Gloria snapped her teeth together in frustration, gave him a freezing look, and turned to gaze unseeingly out the window at the landscape that was flying by.
They turned off the highway and took a dirt road that wound among the foothills. Grass and weeds grew between the wheel tracks, and occasionally Jack had to slow the Jeep to a mere crawl. It was rugged, lonely country where stately cedars were scattered along the hillsides and gnarled oak clung to the ridges of an occasional arroyo. The Jeep rattled over a cattle guard and picked up speed, stirring the dry dirt into a cloud of red dust that floated along behind them like the tail of a giant kite.
The day was as dark and dreary as Gloria's mood. Gray clouds banked the northern sky, and the wind was damp and cold. Warm air from the heater blew on her legs and wafted up, making the inside of the car toasty warm. Gloria sat huddled in the corner, listening to the merry sound of her son playing with the puppy and the kitten. The dog barked, the kitten jumped up on Jack's shoulder, and Peter shrieked. Gloria couldn't even imagine Marvin in a situation such as this. She glanced at Jack. He didn't seem to even notice the confusion; in fact he seemed to be enjoying it.
When they reached Hangtown, Gloria understood what her aunt had meant when she said it was a ghost town. The main street wound steeply up a slope and ended abruptly at the bottom of a huge tailing dump below a gaping hole in the mountain and the relic of a mill that clung precariously to the side of it. Beyond that rose the shoulder of the mountain, its slopes covered with blue spruce, pine, and aspen. On each side of the street was a straggled line of old and weathered buildings; the roofs of some were caved in, their windows were mostly without glass, and their doors were missing or hanging by one hinge, making them look gaunt and cadaverous. An imposing false-fronted “saloon” sat on the corner and lorded it over the stores, which were all fronted by a sagging boardwalk. Some of the structures leaned one way, some another, some seemed in imminent danger of collapsing, and indeed several of those without stone foundations had.
“Welcome to Hangtown. The population is now four people, two dogs, six cats, and an ever-fluctuating number of wild animals.”
“Who lives there?” she asked, pointing to the smoke curling upward from a cobblestone chimney at the end of the town.
“Another, slightly older hippie by the name of Cliff Rice. He's a part-time prospector.”
Jack had stopped the Jeep in front of a building that had a new door and shiny new windows. The porch and steps had been replaced, but left unpainted. A CB antenna was attached to the side of the building and seemed to Gloria to be grossly out of place. She felt as if she had stepped back into time and that at any moment the saloon door would swing open and she would hear the tinkling sound of a piano. She looked down the dusty street, almost expecting to see a group of horsemen ride into town with blazing six-shooters.
Forgetting her earlier hostility she turned shining eyes to Jack. “It's right out of a John Wayne movie!”
“You like it?”
“Of course. I'm a Western fan. I read every Western novel I get my hands on.”
He chuckled. “The ones, I suppose, where the hero and heroine ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after?”
“So? What's wrong with living happily ever after? When I finish a book I want to leave it with the feeling that all is right with the people I've met in the story. Abad ending leaves me depressed.”
“You've got something there. If you want to feel depressed, you can read the newspaper.”
“At least we agree about something.”
“We agree about a lot of things, Glory, Glory. You just don't realize it yet.” His hand reached out and gripped her shoulder. “You and Peter will stay here in Hangtown until I find out which way the wind is blowing, okay?”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But it'll only delay the inevitable.”
“Have a little faith in me, honey.”
Peter jumped out of the car and the puppy followed. “I want to see your dog. I want to see Ringo.”
“Hold it! Ringo's down with Cliff. We'd better leave him there until he gets acquainted with Cisco.”
“Peter! Come back!” Gloria called anxiously.
“He'll be all right. He knows not to go into any of the buildings and to stay in sight. He's a smart boy.”
She looked into his eyes and thought for the hundredth time that it should be a crime for a man to have such beautiful, expressive eyes. They were soft and moved lovingly over her face as his fingertips caressed her neck. He fully intends to take advantage of the situation and seduce me into his bed again! The bitter, shocking thought rocked her. Blood drained from her face, and her heartbeat slowed to a dull thud.
