Wilde, Jennifer

by Love's Tender Fury

  "That thing's loaded. You coulda blown my head off!"

  "This was your idea," I told him.

  He came up behind me again, evidently deciding that was the safest place to be.

  "See that log across the river there?" he said. "There's a great big branch stickin' up there on the end. Fire at it. You couldn't possibly miss it, not from this distance. Remember to get it lined up in your sight."

  My arms were already aching dreadfully from the strain of holding the rifle, and I was even more nervous than before. Nevertheless, I took very careful aim, determined to show him I wasn't a complete idiot. My finger rested loosely on the trigger. Tense, my body rigid, I closed my eyes. I squeezed. The explosion was deafening. The recoil almost knocked me over. I would have fallen had Jeff not been there to throw his arms around me. He held me tightly as the smoke cleared, and then he gave an exasperated sigh.

  "Did I hit it?"

  " 'Fraid not," he replied, "but you sure as hell messed up that clump of flowers over there."

  He handed me the powder horn and insisted that I load the rifle again. I hadn't been paying enough attention earlier. I botched it terribly, spilling powder all over the ground. Jeff jerked the rifle out of my hands and loaded it himself, showing me how all over again, threatening to beat me if I made a mess of it the next time. He handed the rifle back to me and made me hoist it up into position without any help.

  Again I took aim. I was more relaxed this time, not letting the weight of the rifle bother me so much, not nearly so rigid as I had been before. I covered the branch with the sight. I pulled the trigger, keeping my eyes open this time, steadying myself against the recoil. There was another deafening explosion, another great puff of acrid smoke. A rock in the middle of the stream shattered into bits.

  "You probably hit a fish!" he exclaimed.

  "I'm trying!" I retorted. "I didn't want to fire the bloody thing in the first place!"

  "You're gonna be a crack shot before I get through with you!"

  "Is that right!"

  "It damn sure is!" he thundered.

  We glared at each other, tempers high, eyes flashing, and then, unable to maintain his anger, Jeff broke into a sheepish grin. I began to smile. We both laughed, and then he clapped me on the back good-naturedly and gave me the powder horn again. I didn't spill a drop this time. I shot at the branch. I missed. He merely shook his head. We continued target practice for another fifteen minutes, and although I never once hit the branch, I did manage to do considerable damage to the area nearby. Jeff cleaned the rifle and put it away.

  "At least we're making some progress," he remarked. "You're not afraid of it any more. Tomorrow you might even be able to hit something."

  The sunlight was almost gone. Thick shadows were beginning to spread over the ground. Jeff checked on the mules and then spread blankets out over the grass beneath the boughs of a tree. The fire had long since gone out. I smoothed back my hair, feeling much better now. Jeff took me in his arms and kissed me soundly, and then he led me over to the blankets. Darkness fell as we made love, wrestling lustily, enjoying each other immensely. Jeff fell asleep immediately afterwards, his arms still wrapped around me, his head resting on my shoulder. The stream gurgled. Leaves rustled. The forest was filled with night noises. Through the branches of the tree I could see the dark sky frosted with stars that blinked and glittered brightly.

  Jeff stirred, groaning, tightening his grip on me. I stroked the back of his head, loving his weight, his warmth, wishing I could feel safe and secure here in his arms. I couldn't. Despite all my efforts to put it out of my mind, I kept thinking about that poor man lashed to the stake while the flames crackled and the Indians howled. No matter what Jeff might say, I knew we were going to be in constant danger until we finally put this savage country behind us.

  CHAPTER 18

  I hadn't become a crack shot, not by any means, but after four days of lessons I handled the rifle with some assurance and could usually hit whatever target Jeff indicated. He was quite pleased with me. His spare rifle was now mine for the duration of the trip. Sheathed in a long, shabby leather holster, the rifle was affixed to Jenny's saddle and I had my own powder horn within easy reach as well. It gave me a certain feeling of security, for although four days had passed without the least sign of Indians, I couldn't rid myself of the fear we would encounter them before the journey was over.

