Untamed Journey (19 page)

The youngest girl – Mary was her name –
explained. “Guess he wasn’t clever enough to see we’d changed our
names. And Margaret here had been off at school the whole time we
lived there. So Papa said they wouldn’t be looking for a father
with three kids, ‘cause they thought he only had two.”

“Indeed,” Kate said. “Your papa is very
clever at concealing children. In fact, he concealed all three of
you from me.”

Mary and Margaret glanced at one another
before Margaret spoke up. “I guess it was something of a surprise
to have us show up like this, unannounced, Mother.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kate snapped. “We just
met, for heaven’s sake.”

Kate was taken aback at the thought of being
anyone’s mother.

“But you’ve been married to Papa for nearly a
month now,” Margaret insisted, opening her eyes wide. “That should
count for something.” She pulled forward her five-year-old brother.
“He’s a bit hungry, if you could spare something.”

Kate was so stunned she automatically turned
to prepare something for the child to eat. Now she was saddled with
three unwanted children to support, when she could barely feed
herself with what little income the courts let her keep. Her mind
quickly churned her options. She couldn’t just leave. The judge had
taken what little money she’d had before this miserable marriage to
pay off her husband’s debts. She didn’t have a penny to spare – not
even enough to buy a train ticket to somewhere else, much less to
start fresh.

She could write to her niece for help, Kate
thought rapidly. Ruth’s new husband might send money for Kate to
join them. But she shuddered at the thought of living in the
wilderness at the mercy of that man.

Rich or not, what good was money, if no one
important knew she had it?

Besides, that would take time. And even
though her husband had been the one to run off, it wouldn’t matter.
If she left without his permission – and left behind his children
no less – the judge would no doubt grant her husband a divorce,
laying all the blame on Kate’s head.

Her future would be miserable if she became a
divorced woman. A divorced and destitute woman was less than
nothing in society. Her old friends would cross the street to avoid
speaking to her. It was better to be the wife of a no-good gambler
than divorced. At least married she had a chance. Her husband could
have the decency to die while she was still young enough to
re-marry. Kate silently chanted to herself as she re-heated last
night’s broth: Influenza, typhoid, riding accident. The
possibilities were endless.

J
ackson rode the
mounts hard for the next two days, spending a quarter of that time
checking their back trail. He found no signs of pursuit, so on the
third day he detoured off the main trail and headed for one of his
favorite spots in Colorado Territory. “We’re going to ride up to a
meadow I know, where we can rest for a day in relative safety.”

Ruth’s heart leapt with joy at the thought of
being on solid ground for a change. She patted Caboose’s loyal head
in apology. “Nothing against you, my brave friend, but a few hours
of teaching a mount the joys of side saddle is scant preparation
for days of endless riding on a half-baked trail. I’m sure we’re
both ready for a rest.”

Caboose shook his tattered mane in apparent
agreement as they began a hard climb up the side of the mountain,
quickly gaining altitude. After nearly an hour of scrambling up and
over rocks, Jackson signaled Ruth to stop.

As she came up alongside Jackson, he turned
to her in apology for the hard ride. “I hope I’m not tiring you too
much, but if you can stomach another bit of a climb - on foot this
time – I’ll share with you the purest, wildest bit of earth you’re
likely to see in this lifetime.”

Ruth couldn’t resist the longing on Jackson’s
face. His look was contagious, and suddenly, she wanted nothing
more than to share a moment of peace and joy with this brave man.
She knew life offered no promises and she might never get another
chance. “I’m ready. Lead the way.”

A look of joy and triumph broke across his
weathered face as he offered Ruth his hand to dismount. “It’s not
far on foot, just too much gravel to ride safely. We can’t risk a
bruised hoof – or worse – on the horses.”

He kept hold of Ruth’s hand as he led her up
and over several large boulders. Climbing in a skirt – even a split
one – was a tricky proposal, and she was grateful for his steadying
arm. He turned to Ruth as they approached the last boulder blocking
the entrance to the meadow, then handed her his hat. “Hold on
tight.”

