be filling.

"Was she upset about what she heard last night? About us drawing straws, I mean?"

Koga had known the question was coming and he had an answer ready. "She was a bit upset, but I talked to her." That was true enough. They had talked.

"She didn't throw a fit?" Miroku moved over to Koga's side, looking him in the eye.

"She saw reason." Koga said firmly, hoping it was true. He got out two plates and set them on the table, dividing the scorched bacon and overdone eggs between them. A moment later Miroku brought out the slices of bread and they sat down to eat.

"I thought she might throw you out," Miroku said as he picked up his fork. "Figured we'd be seeing you in the bunkhouse."

"I'm the master of this house," Koga said with repressive dignity. Kagome hadn't thrown him out; he'd decided to leave.

"Seems odd, though," Miroku shook his head as he started to eat.

"What seems odd?" As soon as he said it, Koga had the feeling he was going to regret the question. He was right.

"Well, if Kagome had thrown you out, it would have seemed natural. But if she didn't-you bein' master of this house and all-it's a puzzle how you got that hay in your hair."

Miroku looked up from his plate, his grin pure devilry. He was not measurably disturbed by the glare Koga sent in return.

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Kagome set bowls of potatoes, green beans and a mound of hot biscuits on the table. A big platter of fried steaks sat on the back of the stove, keeping warm. Gravy simmered in the big iron skillet, almost thick enough to be poured into the bowl she had ready and waiting. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked to the door and stepped outside to ring the dinner bell.

There was a faint tremor in her fingers as she went back to the stove to stir the gravy. She hadn't spoken to Koga since their quarrel the night before and she wasn't sure of the best way to handle this first meeting. She'd thought of little else all day and she was no closer to an answer now than she had been this morning.

The men piled into the kitchen just as they always did, unwashed and unkempt. After two weeks she could now connect names with faces and was starting to known them as individuals apart from the large mass of male bodies invading her kitchen once or twice a day.

She poured the gravy into it's bowl and carried it to the table. Neither Koga nor Miroku had appeared yet and, apart from a few sidelong glances and a polite nod or two, the men didn't seem aware of her existence. Kagome set the gravy down on the nearly full table and stood watching the usual display of flying fingers as she grabbed at the food before them. Bowls clanked about and biscuits flew across the table like fat golden brown leaves caught in a tornado.

When Jakken and Joe grabbed for the same steak, there was a brief tug-of-war across the tabletop before Joe's fingers slipped loose, leaving Jakken the triumphant owner of the piece of meat. He grinned, displaying a mouthful of biscuit and potatoes.

"Ya'll just ain't fast-ow!"

His sentence ended on a pained yelp and the steak landed on the tabletop with a plop as Kagome's big wooden spoon caught him across the knuckles. The bowl of potatoes pinged against the wood as Myoga's wrist received a sharp rap from the same source. Never slow on the uptake, Jinenji hastily dropped the biscuit he'd just grabbed and moved his hands prudently out of reach.

There was a stunned silence as they all turned their eyes toward the small but fierce-looking woman who stood at the end of the table. Kagome held the wooden spoon like an avenging angel's sword. Her dark eyes sparkled with anger as she looked at the men before her.

"I've seen hogs with better manners," she said sharply. "You come to this table and fall on my food like wolves on a freshly killed deer. You walk in here without so much as wiping your feet and track dirt and manure over my clean floors." She used the spoon to point at the trail of mud that led from the door. All heads turned and looked guiltily at the evidence.

"I'm right sorry, ma'am," Myoga said. "Never thought about it."

The humble apology was not enough to mollify her. Kagome pointed the spoon at him and Myoga pressed his back against his chair, actually seeming to pale beneath the force of the gesture.

"Did you think about washing the filth off your hands and face?" she demanded.

"No ma'am." There was a chorus of mumbled agreement as her eyes swept across the table. Guilty looks were cast at grimy hands.

"Were you all raised in barns?"

"No ma'am." That was Jinenji. "Leastways, I wasn't, and my mama would have been madder than a wet hen if I'da come to her table without washing."

"Then why do you come to this table in that condition?" Kagome demanded, pointing her spoon at his dirty hands.

