InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ Chapter fifteen ( Chapter 15 )

The Short Straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter fifteen

"They drew straws?" "Sango's dark eyes were wide with shocked disbelief. "They actually drew straws to decide which of then would marry?"

"And the one who drew the shortest straw-the one who lost-had to find a bride." Anger simmered in Kagome's voice. She'd had a week to adjust to the idea, but the time had done nothing to cool her ire. "Since Koga drew the short straw, he had to get married."

Sango stared at her friend, and Kagome found a grim satisfaction in the fact that the other woman was struck speechless. She'd felt much the same way when she'd found out the truth. Not exactly speechless, she corrected herself, remembering her fight with Koga.

"I just can't believe that they'd make such an important decision in such a . . .childish fashion." Sango said finally. "Drawing straws. It just doesn't seem possible."

"It's possible," Kagome assured her grimly. "Koga admitted as much."

"Amazing." Sango shook her head as she set her teacup on the small table beside her. They were sitting in the parlor of the Sukanami house. With the drapes drawn back, sunlight spilled across the freshly polished wood surfaces. A soft, early-summer breeze drifted through the open windows. The room was spotlessly clean and shone with the care that had been lavished on it in recent weeks.

"He didn't have to marry you, did he?" Sango said slowly, searching for a bright spot in her friend's situation. "He still had to choose a bride, and he chose you. That has to prove something."

"Probably that I'm the most gullible-looking female he could find," Kagome said glumly.

"Now, that's not true. You know as well as I do that there's not an unmarried woman in Black Dog-and more than a few of the married ones-who wouldn't have jumped at the chance to marry Koga Sukanami. And unless he's blind, deaf and utterly stupid, Koga knew it too, what with every one of them making cow eyes at him. Don't forget, your cousin Kagura practically threw herself at him. So obviously he had a reason for courting you."

"That's true." Kagome felt her mood brighten a little. Sango wasn't telling her anything she hadn't already told herself but, hearing the words from someone else, they sounded more reassuring. But it still stung to think about it.

"Does Koga know that you found out about this?"

"He knows."

"I hope you let him know exactly what you thought of what they did."

"I think he has a pretty good idea." Kagome murmured. Hitting him in the head with her shoe seemed to have gotten the point across.

"Good. Drawing straws, indeed!" The more Sango thought about it, the more indignant the thought seemed to make her. "I'd thought better of Miroku. And Koga, of course." She added quickly, catching Kagome's interested look.

"Of course." Kagome agreed, but she took note of the reference to Miroku. It wasn't the first time Sango had mentioned him. Despite her current annoyance with her brother-in-law, Kagome had grown fond of him. If he and Sango were to fall in love . . .Kagome barely restrained a grin.

Though they might need a bit of a nudge, Kagome thought, as Sango gave another annoyed huff, obviously still fuming. Perhaps she could throw them together a little.

The opportunity came sooner than she'd imagined possible. Half an hour later the two women were standing on the porch, lingering over their farewells, when Miroku rode into the ranch yard. He didn't recognize the buggy sitting in front of the house, but seeing that Kagome had a female guest, it wasn't hard to guess her identity. He had taken note of Sango Kurata at his brother's wedding. What man wouldn't notice a trim figure with curves in all the right places, masses of dark hair and smoky eyes? She was a widow, if he remembered right. He'd always been partial to widows. A nudge of his heel turned his horse in their direction.

He stopped his horse at the foot of the steps. Taking off his hat, he gave them his best smile. The one he'd once been told would melt any woman's heart. Come to think of it, it had been a widow who'd told him that.

"Afternoon, Kagome. Mrs. Kurata."

"Afternoon, Miroku." He was surprised by the warmth of Kagome's greeting. She hadn't been exactly friendly toward him since finding out about his part in the whole business of drawing straws.

"Mr. Sukanami." Sango's greeting seemed a bit on the cool side, and it occurred to Miroku that Kagome might have told her the whole story. It was not a comfortable thought.

"Oh, heavens! I just remembered that I need to check my bread dough," Kagome said suddenly. "Excuse me."

"I'll say goodbye, then." Sango said.

"No, I want to say a proper goodbye. I'll only be a moment." Kagome's skirt swished against the porch floor as she turned and hurried into the house. She left complete silence behind her.

"Nice day," Miroku said finally.

"Yes."

He waited, but she didn't seem to have anything to add. She had been putting on her gloves when he rode up and now she concentrated her attention on smoothing every tiny wrinkle from the soft material. Must be shy, he decided. Not exactly what he'd been hoping for, but he didn't mind a bit of a challenge.

