Reilly's Woman

by Janet Dailey

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  Chapter VI

  Rivulets of perspiration ran down her neck to the hollow between her breasts. The straps of the crude backpack chafed at her shoulders, adding to her discomfort.

  The blazing sun was nearing its noonday notch, the fiery rays beat relentlessly down. Leaning heavily on her stick, Leah paused, winded, to catch her breath. The backs of her legs achingly protested the sight of the downhill grade still before them. All morning long they had zigzagged down the mountain and there was farther yet to go.

  "How much farther is it, for heaven's sake?" Leah cried in a tone of exasperated anger.

  Reilly halted several yards ahead, squinting his eyes against the sun to look back at her. "Distances are deceiving in open country." He wiped the sweat from around his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "You're telling me," she muttered.

  "Do you want to rest here or wait until we get to the bottom?"

  When will that be—next year? Leah wondered tiredly. "How long has it been since we stopped last?" Since starting down the mountain, they had stopped every hour for a ten-minute rest.

  "About twenty minutes ago," Reilly answered.

  It seemed like a year, but Leah gritted her teeth and pushed onward with her stick. "Let's go down."

  She wondered why they didn't just sit on their rumps and slide down to the bottom. The grade was certainly steep enough, but Reilly maintained his zigzag course, doubling the distance while lessening the severe downhill strain.

  Her left arm was hurting her more now. Its weight swinging freely at her side seemed to increase the pull on the knitting wound. She tucked her left hand in the waistband of her slacks to form a natural sling. It helped, although it made balancing on the rockier stretches awkward.

  Both shoes were rubbing against her heels. Leah knew she would soon have blisters to contend with. She lifted the pack on her back, but it slid back to the already chafed area. So she trudged on, putting one aching foot in front of the other.

  Except for an occasional glance to be sure Reilly was still ahead of her, she concentrated on only the ground ahead of her feet. She tried to blank out all her aches and pains and the dryness of her mouth and throat.

  Time became meaningless. Leah didn't know if she had walked for an hour or four hours when the ground finally levelled out beneath her feet. Reilly was already shedding his pack.

  "We'll rest here for a couple of hours and stay out of the worst of the heat," he announced.

  If she had had the energy, Leah would have cheered. Instead she sank to her knees, shrugging the chafing pack off her fight arm and gently easing it off her throbbing left.

  Dully she watched Reilly take a quick swallow from the canteen before handing it to her. The sound of the water sloshing against the sides was beautiful. She was so thirsty she knew she could drink it dry. But her thirst reminded her how precious water was and she settled for a swallow.

  Opening her pack, Reilly removed the blanket and picked up the stick she had dropped on the ground. He looked disgustingly fresh, she thought, as if he could walk down ten such mountains without drawing a labored breath.

  "Why don't you look as tired as I feel?" she sighed as he swiftly set up the lean-to.

  He smiled faintly. "Probably because I don't spend five days a week behind a desk." The last corner of the lean-to was secured. "Come on, get out of the sun."

  Leah willingly crawled into the shade, stretching out on her back. Her only wish was to never move again. Then Reilly was bending over her his green eyes mocking and gently amused.

  "Here, gnaw on this for a while." A stick of beef jerky was in his hand.

  "I haven't the strength to eat anything." She waved it aside with a flick of her fingers.

  "Eat!" It was an order not to be disobeyed as he placed the meat stick between her parted lips.

  Reluctantly she obeyed, knowing he stubbornly wouldn't leave her alone until she did. Her jaws were weary from chewing by the time she had finished. Sighing, she closed her eyes to rest and was almost instantly asleep.

  A hand shook her shoulder. She forced her eyes open to focus on Reilly, squatting beside her on the right. The pack was again strapped to his back, the canteen in his hand.

  "It's time we left. Have a drink while I repack," he offered.

  Leah pushed herself up, fighting the blackness that swirled sickeningly in front of her eyes. She took a hesitant sip of water and handed the canteen back. While Reilly started taking down the lean-to around her, she pressed a hand to her burning forehead and waited for the dizziness to subside.

