by Webb, Carole
***
Raeden sat at her desk and penned a long letter to her family then curled on her bed, sketch book and magazines fanned around her knees. New editions of La Couturière Parisienne and London Fashion arrived from New York and she leafed through the pages to study the latest work of the famous European designer Charles Frederick Worth, a genius in the trade.
Intrigued by the leg of mutton sleeves on the latest designs from Paris and London, she sketched variations enhancing her own ideas.
After banking the fire, she climbed beneath crisp freshly laundered sheets, her head sank into the soft down pillow, and she stared at the ceiling unable to sleep. Her mind wandered to the rogue in black leather, his haunting black eyes, the beauty of his hard muscled body and the feel of his hands and lips all over her.
The past days spent with him showed a different side to his nature, a kinder gentler side. Content in the notion they could be friends as well as lovers, she slept.
***
Cash had not mentioned the magnitude of the incident between the miners and Indians, not desirous of the backlash that could transpire when the townspeople became aware of the situation. Apparently, the Cheyenne had killed one of the men. Since Custer’s last stand, the military command would use this occurrence to annihilate his friends if they decided to fight. It appeared the armed forces liked nothing better than an excuse to show their prowess when it came to handling Indian affairs.
In an effort to avoid bloodshed, Cash would do his best to convince Dull Knife to surrender the guilty party, possibly avoiding the inevitable retaliation that could seal their fate. Thoughts of this crucial event and how to handle the situation, gnawed at his gut. The discomfort broken only by manifestations of his feelings toward Raeden and how he had let down his guard allowing her entry into an area of his heart he wanted protected from further pain.
On his arrival at the stronghold, the nostalgic aroma of wood smoke and tanning hides filled his nostrils taking him back to happier times. With no sign of Dull Knife, he helped unload the wagon then grabbed the pouch of tobacco and searched out his friend listening to the laughter of children as they played together in the protected area encircled by their shelters.
Welcomed into the teepee he found Dull Knife and his family in the last day of mourning the loss of Running Wolf, his second oldest son and Cash’s childhood friend. The news crushed him but he held his temper in check to hear the entire story.
The prospector in question shot and killed him with no provocation. In retaliation, Dull Knife avenged his son. Worse than Cash envisioned, he confided the nature of his visit. Both men discussed possible solutions to the dilemma and concluded the only answer, at least for the moment, was for the tribe to migrate over the border into The Canadian Territory.
Tired of living like hunted animals surviving by Cash’s generosity, Dull Knife desired to leave, hoping their lives might continue as in the past, the reservation in Oklahoma out of the question.
The following morning just as dawn broke, Cash appeared dressed in a breechcloth and moccasins with his face painted ready to join in the stalker, hunter and warrior games to build keen and quick eyes, ears and smell, intended to increase stamina, stability and strength of the young men of the tribe. He had participated in the sports as a youth, bringing back pleasant memories of his time spent with his adopted family, when his father would allow, and sometimes when he escaped his watchful eye.
Once again, they spoke of his daughter and surprisingly he found himself telling Dull Knife about Raeden and admitted he felt like a traitor to Little Cloud’s memory by being with her.
“You will find your path, Cash. Be patient. Everything will fall into place if you will just stay out of your own way.”
The next night before they would be leaving, a ceremony to initiate a young warrior into manhood took place, which Cash had celebrated himself many years before. He assisted in starting the Sacred Fire with rubbing sticks in the center of the circle. Four feet outside the fire, they built eight smaller fires, remaining unlit.
The young warrior danced the three-point pivot around the fire then eight more young men who had already gone through the ceremony backed up against the unlit fires with torches, singing and swaying then slowly from side to side holding them high in the air.
The leader sang to receive the young man then led him to the Council Rock to sit by the Chief.
A celebration by the entire tribe followed with dancing and food prepared by the women. Cash sat by Dull Knife talking of old times and glorifying the memory of his lost son.
Cash woke before sunrise the day they would all leave. He walked with the others with blankets around their shoulders to the beat of a tom-tom climbing the highest peak to take part in the Sunrise Ceremony and sing to the Morning Star one last time before they left their home.
Thirty-three
Raeden spent several days at home since the store traffic had subsided, diligently rendering her new ideas to paper for future use, maintaining some semblance of reason that seemed to disappear when she thought of Cash and looked forward to his return.
The angle of the sun had changed through the window in her bedroom suite emitting a gloomy ambiance so she kept the fire burning to keep the mood cheery while she worked.
Rumors spread regarding the shooting in the Black Hills and on arrival in town the next day, she walked to the marshal’s office to visit John and find out if he knew anything regarding the shooting and Cash’s safety.
She knocked and entered. “Hello, John. How are things going with you?” Raeden noticed he did not seem upset or worried.
John stood in her presence. “Everything’s under control. What brings you here?” He flashed her one of his winning smiles.
She removed her cape and sat in the wooden straight-backed chair next to the desk. “I’m curious about the shooting in the Black Hills. There are rumors going around. Are they true?”
