Reilly's Woman

by Janet Dailey

  He capped the canteen and straightened. "We're leaving in the morning," he announced unemotionally.

  Leah's head recoiled at his unexpected response. "I…I thought we were going to wait another day or two until…until—"

  "—you were stronger," Reilly finished the sentence for her, not sparing a glance in her direction. "Before I got back to camp, I decided there wasn't any point in delaying longer. I think you've recovered enough to travel. If necessary, I'll carry, you out."

  "Haven't—" she shook her sunstreaked hair helplessly, "haven't you heard anything I said?"

  His eyes hardened on her with cynical amusement. "What do you expect me to reply to it?"

  What had she expected? In white-hot humiliation, she didn't know. She hadn't thought he would suddenly admit that he might care for her, too. But his crushing indifference to her declaration of love sliced deeply with agonizing pain. The only thing that she knew was that she wanted to hurt him back.

  Her hand swung in a lightning arc, her open palm striking his lean cheek with stinging force. The attacking hand was captured by punishing fingers that twisted her arm backward until Leah thought it would break. His expression had darkened with savage rage.

  "You're hurting me!" she cried out, frightened by the temper she had aroused.

  "Am I?" His lip curled in satisfaction.

  The fingers shifted their pressure without easing the excruciating pain. The action forced Leah against him, her hips pressed against his muscled thighs while his other hand brutally wound her hair around his fingers and pulled her head back.

  Leah tried to struggle, but at her first attempt Reilly twisted her arm farther, checking her protest before it started. As her lips parted to moan her pain, he ruthlessly covered them with his own, grinding them against her teeth until the taste of her own blood was on her tongue.

  Tearing his fingers free of her hair, he tugged at her blouse front. Dominated by his devouring mouth and the cruel twisting of her arm, Leah was helpless. The buttons that resisted his fingers were torn off.

  Although she was terrified by his assault, it was having a devastating affect on her senses. When his hand closed roughly over her breast, Leah's free hand slid inside his shirt to feel the pagan drumbeat of his heart.

  Mercilessly Reilly thrust her away, his green eyes glaring at her contemptuously even as his bared chest rose and fell in disturbed breathing.

  "It won't work," he taunted harshly. "I won't be tricked into raping you!"

  "I—" Tears swam in her eyes. There was nothing she could say. His accusation wasn't true, not the way he meant it.

  The numbed nerves in the arm Reilly had twisted screamed to life when she tried to cover her seminakedness. With one hand she tried to button her blouse, but most of the buttons were gone.

  A hissing release of breath came from Reilly. "Your clothes are ruined. You'll have to wear one of my shirts." Fingers savagely raked the virile thickness of his black hair as he walked impatiently to get the shirt she had worn earlier as a robe. Avoiding direct contact with her tear-filled gaze, he tossed it to her. "I'll start dinner."

  An ominous silence descended on the camp. Later, with shoulders hunched to defend her inner anguish, Leah ate the tasteless food. Her hurt anger kept her from making any attempt to break the silence. It was not the uneasy silence between two strangers, but rather it held the tense hostility of two enemies.

  When the scarlet sunset gave way to the purpling night, she crawled into the stiff blanket. She didn't ask Reilly if he would he having an early night before facing tomorrow's walk. She knew without being told that she wouldn't sleep in his arms that night.

  Tears washed her face as she turned her back on the fire and Reilly. Even though her pride was severely wounded, she knew nothing had changed. She still loved him as deeply as ever. Nothing would change that.

  The, swan-dive of a falling star arced across the heavens. Leah watched it until the crystal brightness of a tear got in the way. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, but the chill was from the inside.

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  Chapter IX

  Leah's knuckles whitened around the end of the lean-to pole, now a walking stick. There was a poignant tightness in her throat as she gazed for the last time at the mock oasis where she had admitted her love for Reilly.

  Dawn's early light had lengthened the shadows over the pool, making it look dark and mysterious. It was almost as if the doors were closing on paradise.

