The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  She laughed. “Josh, are you serious? That sounds wonderful!”

  “Yes, ma’am. And there’s a nice private place over here where we can do some catching up on other things.”

  A shiver of sweet desire moved through her. It had been so long since they could make love in complete freedom, outside the confines of the cramped wagon, or been able to give vent to their burning desires. “But the water must be so cold,” she protested.

  “Not this water.” He rode a little way past the waterfall and dismounted, helping her down. “Stay right here. And don’t be afraid. You can’t see the wagon train, but Devon knows where we are, and a gunshot will bring him fast. I checked it out real good—no bear dens or anything like that around.” He removed the blankets, spreading them out on a dark spot that looked like grass. “I’ve got a change of clothes here for me, and your nightgown and robe here—some soap and some of that lotion I bought you back at Laramie. You don’t use it often enough, Marybeth. You have such pretty skin.”

  “I hate to waste it when I can’t bathe first.”

  “Well, you can bathe now.” He came over to her and began unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Josh, are you sure—” Her words were cut off by a kiss, a sweet, delicious, tender kiss that gently parted her mouth while he moved his hand inside her shirt and caressed a breast with the back of his hand.

  “I told you to quit worrying,” he said then. “Just enjoy, Marybeth. This is probably the last chance we’ll get to do something like this before we make Oregon.” He pulled off her blouse and pulled down the sleeves of her camisole, bending down and kissing her breasts. He went to his knees, tasting lightly at her firm nipples as he unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it down, bringing everything else with it. He kissed her belly, kissed at the warm love nest that he needed to invade.

  “Josh,” she whispered, grasping his hair. In moments she stood there naked, and he rose to strip off his own clothes. She studied him in the moonlight, so much man. She stepped forward and kissed his bare chest, reaching down and touching that part of him that brought her pleasure instead of the humiliation and pain it had once brought her from another man. So soft it was, and already swollen with need for her.

  Josh picked her up and carried her to the blankets, setting her down on one of them. “I’m not waiting for the bath,” he told her. He laid her back, and she gladly opened herself to him, gasping when he quickly entered her, filling her with such power and manliness that she sometimes wondered how he even fit in her. Dan had once told her she would be useless to a man after the baby, that no man could enjoy her. “A man would have to be built like a damn stud horse to get any pleasure out of you then,” he had told her during one night of his verbal abuse. He had not lived long enough to find out. Now here was Josh Rivers, taking great pleasure in her.

  If Dan MacKinder’s statement was true, then her man was built just as Dan had described, for he filled her to the point of light-headed ecstasy. She felt the wonderful explosion building deep inside as he moved rhythmically, in that special way he had that brought out wild, wanton desires. Then it came, the wonderful, pulsating climax that made her cry out his name. She could hear his own groans of pleasure as he raised up, grasping her hips and pushing deep, his eyes drinking in her naked beauty in the moonlight. He moved in circular motions then, destroying any modesty she might have left, making her pant his name and arch up to him in glorious abandon.

  Moments later his life spilled into her. He stayed on his knees, throwing back his head and breathing deeply. After a moment he pulled away from her, grabbed at a bar of soap, and picked her up in his arms. “Now for that bath,” he told her. She screamed lightly as he carried her over to a pool of water behind the bigger waterfall.

  “Josh, we’ll freeze!” She screamed again as he plunked her in the water and waded in after her. Marybeth’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “It’s warm!”

  He laughed, pushing her deeper into it. “I told you I’d surprise you. It’s some kind of hot spring. I very selfishly didn’t tell anyone else about it because I wanted to be here alone with you.”

  “Oh, Josh, we should at least tell Delores and Florence. They would so much like a bath.”

  “Well, don’t feel too selfish. There isn’t time for everyone to come over here and take turns. I think Cap would rather they didn’t know.” He lathered up the soap and laid it on a rock, then reached out to rub his soapy hands over her neck and down over her breasts. “I’ll wash you. This is the first time we’ve used this fancy soap I bought in St. Louis. Don’t ask me why I bought it. I think clear back then I knew I’d find a need for it. Feels a lot better than plain old lye, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes!” He moved behind her and soaped her up, and for the next several minutes she enjoyed a glorious massage over an aching back and legs and feet. “Josh, you’re too good to me.”

  “No, ma’am. You deserve every good thing I can do for you. Just relax.”

  She leaned against him, and his soapy hands moved over her breasts again, gently massaging, down over her belly. His fingers moved into secret places as he whispered to her to again relax. Moments later she felt the wonderful desire building again, and the exotic pulsation again came to her just from his magical touch. She groaned his name, and he turned her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pushed himself inside of her, setting her down on the bottom of the shallow pond. She rested on her elbows, and he moved big hands under her bottom to support her while he made love to her again.

  It became a night of magic for her. When he finished with her they bathed each other again and got out to roll up in a blanket together. They slept a while under the full moon, spoke little, made love again, bathed again. Finally they dressed and stretched out on a dry blanket, pulling another one over them.

  “We should get back to the wagon train while it’s still dark,” she told him.

  “We can go back in the morning.”

