Mountain Rose (21 page)

visit Liza on a regular basis.

Actually, she thought angrily, he'd benefit from marrying her. While he was out carousing, being entertained by whores, she'd be in the background cooking, cleaning, and washing his dirty clothes.

"It's not fair," she cried. "I should have something to say about it."

"But you do," her inner voice spoke. "You can refuse to marry him. He won't hold a gun to your head, demand that you marry him."

"Oh, shut up," Raegan answered the voice crossly. "What do you know."

She gave a nervous jerk when Chase rapped on the door, announcing that the preacher was here. Her knees almost knocking together, her legs shaking, Raegan left the bedroom, closing the door behind her and shutting the wolf inside. She never knew how Lobo might react to strangers.

She heard voices in the parlor and directed her steps that way. Chase and a tall, gaunt man stood in front of the unlit fireplace. "Raegan," Chase said, "I want you to meet—" He turned his head toward the preacher and didn't know whether to laugh or grow angry at the way the man was gaping at Raegan. There was no lechery in the man's eyes, so he asked quite civilly, "What is your name, preacher? I've never heard it spoken."

"Samuel Brown," the tall man answered, never taking his eyes off Raegan.

"Well, Samuel Brown, meet my intended, Raegan. Now let's get to what you're here for."

Her features strained, Raegan nodded her head in acknowledgment of the preacher, deciding that she didn't like him. He was too stern-looking and had cold eyes. I don't have to like him, she reminded herself, then started when Chase walked over and stood beside her. Reverend Brown opened up a frayed bible and began joining them in holy wedlock.

As Chase spoke his marriage vows, Raegan wished with all her heart that he meant the words that came out of his mouth so sincerely. How wonderful it would be, she thought, as she repeated her own vows, if they could live together as a loving couple, have children, build a future together.

She left off wishing as the preacher said, "I now pronounce you man and wife," and with a soft look Chase slipped Molly Donlin's wedding ring on her finger. She looked down at the gold band on her third left finger. It felt heavy and alien to her. Jewelry of any kind was unknown to her. She continued to look at the ring, worn thin from years of wear, some of its luster gone. Grandmother Donlin had known much happiness wearing this symbol of permanency between a man and a woman. Maybe if she prayed hard enough, became the best wife she knew how, Chase would in time learn to love her. If only she could bring that about, the ring would once again adorn the finger of a very happy woman.

About to walk away, Raegan blinked her surprise when Chase lifted her chin and asked huskily, "Aren't you goin' to kiss your new husband, Mrs. Donlin?"

"I. . . I" she began in confusion at his unexpected question, but never got to finish as his warm mouth came down on her slightly parted lips, his tongue slipping between them. And what she had imagined would be a quick meeting of their lips went on and on, deepening, growing hungry and demanding.

When Samuel Brown said gruffly, "I'll need your signatures on the marriage certificate," and Chase released her mouth, Raegan had to catch at his arm to keep from falling. Only the preacher saw his satisfied smile as Chase bent over the table and signed his name where the preacher indicated. He stepped back and handed the pen to the preacher, who dipped it into a bottle of ink and handed it to Raegan. As she wrote her name in fine script beneath Chase's sprawling letters, she wondered how long she'd keep the title of wife.

She was wondering if she shouldn't invite the preacher to have cake and coffee, when without a word, the stern-faced man tucked the bible under his arm and stalked out of the room. She opened her mouth to call him back, then saw Chase shaking his head at her.

"Let him go," he said softly, pulling her into his arms. "I'd like some time alone with my new wife before Jamie and the wild child return."

When Raegan looked up at him in total surrprise, Chase dipped his head and took her lips hungrily. Raegan's hands came up to press against his chest, her mind crying out, "Stop him this instant. You know you have no will-power when he kisses you like this."

But as Chase's arms tightened and his kiss deepened, her body determined to function independently of her brain. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she gave up the battle. Her arms came up around his neck, and her body melted into his. When he felt her answering desire rippling through her in spasams, he rubbed himself against her.

Finally Chase tore his lips away from the ripe mouth he'd been ravishing and held Raegan away from him. She gazed up at him, her passion-ridden eyes reading the silent query in his. She nodded and he swept her up in his arms and started down the hall, her head nestled in his shoulder, only one thought in her mind. Chase was going to make love to her.

