Dorothy Garlock (16 page)

Suddenly, she was aquiver with the desire to comfort him, to soothe away the tight lines at the sides of his mouth, to make them twitch into a smile. A long quiet had slipped by while they gazed at each other.

“No man before me has kissed you?” It was a softly voiced question.

“No.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I was disappointed.”

He drew in a trembling breath and looked away from her for an instant, then back, as if his eyes couldn’t stay away from her face.

“Why didn’t you like it? I did.”

Her heart stopped, then raced wildly. She took her time answering, trying to find words that wouldn’t destroy his gentle mood.

“I always imagined a kiss to be gentle . . . and sweet. I thought it would be an expression of . . . loving. That it would be shared, not hurtful and humiliating.” Her words trembled from unsteady lips.

“I was too rough,” he groaned. “I scratched your soft skin with my whiskers.” There was regret on his face, and his voice echoed with it.

Her lips spread in a slight smile while her eyes locked with his. “It wasn’t the whiskers—”

“Then what was it?” he insisted.

“It wasn’t what it was, it was what it wasn’t!” She was beginning to panic. “Did the other women you’ve kissed like it?”

“I never asked them.” He hesitated, then added, “I guess I really didn’t care if they liked it or not.”

“Jefferson . . .” She meant a gentle rebuke, but his name was more of a caress when it came from her lips.

“I want to kiss you again.” The look in his eyes made her melt inside. “I’m asking this time.”

Thoughts of future heartache drifted through her mind and she rejected every one of them even as she raised her slightly parted lips to receive his.

His mouth was firm yet gentle as it sat upon hers. His lips touched hers softly at first, then eagerly tasted them as she yielded to the delicate pressure. There was controlled power in the way he moved his lips over her mouth with a sensual deliberation, taking care not to crush the feeling from hers, but to coax them to respond and vibrate to his warm tender movement. Her lips followed his, seeking, caressing. The feeling became so intense that her entire body shivered with sheer delight. Never in her life had her senses known such excitement.

There was not a whimper of protest from her when he drew her so close that he hurt her against his hardness. Her mouth opened to the gentle persuasion of his and she melted into a mindless dream as his tongue stroked the softness of her inner lips. Her arms tightened about him and she clung, unaware of his restraint, unaware of the tremor in his arms. She allowed him access to her unexplored mouth. Locked in his embrace, glowing waves of pleasure spread like wildfire throughout her body.

Somewhere along the way she lost her identity and became part of him, and untamed intensity swept her on. They were two beings blended together in a whirling tide. His mouth moved a fraction from hers and a sound, half groan, half sigh, exploded on a breath that came from him. She moved her face to find his lips again. His tongue moved lightly over her lips, not daring to go inside again, holding back. His hoarse, ragged breathing accompanied the pounding thunder of his heartbeat.

Slowly, haltingly, he raised his head so he could look directly into her eyes. His eyes devoured her. Relief and surprise at what he saw there made his voice husky and relaxed his taut features. “Annielove . . .”

They stared at each other for a moment that was so quiet it seemed the world had stopped. She was fully aware that they were breathing the same air, and that the taste of his mouth was flavored with tobacco. The rough plains of his cheeks were warm and caressing against her face. And when his large hand moved beneath her arm to find her full breast, there was a pleasant, natural feeling to it.

“I didn’t mean it to go on for so long!” His breath was warm on her lips. He studied her face, the sparkle of tears on her lashes and her quivering mouth.

She returned his searching look. The pale light of evening slanted onto his light hair, his thick lashes, and the hollows of his cheeks. She raised her hand and trailed her fingertips across his chin and moved up to where the slashes appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. She wished he would smile now, so she could feel them.

“Didn’t you like it this time?” She could feel life pounding in her throat, her temples.

“Of course I did!” he said almost savagely. “But I . . .” His voice trailed away and he seemed to be drowning in her eyes. Her tongue came out and moistened her lower lip while she waited. “But I—I wanted you to like it, too. Was I too rough?”

“No. You weren’t too rough, but . . .” A rosy flush came up from her neck to flood her face.

“Were you disappointed this time?” The question came hesitantly.

