Midnight Secrets

by Janelle Taylor

  Steve cupped and stroked her firm breasts. He quivered with joy every time his hands or mouth touched them, as did she. His body was awash in a flood of tormentingly sweet sensations. He hadn’t experienced such feelings with saloon girls, as only his body had sought and found physical release with them. With Anna, his heart and mind were involved in taking her. She seemed more relaxed and eager tonight, as she knew what lay ahead—that thrilled him, as it said how much he had pleasured her last time. He kissed her closed eyes, the tip of her nose, the crest of her chin, the ridges and hollows of her cheeks, her ears, and her mouth. He let his tongue dance with hers, as he had danced with her in camp.

  Ginny thrashed her spinning head and aching body. He was assailing her wits and heightening her desire. Her strained voice urged, “Please, Steve, take me before I die of longing.”

  His lips captured hers as he slid his manhood within her. Obviously there was no discomfort this time because she arched to meet every thrust and clung to him. She was yielding herself freely, totally, and ardently. He took her in those same ways.

  Passion’s flames leapt and scorched their bodies as they caressed, kissed, and moved as one. Love’s fire burned out of control. The tension within them built to an almost staggering point as they reached the pinnacle together. Their pulses quickened, as did their pace. Bursts of ecstasy shot through them. Their kiss went on and on, making them breathless and lightheaded until, at last, they rested in each other’s embrace.

  Steve’s voice was husky and tender as he murmured in her ear, “That was the best experience I’ve had in my entire life, Anna. Thanks.”

  Ginny was overwhelmed by her love for him. “You’re a good teacher in many areas, Steve Carr,” she replied, aware it was still too soon to press him for a permanent relationship or an admission of love. “Of course I have a lot more to learn, if you don’t get weary and bored with my lack of experience and vexed with my distractions. Blame yourself. You are quite witstealing, my talented scout.”

  Steve propped his elbows on either side of her head, careful not to entrap and pull her touseled hair as it spread out on the pillow. “You’re the big distraction, woman. Half the time, all I think about is you.”

  “Only half the time?” she drawled, putting on a look of disappointment. “You control my thoughts and feelings most of the time.”

  “If I thought about you any more than I do, we wouldn’t travel ten feet safely. As for getting ‘weary and bored’ with you, it will never happen, woman. If you gave me any more pleasure than you do, I’d go wild. You best have mercy on me and take it easy or I’ll be stalking you day and night.”

  “I wouldn’t mind. That might be fun.”

  “But bad timing, Anna,” he responded in a serious tone. He needed to prevent either of them from saying revealing words too soon.

  “I know, for both of us. After we get things settled in our lives, we can see if we want more from each other than this. Is that fair?”

  Apparently, he decided, his necessary caution had worked, and he was relieved. “Sounds like a good offer to me. What do you have to settle?” he asked as his mind shifted with reluctance from romance to his mission.

  “Starting a new life. How about you, my secretive scout?”

  “Secretive? Me? What do you mean?”

  Ginny wanted to do probing of her own but quickly learned it would be futile. “I’ve seen how you watch people. You’re mighty inquisitive for a scout. You look as if you’re trying to discover everyone’s secrets.”

  Steve chuckled. “Only those that could cause me trouble on my job.”

  “Like I cause you trouble?” she teased, his answer unconvincing.

  “This kind of trouble, I like,” he replied and nibbled at her neck.

  Ginny used her hand to smother her laughter. “Me, too.”

  Steve leaned back and gazed into her merry eyes. He pondered how he had gotten to this refined lady so quickly—unless she wanted him to do so. Was he all she really wanted from him? How could he know for sure? They were so different: she, a genteel, pampered southern belle; he, a half-breed bastard and all saddle tramp. Are you real, Anna Avery? Can I trust you? Can I accept the consequences if you’re—

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” she inquired, feeling unsettled by the intensity of his gaze.

  “Like what?” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

  “Like you’re a voracious predator who’s searching for my weaknesses before attacking me.”