With that little warning, Jackson leapt up
the boulder in two quick strides. He turned to pull her up behind
him, knowing the horses would find their own way up, since Jackson
had all the grain in the saddlebag over his shoulder.

“Here it is, Ruth. What do you think?”
Jackson asked, still slightly in awe himself at the sight before
him.

She caught her breath at the beauty before
her. There was nothing burning. Nothing charred or trampled from
the careless boots of an invading army. Just acre upon acre of
rich, clean earth spread out before her, covered by swaying grass
and late season blooms. The only sound to be heard above their
mingled breaths was the wind rustling the autumn leaves still
stubbornly clinging to their mother trees, one final burst of color
before the long sleep of winter.

“Who lives here?” Ruth whispered, thinking
someone must have beaten them to this gorgeous piece of earth.

“No one does,” Jackson replied, smiling as he
said it. “There are no people for miles. It’s clean – just the
meadow creatures and the odd wild horse passing through in summer
to feed on the rich grass.”

“I feel like a child again, searching for
faeries in the woods behind our house.” She turned to Jackson and
tentatively laid her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for this. I
had almost forgotten that good memory of home.”

He turned his quiet gaze to Ruth’s round
eyes. “It’s healing, this unspoiled land. It’s empty of the
ugliness of the War, and bad memories just wash away in the
streams.” He pulled Ruth’s pliant body close to him, knowing she
was part of him now, even if just for this small shared moment in
his meadow.

She didn’t think to resist Jackson’s touch.
Not here, not now. Here was another world, far away from her
troubles and the strict rules of a war-torn society that no longer
seemed to apply. She turned fully into his embrace, loving the
warmth and strength he offered.

He stroked his gloved hands down the sides of
her chilled face, passing the worn brown leather across her parted
lips. He watched for the response he wanted in her dilating eyes as
he continued to stroke his thumb, ever so slowly, across her
slightly swollen lips. His lips followed the same path as his hand,
barely touching Ruth each time he passed back and forth across her
parted mouth.

He pulled back just enough for her eyes to
open and catch his rapidly darkening gaze. He stroked his thumb
once again across her heated lips, knowing the chill of the leather
would awaken her senses to the warmth of his parted mouth.

Ruth’s eyes closed of their own volition as
Jackson parted her lips to accept his thrusting tongue. She didn’t
resist as he pulled her more fully against his heated body, until
she was flush against him. She reached her arms around his neck,
wanting only to get closer to him. Closer to his heat as his slick
tongue thrust rhythmically into her. She ran her restless hands up
into Jackson’s thick, smooth hair, entranced by the feel of it
curling around her sensitive fingertips.

Jackson stroked his still-gloved hands down
the soft sides of Ruth’s body, barely touching the swelling curves
of her breasts. Wanting nothing more than to encase her fully in
his aching hands, he forced himself to patience and began the
lengthy journey back down to her waist and over the heated flesh of
her hips.

Ruth’s insides burned as she felt his left
hand slowly curve underneath the swell of her backside, until he
was lifting her up into him, allowing only her toes to graze the
solid earth. She inhaled sharply as Jackson splayed his think
fingers fully open and closed again, lightly stroking the
undersides of her buttocks with his fingertips as he cupped her
more fully with his gloved palm. Ruth felt the heat in her own body
concentrate in her core, feeling every soft stroke of his wandering
fingers as he splayed them open and closed, open and closed
endlessly as he continued to stroke her swollen ruby lips with his
tongue.

Jackson felt himself harden as Ruth responded
to his touch with cries of pleasure. He forced himself to pull back
slightly from their kiss, to pass just the tip of his tongue across
her lower lip until it glistened for him. He slowed his strokes, of
both hand and tongue, knowing he wanted Ruth to come to him for
more.

She felt Jackson’s heat pull away ever so
slightly from her, and she ached at the loss of his mouth on hers.
She reached for him but he evaded her kiss repeatedly, not giving
her the full contact she needed until she let out a cry of protest
and opened her eyes to demand his return.

