Brides of Prairie Gold (37 page)

Bootie shouted to be heard over the gunshots and pounding hooves that flashed past them in the dust. "Jane thinks it's the Quinton gang. They rode up with no warning at all." A single tear cut a muddy track down her cheek. "It's my fault."

"That's ridiculous!" But nothing Mem had said or could say would convince Bootie that she was not to blame for Quinton's pursuit. Silently, Mem again cursed Augusta Boyd for putting the idea in Bootie's head, then she stretched out an arm and drew her sister close in a protective gesture. They huddled together beneath the wagon, choking on dust, picking cactus spines out of their flesh, wishing they knew what was happening.

And floating above it all, like a soft cloud above an icy peak, was Webb's kiss still lingering on her lips.

Cody held fire and leaped out of the way when Webb's mustang loomed in the billowing dust. The mustang jumped the tongue of the arms wagon. Seconds later, Webb appeared beside him, guns blazing at the men who rode whooping around the train.

One figure flew off his horse, then another. A lull opened in the dust and noise. "They're leaving," Cody yelled. Spinning in tandem, he and Webb pushed aside the wagon tongue, opening it far enough to get their horses out. "Close it behind us," he shouted when he saw Perrin's ointment-smeared face peering at him through spirals of settling dust.

Miles Dawson galloped through the opening first, then Heck Kelsey. Webb was next, with Cody a heartbeat behind him. Before they raced off in pursuit, he saw Perrin rushing toward the wagon tongue, Hilda, Ona, and Thea behind her.

Damn Jake Quinton to hell. Cody burned with the urge to leave Heck Kelsey in charge of the train, take Webb, and track Quinton to the ends of the earth.

Quinton and his men faded into the rocky ravines like gray shadows. If night hadn't been hard upon them, Webb could have tracked the outlaws until they split up, but Cody's duty was to defend the train. Reluctantly, he ordered his men back to camp.

They arrived in time to see the women mounding dry dirt over two shallow graves. Grim-faced, Cody halted the buckskin beside Perrin and inspected her swollen face. She had received a worse dose of the poison oak than he had. "Who?" he demanded sharply.

"None of us," she answered quickly, understanding his deepest concern. "Two of the attackers. No identification."

He nodded shortly, relief spreading through his chest like thick hot liquid. Then his eyes found Mem Grant, leaning on the handle of a shovel. He rode up beside her and let her see the anger frosting his gaze. "Don't ever leave camp alone again. If you plan to go farther than a hundred yards, you tell someone. Understand? You get one serious mistake, and you just had it."

"I'm sorry." She nodded up at him. "I should have told Perrin where I was going. I apologize for the concern I caused."

Not sorry that she had gone, but sorry she hadn't told anyone. Cody suppressed a sigh. But he also glimpsed why Webb admired this unusual woman. He was beginning to understand that each of the brides was remarkable in her own way. But Mem Grant was the only one of them who would have marched off alone to inspect an Indian village. Just as Perrin Waverly was the only one who would help Augusta.

"While you're all present," he shouted, calling for silence. "The attackers were Jake Quinton and his men. I saw Quinton."

"He wants the arms wagon," Perrin stated flatly.

"The carbines and ammunition are your future and mine." His steely gaze matched hers, unyielding. "That wagon goes with us to Oregon; we've settled that question. Without it, your bridegrooms will lose the homes they are undoubtedly building for you now."

"Will Jake Quinton keep attacking us?" The question came from little Thea Reeves, who still shook from head to foot.

"Very likely," Cody snapped. He glanced at Webb above the women's heads, then again to the sea of eyes. "How many of you know how to use a pistol or a carbine?"

Sarah Jennings stepped forward, and Jane Munger, which surprised him.

"From now on we're going to have shooting lessons every day at the noon rest and again after supper. I'll teach half of you at midday; Webb will take the other half in the evening. We'll continue that schedule until everyone can handle a carbine. I want each of you able to defend yourselves."

For an instant he thought of asking which of them had slashed his bedroll for the second time, then thought better of it. The slashing hadn't begun until after the new teamsters joined up at Fort Laramie. In his gut, he didn't believe slashing a bedroll was something a man would do. But he wasn't certain enough to make accusations.

His eyes met Perrin's. "I'd like to speak to you after supper, Mrs. Waverly. I'll expect a report of any damage done to the wagons, any injuries, however minor."

Before she could invent an excuse to refuse, he wheeled the buckskin and rode out to capture the livestock that had escaped during the fracas.

He hadn't spoken to Perrin alone since the night before they came through the gap, the night he had taken her. He hated his reaction, but his thighs tensed in anticipation.

He wanted her again. Worse, he suspected this was a woman whom no amount of sex would get out of his system. They had forged a bond that went deeper than physical need. Exactly what that bond was, he didn't know. But he was beginning to recognize it existed and had taken root inside him.

