Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (22 page)

“Berry . . . girl . . .” He whispered the words in a strangely broken voice. He was almost dizzy with desire. He wanted to bury himself in her, suckle her soft breasts, kiss her warm, wet mouth, and satisfy the hunger that gnawed at him. But, young and innocent as she was, it wasn’t fair to her! She shouldn’t be taken fully clothed on the damp grass. She should be able to taste the full pleasure of it. He forcibly held himself back, withdrew his hands from her body, pulled down her skirts, and covered her breasts. He cuddled her in his arms. She could not guess the depth of torture it put him through to stem the tide of his passion.

“When the time is right I’ll make it long and sweet for you and you’ll have no regrets.”

For a long moment he simply held her. Reason dissolved the hunger that tormented him. He stroked the hair back from her face as if she were a child and kissed her forehead, her nose, and her eyelids. She would be his—the small, firm body, the beautiful green eyes, the dark curling hair, breasts, lips—all his. He would be able to touch her, possess her, whenever he wanted to. . . . The thought sent a quiver of desire through him. He lifted her face with a finger beneath her chin. Their eyes locked, hers moist and faintly confused, his tender and searching.

“I shouldn’t have let you. . . . It was wrong.” Her eyes wavered beneath the intensity of his. She was suddenly a small girl trying to account for her actions. She summoned all her determination to speak, but her voice still came out thin and weak. “I don’t know what possessed me to let you. . . .” Her lower lip quivered and she ducked her head.

“The urge is as old as time,” he whispered.

“Yes, but without . . . without . . .”

He lifted her off his lap, stood, and pulled her up beside him. His fingers worked at the front closing of her dress and she stood like an obedient child. He put his fist beneath her chin and lifted her face.

“Smile for me.”

“You treat me like a child.”

“You are a child.” He pressed his hands briefly to her shoulders. “Come. We’d better be getting back.”

“What did you mean about a . . . wife?” She refused to move when he took her arm.

“Just what I said. We’ll wed and I’ll take you up to my place. The cabin isn’t much, but we’ll build something else later on.”

“You’ve not said that you love me.”

“Love?” His eyes laughed at her. “What’s love? You need a husband more than love.”

“But I don’t want a husband unless there’s love, too.”

“Foolish fancies.” He shrugged. “But then you’re only a child.”

“Stop saying that! I’m eighteen.”

“That old? A woman of eighteen should be old enough to know she can’t get along in this country without a man. If she finds a decent one she ought to take him without expecting love to be part of the deal.”

His eyes were still wrinkled at the corners, his lips still twitching. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing. She wanted him to be serious. She had to say it, had to let him know what she had to have before she would wed. She peered up at him. “I want . . . to . . . love my husband.” She spaced the words to give them emphasis, to be sure he understood.

“Then love him.” His voice was light, as if he was laughing inside. “There’s no law that I know of that says you can’t love him.”

“I want to be sure that he loves me,” she said stubbornly.

He laughed so uninhibitedly that she drew back, her green eyes flashing up at him with insolent appraisal. Setting a hand on each rounded hip, she cocked her head in challenge. “Don’t you laugh at me, Simon Witcher!”

“The first thing you’ve got to learn about men in this country is that they can spin a wild yarn that’ll curl your hair, and woo a woman with soft words if that’s what she wants to hear. Never believe a man’s soft words of love, Berry. Pay a mind to what he does.”

“I like soft words,” she said angrily.

He laughed again and she wanted to hit him. She balled her fist and prepared to swing. Before she could move, he was kissing her with a violence that stunned her. She stiffened her body, but his tight clasp bent that stiffness to the curve of his body. He crushed her lips so hard with his that she couldn’t tell whether he was kissing her or trying to hurt her. After an instant his lips softened and her resistance vanished, leaving nothing but the awareness of him, awareness that rose like a hot fountain from the core of her being. It rose to consume her with the force of its heat. She closed her eyes. Her lips surrendered to the searing heat of his.

They drew apart slowly. “You may like soft words, but you like hard kisses better,” he said with a deep chuckle in his voice and ignored the needling glance she threw at him.

Berry choked down the quick denial that his words provoked. She couldn’t summon the bitchiness needed to end this night on an ugly note.

They walked silently up the path to the house. Simon left her at the cabin door with only a brief touch of his fingers on her cheek. She watched him cross the yard and disappear in the shadows before she slipped into the house.

