Under Wraps

by Patricia Green

  “Amina?” she called as she climbed into the wagon. “How’s Hakki?”

  Hakki answered for himself. “Alive, mistress.” His voice was deeper than Glee remembered, husky with fever and somewhat breathless.

  Amina gestured. “He wishes to see Erdogan buried, Glee, but I do not think he’s strong enough.”

  “I agree, Amina.” Then to Hakki: “I’m sorry, Hakki. I won’t risk your life just so you can see Erdogan laid to rest.” She patted his knee. “He’s gone, Hakki. We’ll all miss him.”

  Hakki’s eyes closed for a moment. “Allah is wise.”

  Glee felt prickles along her eyelids at those simple words and blinked hard to keep the moisture back. She nodded. “Yes, my friend,” she said. “Allah is wise.”

  Once at the wagon’s tail she looked at Amina again, at the tender expression on her face as she sponged Hakki’s brow with cool water. Glee’s chest tightened. She didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow she had lost more than Erdogan on this horrid trek. Amina was far away now, too. Some instinct told her that whatever was between her maid and Hakki was deep and abiding, not the quenching of a sexual thirst as Amina’s other lovers over the years had been.

  She took a few steps away from the wagon. A tremor of loneliness swept over her, making her hands clench into fists and her eyes squeeze tightly shut. When she opened them, her gaze was met by a pair of tawny eyes. Even across the twenty yards which separated them, Glee could feel Alex’s mind boring into her soul through that golden stare, tugging on the strings binding the ragged pieces of her pride and courage together. It was a hard look, a demanding look which asked too much of her. Trust me, querida. Lean on me, it said.

  “I hate you,” she whispered, and pressed her eyes closed again. A hot, wet truth slipped down her cheek to rest, salty, against the lie on her lips. Quickly, she wiped it away and turned back to the wagon long enough to tell Amina to come out for Erdogan’s burial. She shoved her hand deep into the pocket of her tattered green-striped dress and waited, staring at the glowing embers of the camp fire until Amina touched her.

  “You know what we’re going to do?” she said softly to the smaller woman.

  Amina nodded, casting a worried glance toward Alex.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Alex had donned a clean shirt, though he hadn’t buttoned it. It had belonged to Erdogan, and Amina had presented him with it and two others over coffee earlier. The sleeves were too short, and so had been rolled up to expose thick, dark-veined forearms, but the simple tan flannel complimented his coloring and heightened the gold of his eyes. Glee dragged her gaze back to the round body which had been laid in the bottom of the grave.

  Amina handed her the shovel, and Glee threw token clods of dirt into the hole.

  “Goodbye, Erdogan. I’ll never forget you,” she whispered.

  Amina gestured, “God is merciful,” before she took the shovel from Glee and added some dirt.

  Alex took the shovel and paused, crossing himself and murmuring something. It took him fifteen minutes to fill in the grave, heaping the soil to match the other, less lovingly prepared one twenty feet further down the slope. No one would miss Jake Fletcher.

  The two women waited until the last rock was placed before they moved. Glee nodded and Amina stepped away toward the wagon.

  The gleam of shining gun-metal flashed as Glee cocked her pistol and pointed it at Alex.

  “Drop the shovel,” she said, her voice like the ice and snow patches tenaciously clinging in the shade of trees and boulders.

  Alex’s gaze darkened to match the tan of his shirt, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “Make me,” he dared.

  A bullet exploded from Glee’s pistol and grabbed at the flesh of his forearm. The shovel dropped from his fingers as slow awareness crept over his face. He watched a trickle of blood course down his arm and into his palm for a moment, then pinned Glee with dark eyes and a smile which made her flinch.

  “What makes you think I’d rather have a noose than a bullet?” he asked. “You are planning to take me to Salt Lake, hmm, amada?”

  She nodded then gestured with the gun. “Step away from the grave. The next bullet will be more than a track.”

  He took two steps backward and the business end of the pistol followed him steadily. “You don’t want to kill me, Glee,” he said. “You want to kiss me, and it’s making you loco to want an outlaw, isn’t it?”

  “Shut up!” She glanced toward the wagon, where Amina was emerging. “Amina! Hurry up with those manacles!”

  “Put down the gun, pequeña tigresa.” He took a step toward her. Another bullet was loosed and just missed the toe of his boot. He grinned, though the expression did not make it up to his darkened eyes. “Gracias. I like those toes.”

  Amina hurried up to Glee and shot a worried look at Alex.

  Glee’s focus never left Alex. “Go on and put the manacles on him, Amina.”

  The black woman hesitated, holding the heavy iron cuffs gingerly.

  “Go on!” Glee cried. A bead of sweat trickled over her brow and down her cheek. The second found her eye and she was blinded for a moment as her eyes closed automatically.

  Alex leapt and the gun went off. Amina screamed eerily and Glee felt the ground rush up to meet her back hard, forcing the breath from her lungs. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and squeezed until the gun fell from her limp fingers. She struggled, kicking and flailing, as the big man pinned her to the dirt. A heavy thigh crooked over her legs. Strong fingers locked around her wrists and pressed them to her sides. Suddenly, a loud clang rent the gasping, cursing air, and the struggling stopped.

