by Bobbi Smith
The phrase he chose was so close to what Rori had said that Burr froze. He eyed Chance suspiciously, wondering if there was another meaning to his words, if the two of them had decided together what story to use.
"Besides," Chance went on in open candor, "I didn't know how soon I'd get the opportunity again." He wasn't in the least concerned about his run-in with Rori. The boy had gotten a little too big for his breeches and had needed a setdown. He'd given it to him. That was the end of that. It had nothing to do with Burr or anything else, and he could see no reason to bring it up.
"Not for a while, that's for sure," Burr replied, relieved. "There's only a few small streams ahead, and you never know if they'll be running or not."
"How's it look out on the trail? Think we'll be able to ride out in the morning?"
"I haven't had a good look at Patch yet, but if Rori keeps that compress on him all day, we'll be fine."
They both glanced back to where Rori sat beside the horse working on his leg. Chance thought by the slump of his shoulders that the boy looked sufficiently crestfallen, and he was pleased. Burr thought by the slump of her shoulders that she looked deeply troubled, and he was worried. Neither said a word.
"I'm not going to even think about it," Rori spoke out loud to no one in particular. "I don't care how I look or how I smell . . . " As she said it, the heavy odor of sodden leather assailed her, and she frowned. "It doesn't matter. Nobody cares. It just doesn't matter," Rori repeated to herself. But even as she said it, her gaze focused on the soap she still had in her possession, and she wondered if there might be time later, after everyone had gone on to sleep, to use it . . .
Chapter Ten
The idea was haunting her. Like a siren song, the cool, sweet depths of the pool beckoned her near, calling to her to strip away her boyish garb and bathe in its waters. Rori tossed uncomfortably in her bedroll for what seemed like the hundredth time. She knew it would serve no real purpose to do it. She knew she should quit thinking about it, but still the thought enticed her, intriguing her, driving her to distraction.
Wrapped in her blanket against the chill of the desert night, waiting and hoping for sleep to take her, Rori tried to imagine what she would look like if she did give in to the temptation to wash up. In her mind's eye, she pictured herself with her hair unbound wearing white women's clothing. She wondered if Chance would find her attractive then.
The fantasy appealed to some secret part of her, and the desire to bathe became even more powerful. Rori knew she'd be taking a chance, but she considered the possibility of her being discovered remote. Both Burr and Chance had been sound asleep for hours. She'd never even be missed.
Her impulsive decision made, Rori threw off her blanket and searched through her belongings for the soap she'd hidden and a clean change of clothing. She hadn't felt guilty about keeping the soap. After all, Chance had never asked for it back, so why shouldn't she keep it? Knowing him, he probably had more with him anyway.
Clutching her things to her breast, she rearranged her bedding to make it look like she was still there and then started to silently steal away. Big Jake, however, had other ideas. He'd been sleeping close by, and when he saw her starting to leave, he lifted his massive head and gave a low whimper, as if questioning her wisdom in going out into the night wilderness alone.
Rori almost panicked. The last thing she needed was for Chance, or Burr for that matter, to wake up and find out what she was doing. Putting a finger to her lips, she gave Jakie the understood, unspoken signal for silence. Obedient to her every wish, he immediately went quiet, though he continued to watch her as she began to move off again. Worried about her, Jakie rose to his feet in one smooth, stealthy movement, intending to go with her and protect her.
Rori had suspected that he would try to follow, and she turned back again, this time giving him the hand signal to lie back down and stay. She made sure to keep her expression stern, for she didn't want him thinking she was playing a game with him. When she was confident that he was going to obey her and stay where he was, Rori finally made it the rest of the way out of camp.
Her escape made, Rori moved far enough along the bank so she couldn't be seen in the red-gold glow cast by their low-burning campfire. When she was confident that she'd picked the most protected place to bathe, she sat down, set her things aside, and began to undress. She kicked off her moccasins, pulled her buckskin shirt over her head, and then stood to shed her pants.
