Wyoming Wildfire (28 page)

“You’re an admirable woman, Rachel. Take a lesson, Sibyl. Never try to coddle a man.”

“I won’t,” Sibyl replied, stung. “I’ve never found one who could properly appreciate it.” Immediately she wished she could recall those words. The light of challenge flamed in Burch’s eyes; there was no way of telling what terrible things he might do when he looked like that. “Of course, I don’t know anything about cowboys,” she added quickly. “ Maybe they’re different.”

“Backing down?” Burch challenged.

“Of course not. I don’t have time for silly games.” It was a lame excuse, but her mind was too numb to think of anything better. Mercifully, he left it at that, and a morning spent working with silent, placid Rachel did much to restore her composure, enabling her to face Burch over lunch with a show of outward calm.

The next two days passed blissfully, with the two of them engaged in their separate duties during the day, then joined for unimaginable pleasures at night. Sibyl began to think of the daytime, her work, and Rachel with resentment; they formed a bar to her complete union with Burch. Then on the third morning, Lasso sent over a message that the girls were better and that she could expect Augusta the next day. Now the empty morning hours were invested with new importance; they separated her from the last evening with Burch.

Her mind was so thoroughly taken up with Burch that Rachel began to feel concerned about her.

“You feeling all right this morning?” Rachel asked diffidently.

“Why do you ask?” Sibyl replied defensively.

“You aren’t acting quite right. It’s not good for you to be so pale.”

“I guess I’m just worn down from nursing Burch on top of having all this food to put up for the winter.”

“I guess that’s it,” Rachel responded, but she watched Sibyl more closely after that. Sibyl made a determined effort not to betray how completely her thoughts were taken up by Burch.

Being able to get out again had reinvigorated Burch’s interest in the ranch, and when Jenkins joined them for lunch the talk soon centered on ranch business. Sibyl’s only contribution was to say that she wanted more space for a garden, better pens for the livestock, and a more extensive orchard. Foreseeing an increase in his importance, Balaam tried to involve her in a long discussion on just how many pens they needed, the kinds of trees necessary for pollination, and the varieties that would do best in Wyoming’s severe climate, but Sibyl absently agreed to all his suggestions. Her mind was on Burch, and there was no room left for root stock and cross-pollination. The inner tension was nearly unbearable, but she kept telling herself to wait. They would have the whole evening all to themselves.

But Sibyl’s hopes plummeted when Burch came in that evening nearly exhausted after insisting upon riding Silver Birch instead of using the wagon. Again cows dominated they conversation; this time it was the terrible condition of the herds. The more Burch talked about the herds, the more desperate Sibyl became. Her dreams of a wondrous evening spent in his arms receded slowly but steadily. She tried to think of other things, but her thoughts were riveted on his body as never before. Her gaze fastened itself on one powerful forearm, and all her concentration centered on that arm, the swell of muscles as they traveled from wrist to elbow, the supple wrist and the powerful hand that flared out from it. The simple thought of those hands hypnotized her; for three nights they had caused her to experience sensations she had never dreamed were possible. They had brought her body to a new sense of itself and the potential it had for pleasure for both of them. Sibyl felt as though she were on the threshold of a new awareness she had just begun to explore, and Augusta’s return meant that their time together was almost at an end. Her body and soul ached to have Burch to herself, to turn his thoughts to her alone, but still he talked on and on about those everlasting cows.

Nothing changed after dinner. The men talked business over coffee while Rachel and Sibyl cleaned up. Sibyl felt like she never wanted to see a cow again; not only had they nearly killed the man she loved so passionately, the continued to keep him from her now that he was well.

“Lasso says that he’s bringing Augusta back to us tomorrow,”

Sibyl blurted out during a pause in the conversation.

The news had no effect on anyone except Burch, but the results were all Sibyl had hoped for. Burch was no longer interested in cows, and though Jenkins and Ned continued their discussion, he contributed less and less and glanced more and more frequently in her direction. She met his glance and read in it the same desire that filled her.

