The Beholding, page 8
“Forty seconds, lady.”
Wasting no more time, she shook Tommie awake and ignored his sleepy whimpering. By the time she dressed him, the wagon jarred into motion, and Jim Daggert shouted at the mules from the driver’s box. Ignoring any more clothes for herself, Tess checked the knottings of the rope strung from each side of the schooner and told Tommie to grab it. With great effort, she scooted around two trunks until both formed a barrier to the back flap. She would not take the chance of Tommie almost falling out again.
“Thammy’s thafe too, Mommie. I got him in that jar Mr. Luke gave me. He punched holes in the top and put a little water in it. Said it would make a safe place for him to ride.”
“That’s wonderful, son. We wouldn’t want him falling out, would we?” After kissing her son quickly on the cheek, Tess crawled onto the driver’s box to sit alongside the gambler. “I’ll take over now.”
“Let her,” Luke ordered as his dun moved up alongside the team. He thumbed up his hat and wiped an arm across his brow, quickly surveying her clothes. “Thought I told you to dress warm. When those skirts get wet, they’ll soak you to the bone.”
“I did as you ordered, Mr. Reeves.” Tess took the reins from Jim and concentrated on the roadway ahead. The moon cast a shadowed light across the land, making visibility nearly impossible. A spatter of rain hit the top of the Conestoga. Another struck Tess’s cheeks. “My son is taken care of, and that’s what matters.”
Jim lowered his hat to shield his face from the droplets. “Let the lady be. She’s been wet before.”
Luke moved back to untie Jim’s horse from the back of the wagon. Surprised by the bounty hunter’s quick accomplishment of the task, Tess wondered if it was merely caution over the storm that had spurred Luke’s compliance or whether the bounty hunter had reason not to challenge Jim.
Like a cougar long practiced in hurdling to the next ledge, the gambler bridged the distance between driver’s box and horse. Reining the animal into a quick trot alongside the team, Jim opted to safeguard the wagon while Luke rode ahead to set the pace, as the rain started to come down heavier.
After they traveled a couple of miles, Tess’s skirts were soaked. She wished now she had not packed away the layers of petticoats, for every jostle of the schooner made the wet cloth burn her thighs.
The team transported them through the night and the recurrent rain. Luke guided them further into the blackjack trees and away from the chance of flood at the Arkansas. After the first several hours, Tess no longer peered into the dark to seek Luke’s tall form on the dun. The mules followed his horse, and though she could not see him, both the animals’ and the gambler’s trust in the bounty hunter calmed her own turbulent premonitions of trouble.
That Luke could see at all through the driving downpour astounded Tess. With the dense thicket providing an endless barricade, how he manage to find a-safe pathway through the unforgiving countryside seemed miraculous.
Despite the brambles and pelting storm, he rode on. Tess shivered and wondered how they could possibly endure more. The only reprieve from the cold came when the mules’ hooves blasted her with steam rising from the water mixing with the warmed underside of overturned earth.
Moisture from her soaked skirts seeped into her high-topped shoes, leadening Tess’s legs beneath the heavy layers of homespun. If their journey continued much longer in this driving rain, her legs would be numb by the time he called a halt.
Tess knew before she began this ride to Colorado it would be difficult, but that didn’t keep her from feeling every ache and pain. She willed her thoughts to better times. To the new beginning she and Tommie would have. If she had the strength to defy her father and refused to be his lure any longer, surely she could suffer this cold and discomfort.
As the team pressed on through the night, the storm gradually slackened. Lightning speared the distance, followed by grumbles of thunder, but their heavenly quarrel moved on to drier ground. The downpour eased into a drizzle. Wind gusted the spatters away, threatening to rip off Tess’s bonnet.
“A little bit further, Jenny. Keep up with her, Jack!” She coaxed the mules, hoping Luke would soon find safe ground.
The tall jack at the lead picked up the pace. Added speed surged through the reins, making Tess’s hands and arms tighten in response. She bit back a groan. Pressing one shoe a bit higher on the wooden footboard, she braced herself for the jarring trot.
