Kentucky Bride

by Norah Hess

  "I think it's time you went to bed, young lady. We don't want you havin' a relapse."

  When D'lise didn't argue, he went to the trunk and, lifting the lid again, rummaged around inside it. When he straightened up, his arms were full of bed linens. He handed them to Raven. "Make up the bed, but keep back the heavy blanket."

  D'lise watched Raven pull the mattress into place and spread the sheet over it, then the blanket. When the case was pulled over the pillow, she blinked rapidly in surprise when Kane said, "Drop the bar behind us, D'lise." And while she looked at him in confusion, he picked up the blanket and, with Raven close behind him, walked to the door. Just before he stepped out into the night, he looked over his shoulder at her.

  "Have a good restful sleep," he said, "and don't worry about anything botherin' you. We'll be in the barn."

  D'lise stared at the closed door. Raven was staying the night? Did that mean the Indian woman was going to live with them? She had expected that she would be around often, but not on a regular basis.

  There was a dejected curve to her mouth when she moved across the floor and dropped the heavy bar into its slot, then pulled her dress over her head. She hung the garment on a peg, kicked off her moccasins, and crawled into bed. Scrag jumped up behind her and wiggled his way under the covers until he could snuggle up beside her.

  D'lise's cheeks were wet with unexplained tears when finally her eyes drifted shut.

  Chapter Six

  The sun had just begun to shine through the barn window when Kane came awake. He pushed Raven's drawn-up leg off him and with a grimace sat up, running his fingers through his long hair and dislodging pieces of hay and straw. Raven had given him release three times last night, but that deep-down satisfaction had eluded him. Something had been missing.

  He drew up his knees and started to rest his chin on them, then jerked his head away. He smelled something awful—a mixture of sweat, spilled passion, and the bear grease Raven used on her hair. There was no way he'd go around D'lise smelling like this. He'd done that once, and her straight little nose had wrinkled with distaste.

  He stood up, gathered up his clothes, and left the sleeping woman.

  The air was crisp and the sky clear as Kane made his way to the back of the barn where a branch of the Ohio flowed. He gasped a little when he stepped into the cold water, but waded on until he came to its center, which reached mid-thigh. Gritting his teeth, he eased himself down into the stream. When his body became accustomed to its biting chill, he scooped up a handful of sand and began to scrub himself.

  When he was satisfied that only a clean masculine odor clung to him, he stepped shivering onto the grassy bank. Using his palms, he rubbed what water he could off his body, then struggled into his buckskins and moccasins. He'd dry his hair when he reached the cabin.

  Coming upon the building, Kane tested its door to see if D'lise had remembered to bar it. It held fast, and he walked to the window. He reached down behind a large rock and brought up the broken blade of a hunting knife. It had rested there since the cabin was constructed, its prime purpose being to slide under and lift the latch that kept the two sides of the shutter together.

  The piece of steel did its job, and folding back the wooden slats, Kane swung one long leg over the window sill. He straddled it a moment, looking to see if D'lise had awakened. When the slight mound under the covers didn't stir, he brought his other leg through the opening and quietly walked to the shelf beneath the mirror. Looking at his image, he rubbed his brown, curly beard a minute, then picked up a pair of scissors lying beside a razor and shaving mug.

  The snip of the blades was loud in the silence of the room; even the accumulation of beard falling on the floor seemed to make a noise.

  When only a stubble remained on his jaw and chin, Kane moved quickly to the fireplace and removed the tea kettle. Lifting the lid, he found that the water was quite warm. He carried it to the mirror and poured a small amount into the mug, then wet the round bar of soap in its bottom and emptied the rest of the water into a basin. He picked up the brush, and after working up a thick lather, spread it over his face.

  With the razor in his hand, he hesitated a moment before taking the first swipe of it down his jaw. He'd worn the beard for four years and had become quite attached to it.

  His eyes moved often to D'lise's sleeping form as he wielded the sharp blade. She lay so still, her hands folded beneath her chin, her black curls spread out on the pillow. She looked like a painting, he thought.

