Mountain Dawn

by Maureen Child

  Windows on either side of the house let in what little daylight there was. A handmade table with four chairs drawn up to it sat near the fireplace, and the ladder leading to the loft was sturdy-looking. She peeked into the extra room and saw a wide rope bed mounted against the far wall and a row of wooden clothing pegs at just the right height.

  She bent down and rapped her fingers against the floor. Like the front porch, great care had been taken in the building of it. Bridget smiled delightedly and immediately began to create mental images of the place with bright curtains hanging at the windows and a few more homey odds and ends.

  A heavy load dropped behind her, and Bridget jumped up and turned to find Jacob watching her. He took his hat off and quickly looked around the cabin. His lips twisted and he swallowed heavily before saying, "I know it isn't much, Bridget, but –“

  “Not much?" She couldn't help it. Her enthusiasm for her new home completely outweighed her anger with him – at least for the moment. “Not much?" she began twirling in a circle, her arms widespread. Suddenly she stopped and smiled. "Ah, Jacob, this place is grand."

  His brow wrinkled in confusion.

  She walked to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the far window. "Look. Just look at that. A well and a bucket just outside, a fine view of the stream, and all the lovely trees." She dropped his arm and took a deep breath. "And just smell that, man. The scent of the pines is still here, in the room." She grinned. "And it's a big house as well.”

  “Big?” He glanced around the compact cabin.

  "Aye." She pointed to the loft. "A room for Jessica… a room for you" – indicating the other room – “and a fine big cooking and living room." Absently she chewed at her bottom lip. "Would you mind building a rope bed for me somewhere over in that corner there, Jacob?"

  He looked behind him at the far corner of the main room and shook his head. "No, you'll take the bedroom. I'll sleep out here."

  “No, it wouldn't be seemly, Jacob." She turned away from him and began digging in the barrel he'd carried inside. “This is your home." Before she could stop herself, she added, "I'm only the servant here, remember."

  She heard the rush of breath leave him and waited for his shout, but it didn't come. Warily she stood up to see that he hadn't moved. He was still only inches from her.

  "You'll sleep in the bedroom, Bridget.” He bit off each word as though it were poison on his tongue. Clearly, his patience was stretched as thin as a liar's promise.

  "Jacob –“

  “No.” He held one hand up, and Bridget was surprised to see that it was shaking slightly. Quickly he lowered it and curled his fingers into a fist. “Not another word." Then he turned and stomped out of the room to continue unloading the wagon.

  Bridget looked after him, hands on hips, and muttered. “Well, what is it the man wants? When I fight him, he gets angry, and when I agree that I'm merely a servant, he gets angry. Is there no pleasin' the man?" Then, dismissing him from her thoughts, she called for Jessica to come and help and dived once more into the barrel.

  #

  Firelight danced delicately over the cabin walls, shedding a soft glow on the few furnishings Jacob had brought with him to his new life. Quickly his gaze touched the brass mantel clock that had once traveled on his grandfather's ship, the silver candlesticks his mother had always insisted on polishing herself, and the books he'd been collecting since he was a child.

  He ducked his head, leaned back against the cabin wall, and stretched his long legs out before him. Perhaps it would have been better to bring nothing with him, to leave the old world completely behind him. No. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Even without the few possessions he'd carted along, Jacob knew that he would never be rid of the memories that continually haunted him.

  At least, he thought with a sardonic grin, there was certainly nothing about his new home to remind of the old. He shook his head, remembering his first glimpse of the cabin. It was actually a nice place, surely better than he'd hoped for, but still something of a shock. After all, the entire cabin could be set down inside his family home and scarcely be noticed.

  But Bridget… Jacob closed his eyes and saw once again the delight that lit her features as she'd explored her new home. As accustomed as he was to dealing with Helene's grasping, discontented nature, he'd assumed all women would be put out with the cabin's shortcomings. How wrong he'd been.

  Maybe he'd been wrong about a lot of things.

