The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  “Two days!” She looked around the surrounding forest. “Where are we?”

  “Still heading up. I had to get going, so I tied you to this thing. I have been praying the bouncy ride would not make you worse. That must be some head injury Luke gave you.”

  “I…I want to try to sit up.”

  He reached over and began untying some straps. Her feet rested against poles stretched across the bottom of the device so she wouldn’t slide down. He reached under her shoulders, helping her sit up. “How’s that? Your head hurt?”

  She put a hand to her hair. “No. Not so bad.” Her hair felt flat and matted and she looked away from him. “I must look terrible.”

  “You look beautiful to me. Just to see you sitting up without as much pain, and hear you talking, seeing you conscious, that is all I need.”

  She looked down at herself, seeing that she wore one of his buckskin shirts. “Can I…can I clean up when we make camp?”

  He put a hand to the side of her face. “If you feel well enough. But I will help you. Do not move around too much. You are back with me now and I want you to stay that way.” He took her hand. “I thought I was going to lose you, Emma Rivers.”

  She stared at the big hand that enclosed her own. It was tanned dark, and so strong. This man had nursed her the last three or four days, had put up with her helplessness, kept her bathed and warm. He was all she had now. Her whole world had changed. She met his dark eyes. “What did you call me?”

  “Emma Rivers. That is your name now. You are my wife, remember? On government records I am Joe Rivers. That makes you Emma Rivers.”

  She frowned. “Will I be recorded that way?”

  He grinned. “Someday. But where we are going records are not kept. We must go someplace where we will not be found for a while, until things quiet down. I just hope my people are still camped where I left them. They move around a lot because of the raiders, which makes it hard to keep enough food. That is why I go south to trade skins for supplies, but that is going to be impossible now.”

  This was the first chance she had had in a long time to really study his face in full light, realize how beautiful he was. “I’m…truly your wife?”

  “Yes, you are. Cherokee custom is as good as any. The Maker of Breath knows we belong together. That is good enough for me.”

  “That night in the shed…,” she said, remembering. “It seems like it never really happened, River. But then I realize it did, and—” Her heart beat harder, and her throat felt tight. “And it was the most…the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me in my life. And I love you, River.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “I love you more than anything I ever loved in my life—if anybody can say there ever was love in my life at all.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “And for a while…I thought maybe you’d think I was bad, or maybe you were just laughing about it and wouldn’t come…”

  Her voice broke and he squeezed her hand gently. “I would not have done that to you, Emma Rivers. I love you, too. You have brought joy to a man who has been very lonely for a lot of years, ever since I lost Yellow Sky.” He touched her chin, making her look at him. “I truly consider you my wife, Emma. And you must let it be real for you. Look right into my eyes and say it. Say, ‘You are my husband, Joe Rivers.’ ”

  Her eyes teared more and she swallowed, smiling bashfully then. “You…you are my husband…Joe Rivers.”

  He smiled. “And you are my new bride. I am taking you home, and I guarantee my people will love you and you will love them.”

  She broke into more tears, reaching out and hugging him. “I’ve never been really happy before, River. I never had anybody care about me like you do—or take care of me like this. I’ll go anywhere with you. I’ll be a good wife to you, I promise.”

  “I know you will.” He kissed her neck. “Thank God you are better.” His lips moved to her cheek, tasting salty tears. In the next moment his mouth covered hers, so sweetly, so gently, lightly exploring, refreshing her memory of that magical night when he invaded her body, when he moved over her so expertly as she lay helpless beneath him. She didn’t have to be afraid. When he took her again, he would be just as gentle as he had the first time. She would simply lie in his arms and let him show her all the wonderful ways of being a woman, and it would be nothing like Tommy or Hank.

  Hank. He had killed Hank! He left her mouth and she hugged him tighter. “Oh, River, what will happen if they come after you?”

  “Do not worry about it right now. We have some time. That was a bad flood, Emma. There might not even be anyone left who knows enough to put this all together.”

