Ana Seymour (17 page)

He rolled his head against the bark of the tree, stretching his neck. The headache that had been pounding at him since John Burnett had told him that
Kerry had left camp was blessedly beginning to recede. In answer to her question, he said, “Because I know what blamed fools they are.”

Kerry pursed her lips. “Well, there is gold, right? Why do you say they’re fools?”

“From firsthand experience.”

“You were a gold prospector?”

Jeb nodded. “I had the fever as bad as any of those young idiots.”

“But you didn’t strike it rich?”

He gave a contemptuous sniff. “Hardly. I couldn’t even pan out enough to eat most days.”

“Maybe you didn’t keep trying long enough.”

Jeb closed his eyes, his expression once again tightening. Kerry felt the breath stick in her chest as she realized that he was about to tell her something that would not come easy in the telling. She waited, and finally he opened his eyes and looked at her with an expression that sent a chill down the back of her neck. “I kept trying long enough to give a band of marauders time to rape and murder my wife.”

The blood pounded in waves at Kerry’s cheeks and she had the feeling that she might faint. She shifted from her knees to a more stable sitting position. “Lord have mercy,” she breathed.

Jeb stared past her out at the dark night. “Yeah. Well, He didn’t. No one had any mercy on my sweet Melanie. Starting with me.”

Kerry searched for something comforting to say, but the enormity of his tragedy was so total that no words came. Finally she reached out and took his hands in hers. He hardly seemed to notice. Once he had established the worst, he seemed to have the need
to tell the rest of the story. Reciting the tale with a voice that had grown curiously dead, he told her how he had left her as a young bride, in spite of her protests, in order to find his strike while the pickings were rich. Forty-niners were streaming into the territory daily, and the men who were there knew that they had to get their claims made before the gold was all gone. Gold fever had seized the minds of the young men of the territory like a disease. And Jeb Hunter had been another willing victim.

It had taken him a mere three months to realize that only a small, lucky percentage were ever going to realize the overblown dreams of wealth. Like thousands of others, he was hardly scraping enough to get by. But in the meantime, some of those others had formed themselves into bands of lawless thieves and plunderers. They’d decided if they couldn’t mine the riches of California one way, they’d take what they wanted by thievery and violence. He’d left his wife alone in their small cabin in the foothills at the mercy of such men.

By the end of his story, tears were streaming down Kerry’s cheeks. The terrible tale made it easier to understand the hardness that sometimes settled over his expression, the bleak look in his eyes. Jeb Hunter was living with two tragedies. The murder of his wife was only the first one. The second was his own, relentless, tormenting guilt.

Somewhere during the course of his recital, she’d moved closer to him, still holding his hands. He was clenching her fingers so tightly that they had gone numb, but she was sure that he wasn’t even aware that he held them.

“You couldn’t have known,” she said after a long moment of silence. “How could anyone imagine something like that?”

“I took her as my bride and said the vows to protect and cherish her. Till death do us part,” he added with a hollow, horrible sound that was half laugh and half sob.

She moved against him and drew his head against her shoulder. It wasn’t sexual, only the normal human instinct of reaching out to another soul in pain. Not much different from the way she had comforted Dorothy the other night at Molly’s bedside. But after a few minutes, in spite of herself, she realized that her breasts had hardened against his warm body. He realized it, too.

He straightened back up against the tree and pulled her across his lap, seeking her mouth with his. She couldn’t heal the gaping wound of grief that still bled inside his heart, but she could make him forget the pain, at least for a while. She could make him lose himself in the sensations he had taught her the other night. She wanted to do that for him…and for herself.

Jeb’s reason was slowly returning just as his body began spinning out of control. He was once again aware of surroundings. He knew it was Kerry he held in his arms, not Melanie. He’d never hold Melanie again. It was sweet, lush Kerry with tears on her cheeks that she’d shed for him. Precious drops that seemed to be falling on a dusty, dry spot inside him that had lain fallow for years.

