Bittner, Rosanne (19 page)

The
man shrugged. "What kind of labor?"

Tess
refused to shift under his scrutinizing gaze. This man was thinking what
everyone in town was—that she had probably been raped by the men who'd abducted
her, which in their eyes somehow left her tainted. She had tried to get work
from other businesses in town, but they had given her that same look, a couple
of women pulling their children away as though she were something to be
shunned. The last thing she wanted to do was come to Jim Caldwell for help, but
she was not sure where else to turn.

"Whatever
needs doing," she answered. "Perhaps Harriet could use some help in
the house—cleaning, cooking, mending. I happen to be an excellent seamstress. I
used to make most of Mrs. Bass's clothing. I learned on her sewing machine when
we lived at the Bass ranch at San Antonio. Or I can help clean stalls, feed
horses, pitch hay. I am quite capable of any number of jobs. I could even teach
reading to some of your ranch hands if they are so inclined, or to their
children. I enjoy reading, but I lost all my books in the fire. I intend to
collect more. For now I simply need the work, and I need a place to stay. I
can't afford to keep paying for my room at the boarding house. Besides that, I
need time away from some of the stares I get in town. Some people haven't been
very understanding about what happened to me. At any rate, there seems to be no
work for me here, and like I said, I can't afford the boarding house."

Caldwell
rubbed his chin, studying her intently. The woman had spunk. Maybe if he let
her work for him for a while, he could win her friendship and convince her to
sell the ranch to him. "It's human nature, Tess, for people to be curious.
They wonder what it's like to be taken off like you were, but they're afraid to
ask. Some wonder if... well, you know. Let's face it, woman. Nobody in this
town thinks you were left untouched by those men, and people's imaginations can
conjure up all kinds of things to where some actually blame you for it, figure
if you didn't come back half-crazed and covered with bruises and your clothes
all ripped and dirty... well, they wonder, that's all."

Tess
rose, her fury so great she felt sick. "I preferred to keep my dignity,
Mr. Caldwell! I preferred not to let those men destroy me! Anyone who wants to
think I did not fight hard enough has no idea what I suffered, no idea how hard
I
did
fight, no grasp of the horrors I saw and experienced! And for
those who might think I actually
enjoyed
whatever happened to me, they,
and you, Jim Caldwell, can go to hell!" She turned and headed for the
door.

"Wait
up there!" Caldwell spit out the command in his gruff voice, spouting off
the order as though she were one of his ranch hands. "Don't go blaming it
all on me. I was just trying to explain—"

"I
know what you were trying to explain. What's done is done, and I cannot change
it. I am now a widow without family, and I need work. If I have to leave El
Paso to find it, then that is what I will do, but right now I will not sell my
father's land. Are you willing to help me take care of it and to let me work
for you or not?" She turned and faced him, her hand on the doorknob.

Caldwell
sighed and stood up, folding his arms across his big belly. "All right.
I'm not sure what my wife will think of it, but I'll talk her into it. If she
doesn't want you in the house, I'll find farm work for you."

"Fine.
Where will I stay if not in the house?" How she hated having to work for
this man! She should have left the area entirely, but something held her
here—something too silly to even admit... a man named John Hawkins... a man who
had become so important for those brief days... then had ridden away and she'd
heard nothing from him since and probably never would. So, why did she stay?
What on earth did she want or expect from John Hawkins?

Caldwell
ran a hand through his hair. "Well, the house is certainly plenty big
enough. You've seen it. We've got six bedrooms, but four sons live in Virginia.
Two are off in college, one is a doctor, the other is married and has built his
own house on our old property, so it's just me and the Mrs. Harriet complains
the house is too big and rambling for her to take care of. We have a couple of
Mexican women who help, but she can't communicate with them too well—has never
tried to learn Spanish. I'm sure she could use your help keeping the place up.
I don't see why you couldn't stay in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. Ours
is on the main floor, so you wouldn't have to mix with Harriet except when
you're cleaning or cooking. She's beginning to develop a lot of aches and
pains, has trouble going up and down the stairs, and frets that she can't keep
the upstairs clean enough. I think I can talk her into letting you stay there
just for that if nothing more."

Tess
had to be grateful for his efforts, even though she suspected it was only
because he hoped to take over her ranch someday. "Thank you, Mr.
Caldwell."

"You
gather your things and I'll pick you up in a wagon tomorrow morning around nine
and drive you out to the ranch."

"Fine.
I will be ready."

He
nodded, his eyes moving over her in a way that made her uncomfortable. Suddenly
she was not so sure this was a good idea, but what else could she do for now?
She turned and walked out, half-tempted to go to Jenny and ask if she had heard
from John Hawkins since he'd left six days ago. She had not noticed him
anywhere since then. She felt she should go and thank Jenny once more for what
she did for her, but she did not want to be seen walking into the woman's
saloon. People already thought ill enough of her without seeing her associating
with Jenny, although now that she knew Jenny as she did, she would have no
personal qualms about visiting with the woman. The situation left her
conscience in a dilemma.

She
glanced up the street toward the saloon when she went outside, and part of her
questions were answered. John Hawkins's golden horse was tied in front of
Jenny's place. Again she felt the sharp stab of jealousy, that ridiculous
feeling she'd felt before when she'd seen the friendship between those two.

So,
he had come back... to see Jenny, not to see Tess Carey. That was the way it
should be. She turned and headed for the boarding house to pack her things.

"What
was
that
all about, as if I need to ask?" Jenny got up and walked
to her washstand, feeling no embarrassment over her naked body.

"What
was
what
all about?" John studied her fleshy bottom, damned himself
for thinking what a small, firm bottom Tess Carey had.

"You've
never been quite so violent in bed." She poured some water into a bowl.
"I'd almost think you were mad at me about something, but I know what
you're really mad about."

