by Webb, Peggy
He must have mistaken her silence for censure.
“I’d sure tell you if there had,” he said.
“I don’t doubt you for a minute, Jim. It’s just me. You know how anxious I get when I’m in the middle of a book.”
“No problem, Miss Virginia. You want me to buzz when he comes?”
Virginia glanced at her watch. Five-thirty.
“No, that’s all right, Jim.”
Virginia went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of hot tea. She thought of calling Jane, but what would she say? I’ve been jilted?
“Do a reality check, Virginia,” she scolded herself. Obviously Bolton had been doing his arithmetic. When he was a fit and trim sixty, she’d be seventy-three. Geritol and wheelchairs. Hot-water bottles and false teeth.
She tossed the tea down the drain and went to the barn to saddle her horse. She wasn’t about to be caught waiting around the house like some lovesick puppy when Bolton Gray Wolf came.
If he came.
Chapter Thirteen
The storm came up unexpectedly. It crashed around the twin-engine Baron with such force, Bolton thought he was going to be sucked into the Grand Canyon. If the weather report had been accurate, he would never have taken his plane up, but now that he was airborne there was nothing he could do except fly through the storm.
Heavy winds shook the plane and flashes of lightning illuminated the clouds. In spite of the danger, Bolton was vividly aware of the awesome beauty of the storm. With his senses finely tuned for the slightest change in his instrument panel, he felt every breath of the wind, saw every bolt of light that split the darkening sky. He knew the earth was there below him, but it was totally obscured. He was in a dark cocoon high above the clouds with nothing to connect him to the earth except his instruments, his radio, and his own thoughts.
High in the sky with the unseen canyon waiting to claim him if he made a fatal mistake and the erratic lightning intent on catching him unaware, he understood love in a way that he never could have on earth. Virginia was a beacon of light in his soul. She was a talisman he clung to, a mantra he chanted, a prayer he whispered. She was his heartbeat, his lifeblood, his breath.
Without her, he would welcome the oblivion of the yawning darkness below.
He was going to be late getting to her, so very late. As soon as he could set the Baron down he’d call her.
Suddenly he burst out of the storm into a sky so sundrenched, the light was blinding. He made radio contact with the airport, then landed in heavy crosswinds. With his goggles pushed to the top of his head and his flight jacket flapping behind him, he raced to the nearest telephone.
No answer. He tried again and again, but Virginia never came on the line. Nor did her answering service pick up. She must have disconnected it. She’d said she often did that when she was on deadline.
He tried her cell phone, but she didn’t answer that either.
Bolton fought against impatience, fought against the urge to jump into his plane and take off for Mississippi. First his plane had to be serviced and gassed, then he had to check the weather report. Getting to her in one piece was more important than getting to her quickly.
“Love worth having is worth waiting for,” his father had always said.
Bolton smiled. He would have Virginia, even if he had to wait a lifetime.
o0o
Virginia knew the trails on her farm, even in the dark. The sun had long ago set, and the moonlight was not yet bright enough to penetrate the thick branches of oak and hickory and black walnut trees that formed a deep red and gold canopy overhead.
She trotted along the path, blocking her mind of everything except the narrow trail that wound through the trees.
“Ride,” she told herself. “Just ride.”
Up ahead the trees thinned out into a wide expanse of pasture. The Arabian whinnied softly, and Virginia leaned over to rub his neck.
“There’s nothing to get spooky about. It’s just you and me, baby.”
What if she was wrong? What if someone was lying in wait for her, someone intent on robbery or worse? She’d been foolish to ride at night without letting Jim know.
She cleared the trees, and that’s when she saw it—the white Arabian standing atop the hill. There was no mistaking the gleaming white coat, the regal tilt of the neck and head. She squinted, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. On the horse was a rider, a tall, proud man with dark hair blowing in the wind.
She had to be hallucinating. Only a woman as lovesick as she would conjure up the man who had left her sitting in an empty house with her bags packed.
Suddenly the horse and rider went into motion, racing down the hill in a movement so fluid, so graceful that Virginia knew she was not dreaming. Only an Apache would ride like that. Only Bolton Gray Wolf.
Her hands tightened on the reins as she poised to flee. But even if she fled, she could never outride Bolton, never outrace her magnificent warrior.
Hooves pounded the ground, their rhythm as insistent as drumbeats. Closer and closer he came. The moon that had been pale and hidden made a dazzling appearance, lighting the landscape as if it were a stage.
Bolton wore nothing except buckskins and moccasins. His eyes glittered, his hair blew in the wind, and his chest was gloriously, deliciously naked.
In a whirlwind of scent and sight and sound, he wrapped an arm around her waist and plucked her off her horse. Then with a sharp command in Athabascan, he raced off with her Arabian galloping along behind.
She didn’t ask where he was taking her or why he was late. She didn’t question his recent whereabouts or his intentions. Nothing mattered, nothing at all except being in his arms and feeling his heart pounding against her back.
