Climb the Highest Mountain (34 page)

His eyes dropped to her full, firm breasts. How beautiful she was, with milky brown skin of a distinctive color—not white or red, just as his was not white or black. Why did they have to be anything in particular? They were after all just people, needing the same things all people needed.

“Of course you don’t know me,” he answered, meeting her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “That’s why we’re going to spend a lot of time together the next few days … and nights. You tell me all about yourself, your parents—everything. And I’ll tell you more about me.” He pulled her closer again, laying her back down and moving on top of her, kissing her eyes. “And we’ll see what happens.”

Never had she felt so overwhelmed by anyone. She put her hands against his shoulders. “Surely you’re not saying you love me!”

He frowned sternly. “Of course not. I only like you—and want you. When I think I love you, I’ll let you know. Maybe love isn’t what we think it is. Maybe it isn’t always something that happens quickly. Maybe it takes some people years to build a really great love.”

Her brown eyes widened and suddenly became innocent and childlike, the way he knew she ought to look. “Morgan! What if we did end up together? What
if we had children? What on earth would they be called? Is there a name for such a mixture?”

He smiled sadly. “Yes. They’re called people. Just people.” He covered her mouth with his own and she soon forgot about everything but the fact that Morgan Brown was making love to her again.

Chapter Twenty

Anna was starting to blow out her lamp when a light tapping sounded at her door. It was so faint she wasn’t certain at first that she had heard it. She pulled a robe back on and went to the door, opening it softly, a surge of hot desire rushing through her when she saw Zeke standing there. He wore the cotton pants he had been forced to don while in Denver, but he was shirtless, and his hair hung long and loose. He seemed the epitome of manhood, and her heart ached at the numerous scars on his muscular chest—from the Sun Dance, from past battles and old wounds, from self-inflicted wounds of mourning. He was a man beaten and battered by the hardships of the land and the prejudices of mankind.

He held up a bottle of whiskey, and she could see he had already drunk some. “Want to share a drink with me?” he asked. His face was oddly cold and determined, as though he were angry at the world and intended to do something about it.

Her heart raced. If ever he was susceptible, it was tonight. Or was he the one challenging her? What made her think Zeke Monroe would be had on her terms? He moved past her, walking inside and gazing around her bedroom, decorated in lavender. She quietly closed the
door. His huge frame with its wild countenance seemed totally foreign in the room—a man of animal grace and instincts standing amid lavender and lace. She grinned. “Where’s my drink?”

He turned to look at her, his dark eyes running over her voluptuous and available body as she removed her robe to stand in a thin gown that revealed the soft points of her breasts. He poured some whiskey into a glass he had brought up with him and handed it to her.

She took it, feeling fire sweep through her at the mere touch of his fingers. In a flash of remembrance, Zeke visualized Abbie handing him a cup of coffee when she was fifteen and seeing him for the first time. The memory brought a piercing pain to his heart and he turned away, his throat tight. He took a slug of whiskey and Anna sipped hers.

“To what do we owe this occasion?” she asked.

He turned, the bottle gripped in his hand. “To forgetting. If I am going to leave my wife to better things and go off and die, I might as well have one good time with the infamous Anna Gale first, right?” He stepped closer, grasping the back of her neck in his free hand. “A woman is a woman. I don’t need any particular one.” He drew her closer but she stiffened.

“Don’t you? How long do you intend to lie to yourself?”

He reached over and set the bottle on a nearby table, still grasping her neck. “As long as it takes.”

“For what?”

“For my wife to understand what’s best for her. Edwin Tynes is a charming man. He can’t offer her the world without her surrendering sooner or later. I intend to make it easy for her.” He bent closer, meeting her lips savagely, deliberately. She wanted to tell him to leave, but knew she would not.

Their breathing grew heavier as he pressed her close
in the strong arms she had dreamed about for years, his sweet lips searching her mouth, bringing out desires other men had failed to stir. Her arms were limp, her drink still held lightly in one hand. She was not seducing him after all. He was seducing her. He always had, without even trying.

He released her slightly then, running one hand over her throat, his fingers then lightly touching the softness of her breasts through the flimsy gown. “I want to sleep with you, Anna,” he told her. He took the drink from her hand and set it on the table. “I’m tired—tired of death and failure, tired of watching loved ones suffer, tired of waiting for Margaret, tired of fighting and killing. I want to make love to you, want to get my daughter home, and then I just want to get out of Abbie’s life and end my own.”

She pulled away slightly. “And you don’t want to make love to your wife before you say farewell to this world, after twenty years and all she’s put up with to stay with you?”