  The campfire was drowned and the ashes scattered. Soon the desert wind would wipe away any trace of their presence and the waterhole would again belong to the wildlife of the Great Basin.

  "Let's go," Reilly said flatly, adjusting with a shrug of his shoulders the pack strapped to his back.

  Forcibly turning herself away from the scene, Leah nodded in agreement. She didn't look at him—she avoided it whenever she could. The voltage in his green eyes invariably jolted her with its aloofness.

  Reilly probably felt none of the sadness she did about leaving this place where, for a short time, they had been so close in body and spirit. Her family was waiting at the end of their walk, whenever that would be, but Leah knew that if she had been given a choice, she would have stayed here with Reilly. Admittedly, it was a romantic fantasy that was neither logical nor practical.

  But she loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him, she thought dispiritedly.

  As before, Reilly led the way. The pace was slower than the last time. She knew it was done to conserve her strength. There wasn't any pack on her back this time. Everything they had with them, Reilly carried.

  The first few hours of walking, each one punctuated by ten-minute rest stops, Leah felt quite good, not tiring as quickly as she thought she might. Then the sun neared its zenith and the heat began prickling her back.

  Reilly set up a noon camp in the middle of the desert valley along the rutted dirt road they had been following for the last several miles. Leah tumbled exhaustedly beneath the lean-to he had immediately erected, swallowed a mouthful of water and closed her eyes.

  The nap helped a little. Before they started out again, Reilly inquired distantly as to how she felt. Leah shrugged aside his indifferent question with a stiff, "I'm fine."

  For a while she was, but her energy dissipated sooner than it had this morning. Each step seemed to jar her teeth. The ten-minute rest stops seemed to get shorter. She could feel the encroaching weakness, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on.

  Reilly stayed close beside her, never more than a few paces ahead. The freshness of his stride goaded Leah to keep walking, reminding her that she was holding him back. If she wasn't along, he would be miles farther than they were now. Bitterly she knew how determined Reilly was that they should find help. He didn't want to spend an hour more than he had to with her.

  Turning an ankle on a rock, Leah stumbled and fell to her knees. His hand was under her arm to help her to her feet. She wrenched it away from his hold.

  "I can make it," she insisted sharply, and pushed herself upright. Sand had bit into her palms. She rubbed it off on to her slacks.

  "Did you twist your ankle?" Reilly studied her quietly with his remote gaze.

  Gingerly Leah tested it. It supported her with only a twinge of protest. "It's fine," she answered woodenly. "Let's go."

  Reilly handed her the stick she had dropped and started out.

  Just before sunset, they stopped for the night. Leah collapsed on to the rutted track, wearily resting her head on her drawn-up knees. Reilly pushed the canteen into her hand and slipped out of his pack. Her hands were shaking too badly from exhaustion to carry the canteen to her mouth without spilling the contents. Finally Reilly had to hold the canteen to her lips.

  From the backpack, he handed her a stick of jerky. "We don't have enough water to fix one of the packaged meals."

  "I'm not hungry," she waved it aside.

  "Eat it," he ordered.

  "I'm too tired," Le
ah grumbled, but she reluctantly took it from him.

  "I'm going to see if I can find something for a fire."

  Tiredly she chewed on the jerky, finishing it before Reilly returned. She stretched out on the hard, uneven ground, not opening her eyes when she heard his footsteps. He threw the blanket over her, but Leah was certain her aching muscles wouldn't notice the night cold. She heard Reilly starting a fire and guessed he had found fuel of some sort. Then a horrible burning stench filled her nose.

  "Whew! What's that?" she rolled over, wrinkling her nose, as she glanced at Reilly.

  "There wasn't any wood, but I found some cowchips. They smell, but they burn and we need the fire to keep warm."

  Leah pulled the blanket over her head to try to shut out the odorous smoke. Eventually she was simply too tired to care. She didn't even remember the sun sinking below the horizon.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. Leah reluctantly opened her eyes, her vision blurring from heavy sleep. A pair of boots were near her head, topped by the narrowed flare of the dusty levis. Her gaze followed the snugly fitting denim material upward over muscular thighs, slim hips and waist to wide shoulders, finally stopping as she met a pair of green eyes.