Her stables came into view. He guided the horses inside, then slid Virginia into his arms and spread her on the hay. Without speaking he bent over her and stripped away her clothes. She didn’t move, didn’t question, didn’t protest.
Quickly he shed his buckskins, then he stood over her, speaking in soft and rapid Athabascan.
She didn’t know the words, but she understood the meaning. Bolton was reclaiming what was his.
Everything she’d believed went up in smoke. Love had no boundaries, love knew no age, love turned problems into paper dragons. Virginia abandoned herself and surrendered to him.
He knew her as no man ever had, touched her as no man ever could. He branded her inside and out, claimed her for his own, and completely ruined her for any other man.
“You don’t need to take me back to your tribal lands; you brought them with you,” she whispered. “You brought the wind and the rain, the raging rivers and the untamed mountains, the moon and the sun and the stars.”
Surrounded by the sweet smells of hay and the rich smells of earth, Bolton wrapped Virginia in his arms and held her close.
“That was incredible,” she whispered.
“It’s only the beginning, Virginia.”
o0o
They flew out in the early morning, west with the sun at their backs.
“This is not a commitment, Bolton,” Virginia told him as the Baron landed in Arizona.
“I understand.”
He loaded their gear into his Jeep and headed into the White Mountains.
“Will your family be at your house when we arrive?”
“No.”
“Good. I’m sorry, Bolton. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just think meeting your family is premature.”
“You don’t have to meet them at all, Virginia. This is not about family... yours or mine. It’s about you and me. It’s about our future.”
How could she argue when she was surrounded by trees so old, they knew the secrets of the earth and mountains so timeless, they understood eternity? She leaned her head against the seat and took a deep breath.
“Everything else seems petty compared to this,” she said, sweeping her hand around to encompass the view.
Bolton smiled. It was exac
tly the kind of beginning he had hoped for. No one could be unaffected by the view, particularly a writer. He’d counted on Virginia’s keen mind to understand man’s place in nature. The next step was counting on her heart.
“My home,” he said, pointing out the rustic two-story house of wood and glass and stone that seemed to blend in with the mountains. There was not another house as far as the eye could see. There was nothing except sky and sun—blood-red as it sought a hiding place in the western slopes—mountain and forest.
“Oh, Bolton... It’s enchanting.”
“I plan to make it that way for you. Always.”
They slept that night cuddled together under a down comforter, hands linked. And when morning sun poured through the skylight, they made slow, exquisite love, then packed their camping gear and headed into the mountains.
“I feel like I’m playing hooky,” Virginia said. “I’ve never just vanished. What if somebody needs to reach us?”
The spot he had chosen as a campsite was a leafy glade high in the mountains, beyond the reach of cell phones, protected by evergreens so thick, they could barely see the sky. In the lee of the rocks was a tepee, built in the way of his ancestors.
“Don’t worry. Callie knows this place.” He pulled Virginia into his arms. “I’m the only person who needs to reach you, Virginia.”
“I’m here,” she whispered. “Reach me, Bolton.”
He tethered the two paints they were riding, then took a blanket in bright shades of red and blue and yellow from his pack.
“In the customs of my people, when a warrior covers a maiden with his blanket, she becomes his.” He spread his blanket around Virginia’s shoulders, then drew her close once more.
Virginia’s knees went weak with desire. She’d never met a man who could do that to her. One look from Bolton and she melted. Would it be like that ten years from now? Fifteen? Twenty?
The wind sang through the pines, wiping out everything in her mind except its wild and tender music.
“Is that all?” she whispered.
“There’s more.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll show you.”
He spread the blanket on the ground, and there on the mountain with the sun bathing them in a glow that looked like fire, they became creatures of the earth, primitive and wild.
Time and place were lost to Virginia. For her there was nothing except sensation... the texture of him, the clean smell, the sharp, sweet taste.
The ancient words poured from him, part poetry, part passion, and they became lost in time.
Their journey lasted far into the night. And when it was over, Bolton wrapped her in his blanket and carried her inside the tepee.
Virginia was instantly asleep. When she woke up, Bolton was sitting cross-legged on the blanket watching her.
“Did you sleep well, Virginia?”
“I didn’t move.” She arched herself in a long, luxurious stretch. “It must be the mountain air. I need to bottle it and take it back home.”
“Could it be more than the mountain air, Virginia?”
His voice was full of laughter, and she laughed with him.
Yes, it was more than the mountain air. The peace she felt, the contentment, the absolute rightness of the thing, was due to Bolton.
“How would you like to catch your breakfast?” he said.
“Catch my breakfast?”
“Fish, Virginia.”
She clapped her hands. “I haven’t been fishing in... well, too long to remember.”
The stream was crystal clear, and they spent all morning laughing and angling.
“Are you sure these fish know they’re supposed to be breakfast?” she said.
“Maybe they misunderstood,” he said. “Maybe they thought I said lunch.”
“Or dinner.”
“Where’s your faith?”
“Not in my fishing pole, that’s for sure.” Virginia held up a pole with a line so tangled that only the most determined fish could be snared.