  Kane gave a final swipe of the razor, then bent over the basin and rinsed away the remains of the lather. When he had rubbed his face and hair dry with a coarse towel, he walked over to the bed.

  As he leaned over D'lise, wondering if he should awaken her, Scrag opened one eye and hissed at him. Startled, Kane paused a moment, then lightly touched D'lise's shoulder. She stirred, rolled over onto her back, and opened her eyes.

  A cry of alarm escaped her throat as she gazed up at the stranger standing over her. "Who are you?" she squeaked. "How did you get in here?" She recognized the twinkling slate-gray eyes then and exclaimed, "Kane! You've shaved off your beard!"

  "Yeah." Kane self-consciously ran a hand over his smooth chin. "I feel as naked as a bay blue jay."

  D'lise raised herself up on an elbow to peer more closely at him. "That may be," she said, "but you look ten years younger with that brush gone." She studied the wholly masculine features, the strong lines and hard planes. "And a very nice face was hiding there. Even handsome," she teased. "How old are you?"

  Kane felt himself blushing at her compliment. He affected a careless shrug and drawled, "You think that because it's so dark in here and you can't see good. I'm thirty-one."

  He quickly turned the conversation away from himself. "Do you feel like ridin' to the post this mornin'?"

  "Yes, I do," D'lise answered at once. "I slept straight through the night and I'm feeling fine this morning."

  "Shall we get an early start then?" Kane didn't add that he preferred to get away before Raven was up and about. She would want to go with them, and it would shame D'lise to have his Indian lover with them. Piney Ridge was a small community, its female population prone to gossip. There was no telling what conclusions they might come to.

  D'lise scooted off the bed and hurried to the dress hanging on the wall. "As soon as we eat a bite and I milk Spider, we'll go." She didn't want Raven with them either. It would be nice to ride alone with Kane again and not have the Indian woman's sour face setting her teeth on edge.

  She turned around, the dress over her arm. "Would you mind stirring up the fire while I slice some salt pork?"

  Kane was incapable of answering for a moment. His throat had gone dry as his eyes fastened on her breasts, the dark areolas plainly visible through the threadbare material of her petticoat. He swallowed; then, his voice husky with arousal, he managed to croak out, "I'll get right to it."

  Within twenty minutes, the skimpy breakfast had been eaten and Kane and D'lise were walking into the barn. D'lise kept her eyes averted from the deeply asleep Raven scrunched down in a pile of hay. To look would make her imagine Kane lying beside the woman, and that was repulsive to her.

  As the milk streamed into the pail, she could hear Kane quietly saddling their mounts. A few minutes later she wondered at the sound of a shovel being used in Snowy's stall.

  She stripped the last of the milk from Spider, leaving her udder almost collapsed. She stood up just as Kane led out the stallion and mare and looked curiously at the dirt-covered tin box he carried under one arm. When they were outside and the heavy door closed behind them, Kane explained, "I had just sold my winter's catch of furs before I went off to the war. I put the money in this box and buried it in Snowy's stall."

  "I wondered what the digging was about," D'lise remarked. "Don't you trust your neighbors?"

  "Most of them I do, but there's a couple I'm not too sure of. Anyway, some renegade Indian could have set fire to the cabin just for the hell
of it, and my whole season's work would have gone up in flames."

  "You're a smart fellow, aren't you?" D'lise's eyes sparkled mischievously.

  "Not always," Kane answered. "Sometimes I do things that even an idiot would know better than to do." Like thinking it wouldn't bother me to have you around all the time, he thought.

  A short time later, with the milk strained and Scrag shut up in the cabin, Kane boosted D'lise onto the mare's back and swung himself into his own saddle. As they rode along a narrow trail, D'lise feasted her eyes on the vast sweep of forest-clad hills and valleys. Occasionally she caught glimpses of the Ohio, where white mists curled ghost-like above its serenely moving water.

  The sun was bright and warm when Kane and D'lise arrived at the crude frontier post. Kane pulled up the stallion and stared. Piney Ridge had grown in his absence. Where before there had only been the post, the hurriedly thrown together whorehouse, the school off to itself, and a few shacks inhabited by bachelor trappers, there were now several new additions.

