The Drifter's Bride (2 page)

Puzzled, he frowned at her. ‘Hundred dollars. That’s it.’

Her face grew shuttered. She jerked her hips, trying to dislodge him. ‘Get off me, you big brute.’

Carl pushed up on his arms, easing his weight off her. For a second, he remained poised above her, clinging to the primitive sense of possession that had sent waves of heat surging through his body. ‘I’ll return you to your father, and he’ll pay me what he owes,’ he told her. ‘That’s what I do. I take people back to where they belong and collect a reward for it.’

As their gazes locked, the fighting spirit seemed to drain out of her. She made no reply but started to wriggle out from under him. He levered his body away from hers and stepped aside. She scrambled up to her feet and spent a moment picking bits of grass from her flannel shirt and tumbling dark curls, pointedly ignoring him.

He ushered her into motion, and they made their way along the ridge back toward the clearing. When they reached their campsite, she turned to him and raked a resentful glance over his tangle of brown hair and dusty coat and trousers.

‘You can take your turn to wash,’ she told him. ‘God knows you need it.’

He didn’t reply at first, and when he did, his voice was gruff. ‘I’d been riding for a week through the desert when I came across the valley with your father’s orchard. When he told me about you, I didn’t stay. Not even to eat. I rode on without stopping.’

She shot him a curious glance. ‘It’s a two-day ride to the Apache camp.’

Carl looked away. It seemed foolish now to have rushed out like that. He’d been eager to rescue a woman, hoping it might ease the pain of failing to rescue those young girls so many years before. ‘I rode through the night,’ he admitted finally. ‘Slowly, mind you, not to risk injury to the roan.’

‘I’m sorry that my father…tricked you…’

He listened to her muttered words and shrugged to dismiss the reluctant apology. He’d deal with her father when they got back to the farm. ‘I’ll go and have a wash,’ he informed her, and rubbed a hand over his bristly jaw. ‘Shave, too.’

‘If I hadn’t dropped my soap when you grabbed me, I could lend it to you.’

‘It’s all right.’ He gave a grudging nod to indicate that he appreciated her gesture of friendship. With a wry smile, he added, ‘I wouldn’t want to go around smelling of honeysuckle. Attracts flies almost as much as it attracts men. I have a cake of carbolic in my saddlebags.’

‘Do you have any food?’

He sauntered across the clearing and pulled a bar of soap and a towel from his saddlebags on the ground. Then he tossed the worn leather satchels in front of her and walked over to his horse. ‘You’ll find something to eat inside,’ he promised. ‘I’ll take Grace down to the creek with me.’

‘Grace? You gave a woman’s name to a gelding?’

‘Seemed fitting. The horse is the most precious thing I own.’ He regretted the words as soon as they were out, but Jade didn’t stop to question the comment.

‘Beans…jerky…coffee,’ she muttered as she dug in the saddlebags.

A few paces down the path, Carl brought the roan to a halt and turned to look back over his shoulder. ‘Remember,’ he told the girl. ‘I’ll take you back, and I’ll get paid for it. If you run, I’ll catch you every time. I’ll take you back because that’s what I do. And I always get paid for my trouble.’

Past memories flickered through his mind. Too often as a child he’d worked until his body ached and his hands bled raw, and then had not been given what he’d been promised, even if it might have only been a few scraps of food.

Never again.

If Carl Ritter took on a job, he’d damn well collect his pay.

Jade stirred the pan of beans over the flames. Behind her she heard the clatter of hooves as the man led his horse back up the slope. Moving without a sound, like a shadow in the thickening darkness, he paused to secure the gelding to a grassy spot on the edge of the clearing and then came to sit down on the ground beside her.

‘I’ll give you the plate and spoon,’ she told him, focused on the food she was dishing out. ‘I’ll use the wooden ladle and eat from the pan.’ She turned to pass him the heaped plate. As her gaze fell on him, she almost tipped the beans and jerky into the dust.

