Hawke's Pride, page 11
Unlike my mockery of a marriage, Rue thought, turning her head from the old house. She sighed resignedly and quelled the unhappy thoughts that nagged her.
She had just decided to return to the house when she heard bawling a few yards down the river. It sounded like one of the herd was in trouble and shifting the mare from a leisurely walk into a long, running lope, she rode toward the distressful sound.
Moments later she was murmuring, "Ah, poor thing," as she reined in and slid from the saddle. At the edge of the river, a yearling was stuck in the mud, almost to his belly. The more he struggled to free himself, the deeper he sank.
Oh dear, how could she help him? Rue stared down at the mud-roiled water. The bank sloped sharply to the stream, its summit about ten feet high. She studied the threshing animal thoughtfully a moment, then scrambled down the slippery bank and slid into the water. She briefly worried about her dress, hoping it wouldn't be stained beyond redemption.
But the dress was soon forgotten as the river brought her dangerously close to the steer's head, its eyes rolling in terror, the lethal long horns swinging from side to side. She carefully dodged them while making her way to the animal's rear end. There, she hoped to push it free of the sucking mud.
Putting a hand on each broad hip, Rue pushed with all her strength. She received a mud-heavy tail across her face for her trouble. The animal hadn't budged an inch. And worse, she could no longer see the beginning of the animal's belly.
She was standing mid-thigh in the brown, swirling water, trying to get up the nerve to approach one of the cowboys for help, when Hawke brought Captain to a sliding halt on the riverbank. He took in the young steer's dilemma, and in seconds he was off his horse and grabbing the looped rope off the pommel. As Rue silently watched, he tied one end to the saddle horn and fashioned a loop on the other end. "Stand back," he ordered as he twirled a running noose over his head.
Rue started to scramble out of the way just as he let the rope swing out toward the yearling's head. Instead, it struck Rue's shoulder, and fell limply into the water.
"Damn it to hell!" Hawke yelled furiously as he glared at Rue. "I told you to stand back!"
"Don't yell at me, you ornery rattlesnake!" Rue yelled back. "You didn't give me time to get out of the way. It's not easy, moving around with soaked skirts hampering my movements."
"Well, don't just stand there," Hawke shot back as he began to widen the rope for another toss at the steer. "I don't know what in the hell you're doin' down there in the first place."
"I don't either," Rue muttered angrily, sloughing her way toward the bank. She should have known the varmint wouldn't appreciate anything she tried to do.
The loop swung out again, this time encircling the six-foot spread of horns, then settling neatly over the narrow head. With a word to Captain, the horse moved backward until the rope was taut. Hawke pulled off his boots and socks, then wading into the water, he moved behind the frightened bull. Putting his shoulder to the bony rump, he gave a short, sharp whistle.
Rue gaped as the horse responded to the whistled order by moving backward while Hawke pushed the animal from behind. Slowly the animal was inched from the drawing mire. Hawke hurriedly slipped the rope off its head, and freed, it lunged up the bank, heading for the herd, its tail straight up in the air.
"Winding the rope from hand to bent elbow, Hawke scowled at Rue and criticized her sharply. "Why didn't you go for help? "While you were dillydallying, the animal could have broken a leg."
Damn him! Rue fumed, her throat tight with anger as she climbed the bank behind him. He always had to find fault with her. She opened her mouth to retort that she was going for help when he arrived, but the words didn't leave her mouth. Hawke, in his hurry to scale the gravelly riverbank, was slipping and sliding, struggling not to fall on his face. He twisted his body violently to regain his footing, and would have succeeded had she not been following so closely behind him. She reached out a hand to steady him but only got in his way. He tottered an instant, then fell back into the water, tumbling her along with him.
The water splashed in a fine mist and Rue blindly clutched at Hawke, grabbing his shoulders. She breathlessly clung to his hard, warm body, staring down at the blue water swirling around them. It took her a moment to realize that strong, possessive arms had wrapped themselves around her waist. When Hawke pulled her tightly against his body, his breathing fast and harsh, she grew alarmed. She gazed into his eyes and saw the light of desire illuminating them.