"It's a long drive from town," he said, trying another angle.

"Not really."

"Long way for a woman to travel on her own."

"I'm accustomed to looking out for myself." Her tone was cool but Miroku persevered.

"It's not safe for a woman alone."

A woman alone is quite safe, Mr. Sukanami. It's when she's in the company of men that she finds herself at risk."

Miroku grinned. She had spirit. He liked that. "Perhaps I should escort you home, Mrs. Kurata. Make sure you get back to town safe and sound."

"That won't be necessary. Thank you." The last was added so grudgingly that Miroku's grin widened.

"If you're not careful, ma'am, you'll give me the idea that you don't care to have my company." If he'd thought to embarrass her, he failed.

"And here I was beginning to think that you weren't nearly as intelligent as I'd thought, Mr. Sukanami." Her smile was so brilliant that it took Miroku a moment to realize he'd just been insulted. It had been so neatly done that he couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused. He raised one dark brow.

"I'm starting to get the impression that you don't like me, Mrs. Kurata."

"I don't know you." His calm response had sparked Sango's temper and she found herself saying more than she'd intended. "And I've no wish to know a man who'd draw straws to decide a woman's future."

"We were deciding our own futures," he corrected her. His voice was sharper than he'd intended. He'd grown fond of Kagome, and the hurt he'd seen in her eyes lately hadn't made him feel particularly good about what he and Koga had done. He didn't need someone else to point out the error of his ways.

"You're splitting hairs, Mr. Sukanami. It was a schoolboy's game, certainly not what one would expect from a pair or mature adults making a critical decision."

Miroku's amusement lost out to annoyance. He didn't like being scolded, particularly not by a woman younger than him-a very pretty woman. The fact that she was probably right didn't make him like it any more.

"I can see my presence is distressing to you, ma'am." He said with cold formality. "I'll take my leave now. Good day."

"Good day to you, sir." Sango's nod was regal enough for royalty.

Miroku's mouth tightened as he settled his hat back on his head. With an icy nod of his own, he reined his horse around and rode out of the ranch yard.

Females. Who needed `em.

Kagome returned to the porch in time to see her brother-in-law ride away. "Where is Miroku going?" she asked.

"I have no idea."

"Did you two have a quarrel?" Kagome asked, studying her friend's flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes.

"Certainly not! I don't know Mr. Sukanami well enough to quarrel with him. And you needn't think that I don't know exactly what you're up to, Kagome." Sango fixed her friend with a stern look. "I don't need you to play matchmaker for me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Kagome widened her eyes innocently. "I had to check on my bread, else it might have risen too high."

Sango's snort of disbelief made clear her opinion of the thin excuse. "If I want to catch Miroku Sukanami-and, mind you, I'm saying if-I'll go about it in my own time and in my own way. I don't know that I'll bother." But her eyes drifted after Miroku, watching as he rode away

"He's very handsome, don't you think?" Kagome asked, following her friend's gaze. Sango didn't respond.

Kagome followed Sango down the porch steps to where the buggy waited. Un-looping the reins from the hitching rail, Sango climbed up and settled herself on the padded seat. She looked at Kagome.

"You've concerns enough of your own without trying to match-make for me."

That was certainly true enough, Kagome thought as she watched Sango drive away. She had more than enough concerns of her own. She sighed as she turned and went back into the house. It had been a week since she'd asked Koga to give her time to adjust to the real reason he'd married her. He'd given her what she'd asked for. But she was starting to wonder if she might have made a mistake in asking.

Kagome went into the parlor and began gathering the tea things onto a tray. What bothered her wasn't that their bed seemed shockingly empty without Koga in it. It was that he hadn't, by word or glance, given her any reason to think that he was all that anxious to return to that bed. Since the night he'd stomped out of their bedroom he'd treated her with a cool politeness that sent a chill right through her. She could have been the housekeeper he and Miroku might have hired, if he hadn't married her.

Had it been a mistake to ask him to sleep elsewhere? What had she really hoped to accomplish? They were married. Nothing was going to change that. Just as nothing was going to change the circumstances under which their marriage began.

Kagome sighed as she carried the tea things into the kitchen. Maybe she had let her temper get the better of her. What if all she'd accomplished was to remind Koga of how easily he could get along without her? It wasn't as if she were a beauty, like her cousin Kagura, the kind of woman a man couldn't help but want. Maybe she'd just given him a chance to realize that he'd prefer to sleep alone.