“I won't!”
“You won't what?”
“Sleep with you again!”
He laughed. “Want to bet on it?”
“You're conceited and crude!”
“Yeah, I am. Come to think about it, we didn't do much sleeping that night, did we?”
“You may think I'm old-fashioned and super-straight, but as I told you before, I don't sleep around.”
“Thank God!”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I'm glad you don't sleep around.” His eyes were sparkling with laughter.
“Don't you dare laugh at me, you…you hairy ape!”
“If you're worried about your reputation, we can get married.”
“That's very kind of you.” She murmured softly, suddenly self-conscious. “Thank you very much, but I must decline your most generous offer to save my reputation.”
“Good. I don't want you to marry me out of gratitude. I don't want you to marry me for any reason except the right one.”
“And that is?” Her throat was tight, and the words were difficult to get out.
“Love, little sweet one. Love, spelled L-O-V-E. The only way I'll marry you is if you love me madly and want to live with me for the rest of your life, and because you want to share my dreams, my problems, raise my children, and be my companion as we grow old.” His eyes raced over her and then rested on her trembling lips. She thought he was going to kiss her, and she moved back quickly.
“Is that all, Mr. Evans?”
“No, Glory, Glory. That isn't all. I want you to want me every night of my life as you did the other night. I want you to give yourself to me, laugh, play, break out of that shell you've built around yourself. I want to take care of you and Peter. I want to be the most important person in your lives.”
“You think that covers all the bases, don't you? What about what I want?” The question was meant to sound menacing, as she tried to hide her confused thoughts behind anger. She felt as if she were floating away, losing control of her senses.
“What do you want, pretty girl?” He tugged at a strand of her hair and leaned close so he could look into her face.
Pride kept her rigid. “I don't want to raise my son in a hippie commune. I want more security for him than that! I want us to live a more structured life: steady income, a roof over our heads, a chance to make friends, plant roots somewhere. I want permanence.”
“That's important to you, huh? You had all of that with the stuffed shirt.” He yanked her to him, lowered his head, and kissed her softly, then more urgently. It took her breath from her. She struggled without success, and then finally surrendered to his superior strength. At last he lifted his head. His arms held her so tightly, she thought she would faint, and the blood pounded in her temples.
“You don't know what you want, Glory, Glory,” he muttered. “I know that I want you in my life, in my bed, and…hell! I want you, period!” He grabbed her hand and held it against the aching hardness that throbbed between his legs. When she gasped and tried to pull her hand away, he tightened his grip on her wrist and held it there. “You've done that to me. You do it almost every time I'm with you. Dammit! Do you think I want to think of you every waking moment? I haven't had a peaceful moment since I met you. Sometimes I
get so frustrated I could beat you!” She winced at the anger in his voice and tried to return his gaze coolly.
“Don't you threaten me, you…sex maniac!”
His scorching eyes ran over each feature of her face; then he laughed, a deep, rumbling, masculine laugh that boomed in her ears. He moved his face close to hers and tickled the end of her nose with his mustache. His eyes were sparkling green pools of amusement.
“Oh, Glory, you're a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them. You'd make a wonderful wife for a…sex maniac. It's almost as much fun to tease you as it is to make love to you. C'mon, honey. Melt a little and kiss me back.”
Gloria squeezed her eyelids tightly together and tried desperately not to think about how warm and comforting it was to be in his arms. She fought the temptation to yield to the persuasive voice and gentle, coaxing lips. She was concentrating so hard that his hand moved under her jacket, and his long fingers delved beneath the waistband of her jeans and thin panties, and cupped the fullness of her rounded naked bottom before she came out of her trance.
“Stop that! Get your sneaky hand out of there!” she demanded. She pushed on his chest with all her strength. The arm across her shoulders tightened, the fingers in her jeans pinched her bottom. She let out a shriek. “Stop that!”
