Orchids in Moonlight

by Patricia Hagan

  Inside, he took several swallows, grimacing against the burning taste. Jasper had drunk the hardest stuff he could get his hands on, and Cord felt as if his stomach was on fire, but only for a little while. Soon, he could feel the tension easing. Leaning back against the crates, he closed his eyes and tried not to think of the rough trail ahead. Instead, he conjured up visions of reaching California and the comforts of a hot bath, his own bed, and a warm and willing woman in his arms.

  He did not realize he had drifted away, yielding to exhaustion. Only when Jaime spoke right outside the wagon did he sit straight up, hand instinctively going to his gun. Drink and weariness were what got men killed. "What is it?" he said crankily.

  Equally curt, she replied, "The food is ready."

  He scrambled out of the wagon, still holding on to the bottle of whiskey, absently grateful he hadn't dropped and spilled it while he slept. Taking a few steps toward the fire, he froze and blinked incredulously. "What have you done?" His eyes bulged at the sight of the rabbit. Skinned and cleaned, it was skewered on a spit and done to a turn.

  "What does it look like? We've got rabbit and pigweed greens and dumplings. If you don't like my cooking, too bad."

  He was visibly impressed. "I don't believe it." He watched as she took the rabbit off the spit, pulled off the meat, and handed him a plate. Then he ate ravenously, talking around mouthfuls to heap praises upon her.

  Jaime was nonchalant, though secretly enjoying the compliments. "I told you. I wasn't hiding in the wagon all that time. I watched the other women and learned how to cook outdoors. I'm still not real good with the bake kettle over an open fire, but I don't scorch much anymore."

  "Everything is delicious." He turned up the bottle to wash down a dumpling, then saw her staring at him. "You want a drink? Or I can get you some water from the creek if you'd prefer."

  Jaime pursed her lips thoughtfully; then, feeling a stab of daring, she reached for the bottle. "Maybe that's what I need. I've never tasted hard liquor before." She turned it up to her mouth, took a large swallow, then choked and spit it out in a spray that caused the flames to sizzle in protest.

  Laughing, Cord patted her back. "Better sip it, Sunshine. It goes down easier that way."

  She dared to try again, but by the time the liquor hit her stomach in a hot wave, she handed the bottle back. "I don't think I like it."

  Cord went to the wagon, rummaged in another barrel, this one partially filled with flour, and returned with a half bottle of wine. "I thought I saw Jasper with this one night. Here. You'll find this more to your liking."

  She did, admitting she had shared wine with Ruth and Martha the night of the farewell party and on a few other occasions till their supply ran out.

  Between the two of them, they devoured all of the food. Cord built up the fire once more before bringing out blankets, which they wrapped about themselves to help ward off the night chill. Then, mellow and relaxed, he yielded to curiosity and asked bluntly, "What are you running from?"

  "Nothing. I guess you could say I'm actually running to something—my future and whatever it holds."

  "You have no family back in Missouri?"

  "My family consists of an aunt I would never be able to locate, even if I wanted to, which I don't. And I have no home. She sold it before she left to move south."

  Cord gently pointed out, "Surely you've got friends back there."

  "No. That's why I have nothing to lose and everything to gain if I can find my father."

  He did not speak, staring at her in deep contemplation, which she found unnerving.

  "Is something wrong? You look angry. I know it's a great inconvenience for you to take me back, and I'm sorry. I really am. But it's not my fault everyone else stayed behind, you know."

  He leaned forward, his stare even sharper. He had not been thinking that but, instead, how much he was enjoying her company. "Whose fault is it then? I think we both agree you were never asked to come along in the first place."

  "True," she conceded primly, "but I didn't know I would wind up alone with you, either. Last night, when I heard you and Jasper talking, I thought he was going too. If I'd known different, I'd have stayed with the others, believe me. So you can't blame this part of the trip on me. It was a mistake."