Setting the tray down on the kitchen table, Kagome began putting things away. Her teeth worried the inside of her lower lip as she worked. She'd remade two of his mother's dresses, and the deep, rich colors suited her better than anything she'd ever owned. She knew, without vanity, that she looked almost pretty in them. She might never be a beautiful as Kagura but she wasn't unpleasant to look at.

She smoothed one hand over the deep rose skirt and wondered wistfully if Koga had noticed how she looked.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

Koga had noticed.

He'd noticed the warm glow of her skin, the lustrous darkness of her hair, the way her brown eyes sparkled when she smiled-not that she'd been throwing a lot of smiles in his direction lately. He'd noticed the soft curves of her body, the feminine sway of her hips. There wasn't much about Kagome he hadn't noticed.

Koga tipped his hat back on his head, allowing the late-afternoon breeze to cool the sweat on his forehead. He'd spent most of the day clearing away a rock fall that had blocked a spring, one of the few in the area that could be depended on to give water all summer long. Koga squinted against the bright sunlight. If the past few weeks were anything to judge by, it was going to be a hot summer.

Of course, if you looked at it another way, it could be might cold. His thinking circled back to Kagome, something it did all too frequently these days. Koga scowled. He was getting damn tired of sleeping in the barn. But he'd be double damned before he'd let the hands know that he'd been thrown out of his own bed. The way they were treating Kagome these days, they'd probably assume he'd done something to deserve it, he thought sourly. She had his cowboys acting like schoolboys anxious to impress a new teacher.

Koga's jaw set with determination. She might have managed to buffalo his men but he was made of sterner stuff, and he wasn't going to let a snip of a female dictate to him. If she thought he was going to come crawling, asking her to let him back into his bed, she had another think coming. A man didn't ask to share his wife's bed-it was his right in the eyes God and the law. The only reason he hadn't insisted on claiming that right was that he was being gracious, giving his bride time to get over her snit. Pretty soon he'd put his foot down and make it clear to Kagome that he was through playing this little game of hers. Maybe he'd even do it tonight.

As Koga rode into the ranch yard his eye was caught by movement at the back of the house. The sheets from the bed he'd just been thinking about were hanging on the line, their pristine whiteness catching the last of the afternoon sun. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen a row of sparkling white sheets hanging on the line. Maybe somewhere in town, he decided. It sure hadn't been here, not since his mother died, anyway.

His fingers tightened on the reins, drawing the gelding to a halt. Between housekeepers he and Miroku had done wash as seldom as possible and had dried their wet clothes by draping them over a bush. When he'd married Kagome, one of the first things she'd done was to replace his mother's rotted clothesline and chase the spiders out of the bag of wooden clothespins. It hadn't taken long to get used to the pleasures having clean clothes again, holes patched and tears mended.

When it came to cooking and cleaning Kagome had certainly done everything a man could want. She'd turned the house into a home again and managed to restore the kind of civilized atmosphere his mother had maintained. His mother would have liked Kagome, Koga thought, watching the sheets undulate in the breeze. Ayame would have admired Kagome's spirit, and probably would have thought that banishment to the barn was the least he deserved, he admitted reluctantly.

The back door opened and Kagome came out, walking toward the clothesline. Koga settled back into the saddle, admiring the sway of her hips beneath her skirt, the way the sun picked out red highlights in her dark hair. He felt desire stir in him, a hunger that went deeper than the purely physical.

He missed her, dammit! It wasn't just her presence in bed that he missed, though he damn sure missed that. He missed seeing her smile, missed the sound of her laughter. If he'd known marriage was going to be such a complicated thing, he'd have brained Miroku and dragged him to the altar.

Kagome began taking clothes off the line. Koga stayed where he was. He'd never given much thought to the act of hanging clothes on a line, but he thought about it now. She lifted her arms to unpin a sheet. Her breasts lifted with the movement. The stiff breeze that blew across the prairie might be perfect for drying clothes but it had other, less prosaic benefits, like the way it molded her rose colored skirt to her legs, outlining the lush curves of her body. Koga's mouth went dry. His jeans were suddenly uncomfortably snug.

He started to nudge the roan into a walk, but a figure hurrying out of the bunkhouse stopped him. Jinenji moved across the ranch yard at a pace that made Koga's eyes widen. Three days ago Jinenji had stepped in a prairie dog hole and twisted his ankle so badly they'd had to cut his boot off. Kagome had helped bind the ankle and Koga had told him to stay off his foot and out of a saddle until the swelling went down. Jinenji hadn't been happy about being confined to the ranch yard but he'd been spending his time working on the tack, doing some much needed repairs.

