She climbed down from her crate and walked to the far side of the ship. A cold night wind picked up suddenly, and she shivered, tightening her shawl around her shoulders. Somehow, she must find a way to get a warm coat before next winter. If spring could be this cold, winter would surely be harsh.
The river lapped against the side of the boat, and the hanging lanterns swayed gently with the movement. Not far off to her right a sleepy guard stamped his feet impatiently. Since the Indian attack, armed sentries had been posted at both ends of each deck. While it should have made her feel safer, Bridget only felt herself wishing none of it was necessary.
She moved farther away from the lookout, slipping into deeper shadows. When she unexpectedly crashed into a huge, silent man, she jumped and opened her mouth to shout.
"Bridget. Bridget, it's all right. It's me, Jacob."
"Holy heaven." Hand to her throat, Bridget slumped back against the railing. "Jacob Fallon, you about scared the life out of me. Sneakin' around the deck that way."
"I wasn't sneaking anywhere." He laughed shortly. "I was standing still, you were the one sneaking."
"Aye, I suppose you're right at that.” She turned around. "I'll just leave you to yourself, then."
He reached out quickly and grabbed her upper arm. Bridget turned to look at him, surprise evident on her face.
Jacob held the advantage. The lantern hung from rafters not far behind him kept his features in shadow while throwing a gentle light on Bridget's. This was working out better than he'd hoped. What he'd come to say would be hard enough, he'd just as soon she couldn't read his expression as well. She tugged against his grip, and he said softly, "Don't go. Please."
She looked down at his hand, his fingers still clenched around her arm. Immediately he let go.
"What is it, Jacob?"
Simple enough question, he told himself. After all, he'd come down to the main deck specifically to see her. He backed up a step and rubbed his jawline uneasily. It had all seemed so plain to him earlier. In fact, as soon as he'd recovered from the shock of hearing Jessica speak, he'd done little else but plan for this very moment. Now he wasn't sure how to begin.
In only a few weeks' time they would be in Montana, and Bridget would strike out on her own. But he couldn't let that happen. Somehow, someway, he must convince her to stay with him. With them. He assured himself silently that it was Jessica he was worried about. If Bridget left too soon, it could be disastrous for the girl.
He glanced over at the auburn-haired beauty standing so silently only an arm's reach away. It had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't seem to get those eyes of hers out of his mind. He wasn't concerned with the way his long-denied body stirred to life anytime she was close. It would be better to ignore those things, anyway.
He simply had to make her stay. He had to say something soon. She was staring at him like he'd lost his senses. And perhaps he had.
“What did you want to see me about, Jacob?”
"It's Jessica," he finally said, silently cursing himself for a coward.
“What's happened? Is she all right? Is she sick?" Bridget moved up close and laid her hand on his arm.
Quickly he covered it with one of his own and reassured her. "That was a stupid way to put it. I'm sorry, Bridget. Jessica is fine. She's asleep."
"'Thank heaven." She looked down at her joined hands but made no move to pull away.
"In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." He squeezed her hand gently. “It's thanks to you that she is fine. I should have come earlier to thank you."
"You've no need to thank me, Jacob." Now she did pull her hand free. She looked uncomfortable with his thanks. "I did nothing special. Jessie did it on her own."
"No." He shook his head. "It was you, Bridget. You gave her the love she was hungry for."
She swallowed and looked away. "Nonsense. She has love. I've seen your love for her. It's in your eyes, your touch…"
He laughed shortly. "Yes, I love her. But it's not enough. She needs the love of a mother. She needs what most little girls have. A woman to hold her, soothe her, scold her, and praise her."
"Ah, poor thing." Bridget sighed softly. The sympathy and affection she had for Jessica showed plainly on her face.
"But you've given her those things, Bridget."
“I'm not her mother, Jacob."
"Does that matter?” He reached for her, closing his hand around her elbow, and drew her to him. "Somehow, you seem to know instinctively what to do. What to say. Bridget, her own mother hardly spoke to her." His voice, as always when speaking of Helene, roughened. "Just because a woman can bear a child, doesn't mean she should."