  “Please, Josh. I can only take so much embarrassment. Please don’t make me ride back in front of everyone in the morning in my robe. Everyone will know.”

  He laughed lightly and nuzzled her neck. “All right, we’ll go back in a while.” He kissed her eyes. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” She touched his face, tempted to tell him about the baby; but he had talked about rough country ahead and hard work for the men. She didn’t want him burdened with the worry of her pregnancy. “This was so sweet of you, Josh. This has been the second most memorable experience of my life.”

  “The second?”

  “The first was our wedding night.”

  He grinned, pulling her close and kissing her lightly. “I hope you’ve stopped worrying about pleasing me.”

  She smiled and kissed him back. “I never thought it could be like this. Oh, Josh, I can’t wait for Oregon. We’ll settle in that pretty green valley everyone talks about. It will be so wonderful.” Her eyes teared. “God has been so good to me.”

  He sobered, pulling her close. “And to me.” They lay there quietly for a few minutes. “We’d better get back before we get too sleepy.”

  “We’ll have to be very quiet. The whole camp is probably asleep by now.”

  “Except Trapper. He’s keeping watch.” He rose and rolled everything into a blanket. He pulled on his boots and loaded up the gear, then helped her onto his horse and climbed up behind her. They rode quietly back to camp, unaware that they rode past Trapper’s dead body, lying behind some brush, an Indian knife in his back. All around them, more Crow warriors settled into positions, waiting for dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Josh lay awake, listening to the howling of wolves and the nearby calls of night birds. He felt uneasy, but was not sure why. Some of the night birds sounded different, and there seemed to be more of them than normal. He sat up and searched through the pockets of his deerskin vest that hung inside the wagon, finding one of the thin cigars he enjoyed smoking. He put it to his lips and prepared to
light it when he heard a rustling sound outside the wagon. Immediately he reached for his pistol and cocked it, the still-unlit cigar in his mouth.

  “Josh.” The name was softly spoken from the back of his wagon. “It is I, Devon.”

  Josh pulled up the canvas flap. “What is it?”

  “Wake your woman quietly—tell her to dress and be ready. Something is wrong.”

  Josh lowered his pistol and took the cigar from his mouth. He looked past him into the darkness. “I feel it, too. I haven’t been able to sleep. Seems like an awful lot of night birds out there.”

  “Not night birds. Indians. They are giving signals.”

  Josh felt his chest tighten at the threat. “Have you checked with Trapper?” he asked, his voice a near whisper.

  “He does not answer my signal,” Devon whispered back. “Something has happened to him, and I dare not go out into the darkness to find out what it is. But I suspect he has been killed.”

  “Killed! What the hell for? We haven’t done anything to any Indians. We haven’t even run into any since leaving Laramie.”

  Devon looked around with eyes that reminded Josh of a wild animal sensing danger. “I do not know what the reason could be. But they are out there, watching the wagons. I suspect they are waiting for dawn.”

  “They?”

  “Crow, most likely. The Crow and Shoshoni have been pretty peaceful the last couple of years. If they plan to attack us, something has happened to provoke it. We will probably never know what it was. I must go now—warn the others to be dressed and alert. Raise the canvas slightly on the outer side of your wagon and keep watch. Watch for any movement the moment the sun rises. If we are not caught off guard, it will be better for us. From listening to the exchange of signals, I suspect perhaps twenty of them. That is almost the same number of men we have, plus a couple of young boys who know how to shoot. These farmers are not going to be very good shots, and many of them have old muskets, but it will be the same for the Indians—mostly bow and arrow and old muskets. Still, you and I and Ben and Cap will have to make our shots count. Stay alert.”

  The man left, and Josh lowered the canvas, turning to Marybeth with a heavy heart. How he hated having to tell her the news. He could not imagine what could have spurred the Indians to move against them, but he did not doubt Devon’s suspicion that they were indeed out there. He quietly pulled on a shirt and his vest, then slung a holster and his revolver over his shoulder. He leaned over Marybeth, kissing her awake.

  “Josh, I’m too sleepy,” she muttered.

  He grinned, but his heart ached at the thought of her coming to any harm, and he prayed that would not happen. “Honey, you have to get dressed.”

  She blinked and looked around the still-dark wagon. “What?”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Be very quiet. We have to do this without others knowing it.”

  “What others,” she whispered. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Josh, what is going on?”

  He sighed, pulling her close for a moment. She felt the gunbelt. “Josh! Why are you wearing this in the middle of the night?”

  He held her arms reassuringly. “Devon just came by,” he whispered. “Something is wrong outside. I felt it, too—couldn’t sleep for all the bird calling. Devon says it’s Indians.”

  Her eyes widened, and he felt her stiffen. “You mean…Indians that mean us harm?”

  “Possibly. Devon says they’re giving signals—he suspects they intend to attack the wagon train come morning.”

  “Oh, Josh!”

  He quickly kissed her. “Just stay calm. I want you and Danny dressed in case you have to get out of the wagon quick. And we’re supposed to roll up the canvas a little on the side of the wagon facing out—not too much so it’s not too conspicuous; just enough to peek through at dawn to see if anyone is coming.”

