Promises to Keep

by Rose Marie Ferris

  After a time it struck her that these sounds were the only ones she could hear and she held her breath to listen for some sign of Garth, but there were only the trilling notes of birdsong and the drowsy hum of insects. Even the wind was still and the silence was ominous.

  "Garth," she whispered. Her heart skipped a beat and again she was breathless, this time with foreboding. More loudly, she called, "Garth!"

  When there was no answer, she began backtracking along the path she had made, stopping now and again to listen and call his name. She was becoming more panicky with each step she took and relief swept over her when she heard a faint sound of movement in the brush ahead.

  "Ga-a-arth!" she shouted as loudly as she could and this time her cry was followed by a muffled moan. She rushed in the direction from which it had come. She was shaking with fear when she entered a sunlit clearing and saw him lying so deathly still on the ground. She ran to him and dropped to her knees at his side, one hand searching anxiously for his pulse.

  "Garth," she sobbed brokenly, "oh, Garth! Are you hurt?"

  His eyes opened and with blinding speed he grasped her wrist and pulled her diagonally across his chest. With the impetus of the same fluid motion, he rolled her over onto her back. Taken by surprise, she found herself pinned to the springy carpet of the forest floor by the full weight of his body.

  For a moment she looked up at him, entranced by the gold-flecked green of his eyes. They were at the same time unfathomable and piercing. She recalled the facility with which he could divine her thoughts and, fearful of what her own eyes might reveal, she averted them to stare at the coarse curling hair that was just visible in the opening of his shirt collar.

  "You louse!" she choked. "You were faking."

  "Sorry to disappoint you," he drawled.

  "If this is supposed to be some kind of joke, I fail to see the humor in it. You scared me half to death."

  "It was no joke." Their eyes met again as she scowled at him. "You think you were scared! I was afraid you'd get lost or injured and how else was I to stop you?" Her scowl vanished and her expression softened as he made this admission. "God!" he exclaimed, "you run like a deer, and once you'd left the trail you had the advantage of size. You went straight through brush that I had to go around."

  Although he had expressed concern for her well-being, his grip on her hadn't relaxed. He held her spread-eagled and his hands were like manacles about her wrists. In her discomfort, she stirred uneasily, feeling bruised and ill-treated. As she did so, she became intensely aware of the muscular length of his thighs resting intimately between hers, of the hardness of his chest crushing her breasts.

  Suddenly there was an unbearable tension between them and in desperation Julie erupted into motion, renewing her struggles to escape him.

  This time it was Garth who had not anticipated her attack and she almost succeeded in freeing herself. She derived some satisfaction from the fact that his breathing was nearly as heavy as hers when he finally managed to subdue her. His fingers tightened around her wrist, dwarfing it as they overlapped to measure its circumference.

  "Damn, but you're strong!" he complimented her with grudging admiration. "For all that your wrists are about as big as matchsticks! Where do you hide all your muscles?"

  His eyes wandered freely over her shoulders and arms and again she thrashed about, but this time her efforts were short-lived. He was prepared for such tactics and he controlled her easily.

  "Get off me, you great heavy ox," she gasped. "I can't breathe."

  "You've certainly changed your tune," he observed, showing a callous lack of sympathy for her plight. "You never used to tell me that—at least, not this early in the game." His actions contradicted his words, however, and he complied with her request, shifting slightly away from her and supporting the weight of his torso with his elbows.

  No sooner had this been accomplished, than Julie had cause to regret her complaint. As a result of Garth's change of position, her shirt gapped open to the waist, revealing the full curve of her breasts.

  Under the fire of his dilated gaze, she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. The lacy bra she was wearing provided little protection from his bold inspection of her. Not only that, her body had turned traitor and her excitement was transparently clear. All he'd had to do was look at her and the rosy nipples had grown saucily erect.

  "You've torn your shirt," Garth murmured thickly, "and you've hurt yourself."