Rori paused, both nervous and excited. A slight breeze caressed her bare, slender limbs, and she shivered, whether from anticipation or the chill of the wind, she wasn't sure. She wrapped her arms about herself for a moment, and then, with a small gurgle of delight, she ran down the bank and slipped into the pool, the soap clutched like a treasure in her hand.
The night air had been so cool that the water felt warm to Rori. She walked out into the depths of the pond, savoring the soothing, swirling touch of the water. At the deepest point, Rori dove beneath the surface and then came quickly up for a breath. Her braids hung forward over her shoulders, trickling water down over her breasts in a sensuous cascade, and the sensation was so unusual that it stirred to life new fires of awareness within her. Suddenly, Rori felt very conscious of her own femininity.
It was an odd feeling, that recognition of sensuality, and it was certainly new for Rori. She was bewildered by it even as she was intrigued. Her breasts felt fuller, heavier, their peaks hardening in the coolness of the night air. The motion of the water about her hips almost felt as if someone was touching her, stroking her, and it left her strangely weak-kneed.
Unnerved by the emotions that were tingling through her, Rori tried to concentrate on the real reason why she'd come here in the first place. She was here to take a bath, and that was what she was going to do. Ignoring the slowly awakening sensual feelings that were besieging her, Rori began to wash.
The silk of the soap as she ran it over her skin made her even more conscious of her body, of its softness, of its gentle curves. Rori had never really thought of herself as a woman before, but now the full impact of actually acknowledging her femininity left her uneasy. She'd hidden behind the boyish identity for so long and had been so happy doing it that she'd never given much thought to being a girl. Until this moment, her life had been relatively simple. Now, however, it seemed that everything had gotten much too confusing, and it was all because of Chance.
Chance . . . Annoyance surged through her at the thought of the arrogant easterner. But even as she felt irritated with him, she couldn't forget how magnificent he'd looked when she'd seen him naked earlier that afternoon. She'd never thought she would think a man beautiful or even care, but Chance was, and she did care. Damn him! How could she hate him and yet find him so terribly attractive? The question seemed unanswerable, and an exasperated sigh escaped her.
Rori couldn't help but wonder what Chance was going to say once he found out she was a girl. It amused her to think about it, and she smiled to herself at the thought of his surprise. She'd bested him in everything. She'd shown him just how good she was! If it hadn't been for her fall at the slide area . . . Rori put that thought from her, for she didn't want to think about her lapse in judgment and how that had caused them more than a day's delay.
Realizing that she'd been away too long, Rori dove beneath the water again to rinse off. She stood up slowly, her back to the bank, completely and blissfully unaware of the man who stood there in the shadows, gun in hand, watching her in anger.
Chance didn't know what had awakened him. He just knew that one moment he'd been sleeping soundly, and the next he was wide awake. Cautiously, still pretending sleep, he shifted positions in his bedroll to get a better view of the camp. Through slitted eyes, he studied everything. Nothing seemed out of order. Nothing seemed different. Burr was unmoving, and even Big Jake lay still and quiet near where Rori, too, slept on.
Reassured by the dog's lack of interest in their surroundings, Chance figured he was mistaken, that
nothing out of the ordinary had happened to wake him. Relaxing his guard, he had just closed his eyes when he heard something in the direction of the creek. It had almost sounded like a laugh to him, but he knew that was ridiculous, for who would be out in the desert in the middle of the night laughing? Anyone who was trying to sneak up on them certainly wouldn't be chuckling down at the water hole.
With the utmost of care, Chance moved slowly, sliding his hand out to his holster nearby and grabbing his loaded side arm. When he had a firm grip on the weapon, he made a lightning move from his bedroll, coming to his knees a short distance away, the revolver held in readiness.
Chance was prepared for the worst. He was prepared for an attack, possibly by the men who'd tried to kill him in town or the Apache, but nothing happened. There appeared to be no one around. He held his position for a moment, waiting, listening.