“I think I’ll go to bed a little early tonight,” she said, getting up with a convincing yawn. There’s no need to leave because of me,” she protested when the men stood up to go.

But she didn’t discourage them when Ned and Balaam took themselves off. Rachel went off to do a few final chores in the kitchen, leaving Jenkins still talking to Burch. Sibyl heard the back door close behind Rachel as she mounted the stairs.

The room was icy cold, and Sibyl undressed and climbed into bed quickly. She had barely curled up in a tiny ball in the freezing bed when the back door closed after Jenkins and she heard Burch taking the stairs two at a time. He headed straight for her room. He wasted no time on words; he began taking off his clothes before the door had time to shut.

Even in Sibyl’s great anxiety to have him next to her, it seemed like only seconds before the bed sank abruptly on one side. The soothing warmth that radiated from his body flowed into hers, relaxing her muscles and enabling her to ignore the cold that enveloped her.

“I didn’t expect Jenkins to leave so quickly.’’

“He didn’t want to, but I told him I’d send him to Pennsylvania if he said another word about hay. Jenkins hates trains and easterners above all else.”

“I don’t care what Jenkins hates,” Sibyl murmured, running her hands through the tight, curly hair on Burch’s chest and biting playfully at his ear. “I’d much rather talk about what you like.” The fingers in the hair began an odyssey toward the sparser hair of his abdomen.

“You don’t seem to need any help,” Burch said with a shudder, his whole body in the sudden grip of desire. “ Let those fingers travel any further south and you’ll find out what I like plenty damn quick.”

“Are you threatening me?” Sibyl teased, dipping lower into the thickly matted hair between his legs and then making a rapid retreat.

“Yes” grunted Burch, barely able to contain himself. “I’m threatening to devour you in one gulp.”

“I don’t think you can do that,” Sibyl said, letting her fingers dip again until they came into contact with his enflamed manhood.

“I warn you, you’re playing with fire,” Burch said, tottering on the edge of madness.

“But I’m so cold,” Sibyl said, boldly closing her fingers about him. “A fire would keep me warm.” With a groan that sounded barely human, Burch pounced upon her, crushing her lips in a searing kiss while roughly spreading her thighs with his legs. His hands sought her breasts, kneading them into painfully sensitive peaks that welcomed the heated caress of his lips. He drove into her, roughly and impatiently.

Sibyl rose to meet him, equally impatient to draw him inside her, to have him satisfy a need from so deep within that it seemed she would never be free of its urgency. She clung desperately to him, reveling in his rough strength. With dizzying speed he drove her along the spiral of sensations that lifted her from the earthbound existence and cast her into some radiant sphere, where they alone occupied the swirling, speeding orbit. Then, before she could ready herself, her whole being erupted into a shower of multicolored sparks, and she seemed to disintegrate, to be shattered by the explosion within her.

Chapter 18

“Will it ever stop snowing?” Sibyl asked for the sixth time that morning. The blizzard had been blowing for ten days and it was as if the world outside the house had ceased to exist. “If it doesn’t stop soon, nobody will be able to come to the party.” But she really wasn’t thinking about the Christmas party; she was thinking about Burch, who had left the ranch house two days after Augusta returned from Lasso’s.

“I can’t expect the boys to keep on risking their lives while I stay here,” he explained when, in dismay, Sibyl objected to his intention to join the men on the range.

“But you’re not well yet,” she pleaded, grasping at any excuse to keep him near her.

His eyes rested on her with a contentment born of four blissful nights spent in her arms. “I’ll well enough.”

“Are you sure you will be safe?” asked Augusta. The snow seems to have stopped, at least for now, but the ground is still covered and the drifts make it very treacherous. I wouldn’t have risked it myself, but I could not reconcile it with my conscience to leave Sibyl alone any longer.”

“I know every foot of this ranch, even under snow, and I intend to be very careful. It would be terribly unfair to condemn you to a sick room for the third time in three months.”

