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Comanche Sunset

Page 23

by Rosanne Bittner


  But she could not help wondering if this sweet joy could really last. They could reach the fort by tonight, and then he would go away; and she still had Sergeant Enders to face. Once the soldiers found them, her most difficult task would be pretending to detest Wade. She understood why she must do it, but the thought of it made her sick. She wanted to shout to the whole world that she loved him, that he was the finest, bravest, most intelligent man she had ever known. Why did people have to be so cruel?

  She touched the powerful arm that was fastened around her, studying the dark skin, kissing his arm. Wade stirred, pressing against her and reminding her of what she had done through the night. She was not quite sure how many times she had given herself to him; she only knew that his promise had been right. In spite of lingering pain and soreness, she could tell that being with a man only got better and better. She never dreamed pleasing a man could bring so much pleasure in return. Uncle John’s attitude and threats had made it all seem so ugly and frightening, but Wade Morrow had removed those barriers. He had touched her so magically that she had been surprised at her own flagrant wantonness, never dreaming she could be so bold with a man. With the morning light came the realization of what she had done, as though she was just now waking up from a strange, wonderful dream.

  Wade pulled her hair away from her neck and kissed her there. “Good morning,” he said softly.

  Jennifer kept her back to him, answering sleepily.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She sighed deeply. “Just terribly tired. And my leg hurts.”

  He sat up. “I’d better take a look at it and change the dressing.” He started to rise, but she turned to him, pulling at his arm.

  “Not yet,” she told him. Their eyes held in understanding, both of them realizing this could be their last moment to lie in each other’s arms. He pulled her close, and she kissed his chest. “You don’t think I’m bad, do you?” she asked. “I mean…I never thought I could do what I did…not this way. But I love you so much, and I’m so afraid of something happening to you.”

  He stroked her hair. “And I love you. Don’t ever doubt it, Jenny. How could I think you’re bad when I know you love me. I feel like the luckiest man alive.” He kissed her forehead. “Besides, a man knows when it’s a woman’s first time. To think you gave me the privilege of being your first man only tells me how special I am to you.” He moved his lips to her eyes. “You belong to me now, Jenny. Don’t ever forget it. Your Uncle John can’t come for you, and Sergeant Enders can’t claim you. You belong to Wade Morrow. You just remember that if anyone else tries to tell you differently.”

  She ran a hand along his strong arm. “I’ll never love another man the way I love you,” she told him. “If something happens…I’ll never forget you, and I won’t want another man for a long, long time. Maybe never.”

  He took hold of her hand. “You’re young. You’ll want another some day—a home and children. Just don’t take another man for any reason but love, Jenny.”

  She met his eyes. “I just want you,” she whispered, her eyes tearing. “What will I do if something happens—”

  He put his fingers to her lips. “Nothing is going to happen. God brought us together. I can’t believe He means for it to end here.” He moved a big hand to her belly, massaging it. “I hope I didn’t do you any damage.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be all right.” She put a hand to her face. “I must look terrible. And my hair—”

  “You look beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Their eyes held, and they both knew they had to use this one last moment to unite their bodies once more. He moved on top of her, bending his head to kiss her neck, her shoulder, both her breasts.

  She closed her eyes and returned his rhythmic movements, as he rose to his knees, grasping her bottom and drinking in her nakedness as he pulled her to him in a conquering gesture that brought out all his deeper masculine feelings of dominance, though he knew he could never force this on any woman. This one wanted him, and he could think of nothing more pleasant than making Jennifer Andrews his legal wife, of building her a fine home in San Diego, of seeing her belly swollen with his child.

  His life spilled into her, and he hoped it would not take hold just yet, almost hating himself at the realization that he could die and leave her pregnant. He had wanted her so badly the night before that he had given little thought to the possible consequences, other than emotional, and he doubted Jenny had either. Still, there was no sense asking her about her last time of month. It would only worry her. If his seed took hold in her belly, there was nothing that could be done about it now. He simply had to do all he could to get back to her, and pray God would protect her.

