Untamed Journey (21 page)

At Ruth’s somewhat perplexed look, Jackson
elaborated. “My father was an Army scout for thirty years. He
traveled all across the Western Territories. He kept a journal and
recorded the meaning of words and hand signals each tribe used.
Many of the tribes he came across used hand signals to communicate
while hunting for food, during battle, and to trade with other
tribes. So I sat down after our neighbor was killed, and pieced
together a series of useful signals. Catherine copied them down on
paper and held classes for the adults and children alike. She’s
determined to teach everyone here to read, but hasn’t convinced the
adults of the benefits quite yet. So the hand signals worked for
everyone.”

“Who is Catherine?” Ruth asked, a bit
surprised there was not one, but at least two women on Jackson’s
ranch. She had been led to believe by her Aunt Kate that the west
was hungry for women and they were in short supply all over
Colorado Territory.

“Catherine showed up one day with her kids in
tow and a few more besides,” he explained. “She convinced me we
were due for a school and that she’d be a marvelous teacher.”

He smiled at the memory of Catherine’s pure
determination to find a place that would be safe for her brood.
Before Ruth could get any thoughts of competition into her head, he
added, “She must have had four proposals before the week’s end, but
she only had eyes for Malcolm. They married within a month and set
up house northwest of here, on their own homestead. Actually, they
each have their own place.”

Ruth didn’t quite understand what Jackson was
saying. “What do you mean? I thought you said they got
married.”

“They did, and are to this day. But Catherine
insisted on a homestead in her own name so her daughters would be
taken care of. Her sons will take over their father’s place
someday, but she wanted to make sure the girls had options besides
marriage,” he explained.

Ruth silently applauded this unknown woman’s
foresight, although having land with no males to defend it had been
a problem for Ruth as soon as the War broke out.

“Didn’t she trust her husband to take care of
the girls?” Ruth asked.

“Malcolm is the most devoted father you’re
ever likely to meet. But Catherine’s a survivor – she’s had to be.
And she always said no one can predict the future. Since no one
would have ever guessed how Catherine’s life led her here, much
less her husband’s, she insisted. And since we’re about to arrive,
I’ll let Catherine finish her own story. If she’s already let the
kids out of school for the day, I’ll take you to see her another
time. I have a feeling you two will like each other.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You’ve both got more nerve than a dozen men
put together.” He turned to help Ruth dismount.

As she slid down the side of her mount,
straight into Jackson’s arms, she was unsure if her feet would
hold. The feel of his hands surrounding her just inches below her
breasts made them swell in anticipation. The look in his eyes held
her motionless, while her thoughts raced and her heart began to
pound, wondering if he’d kiss her again. She barely noticed her
surroundings, feeling only the flex of his strong fingers against
her heated skin and the chill of the wind against her flushed
cheeks.

Jackson could see the wary heat enter Ruth’s
eyes and wondered how he’d force himself to let her go. He could
see her nipples tighten and strain against his too thin shirt,
which she had borrowed that morning. His fingers ached to stroke up
her sides and over her lush curves to slowly caress those nipples
into awareness of him.

He fought the temptation, as he heard
footsteps approaching, but still he took his time watching Ruth’s
body respond to him. He didn’t bother to hide where his gaze
lingered, and slowly raised his eyes to Ruth’s dilated pupils,
letting her know what he’d been thinking about. While he might not
be able to touch her out in the open any longer, now that they were
on his ranch, he could certainly let her know how much he wanted to
break that rule. Ruth’s imagination could be his biggest ally in
convincing her to stay and marry him.

As Jackson stepped back from her, he thought
he should have been more surprised at how easily the thought of
Ruth as his wife sat with him. But he had always been brutally
honest with himself, and knew he’d made up his mind to claim this
woman as his own the night she’d stood her ground and guarded his
back against three of the most dangerous men in the state.

He tipped his hat to the future Mrs. Jackson.
He figured if he’d made the decision to help his cousin hunt down
train robbers barely an hour after the request, then deciding on a
wife in a week was down-right conservative. He grinned at Ruth
before turning to greet his foreman.