The woman in his arms tensed, and Jacob took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Berating Helene was not the way to enlist Bridget's help, but dammit, he had to convince her. Would it be right to use her sympathy for Jessica against her? Should he? Hell, maybe he wasn't being fair to any of them.
Still, the memory of his daughter's first word in over a year stayed with him. Did he have the right to let the only person who could help her leave?
No. He would do everything he could to keep Bridget O'Dell with them, at least for a while…
"Bridget," he began again, more softly, “when we get to Fort Benton, what are you going to do?"
Maybe if he could make her see the dangers she was heading into… She drew her eyebrows together, and Jacob knew he'd thrown her off-balance with that question.
“Why, I'll find something. A job. There's always work for willin' hands."
"Perhaps. But, Bridget, the territory we're headed for is nothing like what you're used to."
"What do you mean?”
He looked into her sparkling emerald eyes, knowing that what he was about to say would bring worry to them. Maybe even fear. Jacob swallowed back the lump of distaste in his throat and plunged ahead.
"I mean," he went on, "in St. Louis, there are ordered streets. Stores, polite society, a constable on every corner."
She chuckled. "I'm sorry, Jacob" – she put her fingers over her mouth as if to wipe away her grin – “but what you said about polite society… well, there wasn't much of that in Kerry Patch. Stores, aye. And certainly a constable on every corner. But, Jacob, if you're thinkin' I'm not prepared for life to be hard, you're wrong."
He frowned. This wasn't going well at all. "I'm sure you're a strong woman, used to hardship. But are you used to gun battles? Thieves boldly going about their business in broad daylight? Killings before breakfast? This is a gold boom, Bridget. It will draw every thief and killer for hundreds of miles around. And we haven't even talked about the Indians yet. The Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Crow, and many, others." He watched her eyes widen and wanted to kick himself, but it had to be said. "Women are generally treated with respect all over the West. But in a gold boom no one is safe… least of all a woman alone. And you're not only alone, you've no job, no money, nowhere to live, and you don't even know your way around." He couldn't help the anger building in him. The more he said, the more he realized that it was essential he convince her to stay with them. "Bridget, you can't do this alone."
She blinked her eyes furiously. Her breath came faster, and Jacob knew he'd gotten through. Then she said softly, “I have to do this alone, Jacob. I'm all I've got."
She'd already brought her fears under control. Admiration for her swelled in Jacob's chest and battled with a rush of remorse for what he was doing, but he didn't allow it to show on his features. Instead, he deliberately tipped up her chin with his fingers, leaned down, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “No, Bridget. You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be. You can stay with us. With Jessica and me.”
Her eyes opened slowly, and for a moment Jacob knew a fleeting hope that he'd succeeded. Then it was gone.
She stepped away from him. “I don't think so, Jacob."
"Why not?”
“It wouldn't work out is all." She shrugged and backed up another step.
; He was losing and he knew it. She wouldn't listen. When they reached Montana, she would leave. A mental vision of Bridget wandering alone and unprotected through a lawless territory flashed through his brain. An unexpected sense of dread crept over him, and Jacob realized with a shock the depth of his concern for her. With all his dire warnings, he'd not only managed to frighten Bridget but to scare himself, too. How would she manage alone?
His gaze moved slowly over her features – features that had become so achingly familiar to him. Jacob couldn't stand the notion that he might never see her again after they reached Fort Benton. The thought was simply intolerable. In defiance of that shadowy image of Bridget's absence, he reached for her, and in a heartbeat he closed his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He bent his head low and claimed her delicious lips with his own.
Bridget groaned and eagerly parted her lips. When his tongue slipped inside, she gasped and pushed herself closer to him, her arms winding up and around his neck. With one hand she pulled his hat off so she could rake her fingers through his soft, dark brown hair. Her breasts ached as she pressed against his chest, and she felt him sigh with her movement.