"Let me go!" she panted, pushing against his shoulders. "I don't want—"
Hawke's mouth swooped down to take hers, silencing her. I don't want this, she cried inwardly as she twisted and turned her head, trying to free herself from the deepening kiss, the tongue that darted around in her mouth, coaxing and teasing.
Suddenly, without warning Rue's body quivered in response. She sagged against Hawke, every nerve awake in her body. He gave a sigh of satisfaction and his hand slid to her breasts as he moved against her, purposely making her aware of his arousal. She moaned softly, lost in a passion she'd never known existed. She was unaware of the slim fingers that loosened her buttons, freeing her breasts.
"Ah," she whispered when a warm mouth opened over one breast and urgent lips suckled and tugged at the nipple. I wish it could go on forever, she thought as Hawke moved his head to take the other breast into his mouth, his lips drawing on it as his fingers stroked the wet, abandoned one.
The spell was abruptly broken when Hawke raised his head and looked into her face. With an almost dazed look in his eyes, he said harshly, almost as if against his will, "God, how I want you."
All too clearly Becky's face appeared before her, along with all the men who had lusted after her mother. They had wanted Becky also, but none had loved her. And neither did Hawke Masters love his wife. He only wanted to use Rue, to bring release to that appendage that jabbed at her.
Well, by God, the daughter wasn't like the mother. Although it was true she had learned she was capable of passion, that her blood could race in desire, she would not play the whore for any man. Not even a husband.
Hawke was unaware of Rue's inner turmoil and she had no trouble freeing herself from his loosened hold on her. He stared at her in bewilderment when with stormy eyes she gritted out, "Want and be damned!"
She struck out for the bank again, her fingers clumsy as she rebuttoned her bodice.
"Where in the hell are you goin'?" Hawke raged behind her. "You little whore, you can't just walk away from a man after drivin' him crazy with wantin' you."
"The hell I can't!" Rue yelled back, stung to her soul by what he'd called her. "It's my body and I can do whatever I want with it. And I don't choose to let you use it."
She swung onto the mare's back, her wet dress clinging to her thighs. She glared down at Hawke still standing in the water and bit out, "I am no whore, Hawke Masters, and don't ever forget that! No man will ever slake his lust on Rue DeLawney's body."
"Like hell," Hawke growled as Rue sent the mount galloping toward the house. "You're a little pepper pot if ever I saw one. You can't go much longer without havin' a man between your legs again."
But as Hawke waded out of the river, climbed onto the stallion, and followed along behind her, he wished with all his being that it wasn't so. He would give all he owned to be the first man with Rue. The first and the last.
As Rue reined in the mare next to the stables, she was angrily aware of the dull ache that still coiled in her loins, and the tenderness of her nipples. As she swung to the ground, her self-disgust was so intense she felt sick from it. What had she been thinking of to allow him such intimacy?
"I hate and despise that man," she muttered, then wondered what to do with the mare. She felt confident that she could unsaddle the little mount, but where would she put everything once she had stripped the animal. She hadn't seen where the attractive ranch foreman had taken everything from, and he didn't seem to be around to help her now.
Rue suddenly felt the presence of someone, or something, behind her. She swung around and uttered a small cry of alarm. An old Indian with snowy-white hair straggling to his shoulders, and a deeply wrinkled face, stood staring stoically at her. His hand rested on the head of a young boy about eight years old.
Don't be afraid, she told herself How could these two harm her, one so old the other so young? She forced a quivering smile to her lips. "My name is Rue De… Masters." She stepped away from the mare. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Both pair of black eyes were fastened on her hair, the sun making it look like silver-streaked gold. And though the younster continued to stare at her, the old brave brought his gaze to her face. He withdrew an envelope from the breast pocket of his buckskin jacket.
"White man give me this." He held the much-handled envelope to her. "He say find Masters's ranch and give it to the mistress there."
