Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (38 page)

“My God!” Anton sailed his hat onto a chair and slowly came toward her. “Did that bastard do this to you?”

“Now you know why I didn’t want to light the lamp. It’s not a pretty sight—” Her swollen lips quivered.

Her face had obviously been pounded by heavy fists. Around her eyes were dark bruises. The skin over her cheekbone was cut and another cut crossed her eyebrow.

“Sit down, Mr. Hooker.” Helga seated herself in a chair opposite him. She sat erect with her hands in her lap.

“Please let me help you!”

“There is nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

“Was he drunk when he did this to you?”

She shook her head. “Justin never drinks much. Something else has a hold on him . . . now.”

“Would it be easier if I told you what I know about your husband? And would it ease your mind to know that the clerk downstairs will delay him if he comes back so that I’ll have time to leave?”

Tears that Helga could not control rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“Garrick told me about the trouble between him and Justin. He also told me to help you if you needed help. Mrs. Rowe, I know Justin has spent every night for two weeks at a place on the hill called the Doll House. The place is an opium den. Why do you stay and take his abuse? If you want to go back home, I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Oh, if I only could! I want so desperately to see my son. But I can’t leave. If Justin came back to this room and I wasn’t here, he’d send a wire immediately to the woman who cares for my son. She would take my boy away and I would never see him again.” Helga buried her face in her hands. “He arranged it before we left New York. I can’t leave him.”

Bit by bit the story came out. After a while, it became easier for Helga to talk to the serious-faced young man with the wire-rimmed glasses and the lank blond hair. She told him everything, holding back nothing except the whippings on her bottom and what Justin told her he did when he went to the Doll House. She couldn’t repeat that!

“His hatred for Garrick and his mother has eaten away at him until I think he is mad. He came here thinking he would do something to ruin his half brother, to even the score because he believes his father was partial to Garrick. He resents the money Garrick inherited from his mother. All the way out here he talked about the Rowes’ pure Caucasian blood and how Garrick, being part Greek, was a disgrace to the name.

“Then suddenly Justin changed. It was after we got to this hotel. He sat in the chair beside the window and read a letter over and over. Hours went by and he never said a word. Then he saw Garrick on the street below. All the old hatred came bubbling up again. That night he went out and someone took him to . . . that place. He told me he had met a man who would do whatever he wanted him to do. That is why I went to warn Garrick. But now Justin seems to have forgotten Garrick. He hasn’t mentioned him for days. He spends the day sleeping, wakes up toward evening and gets ready to go back to that place.”

“Did he tell you what was in the letter?”

“Heavens, no! But I suspect it was something about Garrick. He locked it in his valise and I haven’t seen it since.”

“Mrs. Rowe, he may hurt you badly, even kill you if you stay—”

“I know that, but it would be a living death if he takes my son away from me.”

Anton looked into Helga’s eyes, saw the torment she was enduring, and desperately wanted to help her. His quick mind went over the story she had told him. He sorted out the pros and the cons of several plans until one that would work began to formulate. He started to see a way out for Helga. Anton was crafty at out-maneuvering the opposition. That talent had made him an exceptionally good businessman.

“I think I know a way for you to get your son
and
start a new life, if you’re willing to take the risk.”

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but there’s no place I could go that Justin wouldn’t find me.”

“I think there is.” Anton leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. He was getting excited about the strategy developing in his mind. “Listen, Helga, we can outwit Justin. What if Justin should send a wire to your son’s nurse telling her the plan has changed and she is to take the boy to George Hooker in Philadelphia? I’ll send a wire to my brother explaining things. He’ll handle matters on that end. I’ll tell him to pay off the nurse and have him instruct her to go away for a while.”

“Oh, but—”

“George will guard the boy with his life. He thinks a lot of Garrick. Your son will be safe, but you’ll have to stay with Justin until we hear the child is with George. It should take only a few days.”

“When he finds out . . . he’ll kill me!”

“He won’t find out for weeks unless someone from his home sends him a wire. By then, you’ll be gone.”

“But where will I go? I have no money of my own.”

