Carolyn Davidson (10 page)

Maggie rode in the back of the wagon, swinging her legs in time with the song she sang beneath her breath. That the child was a constant reminder of Josie was a nagging ache somewhere in the vicinity of Will’s heart. His mother had been silent on the subject, and he’d hesitated to bring it up until they were alone. But the absence of his sister was like a sore spot he could not help but dwell on.

As if she read his thoughts, his mother peered past Cassie, who rode in the middle of the wide seat, and spoke in a low tone, so as not to allow Maggie to hear.

“Josie’s not a bad mother, Will, no matter what you might be thinkin’.” Her mouth pinched and her forehead furrowed as she watched his reaction.

“Why isn’t she here, then, takin’ care of her little girl?” he asked bluntly, his voice a grumbling undertone. “She couldn’t have a better home, Ma, and that’s a fact, but the child needs her mother.”

Clara nodded. “I know, but there’s more to it than that.” Looking over her shoulder to where Maggie sang on, she smiled, a gentle upturning of her mouth that softened her features and took years from her face. “That gambler she took up with isn’t fit to wipe my girl’s shoes, much less be a father to this child. He coaxed Josie to go off with him, said his way of living didn’t include a baby taggin’ along.”

“And Josie went along with that?” Will asked, unbelievingly. “She just left Maggie and walked away?”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Will. I think she was trying to make a last stab at keeping her man happy.” Clara’s face sobered as if she thought Josie’s action to be a futile effort.

Cassie’s voice was soft as she spoke into the silence. “I’m sure Josie knew you’d take good care of her child, Mrs. Tolliver. And I’ll be glad to help, if you’ll let me.”

Will looked down at Cassie, a cautious elation gripping him. It sounded to him as if his little runaway was about to settle in and take hold at the farm. So much for her veiled threats to leave. Stay with a family in town, indeed. As if he’d let her run any farther. As far as he was concerned, her days of being on her own were done for.

He slid an arm around her waist and tugged her against his side. “I’ll bet Ma will take you up on that offer, Cass. And Maggie’s already taken a shine to you.”

“I didn’t shine nothing, Uncle Will,” the child piped up from the back of the wagon, her ears attuned to the sound of her name being spoken.

Cassie laughed aloud, and Maggie turned to crawl on hands and knees the length of the wagon until she could
pull herself upright to stand behind the seat. Her small face appeared between Cassie and Will, her chin resting on Will’s shoulder.

“Were you jokin’ at me, Uncle Will?” she asked.

“No, I just said you’d taken a liking to Cassie, here. I said you’d taken a shine to her.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” the child said, almost whispering, as if she told a secret against his ear.

Will turned, a crooked smile twisting his mouth. “Yeah, you could say that, Maggie. ‘Course, sometimes she’s pretty picky, too, givin’ me a hard time.”

Cassie flushed, obviously not comfortable with being the focus of Will’s attention in front of others. “I’m not pretty. My mother always said looks aren’t everything. A person has to be beautiful inside, where it really counts.”

“Your mother sounds like a smart lady,” Clara said quietly. “But I suspect you’ve got your share of beauty, both inside and out, Cassie. Will would never pick a girl to marry who wasn’t worth a bundle.”

Cassie shrank in Will’s loose embrace. Her head drooped, her shoulders slumping, and she cleared her throat uneasily.

“Well, I’ve picked Cassie, sure enough,” he said, leaning across her slender form to deliver the firm statement in his mother’s direction. Something was going to have to be done, and soon, he decided. He might have to do some fast talking, but Cassie was going to agree to be his wife before the week was out, if he had his way.

Cassie’s new dresses hung in the wardrobe Will had dragged down the hall from Maggie’s room, the child’s belongings fitting easily into her mother’s old chest of drawers. Three dresses hung side by side, one fit for Sunday wear, the other two designed as everyday apparel. She
stood before the wooden cupboard taking stock, her fingers touching first one dress, then another as she considered the riches of having a choice tomorrow morning when she got dressed.

