Under the Desert Sky (24 page)

“When I had the chance, did I choose to sit beside her at dinner?”

“You felt sorry for me. You didn't want me to have to sit beside Harry Hastings.”

Christian shook his head. “I don't believe we knew Harry was to be your partner. And as far as knowing what to wear . . .” Christian rolled his eyes. “I think I need to give you a lesson right now.” His hand went to one of the ribbons that was holding her chemise together. “This bow. It's just not right.” When he pulled one end of the ribbon, that side of her chemise fell. “See what I mean? It just wasn't right. I think I'm going to have to fix both of these things.”

Phoebe was enjoying the banter, and when both her breasts were exposed, she felt as giddy as a child. “Why, Mr. De Wet, I do believe you are trying to undress me.”

“Do you think so?” With that, he began to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over each nipple.

Phoebe closed her eyes and arched her chest, urging him to take a breast into his mouth. When he did so, she dropped back onto the bed.

He threw back the velvet comforter, and when he saw her flannel knickers, he laughed out loud.

“What's wrong?” She sat back up.

“You are the most practical person I've ever known. The next time we buy underclothes, I'm going to pick them out. You're going to have silk that is so sheer I can see you without ever taking them off.”

“And what kind of underwear are you wearing?”

A broad smile crossed Christian's face. “I believe you should find out for yourself.”

“Sir, I take that as a challenge.” Phoebe rose from the bed, her flannel knickers still in place while her chemise went by the wayside. She unbuttoned Christian's shirt, expecting to find a vest much as Edwin had worn, but instead his chest was bare. Her eyes opened wide. “You're not wearing any underwear.”

“I wouldn't say that.” Christian's voice was deep and husky as he guided her hand to the buckle of his belt. “You're not finished.”

Phoebe hesitated. Up until this point, in her mind this had been a game—a sparring match between a man and a woman—but if she opened his pants, there would be no going back. Her hands began to tremble.

Christian put his hands on hers as if to steady them. He bent to kiss her, a kiss so gentle she wasn't sure he had touched her lips. “Shall I?” he asked.

Phoebe's eyes were now as big as those of a doe. There was no question she wanted him. Only two layers of cloth separated her from ecstasy. With deliberate movements, she began to slowly unbutton his trousers. As she did, she watched the bulge in his pants grow harder and harder. When she had the buttons free, she opened the trousers, watching as his underwear strained to contain his manhood.

“God, Phoebe . . . can you go a little faster?”

They began to make love—not a carnal lust that was wild and uncontrolled, but a mutual satisfaction that was more fulfilling than that first stolen night.

Somehow Phoebe knew that this was the way lovemaking was supposed to be, not only the giving and taking of physical pleasure, but the sharing of something much deeper and much more intense. She felt it was a joining of their souls.

When they'd both reached their pinnacles and were coasting down, they lay side by side and Phoebe put her head on Christian's shoulder. With his arm holding her close, she knew she'd never before felt such total contentment. In that moment, with all her being, she knew that this was love.

The next morning, shortly after breakfast, July and Trinidad were grinding alfalfa for the young birds when Andy Patterson rode up.

“Andy, what brings you here today?” Trinidad asked. “Did you come to help with the plucking?”

“No, I'm looking for Christian. Mr. Prinsen wants him to go into town to get that African engineer and his family.”

“What African engineer?” July asked.

“The one Christian knew. Mr. Prinsen told me he built an artillery gun out of odds and ends of metal he found lying around, and it worked.”

“Of course. Long Cecil. Everybody knows about Mr. Labram and Mr. Woodson,” July said. “Are they supposed to be on today's train, because if they are, more than likely Christian will be on it, too.”

“No, that's just it. They got here yesterday, but Ben Fowler didn't send word,” Andy said. “They're staying at the Hotel Adams, and Mr. Prinsen doesn't think that's right. He wants Christian to go pick them up and bring them out to the farm.”

“Christian can't go today,” July said. “He's not here.”

