Mountain Rose (24 page)

"You can start while I go put more water on the stove to heat."

Star lifted a hand to the snarled tresses, her cheeks flushing. "I expect it could stand some cleanin' up."

It took close to half an hour
cleanin' up
Star's hair. But it was time well spent, in Raegan's opinion. After several latherings and as many rinsings, what previously had appeared a dull, matted tangle was now as bright and shiny as a crow's wing as it hung in a straight line to the small of Star's back.

"You have lovely, healthy hair, Star," Raegan said, pulling it on top her head and fastening it with pins she took from her own hair.

"Do you really mean it, Raegan?" Star gently patted the top-knot. "You're not funnin' me?"

"I wouldn't story to you about that, honey," Raegan said softly. "You have every right to be proud of it. But right now, you'd better jump in the tub and take your bath. The men will be returning any time now, and I must get supper started. You wouldn't want Jamie to catch you in your birthday suit, would you?"

The thought of those devilish eyes seeing her nakedness set Star's fingers flying. She was out of the dirty buckskins and into the tub almost before Raegan could turn around and enter the kitchen.

The venison steaks were nearly finished frying, and Raegan was setting the table when a shy voice asked, "Can I help you with anything, Raegan?"

Raegan looked up and stared at the transformation in Star. Washed clean of the grime that had covered her face, the girl was lovely. There was an exotic look about her, the black waterfall of hair framing the dark almond-shaped eyes in the fine-boned face.

Her eyes dropped to the slender body. The clean buckskins, like the dirty discarded ones, followed every curve lovingly. How will Jamie take to this version of Miss Star Daniels? she wondered with a tickled smile.

She saw Star stir nervously at her long scrutiny, and giving her a bright smile, she said, "Chase and Jamie aren't going to recognize you, you look so pretty. I saw them ride in a while back. I don't supose you'd want to call them in for supper?"

"Oh . . . I. . ."

A deep chuckle sounded from the open door. "We've saved you the trip, Star," Chase said, running approving eyes over the girl. He would have remarked on her changed appearance, but knew he would embarrass the wild child if he did.

He stepped into the kitchen, Jamie following close behind him. And Jamie, ready to scowl at Star as usual, could only stare at her instead. She was like a young doe, with those innocent, wary eyes, ready to bound away at any untoward word or movement. As though afraid he might startle her into flight if he spoke, he silently sat down at the table.

As Raegan set out the food and plates, then poured the coffee, she watched Jamie from the corners of her eyes and grinned to herself. She doubted that young man would continue to rag their guest. He was enthralled with her.

"So
what did you learn regarding the Tillamooks?" Raegan asked, putting her fork to the venison steak.

"They've been seen," Chase answered, "always at a distance, slippin' along from tree to tree. I guess Jamie is the only one who's been attacked so far. Everybody is gettin' a mite anxious, especially the womenfolk."

"So am I," Raegan said, wondering if the Tillamook woman was still alive. "I hope they find that Roscoe soon. I hope we did the right thing, letting him take the woman away."

"That bothers me too, Raegan," Chase pushed his empty plate away. He stood up and walked out onto the porch. Jamie gulped down his coffee and followed him.

"I know you're mad at Chase, Raegan," Star said timidly. "You treat him so cold. Is it because he brought me home with him?"

"Oh no, Star! You musn't think that," Raegan said earnestly. I'm very happy that you're here. Like all husbands and wives, Chase and I sometimes have our differences," she lied. "Sometimes I feel like laying into him with my rolling pin."

Star laughed. She had no idea what a rolling pin was, but she imagined it was a stick of some kind. "I expect he'll soften up for you, Raegan," she said. "The way he looks at you, I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do for you."

"Hah!" Raegan snorted inwardly. "A lot you know about it, Star." She stood up and said out loud, "Let's get the table cleared."

July arrived, hot and humid. The air was still, with only an occasional breeze to stir the leaves on the trees. Raegan crawled along between two rows of vegetables in the summer heat. Dragging a haversack behind her, she snapped tender green beans off their stems and tossed them into the sack. It was growing quite heavy and Raegan was pleased. Aggie Stevens had taught her how to string the beans on a heavy thread, then hang them in the loft to dry. According to her plump little neighbor, when winter set in and the garden was dead beneath several feet of snow, all she'd have to do was climb to the loft and take down a long strip of the dried beans. After soaking them in water overnight, they'd plump up, and after being cooked would taste as good as the day they were picked.

Raegan stilled her hands to straighten her stiff

back and wipe her sweating brow. She glanced over her garden. It had produced abundantly, and she was proud of the nourishing food she had already put away for the winter months, thanks to Aggie's tutoring.

Up in the loft was a good-sized bag of corn kernels she had sliced off the cob and carefully spread out to dry before bagging them. They, too, would need to be soaked and plumped up before cooking. There was also a bag of peas treated in the same manner, as well as a five-gallon crock of shredded cabage, smelling to high heaven as it fermented into sauerkraut.

