by Jenna Kernan
She clamped her teeth together to keep from begging him to stop. When his horse began to stagger, he finally pulled up.
Laurie glanced at the sky to see the sun was well into its descent. She figured that they had been riding nearly twenty hours. As the horses stopped, Laurie lifted her head and glanced around them. They had been climbing but now she saw they were no longer in a narrow canyon surrounded with high walls, but a wide V between two rocky hills. Boon had found a way out of the draw.
Boon dismounted and headed back for her, with a strong, even stride that showed no evidence of the bone-weakening fatigue that now gripped her.
He assisted her down, holding her only as long as it took for her to recover her equilibrium before stepping back. Was it regret or consternation she saw in his eyes?
“I’ll see to the horses,” he said. “They’ll need to graze some and rest. But we’ll ride on after dark.”
Laurie swayed on rubbery legs and staggered. Boon caught her elbow.
“What’s wrong?”
“My legs are numb.” It was her bottom that was numb but she couldn’t very well say that. Mention of her legs was bad enough, but there they were, sheathed in trousers for all to see. She also discovered, to her horror, that her bladder was fairly bursting.
Boon saw her safely back on her feet and then gave her a critical stare.
“I just need a moment.”
He nodded, not looking convinced at all, but turned to his chestnut gelding, releasing the cinch and throwing the girth across the seat before dragging off the saddle and blanket in one unit. His horse gave an audible sigh of relief. Boon checked the horses’ backs for sores as Laurie headed toward the cottonwoods for some privacy. As they had journeyed upstream, the undergrowth had become so thick that they had to follow an animal path, just beyond the trees. She had seen only flashes of water since then.
“Where you going?” Boon’s voice halted her.
She paused, but did not look back. “I just need some privacy.”
The response met with silence. She turned to find him holding the second saddle and blanket, his eyes pinned on her.
“Don’t go far.”
She nodded and made a hasty escape.
His voice trailed her. “And watch for snakes.”
Laurie froze, her bladder forgotten amid the possibility of seeing that most hated of creatures. Her flesh crawled as she began a careful search of the ground about her. Finally the urging of her body set her in motion. Once in cover she checked the ground and poked about with a stick before wrestling with the rivets and stiff denim. The breeze was warm on her privates as she squatted in the grass and quickly saw to business. I need to get my clothing back, she decided. Her outer lavender traveling attire was not designed for riding, but the dark underskirts beneath were ample and would not reveal them in the moonlight. She lifted Boon’s fawn-colored neckerchief and stared down at her constricted bosom. Well, no wonder he was aroused by you. You look like a pink lady.
Her own clothes, she decided, would help remove temptation from him. If she dressed as a lady, he would treat her like one. Or she hoped so. Did it take a wicked man to recognize a wicked woman?
She stood and forced the rivets closed. When she retraced her steps, she discovered the horses hobbled and Boon standing in the place she had left his sight.
“Did you drink?” he asked.
She hadn’t, though she was thirstier than she had ever been in her life. That likely accounted for why she could hold her water so long.
“I didn’t know if it was safe.”
“I hear running water. Let’s go see.”
She didn’t move. “I want my clothes back.”
He frowned. “These are more practical.”
“If I were a boy, they would be. But we both saw last night how impractical they are.”
He couldn’t meet her gaze and looked quickly away then back, a definite defensive glitter in his eyes.
She motioned with her hand. “My clothing, please.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “Easy to spot you in that.”
“My skirts.”
He spun to the saddles and bags, dragging out the wrinkled lavender damask outer skirts and solid violet underskirt. She saw, as he held it aloft, that the underskirt was torn at the knee and stained with red mud all about the hem.
Boon returned with the rumpled garment and handed it off to her. The snowy blouse was secreted in the skirts, but both the detachable front ruffle and the damask basque bodice were missing. She waited. He offered nothing more.
“What about my bodice?”
He pressed his lips tighter.
“My underthings?” Her voice changed of its own accord, transitioning from the stern tone she intended and dissolving into desperation.
His face flushed and his eyes narrowed. This was how he looked when he faced Larson.
Laurie took a step back.
“They didn’t fit in my bags so I left them.”
“You...what?” Laurie sputtered. She was about to tell him that the hoops for the half crinoline and the bustle had been quite dear, costing her almost all of the money she had earned making women’s clothing. Her mother had been furious when she discovered Laurie had been taking in piecework for pay. The fact that Laurie had colluded with Paloma, using their housekeeper as a front, did little to douse her mother’s fiery temper. Her mother wanted her daughter to have the skills to run a household but that did not include working like a common seamstress. Needlepoint and tatting were one thing, dressmaking quite another. When her mother found out that Laurie had learned sewing at the finishing school, she had taken it up with the headmistress and removed her from her charge.
