The Enchanted Land (7 page)

Morgan raised her head to look at him, but he gently forced her head back onto his chest and began to hum a tune. It felt so warm, so sweet to be near him, to be protected. Maybe, if she loved him, he would love her in return one day?

When Morgan awoke it was daylight, and she was in the bed, fully clothed, with a blanket over her. The last thing she remembered was lying in Seth’s arms hearing him sing to her.

As she washed her face and combed her hair, she realized she was ravenously hungry.

Jake knocked on her door, and they started down the stairs together for breakfast. She wanted to know where Seth was, where he had slept, what he was doing.

At the foot of the stairs was one of the handsomest men Morgan had ever seen. His blue-black hair was perfectly ordered. His clothes were impeccable and in the best of taste. He looked like a picture Morgan had once seen in a magazine of Aunt Lacey’s, a picture of a man for whom a young woman had left her husband and children. Of course, the man in the magazine had
turned out to be bad. But this man was smiling up at her and was now extending his hand to her.

“Ah, this must be the lovely bride.”

Morgan felt Jake’s arm stiffen under her hand.

Ignoring Jake, the handsome man took Morgan’s arm as if they had known one another for years.

“Allow me, Morgan. I may call you that, seeing that we are to be such close companions.”

“I … uh,” Morgan stammered. The man certainly was charming. Morgan found herself standing a little straighter.

He laughed slightly, showing perfect white teeth. “Excuse me, I am Antonio Joaquín Santiago de Montoya y García, at your service. You may call me Joaquín.” He took her hand from his arm, just as they were entering the dining room, and held it to his lips, his eyes never once leaving hers.

Morgan had not yet said a word. The man’s eyes had a hypnotic effect. A loud laugh that she recognized as Frank’s reached her, and she turned toward the sound quickly. Seth looked at her with malice. Why was Seth looking at her like that? She moved to the table and seated herself.

Frank laughed again. “Well, Joaquín, it looks like you won another of the ladies. But I reckon you better stay away from this one. If you don’t, you’ll be tangling with ol’ Seth here.”

Seth looked at his empty plate. They had waited for Morgan before ordering. “I don’t put chains on my wife.”

Joaquín was very calm, showing no awareness of the tension at the table. He looked at the four other faces. Seth and Jake were angry, Frank laughing, and Morgan was looking at Seth’s bent head with an expression of puzzlement and helplessness. Joaquín thought, “So that is how it is. For some reason, there is a very willing wife but a not-so-willing husband.”

A keen observer of people, Joaquín liked to file bits of information away for future reference. Right now, he needed to know more about Seth.

“Seth, you must tell me where you met such a pretty young woman. Ah, but then you have always had such incredible luck.”

Seth seemed to regain his composure, but he lost none of his furious look. Morgan did not know whether his anger was directed at her or at Joaquín.

“Morgan’s father lived in New Mexico for years.” Seth deliberately turned the conversation to a safer topic.

The three other men all turned interested eyes on Morgan.

“I haven’t seen my father since I was a baby. I only heard recently that he had died.”

“It’s too bad he had to go before seeing his lovely daughter again.” Joaquín raised Morgan’s hand to his lips once more. “May I offer my sincere sympathy?”

Jake, who had been quiet through the whole awkward scene, nearly jumped at Seth. “What’s the matter with you, boy!”

Seth leaned back against his chair and smiled at Morgan. It was a cold smile, and it did not spread to his eyes. “My little wife is quite capable of saying no to a man when she chooses to.”

Morgan rose, very slowly and steadily, avoiding Seth’s eyes. “Excuse me. I don’t think I am hungry after all.” She turned and left the room after assuring Joaquín that she needed no escort.

By the time she reached her room, she was so angry that her entire body was shaking. She sat on the bed. There was a great deal of thinking to do. Nothing was going as she had planned.

Morgan spent the day in the shops while the men loaded the wagons. She paused before a window, taken
by a shiny dress that caught the sunlight. She was drawn inside, hypnotized, her eyes never leaving the dress.

“May I help you with anything?” a soft voice asked.

Morgan was startled, embarrassed at having been caught staring. The dress was scarlet, the neckline was cut very low, and there was an inch and a half of very fine burgundy lace across the bodice. What wasn’t entirely revealed by the low neck would be just barely covered by the openwork lace. Above the waist, just under the lace bodice, was a satin ribbon that tied in the back in the Empire style. The thin fabric was tightly fitted below the ribbon until it reached the waist, where it tapered into a long, flowing, bell skirt. The sleeves were puffy and reached only to the middle of the upper arms.