She crossed to the bunk and sat down, immeasurably glad to be alone in the room. She undressed in the dark and slipped her night rail over her head.
Simon Witcher, you make me so damn mad!
Her mind was boiling with emotions. Among her turbulent thoughts one stood out above all the others:
she would make him love her and she would make him say it!

B
erry woke from a sound sleep.

“Is the blackberries ready for pickin’?” Biedy was trying to speak softly, but her voice rang like a bell in the close confines of the room. “Did ya put the cream in the spring for coolin’ till I can get to the churnin’? And ’bout my hens—did ya pen ’em and caution the boys to be on the lookout for weasels?”

It was Silas’s voice, patient and gruff, that answered her.

“I done it all, Biedy, jist like ye knowed I would. Now, get on with the vittles so’s we can be gone.”

Berry blinked and looked away from the light the glowing candle made in the dark room. Excitement zigzagged through her like lightning as memory returned and each and every moment, every detail of the hours she had spent with Simon, came clearly to mind.
He wanted to marry her! Spend his life with her!
She could hardly wait to see him again.

She reached for her dress and slipped it over her head while she was still beneath the sheet, fastened the front buttons, then swung her feet to the floor. Silas was bending over the cookfire and Biedy was smiling and nodding to her. Berry stood and smoothed her dress down over her night rail.

“Mornin’.”

“Mornin’. It’s a mite early, but Silas is strainin’ to be goin’. He’s the beatin’est man! If’n it’s startin’ or stoppin’, he’s bound to get it done right away. I’ll declare, Silas, I got to have me more fire’n that if’n ya want meat ’n’ gravy for breakfast.”

“Hold your taters, hon’. It’s a-comin’.”

Berry went to the wash dish, scooped water into her hands, and splashed her face. After drying it on the soft, clean towel that hung on a nail beside the washstand, she tidied her hair and pinned the braid to the top of her head.

“Mornin’, Miz MacCartney.” Silas spoke from beside the fireplace.

“Mornin’.” Rachel paused in the doorway and then hurried to help with breakfast. “My, my! How misput of me to let guests cook their own vittles! You made no noise at all or I’d-a been up.”

“I heard Faith a-frettin’ in the night. Is she all right?” Biedy lifted the big spider skillet onto the grate.

“She’s a glutton, is what she is. She was hungry,” Rachel replied with a laugh. “Morning, Berry.”

There was no way Rachel could contain her happiness. It shone in her eyes, tilted her lips, and quickened her steps. She had a wonderfully considerate husband who had held her tenderly in his arms all night long and whispered that when the time came that she was well and strong, he’d not allow her a wink of sleep. She felt loved and wanted for the first time in her life. She had a home and a man to take care of her, and at last she was able to do something for Berry. These thoughts and many more danced about in her mind while she set the table for the first time in what was truly her home.

Rachel took her place at the end of the table opposite Fain when they sat down to breakfast. Silas and Biedy sat on one side, Berry and Isaac on the other. Biedy ceased her chatter long enough for Silas to say grace. Isaac nodded silently when Fain inquired if he had tied onto their mounts the sack of shot and the small keg of gunpowder he had set out for them to take, along with the candle mold and beeswax for Biedy.

“I just feel plumb bad ’bout takin’ that mold. Course, I don’t feel bad enough to give it back,” Biedy said with her musical titter. “My, my! Just imagine! I’ll be havin’ my own mold. I got me plenty of milkweed floss I’ve been a-savin’ for wicks. But mercy, Rachel, it was plumb kind of ya . . .”

Fain interrupted. “You just go ahead and enjoy the mold. Rachel’ll have another one soon’s I can send down to Simon’s storehouse.” He smiled into his bride’s blue eyes and slightly flushed face. “When you come again, she’ll more’n likely have curtains on the winders ’n’ a cloth on the table ’n’ you’ll not be findin’ a place to set for all the knickknacks. I’ll have to run Fish outta that shack so I’ll have me someplace to go to get out from underfoot,” he teased.

“Fain . . .” Rachel protested. “I’ll not . . .”

“I can always go up to Simon’s if’n there gets to be so many knickknacks I can’t walk through my own cabin.”

“Fain . . .”

He laughed with delight at Rachel’s reddened face, covered her hand with his, and gripped it tightly.