Jakie heard Chance's unusual movements and lifted his head to observe the man. He saw him crouched nearby, seemingly ready for an attack, and he wondered at his actions. Giving a limp wag of his furry tail, Jakie lay back down and closed his eyes once more.
Chance saw the dog's calm behavior and felt a bit foolish. Surely if there was anyone around, Big Jake would have heard them first and warned everyone of their presence. Obviously, he'd made a mistake, he thought a bit self-consciously and thought of how Rori would have chortled with glee over his error. He grimaced, thankful that he hadn't managed to wake the boy up.
Still, Chance didn't believe that he'd imagined the sound he had heard coming from the direction of the pond, and he decided to take a quiet walk down to the water's edge to see if anyone was there.
The moonlight was magic on the face of the desert, caressing all with its pale glow. Transformed by the night's gentle touch, the rocky landscape no longer appeared harsh and threatening. Instead, the cactus looked like staunch sentinels standing silent guard over the vastness of their domain.
Chance was wary as he drew near the watering hole, and he kept his gun in readiness in spite of Jake's obvious lack of concern about intruders. He moved stealthily, staying hidden in the brush and creosote trees just in case.
As he moved closer, Chance could hear a slight splashing in the water, and he knew something or someone was there. His grip tightened on his weapon as he crept ever nearer, wondering just what it was he was going to discover. With a slow hand, he brushed the limbs of a low-growing tree aside and stared down at the pool.
Chance wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to see, but the sight of Rori taking a bath was the last thing he would ever have imagined. The whole situation would have been funny, if it hadn't made him feel like such a damned fool. No wonder Big Jake hadn't been concerned! Rori was the one down at the watering hole, not some murdering thief in the night. Here he'd been ready to shoot whatever intruder he found there, and the intruder turned out to be the obstinate, aggravating boy!
Chance wanted to throttle him for his stupidity in pulling this trick. The ornery kid could have gotten himself killed! And after all the fuss he'd made that afternoon about his own bathing, what the hell was he doing taking a bath?
Chance's anger grew as he stared at the smart-mouthed brat, trying to decide what to do. The temptation to embarrass him was too great to pass up after all that had passed between them that afternoon. The scrawny kid was standing totally naked with his back to him in waist-deep water, and Chance knew that if he moved quickly he could take him completely by surprise. Then, he thought vindictively, he could give him the kind of scrubbing he well deserved.
Chance laid his gun aside, and without another thought, he charged into the water and grabbed the boy by the shoulders before he could react. It occurred to him vaguely that the boy felt awfully soft and fragile beneath his own hard, calloused hands, but he didn't stop to think about it. He just picked him up enough so that he lost his footing and then dunked him but good.
Rori gave a small shriek of fright and outrage as someone grabbed her from behind, but before she could scream for help she was pushed forcefully under water. For a moment, she actually feared for her life—feared that the robbers from town had found them and were going to drown her. But when the powerful hands that had held her quickly released her, she got mad instead, surfacing sputtering mad.
"What the . . .?!!" Rori spat out in furious indignation as she came up and turned on her attacker. She forgot for just that instant that she was buck naked; all she could think of was how angry she was "YOU?!!!"
"You're lucky I didn't shoot you, you little idiot! I came down here thinking we had some unwelcome company and . . ." His laughter stopped abruptly as his gaze dropped from Rori's outraged expression to the perfection of her rounded breasts, bared now in all their feminine glory to his gaze. He froze.
The silvery moonglow cast the entire scene in a surrealistic light, and Chance blinked, not quite believing what was before him. It was definitely Rori who stood there, but not the Rori he knew. The Rori who stood before him was female . . . a flesh-and-blood female. He blinked again, trying to form a coherent thought between what he thought he knew and what he was actually seeing. Rori . . . a girl . . . Why had she pretended to be a boy all this time, and why hadn't he noticed before?
No wonder he had thought her so soft. She was soft. No wonder he'd thought her thin. She was thin for a boy, but perfect, he realized now, in a feminine way.