He kissed her with gratitude and longing that turned almost immediately to intense desire. He knew somewhere in the sensible, reasonable part of his
brain that he should not let this happen again. But his heart and his senses were not willing to listen. He overruled himself with the simple argument that he owed it to her to make up for the other night when he’d taken her virginity so abruptly.

He forced himself to breathe deeply. He would stay under control, he vowed. He would show her what it was like to be thoroughly and properly loved. He would make her body sing.

He laid her down on the grass and started by covering her face with soft, gentle kisses. And when her eyes drifted closed, he opened her shirt and started to lavish the same attention on her breasts. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said then, lifting his head. She opened her eyes to look straight into his so that he could watch them change and grow wider as his fingers gently tugged her nipples and then drifted down beneath the waistband of her brother’s trousers to find the dewy area below. He could tell from her still open eyes when he touched the right spot.

His slow, erotic exploration was sending waves of sensation radiating up her body. She wriggled a little beneath his hand and pushed against him, all of her being seemed to be focused in that one region and in the tawny depths of his eyes. Desperately, she tugged at her trousers and pushed them down her hips to give him freer access. He pulled back long enough to help her slide them off.

“Relax, sweetheart. Just lie back and feel.” And then she was totally naked on the rough wool blanket and he was kissing her from her toes to her neck and back down. His fingers were inside her again, stretching just slightly, and suddenly his mouth was there
above the fingers, finding her, rolling that particularly sensitive place with his warm tongue. And she grabbed the blanket with her fists and gave a keening cry as her body exploded.

He held her, rocked her with an amused, “Shush, sweetheart. They’ll hear you all the way back to Fort Kearney.” Then after he had kissed the new tears on her cheek, tears of passion this time, he rid himself of his own clothing and lay back down beside her.

“That’s how it should be, how it should have been the first time—you, sweet and melting in my arms,” he told her.

His voice was thick and sensual in her ear. Kerry was already feeling the need building inside her again, even as the meadow breeze cooled the first flush from her body. Unlike their hurried experience of the other night, he was entirely naked against her, his body hard, his skin rougher than her own. With curiosity and daring, she reached out a hand to explore him. It only seemed fair. He’d already visited every part of her. Parts she hadn’t even been aware of herself, she thought with a smile.

“What are you purring about, kitten?” he asked her with an answering smile of his own.

“Happy kittens purr, I believe,” she said.

“Did I make you happy, sweetheart?” he asked more seriously.

“Mmm. That’s a small word for such a big feeling.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m glad. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Her hand arrived at his stomach, which was flat and covered with silky hair. He gave a moan of pleasure
and encouragement. “Are you purring, too, Jeb?” she asked archly.

He put his hand on top of hers where it had halted its progress and moved it gently downward to his erection. “Men don’t purr,” he protested, but as her slender fingers closed around him he gave another half groan.

“Sounds like purring to me.” She moved her hand on him in a motion she’d never been taught but that seemed to come to her naturally. As he swelled to her touch, she felt the answering response inside her own body. “But it’s fierce purring,” she continued, whispering in his ear, “like a tiger.”

He gave a growl much like the feline she’d described and rolled over with her, flattening her on the ground and spreading her legs with his own. Hurriedly his hands checked to see that she was still moist and receptive, then he entered her with a deep breath of satisfaction.

There wasn’t the least pain this time, only an exquisite sense of fullness, then a more urgent one of building passion that soon had her meeting his rhythm with a rocking motion of her hips. He kissed each breast until the nipples were wet, then picked up the pace of his motion and once again brought his face just above hers. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Watch mine while I take you over the edge.”

She opened her eyes and then seemed to see herself spiraling into his as he stopped deep within her and the feeling began to rack her. At the very height he pulled away from her and she clutched at him, murmuring
a protest. But he was gone, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice tight and breathless as he ended his own release.

S
he lay limp beneath him, thoroughly sated. Her body felt lavish and miraculous. What a feeling. No wonder people fought wars for love, she thought hazily. No wonder men and women did all kinds of foolish things in the name of romance.