  “Luke would! And Tommy would!”

  “Hush, Agiya. Do not think about it right now. Just think about getting well. I know a good place to make camp. We will heat some water and wash you up and wash your hair and put a dress on you.”

  She sniffed and pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t have any dresses with me,” she answered, her body jerking in a sob.

  “I have a couple along you can wear. They will probably fit you just fine.”

  She frowned. “Why would you have dresses along?”

  He smiled sadly. “They belong to Yellow Sky. I have always kept some of her things with me. She often wore white woman’s dresses. She would be very happy for you to have them.”

  Emma felt a terrible jealousy, combined with pity for him. Yellow Sky. What had she been like? She wanted to know so many things about her. When had he married her? When had she died? Had he loved Yellow Sky more than he loved her? But River had already turned away, as though telling her he did not yet want to talk about it.

  “In a couple more days I will go into a settlement for supplies,” he said. He checked the horses’ hooves, then turned back to her. “You lie back down now. Do you want anything before we go on?”

  She shook her head. “Not if it won’t be long before we make camp. Just hold me once more, River.”

  He came back to her and knelt beside the travois, reaching out and hugging her tightly. “Everything will be all right, Emma. And I can read your thoughts. No, I did not love her more—just different.” He kissed her cheek. “We will talk about it another time. You just get well. I want to make love to you again. I ache for you, Emma.”

  She felt the strange fire move through her blood at the words. He kissed her lightly and laid her down again. “It will not be long,” he said then. He mounted his horse and got under way again. She felt under the blankets and realized he had wrapped something around her bottom as if she were a baby. She reddened at the thought of it. He had looked at her again without her even knowing it. And how amazing that he could be so wild, so vicious when necessary, yet could care for her so lovingly. She had a lot to learn about this white Indian who had already claimed her. After all, he was her husband now.

  They took shelter in an old, deserted cabin. Only three walls and part of the roof were left standing, but it was enough to protect them from the wind and give them privacy, although they were so deep in the woods that privacy made little difference.

  River Joe insisted that Emma lie still on the bedroll that he laid out for her while he built a fire just outside the little shelter and carried a bucket to a nearby creek. Emma listened to the soft rush of water, thinking how quiet and peaceful it sounded compared to the raging river of a few nights ago. She wondered if Luke was alive or had drowned, and she wondered about Tommy Decker. She knew it was bad to wish such things, but she found herself hoping both of them had been lost in the flood.

  River Joe returned, setting a small kettle over the fire and pouring some of the bucket water into it. “I will help you take a bath and wash your hair,” he said. “In the morning you can put on a real dress. By tomorrow afternoon we will be at the Hicks settlement. You will have to wait for me in hilding while I get supplies. We should not be seen together yet.”

  Reaching into the parfleche on his pack horse, he pulled out a pale blue dress covered with tiny yellow
flowers. He held it up. “This will fit you, I think. Do you like it?”

  She studied the garment, which was neatly sewn, with short cap sleeves and a high, prim neckline, and a full skirt trimmed with delicate white lace. Again she felt a rush of jealousy, combined with an uncomfortable self-consciousness.

  “I…I couldn’t wear it,” she answered. “It’s so pretty. But…it wouldn’t be right, River.”

  He walked closer, laying it across the bedroll. “Of course it would be right. Yellow Sky would have liked you very much, and I know her spirit is with us right now, glad that I have found someone who can make me happy again.”

  Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down at the dress, touching it lightly. “It’s so pretty,” she said almost absently. “I’ve never had a dress this pretty.” She frowned. “Do all Cherokee women wear dresses like this? I mean, I thought they would wear deerskin dresses.”

  He grinned. “Those are called tunics. But many wear the white woman’s dress. My people are not so different, Emma. In New Echota they have brick homes, big farms; they have schools and live just as well or better than many of their white neighbors.”

  “New Echota?”

