"Yes."
"But what have I done to you?"
She pressed herself tightly against him and felt him swell. "It will be dawn soon, and you will be leaving... love me again before you go."
Her soft plea swept away the last of his willpower. He could not resist the sweet body that offered him a fulfillment he had never known. He touched her, stroked her, kissed her, and entered her.
She urged him on, and he drove deep. He was putting his brand on her-he was taking her for his own.
Abby slid off the bed, her hand lingering in his while his gaze moved over her body. She was so beautiful, with her dark hair falling tangled about her face.
"You will be leaving soon," she said, slowly and reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his. She would have to let him go.
He was out of bed beside her, holding her tightly to him. "How can I leave you now?"
She smiled sadly. "Because you must. Nothing has changed, Jonah. You still have your duty. I offered myself to you asking nothing in return, and I still don't."
He stared into her eyes. "Abby, I can't just go away and leave it like this between us."
"I won't have you eaten up with guilt. I knew what I was doing, Jonah. You did not lure me into your bed; I went willingly."
He glanced at the window and saw the first streaks of dawn hit the ebony sky. With a feeling of frustration he traced her backbone and cupped her buttocks, lifting her to fit against his hardness. How could he tell her that he had never felt this way with a woman before, and he never would again? How could he make her understand that now that he had been with her, he would never stop wanting her? The need for possession was deep and insatiable, and it tore at him even now. But time was his enemy-he had to leave. "We will talk about this when I get back."
She nestled her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. "Be safe, and take care of yourself. Don't let anything happen to you."
Before he could say anything, she picked up her gown and slipped it over her head; then she went to him again. "I want to say good-bye to you now and not when anyone else is around."
He took her in his arms, wishing more than anything that he could take her back to bed. "Wait for me?"
She shook her head, wanting to let him know that she did not expect anything more between them. "No. We can never be together again, Jonah. As I told you last night, this is my gift to you... and to myself."
He-brought her to him, dipped his head, and kissed her softly.
She slipped out of his arms and went out the door and down the hall to her own bedroom.
For a long time after she had gone, Jonah stared out the window, absorbing what he had done to Abby. He had always taken pride in his own selfrestraint; he had never visited the prostitutes who lured other officers to their beds. He had even tried to keep Abby at a safe distance when he first began to want her. Yet he had taken Abby's virginity as if he had a right to it. He had lost control because of his own selfish need for her.
She had given him the greatest gift a woman could give a man. He knew the power of her gift would stay with him for the rest of his life. After their perfect union, he could not imagine ever finding the same joy with any other woman.
He braced his arm on the windowsill and leaned his head against it, troubled. He hadn't felt it at the time, but now he was disturbed by the way she had told him good-bye-it was as if she had closed herself off from him. What if there should be a child?
He quickly scribbled a note to her, and before he left, pushed it under her bedroom door.
Frances came out the back door and watched Abby hang sheets on the line with a bemused expression on her face. "You were certainly up early this morning, and doing my work, at that. You know I'da changed the bedding today and done the washing tomorrow."
Abby picked up the straw basket and walked toward the back door. "I wanted to keep busy today."
Frances noticed that Abby's eyes were red from crying. "You didn't even come out front to tell the major good-bye."
Abby paused with her hand on the screen door. She had done the washing so she could remove all traces of her lovemaking with Jonah. "I said goodbye to him in my own way."
The note Jonah had slid beneath her door had been read and then torn to shreds. It had said simply, Will you marry me?
Nothing could have made her feel worse.
She hated to think he felt compelled to offer her marriage after what had happened between them. Her answer was no now, and it would be the same if he ever posed the question to her in person.
By afternoon Abby began training the mare. As she had expected, the horse took easily to the sidesaddle. With each new phase of training, a deeper pain touched her heart.
With less than a week's training, Abby concluded that even the most inexperienced rider would be able to ride the gentle mare. She would even be a good mount for a child.
She had just led the mare into a stall and shot the bolt when Quince came striding toward her.
"Is anyone using the buckboard next Friday?" he asked.
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"Jonah had asked me before he left if I'd meet his father and Patricia Van Dere if he hadn't returned by the time they arrived. From what I hear about the battles that have been going on with Victorio, he certainly won't be back in time."
Her heart stopped beating, and she leaned her back against the stall. "Do you think he'll be all right?"
"I hope so. We won't know about the casualties until it's all over."
Abby now knew what it felt like for a woman to send the man she loved into war. She was terrified something would happen to Jonah. She paced toward the front of the barn and back again. There was nothing she could do-she felt so helpless.
She had to hide her distress from her brother. "Will General Tremain and Miss Van Dere be staying at Fort Fannin?"
"Jonah had made arrangements for them at the hotel in Diablo, but I thought it might be nice if we offered to let them stay here."
Abby adamantly disliked the thought of facing the woman Jonah was to marry. "Why would you think such a thing?"
"The house is large enough to accommodate them."
"But-"
"Abby, Jonah is my friend."
"I know that."
