Jessie's War (Civil War Steam) (21 page)

His eyes
flashed, his face cold and ferocious. Her words had been more foolish than
brave. “You mock me.”

“I apologize. I
mean no disrespect.”

“But you do,”
Grandfather snapped. “You’ve never been good at holding your tongue, but you
don’t say anything real. It’s all about this anger you carry. It will be your
undoing.”

“Don’t you
think I have a reason to be angry?” she asked. “I’ve been alone for so long.
Once Mother died, you were nowhere to be found. Then Luke comes back, after he
let me think he was dead. And now you’ve forced me into a marriage I don’t
want. You
mock
me, Grandfather.
Whatever you think of my father, you know Mother loved him. She gave up
everything she’d ever known, and she was happy. I want to love someone like
that. I don’t plan to settle for anything less.”

“I don’t expect
you to. But you’re not angry about your union.”

Her heart
skipped a beat, maybe two, and panic rose beneath her breast, as if her darkest
secrets had been exposed. She looked away. “Release me.”

“No.”

She folded her
arms and watched the river tumble over the rocks, much like her heart tumbled
inside her chest. “You expect me to lie with him.”

“I expect you
to fulfill your duties and build me my bridge to peace. I expect him to treat
you with respect and not force you.”

“What if he
doesn’t?”

“I will dance
him into death.”

Her pulse
sputtered before settling into a fast-paced gallop, and she fought panic for a
different reason entirely. “I don’t want that.”

“I’m sure he
doesn’t either. You have that in common. It’s a place to start.”

“I don’t want a
place to start. He’ll break my heart, Grandfather.”

“It’s already
broken. Maybe he can heal it. He’s a better man than you think.”

She squared her
shoulders and set her jaw. Grandfather didn’t understand, and never would, and
Jessie couldn’t explain why she wasn’t strong enough to forgive Luke. Hell, she
didn’t even know half the time. Whenever she was in the circle of his arms, she
forgot about her grief. Instead, she remembered how it had felt to lay in his
arms under a moonlit sky. She remembered the way he’d cupped her face and
kissed her in a way that made her soul shiver. She remembered the way his hands
had shaken when he touched her, or how a single caress would leave her
desperate for more.

She remembered
being the only girl in the world, when Luke had filled her heart with such joy
she’d never recovered from the loss.

“I can’t,” she
whispered. The words weren’t meant for her grandfather.

After a time,
he smiled and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the husband she
shouldn’t want. “Forgive him, Granddaughter. You may just find your forgiveness
will heal both of you.”

“I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jessie couldn’t
counter that. “Please.”

Her grandfather
gestured to her husband. “Go, Jessie. Stop looking in the wrong direction and
see what’s at your feet.”

“All I see is a
whole lot of dirt and rabbit shit.” She kicked at the dirt with the tip of her
boot.

Jessie expected
anger from him—her own father would have whipped her for such
language—but instead he laughed heartily, and amusement shone in his dark
eyes.

“Then you’re not looking hard
enough.”

Luke sat by the fire, next to
Jessie’s cousin Cheveyo. He looked at the wikiup Ewepu So’wina’ had insisted
they use, where his reluctant bride waited. Since their arrival in the village,
he’d not had the chance to speak to her but fleetingly—nothing more than
a nod, or a hello, or a smile. He’d been kept with Ewepu So’wina’ and Cheveyo,
and he was grateful to them for that.

Once he
did
get her alone, he had no idea what he would say to her.

She’d told him about the
letters she’d written after his disappearance. Instead of using her anger as a
weapon, she’d shown him her hurt, and
that
pain,
her
pain, tore him up more
than anything else ever had. More than any wound he’d ever received; more,
even, than the loss of his leg had.

Her pain left him feeling raw
and exposed.

Cheveyo gestured to their
wikiup. “Your wife awaits. You should go to her.”

Luke leaned back on his
elbow. More than just buckskin and hides and a few feet of space separated him
and Jessie. Maybe more always had. “I think I’ll wait a bit.”

“Wait any longer, white man, and
your bride will be asleep.”

Ewepu So’wina’ leaned over
and said something to Cheveyo, and the men around him laughed.

Amusement lit Cheveyo’s eyes.
“My grandfather wonders if you are nervous about your wedding night. Perhaps
you are not… ahem… up to the task?” He leaned in close, so only Luke could hear
what followed. “I could clear this up for him, but I suspect you don’t want me
to do that.”

“No.” Luke stared at the
entrance to the wikiup he was to share with his new wife.

Wife
. He never thought he’d have one.

Cheveyo leaned back on his
elbow, in a posture mimicking Luke’s. “I suppose I should tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“You and Jessie were married
today.”

“She may have mentioned that
in passing.”

Cheveyo laughed again. “You
amuse me, Luke Bradshaw. I can see why she likes you.” Luke said nothing, and
Cheveyo picked up the flask next to him. He took a long swig, and offered it to
Luke. Though Luke accepted the flask, he didn’t drink. “As I was saying, you
and my cousin were married today. But only for a year and a day.”

Luke flinched, and his
shoulders tightened. “What?”

Cheveyo glanced at his
grandfather, who was speaking to the others and ignoring them, but Luke got the
sense that the shaman knew everything going on around him—the way he
directed his attention to the others seemed too intentional.

“Ewepu So’wina’ is many
things, but he would never be so cruel as to tie his only surviving
granddaughter to a man she didn’t love for the rest of her life,” Cheveyo said
softly. “Not even if he never got his bridge to peace.”

