"Did he court you?"
Rachel shrugged. "If you could call it that, I guess so. He came over to our house every Sunday because my father invited him. They would talk for a long time, he would sit on the porch outside with me for a while, kiss me goodnight and go home. That was the extent of our courting. I knew less about him than I do Hershel. We seldom talked. And I must admit that was my fault. I refused to speak to him most of the time. So he contented himself with just sitting on the swing with me. The man was a complete bore. And I don't say that lightly."
"Didn't you talk much, you know, get to know each other very well?"
"All he wanted to talk about was the bank and my father." She poised the peach in front of her, eyeing it as though it were a snake. "He never asked me anything about myself. He knew nothing about me. How could he even know me? He wasn't interested in me Buck. What he did…He did to impress my father. Not once did he ever seem interested in me. I knew he wasn't. It was mutual. It was simply my father's idea for us to get together. Another way of getting me to work in the bank forever. But I hated that work. I'd rather stay home clean house and have supper ready for my father than work at the bank. It was so annoying. And I didn't love Frank, so I wasn't about to marry him! Father was becoming very insistent. He didn't like that I joined the church and the ladies' club. He knew I had a mind of my own, and he didn't like it. I was suffocating in that house. Ever since my mother died, I've felt so lost…"
Buck studied on that for a bit, then biting his tongue he asked. "Do you think you could love Hershel?"
Rachel turned a bright red, and lowered her stick. "I love his letters."
"But do you love him? I mean he sent you a picture and you know about him through the letters. Is that enough for you?"
Rachel gathered the dishes and shrugged. "It'll have to be. I’m married to him, aren't I?"
"Sure you are. I just wondered what the difference was in Frank and in Hershel?" Buck said, staring at her. "You don't know much more about him than you did this Frank fella."
"You think I’m foolish don't you Buck?" She asked turning her attention on him.
"No ma'am. Not foolish. But you did sort of rush into it. What if you get up there and decide you don't like it? What will you do?"
"That's easy. I'll just get a hold of you to take me back down the mountain." She chuckled. "Didn't you ever want a wife, Buck?"
"Me?" Buck looked surprised she'd ask that question. But under his breath he muttered to himself. "Not until just recent."
"What did you say?" She asked coming closer.
"Nothing. I better tie that mule up for the night."
"Why didn't the Indian take him too?"
"Mules don't move fast enough to suit the Indians. They are much too stubborn. They like horses because they know how to work with them. They can ride faster than lightning I tell you. The red man came into his own when he learned about the horse."
"He wore no shirt, and it's chilly up here. Do they always dress that way? I would think they would freeze."
"Most times. They use buffalo hides when they can get them. They are acquainted with the weather up here, the ones that stay that is. Why, I've seen them dive into the water as cold as it is now and come out as though it were nothing at all."
"What would have happened if he'd taken me?" She asked waiting for his answer.
Buck looked at her straight on now. He thought she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. And her hair, even the Indian liked her hair. He cleared his throat and his thoughts. "He'd of took you for a wife or a slave. Either way, he'd of had you. More than likely you would have bore him a few kids along the way. You'd have become his squaw. His white squaw."
"Wouldn't you and Hershel come after me?" She shrieked.
"Sure we would. But that don't guarantee we'd find you. Indians are slick about hiding out. They know every cave up here. It might take years to find you."
"Are you serious?" She gasped.
"Of course I am. That's why I told him he couldn't have you."
"What if he'd killed you and took me?" She became wide eyed.
"Well, if he'd have killed me, no one would come after you, probably because Hershel doesn't know you are coming. He wouldn't know to look for you."
"You're right. He wouldn't. I never thought of that."
She yawned and he smiled.
"It's late, let's turn in, we'll get a good start in the morning." He said, moving his blanket over so she could rest close, but not too close.
She put her blanket by the fire and stared at him from the other side. "Thanks for taking care of me, Buck."
"My pleasure…" Buck said and rolled over.
"Buck…tell me about yourself a little." She encouraged when she couldn't fall asleep. "How'd you lose your folks?"
"Cholera."
"Must have been hard for you. How old were you?" She asked in a soft voice.
He wished she'd shut up. The more she talked in that whispering tone, the more restless he became. When the Indians left, he wanted to comfort her, but he knew better. She wasn't his to comfort. If he showed his real feelings things could get mighty complicated. No, it was best to leave his feelings packed up like that old mule.
He never answered her question.
But when he closed his eyes, he saw her in his dreams. Her beautiful long hair, her lovely eyes. He'd never hankered for a woman before, why now? This was not the right situation and he knew it. But his heart didn't. For her sake, he had to keep quiet about his feelings and try to quit dreaming of her.
Chapter Eight
"We're coming around a dangerous bend, Rachel. It's steep, and you gotta keep your balance and don't look down." Buck instructed her. "Watch where you put your feet, but don't look past them. I'm going to wrap this rope around you, in case you start to fall, I can have a hold."
She let him put it on her, and for a split second their eyes met. "Don't fret, you'll be fine, if you do as I say."