  Amused, he asked, "What made you think Jasper and I both wouldn't take advantage of you?"

  "I never met him, but from a distance, he seemed nice. I think he would have been a gentleman. And I also think he would have protected me from you," she added.

  Cord's smile faded. Damn it, no matter what he said or did, she was bound and determined to consider him untrustworthy. But so what? After tomorrow, he would never see her again. Therefore, talking to her was a waste of time.

  Jaime watched him uneasily and thought how the night loomed ahead, long and frightening. "I'm really very tired," she told him quietly as she got to her feet. "I'll clean up everything in the morning." She turned away.

  "You can sleep by the fire."

  "No, I prefer the wagon." She noted that he looked settled where he was, and she had no intention of bedding down anywhere near him.

  She had taken only a few steps when an eerie howl split the silence of the night. With a scream, she stumbled back toward the campfire.

  "A wolf," Cord murmured. "Sleep here by the fire, like I said. He might decide to leap in the back of the wagon looking for food...

  "... and find it," he added with a wink.

  "I'll take my chances." With a deep breath of resignation, she headed into the shadows.

  Cord stared after her, fury smoldering. Did she really think he would attack her while she slept?

  With the spring of a cougar, he was on his feet to stalk to the back of the wagon and jerk open the canvas.

  Startled, Jaime drew the blanket up to her chin and whispered in panic, "Don't you dare touch me," and then lied, "I've got a knife. I'll use it. I swear."

  "Don't miss your mark if you do. You won't get a second chance." He swung up into the wagon and swooped her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he dropped to the ground and returned to the campsite.

  He fought the impulse to drop her right on her arrogant bottom. "You're sleeping here, where it's warm and safe. And you have nothing to fear. Believe me, I'd as soon tangle with that she-wolf out there screaming for a mate. Probably be a damn sight more enjoyable too," he added, dropping back to his own bedroll nearby. "Now settle down. It's enough you're making me lose time. Don't make me lose sleep too."

  Jaime bit back an angry retort. Secretly she was glad he had gone and got her, for she had not relished thoughts of sleeping out in the wagon alone.

  Several moments passed in silence, but she could tell by his harsh breathing he was still awake. Finally, she ventured to tell him, "You know, if you weren't so stubborn, you wouldn't have to lose time taking me back."

  He drew an exasperated breath and let it out slowly. "All right. What are you talking about now?"

  "Well," she began, framing her words carefully, "since I do need to get to California, I'd like to make you an offer."

  He tensed, wondering what she was up to. "Get to the point."

  Recalling how she had long ago fiercely made the decision she would use any means necessary to achieve her goal, she explained. "If you will honor my virtue..." She paused and winced, thinking how priggish that sounded, but felt it was necessary. She continued. "We can make a pact. You take me the rest of the way to California, and when I find my father I know he'll reward you. Meanwhile, I'll help on the trail."

  Cord smiled in the darkness. He knew, despite her attempt at nonchalance, that she was desperate. He decided to make her squirm. "I'm sick of whining, complaining women."

  "If you had been around me, you'd know I never once complained about anything."

  "Well, frankly, I wasn't planning on taking the wagon all the way. I figured farther on I'd ride my horse and have just a pack mule."

  "I told you I'd be willing to ride o
ne."

  Cord turned his back on her, and she had to strain to hear his next words. "I'll sleep on it and let you know in the morning. I still think you'd be a nuisance. And who knows?" he could not resist a final barb. "You might attack me in the night."

  Jaime did not respond. She was far too happy. Something told her he was only teasing and had already made up his mind she could go. For the first time in a long time, she slept peacefully.

  Chapter 9

  Jaime gradually relaxed when it appeared that Cord intended to honor their agreement.

  Pushing hard by day, they fell asleep, exhausted, as soon as the evening work was done, Jaime slept in the wagon while Cord camped out in the open. However, in bad weather, if there was no other shelter, he bedded down beneath the wagon.