He picked her up in his arms and laid her on the bed, then removed what clothing he wore. Her desire grew at seeing him in his masculine glory, a man whom the years seemed only to bless with more virility.

“If I made love to her again, I’d never be able to leave her.” He moved onto the bed, lying over her and resting on his elbows, studying her beauty, winding his fingers into her dark hair. “It’s easier this way.”

She smiled sadly. “Of course it is. You’re using me, damn you! You know I can’t resist you. It’s wrong and I know you’ll leave again, but I’ve wanted you ever since that one night we had years ago in Santa Fe. You’ve always known it, and I’ll be here for as long as you need me. You can sleep with me every night if you want. I know you’ll go eventually, either to Abbie or to your own death, but you’ll not go before I have you
once more!”

He came down on her then, hiding her body beneath his huge frame, beginning her ascent to the heights of ecstasy. It was as though he were the harlot rather than she, for he seemed to know the right moves better than she did. Somehow her gown disappeared, and their skin touched in heated desire. It had been so many years since he had done this to her, but she had not forgotten. Then he had been angry and cruel to her for forcing him to bed her. This time it was different. It was his choice.

His glorious body moved over hers, and she knew the act was made sweeter by her knowledge that this could not last for long. Everything about him groaned for his Abbie girl and she knew it, but it was not Abbie who lay beneath him. It was Anna Gale, who was prepared to take him on any terms.

Zeke’s every move originated from sorrow and despair, in his mind a vision of Edwin Tynes doing these things to his Abbie. But he must do this. He must forget. He must get Abbie out of his system, take Margaret home, and go! Go! Die! Die and leave them all to a better life! First he would make the parting easier by doing the one thing that would hurt Abbie the most. He would sleep with Anna Gale and he’d make damned sure Abbie knew about it when he went back home. He would give her good reason to turn to Edwin Tynes for comfort, for security, and for a better life. Tynes would—

He suddenly thrust himself hard into the woman beneath him. No! No other man must do this to his Abbie! How could he bear the thought of her taking pleasure in someone else, of someone else penetrating the private places that belonged to Zeke Monroe. But bear it he must. He must!

Their bodies moved rhythmically, damp skin warm-sing
the bed, Anna’s voice whispering his name ecstatically. Yes. This would hurt Abbie, and it would prove to him that any woman could satisfy his manly needs. This would help him make the final break. He smothered Anna’s mouth with his own, and she was again the prostitute she was good at being, the kind of woman she was meant to be. She arched up to him, determined to enjoy every precious moment she might have with him. It would be a good night for both of them.

Anna awoke to see Zeke already up. He was staring out a window at the busy streets of Denver. How she loved him! How lonely and heartbroken she was going to be when he left. But leave he would, for she knew him well. She stretched, surprised that she felt sore all over. A woman like herself should be accustomed to nights like the last one, but then her other nights had not been spent with men like Zeke Monroe. She moaned with soft pleasure, stretching again, and he turned to look at her.

“You aren’t thinking of doing something horrible again, are you?” she asked, “like cutting off another finger in remorse for what you’ve done?”

He walked back to the bed. “No. The reasons are different this time. I want to hurt her, even though it wrenches my heart to do so.” He stretched out on the bed, putting his head in her lap, and she stroked his shiny black hair.

“I still don’t really understand why you’re doing this, Zeke, even though it pleases me to have you in my bed. Why are you so determined to end everything? You know Abbie loves you. You have everything to live for.”

He closed his eyes. “I can’t start over again, Anna.
We’ve been down so many times, and we’ve always gotten up again. This time I feel that I can’t. I’ve lost everything I built, my little Lillian is dead, my son is gone, and Margaret is selling herself to men because she hates her dark skin. Who knows how LeeAnn will be affected by her experience with the Comancheros? And Abbie … my poor, devoted Abbie. I think it started when Garvey’s men abducted her. When I found her, raped and nearly dead from sickness and neglect, I knew then she had suffered more than she could stand, all because she had married me. Twenty years ago, I came very close to not going back to Fort Bridger to get her. She’d suffered that arrow wound and I had left her there to mend, had married her there, and then had gone on with the wagon train to Oregon. I was to come back in the spring for her, but I was tempted to send someone else, with a letter of divorce, so she’d be free to make a better life for herself. I came so close, Anna. So close. Then I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t envision my life without her. Because of that selfishness she has suffered badly. Why didn’t I just let her go back then, before so much damage was done?”

“Because you loved her—needed her.”