And Will had said there were to be more, that three dresses were not enough. He’d added two petticoats to the collection on the counter, plus two chemises; and her cheeks had turned crimson when Dorinda Bartlett, the storekeeper’s wife, had shoved two pairs of drawers beneath the growing pile.

It was a disgrace, Cassie thought as the blush returned, a man buying her personal things. But she’d been the only one in the store to think so, apparently. Certainly the ladies who’d surrounded her had considered it to be his right, if not his duty, to outfit his wife, since her own clothing had been “washed away when they crossed a river, back in Oklahoma.”

How Will had come up with such a far-fetched tale on the spur of the moment was beyond her. But manufacture it he had, and with a straight face. She’d been obliged to smile and murmur her thanks as he scouted out the store, calling her to his side to try on a pair of shoes. Protest as she might, he’d bought the soft kid footwear and she’d held the box on her lap all the way home in the wagon.

Now she viewed her riches by candlelight. Will had spent an hour with Samuel, his youngest brother, doing chores and then drinking buttermilk on the back porch as they caught up on all the happenings in their lives over the past ten years. Samuel was kind, quiet and slow talking, a contrast to Will. Warned by Eben that his brother was at the farm, Samuel had turned up early for chores, and then had been persuaded to stay for supper.

Only the arrival of his eldest son, riding bareback on a plowhorse, prodded him into leaving for home. His promise
to return, bringing his wife, Elizabeth, along with all three of their brood, rang in Cassie’s ears.

It was bad enough that the whole family thought she was married to Will. Now they were planning a party to celebrate the wedding. Eben and Louise were to come tomorrow to visit.

Cassie’s groan of despair was loud in the silence of the bedroom. Burying her face in the bend of her elbow, she leaned against the wardrobe, eyes closed, panic rising like a giant fist in her throat.

To the man standing outside the door, holding his boots in one hand, it was a cry for help. Turning the knob, he opened the door, his stocking feet quiet against the polished wood flooring. His eyes softened as he beheld Cassie’s dark hair, brushed from its braid to fall in a tangle of waves past her waist. And then he spied the trembling of her shoulders beneath the gleaming mass, heard the soft sound she muffled against her hand.

Silently he closed the door behind himself, depositing his boots by the door, then crossed the room to where she stood, oblivious to his presence. His hands enclosed her shoulders and he turned her around, her arm dropping to reveal a face that echoed the perplexities of her very being. Her mouth trembling, she reached out to him, hands clutching at his shirtfront.

“Will, everyone thinks we’re married. I feel like such a fraud.” As if she were fearful of being overheard, she whispered her thoughts for his ears alone.

“It’s gonna be all right, Cassie,” he said quietly, pulling her into his embrace. She leaned against him, seemingly grateful for his support, her face buried against his chest

“What are we going to do?” she wailed, the sound thankfully subdued, her words muffled.

“I already told you my solution to the problem, honey.
As soon as we can make it, we’ll head for Mill Creek. There were a couple of churches there if I remember right. Might even be more by now, and I’ll guarantee there’re preachers to spare. I’m sure one or the other will marry us and keep our secret.”

She lifted her face from the front of his shirt, rubbing her nose with her knuckles. “I need a hankie,” she whispered, sniffing and blinking away tears that begged to be shed.

Will reached into his pocket. “This is a clean one, Cass. Hasn’t been blown in since last time Ma washed it. I reckon it’ll do the job.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, taking it and swiping at her nose and eyes. “Will, I won’t marry you when I know this isn’t what you would choose for yourself.” Her eyes were sorrowful as she met his gaze, and he hurt for the sadness there.

“How do you know what I want, Cassie?” And even as he spoke the words his body responded to the soft appeal of her breasts against his chest, the movement of her hips as she shifted from one foot to the other. He slid his hands down her back and pressed her against the proof of his desire.

“Know what that is, Cass?” He lifted her against his body, moving his hips, the evidence of his need for her wedging itself into the place nature had designed for its safekeeping. He moved again, his breathing harsh as he pressed more fully against her softness.

“Will?” Her plea was whispered, her eyes widening as she recognized the primitive urgency of his desire. “Please, Will.”