He had shaved, and since he hadn’t taken a razor from his saddlebags, he must have used the bowie knife he kept in his boot. A frisson crept over Jade as she imagined the lethal blade scraping against his skin. He’d managed it with only two cuts, one on the side of his jaw, the other at the corner of his mouth—the exact spot where a woman would place her lips if she couldn’t decide whether to kiss him on the cheek or full on the mouth.

Up to now, she hadn’t realized how young he was. He couldn’t be more than thirty. And he was beautiful. His face was sharply drawn, with high cheekbones, a straight nose and a square chin. The wide, full mouth contrasted with the hollow leanness of his cheeks—a leanness she suspected was natural to his features, for his body lacked the gauntness of a man suffering from starvation.

Unaware of her scrutiny, he took the plate from her. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and directed his attention to the food. After a moment, he spoke again. ‘Your father wants you home, but you’d rather be with the Apache. Is that right?’

She nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Why what? Why I go to the Apache, or why my father wants me back?’

‘Both.’

Jade dunked the wooden spoon into the pan and swirled it about. ‘My mother was Apache. Pa married her when she was just a girl. Arizona Territory was young then, and there were few white women around. Many men took Indian wives.’ She paused to slip the final mouthful between her lips, chewed and swallowed. ‘Then, after the War Between the States, people started pouring out West. The Indians became the new enemy. I was only a few years old, and I didn’t look Indian. Ma and Pa decided I’d have an easier life if people thought I was white. They told people my mother was from Italy, but she died birthing me, and Pa took an Indian woman to look after me.’

‘How did the truth come out?’

Jade hesitated. ‘I never minded the lies while Ma lived. I got to go to school. They don’t take half-breeds. When I grew up, I was invited to dances. I had friends, girls from good families. Then…’

She shifted her shoulders, not quite sure if even she fully understood the actions that had made her into an outcast in the small ranching town of Mariposa. ‘Then Ma died. After we buried her, I just couldn’t take the lies anymore. I wanted people to know she’d been my mother, even if that changed how they saw me. I ran off to join Ma’s tribe. They’re not on a reservation, although I expect they’ll soon be herded onto one. The word soon got around. Everyone learned that Sam Armstrong’s daughter was living with a bunch of dirty savages, and they finally figured out she was one herself.’

‘Why does your Pa send men to rescue you?’

‘Pa has a fruit farm. Indians are not allowed to own property, and he fears the farm will be taken from me when he dies, now that people know I’m half Indian. He wants to…’ Jade fell silent. How could she tell the stranger that her father wanted to marry her off to the first white man who’d have her?

She pushed up to her feet and put out a hand to take his empty plate and spoon. ‘Pa doesn’t want me living with the Indians. When a stranger rides by, he spins a story that I’m a captive and offers money for my rescue. Star—that’s my horse—gets left behind, but he finds his way home when the Apache turn him loose.’

Her rescuer leaned forward to throw another dry branch into the flames from the pile she had collected before she started cooking. ‘I promised your father to bring you back and I intend to keep my promise,’ he informed her. ‘And I’ll collect the money, you can be sure of that. Then if you want me to, I’ll take you back to the Apache camp.’

Startled, she watched the flames flare and leap. Flickering lights danced over the stranger’s stark features, making him look grim and dangerous. ‘You’ll take me back?’ she asked, not quite sure she’d understood him correctly.

‘Yes.’ His voice was low, his gaze fixed on the fire. ‘No one should be forced to be somewhere they don’t want to be. Man or woman, white or Indian, each person should be allowed to choose their own fate.’

‘What’s your name?’ Jade asked, battling the odd tension that had seized her.

He shot her a glance. ‘Carl Ritter.’

‘Carl Ritter,’ Jade repeated in a soft whisper.

Then she turned away and used water from her canteen to rinse the dishes. Worry over what might happen the next day twisted in her belly. She knew without a doubt that her father didn’t have the hundred dollars Carl Ritter expected to collect.

* * *

A cry woke her. Jade sat up in the darkness and strained her ears. It came again—a muffled wail of distress. She threw the blanket aside and eased around the fire circle where embers still smoldered. Carl Ritter lay tossing restlessly in his sleep. He had given her his bedroll, and the folded towel beneath his head provided the only comfort against the hard ground.