  “A city the Cherokee have built in northern Georgia. Many of them live there now. And there is another big settlement at the mouth of the Tennessee River, called Ross’s Landing, a trading post run by one of our leaders, John Ross. Someday we will be able to have our own state and live peacefully.”

  She studied the flowers on the dress. “I’ve heard Luke and Jake and Tommy Decker talk about that.” She met his eyes. “That kind of talk only makes Indian haters madder, River. The Cherokee must know that.”

  He frowned. “Of course they know it. But it is their right. All this land was once theirs. What is wrong with claiming what little is left and making it a state that no one can take away from us?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. But white men like Luke and Tommy don’t want you to claim any of it. They want you out of this land altogether. They want you to go to Indian Territory.”

  “Many Cherokee have already gone there. Most do not like it. My own family insists on staying, and waiting for it all to work out. They will not go west, nor have they decided whether to go to New Echota. They love it high in the mountains right here in Tennessee.” He picked up the dress. “Now please wear the dress when we wake up in the morning. Wear it for me. You need a dress, and I have one. Yellow Sky would want you to wear it.”

  She watched his dark eyes. “What was she like? You told me once she was very young.”

  The sadness came to his eyes again. He looked at the dress, fingering it lightly. “She was fifteen and I was twenty when we married. She had trouble taking my seed. She wanted to give me a baby but could not conceive, and three years after we married she died of cholera.” He let go of the dress and rose, walking over to check the water. “Cholera is a damned poor way to go—a terrible death.”

  “I have heard others talk about it. I’m sorry, River.”

  He looked over at her, watching her quietly for a moment. “I love you just as much as I loved her, Emma. If I did not have the same feelings of love and honor, I would not let you wear that dress. You are not second. You are equal, and I need you. Do not let Yellow Sky come between us. For me her memory is good and sweet, but she is gone, and meeting you has helped me realize that. You are my wife now. I have no other wife, and I will not have our bed shared by a memory.”

  She carefully set the dress aside. “I will wear it.”

  She looked back at him and he smiled sadly. “You will feel a lot better after I wash your hair. I will put some deer meat on the fire after the water is hot enough.” She thought she saw tears in his eyes. “Thank you for understanding about Yellow Sky.”

  Her heart went out to him, and she felt a new surge of desire for him, actually wishing she would hurry and heal so that she could make love with him. She had a strange new freedom now—being free of Tommy and Luke, going to a brand-new life—yet in a way she was still a captive. But it was a pleasant captivity, for her captor was River Joe. He came to her with soap and water, dipping a rag into the water.

  “Take off your tunic and the cloth I wrapped around you.”

  A nervous shiver ran through her blood. “Undress?”

  He grinned. “Emma, I have done this several times already when you did not even know it. I have already seen all I need to see, and I am very pleased with my wife.”

  Her eyes widened and she turned crimson, her mouth falling open. “River! I…I can’t just sit here naked in front of you!”

  “Why not? I have already seen you that way, and I have already made you my woman.”

  “But it was dark when we did that!”

  “Not when I bathed you. Come on, now, Emma, I am just going to wash you, and wash your hair. You said you wanted to fix it, feel prettier.” He leaned up and kissed her mouth lightly, then gave her a smile as he unlaced the buckskin shirt she wore, helping lift it over her head, amused when she folded her arms over her breasts. He leaned down and kissed her milky shoulders, then handed her the rag, smiling. “Here. You can do it if you would rather. I will get something started to eat. I will help you with your hair when you are ready.”

  She took the rag. “You’ll stay turned around?”

  He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I will stay turned around until you tell me. Are you sure you are strong enough?”

  “I think so.”

  He sighed deeply, rising. “You tell me if you feel too weak.”

  He turned and walked back to put some meat in a pan over the fire. Emma loved him all the more because he did not look back once. She had to get used to this, learn to let River look upon her nakedness.

