Mountain Rose (16 page)

Raegan moved about the kitchen, preparing the evening meal, her sore muscles protesting. Except to stop for a quick lunch of cold beef sandwiches and a cup of coffee, she and Jamie had pulled and dug up weeds all day.

But it's worth every ache and pain, she thought with a smile as she glanced out the kitchen window. She could now see lush, green grass. All the weeds were gone, carried to the barn and stacked against the wall in a pile that was higher than herself. And more satisfying was the discovery of flowers trying to push their way through the matted growth that had for years tried to choke the life from them. They had somehow lived on, and later in the season when they burst into bloom, it would be a beautiful sight to feast her eyes on.

Her eyes grew misty. If only Mama was here to see it happen, she thought, then told herself not to look back. She stirred the pot of beans that had been cooking slowly all day, a large chunk of ham giving them flavoring. She lifted the lid from a pot of simmering potatoes and stabbed them with a fork for doneness. She nodded. Another fifteen minutes, and they'd be ready to be mashed.

As Raegan prepared to set the table, she stood in front of the china cabinet a moment, debating how many plates to put out. Would Chase be home for supper? He had been gone all day, and if he was with Liza, he might be gone all night.

She finally took down three plates. It would rile Chase no end if he should come in while she and Jamie were eating and there was no place set for him. She continued to glance out the window every few minutes, hoping to see Sampson come loping toward the cabin. But the tree shadows had lengthened and twilight was about to set in before she heard the rhythmic thud of galloping hooves. Her heart raced. There would be three for supper!

Keeping an eye on the open door, she saw Chase ride by, heading for the corral. A few minutes later, she heard his and Jamie's voices as they came toward the cabin. While they washed up on the back porch, she lit the lamp and put supper on the table.

"Sure smells good in here," said Jamie, who had evidently used the wash basin first, as he entered the kitchen. "I'm starvin'."

He took his place at the table, and when Chase's large frame filled the doorway, he grinned and asked, "What about you, friend? Anybody give you lunch today?"

Although she listened intently, Raegan wasn't able to make out Chase's muttered reply. She looked at him to see if he was going to speak to her, then bit back a sigh. All his attention was on the bowl of beans from which he was filling his plate.

Days of pain and bitterness boiled inside her. She'd be damned if she'd speak first. She had done nothing to make him act like a sore-horn buffalo, and she didn't care if he never spoke to her again—or looked at her. She scraped her chair back and sat down at the table.

Raegan had no idea what she was eating. It could have been some of the weeds her blistered fingers had tugged from the ground. She still shook with anger inside.

A couple of times, Jamie, attuned to her upheavel, gave her a sympathetic smile, the curve of his lips telling her at the same time not to mind the sour-faced man sitting across from her.

Several times he also tried to lighten the atmosphere, keep a conversation going. But when Raegan didn't join in at all and Chase only grunted occasionally, he gave up and tended to filling his empty stomach.

It was probably the fastest meal the old kitchen had ever witnessed. Jamie rose and thanked Raegan for a tasty supper, then walked outside. Without a word, Chase quickly drained his cup of coffee and stamped out behind him.

Raegan sat on, her slim shoulders shaking with the sobs she'd held back for several days. How much more could she take? How long could a person go along all tensed up and not break?

She smelled cigarette smoke and choked off her tears. She hadn't known the men had remained on the porch. She wiped her eyes and finished eating the food that had grown cold on her plate, paying no attention to the conversation going on between Chase and Jamie. Her ears perked up, however, when she heard Chase mention Sid Johnson's name.

"... there's been reports of Indians seen skulking around. Tillamooks lookin' for their woman. He said the women folk were becomin' nervous and upset."

"They've got reason to be," Jamie said, staring off into the darkness.

"Yeah. We've got to make sure Raegan doesn't wander too far away from the cabin. They're probably lookin' for a lone woman to capture to hold hostage for the one Roscoe took."

"And then torture her to death when no one brings their woman to them," Jamie observed.

Raegan suddenly felt ashamed of her tears. She had been crying because she was being treated coldly by a man, and at the same moment there was a woman out there somewhere clinging to life.