“Not until you kiss me.” Laughter lines crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Gloria considered kicking him, but decided to capitulate due to his superior strength. She despised herself for doing it, but she forced herself to kiss him lightly on the lips, then moved her face as far back as his hold on her would allow.
“That won't do a-tall—not a-tall,” he drawled. “Put your arms around my neck and kiss me like I know you can.” His voice was a husky whisper, stirring little waves of response inside of her.
“What about Peter?”
“Happily playing on the porch,” he murmured. His fingers caressed her flesh and traveled gently down the valley between her buttocks.
Gloria's arms moved up and around his neck, and she closed her eyes as she placed her mouth on his. A low triumphant sound came from his throat, crowing his power over her, but she didn't care anymore. When he lifted his lips to demand that she open her mouth, she unhesitantly obeyed. His tongue stroked her smooth, even lips, and the hand in her jeans caressed her bottom. Gloria felt a sudden rip in the fabric of her resentment that she had so tenuously wrapped around herself as protection from him. Swamped as she was by mounting desire, it became impossible for her to remain passive. Every cell in her body surged to life, blocking out everything except the touch of his mouth, the warm strength of his arms, and the gentle fingers inside her jeans.
A banging on the car door brought Gloria out of the haze and into the present. Her mind was foggy. Jack raised his mouth from hers and she looked over her shoulder to see Peter peering at them through the window. Jack reached across her lap and cranked down the window.
“How ya doin', Bronco?”
“What was you doing to Mom?”
“I was kissing her.”
“Did she want you to?”
“Yeah—I think so.”
Peter frowned. “Did you, Mom? Did you want Jack to kiss you?”
Gloria saw the worry on his small face. “Yes, I did. Grown-ups…ah…like to kiss…sometimes.”
“You never kissed him! You like Jack, don't you, Mom?” Peter said hopefully. “You like him a lot?”
“Sure she does,” Jack said, and the fingers in her jeans pinched gently.
“Okay…you can kiss her.”
“Thanks, ol' man. We'll talk about this sometime, but now we'd better get inside and get you settled in before it gets dark. Get a hold on Cisco,” Jack called, and reluctantly withdrew his hand from Gloria's naked flesh. He reached behind the seat for a leash and tossed it out to Peter. “Tie him up, Bronco. He doesn't know enough yet to stay away from a skunk.” The arm around Gloria shook her gently in an attempt to make her look at him. She gazed out the window, and he spoke to her profile. “The sacrifices a man must make sometimes are enough to tear him up.”
“Bull—”
“Don't be crude, sweetheart! Come on, shake a leg. If you're nice, I'll give you the fifty-cent tour of my home.”
When Gloria stepped inside Jack's house, her first thought was that he had obviously put a lot of work into fixing it up. The long narrow main room was insulated and paneled. A big iron cookstove sat along side a white refrigerator-freezer. The room was sparsely furnished, but comfortable. A queen-size bed and bookshelves dominated the far end of the room. The living space, kitchen, and sleeping area all flowed together and were amazingly neat.
“No electricity, so there's no TV,” Jack said on his way to the back of the room with a suitcase under each arm. “Also, the bathroom is out back. There's hot water in the cookstove reservoir, if you can bathe in a washtub.”
“If there's no electricity, how does the refrigerator work?”
“Bottled gas, sweetheart. We've also got a gaslight. By the way, back in the town's heyday, this building was the funeral parlor,” he said gleefully as he went out the door.
“Wonderful,” Gloria snapped over her shoulder. A small hand tugged at hers, and she looked down at her son.
“You like it here, don't you, Mom? Can we stay with Jack? You like him, don't you?”
The tight, worried, anxious little face pulled at her heartstrings. She knelt down beside him and folded him in her arms.
“Is that what you want to do, Peter?”
“I love Jack. He won't let him take us back.”
“And I love you. We can't stay here forever, honey, but we'll stay a little while. Later on we must find us a place where I can get a job. Next year you'll be going to school.” She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
“Are we having a family conference?” Jack asked when he came in carrying the rest of the luggage. “If so, I want in on it.”