The muscles in his face tensed. “I’m not sure what’s going on. Cash will let me know when he returns.” He did not make eye contact and Raeden felt him to be untruthful.
Being one to speak her mind, Raeden pushed. “I find it hard to believe Cash would not have told you what’s going on.”
John fidgeted and squirmed slightly as his eyes turned to the ceiling. “Look, Rae, Cash will have to tell you himself. He doesn’t want to cause any undue concern until he checks it out for himself.”
“It makes sense, I guess. Forget I even mentioned it. He has been gone longer than he mentioned and I became curious.” She wrung her hands together then stopped and placed them on her lap, not wanting to appear overly concerned.
“Cash is fine. Don’t worry about the Cheyenne. He has known them all his life.”
Rising to exit, John helped her on with her cloak and held the door to let her pass. He gave her a reassuring smile as she stepped over the threshold then watched her walk away thinking he would have liked to have her for himself if his scoundrel of a friend hadn’t caught her attention first.
John thought Raeden the most beautiful woman inside and out he had ever met. He had heard of her many kindnesses to the less fortunate families around town, hoping Cash would recognize her special qualities and treat her with due respect.
On their travels around the territory, John had seen firsthand how Cash could regard women casually, taking what they offered when it pleased him. He had always looked up to Cash, but if he hurt Raeden, it would be a disgrace. Cash would have to answer to him personally in that event.
Then he turned his mind to Caroline, sweet little Caroline. He had an eye on her for some time, waiting for her to mature. At the dance, he noticed her a young woman and so did others, at least the ones not tripping over their own feet to get to Raeden.
He knew she had an interest when he began visiting and started making plans to build on the land he homesteaded where he ran a small herd.
***
Raeden returned to her workroom, viewed the dwindling in
ventory of materials and pondered her next move. Should she go to St Louis to replenish her stock? A visit to her family would be nice and she missed them. Tom’s baby might arrive if she waited a few weeks, a perfect plan.
Trade became slow as late autumn progressed toward winter, Mike and Diane stayed home and let Raeden take charge most days. She spent her time straightening and replenishing shelves. Then she loaded canned goods and other necessities into a basket to take to the Olsen’s. An accident while working for the railroad laid Mr. Olsen up with a broken leg.
She also tucked some cash into an envelope and placed it at the bottom of the basket she would deliver anonymously to their back porch.
The bell jingled announcing Wayne Smith. “Hi, Wayne. It’s nice to see a face. It has been so slow. I haven’t had anyone to talk to.”
He appeared happy to see her. “It happens. Most things shut down through the winter, except the saloon and hotel.”
She made a mental note to ask Diane how they managed the store during the next few months.
“I dropped by to see about the ride we never completed. Are you game?”
“What a lovely distraction. Wait a minute while I change.” She bounced across the floor in her enthusiasm.
She returned in her new riding garb and smiled when Wayne’s mouth gaped as she entered in her tight jeans tying the shirttails in front while she walked, her boots tapping across the wooden floor.
“Jeez, Rae, I’ve never seen breeches look so good.”
“Thank you. Maybe I will start a new trend.”
Wayne snickered. “I don’t know if even the women out here are up to such a thing, not to mention how their husbands might feel.”
Unbothered by his comment, she pinned a note on the front door, Back in one hour. He helped her on with her jacket; she grabbed her hat and gloves. “And we won’t forget this!”
Holding up a poncho while they both laughed, she locked the doors then he gave her a hand onto the saddle. They cantered eastward from town, the sun on their backs.
Raeden missed her family and found Wayne a brotherly sort. They could joke and talk easily. She considered him a friend, talking amicably as they rode out into the stark grasslands, the mud now hardened by the cold.
Arte felt his oats and she had to keep a tight rein while he tried to get his head.
“You sit a horse well, Rae. Can you toss a lariat as well?”
“No I can’t, but I know I could if I desired.”
“I have no doubt.”
They had just returned when Raeden spotted Cash in the wagon arriving from his trip. She urged Arte to a gallop and smiled, so glad to see him. He pulled the horses to a stop glanced from her to Wayne and glared. A knife could not cut the thick air around him; she recognized danger in the slant of his eyes. What is wrong with him? He looks so tired. That must be it.
“Hi, Cash. I heard there had been trouble with the Cheyenne. Is everything okay?”
A dark seamy gaze roamed over her clothing. His eyes rolled up slightly while he shook his head. “Look, Rae, I need a bath and a shave. I’ll talk to you later.” He drove off and did not look back.
Assuming him jealous, she huffed. He doesn’t own me. I can choose my own friends. He’s being rude again, like he used to.
Thirty-four
Bathed, clean-shaven and dressed in clean clothing, Cash strapped on his gun and joined Angie in the saloon. After belting down two whiskeys, he thought to take her to bed, but changed his mind. His desire for Raeden seemed worse than ever.
The idea of her with Wayne ate at his belly. He didn’t even want another man to look at her, especially with the get up she wore showing her graceful curves as if wearing nothing. Perhaps her newly awakened desires had led her to the arms of another in his absence.