"I plan to offer them our hospitality. Will you go with me to meet them?"
"No." She walked toward the house and said to him over her shoulder, "You want them here, you bring them."
"Abby, it's not like you to be so snippy. What's gotten into you lately? Brent has even commented on your strange moods."
She stopped and turned back to him. It was one of the few times she had been angry with Quince. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just want everyone to leave me alone."
Abby rode out early Friday morning and stayed away from the house as long as she could. She had ridden to the cabin to see Brent and visited with Crystal.
Later Curly found her helping Brent brand several horses and informed her that the stolen mustangs had been returned. She rode out with Brent to see them safely pastured near the ranch house.
It was almost dark when she dismounted at the stable, and she was sore and tired. She was looking forward to a warm bath to soothe her aching muscles.
"Senorita Abby, the patron has been asking for you to return."
She unsaddled Sassy and tossed the saddle over the fence. "What did my father want?"
"He did not say to me what he wanted."
"Have the guests arrived?"
"Oh, si. There is this man so grand, and this nice, pretty senorita who is with him."
Abby slapped her hat against her trousers and dust flew. "Feed the pinto and give her a good rubdown for me, will you, Christmas?"
"Si. I will be glad to do these things for you," Navidad said. In his voice was sympathy for her obvious distress.
With a heavy heart Abby walked toward the house. As she drew near she saw the woman standing on the porch; there was no way to avoid her. She would rather have met
Patricia Van Dere after she had bathed, but that was not to be.
Reluctantly she moved up the steps to face the woman she most dreaded meeting. Patricia Van Dere was more than Abby had expected. Her blond hair was swept to the top of her head in a sophisticated style. The brown traveling gown she wore was elegant and understated, a look that only the elite of society could accomplish. And, worse still, she was beautiful.
Patricia smiled and reached out her hand to Abby. "You must be Quince's sister. I have been wanting to meet you. Jonah has written me so much about your family."
Abby had not expected the woman to be nervous, but she felt her hand trembling. "I have heard about you as well, Miss Van Dere."
"My name is Patricia, and I hope you will allow me to call you Abby. I feel like I already know you."
"Of course, if you like."
"This," she said, spreading her arms wide to indicate the countryside, "is a bit overpowering and frightening for me."
"You'll have to get used to it, since you are going to be an officer's wife."
Even now, standing before the woman Jonah was to marry, Abby longed for his touch. The nights were the worst, because she had too much time to think about him. Then she would imagine him being wounded or killed, and it was torment of the worst kind.
Patricia was suddenly staring at her in an odd way, as if she were shocked. Abby realized it was her apparel that had caught Patricia's attention. She had expected nothing less.
"I have never seen a woman wearing trousers before."
"Hmm," Abby said crisply. "I would've of bet my life on that."
Patricia walked around Abby, looking her over carefully. "We are very near the same size. I would like to try on a pair of your trousers."
Now it was Abby's turn to be shocked. "I don't think the major would like it," she said.
Patricia's face fell, and she agreed with a nod. "You are probably right."
Abby frowned, wanting to hate the woman, but finding it difficult. There was something sweet and unassuming about her.
"Your life must seem so useful here. But the country is so vast. I have always been a little intimidated at the thought of the West. We hear such horror stories about gunmen and robbers."
"Well, Miss Van Dere, you heard right. We are a bit uncivilized out here. It will probably take years before we catch up with you in the North."
The Philadelphian seemed upset. "I only meant that..." She lowered her lashes. "I have failed miserably with you, haven't I? And I so wanted you to like me."
Abby was taken aback because Patricia seemed genuinely upset. She would have felt better if the woman were spoiled and selfish; then she could hate her without guilt.
"If you will excuse me, I'm dusty. I will see you at supper."
"Yes, of course."
Abby turned to Patricia with the screen door halfway open. "Which room have they put you in?"
"I'm told by your housekeeper that I am using your brother Quince's room."
Abby was relieved. She would not have wanted Patricia to stay in the room where Jonah had made love to her.
When she entered the house, Abby stopped at the door of the parlor, where cigar smoke wove its way to her. She heard her father's voice, warm and friendly. "General, if you are of a mind to, I'll give you a tour of the ranch tomorrow."
"I'd like that, Mr. Hunter," came a clipped Northern voice.
Jack caught a glimpse of his daughter and took her hand, leading her into the room. "General, this is my only daughter. Abby, meet General Daniel Tremain."
Abby nodded at Jonah's father and said politely, "Sir, it's a pleasure."
GeneralTremain had a scowl of disapproval on his face when he looked at her trousers. But his attitude did not bother Abby-she had seen that look before in his son's eyes.
"Miss Hunter, I was just telling your father that Patricia and I are grateful for your hospitality." His frown deepened. "However, I had expected my son to meet us."