“Of course he's not.” Andy hit his head with his hand. “That's why Will's with the Bucknells. Do you know when he and Miss Phoebe will be back?”

“Nobody told us for sure, but we're expecting them today,” July said. “I can't imagine Miss Phoebe will be away from Will more than one night, but in the meantime somebody's got to go pick up these folks, and I expect that'd have to be you.”

“Me? I don't know these people,” Andy said.

“Well, if they're in the hotel, I certainly can't go get them,” July said, thinking of his experience when he and Christian first arrived in New York.

“But it has to be you, July. You'll know them if they're from Africa.”

July laughed. “They were in Africa—they are not Africans. I think I heard Christian say they were from somewhere in New York.”

“It doesn't matter. The only thing I know is that Mr. Prinsen said to bring them out to the house. Will you go with me to get them?”

“I can go, but I don't know them either.”

•  •  •

Ina Claire Woodson was sitting in the window of Coffee Al's Restaurant. This wasn't what she'd envisioned when she thought of coming to Phoenix, Arizona. After the note she'd received from Christian, she'd expected that he would meet them at the train station; but not only was he not there, no one else was either. Her father had sent a telegram to Benjamin Fowler telling him when they were leaving Albany. In truth, her father hadn't told him the exact time of their arrival, but nonetheless it would've taken little research to ascertain they'd arrive in six days.

According to Mr. Newburgh, the desk clerk at the Hotel Adams, the population of Phoenix was just a little over five thousand. It seemed to Ina Claire that if she could personally be acquainted with a large number of the fifty thousand residents of Kimberley, it wouldn't be hard for everyone to know one another in a town this small.

The longer she sat at Coffee Al's, the more aggravated she became. When they were snubbed at the train station, Millicent Woodson had wanted to go back east on the next train; but she and her father had convinced her to stay, whether her father had a position or not. But now Ina Claire was on her mother's side.

Looking out on the street, she saw a white man driving a wagon with a black man sitting beside him. She smiled. It was a welcome sight to see a Zulu.

“A Zulu,” Ina Claire said as she slid out of the booth. She paid for her cup of coffee and went in search of the black man. From his size, she was sure he was a Zulu, and if he was anything like the natives she knew, he would know everything about everybody.

When she stepped into the street, the wagon was nowhere to be seen. A couple of older men were sitting on a bench in front of the Valley Bank.

“Excuse me,” Ina Claire said as she approached the bench. “Did either of you see a wagon pass by here a few minutes ago? It had two men—a white man was driving and a black man was with him.”

“Can't say we saw 'em, but if you say there was a Negro, why, they ain't but about a couple hundert in the whole territory. If you start lookin', I don't reckon you'll have a hard time findin' him; that is, unless he doesn't want to be found.”

“Thank you. You've been most helpful.”

Ina Claire looked toward the Hotel Adams. She should go and tell her mother what she was doing, but if she intended to find the two men, she should start now.

When she turned the corner, she saw several men gathered around the O.K. Meat Market. They were all looking up to a balcony with a buggy.

“Now, that's something I've never seen before,” Ina Claire said aloud.

“You've not been around here for Halloween much, I'd guess,” a man said. “Our young ruffians pulled this off—and right here on Washington Street. You'd think someone would've heard them last night.”

“Why did they do this?”

“Just mischief. A place for nothing and nothing in its place. That's what the hoodlums say,” the man said. “I had to get my gate out of my neighbor's tree this morning, but at least they couldn't turn my outhouse over. I had it tied down and it was a good thing, because every other one on my block was tipped.”

“We've got the block and tackle in place,” a man called from the upper balcony. “I think July and I can lift it, but it's up to you men to keep it from falling.”

“July?” Ina Claire was sure Christian had mentioned a man by that name in his note. “Is July a black man?”

“He is. Came here direct from Africa not too long ago.”

Ina Claire smiled. She was sure this man would help her find Christian.

•  •  •

Christian turned the buggy up the long drive that led to the Prinsen House.