The choked sounds formed into words. She bent closer and listened.

‘I’ll get you out. I promise. Stand back. I’ll get you out.’

His hands shot up and made clawing motions in the air. She jerked away, but not fast enough. His fingers caught the front of her shirt and fisted in the fabric, tipping her off balance. She toppled forward, landing half on top of him, the prickly grass biting into her palms as she tried to control her fall.

His arms closed around her, as if in an embrace.
‘I’ve got you. You’re safe now.’
The hoarse, throaty voice broke into a sob of relief. Beneath her breasts, she could feel his chest heaving with harsh intakes of breath, could feel the frantic pounding of his heart.

‘It’s okay,’ Jade whispered. ‘It’s only a dream.’

His hold tightened, anchoring her close. Jade lifted her head to study his face. Even in sleep, terror and grief flickered across his features, contorting them into a grimace. She reached up and touched her fingertips to one lean cheek.

‘Carl, wake up.’

His eyes blinked open. His gaze darted around in panic.

‘You had a nightmare,’ she told him softly. ‘You were crying out.’

It took another moment for his confusion to settle. His body tensed and then relaxed, a long, rustling sigh shuddering out his chest. His eyes came into focus and settled on her. ‘Jade?’

‘That’s right.’ She managed a nervous smile. ‘I’m safe. You got me out.’

She didn’t know what made her say that. They both knew he hadn’t rescued her, but an urge welled up inside her to comfort him, to drive away the memories that had caused him to cry out in the darkness.

‘I didn’t…save…them…’ His words faded into silence.

It might have been the sadness in his voice, or the anguish in his eyes. Jade could think of no other explanation as to why she dipped her head and brushed her lips against the tiny cut at the corner of his mouth.

‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all right.’

Carl made another choked sound of despair. His arms banded around her, crushing her to his chest. Alarmed by his strength, Jade pushed back. His grip eased and she started inching away, sliding down along his body. He halted her progress, his hands sweeping up her spine to slide into her hair, his splayed fingers cradling the back of her head.

And then with slow but inexorable pressure, he brought her head down and guided her mouth to his. Jade stilled. Every nerve in her body thrummed. She’d never kissed a man before, had always kept aloof at dances and social gatherings, the lie about her birth standing between her and any young men who might have shown interest in her.

Not daring to move, she waited for Carl to take the lead. His head tilted to one side and his mouth slanted across hers, hungry and bold, demanding a response. Without thinking she parted her lips, and his mouth roamed over hers with increasing pressure.

For years Jade had wondered. Dreamed. Kisses would be gentle, she had thought. The soft flutter of a butterfly’s wings, the sweet scent of a peach blossom, the cool ripple of a spring breeze. How wrong she’d been. A kiss was fire and thunder. A kiss was an invasion, a tongue thrusting past her lips and gliding along her teeth. A kiss was a sound, a deep masculine growl and the breathless feminine response that hummed low in her throat.

She hadn’t expected a kiss to start a tingling current that pulsed all through her, from her toes to her fingertips, finally settling deep in the pit of her belly. Her breasts grew heavy and full. Beneath her reclining form, she felt Carl’s hips bucking against hers. Her body took on a mind of its own, undulating in response to the masculine demand that she recognized and could not ignore.

Carl stopped. He buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her head up.

Jade leaned back and opened her eyes. In the darkness she couldn’t see his features, but she could hear the rasping sound of his heavy breathing. The harsh rise and fall of his chest rocked her up and down on top of him.

‘Damn…Jade. I didn’t mean to.’

She might not be able to make out his expression, but his voice told her it was a scowl. Not waiting for her to reply, Carl rolled to one side and separated their bodies. When Jade turned to look at him, she found him framed by the faint glow of the dying embers. He was sitting up, forearms braced against upraised knees, eyes locked on the darkness.

He’d been caught in a dream, she realized, not knowing what he was doing.

