My Heart's Desire

by Jo Goodman

  The rhythm of their joining threatened to spiral them out of control. Urgency overwhelmed them. Rennie's nails scored Jarret's back. His mouth seared her flesh. Their breathing was harsh, their sentences incomplete and husky. Rennie felt as if she were riding a great wave of tension, extending her entire being for something just beyond her grasp. She was lifted, stretched. Her fingers splayed and her neck arched. She reached outside of herself...

  It happened without warning. He was with her, guiding their movements, matching the frantic, hungry rhythm of their coupling, and then he was collapsing, not replete in the aftermath of lovemaking, but empty in the aborted attempt as his shoulder, arm, and hand gave way beneath him.

  His body lay heavily on hers, not comfortably, but crushingly. In a heartbeat, humiliation became blinding anger. Jarret withdrew from her, swearing viciously as he sat up. He pushed aside the blankets impatiently and fumbled with his jeans, buttoning the fly. When he felt Rennie's tentative touch on his shoulder he jerked away.

  Dazed, Rennie let her hand fall. "What is it, Jarret? What's happened?" When he didn't answer she asked, "Have I done something?"

  "Too damn much," he said tightly. "This was a bad idea from the beginning. I was a fool to think otherwise."

  "I don't understand."

  He glanced over his shoulder, but he could barely make out her profile. "Look, I'm sorry you weren't pleasured, but it's over. The next time you're feelin' frisky find some other man to ride you. I'm not interested."

  She recoiled, stunned.

  Her silence unnerved him. He swore again, raw, ugly words this time that did nothing to cleanse his wounded pride. He grabbed a fistful of blankets in his left hand and headed outside toward the fire. "Be ready to leave at first light," he said. He dropped the flap back in place and turned his back on her first jarring sob.

  Chapter 8

  Rennie's movements were stiff and slow as she crawled out of the tent. Her bones ached with cold. The sun had risen an hour earlier but gave no indication of warming the day. Its bright light cast a glare across the crusty snow and forced Rennie to raise her hand to shield her eyes.

  Jarret was hunkered beside the fire, his back to Rennie. He didn't acknowledge her approach except to point to the dry log at his right where she could sit. When she was down he handed her a tin mug of coffee without once looking in her direction.

  Wrapping her gloved hands appreciatively around the hot mug, Rennie raised it to her face. She breathed deeply of the steam and aroma and then sipped it carefully. The heat on her tongue felt good. Her teeth stopped chattering. "When will we be leaving?" she asked. The horses, she saw, were saddled, and with the exception of her belongings and the tent, they were also packed.

  Jarret poked at the fire with a stick, stirring the flames a little higher. "Depends," he said laconically. "You want some breakfast?"

  She managed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Her words made it unnecessary. "In spite of your gracious offer, I think I'll just have the coffee."

  For the first time since she joined him, Jarret bothered to glance in her direction. Instead of staring her down, he simply stared.

  The raised collar of her fur coat and the lowered brim of her fashionable little hat couldn't hide the damage that had been done to her. Rennie's skin had no glow and very little color. Tear tracks marred the chalky curve of her cheeks. Her eyelids were swollen, and the tip of her nose was an unnatural shade of pink. There was a purplish bruise and more puffiness along the left side of her face.

  Jarret could only imagine what other marks her body bore. He remembered seeing Tom's savage mouth on her breast; then he remembered his own there. His stomach knotted and his teeth clenched. He pitched the cold remains of his coffee on the fire and stood. "I'll knock down the tent," he said. "Be ready to leave when I am."

  Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Rennie watched him stride away and begin working with swift, efficient motions. She gingerly touched the side of her face and felt the ache and swelling along her jaw. She didn't clearly remember who dealt her the vicious slap, but she would never forget Jarret's accusatory stare as he looked on it. There was but one interpretation for his cold, angry look that Rennie could find: he blamed her for everything.

  She finished her coffee and was waiting beside her mare when Jarret finished with the tent. He gave her a leg up into the saddle. It seemed to Rennie that his touch was especially impersonal, as if he couldn't bear even the most inconsequential contact. She settled herself cautiously against the saddle, more aware than ever of the aching tenderness between her thighs. She felt Jarret's unwavering stare on her again, his disapproval, and she ignored both.

