Authors: Dorothy Garlock
Jenny leaned close and studied the face turned toward her. The crease made from the bullet that passed across his head had scabbed over. The dark layer of salve kept her from seeing the deep cuts and scrapes he’d suffered on the one side of his face. The skin over the cheekbone on the other side of his face had been scraped raw.
She reached out and gently stroked the hair from his forehead, then removed her hand guiltily. She had no right to touch him, comfort him. He had kissed her, but she may have read more into the caress than he intended.
She sat for a long time, her eyes on his face. Suddenly the thick lashes parted and he was looking at her. His lips moved and he spoke.
“Jenny, is it … you?”
“Trell!” She sat up straighter and a smile brightened her face. “Oh, Trell, I’ve been so worried—” Her voice trailed and she swallowed the lump that came up in her throat.
“Jenny—” He moved his hand out from under the cover and reached for her. “I was afraid … I’d never see you again.” His voice was painfully weak.
She held his hand between her palms and raised it to her cheek. Tears sparkled in her eyes. The days of worry had taken a toll on her self-control.
“I was afraid … too. I prayed you’d be all right.”
“Where … am I?”
“Here at Stoney Creek. In the bunkhouse. Ike and Colleen had just fixed it up. Your brother brought you here.”
“You’ve so much to do. I’ll be a bother.”
“You’ll not be a bother. I’m so glad you’re here.” A growling, gurgling noise came from his stomach. “Are you hungry?”
“As a wolf.”
“Granny’s fixing something. Can I get you some water?”
“I bet I’m a sorry sight … and probably stink like a wet goat.”
“A sight for sore eyes is what you are, Trellis McCall.”
“Come close so I can see you.”
“Oh, Trell, hurry and get well.” Jenny bent close to him and stroked his hair with her fingertips. An unchecked tear rolled down her cheek.
“Why are you cryin’? Did someone hurt you?”
“I’m crying because I’m so glad you’re here. I was so worried about you.”
“I don’t want you to cry.”
“I’ve so much to tell you. We saw your brother in town and thought it was you. Havelshell sent men out to put the dam back in and Whit brought the Shoshoni shaman and a group of warriors. They scared the men off. Havelshell came yesterday and said he decided to leave it for now. I spoke to the shaman and he’s sending ten children to my school. Oh, I’m talking too much, and you’re tired.”
“No. Keep talkin’.” He gripped her hand tighter. His eyes drifted shut, then opened wide. “I can’t keep my eyes open, and I want to look at you.”
“You’ll not be left alone,” she promised. “If I’m not here, your brother. Colleen or Granny will be.”
“You, Jenny.” His voice was the merest of whispers. “I kept tellin’ myself that I had to get back to … Jenny—” The words drifted away and his eyes closed.
Jenny continued to watch him. His hand gripped hers with surprising strength. The tight hold she had kept on her emotions for days loosened. A flood of silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Trell wanted
her!
He was safe; her world had stopped tilting.
Whit slipped through the partially opened door like a shadow and stood waiting for Jenny to acknowledge him. When she looked up, he went to the bed and looked down at Trell. She hastily dried her eyes.
“He live?”
“We think so, unless complications develop.”
“What’s that?”
“Unless … his wounds poison, or he gets a fever, or any number of other things.” Jenny saw the lines of fatigue in Whit’s face. “You’re tired, Whit. How long has it been since you slept?”
“I am not tired.” He straightened his shoulders.
“How about hungry?”
“Hungry, yes. But I can wait for food.”
“You will eat here. You led Linus away, didn’t you?”
“I knew he would follow if I took something from the school.”
“You took your wood carvings.”
“No. I took sticks I put there to keep dry. I hide them in crevice far away and wait for Sneaking Weasel to leave his horse and climb the rocks to see what I hide. I take his horse. Sneaking Weasel will be long time getting back.”
Jenny smiled. “That was clever of you. We saw you leave with the bundle. Thank you, Whit, for finding Trell.”
“I no find him. Head-Gone-Bad see him put in wagon. Head-Gone-Bad very proud to help teacher.”
“I must see him and thank him.”
“He no understand thank you; he understand food.”
“Then he shall have some. As much as he wants.”
“He watch while I come here. But Sneaking Weasel not be back soon.”
“Virginia, Granny said you needed this.” Cassandra had pushed the door open and stood there holding Jenny’s shawl.
