Desert Angel (29 page)

“No, there’s no mistake. She spent several months telling me often enough, so that I would have no doubt about her feelings. My highly respectable wife didn’t want a child, and she definitely didn’t want me. She wanted my name and money. She was very good at playing pretend, but she wasn’t capable of handling reality.

“Melanie never grew up. She was spoiled and pampered by her parents, and expected me to continue it after our wedding. I didn’t have the time or the inclination, but, unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of her misery with our marriage, until it was too late to do anything about it.

“I was so busy getting the ranch on its feet, that I spent too little time with her. I was gone for days sometimes, and when I got back, I figured she was just pouting because I’d left her alone.

“Melanie was … too … delicate for the West,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “And until I met you, I thought that this was the kind of life that was destined to destroy a woman.

“You came along and proved that a woman could be tough enough to take everything that is handed out to her, but gentle enough to be all woman. You’ve been kidnapped, molested, and beaten, but instead of fading away into a shell, you show nothing but kindness and gentleness.”

“You make me sound like something special, instead of what I really am,” she replied, blushing at his description.

“You are something special, angel.” Jim gently tugged her hair until she lifted her gaze to him. Unable to resist, he lowered his head until his lips softly met hers.

Jim bit back a groan at the taste of her. She was honey sweet and just as tempting. Before the startled expression at the surprise of his kiss cleared from her face, he pulled away.

“You are not a whore nor a clinging vine. You are wonderfully generous, dangerously so sometimes. Men see you and they want some of that sweetness for themselves. Some men don’t ask, because they know instinctively that you’ll refuse, so they try to take.

“This is a lonely land … why do you think prostitutes make so much money? Men go for weeks and months sometimes without seeing a woman. They forget their manners, or maybe never had any in the first place. They grab for what they want, before someone else can come along and take it away from them.

“There isn’t a man on this ranch who wouldn’t die trying to protect you. But those very same men would grab at the opportunity to make you their exclusive property. And in the grabbing, they might forget that first and foremost, you are a lady.”

As abruptly as he had lifted her onto his lap, he now set her on her feet. Steadying her until she regained her balance, Jim rose from the rocking chair.

“I’m going to give you a few things to think about tonight, other than Fred Hamner. In the first place, did you know that every summer schoolteachers from back East flock to places like Denver and Phoenix. And do you know what they do all summer?”

Not giving her time to reply, Jim continued. “They spend the summer making extra money, because teaching school doesn’t pay very well,

and I imagine they get pretty bored being so moral and upstanding all the time. And, angel, they make that money by prostitution.”

He didn’t try to hide a grin at her startled look. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, baby, I’m not kidding. I’ve met a few of them in the past. Furthermore, and don’t take off at a run when I tell you this … I want you every bit as badly as any other man.” His eyes became a blue fire as he admitted it to her. “I want to make love to you until you don’t know, or care, if it’s daylight or dark outside. I want to learn every inch of your delectable body from head to toe, and when I’m done, I want to go back to the beginning and start all over again.” He walked to the door, stopping just over the threshold. “And one final thing … I think we should get married. Real soon.”

Smiling at her open-mouthed expression of utter disbelief and confusion, Jim turned away. ” ‘Night, angel. Sleep tight.”

EIGHTEEN

“Catch, Miss March, catch!”

Forced into the game of ragtag catch, March smiled at the excited voice, adroitly caught the ball tossed to her by the child, then threw it to someone else before she could be tagged. She chuckled at the squeals of a little girl who caught the ball, then was thrown into the air by her father to protect her from being tagged.

Children were everywhere. Their smiling faces and happy laughter floated into the summer air in a litany of praise to the perfect afternoon. Beneath a cloudless sky they played games like bobtail run and catch the spider, inventing their own rules as it pleased them, delighted when an adult forgot his dignity enough to join in.

The sun was a bright yellow ball in the sky, but no one seemed affected by the heat. The day was one of celebration, Independence Day, and everyone was intent on having a good time.

March leaned against a tree, grateful for the shade it provided. She scanned the clearing, searching first for Jamie and then for Jim. Jamie was being passed from person to person, and was completely at ease with the situation. Jim stood with several other ranchers, and from the frequent gesturing and occasional raised voice, she imagined they were embroiled in a good- natured argument about stock prices, or some other matter important to ranching.

Allowing herself a brief moment of admiration, she admitted to herself that Jim was a fine- looking man … very fine. His thick brown hair, so dark it was nearly black, hung in gentle waves nearly to his white shirt collar. His tan hat sported a band of woven horsehair with a silver ornament that glistened in the sun. It was pulled low over blue eyes she knew from experience could burn with rage or desire.

March forced her gaze away from him before anyone could notice that she was staring, but not before she saw the way his tan shirt lovingly hugged his wide shoulders. He had removed his coat earlier in the day, and had rolled his sleeves up over his forearms. Black leather suspenders crisscrossed over his broad back, and seemed to guide her eyes down to his narrow hips and long legs. She blushed as she remembered the muscled virility she had felt in his thighs when she sat on his lap. He was whipcord lean and all muscle, with a strength that could be incredibly gentle.

Trying to ignore the shiver of awareness as he threw his head back and laughed with genuine amusement at something that had been said, March looked around the clearing and decided that nearly everyone from town, as well as the neighboring ranches and mines, was in attendance.

Earlier, the tables made from slabs of wood and sawhorses had been piled mountain-high with foods of all kinds. It had rapidly disappeared to the accompaniment of the expected groans of gluttony, and now everyone waited in eager anticipation for the ice cream that Mazie and Walt Wright had promised. March had learned that it was their special contribution to the gathering each year, enthusiastically greeted by children both young and old.