  I feel awful, she thought to herself.

  Her left arm felt like a balloon, but she inwardly shrugged that thought away as the cause of her nausea. There wasn't a part of her body that didn't ache.

  The sun had begun its westward trek, but the heat, even in the shade, was scorching. If anything was to blame, she decided it was the feverish heat and her general exhaustion. She moved slowly to her feet, not wanting any quick movement to bring the dizziness back.

  Reilly had the blanket back in her pack and ready to strap on. While he was adjusting it in place on her back, he accidentally brushed the area near her wound. Leah winced at the knife-sharp pain.

  "Does it hurt?" he asked instantly, his alert gaze missing nothing.

  "Everything hurts," she grimaced.

  He handed her the walking stick. "Are you ready to go on?"

  At her brief nod, Reilly took the lead. Although he set the same slow pace as before, Leah had trouble keeping up. At each step, pain jarred through her body. Twice he had to wait for her to catch up.

  The rays of the sun seemed to set her skin on fire, burning through her clothes until she felt drowned in a river of perspiration. Waves of weakness kept eroding her strength. Her parched throat made swallowing difficult.

  The ten-minute rest break at the end of the first hour was all too short. The one swallow of water hadn't begun to quench her thirst and her throat felt as dry as the desert sand. Her mind cried that she couldn't go any farther, but with feverish determination, she pushed herself up.

  In memory, she could hear her brother Lonnie chiding, "I told you girls couldn't keep up." His voice sounded so dearly in her mind that she had to brush a hand in front of her glazed eyes to keep his image from dancing before her.

  At Reilly's concerned look, she smiled tiredly. "I'm all right," she said hoarsely, more to convince herself than him.

  "Hold this pebble in your mouth," he instructed as he handed the small stone to her. "It will keep the saliva working and help your thirst."

  It did help to moisten her mouth as they started out again. Leah tried hard to follow the path Reilly was taking, but she kept weaving from one side to the other. The fire raging inside kept feeding her growing weakness. She tried focusing her gaze on Reilly, using his broad shoulders as a lifeline to draw her onward. The world was spinning before her eyes and she kept losing sight of him in the intermittent moments of reeling blackness. She could feel herself beginning to lose consciousness and was terrified.

  "Reilly!" Her cry for help was a croaking whisper, made thicker by the pebble in her mouth. She stumbled and leaned heavily on the stick to regain her balance. Before her reeling senses collapsed under the raging heat and unquenchable thirst, she called to him desperately again. "Reilly."

  Then she had no more strength. Her knees started to buckle beneath her and only the stick was keeping her upright. As she fought to keep the blackness away, she sobbed because she didn't think he had heard her. She had fallen so far behind.

  The stick wavered in its support and she began to sink slowly to the ground. A pair of strong arms circled her waist, easing her down gently.

  "Reilly," she breathed, unable to see him clearly yet recognizing the feel of those arms that had held her in sleep these last nights. "I'm sorry, I can't make it any. farther."

  "Don't talk," was his low reply. He propped her against his chest.<
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  The canteen was held to her lips, but most of the water trickled down her chin when she couldn't make her mouth swallow the precious liquid. He started to brush the damp tendrils of hair from her face, then stopped abruptly, his rough hand cupped on her cheek.

  "My God, you're burning up with fever," Reilly muttered.

  Quickly he stripped the pack from her back and unbuttoned her blouse. The pain was excruciating when he started to pull the sleeve back from her wound. Leah cried out sharply, sickening blackness swirling more thickly in front of her.

  Through it, she heard the angry hiss of his breath. "You crazy woman!" he snarled. "Why the hell didn't you tell me how much this was hurting?"

  Her tongue moved heavily to reply. "It 's healing."

  "Healing? Like hell—it's infected!"

  With a groan of defeat, Leah surrendered to the threatening blackness, letting it carry her away to oblivion. The sensation followed that she was floating above the ground, cradled against Reilly's chest by a pair of strong arms. Her consciousness returned long enough for her to realize that Reilly was carrying her before she drifted away again.