“Do you think it’ll be any great hardship for me to make
love to you, honey?” His words were hoarse in her ear, and then he lifted her higher still, until their faces were level. His lips touched hers and his groan was spent in the depths of her mouth as she opened to his silent plea.

“M
ake love to me?” Her eyes closed as she considered her position.

Her feet dangling inches from the floor, she was about as helpless as she’d ever been, and not all of that was due to the fact that Will had her clamped against him with an iron grip. His mouth was nuzzling in her neck now, under her ear, where there was a spot that had never seemed to be of any great interest to her before. Right now it was sending sparks down the length of her, centering in the lowest depths of her belly and causing her to wiggle against Will’s hard body.

“Are you making love to me, Will Tolliver?” she asked breathlessly. “Because if that’s what this is, I don’t think we’d ought to do it.”

He came up for air, his warm breath sending chills down her spine, causing her to shiver. How any one person could affect her so was a puzzlement, that was for sure. Between the sparks and the chills, Will had her body in a frenzy, as if it needed to twist and turn and grind up against him in order to put an end to the way her heart was beating in all her major parts.

“I guess that’s what you call it, honey. It’s sort of early
lovemakin’, like leadin’ up to the event.” His whisper was back at her ear and he blew gently in a circular motion, cooling the spot he’d so recently dampened with his tongue.

Her toes touched the denim fabric of his trousers and she rubbed them against the rough surface, sliding her foot up and down his shinbone. With a lithe movement she hooked her heel behind his knee and drew his leg closer, till he laughed against her shoulder.

“Damn, Cassie! You’re playin’ a rough game with me. I’m gonna drop you on the floor if you’re not careful, girl.”

As if he feared that very thing to happen, he limped to the bed, her foot and leg all tangled up with his, off balance and hanging on to her with a grip that felt as though she’d be bruised by morning.

Together they fell across the mattress, and the headboard thumped up against the wall. Cassie looked up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, aware of the weight of his body shoving her into the mattress. His knees had somehow gotten planted one on each side of her right leg, and her robe and gown were twisted halfway up her thighs.

She was exposed to him in about the most intimate way she could imagine, and she reached to loosen herself from the grip of the fabric. Will laughed, a throaty, teasing sound. And from the droopy-eyed look of him he was pretty pleased with the whole thing.

“I don’t think this is a very good idea,” she managed to whisper, gasping for a lung-filling breath.

Lifting himself from her, he crouched on hands and knees, surrounding her with his male strength. He watched closely as she pulled one breath after another into her, releasing each in a series of silent puffs, feeling as if her head was filling with crackling sparks, like lightning across a summer sky.

“You all right, honey?” he asked, his brows pulling together
over dark eyes that roamed her body as if they searched for an unseen malady.

“You make me breathe funny,” she said accusingly. “I can’t seem to think straight when you start this kind of fooling around.”

With a wry chuckle he toppled to the bed beside her, pulling her into his embrace and burying his face in her hair. It was all pooled around them both, the dark strands clinging to his shirt, curling beneath her and across the bed above her head. She’d never felt so disheveled and exposed in all her life, sprawled out on a bed with a man, and for the most part enjoying it. Except for the part of her that felt guilty about being in his bedroom and his mother thinking they were husband and wife.

His eyes were searching as he examined her face, and then he drew a deep breath. “I think you’ve just put a stop to it, honey,” he said, rocking her against him, making the bed creak. “Let me just kiss you a little bit and I’ll quit before things get out of hand, I promise.”

She tilted her head back and blinked at him, the candle on the dresser providing just about enough light to make out his face well. “You already kissed me, Will.”

His right hand slid from her back to rest on her ribs and she moved restlessly, aware of those long fingers moving in a slow, seductive dance, sliding the material of her gown against her flesh.

Somehow her robe had gotten pushed aside and only the white gown Will had bought her in the general store this morning was between his hand and her skin. Her throat was dry as she inhaled through her mouth and watched his face.

He was frowning just a bit, as if he must concentrate on the minute movement of his fingers, his palm edging to rest beneath her breast, shifting upward just a bit, until he
cupped the weight of it. His eyes closed and his mouth tilted again in one corner, that satisfied look appearing as his nostrils flared with the breath he took.

