Clay (15 page)

The Indian Chief had always appeared indifferent to those around him, but something clearly held his attention now. For some reason, it made Clay uneasy.

When Eagle Claw suddenly turned and strode away, Clay went over to discover what had held the war chief’s attention.

Rebecca was sitting by her wagon in his direct line of vision.

There was no sign of Clay when Rebecca left for her bath. The woman in charge had just finished cleaning up the bathhouse after the previous occupant, and was refilling the tub. She handed Rebecca a towel, a washcloth, and bar of soap.

The small room was steamy and pleasantly warm. Rebecca found the bath mechanism quite inventive— and far more convenient than filling a tub with buckets of hot water, which she always had to do back East.

In the nearby corner was a sink containing a pump. Piping sent pumped cold water from the sink into either the bathtub or to a water back, a tank set in the firebox of a wood-burning stove at the foot of the tub. By opening a valve, the hot water from the water back was fed into the tub.

“My goodness, this is quite ingenious,” Rebecca said.

“Yep,” the woman said. “My husband used to be with the army engineers. He built it when he retired from the army. Sam died a short time after, but, God bless him, he left me with a means to make a living. With thousands of people coming through, now it’s a gold mine.”

“I suspect it would be,” Rebecca said. “How do you dispose of the dirty water?”

“When you’re through, just pull out the plug in the tub. The water drains through the hole and is carried by pipes to a ditch that flows into a nearby stream. As long as the well don’t go dry, I’m in business.”

“What’s that cord for, that’s hanging over the bathtub?”

“It’s connected to that bell on the wall and in my office. Just yank on it if you need something or have a problem. I’ll ring it five minutes before your time’s up.”

“And what’s that other door for?” Rebecca asked.

“Separates the men’s and women’s rooms.” She checked the handle. “Door’s locked and the last customer is just finishin’ up, so you’ve got the whole place to yourself, honey. There, that should do it,” she said, closing the hot water valve.

“Now, when I leave, you lock this door so nobody can walk in on you. If you need anything else, or have a problem, just pull that cord. I’ll be in the office.”

“Thank you, Mrs….”

“Crane. Maude Crane. Enjoy your bath, honey.”

Rebecca couldn’t wait to get into that bathtub. She quickly locked the door, then stripped off her clothes and climbed in. Sighing with bliss, she leaned back and felt the warm water close around her. She never had been one who yearned for luxuries, except for hot baths. Throughout her adulthood, she had gone to the trouble of hauling and boiling water to bathe every other night, instead of only the Saturday night ritual that most folks practiced.

Rebecca lathered and cleansed her body, then leaned back again and closed her eyes. She would savor every minute of it until the water turned tepid, or Maude rang the warning bell.

She woke with a start. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep but it couldn’t have been long, although the water was no longer hot.

Reluctantly Rebecca stepped out of the tub and dried herself off. She felt like a new woman. After pulling on her gown, she gathered up her clothing. Her voice caught in a ragged gasp when a figure stepped out of the shadows in the corner.

“How long have you been there?” she asked.

“Long enough,” Clay said. “I was next door in the men’s bathroom.”

“Maude checked that door! It was locked.”

“From my side. I unlocked it.”

“Then I’ll thank you to go right back out that same door. You had no right to come in here, spying on me like a Peeping Tom.”

“I wasn’t spying on you. I was on the verge of leaving when I saw you come in, so I thought I’d wait. It’s late, and I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk around this fort alone. No telling who you might encounter.”

“Apparently. I’ve just discovered that.”

“Becky, I knocked. You didn’t answer. You were quiet for so long, I thought I’d better check to make sure you were okay.”

The amber glow from the lantern flickered across his naked chest when he moved closer. She could see his face clearly now, and at the sight of the passion gleaming in his dark eyes, the pulse in her throat began throbbing, sending a warming shiver through her.

Why try to fool him, or herself? Since they kissed at Ash Hollow, she desired him with a passion as strong as the one she could see burning in his eyes—and she knew he was seeing the same in her eyes.

Clay reached out to her and she slipped her hand into his. The warmth of it closed around her trembling fingers as he drew her into his arms and covered her lips with his. The sweet heat of passion washed through her, and she responded to the persuasion of his moist, firm mouth. And as the kiss deepened, the slide of his tongue teased, mating with hers until she gasped for breath.

