Lucas lifted his shoulders again and glanced over his shoulder to where she was standing beside Laura. He faced the Indian again and rubbed his chin with his fingers, deliberating. “On her belly.”
A snicker came from Collins, and Tucker thought she would faint from embarrassment.
“No papoose?”
“No papoose,” Lucas said sadly with a slump to his shoulders.
The Indian’s dark eyes moved to Tucker and glittered with contempt before returning to Lucas.
“One pony,” he said and his expression changed to arrogance.
“One pony for a woman with hair like fire?” Lucas retorted scornfully. “Take off your bonnet, Tucker,” he said over his shoulder.
“I’ll do no such thing!” she spat at him.
“Three ponies, two dogs,” Lucas said firmly.
“No!” The curve of the Indian’s lips spoke his contempt for such a price for a worthless woman. He turned and vaulted to the back of his pony. He gave Tucker another disgusted glance and raised his hand. He raced away, his warriors following, leaving only dust behind.
It was several seconds before anyone moved. When they registered that the Indians were gone, they all started talking at once.
“Harness up,” Lucas said sharply. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Tucker’s face was white and she was trembling. Yet she managed, by dragging Laura along behind her, to reach Lucas. In front of the whole assembly she brought her foot back and kicked him, as hard as she could, on the shin.
“If I were a man, I’d kill you!” she hissed.
Lucas winced when her foot made contact. “You sure as hell aren’t a lady!” His scorn cracked like a whip across her pride and his steely blue eyes pinned her glance.
“You wouldn’t know a lady if one jumped out of the bushes and bit you,” she snapped.
He looked down at her with cold eyes narrowed to mere slits, and his voice was cutting. “Run along and play your games with someone who’s interested. I’ve got work to do.”
The gasp this time came from Laura, and Tucker suddenly remembered her presence. She turned her back on Lucas.
“Come on, Laura. We don’t want to keep the great man from his duties.” Tucker led Laura away with as much dignity as she could muster.
Billy Hook reached Rafe and took a history book from his hand. “You’d make a good preacher man, Mr. Blanchet.”
Rafe had removed the heavy black coat. His shirt was soaked with sweat. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “No, Billy. I’d not make a preacher
man, or a medicine man, either. Wheeeee . . . I was scared to death.”
“You didn’t show it, Rafe,” Lucas said. “You did fine. It was pretty smart of you to speak up when you did.”
“Would they have killed us?”
“It’s hard to tell. Indians are notional. They like a display of force and a good show. We gave them both. Buck had them figured pretty well. They think a lot of their children, and he played on that.”
The sun was now up over the horizon. The sky had hazed over and a wind had come up. Sudden gusts kicked up sand and flapped the canvas tops.
Marie came to walk with Rafe and Billy. “You were magnificent, Mr. Blanchet. You may have missed your calling.”
“Don’t tease me, Doctor. There were moments when I couldn’t even see the printed words, and the only thing that saved me was a cantankerous old headmaster who’d made me memorize Patrick Henry’s speech as a punishment.”
Marie laughed. “Then we should give three cheers for that headmaster.” They reached the wagon, and Rafe began to hitch up the team. “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Blanchet?” Marie asked casually.
“I don’t feel quite top-notch. I still get a little pain in my side, but that’s all.” Rafe grinned. “I don’t want to get well too fast and lose my part-time driver and my chess partner.”
Marie brought up one of the mules, and Rafe backed it into the traces. In her mind she clicked off
the days since the bull had attacked him. She and Billy could have returned to their wagon several days ago, and she wondered what Rafe was thinking about their staying on. Three more days. If only he can get through three more days without stomach cramps or fever! He’s such a kind and understanding man, she thought, in a world where there is so little kindness and understanding.
May 23.
Today, three days out of Fort Stockton, we encountered our first Indians. According to our scout, Mr. Garrett, they were Apaches on their way north after spending the winter months in the mountains of Mexico. They were not a war party, but they were fierce-looking people. We were instructed by the scout and the wagon master to put on a show of bravery, and, to their credit, every man, woman, and child performed admirably, with no outward signs of panic. Mr. Garrett finally bargained with the Indians and, after much haggling, gave them bags of food. We did not see the women or children, but we did see marks across our trail made by the travois they pull behind their horses.
The mountains were still ahead, low on the horizon and faintly purple in the distance. Tucker stared at them now, soaking them in, because by late afternoon the train would be heading into the sun and it would be impossible to see them. The morning went quickly, and they nooned beside a brushy gully. Tucker helped pick up sticks and twigs to store in the tarp slung under the grub wagon.
During the afternoon Tucker and Laura drowsed on the wagon seat. The heat was affecting them, the heat and the hours of sitting and riding with nothing to look at but empty, barren land. Long before noon the visit from the Indians had been exhausted as a topic of conversation. After Laura’s outburst as they had walked away from Lucas—“He ought to be ashamed of himself; I don’t think I’ll ever like him again”—nothing more was mentioned about him or his part in the tableau. Laura rehashed the part Buck played, and Tucker had to admit that Buck had handled himself admirably.
The wagon ahead picked up speed, and Tucker
had to use the quirt on the mules to keep pace. They were moving along quickly by the time Lucas, riding down the line, reached them.
“Buck checked out the way station ahead. If we move right along, we’ll be able to camp there tonight.” He spoke crisply without looking directly at Tucker, touched his hand to the brim of his hat, and moved on.
The stagecoach way station was a simple two-room adobe cabin run by a man and his wife. When the wagons were circled and the stock watered and staked for the night, Lottie came by to ask if Tucker and Laura would like to walk over to the cabin with her to invite the couple to supper.
