Brides of Prairie Gold (32 page)

When will it end? When will he stop testing me and speak? What does he expect me to do?

I wanted to punish him so badly that I had to slash my arm below the elbow. For a minute I hated him for making me do this. But I hate the whore more.

Does he want me to punish her? Is that the final test so he will know how much I love him ?

My Journal, July 1, 1852. When I review my sketches, I see that our features are thinner, our hands callused. Our sun-damaged faces and calicos are filthy, our hair flies untended from careless buns. Our losses and hardships reflect in weary eyes that also display growing confidence and a knowledge of new abilities. Oddly, many of us look stronger.

Thea Reeves

North out of Fort Laramie, Perrin eyed the mountain ranges flanking the trail. As the altitude climbed, afternoon sun burned through thinner air and broiled exposed flesh. Skin dried and lips blistered. Cracked hooves crippled limping oxen; subsequently, several were shot and abandoned beside the treeless trail. Gnats and mosquitoes swarmed thick during daylight hours; at dusk the insects became a torment.

Perrin sat coughing in a stream of smoke blowing off the buffalo chips smoldering in the fire pit. Smokey Joe insisted mosquitoes hated smoke and avoided it. Slapping at her neck and sighing, she decided that Smokey Joe was wrong.

After scratching the bumps and bites on the backs of her hands, she pulled apart a biscuit and inspected it with dismay. Enough mosquitoes had mixed into the dough that the biscuits were speckled inside. Mosquitoes floated in the gravy over her rice.

Hilda covered the bugs in her biscuit with the last of the plum jam, then waved furiously at a cloud of insects swarming around her hair. Her face was sunburned and swollen. "Smokey Joe claims if you rub spit on the bites they won't itch as much."

"Spit helps," Perrin agreed. She looked at Hilda and they burst out laughing. Three months ago neither could have foreseen a time when they would eat insect-infested food or rub spit on their skin. "How is Cora progressing with her lessons?" Perrin inquired, standing to change seats with Hilda.

Hilda took her turn in the smoke, coughed and rubbed her eyes, smearing soot across one cheek. "It's been less than two weeks, but Cora is an eager pupil. Did you ask the others to correct her speech when they hear her commit an error?"

"I did." Glancing up, Perrin watched Cody walking toward their fire, and set aside her supper plate. By some enigmatic process, she often sensed his presence before she saw him.

Purple shadows lengthened across a sky flashing with heat lightning; it was dark enough that she couldn't see Cody's face clearly, but she would have recognized the spread of his shoulders anywhere, knew the slight swagger in his walk and the sound of his footsteps. She would have known it was Cody merely by listening to her own accelerated heartbeat.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet earlier," he apologized, stepping into the light of their fire. His eyes were tired and his voice irritable tonight. "An altercation erupted at the gap. One of the trains tried to go through out of turn."

"Was anyone hurt?" Hilda inquired anxiously.

The trains had bottlenecked at Emigrant's Gap. At this point wagons from both directions converged on the narrow passageway. Four trains camped on the west side, waiting for the eastbound traffic to come through before being allowed to proceed.

"A couple of hotheads from Murchason's train are nursing broken knuckles and jaws, but no one got shot." Cody pushed his fingers through the dark hair tumbling across his forehead. He looked at Perrin. "I'm in no mood to sit. Would you object to a stroll while we catch up on the day's business?"

Perrin's feet ached from walking behind Sarah's wagon most of the afternoon. The barren rocky soil absorbed the sun's heat, had burned through thin shoes and scorched her soles. She had been looking forward to soaking her feet in a bucket of water from the muddy creek not far from their campsite.

But a glance at Cody's tight jaw signaled his frustration. He'd pushed them hard this week, hoping to make up a few days, only to encounter this delay at the gap. Hiding a wince, Perrin stood on sore feet and fetched her shawl.

Maintaining a careful space between them, they followed the creek for several yards, then climbed a stony ridge that offered a view of the campsites chosen by the waiting trains. Perrin gazed over the plain at dozens of cook fires, small brave beacons that represented someone's dreams for a new and better life. The small points of hope twisted her heart.

Gathering her skirts, she sat on a granite rock, watching a cloud of fireflies dancing to the crickets' nightly serenade. She would have smiled but for the tension drawing Cody's body.

"I'm going to send Augusta back on the next eastbound train through the gap," he announced abruptly. "She can't keep up."

Perrin caught a sharp breath as a battle erupted in her mind. Personal grievance, armed and warlike, stood arrayed against a lone figure of justice.

"She's improving every day," she said finally, the words emerging with great reluctance. "When we made camp yesterday, Augusta was only thirty minutes behind us."

"She can't continue like this. Have you seen her?"

Of course she had, and he knew it. All the brides had gloated over Augusta's greatly altered appearance. Gone were the fancy blond curls Augusta had fussed over while Cora made breakfast, then cleaned up. Now her hair was matted and dulled by dust, skinned into a careless knot on her neck. Sun had scorched her pale skin, peeled away, then burned again. As no one had told her that spit eased the pain of insect bites, she had scratched her face and arms until they bled. Her clothing was torn and dirty, and she didn't look as if she had eaten or slept in days.

