Apache Summer sb-3

by Heather Graham

  "A press! A printing press! I need it for the Wiltshire Sun!"

  "Your uncle's newspaper? But he's--dead, Miss. Stuart."

  "The Wiltshire Sun is not dead, Lieutenant, nor do I intend to let it

  die.

  I will not take a step without that printing press."

  A spark of silver touched his eyes as they narrowed upon her.

  "Don't threaten me, Miss. Stuart."

  "I'm not threatening! I'm telling you what will and will not happen."

  He took a step toward her and spoke very quietly.

  "Miss. Stuart, you will move when I say so, ma'am, because I'll set you

  upon your pretty little--er--rump within the wagon, and one of my men

  will drive."

  "You wouldn't dare! I'll tell your superiors" -- "You tell them anything

  you want. Want to test me?"

  She gritted her teeth and stared into his eyes.

  "I need that press, Lieutenant."

  He stood still, hard, cold, immobile. "Lieutenant, please! I need that

  printing press! It would only take your men a few minutes. Please!"

  For a moment he continued to stare at her. Then he turned around,

  calling to Sergeant Monahan. The men were ordered to move the press into

  one of the wagons that could still roll." Private Harper!" Slater

  called.

  "Hitch your horse to the rear and drive the extra wagon."

  "Yes, sir!"

  Tess exhaled slowly. Lieutenant Slater east her a hard glare, then

  turned around. He strode away, calling for his men to see to the last of

  the fires, then mount up. When he had gone, Tess realized that the

  handsome Indian with the striking eyes was silently watching her. He

  saluted with a smile, as if she had managed very well. Then he, too,

  turned away.

  Tess was certain it was a long day for the cavalry. The men were

  accustomed. to moving quickly--now they were burdened down by the

  wagons. The landscape was beautiful-- and monotonous. The land was a

  constant pale, dusty brown, the little bit of color against it the dull

  green of sage and cactus.

  She was determined not to complain, but the dust soon covered her, and

  after endless hours of driving the six mules that pulled her wagon, she

  was exhausted. Her arms hurt in places where she hadn't realized she had

  muscles. She could have said something, she was certain. The majority of

  the young cavalry men were kind and solicitous, riding by her whenever

  they could, asking her if she needed anything. But each time a man drove

  by, she saw Lieutenant Slater in the distance beyond him, and so she

  smiled sweetly and said that she was doing very well.

  He had to stop. He had to stop sometime.

  He finally called a halt when the sun began to fall into the horizon and

  the whole world went pink again. He stayed away from her, but she knew

  he was watching her. Was he judging her?

  Trying to decide if she was crazy or if she was having female whimsies?

  She had to keep a tight lid on her temper. No matter what he did or

  said, she had to keep quiet. When she reached his fort she would speak

  calmly and rationally with the commander, and she would make him

  understand.

  "Miss. Stuart!" Sergeant Monahah rode over to her, then dismounted from

  his horse.

  "Let me help me you down, miss. I'll see to your mules and the wagon."

  "Thank you, Sergeant. I can really" -- She broke off, nearly falling as

  he helped her from the wagon. He held her steady as her feet touched the

  ground, and she smiled for him.

  "Thank you again. I guess I do need some help."

  "At your service."

  She felt she was being watched. She looked over Monahan's shoulder and

  there was Slater, still mounted on his huge horse, overseeing his men as

  they broke their formation to make camp. He tipped his hat to her, and

  she felt something run hot and liquid inside her. He was watching her in

  Monahan's arms, and very likely acknowledging a feminine ability to draw

  others to handle her own responsibilities.

  Her temper started to soar.

  Monahah stepped back, and his wide baby blue eyes were full of

  gentleness and kindness and maybe just a bit of adoration.

  He was a wonderful man, just like a great big shaggy bear. The devil to

  Lieutenant Slater. If his men wanted to behave like gentlemen, she had

  no intention of stopping them.

  "Miss. Stuart, Lieutenant Slater rode this far because we know this

  place. If you go just past that ridge yonder, there's the prettiest

  little brook. It's mostly surrounded by dry rock, but the water runs

  pure and clean. There's an area up there far from where we'll water the

  horses. You can take a walk up there and find all the privacy you might

  desire." "Thank you again, Sergeant," Tess said.

  "I would dearly love a bath.

  I'll take you up on your suggestion." She hurried to the back of the

  wagon and found clean clothing, a bar of soap and a towel. When she

  emerged again, Sergeant Monahah was unharnessing the mules. He pointed

  toward the ridge.

  She could see that some of the soldiers were headed in the other

  direction.

  She smiled again and hurried toward the ridge. She was puffing slightly

  when she walked over it, but then she gasped with delight.

  The brook was surrounded by boulders and high rocks, but there were

  little tufts of grass growing between the rocks, and a few wildflowers

  had managed to eke out an existence there. The evening was pink and gold

  and very beautiful, and she could hear the sound of the water as it ran.

  It looked so cool and delicious after the dry dust of the day.