John
scooted up in bed, pulling a sheet over his privates and reaching to the table
beside him to pick up a cigarette paper and tobacco pouch. "Well, since
you already think you know the answer, why'd you ask?"

"Just
to see if you would admit the truth."

He
scowled as he tapped some tobacco onto the paper. "And what is the
truth?"

"You
were thinking about Tess Carey."

"That
so?" He set the pouch aside and licked the paper to seal it. "How in
hell did you come to that conclusion?"

"Simple."
Jenny wet a rag and washed herself. "I saw how you looked at her that day
I went out to help her take that bath. And don't tell me you weren't dying to turn
around and have a look. She's the first white woman you've ever had serious
thoughts about, and when you remembered what those men did to her, it made you
mad. You're thinking how you'd like to make love to her yourself, the right
way, maybe help take away all her bad memories.

John
lit the cigarette and took a long drag. "For one thing, if I had turned
around while she was taking that bath, I wouldn't have seen anything I hadn't
already seen. And sure, it pisses me off what they did to her, but something
like that always pisses me off. She's no different from any other woman. Hell,
I blew up those cattle rustlers because they raped an Indian girl, not because
they stole cattle. Nobody else but Ken knows that, by the way."

Jenny
pulled on a feathered robe and picked up a perfume decanter, squeezing the
rubber dispenser and spraying some of the lavender scent on herself. She turned
and sauntered back to the bed, grinning. "You can protest your feelings
for Tess Carey all you want to anybody else, including yourself, but don't try
it with me, John Hawkins. This is Jenny Simms, and I know men." She
crawled onto the bed, nuzzling up next to him. "So, what are you going to
do about it?"

He
snickered, giving her a sarcastic grin. "In case you haven't noticed, Tess
Carey is white, with red hair, no less. She's a proper lady, a widow on top of
that. And after what she's been through, if I was the most wonderful man who
ever walked and could offer her the world, she wouldn't be ready to think about
another man. But even under the best conditions, the fact remains I am far from
the best man, and I am Indian. I have a reputation that makes most proper women
embarrassed to be associated with me in any way. I know when there is no sense
giving certain women a second thought, so I'm not going to do
any
thing
about any feelings I might have."

"Mmmm-hmmm.
So, you
do
have feelings for her?"

He
took another drag on the cigarette and leaned forward. "I'm getting tired
of answering the same questions from you and Ken Randall. Just shut up about
it, Jenny. There's nothing to talk about anyway."

"You
don't know that without paying Mrs. Carey a visit. Maybe she feels kind of bad
that you just rode off and left it like that."

"I
said I don't want to talk about it. If you want me to stay the night here,
you'd better make up your mind not to bring up Tess Carey's name anymore. I'm
not going to sit here and argue about it all night. She's a closed subject. I
found her, I got her back here—did my duty—and that's the end of it."

Jenny
studied his muscled back, the long, black hair that hung down it nearly to his
waist. He was the most beautiful specimen of man she'd ever come upon,
powerful, broad shoulders, a slender waist, firm hips, muscled thighs. He was
the perfect combination of Indian and white, with a square jaw, dark, deep-set
eyes, a proud nose, full lips. She knew damn well his feelings ran a lot deeper
than he ever let on, about a lot of things besides Mrs. Tess Carey. Somewhere
behind all that rough exterior lay a good man who had never been allowed to
reveal that goodness, whose defense was thick and fierce because of all the
hurt he'd suffered in his life. She had a way of getting men to talk, and John
had talked plenty about his life, his mother. This was the first time he had
absolutely refused to continue a conversation, and that told her one thing. He
had more serious feelings for Tess Carey than he'd had for anyone in his life,
except maybe his mother.

"Well,
far be it from me to do anything that would make you leave this bed," she
said aloud. "Lord knows you don't end up here often enough." She
began running a hand over his back. "So don't you go running off, John
Hawkins. I plan to keep you busy all night."

He
drew on the cigarette, then took it from his lips and set it aside in an
astray. "What if I told you I was tired?" he asked, exhaling smoke as
he spoke.

"I'd
say that's too bad." Jenny let her robe fall open, and she reached out to
him.

John
pulled her into his arms, bending down to savor a nipple. "You're a mean
woman, Jenny Simms." He moved to her other breast, licking it as he probed
secret places with his fingers.

"No
meaner than you, John Hawkins." She wrapped her fingers in his hair, liked
the way it hung down and tickled at her shoulders and breasts.

"I'll
try to be a little more gentle this time," he said, moving his lips to her
throat, then planting his mouth over hers.

Jenny
relished the deep, delicious kiss, the feel of his hard body moving on top of
her, the excitement of his growing hardness probing for a nesting place. The
man could be ready for a woman on a moment's notice, and when John Hawkins got
inside a woman, she hated for it to ever be over.

She
gladly parted her legs and welcomed him, and this time he moved a little
slower, using a gentle rhythm and circular motions that made her feel wild with
desire. She could tell he was trying to make it nicer for her this time,
letting her take more pleasure than she did from his first rough, quick, fierce
ramming. This time his mating was almost sweet, and she felt a little jealous
of Tess Carey, for she had no doubt that was who he was wishing lay beneath
him. She tried picturing the two of them together this way, this big, dark,
strong man hovering over that woman's small, lily-white body, and she laughed lightly,
returning his kisses with eager passion.

John
raised up and grasped her hips, pushing harder and faster, knowing that with a
woman like Jenny Simms, a man had to give it everything he had to keep her
pleased. Visions of Tess Carey flashed into his mind again, and he wondered if
he could get inside her without hurting her. Maybe Chino had hurt her that way.
Again he felt angry at the thought, but he forced back the emotions, feeling
sorry he'd been rough with Jenny the first time because of it.