“I still don’t know what that
means.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed
to. The bridge doesn’t need to understand why it was built—that’s up to
the builders, is it not?” He paused and regarded Luke for some time. “Dark
times are coming. Jessie will need someone to protect her.”

“Seems to me the dark times
are already here.”

A smile ghosted Cheveyo’s
lips. “Perhaps they are. Or maybe this is nothing more than twilight, and we
have a long way to go until dawn.”

Luke put the flask to his lips,
and took a long pull. The whiskey tasted bitter and burned unnaturally all the
way down into the pit of his stomach. He’d always hated the stuff, anyway.

He handed the flask back to
Cheveyo. “I sure as hell hope not.”

“As do I.”

Beside Cheveyo, Ewepu So’wina’
stood, and Cheveyo followed suit. “That’s our cue. Go to your wife. You have a
year and a day.”

“And what happens then? It’s
just... over?” He didn’t really want the answer to that question. He already
knew.

“Looking to get out so soon,
Bradshaw?” Cheveyo’s voice was light. Teasing. “At the end of year, if she
doesn’t carry your child, you may go your separate ways, unless you both wish
to remain together. If that’s the case, the two of you come back, and she’ll
dance, and it will be official.”

“I suspect there’s little
chance of that happening.” Luke stood up.

Cheveyo clapped him on the
shoulder. “I think she might surprise you. Go.”

Hoots and raucous male
laughter floated down on a cold wind as Luke ducked into their wikiup.
Immediately, the impression of her assailed him. Her body. Her scent. Her
presence.

Her fear.

He wanted to ignore it.

She’s
an asset,
he reminded
himself.

She’s
Jessie
, his conscience
whispered.

Kneeling, he took off his
duster and wadded it up into a ball. He unbuckled his holster, unstrapped the
knife he wore on his thigh and placed them just above the bundle where he would
lay his head, keeping his weapons within easy reach should he need them.

Her eyes were wide, and her
hands, folded primly in her lap, trembled.

He swallowed against the
irritation rising at the back of his throat and unhooked his black braces.

“It’s all right, Jess. No
need to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She gasped as he
took off the braces and his shirt.

“Like you’re scared to death.
I’m not gonna try anything.”

“I don’t have any idea what
you’re talking about.”

Bullshit
.

He shifted his weight
uncomfortably and sat beside her. “I don’t expect anything tonight.”

There. He’d offered her an
out. Nothing more could be expected of him. He was a man, after all.

And she was Jessie.

“What?” she whispered, her
brow furrowing. Caution, and a deep, almost tangible sadness were etched in her
features.

He waited until she met his
eyes. “I don’t expect you to treat me as a woman would treat her husband.”

The briefest of smiles graced
her features before she looked away. “Good thing, too, since most of my cooking
tastes like boiled shoe leather.”

He’d missed her humor, her
teasing, and he laughed. “So you’re saying I’ll be doing the cooking in our
household?”

“If you want to eat, you
will.” Her voice wavered only a little.

Tell
her.

If only he could find the
words.

“You’ll want to get some
sleep,” he said quietly. “We’re leaving for Fort Clark in the morning, and it’s
a hard day’s ride from here.”

Her fist covered her lips. “What
will we do when we get there?”

He considered all the things
he should tell her about what they faced. “Catch a military transport to Fort
Bastion. Get into Deseret. I guess we’ll have to see after that.”

Fort Bastion was on the far
eastern border between Union-held territory and Deseret, the territory still
known as Utah back East, but widely acknowledged as a separate entity out West,
subject to its own laws. Fort Bastion was the northeastern most point inside
Nevada where they would be able to catch an airship. After that first attack on
Virginia City, no airships were allowed within Nevada, since it was impossible
to tell the difference between a Union airship and one commanded by the
Confederacy. All transportation within the state was done by rail, with forts
strategically placed to scan the skies for evidence of airships as well as to
watch the trains transporting the most important asset the Union had.

The blue silver alloy Jessie’s
father had invented. Once electrified with the right charge, it caused the
airship’s envelope to become lighter than air, and allowed it to fly. Ounce for
ounce, it was the most coveted metal in the world.

Men all over the world would
die to understand its secrets. But only one person really did.

He studied Jessie for a
moment. Maybe two.

“Is that safe?” she asked.

He nodded.

No
.

“A military transport should
be safe enough, and I don’t see how we have much choice.” He pillowed his head
on his arm and stared up at the roof of the wikiup. “Right now, it’s the only option
open to us. We’ll keep you hidden as much as we can and try to disguise you
when we can’t.” His gaze met hers. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

She leaned her head forward
and rubbed her shoulder. “I know you will.”

She
trusts me
.

Tell
her
, his conscience bade
him.

Instead, he sat up and moved
behind her.

She cast a quizzical look
over her shoulder, and he gave her a small smile as he laid his hands on her
shoulders, his thumbs rubbing out the knots.

When he found a large knot
and began massaging it away, she groaned, and the charge in her voice set his
blood ablaze. His hands on her body fired an inferno in his chest, until he
could think of little else but kissing her until he erased any other man from
her memory. Until he erased the pain of his.

He wanted to relive those
moments when he’d touched her before, when they’d been kids, and he briefly
entertained the fantasy of running his hands over her golden skin and caressing
her breasts. Of plunging into the haven of her body and bringing them both
home.

“You’re good at that,” she
whispered.