  We rode hard. I found that I was growing accustomed to it and not complaining nearly as much. Although we got up before dawn and resumed our travel while the sunrise was still staining the sky, Jeff was usually content to stop for the night quite early, providing we had made good time during the day. I was growing accustomed to the land, too. It still seemed ominous and forbidding, but I was beginning to appreciate the savage splendor, the startling variety of trees, the sparkling streams strewn with gray and golden-gray boulders, the rough, ruggedly beautiful vistas we saw whenever we momentarily left the dense forest.

  Five days after our encounter with Jackson, we spent the entire morning laboriously moving up the side of a vast mountain thickly covered with towering pine trees, the trail winding gradually and carrying us higher and higher. I was amazed that Jeff, or anyone else for that matter, was able to stay on the Trace, for ever since we had left Crawley's Inn, the trail had grown much less distinct, vanishing altogether at times, it seemed, invisible to all but the most trained eye. I would never have been able to keep to it on my own, would have gotten lost immediately. But Jeff was confident, and even when there seemed to be no trail at all, he forged on through the forest without the least hesitation.

  The sun was directly overhead as we neared the top of the mountain. I was exhausted, my white blouse damp with perspiration and clinging to my bosom, my brown skirt limp and dusty. I had caught my hair on a low-hanging branch earlier on, and I knew my auburn tresses must resemble those of a witch. We moved on up through the dense maze of pines, trunks a grayish brown, needles a vivid green, each branch studded with rich brown cones. The reddish earth was strewn with dry needles and spread with soft blue shadows, a few brilliant yellow-white rays of sunlight slanting through the branches. Birds called. The scent of pines was glorious.

  "How much further?" I called.

  "Just a little ways," Jeff retorted. "We should reach the top in fifteen minutes or so. From there on it's easy going."

  "I believe that," I said ruefully.

  "You complaining again? I thought I broke you of that."

  "Jenny keeps stumbling. She's exhausted, too."

  "We'll take a rest once we reach level ground."

  The top of the mountain was amazingly flat. The land seemed to stretch straight ahead to the distant horizon, and Jeff explained that we would be traveling along the crest of a small range of mountains for the next two or three days. True to his word, he dismounted and then, taking my hand, helped me dismount. I was so weary I almost fell. He clutched me to him, grinning, and then he gave me a hearty kiss. His buckskins were slightly damp, too, and his hair was wet with perspiration, making it an even darker gold. I clung to him a moment, savoring his strength, and then he pushed me gently away.

  "Time for that kinda thing when we stop for the night," he teased.

  "I wasn't even—"

  "Wasn't cravin' my body?" he interrupted.

  "Not in the least. You're filthy and sweaty and smell like—"

  "You ain't a bloomin' rose, yourself."

  "I don't imagine I am. I haven't had a bath since we left the inn, and these clothes—"

  "There's a dandy little stream a few miles up ahead, runs right over a bunch of boulders and makes a small waterfall. We'll stop there. Maybe we'll bathe together."

  "I thought we'd never reach the top," I said wearily.

  "Yeah, it was pretty rugged. You're holdin' up well."

  "Think so?"

  He nodded, his warm brown eyes merry. "I'm beginnin' to admire you so much I'm thinkin' I ain't gonna be able to give you up. I'm gettin' u
sed to havin' you around, gettin' to like it."

  I made a face and went to stretch out under the shade of a tree. Jeff tethered the three mules under yet another tree, and then he came to flop down on the ground beside me, stretching his legs out and cradling his arms behind his head. The trees were much less dense here, and we could see great patches of sky as pale and lovely as pale-blue silk. I closed my eyes, relaxed, content to be here, content to have him beside me, warm, friendly, comforting. I thought of what he had said about not being able to give me up, and I wondered if he had been serious.

  I didn't love him. I never would, never could, not after Derek, but I realized that I liked Jeff Rawlins in a way I had never been able to like Derek. I had never been able to chat with Derek, to be completely natural and at ease with him as I was with Jeff. Jeff was a playful scamp who loved to tease me, loved to argue, yet this made him none the less virile, a manly man who was a superb lover. It would be so much easier to be in love with him than it had been to be in love with Derek. Eyes closed, body weary, I forced the thought of Derek out of my mind, struggling to contain all those bitter, painful emotions that threatened to surface again.