Though it was Jinenji she was looking at, the question was directed at all of them. But no one said anything, leaving it to Jinenji to come up with an answer that might satisfy their diminutive interrogator. He glanced uneasily at his companions, hoping for assistance. When none was forthcoming, he swallowed and lifted his eyes to Kagome's face."

"I don't reckon there's a good reason, ma'am. Ceptin' maybe, us bein' just men for so long, we done forgot the manners our mamas taught us."

The others nodded their agreement with this theory, fixing their eyes hopefully on Kagome's flushed face. There's been some doubts about the wisdom of Koga's decision to get married but, in the two weeks that she'd lived on the ranch, the men had decided that the boss had made himself a pretty good deal. His bride not only made biscuits light as a feather but she had a way of smiling at a man that made him think twice about the benefits of being a bachelor. None of them liked the idea of the little missus being permanently riled as them.

"Do you think you could remember some of those manners if you tried?" Kagome asked, her voice softening a little. Ridiculous as it was, considering the tough cowboys sitting before her, she suddenly felt as if she was scolding a bunch of youngsters.

"Yes ma'am. I reckon we could."

Jinenji stood and the other men followed his lead, then they trooped back out the door to wash their hands at the pump. Kagome's eyes followed them, skidding to a halt on the two men standing just inside the doorway.

Koga.

And Miroku, she added belatedly. Peripherally, she was aware of the amused sparkle in her brother-in-law's eyes. Obviously, they'd been there long enough to overhear at least a portion of the scene just past. Equally obvious was the fact that Miroku found it highly amusing. Koga's reaction was not so easily read, at least not in the darting glance that was all Kagome could manage in his direction.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone or anything back down Jinenji," Miroku said, brushing past Koga as he walked farther into the kitchen. "Most of those men would tackle a herd of buffalo bare-handed if the notion struck them, but they looked meek as lambs after that dressing-down, Kagome."

"I don't see any cause to eat like a pack of wolves," she muttered.

She picked up the steak Joe and Jakken had used in their brief tug-of-war and set it back on the platter. Using a towel to wipe the table where it had been gave her a good excuse to avoid looking at Koga as he pulled out his chair at the table.

"You want to check behind our ears to see if we washed well enough?" Koga asked in a slow drawl that sparked Kagome's anger all over again, making her momentarily forget the cool, calm image she'd been determined to present to him.

"It might not be such a bad idea at that," she snapped.

She jabbed the fork into the platter of steaks, wishing it was some portion of her husband's anatomy instead. Just seeing him brought memories of last night's quarrel rushing over her, most vividly the humiliation of finding herself face-down across Koga's lap.

"It seems to me that the hands aren't the only ones who've forgotten how to behave like civilized men instead of unreasoning brutes."

The glance that slashed his way left Koga in no doubt as to the direction of her thoughts. It didn't sound as if having had a day to think things over had inspired a mood of repentance in his bride. He stared at the fork that stood upright in the middle of a thick steak and knew she'd just as soon have stuck it in him.

Across the table he caught Miroku's questioning look, caught also the amusement in his eyes, and knew Miroku was remembering his determination to get himself a docile bride. Miroku didn't know the half of it, Koga thought, rubbing his fingers absently over the bruised place on his thigh where Kagome had sunk her surprisingly sharp little teeth into him.

If she hadn't had other things on her mind, Kagome would have been amused by the careful display of manners at the dinner table that night. Not that any on them were ready to dine in high society, she thought, watching Jinenji pick up the gravy bowl and carefully pass it across the table to Myoga. But at least there seemed no danger of blood being spilled in the melee to fill plates.

She ate almost nothing herself. Every time she glanced in Koga's direction, she was reminded that they hadn't settled anything the night before. She was annoyed to see that Koga ate with his customary hearty appetite. Obviously he wasn't going to let a little thing like beating his wife get in the way of his dinner, she thought angrily. A small voice of reason suggested that perhaps "beat" was a trifle strong and pointed out the damage she'd inflicted in turn. Kagome did her best to ignore it.

