Fated Memories (24 page)

Kneeling down, Two Spirits pumped cold water in a steady stream, then ducked his head beneath the flow. Taking up the bar of soap, he worked it into a lather all over his head, then dropped it beside the pump to scrub his head with the tips of his fingers.

Jessie laughed as she watched him trying to rinse his long hair beneath the jet of water he pumped from the well.

When all the soap was rinsed clean, he sat back on the heels of his boots and, gathering the sodden mass in his hands, twisted the hair until it no longer dripped water. Rising to his feet, he pulled a leather headband from the back pocket of his jeans to tie it around his head.

Jessie’s eyes slid over his rock-hard chest, stared with appreciation at the way his wet jeans clung to his lean hips. As she stood there, a warmth spread over her body to settle in her loins. A hot flush crept up her neck and she dragged her eyes away from him. When he walked back to the bunkhouse, disappearing from her sight, she breathed a deep sigh, trying to quiet her racing pulse.

On shaking legs, she walked back to her bed and, stripping off her stifling robe, she let it fall to the floor. After she crawled back beneath the covers, she lay quiet for a moment then kicked her feet, sending the covers flying off the end of the bed.

The cool breeze blowing through the open window helped fan away her fever. Unable to relax, she thought about getting dressed and walking to the bunkhouse to find him. But as soon as the thought touched her mind, she dismissed it. Knowing the chances of being caught by one of the hands remained too great.

Why was he affecting her this way? She knew that with a smile or a crook of her finger, she could have her pick of any boy in the county. But none of them made her feel the way Two Spirits did, the way she felt even to just be near him. What did he have that turned her legs to jelly and made her stumble over her words like a silly child? She behaved like the calf-eyed boys who chased after her at the spring barbecues and dances. Is this how she made them feel? The idea brought a niggling twinge of guilt. Then too, the fact that she had such feelings for an Indian, that in itself presented a problem.

Born and bred in Montana, Jessie had grown up with the same feelings about the Indians as most everyone else in the west. That they were a people who could not take care of themselves, depending instead on the government to house, clothe, and feed them. And the thought rushed to the front of her mind, like everyone else in the county, she had always believed them to be an unclean people, living in lice-ridden hovels like the very animals they fed off of.

“
How could I be attracted to someone like this?” Scooting up in the bed, she plumped a pillow behind her neck. From this vantage-point, she stared out over the room she had slept in for as long as she could remember.

In the corner stood her large oak dresser. Against the wall was a vanity table, structured from the same wood as the dresser, and on which she always kept her brush, comb and lotions. She could see her reflection in the oval mirror inlaid in matching oak, positioned at the back of the table and hinged so she could move it to any angle she wanted. Off to one side of the table sat a heavy porcelain bowl, white with a large pink rose painted in its center. A matching pitcher, filled with water for her morning toiletries stood beside the bowl. Glancing down, she noted the large, wall-to-wall pink and gray braided rug that protected her bare feet from the cold hardwood floor on icy winter mornings.

Jessie wrinkled her nose as her eyes fell on the honey pot sitting in the corner, the lid clamped down tight to keep any odors from escaping into the air. A large and neat and clean room and all hers. Later, when the Lilacs came into bloom she would keep a vase of them displayed on the table.

She lived an uncluttered life. She liked it that way.

She enjoyed eating in the finest restaurants when they went to Helena or Miles City and staying in the best hotels the city had to offer. She remembered how people frowned upon the Indians in those cities. Jessie thought back to how she herself had skirted around them on the sidewalks many times, rather than brush against one and take a chance of catching vermin from their shabby clothes or unwashed hair.

The picture of Two Spirits kneeling beneath the pump as he washed his hair flashed through her mind. She had watched him bath in cold water rather than go dirty. He didn’t behave like the others she had seen in the big cities, dressed in torn shirts, ragged jeans and, more often than not, smelling of liquor.

But she couldn’t change the fact of him being an Indian. What in God’s name had she been thinking? Jessie covered her face with her hands. She had thrown herself at him, had even kissed him on the mouth. And after he told her to stay away from him. The clean, masculine smell of him clung to her memory of last night with a stubbornness not to be ignored. Dropping her hands from her face, Jessie scooted down in the bed, willing herself to forget about last night. Turning onto her side, she forced her tired body to relax.

“
I don’t need him,” she yawned into her pillow. “I’m Jessie Thornton! My father’s one of the richest men in the state of Montana, and I can get any boy I want with a smile.”

***

Later in the morning, Jessie finally made her way downstairs. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she had almost made her way to the front door when Charlotte called out to her.

“‘
Bout time you woke up. Ain’t you feelin’ well?” Charlotte put a hand up to Jessie’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“
I’m fine, Mother.” She pulled away out of Charlotte’s reach to continue on her way out the door.

“
Jessie.” Charlotte halted her. “Don’t you want some breakfast?”

“
I’m not hungry right now. Maybe I’ll have somethin’ later.”

“
All right, but don’t wait too long. Hattie’ll be putin’ everything away. If she has the kitchen cleaned by the time you come back, she’ll expect you to cook for yourself.”

“
If I get hungry, I’ll fix something. I’m not a baby, Mother.” She squared her shoulders, lifted her proud head. “I can cook.”

Nodding, Charlotte turned away, allowing Jessie to continue on her way out the door.

Jessie could see the large cloud of dust hanging suspended over the corrals as she made her way towards the barn. As though they had a will of their own, her steps quickened, for she knew he would be there working the horses while the rest of the hands were out on the range.

