Authors: Norah Hess
As Chase splashed through unseen puddles of water in the darkness, his ire grew. The cabin was in darkness. Raegan had gone to bed without leaving a lamp lit to guide his way. That showed just how upset she was at his absence, he thought with a scornful grunt.
But Raegan had been upset, was still upset when she went to bed and half an hour later was in no better frame of mind. She gave the pillow a whack in her helplessness to do anything about Chase's staying with Liza. He would look at her as if she'd gone mad should she go to him and say, "Look, I don't want you seeing that woman ever again."
A tear slipped down her cheek. He'd been seeing the widow long before she came into his life. Why should he stop now? To him Raegan O'Keefe was his niece and as such shouldn't give a thought to his love life.
She sighed raggedly. She might as well get used to the idea that he would continue to see the woman. She knuckled the tears from her eyes. Why couldn't she fall in love with Jamie? He was so kind, so sweet and thoughtful. Although he hadn't said anything as she made supper, she knew from the firm line his lips had taken that he was furious with Chase.
She had toyed with the idea of explaining to Jamie that she and Chase were not really married, that Chase had put that word out so she wouldn't be bothered by the trappers at Johnson's fur post. She hadn't told him, though. It was up to Chase whether or not the truth be told.
The wind blew a sheet of rain across Raegan's bedroom window, making her scoot deeper beneath the blanket. She had been washing the few dishes she and Jamie had used for supper when she had heard the first patter of rain on the roof. Aggie Stevens will be glad to hear that noise, she'd thought with a smile. She remembered then that if it rained too long, her own garden would be set back. She had turned around to say as much to Jamie, but he was leaving the kitchen, slamming the outside door behind him.
"Oh dear," she murmured, picking up a plate and wiping the dish towel around its surface. "He's really angry with Chase. I hope he doesn't say anything to him."
Wondering if things would ever straighten themselves out, she had then begun to slice several pieces of salt pork off a long slab. She yawned as she placed the thin slices of meat in a crock of water to soak overnight, to rid them of the salt. Tomorrow morning she would drain them, coat them with flour, and fry them for breakfast.
"I might as well go to bed, Lobo," she said, patting the wolf's rough head and yawning again. The animal stood up, whined and trotted over to the door. As she let him out and he dashed off through the darkness, she peered down the muddy trail that was barely visible through the slash of rain that dimmed the light from the lamp on the kitchen table. There was no sign of a big man astride a big stallion.
With a deep sigh, she closed the door and glanced around the kitchen. Everything was in order. There was nothing more she could occupy herself with, no excuse for her to stay up longer, waiting for Chase to return. Her shoulders drooped, He probably wouldn't come home all night anyway. She blew out the light and walked down the hall to her bedroom. As she undressed and crawled into bed, the rain hissed against the window as if it were trying to get inside.
And now it was two hours later, the rain was still pouring down, and she still lay awake. She turned over on her side and gave her pillow an impatient whack, telling herself that she was touched in the head for giving Chase Donlin a second thought, and she was damned if she'd continue to do so.
Her last waking thought, however, was of Chase and Liza lying cozily in bed, the rain a background to their love-making.
The rain had stopped and the sun rose, turning the hills red. Raegan stirred, turned on her side, and snuggled her cheek into the pillow. But her long hair had caught beneath her shoulder and the pulling of it was bringing her awake.
She stared at the wall opposite her, at one of her mother's samplers she'd hung there. Her thoughts went immediately to Chase then. Had he come home last night or was he still with Liza?
A warm breeze wafted through the open window, carrying with it bird song and a wet, woodsy odor. She frowned. Who had opened her window? Which of the two men had been in here while she slept? And why?
Raegan raised her head suddenly and sniffed the air. Did she smell salt pork frying? She sniffed again and definitely caught the distinctive odor of
the briny meat. Someone was making breakfast. Jamie?
"Oh, let it be Chase," she prayed, scooting out of bed, her slender feet feeling for her slippers.
She padded across the floor, emptied half the pitcher of water into the basin, and dropped the bar of scented soap into it. She pulled her nightgown over her head and took the fastest sponge bath she'd ever had in her life. Ten minutes later she was dressed in a sprigged muslin the color of her eyes, her hair brushed and tied up high on her head, showing to perfection the delicate curve of her jaw and her slender white throat.