The men departed as soon as they'd eaten and, despite her preoccupation, Kagome was amused by the careful way each of them thanked her for the meal and wished her good-night.

She was grateful when Koga and Miroku went with them. The longer she could put off talking to her husband, the better, as far as she was concerned. And as for Miroku, she was in no better charity with him than with his brother. It had been the pair of them drawing straws to see which would have to get married, and it was humiliating to think that someone else knew the circumstances of her marriage.

Koga's footsteps were slow as he climbed the stairs. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that Kagome had done to bed. But he'd seen the bedroom light burning and he knew she was awake. In the weeks before the wedding, there had been times when he'd imagined what it would be like to have a wife waiting up for him. He'd fancied the idea that she'd be keeping the bed warm, pictured the welcoming smile on her face, the eagerness in her eyes.

After last night, it seemed the only eagerness he was likely to see in his bride's eyes was for his blood.

Considering the way she'd torn a strip off the men at supper, he wasn't holding his breath in expectation to seeing her fall over herself to repent for last night's display of temper. He had to admit to a certain reluctant pride at the way she'd dealt with the hands. If he'd hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed that five foot nothing of female could buffalo his cowboys. Jakken, as tough a man as Koga had ever known, had damn near shuffled his feet like a schoolboy in trouble for putting a frog in the teacher's pocket.

It had certainly been something to see, but if Kagome thought she'd be able to run over him the way she had with the men, she was wrong. He had no intention of letting his wife rule the roost.

The bedroom door was partially open and Koga approached it somewhat cautiously. Her aim the night before had been uncomfortably accurate and she'd had all day to restock her arsenal. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, prepared to duck, if necessary.

Kagome was sitting in the rocking chair, her slender fingers busy picking apart the seams on a dress. Koga vaguely recognized the garment as having been his mother's. There were trunks of her things in the attic and he'd told Kagome to make use of them if she wanted.

Though she must have heard him enter, she didn't look up immediately but continued clipping threads to open the seam. She presented a picture of domestic tranquility, as calm and cool as a spring shower. If it hadn't been for the fact that her fingers were shaking so hard it was a wonder she didn't drop the tiny scissors she held, Koga might have thought her indifferent to his presence.

Kagome could feel Koga watching her, and it took every ounce of concentration she could muster to keep her eyes on the material in her lap. The small black circles that patterned the rich green silk blurred together as she waited for him to speak.

He shut the door behind him and she jumped as if the quiet click had been a gunshot. Aware that she could no longer control the unsteadiness of her fingers, she set the scissors aside and folded her hands in her lap. With an effort she lifted her head and, for the first time since their quarrel the night before, she forced herself to really look at her husband.

He looked back at her, his eyes wary. She could hardly blame him for that, Kagome admitted, letting her eyes flicker up to the scrape on his forehead. Seeing where her attention was directed, Koga lifted his finger to the small injury.

She knew she should apologize for throwing the shoe at him, not to mention the books, the water pitcher and her hairbrush. But the truth was, she wasn't in the least sorry. Though she'd gotten over the worst of her anger, it still seemed as if whatever injury she'd inflicted was the least he deserved. Besides, he'd gotten his revenge quite thoroughly, she thought, shifting a little on the pillow she'd put down to cushion her slightly tender posterior from the hard seat.

Seeing her shift uncomfortably and knowing the cause, Koga felt a twinge of guilt. But it was only a twinge. The way she'd come at him last night, it was a wonder she hadn't done permanent damage. And if her butt was tender, it couldn't be more so than his forehead or the bruise where she'd sunk her teeth into his thigh.

"Don't try and bring any of those trunks down out of the attic by yourself," he said abruptly, nodding to the pile of fabric in her lap. "They're too heavy. If I'm not around, ask Miroku or one of the men to help you. After the talking-to you gave them, I'd guess if you said jump, they'd ask how high."

Kagome didn't smile at his feeble attempt as humor. "I got tired of watching them eat like animals."

"I think you made that pretty clear." `Maybe we can just forget last night,' he thought with considerable relief. He walked farther into the room and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

"I'd prefer it if you slept elsewhere." The words were rushed out as if they'd had to be hurried out or not said at all.

