Winter Rage (Mountain Times Book 1)

by John Legg

  He could not speak.

  “Please, Abner,” she almost pleaded. “Don’t make me ask no more. If you love me . . .”

  He nodded, still incapable of speech. His chest rose and fell with excitement as he shrugged out of his tattered shirt. He kicked off his worn boots and shucked his pants, suddenly proud of his extended manhood.

  “Oh, yes,” Hannah whispered, moving closer and grasping him in a soft hand. He quivered at the feathery touch, and grew even harder.

  He closed his eyes and moaned. Then, with a quick dip, he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the buffalo-hide bed. He laid her down and moved atop her, kissing her lips, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose.

  His lips moved lower, tongue sliding across the throbbing veins of her neck and then flicking at each of her hard nipples. And lower still, tracing a path across the quiet swell of her belly and into the tangle of silky hair beneath.

  Hannah shivered with the sensations, moaning, her small hands grasping frantically at his hair. Suddenly she spasmed, jerking as the climax roared through her body.

  When her body stopped shaking, he moved back up so his face loomed over hers. “You all right?”

  he asked. He sounded worried.

  “Lord, yes,” she gasped, yanking his head down.

  When they finished the kiss, she pushed him away and over, so that he was lying on his back. She squatted over him and eased down onto his rampant shaft.

  Within moments her back was arched, thrusting her breasts out as she rode him to another blazing pinnacle.

  She fell on him then, both of them spent. The chill of the night began to drift in, and they nestled under the thick buffalo robes, caressing and stroking each other softly as the cold night passed.

  Until again they came together, hungrily seeking each other’s mouths and bodies. Their bodies fused and Hannah clawed eagerly at Train’s back, raking it, forcing new moans of pleasure from both of them. And when the time came, she supported his panting, groaning weight on her tiny, bucking frame.

  They slept a little, entwined, cuddling.

  But their sleep was short-lived. Before the dawn was a mere hint in the sky, Train was awakened by a hand on his shoulder. Squire had taught him well, and with a startled grunt, Train was half out of the robes, a knife in hand, ready to protect himself and his Hannah.

  A calloused hand pushed him down as Hannah let out a yip of surprise and tried to rise to defend her man.

  “Set easy now. It’s only me.”

  “You scared hell out of us, Nathaniel,” Train snapped.

  “Didn’t mean to, lad.”

  Hannah, realizing her nudity, quickly covered herself.

  “Don’t ye fret, now, girl,” the huge mountain man said with a disarming smile. “I’ve seen naked women afore.” But he averted his eyes, not wanting to embarrass the girl more than she was already.

  “What’re ya doin’ here anyway?” Train asked sharply, wanting to get Squire’s attention off Hannah’s lack of attire.

  “It’ll be dawn afore long, lad. It be time ye was up and gone. E’erbody’s asleep for the most part. Abner, ye get dressed and move out first. Just head on out and walk like ye belong here. Somebody sees ye skulkin’ about, they might get curious.”

  “What about Hannah?”

  “She’ll follow after a spell. I just want to stick here in case somethin’ goes wrong. Now go on, get.”

  Train sat for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts. He knew they had to leave separately, but to leave Squire here alone with Hannah ... He snorted at himself in disgust. How could I think such a thing? he wondered. Squire would never do anything against him or Hannah. He believed that, knew it to be true. He had implicit trust in Squire.

  Squire knew what the young man was thinking, and said softly, “She’ll be safe, lad.”

  Train nodded. He dressed quickly and left.

  “All right, girl,” Squire said. “I’ll be turnin’ my back so’s ye can get dressed.” He faced the flap door of the lodge, puffing his small pipe. The smoke curled in rings around his fur-covered head.

  “I’m ready now, Mr. Squire,” Hannah said a few minutes later. Squire turned and stood, amazed at the transformation. A scant few minutes ago, Hannah had been a young woman, her small breasts high and pouty, nipples hard in the cold, desire smoky in her eyes. Now she looked like Hank.

  “It be a shame, girl, that it has to be like this for ye ’n’ Abner.”

  “At least we have this, Mr. Squire, thanks to you. It’s more than many folks have.”