Ruth interpreted Jackson’s smile to be at her
expense, seeing as her traitorous body had so easily responded to
him. Still, she was determined to rest here and regain her strength
before deciding on a course of action. She had come after Jackson
and his men to find a way to distance herself from her mysterious
husband and her recent crime.

And now she’d discovered yet another reason
to be on her way as quickly as possible, she thought, as she found
herself watching Jackson’s every move as he greeted the men
approaching from the corral.

“Jackson. Glad to see you back safe. And
might I say that old Mike has improved since last we laid eyes on
him.” The youngest hand on the ranch made up in brashness and charm
what he lacked in patience. And Jackson just that minute decided he
didn’t care for that quality in Charlie, as the young man was
straining his skinny neck to get a better look at Ruth over
Jackson’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to the
lady?” Charlie prompted when Jackson didn’t immediately
respond.

“No, I’m not. You’ve got to put the pack
animals away now, and we’re hungry.” Jackson tossed the reins to
Charlie, thinking it would be best for all involved if the young
man kept his hands well-occupied, and far away from Ruth.

Charlie looked confused, as Jackson always
took care of his own mount. The young man then handed the reins off
to Sammy, a boy of twelve who ranked even lower than Charlie
amongst the men.

“Ma’am, allow me to introduce myself, since
our grand leader has lost all the manners his mama taught him. I’m
Charles Xavier Crenshaw. But you can call me Charlie.”

Ruth couldn’t help but return the young man’s
unabashedly flirtatious smile. He looked to be near her age, with
sparkling blue eyes full of humor and good cheer. Here was an
easy-going, likeable fellow that tempted Ruth not one bit, the way
Jackson’s intensity and force of character did. She held out her
hand in greeting, which Charlie bowed over with an exaggerated
flourish.

“Miss, you’re as pretty as a spring meadow,”
Charlie flattered. “Welcome to North Creek. Allow me to show you
around.”

“The lady already has an escort, Crenshaw,”
Jackson interrupted, tossing his tack into Charlie’s arms with more
force than necessary. Charlie might have lost his footing entirely,
if his friends hadn’t caught him.

Silence reigned as the hands stood around the
men, waiting on Charlie’s reaction, knowing he had a tendency to be
hot-headed.

The sound of a woman’s voice broke the
tension in the air. “Watch yourself, Crenshaw. You’re bound to fall
and crack that thick skull of yours, tripping over your own tongue
as you gawk at this nice lady. Next thing you know, you men will be
drooling over her like a bunch of greenhorns catching sight of
their first female.”

The woman’s melodious voice contrasted
sharply with her steel grey bun and firm grip, as she stepped
between the still-unsmiling Jackson and off-balance Charlie to take
Ruth’s hand.

“Don’t mind the men, Miss. They never had
enough manners among them to charm a goat. I’m Sue Hamilton.
Welcome. Jackson, I imagine once you find your good sense again you
might have the decency to introduce your guest, but from the look
of you, I’ll just take matters in hand. Come along, Miss…?”

The fiftyish woman stared expectantly at
Ruth.

“Jameson.” Ruth finally muttered, quickly
remembering to use her maiden name. “Ruth Jameson.” She barely had
time to glance over her shoulder at Jackson’s scowling face before
being dragged along in Sue’s wake.

“C
ome along my dear,”
Sue coaxed, as she pulled Ruth along behind her in a beeline for
the house. “You must be exhausted – and in need of a good, hot
meal. Now how on earth did you manage to meet our Jackson? I grew
up with him you know, so I can’t imagine you’re related.”

“No, no we just met on the train.” Ruth
hesitated, suddenly reminded of what else had happened on that
train. “It was robbed, and Jackson and his men rode in to stop the
outlaws.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Was anyone hurt?” Sue
asked. “Those bastards have been robbing that rail line for months
now, and Jackson was finally sent to hunt them down for good.”

“Yes, there were several passengers shot and
killed,” Ruth replied. “Even some of the women were wounded.”