‘It’s all right,’ she said in a shaky whisper. ‘No harm done.’

In the shadows, she could see him lower his head onto his arms. His voice came out muffled. ‘I’m sorry. I…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I watched you bathe. I shouldn’t have, and it’s making me…’ His words broke on a brief, grim laugh.

She lay in silence beside him, not knowing what to say. With a scrape of his boots against the ground, Carl jumped to his feet. Leaning down, he slipped one arm around her shoulders, the other arm behind her knees and scooped her up.

Sensing his mental withdrawal, Jade fought the impulse to wrap her arms around his neck. It only took him a second or two to carry her back to the bedroll and lower her down.

‘Sleep tight,’ he said, resting on one knee beside her. ‘When you wake up, think of this as a dream. It never happened.’ He stroked her hair back from her forehead. ‘It never happened,’ he said again, his voice fading into the night.

It never happened
. Jade huddled into the blanket. How could he say something so stupid. Her first kiss. Never happened. She made an angry snort in the darkness, not caring if he heard or not. But even as anger coursed through her throbbing and tingling body, her mind was busily building new kinds of dreams. Dreams of what could happen when they reached her father’s house and Sam Armstrong offered his daughter to the latest rescuer.

* * *

It might have been more practical for the girl to ride behind him in the saddle, but Carl placed her in front of him. He wanted to hold her close while he had the chance.
It never happened,
he’d told her, like a fool. He hadn’t known what else to say. When he’d felt her lips at the corner of his mouth, the urge to taste her had been too strong to resist. He’d cherish the memory as long as he lived, but the bold act of stealing such a deep kiss troubled his conscience.

‘Do you plan to travel with the Apache when they move on?’ he asked.

She sat with her spine rigid, not leaning into him, the awkwardness of something left unfinished adding to the tension between them.

‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to be a medicine woman.’

‘A medicine woman?’

‘Two years ago, smallpox broke out. That’s what killed my mother. I’ve been immunized. The doctor immunized all the children at school. The Apache think I have great powers because I was able to nurse the sick without getting sick myself. Their medicine man promised to teach me everything he knows about healing rituals.’

‘It’s a good skill to have,’ Carl said.

They rode on in silence. When they reached the small, fertile valley filled with blossoming orchards, the sun was sinking behind the distant hills. Sam Armstrong sat in a rocking chair on the wide porch of the log cabin, following their approach with a pair of speculative green eyes beneath a battered straw hat.

Carl put the man around sixty, but it could be that the weatherworn skin and the thin strands of sandy hair that poked out from under his hat made him look older than his years. The curl of smoke from his pipe mixed with the sweet scent of flowers that saturated the air.

‘Hello, Pa.’ The girl twisted sideways in the saddle and jumped down.

Sam Armstrong lowered his pipe, tapped it against the sole of his boot and lumbered to his feet, picking up the rifle that leaned against the cabin wall. ‘Stay here, girl,’ he said, and motioned at Carl. ‘I need to talk to you. Jade will see to your horse.’

The old man clattered down the steps with a surprising agility and headed into the orchard. Carl dismounted and followed him. The trees created a cool, shady canopy. Wind rustled through the branches, sending petals cascading to the ground.

‘She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?’

‘Makes no difference to my hundred dollars.’

Sam Armstrong paused to inspect a tree shrouded in white flowers. ‘A hundred dollars doesn’t go far in a man’s pocket.’ He glanced at Carl from the corner of his eye. ‘Doesn’t buy land. Doesn’t buy a future.’

‘I’m not interested in a future. Only my hundred dollars.’

‘You could be rewarded with more. Much more.’ Sam gestured around the orchard with one hand, the rifle dangling in the other. ‘Jade needs a husband. The man who marries her will own all this land.’

Carl recalled Jade’s bitter outburst when he’d sprawled on top of her, unable to hide his lust.
What else did my father offer you?
He guessed what would come next. Something stirred inside him. Anger on Jade’s behalf, he labeled the feeling, and set about finding out just how far Sam Armstrong would go to push his daughter on a stranger.