He twisted his body slightly, moving them from the light into shadow. One of his hands crept up her back and around until he cupped one of her breasts. Then his thumb moved across the cotton fabric of her shirtwaist, caressing her nipple and causing her knees to tremble in reaction.
Breaking away from his mouth, Bridget gulped in air as though she were drowning. And still there was more. His lips moved down the length of her neck, leaving a damp trail of desire wherever he went. Her head fell back, and she said nothing when he undid the buttons of her shirt and pushed her shawl aside.
The clammy, cold night air hit her passion-heated skin like a bullet, and she gasped again. His hands seemed to be everywhere. So strong, so gentle. She felt him pull the material of her chemise away and then the touch of his flesh against her breast. He traced circles with his thumb around the erect nipple, and she lifted her own hand to cover his, hoping to hold him there forever.
He chuckled softly, moved her hand aside, and bent lower. Slowly, deliberately, he took her nipple into his mouth and continued to trace circles, only now with his tongue. Bridget couldn't breathe. She knew her heart would surely stop at any moment, and in the morning her body would be found on deck, half-clothed with a smile on her face.
When he nipped at the sensitive skin, she groaned, then jumped slightly as he suckled her. She forced herself to look down at him. She saw his lips caressing her breast and felt the drawing sensation of his suckling all the way to her soul. Gently she cradled his head and gave herself over to the overpowering sensations he created.
Minutes that could have been hours passed before he pulled away from her. With a final, soft kiss, he pulled her chemise back over her breast and reluctantly buttoned up her blouse. Through it all, Bridget stood silently, watching him, hardly daring to move for fear she hadn't the strength to stay upright.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And now, Bridget O'Dell, you will listen to me." Softly he traced one finger down her cheek. “You weren't made to be alone. Stay with us."
She opened her mouth, but he placed his finger over her parted lips. "There's still time before we reach Fort Benton. Think about it. That's all I ask."
Bridget tried to speak, but her voice wouldn't work.
He smiled softly, took her arm, and escorted her back to her corner in the tower of crates.
#
The morning of the second day after the Indian battle dawned bright and clear. Crewmen had already loosened the ship from its nighttime mooring, and they were once again pushing upriver.
Bridget sat on her crate, plaiting her hair into its manageable braid, listening to the now comforting sounds of the steam engine pulsing with fire and life. A screeching yowl came from one of the caged cats at the front of the ship, and Bridget thought it amazing that she'd even become accustomed to those eerie sounds. Not for the first time, though, she wondered if there were really enough rats in the gold country to account for so many cats being brought in. Even Tom's assurances that each one of the scrawny animals would probably die from obesity seemed unreal, but the thought of so many vermin didn't bother her over much. She was no stranger to the sight of rats. It was the other things this country held that worried her – Indians, bears, wolves. Why, she'd even heard that there were lions in the wilderness, though she wasn't sure she believed that. Goodness knew, the rest was more than enough. And that wasn't even taking into account the two-legged animals she'd have to be concerned with.
After hearing Jacob rant about the dangers awaiting her in Montana, it was a wonder she hadn't leapt from the ship in the dead of night to take her chances with the river.
So many things to worry about. And time was growing short. There were only a few weeks left in their trip. Then she would be on her own in a strange land, without even the company of these strangers who'd become, if not friends, then at least familiar. What would she do? Where would she go? Damn Jacob Fallon for making her think of all these things. She had no idea how to look for gold and no real desire to try. Bridget had never dreamed of great wealth. She wouldn't know what to do with it if she had it.
What little she'd seen of the rich in St. Louis had convinced her that a lot of money didn't necessarily make for happiness. The fine ladies she did work for occasionally had done little else but change gowns all day long. Dressing and undressing and sittin' still for maids to primp up their hair all to impress a husband who gave them no more than a peck on the cheek before leaving to spend time with a mistress who probably didn't mind if he messed up her pretty curls with his clumsy fingers.
