by Piper, Marie
Andrew’s voice irked her. Not only did Josiah think she couldn’t do it, but Andrew’s smug tone sealed the deal. There was no turning back now.
“I’m not afraid of a little water,” she said with too much confidence, and bumped Maggie with her heels.
In half a mile, the drive reached the river. Bill and Jess, followed closely by King and the leaders, were already heading into the water when Emma caught first sight of the crossing. The water wasn’t calm. From the looks of the cows going in ahead of her, it also wasn’t shallow. The cows ahead plunged into the river, clumsy and jumbled together. Their heads bobbed on the top of the water as they charged across to the flat shore on the other side.
Before Saul went in, he turned to her. “You good?”
“No,” she replied. “I am quite far from being good. But I’ll be all right.”
She watched closely as Saul rode into the water. He took his feet out of the stirrups, just before they became submerged.
Maggie huffed with audible displeasure as she stepped into the water. Emma followed Saul’s lead and Bill’s words and held on tight to the ropes that tied the blanket to the horse. A drop-off surprised her and plunged Maggie into water, and Emma felt her legs float up behind her, as if she were flying. All around her were cows and horses, swimming for their lives with animalistic determination in their eyes. The beasts knew what to do. Emma realized how stuck-up people were to think they knew any better than the other creatures in the world when it came to survival.
And by the grace of God, Maggie got across and climbed from the water with a few lumbering strides. Emma was wet up to her collar. As Maggie rode on to land, she couldn’t help but laugh as the others came across. Pete and Nick whooped as they crossed. Appie kept a firm hand on the leads as the water went up nearly to the point of flooding the wagon.
Emma watched Andrew cross at the end of the drive, his scowl noticeable from a distance.
“You made it.”
Josiah had ridden up near her. Emma realized she was dripping wet from head to toe. Still, she held Maggie’s reins. They were alive and unscathed. Josiah’s eyes locked on her for a long moment. Then he gave a little nod. Though it was almost imperceptible, she saw it. It was as if he’d stood up and cheered for her. Her heart felt it might burst from relief and joy.
And then he was gone, riding off to circle the herd.
Emma rode up to the drenched brothers.
“Not bad for your first drive.” Jess grinned. “How’d you like it?”
“There are a few things I never imagined I’d do in my life, and that was wilder than all of them. What happens now?”
The dripping men all looked at Emma, and she saw a bashful collection of expressions.
“Usually we strip down for a bit and let the sun dry everything,” Jess explained quietly.
It took Emma only a moment to realize what they meant. “Oh,” she said.
“Yeah,” he answered awkwardly.
Emma found her composure. “Well, boys, don’t let me stop you. You go right ahead and do that, and I’ll set myself up over there a ways where I won’t be able to see a thing unfit for my ladylike eyes.” With an overdramatic flutter of her eyelashes, she turned Maggie and rode off to a dip in the plains. There, she could be mostly hidden.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bill
The men stripped down to nothing, airing their clothes out on hastily strung lines and anywhere else they could while those who kept their clothes on took turns taking shifts patrolling the cows. It was typical, normal, and only because a woman was a few yards away did anyone even think twice about modesty. The plains were a man’s territory, and the presence of a female changed things.
Bill saw different men glancing Emma’s way from time to time. When she’d gotten out of the water, she’d been dripping wet, and her clothes had clung to her in a most unladylike fashion. He knew he hadn’t been the only one who noticed. He also knew that the idea of a potentially naked woman not far away was driving more than a few of the men crazy.
He didn’t like it, but he understood it, because it was driving him ten times as crazy. He’d only had only a little taste of what her affection felt like. When he thought back to how long he’d been without a woman, it nearly made him ashamed of himself. At the thought of her soft lips on his, he stood up quickly to slide back into his still-damp pants and the boots he’d had the foresight to toss into the wagon before the crossing. He’d leave his shirt to dry for a while longer. “Gonna take some coffee over to her,” he announced.
“Good idea. If you go quiet enough, you might even catch her off guard.” Jess wiggled his eyebrows, and the gathered men laughed. “Sneak a peek for the rest of us, why don’t you?”
“Mind your manners,” Bill replied.
“I’ll mind mine. You make sure you mind yours.”
Knowing he’d be ribbed about it for days, Bill set off walking with two hot cups of coffee toward where she’d set up her things for the night. The spot she’d chosen was nice, with low grass just on the other side of a small hill. Though it was a private spot, it wasn’t so far off that in case of trouble she’d be unable to easily get back to camp. Maggie munched contentedly on the thicker grass nearby.
As Bill got closer, Emma came into his sight. She stood near a small fire with her arms folded across her chest, head tilted up to watch the few clouds move across the sky. Her hair hung loose from its braid, with wet ends. From Bill’s best guess, she only wore her man’s shirt and nothing underneath. He took in a sharp breath when he realized her long legs were bare, as were her feet. Averting his eyes, he cleared his throat to let her know he was there.
She jumped about a foot at the sound of his voice, and whirled to face him.
“It’s just me.”
“Goodness. You startled me.”