“Don’t start off lettin’ him get your goat, Rachel. Silas tried a-doin’ that with me ’n’ I set him down good, didn’t I, Silas?” Biedy didn’t wait for her husband to answer. “What ya got to do is get a hold ’n’ take charge of things. This’n’s been carefree too long and it’ll take some doin’ to get him in line, but think on it and you’ll know what to do. Ya just be so tired nights for a good long while and sleep on the cot by yourself. In a while he’ll knuckle under!” Her bright blue eyes flicked knowingly toward her husband.

Fain roared with laughter, and Rachel’s and Berry’s faces flamed. Biedy’s family didn’t seem to notice her outspoken words.

Berry sat quietly, scarcely hearing anything except the last part of the conversation, for she was quivering inwardly in anticipation of Simon’s coming into the room.
Surely he had heard Isaac getting the horses out of the barn lot.

“Simon said to tell ya that he’d be seein’ ya on his next trip downriver. He had to get on down to Saint Louis and I think he’s goin’ on down to see Pike. He’s hell-bent on makin’ that trip up north. Hairbrained, if’n ya ask me, Pike a-goin’ up there. More’n likely he’ll have to winter there.” Fain spoke between sips of hot black coffee.

Berry heard only the first part of what he said. Simon was gone! The information was like a blow to Berry’s stomach. All the energy was suddenly driven from her. A chill settled over her with the knowledge that she meant so little to him that he’d left the homestead without a word to her. All he’d said last night was for naught! He’d been playing with her! The thought was like a dagger twisting in her heart.

Berry came back to the present to hear Biedy protesting that she should help with the clean-up before they left and Rachel assuring her that she and Berry would make short work of it. Berry followed them out into the dogtrot, stumbling over the doorstone when she left the candlelit room. The stars were still blinking in the sky and a cool breeze fanned her hot face.
Damn you, Simon Witcher!

Silas mounted the horse and Biedy sprang up behind him, as agile as a young girl. “’Bye, Rachel. ’Bye, Berry. Y’all come, now. You’re welcome anytime. Come ’n’ bring that sweet little darlin’. Fain, I’m glad ya had the gumption to marry up with Rachel. Ya take care of them, now. Rachel, if’n Faith gets colic, ya just get some goldenrod ’n’ take the leaves and tops off ’n’boil ’em up good. Give her a few sips. And if’n there’s a time her bowels don’t move, you give ’er a little buckthorn bark. Boil it up the same way. Now . . . if’n she gets the runnin’-offs, ya can use meadow sweet root. And . . . My land! I forgot to tell ya about coltsfoot. . . .”

Silas broke in. “’Bye, Fain. Biedy’s had a week to say all she wanted to. Don’t seem like she’s goin’ to run down, so we’d better get.” Silas put the horse in motion. “We’ll come a-runnin’ if’n we’re needed.” He waved his hand.

“’Bye, Rachel. ’Bye, Berry.” Biedy grabbed Silas around the waist and tossed a bright glance back over her shoulder. “Ya make me so mad. Silas Cornick! Ya never let me finish. I was goin’ to tell her ’bout wormwood, henbane, ’n’ fennel seed. If’n that little love gets a fever ’n’ Rachel don’t know ’bout sage, you’re just goin’ to have to bring me back! It’d just serve ya right! ’Cause I wanted to tell her ’bout . . .”

Distance and darkness swallowed the Cornicks. Fain laughed and put his arm across Rachel’s shoulders. “Did you ever know of a woman what talked so much?”

“I liked her. I liked her more than any woman I ever knew except Berry. I hope they come back soon.”

“But not too soon, darlin’. I’m wantin’ to have my family all to myself for a while.” He put his other arm around Berry’s shoulder, and they moved back into the house.

Berry’s mind moved like wheels through mud. Simon was gone. She would erase last night from her mind as if it hadn’t happened. There was only one thing to do now: take Israel, the stock, and the wagons and leave here as soon as possible, or there wouldn’t be time to get set up on the homestead before winter. She hoped she’d never see Simon Witcher again! But she prayed that if she did, she would be already married to a big, handsome man who would punch him in the mouth if he even glanced her way!

*    *    *

A week passed and then two. Rachel would have seen supremely happy if not for worrying over the change in Berry. She seldom laughed, and when she did, it was the forced laughter that Rachel recognized from the times on the trail from Ohio when she was trying to keep Rachel’s spirits up. Berry worked from dawn until dark. If she wasn’t helping with the meals, she was tending to Faith, working in the garden, or doing any one of the countless things to be done on the homestead.