  “That it be, girl.” He turned for the flap, but her tiny hand on his elbow stopped him. She playfully tugged on his great beard until his head came down. She kissed his heavily whiskered cheek.

  “Thank you, Nathaniel,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and smiled. Then he grew serious. “This here might’ve been shinin’ doin’s for ye ’n’ Abner, girl,” he said. “But ye both got to remember to be keepin’ this private.”

  “It’ll be hard, Nathaniel,” she said, trying not to cry. “I love that boy so. It’s going to be hard for me to keep my hands off him.” She blushed with embarrassment. “I hope, he feels the same.”

  “I reckon he does, girl, but we can’t have such doin’s out in the open. Next time ye be seein’ Abner, ye best be tellin’ him that ye still be Hank, ’less’n ye be totally private again. And that he’s got to keep his hands off’n ye.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said sadly, knowing Squire was right, but also knowing it was going to be damned difficult.

  They stepped out of the lodge and went their separate ways through the light covering of show.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE Colonel’s camp was a dismal place in the morning. Nearly all the men who had gone into the village nursed headaches and nausea.

  “It be somethin’, now, watchin’ all them young bucks get so liquored up and havin’ to be payin’ full price for it, ain’t it?” Squire said, and chuckled as he, Bellows and Melton sat by the fire after the first meal of the day. They surveyed the camp with knowing eyes.

  “Yep. Sure is. Can’t take it. No, sir, they just plain can’t. Not like us old-timers,” Bellows said.

  “Well, I ’spect it ain’t gonna be the last time for most of ’em, mon ami, though I reckon it be the first for some. Hell, I might e’en join ’em next time.” Squire grinned.

  “Mayhap me, too. Ain’t had me a to-do in a long spell. Sure ain’t. Ain’t had me a woman in quite a spell neither. I was figurin’ on doin’ so last night, dammit, but me ’n’ Sky Hawk had us a heap of catchin’ up to do, we did. ’Course I didn’t have much to do with that damn firewater. Ya can’t do neither talkin’ nor humpin’ when you’re full of that hellfire. Leastways I can’t. Sky Hawk found that out.”

  “Ye mean ye found yourself some squaw plumb foolish enough to spread for ye? Goddamn, boy. Who was she, Sky Hawk’s widowed grandma?”

  Melton sat, amused and a little in wonder. These men had not known each other longer than they had him, yet here they sat rudely bantering with each other, something Melton found himself incapable of even with men he had known a lifetime. So he sat quietly and listened.

  With a sly grin, the reedy-looking Bellows eyed Squire. “Never ye mind. Seems to me that you was some hard to find last night. And you ain’t feelin’ poorly like them other boys, so it must’ve been a woman you was spendin’ your time with.”

  “Mayhap, ol’ lad. Mayhap it were.”

  It hadn’t been hard to find Star Path. She had said nothing when he showed up and sat at the small fire outside the lodge she shared with her brother’s family. But she fed him well. He watched her as he spooned down buffalo stew, chewed on elk and nibbled on roast dog.

  She looked a little older than he had remembered, of course, with a few sprigs of gray striping her hair. And there were the beginnings of some wrinkles on her fleshy moon face. But her eyes above the long, partly splayed nose still sp
arkled with humor.

  Star Path sat for awhile, attaching colored porcupine quills to a buckskin dress much like the one she was wearing. After a while she stood and tended to the fire, presenting her wide bottom in Squire’s direction. Knowing he could not see her face, she smiled. It was a view that usually enticed him, and, she realized, she wanted him. Badly.

  When he had first shown up in camp, her heart had beat crazily for a few minutes. But then she had convinced herself that he was just stopping by to pay his respects to Sky Hawk and some of the others, that he had no more interest in her. With sadness weighing heavily on her wide shoulders, she had gone back to her lodge. But hope did not die easily, and so she had dressed in her finest long-sleeved doeskin dress, bleached and tanned creamy white, decorated with beads, porcupine quills, horsehair and tin cones across the breast. A fringe of thongs, capped by more tin cones, clacked at the bottom. Matching leggings went on, and her feet were clad in moccasins so soft they could be crushed in her one hand. The tops of the moccasins were covered in colorful beads. Her hair was parted in the center, the part painted with vermilion, and hung in two braids, one on each side of her head. The braids were wrapped in otter fur, and at the bottom of each dangled a feather.