"Oh, thank you!" A smile lit up Rue's face. "It must be from my grandparents."
The stony-faced Indian shrugged his shoulders, then speaking a word to the boy, turned to leave.
"Don't go yet." Rue took a step toward the pair. "Won't you have a cup of coffee first?"
She smiled at the youngster and added, "I baked some cookies this morning. I think you'd like them."
"No… thank you. We must be on our way," the old man refused proudly.
Rue saw the disappointment in the boy's eyes and suggested softly, "Couldn't I please give some to your grandson to eat along the way?"
The red man's stern features softened a bit when he read the silent plea in his grandson's eyes. Then he nodded and said, "The small brave has developed a liking for the white man's sweets."
Rue ignored the slight disapproval in the old man's guttural tone and raced to the house where she tied a good amount of sugar cookies in a piece of clean rag. Hurrying back to the stables, she handed them over to the boy. "What's your name?" she asked when he grinned his thanks.
"He is called Little Star," the grandfather answered.
She waited for the old man to give his own name, but when it was not forthcoming, she said, "Well, I am happy to know you, Little Star, and I thank you and your grandfather for bringing me this letter. It is very important to me."
With a curt nod from the old man, they disappeared into the pine woods behind the stables. Rue shook her head, then turned back to care for the mare, anxious to hurry to the house and read her letter.
She stared, bewildered. The mare was gone. "Oh, God!" she gasped, feeling dizzy. Had the old Indian taken the horse and hidden her while she was in the house getting the cookies for his grandchild? She hoped not. She would be greatly disappointed if that were the case, for he had seemed like a nice man even if he hadn't been very friendly.
Hawke will absolutely beat me if I've lost his prize horse, Rue thought, ready to weep. She leaned dispiritedly on the corral, only half noticing the pall of dust and sand in the far corner of the pen. When from the yellow cloud a horse appeared and shook itself, it took her a couple of seconds to recognize the little mare.
"Well, I'll be." She smiled, weak with relief "The old Indian took care of her while I was gone." Then she hurried to the house, anticipating the news from home.
Hawke, concealed beneath a large, low-spreading pine, had watched Rue and the Indians through narrowed, brooding eyes. He was discovering that there was more to this girl than just a beautiful face. She had been so hard, so cold, back in the shack from which he had rescued her. She had shown some softness for her older brother, it was true, but he hadn't seen any affection for the smaller children. Yet, with the Indian boy she had been kindness itself And she had felt pity for the dumb stray that had got himself mired in the mud. Surprisingly also, she was a fine cook, he'd never seen better. And she kept the almost-bare house spotlessly clean.
Had he read her wrong? Was she a decent young woman? He remembered then how Sly had talked about her, right in front of her, and directed a scornful grunt at himself "She's no virgin," he muttered, and wheeling Captain, loped back toward his men.
Chapter Seven
Rue thought Hawke would never finish eating breakfast and leave the house. She wanted to read her grandmother's letter again. She knew that she was being silly, for she had already read it three times and knew almost every word by heart. But it comforted her to handle something the dear old woman had held, to see the words she had penciled.
She slid Hawke a sideways look, wondering why he was dawdling this morning. Usually he gulped his breakfast down and was gone from the house within fifteen minutes. And last night he hadn't even put in an appearance for supper.
Leaning against the dry sink, sipping her coffee, Rue remembered that she hadn't been surprised when Hawke hadn't eaten the meal she had prepared. He and his foreman had fought because of her in the late afternoon, and Hawke coming out on the short end of the argument had taken his spleen out on her by staying away at mealtime.
The argument had been in progress when she had stepped outside to cool off from the heat of the kitchen range. "Just understand that the girl is not to ride off unless I give the word," Hawke had said angrily.
Then Josh Malone had come back just as heatedly, "Why do you keep callin' her 'girl'? She has a name. If you can't bring yourself to say 'wife', at least refer to her as Rue."
"It's none of your damn business what I call her. And like you said, she's my wife and you can damn well stay away from her."