And cozying up to his wife, Koga thought, his eyes narrowing as the younger man hobbled over to the clothesline. Kagome turned and smiled at Jinenji, and Koga's mouth tightened in annoyance. If she wasn't going to smile at him she had no business smiling like that at another man. Ignoring the small voice that pointed out that it wasn't Jinenji she was angry with, Koga nudged his heel into the roan's side and moved towards the couple standing by the clothesline. Kagome was his wife. Maybe some people needed to be reminded of that.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

"Let me help you with that, Miz Sukanami."

Kagome turned to look over her shoulder, frowning when she saw Jinenji limping toward her. "You're supposed to be resting that ankle," she told him, her tone gently scolding.

"If I stay settin' in one place much more, I'm likely to take roots."

"I doubt that." Kagome said, laughing softly. "From what I've heard, cowboys are about a rootless as they come." She bent to pick up the clothesbasket, but Jinenji was there before her, lifting it and carrying it farther down the clothesline. With a nod of thanks Kagome continued taking clothes off the line, dropping the pins into the big pocket on her apron.

"I'd guess that's so for a goodly number of us, ma'am." Jinenji said, his voice thoughtful. "I'd never given much thought to settling down myself. My folks were always movin', always wantin' to see what was over the next hill so I ain't never stayed in one place too long. I figured that's the way it'd always be but lately I'm startin' to think it might be kinda nice to have a little place of my own, and a woman too. If'n I can find one that'd have me," He added with a self-conscious grin.

"Is there someone in particular you're thinking of?" Kagome asked over her shoulder as she plucked a pair of clothespins from the line. It took Jinenji so long to reply that she turned and looked at him, her brows raised in question "Do you have a girl in mind?"

"There's a girl," Jinenji admitted in a strangled voice. "I met her last time I was in Denver." Having got that much out, he suddenly waxed eloquent. "She's got yellow hair and big brown eyes. Made me think of a palomino filly I seen once."

Kagome swallowed a chuckle and kept her expression solemn. "She sounds lovely."

"She's the prettiest thing I ever seen," He told her fervently. "Her father owns a dry goods store, though, and I doubt she'd even look at me."

"You won't know until you try. I think a woman would be lucky to have you," Kagome said. She folded once of Koga's shirts and set it in the basket, her expression taking on a wistful edge. Jinenji's dream wasn't that different from her own-a home and someone to love.

"I ain't much to look at," he observed with pained honesty. "Women set store by such things."

Kagome turned to look at him, her expression thoughtful. Jinenji ducked his head self-consciously. "A woman wants a great deal more than good looks in a man. She wants someone who'll cherish her, someone who'll make her feel as if she's the most important thing in the world to him. Besides, I think you're a very handsome man," she added, stretching the truth a bit. Jinenji wasn't likely to make a girl's heart melt at first glance, but there was a certain appeal in his lop-sided smile and the natural friendliness of his gaze.

Jinenji looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted wings and a halo. "You mean that, Miz Sukanami?"

"Mean what?" The unexpected addition to their conversation made Jinenji and Kagome both jump.

Koga ducked between a pair of sheets to confront them. He'd deliberately angled his approach so the clothes hanging on the line blocked their view of him. He wasn't sure why he'd felt it necessary to employ tactics more suited to fighting Indians than to approaching his wife and one of his ranch hands. He hadn't expected to find them exchanging guilty secrets. But, seeing Kagome smile as Jinenji, he'd felt something he couldn't quite define, something that made him want to punch Jinenji in the nose and then throw Kagome over his shoulder and carry her off.

"Mean what?" he asked again when neither of them spoke.

Kagome drew a deep breath, trying to still the rapid beat of her heart. She very much wanted to believe that it was sheer surprise that had increased her pulse but, the truth was, her heart was inclined to behave erratically whenever Koga was near. And the fact that she was angry with him-which she still was-didn't seem to make any difference at all. "I was just offering Jinenji some advice," She said repressively.

"Oh?" Koga's gaze swung from his wife to Jinenji. There was nothing overtly unpleasant in either his tone of his look, but Jinenji was suddenly put in mind of a fish he'd seen a picture of one time-a huge creature with rows of fierce-looking teeth bared in a smile a lot like the one his boss was giving him now.