She closed the bedroom door behind her and walked down the hall. When she stepped into the kitchen, her heart leapt joyfully. As she stood just inside the door, Chase looked up from the skillet he was tending and could only stare at her. How beautiful she was, he thought. So innocent and fresh looking.
He swallowed, trying to speak, to say something. He must look like a simpleton, standing here, gawking at her like a green teenager. But nothing would come. It was as if his tongue were frozen, his jaws locked.
When Chase didn't speak, Raegan's happy smile faded away. Full of confusion, she smothered a sigh. Why had he changed so toward her? Changed so much he wouldn't even greet her in the morning? What had she done to change his smiling, caring manner to one of silent, brooding displeasure?
She could only think that he had already grown tired of having her underfoot all the time, that she hampered his involvement with the widow. If she hadn't been here yesterday, masquerading as his wife, Liza would probably have stayed overnight with him, maybe even several days.
When Chase finally tore his gaze away from her, Raegan approached the stove and asked timidly, "Shall I finish making breakfast?"
The heady woman scent of her drifted to Chase as she stood close beside him. From the corners of his eyes, his gaze was drawn down her slender body, then back up to fasten on her proudly thrusting breasts. His voice was gruff when he answered.
"I've got it under control. You can pour the coffee if you want to."
Tears smarted Raegan's eyes at his harsh tone. She blindly picked up a hot-pad, and when she reached for the coffee pot, her arm brushed against his. The contact of her bare flesh with his set fire to Chase's blood. He jerked away his arm so fast that she looked up at him, startled.
A wounded look came into her eyes. Was even her touch distasteful to him? Her lips trembled and she fought back the tears that now hung on her lashes. Swallowing hard, she filled the three cups placed next to three plates, then asked stiffly as she set the pot back on the stove, being careful not to touch Chase, "Shall I call Jamie, or is he still sleeping?"
"He's down at the corral," Chase answered just as stiffly. He choked back the other words he wanted to say to her—no, yell at her. He wanted to demand where she and Jamie had gone yesterday. Had she let Jamie make love to her?
His back stiffened when Jamie said from the doorway, "Wrong, Chase, I'm right here,"
Chase grunted, but Raegan smiled at the freshly scrubbed face and slicked back hair. "Good morning, Jamie." There was a fondness as well as relief in her tone, making Chase grind his teeth together.
"Mornin' to you, sunshine." Jamie touched Raegan's shoulder affectionatly, aware of the dark frown on Chase's face as he saw the action. "Did you have a good night's sleep?" He let his hand slide down Raegan's arm and waited for Chase to knock him to the floor. Chase's fists only clenched.
"Yes, surprisingly I did sleep well," Raegan answered, "considering how the rain was lashing against the window."
Chase gave a barely audible snort of self-derision. It hadn't bothered her in the least that he'd been gone for hours, hadn't been home when she went to bed. And why should she care about him when there was such a handsome man to keep her company, flatter her, give her the sweet talk he couldn't give her?
"What about you?" Raegan smiled at Jamie as she took a seat across from him. "Were your dreams pleasant ones?"
"Indeed they were. I hated walking up this morning." His voice was warm, insinuating that a woman had been in his dreams.
Had Chase looked at his friend, he'd have seen the mischief in his eyes, would have discovered that he was being baited. But he was too angry to look at Jamie, and his anger grew.
To hell with them both,
he ground out silently. And to hell with his plans for trying to get back to the easy relationship he and Raegan had known when they first met. He had planned on telling her about the church services the preacher was going to hold Sunday, and that if she wanted to attend he would take her. But seeing as she and Jamie were so cozy-like, she probably wouldn't want to leave him that long.
Raegan sipped at her coffee, hardly realizing she was doing so as Chase banged around the stove, his actions showing clearly that he was displeased about something. When he pratically slammed the meat and eggs on the table, she looked at him in silent query, asking why he acted so.
But Chase refused eye contact with her as he filled his plate from the big platter and began to eat. She looked at Jamie and her eyes widened. By the devilish gleam in his eyes, he was enjoying Chase's boorish behavior. When he gave her a wide wink, she was hard put not to giggle.
"What're your plans for today, Chase?" Jamie asked lazily, helping himself to an egg. "It would be a fine time to go squirrel huntin'. With the forest floor rain-soaked, we'd have no trouble slippin' up on the little devils."