  Jarret made certain all the straps on Albion were secure. "What do you have on under there?" he asked.

  Rennie blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  He lifted the hem of her coat and her gray, brushed wool dress. "Under here," he said impatiently. "What are you wearing under?"

  She flushed scarlet. "I don't think that's any of your concern."

  Steadying Albion before the mare bolted away under Rennie's nervous handling, Jarret said, "It is if you can't ride because your bottom's frozen to the saddle. What kind of woman traipses across this country in a dress like you're wearing anyway? Don't you have riding clothes? Or a lady's saddle?" He sighed. "Forget that. You wouldn't get twenty yards in this terrain on one of those."

  Mustering what dignity she could, Rennie replied, "I made it this far without your advice, Mr. Sullivan."

  His voice was cold. "You made it this far against my advice, Miss Dennehy, and before you forget, without my help you'd be dead. Now, what are you wearing under there?"

  "Flannel drawers and woolen leggings."

  Satisfied, Jarret turned away and mounted. "Stay close," he said. He snapped Zilly's reins and urged her forward.

  The ride back to Echo Falls was accomplished with little conversation. Except for a few terse directives on how Rennie should handle her mount, he was silent. Rennie only asked once for a halt so that she could relieve herself. After that Jarret stopped at regular intervals. Rennie assumed it was because he didn't want to hear from her again.

  The sky was relentlessly blue. The beauty of it was lost on Rennie. She had a headache from the constant glare of the sun on the snow. When she tried to shield her eyes she slipped in her saddle. When she tried to close them altogether she grew afraid.

  Once Jarret slowed Zilly as the path widened and let Rennie come abreast. Without a word of his intention he took Rennie's hat off her head and replaced it with his. He adjusted the brim low so that it shaded her eyes, then urged Zilly forward again. A moment later Rennie's fashionable fur piece went sailing and skittering down the mountainside. She thought she heard him mutter, "Damnedest thing I ever saw," but she wasn't sure.

  Sometimes they traveled under a green and white canopy of pines. Snow drifted down as their movement below gently jostled the boughs. Looking up, entranced by the balanced beauty of the snow on the greenery, Rennie caught a clump of it right in the face. She sputtered, spitting out snow and a pine needle, and rubbed her face clean. When her vision cleared she saw Jarret had stopped and was looking back at her, not impatiently this time, and not with vicious amusement, but with an odd, almost indulgent expression in his eyes. It vanished the moment Rennie intercepted it. She believed she had mistaken the look.

  They reached Echo Falls in the early afternoon. A few heads turned as they rode along Main Street. A merchant sweeping off the sidewalk in front of his store waved to Jarret. Rennie kept her head low and her shoulders hunched. As they approached Bender's Saloon she pulled her horse up.

  Jarret halted. "What are you doing?"

  "This is where I'm staying."

  "No, it isn't." He raised his hand, cutting her off. "No arguments."

  She simply didn't have the energy to argue. "All right."

  He made a small concession. "I'll tell Jolene where you'll be." He dismounted, tethered Zilly and t
he packhorse, and disappeared into the saloon. A few minutes later Jolene joined him on the sidewalk.

  Jolene's welcoming smile was incongruent with the worried, searching gaze she turned on Rennie. "I'll visit later today," she said, "just to see how you're settlin' in."

  Rennie nodded. "I'd like that."

  Jolene laid her hand over Jarret's forearm and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'll see how you're doin', too."

  "I'm not one of your charities," he said, stepping off the sidewalk.

  Rennie noticed that Jolene was not put out in the least by Jarret's cold shoulder. "That's right," she said. "I'm your friend."

  He halted in his tracks, turned, and gave Jolene a light, quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't let me forget that."

  "As if I would." She waved to Rennie. "Don't let him bully you, honey."

  Rennie nodded, but there was no conviction in it. She lifted her hand in response to Jolene's farewell and nudged Albion forward. She didn't think the sudden unsettled feeling in her middle was due to hunger.