His hand slid up to cover her breast, his fingers widespread as he measured the soft globe with his whole hand. Two fingers squeezed the crest between them, gently as if he feared to hurt the tender flesh. And to her dismay, Cassie felt that small nubbin harden and tingle against his touch.

“Right here’s where I want to kiss you, honey,” he told her, then as if he recognized the futility of that wish, dipped his head to drop a smattering of damp salutes against her forehead and across one cheek. His sigh was deep as his mouth found hers, gentling her with a succession of small, tender kisses, soothing her and cuddling her with gentle brushes of his fingers across her cheeks.

“Ah, Cassie.” He bowed his head against her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

His mouth silenced her before she could speak, kissing her lips with tender, small, biting touches, soothing them as he went with the very tip of his tongue. He whispered words of comfort, his hand busy tucking her gown around her legs. He withdrew from her, patting her bottom with a gentle hand, easing her to his side until he could enfold her in his embrace.

He turned her, his greater strength holding her until he could pull down the quilt and sheet, sliding them both beneath the covers. Now, still dressed in his pants and shirt, his arm around her middle, he tugged her against himself, easing his thighs under hers.

“You all right, honey?” he asked against her ear, lifting his head just a bit to brush his mouth against the tender lobe. He caught her hair in his hand, gathering it from beneath her and himself, twisting the length of it around his hand and then placing the heavy, curling weight of it between
them, against his chest Brushing his chin over the silken strands, he inhaled the scent of her that rose from the rich, dark tresses.

“Sweetheart?” She nodded a silent reply. He squeezed her just a bit, aware that his lapse had probably frightened her. He’d never needed a woman so badly in his life, not even that first time in the hayloft when he was sixteen and Sally Ann Forbes had offered him his first taste of glory. That Cassie was not a Sally Ann Forbes was obvious. She’d responded, true, but her response had been that of an innocent, her movements governed by a desire she’d obviously never felt before.

He shifted, aware of the discomfort his thoughts were causing. Getting married was the first thing on his list of things to do, that was for sure. Whether or not Cassie was ready for it, with her talk of having a man that loved her, it was going to happen.

Love was something women seemed to take a lot of stock in. Whether or not it was essential to marriage, he didn’t know. But whatever he felt for the woman in his arms, it was going to be enough to have him saying his “I do” loud and clear.

In the bright light of morning it seemed his list of things to do was going to have a few additions, right at the top. Three horses had made their way out of the pasture before dawn, Samuel and Will having decided that they’d do just fine out of the barn with two men handy to keep an eye on things.

Many Fingers was riding bareback on a sturdy cow pony, his knees and calves tight against the horse’s sides, rounding up the strays. Somewhere he’d learned to handle a rope very well, Will noticed. The loop sailed through the air, landing with a satisfying swish around the neck of one of
Nate Tolliver’s prize mares. She halted in her tracks, as if aware that her freedom had come to a screeching halt, bending her head to nibble at the grass beneath her feet.

Many Fingers tugged at the rope and led her back to the barn, sliding from the pony he rode before he led the stray to a stall. In seconds he reappeared and Will lifted a hand against the brilliant sunrise to watch as the Indian leapt gracefully astride the horse. The cow pony broke into a gallop and within minutes the next wanderer had been retrieved.

“Guess he doesn’t need me, does he?” he asked, his query an assessment of the Indian’s skill.

From within the kitchen, his mother banged the stove lid in place. “I’d say that pasture fence needs you, Will. I knew you were going to have a problem, lettin’ those horses out last night.”

“There’s new grass out there, Ma. We’re wastin’ money feedin’ those animals the last of the hay when they can be fillin’ up on fresh stuff.”

“You’d better see if there’s any new posts out in the woodshed. I think your pa had some cut to length last year and just never got around to starting the job.” The frying pan rattled against the stove top and Will caught a scent of coffee.

“How long before breakfast?” he asked, undoing his pants and tucking his shirt inside. He smoothed it down over his rear and then straightened the front against his belly. He was wrinkled from sleeping all night in his clothes, but by the time he finished putting up fence, he’d look a lot worse than he did now.