  She clambered down the rocks to a broad ledge, dropped her towel and

  soap and clothing and sat down, hurriedly untying her shoes. Staring at

  the clean, fresh water, she pulled her blouse from her skirt and quickly

  shed it, then her skirt and shift and pantalcts and hose. She stepped

  down the rock, so entranced by the water that she never once realized

  she wasn't alone.

  Barefoot and bare-chested, his cavalry trousers rolled above his ankles,

  Jamie Slater sat in the shadow of a rock, swearing softly. His own bath

  had just gone straight downhill. And he didn't mean to be a voyeur, but

  she had stripped so damned quickly, and he'd been so darned surprised

  that he had just stayed there.

  Watching.

  She was like a nymph, an angel cast out from the evils of the heat and

  the plain. Her skin was alabaster, her breasts perfect. Her waist was

  very trim, her derriere rich and lush and flaring out from that narrow

  waist, and her legs were so long and shapely that they suggested the

  most decadent dreams, the most sensual imaginings. Angel . vixen . her

  hair streamed around her like the sunset, thick and cascading, falling

  over her bare shoulders, curling around her breasts, haunting, teasing,

  evocative.

  He fell back, groaning slightly.

  Tess didn't see him. She plunged into the water, amazed that she could

  still draw such simple pleasure when the pain of. Joe's loss was still

  so strongly with her. But she was still alive, and the water was so cool

  and clean after the dust and filth of th
e plains. It came just to her

  ankles at first, and there were little rocks and pebbles beneath her

  feet, so she had to be careful walking. Then the water became deeper,

  and she sank into it, stretching out, soaking her hair, floating,

  shivering, delighted. The sun was still warm, the water almost cold, and

  together they were marvelous. She swam around in the shallows, careful

  not to hit her arms and legs on the pebbles, then found a smooth shelf

  to stand on and scrubbed herself thoroughly with the soap, rising to

  form rich suds, sinking beneath the surface again to rinse them away.

  She scrubbed her hair, fee ring wonderful as she removed the dirt and

  grime from her scalp. Finally she rose from the water. She paused,

  ringing out her hair, then hut- fled to where she had left her things.

  She picked up her towel and studiously rubbed herself dry, then sat upon

  the ledge to dry her hair before donning her clean clothing.

  She stretched, elosing her eyes and leaning against the rock, which was

  still warm from the sun. The last of the dying rays touched her body,

  and she elosed her eyes for a moment.

  When she opened them, she nearly screamed, Lieutenant Slater was

  standing above her. His shirt hung open over his chest, and he was

  barefoot and grim.

  She opened her mouth to protest. She was stark naked, and he was staring

  down at her without the least apology. But when she opened her mouth, he

  suddenly drew his gun and fired off several shots.

  She'd never seen a gun move so fast or heard anything like the way the

  Colt spit and fired in fury.

  She didn't gasp; she didn't scream. She thought he had lost his mind,

  but when she twisted to grasp her towel, she paused, stunned, staring at

  the carcass of the dead moccasin that had been barely a foot away from

  her.

  She looked up at the lieutenant, unable to speak, unable to move. He had

  saved her life, she realized. She had been completely unaware of the

  snake that she had so carelessly disturbed.

  He didn't say anything, just looked at her, his gray eyes sliding over

  her body, and everywhere they touched her, she felt fire coursing

  through her.

  She felt her nipples harden, and she was horrified that they did so, but

  still she didn't manage to say a word.

  He slid his Colt into his hip holster and spoke at last. "You need to be

  more careful about the rocks you choose, Miss. Stuart," he said.

  She heard running footsteps. He quickly reached for her towel and handed

  it to her. She clutched it to her breasts as a young private suddenly

  appeared.

  "Lieutenant! I heard the shots!"

  "It's all right, Hardy. It was me. A snake. Nothing that could shoot

  back."

  The private was ~taring at them, wide-eyed. "That's all, Hardy."

  "Yes, sir, Lieutenant."

  The private saluted. Slater saluted in return. Then he tipped his hat to

  her and turned around. Tess reddened to a dark crimson and watched as he

  picked his way upstream. She saw his socks and boots on a flat boulder,

  and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. He had been there all the

  time.

  She leaped to her feet and hurried into her fresh clean clothing with

  shaking fingers. She could barely tie her pink ribboned corset, and she

  had to do the buttons on her blouse twice.

  She pulled on clean hose and her shoes and looked at the rock.

  He was waiting. Waiting for her to leave. He sat on the ledge, his toes

  in the water.

  He looked up as if he felt her watching him.

  "It's almost dark, Miss. Stuart, if you don't mind."

  "If I don't mind! You--you sat there through my bath, Lieutenant!"

  she sputtered.

  "Lucky I did," he replied pleasantly.

  She was alive. Maybe she was lucky. But that wasn't the point, and he

  knew it.

  He shrugged, rising, casting off his shirt.

  "It really doesn't matter that much to me, Miss. Stuart. You're welcome

  to stay. Maybe you'll even want to join me ... ?" She swung around,

  furious.