Humiliation flushed through him as he remembered all that had been said and done between them, and his eyes narrowed as anger replaced embarrassment. He didn't know what kind of trick they'd been playing, but if there was one thing in this world Chancellor Broderick didn't stand for, it was being made the fool.
Rori read the suddenly threatening look in his eyes and realized the tenuousness of her position. She cried out softly in a strangled voice, trying to back away, "No!"
Rori's gasp of horror shattered his temporary immobility, and Chance grasped her by the upper arm and hauled her closer, slamming her slender form against his chest.
"No, hell!" he snapped, his dark eyes boring into hers. He was livid, but he wasn't sure why. His grip on her arm was painful, but he gave no thought to easing his hold. He wanted, no, needed to understand exactly what was going on here, and he had no intention of letting her go until he got some answers. "You tricked me . . ." Chance seethed.
"I didn't trick you! I never hid anything from you! You were just too stupid to notice I was a girl, that's all!" Rori came back at him, struggling with all her might to get away from him. There was something about being held this way . . . her nakedness against his fully clothed body . . . that caused her to panic, and she began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Scared, are you? You damn well should be!" Chance taunted in cold fury, sick and tired of her insults.
His hold on her was bruising, but he had no intention of letting her go. Somewhat in the back of his mind, as he dealt with her desperate fight to escape, he was aware of her silken limbs beneath his hard grip, of the feel of her breasts crushed to his chest through the dampness of his shirt and the wriggle of her unclad hips against his powerful thighs. But he was trying to ignore that awareness for now. His anger was feeding his actions at this moment and nothing else.
"Let go of me, you no-good bastard!" Rori choked out with more bravado than she was feeling. Terror, icy and deep, claimed her. Chance's expression was so terrible . . . She'd seen him angry before, but nothing like this. Burr had warned her about the viciousness of men, white men in particular. That was why he'd always wanted her to act the boy, to be the boy, but now it was too late . . . Fear chilled her to her very soul.
Her verbal attack turned his temper white-hot. Chance found he wanted to punish her for her deceit, no matter what the reason for it.
"Not on your life, little girl," he sneered. "I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago!"
"What?" Rori whispered, her features going suddenly pale.
"I ought to take you over my knee and spank you, but I've got a better
punishment in mind for you. I'm going to give you the bath you deserve!!" Chance snarled. He remembered her continual protests against him touching her and understood now why she'd been so adamant about him keeping his distance. No wonder she hadn't wanted to ride double with him! She'd been afraid he'd find out the truth. Well, he knew the truth now!
Chance pinned her to him with one arm as he reached down to untie the rawhide thongs that held her hair bound in braids. But Rori wasn't about to accede to his control, and she continued to squirm in her attempts to get away.
"Be still or I will beat you!" he commanded, clamping a restraining hand at her waist to hold her roughly against him.
"I won't! she hissed. "You have no right to treat me this way! You . . ."
"Oh, I have every right," Chance bit out. "You've done nothing but antagonize me from the first minute we met. It's time I put you in your place for once and for all!"
His fingers were not gentle as he pulled the thongs from her hair and ran his hand through the plaits, combing the raven tresses into a heavy curtain about her shoulders. Rori tried to keep her face averted from him, but when Chance burrowed his hand in the thickness of her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, forcing her to look up at him, she had no choice. Tears stung her eyes from the pain of his hold.
Chance hadn't expected to see such a change in her. He hadn't expected to see her transformed into a beautiful woman just by letting her hair down, but the difference in her appearance was amazing. Even the fading bruise on her cheek could not disguise the truth any longer. One moment she'd been the obstinate, mutinous boy who'd aggravated him every minute since they'd left Phoenix, and now she was a woman . . .
"My God . . ." Chance muttered in a deep guttural voice as his gaze swept over Rori's upturned features. He studied the wide emerald eyes, sparkling now with unshed tears of humiliation and pain, the delicacy of her nose and mouth, and he wondered how it was he'd been so blind . . .
"So you found out I'm a girl, so what?" Rori challenged, still hoping to escape his further wrath.
