Hawke's Pride, page 18
"No." Hawke shook his head. "If we don't finish now, it will hurt tomorrow night too. Don't be afraid." He stroked her cheek. "I'll go real slow and pretty soon all the pain will go away."
Before Rue could say yes or no, he dropped his head to her breasts and drew a nipple into his mouth. As he gently sucked, Rue felt her lower body tingle again and leap in response. Hawke felt her body relax, and keeping his mouth on her breast, he began to move cautiously inside her.
Rue stiffened a moment, then relaxed. The pain was no longer so severe. Slowly Hawke quickened his strokes, going a little deeper each time. When she began to tremble and brought her arms up around his shoulders, he knew she was ready for him. Gathering her close, he pumped his hips in the well of hers in deep rhythmic strokes.
As Hawke irrevocably claimed her body, a warmth built inside Rue, turning rapidly into a consuming fire. Then waves of passion threatened to drown her as they shuddered through her body. She gave an exalted cry as at the same time she felt Hawke's fevered release spill inside her.
Hawke's body went limp on top of Rue. She stroked his sweat-slicked back and shoulders. When his breathing returned to normal, he leaned up on his elbows, taking most of his weight off her delicate body.
"Did the pain go away?" he teased, smoothing the damp hair off her cheeks.
Rue blushed and nodded, wondering when he was going to withdraw from inside her. She accused herself of being wanton when she wished that he wouldn't, that he would make love to her again.
"And did you like it?" He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Do you think you would like to do it every night?"
"Oh, yes." She smiled shyly at him.
"And in the daytime too?"
Rue ran a finger across his smiling lips. "In the daytime too," she whispered.
She felt his manhood growing inside her.
"What about right now?" Hawke whispered huskily.
"Do you mean it?" Rue asked hopefully.
Hawke gave a delighted laugh, and while her body was still moist with spent passion, he moved above her again. His muscled body rose and fell, pressing her deep into the mattress with the thrusting force of his hips. Again they reached the state of delirious relief together.
This time Hawke rolled off Rue, letting her rest. But it was a short time before he pulled her beneath him again, burying himself in her warmth. He couldn't get enough of her, and the way her arms went eagerly around his neck, and her smooth long legs wrapped themselves around his waist, he knew she felt the same way.
It was after midnight when finally exhausted, Rue and Hawke fell asleep in each other's arms.
At dawn, however, shortly before their rising, Hawke awoke, aroused, eager to claim his wife again.
Sometime later, as they lay panting in the aftermath of their vigorous lovemaking, Jeb knocked on the door. "Time to get up, you two," he called cheerily.
"We'll be up in a minute," Hawke called back, lingering passion making his voice husky. "When the sound of Jeb's footsteps going down the hall faded away, Hawke slid out of bed and walked across the floor to the door. Quietly he slid the bolt on it.
Rue watched him move back to the bed, his manhood large and hard. When he crawled back into bed, she opened her arms and legs to him. And though they could hear the children running back and forth in the hall, laughing and talking, Hawke took his time stroking Rue to climax at the same time he did.
When it seemed he would claim her a third time, Rue laughed and scooted out of bed. "There's two hungry children out there, you insatiable man. I've got to feed them."
Hawke reluctantly agreed, but while they were dressing, he caught Rue to him, and after giving her a resounding kiss, growled, "I'll be home for lunch. Be ready."
Chapter Eleven
November passed into December. Frost turned the cottonwood leaves to gold, and they ripened and fell. The mountains seemed the same, yet somehow a subtle change was taking place. In the mornings a thin film of ice was seen along the edges of the river that flowed a mile away, and heavy frosts whitened the ground in the early mornings.
Rue stood on the back porch, listening to the dying clip-clop of Hawke's horse. A softness came over her face as she remembered the sweet lovemaking they had shared a short time ago. Something they shared every morning these days.
She hugged her arms against the cold that nipped at her nose and fingers. She was so happy, completely happy for the first time in her life. Although Hawke had never said that he loved her, she felt sure that he did. His large body told her so every night, as well as every day, beginning with the early dawn and ending after a quick lunch.