Ruth met Jackson’s burning gaze – his black
eyes fully dilated as he took in her flushed body, his gaze landing
everywhere with no apology.

With one of Jackson’s hands firmly around her
waist, and the other still cupping her backside, Ruth felt fully
naked and exposed to his gaze, even though he hadn’t removed one
article of her clothing. She wanted his mouth on hers again,
keeping all thoughts away that didn’t bring her demanding body more
pleasure. She tentatively stroked one finger across his lips,
mimicking what he had done before, silently wondering if he felt
the same pleasure she did. When Jackson sucked in his breath at her
delicate touch, she had her answer and smiled in pleasure at her
triumph.

He needed no other encouragement, and closed
his lips around her teasing finger, sucking on the tip until she
was the one crying out. He took her lips with his and thrust
deeply, after her heat.

When Ruth felt Jackson’s hand stroke upward
from her waist to cup her swelling breast, she nearly cried out in
pleasure. The heat in her body focused instantly on her tightening
nipple, which he obligingly rubbed between his thumb and
forefinger. She barely noticed the cloth separating her from his
touch, but Jackson wanted it gone.

He ached to feel her bare skin against his,
but swore silently to himself that he would wait. His seduction had
to be slow enough, and pleasurable enough, to break off all thought
of Ruth’s far-away sailor. Jackson forced himself to think straight
and limit his touch to what he had now. Tomorrow he would take
more.

Ruth held on with all her strength to
Jackson’s muscled arms, not sure if her shaking legs could support
her as he methodically stroked the curve of her breast, then held
the tip firmly but perfectly still between his thumb and
forefinger. Her body’s rhythm was now tuned to Jackson’s movements,
as he stroked her backside with one hand, stilled, and then stroked
her breast. She ached where his hand had stopped, until her body
squirmed of its own volition, demanding the return of his
touch.

Jackson took a steadying breath before
allowing himself one last, long stroke down her body. He pulled
them apart, and placed several gentling kisses on Ruth’s dazed
face, before stepping away entirely. “It’s time to set up camp,
Ruth. It’ll be dark soon.”

With no further explanation, he turned away
to round up the horses.

As Ruth watched the sun begin to set, she
barely felt the chill of the quickly cooling air against her
still-blazing body.

R
uth turned over
again onto her left side, trying in vain to return to the fitful
sleep she’d gotten throughout the long night. She had awoken
several times from the cold and caught herself watching Jackson in
his bedroll each time. He’d said his goodnight over their dying
fire with a curt, “Wake me if you get cold,” before burrowing into
his own bedroll.

She couldn’t tell through the dark if he
meant he’d stoke the fire or if she should just crawl into his
bedroll for that warmth. She’d been tempted all night by his
enigmatic offer. Common sense prevailed each time, and she
stubbornly turned away from the fire and her view of Jackson across
it, doing her best to curl up and sleep.

Ruth could now see the rising sun cresting
the ridge of the mountains, but balked at the thought of getting
out of bed in the cold dawn. All thoughts of going back to sleep
fled the instant she heard Jackson moving about. She carefully
turned toward the sound, doing her best not to make any noise, not
sure if she were ready to face him yet.

He was fully dressed, down to his boots and
those soft leather gloves he wore so well.

So why couldn’t she catch her breath to wish
him a polite good morning?

Jackson had been waiting more than an hour
for Ruth to stir, so was pouring a steaming cup of coffee for her
the minute she opened her eyes. “Coffee?” He turned from the fire
and hunkered down next to Ruth’s bedroll, offering her his cup.

When she pushed herself up and reached for
the tin cup, Jackson held it away. “You’ll burn your hands on the
metal. Let me.” He wrapped his tightly gloved hands around the tin
cup and held it up to her.

She wrapped her hands around Jackson’s and
brought the steaming coffee to her lips. Ruth watched his hooded
eyes settle on her lips as she took her first sip. She closed her
eyes against the force of his gaze, hoping the strong brew would
focus her thoughts down a path of good sense.

“Have you had your fill?” He asked quietly,
never taking his gaze from her.