  “I am. Haven’t you realized that by now?” he jested.

  As Steve’s mouth and hands returned to her pliant body, Ginny had an alarming feeling he had lied or masked his real meaning. What, she mused in panic, did she really know about this man she loved? He could be anybody, anything. Should she trust him? Would he use, betray, and discard her when they reached Dallas? But how could he make love to her so tenderly if he didn’t care about her? She reasoned it was probably only “her guilt about deceiving him that played tricks on her mind, or maybe he had been probing his intimidating feelings for her before he had spoken. Soon, she was lost in the wonder of what he was doing to her.

  The group stayed camped below Jackson the following day for several men to make repairs on their wagons. The grain supply was replenished, chores were done, and visits exchanged.

  Ginny wished she could have remained in the hotel room with Steve all day and another night, but that was impossible. Several men from town had arrived to chat with the travelers, to gather news from Georgia and other locations, and to relate all the horrific details of the Yankee conquest of that area and the fearsome destruction it had caused.

  Ginny wished the depressing talk would stop. She didn’t want to imagine what had been done at beautiful Green Oaks in Georgia, her lost home. She wasn’t surprised when a query was voiced concerning the existence of the Ku Klux Klan in Mississippi.

  The local man answered that “no group had been organized yet, but that if things got worse or didn’t improve, they would indeed form one.”

  As Ginny listened, she was glad she’d hadn’t witnessed and endured those tragedies and terrors. Since entering Mississippi, she had viewed lingering and chilling reminders of vast destruction, still visible two years after it had ended. She heard and saw bitterness and hatred in the Mississippians, as she had in Georgians. It had been war, she admitted, but some things couldn’t be justified even under that word. She was sitting in the dark in the Avery wagon and knew she couldn’t be seen, but she saw Steve standing near the conversing group of people. She observed him closely as he took in every word spoken, every expression used, and every person present. What, she mused, had the scout so intrigued?

  They broke camp on time Tuesday morning and crossed the wide Pearl River without problems, as it wasn’t deep or swift.

  Steve was edgy and alert. He surmised that he might not unmask the culprit until Dallas, their termination point, unless the telegram he was expecting in Vicksburg gave him a clue. The closer he came to a response, the more he dreaded what he might learn.

  Ginny continued to study the moody and mysterious scout who had won her heart. This morning, he had ridden close enough to touch her calf and find his present to her missing. He had scolded her, telling her in an almost curt tone, “Put that pistol on during the next stop and never be without it, not even in camp. Wear it dawn to dusk, woman; I mean it.”

  She told herself she should be happy he was so protective of her, but his concern seemed to have an underlying motive she couldn’t grasp.

  On Wednesday, May first, they crossed the Natchez Trace and Big Black River. Widely spaced rolling hills of mostly pine and cedar with a few magnolias allowed for a comfortable ride and steady pace. As the sun was setting, they halted near Vicksburg: “Gibraltar of the Confederacy” whose conquest had begun the gradual fall of the South. Because they were close to civilization, they didn’t have to circle-up as on the trail, which allowed for welcome privacy between wagons.

&nb
sp; The Mississippi River wasn’t far from camp. Its width and depth and its swift and unpredictable currents would make it the most treacherous and time-consuming crossing. This was where accidents and losses might occur. The famous river was down a steep slope with countless evergreen trees between it and camp, so the water wasn’t visible. The hilly terrain was dotted with numerous mounds, some manmade earthworks from the war; the men called them redoubts, redans, and lunnettes. Damage by gunboat blasts to land, trees, and property was still noticeable and heartrending, although Mother Nature and local inhabitants were doing their best to heal the numerous scars. Twice they heard horn blasts from steamboats that plied their trade on the river. They had journeyed for seven days to traverse one hundred forty miles of Mississippi, and the sight of the famed river and nearby town filled everyone with excitement.

  “We’ll rest tomorrow and get ready to challenge our most dangerous river on Friday,” Steve announced. “I suggest a night of fun and rest.”