The woman followed Morgan’s eyes and began to visualize how the blond young woman would look in the elegant red dress. It would suit her perfectly. The woman continued staring at Morgan for another moment. “I am Miss Satterfield. That dress was made for you.”

Morgan heard the earnestness in her voice. “Yes,” Morgan whispered, “yes.”

Recovering herself, Miss Satterfield said, “That dress has the strangest history. Last year a young woman came in here and asked for a job as a needlewoman. Of course, I couldn’t hire her without seeing some of her work, and I told her that. She seemed really excited when she left, and came back in a couple of hours with this dress. I could see her needlework was excellent, even if the dress was forty years out of fashion. She said she had copied the style from a book. I never did understand where she got such fabric as that, but I do know she tatted the lace herself.”

Both women stared at the dress for a moment. “Would you like to try it on?” Her eyes gleamed.

Morgan, who had never cared much about clothing, remembered wondering, on the night of Cynthia Ferguson’s ball, how she would look in red satin. She was certain the dress would fit.

“No, I don’t think I’ll try it on. But I would like it wrapped please, very plainly. I’m leaving on a wagon tomorrow, and the package can’t be too large.”

“All right.”

As Morgan left the store, she wondered what had caused her to do such a thing. She could never wear the dress. All the way back to the hotel, she told herself she should return the dress at once.

Morgan had lunch with Frank and Jake. Seth and Joaquín were busy in town. She was glad, as she didn’t want to see either one of them.

At dinner. Seth avoided her eyes, and she was kept busy trying to avoid Joaquín. He was so charming, and seemed so concerned with her welfare.

Seth didn’t come to their room that night. She lay awake, gazing out the window at the stars, wondering where he was sleeping.

E
VERYONE
told Morgan that the first part of the trip was the easiest, but to her it was unbelievably difficult. The days were long and hot, and the nights were too short. The first week she was so tired she could hardly speak. Always, someone made a bed for her under the wagon. She never knew who it was. She was usually too tired to eat, even to wash. She wanted only to lie down and be still, to quiet her body after the jolting of the wagon. But the hard, cold ground gave her no relief.

By the eighth day she began to become aware of her surroundings. She became used to the long days and the hard bed. For the first time, she sat by the fire and drank a cup of Jake’s coffee.

“Well, it’s nice to see you back with us.” Frank smiled down at Morgan.

Morgan returned his smile.

“It is always nice to have a beautiful woman near, no matter where one is.”

Joaquín’s flattery made Morgan uneasy. She couldn’t help being pleased, but Seth always seemed to be scowling in the background. As Seth tossed down a load of firewood, he growled, “Well, maybe my wife will be able to help with some of the work around here now rather than letting the men wait on her.”

Morgan gave him what she hoped was a very sweet smile and said, “Of course, Seth, I’d like very much to
help.” She wasn’t going to allow his gruffness to upset her.

Seth tossed the blankets at her. “Then you make the beds tonight.”

At her puzzled look, he motioned her to the wagon. He showed her how to make the blankets into a passable bed. This was her place. She knew it was because she had crawled under the wagon between the blankets to sleep for the last several nights. She watched silently as Seth spread another bed under the wagon hardly a foot from her own sleeping place.

“What—?” she started.

Seth grinned at her. “That is your husband’s bed. You have been asleep each night when I came to bed, but you’ve slept very close to me every night.” Suddenly his grin faded, and he left her abruptly.

That night, Morgan was very aware of Seth’s big body spread out so close to her own. She could hear his slow, deep breathing. The sound made her feel safe.

The days began to form into a pleasant routine. Seth was still cool to Morgan, but his hostility had lessened. Joaquín always seemed to be near Morgan. Whenever she needed anything, there he was.

They stopped early one night at a place called Council Grove.

“Can you shoot a rifle, Morgan?” Seth asked her.

“No.”

“You’re going to learn. You may need to know how later on.”

They made their way through the trees to a little clearing. Seth marked a target on the tree, and then stepped back.

“Now, put the rifle into your shoulder like this,” he demonstrated.

“I didn’t realize it was so heavy.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Seth stood in back of her and his powerful arms encircled her, his hands covering hers.

His body felt good to her. He had not touched her since they had left Kentucky. Feeling his warmth, she snuggled against him.

Seth bent his head next to hers to show her how to sight the rifle. Her hair was sweet, her neck was slightly damp from the heat of the day. As he looked from the rifle to her, he felt her move against him and involuntarily he felt his breath quicken. Her small, round bottom pressed against his groin caused his manhood to stir.

“Damn you!” He abruptly dropped his arms and stepped away, turning his back to her.