And later this fall, when their tops died down, there would be potatoes and yams to be dug and stored in the cellar. Also, she musn't forget how the apple and pear trees had responded to her care. They were loaded with fruit, ready to be picked in the fall.

Raegan moved her gaze to the yard. The climbing rose she had feared was dead now climbed the chimney in a blaze of red blossoms. Her eyes shifted to the flower beds she and Jamie had sweated over. They were a riot of color— yellows, pinks, whites, and purples.

A sadness clouded her eyes then. Life could be so good if she thought Chase loved her. Sometimes she almost believed that he did. He seldom went to the village without her, and never went away at night anymore. He always treated her lovingly, even though she was usually cool toward him during the day. But the words "I love you" hadn't passed his lips.

Raegan turned her head to look toward the cabin, when she heard Star's clear laughter ring out. She and Jamie were working in the cabin, and he had probably just told her one of his wild tales. It was quite evident these days that the girl adored Jamie, even though he often got the sharp edge of her tongue—as when jealously gripped her when other young women came around.

Hardly a day passed that some young woman didn't come visiting, presumably to call on Raegan. They fooled no one, however. It was Jamie who drew them to the Donlin cabin. And to Star's chagrin, he flirted with them outrageously, leading them on. What Star didn't know was that, inside, Jamie despised all simpering, giggling females. He knew that not a one of them would stand up to their parents and be seen in public with a half-breed.

Once, in a fit of bitter anger, he had said to Raegan that sometimes he was tempted to seduce the whole lot and leave the silly things with full bellies when he left the territory. "Wouldn't that make the righteous, bigoted parents howl?" he'd ended with one of his devilish grins.

Raegan resumed gathering her beans, wondering when Jamie would realize that he was in love with Star. She suspected that he was afraid to let down his guard and love. And Star didn't give him any encouragement. The girl didn't understand the sensations Jamie stirred inside her, and this worried her or, alternatively, made her angry. Consequently, her sharp little tongue was always at the ready.

Raegan suddenly became aware that the sky was quite overcast. Even as she stood up and studied the dark clouds that rolled and tumbled above her, a streak of lightning zig-zagged across the sky. It was going to rain, and rain hard if the thickening darkness was any indication.

She brushed the dirt off the knees of her skirt, and as she picked up the bag of beans, her eyes worriedly searched the valley where Chase had ridden off in search of game. He'd better hurry home or he'd get soaked. As she headed for the cabin, she could hear Star's and Jamie's voices raised in an argument. Didn't they ever get tired of nipping at each other? she wondered, half aggravated with them.

Mid-way to the back porch, Raegan slowed her steps. She felt the presence of something, or someone. She immediately thought of the Tillamooks. Every day, someone reported seeing the Indians moving ghost-like through the dimness of the thick forests. The thought of warring Indians close at hand had barely entered her mind when she heard the thud of racing hooves. Her mouth dry with fear, she wheeled and sprinted toward the barn, trying to call out to Jamie from a paralyzed throat. Then gravel was flying over her from sliding hoofs as a hand grabbed her hair and jerked her to her knees.

With terror-filled eyes, Raegan stared up at the fierce-looking, breech clout-clad Indian who jumped from the ragged pony's back.
Dear God,
she thought, her blood running cold,
I'm going to die at the hands of this savage.

When the fierce-eyed brave jerked her head back, exposing the fine line of her throat, and reached for the knife at his waist, the desire to live loosened her throat. Her mouth opened and a piercing scream split the air as with a strength born of her desperation she grasped the red wrist of the hand that held the knife.

The power in her gripping fingers startled the brave. As he looked at Raegan in surprise, black smoke bloomed from a rifle, and a big hole appeared in the side of his face.

Raegan let loose one long, trailing scream as the Tillamook fell across her, blood spilling from his wound. Then Jamie and Star were beside her, Jamie flinging the dead Indian aside and then cradling her in his arms.

"It's all right, Raegan," he soothed her, rocking her back and forth as he would a child scared out of its wits.

Star, her small face anxious, took Raegan's hands and gently stroked them. When raindrops began speckling their clothes in darkening spots, she said, "We'd better get inside. It's goin' to pour any minute."

Jamie glanced down the valley at the approaching line of rain. "Are you all right now, Raegan? Can you walk?"

Raegan nodded, and with his assistance she rose to her feet. Her arms held by Jamie and Star, she ran between them toward the cabin. A beating rain came just as they gained the porch. "You two go on in." Jamie released his hold. "I'll join you as soon as I get rid of the Indian's body."

"What will you do with it, Jamie?" Star asked. "The others will be lookin' for him. If he's found here, they'll burn the cabin down, with us in it."

"They won't find the varmint here," Jamie spoke with convicition. "I'm gonna drag him down to the river and let the Platte carry him away." He jumped off the porch and sprinted through the rain to where the still body lay.