If she had been anyone other than Augusta, the women would have hastened to her aid, appalled by what was happening.

"I've seen her," Perrin murmured, rubbing her temples.

"Every day I expect her to ask to be sent back." Cody turned, standing on the ridge with the starlight and the campfires glowing behind him. Perrin gazed at his wide-legged stance, and her chest tightened painfully.

"She hasn't said anything to me about returning."

She stared at Cody another minute, disturbed by deep inner stirrings that she had believed long conquered. Desperately, she tried to thrust his powerful presence out of her mind, tried to ignore the provocative way he stood, the way his strong, capable hands rested on his hips, the way his voice curled under her skin and whispered to her body.

Think about Augusta, she commanded herself despairingly, not this man whom she longed for.

She too had expected Augusta to give up and ask to go home. Augusta's hands were so blistered and swollen she could hardly grip the reins. Some nights she didn't attempt to kindle a fire, but crawled directly into her unstable tent. If she slept there or wept, no one knew. Perrin suspected a little of both.

"Damn," she swore softly, striking her thigh with a fist. Why was it so painful to observe what was happening to Augusta?

"Why would a woman like Augusta Boyd want to travel to Oregon and marry a stranger? It doesn't make sense."

Perrin battled to concentrate on the question instead of the man who posed it. "Initially I thought she was doing it because she was upset and confused by Joseph's death, making a mistake she would regret." Lifting her head, she found Cody in the darkness, startled to discover him staring at her with burning eyes. She wet her lips. "I thought the first time Augusta missed her regular bath, she'd demand to turn back."

"It doesn't matter," Cody said in a strained voice. "What matters is she can't keep up."

Perrin nodded. Tilting her head, she slapped at a swarm of mosquitoes and mopped her throat with the edge of her shawl. It was hot tonight, and the rocks retained the day's heat. When she lowered her head, she suddenly became aware that she sat at eye level with Cody's belt buckle. Her gaze dipped slightly, then she abruptly jumped to her feet, feeling wild inside.

"I know you're frustrated by the delay," she said, speaking the first words that fought through the shameful thoughts that made her breath quicken. "But we need a rest period. The recent pace has been very hard."

The words died when he stepped close enough that her skirt brushed his trousers. He stared intently at her mouth, hunger flickering deep in his eyes. Weakness sapped her resolve as Perrin realized this was the first time in weeks that they had been alone together beyond the sight of the others.

"I've missed you," he said in a low thick voice as if he too realized they had left the camp far behind them.

Perrin's throat dried; she wet her lips. She ordered herself to step away from him. But she couldn't. Oh, God, she could not move, could hardly breathe. A hot tingle of anticipation shot through her body as electric as the stars flashing in the steamy night. "I see you every morning and every evening," she whispered in a husky voice. Even her voice trembled.

"You don't speak a word that isn't necessary, then you run away." His eyes plundered her face, ravished her lips.

The night closed in to suffocate her, hot, humid, filled with the love songs of mating insects. Years of wanting something tightened her chest and vibrated through her limbs. Weeks of wanting him thinned her voice. A haze of yearning narrowed her vision on his strong face. His face, as tense with desire as her own, his face, which she dreamed of, waking and sleeping. A groan closed her throat. "Cody, please. No___"

One powerful hand caught her waist and pulled her roughly against him. The sudden shock of his lean body hard against hers burned the breath out of Perrin's lungs and she gasped. Lifting her hands, she steadied herself against his chest. His muscles went rigid at her touch, and she felt herself dissolve in the heat of the night and the heat of his arousal.

The instant his arms closed around her and she felt the power of his need, his hips pressing hard against her skirts, her head spun and she knew she was lost. Vibrating with her own need, she gazed up into his blazing eyes, unable to speak, unable to breathe. A surge of pent-up desire flattened her resistance. She had waited a lifetime for this moment, this man.

"I've imagined holding you in my arms a thousand times," he whispered in a thick voice. "If you tell me to stop, I will. It will be the hardest thing I'll ever do." A sound like a sob scraped her throat as she let herself fall into the pool of desire darkening his eyes almost to black. The movement of his hips drove her mind to frenzy.

"Cody," she whispered, his name husky on her lips. His breath in her hair, his hot hands on her waist made her mind reel and she couldn't remember why this was wrong. How could anything this exciting and wonderful be wrong? The slow grind of his hips ignited a flash fire deep within her stomach. A light dew of perspiration appeared on her brow as she felt a wildness building inside. The intensity of her response melted her knees to straw and she might have fallen if he hadn't caught her against him.

"I want to make you call my name," he said, tilting her head up to stare into her eyes. "I want to feel your legs wrapped around me and watch your eyes widen." A low groan rumbled from his chest as his fingertips stroked her throat, following the heat of her skin to the first button of her shirtwaist.