  Her throat tightened with fear, not for herself but for Danny and Josh. “Oh, Josh, if it happens, please be careful.” She put a hand to her chest. “There are hardly any men on this wagon train who know anything about fighting Indians.”

  “Maybe not; but most of them have at least hunted. That’s better than nothing. Devon, Cap, Ben and I have fought Indians before.”

  “Trapper, too. I wonder how many Indians there are, Josh?”

  He decided not to tell her Devon suspected Trapper was already dead. He shivered at the realization he had been out there alone with her earlier in the night. He kissed her forehead. “Hard to say. Just get dressed. I’m going to roll up the canvas just a little and keep my eyes open the rest of the night.”

  He turned and quietly moved things aside so that he could turn up the canvas without climbing outside the wagon, afraid if he were spotted, the Indians would be alerted and attack sooner. Marybeth pulled off her gown and quickly pulled on a shirt, not bothering with her camisole. She pulled on some bloomers and a clean skirt, then felt around in the darkness for her brush. She began vigorously brushing her hair, realizing it was a silly thing to do. Her hair might end up on some Indian’s trophy belt. Yet she nervously kept brushing, desperately needing something to do to curb her terror.

  Indians! Why? They had come so far without Indian trouble. Why did this have to happen? The happiness she had known just a few hours earlier in Josh’s arms beside the hot springs seemed an odd contrast to the tension of the moment. She could lose him, and Danny, too.

  “Oh, dear God!” A woman from some other wagon wailed the words, probably upon hearing she must be prepared. She exclaimed something else, but the words were muffled, no doubt by her husband clamping a hand over her mouth.

  “If nobody panics we’ll be all right,” Josh told her, hoping he was right. Although fairly evenly matched, he knew the kind of fighters Indians were, even without good weapons—vicious, intent, having no fear of death. Their attitude and skill in battle far surpassed most of the men with the wagon train, who were mostly peaceful farmers who had used their guns for little more than rabbit hunting.

  “They’re afraid, Josh. I’m afraid.” She put down the brush as he finished tying off the canvas.

  “Don’t think I’m not. I know how Indians fight. But in situations like this you can’t let fear get the better of you. That’s one thing Indians count on when it comes to whites.” He turned and embraced her. “You sit tight. I’m going to find Devon.”

  She grasped his arms, whispering his name. “Earlier tonight—it was so wonderful,” she told him. “I love you, Josh.”

  He met her lips in a tender kiss. “And I love you. We’ll be all right. You remember what I told you about things working out for you and me.” He kissed her again, and she could sense his own apprehension in spite of his air of confidence. He climbed out of the wagon and disappeared into the darkness.

  John waited in terror in the darkness, the sound of Indian calls all around him. Although he was not accustomed to this land and its night sounds, he knew the Indians were ahead of him; he had watched them gather near the foothills, then split up. Instinct told him the sounds he heard now were those same Indians. They had surrounded the wagon train, and John knew he could not go in without being spotted and killed. For the moment he could only hope the savages would not spot him right where he was.

  Not that I give a damn about one person on that wagon train except Danny and my parents…and Marybeth, he thought. I’d like to see them all die, especially Cap and Josh Rivers.

  His emotions were mixed. After the way he had been treated, he could enjoy watching the wagon train burn, its people murdered and scalped. It would serve them right. They had left him to what could have been the same fate if not for nerve and luck. If only his own parents and nephew weren’t along. He wondered if all this could have anything to do with Hanna and the others killing the Indian man. Had they also killed the woman? Hanna had mentioned he couldn’t let her live to run and tell her kin what had happened. Had the Crow blamed the incident on the travelers in the wagon train?

  He settled down against an embankme
nt, shivering with the thought of being caught himself. If he lived through the night and the next day, he would be a lucky man.

  Josh watched from inside the wagon, as dawn awoke to pink and gray, and a crane squawked somewhere in the distance. He saw the movement then, a man darting from one tree to another. He cocked his rifle, while Marybeth lay flat in the wagon bed, holding Danny against her and watching Josh with desperate fear for him. She saw him take aim.

  Someone from another wagon fired at something.

  “He’s got a flaming arrow,” she heard Josh say as he fired his own gun. The Indian with the bow and arrow cried out and fell backward, but he had already got off the arrow.

  It seemed then that everyone was firing at once. Danny started crying at the loud noise as Josh shot several times from inside the wagon. Guns seemed to be roaring everywhere. A woman screamed, and Marybeth looked out the end of the wagon to see the canvas of one wagon on fire. A woman was scrambling out of it, and at almost the same time another flaming arrow landed into another canvas top. The woman who climbed out of the first wagon suddenly jerked, and fell with an arrow in her back.

  “Get out of here now!” Josh ordered. “If we wait till they put a flame to us, they’ll be watching for us to climb out and shoot us like sitting ducks!”

  Marybeth did not question his instructions. Filled with horror at the sight of the arrow in the woman’s back, she grabbed Danny and quickly scrambled out of the wagon. Josh was right behind her. “Get down underneath,” he told her, pushing her down. “And stay there!”