He never seemed to tire of her, and, pray God, he never would. He was her whole world.
A cold, damp wind rose and blew around her. Shivering, she turned back into the warmth of the house. Susie still sat at the breakfast table, pushing the remains of a soggy flapjack around her plate, offering some to her rag doll occasionally.
"Don't get syrup on your dollie, Susie," Rue said, on her way to the bedroom to get dressed. Hawke had lingered so long over their lovemaking this morning that she'd only had time to slip on her robe when he finally allowed her to get out of bed.
Shrugging out of the flannel wrap, Rue moved lightly across the floor to the wash basin and pitcher of water. The room was cold, as was the water, and she didn't waste time washing her body. She flinched a bit as the washcloth moved over her tender breasts, then later, again, over the tiny bruises between her thighs. Hawke had been very hungry last night, she smiled, remembering.
She hurried into her underclothing, then stepped into a soft, blue serge skirt. Next she pulled a shirtwaist over her head, a shade deeper than the skirt, and trimmed with black braid. After a few swipes of the brush through her curly hair, she made up the bed. As she smoothed the sheets and blanket, she sniffed Hawke's scent and couldn't wait for lunch time to come.
It was barely daylight when Lillie Meyers and Sly Burford met behind the storage shed some distance from the other ranch buildings. "Is everything set?" Lillie whispered.
"Yeah, all you have to do is distract Sam so I can get behind him." Sly started to roll a cigarette then thought better of it. The odor of smoke would carry a long way in the cool breeze that had sprung up.
"Do you remember how our conversation is to go once we have the bitch?"
"Hell, how could I forget? You've made me go over it a dozen times."
"I just want to make sure she believes that Hawke is in on her abduction. If I told her, she wouldn't believe me, but if you bring it up, real casual-like, she'll believe it." A thrill of anticipation coursed through Lillie. "I can't wait to see that smug look wiped off her face. It'll kill her to know she's been used by Hawke.
"When will you do it?" Lillie looked nervously over her shoulder. Although she had left Sam snoring away, he was an early riser and could come stomping out of the house any minute, looking for her.
"I figure we will do it as soon as all the hands ride out. It could be over and done with by the time they ride back for lunch."
Lillie nodded then hurriedly slipped through the shadows to the house. And Sly almost rubbed his hands together, thinking of the money that would soon be his. As he carefully made his way back to the bunkhouse, grimacing as his bare feet trod gravel and sharp stones, he damned Lillie for refusing to give him any money until Rue was disposed of.
"Not a cent," she'd said, "until both she and Sam are out of the way. I'm not chancin' you high-tailin' it out of here, leavin' that little bitch still in Hawke's bed."
As if I wouldn't take care of that one, Sly told himself He had fed on his hate for her for three years. His eyes were still glittering with malice as he slid into his bunk and waited for the others to start stirring, to grunt and groan as they rose to meet another day of hard riding.
It was Sly's job to work in the tack room, to keep all riding gear in good shape. He made sure he followed his daily routine of eating breakfast with the men, then going to the small shed and handing out whatever they asked for.
The sun was about an hour high when the last cowhand rode out. Sly picked up a short, iron bar, hefting it in his hand as he stood beside the cracked, dusty window, his eyes on the ranch house.
Sweat popped out on his palms when the kitchen door opened and Sam Meyers walked out with Lillie behind him. While the rancher kissed his wife, Sly eased through the shed door and ran as fast as his great weight would allow until he stopped behind a wide spruce, only feet away from where Sam's stallion was tied.
He watched the older man walk down the two' steps and toward his mount. "Come on, Lil," Sly muttered, "get his attention, say something to him. He's gonna be on that horse and gone pretty soon."
As though Lillie had heard Sly, she called out, "Oh, Sam, what would you like for lunch?"
His foot almost in the stirrup, Sam turned his head and called back, "I don't care, anything will.—"
His sentence was cut off as Sly brought the iron cudgel across the back of Sam's head. He sank slowly to the ground without a word.
"Hurry, get him on the stallion before he comes to." Lillie came panting up.