  Across from the post was a large building constructed from rough planks with good-sized windows on each side of the door, the sign proclaiming in big black letters, Samuel Majors Emporium. Kane's gaze moved down the dusty, rutted street to the next new building sporting a shingle reading Dr. Jacob Ashley. A few yards farther his eyes encountered what must have been a church, considering the cross on its roof peak.

  Kane's attention was caught by the sound of hammering. Another new building going up, he assumed. "I wonder what that's gonna be," he muttered, not sure he liked all these changes.

  Nor was he positive about all the new cabins sprinkled about on the hillside in back of the village. Judging by the new dwellings, Piney Ridge's population had increased considerably in his absence.

  "I didn't realize that Piney Ridge was such a thriving little village," D'lise said as she urged Beauty to follow the stallion.

  "It didn't used to be," Kane remarked grumpily, swinging out of the saddle, then helping D'lise to dismount. "I hope some of my friends are still around," He tied the mounts to a well-worn hitching rack. He took D'lise's arm then, and stepping up on the post's wide porch, he led her through the open door.

  Kane and D'lise stood just inside the room a moment, letting their eyes get used to the dim interior. D'lise started when several voices called out surprised greetings to Kane.

  "Kane, you old son-of-a-gun, when did you get back?"

  "Hey, Devlin, it's good to see you!"

  Long-time friends whom Kane had drunk with, brawled with, and whored with surrounded them. Amid all the hand shaking and back slapping, D'lise came in for her share of interest. Kane noted each look given her and thought to himself, Look all you want to, men, but don't so much as lay a finger on her.

  Everyone moved to the bar, and the bartender, also the owner of the post, stuck out a ham-sized hand. "Things have been quiet around here with you gone, Devlin. I guess I'll have to bring my club out of retirement."

  "I can't believe that this bunch of troublemakers haven't been givin' you any trouble, Buck," Kane said, shaking hands.

  The big man laughed. "I'll never live to see the day this bunch behave themselves." He brought up a bottle from under the bar. Uncorking it, he said, "Belly up, men, the drinks are on me."

  There was a scramble of buckskin-covered bodies as the trappers pushed and shoved each other, trying for a spot next to D'lise. Kane spoke, half in amusement, half in irritation. "Men, meet D'lise Alexander."

  The trappers pushed forward, pressing D'lise up against the bar. She gave a frightened squeak, and Kane placed a hand on either side of her, covering her slight frame with his large body. "Take it easy, you men," he growled, "she's been sick, and you're gonna trample her to death."

  The men in front hurriedly stepped back, tramping on the toes of those behind them, who let out muted sounds of curses and grunts of pain. The mumbled, "Sorry, ma'am," was hardly heard.

  A Buck placed a tin cup of sarsaparilla in front of D'lise, then began to pour whiskey for the men, a coarse, heavy-featured man who had been drinking alone made his way down the bar to where the others were lined up.

  "So, you're back, Devlin," he said in a whiskey-slurred voice when he stopped beside Kane. "Big hero returns with a purty little gal." His reddened eyes skimmed over D'lise's face, then fastened insolently on her breasts. "I thought you only went to bed with ugly bitches," he leered.

  Kane pushed away from the bar, a muscle jerking angrily in his jaw. "You got somethin' on your mind, Bracken?"

  "Yeah. There's somethin' I'm wonderin' about. You think you're man enough to bed Raven and this little purty too? We all know that you're hung like a horse, but—"

  The rest of Albert Bracken's sneering words died on his tongue. With one swift motion, Kane's first swept up and hit his jaw with a jarring blow. The man's head snapped back; then he was lying motionless on the floor.

  A loud sigh left the onlookers in unison. Bracken was lucky it was only a fist he had felt. It could very well have been the touch of a cold, sharp blade.

  But each man there got the message that it was hands off where the little beauty was concerned.

  "What's got him all riled up?" Kane studied his bruised knuckle. "We were never close friends, but we were always civil to each other."

  It looked for a while as if no one was going to answer him as the trappers became very interested in their drinks. Finally, Buck, scratching his balding head and avoiding D'lise's wide eyes, mumbled, "Raven's been his squaw while you was gone. I guess he reckons she'll go back to you now."