Bridget shook her head. It made very little sense to her, but then, she told herself, that's probably why the Good Lord made you poor.
All of her girlish dreams of handsome princes and fancy castles had gone the way of all childish nonsense. After watching her mother struggle for survival as a widow, Bridget had decided never to become so dependent on someone else for a living that she couldn't care for herself. It wasn't her father's fault that he'd left them in dire straits. Nor was it her mother's fault for not being able to rise to the challenge of surviving. But Bridget had known, even then, that the only sure way of making it through the hard life that stretched ahead of her was to make it on her own – using her head and her hands – so that she would be at no one's mercy. No matter what Jacob had to say, nothing would change that simple fact. She had to do this alone. She couldn't need anyone.
Something in her chest contracted, and she took a gulp of damp morning air. Aye, she admitted, it was sometimes a lonely way. But it was the safe way.
"Bi-get?”
Bridget looked up. Peeking over the edge of the crate were two deep blue eyes and a crown of unruly golden hair. She thought ruefully that she'd not had a hard time of keeping to herself until she'd met the Fallons. Then she forgot her vow and eagerly reached for the little girl who'd come to mean so much to her.
Once seated comfortably on Bridget's lap, Jessica smiled and cuddled in close.
"Ah, darlin', I'm that pleased to see you.” She stroked the little girl's hair, ignoring the fact that it was, again, a mess. “Imagine you sayin' my name so clear and loud." She tilted her head to peek at the child's face and was pleased to see a proud smile. "I've missed you, you know," Bridget added as she gave Jessica a squeeze.
"Does that warm welcome also extend to me, Bridget?"
For one heart-stopping moment, she thought to say no, you're not welcome. After what had passed between them the night before, Bridget wasn't sure it was safe to be anywhere near him. Besides, how could she look him in the eye after what she'd allowed him to do to her, for heaven's sake? She was no better than the trollops conducting business in their cabins upstairs.
And didn’t you just this minute tell yourself that you'd be makin' your way alone? Without the help of anyone? She shook her head slightly to dislodge
the inner voice taunting her. Could she help it if the man had a way of creepin' 'round every rule she'd made for herself! Could she be to blame for the way she started whenever he was near?
Hardly.
She couldn’t do this to herself. She couldn't allow herself to care too much, to care at all. There would be no future for her with him. Wasn't it hard enough to love the child she knew she'd have to part from? Bridget cast a covert glance at him from beneath lowered lids. He wore the western clothing that seemed to suit him so well. The soft, often-washed blue shirt hugged his chest, and Bridget deliberately clamped down on the memory of how that muscled expanse of flesh had felt beneath her fingertips.
Lord, she asked silently, does he know what he does to me?
Even the sound of his voice was enough to send shivers down her spine. Was there no escaping the feelings the man stirred? Cautiously she lifted her head to meet his gaze. He looked damned pleased with himself.
"Hey, Bridget!" A little boy hurtled up to them and skidded to a stop.
"What is it, Kevin?" Bridget turned away from Jacob gratefully.
“My ma says she's got tea on the boil and why don't you come have some." The little boy looked from Bridget to Jacob to Jessica.
“That's kind." She looked up at Jacob, who appeared to be waiting anxiously for her answer. She sighed. “Thank her for me, Kevin, and tell her next time for sure."
"Awright." The little boy moved up closer to talk to Jessica. "You want to come with me? Tom's gonna show me how to make a real Indian arrow!"
Jessica looked up at her father with pleading eyes. "Papa?" she whispered.
"Hey, Jessie! You can talk!" Kevin's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide.
The little girl smiled softly.
Jacob glanced down at Kevin. "You'll watch out for her? She's younger than you."
"Shoot, I know that. 'Sides, o' course I'll look out for her. She's a girl, ain't she?"
After lifting his daughter down from Bridget's lap, Jacob rested a hand on her head for a moment. "Be very careful, Jessica. Stay with Kevin, here. And mind Tom. Don't be gone too –“
Mountain Dawn Page 9