Inside the kitchen, as the rain beat a tattoo on the cabin roof, Star poured Raegan a cup of coffee and added a good amount of whiskey to it. "Drink this." She handed her the cup. "It will help calm your nerves."

Tears stung Raegan's throat as she swallowed the strong drink, but as it warmed her stomach she did feel a lessening of the tension that tightened her body.

"I wish Chase would get home," she said fretfully. "He's going to be soaked."

"Don't worry about Chase." Star poured herself a cup of coffee. "He's taken shelter somewhere. He'll be along when the rain stops."

"I expect you're right." Raegan took another sip of coffee, reassured by Star's reasoning.

Half an hour later, when Lobo scratched at the door, a relieved smile curved Raegan's lips. Chase wouldn't be far behind.

But when fifteen or twenty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Chase, Raegan's worries returned. Why had Lobo returned home alone? Something had surely happened to her husband.

Jamie, who had returned to the cabin some time back and changed into dry clothes, was also worried. He kept his fears well hidden, however, as he pointed out to Raegan that his friend had more sense than the wolf. "Chase will remain in whatever shelter he's found until the storm is over."

Although only half convinced, Raegan said no more. She rose to look through the rain-streaked window, peering down the muddy trail leading down the valley. She couldn't shake the niggling dread that everything was not well with Chase.

Things were not well with Chase. They hadn't been for some time—not since he'd been sitting on Sampson on a small rise overlooking Liza Jenkins place.

When he could not scare up any game in the vicinity of his own cabin, he remembered the small herd of deer he'd often seen when he used to visit Liza. From her bedroom window, he had watched them graze in a small meadow abutting the forest about half a mile away.

Touching a heel to Sampson, he was soon concealing himself behind a large pine near the deers' feeding place. As he waited for one to appear, he recalled the hours spent with the widow and wondered why he had thought she was so good in bed.

His lips stirred in a slow, lazy smile. He hadn't had Raegan then to compare her with. His young wife satiated him as no woman ever had. Just a certain look from her across a room sent more passion racing through his blood than another woman's hands on his body could.

Chase broke off thinking about Raegan when he heard the clip-clop of a horse coming down the trail that led from Calvin Long's decrepit shack. He backed the stallion farther into the branches only moments before the squaw-man came riding by.

"So he's still nosin' after Liza," he said to himself, and wondered just how long their liaison had been going on. As far as anyone knew, the pair could have been carrying on even before Liza became a widow.
He
knew that no one man could be sufficient for the woman.

A broad grin widened his lips when Calvin tethered his horse, and Liza came flying out the cabin door, naked as the day she was born. From this distance he couldn't hear what was being said between the pair as Liza took Long's hand and pulled him into the cabin. He didn't have to imagine what was going on behind the closed door. He knew from past experience. Liza would be all over the man.

As Chase sat on in the still, hot air, patiently waiting to spot a deer, he became aware of the sullen black clouds building up to the north. If his quarry didn't come along soon, he was going to head for home. There was a lot of water in those clouds.

He looked down at the panting Lobo lying at Sampson's feet. The wolf was probably the reason he hadn't flushed any game all morning. He hadn't wanted Raegan's pet to go with him, but he'd had no choice. Once the big brute made up his mind to do something, there was no turning him from his course without shooting him.

Just as Chase caught sight of a deer stepping daintily out of the forest, lightning flashed and a roll of thunder rumbled through the hills. He tightened his knees on the stallion's belly, signaling him not to move, and brought his rifle up to his shoulder.

Sighting down the long barrel, he heard a twig snap behind him and the deer darted back into the shelter of the forest. Lobo gave a deep warning growl just as something hard and sharp pierced Chase's shoulder, its force sending him sidewise out of the saddle. In a split second he rolled to his feet, his right hand pressed to his left shoulder. The haft of a knife protruded from between his fingers.

Through pain-blurred eyes, he watched the Tillamook coming toward him, a tomahawk clenched in his hand. He shook his head, cleared his mind of everything but meeting the attack. Ignoring the blood that spilled down his arm and dripped off his palm, the fingers of his good arm touched the cold metal of his gun. When the Indian lunged at him with a ringing war cry, he grasped its handle as they fell to the ground in a fierce struggle for life.

Chase's bloody fingers kept slipping on the Colt as they rolled over and over, each seeking a vulnerable spot to use his weapon on. Chase found himself growing weaker by the minute as his blood continued to flow freely from his body. Just as he thought he'd spent the last of his strength, he managed to press the gun against the Tillamook's side and pull the trigger.

With a surprised look on his face and a soft sigh, the Indian flopped over on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.

Chase lay helpless beside the dead man. The exertion of the fight had sent the blood pumping from his wound. He knew that if someone didn't come along soon, he'd bleed to death.

His last conscious awareness was the hard patter of rain filling the forest stillness.