Stepping up on the fence, she climbed until she could throw one booted foot over the side to straddle it. From there she could watch Two Spirits as he went about his business of breaking a small mare to saddle. She watched the gentle way he handled the horse. She could hear his soft voice, calming and soothing, as he placed a lightweight blanket over the horse’s back. The horse shied to the side, snorting her protest at the foreign object covering her. With both hands, Two Spirits pulled her halter until she had to look at him. With a gentle hand, he rubbed his thumbs up and down the sides of her face, all the while keeping his voice low-keyed as he talked to her. She tried to pull away from him, throwing her head up, but he refused to let go. At last she stood still, allowing his touch. Two Spirits reached up, withdrew the blanket from her back and, with one hand, rubbed it against the side of her face, being careful not to cover her eyes.

Jessie could feel her heart swelling with respect at his caring. No wonder he was so good with horses. He really did care about them and they felt it in his gentle touch and soft voice.

Two Spirits felt her watching him. With the blanket still in his hands, he walked over to her. After hanging the blanket over the fence post, he walked through the gate then over to where she sat.

Jessie hopped down from the fence. “I think she will be one of your easiest conquests. She already trusts you.”

“
She is very young. If she is not abused by the one who will ride her, she will be a very good horse.”

Glancing up at him as they walked, she smiled. “Where did you learn to be so good with horses?”

“
A horse is an animal, but they too have feelings. They react to a harsh word or a forceful hand just as a person would. I treat them as I would wish to be treated.”

Hooking her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, Jessie quickened her steps to match his longlegged strides. “Two Spirits slow down. I can’t keep up with you.”

“
I am,” he apologized, slowing his steps. “I try to get as much work done as I can before the other hands come back.” He glanced sideways at her then looked away. “I find it is much easier to work when they are gone.”

“
Are they still givin’ you a hard time?” Jessie placed a hand on his arm. He turned, causing her hand to drop away and, lifting a saddle hanging over the fence, he hefted it to his broad shoulder. “They want to make me do my fair share of the work.”

“
Two Spirits, that ain’t the reason they treat you like they do, and you know it.” Jessie swung open the corral gate.

As he walked through the gate, he positioned the saddle over the fence. “Jessie, I am a Blackfeet Indian.” He turned to face her. “The men who work for your father are white. I can not change the way they feel about me. I will do the job I am being paid to do and try to get along with the other hands.”

“
Two Spirits, I wish you would let me talk to my father about the way you’re treated here. I know…” she stopped in mid-sentence when he held up his hand to silence her.

“
It would not do any good. Your father knows how I am treated.”

“
Are you sayin’ he don’t care?” Jessie drew back her head, gazing at him in disbelief.

“
No. I am saying he can not do anything about the way his men feel about me.”

“
I think you are misjudging my father.” She moved aside as he walked through the gate on his way to the small tack shed. “I know him,” she pulled the gate closed after them, “and I know he would not put up with anyone bein’ treated bad.”

“
Jessie,” Two Spirits noted the dark clouds moving across the sky, “a storm is coming. You had better go to the house.” He walked back to retrieve the saddle he had placed over the fence.

“
I ain’t afraid of a little storm. I’ll help you put things away.” She grabbed up the blanket, extra halter and anything else she could see in need of protection. Pushing the door to the small shed open with her shoulder, she dropped everything in a heap on the farthest side of the rough building. She could hear the first drops of rain as they fell on the tin roof. Forgetting about putting everything in its place right then, she turned, running back outside.

Two Spirits had already removed the mare’s halter.

“
I’ll get the gate,” she called out over the rising wind, her clothes plastered against her body as she stood holding the gate open, watching the mare run past her on her way to the barn.

“
Jessie, you need to go to the house. I still have much to do in the shed.” He walked away.

He started closing the door to the old shed when Jessie pushed against it to run inside.

“
You can not stay here, Jessie. The storm will bring the hands back. They must not find you here alone with me.”

“
Be serious, Two Spirits.” She pushed her wet hair back from her face. “It’s pouring down rain out there. I think my father would rather I stay here with you, where it’s safe, instead of taking a chance on bein’ struck by lightnin’.”

“
You have been in rain storms before. I want you to leave.” He bent down, picking up the soiled blanket, but as he turned to hang it on a peg, Jessie placed herself in front of him.

“
Why are you so afraid of me, Two Spirits?” She took the blanket from his hands to hang it on the peg herself.

“
You know why.” His eyes traveled over her wet body. Seeing the way her clothes clung to her ripe curves, his heart kicked into high gear.

“
Don’t be afraid of me, Two Spirits.” Jessie stepped closer. When he moved back, she followed, bringing her body in close. He shuddered as she brought her arms up to place them around his neck.

“
Don’t fight me, Two Spirits.” Jessie flattened herself against him, laying her head against his chest. With a low moan, he wrapped his hands in her hair, pulling her head back until she was forced to look at him.

“
Why do you tempt me this way?” He gave her a gentle shake. “You know we can never be together, yet you bring us both this torture.”

“
Kiss me, Two Spirits.” Jessie moaned the words. “One kiss, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Unable to help himself, he covered her full mouth with his. Too late, he found once was not enough. Her long fingers entwined themselves in his thick hair, holding his mouth pressed to hers. Two Spirits cupped her rounded bottom with both hands, bringing it up tight against his throbbing loins. Jessie could feel his rock hardness pressed against her and she pushed herself closer.

“
Not here,” he panted the words against her throat.

“
Then meet me tomorrow down by the lake.”

“
Jessie, we can not do this.” He tried to back away from her, but she followed him, grinding her hips tightly against him. A low growl escaped his throat as he yanked her head back hard, running his mouth over her throat then further down.

Her aching breasts strained against the wet material of her shirt. She wanted, needed, his mouth on her skin.