“Leave it to me, Helga. Do you think Justin will head back East if he hears the child is gone?”

“I don’t know about that. I do know he’ll blame Garrick, and there’s no telling what he may try to do.”

“I think it’s about time the brothers had a showdown. Katy and Garrick were married before they went back to Trinity. I’ve never seen him happier, but he can’t have peace of mind as long as he knows his brother is this near and wishes him dead.”

“I’m glad for Garrick. The morning I went to see him I could tell that he adored Katy.”

“Well, what do you think, Helga? Do I have your permission to send the wire to your son’s nurse?” He took an envelope from his pocket. “I’ll need her name and the address.”

Ten minutes later Helga stood at the door beside Anton. Suddenly she took his hand and raised it to her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered on a sob.

“Ah . . . don’t cry.” Anton put his arm across her shoulders. “Be careful not to rile Justin. You’ll have to stay here for only a few more days.”

“Why are you doing this, Mr. Hooker?”

“Because I’m Garrick’s friend and yours too . . . now. I’ll stop by the dining room and tell them to send you up some supper. Bathe your face with a cold cloth and try to get a night’s rest. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

After the door closed behind Anton, Helga leaned her forehead against it, wincing when it touched a bruised spot.

“Thank you, God,” she murmured. “Thank you for sending this kind man to help me. Keep my son safe. Guard Garrick’s happiness and . . . please, God, help me to endure the next few days.”

Twenty-four

Katy and Rowe stood beside the big soft bed in the corner of their one-room cabin with their arms wrapped about each other. When he turned his face, she could feel the soft, silky brush of his mustache, then his mouth against her cheek. For Rowe it was heaven, pure heaven to feel and taste her, to know that she returned his love.

“Rowe, do you ever think about your brother and wonder if he is still in Virginia City?” Katy asked the question, her nose pressed tightly to his neck.

“I don’t think of him at all.” He raised his head. Katy burrowed her nose deeper into his neck.

“Don’t lie to me, Garrick Rowe.”

“Why would I think about him when I have all of this to think about?” His hands traveled down over her hips and up to cup her breasts beneath the thin nightdress.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” She leaned back and gazed into his eyes, so astonishingly dark and luminous in the dim light.

“I want to love my wife, not talk about something as unpleasant as Justin.”

“You’ve already loved me once today.”

“That was early this morning. All day I’ve been thinking about loving you again.”

“While you were marking trees to be cut, setting the corner post for the mill, blasting rock from the cliff, and shouting orders to the men, you were thinking of this?” She ran her palm down his chest, over his belly to the bulge in the front of his britches. She made a clicking noise with her tongue as her hand moved in a caressing motion. “Shame on you! You must have been a sight!”

“You little hellion!” He closed his eyes for an instant, savoring the pleasure she was giving him. Then with one of his sudden moves, he grasped her shoulders and shoved her backward onto the bed.

“Ohooo . . . !” she yelled as she landed on the soft, down-filled mattress. Amid peals of laughter she tried to scramble to the far end of the bed, but Rowe caught hold of one of her ankles.

“Just you wait!” He hopped on one foot in an attempt to get out of his britches. Needing both hands to pull his shirt off over his head, he captured her foot between his thighs and held it while she pushed at him with her other foot and yelled threats between giggles. When he was naked, he growled fiercely, pounced on her and held her captive with his arms and legs.

“Get off me, you big . . . horny ox!” she shouted, trying to buck him off.

He grinned with devilish sensuality. “No.”

“You’re not playing fair! You’re taking advantage of your superior strength.”

“Yeah.” The sweet, hot excitement of playing with her like this was exhilarating. Rowe was at a loss to explain it, but each time he wanted to prolong it.

“You’re dumb as a stump!” she gasped, panting with exertion.

“Yeah,” he said again, laughed down at her and moved so his large, swollen member was against her belly.

“When you go to sleep, I’ll . . . cut
it
off!” she threatened.

