Forbidden Fires (17 page)

Rafe let out a long sigh. He was tired and dusty and hungry, yet just looking at Caitlyn made him forget all that. She was wearing a blue cotton shirtwaist and a calico skirt that was damp around the hem. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, though several strands had escaped to curl around her face. But it was her eyes that held him. They were as green as the grass at her feet, filled with a silent plea for his forgiveness.

He mouthed a vague obscenity as he swung from the saddle and took her in his arms. She melted against him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Drawing back a little, he cupped her face in his hands, his fingertips wiping away her tears. He felt his heart catch as she gazed up at him, her cheeks damp, her eyes filled with love.

“Caty.”

“I love you, Rafe. I never meant to offend you.”

“I know.” It wasn’t her fault she hated Indians any more than it was his fault he was a half-breed.

Gently, tenderly, he kissed her and the touch of her lips drove away all the hurt, all the hard feelings.

“Come on,” he said huskily. “Let’s go home.”

Caitlyn nodded, her heart light as Rafe lifted her onto Red’s back, then swung aboard his own bay gelding.

Side by side, they rode toward the Circle C.

Chapter Fourteen

Rafe let out a sigh of exasperation. “Dammit, Caitlyn, you’re not going and that’s that. The trail’s no place for a woman.”

“You sound just like my father,” Caitlyn retorted.

“Well, he was right. Now I want your word that you’ll stay here until I get back.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with defiance, shooting green sparks at him. “I’m going, and
that’s
that. You seem to forget those are my cattle. I have every right to ride along.”

“You have no rights at all except the ones I give you,” Rafe snapped. “You’re my wife, and I’m telling you to stay here, at home, where you belong.”

Caitlyn glared at her husband, too angry to speak. How dare he talk to her like that! No right, indeed! The ranch was hers, the cattle were hers, and she would do as she darn well pleased. And if he didn’t like it, that was just too bad.

Rafe swore under his breath. He had tried to reason with her, he had tried to threaten her, and now he had tried to bully her, and nothing had worked. One way or another, he knew Caitlyn was determined to accompany the herd to Fort Laramie and short of tying her to the bedpost, he couldn’t think of any way to make her stay home.

“Caty, please do as I ask.”

She felt her anger drain away at his soft-spoken request. She almost agreed but then she shook her head. “I’m going.”

He knew when he was licked. “We’re leaving at first light. Be ready, or we’ll go without you.”

It was an empty threat. He wasn’t about to leave her behind. Knowing Caitlyn, she’d just follow him, maybe get into trouble, maybe get lost. He couldn’t take that chance. Besides, he didn’t really want to spend the next couple of months sleeping alone, wondering if she were all right at home.

Caitlyn smiled triumphantly. “I’ll be ready.”

They were on the trail shortly after dawn the following morning, eight hundred head of belligerent cattle, six men, and one woman who could hardly suppress her excitement. Paulie and Rusty were staying behind to look after the ranch.

Rafe rode up beside Caitlyn. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? This isn’t an overnight ride, Caty. We’ll be gone for weeks.”

“I’m going.”

Rafe nodded. Removing his hat, he swung it over his head and Scott started the herd moving down the trail. It would take a week or more until the herd was trail-wise and until then they were in for a lot of hard work.

An hour later, Caitlyn was wondering why she’d been so determined to accompany the herd. The cattle bawled continually, loudly protesting each step of the way, almost as if they knew what fate awaited them at the end of the
trail. Great clouds of dust choked the air, and only the kerchief tied over her nose and mouth kept her from choking on the thick powdery dust. Added to the bawling cattle could be heard the shouts of the men as they tried to keep the herd moving in the right direction, the occasional whinny of a horse, and the constant rumble of hundreds of hooves jarring the ground.

The cowhands pushed the herd hard that first day, wanting to get them as far from familiar territory as possible. Tired cattle, Caitlyn knew, were less inclined to wander away from the herd, and less likely to try and turn back toward their home range. Later, when the herd was trail-wise, they would travel slower, covering twelve to fifteen miles a day, giving the cattle time to graze and fatten up along the way.