  He pulled away from her and lay back down beside her for a moment, and Jenny suddenly burst into tears, hugging him around the neck. “Oh, Wade, I love you, I love you,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to leave this place.”

  He held her close. “Neither do I, but we don’t have any choice.” He kissed her hair, wishing he could have been stronger about the whole thing. It had really been up to him to resist the temptation. She was too young and innocent and trusting to know or care. If only she didn’t tear at his heart the way she did. If only she hadn’t been so beautiful, so loving, so brave, so vulnerable.

  “Everything is going to be all right,” he reassured her. “In a month or so we’ll be together again and I’ll take you to California with me. We’ll get married and spend the rest of our lives together.” He kissed her tears. “Please don’t cry, Jenny. You’ve got to be braver now than you’ve ever been yet.”

  She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, angry with herself for the easy, babyish tears. It seemed that they came too readily, her emotions torn and confused, exhaustion making it difficult to be strong. So much had happened over the last few days, she wondered sometimes if she knew what she was doing at all. But when she looked into Wade’s eyes, she knew one thing for certain. She loved him, and nothing would change that.

  “I’m sorry for crying,” she told him. “I must seem like such a child to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You just need a good, long rest,” Wade told her. “I understand.” He sat up slightly, gently stroking her hair back from her face, wondering if any man had ever loved a woman as much as he loved her. “We’ll get washed and get you dressed,” he told her then, as reluctant as she was to leave the warm love nest they had shared. But the morning sun had brought back the reality of their situation, and they had to leave.

  He rose and stretched and she drank in the sight of his handsome nakedness in full light, feeling a secret thrill at knowing she belonged to a man of such strength and skill. She wondered if it was supposed to be wrong to take pleasure in watching him, to feel desire at the sight of him. Wasn’t all this just a part of loving him? Surely it was, for when he pulled the blanket away from her and helped her wash, she saw only a look of near worship in his eyes as he gazed lovingly over her nakedness.

  They both washed, and before Jenny dressed Wade changed the bandage on her leg, which was still tender when she tried to stand on it. Her heart fell at the sight of the new scar she would carry, but she knew it wouldn’t matter to Wade. And if something happened to him, the injury on her leg would always remind her of Wade Morrow, his kindness and patience and gentle care.

  She realized now that her night of ecstasy had taxed her physically more than she had realized at first. She felt totally spent. Everything ached, and she had little energy. Wade had to help her dress, and he made her sit down while he brushed her hair, careful not to pull too hard close to the still-healing cut along her scalp, where the skin was pink and puffy near the scab line.

  They ate only jerked meat and drank some water, since there was nothing in the area to use for a fire. “You’ll eat better at the fort tonight,” he told her, again wrapping his sleek, shiny hair into a tail at his neck with a strip of beaded rawhide. He pulled on the denim pants, but put on a pair of moccasins i
nstead of leather boots. He pulled a clean, blue calico shirt over his head and put on a silver and turquoise necklace.

  “You look better than I do,” Jennifer told him.

  Wade laughed lightly. “I doubt that. I never saw a prettier woman in my life than the one who got off that coach in San Antonio.”

  “Well that woman was a far cry from this one.” She put a hand to her hair. “I’ll look better for you in a couple of weeks.”

  He knelt in front of her, putting a hand to her cheek. “Do you think I care about how you look?” He leaned forward and kissed her lips. “God knows we both need a genuine bath and a decent meal. Right now it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that your leg is going to be all right, that we’re both alive and we both finally admitted our feelings. I’m a happy man, Jenny, and I’m not going to let anything keep me from you.”

  He kissed her again and rose to finish packing the travois. He walked outside to retrieve the Indian pony, letting it stop to graze for a moment on a small cluster of buffalo grass. He looked to the south, half expecting to see soldiers coming, wondering if they had found the coach yet, wondering jealously and protectively what Sergeant Anthony Enders was like.

