He wheeled his horse, cut between the wagons, and rode out across the prairie. Chata, leading a string of mules, moved up even with the wagon but stayed far to the side. He was looking at Tucker when she glanced at him, and she knew the young Mexican boy had deliberately pulled up beside them when he saw Frank beside their wagon. She was beginning to wonder how much the men knew about Parcher. She smiled at him and waved her hand, receiving a flashing smile in reply.
She turned to see a frown on Laura’s face. “That was the scout from the other train, wasn’t it? I don’t
like the way he talked to you. What did he mean? Has he talked to you before?”
Tucker laughed. For once lately it was not forced—she actually felt like laughing. Parcher was leaving the train! Oh, thank God!
“He thinks he’s irresistible to women, that’s all. I don’t pay any attention to him,” Tucker bubbled.
“But he’s talked to you before. You never said anything about it.”
“I’ll swear to goodness, Laura! It really wasn’t worth mentioning. It wasn’t important at all. I’d like to forget I ever saw the . . . snake!”
“See there? I could tell you didn’t like him. Are you afraid of him?”
“Him?” Tucker scoffed. “What can he do to me?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like him. I don’t think Lucas would like for him to be talking to you like that.”
Not even the mention of Lucas could dampen the wild, sweet relief in Tucker’s breast.
“I’m sure not telling him about it, and I don’t want you to tell him either, Laura. I can take care of myself, and you, too, if I have to.”
“I still think he should know. He could protect you from that man.”
“Oh, flitter! He didn’t protect Cora Lee from Otis Collins.”
“That’s not fair, Tucker. We all know that Cora Lee wandered at night and didn’t pay any attention to what anyone said.”
“Let’s don’t talk about Cora Lee, and let’s don’t
talk about Frank Parcher. Let’s just be glad we’re off that desert.”
Lucas led the train down the Overland Trail right through the center of Fort Davis. They passed the quartermaster storehouse, the cavalry stables and corrals, stone barracks, and a long line of officers’ quarters with small kitchens built behind them. Everyone stopped their work to watch the train pass.
Tucker was beginning to believe they were never going to stop when Lucas called a halt at the far edge of the fort. Then she realized that they had reached a good spot, rather secluded, and that they would be free to wash in the creek without an audience of lonesome, woman-hungry men watching.
“Isn’t it wonderful to be clean again?” Laura was able to say a short while later. She was toweling her hair. The women were taking turns squatting in the stream in their shifts and bathing while the others stood watch. Now, with their britches and shirts washed and hanging on the side of the wagon to dry, and with cotton dresses covering their clean bodies, Laura and Tucker stood on the bank to guard while the rest of the women bathed. Comradeship had deepened among them since the death of Cora Lee. It had truly started back when Laura and Billy had been rescued from the bull. And now the bond was extended to include Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Taylor.
“Will you be all right for a while if I go down and help Mrs. Taylor with Maudy?” Tucker asked solicitously.
“’Sakes alive! I’ll be fine. Go on and don’t worry about me,” Laura assured her friend.
To Laura’s trained ears, even the tone of Tucker’s voice told her that something had happened to ease the strain her friend had been under recently. She hadn’t had that light, familiar tone for several weeks. They hadn’t discussed Lucas since that terrible night in the wagon when Tucker had said she didn’t love him. Laura held out hope that the breach between them could be patched. She would talk to Buck about it. Tonight I will be with my darling Buck, she reminded herself happily. I am surely the luckiest girl in the world!
That evening supper turned into a rare treat, with bread and sweet cakes purchased from the fort bakery.
“You look awfully pretty tonight,” Tucker said when Laura climbed out of the wagon after they had eaten.
“My beau is coming to call,” Laura explained happily.
“So that’s why you tied your hair back with your new blue ribbon.”
Laura put her hands up and gave the ribbon a little tug. “Does it look all right?”
“Pretty as a fresh cow pie resting in soft green grass,” Tucker teased.
“Oh, Tucky! You’re crazier than a scalded cat!”
“Maybe so, but you do look pretty tonight.”
“Thank you. Tucky, I haven’t told you for a long time, but I do love you.”
“I know that, you silly girl!” Tucker said lightly, thinking she had kept the emotional tremor out of her voice.
“You cry on me, Tucker, and I’ll . . . hit you with something!”
“Back to your old tricks, Laura Foster? I’ll take you down and sit on you!”
They were silent for a while after that. It had been a long time since they had felt like this. So much had happened to them since Tucker had first read the advertisement in the paper and had applied for the teaching job. Laura’s future was now tied up with Buck’s. Tucker was going to be alone again for the first time since she was eight years old.
Tucker couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “I’m going to clean the wagon while you’re with Buck,” she said.
“Why don’t you wait and let me help?”
“You’ve done your share of cleaning and fetching wash water. Tonight I’m going to clean.”
* * *
It was after dark by the time Lucas had completed the hundred and one chores connected with the train. He was weary in both body and spirit. The horror of finding Cora Lee dead on the desert, the killing of Otis Collins, the strain of waiting to know if he was going to have to shoot Rafe Blanchet—all combined with the gnawing ache in his heart that had begun with Tucker’s senseless behavior.
There was not a thing he could do about most of his problems, but there was something he could do
about the one with Tucker. He could get things straightened out between them—or ended—once and for all. If he was convinced things were over between them, maybe he could get her out of his mind.
The first step was to bluntly ask Buck to keep Laura away from the wagon for a good long while. Buck showed a rare glimpse of his sense of humor when he said he planned to do that anyway, but not for the purpose of making the wagon master’s courting easy for him. The next thing Lucas did was to pick up clean clothes from the freight wagon, walk down to the creek, and plunge in.