“Hold on, Tommie,” Tess instructed him, casting a glance over her shoulders.
“This is fun, Mommie,” Tommie squealed, the sound of his voice a soothing balm to the cold that chilled her skin.
“Hang on to that rope, son,” Tess commanded, “so Mama can hang on to these mules.”
Tommie giggled and began talking like a mute who had just been given voice. His chatter lightened her sense of impending doom, and Tess welcomed the memories as Tommie reminded her of the time he had played monkey across the clothesline she’d strung between two dogwoods near officers’ row.
By the time the wind drove several storm clouds into the distance, the cleansing of the land washed away night shadows and replaced them with the silver-gray promise of dawn.
“When will Luke give the mules a rest?” she shouted to Jim. Luke’s dun could not be seen, and she wondered how far afield he had ridden. Better yet, how long might it take him to circle back and call a halt to this misery?
As though Luke sensed her exhaustion, the dun trotted into view. Tess exhaled a sigh of relief and resumed a normal position on the driver’s box, relaxing the braced stance she had taken to commandeer the team. Her body ached from the constant pull of the reins and bone-jarring roll of the schooner. The thought of resting a few moments on motionless ground and changing into something warm and dry filled her with anticipation.
When Luke signaled Jim to stop, Tess didn’t wait for an invitation and reined in the mules. A quick peek at Tommie assured her he was no worse for wear. The heavy tarpaulin had managed to hold out most of the rain. Hoisting him to her hip, she slid from the driver’s box in a tangle of wet skirts. Her feet touched the ground, tensing her aching muscles with such force that Tess bit back a groan.
Since there was no way of knowing how long they would stop to rest, certain necessities needed to be dealt with. “Behind one of those,” she gently urged the three-year-old toward a copse of dogwood, “and don’t linger.” Something might jump out at you from nowhere, she warned inwardly, keeping her own fear silent so as not to frighten Tommie or, worse … give him any ideas.
“Don’t pick up anything that crawls, either,” she insisted, trying to make light of her thoughts. A shiver rippled down her spine as she thought of the salamander. Tommie collected whatever struck his fancy. In these thickets, no telling what manner of hairy-legged crawler might attract his attention.
Tess eyed the switchgrass closely and bent to pull a handful. With a fearful motion, she yanked it quickly, grateful when her hand returned clutching no surprises. Hurrying to one mule, she began rubbing its flanks with the grass. The animal shivered as her efforts warmed its back.
“Makes you wish you had someone to do that to you, doesn’t it?” Luke asked, walking up behind her.
“Don’t do that.” Tess’s pulse caught in her throat. She had heard no warning of his approach and was forced to take several breaths before she could calm her racing heart.
“I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
His gaze bore into her, and she quickly turned from his curiosity. The man saw things too easily. He might sense that her fear came from something more frightening than having someone walk up on her unannounced.
Tess rubbed down the next mule to keep her mind and hands busy from the disturbing memory Luke evoked. A lock of hair fell down into her face. Before she could wipe it away, he reached out and tucked the strand behind her ear, forcing her bonnet higher. Despite the shadow made by his hat, she became aware of his dark, piercing gaze that held a hint of question.
His hand clamped over hers as she worked. A sliver of warmth snaked up her arm, ending in a coil of tension in the pit of her abdomen.
“Jim and I will take care of the stock.”
Tess heard the subtle change in Luke’s voice. The hat now shielded whatever she thought she recognized in his gaze.
“Walk around while you can,” he instructed. “Don’t want you to get stove-up on us. You can put some dry clothes on if you like, but it’s gonna rain again. If you want to stay dry, you can ride it out in the back with your boy.”
“I’ll drive the wagon.” The schooner might belong to him, but she meant to pull her share of duty.
“Got any trousers?” He glanced at the way the homespun clung to her.
The wet material revealed her figure far too intimately, and Tess fidgeted beneath his inspection. Though trousers might prove just as provocative, the suggestion seemed practical. “Trousers?”