  A beautiful dream world closed around her. She was lying beside a mirror-smooth pool of clear water where green grass grew thickly along its banks. Overhead the branches of willow trees veiled the scarlet fire of a setting sun. Their leaves were green, a more brilliant green than the jade color of Reilly's eyes. A blessed coolness bathed her burning forehead. A trace of woodsmoke was in the air.

  Then she was being lifted and her blouse removed. She moaned a protest at the interruption of her serenely peaceful vision.

  "Hold as still as you can," was Reilly's gentle request.

  Her lashes fluttered open, her eyes focusing on his jet dark head framed by a willow bough. "I'm having the most wonderful dream," she murmured. "There are trees and water and grass."

  "It isn't a dream," Reilly told her as he removed the bandage from her arm and began washing the infected wound. "Evidently a Basque shepherd has at some time partially dammed a small spring to water his sheep."

  It was real, she sighed to herself, and drifted again into unconsciousness.

  The green world vanished, and she was stumbling over sun-scorched earth. The fiery rays of the sun blinded her eyes and burned her skin, its relentless blaze never once slackening.

  At intervals, the coolness of water touched her parched lips. Sometimes it was Lonnie holding the canteen to her mouth, teasing her as he had done when they were children when her short legs were unable to keep up with his long, lanky strides.

  Other times it was Reilly telling her to lie still and rest. He couldn't seem to understand that she was condemned to walking beneath the searing sun. So she kept walking, surrounded by a furnace of heat.

  The rising of the moon brought no relief. Its silvery glow burned white-hot from the sky. The desert night did not cool as it had always done. Perspiration boiled on her skin.

  The sun was worst. Leah cried aloud when it returned to the sky, yet there was no escape from its fierce temperature. The only protection she had to prevent her from being consumed by the flaming tongues was her clothes. To her terror, she felt them being removed and struggled wildly to stop it.

  "Leah, can you hear me?" Reilly's firm voice pierced her nightmare world.

  "Yes." She sobbed with relief that she hadn't been abandoned. Her glazed eyes opened to discover that she was again in the green oasis, Reilly bending beside her, stripped to the waist.

  His compelling gaze wouldn't let her slip back into the blackness. "I have to take off your clothes." Each word was spoken slowly and distinctly so that Leah would understand despite her delirium.

  Her head lolled to one side in an effort to protest. She couldn't let him see her naked. It was against every moral principle her parents had instilled.

  "No, you mustn't," she pleaded in a fever-choked whisper.

  "Listen to me." His voice was low and insistent. "There's no need for you to be ashamed and embarrassed that I'll be seeing you unclothed. An Indian does not look at a naked body as a form to be sexually glorified. It's one more part of nature and nothing more." Reilly let that statement settle in her mind before continuing. "Now I have to get your temperature down. The water from the spring is cool and I'm going to bathe you in it."

  The raging fire that engulfed her was caused by a fever. Leah understood vaguely why she hadn't been able to escape the burning heat. Yet her modesty still wouldn't let her give in to his logic.

  "Leave—" She was so weak she could hardly get the words out. "Leave my clothes on."

  "I can't. You must have something dry to put on when you come out," Reilly answered. "Don't fight me, Leah. You're going to need your strength."

  Her mind resisted, but her body surrendered itself to his expert hands. In a semi-conscious haze she was aware of Reilly bodily lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the water, her head resting against his naked shoulder.

  Then she was immersed in water, cooling ripples washing her from head to toe. An arm around her waist kept her from sinking into the refreshing depths of the dammed pool. The overhanging branches of a small willow shaded them from the sun.

  Time was in limbo, beyond measurement for Leah. At some point in her fever-induced stupor, she became aware that Reilly too was unclothed, but it didn't matter as long as the deliciously cool water continued rinsing her fiery skin.