Then Chase almost dropped her as from outside came the sound of hard-ridden horses and Star yelling Chase's name.

At that momentous time, boys were sent out into the forest to bring down their first big game—usually a deer—with a bow an arrow. Much praise would be heaped upon the boy when he proudly returned with his kill. The chief would tell him that now he was a man, a young brave.

And so had began Jamie's lonely existence in the Indian village. As every other boy achieved his manhood, he shunned the half-breed. Finally, there was no one with whom he could roam the forest, fish the river, discuss such things as why the sun rose in the east and what kept the moon from falling out of the sky.

He had never known his father—only that he was an Irish trapper and had deserted his mother five months before her son was born. She had returned to her people in shame. Until she died, when he was ten years old, she was treated much as a slave, working from dawn until twilight. But she had toiled uncomplainingly, thankful to have a tepee and food for herself and her son.

Jamie remembered with a scowl how, at sixteen, he had entered the white world of his father, hoping that he could find a niche for himself there. It hadn't happened. It was far worse than in the Indian village. He had stayed on, though, out of stubbornness.

As the years passed, doing odd jobs to keep body and soul together, he had become proficient with the knife shoved into his knee-length moccasins and the gun strapped around his waist. He had called no man friend until Chase Donlin entered his life. He had found unconditional acceptance from the white trapper and the secure knowledge that this man would never let him down.

Jamie was brought back to the present when Star rode up beside him, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she silently pointed toward the river. He looked in that direction, and though his heart leapt in excitement at seeing two deer standing in a stretch of shallow water, he was angry that the rag-tail girl had spotted them before he had.

He pulled the roan in, brought the rifle from its sheath, and braced the butt against his shoulder. Taking aim, he gently squeezed the trigger, shooting the yearling. It dropped instantly, shot through the heart.

A pleased smile curving his lips, Jamie swung from the saddle, stepping onto the damp, gravelly bank as the young deer's companion splashed across the river to the opposite shore. Tillamook land. As he prepared to wade out to the fallen animal, Star cried out:

"Behind you, Jamie!" He whirled around, his eyes taking in two things—Star with her rifle to her shoulder and an Indian, around his age, springing at him with a blood-curdling yell. Jamie barely had time to side-step the hurtling body to avoid the slashing knife. He dropped his empty rifle and snatched his own knife from his belt, then crouched, the sharp blade held ready to meet the next charge.

As Star yelled, "Stand clear of him, you stupid breed! Let me get a shot at him," they came together like two furious wolves, snarling, teeth bared, knives slashing at each other. Jamie managed to catch the brave's wrist and twist it until his knife fell to the ground. But quick as lightning, his opponent had a tomahawk in his hand, delivering him a blow alongside his head. All the time Star continued to yell, calling him a stupid breed, that he was going to be killed if he didn't get out of the way and let her shoot the bastard.

Stunned, Jamie dropped to his knees, shaking his head to clear it, wishing that the infernal girl would shut up. When the Indian's feet came in sight, ready to finish him off, Star's rifle sang out at the same time he grasped the man around the knees. Startled by the rifle shot, and taken by surprise that Jamie wasn't out of the fight as he had imagined, the brave hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Jamie was astride him in a flash, his knife raised to deliver a fatal blow to the red man's racing heart. The knife poised in the air, he hesitated. As he looked into the Tillamook's eyes, so like his own, he understood why this man wanted to kill him—to kill any hill person he came across. Some man on this side of the river had broken the unspoken treaty between the two races, had stolen one of their women. In the brave's place, Jamie would have done the same thing.

Ignoring Star's "Kill him, kill him," he dropped his arm and stood up. The Tillamook stared up at him a moment then, agile as a cat, swept to his feet, picked up his knife, and loped off into the forest.

Jamie watched the brave until he disappeared among the trees, wondering if he had made a mistake. He became aware then of a warm trickle moving down the side of his face and a throbbing in his head. He gingerly touched the spot above his right ear, and when he brought his hand down his fingers were smeared with blood. In his fight for life, he hadn't realized that the tomahawk had cut him.

He vaguely sensed that Star had come to stand beside him, but he could clearly hear her contemptous, "I have never seen a more stupid man. Why in the hell did you let him go?"