“No, you won’t!” Uncontrollable laughter rumbled up out of his chest. He rolled over with her until she lay on top of him. Her nightdress was bunched at her waist. “You don’t need this,” he said and pulled it off over her head. “Katy, darling, you’re more fun than a barrel of fish.” He grasped her hips with his two hands and held her tightly to him.

“If I was charging you for this—I’d be rich!”

He laughed again, a full, satisfied laugh.

“You’re wonderful, my Nightrose of a thousand years.”

“I know,” she said arrogantly, grinning down at him and rubbing the tip of her nose against his.

“Are you happy?” he asked softly, hopefully, his hands gently squeezing her buttocks and moving her up and down. He could feel himself thickening even more against that damp, warm part of her.

“Can’t you tell?”

Her mouth hovered over his for a moment, teasing him, before her lips touched his, lightly at first, then with longer and more intense kisses, concentrating first on his mouth, then his cheeks, chin, eyes, and back to his mouth, nibbling, licking, and then kissing hotly.

She lay between his thighs, naked flesh on naked flesh. His hands sought the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs so that they lay outside of his and moving her until he was inside her just a little. Her hands clenched in his hair and she kissed him, hard, hungrily. Rowe’s heart beat wildly and he fought against the pounding desire to hurry and bury himself inside her. He lay passively, determined to allow her to lead the way. Her hips edged down, pulling him into her slowly. It was the most exquisite agony for both of them.

“Do you like that?” she whispered on his mouth.

She moved pressing him deeper. His breath came in short, hot bursts. He lifted her hips, moving her faster, then giving in to his fierce urge, he flipped her on her back, impaling her with the full length of his flesh.

“My darling . . . Katy. My darling . . . Nightrose. I love you—” he whispered fiercely. He kissed every part of her face in a kind of frenzied joy.

“Love me, love me. Don’t stop—”

It was boundless pleasure to Rowe to hear her breathless plea. She writhed beneath him and met his thrusts, moaning in shameless abandon. Astounding, incredible feelings rolled like a tidal wave through him. When she made a soft little sound, the hot spiral of excitement coiled tighter and tighter. She was so slim, so soft, so precious to him. He was braced on his forearms to relieve her of his weight; and the muscles in his arms trembled with the strain of holding back, but he needed to see her face. Katy’s soft little cries filled Rowe’s heart to bursting. He knew the pleasure was not his alone—

“Look at me, darling!” he cried, feeling himself empty into her. “I love you. I love you.” The words came again and again in English, in French, in Greek.

They lay side by side, feeling utterly drained, blissfully filled, and waited for their hearts to slow to normal rhythm. Katy sighed and pressed her mouth to his neck. Responsively, be tightened his hold on her and kissed her brow.

“Katy Rowe,” he whispered, caressing her name. “Katy, Katy, Katy Rowe—”

His love for her was a fire smoldering deep inside him, needing only her touch to flare into flames. The wonder of it! The intense joy of being able to feel this deeply about a woman and have his love returned was a never-ending wonder that shook him anew each time they came together. What they shared was no ordinary thing.

“Do you want to get up before you go to sleep?” he asked against her ear.

“Uh-huh, but not now.” She cuddled against him, sliding her leg between his. “Rowe?” She moved her hand up his ribs to his armpit, a favorite place, and he clamped his arm to hold it tightly.

“Something wrong, honey? If there is, I’ll put it right if I can.”

“I have a scary feeling that this is borrowed time for us, that I’m too happy and I don’t deserve it. I’m afraid something will happen—”

“Nothing will happen, sweetheart. You’re going to be too busy to have time for worry—you’ve got to help me lay out the town. We’ve got a schoolhouse to build, and a church. Next spring we’ll start on our house. You’ve got to plan just what you want because we’re going to live in it for a long time.”

Katy was quiet for a long while, then she asked, “Do you think Justin will come here?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t think Justin will come here.” It would be Justin’s way to send someone to do his dirty work, he thought, hating his brother for causing her worry. “Anton will get word to me if there is something he thinks I should know. Trust him, sweetheart. And trust me.”

“I do trust you, but Mary and I were on our own for so long and we were so scared. It’s hard to get used to not being afraid of the future.”