Authors: Norah Hess
Mountain Rose (27 page)
Supper was a quiet meal without Raegan's presence. When Star had inquired of Chase if she should call Reagan to supper, he had answered that right now, sleep was more important to this wife than food. "Her nerves are pretty raw right now," he'd added.
That remark led to the discussion of Roscoe. Where was he hiding? Was the Tillamook woman still alive? And that topic led to the Tillamook men. How safe were they to sleep at night with the warring braves prowling around? Their favorite cruelty to the white man was setting fire to his cabin, burning to death anyone inside it.
By the time the meal was eaten and the coffee drunk, it was decided that from now on when they retired at night, Chase and Jamie would take turns watching the cabin.
Chase and Jamie smoked their after-supper cigarette at the table, Jamie watching Star through narrowed lids as she cleared the table and washed the dishes. The swish of her shapely little rear end and the bounce of her perfectly shaped breasts brought his maleness to full attention.
"Forget it, feller," he told himself, crossing his legs to hide his condition from Chase.
The clock struck nine and Chase stood up. "I'll take the first watch, Jamie," he said. "I'll wake you up around midnight."
"Where will you be?" Jamie rose to his feet.
"Out in the barn, I guess," Chase answered after a thoughtful pause.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Star frowned at Chase. "When Paw is huntin' deer in the early mornin' hours, he looks for the most uncomfortable spot he can find. He claims if a man gets himself all cozy settled, he might fall asleep."
Jamie looked at Star's serious little face and couldn't resist teasing her. "Would you advise us to climb a tree, then? The fear of fallin' and breakin' our necks should keep us awake."
Star heard the amusement in Jamie's voice but didn't rise to it as she usually did. She only answered, "And keep you alert, too."
"It's not a bad idea, you know," Chase said after Jamie stopped laughing, "and I'm gonna try it. That big old pine back of the barn will be easy to climb, and I remember as a kid I could see for miles around if I climbed high enough."
He picked up his rifle leaning against the wall next to the door. "I suggest you go to bed now, Jamie. Midnight will be here before you know it."
Jamie was leaning on a supporting post staring out into the darkness when Star stepped onto the porch for a breath of cool air. It was stiffling in the kitchen. And not much better out here, she realized, walking over to stand beside Jamie.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked. "Midnight is gonna be here before you know it."
"Yeah, pretty soon. I thought I'd walk along the river for a while. It's usually cool there." He slid Star a look from the corners of his eyes. "You care to go with me?"
Star looked over her shoulder to the lamp-lit kitchen. "I guess it'll be all right to leave Raegan alone for a while. Chase said she was sleepin'."
"She'll be fine." Jamie took her hand and led her down the porch steps. He grinned and remarked as they headed toward the river, "Chase is roostin' up there with the birds. He'll know if anyone comes around."
"I still say it's a good idea that he's up in a tree." Star gave Jamie's arm a whack with her hard little fist. "Paw knows about such things. He learned them from the Indians."
"Do you believe everything
Paw
tells you?"
"Yes I do. He's a wise old man."
"Did he tell you to beware of men?" Jamie's eyes teased her.
"You mean men like you?" Star bantered back.
"Yeah, I guess. Men like me."
"He said to be especially careful of breeds," Star teased now.
"You little devil." Jamie grabbed at her and missed as she swiftly eluded his hand. "He said that breeds are womanizers." Star ran down the path that was brightly lit by the full moon. "He says that they are only—" The rest of the sentence died in her throat as her foot slid on a hidden tree root. She flung out a hand, grabbing Jamie's arm as he laughingly overtook her.
Jamie's mirth died away, and Star stared up at the erratic pulse in his jawline. He gazed down at her a second, then with a groan and blind urgency he pulled her into his arms. He felt the tensing of her young body and whispered, "Please don't fight me now, my
match-squa-thi peshewa."
For a moment Star leaned into Jamie, losing herself in the heat and hardness of his body. She pulled back then and asked in a trembling voice, "Are you playin' games with me, Jamie?"
Jamie gazed into the lovely little face raised to him. It was no game he played. He wanted her, had wanted her from the first time she called him breed. He hadn't realized it then, but he knew it now. He loved the wildness in her, the way her eyes could spit fire one minute, then become gentle when she looked at a baby animal or stroked Lobo's head with her small hand. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman.
He forgot about Chase's warning, because it didn't signify. He would never dishonor Star Daniels. If she would have him, he'd marry her tomorrow.
His voice husky, his desire for her making it almost impossible to speak, he answered Star softly. "I'm not playin' at any game, Star. I want you so desperately that I hurt to the very depth of my soul."
"You will not love me, then leave me?"
"Never would I leave you. Only
Moneto
could ever make me go away from you."
"I am yours then," Star whispered and raised a slender hand to lay against his cheek, "for I feel the same way about you."
"You'll never be sorry, Star, I swear it to you," Jamie said huskily, his arms tightening about her. His mouth opened over hers in famished need, and when his hand cupped a small, perfect breast he could feel the wild beat of her heart.