Bolton untangled her line, then showed her how to cast, and on the first try she got a strike. With his help she reeled it in.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“It’s breakfast,” he said. “We’ll clean it and smoke it over a fire.” He pulled a lethal-looking knife from his belt.
“You’re going to use that on my fish?” She looked stricken.
“You like fish, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ve never killed the poor thing first.” She rubbed the shiny scales. “Poor Ernestine.”
“Ernestine?”
“Yes. Her name is Ernestine, and she probably has a family down there somewhere.”
Bolton unsnagged the fish then held it under the water and released it.
“There you go, Ernestine,” he said. “Swim back to your family.”
With a swish of its tail, Ernestine was gone. If there had ever been any doubt in Virginia’s mind that she loved Bolton, it was gone.
When he stood up and saw her tears, he tenderly wiped them away.
“Don’t cry. She’s going to be all right.”
“I’m not crying for her, I’m crying because that was one of the sweetest, kindest acts I’ve ever seen. You really are the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, Bolton Gray Wolf.”
If it wasn’t the three words he wanted to hear, it was close enough. Joy filled Bolton, and a sense of coming down the homestretch with the finish line in sight.
“You’re just saying that because I’m going to share my breakfast bar with you.” He pulled one out of his pocket and broke it in half.
“You had this all along?”
“Yes. I’m always prepared.” He unfolded a blanket from his pack and spread it near the stream. “The orchestra is tuning up, and we have the best seats in the house.”
With the music of birds and the music of the stream playing haunting melodies, they shared breakfast and then themselves. Afterward Virginia lay with her head on his chest looking up at the branches swaying overhead.
“I could get used to this.”
“It’s yours, Virginia. All you have to do is say yes.”
She rolled to her elbows so she could see his eyes.
“Please be patient with me, Bolton. I’m out of practice at this business of listening to my heart.”
“Take all the time you need, Virginia. These mountains aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”
They lolled beside the stream until hunger drove them back to their campsite, and in the light of a sunset so perfect, Virginia said it had to be a creation of Walt Disney, they ate canned beans then made slow, exquisite love on Bolton’s blanket of many colors.
When she fell asleep, Virginia knew that she would be a fool to continue denying that what they had was true love. Tomorrow she would say yes.
o0o
The sound of pounding hooves woke Bolton. He eased out of the blanket, careful not to wake Virginia, and slipped into his buckskins. Through the flap of his tepee he could see his sister’s horse topping the rise. Cold fear gripped him. Callie would never have interrupted his idyll with Virginia unless there was an emergency.
Bolton caught the reins as she slid from the saddle.
“What’s wrong, Callie?”
“I don’t know.” She raked her hand through her windswept hair. “Mom, Dad, everybody’s okay. It’s not our family.”
“Virginia’s daughter?” He gripped his sister’s arm. “Not Virginia’s daughter.”
“No, she’s all right. She called early this morning.” Callie reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “But she gave me this number. She said it was very important that Virginia call.”
“Did she say what it’s about?”
“No. She didn’t give me a clue. I’m not even sure that she knows.”
“How did she sound? Upset? Scared?”
“No. That was the strange thing. She just said that it was very important for Virginia to call as soon
as possible.”
The tent flap opened, and Virginia stepped outside.
“Did I hear my name?”
“Virginia.” Bolton wrapped his arm around her waist. “I want you to meet my sister Callie.”
Virginia looked into eyes as blue as Bolton’s, at a face with the same high cheekbones and generous mouth, hair equally as untamed and black as a raven’s wing. Bolton’s counterpart in every way, Callie Gray Wolf simply took Virginia’s breath away.
“I’m speechless,” she said.
Callie laughed. “Most people are. They don’t expect two peas in a pod.” She laughed again. “That’s my Mississippi heritage coming through.”
“I’m delighted to meet you.” Virginia held out her hand.
Callie took it in a warm and firm grip. “Same here. You’re everything Bolton said you were.”
“I’m afraid Callie came bearing news,” Bolton said, handing Virginia the piece of paper. “Candace says it’s important for you to call that number as soon as possible.”
Virginia looked at the paper, and her brow knit in a small frown.
“I don’t have any earthly idea whose number this is.”
“I’ll ride with you back to the house,” Bolton said.
“No.” Virginia said. “I don’t want to take you away from this beautiful place. Why don’t I ride back down with Callie?”
“You need me to show you the way back,” he said.
“I’m no hothouse flower, Bolton. Once I ride a trail, I can follow it again in the dark. Besides, it might be nice if Callie comes back for lunch.” She smiled at Bolton’s sister. “You like beans in a can, don’t you?”
“Is that all he’s giving you?” Callie blurted out, then blushed at her own question.
Virginia and Bolton smiled at each other. Then he pulled her close and kissed her. “Come back to me, Virginia.”
“I will,” she whispered. “Wait for me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Callie and Virginia should have been back hours ago. Bolton tried not to think the worst.
“Girl talk,” he said. “That’s what they’re doing.”