“If I’d loved her enough, I’d never have gone back. That’s why I’m doing this now, because I love her too much.”

She sighed. “You can’t turn it all around now, Zeke. Perhaps you could have then, but not now. You’ve shared too much. You say you’re going off to die. Well, what about Abbie? Have you ever considered that she might die before you? What if you left and she became ill. It’s you she’d call for, you know, no matter who she might be with. You brought her here, planted the seed of life in her belly, sustained her, supported her, protected her, loved her. Would you want to be absent in her greatest moment of need?”

He frowned and sat up, facing her. He remembered when Abbie had nearly died of an arrow wound. That was when he’d first realized he didn’t want to live his life without her. He remembered how frightened she had been, how she’d looked to him for comfort and help. “I… I never thought—”

“And think about something else. If she should happen to bear your leaving or your death and if she should happen to turn to another man, Tynes perhaps, she would be giving him what belongs to Zeke Monroe. Another man would take your place in her bed. Another man would take his pleasure in her. Another man would raise your children.”

“Shut up!” He got up and went back to the window. “I’m going to get Margaret today, whether she wants to leave or not. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to get all of this over with.”

Her heart fell. “You mean this is all I get? One night?” She studied the hard muscles of his hips and legs. He wore only a loincloth. He turned.

“I’m sorry, Anna, but I’ve waited long enough. When something needs doing, it’s best to do it and not to let it fester in the mind. It’s spring—a good time of year to ride north.” He walked to his clothes and began picking them up off the floor and putting them on. Her heart pounded with dread. He was leaving. This was it! She might never see him again. He would go back to Abbie or ride north and do his best to get himself killed. He was a stubborn man and now his mind was made up.

“Zeke!” she said softly, watching him with pleading eyes. He buttoned his pants and sat down on the bed, pulling her into his arms, letting her cry.

“I love you, Anna, in a different way. Not like my Abbie. You have been good to me—and to Abbie. For this we are both grateful. I used you last night, and for
this I beg your pardon. We both knew it had to happen once more, didn’t we? Now it is done.”

She straightened suddenly, tossing her hair and wiping her eyes. “Don’t be feeling sorry for the likes of me,” she told him. “I knew what you were doing, and I didn’t care. I wanted you. That was all that mattered.” She moved off the bed and put on a robe. “Anna Gale doesn’t get hurt so easily. You know that. I’m too crusted. I’ve been around too long. You had something to prove and I hope you proved it.” She folded her arms. “But I’m putting my money on Abbie—on the love you two have. You won’t be able to leave her, not to Edwin Tynes or anyone else.” She grinned. “I wish I could be there to see you surrender to her. You will, you know.”

He rose and began to finish dressing. “I won’t. I know what’s best now.”

She laughed lightly. “So do I, and it isn’t what you think. You’re so strong, so proud, so skilled. How many men can you handle at once, Zeke? How many have you killed? What was it like, suffering the Sun Dance ritual? Everything about you is strength and Indian spirit, wildness and recklessness … except when it comes to Abbie. That tiny woman makes you as weak as a kitten! It’s almost humorous.”

He scowled. “I don’t find it humorous.” She laughed lightly and he glowered at her. “I’m going to get Margaret. Will you prepare some food for me and bring out my horse? I’d appreciate it.”

She shrugged. “Sure.” He turned to pull on his suitcoat. “No kiss good-bye?”

He sighed and walked up to her. “Damn it, Anna, what can I say? I don’t seem to know my own mind anymore. I shouldn’t have come here last night.”

“Of course you should have.” She put her arms about his waist and pressed close to him. “I won’t
forget it for the rest of my life.” She looked up at him then, and he bent to kiss her, enfolding her into his arms. When his lips left hers, she rested her head against his chest. “It’s been nice having you here. Three weeks of Zeke Monroe. Too bad I couldn’t get you into my bed sooner. I could have had you for much longer. I just hope the nice old ladies I’ve made friends with don’t suspect. I wouldn’t want my reputation ruined.” She looked up at him again and they both smiled. “You can’t wait to get out of this city, can you?” she added. “It’s been hell for you being here. You’re ready to go out on the plains and feel the wind in your face and a horse beneath you. You want the sun on your back.”

“You know me well.”

She sighed. “Oh, yes. Well enough to know I’ll probably never see you again once you leave here.” She pulled away. “Thanks for the glorious night. Prostitutes don’t usually enjoy a night in bed with a man who really cares.” She put on a cold air, tossing her head and lighting a thin cigar. “What are you going to do if Margaret won’t leave with you?”