* * *
It had not taken Tucker long to clean the wagon. There was not much to do except shake out the bedrolls, dust off the trunks and boxes, and sweep the layer of dust from the floor. She did this and was about to step from the end of the wagon when Lucas appeared. Swiftly and silently he took her by the forearms and backed her into the wagon. She backed away in surprise, and he followed until she was cornered in the front of the wagon with no place else to go. Butterflies took flight in her stomach.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Sit down,” he ordered. “I can’t stand up straight in this damn thing.”
“Then get out.”
“Not on your life. Sit down,” he said curtly.
Startled somewhat by the fact that this arrogant man thought nothing of entering her wagon without an invitation, she obeyed. He sat down opposite her,
and in the close confines of the wagon his knees touched hers.
“I’ve had time to think. Not much, due to all that’s happened the last few days, but one thing is clear in my mind, Tucker Houston, and that is that you’re a woman who needs a strong hand.” She started to interrupt and he said, “Keep quiet and listen.” His eyes wandered over her tight expression with insolent freedom, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I know you’re a liar.”
Tucker felt herself go hot with anger beneath the stinging scorn in his voice and expression. Itching to hit him, she clenched her fist.
“Don’t,” he said, and she read the secret amusement in the depths of his eyes before they narrowed to mere slits of frozen light in the deeply tanned face. “You were lying. The things you said to Cora Lee were things you made up in an instant of anger over something she said to you. I don’t want to know what made you say them. I just want you to know that I’ll not put up with your childish attempts to pass me off as a plaything you used to amuse yourself.” He spoke softly but distinctly, each word dropping into the ominous stillness like a cold, hard stone. He seemed to be deadly calm. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A bead of sweat appeared on Tucker’s upper lip. After a moment she swallowed, and then her growing anger forced her into speech—reckless, almost stuttering, speech.
“You—you’ve got to be the most arrogant man in the world! Is it beyond your realm of thinking that I
may have decided that I don’t like you, that I want nothing more to do with you? I . . . don’t want you in this wagon. Your job as wagon master does not give you the right to come in here uninvited. Did you come to get your picture back? Well, here it is!” She reached behind her, grabbed the doeskin package, and thrust it into his hands.
“Hush up!” He set the package aside and caught her wrist in fingers like iron bands. “You’re going to have to learn to keep your tongue under control.”
The command in his voice made her shiver, but pride forced her to defy him. “You won’t be the one to teach me!”
Deep breaths lifted her firm breasts and shuddered through her lips as she fought for control. Even as she said the words, she knew she shouldn’t have issued the challenge.
“You’re going to stay in line from this night on, Red. I’m tired of fighting your fiery moods. One wrong step and I’ll spank your bottom.” He spoke with lazy calmness, but the threat was no idle one. “I haven’t waited all this time to find you just to let you make my life miserable.”
The words burned into her mind. He was thinking about the woman in the portrait again!
“I’m going to marry you, Tucker Red.”
“I don’t even look like her!” she blurted. “I don’t look like that . . . whore!”
“She was no whore and you know it. And you do look like her, but that isn’t the reason I’m going to marry you. I’m marrying you because I love you, not
a picture, because you love me and need me, because there’ll never be another man who can take my place in your life. You love me, Tucker Red!”
“I don’t!” she sputtered.
With a quick jerk she was forced into his lap, and before she could catch her breath he had pinched out the candle.
“You are the stubbornest, most muleheaded, cantankerous woman I have ever met,” he said decisively before he covered her mouth with his. In the far recesses of her mind she seemed to remember he had said the same words to her once before.
He took her lips in a hard, unyielding kiss, as if by his action he could use up some of his anger. She struggled, her pride refusing to let her lie docile in his arms. One hand moved to hold her head, and his arms held her trapped against his chest.
He raised his lips long enough to whisper: “Be still or, by God, I’ll give you something to wiggle about!”
“No! Lucas . . . don’t.”
“I’m going to love you, Red,” he said, his voice a throaty growl.
“No! Laura will—”
“Laura won’t be back for a long time.”
“You . . . planned this!” she yelped in shocked dismay.
“Yes, I planned this. I dreamed about this and I’m going to love you, even if I die afterward! And it’s going to be a proper loving, Red. Take off your
dress.” His lips were moving over her face, and he raised her head to look into her eyes.
“You think that because I let you once that—”
“Don’t talk that way,” he said sharply. “Don’t you dare dirty what we did back by the Colorado. Stand up and take off your dress or, by God, I’ll tear it off.”
She stood with her back to him and unbuttoned her dress. She knew she wanted him, and she would be proud to despite his taunts. She wanted him to love her tenderly, as he had once beside the Colorado, yet he was so fierce now she was almost afraid.
He was ready for her when she turned. She could see the glow of his nude body. He threw the bedroll down onto the floor of the wagon.
“Come here and kiss me, Red.”
Pride fought desire. Tucker faltered. It shouldn’t be this way, she thought, so deliberate, so unfeeling, anger and resentment causing him to do what love should have prompted. “I wish you . . . wouldn’t.”
“No, you don’t. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms and sank down onto the pallet.
His kisses were fierce, his mouth moist and firm forcing hers to open so his tongue could wander her soft inner lips before venturing deeper. Her breasts, with only the thin material of her shift covering them, were crushed against him, his thighs molded to hers. She trembled, trying not to feel, willing herself not to like what he was doing to her, but it was futile. Her flesh and blood, nurtured by her love for him, responded.