  Rennie slowed again as they came upon Mrs. Shepard's boardinghouse.

  Jarret turned back and rapped out impatiently, "What is it now?"

  "Isn't this where I'm staying?"

  "No. Did I say it was?"

  "No. I just assumed. But where—"

  "My place." Without bothering to see if Rennie was following, he gave Zilly a kick and started again.

  Rennie brought her mare abreast of his. "Wouldn't it be better if I stayed with Mrs. Shepard?"

  "It'd be a whole lot better," he said. "Except she doesn't have any room. She never does when the snow flies. All the miners who can afford it pack up their tents and head for her place. Besides that, Jolene's expecting you to be with me."

  "I don't think I want to stay with you."

  He shrugged. "Nothing's keeping you in Echo Falls. You can leave for Denver any time you want. I saw Duffy back at Bender's. Once he's sober, he'll take you back."

  "I'm not going to Denver. I'm going to Juggler's Jump."

  "Not today, you're not."

  Her sigh was an unhappy surrender. She stared straight ahead as the trail began to climb. "I suppose that means I'm staying with you."

  "I suppose it does."

  * * *

  They had shared a house before. Rennie had no difficulty seeing how this was going to be different. From the outside the rough log cabin looked no bigger than the parlor room of her home; from the inside it appeared even smaller. A stone fireplace took up most of the length of one wall. A small table with two chairs—one of them askew on slightly uneven legs—was situated near the hearth. There was a sink and pump, a large iron stove, open shelves with a mismatched assortment of dishes, and a larder mostly filled with canned goods. At the foot of the Boston rocker was a braided rag rug, frayed at the edges and stained with muddy footprints at the center. A storage bench, doubling as a window seat, offered the only other place to sit.

  Opposite the fireplace was a narrow, rough-hewn pine ladder that led to the loft. Nearby a curtain partly shielded the wooden bathing tub. And as if she didn't already know, Jarret made a point of mentioning the privy was outside.

  "Wood's over there," he said, indicating the canvas sling beside the fireplace. "There's more out back. You better start a fire while I take care of the horses and get the rest of our things. You can do that, can't you?"

  She nodded.

  "Good." He took back his hat, ducking his head as he went outside.

  Rennie closed the door after him and leaned against it. "Yes, I can build a fire," she muttered to herself. "But I don't know if I have enough strength to strike a match, let alone lift the wood." She forced herself to push away from the door before she simply melted down its length. Setting one foot in front of the other, her mind devoid of anything but her task, Rennie managed to have a fire blazing in the hearth by the time Jarret returned.

  He checked her work, carried in some more wood from the shed, and fired up the stove as well. "Can you get your things up to the loft?"

  Her look at the ladder was skeptical, but she was game. "I can do it." She picked up her bedroll and belongings. "Where will you sleep?"

  He paused long enough in his unpacking of their foodstuffs to point out the window bench.

  Rennie's eyes went from his six-foot-plus frame to the four-foot-maybe seat. "That's ridiculous." She was about to argue, but he silenced her with a single, unamused look. Shaking her head at his unreasonable stance, Rennie went to the ladder. It took her several trips to carry all her things to the loft. She was actually grateful that some of her belongings were still at Bender's Saloon. She couldn't have made another trip up or down the ladder.

  "Are you ever going to take off your coat?" asked Jarret as she approached the stove. "I'm not going to attack you, you know."

  Stung by his tone, Rennie slowly unfastened her redingote. Until her exertion back and forth to the loft, she had been cold. She didn't tell him that.

  Jarret pointed to a row of pegs near the front door where his own coat was hanging. "Over there."

  Rennie hung it up. "Can I help you?" she asked. He was making noodles, cutting the dough in even strips and dropping them into boiling water. Pan gravy was simmering on another burner.

  "Can you cook?"

  "No."

  "That's what I thought." He jerked his chin toward the table. "You can set that. Look around, you'll find everything you need."