Sly knelt beside the prone figure and felt for a pulse in the limp wrist. After a moment he looked up at Lillie and said callously, "Ole Sam ain't never gonna come to. You're a widder, Lil."
"You're sure?" Lillie's voice was joyous, yet nervous. When Sly nodded, she urged, "Well, let's get him on the stallion and out of here."
"Not the stallion." Sly shook his head. "Nobody would believe Sam's pet would drag him to death. We'll put him on that wild one that's only half-broken. No one will be suspicious of anything that one might do. They'll think Sam was still tryin' to tame him and got throwed."
"Well, hurry up and saddle him." Lillie's eyes constantly searched the area, afraid someone might ride up.
Sly heaved himself to his feet and hurried to the stable where the unbroken horses were kept. It took him a good ten minutes to get a saddle on the eye-rolling, rearing mount. It took another few minutes to saddle his own mount. Finally, sweating profusely, he led the two animals out of the stable and to where Lillie waited beside her dead husband.
"For heaven's sake, Sly, hurry up!" Her voice squeaked from her dread of them being discovered. "What took you so long?"
"You oughta try saddlin' this wild brute," Sly answered, equally on edge. "He damned near kicked my head off" He walked over to Sam. "Come on, give me a hand gettin' him in the saddle."
With much straining and grunting and the wild horse snorting and sidling at the smell of blood, Lillie's dead husband was finally heaved into the saddle and loosely tied there. Sly then took a short length of rope from a pocket and used it to secure Sam's left foot firmly to the stirrup.
Motioning Lillie to step back, Sly whipped the hat off his head and swatted it smartly across the horse's rump. With a frightened squeal, the horse lunged forward, its pounding hooves at a furious pace as it headed down the valley. Before the animal was out of sight, Sam's body had come free of the rope and was bouncing along the ground, the one tied foot the only connection to the horse.
"Just the way we planned it, Lil," Sly said with satisfaction as he swung onto his mount. "I'll follow that wild bastard until he runs himself out. In the meantime you go on in the house and do whatever you do at this time of day. Don't do anything different."
Lillie nodded, and as she jubilantly walked toward the house, Sly guided his horse into a lope, following the distant galloping wild one, dragging its lifeless burden.
In a short time he reached the animal, its sides heaving and its head hanging. Sly swung to the ground, taking a knife from his pocket. In seconds he'd removed the rope from his ex-boss's body and cut the one that held his foot in the stirrup.
Without another look at the crumpled figure of the man he'd killed, he remounted and headed back toward the ranch, telling himself, that it was a job well done. And pretty soon you'll get yours, Rue DeLawney, he promised grimly.
The Masters family had just sat down at the table for lunch, and Rue was ladling chili into a stack of soup bowls when a horse thundered into the back yard. Boot heels rapped across the porch floor, then the door burst open. Everyone stared at a pale-faced young man.
"What's wrong, Bob?" Hawke stood up, recognizing the cowboy from the Meyers ranch.
"Sam's dead!" The panted words fell like a rock in the room.
"From what?" Hawke, stunned, finally managed to ask. "A heart attack?"
"No." Bob shook his head. "His mount threw him and his foot got caught in the stirrup and he was dragged to death."
"That's hard to believe." Hawke dropped back into his chair, motioning the young man to sit down. "Sam was one of the best horsemen around." He shook his head, guilt-ridden that he had once helped put horns on his aging neighbor. "It's a hell of a way for a man like him to go."
The cowhand smiled his thanks to Rue when she placed a cup of coffee in front of him, then said, "It sure is. If he'd have been on his regular mount, it wouldn't have happened.
I still can't figure out what he was doin' on that half-broken wild stallion."
"Was anyone around when it happened?" Hawke asked.
"Not a soul, I guess. One of the boys came across Sam and the mount a couple of miles from the house. The stallion had run himself out, I guess."
The young man cast an uncomfortable look at Rue. "Mrs. Meyers is takin' it real hard." He cleared his throat uneasily. "She sent me over here to ask you to come to the ranch to help her make funeral arrangements."