Her mother had adequate funds to support them, but not for fashions she deemed inappropriate. Laurie’s father still sent money for Laurie’s care, according to what Paloma had told her, but her mother was stubborn and would not touch it, except to deposit it into the bank. Paloma said she didn’t need his money, which was true because her mother had an inheritance bequeathed from her grandparents and expected Laurie to learn from her mistake and keep clear of lawmen and cowboys. Her daughter would marry a man who could afford to provide her with servants.
But Laurie had coveted the fashions she’d seen in the magazines and she’d found a way to get what she wanted without her mother. Now Boon had tossed away her most prized outfit.
“You had absolutely no right to do that!”
Boon set his jaw and stared her down. “Thought the water and ammunition was more important than ruffles and gewgaws.”
She gasped, making indignant noises in her throat. He was right, of course, and that only served to annoy her further. Laurie snatched what remained of her garments from him, unsure what to do next. Boon provided the answer.
“We gotta stay here, close to the trees, until the horses are rested.”
“How long?”
“Hour, maybe two. Time enough to eat, refill the canteen and wash if you’ve a mind to.”
Suddenly, washing away the dirt and sand from her body seemed more important than food or rest.
“Yes, a bath,” she said.
His eyebrows tented. “Bath? Well, I reckon that’d be all right.”
He led the way, taking a small path through the wooded area and past the heavy undergrowth. As they approached, she could hear the rush and tumble of moving water, but it was not until they cleared the thorny underbrush and broke from the tall grass that she saw the cascading waterfall, some eight feet high. They stared up at the water rushing in rivulets down three tiers of one massive stone outcropping worn smooth by the water’s flow. It was obvious by the size of the gap that the water thundered down this incline at times, but now seemed gentle and welcoming as summer rain.
“Oh, it’s
lovely.”
Boon studied their surroundings, his judgment less aesthetic.
“Clean water and not too deep. Let me just clear it for snakes and you can have your bath.”
The word snakes put a damper on her enthusiasm and she contented herself with following him through the tall grass, eyes pinned on the ground. He glanced back at her.
“They’re in the trees, too,” he said as casually as one might comment on the weather.
Laurie now walked in his footsteps, huddling against him as if expecting to be attacked from all sides.
“You don’t like snakes?” he asked.
“Of course I don’t like snakes. Who in the world does like them?”
He shrugged. “Serve a purpose. They remove the vermin. Deadly, persistent, and they get the job done, like Texas Rangers.”
“I rather think there are significant differences between the two.”
He shrugged again and continued walking until they stood upon the flat rock that gradually inclined beneath the water. Beyond, the cottonwood and oak trees climbed up the hillside adjoining the falls.
She looked longingly at the water. “Can we afford to stop? The outlaws might catch us.”
“They might. But we can’t get away on spent horses. You wash up. Swim if you know how.”
“I know how.”
She gave her a speculative look. “Shooting and riding and swimming. Not your typical gal, are you, Laurie?”
“When I was young, my father taught me those things, before my mother took me in hand.”
“Those things, as you call them, kept you on that horse last night in rough territory. Uncommon to teach a woman something so necessary.” He motioned toward the water. “Go on. Call if you need me.”
She cast him an incredulous look. “You’ll not spy on me?”
He tugged his hat low on his brow and his eyes turned cold. “Laurie, I may be just an outlaw, but I keep my word. I’ll see to the horses.” With that he left her standing beside the inviting water.
She waited, glancing back toward the brush, into which he had vanished. When she was certain he had gone she felt suddenly afraid and nearly called him back, but she looked out at the water, which reflected the lovely leafy greenery surrounding her, and succumbed to the desire to immerse herself in the secluded pool beneath the gentle falls.
Her gloves went first and she checked her hands for freckles. Finding none, she sat to unlace her boots, removing them and then her stockings. She glanced back again and found Boon nowhere in sight. She had to peel out of her denim dungarees, feeling a bit like an onion losing its outer skin. She worked the buttons from the roughly sewn buttonholes on the boys’ shirt with impatience and drew off the garment, finally feeling the breeze caress her bare shoulders. The corset gave her trouble as the knots held fast. She exhaled to gain enough play to wiggle the tether free and then released the cording, drawing the first full breath she had managed since dressing yesterday morning.
She stood on the bank in her knee-length chemise feeling suddenly free. She tipped her head back to the wide blue sky and stretched. She had not bathed out of doors since she was a girl. She drew the tan-colored kerchief, which Boon had lent her, over her head and sat upon the warm flat rock. Laurie worked her fingers through her hair and carefully collected the tenacious pins that still clung along with the single comb. She took a moment to mourn the loss of its mate, a lovely turtle shell that had been a gift last year from her mother on her seventeenth birthday. Laurie scratched her scalp in a most unladylike fashion and shook out her hair. Standing, she tugged her chemise over her head and tossed it aside.
Unbound and unfettered, she waded into the pool, which was only cool enough to be refreshing. The water lapped about her hips. The stream bottom seemed to be one rocky shelf that was not so steep as to be slippery. She found the pool only as deep as her rib cage, but she sank gratefully into the water and crept toward the waterfall, using it to drench her head and cool her. She closed her eyes and let the water pour over her, washing away the dust and grime and fear. No bath in her entire life had ever been more welcome.
