Rice grinned at her and turned away.
The rest of the day was spent in relaxed conversation, but River was always on Sarah’s mind. She tried to nurse the resentment and deny the attraction but it wasn’t possible.
In the evening, they made a camp near the Platte and traveled the next day through the same featureless prairie they had been crossing for several days. Sarah thought there might be fewer trees, and the valley seemed to have narrowed.
On Wednesday Eli pronounced the meat dry enough to take off the line, and Sarah helped him put it into sacks. The jerky didn’t look good to Sarah, and she was happy to learn it was to be saved rather than eaten right away. For once there was plenty of wood, and Sarah helped Rice refill the possum bellies.
Thursday morning River roused the travelers early. It had been a starless night, and before first light they could feel the threat of rain. “The road up here can get awful muddy,” Rice explained. “Worse than some other places. It’s so level the water can’t go nowhere.”
Sarah had trouble seeing how this stretch of road could be much worse than others they had traveled, but River seemed to think so. He started them off early and pushed them until nearly dark. Even though the skies continued to be heavy and gray, there were only a few light showers. When they reached a camp that was past the worst of the lowlands, River called a halt.
In spite of Eli’s protests, River rigged an awning against the side of the supply wagon, then went to check the stock and the guards with barely a word to any of them. He knew it wasn’t the rain that had put him in this mood. He had been angry enough at Sarah to never want to see her again. Well, that wasn’t a new feeling. But avoiding her made it worse, not better. Damned if I don’t feel guilty about the way things have gone! he thought. What business did she have making him feel guilty?
It was raining steadily by the time the evening meal was prepared. Sarah thought the little tent seemed cozy when she and Eli brought the food and joined Rice. However, in a few minutes River, dripping rain from his hat and slicker, joined them, and the little space became close and tense.
River had avoided Sarah all week much as Rice had the week before. It had made life easier for Sarah. She had begun to believe that what she had mistaken for love was only memories. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to someone so heartless. Now, with him so close, she had no idea what she felt.
If Eli noticed the tension, he chose to ignore it. He sat with his back to the wind, barely under the canvas cover. “Well, River,” he said conversationally. “I hear yer name was Dan’el back in the states.”
River glanced at Eli. The old man was still curious about his and Sarah’s common past. He braced himself for more questions and answered calmly, “That’s right.”
“Had a rich daddy?”
Rice spoke up. “Sarah’s family was poor, and her folks died when she was young like mine did. That right, Sarah?”
She nodded. She could sense River’s foul humor and wondered why Eli didn’t. Still, she was curious where Eli would take the conversation. He was after something.
“How’d a rich boy end up out here in these humble surroundin’s?” He waved his spoon in a circle to indicate their little camp and winked at Sarah.
River guessed the rich daddy had been a shot in the dark. “Punishment for something, I reckon,” he said, showing more interest in his dinner than Eli’s conversation.
Eli chuckled. “Yer old man run ya off, didn’t he?”
River glared at him over his cup for a long moment then determined that was all the information the old man was going to get. He was in no mood for this.
Rice glanced from one man to the other and looked questioningly at Sarah. She shrugged, and he kept silent.
After a moment, River added, “You’re free to follow his example and run me off anytime.”
Eli chuckled. “‘Fraid not. Milburn made ya the boss.”
“Then maybe I should fire you.”
This struck Eli as particularly funny.
The rest of the meal was spent listening to the rain on the canvas and Eli’s occasional chortle.
As they were finishing, a gust of wind blew a heavy shower of rain into their shelter. “Told ya this here tent weren’t no use,” Eli said. He gathered the dishes into the empty cooking pot as the wind increased. In less than a minute, it was threatening to tear the awning away from the wagon and poles that supported it.
Eli set the pot inside the supply wagon and hollered at Sarah to head to the lead wagon for shelter. She could hear Rice and River fighting the wind as they removed the awning before it was lost.
Inside the wagon, Sarah shook water from her skirts and, after lighting the lantern, went to the front to draw the pucker string closed. In the soft golden light, the wagon seemed warm and familiar, and she experienced less of the panic she expected to feel with both ends shut. She decided not to tie the back closed, however, unless the rain began to blow in.
She took off her muddy shoes and her outer garments, spreading them across some crates to dry. Her hair was wet, also, and she went to her trunk for a blanket and a towel. Taking a seat beside her trunk, she threw the blanket around her shoulders and found the walnut jewel box to catch the pins as she removed them from her hair.
The last pin fell into the box just as the back flap of the wagon swept open. She closed the box and dropped it into her trunk. She would have to tie the canvas closed after all. She started to rise and gasped. River was standing just inside the wagon. She sat in startled silence as he removed his hat and slicker, showering the surrounding crates with rain.
Chapter Nine
Finally, Sarah found her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting out of the rain.” He smiled at her as he took in the simple white undergarments not entirely hidden by the coarse dark blanket.
Sarah pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, conscious of his gaze. “Use the other wagon,” she said, alarmed that her voice shook.
“Too crowded.” He sat down and began removing his muddy boots.
“But you can’t stay here.”