Three pairs of eyes leapt to the speaker. Hawke's startled look became an impatient one. Even at a time like this Lillie was trying to make trouble between him and Rue. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse the request, then he remembered that Lillie had never bothered to cultivate a friendship with any of the other ranchers' wives, and now that she needed human comfort she had no one to draw it from.
Maybe for old time's sake he should give her his support, but only as a helpful neighbor in her time of need, he added. He glanced at Rue and found her regarding him with cool eyes. They did not threaten, but rather promised what would happen to him if he went near Lillie Meyers. If he went to the newly made widow, he needn't bother returning to his wife. He chanced a surreptitious look at his father and found Jeb's intent gaze on him. He grinned ruefully to himself It looked like it wasn't his descision to make.
"Tell Lillie that I'm sorry I can't make it," he said to the waiting cowhand, "but that my wife and I will be attending the funeral."
Almost audible sounds of relief escaped from Jeb and Rue, and a slight smile tugged at young Bob's lips. He, too, was pleased at Hawke's answer. Lillie wasn't a favorite at the Meyers' ranch. Maybe old Sam hadn't known what his wife was, but all his help knew her for the whore she was. Only respect for their boss had kept them from being her willing bed partner.
The wind cut with the keeness of a knife, and Rue was chilled to the bone as she huddled near Hawke, listening to the drone of the preacher's voice, intermingled with Lillie's loud sobs.
She would have felt sorry for Lillie, believed that her grief was real, had it not been for her greeting of Hawke on their arrival at the grave site. It had been embarrassing, to say the least, the way she had run up to them, throwing herself at Hawke, pressing her full curves against his lean body. The men had looked away uneasily, and the women had looked at Rue pityingly, clucking their tongues in disapproval.
On this cold, overcast day, not one neighbor had come out of sympathy for the widow, Rue suspected, seeing the dislike on male and female faces. It was for Sam Meyers. The stoic man had been a good neighbor despite his stern, caustic demeanor. And though he wasn't one to indulge in pleasant, idle chat, he was highly respected in the area.
Rue unconsciously leaned closer to Hawke, seeking the assurance that he belonged entirely to her. She was afraid of what Lillie would do, unhindered by a husband. Would she sell the ranch and move on, or would she go all out in her determination to have Hawke?
As though he read her mind, knew what her little movement meant, Hawke put an arm around Rue's shoulders and pulled her to his side. Rue smiled up at him, then her gaze encountered Lillie's and she caught her breath sharply.
Pure malice looked out of the small brown eyes, and Rue knew that if the woman had her way, Hawke Masters's wife would tumble dead into the same grave as Lillie's husband's. She shivered and Hawke's arm tightened around her.
"I think the preacher has just about ran out of wind and we can go home soon," he whispered in her ear. Hawke had guessed correctly. For a few minutes later the man of the cloth said,
"Amen," and shovels of dirt were tossed onto the pine box holding the last remains of Sam Meyers.
Hawke took Rue's arm and led her away, saying, "Let's get you home, honey, and warmed up. I can hear your teeth chattering."
They were almost to their mounts when Lillie came running after them. "Hawke!" she called, near panic in her voice. "You're comin' back to the house, aren't you? The cook has prepared sandwiches and coffee."
Hawke stared down at the black-gloved hand clutching his arm, then frowned into the anxious face lifted to him. "Sorry, Lillie, but we've got to get home. We left the children with the bunkhouse cook, and he's not partial to young ones."
"Well, send Rue on." Lillie had ignored Rue since joining them, and continued to act as though she wasn't standing next to Hawke. "I want to talk to you, get your advice on something."
Hawke moved his arm, dislodging Lillie's grasping fingers. "Not today, Lillie," he said quietly. "I have too much work waiting for me."
The look in Lillie's eyes plainly said that she expected Hawke would soon find a way to elude his wife and rendezvous with his former mistress. "I understand, I'll look for you next week," she purred.
Anxiously, Rue wondered whether her hushusband would live up to the widow's expectations.
Hawke, untying their mounts' reins that he had looped over a tree branch, missed the gloating look Lillie turned on Rue. Which of them really had Hawke's love, Rue wondered forlornly.
