Dorothy Garlock (17 page)

“How far is the spring?”

“Not far. Three or four miles.”

It had been weeks since she’d had a full bath and washed her hair. The logical part of her mind argued that she was taking a risk to go with a man she knew so little about. All of life is a risk, the other part argued. Rarely did she throw caution to the wind and do anything against her better judgement. Besides the luxury of a bath, the thought of being away from Jo Bell for a while was tempting. She looked at the man looming over her. If he was going to harm her, he would have done so before now, wouldn’t he?

“I’ll tell Charlie.”

“You’ll not be gone long. I doubt they’ll even miss you, especially if they get to fighting. Will Buddy stay here until we get back?”

“He’d be sitting here this time next week if I told him to stay.”

“Tell him.” He gave a low whistle and his horse came to him.

“Can’t we walk?”

“We can get there faster on Pete.”

“Stay here, Buddy,” she said when the dog started to get up. “Stay.” She put her palm against his nose and the dog lay back down.

“Now, Pete, as far as I know you’ve not had a lady on your back.” Smith spoke softly to the horse as if he were talking to a human. “Pay no mind to her skirt flopping about. It’s just something a man has to put up with when he’s around a woman.” He mounted and held out his hand. “Put your foot in the stirrup and I’ll pull you up,” he instructed.

Willa tried, but the stirrup was too high.

Smith let go of her hand. Before she realized his intentions, he had grasped her beneath her arms, hauled her up and plunked her down on his lap. It seemed to her she was a mile off the ground.

“Oh! Oh! I’ll fall.”

“You won’t fall.” He settled her snugly between the saddlehorn and his chest. She grabbed him around the waist. When his arms encircled her, she felt closed in. Seized by inexplicable panic, she reared back and attempted to slide off his lap. He held her locked to him.

“Dammit, sit still,” he said sharply. “Pete doesn’t know what to think about your skirt flopping and you kicking him in the side.” The horse danced and tossed his head. “Settle down, Pete. Where’s your manners?”

“I want to get off.”

“For Christ sake! I just got you up here. I’m not wasting all that effort for nothing. Let’s go, Pete.”

The nearness of him was something she hadn’t anticipated. She could feel him in every nerve in her body. She was unprepared for the warm hardness of his body, for the strength in the arms around her. She sat as if her backbone were an iron rod, her face turned away from him, her unseeing eyes straight ahead.

Willa Hammer, you’ve lost your senses. What possessed
you to ride off into the night with this strange man?

She is scared to death, Smith thought. Well, she should be. It’s foolish of her to trust a man she knows nothing about,
nothing except that the first time she’d seen him he had been stinking drunk. Godamighty, he had thought her smarter than the little tart back at the wagon. He didn’t know why he’d offered to take her to the spring. She had looked sad and lonely sitting there under the tree with the dog. He reckoned she’d had a rough time. But hell, she’d better wise up if she was going to last in this country.

“It was dumb of you to come with me,” he blurted almost angrily.

“I know.” The words were so low he scarcely heard them. She faced the breeze and wisps of her hair blew back in his face, catching on the rough stubble on his cheek.

“Don’t ever go off alone with a man you don’t know. Hear?”

“I hear.”

“I could stop this horse right now and have my way with you. There’d be nothing you could do.”

“I’d fight you.”

“Bull hockey!” he snorted.

“Why are you scaring me?”

“You’re already scared stiff. Why did you come with me? I’m nothing but a worthless, no-good drunk. Remember?”

“You’re not drunk now. And . . . and Buddy likes you. You can’t be too mean if you like animals and they like you.”

“Good Lord. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. The dog likes me because I feed him.”

“He does not. He’s smarter than that. He’d know it if you were just making up to him. Besides, Mr. Byers said you were reliable in spite of—”

“—Being a drunk.”

“Yes, that’s what he said. And . . . the thought of a bath and the chance to wash my hair just overcame my common sense. I don’t know what I was thinking about. I don’t have soap or a towel. Take me back, please.”

“Are you always so polite—a pleasin’ and thankin’ everybody in sight?”

“I try to be,” she said coolly. “Take me back . . . please.”