  Stirring restlessly, she tried to escape the stifling cocoon that held her tightly. She wanted the refreshing water of the pool to cool her again. A hand gently stroked her temple and settled along her neck. She was lying on the ground in Reilly's arms, the blanket wrapped around them.

  "Sleep," he murmured near her ear. "Your fever has broken. You need to sleep."

  With shuttered eyes, Leah relaxed against him. The warmth of his body turned into a safe haven instead of a furnace that she needed to escape from. She slept without dreams or nightmares.

  Reilly awakened her once in the daylight to feed her some broth. She instantly went back to sleep. Later there was the sensation of him lying beside her.

  The next time she opened her eyes, Leah discovered she was alone under the blanket with the sun well up in the sky. The snapping sound of a fire drew her gaze to the center of the miniature glade. Reilly was crouched beside the fire, stirring the contents of the pan sitting near it.

  His bronzed torso was shirtless, his muscled chest and shoulders rippling a golden copper in the sunlight. A pair of snug-fitting denim levis covered the lower half of him. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced over his shoulder. The boldly chiselled face was more forcefully handsome than she remembered. Lazily his eyes met her look.

  "Hello." The grooves around his mouth deepened with the familiar smile that crinkled his eyes.

  "Hello," Leah returned, feeling self-conscious without knowing why.

  "Are you hungry?" He poured the liquid from the pan into one of the small bowls.

  "A little," she admitted, and tried to shift into a sitting position, only to discover she was weaker than she had realized.

  "Lie down. I'll feed you," he said, lithely rising to walk over to her.

  "That's squaw's work, isn't it?" An impish smile curved her lips.

  The line of his mouth crooked in response. "It is, but an Indian is sometimes forced into the role when his woman is crazy with fever."

  Her heart lurched at the term "his woman." He couldn't have meant her to take it literally since he had only been responding in jest to her lighthearted question. Yet it certainly was a heartstopping thought.

  Setting the bowl on the ground nearby, Reilly took his backpack, cushioned it with his shirt, and put it beneath her head for a pillow. Cross-legged, he sat beside her and picked up the bowl.

  "How many 'moons' have I been out?" Leah asked after swallowing a spoonful of broth put to her lips.

  "Three nights." Another spoonful was held to her mouth.

  "That long?" she breathed in surprise.


  "Try eating without talking," he suggested with amusement, "It will be much faster."

  When half the bowl was gone, Leah couldn't manage any more and Reilly set it aside, not forcing her to eat more than she wanted.

  "How does your arm feel?" His dark head was tilted to one side, his gaze intently studying her.

  Tentatively she moved her left arm, testing it carefully. It was sore, but without that aching throb. She smiled with relief.

  "Much better," she nodded.

  "You'd better let me have a look at it," he said. "I don't trust your opinion any more." The roguish glint in his eyes removed the sting from his comment.

  Without any protest, Leah began unbuttoning her blouse. She was on the third button before she realized she wasn't wearing a bra. Red stained her cheeks a crimson hue as she darted a covert look at Reilly.

  "Do you remember that when you were delirious with fever I undressed you to bathe you in the pool?" A black eyebrow arched briefly with question.

  Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, neither undoing them nor buttoning them back up. "Yes, I remember." She averted her gaze.

  "Your shoulders were chafed from the backpack, so I didn't put your bra back on," he explained.

  "I see," she murmured, staring at her fingers clutching the blouse front.

  His thumb and forefinger captured her chin and lifted her head to meet the gentle amusement dancing in his eyes. "So did I. Everything there was to see." Her flush deepened, as did his voice with mockery. "It's pointless to turn prudish now, don't you think?"

  Leah's answer was to unbutton her blouse the rest of the way, heat flaming through her veins. While Reilly eased her left arm out of the sleeve, she discreetly shielded her breast with her hand. The blood pounded in her ear.

  If he found her action amusing, he made no outward sign. Expertly and impersonally, he examined the wound and rebandaged it, helping her back into the blouse.

  "This time I think it will heal," he announced, turning away while she rebuttoned the front. "I could wring your neck for not telling me it was bothering you."