Or was the Tillamook still fighting to stay alive? Maybe she had given up the fight, no longer wanted to live. Raegan tried to convince herself that the woman lived, that if she didn't, Roscoe would have returned to the neighborhood.

She rose stiffly from the table, saying a prayer for the Indian woman as she filled the dishpan with water from the big black tea kettle. After she had dropped the bar of yellow soap into it, she scraped the plates and slid them into the sudsy water.

By rote alone, she brought the kitchen to order, her mind on the glum man outside. She knew now that she loved Chase Donlin with a deep and abiding love and that things could not go on as they were. It was evident she couldn't stay on here. She must think of another place to go, another way to get on with her life.

But where and how? The question drummed at her mind. How did a lone female with only a horse and rifle to her name go out into a world she knew nothing about and survive? She knew another way of life existed outside the wilderness; Mama had told her of the big cities, paved streets with big fancy stores where one could buy dresses of silk, taffatas, sheer muslins. She had spoken of the milliners with beautifully created bonnets of fine straw, satin or fur, gaily decorated with ribbons and flowers.

Raegan looked down at her faded calico dress. The question was, did she want the finery Mama had described so glowingly? She didn't really think so. She had never known such, and consequently had never hungered for it.

She dried the last pot and hung the dish towel on its peg, then walked through the parlor and out to the big front porch. She would stay there until the men went to bed: then she'd fill the wooden tub with water on the back porch and take a leisurely bath.

Raegan sat down on the top step and propped her elbows on her bent knees. Resting her chin on her palm, she gazed out into the darkness. In the thick and lonely silence there came the mournful howling of wolves, the hoot of an owl, and the weird, wild scream of a panther—all familar sounds to her now. She sighed softly. She loved this vast and silent wilderness, and she was loath to leave it.

But leave it she must, Raegan reminded herself. There was only heartache for her here.

Her mind kept returning to the only plausible solution to the problem of where to go. She would return to Minersville, stay at the shack, and resume doing the miners' laundry. She would live frugally, save her money, and eventually move on to the kind of large city her mother had talked about, even though the thought didn't appeal to her.

"And do what when I get there?" she asked herself. Since she could remember, she had lived in mining camps. That kind of life hadn't equipped her with the knowledge of how to earn a living. It was true she could cook—plain basic meals, but nothing fancy unless she followed the recipes in Grandmother Molly's cookbook.

She was a crack shot with a rifle or gun and could ride like an Indian, but what call would there be for such talents in a big city?

She did have a good education. Her mother had been very strict about the four hours set aside every day for lessons. And she was well read, thanks to the books Anne O'Keefe had brought from home as a young bride, hauling them from one mining camp to another. Maybe she could find a position as a schoolteacher.

Raegan turned her head slightly when she heard Jamie and Chase enter the kitchen. She listened until she heard their footsteps go down the hall and enter their respective rooms. When she heard the sound of two doors closing, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen, where the lamp still burned.

It took several minutes to carry water to the tub and then bring a gown, towel, soap, and washcloth from her room. But finally her preparations were done and she stepped into the warm bath. With a big sigh, she sat down in the water, then grinned ruefully. She had used up most of her energy preparing everything. When it grew a little warmer, she would use the river as Chase and Jamie did.

The soreness went out of Raegan's muscles as she lathered her body with the rose-scented soap. But soon the warmth of the day faded as true night came on, and goose bumps stood up on her flesh. She hurriedly rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. After a brisk rubbing with the towel, she slipped the nightgown over her head.

Still hurrying, she tossed her soiled clothing into the bathwater to soak overnight, then added Chase's and Jamie's clothes, which had been crammed in a wooden box at the end of the porch. She had started the men doing that the second day she was there.

Minutes later, she was crawling into bed. Annoyingly, although she was relaxed, she was wide awake. Still niggling at her brain was the question of why Chase had changed so. One thing she knew for sure—before she left here, she was going to find out. She would tackle him about it tomorrow, then she would leave.

No, by God! She suddenly sat up in bed. Enough was enough! They would talk about it tonight. She would never get to sleep until the air was cleared between them.