"Why? You don't give a damn about her. You think more of Meyers's whore."
There was a silence, then Hawke blustered, "I don't know what in the hell you're talkin' about."
"Like hell you don't. All the hands know that you sneak off once a week to meet ole Lil, waller around with her for a couple of hours. You've been seen out there with her." There was another silence, then Josh added in a calmer voice, "If we know about it, Hawke, so do Meyers's men. It's just a matter of time before one of them gets up the nerve to tell the old man about it. He'll come after you with his guns blazin'."
Rue hadn't waited for Hawke's reply, but had hurried back into the house, strangely wanting to cry. She told herself now, as she waited for the silent man to leave the table, that it had been hurt pride that made tears smart her eyes. Any woman's pride would feel trampled on, knowing that her husband preferred a whore to his wife.
Hawke's thoughts were also on the argument he'd had with his foreman as he lingered over his coffee. He'd been too stubborn and proud to tell Josh that he'd made his last trip to the line shack, and that his young wife had all his attention now. And yesterday, when he said all those hurtful things to her, calling her a whore, he was sorry for them as soon as they left his mouth. He owed her an apology.
He sighed silently. He was trying to get up the nerve to do it this morning. That was why he kept sitting here like a bullfrog on a lily pad. And he owed it to her to explain that his father, niece, and nephew would be showing up any day now, that she would have the extra burden of taking care of the children, plus more work all round.
Hawke was suddenly struck with a disturbing thought. What if Rue left when she learned of the underhanded trick he'd played on her? Josh Malone was crazy about her and wouldn't hesitate to take her away. Nor would any of the others refuse her, he thought glumly. It hadn't escaped him how their hungry eyes followed her every time she stepped outside.
Well, then, you'd better spit it out, Masters, he told himself. You can't sit here all day. Give her the apology she deserves.
Hawke cleared his voice and looked up to give his prepared speech and looked around, dumbfounded. The room was empty. In her usual fashion, his girlie wife had slipped away.
"Damn!" He pushed his coffee cup away in irritation. He wasn't going to chase after her like some lovesick calf If Pa and the kids surprised her by arriving today, it would be her fault.
All too aware that his reasoning was that of a spoiled child, Hawke jerked to his feet and stamped through the door, slamming it behind him.
In her room, Rue's lips curled in satisfaction. She hoped he was so angry he would choke on his bile. "It will do you good to get your tail out of joint once in a while, Mr. Masters," she muttered, then smoothed out her grandmother's letter.
September 11, 1868
Dearest grandaughter,
Your granddad met this man who is traveling to Jackson, Colorado, and he agreed to take a letter to you if he can find your husband's ranch. I hope it eventually falls into your hands.
Many things have happened since you left. First, Sly Burford never came back. I guess he took your husband's money and left the state. Becky's little ones were taken in by different families here in the area. At least now they will have a chance in life, and enough to eat. And this will surprise you, I guess, but Jimmy is living with us. I never realized what a nice youngster he is. He's such a help, and keeps us from missing you a little.
Rue, dear, Granddad and I pray every day that your marriage works out although it had such a rough start. John is sure that your reluctant husband is an honorable man despite his rough ways and will never be mean to you. And that is very important in a marriage, honey. Sometimes more important than love. I have seen those who profess love for their wives, then turn around and beat them unmercifully. To me, that is a poor kind of love.
So, Rue, if you have to settle for respect only from Mister Masters, you will be better off than most women.
I must close now, dear granddaughter, the man is anxious to leave. Granddad and Jimmy send their love. Our thoughts and prayers are always with you.
Love, Grandma.
Rue let the letter drop into her lap and stared sightlessly out the window. "Ah, Grandma," she whispered, "I don't even get respect from my husband. Yesterday, if I would have allowed him, he'd have used me like a whore."
She folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. Although she had no idea how she'd ever get a letter to her grandparents, later on she would write to them. Write some lies that would make them rest easier about her.