Jinenji swallowed hard. He shifted, trying to take weight off his bad ankle. He wished suddenly that he'd stayed in the bunkhouse, working on the tack. "I was goin' to carry the basket for Miz. Sukanami," he said, feeling the need to offer an explanation.

"I can manage just fine, Jinenji." Kagome came to his rescue when Koga said nothing, but simply stood there looking at him. "But thank you for offering." Her smile made Jinenji flush and duck his head. He mumbled something incoherent, shot Koga another uneasy look and then turned and limped away.

"He's a nice boy," Kagome said, her nerves jumping with the knowledge that she and Koga were alone.

"Boy?" Koga's dark brows rose. "He's older than you are. Hardly a boy."

"He seems young to me." She shrugged and turned back to the clothesline it took a conscious effort to keep her fingers from trembling as she tugged a clothespin free.

"What were you offering him advice on?"

"This and that." She moved farther down the line, anxious to put some distance between them, but he simply moved with her, seeming to loom over her.

"What kind of this and that?" Koga's tone was pleasant, but there was an underlying not of steel in it.

Kagome's back stiffened. Wasn't it just like him to ignore her a week and then subject her to this catechism over her conversation with Jinenji? She dropped the last of the clothes into the basket and turned to face him, bracing her hands on her hips and giving him a look that made no secret of her annoyance.

"If you must know, Jinenji was concerned that he might not be handsome enough to attract a woman."

Koga's brows shot up and he was foolish enough to snort with laughter. "That goofy kid?"

"As you pointed out, he's older than I am. Old enough to be thinking about having a family."

"I guess that's so." Koga no longer cared what Jinenji had been talking to Kagome about. She'd unbuttoned the top button on her bodice, revealing the hollow at the base of her throat and the pulse that beat there. His fingertips itched to feel that soft flutter of movement, to hear her sigh with pleasure when he kissed her there. Her hair was drawn back into a prim bun at the back of her head, but a few unruly curls had drifted loose to caress her neck. It would only take a moment for him to loosen her hair so that it tumbled over his hands in a thick, dark curtain. He could slide his fingers into that curtain and tilt her mouth up to his. A few kisses and she'd melt into his arms.

"I think it's sweet that Jinenji is thinking about going courting." Kagome's words broke into Koga's increasingly lustful imaginings. "Maybe he'll bring his girl flowers or read her a poem."

The idea of Jinenji reading poetry made Koga grin. "I don't think the poetry is such a good idea. The one time I heard Jinenji recite anything that rhymed, it was after he drunk half a bottle of whiskey. And the poem wasn't exactly fit for a lady's ears. He'd better hope the flowers do the trick."

"Maybe he could learn a poem that was fit for a lady's ears," Kagome said.

Koga was distracted by the way the sun picked out red highlights in her hair and missed hearing the tightness in her voice. "Maybe. But I just can' picture Jinenji spouting poetry."

Kagome's eyes narrowed. "Maybe he could see if his girl would like to draw straws," she said. The silky tone of her voice was reminiscent of a diamondback's warning rattle just before it struck. "How would it work, do you think? If she draws the short straw, she has to marry him?"

"That had nothing to do with you," Koga snapped, seeing his fond hopes of seducing his wife disappearing.

"So you've said." There was more weariness than anger in her tone. She bent to pick up the clothesbasket. "I have bread in the oven," she said as she brushed by him.

Koga stared after her. She kept throwing that damned short straw into his face as if there was something he could do to change it. He wanted to be angry with her. But he suddenly remembered what she'd been saying to Jinenji when he'd approached them before she'd known he was there. `A woman wants a great deal more than good looks in a man. She wants someone who'll cherish her, someone who'll make her feel as if she's the most important thing in the world to him.' And when she'd talked about Jinenji going courting, bringing his girl flowers and reading poetry, there'd been a wistful note in her voice that made him feel lower than a snake's belly.

He hadn't done much by way of courting. He'd seen Kagome, decided that she'd fulfill his needs for a wife and made his offer. He'd been relieved that she hadn't insisted on all the nonsense that usually went with getting married. He had, h realized uneasily, done exactly what Reverend Kaede had told him he couldn't do-he chosen a wife in much the same way he'd have chosen a horse. He'd looked for good lines and a pleasant disposition and had been arrogant enough to think that was all there was to it.

The back door shut behind Kagome, and Koga turned away from the house. He was frowning as he walked to where he'd left the roan hitched. Marriage wasn't turning out to be quite as simple as he'd expected, but he was willing to adapt his thinking some. There was more than one way to skin a cat-or to win a wife.

.