  "It can't be morning," she mumbled, but the sky was light.

  "Come on, get up," Reilly said firmly, but he didn't offer to help.

  Every muscle, sinew, and nerve in her legs was cramped with stiffness. Reilly, she noticed, was beginning to show signs of fatigue, too, but there was small comfort in that.

  Within a few minutes the pack was on his back and they started out again. Her stiff muscles didn't loosen, each step making her wince. Leah relied more heavily on the walking stick to keep her upright when her legs wanted to buckle.

  At the second rest stop, she was afraid to sit down for fear she couldn't get up. She leaned heavily on the stick, exhausted nearly beyond the point of endurance.

  "How—much farther?" It took an unbelievable amount of effort to even speak.

  Reilly's hands were under her arms lowering her to the ground. "I don't know."

  "I don't think I can get up," Leah protested, but she was already seated. Of its own accord, her body stretched itself out on the hard ground, her muscles quivering with fatigue.

  "You're doing fine," he replied.

  "Am I?" Her laugh was choked off by a lack of breath.

  Her lashes fluttered wearily. When she opened them, Reilly was crouching beside her, offering her a lit cigarette to her lips.

  "It's the last one," he smiled faintly, a mere twist of his mouth. "We'll have to share."

  He kept a hold of it as she took a long drag on the filtered end. Which was just as well, because Leah doubted she could have held on to it herself.

  "I—feel like a dying man having his last cigarette," she said, exhaling the smoke in a tired sigh.

  "Don't talk. Rest." He offered her another puff of the cigarette.

  Strange, Leah thought as she felt his fingertips brush her lips, we've said more to each other in these few minutes than we did all day yesterday. Were they both too tired to be angry any more?

  After the cigarette was ground into the sand beneath his boot, Reilly lifted Leah to her feet. She couldn't prevent herself from leaning weakly against him. He stiffened away from her, supporting her with his hands and not his body. She knew that not all the barriers had crumbled between them. The walking stick was shoved into her hand and she shifted her weight to it.

  They set out at an ambling pace, yet each dragging step was an effort for Leah. Her lungs were bursting with exhaustion, making each breath a sob of determination that pushed her on.

  Reilly stopped ahead of her. "Look!" His voice held an undertone of excitement.

  Leah paused beside him, forcing her eyes to focus on the direction of his gaze. Flat, sage-covered land stretched endlessly in front of her eyes, the mountain corridor widening to make it larger.

  "Where?" she asked hoarsely, seeing nothing to give them hope.

  "Off to the right, near the foot of the mountains, there are some buildings. Ranch buildings if I'm not mistaken." His gaze was riveted on the distant point.

  All she could make out was some dark squares. She marvelled that he had noticed them at all. Reilly adjusted the shoulder-straps of his makeshift pack and sliced a glance at Leah.

  "Let's go."

  Their course altered to angle across the open country toward the buildings. For a while, the knowledge that help might be found at those buildings gave Leah a fresh spurt of energy, but too soon it was spent, taking with it what remained of her strength and coordination. Her legs became like soft rubber. Without warning they collapsed beneath her and not even the stick could hold her up.

  In a haze of total exhaustion, Leah felt Reilly's hands slip under her arms to try to lift her leaden weight.

  "It's no use," she breathed. "I can't make it any farther."

  "Yes, you can." His voice rang harshly in her ears.

  He pulled her to her feet, drawing her arm across his shoulders and around his neck, while his other arm supported her waist. Half carrying and half dragging Leah, he started forward. She tried to make herself walk to help him, but her tired legs wouldn't obey.

  The next thing she knew Reilly was swinging her into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder. She felt like a limp rag doll without a solid bone in her body, her head swimming in a mindless state of exhaustion. Distantly, Leah could sense the strain of his rippling muscles to carry her dead weight.