Her father’s cowhands knew what to do, they had done it several times in the past. Scott and Nate rode point that first day. Hal rode the line, while Josh and Wishful, who had been the last to hire on, rode drag, urging the herd along.

The cattle were nervous on the trail at the beginning of the drive, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Brenden Carmichael had always included a few old bulls in the herd to help calm the other animals and counteract the antics of the young steers. Caitlyn saw that Scott had done the same.

They rode hard for five hours, pausing only briefly for a quick meal at noon, and then they were on the move again.

Another six hours passed before Rafe called a halt. By then, Caitlyn was certain she would never be the same. She was positive her legs were permanently bowed, just like Web’s. Every muscle in her body was stiff and sore and she was more than a little relieved to be off the back of her horse and standing on solid ground. It took the last bit of her energy to strip the rigging from her mount and then she dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged on her saddle blanket, too weary to pay any attention to what was going on around her.

Web had volunteered to do the cooking on the trail. Caitlyn knew she should offer to help him prepare the evening meal, but she couldn’t seem to make her legs move. She was vaguely aware of the cowhands settling the herd for the night and heard Rafe issuing orders designating who would take the first watch, who would take the second, and so on. The smell of woodsmoke tickled her nostrils as Web lit the cook fire, and she heard the men gather round, talking about the day’s events. But, by then, she was almost asleep. Hardly aware she had done so, she lay down, curled into a ball, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

Rafe shook his head when he found her asleep beneath a lacy cottonwood. If he’d had a man to spare, he would have sent her back home, but it was too late now. He debated waking her for supper, but decided she needed rest more than food. After covering her with a blanket, he swung into the saddle and rode out to check on the herd, making sure the nighthawks were in place before he returned to the fire. Web had cooked up a mess of chili and beans and sourdough biscuits that met with everyone’s approval, and Rafe let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than the prospect of spending weeks on the trail eating grub that wasn’t worth chewing. A good cook meant one less thing for the men to grumble about.

Gradually, the fire burned low and the men turned in. Then Rafe sought his own blankets. Caitlyn was still asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, her hair a golden frame for her face. He felt the familiar longing well inside him when he looked at her, but this was not the time or the place.

Wrapping a blanket around him, he stretched out beside her, his head pillowed on his saddle, his hat pulled over his eyes. Yet even then he was aware of the woman lying beside him. He could hear the soft sound of her breathing, smell the faint fragrance that clung to her hair. He was still awake when Scott shook his shoulder to inform him it was his turn to ride herd on the cattle.

It was a dark night, peaceful and quiet. Rafe rode around the herd, passing the other nighthawk with a nod and a low-spoken greeting. Most of the men sang softly as they circled the herd, but Rafe wasn’t familiar with the mournful cowboy songs and so he rode silently, his thoughts on Caitlyn and their future together.

The next week went by in a haze of dust and long hours in the saddle. Caitlyn took to riding with Web in the chuck wagon when the long hours on horseback got to be too much for her. The old man didn’t say much, but they got along well enough, and she began helping out with the cooking, although Web insisted on making the coffee and the biscuits, complaining that her coffee was too weak and her biscuits a mite heavy.

“Heavy, indeed!” Caitlyn had muttered under her breath, but she didn’t argue. He was the cook; the chuck wagon was his domain.

She didn’t get to spend much time with Rafe, though she saw him often and slept near him at night. She hadn’t realized how much she had enjoyed going to sleep in his arms until it was denied her. Now she was lucky if he kissed her good night. She knew his feelings for her hadn’t changed; it was only because they were surrounded by cowhands that he kept his distance, but she missed his affection just the same. He had shown her what passion was, had aroused desires she had never dreamed existed, and now she could not even touch him. And he was so desirable. Her eyes followed him whenever he was near, admiring the way he rode the buckskin gelding he had chosen from the remuda, the way his shirt molded itself to his shoulders and back, the way his jeans hugged his long muscular legs. He was good with the men, heeding their complaints, settling their disputes, and laughing at their bawdy jokes.

They had been on the trail for over two weeks when they saw the Indians, a half-dozen braves mounted on calico ponies. Caitlyn stared at them, fear choking her throat as she stared at their hideously painted faces, the feathers tied in their long black hair, and the weapons in their hands.