“Seth?” She had no idea what had made him so angry. She went to him, put her hand on his arm. He jerked away from her touch.

Angrily, she turned from him. “My mother was right. Men are incomprehensible creatures. One minute I think we can be friends, and the next minute you’re cursing me.” She started back to the camp, each step quicker than the last, each step angrier than the one before.

Seth, recovering himself, reached her in a few long strides. His eyes and voice were as angry as hers. The hand on her arm hurt her as he swung her around to face him, the sun blazing behind him.

“Your mother! If your mother had been any kind of mother at all, she wouldn’t have poisoned your mind. If she’d had your interests in mind, she would have taught you about men and women, rather than imprisoning you in that big house like a nun.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp. “How dare you!” She spat her fury at him. “And your behavior proves she was right in everything she told me about men. I can’t talk to you, I can’t even be near you without you becoming angry with me for no reason.” She started quickly down the path toward the wagons.

Again Seth was next to her, even more angry. He stood in front of her. Through clenched teeth he said,
“You’re damn right I can’t be near you. What do you expect when you wiggle against me?”

“Wiggle? What are you talking about?” She looked at him with hatred.

Quickly, his big hands reached out and encircled the back of her head, pulling her lips to his. His kiss was gentle and searching. Morgan had the drowning sensation again. She felt her body go limp and at the same time she could feel every part of her react. She reached out, her hands touching his waist, feeling the firm, hard muscles of his stomach with her thumbs.

Gently, he drew back from her and looked down at her closed eyes, the delicate blue veins showing through the lids. Her eyelashes were long and thick. His voice was a whisper. “Your mother should have explained about men being very sensitive. That’s why I can’t be near you without being angry at not being able to have you.”

Her anger was gone now, but many years of training by her mother cried out in her head. The anger was replaced by a look of determination and arrogance. “My mother was correct when she told me that men could not love, that they cared only for horses and business and that they used women. Since I have met you, Mr. Colter, you have shown me less consideration and friendliness than you show your horse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do at the wagons.”

She left him standing alone.

“What is it, my pretty little dove?” Joaquín’s voice was soft and very close.

Morgan was leaning against a tree, trying to fight the tears that threatened.

She sniffed and smiled nervously up at Joaquín. “I guess I don’t understand men.”

“Ah, but men are very easy to understand. It is
women who are mysterious. It is women who control men.”

“
Control
men! I don’t even seem to be able to talk to one.”

“A lover’s tiff. Soon you will make up, and then you will be happy again.”

She took Joaquín’s arm and he escorted her back to the wagons.

The next day Frank took over Morgan’s shooting lessons. Seth avoided her.

One day as Joaquín and Morgan returned from a spring, both laughing, Seth met them on the pathway. His eyes showed amusement.

“My little wife seems to enjoy your company, Joaquín. She is usually not so friendly with men.”

Joaquín looked from one to another. “Morgan is an enjoyable person. I envy any man with such a wife. Excuse me, I have some things I need to do before our journey tomorrow.”

Silently, Morgan started down the path. Seth walked beside her.

“Look at that!” Seth pointed to the trees.

“I don’t see anything.”

Seth moved behind her, his hands on her shoulders, and turned her to see a brilliant, red cardinal sitting quietly on a branch. They both smiled.

“I was just going for a walk. After all day on a horse, it feels good to stretch my legs. Want to come?”

She smiled up at him. He stretched his hand to her and she took it.

“Come on, then.” They ran, Morgan stumbling along behind to keep up with him.

“This greenness reminds me of Kentucky. But we’ll leave it behind soon enough.”

“Tell me more about New Mexico. Is it really flat and barren?”

“It’s not flat at all. To some people it seems barren, but I don’t think of it that way. The deserts and the mountains have always seemed like enchanted places to me.”

They rounded a curve in the stream to a secluded area where the trees overhung the banks.

“That water looks good after the dust of the trail. I think I’ll take a swim. Like to join me?” His eyes twinkled.

Before she could answer, Seth had removed his boots and shirt. His muscles were enormous and stood out easily. Morgan watched, fascinated.

As he started to remove his pants, she gasped, “Seth…” He smiled, “Remember,
mi querida
, we are married. I see nothing wrong in undressing in front of one’s wife. Anyway, you could turn your head.”

She turned to stare at a tree trunk behind her until she heard a loud splash.

“The water’s so warm. Sure you won’t join me?”

She longed to get into the water, to get rid of the trail dust. Sponge baths in the wagon never got her really clean.

