Tennessee Bride

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Do you think he’ll come back?” Emma asked, wiping her hands and coming to take the baby.

  How many times she had asked the question, she wasn’t sure. Tommy Decker had come twice. He would probably come again. The strain of knowing that Tommy Decker was out there somewhere showed in the circles under Emma’s eyes.

  River handed the baby to her. “He probably will. But we will not be here.”

  Her eyes teared. “I don’t want to leave my house, River.”

  “We have no choice. I will build you another house, just as nice.”

  She held her three-month-old son close, bouncing him lightly to make him stop crying. “Can we take the mattress?”

  He grinned, loving her more every day for her sweet innocence that came through at stressful moments and warmed his heart. “Of course we can take the mattress.” He leaned closer. “It will give us something to use along the way—better than the hard ground, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, River, don’t tease!”

  She walked around to the other side of the bed to open her dress and feed Joshua so that her back would be to Red Wolf. River grinned and shook his head. Cherokee women thought nothing of feeding their children in front of others. But the white blood in Emma made her too bashful to feed Joshua in front of Red Wolf.

  He wondered how it was that a man could want a woman more every day instead of less. The first time they had made love after the baby was born felt wonderful. She had worried that having the baby had done something terrible to her so that River would no longer enjoy lying with her.

  “How do you think it is that most couples have several children?” he had teased her. “There is only one way to make that happen, you know, and if the man did not enjoy it, he would not be able to keep planting that seed, now, would he?”

  To him it was all better than ever, for now she was not just his wife but the mother of his son. Joshua was bright-eyed and alert, and he ate so much that Emma swore the boy was sure to turn out as tall and broad as his father. Never in his life had River been as proud of anything as he was of his son. He would die for Joshua, kill for him! Joshua and Emma Rivers were more precious than gold, the most important human beings in all the world.

  He cursed the thought of having to pull up stakes and make Emma leave the only real home she had ever known, dragging little Joshua into the elements and exposing him to all the dangers of a migration. But the boy was sturdy, and with his mother’s good milk and gentle love he would be all right. River was determined that nothing bad would happen to his new and wonderful family.

  He turned to Red Wolf. “When should we leave?”

  “When the moon is full again, perhaps twelve, fourteen sunrises. Then we must go.” He looked up at River. “Of course, you will not go down this spring to take skins again, will you?”

  Emma turned her head, always afraid that River would go to Knoxville and try to find Tommy Decker as he had threatened to do many times.

  “No,” River answered. “I cannot go back there. We will have to hope we find some suppliers among the whites up in this area to sell us sugar and flour and tobacco. Let’s just hope this is a good hunt. We need some decent skins to trade, and many of our own people need new clothes.”

  Emma turned her attention back to Joshua, thanking the Maker of Breath for the little son who kept River from going after Tommy. “Wadan,” she whispered, using the Cherokee word for “thank you.” She was beginning to feel more Cherokee than white, and as far as she was concerned, she did not care if she never returned to her white world.

  The second week of May found the entire Cherokee village Emma had come to know as family camped on the side of a different mountain from the one on which they had been living the past several months. Emma had to force herself not to weep like a child when she left her little cabin. But her strength came from watching the other Cherokee women, the brave, determined look in their eyes. This was only her first time, but many of these women had done this several times. Now new trees would have to be cut. New cabins would have to be built. New gardens would have to be plowed and planted.

  The moving never ended. Emma could see that now. She was almost ashamed to be white, for it was whites who made all this trouble for these good people. Mary and Grace were like the sisters Emma had never had. Grace’s son was looked upon by Emma and River as a nephew, and all the family loved little Joshua as if River were their full-blooded brother.

  They had not settled yet. The spot had not been chosen. Emma and River were back to living under the stars, only it was more dangerous now because there was Joshua to worry about. Emma fussed over him constantly, and River was pleased and proud of her motherly instincts and her ability to love so fiercely, in spite of her having grown up without knowing any love at all. It was as though all the love she had been denied and unable to show had welled up inside her and spilled out over her husband and son.

  Before a village site was chosen, Martin Crow stepped up his courtship of Mary, and Emma sat inside Mary’s tent with Grace and the two babies the night that the gossipers deliberately spread the word that Mary would set a bowl of hominy outside her tent. The three women waited, giggling like ten-year-olds as Mary prepared the thick mixture of ground corn and milk, then set a bowlful outside.

  All the men sat around the campfire discussing where to settle and pretending not to be aware of what was going on, so as not to embarrass Martin Crow. None of them seemed to notice when Martin rose from the gathering and disappeared into the darkness.

  Martin was a huskily built young man of no more than five feet five inches. He was powerful in spite of his height, with broad shoulders and big hands. His face was round and happy, his smile bright, and for months he had wanted Mary so much that it disturbed his sleep. Now he headed for Mary’s tent, his heart pounding, hoping she would not be teasingly cruel and refuse him permission to eat the hominy.

  Inside Mary’s tent the three giggling, talking women quieted when someone jiggled the bells over the entrance to the tent. Emma was feeding Joshua. She pulled a blanket over herself and waited with a smile while Mary asked who was there.