He finally broke the kiss, and she leaned into the hard wall of him. Burying her head against the bronzed muscles of his chest, she breathed in the tantalizing combination of soap and man.

“We both knew it would come to this eventually, didn’t we, Becky? Why have you fought this for so long?” His voice was a husky seduction at her ear.

Oh, yes. How well she knew it would come to this. Lately, the thought of this moment had bedeviled her mind with erotic fantasies. She slid her hands to his shoulders and stroked their naked brawn. Trembling with excitement she felt the corded muscle, sensed the potent strength that lay beneath the warm flesh at her fingertips.

Raising her face to his, she parted her lips in invitation. His mouth claimed hers at once, and their combined passion fired an aching need for more—much more—until there was no thought, only sensation, a consuming mind-and-body sensation.

Clasping her tightly to him, Clay didn’t release her mouth as he eased her to the floor. She thrilled to the feel of his long, hardened body pressed to her own. Heated kisses tantalized her neck and the hollow of her throat. Her body felt fevered with her need for him, as he pushed up her gown and began to paint electrifying tingles along her thighs and hips with his fingertips. Urgency turned to impatience, and he lifted her enough to pull the gown over her head.

For a long moment his hungry gaze worshipped her nakedness. Charley had always made love to her in total darkness, and she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious, even as the approval in Clay’s eyes fueled her arousal. Needing his touch, she reached for him, pulling him to her.

A groan of sheer ecstasy slipped past her lips when he cupped her breasts in his hands, turning her already sensitized nipples to hardened peaks. He teased them with his tongue, and then closed his mouth around one and then the other, sending sensual shivers streaking throughout her body. She arched up in ecstasy and clutched his head, pressing her breasts more fully against the warm, moist chamber of his mouth.

She didn’t know how much longer she could bear the erotic torture as his hands and mouth continued down, exploring the curve of her waist, the flatness of her stomach, and at last, the hot intimacy of her womanly chamber, bringing her time and time again to a near climax. She knew when it came, she would be crying out for it—and his throbbing heat would be in her, linking them together forever.

As her hands roamed uninhibitedly across his muscled back and down to his buttocks, the solid strength of him felt so good. He was all male—hot lips, the graze of callused fingertips, and a tantalizing scent of musk.

How she had yearned for this moment, hungered for it. Not just these past weeks, but throughout her whole marriage. Her instincts told her that no matter how often he teasingly brought her near to plunging over that ecstatic precipice, Clay would not let her go unfulfilled; he was a lover who would give as much as he would demand.

Suddenly she felt the sinking distance of withdrawal. Why had she allowed the past to invade this moment? Charley’s image brought a chilling sense of guilt, and as quickly as her passion had surfaced, it now cooled. Nearly in tears, she shoved Clay off her and sat up.

“I can’t do this.”

Clay sat up. Stunned, he stared with disbelief at her. “Why? Do you really want to live without love? Is independence so important to your peace of mind that you’re willing to deny your body its needs?”

“I have to. As much as I want you, I must.”

His face hardened with anger when he realized she meant it. “Is this your way of getting back at me, Rebecca?”

“I swear it’s nothing like that.” She felt sick with shame as she pulled the gown over her head. “It’s nothing you’ve said or done. I’m sorry. I truly thought I could, but I can’t.”

“You sure could have fooled me. Lady, you were into this as much as I was, and you want it as much as I do.”

“Don’t you think I know what I’ve done to you? To myself? I’m not proud of it and I’m sorry. But something keeps me from—”

“Maybe you should try giving in to an honest feeling, for a change. You talk of starting a new life, Rebecca. Do you really think changing a location will make the difference? Not on your life, sweetheart.”

He stood up, the contempt clear in his voice as he glared down at her. “The change has to come from within.”

Rebecca cried out when he grabbed her hand and pulled off the wedding ring. “Start by getting rid of this,” he said, tossing it away. “The man is gone. Are you going to mourn him forever?”

“My ring! Damn you, Clay.” Sobbing, she began to crawl on her hands and knees looking for it.

The sudden tinkle of the bell was as harsh as his words had been. He strode to the connecting door and opened it. Then he halted in the doorway and looked back at her.

“The way I figure it, you’ve never been honest with yourself about anything.” He slammed the door behind him.