“No, I’ll just sit on the bank and put my feet in.” She watched as Seth swam a ways down the creek. His back and arms were powerful in the water. She could see him clearly as he glided across the water: his arms and back, and then tapering to his buttocks and the tops of his thighs. Morgan shivered as she watched. She did not go in. Seth returned a bit later, and she walked ahead as he dressed.

“It’s all right. You can come back now. I won’t shock you any longer.” His hand reached out for hers. “Sit down a minute—I’d like to dry off.” He had not put his shirt back on but was using it to towel his wet hair.

She sat down, leaning against a tree. Seth sat beside
her, then turned and lay his head in her lap. He closed his eyes.

“Seth, talk to me about you. You know so much about me. Jake has told me about you, but I want you to tell me about yourself.”

His hands were crossed on his chest. She moved a hand to remove a leaf from his stomach and then left her hand there. His skin was so warm. Her other hand twisted a curl of his hair, now very gray in the sunlight.

“What did Jake tell you about me?” Seth was keenly aware of Morgan’s hands.

“He said he didn’t think you had ever been in love, that you only used women.” She paused. “And he said there were lots of women who wanted you to marry them.”

Seth smiled. “I guess that’s true. But I figure most women want to get married. I just happened to be single.” He snuggled his head deeper into her lap, and his hands covered hers, both pairs of hands lying on his chest.

“What about the other part—
have
you ever been in love?”

He took a minute to answer. “I guess not. At least I’ve never met a woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I usually grow tired of a woman after a very short time.” He raised her hand to kiss her palm, his eyes still closed. He felt Morgan jump slightly at the touch of his lips.

“What about your girl in New Mexico?” He looked at her, then closed his eyes again. His cheeks showed long dimples from trying to suppress his laughter.

“Jake told you a lot, didn’t he? Marilyn’s very pretty and very … uh … obliging, but no, I’m not in love with her.”

Morgan leaned her head against the tree and smiled, feeling very happy.

“Seth, you said my mother was wrong—that she
should have taught me about men and women.” She paused. Seth remained silent, but listened closely. “I don’t understand about men. And I don’t understand you at all. You are sometimes so kind, and then sometimes you look like you hate me. Then again, there are times, like now, when I feel I’ve known you all my life.”

Seth’s eyes were serious. “Yes, little one, sometimes I don’t understand myself. Sometimes I hate you, and sometimes I want to pick you up and toss you in the air. Right now, I just want to be still.” He closed his eyes again.

Morgan relaxed against the tree again and then she whispered, “Do you ever want to toss Marilyn into the air?”

Seth roared. “It would take a bigger man than me to toss Marilyn Wilson in the air. I can see you’re not going to let me rest. Let’s go and see what Jake has for supper.”

He turned over and studied her for a minute. “God, I hate the way you hide your hair.” He reached behind her, unfastened the knot of hair, and pulled it forward over her shoulders. “That’s better.”

He stood up, took Morgan’s hand, and pulled her up beside him. She gazed up at him with complete trust.

“Oh, Morgan,” he groaned, “how am I going to keep my hands off you for a whole year?”

Morgan smiled. “That’s easy—if you can’t catch me, you can’t touch me!” she called over her shoulder as she ran down the trail.

Seth paused to grab his shirt, stuffing it into his belt, and took off after her.

Just before they reached the wagons, Seth sent one long arm shooting out to encircle Morgan’s waist. She struggled, kicking and hitting against him while laughing uncontrollably. “Can’t catch you? You’re no bigger than a mosquito,” he teased.

He lifted her above his head and turned her around
in the air several times. Morgan screamed, “No, no,” repeatedly, choking with laughter.

Seth then threw her over his shoulder, slapping her firmly on the behind when she struggled. He walked into the camp carrying her this way.

Jake and Frank looked up from the fire.

“I thought maybe we was being attacked by Indians.” Jake frowned. Seth just grinned.

Embarrassed now, Morgan whispered into Seth’s back, “Seth, put me down.”

As Seth crossed in front of them, going toward the wagon, Morgan heard Jake tell Frank, “At least that boy knows how women ought to be handled.”

No one saw Joaquín standing in the shadows, a scowl on his face.

Seth put Morgan down on the far side of the wagon, away from the campfire. Her back was against the wagon, and one of his arms was on each side of her, closing her in.

“Seth, that was awful. What will Jake and Frank think of me?” She tried to scold, but she was too close to laughter to sound sincere.

He moved his face closer to hers. “Keep looking at me like that, and I may do more than throw you over my shoulder.”

She hadn’t realized how she had been looking at his bare chest, the soft, curling hair on the bronze skin. She blushed and looked away. As she did so, he bent and kissed her on the ear. His lips, so moist, so sweet, caused her to turn toward him again.