“I do need it. Thank you, honey.”
“Hello, Whit.” Cassandra spoke after she went to her sister and draped the shawl about her shoulders.
Whit folded his arms across his chest and gave her a stoic stare.
“The least you could do is answer my greeting. You don’t have to stand there like a … like a dumb—”
“Dumb Indian?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“What then?”
“Like a dumb cluck! So there!”
Whit’s dark eyes went to Jenny. “What’s dumb cluck?”
Jenny lifted her shoulders. “I’m not … sure.”
He turned on Cassandra. “Why you call me name teacher don’t know?”
“You call me Girl-Who-Squawk, and I don’t get all huffy about it. Dumb cluck is only a figure of speech. And if you must know, it means woodenhead, bumpkin, puddinghead, numbskull.”
“I know woodenhead.” He tapped his skull with his finger. “My head is not made of wood.”
“No. It’s made of … jelly!” Cassandra tilted her small face and stuck her tongue out at him.
The action was so childish that Jenny laughed. Her little sister was a child after all.
“Will you go to the house to eat, Whit?”
“I go back to schoolhouse.”
“Cassandra, ask Granny to fix a packet of food for Whit and Head-Gone-Bad.”
Cassandra flounced to the door. “I’ve a notion to douse it good with … croton oil,” she announced and made a hasty retreat.
“Squawk, squawk, squawk,” Whit said. “What she mean?”
“She says things to get you to argue with her. She’s really a very bright little girl and thinks that you’re bright, too.”
“She need switch on her legs to close her mouth.”
“There are times when I agree with you.”
“I go now.”
“Stay … until they bring the food.”
“Will Squawker bring it?”
“I don’t know. But if she does, why don’t you surprise her and say ‘thank you.’ Then she’d have no reason to squawk.”
Whit thought about it, then nodded. He sat on the floor beside the door. The room was quiet. Minutes passed, then Trell mumbled in his sleep and frowned. He gripped Jenny’s hand hard. She stroked the hair back from his face and put her lips close to his ear.
“You’re all right. You’re here with Jenny,” she murmured. “Rest, sweetheart. No one will hurt you … I promise—” The endearment came so easily from her lips that she wasn’t even aware that she said it.
* * *
Colleen had unsaddled the big spotted horse and was rubbing him down with a gunnysack when Travor came out of the bunkhouse.
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been callin’ him Mud Pie, cause he’s so ugly.” Somehow Travor knew that would rile her and it did.
“He isn’t ugly!”
“He sure ain’t pretty.”
“You’d not take any prizes either.”
“You would.”
“Ha!”
“Is the teacher in love with my brother?”
Colleen threw the sack over the rail and crawled through the bars.
“Why ask me? Ask her?”
“I did. She said he was a good friend.”
“Well?”
“Is he in love with you?”
“Ain’t ya ever heard a man and a woman bein’
friends
?” She gave a derisive snort. “I can see that yo’re one a them that don’t see no further than gettin’ a woman in bed.”
“There’s a lot to be said for that, too.” He was grinning broadly, and she caught the gleam of his white teeth in the dark.
“Yeah? Well. I ain’t interested in hearin’ ’bout it.”
“What’ve I done to get your back up, besides winkin’ at you?”
“I told ya I don’t like flirty men who think a woman is only good for washin’ his dirty clothes, cookin’ his meals and warmin’ his bed! Get the hell away from me before I put a hole in you with my knife.”
“What kind of man do you want?” Travor asked calmly, ignoring her threat.
“Not a man like you! I ain’t takin’ just any man so me and Granny will have a roof over our heads. I’m goin’ to walk
beside
my man, not behind him. I’m goin’ to have a say in what we do or don’t do. We’ll be full partners … like my ma and pa was.”
“And … you’ll love him?”
“With all my heart!”
“My brother is the kind of man you want.” It wasn’t a question.
“He’s a good man who came and helped us when no one else would. He
cared
about what happened to me and Granny. He
cared
about what happened to Jenny and the girls.”
“Has he kissed you?”
“No!”
“Then I’m going to.”
Before Colleen could grasp his meaning, his hands shot out, fastened onto her shoulders and pulled her up against him. His arms wrapped around her like a steel trap. His mouth came down, hard, on hers. He held her crushed against him, her hands pinned between them, while his mouth ravaged hers.