  He led the pony into the cave and tied the travois onto it, while Jenny watched quietly, studying his every move, wanting to remember everything about this man she loved, this man who had stolen her virginity in a night of passion she would never forget. He came to her then, picking her up in his arms. “Time to go.”

  “Just a little longer,” she asked, her eyes tearing.

  “Some things can’t be put off, bil nashdehi. This isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning. Don’t forget that.”

  She put her arms around his neck and they kissed one last, delicious, hungry kiss before he finally tore his lips from hers and lay her on the travois. She could see tears in his own eyes, and she knew this was as hard for him as it was for her.

  There was nothing more to be said. He tied her securely onto the travois and turned the horse to lead it outside, checking around the cave to be sure no evidence of their lovemaking was left behind, in case soldiers should track them to this point. A sudden pain engulfed his heart at the memory of the sweet night he had shared here with Jennifer Andrews. It was done now. She belonged to him. Wrong as it probably was, there was no changing it, and he would kill any man who tried to bring his Jenny any shame or harm for loving a half-breed.

  He led the horse outside, then mounted up. “Remember what I said to do when we run across soldiers,” he told her, looking straight ahead.

  “I’ll remember,” she answered in a small voice that made his chest hurt more.

  “Your injuries will give you an excuse to hold Enders off for a while,” he said, getting the horse into motion. “You can’t turn him down right away or he’ll be suspicious. I put four hundred dollars in your handbag so you can pay him off later on. Then just wait for me. If I don’t show up in a month or so, wire my father in San Diego—Lester Morrow, of Morrow Freighting Services. I’ve been thinking about what to do, and I know one thing for certain—I don’t want you getting on any stagecoaches. I have some brothers on their way out here, headed for Galveston to pick up some freight from New Orleans. I wired them from San Antonio. My father will be sure to get word to them to stop at Fort Stockton and pick you up.”

  He let go of the horse’s reins and let it amble on its own while he rolled a cigarette. “You explain everything to them,” he continued. “Once they understand how important you are to me, they’ll see that you get safely out of Fort Stockton. If I…” He stopped and lit the cigarette. “If I don’t make it back at all, I can guarantee that if you go back to San Diego with my brothers, my father and mother will make a home for you until you can manage on your own—or until you meet someone else and settle.”

  “Don’t talk that way, Wade.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “I’ll do like you said.” There was a moment of silence. “Thank you…for the money, for everything you’ve done. I love you, Wade. I can’t say it enough, since I have so little time left to say it.”

  He took a long drag on the cigarette, and she could not see the tears in his eyes. “I love you, too.” He watched the mountains ahead. “I’d give you every last dime to my name if it means keeping Sergeant Anthony Enders away from you and keeping you safe.”

  She watched the wall of limestone where they had spent the night, as the travois was dragged farther and farther from it. She finally could no longer see the little opening to the shelter where Wade Morrow had made a woman of her, but she knew it would forever remain vivid in her memory.

  “Oh, my God,” Deaver muttered when they came upon the scene. He curled his nose at the stench, as did the others, as they slowly came to a halt near the overturned stagecoach. Enders ordered everyone to dismount and make a search to find evidence of a woman being aboard, but it took only a moment to spot the ripped, blue and white dress lying not far from the coach.

  One of the men held it up, and Enders dismounted, walking up to the man, his eyes blazing with anger and revenge. He grabbed the dress from the man, holding it in a shaking hand. “Sons of bitches,” he finally shouted. “Damn them! Damn them all!” He threw down the dress, walking away with clenched fists.

  “What a shame,” someone muttered.

  “This one over here looks like old Nick, the driver that’s come through the fort so many times,” someone else spoke up, covering his mouth then with a neckerchief. He stood near a body riddled with arrows.

  “There’s another one here under the coach, mostly burned up,” someone else spoke up.