  Even as he pointed this out, she became aware of the sting of the scratch. In her mind's eye she could see, as he must, the droplets of blood that had been drawn by the thorn when it inflicted the wound, saw the way their redness emphasized the ivory pallor of her skin.

  Her pulse clamored unevenly in the hollow of her throat and she felt strangely boneless. An alien heat and langour had invaded her limbs and she was caught up in the inevitability of whatever was about to happen.

  Unable to stop him, not wanting to stop him, she watched as Garth lowered his head and touched his mouth to the scratch that marred the creamy flesh. With infinite slowness, he traced its jagged course with his lips while his fingers deftly released the fastening of her bra to bare her breasts completely.

  She instinctively arched her back and her eyes closed weakly when, at last, the sweet warmth of his mouth abandoned the silkiness of skin to take possession of the tightly budded velvet of the nipple. Softly, so softly, he cherished it, coaxing it into full bloom with his tongue, savoring it with exquisite thoroughness.

  Julie yearned to wrap her arms around him and draw him even closer to her, to hold him tightly and never let him go. The desire to prolong the tantalizing contact, to deepen it, was so urgent that she ached with the need to surrender to the demands of her body, but with some feeble residue of sanity she fought the compulsion.

  Digging her fingertips into the bed of pine needles on which they lay, she concentrated on the discomfort caused by a pine cone that had lodged between her shoulder blades and was projecting its sharp spines into her back. She remained quiescent, neither resisting nor responding, as she battled to overcome the seduction of Garth's mouth, still lingering at her breast.

  Within a matter of seconds, her hard won passivity became apparent to Garth. He raised his head and leaned away from her and she sensed that he was studying her face. Even now she was sick with longing for him and she gritted her teeth, resolving to keep her own eyes closed. But his fingers plowed through the tangle of her hair to curve insistently around the nape of her neck while his thumb tilted her chin, forcing her to confront him. Reluctantly she opened her eyes.

  "I'm sorry," he apologized gruffly. "Resisting temptation may be good for the soul, but it's never been my strong suit."

  Thinking that he probably hadn't had to exercise much resistance to temptation where women were concerned, thinking that they must fall into his hands like ripe fruit, Julie replied shakily, "It's too soon."

  "I know," he said.

  "I wish—"

  Garth looked at her quizzically but she was unable to continue speaking.

  "I know," he repeated.

  Did he? she wondered. Even she wasn't sure precisely what she wished.

  He levered himself to his feet and pulled her up beside him so quickly that she felt light-headed. She leaned against him without self-consciousness, grateful for his matter-of-fact attitude as he adjusted her clothing and dusted her off.

  "You have half of Wyoming in your hair," he quipped.

  He began picking out the worst of the pine needles and leaves, the small pieces of bark and bits of moss. Her hair was thick and fine as thistledown, extending to several inches below her shoulders, and this took a long time. After several minutes had passed, she ventured, "It's so long and hard to manage, it's nothing but a nuisance. Maybe I should have it cut."

  "No," he said sharply. "Don't do that."

  With his pocket comb he gently removed most of the snarls. When he had finished, he stood back to survey his handiwo
rk. She watched him circumspectly, not knowing exactly what to make of his solicitude.

  He smiled briefly, indicating his satisfaction with the job he'd done, and slid the comb into the back pocket of his jeans.

  "Are you ready to go?" he asked.

  She nodded and he led the way back to the river.

  Together they gathered up the debris from their picnic table and disposed of it. Before they left, she tried to bathe her face by the river and since the only mirrors available were those in the car, Garth even washed away the grime with a handful of tissues.

  For some reason his tenderness made her feel like crying.

  Chapter Six

  It was dark when they reached Jackson, but even the brash forest of neon that exhorted the traveler to have his car serviced, to buy gifts and souvenirs, to eat, drink and make merry, could not completely disguise the uninhibited frontier flavor of the town.

  They stopped only long enough to check into a motel and change clothes. While Julie tidied her appearance and slipped into the cream-colored pant-suit, Garth telephoned Daniel Leeds to advise him of their arrival and ask for directions to his home. When Julie came out of the bathroom, she found Garth was already dressed and was pacing restlessly while he waited for her to finish getting ready to leave.