  Determinedly he pushed those thoughts aside and stood up. He walked to the wide fireplace, then knelt down and began to feed more wood into the flames. Absently Jacob noticed the muted sound of revelry coming from the saloons. Thankfully, their cabin was far enough away that the noise shouldn't keep them awake nights. He smiled. Jessica was already asleep in the loft. She'd drifted off not long after supper, completely exhausted by the trip and the excitement of having her own room “high up in the air." At least she was happy.

  He must try to get some sleep. In the morning he had to go to his new office and acquaint himself with the town. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, braced one hand on the mantel, and looked down into the flames that crackled and snapped over the fresh wood.

  A slight creak alerted him to her presence. He turned. The bedroom door opened and Bridget stood in the wedge of light thrown from the lamp behind her. Her hair hung loose, down and over her shoulders, and her plain white nightdress was buttoned to the neck and the cuffs firmly fastened around her wrists.

  He'd never seen anyone so lovely. Jacob took a shaky breath and tried to look away. He couldn't. His gaze was held to her as if it meant his life.

  "Is there something wrong, Jacob?" Her voice came as soft as the firelight.

  "No." He cleared his throat, jammed his hands in his pockets, and tried to focus on the wall above her head. "Nothing's wrong, Bridget. Just couldn't sleep, I guess."

  She stepped into the main room, concern written on her features. He managed to keep from taking a step back.

  "Ah, I knew it." She came up close to him and tilted her head back to look at him. "You must take the bedroom, Jacob. You'll not get any sleep on the floor."

  His throat tightened reflexively as he tried to regulate his breathing. "I already told you, Bridget. You will have the bedroom."

  She took another step closer. "But I think –“

  "Jesus, Bridget!"

  She stepped back a pace. "What have I done now?”

  A strangled laugh choked from his lips, and he pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his face vigorously. The clean, fresh scent of her seemed to surround him. "Done?" He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  "Then what is it?"

  Jacob looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her delightful figure, so well hidden under the yards of material, then met her confused stare. It was no use, he told himself, and took her in his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jacob pulled her close and held her body against his, cradling her to him with strong, gentle hands. Her initial surprise faded quickly as she seemed to realize, as he had, that this was inevitable.

  He smoothed the hair back from her brow, and as her soft skin was revealed, he bent and placed his lips against her temple. Her throbbing pulse told him more of what she was feeling than any words could. He felt her hands glide up his back, her breath, warm and shallow, on the vee of skin at his throat.

  The far-off piano music, the shouts of drunken miners, even the crackling of the fire faded into nothingness when their eyes met in the half light of the cabin.

  He traced the line of her face from temple to chin, and he gave a soft, defeated chuckle before saying, "I tried, Bridget. God, how I tried."

  He lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss that seared them both. Jacob moved his mouth against hers hungrily, and when her lips parted, his tongue darted into her warmth. He groaned softly and tightened his arms around her. He was only half-aware that her hunger matched his, that her arms tightened, too, as if hold
ing on for life itself.

  All he knew, or cared about, was that finally he was holding her again, touching her again, feeling once more the contentment that was his only in her arms.

  Finally, though, she broke the kiss and struggled for breath. He leaned into her, resting his chin on the top of her head. His heart thundered in his chest, and the uncomfortable tightening in his loins demanded release, but he would not give in to the raging demands of his body without first knowing that his touch was welcomed. That she enjoyed his kisses, he knew, but Jacob had known the pain of bedding a woman who suffered his presence grimly as though his hands on her body were a sentence she must endure.

  He would not go through that again.

  "Jacob," Bridget sighed against his chest.

  'It's all right." He pushed away from her, determined to break contact before he lost all control. "Now do you understand, Bridget?" He walked to the fireplace and threw an unnecessary log into the flames.

  "I don't…" Her fingertips over her lips, Bridget stared at him.