  Alex’s dark head lay limply against Glee’s heaving bosom like a lover. Glee looked up and found Amina standing over them, the shovel held, club-like, in her hands. Glee closed her eyes, as her composure and breath began to return.

  “Help get him off me, Amina. He must weigh as much as the two of us combined,” she said.

  They struggled with Alex’s inert form for the better part of an hour, pushing and pulling, dragging him, until he was shackled and manacled in the wagon bed.

  The women stood at the wagon’s tail, catching their breath for several minutes before Amina started gesturing to Glee. “Are you sure you can handle the horses, Glee?”

  Glee shot her a stern look and quirked an auburn eyebrow. “Fine time to ask, Amina.”

  Amina frowned.

  “Of course I can handle the horses! I’m smarter than they are, aren’t I?”

  Amina looked into the wagon and then back at Glee and shrugged.

  Glee snorted. “Thank you very much for that vote of confidence!” She began moving toward the front of the wagon, where Alex had thoughtfully left the horses in their traces so that they could leave right after the burials. “Anyway, I’ll just have to. I’m tired of wondering who that man is. Let the authorities in Salt Lake figure it out. I just want to go home.”

  * * * *

  Amina didn't bother to catch up to her temperamental red-haired friend to ask her exactly what she meant by "home." It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. Instead, she climbed into the wagon and began dividing her time soothing Hakki and pressing cold compresses to the knot on the back of Alex's skull.

  When the wagon started moving with a jerky, half-controlled motion, she sent a silent prayer heavenward.

  * * * *

  The sun was high, at its zenith, when they started again toward Salt Lake City. The mountain roads were rough, often too deeply rutted to traverse with any speed. Now and then the horses would fret or stumble and Glee's hands began to cramp and ache after two hours. Stoically, she grit her teeth, and forced herself to think of something else.

  The scenery was exquisite and soothing. Aspen trees gave way to pine, dark green, even this late in the fall. Mocking blue jaybirds followed their passage, flitting from tree to tree through the lower mountain pass. The air was still and cold. No wind penetrated Glee's thick leather coat, but her nose felt a
nip and she pulled her scarf down further over her ears to keep them warm. The higher they climbed into the Wasatch Range, the fewer shallow snow banks had melted.

  Glee thought about Boston, wondering if they had seen the first snowfall yet, and deciding that it was still likely a few weeks away. There it would be Indian summer, warm and golden with autumn foliage and summer sun.

  She turned her head quickly to see a white-tailed deer stop and stare at her. The movement caused a spasm of pain across her shoulders, and she struggled with a wave of self-pity. Lord, she thought, if only I was as free as that doe. No one would make demands on me. I wouldn't have to be responsible for other people, or to other people. Who would there be to care how I spent my time? The males wouldn't act like ninnies at the mere sight of me, demanding my attention, ignoring completely whatever I had to say in favor of staring at my breasts. Even stags in rut couldn't be as insulting as that! she decided.

  The only man who'd ever treated her like a person was Raymond and he was in Boston. Although even he had his weaknesses. But at least he was honest. He'd been very clear about his purpose in parading her about the Soutraine's ball. It most certainly hadn't been to show off his cousin's knowledge of literature! Too bad it had been such a spectacular disaster for her. Glee sighed. At least Raymond had enjoyed the results.

  The horses balked slightly and tugged on the reins, and Glee's attention returned to the task of leading the wagon along the trail. They rounded a curve and crested a hill and the plod-plod-plod of the horses hooves and creak of the wagon sent Glee back to thinking.

  If only things had been different. Perhaps if Raymond hadn't been her cousin she could have found herself romantically interested in him. Perhaps she would have even married him and remained in Boston. Perhaps even enjoyed his kisses and caresses.

  Her nose wrinkled at the thought. No. He was Raymond, her cousin, like a brother to her. It was repulsive to imagine more than a private conversation between them. He never could have brought forth that astonishing wave of pure liquid heat as Alex had that night in the dark jail cell.

  Merde! she thought with a mental shake. So what if Alex caused her body to react! Surely he wasn't the only man in the world who could do that... Was he? Anyway, it didn't matter. Glee had no intention of finding out. Never again would she be seduced by a man like him. A man who quoted Byron and Browning with ease. A man who seemed to know her very thoughts, even when she wasn't sure of them. A man who teased and coaxed smiles from her, and whose tawny gaze made her flesh vibrate everywhere it touched, and in places it didn't.

  "Never!" she said, half-sobbing. "I hope no one ever touches me again."

  Chapter 21

  A lex awoke face down on a narrow pallet in the back of the jouncing wagon. Water trickled into his ears and left a wet patch on the blanket. His skull felt like it had been cleaved in two, and he wondered how he had survived an axe blow.

  Low whispered words brought his head up slightly, and he groaned at the throb across the back. A cool cloth miraculously found its way to the ache and soothed enough for him to venture another look around.