  The moment she returned to the bedroom he said, "Let's go. Leeds is married but he says he can't wait to see his darling Julie.'"

  Julie was nonplussed by the tone in which Garth delivered the message from Daniel Leeds. The timbre of his voice had changed. It had become deeper, more intimate and almost melodic, with a smoky resonance. She puzzled over this as they drove along Broadway toward Cache Street.

  That Garth had been mimicking Daniel Leeds was obvious, and this led her to wonder, uncomfortably, whether she could have been mistaken in her assertion that there was only friendship between Leeds and herself.

  They passed the crowded boardwalks of the town square, with its cluster of saloons and archways of elks' antlers, and shortly after this the lights of the town grew more widely spaced and finally disappeared altogether as they sped through the inky blackness of the night.

  They had been driving for perhaps fifteen minutes when Garth eased back on the accelerator. Leaning slightly forward in the driver's seat, he began to peer more vigilantly at the roadside to their right. Ragged, wind-driven clouds scudded across the face of the moon, and the two of them might have missed the narrow track to the Leeds's property if the clouds hadn't thinned at an opportune moment. As it was, by the time Garth spotted the weather-beaten sign he'd been looking for, it was too late to make the turn.

  He braked the car to a stop and, slamming into reverse, backed up until the headlights framed the signboard. It was mounted on a rusted metal post shaped like an inverted L and it swung in the wind with a screeching clangor. Once white, it had been scoured by the elements to a chalky gray, and the lettering on it had faded so badly that Julie could just pick out the name Daniel W. Leeds, D.V.M.

  "He's a veterinarian?"

  "Yes," Garth answered tersely.

  The car spurted forward, Garth spun the wheel, and they left the highway for the lane. The tires of the car drummed over a metal cattle guard and crunched over gravel. A single light beckoned them through the stand of trees ahead.

  The house was sheltered by spruce and cotton-wood trees and bathed in a circle of illumination that emanated from a floodlight affixed to one of the outbuildings. It was a basic saltbox design with rustic wood siding, but for all its simplicity and despite the fact that its front windows were dark, there was a warm, welcoming quality about it.

  Somehow Julie knew that this was the kind of house where casual callers went in through the kitchen door to sit at a clean-scrubbed table. She knew that even unexpected visitors would be cordially received. And, should they want it, they would be served mugs of coffee or mulled cider and slabs of apple pie topped with cheese, or wedges of fudge cake fresh from the oven. Because of her intuitive knowledge about the friendliness of this house, her nervousness began to wane.

  The rapid-fire staccato of a dog barking somewhere inside the house greeted them when Garth parked the car in the cul-de-sac near the front walk. Without waiting for him to assist her, Julie opened her door and climbed out of the car. As she did so, a light came on in one of the front windows of the house, the door opened, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

  It was too dark to be able to distinguish her features, but the light escaping from the house showed her in silhouette. She was tall and lush-bodied. Statuesque, Julie mentally qualified.

  "Julie?" the woman inquired. Her voice was a surprise for it didn't go with her body. She turned toward the house. "Dan!" she cried excitedly over her shoulder, "Julie's here!"

  The yelping of the dog had become louder, more frenzied. From inside a man's voice ordered, "Quiet!" and the barking stopped. In the next instant a streak of movement appeared behind the woman and the dog squeezed past her, erupting from the house to rocket across the porch and down the walk.

  "Come back here, you damn fool dog!" called the woman and from the other side of the car Garth muttered an oath and launched himself in Julie's direction.

  Julie watched the dog coming at her as if in slow motion. He was a good-size German shepherd, but as he hurtled toward her he seemed positively gigantic; all fearsome lolling tongue and sharp rending teeth. She was paralyzed by terror when the beast reached her and reared on his hind feet. His hot breath filled her nostrils and his front paws came down on her shoulders with such force that she staggered and would have fallen if the car at her back hadn't prevented it.