As he entered the hotel room for another restless night, he thought his feelings over regarding Raeden and Wayne. They had made no commitments to each other. He did not want any. However, seeing Raeden with Wayne made him jealous, though he would never let her know his true feelings. Such thoughts could drive a man to drink. He had several more from the bottle he kept in his room.
***
Raeden fumed. She had been watching like a lovesick puppy for Cash to leave the hotel in hopes he would come to see her, but instead he entered the saloon. He cleaned up to visit the harlot with the over-sized breasts and red painted lips. Unenviable feelings tore at her insides while she locked up the store early and headed home.
She rode Arte hard on the return trip, slowing only at a distance far enough away to let him cool down before they arrived.
She stomped to her room like a berated child, threw herself onto her bed, and pounded her fists into the thick pillows venting her anger but refusing to cry.
***
Raeden stayed home for three days avoiding further contact with Cash trying to ignore her injured pride. She had pictured their relationship special. He had seemed so sincere. She missed him and wanted her friend back. It hurt too much to leave it this way. Perhaps if she talked with him, she could salvage their friendship, if nothing else. At least she should try.
After changing from the riding garb that appeared to offend him into a dress, she walked bravely to his office, swallowed her concern of rejection and knocked on the door. Her heart raced when he opened the door because he seemed happy to see her. “Cash, can we please talk? Look, about Wayne—”
He pulled her inside and touched his fingers to her lips. “Hush, Rae, I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t like it, that’s all.”
“But Cash—” He pressed her lips harder.
“I said, I didn’t like it. Let’s just leave it there.” He bent his head down and smothered her lips with his own while his foot kicked the door closed. He slid her cloak to the floor, as his lips moved over her face and down her neck with a hunger near desperation as he moved over the swell of her breasts, his breathing rapid.
Time seemed to stop as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. “Cash, take this off; I want to feel your bare skin.”
In one fluid motion, he ripped the shirt off his back and tossed it aside. He continued to kiss her while her hand moved over his chest, across hard nipples slowly inching downward. She ran her fingers along the coarse curly hair at his naval then under his waistband and he sucked air through his teeth.
“That’s it!” He unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans. Her back to the wall, he lifted her skirts and tore off her under wear then pulled her long legs up and around his waist. He rested her dampness against his naval while he exposed his manhood. One arm behind her back as a cushion, he lowered her onto his hot throbbing staff and impaled her, a growl escaping his throat.
Her nails gouged his skin. White lights flickered behind her eyelids while she gasped her pleasure. He kept stabbing harder and faster then covered her mouth with his to muffle her cries. His body convulsed and he groaned aloud.
She could not believe it could get any better; transported to a place never existing before she had met this man. She glowed from moisture covering her skin when he eased her to her feet. Cash’s hair clung to his forehead and neck and he glistened with sweat. Lifting her chin, he leaned down and kissed her, softly rolling his lips over her own.
He released her mouth and looked into her eyes. A devilish glint sparkled when he lifted his eyebrows. “You know, Rae; just once I would like to take you in a bed.”
She chuckled. “It might be nice.”
Cash buttoned his trousers and poured water in the basin to dampen a towel so she could dab her face. He splashed water through his hair and over his face and chest then reached for his torn shirt and roughly dried himself. He reached for her torn bloomers and tossed the clothing into the stove.
He grabbed a shirt from the peg near the door, hastily dressed then folded Raeden into his arms. She basked in his nearness. She had missed him. His hand drifted down the length of her hair then gave her rear end a gentle squeeze. “So where are those pants that show of
f you cute little bottom?”
She smiled up at his face. “I thought you didn’t like them.”
“Oh, I liked them all right, along with every other man in town.”
He reached for her cloak, hung it on a peg and lifting her into his arms, walked to the desk and sat down holding her in his lap. She placed an arm around his shoulders the other flat on his chest. He looked into her eyes. “I have missed you. What is new in your world of fashion besides those breeches? Any word from New York?”
“It can wait. First, you must tell me about your trip to the Black Hills. Rumor has it the Cheyenne murdered a prospector.”
Cash explained every detail, easing the apprehension she’d felt. They talked the better part of an hour before John’s footfalls echoed his approach. Raeden stood but Cash remained seated when he entered the room.
“Hi, Rae, haven’t seen you around.”
“I’ve been working at home.” She wondered if he guessed what they had been doing.
“Guess you’ve probably worked up a lot of new stuff. I heard about your latest riding get-up.”
Cash gave her a wink. She reached for her cape. “I’ll let you two talk business.” She glanced at Cash on her way toward the door. “I’ll wait outside if you want to walk me back.”
“Sure, I will only take a minute.”
She stepped out the rear entrance and approached Rabbit’s stall. The filly whinnied softly and trotted toward her outstretched hand. Raeden scratched under her forelock while Rabbit nuzzled her neck and softly snickered.
When she turned, Cash stood in the doorway looking baffled and shaking his head. “I’ve never seen her take to a woman before.”
Raeden gave him a snide grin. “I’m not just any woman.”