"I'll try."
He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes. "You gotta do more than try, Rach, you got to do it. This is important, it could mean your life. You see, it's really dangerous here, and this isn't something I can change. Now I want you to tie this rope around your middle and hang on. If you slip and fall, I can still catch you. So don't be afraid. You trust me, don't you?" He asked staring into her face with concern.
"Of course." She swallowed. "Buck…"
She took the rope he offered and looped it around her, then called out to him.
He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes appraised her quickly. "Yeah…"
She suddenly tip-toed to kiss his cheek.
"What was that for?" He asked staring into her eyes, flustered at her boldness.
"It was a thank you…" She said softly.
He stared speculatively. "Okay. Now let's take it slow and easy. You hear?" He commanded. He had to forget her actions, make light of them. Because that peck on the cheek meant a lot to him.
"Sure…" She murmured, as though her voice might crack the very ground beneath her feet if she raised it.
Her head was down, and he reached to tip her chin up once more. "Don't look down…"
She swallowed hard. "Yes…I'll remember."
"Good. Now…let's go…" He said and led the way.
The passage was quite narrow, barely wide enough for a regular size foot. Rachel swallowed hard and clung to the rocky ledge on her other side. The urge to look down nearly overcame her, but instead she closed her eyes. That was her mistake too, unable to see where to step, she faltered and slipped. The ground was still frozen from the last snow, but it had melted and refroze, making it extra slippery.
She screamed as she slid down the rocky slope of the mountain, hanging in midair from the rope.
Terror filled her.
Buck whirled around and saw what had happened. Conflicting emotions ran across his face. Immediately he cinched the rope around him tighter. "Hold on honey, I'm coming." He said in
a low controlled voice.
She felt the burn of the rope around her as the tension cinched it. Feeling nothing below her feet, she dangled in the air. Don't look down.
"Buck…?" She cried out. "Please…help me."
"Don't panic…" He directed sharply. "I still got you. Now as I try to pull you up, you try to get a foothold on the rocks, and climb."
"I'll try…" She cried out in panic. "Buck, I'm scared."
"I know that. But you gotta concentrate on getting back up here. You can't think about what's below. Can you climb the rope at all?" He asked.
She made a motion to try. The rope swung out.
She screamed again.
"Easy, take it slow and easy. Don't panic." Buck instructed. His voice was still low and confident, and it gave her courage. He was on his belly now, hanging over the cliff. He put his gloves on and began trying to pull her up. "Grab hold if you can…" He grunted.
"I'm trying to." Panic echoed in her voice.
Whatever you do, don't look down!
Rocks slid every which way, as she bounced against them. He inched her up a little and she tried to climb the rope, but it was impossible, like pulling a dead weight. The rope burnt her hands and it was painful to move at the moment. The rocks she kept bouncing against was bruising her.
She gasped for air.
Just then, an enormous clap of thunder echoed in the distance.
Buck glanced up. "We got to get you up now. It's about to storm. That rain will turn to pure ice, we got to get to a shelter and quick."
"The sooner, the better." She hollered.
He inched her up another foot and she felt a jolt when it slammed her against the rocks. This time she hit her head and put a small gash on her forehead. Blood trickled into her eye. She wiped at it.
"Honey, just brace yourself for the rocks, so they don't beat you to death." He called to her, his voice growing anxious.
She nodded.
"This is gonna take a while, but we'll make it if we keep our heads." He told her reassuringly.
"Buck…what if the rope breaks?" She cried.
"It won't break. It's brand new rope. It will hold. You don't weigh that much."
"Oh yeah, then why is it so hard to pull me up there?" She cried out again.
"Something they call gravity. I read about it once. Pulls you down, makes you heavier than you are." He said patiently.
"Now, let's try it again." He said and pulled on the rope. She came up another foot. But this time it slammed her hard against the rock and she cried out and seemed to dangle. He glanced down at her and saw the blood on her forehead. Somehow, seeing her lifeless body gave him the extra strength.
~*~
"Good Lord, she's knocked out cold." Buck muttered.
There was nowhere to go with him, the ledge permitted no leverage. He'd have to use brute strength to get her up. By now his gloves were wearing thin from the rope burn and his chest burned where it pulled against him. He drew a breath.
"I'm not gonna let her die, Lord." Buck whispered, and yanked again on the rope. She flopped against the rocks like a rag doll. He cursed under his breath. "I'm liable to beat her to death on those rocks. But I got to get her up before that storm hits."
It was a long haul. Only a foot at a time and the rope was beginning to rub in places.
She was only a few feet down now. With bleeding hands, and tired beyond belief, he pulled on the rope with all his might and he could almost reach her now. The hard part would be pulling her up over the edge.
He decided to stand up and lean against the huge rocks from behind him.
With a strength he didn't know he had, he yanked. Then when he saw her almost on the ledge, he bent, tying the rope around him more securely so she wouldn't fall down again. He gently eased her up, enough to haul her over him. She lay on top of him, and he collapsed with pure joy.