  She looked her best, and knew it. But there had been more to do. So she had killed one of the fattest little pups in the village and roasted it up tender and juicy. And she paid special attention to the seasonings she put into her buffalo stew.

  Then she had waited, showing nothing on her face, but with hope—and fear—gripping her insides. She thought she might pass out when he had arrived and took his seat, almost as if nothing had happened. She was giddy with happiness, but anger worked its way into her being, too. He assumed too much perhaps, she thought.

  But, still, he was here, and that was all that mattered now. So she offered her broad, firm behind to him, wanting him aroused.

  Squire’s spoon stopped midway between the wood bowl and his lips when Star Path bent over the fire. He knew she was not the most attractive woman he had ever seen, but, damn, there was something special about her. He couldn’t understand what it was, but the curve of her thick thighs and the sweep of broad hip around to the behind, the dark skin coloring, the full-nippled big breasts, attracted him no end.

  And there was more to it, he knew, as he managed to get the spoon into his mouth. She was a good cook, and no one could tan a hide—buffalo or beaver—better than she. Star Path was companionable, outgoing, caring and—certainly not the least of it—lusty.

  Squire finally finished eating and dropped the bowl. He wiped his horn spoon on the hem of his shirt and headed into the lodge. Star Path, who had said nothing all the while, followed him silently. But once inside, she exploded, scolding him harshly once they were away from the prying eyes and ears of the village. She berated him—her words an amalgam of Sioux, French and English—for being away so long, for leaving her to worry about him. And, she finally demanded, where were the geegaws and such he had always brought for her in the past? Did he expect her to swoon just because he had walked back into her life? Did he think he had something that no other man had? Or perhaps that it was bigger?

  He stoically listened until he had had enough. He didn’t clobber her to shut her up, as most men would have done to their squaws. He simply raised one massive hand, and she quieted.

  She fought not to smile. She had pushed as far as she wanted. She did not want to drive him away. Just the opposite. But she had to vent her feelings, let him know that she had missed him, had worried herself sick wondering if he was still alive, if he would ever come back, if . . .

  She moved up to him, the anger replaced by an almost desperate affection in the warmth of her man’s arms. She was willing and supple despite her heavy breasts, ample middle and fleshy thighs.

  Star Path forced him onto his back, and quickly stripped him down. He lay, hard and proud, with his head on folded arms to watch her skin off the doeskin dress. She folded it carefully and placed it out of the way, taking the time to preserve one of her most cherished possessions despite the desire that ached between her legs.

  Then she crawled all over Squire, her lips, tongue and hands busy, enticing, teasing him, building him up. Until at last she mounted him, impaling herself as far as she could. He grunted as her silky sheath enveloped him and she moaned.

  The drumming from the village entered their systems, and they moved in time to its rhythm. Sweat glistened on Star Path’s upper lip and forehead, and in the canyon between her swaying breasts. Squire reached his head up and tongued the nipples, working his way from one to the other, while his beard tickled her belly.

  Star Path screamed and her vagina spasmed, clutching at his penis. His hips raised involuntarily as the passion overwhelmed him. His huge hands gripped her buttocks hard; her work-broken fingernails raked his chest. Then she slumped down on him as they both gasped for air.

  In the peaceful afterward, they joyfully ate and talked and laughed, comfortable with each other. Some time later they came together again, furiously grasping each other. Then came much needed sleep.

  As was his custom, Squire was awake long before dawn. He kissed the still-sleeping Star Path, who murmured in her sleep and smiled at the touch of his lips. Then he was gone. She knew that this time he would be back—soon.

  Sitting across the fire from Bellows, Squire smiled, thinking of it, and knew he would be with her again before long. There was a stirring in his crotch, and he pushed the pleasant memory of last night away. Right now, he knew, there were more important— though far less pleasurable—things to deal with.

  “The lads have any trouble with the horses last night?” he asked Bellows.

  “Nope. Old Sky Hawk was bein’ generous, I’m thinkin’. Told his boys to lay off and not to mess with our possibles. Besides, most of them goddamn young bucks was too fallin’-down drunk to be able to do much even if’n they was of a mind to.”