Only the end had been a little disappointing when he had left her so suddenly. Was the pleasure still as great for him? she wondered. Was he able to experience the same kind of completion she did?

He seemed to be as satisfied and exhausted as she. He pulled her into his arms and rolled the blanket up around them.

“Let’s hope no one else got the idea to take an evening ride,” he said with a tired smile.

She chuckled. “I just hope that Scott and Patrick didn’t decide to turn back and look for us.”

Jeb’s smile faded. “I can’t believe I’ve let this happen again. I should be horsewhipped.”

Kerry pulled her head away to look into his face. “You said something like that about the first time we
were together. Hasn’t it occurred to you that perhaps I’m the one who’s allowing it to happen, not you?”

“It’s the man’s responsibility…”

“Hogwash. Not everything important in life is the man’s responsibility, Jeb. Some things are shared propositions. And I would think that what we did together would most definitely be one of those things.”

She laid her head back down against his arm. “I thought it was beautiful.”

Jeb gave her a squeeze and said gently, “I thought it was beautiful, too.”

“So that settles that.” They lay quietly for some moments, each lost in thought. Kerry was trying to figure out what this whole new side of herself meant for her future, for the future she planned with Patrick. She wasn’t about to give up on her father’s dream, but for the first time she began to consider that she might be willing to share that dream with someone else—with Jeb. He’d evidently planned to settle down to his own place with his wife before her horrible death, perhaps after all these years of wandering he’d be ready to give the idea a try again.

If she was already carrying his child, he’d have no choice. The notion gave her mixed emotions. It didn’t horrify her as it had when she had first thought about the possibility. It would be hard to build a ranch if she were pregnant, but it could be done, especially if she had a husband helping her. Of course, she’d prefer that she and Jeb didn’t have to start out their lives together under those circumstances. Again she wondered about the actual mechanics of the matter. It was one of the many times when she missed not having
had the counsel of a mother. Well, there was only one way to find out what she needed to know.

“Jeb,” she began tentatively.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He sounded almost asleep.

“There at the end…you were, you know,
gone
all of a sudden. Was that…” She took a deep breath and made herself say the words. “Does that mean we didn’t make a baby?”

Jeb boosted himself up on an elbow and looked down at her. “Didn’t you know what I was doing?”

She shook her head, embarrassed.

He let a long breath stream through his nose. “If I stay inside you when I…finish, then, yes, there’s a possibility we could make a baby. That’s why I pulled away.”

“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile. “I don’t think we should make a baby just yet either.”

Jeb’s hand, on his way to smooth back her ruffled hair, froze. Just yet? What was she thinking? He thought back over their encounters trying to decide if there had been a time when he’d led her to believe that he could be committed to her for any kind of future. He’d made love to her. He supposed that in itself was a statement of commitment to a girl like Kerry, But he’d never said it in words, of that he was certain. Those were words he never intended to say again in his life. He’d said them once and failed so miserably that he deserved to live with the sound of them ringing hollowly in his ears for the rest of his life.

“I was deliberately careful, Kerry,” he said slowly. “It was wrong of me to make love to you, but it
would have been despicable for me to leave you with a child growing inside you.”

The wind had picked up and flapped the ends of the blanket around them. Kerry shivered and felt a sudden cold that went deeper than her exposed skin. “Leave me with a child?” she asked. “Isn’t it customary when people…make babies, to raise them together?”

Jeb moved his arm from beneath her back and lifted her to a sitting position against the tree. Then he started to pull on his clothes. “That’s why I was careful that we didn’t make a baby, Kerry.” His voice sent the chill even deeper, all the way to her core. “That kind of a life is not for me.”

“You must have wanted that life once.”

He shook his head. “Yes. If I’d only been content to stay with my wife and build that life, I’d be a different person now. But I wasn’t, and now I’ve lost the right to even think about such an existence.”

Kerry pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders. “I don’t believe that, Jeb. No man should forever lose his chance for happiness because of one mistake.”

