Orchids in Moonlight (14 page)

Cord winced at the barb. Popping the reins, he set the mules to trotting faster. "I think we'd better finish this conversation when we get to shelter."

"There's nothing more to discuss." She settled back, washed with anger. She would beg no more, by God. "I'll find my own way out there, all the way on a mule, if need be. The company of a jackass would be preferable to yours, anyway."

Cord paid no attention to her, concentrating on maneuvering the wagon. Through a blinding sheet of rain and mist, he urged the team onward. Reaching the first protective outcropping of rock, he leaped down and grabbed the mules by their harness to tug them on. They resisted, leery of the overhang and the dark cavern beyond, but he jerked and pulled till they and the wagon were under shelter.

"We'll dry out and camp here for the night," he told Jaime. "The storm is already breaking up."

She had got down by herself and stood watching him warily, hands on her hip.

Cord glanced around in the dim light. "I think I can find enough dry wood to build a fire. It's going to be a cold night." He unhitched the mules, knowing they would head out into the rain to start grazing on the bunch grass beyond, then tethered the horse.

Noting the wagon rested on a slight decline, Jaime picked up a large rock and braked one of the front wheels.

Cord saw her and snapped, "You should have let me do that."

"I've done it before," she enjoyed informing him. "Only you didn't see me then."

"Be glad I didn't. You'd be back in Missouri by now."

"Why?" she flared, ready to face the inevitable confrontation and get it over with. "Once I proved I was as strong as any of the other women, why would you have turned me back? I'd really like to know just exactly what it is about me that rankles you so."

"All right, I'll tell you—it was your deception, damn it. Your friends told me you were desperate to get out there and meet your father, and when you came to me that night, you were planning to dupe me and you know it."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose, but I would have married you. I wasn't lying about that."

"Oh, you would have married me, all right, and then walked out on me once we got to California. That's what made me mad, little lady, and that's why I made up my mind you weren't going."

"If Captain Wingate hadn't backed out at the last minute, he might have decided different."

"That wouldn't have mattered, because he wasn't the one paying passage for the women I signed on. It wouldn't have been up to him."

The air between them crackled with animosity.

"Well," Jaime said finally, lifting her chin, "you can't make me go all the way back to Missouri."

"But I can refuse to take you the rest of the way to California."

"No, you can't, because I'm not asking. I've changed my mind about wanting to go with you. I'd rather face Indians, bears, whatever is out there, than be forced to endure your insufferable company for even one day, Cord Austin.

"And if you won't be gentleman enough to at least give me one of your mules"—she stared up at him through a veil of angry tears—"I'll walk, by damn."

She turned away, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "No, you won't, and stop that cursing. Is that something else you learned on the trail?"

"What I do or say is none of your business." She twisted futilely in his grasp. "Now let me go. You've no right to stop me."

He was fighting to keep from smiling. "Are you really sure you'd rather be raped and scalped by Indians?"

"Your ultimatum as to my either marrying you or being your whore is the same as rape, because I'd never give myself to you willingly. As I said, you're nothing but a savage like the rest of them." She clenched her fists, fighting the impulse to punch him right in the face, because she could see laughter dancing in his brown eyes and knew he was enjoying her humiliation. "I'd rather die," she said with cold finality.

Cord's humor disappeared in a flash. "Hear me, Jaime. I don't rape women. As for what I said back there, I was joking, paying you back. Not that it makes a damn now." He released her so abruptly she stumbled backward a few steps, fighting to keep her balance on the rocks.

"If you want to go back to Salt Lake, I'll take you in the morning.

"Frankly," he added, "I pity the man or beast that dares cross your path, but I'd be remiss in my duties as a gentleman not to offer safe escort."

Jaime watched, boiling with fury, as he turned away, dismissing her to begin searching for dry twigs. Finally, at once realizing how childish it sounded, she retorted, "Well, I'd have to be pretty desperate to want a man like you."

"Fine. We understand each other." He glanced at her and frowned. "Do you have any other clothes?"

"I have one other dress, but it's still damp from washing."

"You need something dry. One of the prostitutes' bags was stored in the supply wagon and she forgot to take it out. See what you can find."

Jaime declined, petulantly saying she doubted she would find anything decent.

"Then stay wet and get sick, if you're so almighty proud."

Jaime knew she was being ridiculous. Her clothes were damp, and she was starting to shiver in the chilly cave-like shelter.

Climbing back up into the wagon, she looked about in the faint light and finally found a bag amid the sacks and barrels. Opening it, she took out what looked like a pair of ruffled trousers and stared curiously.

"Bloomers."

She jumped, startled, unaware that Cord had slipped up behind her soundlessly and astonished he had been able to do so. "You move like a cat," she grumbled.

"Bloomers," he repeated. "Didn't you see some of the women wearing them under their skirts on the trail? They learned real quick that hoops are cumbersome, but without them dresses drag on the ground and get dirty. How did you manage?"

"I pinned rocks in my hem and got black and blue shins like everyone else," she admitted irritably.

"Well, you'll be more comfortable in these." He picked up the rifle he had come to retrieve from where he had stashed it out of the rain. "I'm going out to see if I can shoot our supper. The fire is going good, and I left some wood stacked nearby. Don't let it go out."

When he was gone, Jaime changed into the bloomers and shirt. Though a bit large, she was amazed at the comfort the clothes provided. Unpinning her hair, she combed it to hang straight down her back to dry, then went to see about the fire.

Time passed, and she alternated between piling on wood and wandering about inspecting her surroundings. The rain had stopped, and the late-afternoon sun was shining. Venturing outside, she walked up the crest of the ridge, drinking in the sweet evening air in the quiet aftermath of the storm.