“My gear’s in here. I’m not getting my blanket wet running from here to the other wagon. Besides, like I said, it’s too crowded over there.” He set his boots near her shoes and stood to look around the small enclosure. “Where do you sleep?”
Sarah swallowed hard. Pointing toward the spot where he stood, she said, “There in the back.”
“Curled up here?” he asked, indicating the small area uncluttered with crates. At her nod, he shook his head. “I need more room than that.”
As she huddled under her blanket, he began rearranging the contents of the wagon, placing crates that were the same height along one side, turning others on their sides or stacking them. He made her get up so he could move the box she was using as a seat, and she found herself retreating to the front corner of the wagon. After a while he seemed satisfied with his arrangement and motioned her toward a barrel he had placed beside her trunk.
She sat down and retrieved her towel, trying to decide how she would dry her hair without letting the blanket slip from her shoulders. She watched him toss his knapsack and bedroll onto the bunk he had made. He unrolled his blankets, and she knew she ought to run. If he wouldn’t leave, she should.
The rain, falling gently now with only an occasional gust of wind, made a soothing sound on the canvas. Perhaps that was what lulled her into accepting his presence.
River sat on his bunk and studied Sarah. She was trying to dry her chestnut hair with one hand while the other clutched the blanket to her breast. He ought to leave her alone, for his own sake as well as hers. This woman had gotten a hold on his heart once before. He had tried to convince himself he was immune to her, but he knew it wasn’t true.
There was something sweet about her gentle face, something innocent. The pink tinge that rose in her cheeks made him doubt what he thought he knew about her. Those soft, moist lips weren’t the lips of a liar
. Those weren’t the eyes of a thief.
She looked up, her cheeks darkening further under his gaze. “Shouldn’t you be watching the stock?” she asked, trying to sound disdainful but failing.
River grinned. “I’d rather be watching you.”
Sarah turned away. With her old hairbrush, she worked on the tangles in her hair, conscious always of River a few feet away.
River saw the blanket slip down one almost bare shoulder as Sarah slowly brushed her hair. “Do you remember...?” His voice trailed off as he realized what he was remembering: Sarah, a younger Sarah, carefree and unpredictable, brushing her hair. They were in a hotel room he had rented. His father’s money had made it possible for him to get away with nearly anything, and Sarah’s grandmother had never seemed to care where she was. He remembered lying on the bed, gazing at her as she sat in front of the mirror and brushed her hair.
His body began to ache as his mind filled in more details: Sarah walking gracefully toward him, Sarah’s hair spread across the pillow, Sarah’s soft, sweet body in his arms.
He wasn’t sure when he had come to his feet and moved toward her, but he found himself standing over her, reaching out to touch the soft, damp hair.
Sarah felt his nearness and turned, unable to ignore him. One look, and she couldn’t turn away. His eyes seemed to capture her, the desire in them speaking to the longings in her heart. His question still hung in the air, and she whispered, “Yes. I remember.”
A smile touched his lips for a moment, and he buried his hand in the mass of hair that glistened in the soft lantern light. “God help me, Sarah, I don’t think I ever got over you.”
Sarah came slowly to her feet, unaware of the brush as it slipped to the floor. It seemed as if River’s eyes compelled her to rise up to meet them. She may have had one brief realization that what would surely happen was wrong, but it passed quickly.
Slowly she rose on the tips of her toes, her lips drawn to his by a force as old as time. River’s hand slipped to the back of her neck, and he lowered his head to meet her.
His lips were gentle against hers as if he held back, afraid she would turn and run as she had before. Sarah knew she wouldn’t run, couldn’t run. Not this time. She had known this was inevitable when he came into the wagon. Six years slipped away, and she was his woman again.
River drew her carefully into an embrace; her warm body beneath the thin garments was tantalizing to his arms. He wanted desperately to feel her skin against his skin, to take her quickly and end this sweet torture. At the same time, he felt a need to move slowly, to make her feel what he was feeling. Sarah’s lips, parting sweetly beneath his own, told him it was possible.
Sarah’s hands strayed across his shoulders to wrap around his neck, pulling his mouth more firmly against hers. She marveled at the feel of the hard muscles in shoulders much wider than she remembered. And she knew she remembered exactly.
Slowly, River drew his lips away, pulling her arms from around his neck. Sarah’s eyes flew open in shock. Had he kissed her only to entice a reaction from her, to prove to her and himself that she wanted him?
One look at his face, and she knew she was wrong. Passion smoldered there along with what she had once been certain was love. She wouldn’t trust that guess so easily again.
“It’s warm in here,” he whispered, quickly shrugging out of his jacket. “Don’t you think?”
His teasing voice brought back memories so clearly she felt like the old Sarah again. She shook her head, but her eyes sparkled. “I think it’s cold.” She reached for the blanket lying in a heap at her feet, but he took it from her hands, tossing it carelessly onto his bunk.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he murmured. One hand at the small of her back brought her against him while the other found the ribbons on her chemise. The look in his eyes alone could heat her flesh. Her hands moved to the front of his shirt as her eyes returned the favor.
River had the impression that this was too easy, then realized why. “No corset?” he whispered.
“It seemed an unnecessary expense.” She kissed his ear since it was so close to her lips.