Raegan swung her feet to the floor, and holding tightly to her courage, she slipped quietly down the hall and silently entered Chase's room.

The full moon, riding in a cloudless sky, shone through the open window and bathed Chase's face in soft shadows. He lay on his back, and she stood for long moments feasting her eyes on the firm mouth relaxed now in sleep, the dark lashes that were almost as long as her own and cast dark crescents on his high cheekbones.

A lock of his curling brown hair lay against his forehead and she had to stop herself from smoothing it back on his head.
Stop it!
she commanded herself. What was wrong with her, standing there with her mouth watering over him like a child gazing at a candy stick?
Get on with what you came here for.

Raegan swallowed, then timidly laid a hand on

Chase's wrist, not to startle him but to wake him slowly. She gave a start when suddenly she was looking into his slumberous dark eyes.

And while she stood over him, her outstretched hand arrested in midair, he silently reached for her.

With a little sigh, she went down on the bed and into his arms. She gave a soft gasp as she came up against his bare chest and realized that he was bare beneath the sheet. He groaned her name, then his hot, hungry lips were taking command of hers.

Raegan was unprepared for the hot, liquid desire that flooded through her veins. She wrapped her arms around Chase's broad shoulders, breathing his name, instinctively arching her body into his. She felt the pressure of his virility press against her stomach, and hunger for the unknown raced through her in waves.

She murmured a protest when he drew away from her, afraid that he would order her from his bed. She relaxed when, settling back on his heels, Chase grasped the hem of her gown and began sliding it up her body. When the garment was past her hips, she raised up so he could lift it over her head.

He tossed it on the floor and they knelt, facing each other. Raegan shivered convulsively when Chase leaned forward and caressed his tongue across her sensitive, passion-swollen nipples. When she gave a soft moan, his mouth opened over one breast and drew it into his mouth. Her fingers stroked through his hair as he suckled her, moving from one breast to the other until both were hard peaks of desire.

Chase straighted up then and gently pushed her back onto the bed. He stretched out beside her and, propping his head on his palm, he let his eyes drift over her body, which glistened silvery in the moonlight.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered and slid his palm up and down the silken texture of her stomach.

Raegan lay perfectly still, afraid that if she moved she would break the spell Chase seemed to be under. Lately his moods had been like quicksilver; moving up and down, keeping her in a state of unrest and confusion. She didn't think she could bear it if he drew away from her now.

A sigh of relief fluttered through her lips when he lay down and drew her into his arms. Her eyes closed as his fingers stroked her face, her throat, then moved to her breasts. She squirmed in delight as he gently pulled and teased her nipples, not stopping until they were hard and extended. A soft little moan filtered through her lips when he bent his head and opened his mouth over the breast that wasn't crushed against him. As his tongue laved, his teeth nibbled, he took her hand and slid it down his flat muscular stomach to the long, thick length of him that pulsated like something alive.

He lifted his head and whispered huskily, "Hold me, honey. Stroke me the way you have in so many of my dreams."

Shy, but eager, Raegan's slim fingers closed round him, marveling at his size. She wondered fleetingly if she would be able to accept all that power inside her.

She forgot everything as Chase's own hand slid down to the apex of her thighs, massaged a moment, then slid a finger between the lips nestled in silken, curly hair. He began to suckle her again, at the same time moving his finger deeper inside her, sliding it back and forth in rhythm with his drawing lips.

Raegan caught the slow pace and slid her cupped palm up and down his hard manhood rhythmically. The rasp of their larbored breathing filled the room as each came dangerously close to climaxing.

When Chase lifted his head and removed his hand, Raegan looked questioningly at him from desire-glazed eyes. "What's wrong?" she whispered, coming up on her elbows.

"Nothin', sweetheart." He gently spread her thighs wider. "I just can't wait any longer to get inside you. You want me there, don't you?" he whispered as he climbed between her legs and hung over her.

Raegan could only nod eagerly as she laid her head back on the pillow.

She felt Chase's controlled hunger as his hands gripped her hips, lifting them up against his. "It's gonna hurt at first, love," he murmured huskily, "but only for a moment."