“I brought you some coffee as a warm-up. Was going to be a gentleman and see if you needed me to start a fire, but I reckon Appie’s taught you so well you could start one in a snowstorm by now.”
“Indeed.” Emma gestured to the small flames. “I crossed the river, and lived to tell the tale.”
“That you did.”
“You saw me?”
“Of course I did. I doubled back. Figured if you had any trouble, I could help. I should have known you’d be just fine.”
When she lifted her head, he watched her study him from head to toe. He’d come bare-chested, and now wondered if it had been too informal. Then again, she stood before him in only a shirt, and he knew she’d have figured he would find a way to come to see her. Knowing that, and seeing how she hadn’t bothered to cover herself, dried his mouth. Across the fire, he thought he saw a flicker of desire pass in her eyes before she diverted her gaze and kicked at the grass.
Now that he knew her name, he wanted to know everything.
“Tell me something about you,” he said.
She answered calmly. “I was born in Virginia.”
“You got people there?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s been over ten years. I lost touch.”
“You got brothers?”
“Sisters. Two of them. At least I think I still do.”
“And your folks?”
“You ask lots of questions. I was under the impression you’d wandered out here to kiss me again, not to try and unravel a great mystery.” He recognized her deflection tactic; she put up a flirty front to distract him from further inquiry. She’d given him little pieces of the puzzle, and he wanted to know more. So he pushed on.
“Are you married?”
“I was.” She let her words linger.
“Is he—?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like to talk about him.”
“All right.” The answer could mean lots of things. Her husband could have died tragically, and it was too painful to think about. Or he could have run out on her, though he couldn’t imagine what kind of fool would do such a thing. But men ran out. The west had plenty o
f men who’d simply walked away from their lives for one reason or another. Bill had always felt a man who left his family was no more than a coward, but he’d met more than one. Whatever had happened to the man she’d been married to, or whatever he had done, Emma seemed to have closed the door on him.
“Folks start their lives over all the time. There’s no shame in it.”
“Do you trust all your men?” Emma interrupted, catching him off guard.
“My men? Mostly.”
“I’m not accustomed to being able to trust people,” she said. “You have to forgive me from time to time if I’m prickly. I know that you have questions about me, that you doubt me.”
“I don’t like to. But you hold things back. They can’t be as bad as what you think they are.”
“Maybe they’re worse.”
“Emma—”
“Shh.”
Music, soft across the distance, caught Bill’s ear.
Saul was playing a waltz to the cows.
“He may not talk much, that shy brother of yours, but he makes himself known,” she whispered.
The music seemed to soothe her, and Bill let the rest of his long list of questions go. They had ten or twelve more days ahead of them before they reached Cricket Bend. He’d get to the bottom of the mystery of Emma the Sparrow from Virginia before it was over. In that moment, she looked delicate and beautiful. More than he’d ever wanted anything, he wanted to hold her.
“Will you dance with me?” Hope shone in her lovely eyes.
“Here?”
“Right here.”
Accompanied by the soft music, Bill reached out a hand and set it on Emma’s waist. Gently, half afraid she’d startle and run off, he stepped closer. She lay one hand in his waiting palm, the other on his shoulder. They began to move.
They danced simply but well, two people who fit together. For a large cowboy, Bill knew how to lead, and she allowed him to do just that. Thinking of her foot, he lifted her a little, which allowed her to lean her weight on him so as to keep it off her injury. The dance turned into two bodies swaying together. He became vividly aware of how she pressed her whole body to his.
“You dance quite well,” she whispered. “I’ll admit I’m surprised.”
“My mama insisted we boys all learn,” he replied. “Said it was a good way to woo the ladies.”
“And was she right?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Consider me thoroughly wooed.”
Bill took his hand from her waist and let it slide lower to rest on the curve of her hip. Once it was there, he dragged his fingers over the bare skin just below the hem of the shirt. Emma pressed herself tighter against him. Knowing that only a little fabric separated them charged Bill with desire he could barely restrain. He wanted to know her in whatever way he could. Emma brought her arms up and draped them around his neck, urging him closer to her. Bill moved his hands to her waist and took a hard grip of the fabric of the shirt.
“Your lips are a little blue,” he said.
“I’m soaked through,” she replied. “I am a bit cold.”
“Someone should warm you up.”
“Someone should. If only there were someone near who was up for the chore.”
“It’d hardly be a chore.” Even if kissing her was a stupid thing to do, it was the only thing in the world that seemed right at that moment, and he was going to do it, and he wasn’t going to stop there unless she told him to. He knew she wouldn’t. Wanting each other wasn’t a crime. The lean majesty of her body trembled against him when he pressed his face into her hair. With his fingers splayed against her lower back, he brought their bodies tighter together.
Lord, what had she done to him in just a few days?
Bill moved to kiss her.
Pots and pans banged. The loud clang of metal pulled the two apart.
“Damn,” Bill said.
“If Appie thinks that’s music, he’s lost his mind.”
“Pa must have decided we’re packing up.”
“We’re moving already?”
“Looks like it,” Bill answered. “God knows what bee landed in his bonnet now. Come on back with me.”