Beginning to feel dizzy from the loss of blood, and fed up with Star's screeching, he turned baleful eyes on her and gritted painfully, "Listen, you
matethi-i-thi equiwa,
if you call me stupid one more time, I'm gonna give you the thrashing someone should have given you a long time ago."

What Star answered to that he didn't know, for the words had barely left his lips when the ground came up to meet him.

With a little cry of alarm, Star knelt beside Jamie. She lifted his face from the leaves and pine needles and gave a soft gasp at the sight of the blood pouring from his head wound. And though she was spitting mad at him for calling her an ugly squaw, she knew she didn't want this man to die. And if it was possible to save his life, she must get him back to the Donlin cabin.

Lowering his head gently to the ground, she ran into the forest and scraped some moss from the north side of a hardwood tree. When she had a handful, she ran back to Jamie and carefully pressed the green wad to the red, running wound.

"Now to get him onto Champ's back," she muttered, studying Jamie's lean, though heavy body. She patted his cheek, calling his name at the same time. When she got no response, she panicked and slapped him quite hard. He flinched and opened his eyes, then glared at her.

"I'm sorry," Star snapped, "but I've got to get you home, and you have to help me if I'm to get you mounted. Do you think you can stand up?"

Jamie nodded, but only managed to lean up on one elbow, sweat popping out on his forehead. Star thrust her shoulder between his side and his other arm and, giving a heave, raised him into a sitting position. "Now put your arms around my neck and I'll pull you to your feet."

"No," Jamie muttered, "I'm too heavy for you. And don't you dare call me stupid."

Star grinned impishly. "All right,
psai-winenothtu,
I won't call you stupid. But I am very strong, so put your arms around my neck."

Jamie knew he was about to lose consciousness again so, with an effort, he clasped his arms around Star's neck as she hunched her sturdy little body and pulled him upright. As in a dream, he followed her instructions. "Put your foot in the stirrup, then I'll boost you into the saddle." It was the strident command in her voice that made him hang on, do as she ordered.

He did not know when she climbed up behind him, pulled him back against her chest, and they started out, Star keeping him steady with one hand, the other keeping the moss in place as she guided the mount with her knees. Nor did he come to when the Donlin cabin came in view

and Star started yelling for Chase.

As Star brought the sorrel to a plunging halt, Jamie's mount trailing behind them, Chase came barreling out the door, Raegan at his heels. "Oh my God!" Raegan exclaimed, staring at the blood streaking Jamie's white face, the stain of it on the shoulder of his shirt. "What happened, Star?"

"A Tillamook whammed him with a tomahawk—the idiot let him go free when he could have put his knife through his rotten heart."

"Hurry, Chase, get him inside," Raegan said anxiously. "We've got to attend to his wound."

Star removed her arm from around Jamie's waist, and as he fell forward, Chase took his weight over his shoulder and carried him into the cabin and on into his bedroom. When he had laid Jamie on the bed, he said to Raegan, "Bring me a basin of water and that bottle of boric acid in the cupboard with the supplies."

Raegan hurried from the room, and within a minute she was back with what Chase wanted. He and the two girls released long sighs of relief when the moss was removed and the wound bathed. The tomahawk had landed only a glancing blow, but it had nicked a blood vessel in Jamie's temple, which was why he had bled so profusely.

"Do you think he'll need stitches?" Raegan asked.

"I don't think so," Chase answered, pouring the boric acid over the gash, then grinning when Jamie flinched and moaned. "It will leave only a thin white scar, and his hair will cover it. Our only concern now is to build back the blood he lost."

"I know just the thing for that," Star said eagerly. "Squirrel broth. Paw claims there ain't anything better for strengthenin' the blood. I'll go shoot a couple of the little critters right now."

She was already at the door when Chase called after her. "You can't go huntin', Star. The forest could be full of Tillamooks. I have to go dig Henry Jones's grave. I'll bag a couple on my way home. In the meantime, if he comes to, give him some tea with a lot of sugar in it."

Raegan followed Chase out onto the porch and looked up at the sun. "The sun is going to set in an hour or so—do you think you'll be able to finish digging the grave before dark?"

"Sure." Chase smiled down at her. "You've got yourself a very strong husband." Before she could make a snappy retort, he gave her a quick, hard kiss and loped off toward the barn.