Covering her lips with his, he raised his body away from her far enough to reach his hand between them and take his painfully throbbing arousal in his hand. He slid it slowly inside her narrow opening, then with one firm shove of his hips, pushed through the thin membrane, burying his length inside her. He caught her expected cry in his mouth, at the same time stroking her quivering body. When he felt the tenseness leaving her, he raised his head and smiled gently at her.

"Are you all right now?" he whispered, stroking his fingers down her cheek.

Raegan nodded and returned his caress. He dropped a kiss on her lips, the slid his hands beneath her narrow hips. And though he wondered at the delicacy of her body—could she really bear his largeness moving inside her?—he was powerless to withdraw from her. He held still a moment, sheathed inside her like a well-fitting leather glove, then mentally asked her forgiveness as he began to move slowly, keeping his eyes on her face, looking for any pain that might change her expression.

She wore only a look of sensual delight, and when her slenderness reached for him, wanting more of his man's strength, he breathed his deep relief. He began a rhythmic thrusting of his hips, sliding his arousal in and out of her, making the bed squeak, making his friend in the next room grin in the darkness.

When Chase felt Raegan's quivering response, knew she was fast reaching that crest of the little death, he gathered her close and bucked his hips furiously.

They clung to each other's lips drowning their ecstatic cries as wave after wave of release washed over them.

Chase slumped against Raegan with a groan, his hands clutching the sheet, his breathing fast and harsh. Never had he felt so whole, so complete.

Then, as gradually he was depleted of all passion, it seeped into his mind what he had done. He had lost control in his half-sleeping state and had made love to Anne's daughter. Not only had he possessed Raegan, he had taken her virginity. He had ruined her chance of someday marrying a decent man who would expect her to be chaste on their wedding night.

Filled with an anger of self-contempt, he rolled off Raegan and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at, but not seeing, his fists clenched on his knees. What if he had gotten Raegan with child? In his earth-shattering release, it hadn't entered his mind to withdraw, to spill. his seed onto the bed.

And Raegan, her mind whirling in confusion at Chase's abrupt action, lay in troubled silence. Was he reverting to his old coolness? Surely not— not after what they had just shared. She sat up and touched him shyly on the shoulder. "What's wrong, Chase?" she whispered.

"Everything is wrong." He shrugged her hand away and left the bed to go stare out the window. "This should have never happened," he said coldly, "and it won't happen again."

"But why not?" Raegan's voice trembled. "It was beautiful, our love-making. How can you say it was wrong?"

Chase whirled away from the window and stalked over to the bed. "You're my sister's daughter. I'm supposed to take care of you, not use you."

Pain, and a stirring of anger, gripped Raegan. Mama hadn't been his blood sister and he knew it. So why was he acting like their coming together had been incestuous?

Because he isn't attracted to me that way,
Raegan answered her own question. I just happened to be here when his body needed release.

She looked up at Chase and asked quietly, "Is that what happened, Chase? You used me? Like you use the whores at the village tavern?" She did not put Liza Jenkins in the same category. He cared for the widow.

Chase stared down at the delicate, lovely face, the pain-shadowed eyes, and clenched his fists. Of course he hadn't used her. He had made love to her with all the completeness that the word implied. This act had been a first for him. But that still didn't make it right, and if Raegan had any romantic notions about him, he must kill them right now.

He swallowed hard a couple of times, then answered cruelly, "Yes, I used you."

A shattered look spread over Raegan's face. Unable to watch her anguish, Chase turned away and started to walk back to the window. He took one step, and a bundle of fury stood in his path. As he stared in surprise, Raegan's hand flashed through the air, staggering him with a slap across the face. As he gaped at her, his hand going to the white imprint of her fingers, she grabbed her gown and ran from the room.

His cheek smarting, Chase stared at the empty doorway, repressing the desire to go after Raegan. For though he knew she was hurting, there was nothing he could say that would ease her pain—nor his feeling of guilt. With a ragged sigh, he lay back down on the rumpled bed, catching Raegan's scent as he pulled the sheet up over him.

"Oh, Anne," he whispered, "why couldn't your only child have been a boy?"