He laid there for a long while, just getting his breath back and figuring out how to get up. But the urge was much too great, he was so happy she was all right, his lips touched hers. He growled in his throat and pulled away reluctantly when there was no response from her.
"Hey…Rach…you made it." He tried to shake her with his hands.
But she was out cold and somehow he had to get up and carry her the rest of the way. It was only a mile or two more and they would be on solid ground once more.
Pure determination kept his heart steady. He felt her breathing, but she was not conscious.
If he could get up to the clearing, he knew where the old mine shack was and he could take her there to rest while the storm passed.
Sliding himself against the rock, he pulled himself up. Deciding it was safer to keep the ropes on, he managed to pull her up full against him. He felt her heartbeat, the heat of her body, and the sweet smell of her. It shocked him how a woman could smell so sweet in these conditions.
Her head rested below his chin now and her body was limp. With a thrust, he hauled her over his shoulder and proceeded to climb.
At one point he was nearly on his hands and knees climbing with her on his shoulder.
She wasn't that heavy now, but she was dead weight. He moved slowly, to keep his balance and trudged onward.
As he moved upward, the rains came and blasted him in the face, making it hard to see where to step. The rain quickly turned to ice and it pelted him. He wiped his face several times with the end of her skirt and kept moving. It must have taken half the afternoon to get off that ledge, but he finally made it and fell down to the ground when the ledge widened onto solid ground once more.
By now the storm was raging and he needed to find cover. He rested a few minutes, covering their faces with his hat. He took a couple of deep breaths and getting his bearings, he headed for the mine shaft, carrying her once more over his shoulder.
When he found the shack, he practically ran toward it and shoved open the door with the toe of his boot.
The stale musty smelling place felt like heaven right now. He moved around in the dark, until he found a bunk, where he laid her down. Then he searched for a light of some kind.
It took him a while, because the lamp was on the floor.
He lit it and glanced about. The old shack was a mess, but it was shelter and he wouldn't be worrying about the mess or the smell.
He cleared off the table and checked for any supplies that might be around.
He found a little coffee in the cupboard, and old blackened pot on the floor, to make it with. He set the pot outside to catch the rainwater. While he waited for it, he glanced over at her.
Her eyes were closed, and she looked beautiful lying there.
The urge to kiss her grew in him, but he held back. It still was not wise to do such a thing. She was married to Hershel, he had to remember that. But he was growing fond of kissing her, despite his better judgment. He'd have to distract himself. But the joy that she was still alive made it seem important.
He leaned down and kissed her again. This time she stirred a little, and he thought she kissed him back. He moved away. The sensation rocked him to the core. Kissing Rach was the most pleasant thing, he couldn't describe it, he just enjoyed it.
About an hour later, he checked the pot again and it had filled with water.
He scrounged around and found enough kindling to start a small fire in the stove. After getting the coffee going he checked for any food, but there was none, nothing but dried up beans and rotten potatoes. He tossed the potatoes out and sat down.
When it quit raining, he'd try to get some food for them. But the storm was loud and the thunder seemed to split the sky.
He warmed himself by the fire then realized she had to be cold too. He needed to find a blanket or something to cover her with.
But there was nothing, so he removed his coat and laid it on her. She sighed.
He nodded. "You'll be better tomorrow." He decided. The rain had washed the blood from her forehead and plastered her hair to her.
With nowhere to sleep,
he cuddled up against her and tried to keep her warm. She'd never know it, and it was for her own protection, he told himself.
After only a few minutes, he began to realize this was what it might be like to sleep with a woman like her. It was pleasant, more than pleasant. He had to admit, it was a new feeling for him and he wondered why he hadn't married and shared all these feelings with some wonderful woman like Rachel.
When he woke the next morning, his arm curled around her and she had her head on his shoulder. For a moment, he enjoyed it, wondering what it might be like if she was his. He wanted to kiss her again, but he dare not, afraid she might wake up any minute.
That was foolish thinking, he scolded himself. She belonged to Hershel.
He couldn't stop the feelings inside him, so he got up and got away as fast as he could.
They needed food. Although it was a snowy, icy mess outside, he moved around as a light mist kept him miserable.
He spotted a rabbit nibbling on something on the ground. He aimed his rifle and shot it. The rabbit flew up into the air and back down, dead.
He carried it back to the shack.
Skinning it, he began to prepare some rabbit stew. Only there was nothing to put it in, so he started looking for a pot. He found one in the back of one of the cabinets. He washed it out, then he boiled it until it made a thick broth. He sipped it, it was tasty. But it sure did need some salt. He kept going through the cabinet until he found a little salt and smiled. "Alright!"
Around noon, she began to come to. Her eyes came open in a flash. She sat up and glanced around.
Buck was watching her from the makeshift table he'd made.
"Feeling better?" He asked.
Inside he was celebrating the fact that she was going to be all right. But outwardly he acted calm and collected. He couldn't let her know he had been worried about her.
Brides of the West-Part One Page 27