“Christian, do you think they know?” Phoebe asked.

“Know what?”

“Do you think they know what we did?”

Christian smiled. “They'll only know if they can see that my feet don't touch the ground.”

“I'm serious. Don't make it into a joke.”

“It's not a joke.” Christian took her hand in his. “I've never been happier in my life. Waking up with you at my side, and then—”

“Shush.” A blush crept over Phoebe's cheeks. “You must think I'm terrible.”

“No, no, no—there isn't a man alive who doesn't want his woman to want his body.”

“Am I your woman?”

“What do you think?”

A smile of contentment crossed her face as the buggy stopped in front of the house.

“Mama! You came back.” Will came running to them with his arms outstretched.

Phoebe chuckled. “Did you think I wouldn't?” She bent over to hug him.

“I knew you'd come back, and I'm glad Wet came back, too.”

“Of course I came back.” Christian scooped the boy up in his arms.

Will began to giggle. “July does this, too, only he throws me high up in the air.”

“July does that?” Phoebe asked.

Will nodded. “He did it today when he brought those people. The lady said July got a wagon down from a roof.”

“July did what?”

“A wagon. It was on a roof and July got it down.”

“Who told you that?” Phoebe asked

“I Don't Care.”

Will's response confused Phoebe. “What do you mean, you don't care?”

“That's the lady's name. Miz Gwen calls her I Don't Care.”

“Ina Claire!” Christian said with a broad smile.

“Ina Claire?” Phoebe asked.

“Yes. The Woodsons. Are they here?” Christian started moving toward the house.

At that moment a young woman came running down the steps of the porch. She ran to Christian with both arms open wide. “Christian!” she shouted happily.

Christian took her in his arms, and she leaned into him, then bent both legs so that her feet were off the ground. He swung her around once before putting her back down. Then, made self-conscious by the display in front of Phoebe, he cleared his throat. “Phoebe, this is Ina Claire Woodson. She and I were together in Kimberley while we were under siege from the Boers. She's the daughter of the engineer who's going to help us with the Salt River water project. Is your father here?”

“Yes, my mother and father are both here. He's with Mr. Prinsen and is anxious to see you.”

“Come on, Phoebe, let me introduce you.” Christian put his hand on her arm.

“No, you go on. Enjoy your friends. Anyway, I need to get home. Wapi needs us.”

“Mama, we can't go yet.” Will tugged on his mother's hand. “Miz Gwen made a surprise. She'll be mad if I don't help her eat her peach cobbler.” Will covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, no, I wasn't supposed to tell you.”

“Now, you can't get Will in trouble, Phoebe. You have to stay for peach cobbler,” Christian said with a disarming smile. “Besides, if you go now, how will I get home?”

How will I get home?
Phoebe had been caught by surprise by the unexpected meeting of Miss Ina Claire, and the obvious familiarity between her and Christian. But Phoebe was somewhat mollified by his question.

“All right.” She smiled. “I like Gwen's peach cobbler, too.”

When they went inside, Clarence and Millicent Woodson were waiting for them.

“Christian, you look absolutely beautiful.” Mrs. Woodson stepped toward him, her arms outstretched.

“And so do you.” Christian returned her hug.

“Millicent, I don't think a man likes to be called beautiful”—Clarence Woodson extended his hand—“but you do look a heck of a lot better than you did the last time we saw you. It looks like you've put on a few pounds.”

“I believe we can all say that,” Christian said.

“Well, after 126 days of thralldom, it's a wonder we didn't all die,” Mrs. Woodson said. “How we ever endured that man, I do not know.”

“After the siege, you know he was promoted,” Christian said. “Now he is Colonel Kekewich.”

“Promoted? For what? For making us all eat horsemeat?” Ina Claire asked.

Hearing the word
horsemeat
, Will scrunched up his nose. “Yuckie! Wet, you ate your horse?”

“I didn't eat
my
horse, and I tried to not eat anybody else's either, but sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. Like when your mother asks you to do something and you don't want to do it.”