This Calder Range (14 page)

Her discomfort wasn't lessened by his low chuckle. “It's only hard and erect when a man is aroused. You'll soon learn how it's done,” Benteen assured her.

It seemed there was a great deal she had to learn. Lorna had always considered herself to be well-educated. She could read and do numbers, as well as sew and cook and keep house. She had thought she was moderately well-versed in the facts of life, but it seemed she wasn't aware of the fundamentals. She didn't like feeling ignorant.

Get them cattle movin.'

Honey, dry your eyes,

'Cause that Calder range is waiting

Under blue Montana skies.

The first light of dawn glinted through the dusty glass of the hotel window. In the street below, there was a small stirring of activity. Benteen lay awake in bed, watching Lorna sleep. The covers were down around her hips, exposing her high, firm breasts. Until last night, he hadn't realized how much passion was locked inside that beautifully slender body, but he hadn't been shocked by it. “Delighted” was a closer description.

His gaze traveled down to her flat stomach and the bones of her hips. My God, how she had drained every ounce of life juice from his body! Just remembering made him grow stiff with desire. His eyes returned to her face, its innocence touching him as her modesty had last night. There was a slight curve to her lips as they lay warmly together, a hint of the pleasured satisfaction she'd also known last night. She stirred, turning a little toward him.

It was time they were getting up, but he didn't want to waken her. He wanted to look at her, study every detail that he had missed last night and a few that he hadn't. His hand moved to the bedcovers to inch them down a little farther, not wanting to disturb her slumber just yet.

Her lashes fluttered, then were slowly dragged open. Benteen watched the sleepy confusion across her features as Lorna tried to place where she was. Her glance swung to him, startled recognition flaring in her eyes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Calder.” The lazy smile matched his slowly drawled greeting. He saw the rush
of modesty when she realized she was uncovered, and pulled up the covers that he was going to pull down. It was a pity, but in time she'd get over this self-consciousness.

“Good morning.” Her voice was soft, a little husky with sleep.

“Do you know you snore?” Benteen teased.

“I don't!” She was aghast at the thought, her fingers tightly clutching the bedcovers to her breastbone.

“Yes, you do. And very prettily, too.” He leaned over and rubbed his mouth over her lips. Their instinctive response almost made him forget the late hour. Grudgingly he drew back. His control was tested when he saw the hesitant desire flicker in her eyes. He had to turn away or give in to the urge to erase the hesitancy. “It's time to get up, so we can be on our way.”

When he swung out of bed, Lorna's head turned on the pillow so she could look at him, a little disappointed that he hadn't wanted to make love to her again. For a brief second she had forgotten Benteen was as naked as he was, but the sight of him was a sharp reminder. Her first impulse was to look quickly in the opposite direction, but her curiosity was stronger. It made her feel a little bit wicked to run her gaze over his tapered back and the hard, lean flanks of his hips. Benteen didn't bother with the privacies of the dressing room, pulling his clothes on right there in the bedroom. Not his wedding suit, but tough, durable workclothes.

Benteen turned to glance at the bed as he tucked his shirt inside the close-fitting denim pants. “Get out of the bed and get dressed.” It was more prompting than an order.

“Do we have to leave this morning?” Lorna asked. “Can't we wait one more day?”

He came back to the bed and leaned down to place a hand on either side of her. “If I thought we could wait one more day, I'd be in bed with you now.” His look seemed able to see her body beneath the covers, and
Lorna felt that stirring of passion within her. “But we can't hold the herd on that ground any longer. They're out of graze, and they have to be moved.”

“But just one day …” she began, some female instinct telling her that he could be tempted the way Adam had been in the Bible.

“No.” It was a decisive answer, followed by decisive action as Benteen slipped his hands under her shoulders and lifted her out of bed. “The plans are set and the boys have their orders to have the cattle ready to move out no later than midmorning.” Once she was standing naked in front of him, his hands wandered absently over her ribs and waist. “I'll be leaving as soon as I've shaved and cleaned up. If you're coming with me, you'd better get a move on.”

One look at the interest flickering in his otherwise determined features, and Lorna wasn't at all intimidated by his idle threat that he would consider leaving her behind. Before it could take hold, he was letting her go, to turn abruptly away.

“Get your clothes on,” Benteen ordered gruffly.

And Lorna had her first hint of how easily aroused a man could be by a woman's form. The thought barely had time to register before it was crowded out by more immediate considerations that included getting packed and dressed for the journey.

After a quick breakfast in the hotel's dining room, they went by the Pearce home so Lorna could see her parents one last time before they left. A restless part of Benteen made him impatient at the delay, but for Lorna's sake he controlled it, aware that he couldn't expect her to leave home without a farewell parting from her family. But when it threatened to stretch into a lengthy and painful good-bye, he stepped in.

“Lorna, we have to go.” His hand gripped her elbow, his voice firm.

“Can't we stay a little longer?” She turned to him, the tears now starting to fall steadily.

“No.” Benteen didn't try to temper his refusal, although the tears made it difficult.

When she saw that her appeal wasn't swaying him, she turned back to hug her mother tightly. Mrs. Pearce was crying as well, more emotional than Benteen had ever seen her. There was even a sheen of dampness in her father's eyes as Arthur Pearce stepped forward to clasp Benteen's hand in both of his.

“You take good care of my little girl.” There was a stiffness to the man's smile and the rigid set of his chin.

“I will, sir.” Benteen pretended not to notice the huskiness in the man's voice.

Then Lorna was pulling out of her mother's arms and looking tearfully at her father. “Oh, Daddy,” she sobbed, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. For a minute Arthur Pearce hid his face in her dark hair and hugged her close.

“You be good, now, ya hear?” It was a gruff admonition to mask his pain.