  “It is I, Martin Crow,” came the reply. His voice squeaked a little from nervousness, and Emma covered her mouth, struggling not to laugh.

  “What do you want, Martin Crow?” Mary asked. “We are three women in here alone.”

  “I do not wish to come in,” he answered. He cleared his throat. “I see that you have a bowl of hominy out here, and I am hungry.” He hesitated a moment. “May I… may I eat this hominy, Mary?”

  Mary deliberately waited a long time to answer, so long that Emma thought she would pass out if she had to go another moment without laughing. She didn’t dare look at either Mary or Grace during the silence. Little Jonathan began to fuss and Grace held him close and patted his bottom.

  “Yes, you may,” Mary finally answered.

  “Really? Do you mean it?”

  All three women began laughing then, unable to control the urge any longer. “Yes, I mean it,” Mary called out. “Hurry and eat it before it is cold.” She moved closer to the entrance, waving at Emma and Grace to keep still. “Right now it is warm, like my heart is warm for you,” she said softly.

  Emma sobered at the sweet words, still smiling but listening lovingly.

  “And my heart is warm for you, Mary,” came the voice from outside. They could hear him eating then, and moments later he scooted an empty bowl under the entrance flap of the tent. “I will build you a house as soon as we decide on a site,” he said then. “We will live there together. I will be your husband, Mary, for as long as you wish to keep me.”

  Mary picked up the bowl and stared at it a moment. “I wish to keep you forever, Martin.”

  They heard his footsteps as he left, then Mary hugged Emma and Grace. “I will have a husband, too!” she exclaimed. “And soon a baby!”

  They all giggled again, their giggling turning to shrieks of laughte
r at how long Mary had waited to answer poor, nervous Martin.

  “Oh, River, it was so funny,” Emma said to her husband later that night. “Martin was so nervous that his voice squeaked.”

  River laughed lightly, pulling her close. “You women can be pretty damned cruel, you know that?”

  Emma laughed and kissed his chest, sobering then. “Did you do it that way with Yellow Sky? Did she set out a bowl of hominy for you?”

  River kissed her hair, breathing deeply of its clean scent. How he loved the long, thick, golden tresses. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Did she say yes right away?”

  He grinned, sensing her jealousy rising again. “Of course she did,” he answered, moving his mouth to meet hers. He knew her jealousy would make her even more responsive, and he took advantage of the moment, reaching under her flannel gown and pushing it up to her waist, moving his hand under it to her full breasts as his tongue traced her lips and searched her mouth.

  She kissed him back with equal fervor, many things bringing on a sudden urgency in her soul—her thoughts of River being with Yellow Sky—the dangers of the journey—the worry over raiders and Tommy Decker. How she loved River and this new life! She never wanted this magic to end, this wonderful happiness she had found in being a wife and a mother.

  His lips moved to her neck, and he pushed the gown up over her breasts, moving down to suck lightly at the tender nipples, catching a lingering taste of sweet milk, loving her with a rush of passion at the thought of what a good mother she was to Joshua.

  She grasped his head, whispering his name at the thrill of her own husband seeming to take nourishment from her breasts just as Joshua did. For River it was a different kind of nourishment, a kind of strength that he took from her yet gave back to her when he was himself inside of her, taking her life, giving life back.

  He reached under her legs and pulled up her knees while he lingered at her breasts, then moved around in front of her bent legs, already naked himself. He grasped her knees and parted them, bending closer and rubbing himself against her teasingly until she cried out with her climax.

  He quickly entered her then, a rush of his own powerful love for her making him push deep, groaning with ecstasy.

  Everything would be so perfect, he thought, if there were not the worry over Tommy Decker. Because only Tommy and a few others, but no one of authority, had come after him, River began to wonder if he was really a wanted man in the valleys below, or if this was some kind of secret revenge. Perhaps only Tommy and the man called Sam Gates were after him. If he could just find a way to kill them…

  He banished the thought for the moment. He had promised Emma not to do anything foolish, and this was not the time to think about it. But the thought of Tommy being after Emma, and of the man called Sam Gates thinking he owned her, made River take her now with hard thrusts, as though the deeper he penetrated her, the better he branded her as his own. This was his Emma, the mother of his son! No man laid claim to her but Joe Rivers!

  She whimpered his name rhythmically as he grasped her hips and moved first in circles, then in even thrusts that ended in a burst of life that poured into her and left him spent. He stayed close to her for a moment longer, kissing her tenderly about the face, until Joshua started to cry.

  “Oh, dear. Now another mouth to feed,” she teased.

  “Lie still.” River sat up and picked the baby up from the deep pile of straw in which he slept. He laid the child beside Emma, and in moments the soft little mouth had found its mark. Joshua’s strong, fat hands toyed with the skin of his mother’s breast, pinching harmlessly as his feet kicked up in the joy of suckling. River lay back down beside her, pulling the covers up close around them. Soon all three of them were asleep.

  They awakened to the sound of someone clanging the cow bell they had hung outside their tent for visitors.

  “Joe, got some news,” they heard Red Wolf say.

  River stretched and grinned at Emma, keeping the covers over them as he answered, “What is it that is so important you have to wake me up from a good sleep?”