  “What a mess,” came another voice.

  “Get out the damn shovels and start digging,” Enders ordered angrily. “And dig fast! We’ve got to get back to the fort and report this, maybe convince Howell to go after the bastards that did this! My God, I don’t see a woman’s body anyplace. She could still be alive, still be with them!” He stormed up to the coach and kicked at its charred remains. “Check inside the coach,” he added. “Count the bodies, and try to find some identification.”

  “Good God, it looks like this one was tortured first,” someone shouted, standing near Buck’s body in the distance. “He must have a hundred stab wounds.” He pushed the stiffened body over on its back. “Somebody finally put a bullet in his head and put him out of his misery.”

  “I wonder what happened to the horses,” said another.

  “Comanche probably took them—maybe for food. Them team horses ain’t much good to the Comanche for ridin’. They prefer somethin’ smaller and quicker.”

  “Quit gabbing and get the bodies buried,” Enders repeated. He walked back to his horse, raging inside that his pleasure had been stolen from him, wasted on Comanche renegades.

  “What if you do find her?” Deaver asked him, coming up to him from behind. “You know what shape she’d be in by then, Tony. She’d be no use to you.”

  Enders took a flask of whiskey from his supplies and swallowed some. “I’d at least have the pleasure of stealing her back,” he snarled, “and killing some of the bastards who took her!” He swallowed more whiskey.

  “Then what?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I’d send her back to where she came from, I reckon. Maybe answer one of those other women who wrote me. What pisses me off is this one was the prettiest, if you can go by her picture.”

  “And how in hell are you going to afford to bring another woman out?”

  Enders sighed, shoving the flask back into his gear. “How the hell do I know? I’ll get the money somehow. Help me look around. Maybe they left behind all her belongings—maybe her handbag. Hell, the woman was supposed to be prepared to pay me back if she didn’t marry me. She must have had money with her. I at least ought to get back my investment if I’ve lost the merchandise.”

  They both walked to the coach, inspecting the blackened remains, digging through baggage left scattered on the ground. After several minutes of rummaging, End
ers realized there were no woman’s items among the scattered remains.

  “Something’s not right,” he told Deaver, scanning the horizon then.

  “What do you mean?”

  Enders looked at the man, feeling much smarter than the corporal, to whom it seemed he had to explain everything. “First off, Johnson over there said somebody put that one man out of his misery. That’s not like the Comanche. They would have let him die slow. And second, why didn’t they take any of these clothes? Some of them would have been useful to renegades, and so would the bags—something to carry things in. And look at that body over there, the well-dressed one,” he added, pointing to Adam Hughes, who lay with his eyes still wide and staring, but partly picked at by buzzards. “He’s still wearing a fancy watch in his vest. There’s no way the Comanche would have left something like that behind.”

  He walked over to the dead body and ripped the watch from it, stuffing it into his own pocket. He looked around more. “The bodies and baggage have hardly been looted at all, Jim,” Enders added to the corporal. “It doesn’t make any sense. And what really doesn’t make sense is the fact that there’s no sign of a woman’s baggage. We know she was on this coach because they left that dress and part of a petticoat behind. But where’s her baggage, her handbag? They wouldn’t stop to pick up just her things. Indian women don’t have any use for corsets and bloomers and such. And the way white women are treated by the Comanche, they sure as hell don’t have any need of their own things any longer. If she hasn’t been raped or beat to death by now, she’s slave to some damn warrior, and she’s wearing a Comanche woman’s tunic.”

  He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  Deaver scratched his beard. “Maybe she survived. Maybe she’s out there walking around in a daze, trying to find the fort.”

  Enders turned to look at him, wanting to laugh at the idea, but not so sure he couldn’t be right. “Doesn’t seem possible. You’ve seen the rest of these bodies. They didn’t intend to leave anyone alive.” He looked back out over the horizon. “And yet they didn’t loot anything either. Why?”

 

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