“I'll miss you so much, Daddy,” Lorna declared in a sobbing voice.

Benteen knew there wasn't any easy way to end this. “I'm sorry, Mr. Pearce,” he intruded firmly on the emotional scene. There was a reluctant nod of understanding as Arthur Pearce tried to set his daughter away from him. Taking her by the shoulders, Benteen pulled her the rest of the way back. Her hands remained extended, reaching involuntarily toward her parents. “It's time, Lorna.”

“I …” But the words were choked off as she turned quickly away from the sight of her mother crying and the pained look on her father's face. She practically ran toward the wagon, covering her mouth to hold back the sobs trembling through her whole body.

Grimly Benteen helped her climb up to the wagon seat and followed her up. It hurt him to look at her anguished, tear-filled face, so he kept his eyes averted. She was barely seated and she was already turning to gaze longingly at her parents. The reins to the horse
team were wrapped around the brake handle. Benteen unwound them.

“Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!”

“Don't forget to write!”

“We'll miss you!”

“Good-bye!”

Benteen didn't attempt to separate the voices calling after each other as he slapped the horses with the reins and chirruped to the team. The jangle of trace chains, the pounding shuffle of digging hooves, and the rattle of the covered wagon combined to drown out the voices. Beside him, Lorna waved frantically, straining and twisting in the seat to keep her parents in sight as they drove down the street. The tears kept falling, and Benteen kept a tight-lipped silence, understanding yet feeling the anger of frustration, because there was nothing he could say or do. Her desolation was beyond comforting, so he didn't try.

They were nearly out of town before her shoulders quit shaking with sobs, but the tears didn't stop. Benteen slid a short glance at her pale, strained face, partially turned from him, and looked again to the front. With one hand he untied the kerchief knotted loosely around his throat and silently offered it to her.

She took it and wiped at her tear-drenched cheeks, while holding on to the sides of the wagon seat to keep from being bounced out by the rough road. When she had dried her face, she clutched the kerchief in her lap.

“I can't help it.” Lorna defended her tears.

“I know.” His voice was tight. She dabbed again at her eyes, bowing her head and sniffling. Purposely or not, she was making him feel like a bastard for taking her away from her parents. It rankled him, because she was his wife. She belonged with him, not them. Benteen stifled it as best he could, but some of his agitation crept through. “Those tears aren't going to make you feel any better.” He was conscious of her stiffening and cursed himself for not offering her some comfort.

When he tried to put his arm around her, Lorna pushed it away. “You don't understand,” she accused, the tears building again in her eyes. “I'll probably never see them again.”

In all likelihood, she was right, so Benteen didn't attempt to argue the point. But her eyes were on him, waiting for him to deny it and allay her fears. Her chin started quivering at his silence.

“It's true, isn't it?” she whispered.

“I don't know.” He was honest as he could be with her, a grimness to his profiled features.

He expected her to burst into tears, but the outpouring of grief didn't come. Tears continued to slide silently down her cheeks as Lorna stared at the road ahead. That was harder for him to endure than the wild weeping he had anticipated.

All was in readiness to take the trail when they reached the camp at nine that morning, three hours of sunlight gone. The horses were hitched to the chuck wagon; Ely Stanton's wagon was ready to pull out; the wrangler had the horse remuda bunched; and all the cowboys were in the saddle, waiting for the word to move out.

Pulling in the team, Benteen set the brake and wrapped the reins around it. He cast a glance at Lorna, noting the tears frozen on her face. A heavy sigh broke from him as he swung down from the wagon seat to the ground. He walked to the rear of the wagon and untied his saddle horse.

Jessie Trumbo rode up as Benteen stepped into the saddle. “All set whenever you give the word,” he said, and received a short nod.

Benteen rode past without looking at Lorna and cantered his horse to the Stanton wagon. He touched his hat in a silent greeting to the plain woman sitting alone in the wagon seat, a bonnet covering her hair. She met his look squarely.

“I'd be obliged, Mrs. Stanton, if you would drive my wagon this morning,” he requested stiffly. “My wife
would be grateful for your company. The wrangler's helper will drive yours.”

“Of course, Mr. Calder,” Mary Stanton agreed, and gathered her long calico skirts to climb down from the seat.

Pivoting his horse, Benteen trotted it over to the chuck wagon, where Jessie was talking to the cook, Rusty. “Tell Joe Dollarhide he'll be driving the Stanton wagon this morning.”

Both men had noticed the bride's white, teary face, but both men knew better than to mention it to Benteen. With a nod, Jessie wheeled his horse away from the chuck wagon and galloped out to the remuda to fetch the young rider.

When Mary Stanton crawled onto the wagon seat beside Lorna, she felt a surge of pity for the young bride. “Your husband thought we could keep each other company this morning,” she explained with a quiet smile.

Lorna nodded stiffly but didn't speak. Her fingers had wadded the kerchief into a tight ball on her lap. Across the way, Mary saw the cranky old cook preparing to start his team out, so she unwrapped the reins and adjusted them in her hands. The chuck wagon would lead the way to the day's nooning, a little off the route the herd would take.

“We'll be following the chuck wagon,” Mary said. Her glance rested on the sunbonnet hanging loosely down Lorna's back. “You'd better tie that bonnet on your head,” she advised. “Else the sun'll ruin your pretty skin.” In time, it would anyway, but she kept that knowledge to herself.

In her present state of anguish, Lorna didn't particularly care, but she numbly pulled the bonnet onto her head and knotted the ties snugly under her chin. A young boy rode by and dismounted to climb aboard the second covered wagon after tying his horse behind. When the chuck wagon rattled into motion, Mary started their team of horses. Lorna grabbed hold of the
wagon seat again as it lurched forward. She looked for Benteen, catching a glimpse of him just as he signaled to move the herd out.