Chase didn't raise his eyes from his plate as he answered stiffly, "I've made other plans."
"Oh? Can't change them, huh?"
Chase didn't bother to answer and Raegan ventured, "I suppose it's too wet to get started on the garden."
She had directed her remark to Chase, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to respond, Jamie said, "The ground will have to dry out for a couple of days, Raegan. But it's a fine time to get the rest of the weeds out of the flower beds. They'll come up real easy."
Raegan's eyes brightened. "That's true. Maybe we can pull some of the bigger ones out of the yard."
"I don't know why not," Jamie agreed, then slid a sly look at Chase. "We could get them all if a certain party was to pitch in and help."
Chase ignored the hint and lifted his cup to drain the last of the coffee from it. Fascinated, Raegan watched his throat work as the liquid slid down it. She had a strong urge to reach across the table and stroke her fingers down the muscular column.
She blushed furiously when Chase, lowering his cup, looked into her eyes. She dropped her lids, praying he hadn't read her thoughts.
And Chase, misreading the cause of the quickly hidden eyes, set his cup down with a hard thump. He rose and stalked out of the kitchen, muttering under his breath. What the hell did he care if she didn't want to look at him? Let her gaze into Jamie's eyes.
As he stamped off the porch, wondering how he was going to pass the day, for there was no way under the sun he'd hang around those two, Raegan looked at Jamie with troubled eyes.
"Is he always so—so cold and grouchy? He was quite nice when he came to Minersville, and even up until. . ." She paused, enlightment growing in her eyes.
"Until I came along?" Jamie lifted an eyebrow.
"Well yes, I guess so." Raegan rose and refilled their cups with coffee. "But I can't imagine why." She returned the pot to the stove, then sat back down at the table. "You're his best friend. He said so."
The corners of Jamie's eyes crinkled with his tickled smile. "Ole Chase is jealous, for the first time in his life. He's so jealous he's almost blind with it."
Raegan idly stirred sugar into her coffee, looking thoughtfully out the window. "I think you're mistaken, Jamie," she said finally. "After thinking it over, I don't think you have anything to do with it. I think his ornery manner has to do with Liza Jenkins and his interrupted freedom. I should have never come here."
"Now what kind of talk is that?" Jamie scolded. "Of course you should have come here. You're his wife. This is where you belong.
"Besides"—he covered her clenched fist with his hand—"you're badly mistaken about his feelins' for the widow. I told you he doesn't give a snap of his fingers about her."
But he likes to sleep with her,
Raegan reminded herself silently. He likes to go to the tavern and drink with the other trappers, play poker with them. She remembered the night they spent at Sid Johnson's fur post, where Chase had sat up all night playing cards.
She rose and went to stare out the window.
"No, Jamie, I'm a hindrance to him. I think he's sorry I'm here."
"Come on, Raegan, don't talk crazy. If it came down to it, Chase would rather lose an arm than lose you. He just don't know how to handle these new feelins' he's got." Jamie stood up. "Do whatever you have to" do in the cabin, then come on outside. We'll give them weeds hell."
A long sigh escaped Raegan as she turned from the window. Jamie wouldn't be so sure of his words if he knew the true situation, she thought as she began clearing the table. He doesn't know the lie we're living.
Chase rode along the Platte, the reins held loosely in his hands. It wasn't a river to trust today, he thought, studying the muddy flow, thick after last night's downpour, swirling, chafing at its banks. But nevertheless it was majestic as it gleamed under the late April sky, swinging its way toward a wilder wilderness, a place yet unhabitated by white man.
The beauty and grandeur of the Platte faded from Chase's mind as he let Sampson wander aimlessly along, not knowing or caring much where they went. He was deep in thoughts of Raegan. Once he slammed a fist down on the saddle in his helpless frustration, making the stallion snort his displeasure. What in the hell was he going to do about her? he asked himself for the sixth time since leaving the barn.
Deep down, he didn't believe that Jamie had crossed that line, taking who he thought was his best friend's wife to bed. But if the attraction he was sure the pair shared should grow into love, Raegan only need make it known that she was free to marry anyone she wanted to.
His stomach knotted. He didn't think he could bear it if that came to pass.