Rebecca continued to sob as she crawled around looking for the ring. Finally she caught a glint of it in a darkened corner of the room. Snatching it up, she wiped it off on her gown. She couldn’t stem her flow of tears as she put on her slippers to return to the wagon. She didn’t want to be near Clay, but she had no other place to go. And she couldn’t blame him for his anger; he was justified in thinking what he did.

By the time she drained the tub, her tears had subsided, but she remained motionless and stared pensively into space.

The situation between her and Clay had been difficult enough when there was mutual dislike—she could fight his cruel words with her own. But she’d grown to respect him, and with that change had come a greater threat—the physical need between them. It had been growing from the time they’d waltzed together, and the passion in their verbal spats had seemed to enhance that physical attraction.

She’d been lucky this time, but what if the same thing happened again? How much longer could she fight her desire for him? Somehow, she would have to.

As angry as he was with her, this was for the best. Making love would have been a huge mistake.

She glanced down at the ring clutched in her hand. What would Clay think if he knew the full truth about her marriage?

The next morning, things between her and Clay remained awkward. They avoided making eye contact and gave each other a wide berth to prevent the possibility of touching.

When Rebecca had returned to the wagon last night, Clay had been asleep—or appeared to be. After a restless night of feeling guilty, she was determined to apologize again for her actions. But every time she was on the verge of broaching the subject, someone would join them and prevent her from doing so.

Now Clay had left to stand guard, and Rebecca had made up her mind that when he returned, she would open the issue. He deserved an explanation, and as hard as it would be to do so, she was going to swallow her pride and admit the truth.

In the hours awaiting his return, she went over and over the best approach to the subject. Finally she decided she’d just blurt it all out. Clay was a good listener, and he could usually read between the lines, so there was no sense in trying to dance around what she had to tell him. She’d just get it out.

She busied herself by baking and doing the laundry, and finally after dinner she found the opportunity to bring up the subject.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Clay, about last night—”

“Yeah, it’s been on my mind, too,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, Becky. After all, I initiated it, and no matter what, a woman’s got a right to change her mind.”

“Or a man, for that matter,” she said.

He gave a wry grin. “I’m not so sure about that. At that point it would never enter the minds of most men.”

“Is that really true, Clay?”

He looked at her in surprise. “No doubt about it. What makes you think otherwise?”

He had opened the door; all she had to do was walk through it. But now that the time had presented itself, her courage was dwindling. Could she actually be that frank—especially with a man? This was an issue she had never discussed with another living soul; she’d carried the weight of that guilt for four years.

But she had to do it. As embarrassing as it would be to be truthful, she sensed Clay would never betray that trust.

“My first marriage. There’s something you should know, Clay.”

“Becky, I was just striking out in anger last night. Your first marriage is your private business.”

“I still shouldn’t have encouraged you. I know you thought I was trying to get even, but no one wanted it to happen more than I did last night. I wasn’t lying when I said I desired you, Clay.

“The problem is… the problem is… it’s me. You see, Charley never had strong sexual desires, and when…” She swallowed hard and tried again. “When he made love to me, he never fulfilled my needs.”

Clay’s expression never changed, so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking—but it was important she finally get it all out. She’d carried the guilt within her for too long.

“He even questioned the decency of those needs,” she continued, “and told me they were unnatural. It made me feel dirty—even depraved—so I struggled to repress those strong urges when we made love. And gradually I came to resent him for it. But marriage is a compromise, and I’m sure there were things about me that he resented, too.

“When he was killed, I felt so guilty for these selfish thoughts I’d harbored. He was a good man, Clay, and I’d resented him because I’d been thinking only of my desires. Now it’s too late to tell him how ashamed I am of myself.”

“For God’s sake, Becky, he was your husband; he had a responsibility to you. What about another man, after your husband died? Did you attempt to… ah… I mean—”

“Of course not! I wasn’t going to put myself through that embarrassment again; I’d learned my lesson. That’s another reason why I felt it was safe to marry you: due to the circumstances, we wouldn’t have to share a bed.”

He gently took her by the shoulders. “Becky, look at me.”

She was too mortified to do so, so he tipped up her chin with a finger until she met his gaze.

“Becky, you’re a beautiful, wonderfully passionate woman. You carry that passion into everything you feel or do—joy, anger, your sense of humor, and your enthusiasm. You even carry it into your cooking, or working with those damn mules and chickens. Passion is as much a part of you as your blond hair or green eyes. It wouldn’t be natural if you didn’t bring it into making love, too.