  I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew, I was struggling up through heavy blue-black clouds, moaning as something soft and fuzzy tickled my nose. I opened my eyes to see Jeff's face inches from my own, his brown eyes dancing with amusement, his wide pink mouth stretching into that familiar grin as he ran the fuzzy leaf across my nose one more time. I slapped at it irritably, frowning at him. Jeff tossed the leaf aside and lowered his mouth over mine and turned his head to one side in order to make our noses fit. Against my will, I lifted my arms and ran my palms over his broad back, rubbing the rough buckskin and feeling the muscles beneath as he continued to kiss me, lazily, thoroughly.

  He raised his head and peered into my eyes. His own were filled with affection.

  "Figured it was time we got a move on," he said in that lovely, softly slurred voice.

  "I've been asleep."

  "Darn near half an hour you've been sleepin'. I just let ya. Ya know what?"

  "What? I asked.

  "Your face is dirty. There's a streak of dirt right there." He touched my jaw. "Your hair's all tangled, too, and your clothes are a mess. And ya know what? You ain't never been more appetizin'."

  "Is that a fact?"

  He climbed to his feet and peered down at me, shaking his head. "It's a fact. If I didn't have such a strong will—"

  I sat up, brushing pine needles from my hair. "Yes?"

  "If I didn't have such a strong will, we'd never get to Natchez."

  Reaching down, he took hold of my wrist and pulled me to my feet. I was still a bit groggy, and I still felt a warm, comfortable glow from that prolonged kiss. He held me cradled against him for a moment, smiling a lazy, satisfied smile. Jeff was still feeling a glow, too. When his thighs touched mine, I felt tangible proof of it as he pressed against me.

  "Damned if you ain't bewitchin'! I'm gonna have ta watch you, wench, I'm gonna have ta be strong and purposeful. A man could dally with you all day and never get nothin' done."

  "You want to dally?"

  He chuckled and whacked me lustily on the backside, giving me a shove toward the mules.

  "Get on with you! I'm onto your tricks, wench. We got a long trek ahead of us 'fore we reach that waterfall I was tellin' you about, and you ain't gonna trick me into wastin' no more time."

  I felt good as we continued on our way. I enjoyed his teasing, enjoyed his peculiar, roughhewn gallantry. He was strong, and he was purposeful, too, yet he had let me sleep for a full half-hour. He was considerate, and... and he was strangely tender. Robust and lusty, yes, but there was tenderness, too, the kind of tenderness Derek Hawke had never once displayed. Jeff Rawlins claimed to equate a woman with a good meal and a fine glass of whiskey, something to be enjoyed but never taken seriously, yet... that kiss had been so very tender, expressing an emotion he probably wasn't even aware of himself. I wondered if he could possibly be falling in love with me.

  I was imagining things, I told myself. Surely. He had gone for thirty-two years without falling in love, and he wasn't fool enough to let himself fall in love now, not with an indentured wench he planned to sell to a whorehouse as soon as we reached New Orleans. He... he was just naturally affectionate, and that warmth, that tenderness meant nothing. He would turn me over to the madam and walk away and never give me another thought. I was nothing more than a piece of merchandise to him. He enjoyed me, yes, just as he must have enjoyed a number of other women he had transported over this same trail, for the same purpose. He might joke about not being able to give me up, but he would give me up soon enough when enough pieces of gold changed hands.

  We were riding along a ridge now, the trail narrow, pine trees dense on our right. On our left the land sloped down steeply to a valley far below. I could see more mountains across the valley, tops a hazy purple in the distance, more like soft violet, looming up against the pale-blue sky. The valley was a patchwork of greens, tans, and brown, shot through with the silver sparkle of a stream. A large brown bird swirled lazily in the air, gradually circling down to the valley. Jeff told me it was an eagle. We stopped once to watch two furry black bear cubs gamboling down the side of the slope, an enormous black mother bear moving ponderously behind them.

  "I didn't know there were bears," I said.