The woman was obviously thrilled to have other women to talk to, even for a short while. She proudly showed them the station. The large room was for feeding the hungry stage passengers, and occasionally its long tables were placed against the wall and used as beds. There was a huge fireplace with cast iron cooking utensils hanging from hooks on the facing beam. The smaller room was the private quarters of the stage keeper and his wife.
“Doesn’t it get lonesome?” Tucker asked as they headed toward the wagons.
The woman’s laugh was rich and warm. “Oh, Bill and me is glad to see people come, and we’re glad to see ’em go. Bill and me won’t be lonesome, long’s we got each other.” Her voice was full of tenderness. “We took this job so we could work together and be together. It’s home.”
Supper over, the men sat beside the fire and the women moved away and regrouped. Tucker and Laura sat on the fringe and listened to the talk. The woman from the way station had exciting stories to tell about passengers who came through on the stage.
“Well I tell you, this woman what came in on the stage was a livin’ sight. Bill says I ain’t ort to be talkin’, but sakes alive, she was the prettiest thing I ever laid my eyes on, and sweet talkin’, too! She had a woman with ’er who did for ’er, and she weren’t no slouch herself. It just so happened that the stage laid over. Well now, ’bout this woman, the other’n called her Madame Ge-neen, or somethin’ like that. She was a French girl from Bordeaux, she said. I kinda got all flustered, knowin’ I was havin’ such highfalutin company for supper, but the little gal pitched right in, rolled up the sleeves on ’er fancy dress, and made up a batch of the lightest biscuits you were et, and to top it all off she made milk gravy. Now this was the madame a doin’ all this. The other’n sit in a chair like she was queen of somethin’ or other. But soon as the meal was et, we knowed who held the whip. The madame said, cool as you please, ‘Get up off your ass, Josephine, and clean the table. Me and these folks is goin’ to have us a little card game.’ Well . . . the driver, the guard, and a man passenger played cards with that woman ’til way in the night and she cleaned ’em out. She sure did. Now, my Bill, he said he thought. . . .”
Buck had come up silently behind Laura and put
his hand on her shoulder. “Want to take a walk, or listen to this?” he asked softly.
Laura’s smile was for him alone. “Need you ask?” she whispered.
He helped her to her feet and they walked out into the darkness. Tucker felt the vacant feeling in the pit of her stomach expand to include her heart as she watched them go. She was losing everything so fast!
The evening was comfortably warm and alive with soft night sounds coming from the camped train. A wayward cloud scudding past released the captive moon that now shone on the man and the woman walking so close together that their two shadows made one.
“Now?” Laura asked softly.
“Now.” He stopped and took her in his arms. Laura lifted her face upward. He kissed her lips softly and nuzzled her hair, breathing in the sweet fragrance of it. Her arms went around his neck and he kissed her again, his parted lips savoring hers for a long, blissful moment as his hands roamed over her back and around to tenderly capture her small firm breasts. Her cheeks grew warm and flushed with the pleasure he aroused in her as his thumbs teased the soft nipples into excited peaks.
“I’ve missed being with you these last days,” she whispered.
“No more than me,” he murmured in her ear. “Oh, love, I long to grab you up and run away to the highest mountain, where I’d have you all to myself.”
Laura moved to press her trembling mouth upon
his. “Buck,” she breathed against his lips. “I still can’t believe that you love me.” Her hands fluttered over his face. She traced his eyebrows with her fingertips and moved them down to his nose and across his cheeks. “Your face is so smooth.”
He laughed softly and nipped at her fingers with his lips. “Do you think I would come to my beloved with whiskers that would scratch her soft skin? I scraped them off with my knife.”
She laughed, tipping her head back until her hair fell past her hips. She slipped her hand inside his shirt and rubbed his smooth chest, reveling in the warm feel of his body. She held her mouth up to his, and there was a soft union of lips and tongues as their mouths parted and clung with wild sweetness that held still the very moments of time. Clasped tightly to him as if he would draw her into himself, Laura felt the thunderous beating of his heart and heard his hoarse, ragged breathing in her ear. His hand moved down her back with hungry impatience and pressed her hips tight against him.
“
Querida,
my virgin
querida,
” he whispered. “I should not be rough with you . . . but when I hold you I cannot help myself. I long for you every waking hour.” He smoothed her hair back and traced his mouth along the column of her throat.
“I’ll not break apart. I want to be treated like any other woman,” she said with her lips pressed to his hair. “Buck . . . sometimes I want us to . . .” she hesitated, “I want us to love each other like . . . a man and
a woman love each other. Tucker said it’s wonderful, beautiful, with the man you love.”
Buck took a deep shuddering breath. “Laura! There was never a woman to compare with you! You say these things to me while we stand in this place, when I would give my life to love you in just such a way.”
Laura placed a trembling hand across his lips. “Not your life, darling. Never say that!”
He kissed her soft palm, her slender fingers, her wrist. His gentleness brought immeasurable tenderness to her breast. She lay her head against his chest and encircled him with her arms.
“You’re an angel, my beloved,” he whispered softly. “When you lie beside me, soft and warm, letting me love you as I long to do, it will be as my wife.” He raised her head with gentle fingers so he could watch her face. “When we get to El Paso I’ll find a priest to marry us, and then you will be mine for all time.”
The import of his words reached into her mind, and she held herself away from him.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Her question hung in the air and she held her breath.
“More than I ever wanted anything in my life.” His voice deepened and there was no doubt of his sincerity.
There was a deep silence between them. Presently, with his arm encircling her waist, they began to walk again.
“Something has happened between Tucker and
Lucas, Buck. Tucker says she doesn’t love him, but somehow I think she does. She’s feeling miserable, and I can’t talk to her anymore. It’s as if she’s pushed me away.”