Luke’s lips lifted in a grin as the first rays of dawn danced in his eyes. “Yeah, you know, the things you insisted on wearing this journey … Boss.”
The taunt sunk in as quickly as the question evaporated. She didn’t know whether to laugh at his joke or be insulted. Tess opted for the former. “That’s one for you, Mr. Reeves.”
Luke thumbed up his hat, revealing more of the merriment warming his eyes. “We keeping score, then?”
Liking his playful side far more than the stern-faced counterpart, Tess decided to join his good humor. “If the game calls for it.”
His mouth shifted into a true smile that challenged the hard lines of his face, making Tess’s breath catch. When he smiled, his face became the most handsome she had ever seen. The seductive curve of his lips sent a stab of desire through her. Her body’s response strained against the homespun’s bodice, reminding Tess of the material’s mourning colors.
She ought to be ashamed of herself, but wasn’t. How could she find wrong in feelings she’d never shared with Clifton?
As if he sensed her inner battle, Luke’s mouth straightened into a thin, hard slash. “I don’t play unless I mean to win, Tessa.”
The warning in his voice chilled Tess, despite the way it softened at her name and warmed into an endearment. “Then you better count your chips now, ’cause I don’t intend to lose either,” she replied before turning away and walking toward Jim Daggert.
“Will we be able to make a fire?” she asked while the gambler gathered kindling. “A cup of coffee sounds wonderful. With all this rain, is there a dry piece of wood from here to Kansas?”
Jim motioned toward a small pile of willow he’d collected. “If we put them on slow, one at a time, it’ll make a small fire. Not enough to dry out your clothes, but maybe enough to heat up some grub and make coffee.”
“Sounds good,” Tess said, thinking of the fire Luke had ignited—a low-burning lust that threatened to become a blazing passion.
“Grab your canteen and we’ll fill it with coffee too.” Jim dusted his hat on a pant leg, then settled it back over his chestnut hair. “Reeves’ll want to pull out soon as we’re done eating.”
Tess gathered the soggy folds of her skirts and walked around, warming her cold-stiffened muscles. Her thighs burned so painfully she decided she shouldn’t disregard Luke’s advice about the trousers. Something to keep her thighs from chafing each other would help.
Fortunately, she had stowed a pair of Clifton’s red flannels, trousers and shirt, in the trunk. In the cold of winter, she often wore them beneath her outer attire, enjoying the warmth they gave without anyone’s knowledge. The flannels would ease the soreness.
Tommie now helped Luke with the remaining mules. She knew the trio expected her to prepare the meal as soon as Jim finished making coffee, so she headed for the schooner to quickly gather dry clothing.
Rather than take a chance that one of the men might need something from the wagon, Tess headed for the denser part of the blackjack thicket. She carefully pushed aside low-hanging limbs and bushes and walked a good way before turning to look back. A dim curl of smoke was all that was visible rising from the fire now. Tess draped the fresh clothing on a tree branch and began to undress.
When her leather kid gloves proved obstinate, she bit the tips to force the material away from her cold, throbbing fingers. The many buttons on her shirtwaist offered just as much struggle as the gloves. Finally, Tess unfastened the last button at her waist and peeled away the wet skirt from her legs.
As the garment gave, a rush of cold beaded Tess’s flesh with goose bumps. A deep shiver set her teeth to chattering. She needed no urging to strip off the wet camisole and pantalets and replace them with a chemise and the flannel longjohns. Blessed warmth settled against her skin.
In the same instant, an arm whipped around her and jerked her against a hard, male body. A rough hand cut off her cry of surprise.
“Don’t move.”
Tess couldn’t. Every muscle in her body tensed. Blood surged through her veins. She waited to breathe. To blink. Please, dear God. Not again! The prayer became vocal against the hand cupped over her mouth.
“What if I had been an Indian?” the low voice threatened softly.
No real marauder would be concerned with what could happen; he would do the damage, then leave. “Jim?” she objected as fear left her and anger arrived in its place. Tess twisted to break his hold, but an iron-muscled arm whirled her around to face him. “You?” she gasped.