She dressed quickly, while Bill tried to ignore the little peeks of her form he saw as she hobbled into her pants. He put out the fire, plopped Emma up on Maggie, and led them back to the rest of the drive.
Josiah waited on horseback as the two of them approached.
“We ain’t all dried out yet,” Appie called to the boss. “You trying to get everyone a cold?”
“Don’t matter,” Josiah said with his gaze hard on Bill. “We get in a few more miles before we camp for the night. Never get to Abilene if we dawdle. This is a drive after all, not a spring picnic.”
CHAPTER NINE
Emma
Emma’s clothes were still a little wet, but rather than return to riding in the wagon, she stayed on Maggie. The sun felt nice against her damp clothes and skin. The men rode without shirts for the most part, and Emma felt incredibly jealous of their freedom. The heat of the sun on their bare skin must have felt wonderful. To feel it as best she could, she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. She’d wind up with arms tanned darker than the rest of her body if she wasn’t careful, like the rest of the men. Already she’d noticed the change of color in her skin from all the time spent out in the sun, but she figured it was worth it.
Men were allowed so much more freedom than women; it hardly seemed fair.
Of course, she was wearing pants and no corset, so she kept her complaining to a minimum.
After a lifetime in cumbersome skirts, pants were an absolute marvel.
In all honesty, she kept most of her thoughts on Bill. Riding up ahead of her with his shirt off so it could dry, his muscled torso was bare for her to see. The sight had her thinking of all kinds of things she wouldn’t mind doing with him the next time they were alone. The way he sat in the saddle, and the way his body moved with each of Orion’s broad steps, had her wondering lots of things. How many women had he known, and how had he been as a lover with them?
Losing her head over the handsome cowboy had not been in her plans. Flirting with him, and perhaps even kissing him, those were things she’d began to consider the minute she’d met him. Feeling actual feelings, though, that was different. But her plans, ill-conceived as they were, had all disappeared a long time prior. They’d all been blown away in the wind the night she’d slipped away and run from the men she’d first hired to get her to Cricket Bend.
The men she traveled with now were better. Sure, they swore and spit and drank, but their hearts were good enough to grant her passage, and thus far they had kept her safe. Not a one had tried to grope her or sneak a kiss she hadn’t wanted.
And the cowboy she did want had gone right ahead and kissed her. The kiss had been lovely. Though they’d been rudely interrupted, she wondered how much more lovely things would have become.
“Miss Sparrow!”
She turned in time to catch a piece of dried beef that Jess tossed to her as he slowed his horse beside hers. She thanked him, and he put the horse back into a gallop as he headed for the front of the drive. As she chewed on the salty jerky, she thought of how she would spend the rest of her life grateful for the McKenzie brothers and their crew. For Jess, the joker. For Pete, the gruff-voiced. And for Saul, who had a sweet way with both horses and a harmonica. Andrew, she would likely never feel kindness for, but that was no great loss. There were plenty of terrible men in the world. He was just another one of them.
Finally they had travelled far enough for Josiah to call it a day. Camp was set up, supper was prepared, and spirits were high after the successful river crossing. As they ate, Emma felt Bill’s gaze. No amount of propriety could keep her from returning his glance. She’d have given anything to be away from everyone, and alone with him. The memory of the way he’d come to her, partly dressed and open hearted, and the way he’d kissed haunted her, pulled at her, made her th
ink of frightfully improper things.
“I think I’ll go off a little ways by myself,” Emma said sweetly to Appie, after her work had been attended to. The other men would have shrugged at her suggestion, but Appie would worry if she didn’t play her cards just right. “I’m still a little damp. Figure I can make a fire by those couple trees over there and dry out in private a bit before going to sleep.”
It worked.
Once she’d built a good fire and spread out her bedroll, she slipped out of her boots and pulled her leather book from the pocket of her jacket. It had survived the river crossing, and she held it happily. Emma’s journal, bound with leather and decorated with only a burned letter “E,” had been a gift from an admirer whose name she didn’t even recall. She’d filled it with pasted pictures, scribbled notes, addresses, names, memories, locations, sketches, even a little pocket that held a silver dollar in case she’d lost everything else. It was a book of memories—a book of her life. If she were to die, someone could piece her story together from the pages inside. Perhaps they could even take it back to her mother. Perhaps the woman still lived.
She sat on a blanket on the hard earth with the leather and paper in her hands.
This patchwork life, built of little pieces of ribbons, train tickets, newspaper stories, names, and dates, was all she had left. Gone were the satin gowns and the nights of music-filled revelry in fancy parlors. Gone were the delicious cakes and sweet wines and satin sheets she’d known for so long.
Perhaps losing it all was for the better.
In truth, she hadn’t been happy for a long while. Money and fancy things should have filled the great void in her heart, but they hadn’t. Emptiness had always filled her, leaving her with a longing for something more than what she had.
She closed the book and held it to her chest while she pulled her knees to her chin.
She’d left it all behind once again.
But she’d crossed a river on a horse with two thousand head of cattle, nearly a hundred horses, twelve men, and a wagon. And she’d enjoyed it.