What disturbed him most was the question she had posed. At first he had considered it ridiculous, but upon reflection, perhaps the question was fair. What would he have done, what would he be thinking now, if she hadn't been an experienced woman?

Was she thinking that he had only used her to ease his body? That she was merely a convenience during a long journey?

The answers danced away from his grasp because he didn't want to analyze, didn't want to admit how he felt about her.

They completed the day's business swiftly. All the women had puncture wounds from cactus, Thea had sprained her left wrist, none of the wagons had escaped without a few bullet holes. Heck Kelsey worked by lantern light to repair a couple of shot-up water barrels. Miles Dawson patched one of Smokey Joe's mules after discovering its ear had been injured in the fracas.

"We understand that our futures depend on profits from the arms and ammunition and we have to take the wagon to Oregon," Perrin conceded, watching the first bright stars poke holes in the night. "But we're all frightened of Quinton and his gang."

She and Cody stood near a thick spread of rabbit brush. The smell of powder and smoke still drifted in the air from the earlier shooting lessons, which had begun immediately. Perrin inhaled the faint sulfur odor, the smoke from buffalo chip fires, the scents of bacon and beans, and the warm dusty night.

Cody lifted a coffee mug to his lips, his eyes scanning the squared wagons. "How do you think the women would react if I left Heck in charge and took Webb after Quinton and his men?"

Perrin examined the knots rising and falling along his clenched jaw. "Heck Kelsey is a good man," she said after a lengthy silence. "But he's not a trained wagonmaster. I doubt Heck could have stopped Miles Dawson from riding hellbent for slaughter into that Indian village to rescue Mem."

Perrin had spoken sharply to Mem about going off on her own, but she wasn't sure if Mem had heard a word she'd said. Mem had smiled and nodded with a vagueness that reminded Perrin of Winnie. Mem's mind was elsewhere.

Cody tossed the remainder of his coffee onto the ground, threw the cup toward Smokey Joe's wagon. "I was afraid that's what you'd say." He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and spoke without looking at her. "I've missed you."

Perrin stiffened and her chest tightened. "If we've covered everything, I need to set up our tent." She told herself that she didn't want to hear anything he might have to say. And yet knowing she would see him tonight, she had used some of their precious water to scrub the white ointment off her face.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her escape. "Do you want me to say I'm sorry for what happened between us? I'm not sorry. Do you want me to swear it won't happen again? I hope it does. I can't get you out of my mind."

"Please, Cody, let me pass." Warm color flooded her throat and cheeks. Her body remembered another hot night, remembered hard callused hands caressing her skin. She remembered every detail and the memories tormented her.

Lifting a hand, he smoothed a tendril of hair off her cheek. "What do you want from me, Perrin?"

Surprised by the question, she hesitated, gazing into eyes shadowed by stormy color. The lines carving his cheeks had deepened. Everything sensible told her to step away from his touch, but his fingertips on her cheek rooted her to the earth and she couldn't move, could hardly breathe. "I don't want anything from you," she whispered.

His fingertips slid to the corner of her lips. "I know what I want. I thinkI hopeyou want the same thing." His gaze lit the darkness, smoldering down at her. "Perrin, for God's sake. You and I are circling each other like wildcats. Nothing has changed except half the time we're spitting at each other, and the rest of the time"

"Cody, please. Don't do this." Her eyes closed and a small moan issued from her throat.

Although darkness deepened around them, someone might have noticed two shadows merging into one. The thought frightened her and Perrin forced herself to step away from him. Lifting a shaking hand, she pressed it to the corner of her lips. When she felt Cody move up behind her, she stiffened her backbone and her resolve.

"We made a mistake," she said in a low voice, looking down at the ground. "Now we put it behind us and go on."

Warm hands closed around her waist and she inhaled sharply. Then he kissed the nape of her neck and the hot touch of his lips made her sway and shudder with pleasure.

"Can you forget?" he asked hoarsely, his breath on her skin.

She would never forget.

"I want I want" Her heart pounded with anger and frustration and wanting him. Suddenly she felt an urge to whirl and strike him with her fists. She wanted to beat on his chest and weep until no more tears flowed. She wanted him to hold her and comfort her and tell her they would always be together. Fury erupted inside when she realized that could never happen.

Her trembling body didn't recognize the difference between anger and passion. The same rushing blood sped through her veins, the same heated flush stained her cheeks. Her pulse thudded in her throat and her breath quickened. Turning to face him, she saw Cody through her anger and felt a helpless melting flood her limbs. Day and night she thought about his rough hands coaxing her body to heights never before experienced, remembered his deep voice whispering her name in passion. She remembered every joyful, exciting minute.

Clenching her fists at her sides, she stared at him with flashing determination that flew in the face of everything she felt in her heart. "I won't be your mistress, Cody. I won't be your plaything for the duration of this endless journey." The refusal hurt because she wanted him so much. "If I can't believe that I'm better than an itch for some man to scratch, then I'm lost. I'll never win anyone's respect if I can't respect myself."