Koga's fingers stilled, his eyes taking on a chill as they settled on her face. Kagome swallowed but met his gaze steadily, hoping she looked more calm than she felt.

"We're married," he said flatly, as if that answered everything.

As if she should just ignore the fact that her marriage had come about because he'd gambled and lost. Anger stirred in the pit of her stomach. She forced it down. She didn't want to quarrel with him again.

"I know," she said, proud of how calm she sounded. "I know you've every right to sleep in that bed."

`It wasn't exactly sleeping I had in mind,' Koga thought.

`And to demand your marital rights," she continued, as if reading his thoughts.

"You haven't exactly objected to those demands," he snapped, stung by her cool tone.

She flushed, but continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I'm just asking you to give me a little time. I know our marriage was hardly a . . .love match, but it's been a shock to find out that you married me because you lost a bet."

"It had nothing to do with you, dammit!" Koga didn't apologize for his profanity.

"I know." She nodded, seeming to grow calmer in the face of his annoyance. "I understand that, but it's not exactly pleasant to find that you drew straws to see who'd have to marry."

"It wasn't you we were drawing straws over." Koga was aware that his voice had risen.\

"I know that, but I can't help but wonder what would have happened if Miroku had drawn the short straw."

Koga stared at her. "What does that have to do with it?"

"If he'd drawn the short straw, wouldn't he have been the one who had to find a wife?"

Koga nodded reluctantly. He didn't like the direction the conversation had taken.

"Well, then it's possible he'd have thought I'd suit his purpose, the same way you did. Whether it was you or Miroku, you still needed someone to cook and clean and have sons." Kagome mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "If he'd drawn the short straw, I could have ended up marrying your brother."

"No!" The sharpness of his denial brought Koga up short. He drew a slow breath and continued more calmly. "That wouldn't have happened."

Kagome lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Maybe not. Miroku might have thought some other girl would do a better job of cooking and cleaning and having babies. But the end result would have been the same: you and I wouldn't be married."

"But we are married," he snapped.

"I'm not trying to deny that."

There are those who think that sharing a bed is part of being married," he said, heavily sarcastic.

Kagome was unmoved. "I know, and I'm not asking you to move out permanently. I'm just asking you to give me a little time to adjust my thinking."

"How much time?" He was aware that, in asking that question, he was admitting defeat. The relief in Kagome's eyes said that she knew it, too.

"A few days, perhaps. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

`It is much too much. An hour is too much.' He'd been aching to have her since last night. Damn, who would have thought that such a little female could be so pigheaded? He could have dealt with another tantrum. He'd even half looked forward to that. If she'd been throwing things and shouting at him, he could have tossed her onto the bed and kissed the anger out of her.

But how the hell was a man supposed to deal with this kind of calm reason?

"I'll give you time," he snapped finally.

"Thank you." Now that she had what she wanted, she gave him a sweet smile.

"Let me know when you've had enough time to think." The sneer in his voice made his opinion of her request obvious. He jerked the door open and cast a warning look over his shoulder. "Just don't think I'll wait forever."

He stalked out without bothering to wait for an answer. The door closed behind him with a resounding click.

Halfway down the hall he hesitated outside his old bedroom. When he'd married Kagome they'd moved into the room his parents had shared. There was no reason for him to sleep in the barn when there was a perfectly good bed going to waste. A quiet sound from inside the master bedroom had him moving down the hall to the stairs. He'd sleep better in the barn than he would in the house knowing Kagome was just across the hall, alone in bed-the bed he had every right to be sharing with her.

The gray gelding stuck his head over the stall door, giving Koga a surprised look as he stalked past.

"Don't get used to it," Koga snarled. "I don't plan on making a habit of this."

It had to be his imagination that made the gelding's snort sound full of disbelief. Wrapping himself in a blanket, Koga settled into a mound of hay and tilted his hat down over his eyes. He wished he's never heard of the institution of marriage. As far as he could see, the main things it seemed to accomplish was to cut up a man's peace and drive his out of his own home.

Give her time, she'd asked. Well, he'd give her time. But she'd better not expect him to wait long. He was getting too damn old to be sleeping in the barn.

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