  But the dog was whining now, she realized, and his tail was wagging. He began licking her face, so delirious with joy that he was practically wagging his entire body. From somewhere deep within her, there came a tiny isolated snippet of remembrance. She wrapped her arms about the shepherd's neck and buried her face in the rough, shaggy coat.

  "Buck?" she whispered. "Oh, Bucky! It's so good to see you, fella."

  Garth was ashen-faced. "My God! I thought—"

  "It's too bad Buck got out," the woman said as she hurried down the walk. "He and Julie were always such good buddies, we were afraid his welcome would be on the overpowering side."

  "You were right about that," Garth replied dryly.

  "I remember him, Garth," Julie softly disclosed. She gave a shaky little laugh that bordered on tears, and repeated, "I remember Buck."

  "I'm sorry you were needlessly alarmed." The woman offered her hand to Garth. "I'm Jessie Dries-en, by the way. And you must be Julie's husband."

  "Garth Falconer," he supplied. "Julie has mentioned you often and with great fondness, Mrs. Driesen. And 'alarmed' is putting it mildly. My knees are still knocking!" He smiled at Jessie as they shook hands. "We're here to see Mr. and Mrs. Leeds."

  "There is no Mrs. Leeds."

  "But I talked to her on the telephone only last night." Garth's tone was mystified.

  "You talked to me, Mr. Falconer." Although Jessie had spoken with emphasis, she was unoffended. "I've lived with Dan for more than thirty years, but we're not legally married. My first husband deserted me, but not before he'd convinced me I never wanted to marry again."

  Closely shadowed by Buck, Julie had moved away from the car to join them and when Jessie turned so that the light fell on her face, Julie was startled to see that in spite of her youthful figure and sprightly step, Jessie Driesen was closer to sixty than fifty. Her astonishment must have been apparent because Jessie remarked, "You don't know me, do you."

  Julie shook her head. "I'm sorry."

  "Well, I'm going to welcome you properly just the same," Jessie declared. Her smile was kind, and she took Julie in motherly arms to give her a heartwarming kiss. "Now," she said briskly, affectionately linking her arm with Julie's, "shall we go inside so Dan can get a look at you? He'll have my hide for taking so long!"

  If Jessie Driesen had been a surprise, Daniel Leeds was a revelation
. He awaited them in the living room at the back of the house where he was seated in a wing chair with one foot propped on a hassock, his face reflecting the ruddy glow of the flames leaping in the fireplace nearby. He was a burly, barrel-chested man in his mid-sixties with hair made more sandy than red by the gray in it and all-seeing bright blue eyes. His gingery eyebrows were heavy and extended upward in tufts at the peaks, giving him an appearance of constant wonder.

  "You'll have to pardon me for not getting up," he said when Jessie had introduced Garth. He indicated the crutches beside his chair. "It's nothing serious, merely painful—an attack of gout."

  "Too much of the good life," Jessie interposed.

  In the brightly lighted room, Julie was able to see that Jessie's hair, eyes, and complexion were varying shades of tan. She was plain-faced as well as plain-spoken, but she was nevertheless lovely in her tranquillity.

  "Come here, Julie, and let me get a good look at you," Dan requested. His voice was beautifully modulated and richly textured. When Julie stood shyly before him, he took one of her hands in his. "We'll have to see if we can't restore that tricky memory of yours while you're here." He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "With the four of us working on it, that shouldn't be too laborious a task."

  His smile was indulgent as it rested on her. He turned to Garth and he became frankly amused. "Do you know," he confided with disarming candor, "I've never seen myself as a dirty old man, but I wouldn't mind being a sex symbol, so when Jessie told me you'd formed the opinion that I'd alienated Julie's affections, I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered."

  "It made me damned angry," Jessie said astringently, "but I suppose you must have had good reason to believe such a thing. And Dan made me even angrier when he led you on the way he did when you called earlier this evening. How was he to know you might not do something drastic?"