“I’m putting the bacon in the pan now,” Clara said from the kitchen. “The biscuits will be done in ten minutes.”

Will slid stocking feet into his boots and stomped them in place, then dropped to the ground and strode off in the
direction of the barn. A few minutes later, hammer in hand, nails stuffed in both front pockets, he headed for the near pasture fence. Many Fingers was there ahead of him, carrying several long boards to replace those the horses had broken down when they made their escape. The rest of the mares were huddled beneath a cluster of trees, noses to the ground, ignoring the two men who were making sure of their captivity.

“I think just a few nails will hold them in for now,” Will said, nodding as Many Fingers held a board in place. “Ma has breakfast almost ready.”

“We’re just lucky they didn’t all take a notion to run off.” Reaching for another board, the Indian moved a few feet down the fence, holding the wood in place so that Will could nail it to the upright post.

“They probably think they’re in hog heaven out there where they are,” Will said, nodding at the dozen or so mares. “Think we’re gonna have some new mamas pretty soon?” he asked.

“Your pa must have bred them pretty late last spring,” Many Fingers said. “They should be dropping their foals already. I think a couple of them are about due. They’re restless, and one of them looked like she was startin’ to drip milk last night.”

Will sighed, contemplating the length of pasture fencing he was duty bound to replace. It couldn’t wait, that was for sure. There was no way on God’s green earth he could haul Cassie off to Mill Creek today—or tomorrow, for that matter.

Caring for Maggie was a delight, Cassie decided. She’d washed and dried the child’s dark hair, sitting in the sun on the back steps as she brushed the damp from the curling strands. It had been the first real lazy fun she’d had in
longer than she could remember. Just making silly talk with a child, playing with her curls and lifting them to the top of her head to be bound by a blue ribbon.

A feeling akin to contentment washed over her as she soaked up the warm sunshine, listening to the sound of a mockingbird in a tree by the corner of the house. The rooster in the henhouse crowed again, belatedly, considering the sun had been up for over two hours and breakfast was already settled in Cassie’s stomach.

Undeserved bliss. With a sigh she rubbed her hands together, her imagination providing the bloodstains she’d long since washed away. And yet her soul remained colored by the horror of her guilt, and her heart ached for the deceit she had practiced against Will Tolliver. He’d done nothing but good, regarding her as a helpless woman, believing her lies, while she wallowed in black despair. If only…such words of futility they were. So undeserving was she of the joy he’d brought into her life.

Behind her, Will’s mother came out of the kitchen, her movement drawing Cassie from the darkness of her thoughts. The egg basket swung in Clara’s hand as she moved down the steps, and Cassie jumped from her perch. “Let me gather the eggs for you, ma’am. I haven’t been in a chicken coop for years, but I’m sure I remember how.”

Clara turned to the young woman. “I reckon I could use the help,” she allowed, giving over possession of the basket readily. “There’s a couple of clutches just to the right when you go in the coop. I got some old biddies settin’ on them. They won’t budge anyway, but it’ll go better for you if you steer clear of them. They get right possessive of their eggs.”

“I’ll show her the ones, Grandma,” Maggie offered eagerly.

Clara’s gaze softened on the child, one hand reaching
out to touch the blue ribbon, then allowing a curl to twine itself around the rough skin on her finger. “You sure look pretty, little girl,” she said tenderly, then drew back quickly, as if she had betrayed tender feelings better left unexposed.

Cassie sighed, aware of the love that surrounded the child, even bereft of parents, here on this lonesome farm. “She’s a lucky little girl, Miz Tolliver.” Her eyes met those of Will’s mother and she glimpsed a shadow of sadness in the dark depths.

“She’d be luckier if she had her mama here to take care of her. It’s not right for a child to be dependent on an old lady to see to her needs.”

Cassie shook her head in mute denial of the woman’s words. “I’d have given my eyeteeth to have what she has when I was a little girl. My mama loved me, but we went from pillar to post, one place to another. I never had a real home to speak of, and sometimes I felt like I was the one doing the caring, and my mama was the one needing the care.”