If Abby had drawn a picture in her mind of Jonah's father, this man wasn't far from what she would have imagined. He was trim in appearance and had an autocratic air about him. His eyes were much the color of Jonah's, but there the resemblance ended. Jonah was several inches taller than his father. Since he was a retired general, he no longer wore a uniform but a charcoal-gray suit. General Tremain might seem to be friendly with her father, but he had not earned the rank of general without knowing how to fit in with other people. There was an astuteness in those observing eyes, and he would definitely be more at home in a lavish sitting room in Philadelphia than in the small parlor of a ranch house in Texas.
"If you will both excuse me, I need to wash before supper," she told them, happy to make her escape.
How would she get through the days ahead when she would be thrown into the company of that pair?
Jonah had ordered a cold camp, since the Apache could spot a campfire from miles away. He lay on his bedroll listening to the sounds of night all around him. A coyote howled in the distance, and an owl made its presence known by hooting in a nearby mesquite tree while locusts chirped their age-old night song.
He was bone-weary, but his mind was clear and focused. It was thoughts of Abby that robbed him of sleep rather than worry about another skirmish with Victorio, which was sure to come in the days ahead.
He watched the night sky as a cloud moved over the moon and cast the countryside into darkness. He closed his eyes, remembering the passion that had filled him when Abby had surrendered to him. He ached inside, wanting to recapture and hold on to that feeling. Without her, he would spend the rest of his life in desolation, empty inside, a man without his heart.
He heard the restless stirring of the horses. He had ordered each trooper to keep his own mount close at hand. An Apache was capable of sneaking into a camp and driving off a herd without disturbing anyone until it was too late. He thought briefly about the battle they had already fought, and the one that lay ahead of them.
His troop had joined Col. Ben Grierson's Tenth Cavalry and Company C and Company G in a skirmish with the Mescalero Apache at Tinaja de las Palmas. They had suffered only a few casualties and had managed to drive Victorio back across the border into Mexico.
Jonah hadn't expected Victorio to remain on the Mexican side of the border, so his troops had been patrolling the area for a week. Today they had received word from the Mexican government that the Apache chief was heading back to Texas. All the water holes and springs near the border were now fortified with troops-all except one: Rattlesnake Springs.
And that was where Victorio would be heading.
Jonah watched the sun touch the eastern sky and rolled to his feet. He allowed a small fire, since the smoke would blend with the morning shadows. His men had to have coffee to sustain them through the hard ride that lay ahead.
As the cook handed out hardtack and coffee, Jonah nodded for the bugler to sound boots and saddles.
He mounted, and Sergeant MacDougall rode to his side. "Troopers," Jonah said in a voice that could be heard by all. "We have to make a sixtyfive-mile trek in less than twenty-four hours if we are going to beat Victorio to Rattlesnake Springs. We will be pushing hard you will eat in the saddle and rest your horse only when necessary. Anyone lagging behind is likely to find himself with an Apache in his face-so keep up."
-The long blue line wound its way across the and countryside. Punishing heat beat down on them, and each trooper was aware that a fierce battle awaited them at the end of this grueling ride.
Jonah thought of Abby and the note he had shoved under her door. His hope was that she would agree to marry him, even though he knew she would refuse.
"Sergeant, let's pick up the pace," he said, nudging his mount into a heavy gallop.
Abby was exercising Moon Racer in the paddock when Patricia appeared at the fence to watch her. The woman looked somewhat out of place in her green-and-white-striped gown and the matching sunshade that protected her complexion against the Texas sun.
All Abby could think about was how difficult it had been to make conversation at the supper table the night before. She had to admit Patricia had tried to draw her into the conversation several times, but Abby had not been very responsive.
Her stilted replies had drawn a few disapproving glances from her father. The kinder Patricia became, the worse Abby felt.
Moon Racer flung his head back and snorted, pulling on the reins. She patted his neck and smiled. "All right, big boy, if you want to run, you're going to have to jump that fence first."
Witha laugh, she dug her heels into her horse's flanks, and he easily sailed over the fence. The hot wind touched her cheeks as they raced across the meadow and up the hill. She allowed him to run until he slowed to a gallop, and then she turned him back toward the house.
When she reached the barn and dismounted, Jonah's father had joined Patricia.
The general managed a smile. "That was impressive riding, Miss Hunter, very impressive indeed."
Abby nodded her thanks. "I need to rub him down. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No," the general said, looking about him. "I'm riding out with your father within the hour. I want to see the workings of a successful horse ranch."
With an impatient frown he took his pocket watch out and checked the time. Abby smiled to herself. She could have told him that time had no meaning on the Half-Moon Ranch. Everything was centered around the care of the stock-when they were fed, when they needed to be exercised and trained.
Jonah's father and Patricia walked beside Abby as she led Moon Racer to the barn. Patricia cautiously eyed the powerful stallion. "I wish I could ride the way you do."
"You ride sidesaddle, don't you?" Of course, Abby knew she did.
"Yes. But I don't even do that very well."
The general looked pensive for a moment. He knew his son had bought Patricia a horse as a sur prise. It had been trained here on this ranch, probably by Miss Hunter; although he couldn't see her on anything but the western saddle she used.
Moon Racer Page 14