“My God, you must have been terrified! Were
your traveling companions harmed?” Sue asked.

“No, I was traveling alone. I was on my way
to meet my fiancé.” Ruth supplied the story she had begun with
Jackson on the trail.

“You poor thing,” Sue commiserated. “Where is
this fiancé of yours? It’s somewhat unusual for a young woman to be
traveling alone. Is Jackson taking you to him?”

“Um, my fiancé is a sailor in San Francisco.”
At Sue’s raised eyebrows, Ruth quickly added, “His family has known
mine for some time. Our parents arranged it long ago, but with the
War and all, he wasn’t able to safely come to me. So after my
parents died, my aunt wrote to him and decided it would be best if
I went to him.”

“Well, please don’t mind my endless
questions,” Sue said. “I know you must be exhausted from your
journey and we’ll get everything straightened out later. I’ll start
some bath water heating for you while you eat, and then find you a
place to rest. Sit yourself down at the kitchen table, while I
start the water boiling.” Sue bustled out a back door, and quickly
returned to put a plate of leftovers in front of Ruth.

Ruth gratefully dug in, satisfying both her
appetite and her desire to stop talking. She hated lying to the
people around her, especially when they had gone out of their way
to care for a perfect stranger. Jackson and Sue deserved better
from her, Ruth knew. But she hadn’t been able to think of a way to
avoid lying, not when she was so tired. Maybe she’d take Sue’s
well-intended advice and put off all thought and decisions until
tomorrow.

With a full stomach and a pacified
conscience, Ruth nearly fell asleep at the table, until Sue led her
up to the softest bed she’d ever imagined.

R
uth stirred fitfully
in the soft feather bed, thinking for a dazed moment that she was
dreaming the sound of giggling children. A high-pitched screech of
protest – at a volume only a small female can achieve – quickly
dispelled any thoughts of turning over and sinking back into her
lovely dreams.

Now that Ruth was fully awake, she could hear
the sounds of men working mixed in with the voices of playing
children. Someone started hammering diligently below her window, so
she gave in to curiosity and pulled herself out of bed to look
down.

Ruth’s gaze immediately settled on Jackson,
who was laughing with several men as they hammered and sawed what
looked to be framing for a new building. She watched a small
tow-headed boy dart into the path of two men carrying several heavy
beams.

Jackson quickly snatched the unwary boy out
of harm’s way, before he tripped up the laboring men. Kneeling down
to the little one’s level, Jackson started speaking.

Ruth cracked the window open so she could
hear. She listened to Jackson deliver a stern lecture on watching
the road ahead when running, before ruffling the boy’s mop of hair
in obvious affection and sending him on his way.

As if he could sense her watching him,
Jackson looked up and locked eyes with Ruth. She was looking down
from his room, and he liked the thought of her there – more than he
would have imagined.

She realized she was still in nightclothes,
standing in an open window with Jackson’s unapologetic gaze taking
in her flimsy borrowed nightshirt. She quickly stepped back, and
shut the window for good measure, which did nothing to block out
his laughter or appreciative gaze.

Ruth suddenly realized that her hand was
resting against real glass – not a common sight out West, she’d
been told by Montgomery during her stay at his trading post. She
didn’t linger on the oddity, as her bare feet were quickly becoming
chilled against the wood floors. She hopped over to the rag rug
lying next to the bed, and wondered if she could bear the thought
of donning one of her now quite-filthy dresses. She hadn’t had
anywhere to wash clothing in several days, unless she counted their
last river crossing.

A brisk knock on the door turned out to be
her savior. It was Sue, bearing a clean wool dress in one hand, and
a most welcome cup of coffee in the other. “I thought you might be
awake, with the hammering of the men. They are building more grain
storage for me. We got a late start this year, but I’m hoping if I
bribe them with enough homemade pies, they’ll finish before the
snow sets in and I risk losing some of my crop.”

Ruth remembered Jackson’s story about Sue’s
new enterprise, and was filled with so many questions, she didn’t
quite know where to start. “Jackson mentioned you had been growing
a new kind of grass to sell as feed.”