“No,” she said again. “I was surprised. I thought you held your lips like this when you kissed.” She formed her lips in a tight pucker.

He laughed and she could feel the vibrations against her breast. She found herself beaming with pleasure.

“Shall we try it?” He puckered his mouth and touched hers lightly. “Did you like that any better?”

“Did you?”

“The only thing I liked about it was that I had to be close to you to do it.”

Strange, tempestuous feelings swirled inside her again, and she struggled desperately to keep her head. Her senses commanded her to move back out of his embrace, but her body ignored the order, remained pliable, and molded itself against him. She could feel the hard muscles and bones of his chest and arms, and the steady thumping of his heart. The problems that had clouded her life since the death of her pa seemed to leave her, and she was engulfed in a peaceful void.

“You’re about worn out.” His voice was soothing against her ear. “You’ve been through a lot and you’ve held up. But now you need a good sleep.” His hands moved up and down her back and for a moment she allowed herself the luxury of being held and comforted.

It wasn’t until she moved out of his embrace that she realized it was dark. There was a smoky smell to the cool air that caused her nostrils to twitch. They walked out from among the trees and into the grassy clearing around the house. The grass was already wet with dew and the forest beyond loomed thick and dark. They walked silently along the rail fence, Jeff’s hand firmly attached to her elbow. When they reached the dogtrot he pulled her to a stop.

“Annie Lash.” He said her name softly.

The hair on the back of her neck lifted, her breath shortened, her cheeks warmed, and her lips parted tremblingly when she looked up into the dark face that loomed over hers.

“Have we come to an understanding?”

She nodded. “Jefferson.” She’d liked the sound of his full name ever since she heard Callie using it. “I’ll work hard and be a help to Callie, but—”

“You and Callie will find a meeting ground,” he said confidently.

She was quiet for a moment, listening to the far-off hoot of an owl. “It seems so peaceful here, yet you said you were bothered some by the Osage.”

“Not for some time now, but you can never completely let your guard down. They’re on the warpath with the Delawares now, and as long as they are having trouble among themselves it makes it easier on us. There are a few Osage that hunt these grounds. They’ve always been friendly. Henry and Jute, his boy, move among them, so we’re reasonably safe here.”

“I didn’t get a chance to thank Henry and Jute. I’ll do it tomorrow.” She put her hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn.

“Come on.” Jeff chuckled. He took her arm and turned her toward the door. “Let’s get you bedded down before you fall asleep on your feet.”

Annie Lash woke to the sound of a scolding bluejay sitting on a branch outside the window. She identified it, lazily opened her eyes, and lay resting in the nest her body had made in the feather bed. She turned on her back, stretching luxuriously, pleasantly aware of the clean sheets and the soft comforter that covered her. Last night she had been too tired to do more than murmur a good night to Callie when she brought her to this room. Earlier, before the burying, she had washed and put on a clean dress in Callie’s room beyond the kitchen. On this side of the dogtrot there were two more rooms and Annie Lash was sure that she was in the larger of the two.

It was a cozy room with white birchbark walls and a stone fireplace with a generous mantle that held an oil lamp. The wide double bunk she lay on was fastened to the wall, its foot extending to the small, high-set window. To the left of the entrance was a washstand equipped with a wooden bowl. There was a cupboard, expertly made from walnut and put together with stout pegs, the wood oiled and rubbed until it glowed softly in the early morning light. A dark braided rag carpet covered a section of the stone floor between the fireplace and the bed. Annie Lash had not slept in a room as fine as this since she and her parents left their Virginia home.

The clatter of a bucket and voices in the dogtrot brought her out of her dreamlike state and her feet hit the floor. She whipped her nightdress over her head and shivered, pausing only long enough to rub her arms and feel the bumps the cold air raised on them before scrambling into her clothes. After pinning up her braids, she slipped her feet into a pair of fur-lined moccasins Zan had made for her and went through the dogtrot to the other room.

Callie was at the fireplace. She swung a crane so that the iron teakettle hanging from it was clear of the intense heat of the fire.

“Good morning,” Annie Lash said.

“Mornin’.”

“Mercy! I slept like a log. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

“I’ve not been up long myself.”