  "Dammit, woman!" Even in his present state Jacob kept his voice low. If there was one thing he didn't need right now, it was to have Jessica awake and asking questions. "I want you in that room so there's a door between you and me. So you can close that door. So you decide when – and if – to open it to me."

  "I see."

  "Dear God, I hope so." He dropped his head back and stared blindly at the beamed ceiling for a long moment, then returned his gaze to hers. "Bridget," he began again, his voice still low and tortured, "I want you to know that I think you're a fine woman. You're gentle and caring… you've given Jessica more love in the last few months than the poor thing's known her whole life."

  Bridget shifted uneasily and looked away from him. His fingers under her chin forced her to meet his gaze. “Despite what you think, I've never once considered you less than a lady."

  Her eyelids fell, and he watched her take a deep, shuddering breath.

  "In fact," he added softly, “you've been more a lady than l have a gentleman."

  She raised her eyes to his, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  He smiled softly and touched her cheek one more time before shoving his hand into his pocket. "I would never force you to do anything, Bridget. I don't want to… hurt you. In any way." Jacob ran a hand over his face, crossed the room to the front door, and took his coat from the peg beside it. Slipping his arms through the sleeves, he said softly, "It will be up to you, Bridget." He paused until she looked at him. "I promise you that. I won't touch you again until you open that door."

  He pulled on the rawhide latch, and the cold night air flooded the room.

  "Where are you going, Jacob?"

  "I need some fresh air." He turned and looked at her one more time, burning the image of her into his brain. "I promised I wouldn't touch you, Bridget." He pulled his collar up. 'I didn't say it would be easy." Then he stepped through the opening and pulled the door closed after him.

  Bridget stood alone in the center of the warm, cozy cabin, more cold than she'd ever been in her life.

  #

  The biscuits were golden brown, the coffee strong and hot, and bacon was sizzling on the fire. Bridget straightened up, looking around the cabin with satisfaction. It was all going to be just right. Once the barrels had been unpacked and everything put in its place, the Fallons would have a lovely home.

  And that's what she had to remember. It would be the Fallons' home, not hers. She touched her lips gingerly, sure she could still feel the pressure of Jacob's mouth against hers. Her heartbeat quickened and a slow curl of desire sped through her body. She pushed the feelings aside and reminded herself that he'd said plainly enough that he didn't want a wife.

  But he'd also said some lovely things, too. She clasped the memory of those words to her and recalled them over and over. He'd called her a lady. Somehow, knowing that he thought well of her made all the difference in the world. He might not want her for a wife, but at least it wasn't because she wasn’t good enough.

  Bending down again, she took the skillet from the fire and forked the strips of bacon onto a plate set in the middle of the table. She carried the hot pan to the stone sink and laid it down, then glanced out the window at the well outside. A soft smile crossed her face as she watched Jessie tugging and pulling on the bucket's rope. The little girl's features mirrored her determination as she worked furiously against the heavy weight.

  Jacob, though, stood right behind his daughter and his strong hands held the rope high above the child's head. Under the pretext of "guiding" the bucket, he was shouldering the true weight of the water-soaked bucket while at the same time giving Jessie the pleasure of succeeding at her task.

  Bridget watched the tall man with too-eager eyes. His broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, the pleased smile on his face, all came together to bring dangerous yearnings to her. All too well, she recalled the feelings he created when pressing her body to his, the taste of his lips, the rapid beat of his heart…

  She shook her head and snatched at a shaky breath. He would keep the promise he'd made the night before. She knew that without a doubt. What she was not so sure of was whether she wanted him to keep it.

  The pair outside the window moved toward the back door, and Bridget forced a smile.

  "Bridget!" Jessie crowed. "I got the water all by myself!" The little girl staggered into the kitchen, holding the bucket handle with both hands, sloshing water over her fresh dress. Jacob was bent over almost double as he kept his fingers curled over the handle as well.

  "I see that!" Bridget rushed to them and took the soaking bucket. "Aren't you a fine big girl, then?"