  Jaime quickly learned how to handle the mules, but even with thick buckskin gloves, the blisters came on her hands. When Cord saw her applying lard, he scolded her. "Why didn't you say something? That's not going to do any good." He rummaged around in the wagon and brought out a bottle of foul-smelling liquid.

  As he smeared it on her palms, Jaime admitted it was soothing and, with wrinkled nose, asked what it was.

  "Skunk oil, mixed with beeswax and tobacco. It's an old Indian remedy. They use it for sores on their legs from riding too long."

  The mention of Indians reminded her of the strange language he had spoken the day he found her hiding in the wagon. She asked what it was.

  "Paiute. Shoshone. The tribes around here. I thought one of them might have sneaked in."

  She was impressed. "You speak both languages?"

  "Enough to make myself understood." He had been wrapping her hands with lint and tied a final knot before adding with a lazy smile, "Come out or die is pretty much the same in any tongue."

  Jaime persisted. "But how come you know their language? So much about their ways, like this potion?"

  "I grew up in the West." That was all he was willing to divulge about his past. Long ago, he had locked the misery deep inside.

  "It's still unusual to know so many different—" She fell silent as he walked away without another word.

  * * *

  The days were long and, at times, boring. Surrounded by white salt sand, at times she felt as though she were drinking dust instead of water. To while away the hours, she found herself watching Cord when he wasn't looking and wondering all sorts of things about him. Had he ever been married? Did he have a family? Why was he so reluctant to talk about himself, his past? Was he hiding a deep dark secret?

  So many questions—and so much idle time to ponder the answers.

  On occasion, when the day had not been too grueling, Jaime would tarry about the fire a little longer before retiring. They talked more, and she started thinking they were on the threshold of becoming friends.

  One night, when they were enjoying the last of Jasper's wine, he surprised her by asking about her father. Something told her it was best to keep the information about the map and her father's fears of a dubious investment to herself for the time being. All she was willing to tell him was that her father was a prospector, explaining, "He's been out there since the early days of the rush. I was sent back east to live with my aunt and uncle when my mother died."

  "Where is your father living now?"

  "I'm not sure." Actually she knew his mine was located near a place called Drytown, but she was reluctant to share even that much.

  Cord frowned. She did not seem stupid enough to come so far without knowing where to look, and he said as much.

  Stiffening a little, she defended herself. "He was doing business with a man in San Francisco. I plan to see him and ask him if he knows where he is."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  "I'm no worse off than I was back east, I suppose. I had no one there either. I'll survive."

  "It's a rough place, San Francisco," he warned. "Lots of money there, but violence to go with it. It's no place for a woman alone."

  Jaime's laugh was short, bitter. "I'm beginning to think you consider a woman useless anyway, unless she's clinging to a man."

  Cord raked her with insolent eyes. "Isn't that what you're doing now to get out there?"

  "This... this is different," she stammered, swallowing against indignity. "Once we arrive, I can take care of myself."

  "Good." He tossed down the rest of his wine and stood. "Because I've got other things to do besides look after you, Sunshine."

  Cord walked away from the camp, wanting to be alone. Lying down on the ground, he gazed pensively at the curtain of stars spread above him.

  He was drifter, a loner. Home was wherever he happened to be. He had no intention of getting tied down to any person, place, or thing.

  Once in a while, when he happened to take a tumble with a woman who particularly pleased him, he would hang around a bit. That's what had happened in San Francisco, which eventually led to his agreeing to go east to recruit wives and whores, because he needed to get away and let things cool off. The wild little filly he had been sleeping with had got a little too possessive and demanding, so he had felt the need to take temporary respite before things really got out of hand. Not that he was falling in love. No chance of that. But it was dangerous, being as she was the mistress of the man he had been working for.

  But now he was looking forward to returning to her, because being around Jaime was starting to get to him.