“No. I have soap and you can use one of my shirts for a towel.”

“No, really. I’d rather go back.”

“Tomorrow you’ll meet Maud. She won’t let you stay, but at least you’ll be clean when you head out for Sheridan.”

In spite of her fear and the absolute idiocy of the situation she was in, a soft giggle blew from her lips. She wasn’t sure if it was caused by hysteria or nerves. It was impossible to have coherent thoughts while every step the horse took caused her to feel the hard thighs against her bottom and her shoulder against his chest. Yet unknowingly her fear began to recede and she relaxed . . . a little.

“Spunky and foolish—” he murmured against her hair.

“How much farther?” One of her hands gripped the saddle cantle behind him, the other held tightly to the horn. “This poor horse will be worn out.”

“He doesn’t even know you’re up here except for your skirt flapping against him.”

“He must feel the extra weight.”

“He’s used to it. I find a woman every night who needs a bath.”

Willa turned her head toward him. The moon had just crested the mountain. His face was so close . . . far too close. He had left his hat back with Buddy. His hair, stirred by the breeze, curled down onto his forehead. She could feel his gaze, hot and questing, on her face and was grateful for the darkness that hid the blush that crept up her throat to her cheeks.

His arms held her. She had never been this close to a man other than ones who had grabbed her and held her against
her will. This hard, warm body against hers sent a tide of excitement through her. She could feel the warmth of his breath on the side of her face and wondered if he could feel the thumping of her heart.

Smith stopped the horse amid low-growing willows and chokecherry bushes. He sat still for a short while and listened. Caution was bred deep in Smith. The habit of years was hard to break. His sharp ears heard the flapping of wings, then the squeal of a small animal caught in the powerful claws of an owl. It was a natural sound. Still he listened a while longer with all his senses attuned to the night sounds before he lifted Willa down and dismounted.

“Stay here with Pete while I have a look around.” He spoke in hushed tones, and then the darkness swallowed him.

In this secluded place Willa could see only the outlines of the trees and bushes. She stood close beside the horse, holding onto the stirrup. Pete made no move, but he was as alert as any wild animal would be. Anxiety caused her breath to catch in her throat. Her hand sought her pocket. The only weapon she had was a pocketknife. She gripped it and waited.

Smith appeared on the other side of the horse. Without a sound he was there, his light hair a glow in the darkness.

“You scared me!”

“Pete would have let you know if it had been anyone but me. His eyesight and hearing are far better than ours. His ears will swivel and twitch, he’ll lift his head and sniff into the wind and become restless if something unfamiliar to him is near.” He talked while delving into his saddlebag.

“Why did you have to look around?”

“Some wild thing might have come down to drink even though they don’t usually drink from the warm pool. Come on. Stay here, Pete.”

When Willa stumbled after him on the uneven ground, he
reached around and took hold of her wrist and led her through the willows to a small pool that gleamed in the moonlight.

“Five, six feet out it will be over your head.” He placed a bar of soap on a flat rock beside the pool and took off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

Mentally he swore when he heard the anxiety in her voice.

“Leaving you my shirt. I’ll get another out of my bedroll while I’m waiting for you.”

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea—”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be back there with Pete when you want to go. Don’t call out—whistle. Voices carry.”

He dropped his shirt on the rock where he had placed the soap. Willa’s breath was a vibrant pressure in her throat. His bare shoulders and chest had a silky sheen to them. The moon cast a pale light on the blond hair that framed a face darkened by hours in the sun. Her eyes flicked over him and away. When she looked back, he was gone.

A velvety silence followed. Willa took a shaky breath, looked at the inviting pool, knelt down and tested the water with her hand. Warm. Wonderfully warm. Why was she hesitating?
This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
She pulled the shawl from her shoulders and became aware that it was warmer here in this magical place. Minutes later after removing her dress and mocassins, she slipped into the pool and sat down.

It was heavenly. The warm, almost hot water caressed her skin. She let herself sink into the water’s embrace, and slowly the tension left her. She stood to soap herself. After lathering every part of her body, she let down her hair, holding the hairpins in her mouth. She soaped her hair with Smith’s harsh-smelling lye soap without even thinking about the scented soap left behind when she had escaped the burning house.