The stallion came to a full stop, bending his head to crop at a stand of lush grass. Chase lounged in the saddle, his mind still on Raegan, wondering what she and Jamie were doing back at the cabin. He was swiftly brought out of his preoccupation, however, when Sampson raised his head, his ears twitching as if listening.
Tightening his grip on the reins, Chase kneed the stallion off the deeply trodden animal path and into the encroaching forest of pine and spruce. After a few yards he reined him beneath a thick-trunked pine, straining his ears and eyes.
Nothing stirred; there was no sound. He told himself that because of the sodden condition of the forest, he would hear no footsteps. But there should be birdsong, the chirping bark of squirrels. Something, or somebody, had frightened the wild inhabitants of these woods.
His ears alert for any alien sound, his eyes searching among the trees constantly, Chase was suddenly rewarded by a despairing cry of agony. He knew the sound could have only came from a female throat, and he immediately thought of the Tillamook woman. Had Roscoe dared to bring her back to the neighorhood?
He swung to the ground and looped the reins over a branch, then moved cautiously in the direction of the cry. His moccasined feet made no sound on the wet leaves and pine needles as he moved forward, his hand on his gun butt. He came to a large boulder standing in his way. When he started edging around it, he all at once jerked back, shaking his head. He must be dreaming.
But Chase knew that he wasn't, and he took another careful look, then smiled mirthlessly. He had no need to take special care of being quiet. The pair on the ground wouldn't have known if an army was marching up on them.
The Indian girl stretched helplessly on her back, her hands held over her head, was petrified with fright, blind and dumb to anything but the long, bony body thrusting cruelly into her. And the man, driving his sharp hips against hers, was oblivious to everything but the release he worked at achieving.
Chase walked up to the coupling bodies, a savage mischief in his eyes. He stood over them, his eyes narrowed speculatively, gauging the rhythm of the narrow buttocks moving up and down. Finally what he waited for began to occur. The thrusting body had picked up its pace, on the verge of reaching a climax.
With unholy glee, he lifted a foot and slammed it into the bare rear end.
All action stopped, the long body going stiff. "Well, preacher"—Chase sneered the word contemptously—"is this how you convert the people you call heathens?"
The preacher's alarm and dismay were palpable as he rolled off the girl and scrambled to his feet, tugging up his trousers.
"Look, Donlin," he whined, "I'm a man, just like you. I need release too. When she begged me to lie with her, I became weak and sinned."
"Yeah, I could see she was really enjoyin' herself," Chase jeered. "You bastard." He took a threatening step toward the cowering man. "You were rapin' that girl, and if you say anything different, I'll smash your lyin' mouth."
He reached a hand down to the still fearful girl, recognizing her as one of Chief Wise Owl's tribe. "Are you all right?" he asked gently when she stood beside him. When she nodded that she was, he said, "Go on home. This one won't bother you again."
"I'm so ashamed," the young woman sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "What will I tell my new husband?"
Chase brushed the dirt off her doeskin shift and carefully picked the leaves and needles out of her long braid. "Must you tell him anything?" he asked softly when she quieted down. "I arrived in time to keep the bastard's seed from entering your body. There will be no child from his attack."
The girl chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, staring down at the ground. Then looking up at Chase and wiping her eyes, she said, "I guess that would be the wise thing to do. Your people and mine have lived together in harmony for a long time. It would be a shame for discord to come between us."
Chase nodded solemly. "My thoughts too. And be assured that this varmint who calls himself a man will pay for what he did to you. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but justice will catch up with him one day."
The girl nodded, then took off through the forest at a run. Chase watched her out of sight, then turned back to the man. "What are you goin' to do?" the preacher asked sullenly, his aborted release throbbing painfully in his loins. "I'll deny it if you spread the story around."
"You long piece of buffalo dung, do you think anyone in these hills would believe you?" Chase snarled. "You've got the hungry look of a skirt-chaser, and the men around here know it.
"I don't know yet what I'm gonna do about you. In the meantime, go ahead and hold services tomorrow. I wouldn't want the good women of Big Pine to miss hearin' the gospel read. They won't know that the man preachin' to them isn't fit to touch the Bible."
His hand shot out and grasped the front of the man's shirt. "But if you say one word about the sin of fornicatin', I'll have an Indian cut out your tongue." He gave the glowering man a hard shove. "Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and beat the hell out of you."