There were plenty of willing helpers to turn the handles of the churns, and an equal number to offer advice and encouragement. March eagerly awaited the treat. She had never had ice cream before, but had been told numerous times that it was something she would like. Jim had added that Walt was making one batch with peaches, and had teased her that she’d probably like it so much she wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.

Since that night earlier in the week when Jim had told her of his startling decision that they should get married, March had been leery of him. He treated her as he always had, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

She had attempted to bring the issue up on several occasions but he always managed to change the subject by telling her that they would discuss it again when Hank was better and she wasn’t so tired.

Yesterday morning she had arrived at the bunkhouse to find that Hank’s fever had broken. Today he was so much improved that she had reluctantly agreed to leave him in the care of Woods and join the party on the riverbank just outside of town.

She had dressed carefully in a newly made blue serge skirt and a stiffly starched white shirtwaist with a high neck and numerous tiny tucks across the bodice. She had added a wide red sash around her narrow waist, tied in a big floppy bow at the back, and a white straw hat.

Her appearance was perfectly proper, exactly what a lady should wear to a summer picnic, but March was well aware that clothes did not make a lady, and she had worried about her reception. By now everyone would have heard of Fred Hamner’s attempt to kidnap her and the story of his death at the hands of the renegade.

She had been surprised when she had been greeted with open friendliness and genuine pleasure, but suspected that Mazie was responsible. She had such a formidable personality that few people could withstand her dictates. Jim had stayed by her side, introducing her to everyone, until he felt her relax.

Watching the fun and excitement, March was glad she had come. She had never attended a party before, and was amazed that everyone was so willing to do their part to make it a success.

“Whew,” Mazie fanned herself with a wilted handkerchief as she approached. “Whoever it was that decided Independence Day should be in July, never spent a summer in Arizona.”

“Who did decide it?” March asked with curiosity.

“Honey, the history books try to tell us that it was the day we became a country independent of English rule, but I really think that the men back East decided that a summer holiday was necessary, since all the other holidays come in the winter.”

Mazie smiled at her own nonsense, then leaned closer to March. “Wanna do something a little bit naughty while we wait for the ice cream to finish?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper. “What if we get caught?”

“Why, honey, that’s half the fun! Who wants to do something naughty if no one finds out about it?” The wicked gleam in the woman’s faded brown eyes proved that she wasn’t as old as she ought to be, nor as mature as she should be.

Unable to resist Mazie’s sparkling mood, March nodded and then followed the older woman as she led toward the river.

“I’ve looked forward to this all day.” Obviously prepared for the event, Mazie plopped down on a log, pulled a buttonhook out of her pocket, and started unhooking her shoes. “Only time of year I can do this and get away with it.”

“What are you doing?” March watched with amazement as first one shoe and then the other was kicked free.

Mazie looked over her shoulder to be sure they were still alone, then reached beneath her skirt and rolled down her stocking. “Why, sweetie pie, as soon as you get your shoes and stockings off, we’re going wading.”

“Wading?”

“Come on, it’s fun. And it sure will feel good.”

“But, Mazie, I can’t swim.”

“Ah pooh, that don’t matter none. The water here is only a few inches deep, not even up to your knees.” Mazie reached over and began unhooking March’s shoe. “No one will see us.” March didn’t want to argue anymore. It sounded like fun, and there was no denying that the cool water would be refreshing. But more than that, for the first time in her life, someone was inviting her to share in the fun of friendship.

Shoes and stockings were soon neatly set aside. March followed Mazie into the water, holding her skirt up to her knees and safely out of harm’s way.

“Careful you don’t step on a slippery rock or you might find yourself a mite bit damp.”

“This is fun!” March smiled happily, her eyes glowing with pleasure. “I’ve had more baths in a river than in a tub, but they were a necessity.” Mazie looked at the younger woman, a smile of pleased fondness crossing her face. “Ain’t you never done this before?”

“Not in a long, long time.” March wiggled her toes and watched the sand float up from the bottom. “When I was a kid, there just wasn’t time. I always needed to help Mama with the little ones. And when I got older, somehow it just didn’t seem to be something I wanted to do.”

Enthralled with the tiny fish that darted between her legs, March missed the look of pity that crossed Mazie’s face. “Walp, I’d say it’s about time somebody taught you how to play.”

“I know how to play,” March replied in surprise. Mazie raised her leg and kicked at the water, laughing at March’s amazed expression when it sprinkled in her face. Responding in kind, March splashed water back at the other woman. Soon they were both laughing, and very wet.

Looking down at the once carefully starched and ironed shirtwaist that now hung limply against her breasts, March shook her head. “I think everyone is going to know what we’ve been doing.”

“They’ll just be envious that they didn’t think of it first.” Mazie bent and splashed water on her face, pushing hair from her eyes that had come loose from the bun at the nape of her neck. “Besides, we’ll be dry in just a few minutes, and then they can only try to guess what we’ve been up to.”

“Having fun, children?” Jim called from the riverbank. He had been searching for March for several minutes, and had been drawn to the river by the feminine laughter. He’d watched the graceful and enticing display of legs as the two women had played, and had felt his own body heating up beyond the natural warmth of the day.

Mazie turned with a grin, while March tried to decide whether to lower her skirt and protect her modesty, or leave it raised and protect the skirt.

Leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, he watched with appreciation as March battled with her decision. He wasn’t at all adverse to her leaving the skirt exactly where it was. It gave him a very nice view of her shapely legs.