“Mom says we'll stay here a little while, Jack. Then she's got to get a job in a town where I can go to school. When I grow up I'll get a job and take care of Mom.”
Tears welled up in Gloria's eyes and she hugged her small son to her so he wouldn't see them, but she couldn't hide them from Jack.
“Ya just might have ta fight me fer the job, Bronco,” Jack murmured in a staged voice. “C'mon, put up yer dukes!” He crouched and doubled up his fists. Shrieking with laughter, Peter broke out of his mother's embrace. He knotted his small fists and began to pound Jack on the thigh. Jack groaned and doubled over as if in pain.
Gloria hastily wiped her tear-drenched eyes. Obviously Jack had played this game with her son before. With Jack, Peter was not at all quiet and withdrawn as he had been back in Ohio, where he had experienced Marvin's dislike. Now he was a personable, outgoing little boy, and Jack was responsible for the change. Jack's enjoying himself, too, Gloria thought. He really and truly likes Peter!
Jack lit the gas lamp and added more fuel to the cookstove. “When it gets really cold, I fire up the potbellied stove, too, and the two stoves keep this place surprisingly warm. But most of the time the cookstove is enough. How about ham and eggs for supper?”
“Fine. I'll fix it.” Gloria dipped water from the reservoir and washed her hands in the granite washbowl. She could see Jack watching her. She'd show him that she wasn't helpless in these primitive surroundings. Her grandmother, on the farm in Ohio, had a wood-burning cookstove. She'd spent summers with her while she was growing up. She'd learned how to build up the fire, shake down the ashes, and bank it for the night. “Move out of the way, I'll have supper ready in no time,” she said, lifting the stove lid and setting an iron skillet directly over the flame.
“Hummm…hidden talents. This woman is keeping secrets from me.” He watched her as she placed the slices of ham in the skillet. “Cook plenty, honey. I'm hungry as a bear.” She raised her brows and looked pointedly at his beard. He laughed and scratched his chin. “You'd better get used to it, Glory. I'd sure hate
to shave off these glorious whiskers. It's taken two years to grow them.” When she didn't answer, he said, “No comment?”
“No comment.”
“Okay. I'll leave it to you. I've got a bedroll and a camp cot in the back room. I'll make up a bed…for Peter,” he added softly as he passed her.
Gloria's back stiffened, but she refused to rise to the bait.
CHAPTER TEN
IN SPITE OF the nagging feeling that she and Peter should not be here, that everything she'd ever believed in revolted at the thought of living in this primitive outback with a man like Jack Evans, Glory felt safe and peacefully content. She realized that if anyone could help her out of the predicament she was in, it was Jack.
After dinner she gave Peter a sponge bath, put him in his flannel pajamas, and tucked him in the big bed. He called for Jack to come and say good-night, then was almost instantly asleep.
Gloria was standing with her hands on her hips wondering how she was going to change her clothes, much less bathe herself, when she felt his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, and her frightened heart began to pound.
“Did I scare you?” Jack murmured.
“Don't sneak up on me like that.”
He grinned. “I wasn't sneaking. You didn't hear me because your mind was far away. Peter is asleep.”
“You must have worn him out today.”
“Come sit down.”
“I'm trying to figure out how I can hang a sheet in the corner so I'll have some privacy to bathe.”
“Why? I've already seen all of you. Remember?”
“Yes!” she snapped. “And you're no gentleman to remind me!”
“I guess I'm no gentleman to ask you this either—but do you have to use the bathroom?” When she didn't answer, he laughed softly. “Embarrassed, sweetheart? Don't be. It's a natural function. I noticed you let Peter go outside the back door. Do you want me to get a chamber pot for him when I go to town?”
“No need. We'll only be here a day or two.”
He took his jacket from the peg on the wall and draped it around her shoulders. He put a flashlight in her hand. “Come on. I'll point you in the right direction and wait in case you're attacked by a band of marauding Indians.” The tone of his voice was light and teasing and intimate.
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