"Oh, do be careful," Raegan whispered as the stallion galloped away, her fingers on her throbbing lips.

Chase rode up to the dangerously canting cabin, and the Jones brood came piling out the door, led by Meg and Johnny. "Afternoon, Meg," he said, swinging to the ground. "Jamie had a tussel with a Tillamook and has himself a crack on the head. If you'll show me where you want the grave dug, I'll get to it."

With a nod of her head, Meg stepped off the rotting porch and struck off through a small pasture that held the bony mule and a cow that looked half starved. They had walked about a quarter of a mile when Meg stopped and said, "We'll plant the old bastard here."

An uglier spot could not be found in all of Oregon, Chase-thought as he looked at the small strip of land. It was treeless, with deep, weed-choked gullies on three sides. The soil was mostly gravel, without a blade of grass on it. "Hell," he said to himself, "when it rains and them gullies fill up, Jones is gonna be washed right out of his grave."

He took the spade Meg handed him and started digging. As the woman turned and walked back toward her cabin, he grinned wryly. "Maybe that's what she had in mind. Let the buzzards pick his brains."

With one last worried look up the hill where Chase had disappeared, Raegan went back inside and found Star at the stove, making a pot of tea. The girl blushed and muttered, "I thought

I'd have the tea ready against when he comes to.

Their heads jerked around when, from down the hall, Chase's name was called crossly. Star grimaced. "It sounds like the big
muga
has done that now."

"Sounds that way, doesn't it. And his voice sounds quite strong too."

Raegan had glimpsed the relief in Star's eyes before she could hide it. She hid her smile when the girl jeered, "It would take more than a whack on the head to keep that one knocked out very long. I wouldn't be surprised if his hard head broke the handle on that Tillamook's tomahawk."

Raegan made no response to Star's unflattering remarks about Jamie, but as she went to answer

his call, she mused that perhaps Star was hiding her real feelings about Jamie.

Jamie was sitting up in bed when she entered his room. "Jamie, you should be lying down. How are you feeling?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and raised the edge of the bandage Chase had tied around his head.

"I feel like that Tillamook is inside my head hitting it with a hammer," Jamie groused.

"Well, he gave you one good whack. You've lost a lot of blood."

"How'd I get home, anyhow? Did Chase come lookin' for us?"

"No, Star brought you in."

"She did?" Jamie's eyes widened in surprise. "I'll be damned. She must be a strong little critter."

"Yes she is, and strong-minded too., She'd made up her mind that she was going to get you home, and she did. By the way, what does
muga
mean in Indian?"

"She's still callin' me that, is she? It means bear, usually black bear. The one that does the most— and the loudest—growlin'."

"Were you growling at her?"

"Some, I reckon. She kept callin' me stupid."

Raegan managed to hide her tickled grin. "I do wish you two would get along. She's going to be here all summer, maybe longer. Maybe even permanently."

"Why in the hell would she stay here permanent?" Jamie scowled.

"Chase says her grandfather is dying and she has no one to go to. That's why he brought her home with him. She doesn't know anything about her grandfather's health, so don't say anything to her about it."

"That's a shame," Jamie said, pity for the young girl in his voice.

"She's made you some horehound tea. Would you like a cup of it?"

"Only if you or Chase brings it to me."

"Why not Star? She made it."

"Because we always get into a fight, and my head hurts enough already."

"All right, I'll bring it. Chase has gone to dig Henry Jones's grave."

The sun was ready to set, and Raegan was placing the plates on the table for supper when Chase rode in, a brace of squirrels lying across his saddle. Star, sitting on the porch, offered to stable the stallion and clean the game. He gladly agreed, for it had been hard work digging through rocks and hard clay.

He stepped up on the back porch, removed his soiled and sweat-stained shirt, then filled the basin kept there for washing up with water from a full pail. He lathered his face, neck, and arms, promising himself that after supper he would take a bath in the stream back of the cabin, a tributary of the Platte.

He walked into the kitchen and Raegan turned to look at him. She felt as though her heart would jump from her chest as her eyes immediately fastened on his broad, bare chest, his wide muscular shoulders and arms. There leapt into her mind the other time she had seen his magnificent body, had felt its bareness against her nakedness, her nipples buried in the soft curly hair that liberally covered his chest.