In the warm, soft night they disrobed, Jamie spreading his shirt on the ground for Star to lie on. He came down beside her and took her exquisite little body into his arms. He felt her tremble and he asked softly, "Are you afraid of what is about to happen?"
"A little," her voice broke weakly. "It is somethin' I have never done before."
Jamie smiled at her innocent words, his chest tightening with his love for her. "Don't be frightened," he whispered, "It's going to be the grandest experience you've ever had."
He dropped his head between her breasts and gently drew a passion-hardened nipple into his mouth. Star gasped her pleasure as he suckled her and held his head close to her chest. Her body seemed to vibrate as he stroked a hand over her, moving ever closer to the dark triangle of hair that protected her virginity.
His probbing finger found her hot and moist, and he lifted his head to whisper as he slid a leg between hers, "I'm going to make you mine now, Star, for all time."
"Yes," she breathed, and covering her lips with his, her little cry of pain was captured in his mouth as he thrust inside her, breaking the barrier that had been there for sixteen years.
Later, when they lay in each other's arms, their hearts pounding, their breathing a harsh sound in the quiet air, Jamie leaned up and looked into Star's eyes. He saw neither embarrassment nor contrition in them. He gave her a hard kiss and said gently, "I expect we should get dressed and head back to the cabin."
"Yes," Star answered, sitting up. "Soon it will be time for you to relieve Chase."
Jamie helped her into her clothes, then, as he picked the pine needles out of her hair, he said huskily, "Tomorrow we will make our plans."
"Plans?" Star looked up at him uncertainly.
"Plans for our life together after we're married," Jamie answered, drawing on his buckskins. "We must decide which world we're going to live in. The white man's or the Indian's."
"Oh," Star said, then grew quiet. She knew where they would live. They would live with Paw. She smiled. There would be time enough to talk about such arrangements later. Right now, her heart was too full of happiness.
Two weeks passed with Chase and Jamie taking turns watching the cabin at night. They had seen no Indians and no sign of Roscoe, but the women were never left alone. It appeared that the same precautions were being practiced in other homes. Few men, and no women, were seen in the village these days. Big Pine was becoming a ghost town and the people asked each other when the stubborn Tillamooks were going to give in to the fact that no one there had their woman.
They waited eagerly for Rafferty to bring Roscoe in.
Meanwhile, Rafferty was closing in on Roscoe, although he didn't know it. But Roscoe knew. He had seen the burly, bearded man from the cave where he and the woman were holed up. He could see him now, off in the forest, moving slowly along, his eyes on the ground searching for signs. It would be but a matter of time before he found the cave.
Roscoe moved back into the dim interior, his gimlet eyes glittering like those of a trapped animal. He was hungry; he hadn't eaten in two days. He hadn't dared leave his place of concealment to hunt for game. Luckily, a spring ran across the back of the cave, and he at least had water. The woman moaned, and he sprang at her, delivering a sharp kick to her leg.
"Shut your yap, you red bitch," he growled, "or I'll cut your damn tongue out." He looked anxiously over his shoulder, afraid that Rafferty had heard the woman. But it remained quiet outside, and when he crept to the cave's opening and peered outside, he saw Rafferty walking away from the vicinity of his hiding place.
But the fat man knew that he was safe only for the time being. It was known in the village that their best tracker never gave up on whatever prey he was after. "I've got to get the hell away from here," he muttered. He would leave Oregon altogether. He would find a boat or a canoe and paddle down the Platte as far as he could go.
"And I hope the Tillamooks swarm over the village and kill every bastard there." Without a glance at the moaning woman, knowing that she would soon die without food, he left the cave on foot. His horse had wandered away the day after he had visited the Donlin place.
The woman, having picked up some English from her captor, knew that Roscoe wouldn't return. She began a slow crawl toward the narrow opening, praying that she would find someone who would help her.
It was an evening in the last days of August when Chase prepared to climb the big pine and take up his watch. He grabbed a tree branch, started to pull himself up among the branches, then paused. He had heard a low moan coming from the barn. He froze, his head cocked, listening intently. Had the sound of pain come from a woman? It had sounded feminine, but what if it had really been that of a man pretending—a Tillamook trying to lure him out in the open where a well-aimed tomahawk could split his skull.
While he hesitated, trying to make up his mind, the moan came again. This time it was stronger, and definitely that of a woman in distress. His first thought was that Roscoe had the Indian woman in the barn and was abusing her in some manner.
His hopes high of capturing the man to take him across the river and make him admit his crime to the Tillamooks, Chase crouched low and moved from beneath the pine. Then, as quickly as he could in his stooped position, he ran across the moonlit stretch of land to the dark bulk of the barn. He leaned his ear against the wall, alert for any sound inside.
For several seconds, he heard nothing. Then a long, drawn-out moan of intense pain drifted through the crack where his cheek rested. He straightened up. There was a woman in there, and as far as he could tell, she was alone. A neighbor woman? Maybe one who had been taken prisoner by some Tillamooks and had managed to escape them?