  He was ready to strip down with her standing right there. He'd sat and

  stared at her while she had been completely naked, assuming she was

  alone.

  She'd given him a whole damned show in the water! Swearing softly, she

  plodded away, anxious to quit the brook. She hurried to her wagon and

  sat on the bunk, hugging her arms to her chest.

  Damn him. Just remembering his eyes upon her made her breasts swell

  again and her nipples harden to taut peaks.

  When she closed her eyes it didn't help. She remembered the way that his

  shirt had hung open over his chest, and the sandy dark hair that grew in

  rich profusion there, the ripple of tight muscle on his abdomen, the

  swell of it at his breast and shoulders.

  "Miss. Stuart?" It was Sergeant Monahan. "Yes?" She almost shouted the

  word.

  He was at the rear of the wagon, smiling.

  "Wasn't that just the prettiest little brook you've ever seen?"

  "Absolutely beautiful," she said evenly. But it didn't

  matter--apparently word of the shots had gotten out.

  Another one of the men stepped behind Monahan, nodding respectfully to

  her.

  "Monahan! Hardy says she almost got it from a moccasin. Luckily the

  lieutenant was near and blasted the thing to kingdom come. Ma'am, it is

  the prettiest little brook around, but you be careful from here on out,

  you hear?

  You've become pretty important to all of us."

  "Thank you, that's very kind," she murmured, but she knew that she was

  blushing again. Everyone knew what had happened.

  But they didn't really know. They didn't know what it had felt like when

  his eyes had touched her naked flesh. "Rations aren't much, ma'am, but

  one of the boys brought in a few trout. May I fix you a plate and bring

  you some coffee?" Monaban asked her.

  "Please," she agreed.

  "That would be very nice." Monaban brought her a plate of food, the

  other young man brought her coffee. She thanked them both. Then, as she

  ate, it seemed that every man in the company came by to see how she was,

  if she would like anything, if she needed anything, anything at all, for

  the night.

  She thanked them all, and when they left, and the darkness fell, and the

  camp became silent, she smiled. They were Yanks, but a good group of

  them. Maybe there was hope. She believed again. There were von Heusens

  in the world, but there were others, too, good people. She just had to

  keep fighting. She had to hold on to the ranch and she had to keep the

  Wiltshire newspaper going.

  "Miss. Stuart."

  She started, feeling every nerve within her body come alive. She knew

  the voice. Knew the deep tone, low and husky and somehow capable of

  slipping beneath her skin. It was a sensual, sexy voice, and it awakened

  things in her she was certain had died beneath the rifle fire of the

  last years of the war, She inhaled quickly. If she was silent, he might

  just walk away. He might believe that she slept and just walk away.

  But he wouldn't. He knew she was awake. She sensed it, a
nd she resented

  him for his easy knowledge of her.

  "Yes?" she asked crisply.

  "I just wanted to make sure that you were all right."

  "I'm fine, Lieutenant."

  "Is there anything you need?"

  "I want you to believe me, Lieutenant. And you're not offering me that."

  He was silent. She hoped he would turn away, but she sensed he was

  smiling.

  "You didn't thank me. For saving your life."

  "Ah, yes. Thank you for saving my life." She found herself crawling the

  length of the bunk, then defying him over the rear edge of the wagon.

  "Lieutenant?"

  "yes?"

  "Come closer, please."

  He took a step nearer. Tess let her hand fly across his cheek. He

  instantly caught her wrist, and she was glad of the surprised and

  furious fire in his eyes as they caught hers. She kept smiling, even if

  his fingers did seem to be a vise around her, even if the air seemed

  charged with electricity. Even if she was just a little bit afraid that

  he was going to drag her out of the wagon and down beneath him into the

  dirt.

  "I do thank you for saving my life, Lieutenant. But that was for the

  ungentlemanly way in which you did so."

  She pulled on her hand. He didn't let go. His eyes glittered silver in

  the moonlight.

  I'll try to remember, Miss. Stuart, that you are most particular about

  the way a man goes about saving your life," he told her.

  "You know exactly what I'm saying."

  "I never meant to give you offense."

  "Never?"

  "I do swear so, Miss. Stuart. I kept my presence quiet because you were

  as bare as a baby before I realized it. And then, well, I do admit, I

  was caught rather speechless."

  "You weren't speechless on the rock!"

  He smiled slowly.

  "No."

  "Oh, you ... Yank!"

  She tugged on her wrist again. He didn't release her at first, then his

  fingers slowly unwound. He was smiling, she realized. And his eyes fell

  over her again, and she felt as if he was burning the sight of her into

  his memory. A flame shot high within her, and she didn't know if she was

  horrified-or fascinated.

  "Good night, Miss. Stuart," he said softly. Then he did walk away. She

  didn't move, and after a moment he turned back.

  "Miss. Stuart?"

  "What?"

  He hesitated.

  "You're a very beautiful woman. Very beautiful."

  He didn't wait for an answer. He walked away and disappeared into the