“What do you have to do that somebody else can’t do just as well?” Sibyl asked, too upset to consider the implications of her question.

“Are you trying to make me justify my position?” Sibyl blushed vividly and stammered an apology, an occurrence so unprecedented that Augusta was at once astounded and wide-eyed with curiosity as to what could have brought about this incredible change. But there were so many preparations to be made for Burch’s departure that Augusta soon forgot her questions. After that they became deeply involved in plans for the Christmas party, and even with Rachel’s help there was more than enough to keep them occupied for two weeks.

Then the snow had started, and Balaam thoughtlessly announced that they were in for a real blizzard this time. “It’s going to be a real bad winter,” he said cheerfully. “The boys saw an Arctic owl coming in from Montana, and the Indians say there hasn’t been one of them this far south in fifty years.”

That blithely uttered prediction caused Sibyl to became so jumpy and preoccupied that for a while Augusta was afraid she meant to go looking for Burch herself.

“No sense worrying about Mr. Burch,” Balaam said as though he read her thoughts. They got line cabins all over, and every one of those chaps took enough food outta’ here to last a month. I suspect some of them don’t mind being snowed in. It beats riding through drifts waist high trying to save cows too stupid to know what’s good for them.”

“But the cabins aren’t very big and they’re terribly uncomfortable.”

“It don’t need much comfort to make it better than a bedroll. After chasing cows in the hot and the cold and the wet and the dry for nigh onto nine months, it’s a real pleasure to lay back and not move until the coffee cup’s empty.”

Sibyl’s worry was only partially allayed. Temperatures were falling to ten and twenty degrees below zero, the ground was like iron, and streams froze right down to bedrock. How could any man caught in such a storm survive? She didn’t dare think of what the range stock were suffering. Even with the protection of sheds and plenty of feed and water, it was taking all of Ned and Balaam’s time to keep the livestock alive. “If it gets any colder, some of them is going to freeze,” Balaam remarked pessimistically.

As the days went by, one after another filled with driving snow and continuing silence from the range, Sibyl’s face took on a gaunt look and her eyes appeared to sink into their sockets. She spent long moments staring out the window, hoping to see Burch emerge from the swirling snow even though she knew he would be much safer in one of the cabins. Augusta had time to remember her curiosity but decided it was not a good time to probe Sibyl’s feelings.

“It’s a good thing we had the party to plan,” Augusta said as Sibyl sat staring into space over her task. “It would have been very difficult to get through these long days without it.”

“It won’t do a bit of good if no one can get here. This is the third blizzard already, and Balaam says the worst part of the winter always comes after New Year’s.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about that, so it’s best not to dwell on it. You can help me make sure I get the spruce boughs spaced evenly. I can’t see from here.”

Sibyl tried to keep her mind occupied, but their long confinement left them with nothing to do but work on the party, and now their preparations were nearing completion.

Rows of cakes, pies, and pastries lined the pantry shelves awaiting the twelve guests who would spend three days and two nights at the Elkhorn. Beds were made, blankets stacked in each corner, and meals planned down to the last dish. With only a few last minute tasks remaining, her mind was prey to constant worry.

But not all her thoughts centered around Burch; part of her mind was given over to probing her own heart. She couldn’t come to grips with feelings that were now as ambivalent about love as they earlier had been about Burch. She wanted Burch at her side every minute but would have driven him away if he had not left on his own. She didn’t trust him out of her sight but would have entrusted her life to him without hesitation. She was afraid for him and wanted to protect him but knew she couldn’t love a man who avoided danger. She didn’t want anyone to know she was in love and suffering the anguish of the damned, but she longed to shout to the whole world that it was she, out of all women, that he had chosen.

Would it last? What would she do if it didn’t? Could she see him day after day, knowing he would never hold her in his arms again, never drive her wild with his hot kisses and insistent hands? She knew she couldn’t. After despairing of love for so long, it was now too precious for her to give up. There could be no going back. That door was closed forever.