“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, Becky, but if there’s any burden of guilt here, it lies with your husband. Since his needs weren’t as strong, he chose to ignore yours entirely. Most men would welcome such passion from the woman they love—especially in lovemaking. It’s as exciting to a man to make love to a passionate woman, as it is to her. There’s no shame or disgrace to it. The sex act is so overpowering that it often blots out reasoning and inhibition.

“Frankly, I think that’s why the Good Lord made the act so enjoyable—it was His way of guaranteeing immortality of the human race that He’d created.” Then he grinned. “Of course, I guess you could say He did the same for any creature—human or animal. Because it sure comes naturally to man and beast alike.”

Rebecca couldn’t help smiling.

“I haven’t quite figured out which species Garth is,” he continued, “but he falls into one of those.”

That brought an outright laugh from her.

Despite Clay’s clear attempt to lighten her mood, she knew he was sincere. She had bared her soul to him, and he had shed a new light: Charley’s guilt was no less than hers—if anything, it was greater. And his regrettable fate did not lessen that.

Clay’s words had shown her that the passion within her was a good thing, which revealed itself in positive ways she had never considered. And that she should embrace it and never try to repress it again.

And from this moment on, she knew she never would.

She had just finished putting away the dinner dishes when the Garsons came over to visit, and it wasn’t long before others strayed over to the campfire.

The wagon train would be pulling out in the morning. The fort had been a wonderful respite for the people, as well as the stock, and now the worst part of the journey lay ahead. The mood of the crowd was thoughtful and somewhat apprehensive.

A silence fell when Mike Scott and Garth suddenly appeared in the company of Eagle Claw and the other four Indians.

There was an air of danger about the war chief that struck a fear into people’s hearts. Scotty motioned to Clay to join them, and the men began talking in low tones.

Rebecca could tell something was seriously wrong. Eagle Claw was doing most of the talking, gesturing and looking in her direction. She couldn’t think of what she had done to cause a problem, but Clay was clearly angry, and even Garth was casting concerned glances in her direction. The conference broke up when Eagle Claw and the other Indians strode off angrily.

“What was that all about?” Rebecca asked, when the three men came over and joined them.

“Nothing,” Clay snapped, and walked away.

“What does he mean by nothing? There was a lot of gesturing and looks in my direction. What did I do that upset everybody?”

“Eagle Claw made your husband an offer to buy you,” Mike Scott said.

There were shocked gasps from many around the campfire.

“Buy me?” she said, horrified.

“I’m afraid so. He offered your husband five ponies.”

“But he can’t… I mean, Clay wouldn’t…What did Clay say?”

“He refused, of course.” Scott frowned. “But I’m afraid we haven’t heard the end of this.”

Etta and Helena rushed to her side at once and hugged her. “Don’t worry, Becky,” Etta said. “Mr. Fraser won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Oh, yeah? We all know how dangerous that Eagle Claw is,” Jake Fallon said. “He ain’t gonna stop till he gets what he wants.”

“Oh, hush up, Jake Fallon,” Helena Garson said.

“Can’t you see the poor thing is scared enough as it is?”

“We all oughta be scared,” Fallon said. “If Fraser don’t give her to that Injun, the whole wagon train’s in danger. He’s a war chief and he ain’t—”

Garth took a threatening step toward him. “Damn you, Fallon, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to shove your rotten tongue down your throat.”

Scott put a restraining hand on Garth’s arm. “Steady, son. Fallon, I don’t want to hear any more of that kind of talk. Get the hell back to your wagon and keep your mouth shut.”

“Well, I say we turn her over now before he slaughters us all. Mark my words, that Injun’s gonna round up the rest of his tribe and hit us when we least expect it.” Fallon stomped away.

“Scott shook his head. All right, folks, I suggest you all get back to your wagons. We’ve got a rough trip ahead of us, so you all can use the sleep.”

The people moved away, many of them whispering in hushed tones.

Rebecca looked at Garth. “He can’t do that, can he, Garth?”

“Indians have a different culture than we do, Becky,” Garth said. “But don’t worry. Clay won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Eagle Claw is a very dangerous chief. What if he doesn’t take no for an answer? Oh, Garth, what if he does attack the wagon train? There are children among us!” She turned away from him.

Garth came over and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, Little Sister, that’s not going to happen. Eagle Claw’s too smart to attack a train this size.”