His hand on his Colt, just in case the woman wasn't alone, Chase ran alongside the building until he came to the door that stood open. He darted in and stood to one side so he would not be silhouetted in the open doorway, accustoming his eyes to the deeper darkness. He had no way of knowing what awaited him in the shadows.
A rustling of hay and a keening wail brought his eyes swerving to the stall at the end of the barn. He moved on silent feet until, standing on his toes, he could stare down into the enclosed space.
Chase recognized the Tillamook woman immediately. She lay on her side, her knees drawn up, making little mewling noises. After a careful look to see if Roscoe might be hiding somewhere, he swung open the stall door and knelt down beside the woman. When he laid a hand on her shoulder, a frightened cry escaped her. When he left his hand where it was, she rolled over on her back, staring up at him out of wild eyes.
"Good Lord!" Chase's eyes looked a little wild too as he stared at the woman's swollen stomach. "I'll not hurt you," he said gently. "I'm just gonna carry you to my cabin. This is no place to have your baby."
The woman's pain-filled eyes searched his face, and Chase thought he saw recognition in them. At any rate, she nodded her assent. He carefully scooped her up in his arms, thinking that she was nothing but skin and bones, that she weighed less than a hundred pounds, baby and all.
He reached the cabin with his feather-weight burden and kicked the heavy door. When he heard chairs scraping and Star give a startled yelp, he called out, "It's me. Hurry, let me in."
There came the scrape of the inside bar being lifted, then Jamie stood staring at the poor creature in Chase's arms. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as Chase brushed past him, the woman's face contorted in pain.
Raegan's hands flew to her mouth. "It's the Tillamook woman!"
"And about to give birth any minute," Chase said grimly. "Where shall I put her?"
"Put her in my room." Star ran down the hall and flung open her door.
Chase lay the laboring woman on the bed, then turned to the others crowded in behind him. "Do either of you girls know anything about birthin' a baby?"
Raegan and Star shook their heads helplessly. Neither had ever been around a baby, much less helped one into the world.
Three pairs of startled eyes jumped to Jamie when he said in businesslike tones, "I know how to go about it. I watched my grandmother deliver a few when I was a youngster."
"You were allowed to watch?" Chase looked at Jamie, doubt in his eyes.
An embarrassed red spread over the young man's face. "No one knew I was watchin'. My grandmother would have skinned the hide off me, had she known."
"What an ornery teenager you were," Raegan rebuked him, "But thank God that in this instance you were."
Jamie grinned at Raegan, then became very serious. "Boil me a big pot of water, find some strong thread, and I'll need a lot of clean rags— white ones if you have them."
As Raegan and Star hurried from the room, he called after them. "And Raegan, I may need your help. I think it would comfort her to have a female around."
Raegan nodded, and as she and Star left the room, she said to Star, "You go heat the water while I find the thread and tear up a sheet."
At first Raegan was embarrassed when Jamie pulled the suffering woman's dirty doeskin shift up past her waist, exposing her thin, bruised legs, bony hips, and contorted stomach. Her face became as red as the beets she had dug out of her garden yesterday when Jamie, after scrubbing his hands with soap and hot water, made a through examination of the expectant woman.
But when she saw the worried seriousness on his face as he gently pressed the woman's stomach, then just as gently probbed her private parts with a finger, she knew he was doing what a doctor or a midwife would do. She thanked God that Jamie Hart was there.
Raegan, doing what she could to ease the woman's suffering, bathed her face and several times lifted her head to sip at a glass of cool water. She had also brought in a bowl of clear chicken broth, and the woman had swallowed it so fast that tears had sprung to Raegan's eyes.
"God knows the last time she had anything to eat." Jamie said, his own eyes damp.
When the woman began moaning in one long continuing sound, Jamie made a second examination. When he straightened up, he said, "She'll deliver any time now. The baby is small, and thankfully it's comin' out head-first."
He brushed the sweat-damp hair off the soon-to-be mother. "Poor soul," he murmured. "She's hemorrhaging and she's half starved." His tone said it didn't look good for the woman.
Five minutes later, Jamie said in hushed tones, "Here it comes. It's about over."
Raegan watched with hypnotic fascination as a small head covered with short black hair appeared between its mother's thin, bruised legs. She held her breath when narrow shoulders followed, then stopped.
Jamie darted a look at the woman's face and saw that she was too weak to bear down, to push the baby out. He very gently supported the tiny head and shoulders and eased the baby from her body. "A boy!" he whispered, almost in awe as he looked into Raegan's sparkling eyes.
He looked back down at the infant when it made its first weak mewling cry and exclaimed softly, "Good Lord, he's pure Indian. She must have been with child when Roscoe took her."
Jamie busied himself with tying off the cord, and Raegan knelt at the new mother's head. Holding her thin hands, she said gently, "You have a boy."
A leap of joy shone in the black eyes a moment before they began to glaze over. "Promise." She tried to squeeze Raegan's hands for emphasis, "take Papoose ... to father ... He chief... of. . . tribe."