  "Leave me, Reilly," she pleaded.

  "I'm not leaving you," he refused unconditionally.

  Waves of tiredness washed over her and she hadn't the strength to protest any more. She let herself drift away, semi-aware of the arms that held her and the walking motion that carried her across the ground.

  The angry bark of a dog finally dragged her eyes open. Her head stirred against his shoulder, turning slightly so she could see ahead of them. Reilly's steps had slowed because of the large dog planted squarely in their path. Beyond him was a dusty white house with curtains at the windows and a wash hanging on the clothesline in the yard.

  The screen door on the porch slammed. "Laddie! Come here!" a woman called and the dog stopped barking and retreated to the porch steps. The woman stepped out of the shadows, shielding her eyes against the sun. A small child clung to her legs. "Who are you?" Her voice was friendly but vaguely unsure.

  Reilly stopped several feet short of the porch and the dog. "Our plane crashed eleven days ago in the mountains," he explained calmly. "My woman needs water and a place to rest. May we come in?"

  "Yes, yes, of course!" the woman exclaimed. She clapped her hands at the dog. "Laddie, go and lie down. We were notified of the search, my husband and I, but we had no idea the plane had gone down anywhere near here. Come in, come in."

  Leah didn't hear half of what the woman said. Her heart was still singing from Reilly's words, 'my woman.' Her hazel eyes lovingly searched his face, dusty and lined with weariness yet indomitably strong. Had he meant that? Or was it only a figure of speech?

  "Are you hurt?" the woman rushed holding the screen door open for Reilly, a wide-eyed little girl still clinging to her legs. "Shall I call a doctor? Or an ambulance?"

  "No, it's just exhaustion from a long walk." Reilly stopped inside the door. "Where can she rest?"

  "There's a sofa in the living room. This way." The woman ushered them into the living room, hovering uncertainly for a minute. "I'll get some water." She walked swiftly out of the room, the little girl hurrying in her shadow.

  Gently Reilly lowered Leah on to the sofa, plumping pillows beneath her head. "Comfortable?"

  She nodded, smiling wanly. "I didn't remember anything could be so soft. Reilly—" She didn't finish the sentence as the woman returned carrying a pitcher of water and glasses on a tray.

  Leah drank thirstily from the glass Reilly held to her lips, then sank back against the pillows as some of the strength ebbed back into her wear
y limbs.

  The woman disentangled the little girl from her legs, bending slightly toward her. "Go out to the barn, Mary, and get your father. Tell him to hurry." She turned to Reilly, who was pouring a glass of water for himself. "Is there anything else I can get for you? Whisky? Food?"

  "Black coffee, if you have some." He straightened away from the sofa. "And would you show me where the telephone is so I can notify the authorities?"

  The little girl named Mary had shyly inched past Reilly, then dashed out of the room, the screen door banging as she ran for her father.

  "The telephone is in the kitchen, and I do have some coffee on," the woman smiled.

  Reilly glanced down at Leah lying on the couch.

  "You'll be okay. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

  "I'm fine," she assured him softly, warmed by the flecks of concern that had been present in his green eyes.

  As Reilly and the woman left the room, Leah relaxed against the cushions and pillows. It seemed strange to have four walls surrounding her and a ceiling instead of the open sky above her head. Tonight she'd be taking a hot bath, changing into clean clothes, and sleeping in a soft bed. She'd willingly trade it all—

  The light, quick footsteps belonging to the woman entered the living room. "Here's your coffee. It's hot and black and sweet, the way your husband ordered it. He said to drink it all," she smiled brightly, her plain features, freckled by the desert sun, suddenly taking on a rare beauty.

  Leah pushed herself into a sitting position, using the pillows to help prop herself up. A hint of pink brought color to her cheeks as she held the mug of coffee with both hands.

  "Reilly isn't my…husband." Much as she wished she could say otherwise.

  The woman looked surprised. "I thought…that is…" She laughed to cover her confusion. "I guess I just presumed you were married without thinking. I'm sorry."