  Everyone happily concurred. Meals were eaten and chores were done with haste. Music, merriment, and dancing began as soon as children were put to bed.

  Steve stayed in camp, hating to imagine what he would discover in the morning. He realized that if the villain he must defeat was Charles Avery, that could call a halt to his relationship with Anna. This might be the last enjoyable evening with her. Besides, he excused his reluctance, the telegraph office was surely closed by now.

  Residents who had seen or heard the wagontrain approach came to visit and bring treats for fellow Southerners. They joined in the fun.

  One related that Vicksburg had been a gambler’s paradise at one time because of the riverboats. When crime became a problem, the locals had put an end to it in ‘35 by ordering them out of town within a day or face brutal consequences of “thirtynine lashes at the public whipping post.” He reported with a comical grin how the threat had worked on almost all of the professional gamblers and their “fancy women.” He went on to entertain the travelers with colorful tales of famous thieves who had worked the Mississippi and the Natchez Trail.

  Conversation naturally veered to the past war with the North. Another local told them about the steamboat Sultana that picked up released Yankee captives in April of ‘65. “She took on too many fur her size and power: twenty-five hunnerd prisoners and others piled aboard. More ‘an eager to git outta the dangerous South. Squeezed into her tighter’ ‘an blood in a tick after a good feeding. She blew up near Memphis, burned, and sank. Word was fifteen hunnerd went down with her. Some couldn’t swim and some was too weak to do it, and that river has powerful currents in some places no man could survive.”

  Ginny listened until she couldn’t endure any more grim talk. She was relieved when several men took up their instruments and played cheerful tunes. She saw couples dance and others snack on the sweet treats of southern hospitality. Many chatted, laughed, sang along, clapped hands, or tapped toes.

  “Why don’t we join them?” Steve suggested to Ginny, nodding to the dancers.

  “Dare we risk being so close?” she jested. “I might lose my wits.”

  Steve grinned. “Who can blame me for yielding to temptation?”

  “Or me,” she replied, and slipped into his beckoning arms.

  Their first dance was fast and lively; the second one was slow enough and with sufficient distance from others to permit whispered talk.

  “We’re lucky we haven’t had any problems with storms and mud,” she remarked. “Bad weather always seems behind us. I hope it stays that way.”

  Steve didn’t know if he agreed or not, as storms would slow their progress. If he received good news tomorrow, it would give him more time with Anna, but would lengthen his mission and delay his other task. He wanted both jobs finished so he could… He frowned as he realized his future action was controlled by the information in that telegram. “Less than three weeks and four hundred miles to go, Anna,” he murmured.

  She wondered what Steve had been thinking to bring such a scowl to his handsome face. He was so tense tonight, and that worried her, yet he had asked her to dance twice and appeared reluctant to leave her side. Something heavy was weighing on those powerful shoulders, and she feared the burden somehow had to do with her. She tried to relax him with light talk. “I know; Father told me today. It sounds like a long time, but it will pass so swiftly. These last four and a half weeks have raced by.”

  Steve pushed aside his worries to concentrate on her. “That’s because you stay so busy and are having so much fun,” he jested.

  “In spite of the work and hardships, Steve, it has been enjoyable. I’ll never forget this journey. Of course, since we’ve encountered no perils, I’ll have to embellish it to make it colorful for my children and grandchildren. I’m sure you’ll have countless adventures to relate to yours one day.”

  Words the haunted man had thought and believed for years leapt from his lips before he could halt them. “I don’t plan to have either one. I wouldn’t make a good father, or a good husband.”

  Ginny assumed he had taken her innocent statements as pressure for a commitment. She faked merry laughter and teased, “You could be right; a trail man wouldn’t be around enough to fill their many needs.”

  Steve forced chuckles, too. She was generous to release him from his trap. “That’s a fancy and kind word for saddle tramp.”