She scrubbed and splashed and paddled and even dunked a time or two. Laurie was a good swimmer thanks to her father’s lessons. It was in the midst of this frolic that she had the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her. She stilled, wiped the water from her eyes and then glanced around. Nothing moved on the bank or in the water. Had Hammer found them?
She turned in a slow circle and saw the tuft of grass on the far bank moving. Something was coming. A moment later a huge rattlesnake as big around as her wrist splashed into the water undulating right at her. A scream tore from her as she spun, half running, half swimming in the opposite direction.
“Boon! Help!”
Chapter Eight
The snake pursued Laurie as she dashed toward the bank, heading for the derringer she’d left with her skirts. The snake slithered closer, its brown-and-black body undulating in a sinuous contortion.
Any moment that rattler would sink its venomous fangs into her. Laurie’s heart pounded as she raced away.
Boon darted down the rock, scrambling on all fours, pistol in one hand, his body naked and honed. The sight of him just as bare as she was stopped her momentarily as she stared in stunned silence, taking in the sheer beauty of all that moving muscle.
Recalling her peril, Laurie pointed.
“Rattlesnake!” she screeched.
His eye tracked the snake, but instead of shooting, he jumped into the water behind her to intercept. The snake moved to avoid, but Boon snatched it up, capturing the reptile just behind the head.
Was he insane? The snake writhed, coiling about his bare forearm. Laurie gaped at Boon, thinking she would never forget the sight of him, naked, water streaming down his chest as he gripped the snake in his left hand and his pistol in the right. He looked from the snake to her, grinning with pride as if he were seven and had just captured a newt instead of a deadly serpent.
She meant to order him to put it down, wondering why he didn’t have more sense. But her body was now going haywire, not from the snake, but from seeing his abdomen flex and the large muscles of his chest cord, as he brought the snake closer to his face. Her voice had abandoned her.
She glanced down to his male member swinging just above the water’s surface and felt a thrill of excitement steal her breath. She met his gaze and watched the pride at his capture turn to realization that they were both standing naked in knee-deep water.
Laurie gave a cry of alarm and then clamped her hands over her eyes. A moment later she realized this did nothing to shield her nudity from him.
She was half furious and half mortified that he had discovered her like this. Why had she removed her chemise or not just washed herself quickly beneath her skirts while she still wore them? Any reasonable woman would have done just that, of course. But not her! No, she had stripped down to her nothing-at-all and gone swimming before God and everyone.
Laurie made a dash for the shore, tunneling into her chemise and tearing into her underskirt before thrusting her arms into her blouse. She had it mostly on when she glanced back to the pool to find Boon had moved to deeper water, effectively covering what he could without dunking his pistol or the writhing reptile.
“Do you eat snake?” he asked.
“Nooo!” she howled, covering her eyes again.
“For a gal who can ride and shoot and swim, you sure are scared of a little snake.”
“Little?” she asked, hands still plastered over her eyes.
“I seen bigger.”
“I don’t care. I hate snakes. Always hated them. They’re sneaky and squirmy and horrible.”
“They’re not.” His voice sounded closer.
She turned her back. There was a splash and then nothing. She peeke
d between her fingers.
The snake was gone.
She dropped her hands from her face, searching the water as she inched back.
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Swimming downstream, I’d imagine.” He gazed at her from the water and she knew she should turn her back. But she didn’t.
The water made his blond hair dark and curly at his neck. She wanted to touch all that bronze skin and tempting muscle. That recognition made her turn sideways so that she now stared downstream.
“You’ve never even tried snake, have you?” His tone held accusation.
Her stomach flipped at the thought of consuming something so vile.
“They’re slimy,” she said, by way of explanation.
He snorted. “Dry as dirt. The skin, I mean. The meat’s real tasty.” He was glancing over his shoulder with a look of longing. “Real good.”
“Why didn’t it rattle?”
“Suppose because it’s a water snake,” he said.
“What?” She was staring at him again, finding his eyes dancing and his expression now full of mirth. The change in his features transformed him into someone fun-loving and playful. It was like seeing a different person. Laurie’s jaw went slack as she stared, captivated.
He pointed downstream. “No rattle on a water snake.”
“Poisonous?”
“Nope. Looks more like a water moccasin than a rattler. Hard to confuse a water snake for a rattler. Surprised your pa never taught you about snakes.”
“He tried.” She shuddered.
Boon laughed. “Some folks are that way about heights. Known a fella who couldn’t stand being boxed in. Slept outside every night, even in the rain.” His gaze dipped and she realized her wet chemise now clung to her torso like a second skin.
Laurie folded her hands over her chest. “I’m sorry.”
He waved a hand at his privates. “Me, too. I was washing downstream when your scream sent me running.” His gaze continued to the opposite bank as something occurred to him. “What scared the snake into the water?”