He’d finished dressing and the expression he turned on her was almost angry. “It wasn’t just a ‘mistake,’ Kerry. I was responsible for the brutal murder of a helpless young woman who trusted me to protect her and provide for her…”

Something clicked inside Kerry’s head. “Helpless?” she said. “Maybe she was helpless against the band of scum who killed her, but surely she wasn’t helpless. A pioneer woman?”

“A
woman,
” Jeb corrected. “Just like any woman
who should have the protection of a man in order to survive in this country. Just like you, Kerry, though you think yourself so invincible. The same thing could happen to you as happened to Melly. And who would protect you? A thirteen-year-old boy?”

“I’d protect myself. Just the way I intend to build my ranch
myself.
Just as I’ve come this far by myself.”

“By making moves such as the stunt you pulled tonight, which might have ended up getting you and your brother both killed.”

They were both on their knees now, facing each other, all tenderness gone from their voices and their expressions. “I’ve already apologized for that, Captain,” she said frostily. “And if you would be so kind as to hand me my clothes, I’ll let you get back to the train where you can be the masterly protector of all the poor women and children, assuaging your guilt as much as you like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked angrily, tossing her clothes into her lap.

Her own anger died as quickly as it had arisen, and she spoke sadly. “There’s nothing noble about spending a life wallowing in the past, Jeb, no matter why you think you’re doing it. I’m sure that your Melanie was a staunch woman if she was willing to start a home in the wilderness. And I’m equally sure she would not want the circumstances of her death to mean that you should forfeit the rest of your life as a penance.”

Jeb was silent as Kerry quickly put on her clothes. When she was finished, he said simply, “We’d better get back.”

She nodded and waited for him to mount Storm and pull her up behind him. She put her arms gingerly around his waist but tried to keep her own body as far as she could from his as they trotted back to the camp without another word.

Patrick and Scott were both waiting, looking out into the night for them as they rode up. Scott started to ask why they had taken so long to return, but evidently thought better of the question after one look at their tense faces.

Jeb pulled his horse up beside the wagon. He turned around to her and held out a hand to lift her to the ground. Out of earshot of Patrick and Scott he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

She looked him in the eyes, then glanced at his extended hand. Ignoring it, she grasped the back of the saddle and boosted herself to the ground. “I’m sorry, too,” she said tersely, then walked around the back of the wagon and out of sight.

As he had promised, Jeb showed up early the next morning to take Patrick up on the horse with him. He was still having problems with a group of settlers who didn’t want to follow his water-rationing plan. It did not help matters that Foxy Whitcomb and Daniel Blue were scoffing at the wagon master’s fears about drinking from the river.

“I’ve drunk every kind of water from here to the coast,” Foxy boasted. “Including those Satan’s holes John Colter discovered northwest of here. Never been sick a day in my life.”

But it wouldn’t make much difference to his problems to have the boy ride along. He’d already disappointed
one member of the Gallivan family. He could at least make things up to her brother.

It lifted his spirits to see Patrick’s smile of welcome, and it felt good to have his company. Jeb tried to put thoughts of Kerry out of his mind as he concentrated on the daily duties of keeping the train moving west. In spite of the sickness and the water problems, they were still making good time. They would reach Independence Rock in another couple weeks. Each crossing he felt that if he could get his group there with good spirits, the hardest part of the job had been done. The mountain passes still lay ahead. But no matter how arduous the physical labor of those climbs, it did not take the same kind of mental toll on the group as the prairie and desert.

Kerry’s “good morning” had been barely civil when he picked up her brother. He’d looked up into her eyes, those same blue eyes he’d watched glow with passion the previous night. And there’d been a knife twist at his gut such as he hadn’t felt since shortly after Melly’s death.

“I’ll bring him back when we stop for the nooning,” he’d told her. She’d nodded without speaking.

As it turned out, the nooning that day was the most turbulent they’d had since the train left Westport. He and Patrick had ridden up to the Crandall wagon to find a group of settlers crowding around Foxy and Daniel. The two old-timers were mixing cornmeal into a kettle of dirty river water. When the meal settled to the bottom, so would the mud and so, Foxy announced loudly to the group, would the evil spirits.