  “It’s Mary and Martin,” Red Wolf answered.

  River looked at Emma in surprise, and Emma looked equally surprised. “Come on in,” River invited.

  Emma kept her covers close and River sat up as Red Wolf pulled back the tent flap and knelt inside. Red Wolf was a stocky, handsome man whom Emma had grown to like very much. He was a good husband to Grace, and more than a brother-in-law to River. They were close friends.

  “I am sorry to wake you,” he said to them both. “Grace made me come and tell you. Mary sneaked out last night. We woke up to find her gone, and Martin is gone also. Apparently they did not want to wait until we find a place to settle and he builds a cabin for her. We have much to tease them about when they return. Grace says Emma would want to know.” Red Wolf grinned, and Emma laughed lightly.

  “Yes, I certainly do! That must have been an awfully good bowl of hominy Mary gave Martin last night.”

  They all laughed then, and Red Wolf left. Emma looked at River and laughed more. “I didn’t think Mary would do that!”

  River grinned, resting his head in his hand. “Wouldn’t you have done it for me?”

  She met his eyes, deliberately scanning him like a wanton woman. “Actually, that’s what I did do, isn’t it? In fact, I didn’t even have to offer the bowl of hominy. Come to think of it, you didn’t even ask first, Joe Rivers. You just took.”

  A sly grin moved across his mouth. “I knew I did not have to ask.”

  She gasped, then pushed at him. River laughed, grabbing her arms and pulling her over underneath him, away from the sleeping baby.

  “I told you to stop that night,” she said with a pout.

  He laughed more, pinning her arms and nibbling at her lips. “Only with words,” he answered softly. “But your body and these lips were telling me to keep going.”

  He parted her mouth before she could reply, and his tongue probed deep while his big hands let go of her arms and moved under her bottom. He traced his fingers along deep crevices, moving then to her love nest and pushing his fingers deep inside her, making her whimper.

  He released her mouth for a moment, moving to lick gently at her neck, tracing his tongue down to her breasts. It didn’t matter that they had done this only hours earlier. The morning was sweet and peaceful, and now they would all have to wait for Martin and Mary to return before going on.

  River worked a wonderful magic deep inside her with his fingers as he used his tongue in circular massaging motions around her breasts. In moments she felt the wonderful pulsations that made her lose all inhibitions, made her crave the terribly intimate things he did to her.

  He moved into her gently, taking her with slow, teasing movements that made her groan. She breathed deeply with the glory of it, reaching over her head and grasping at a peg in the ground, stretched out before him, her gown pushed up to her neck. He rose to his knees, drinking in her slender beauty, grasping her hips and holding her to himself, prolonging the ecstasy for several minutes before finally he was unable to hold back his pleasure.

  He shuddered as his life pulsed into her.

  Moments later Joshua began to fuss. Emma breathed deeply, opening her eyes, which were still glazed with passion. “I guess it’s back to reality,” she said softly. “Joshua needs me.”

  River grinned, gently rubbing her thighs. “I guess I will let him have you now.” He leaned close, kissing her lightly. “Wadan, Agiya.”

  “You’re very welcome, Asgaya.”

  There was no time to settle in the place they had chosen. Some trees had already been cut for houses, and a little ground had been broken. But the local whites did not want them so close, and they sent a raiding party in the early morning to let the Cherokee know they were not welcome. Because they were tired from traveling, the Cherokee did not post the normal number of scouts, and the whites caught them unprepared.

&n
bsp; River and Emma awakened at the same time, alarmed by the sound of approaching horses. River jumped to his feet and grabbed his knife and musket.

  “Get Joshua and get out of the tent!” he shouted to Emma.

  Emma had no time to think, to reason what was happening. She knew only that she should obey her husband. She grabbed Joshua and ran outside in her flannel gown to see others running and screaming, while white men rode through with sabers, slashing them through tents, crashing into others with their horses and riding right over them.

  Emma held Joshua close, ducking her head and running toward the woods, the sound of a horse right behind her. Her heart screamed with terror. All she could think of was Tommy. Was he with these men? Had he seen her? She heard a strange thud then just as she reached the thicker trees. She turned to see River standing near a man and horse, both of which were on the ground. River held a thick branch in his hand, his hunting knife between his teeth. He threw down the branch and took the hunting knife in hand.

  “River, no!” Emma screamed. “The Cherokee will be blamed!”

  He stood over the man, panting, wanting very much to get his revenge.

  “If you cut him up they’ll know you’re up here,” Emma added, not sure if it was true but hoping the words would keep him from murdering the white man. River turned and ran toward her then, pushing her and Joshua down into a ravine just a few feet away. They had made love the night before and he was still naked. He lay on top of her, watching and waiting, while they heard more screams and smelled smoke.

  “River, what’s happening?” Emma squeaked, holding Joshua close and petting him soothingly to keep him from crying.

  “I think they were locals—just trying to scare us off. Keep still.”

  Her heart pounded wildly, and she wanted to scream and cry but knew she must not. She wondered frantically about the others. The waiting seemed like hours, but it was really only minutes before the sudden attack was over.