  The days weren't so bad. He was always aware of Jaime's presence, of course, but it was the nights that anguished. Burning with hunger, it was torture to know she was so close, yet he was unable to touch her.

  He wanted her fiercely. And though he was sure she was a virgin, instinct told him she was ripe and ready. The fires of blazing passion were just waiting to ignite.

  And he wanted to be the man to strike the match, by God.

  That was the way it should be, he brooded. They should be enjoying each other for the duration of the trip. And why not? Out here, with every day a struggle for survival, they needed to grab every pleasure they could, every golden minute of happiness to make up for all the misery and hardship. Tomorrow didn't matter. It was only the here and now that counted.

  Only Jaime didn't see it that way.

  She was too damn proud. In a way, so was he, knowing he'd rather be dipped in hot tar than give her the satisfaction of being able to say she was right to call him a savage.

  Though she would never know it, she had cut him to the quick.

  Savage.

  Always, the word provoked deep, burning rage.

  He prided himself on being a man of great self-control. He would not yield to his desire and instead would look to California and the willing female who waited.

  In addition to his smoldering desire, his admiration for Jaime grew with each passing day. No matter how rough things got, she never complained. If there was work to be done she could help with, she was right beside him. He marveled at her spunk and spirit.

  Because of his respect he became less reserved, and a gentle camaraderie began. He pushed aside chagrin over her ability to conceal her presence all those weeks. Wanting to hear of her experiences, he laughed as she recounted humorous episodes, like the night she had crashed into Wilma Turnage at the most private of times.

  "You would have made my life so much simpler if you hadn't been so stubborn," Jaime told him.

  Jovially, he countered, "Maybe you're the reason everyone abandoned ship. You got them to mutiny for revenge."

  She laughed, a sound like silver bells in the wind, and he found himself thinking she was even more lovely now that the sparring between them was a thing of the past. No longer did she glower or frown or brood. They were both lighthearted, making the best of a trying situation, and the days spent with her were a delight.

  But the nights were still hell.

  Jaime went on to say, "Of course I did. I didn't want them around to help with the work. I wanted to do it all, and—oh!" She cried out as the rear wheel suddenly broke, bringin
g that side of the wagon sharply down.

  Riding his horse alongside, Cord was quick to react and reached to pluck her from the bench and lift her up and out of harm's way.

  A few seconds passed before Jaime calmed to realize she was being held tight against his chest.

  "Damn," he swore, holding her with one arm while he reined the horse in a sidestep to the end of the wagon to inspect the damage. "Looks like the whole axle assembly is busted, and the bolster is cracked. The hound is ruined too."

  Jaime, trying not to be unnerved by his nearness, managed to keep her voice even as she asked, "Do you have the parts to repair it?"

  "Afraid not. Jasper took care of things like that. He was supposed to see to it in Salt Lake, and I was so mad at everything going on I didn't check to see if anything was needed when he deserted. Maybe it's just as well. We were going to have to abandon it in a few more weeks, anyway. We'll make better time with the mules."

  "And if it snows, what do we do for shelter?" she asked, though her actual concern was over her future lack of privacy. With no wagon, she'd have to sleep outside, with no place to dress or undress except behind bushes.

  "I don't intend for us to get caught in the snow. We've got to keep moving...." He had turned to look at her, and his voice melted away.

  Her face was streaked with sweat and grime, and her golden hair had come loose to billow about her shoulders and down her back. He could see the tantalizing protrusion of her nipples through the thin fabric of the perspiration-soaked blouse. With a ragged gasp, he knew, beyond all doubt, he had never wanted a woman more. Her mouth was mere inches from his. He could feel her rapid breathing upon his flesh and felt desire sweeping like hot, desert winds.

  As he had grabbed her from the wagon, Jaime had thrown her arms about his neck to cling tightly. She had not relinquished her hold. Now, pressed against him, she could feel his sudden hardness against her hip.

  Time stood still as their gazes locked and held in mesmerized wonder.