  “What be your thinkin’ on it for tonight?”

  “Can’t say, Nathaniel. Nope. But I reckon they ain’t about to pay no heed to Sky Hawk—even if’n he suggests they leave our possibles alone agin.”

  “Aye. My thinkin’, too.”

  “You expect trouble?” Melton asked, concern darkening his face.

  “Not trouble really, Colonel,” Squire said. “But them Sioux boys will be makin’ a try at stealin’ our horses afore we leave. That be certain. The trick is figurin’ out how and when. Since we be leavin’ tomorrow, it’ll most likely be tonight. They didn’t try nothin’ last night ’cause that would’ve made ’em bad hosts. ’Sides, they figure we’ll be lulled into thinkin’ e’erthing be all right since they left us alone last night.”

  “But why would they do that, Nathaniel?” Melton asked in wonder. “They are your friends. Sky Hawk is Homer’s friend from a long way back. Why would they steal our horses?” Squire packed some tobacco in his mouth and chewed. Then he said, “Well, Colonel, it ain’t exactly stealin’ to them people. It be more like a game. Just to see if’n they can do it. The challenge be in the doin’, not so much what ye gain from it. They’d be keepin’ the horses, of course, if’n they can get ’em, but the gettin’ of ’em be the most important thing. It be like countin’ coup.”

  “Counting coup?”

  “Aye. Most Injins out here be thinkin’ a buck is a heap braver if’n he can get close enough to be touchin’ an armed enemy with his hand or a quirt or coup stick than it be to kill that man. Same with horse stealin’. It don’t matter whether ye get one horse or a hundred, long’s ye can get ’em away from their rightful owner.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Melton said, truly offended.

  “Mayhap to your thinkin’, Colonel,” Squire said with a grin. “But they figure if’n they can steal your horses, then it be your fault.”

  “What?”

  “It be your fault for not bein’ watchful enough to keep ’em from gettin’ took. Ye can’t be keepin’ a close enough eye on your p
ossibles, whate’er they be, then it’s only right they be took from ye.” He was laughing, mostly at the expression on Melton’s face.

  Finally Melton’s harsh look eased and he chuckled. “I think I see their point.”

  The men rose to see to their work. As the day wore on, the resilience of youth overcame most of the effects of last night’s whiskey, and by afternoon some of the Colonel’s men wandered back toward the village, wanting to see new friends, or perhaps spend a few more minutes with one of the willing girls. Some carried armfuls of foofaraw, taken against their wages to be paid out for the latter purpose.

  Young Sioux warriors began to show up in the camp, and Squire and Bellows warned the men to keep a close watch on anything that could be easily picked up. While the Sioux were not as bad as the Crows, who would steal anything they could get their hands on, they still couldn’t be trusted completely.

  “I don’t like it, Nathaniel,” Bellows said. “Nope. Them Sioux is spendin’ a heap of time lookin’ over our horses.”

  “I be aware of it. But they ain’t gonna try anything whilst it still be light. But I be certain now they’ll be tryin’ for them horses come night. ”

  “Yep.”

  “Ye get your fill of talkin’ with Sky Hawk done?”

  “Yep. Goddamn buzzard could talk the ears off’n a deaf man.”

  “Bon” He laughed. “How ’bout the other?”

  “Nary can get enough of that, boy. But I’ll see to that afore dark.” He chuckled.

  “Poor goddamn squaw,” Squire laughed. “Lord, it be bad enough she had to put up with ye in the dark last night, but in the light? Goddamn, she must’ve angered the spirits somethin’ awful.”

  “Shit,” Bellows said, drawing the word out. But he was laughing when he said it.

  “Well, if’n she ain’t Sky Hawk’s old granny, she must be blinder’n a goddamn fence post.”

  Bellows’s grin seemed as if it would wrap all the way around his head.

  “Goddamn,” Squire snorted, “ye mean ye found ye a young’un? Well, ye best be takin’ one heap of foofaraw, for it be the only way some old coon like ye is gonna get a young squaw to be takin’ e’en the tiniest look at ye in the daylight. ”