“Yeah, me. Sorry to disappoint you.” The heat of Luke’s eyes raked over her, making Tess’s insides quiver from the passion burning in their depths.
“I told you never to sneak up on me again!” Anger increased her struggle in his arms. The movement only pressed her more closely against him. Thigh against thigh, Luke’s heat scorched through the flannel from neck to ankle.
Tess’s eyes widened as the desire the bounty hunter had aroused from the moment she met him could no longer be denied.
“You needed to be reminded of the danger, Tessa.” He glared down at her with eyes that promised the pleasures of midnight. His voice lowered to match the seductive look. “Next time you might not be so fortunate.”
Tess tried to jerk free, but he held tight. “Let me go! No man will ever force me again!” She stilled instantly, realizing how much she had revealed.
Luke loosened his hold but held her by one wrist, allowing her distance but not complete release. His other hand shot out and gently cupped her chin, urging her to meet his gaze.
“Again?” The word shook the stone foundation of his heart. God, no wonder she fought like a hell-cat. Cold rage iced his veins. “Who forced you? When?”
Tears of fury brimmed her lashes, making Tess turn from the concern etched in the deep lines of his face. Could he understand the shame she’d hidden for so many years, the fear that she had somehow caused the horrible act?
He nudged her chin again and she faced him, challenging him to accuse. Daring him to blame. Luke no longer restrained her wrist, offered no resistance. She could run from his question if she chose, but for the courtesy the man extended her, he deserved an answer … the truth.
Folding her arms protectively beneath her breasts, she gathered her courage to tell Luke what she’d never shared with anyone—not even Clifton. It had been easy to play the virgin. A few drops of sherry strategically dripped on the sheets after he rolled over and slept off his lovemaking had satisfied her husband’s pride the morning after their wedding. But Clifton proved equally proficient at hiding secrets, easing the shame she had felt in deceiving him.
Realizing that it mattered a great deal what the bounty hunter thought, Tess hesitated. Though unafraid of his disapproval, she suspected he would take the burden on himself. To right the wrong committed. Was it fair to ask that of anyone when she had run from it and done nothing?
“Tell me.”
He sensed her hesitation, and something in his eyes asked her to trust. Believe in him. “I was compromised almost four years ago,” Tess began. “I never saw the man. I wouldn’t be able to identify him even if I stared him straight in the face.”
She expected revulsion, maybe even pity, from Luke. Instead, his features hardened into an unreadable mask.
“That about the time Tommie come along?” His voice sliced through the night.
Was his anger aimed at her? Tess fought to understand this reaction from the man she’d grown to admire. “Clifton married me within two days of the m-molesting. A few months later, I discovered I was with child. Since Tommie’s birth came a few more days than nine months from my wedding day, I have no way of knowing if Clifton was his father or whether the other man is.”
Silence enfolded them as Luke looked past her, staring into the distance. A single raindrops—or was it a tear?—beaded in the corner of one eye and slid down his cheek, seeping into the crease defining his scars. Slowly he held one palm out to her, his eyes asking her to take it.
“God, Tess, I’m sorry. Sorry I frightened you. Sorry you ever suffered such pain.”
“I’ve n-never told anyone before,” she whispered. Her heart tightened as a dam of tears broke loose and flooded her cheeks. Was it possible that one man in this world could understand all she regretted, all she had suffered, all she desired, and still be her friend? One man who could help her forget the past and find happiness?
With an effort born of hope, she placed one hand in his. With the gentlest of touches, Luke threaded his fingers through hers and simply held them. Asking no more, offering all she needed.
“What if I caused it?” Tess whispered, trembling as she watched the emotion shift in his eyes.
I can’t, Luke told himself. Not now. This is no time to seek answers that would help the investigation. She needs compassion, man, not interrogation. “You didn’t flaunt yourself at the man.”
It wasn’t a question. Tess blinked at his unconditional belief in her. “No, I didn’t. I never even s-saw him.” She couldn’t look at Luke now. “He grabbed me from behind. If-fought, but he knocked me out.”