  She would have bit her own tongue rather than ask him to show her where anything was. When she needed something that was beyond her reach she simply dragged a chair over to the shelf, stood on it, and got it down herself. That brought another caustic remark from Jarret.

  "Don't be a martyr," he said, watching her push the chair back. "Next time say something."

  Rennie finished setting the table, and then sat in the rocker, her back to Jarret and her feet on the stone apron of the fireplace. What pins remained anchored in her hair, she finally removed. She combed out her hair with her fingers, letting it fall over her shoulder as she carefully sifted through the knots and tangles.

  Jarret banged the table as he set down the kettle of noodles. He saw Rennie jerk. He was sorry for that but glad she stopped her tuneless humming. It was just a little too cozy with her sitting in front of the fire, the polished colors of her hair in full flame while she idly rocked and sang to herself. "You can't carry a tune," he said.

  She wasn't at all offended. "I know. Absolutely tone deaf." She stopped rocking. "I'm sorry. It bothered you, didn't it?"

  "No," he said shortly. At least not the way she thought it did.

  His answer hardly mattered to Rennie. She had already decided she would never do it again. She continued to rock and fiddle with her hair.

  "Dinner's ready," said Jarret. "It's not much, but it'll hold us until Jolene brings some fresh supplies from town."

  Rennie started to coil her hair.

  "Leave it," he said. "Your headache will go away faster if you leave it down."

  She pocketed her pins and made a loose braid, then joined Jarret at the table. Her mouth watered as he set a heaping portion of the noodles and gravy in front of her. She bowed her head in prayer, and when she looked up she saw Jarret was watching her. Misinterpreting his attention, Rennie touched the swollen left side of her face. "Does it look as bad as it feels?" she asked.

  "Worse."

  She simply nodded, accepting the fact, and dropped her hand. She picked up her fork and began eating. The thick noodles were tender, and the gravy wasn't bland as she had thought it might be, but richly seasoned with paprika and onion.

  Jarret watched her a moment longer. The lines at the corners of his eyes were more deeply etched. His dark brows pulled together in a thoughtful frown. "You're not at all vain, are you?"

  Rennie had no idea what he was getting at. Her guard went up. Her eyes were wary, and her laughter hinted at her vulnerability and self-consciousness. "I'd have to have something to be vain about, would
n't I?" She dropped her gaze and began eating again, hoping it was the end of the subject.

  It was, but only because Jarret didn't know how to tell her that her hair was a bewitching combination of colors and textures, radiant even beyond the firelight. Not only didn't he know how to tell her, he wasn't certain he wanted to. As a result they ate their meal in silence.

  It was dusk when Jolene arrived. Rennie was sitting at the window seat, reading one of the yellowed newspapers that had lined a shelf before she confiscated it. She started to get up to help Jolene with the supplies she brought, but Jarret motioned her down again.

  "I'll help her," he said. "It won't take all three of us. There's not that much." He shrugged into his coat and stepped outside. A few minutes later Jolene preceded him into the cabin, her arms filled with offerings from Bender's. Jarret stomped, shaking snow off his feet, dropped his own load on the table, and helped Jolene with her cape.

  Rennie's eyes widened at the flannel shirt and snug jeans Jolene was wearing.

  Seeing Rennie's expression, Jolene looked down at herself and laughed. "Got no drawers but the flimsy kind, and it's no kind of weather for them. I can't abide the wind blowin' up under my skirts and chillin' my—"

  "Jolene," Jarret said warningly.

  "My bottom," said Jolene, dimpling. "What did you think I was going to say?"

  Jarret merely rolled his eyes at her and continued to put things away.

  Jolene turned the rocker toward Rennie, sat down, and propped her feet on the edge of the window seat. "The girls are soberin' Duffy up. Should be tomorrow or the day after that he'll be able to take you back to Denver, or at least as far as Stillwater, where you can get the train."

  "Ask him if he'll take me to Juggler's Jump."

  Jolene hesitated, half expecting Jarret to interrupt. When he didn't she said, "Are you sure that's what you want to do? You had a glimpse yourself how the land lays between here and there. Why not go back to Denver and take the train that goes out that way?"