Rebecca dabbed at her eyes, then turned and faced him again. “Where did Clay go? Why is he so angry? Is he blaming me for this problem?”

“Of course not. He’s as upset as you are. I know my brother; he’s probably just walking off his anger. I’ll track him down. In the meantime, take Scotty’s advice. There’s still a hard trail ahead, so why don’t you go to bed and get some rest.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Becky, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

She watched Garth walk away, then sat down at the fire and stared out at the darkness beyond. Eagle Claw could be out there right now, lurking in the shadows, watching her—waiting for an opportunity to snatch her. A shiver rippled her spine and she suddenly felt cold. Why did he want her? When had he even noticed her? What if he succeeded in his attempt? What if Clay, Garth, or others were killed or wounded trying to protect her?

What if? What if? What if?

She buried her head in her hands and began sobbing. These thoughts were too horrifying for her even to imagine.

Garth found Clay at Scott’s wagons, deep in discussion with Scotty, Hawk, and Jim Peterson.

“What if we pull out and head back to Independence with those wagons that are going east?” Clay said.

“Look, Clay, I’m not denying it would take a big load off everybody’s mind if Rebecca was no longer with this train. But don’t think Eagle Claw won’t be watching her every move. You’d just be putting those other wagons in danger. You saw how easy it was for the Pawnees to wipe out those ten wagons of ours. You’ve got a much better chance staying with us. Eagle Claw won’t attack a train this size.”

“They wouldn’t start a war over an incident like this, would they?”

“The fort’s commander told me the Indians are riled up,” Scott said. “Seems a couple months ago some stupid army captain named Chivington massacred over a hundred of them in Colorado at a place called Sand Creek. It was pretty atrocious; even babies and women were brutalized. It’s got the whole Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Nations on the prod.”

“So you outriders will hafta keep a sharper lookout fer Indian sign,” Hawk added.

Scott nodded. “Once we’re into Utah territory, we should be safe. I doubt that the Utes will give us trouble.”

“And when will that be?” Clay asked.

“We’ve got the Rockies to cross first. But I’ll be honest with you; if Eagle Claw decides he wants your wife, he’ll try to get her. All we can do is try and prevent it from happening.” Scotty slapped Clay on the shoulder.

“Go back to your wagon, son, hold that pretty wife of yours in your arms, and get a good night’s sleep.”

Garth chuckled. “Now, which do you want him to do, Scotty? Hold his wife in his arms or get a good night’s sleep?”

“Reckon the sleep would do him the most good,” Scott said.

“You’re getting old, Scotty. You’re getting old,” Garth said.

“What in hell’s wrong with you, Clay?” Garth said as they walked back to the wagon. “Walking off and leaving Becky on her own like you did.”

“I was so damn mad, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You sure as hell weren’t. Dad and Mom are probably turning over in their graves.”

“I wanted to strangle that damn arrogant Indian,” Clay said. “Imagine coming in here and offering to buy my wife!”

“How do you think Becky feels? She’s scared half to death, and on top of that, she thinks you’re mad at her as if it were her fault.”

“Why would I be mad at her?”

“Maybe because you’re so damn worried about her, you have to take your frustration out on
some
body.”

“What are you getting at, Garth?”

“I think you care for her more than you’re willing to admit.”

“I just don’t like the idea of any woman being bought and sold.”

“According to Becky, we Southerners are no better. We did that to the Negroes.”

“That woman will still be fighting the war fifty years from now. Damn it, Garth, you know as well as I that a Fraser hasn’t bought or sold a Negro in the past fifty years. Fraser Keep is home to them as much as it is to us. When any wanted to leave, Granddad and Dad gave them the papers that made them free men and enough money for them to get up North. Miss Yankee Doodle has no idea how many of those same people came back to Fraser Keep.”

“So that’s why you’re mad at her.”

Clay looked at the amusement in his brother’s eyes and shook his head. “You did it to me again, didn’t you, Brother Garth? Okay, so maybe I did take my frustration out on her. I sure as hell don’t want to see anything happen to the little minx.”

“We won’t let it happen, Clay. We’ll just have to keep a closer eye on her. Right now she’s scared.”

When they reached the wagon, Rebecca was lying outside on her fur pallet. Either she was asleep or pretended to be, because she didn’t say anything. Clay put his bedroll down within a few feet of her, and Garth put his on the other side of her. Then they lay down and went to sleep.