She could look out over a long shallow valley ahead. It skirted a narrow creek, and here and there the grass was pocked with clumps of cactus, glistening in the rain-washed radiance.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger. The buffalo jerky was all she'd eaten since the day before and very little of that. Spotting a patch of pig weed, she gathered an armload and returned to the campsite. Taking a kettle from the wagon and hurrying to fill it in the creek nearby, she soon had the greens boiling over the fire. While they cooked, she found meal and stirred up a batch of drap dumplings.

From somewhere in the distance as shadows fell, a shot rang out. She hoped it meant there would be meat to go with the greens.

* * *

When Cord returned, he paused outside the shelter to stare at Jaime, her long golden hair shimmering by firelight. He could not help thinking maybe it was a shame they weren't continuing on together. Having someone so lovely along would have been nice, even though he would make better time by himself.

Looking at her, he could not deny wanting her, just as he had the first night they met.

Suddenly he felt the need for a drink.

He made his way on down to the camp and dropped a rabbit next to the fire. "I'll clean it in a minute," he said, turning to the wagon where Jasper had kept bottles of whiskey stashed inside barrels of meal.

Inside, he took several swallows, grimacing against the burning taste. Jasper had drunk the hardest stuff he could get his hands on, and Cord felt as if his stomach was on fire, but only for a little while. Soon, he could feel the tension easing. Leaning back against the crates, he closed his eyes and tried not to think of the rough trail ahead. Instead, he conjured up visions of reaching California and the comforts of a hot bath, his own bed, and a warm and willing woman in his arms.

He did not realize he had drifted away, yielding to exhaustion. Only when Jaime spoke right outside the wagon did he sit straight up, hand instinctively going to his gun. Drink and weariness were what got men killed. "What is it?" he said crankily.

Equally curt, she replied, "The food is ready."

He scrambled out of the wagon, still holding on to the bottle of whiskey, absently grateful he hadn't dropped and spilled it while he slept. Taking a few steps toward the fire, he froze and blinked incredulously. "What have you done?" His eyes bulged at the sight of the rabbit. Skinned and cleaned, it was skewered on a spit and done to a turn.

"What does it look like? We've got rabbit and pigweed greens and dumplings. If you don't like my cooking, too bad."

He was visibly impressed. "I don't believe it." He watched as she took the rabbit off the spit, pulled off the meat, and handed him a plate. Then he ate ravenously, talking around mouthfuls to heap praises upon her.

Jaime was nonchalant, though secretly enjoying the compliments. "I told you. I wasn't hiding in the wagon all that time. I watched the other women and learned how to cook outdoors. I'm still not real good with the bake kettle over an open fire, but I don't scorch much anymore."

"Everything is delicious." He turned up the bottle to wash down a dumpling, then saw her staring at him. "You want a drink? Or I can get you some water from the creek if you'd prefer."

Jaime pursed her lips thoughtfully; then, feeling a stab of daring, she reached for the bottle. "Maybe that's what I need. I've never tasted hard liquor before." She turned it up to her mouth, took a large swallow, then choked and spit it out in a spray that caused the flames to sizzle in protest.

Laughing, Cord patted her back. "Better sip it, Sunshine. It goes down easier that way."

She dared to try again, but by the time the liquor hit her stomach in a hot wave, she handed the bottle back. "I don't think I like it."

Cord went to the wagon, rummaged in another barrel, this one partially filled with flour, and returned with a half bottle of wine. "I thought I saw Jasper with this one night. Here. You'll find this more to your liking."

She did, admitting she had shared wine with Ruth and Martha the night of the farewell party and on a few other occasions till their supply ran out.

Between the two of them, they devoured all of the food. Cord built up the fire once more before bringing out blankets, which they wrapped about themselves to help ward off the night chill. Then, mellow and relaxed, he yielded to curiosity and asked bluntly, "What are you running from?"

"Nothing. I guess you could say I'm actually running
to
something—my future and whatever it holds."

"You have no family back in Missouri?"

"My family consists of an aunt I would never be able to locate, even if I wanted to, which I don't. And I have no home. She sold it before she left to move south."

Cord gently pointed out, "Surely you've got friends back there."

"No. That's why I have nothing to lose and everything to gain if I can find my father."

He did not speak, staring at her in deep contemplation, which she found unnerving.

"Is something wrong? You look angry. I know it's a great inconvenience for you to take me back, and I'm sorry. I really am. But it's not my fault everyone else stayed behind, you know."

He leaned forward, his stare even sharper. He had not been thinking that but, instead, how much he was enjoying her company. "Whose fault is it then? I think we both agree you were never asked to come along in the first place."

"True," she conceded primly, "but I didn't know I would wind up alone with you, either. Last night, when I heard you and Jasper talking, I thought he was going too. If I'd known different, I'd have stayed with the others, believe me. So you can't blame this part of the trip on me. It was a mistake."

Amused, he asked, "What made you think Jasper and I both wouldn't take advantage of you?"

"I never met him, but from a distance, he seemed nice. I think he would have been a gentleman. And I also think he would have protected me from you," she added.

Cord's smile faded. Damn it, no matter what he said or did, she was bound and determined to consider him untrustworthy. But so what? After tomorrow, he would never see her again. Therefore, talking to her was a waste of time.

Jaime watched him uneasily and thought how the night loomed ahead, long and frightening. "I'm really very tired," she told him quietly as she got to her feet. "I'll clean up everything in the morning." She turned away.