  A dull red washed over Kane's face. His eyes flickered briefly to D'lise and found her pink-cheeked. Damn! What was she thinking? That he would brawl over an Indian whore? What could he say to her? If he told her he'd hit the drunk because he was enraged at the way he had looked at her, had coupled her with Raven, would she believe him?

  He mentally shook his head. It was a useless thought. She would naturally think that the blow had been struck in defense of the woman he had slept with last night.

  He lifted the cup of whiskey to his mouth, took a deep swallow, then coolly changed the subject. "The village sure has grown while I was away."

  "It sure has," Buck said as a couple of men dragged the unconscious Bracken outside. "We gotta regular store now, across the street. Run by a widower from Boston with two young'uns. Then there's Doctor Ashley's office buildin'. It's real good to have him here. Relieved the womenfolk a lot when he arrived. And we got a church now with our own preacher, no more waitin' for a travelin' one to come through. And that buildin' that's goin' up now is gonna be a hardware store."

  "I see there's several new cabins too," Kane said.

  "Yes, there are. Six new families have come in the past two years." He winked at Kane and said in an aside for his ears only, "Got three new whores too."

  Kane began to note that he and Buck were doing all the talking. He slid a curious glance at his usually loquacious friends and found them all gawking at D'lise. From the look on her downcast face, she was very uncomfortable being stared at.

  And why shouldn't she be, he thought, with eight pairs of eyes staring at her like those of hungry wolves? Pushing his empty cup away, he said, "I've come in for some supplies, Buck. My larder is bare as a bone. Will you fill me an order?"

  "Sure thing. Course I only got the usual staples. The new store carries more of a variety. Majors has things like raisins, dried fruit, crackers and cheese, and such. The women tell me that he's got all sorts of gee-gaws for them to buy. Gets them in from Boston when the weather's good."

  "What sort of fellow is he?"

  "He's nice enough. Fancy talker, proper English and all that. Real educated, I guess. Lost his wife a while back." Buck grinned. "A fine-lookin' feller. You ought to see how the single girls shine up to him. He don't seem interested though. Probably still grievin' for his wife."

  Buck walked from behind the bar and motioned for Kane and D'lise to follow him into the
storeroom. "Come on, we'll gather up your supplies."

  It took close to an hour for Kane to think of everything he needed, and for Buck to weigh and place the wrapped items on the counter. "D'lise wants to look at some dress lengths," Kane said, making D'lise look at him in surprise. She blushed in shame. He had noticed her worn-out clothing.

  "You'll have to go to the new store for that," Buck answered. "Majors carries such fancy yard goods I stopped handlin' it. Miss Alexander can find most anything she wants there."

  Kane eyed the amount of purchases he'd have to get home. "I'll have to make a couple trips before I get this all to the cabin," he muttered.

  "If it wouldn't cost too much, why don't you buy a pack animal?" D'lise said timorously, thinking of the garden she'd like to make next spring. Anyway, she doubted that either of their spirited mounts would take kindly to being loaded down with bags and bundles. Certainly they wouldn't like being hitched to a plow.

  "Yeah, I could," Kane said after a thoughtful pause. "A pack animal would come in handy when I run my traps too." He looked at Buck. "You got such around?"

  "I've got a little jackass. He's young and strong. He belonged to a homesteader who got bit by a copperhead and died."

  "How much do you want for him?" Kane's hand went to his shirt pocket where he had put his money from the tin box.

  "Considerin' he ain't mine, just pay me for the feed he's been eatin' since I had him."

  "After you've totaled everything up, will you have someone load all this on the jackass? I'm gonna take D'lise to that store and get her fixed up for the cold weather that's trampin' at our heels."

  When Kane pushed open the door to Samuel Majors's Emporium, a small bell attached to its top jingled cheerily. A drape parted behind a varnished counter and a man in his late thirties, dressed in blue plaid trousers and white shirt, stepped through it. Childish voices and laughter that had sounded behind him were muted when the heavy drape fell back in place.