“The Injuns do it this way,” Foxy told the group of mostly male settlers. “They never get sick.”

In fact, the resultant water at the top of the kettle looked remarkably clear, nothing at all like the greenish sludge that was flowing along the river. Several of the men brought cups to scoop some out and take a sample.

“Fresh as spring water,” Thomas Crandall said approvingly.

His son, Homer, who was only now recovering from the effects of the dysentery that had struck him, stood by his father’s side and viewed the water doubtfully. “The captain said we shouldn’t be drinking it yet. Not till we get farther up toward the mountains.”

“Well, the captain doesn’t have a whole family to haul a supply to every day,” Crandall replied. “I don’t see why we should be getting up before dawn to ride out to some creek when we’ve got a perfectly good river right alongside our wagons.”

Several of the other men murmured agreement.

“That boy next to you is the reason, Crandall,” Jeb said sternly as he rode up to the group. “You almost lost him, and now you’re risking losing someone else in the family or killing yourself.” He swung down from his horse and walked over to knock the cup out of Crandall’s hand. “Don’t be a blasted fool,” he ended angrily.

Crandall looked almost as if he was going to take a swing at the wagon master, but he held back. His face had gone white with anger. “I reckon Whitcomb and Blue, here, have taken this route a sight more times than you have, Hunter. If they say it’s all right to clean up the water this way, then it’s all right by me.”

“Well, then, it’s lucky that you’re not the one running
things around here, because you could kill us all. I say that no one drinks from the river until further notice, and if I see anyone disobeying my orders, they’ll be off this train the minute we reach Fort Laramie.”

He took the kettle from Foxy and emptied the contents on the ground, then remounted Storm. “There are plenty of streams in the hills we’re passing through. There’s no point in taking needless risks. I’m not going to lose another one of my charges.”

He rode off, leaving the milling crowd looking after him, several with looks of dissatisfaction on their faces.

“These young whippersnappers always were too quick to see a problem,” Foxy said.

“I think Hunter just likes the feeling of ordering people around,” Crandall added. “Maybe it’s time he got reminded that
we’re
the ones who hired
him.
”

The trouble continued that evening when Jeb called a camp meeting to organize teams of lookouts for the night and advance and rear guards for the next few days’ travel.

“We’re at the heart of Sioux country now,” he told the gathering. “And they haven’t been friendly these past couple of years.”

From the back of the group Foxy drawled, “Ain’t a Sioux within a week-long goose flight of here.”

Jeb had kept himself awake much of the previous evening with tortured thoughts of Kerry, at turns remorseful and erotic. He’d ridden hard all day and had had several disagreeable encounters about the water
problem. He was not in a humor for any more of Foxy’s folk wisdom.

“Have you been up flying like a goose, Whitcomb, to be able to make a statement like that?” he asked sharply.

Foxy got to his feet and came slowly toward the front of the crowd. The majority of eyes were on him and he preened a little at the attention. “How many buffalo have you seen in these parts? None, right? The Sioux have followed the buffalo up north.”

“The numbers are thinning,” Jeb acknowledged. “That’s precisely the problem. The Indians can’t survive without them, and they’re none too happy about the streams of white folk coming into their territory and decimating their herds.”

“They’re well north of here,” Foxy insisted.

Jeb shook his head in exasperation. He waved a hand around the crowd. “You may be willing to risk the lives of all these folks on that assumption, but I’m not. We’ll post lookouts and we’ll ride guards. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

As he looked around the group he was distressed to see the number of skeptical expressions. When they’d started out on this journey, they’d taken anything he had to say as gospel. But he knew that this stretch was in many ways the most demoralizing part of the journey. They’d been on the move now for nearly two and a half months, through endless, boring, dry, hot prairie. It was the time when every overlander started to feel as if the journey would never end. The fresh food was long gone. They were sick of insects, sick of dust seeping into every seam of their clothing and every possession. Many had developed
chronic coughs, yet still had to get back on the trail each day to breathe in several more hours of it.