  Amina hung over him, removed the cloth, dipped it into a pan of water with a chunk of snow floating in it, and put it back on his head. "Gracias," he mumbled.

  She signed, "You're welcome," then turned away.

  Alex drifted in and out of sleep for a while; he didn't know how long. When he came to consciousness again, he found his head still splitting, but bearable. Sitting up was hampered only slightly by the shackles on his ankles and manacles on his wrists, and more by the need to keep his head as still as possible. He eyed Hakki who dozed with his head on Amina's lap, and then glanced toward the front of the wagon. They lurched and tilted over the rutted road and every bump and jostle sent a shock of pain through Alex's brain.

  "How long have I been out?" he asked Amina.

  Her coffee-brown eyes flicked to the opening at the front of the wagon, judging time by the light of the sky. She held up three fingers.

  "Three hours," he said flatly, examining the white bandage around his forearm where Glee had winged him. "You really gave me a wallop. I assume it is our desagradable, sanguinario mujer who drives the horses."

  Amina stared blankly at him.

  "Disagreeable, bloodthirsty female," he explained. "Glee."

  Amina nodded.

  "I thought she was afraid of horses."

  Again, Amina nodded. They jounced with another rut and lurched sharply to the right.

  "¡Demonio!" he cursed, holding his head. The wagon seemed to be picking up speed—too much speed. "What the hell is she doing?"

  Amina looked worriedly toward the front of the wagon and then moved Hakki's head gently from her lap. She opened the front covering and gasped.

  The horses were running wildly, Glee yanking on the reins frantically. Over small hills and through the trees they ran, bounding over rocks and into ruts.

  Amina hung onto the wagon frame and tapped Glee's shoulder.

  "Oh, God, Amina," Glee shouted over the din of the horses' hooves. "Oh, God! I don't know how to make them stop!"

  "Get out of my way!" Alex yelled as he made his way to the front of the wagon, catching himself on the odd trunk or barrel of flour to keep from falling. His manacled hands were an impediment, but he kept moving, a string of curses flowing smoothly from his lips.

  "Alex," Glee cried. "How do I make them stop? How?"

  Amina moved aside as Alex came up.

  "Damned, stubborn, blind, foolish woman! Tell Amina to get these manacles off me and then get ready to hand me the reins!"

  "No!" Her head shook vigorously from side to side, as she slid across the seat with a sharp turn. "Just tell me how!"

  "Damnit, Glee!" Another string of Spanish curses. "I can't tell you! You're just not strong enough! They're out of control!"

  The wagon hit a particularly deep crevasse and flew a few feet, settling with a resounding crash before it rolled on again.

  Glee struggled harder, biting her lip until blood flowed over her chin. But the horses continued their terrified flight.

  "All right!" she shouted, her voice high and scared. "Amina, can you get the key?"

  Although Glee could not see her, Amina nodded.

  "She says she can," Alex shouted.

  Amina motioned for Alex to hold on to her waist as she leaned forward and over Glee's shoulder. Alex held her tightly, though it was nearly impossible to brace himself against the bouncing when he couldn't even plant his legs more than eighteen inches apart. A particularly sharp-cornered box found his thigh and he cursed again. A moment later Amina came in with the key.

  "Hurry!" Alex commanded.

  Once his hands were free, he vaulted onto the wagon's bench and jerked the reins from Glee's hands. The leather bit and cut into his palms and fingers as he wore no gloves, but he struggled with the team until they slowed, and then finally stopped, stamping and snorting, lathered and exhausted.

  Glee slumped forward on the seat, her hands gripping the grayish wood white-knuckled. Her face was buried in her dirty skirt, but Alex could see her slim shoulders shaking and her back heaving as she caught her breath.

  "¡Agravante mujer!" Alex yelled. "Were you trying to get us all killed, woman?"

  She didn't answer, but remained slumped over, her head almost between her knees.

  Alex looked at her with fury in his golden gaze. He wound the reins over the brake handle and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly upright. "Whatever possessed you to do such a stupid thing?"

  Her eyes went from round frightened turquoise to narrowed, glittering aquamarines. She pushed against his chest. "Don't you ever call me stupid! I was doing the best I could, you arrogant bastard! Something spooked the bloody damned horses and they ran!"

  Some of the anger went out of Alex as looked into her beautiful, dirty little face. She was doing the best she could. Unfortunately, dealing with the horses took more than beauty and intellect. It took plain, old s
trength. He released her shoulders in favor of her hands, turning them up to witness the split and torn palms of her gloves, the bleeding red welts covering the flesh beneath.

  He peeled off the ruined gray kid and flattened out her cramped, blistered fingers. She was such a feisty thing, so full of determination and fight. The blood on their hands commingled as he examined the extent of the damage to her soft skin.

  "You'll need some carbolic," he said.

  Her eyes were wet, lashes spiky, her voice a bare whisper. "I tried, Alex, really, I tried."

  "I know you did, querida. I know." He reached for the reins and started the horses moving again. Glee stared dumbly forward. "We'll only go on until we find a place to camp for the night."