Suddenly his lips softened and he kissed her gently again and again; soft, gentle, incredibly sweet kisses. The sweetness of his kisses, the smell of his skin, the hardness of his body were intoxicating. In spite of herself she wanted this madness to go on and on. Her head felt light and her mind foggy. His heavy breathing brought her to her senses and she began to struggle.
His mouth moved to the side of her face.
“Ah … be still, little wildcat! That’s the first of many kisses you’re goin’ to give me,” he whispered. “I liked ’em and so did you.”
“Give?” She tried to push away from him, but he held her clamped to him. “I didn’t give ya a dang-blasted thin’! Ya took!”
“You kissed me! Admit it.”
“Let go of me, or … or I’ll cut ya with my knife,” she threatened, her voice husky and trembling.
His face was a scant inch away from hers; his breath warm on her wet lips. He watched her soft red mouth spilling out the angry words and was more than ever convinced that this was the woman for him. He liked everything about her, her spunk, her courage, her frankness. She’d not made the slightest effort to pretty herself up, but then she didn’t need to. It was a treat just to look at her.
“You won’t cut me, my darlin’ Colleen.”
“Give me a chance, ya horny jackass, and I’ll show ya.”
He laughed, a husky laugh against her cheek.
“Lord! I’m glad I met you. I’ve looked for a woman like you ever since I knew the difference between a male and a female. No man is ever going to touch you … but me.”
“Ya know nothin’ ’bout me a’tall. I could be a whore for all you know.”
He laughed again and she could feel against her breast the chuckles that came from deep in his chest.
“You’re no whore, sweetheart. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Ya’ve knowed plenty, so ya’d know.”
“Jealous, already?”
“I don’t wear dresses,” she said desperately. “I wear men’s pants … all the time.”
“I saw you in town in a dress. Anyway, I’ve had a lot of experience takin’ off pants. My own, of course.”
“Of course!”
“Kiss me and I’ll let you go.”
“I’d as soon kiss a warthog!”
“Then I’ll kiss you.”
“I’ll … scream—”
“No, you won’t. You don’t want your granny or Jenny to know that I’m kissin’ you and … you’re kissin’ me.”
“Ya wouldn’t be doin’ this if … if my pa was alive. He’d … horsewhip ya.”
“Ah, sweetheart. I’m sorry about your pa.”
“Why? Ya didn’t even know him.” She was doing her best not to cry despite the helpless tears that gathered in her eyes.
“I know you,” he said in a strange, thickened voice.
He bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. It was a minute before she realized that his arms had dropped from around her and she was free to move away from him. She stepped away and, instead of going to the house or the bunkhouse, she went to the well and stood there for a long moment. Ike came from the house and the two of them went to the bunkhouse.
After a few minutes Whit came out and loped up the path to the school. Travor watched him. He and Trell owed a debt of gratitude to the boy. Their brother, Pack Gallagher, would know how they could help him. If Stoney Creek had been his father’s ranch, and he was Walt Whitaker’s son, he was certainly entitled to it, half-Shoshoni or not.
Travor didn’t know why he had acted as he had with Colleen. He had pushed his attraction for her to the back of his mind while he hunted for Trell. Travor knew his brother was interested in the teacher. The peddler said Trell had talked of a woman named Jenny, and Jenny had tried her best to hide the fact that she was in love with him; but the signs were there.
All he had to do now, Travor mused, was take care of Crocker if he was still around. Then he was going to court Colleen Murphy and marry her. He chuckled. Trell wouldn’t believe it. He could hardly wait to see his face when he told him.
He leaned against the corral poles. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She would make a dandy wife and mother. He’d always feared settling down with a woman who in time would grow heavy and dull. Not this woman. She would grow heavy—but with his child.
Alvin swiveled around in his chair when the door of his office was thrown open. Wind swept papers from his desk. He muttered a curse and stooped to pick them up. A small shiny black shoe sat firmly on one of them. Alvin ignored the rude gesture, picked up the rest of the papers, stacked them on the desk and secured them with a glass paper weight. Then he greeted his visitor.
“What brings you here?”
“Thank you, I will.” The small man in the carefully brushed derby seated himself in Alvin’s chair. It was an action taken to put the agent firmly in his place for being discourteous. When Alvin began to pace the floor, he said, “Sit down, Alvin. It hurts my neck to look at you.”