  Ginny broadened her smile and slipped a seductive tone into her voice. “A saddle tramp doesn’t work to earn his living or have routes and schedules to follow. You do lead a free life without attachments, but you aren’t an idle wanderer. You aren’t ill-kempt, worthless, or irresponsible.”

  Steve leaned back and stared at her. He grinned and asked, “What brought on those compliments?”

  Ginny sent him a beguiling look that said she wasn’t going to answer. “Father says we’re going into Vicksburg tomorrow to spend the day and night. If you’re going, too, perhaps we could share the day.”

  Steve squeezed her hand and lowered his voice even more to whisper in a husky tone, “What if I want more than the day with you?”

  Ginny trembled with desire and her cheeks glowed. “I hope you do. We only have Shreveport left between here and Dallas.”

  Steve caught her meaning: one more town and one last chance to have privacy. “Let’s have lunch, a long stroll, sup— dinner, and…”

  Ginny’s body felt as if he was setting it afire with his provocative words. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him again. She had only a few chances left to win his heart before they arrived in Dallas. She wished they could sneak from camp to kiss and embrace. They didn’t have to make love every time they were alone, only be together.

  “Well?” Steve prompted. “You want to spend time with me?”

  She gazed into his dark eyes. “Sounds perfect to me, Mr. Carr.”

  Steve reacted to the intoxicating plans in the same manner. He was aching with need for her, and more than physical need. She made him feel good in many ways. “Sounds perfect to me, Miss Avery. Now, let’s change the subject before our expressions expose us as naughty children.”

  “Sounds very wise to me, Mr. Carr,” she replied, and grinned.

  Steve left the following morning before the Averys did. He picked up the telegram and read it. His emotions were a mixture of anger and sadness, of disbelief and confirmation of doubts. As he had suspected, Charles Avery had not purchased the Box F Ranch, hadn’t purchased any ranch or property; there wasn’t a Box F near Waco! He had been deceived! Ginny’s father was the sly culprit.

  Dread washed over the scout’s body and anguish flooded his mind. What remained to be learned was if Anna knew the dirty truth about her father and—Spirits help him—if she was involved in the vicious scheme.

  All he could do was wait for them to reach town. In bitter resentment, Steve resolved to take advantage of Charles’s encouragement to pursue his daughter. He must confront her in private. Shu, he hated to search for the truth! Either she was innocent and
would despise him for duping her and arresting her father, or she was guilty of complicity and of tricking and betraying him and would go to prison with Charles. Even if guilty, could he condemn her to such a terrible fate? Didn’t love and loyalty to her father and misguided beliefs count for anything with the law? How should he know, as he didn’t have love or loyalty to his father?

  Be innocent, Anna, or I can’t help you, not without destroying all I’ve worked for and without sacrificing vengeance for my best friend. If you’ve lied to me and used me, how can I ever trust you again?

  “We’re here to see Mr. Avery,” a stranger said to the oldest Davis boy.

  “That’s his wagon over there, sir.” The youngster pointed to it.

  “Much obliged,” the gang leader said, and guided his friends that way.

  As five roughly clad males approached the wagon, Ginny eyed the well-armed and crude-looking men who made her nervous even at a distance.

  “We’re looking for Charles Avery. Is he here?”

  Ginny’s wary gaze drifted from man to man. “My father went to view the river with some of the men. He’ll return soon.”

  “Your father? We didn’t know he was bringing his daughter along.”

  “You know him? You’re friends of his?”

  “Yep, we’ve come to get him and take him to a meeting.”

  She was confused and apprehensive. “What do you mean? We’re heading for Dallas on the wagontrain. Was he expecting you to meet him?”

  “Yep, but we’re a mite early. We have a business deal.”

  Ginny was uneasy. She didn’t like the unkempt… ruffians, she decided with aversion. “What kind of business do you have with my father?”

  “Private, Miss Avery, ‘less he’s already told you about it.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned anything like this to me.” She glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to rescue her if these men presented a threat. She saw the group returning from the river. With relief, she said, “Here he comes now…Father, you have visitors.”