It was so pleasant in the water. She didn’t want to leave it but knew it was not wise to linger. When she thought about it later, she was surprised that she had not been afraid that Smith was standing in the shadows watching her when she came out of the pool. She reached for his shirt and dried her face. For a moment she reveled in the male smell. It was as if he were stroking her face. A sudden charge of sexual desire flowed through her. She clutched the shirt to her breasts and pondered the reason for the soaring feeling before she dropped it as if it were burning her fingers and drew her clothes on over her wet body.

When she was dressed, she whistled one short and one long blast. No more than a minute passed, when she saw the gleam of Smith’s light hair at the edge of the clearing.

“That didn’t take long,” he said, coming toward her. “Where did you learn to whistle like a bobwhite?”

“How did you know it wasn’t an Indian?”

“An Indian would have done a better job. Your hair is still dripping.” He took the shirt from her hand, stepped behind her and lifted the wet hair from her back. “Good Lord, it’s so long you could sit on it. Why do women bother with it?”

“Back East women are bobbing their hair. I think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t,” he said gruffly; he squeezed the water from the long rope of hair and wrapped it in the shirt. He pulled the sleeves up and tied them on top of her head.

“Is this pool warm even when the snow is on the ground?”

“Yeah. You can see the steam a mile away.”

“It would be wonderful to have a house right here beside the pool.” She spoke to his back. He was already leading the way back to the horse.

The ride back to where they had left Buddy went quickly. The horse’s movements brought Willa into rhythmic contact with Smith’s chest. There was no way she could escape his
closeness and she didn’t even try. She was very aware that something loud and determined thumped between them. Was it his heart or hers? His, of course. The exertion of lifting her to sit across his lap would cause even a strong man’s heart to pump faster.

“Thank you for taking me to the pool. And, I’d like to apologize for the things I said to you that day in the barn.”

“Why? They were true.”

“Even so, it was none of my business.”

“Forget it. I have.”

After that, not a word was said until they reached the knoll overlooking the valley and he helped her down from the horse. Buddy was waiting. Smith patted the dog’s head and scooped up his hat. He wondered what she would do if he grabbed her and kissed her. She’d probably scream her head off. The dog would bite him and Charlie would come charging up the hill.

What the hell? He liked taking a risk when the odds were stacked against him.

With two quick steps he was beside her. His hands closed around her upper arms and dragged her up against him. He lowered his head and fastened his lips to hers, kissing her hard. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it left her stunned. She couldn’t get her breath and for a moment she couldn’t think. A full ten seconds passed before her heart began to thump and her mind cleared. Shock evaporated and she tried to pull back. He held her and gave her a second, softer kiss, his lips brushing back and forth across hers, before he let her go.

“Why . . . why did you do that?” she whispered, the back of her hand against her mouth.

“To teach you a lesson. Don’t trust a man to always play the gentleman. Especially . . . a drinking man. And . . . never, never go off alone with him.” He really didn’t know
why he had kissed her, he certainly hadn’t planned it; but he had to tell her something.

“You want me to be afraid of you?”

“Why not? I’m sure as hell afraid of you.”

“Because of the skillet?”

“And . . . other things. Go on. I’ll watch until you reach the wagon.” He told himself that he was ten times a fool. The touch of her soft lips had melted something inside of him, leaving a dark, aching vacancy.

“Thank you for the lesson,” she said primly. With chin tilted and back straight, she started down the hill, but she turned back and thrust his shirt in his hands. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have any suggestions on how I can approach Mrs. Eastwood to get her to let Charlie and Jo Bell stay on at the ranch?”

“Not one.” His answer was curt.

“You don’t want them to stay, do you?”

“It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me.”

They looked steadily at each other. Even though it was dark, the force of his eyes held her as firmly as he had held her with his hands. He was a hard, ruthless man. She had been a thick-headed fool to go with him. Yet it had been pleasant. She had felt safe even in the pool with only her shift covering her. The kiss had been pleasant too. She had not felt in the least threatened. Thoughts of the kiss brought a flush of embarrassment that tinged her cheeks. She turned away.