Rafe rode to the chuck wagon and told Web to stop the wagon, then he rode out to meet the Indians. Caitlyn felt as though the breath had left her body as she waited for Rafe to return. Would he return? Or would the Indians kill him and then massacre her and the others?

After what seemed like an eternity, Rafe rode back to the wagon. “They’re Cheyenne,” he said curtly. “They want some of our cattle. If we give them a couple head, I think they’ll ride on. If we refuse, I think they’ll fight.”

“Give them what they want,” Caitlyn said. “Anything to get rid of them.”

Rafe nodded. He called to Scott, who was riding drag, and they rode through the herd, cutting out six head of prime cattle, and then Rafe went to talk to the Indians again.

Fifteen minutes later the Indians were gone, and so were six head of Circle C cattle.

“They had a hard winter,” Rafe told Caitlyn, his eyes gazing into the distance. “Their children are hungry and their old ones are dying. Their shaman has told them the gods are displeased with his red children, and that the buffalo will not come this year.”

“That’s silly,” Caitlyn said, frowning.

Rafe shrugged. “Some of the Indians believe that the coming of the white man is a punishment from
Wakan Tanka.
And who knows, they could be right. The white man’s diseases have already wiped out some of the tribes. And now the buffalo are growing scarce. And if the buffalo disappear, the Indians will disappear right along with them.”

Rafe shook his head, as if to clear it of bad thoughts. “Move her out, Web. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

They camped near a river a few days later, and as soon as her horse had been tended, Caitlyn slipped away from the camp and sought out a secluded place where she could bathe. She was sure she had never been quite so dirty in her entire life. Her hair was layered with dust, and her skin was gritty with dirt and dried sweat.

At the river’s edge, she slipped out of her riding skirt and shirt and made her way into the water, gasping as the cold wetness closed over her. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the river, fighting down a shriek as the coldness penetrated her skin.

She was floating lazily sometime later when Rafe’s voice split the peaceful silence.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice harsh and filled with anger.

Caitlyn stood up, her arms automatically folding over her breasts. “I’m taking a bath,” she replied mildly. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he exclaimed. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong…” His voice trailed off as his eyes swept over her. Her hair was wet and shiny, like liquid gold. Her skin was pink, adorned with hundreds of tiny water droplets that caught the amber rays of the setting sun and sparkled like a web of diamonds across her skin. He let his gaze slide over her, dropping lower, lower, until the water shut off his view of her sleek flesh.

Caitlyn felt suddenly warm all over as Rafe’s eyes wandered over her damp skin. It had been so long since he had held her close, so long since she had felt his body next to her own, felt his breath warm upon her face.

As if drawn by an invisible thread, she left the water and walked into his arms, sighing as he drew her close. She felt his lips move in her hair, and then he was lifting her in his arms and carrying her away from the river toward a copse of trees that were sheltered in the lee of a craggy boulder. Gently, he placed her on her feet and then, wordlessly, he began to undress.

Caitlyn felt her heartbeat quicken at the sight of him, felt her cheeks grow hot as he drew her down onto the ground and began to cover her face and neck and breasts with the softest of butterfly kisses. His hands were impatient as they sought her secret places, his lips insistent as he covered her mouth with his own. His tongue slid over her lips, tantalizing, persuasively demanding entrance, and she felt her bones turn to butter and her blood to flame as his tongue slid into her mouth.

“Wife,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with longing. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” she agreed, her own voice throaty with desire.

She felt his weight as he rolled onto her, his knee spreading her thighs, and she welcomed the burden. She lifted her hips to receive him, sighing with pleasure as he filled her, making her complete. They were perfect together, she thought exultantly, like two halves of the same whole.

It was only later, when their desire was spent and she lay curled in his arms, that Rafe remembered his anger. Lifting himself on one elbow, he gazed down into Caitlyn’s face.

“Never again,” he said, speaking each work slowly and distinctly. “Never again are you to leave camp alone. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” she answered petulantly.

“Dammit, Caitlyn, you’re not at home now. There are Indians out here, in case you’ve forgotten. Wild animals, snakes, and who the hell knows what else. It isn’t safe for you to go wandering off alone.”