Annie Lash went to the washstand and splashed water from the bowl on her face, then washed her hands with a small cake of soap that lay in a dish beside the bowl. The towel she used to dry her face and hands was damp from previous use, so she hung it over the end of the washstand to dry.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do, Callie.”

“I’m going to set another batch of tea to steep. Will and Jefferson have gone through one batch already this morning. I swear, I don’t know when those two sleep. They set up half the night chewing the fat and were up hours ago.” She wrapped a rag around the handle of the teakettle and poured boiling water into a large crockery pitcher. “Jefferson likes mush after he’s been on the trail. You’ll find meal in that keg on the floor under the work shelf. I keep the lid on tight so the mice can’t get to it. Will likes his mush fried. I’ll slice yesterday’s for him as soon as he brings me some bacon from the smokehouse.”

“How much mush should I make?”

“I usually fill this kettle about half full of water. That’ll make enough so there’s some left over to fry.”

The kitchen and the pots she worked with were spotlessly clean, the tableware and food containers placed handily on the shelves, the cookpots arranged on the proper fireplace cranes, and the set of trivets, skillets, and other implements were neatly lined up along the hearth. Annie Lash’s liking for Callie increased.

A lusty cry came from the other room and Callie clamped the lid down on the tea can.

“That’s Abe. He don’t do anything halfway. When he wakes up he bawls for his breakfast so loud he could wake the dead. I’ll have to get him before he wakes Amos.” She hurried into her room and Annie Lash could hear her trying to quiet him. Abruptly, the cries ceased. Callie came back holding the blanket-wrapped child in her arms. “I’ll nurse him in here until the men come in. It’s cold in there unless I get under the covers.”

“Mornings and evenings are cold even if it is almost the first of May. Sit here, Callie.” Annie Lash pulled her rocking chair from the corner and placed it close to the fireplace. “Sit here and feed that hungry baby and tell me what to do.”

Callie sat down and rested her arm holding the baby’s head on the smooth curved arm of the chair and adjusted the blanket to cover Abe’s face and the breast he was pulling at so greedily. She rocked gently and her eyes smiled into Annie Lash’s.

“It’s been years since I sat in a rocker. I thought Amos was going to wear it out last night. Jefferson said he didn’t think you’d mind if he sat in it.”

“Of course I don’t mind. My mother rocked me in it when I was a baby and I couldn’t part with it. Jefferson . . . said I could bring it. Callie, I’ve got to tell you. He said you were sick, needed help with the babies—”

“I know. He told me. I was sick when he left to go to Saint Louis. I had a terrible cold and it went down in my chest. Will helped me with the younguns. I stayed in bed for almost a whole week. Imagine! He cooked, and took over—kind of. I just never had someone doin’ for me like that . . .” Her voice trailed away with the wonder of what she was telling.

“My pa was the only man I ever knew who would do woman’s work without complaining.” Annie Lash bent over the kettle of boiling water and sprinkled the ground meal, stirring all the while to keep the batter smooth and free of lumps. “My ma was sick for a long while and Pa did for her. Even after I was older and could have done it all he bathed her and combed her hair.”

Callie made little clicking noises with her tongue. “Imagine that! I never knew my ma. I was raised up by my pa and my brothers,” she said regretfully. “I never had no sister, either, or a woman friend, so I hardly know how . . .”

“Me, either,” Annie Lash said and her eyes caught Callie’s. The faint, shy smile she received from the other woman lifted her spirits and she returned the smile.

Abe began to fuss. His small fist pounded on his mother’s breast.

“Mercy me! You’re a glutton, Abe Pickett. You’ve drained it already!” She shifted the child to her other breast. “You’re going to get weaned just as soon as you can learn to drink out of a cup, young man.” She placed a kiss on the child’s head and hugged him to her breast as if to soften the threat. “It don’t seem right for me to be sitting here and you doing all the work.”

“It looks to me like you’re doing plenty, filling that youngun’s stomach,” Annie Lash replied, and swung the crane holding the bubbling mush clear of the heat.

“Ah, Abe!” Callie grimmaced and got to her feet. “It goes in one end and out the other. I can’t get enough paddin’ on his behind to hold all the water he lets out. I’ll change him and myself while I’m at it. He ought to sleep a good long while.”