  "Lots of 'em," he replied. "Don't worry. They won't bother you if you don't bother them."

  "Those cubs are so adorable. Look, they seem to be skipping, and then they'll curl up and roll. The mother bear looks so patient—"

  "She'd tear you to shreds if you so much as touched one of her young 'uns. Riled up, a bear can be deadly. Claws like steel. Wouldn't want to tangle with one myself."

  The bears disappeared from sight, and we moved on. A short while later the trail turned sharply to our left, into the forest, and we left the ridge behind. We might be on top of the mountain, but the ground was as level, the forest as dense as it had been before. Although there were still many pines, most of the trees had large, leafy limbs. Jeff named half a dozen kinds for me, none of which I had ever heard of before. How different this forest was from the forests in England, so much wilder, so much larger. Would anyone ever be able to tame all this wilderness? I doubted it, despite what Jeff said to the contrary. There were far too many civilized places for people to settle in for anyone to waste time and effort trying to live amidst all this rugged splendor.

  It was still early, perhaps four o'clock, when we reached the clearing where we would spend the night. Situated beneath a small but exceedingly steep wall of gray rock down which the waterfall cascaded, it was surrounded on three sides by woods and intersected by the narrow stream, the bed golden brown and just deep enough for wading. No more than fifteen feet high, the waterfall splashed and splattered into a shallow pool, spraying thin mist. It was a lovely spot, the ground grassy and soft, the trees making living green and brown walls. Vines covered with pendant-shaped purple flowers climbed up the gray rock on either side of the waterfall.

  Jeff and I dismounted. He removed the packs from the mules and, after drinking from the stream, they began to graze under the shade of the trees. I stood near the waterfall, watching the sunlight play in the mist and causing rainbow-hued patterns to shimmer. Jeff came up to stand behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders.

  "Like it?"

  "It's a charming place," I replied.

  "Ready for a bath?"

  "I'd rather eat first. I'm hungry."

  "There're a lot of wild turkeys 'round here. Heard one gobbling just a minute ago. I'll go shoot us one in a little while. I'm thinkin' I'd like to cool off first—"

  "Go right ahead," I told him.

  Suddenly I felt his hands on my shoulder blades. He gave me a mighty shove. I cried out, stumbling, and a second later I found myself splashing into the pool directly beneath the waterfall. I was soaked immediately, of course, and
when I tried to stand up the waterfall knocked me back down. He stood a few feet away, laughing uproariously. I was not at all amused. Finally getting to my feet, I stepped out from under the waterfall. Skirt and blouse clung wetly, and my hair was plastered to my skull in wet strands. I took off my shoes and tossed them onto the grass, staring at him with an expression that should have killed.

  "That wasn't funny!"

  "You look like a drowned rat."

  I held my hand out. "Here, help me out—"

  And when he took hold of my hand I gave a mighty tug and his eyes widened in surprise and he came crashing into the water on all fours. Now it was my turn to laugh. Jeff spluttered and coughed and then wrapped his arms around my knees and toppled me back down into the water and, like two children, we wrestled and splashed each other. Then we were standing directly under the waterfall and he was kissing me, kissing me furiously, and we both fell down into the pool and the water pelted us as his lips continued to cover my own. He released me and laughed again and clambered out of the water to dig a bar of soap out of one of the packs. He tossed it to me, then kicked off his soggy moccasins and pulled off his wet buckskin tunic and began to wriggle out of the clinging breeches.

  Naked, he lunged into the water again, knocking me over on my back, and I struggled furiously as he undressed me, slinging the wet clothes onto the grass. The bar of soap was bobbing around in the pool. Jeff grabbed it and handed it back to me and ordered me to wash him, and I did. Delighted, standing up in the pool, covered with suds, he washed me in turn, and pulled me into the waterfall again so that the suds was rinsed off both of us. He kissed me once again, and once again we lost our footing and went tumbling into the pool. Wrapping one arm around my throat, he ducked me under the water, roaring with laughter when I came up spluttering and coughing. I dug my elbow into his ribs, sending him crashing backwards, and he caught hold of my foot and pulled me down beside him.