  She washed, removing the soft cloth he had wrapped around her bottom, relieved to realize it was dry. She pulled on the dress, which seemed to fit very well. She buttoned up the front, then stood up on bare feet and shook down the skirt.

  “You can look now. I need you to help me wash my hair.”

  River Joe turned, staring at her quietly, absolute love shining from his eyes. “It looks beautiful on you,” he said. “I knew it would.”

  She smoothed the skirt. “It’s a little wrinkled. You’ll have to hang it over something so it can straighten out a little overnight. I’ll put the shirt back on for sleeping. I just wanted you to see the dress.”

  He nodded. “Every day I realize more and more that I have done the right thing.” He walked closer, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You are so beautiful, Agiya. We will have a good life together.”

  She smiled and he pulled her close. She breathed deeply of his sweet scent and he kept his strong arms around her.

  “Don’t ever take me back there, River. If you should ever decide you don’t want me, don’t take me back there.”

  “I would never do that,” he said in a near whisper.

  She looked up at him and their lips met. This time he kissed her harder than before, exploring deeper, reminding her of that first sweet, wonderful night, awakening a feverish passion in her soul and making her alive with curiosity about being taken by him again. It was not bad to want him that way. This beautiful man, this strong, brave, wonderful man, was her husband. She prayed fervently to the Maker of Breath that if Hank Toole’s body was ever found, no one would guess River had killed him.

  He left her lips and she hugged him tightly. “Let’s hurry and climb higher, River. I’m afraid someone will follow. I don’t want anything ever, ever to happen to you, or to part us. I would die if I had to be apart from you now.”

  He kissed her hair. “We will not be separated, Agiya. I will keep us together always.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jim awakened to a sharp blow against his left shoulder.

  “What are you doin’ here, mister?” someone sneered. “You a runaway?”

  Jim scrambled to a sitting position, leaning against a tree and staring up wide-eyed at three men, all dressed
poorly, and all carrying muskets pointed at him.

  “I ain’t never seen him around, Bates,” said one of them.

  “You runnin’ from your master?” Bates asked.

  Jim rubbed at his sore shoulder, his heart pounding with fear. “N-no, suh, I’m…I’m just lost.”

  “Slaves don’t get lost ’less they’re runnin’ away,” the third man said.

  “I didn’t know where to go, mistuh. The flood! My mastuh, he done got killed in the flood.”

  The three men looked at one another, then Bates scowled at Jim. “Get up!”

  Jim slowly rose, watching them warily.

  “Who’s your master? Who owns you?” Bates asked.

  “Mastuh Toole. Hank Toole,” Jim answered, his voice squeaking with fear. “He runs the supply boat…the Jasmine. It got wrecked in the flood, and I think he—” Jim looked around in the woods, debating whether to tell the truth about the big Indian and the white girl. Maybe they wouldn’t believe any of it, and if they didn’t, they would say he had killed Hank Toole. Maybe Hank’s body would be so battered by the flood when it was found that no one would realize he had been stabbed. Maybe the body wouldn’t even be recognizable. “I think he must be dead,” he continued. “The flood, it was a terrible thing! It throwed me right off the Jasmine—I worked the boilers for Mastuh Toole. I got throwed into the river, and next thing I know, the Jasmine she’s rippin’ loose from her ties and crashin’ downriver.”

  Bates stepped closer. He raised his musket sideways and rammed it against Jim, shoving him back against a tree. Jim grunted from the blow, his breathing coming quicker from fear and pain.

  “How are we supposed to know you’re tellin’ the truth?”

  Jim swallowed, searching the white man’s eyes. “You check,” he said, near tears. “You go on back there. You’ll find out the Jasmine is all wrecked! The Good Lord only knows what happened to my mastuh! I’m tellin’ the truth, mistuh! I didn’t know what to do after that. I been scared somebody would find me and think I was runnin’, just like you is thinkin’. But I ain’t runnin’, mistuh. I just didn’t know where to go or who would believe me! Ain’t nobody gonna believe a slave! You go see! You go see!”