In moments their garments were puddled at their feet and they stood entwined again, River’s need to feel her body without restrictions, satisfied only to make him more aware of stronger needs. He trailed kisses across her shoulder and groaned as she moved against him. Her soft body, more slender than it had been the last time he loved her, seemed fragile in his arms.
He hungered for her, but he could not imagine pressing her down on the hard, uneven bunk. He scooped her up into his arms, enjoying the way she wrapped her arms around his neck. He sat on his bunk with her on his lap and buried a kiss in her hair before lying back, pulling her down on top of him.
Sarah kissed the stubble on his jaw and the soft skin below his ear. Warm desire filled her and washed away all other thought. She let him guide her body above his, bringing the two of them together. Their hearts beat with the same rhythm; her movements complemented his. Though so many things had changed, this hadn’t.
With an effort, River held his passion in check, slowing his pace to match hers. Her soft hair swept against his face, and he turned to inhale its sweetness. The curve of her hips beneath his hands inflamed him almost unbearably, yet he couldn’t stop himself from caressing the soft, smooth skin. When he thought he would surely lose control or go mad, he felt her body tense against him and, with a muffled cry, her breath quicken. Her movements became an even more exquisite torture, and he abandoned any hope of patience.
Sarah surrendered to River, to Daniel, to the love she still felt for him. Now her love found expression in every fiber of her body, every nerve crying out to him, every muscle shuddering from the effort of loving him.
Slowly, very slowly, Sarah felt her body return to her possession. It tingled, warm and damp, as if newly reborn. Reason was trying to return, as well, but she pushed it away.
River eased her off him until she lay snuggled against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He found the blanket he had earlier discarded and spread it over her. They heard the low rumble of distant thunder, and River groaned. “You were right earlier,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“Hmm,” she sighed, not remembering having said anything and not wanting to be reminded now.
His breath tickled her ear as he whispered softly, “I really should be watching the stock.”
Sarah fought a nearly irresistible urge to giggle. She knew she was still in a sort of dreamland and reality was only a moment away, but she wanted to cling to the dream as long as possible.
“I’m sorry to leave you, sweetheart,” he said, pulling his arm from under her and replacing it with his knapsack. “But I want you to promise me two things.”
Sarah tried to move closer to him as he moved away. He tucked the blanket around her and rose from their bed. Her eyes were closed, and he bent to kiss her forehead before turning to find his clothes. He dressed quickly then sat beside her, listening to her even breathing. With one hand caressing her cheek, he spoke to her again. “Sarah, you have to promise me two things.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she sighed.
“First,” he said, “don’t hate me in the morning.” He kissed the corner of her mouth as if that might entice her to agree.
Sarah’s brain wasn’t ready to consider what had happened between them. She smiled at the gentle kiss and closed her eyes again.
“Second,” River whispered, “don’t hate yourself.”
The lips Sarah remembered tasting so hungrily touched her again, on her cheek this time. She barely heard him murmur, “Go to sleep,” before she obeyed.
River rose quickly and donned his slicker and hat. He extinguished the lantern and felt the chill of the damp night air as he parted the flap and left the wagon. Another rumble of thunder seemed ominous to his ears.
* * *
Sarah awoke slowly. Early-morning sounds drifted in to her, but the cl
osed flap of the wagon kept out the first light of dawn. She stretched on her hard bed, rubbing a sore shoulder, and came suddenly awake. She was stark naked! Memory of last night returned, and she sat up quickly, reaching for her clothes.
Eli could open the back flap any second! Most of the cooking supplies were stored in this wagon. With the flap closed, she couldn’t tell how late it was. Oh God! What if he had looked in already? Or worse, what if River had told him not to—and why?
Sarah dressed as quickly as she could and pinned up her hair. After hastily folding the blankets, she even moved one of the crates, feeling certain the arrangement looked like a bed for lovers even with the blankets gone.
Throwing her shawl around her shoulders, Sarah took a steadying breath and stepped to the back of the wagon. She knew putting off her appearance would only make matters worse. Eli was sitting by the fire, and she approached him, prepared, she thought, for anything.
“‘Morning, Sarie,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Rough night, huh?”
Sarah was sure her mouth dropped open. He knew everything and wasn’t going to be polite about it! She was mortified.
“What with all the ruckus, I figured you could use a little extra sleep.” Eli filled a cup with coffee and handed it to Sarah, who took it automatically. “Coffee and the pot ended up in t’other wagon, anyhow.”
Sarah sipped the coffee, wishing it was the steam that made her face burn. Should she offer an explanation? What possible explanation was there?
Eli was still talking. “We ain’t in no hurry to move out, I reckon, on account a the mud. Good thing, too. I don’t think I got a nickel’s worth a sleep. Between the storm and River coming after Rice to corral the stock in the circle, and them horses millin’ around, I got to sleepin’ good about the time I shoulda got up. Well, I reckon it weren’t much different for ya so I let ya sleep.”
Sarah discovered her knees were shaking and sat down on a barrel near the fire. Had she really slept through all that? She wanted to ask where River was but didn’t dare. She asked about Rice instead.
Cassandra Austin Page 13