  Jessie brushed her little hands together, then smoothed down the front of her dress. She glanced down at the huge wet stain, and her small face crumpled. "Got all wet, Bridget." She looked up anxiously.

  Bridget set the bucket down on the nearest shelf and bent low to look the child in the eyes. "Aye, well, a hardworkin' girl often musses herself, doesn't she?"

  Jessie cocked her head, still unsure.

  "Your dress will dry, love. It's no matter." Bridget smiled at the child and-tucked it stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  For a long moment Jessie stared at her, then, in a rush, threw herself into Bridget's embrace. As she closed her arms around the little girl, Bridget raised her eyes to Jacob, who still stood silently behind his daughter. His face was closed, shuttered, but in his eyes pain and anger flashed before he laid a hand on Jessie's shoulder.

  "Go and sit down now, Jessica. Have your breakfast.” The little girl looked up at him and smiled, but before she did his bidding, she gave Bridget a loud kiss on the cheek.

  "What in heaven was that all about?” Bridget whispered, completely baffled by Jessie's obvious concern over such a small thing. In an odd way, though, Bridget was almost glad for it. At least it gave her something to talk to Jacob about. She'd had no idea what to say to the man after the night before. Slowly she straightened up, her gaze never leaving his.

  Jacob's teeth ground together, and Bridget could see the time he was having getting a rein on his anger. "I don't want to talk about it where Jessica can hear." His tone made it clear that he would brook no argument about it.

  "All right." Bridget looked uneasily from the man to his child. She had the feeling that whatever it was that Jacob had to tell her, she wasn't going to like it, but she would find out. "The coffee's ready, Jacob. Go on and sit with Jessie now. I'll bring it right over.”

  #

  Jacob looked at the two jail cells, their iron-bar doors hanging open, and shook his head slowly. No doubt about it. There would be no escapes from this jail.

  From the outside, the marshal's office looked like any other small-town lockup. It was situated at the end of the one street, giving the marshal an unimpeded view of the town, and it backed up against the mountainside. An unpainted wooden building just large enough for the sheriff and a deputy, it had two windows facing the length of the s
treet and an iron cookstove chimney. But inside was a different matter. Oh, the office itself was pretty much standard – a desk, four chairs, the stove, and a wall full of wanted posters.

  It was the cells that made Treasure Gap's jail a standout. They'd been blasted out of the mountainside. The townspeople had come up with the perfect way to ensure their jail was escape proof. There were no windows in the cells, and the iron bars bad been drilled right into solid rock. The only way out of the dungeonlike caves was through the iron doors and past the marshal.

  "She's a beauty, ain't she?" Cotton Drake looked over at his new boss for confirmation. "Reckon folks around here take their jails right serious."

  Jacob glanced at his deputy and smiled. He'd been glad to find the man waiting for him in the office. A tall, lanky exRanger with blond, almost white, hair, Cotton had already proven himself knowledgeable about the town and its people. He seemed an easygoing type who wouldn't mind handing over the reins of responsibility to Jacob.

  "It appears they do, Cotton," Jacob agreed., "Have you had much trouble since you've been on the job?"

  '"Not so's you'd notice." The younger man turned, strolled back to the office, and plopped down on one of the chairs. Leaning back, he set one booted foot on the edge of the desk and crossed his other leg over it. “Mostly drunks. Had a fancy gambler in here a couple weeks back. Tried a bottom deal, but he weren't so good at it.” Cotton grinned. "He was so damned glad to get outta that cave back there, he didn't mind atall when I told him to hightail it outta here."

  Jacob smiled and poured himself a cup of coffee. He'd certainly changed since his old army days. There was a time when he'd have brought a man up on charges for lounging in a chair while making a report. He shook his head. Then again, Treasure Gap surely wasn't the army, and, he told himself. That’s the reason you came out here after all – you wanted a change. A quick glance at his deputy, now completely at ease with his hat over his eyes and his badge holding a tear in his worn shirt together, told Jacob that he'd definitely gotten what he wanted.