Mountain Rose (5 page)

Happiness is very scarce in a lot of people's lives."

Raegan looked back at him, gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Chase. I feel the same way. It's not what—" She paused as a rap sounded on the door. "I hope that's not another dumb miner come to offer me marriage," she complained, rising from the table.

Chase watched the sway of her gently rounded hips as she walked across the floor to the door. He could understand why this little beauty would receive many offers of marriage. There wasn't a man alive who wouldn't give his soul to take her to bed every night.

Including yourself,
a jeering voice whispered inside him.

No!
he silently denied the truth of the words.
She looks on me as her uncle, and that is what I'll be to her. Nothing more.

Lobo at her heels, Raegan opened the door a crack, then with a wide smile swung the door wider. "Mahalla," she cried, "I think your two grandsons are here."

The old woman jumped to her feet, knocking over the bench in her hurry to greet the two boys while Raegan grabbed the wolf by the ruff of his neck.

All three Indians talked at once in their native tongue. With a wide smile on her face, Raegan picked up the bench, then sat down on it. "It would appear," she told Chase, "that news of Mama's death reached Mahalla's village and her daughter has worn her husband down. He is allowing his motherin-law to make her home with them. He had refused previously."

Chase smiled his relief. "Thank God. I've been racking my brain how to get her to my place in Oregon."

Raegan stole a glance at the hard, raw masculinity of Chase and thought,
You would have done it somehow.

Quite a bit of bustling went on then as the old woman darted around gathering up her few possessions and Raegan began clearing the shelves of food for Mahalla to take with her.

"You'd better hold back some of that," Chase advised as she was about to add a bag of coffee and a slab of salt pork to the growing stacks of staples on the table. "We'll need some for our trip back to Oregon. I used up my grub on the trail here."

"Yes. You keep, Raegan," Mahalla instructed. "You give me plenty already."

"I just wish it could be more, dear friend." Raegan affectionately hugged Mahalla. "There were times when, without your support, I don't know if I could have carried on."

"No, Raegan, you would not have given in to your grief. You have your mother's inner strength." She took Raegan's chin and gazed into her eyes. "Do your grieving, then start a new life in this place called Oregon."

She slid bright, wise eyes to Chase. "Find yourself a good man and have lots of babies."

Raegan blushed and Chase frowned into his coffee. Did the old woman's side-long look mean that she had him in mind to sire those babies? Did she know that he really wasn't Raegan's uncle, that there was no blood tie?

The three were saying goodbye then, leaving Raegan and Chase alone, gazing at each other. "So," Chase broke the awkward silence that had descended. "There's been young men wantin' to marry you?" He tried to bring a teasing note to his tone, but failed. There was an undertone of resentment instead.

Raegan, however, hadn't seemed to notice it as she laughingly answered, "Old ones too. Damn fools—what would I want with any of those grubby individuals?" Bitterness crept into her next words. "Hacking away at the same spot of ground, breaking their backs to find that vein of gold that would make them rich." After a long sigh, she added, "And sometimes not even finding enough dust to buy rations."

Chase knew she was thinking of her father, but he said nothing as he sipped his coffee. When he saw that she had brought herself back to the present, he said, "Raegan, there is something I must tell you." When she raised an inquiring eyebrow, he continued, "Your grandparents have passed away."

"Oh, no," Raegan exclaimed, genuine remorse in the two words. "I had so looked forward to knowing them. Mama talked about them all the time. I know I would have loved them."

"And they would have loved their granddaughter," Chase said softly. Then, to break the melancholy that was about to descend on the shack, he teased, "Do you think you can bear livin' with a grubby old bachelor?"

Raegan's soft throaty laughter swept over Chase, settling in his loins. Even so small a thing as her laughter made him want to take her to bed. If he had a brain in his head, he would make other arragements for the girl.

"You're not old and you're far from being grubby, Chase Donlin, and you know it." Raegan rapped his knuckles with her spoon. "You could stand a shave, though. You look like a grizzly bear." Her eyes ran over his high, wide cheekbones and forceful chin. He was the handsomest man she'd ever seen, even with the stubble on his chin.

As Chase grinned and rubbed his hand over his bristly face, she said seriously, "I'd like it just fine, living with you in your Oregon Territory. You don't know how tired I get, always pulling up and moving on. To settle in one place will be heavenly for me."

Heaven for you, but hell for me, Chase mused silently before saying, "You look dead beat. Why don't you go to bed and get some rest. I'd like to get an early start in the morning."

"Yes, I think I will." Raegan stood up and began gathering up the dirty dishes. "It's been a draining few days."

"Leave the dishes." Chase rose and took the plates from her. "I'll tidy up, and if you show me what you want to take with you, I'll pack it up."

Raegan glanced around the room and gave a rueful laugh. "As you can see, there's not much worth taking. Only Mama's pictures and the two bearskins. Papa shot them, and I'd like to keep them."

"And don't forget your blankets," Chase reminded her. "We'll be campin' out a couple nights

and the evenins' still get cold."

"Yes, I'll roll them up in the morning." Raegan grinned up at Chase. "I'll need them tonight. It gets cold in here too." The wolf whined at her feet, and when she opened the door he shot away into the darkness.

"Aren't you afraid he won't come back?" Chase looked surprised.

"He'll come back. I let him out every night around this time. He has to eat too."

"Don't you feed him table scraps?"

"Certainly not." Raegan looked scandalized. "That would be insulting to him. He must hunt his own food."

Chase allowed that made sense. A wild animal should catch his own food. He changed the subject. "Is there a place around here where I could purchase you a mount?"

"Oh, I have a horse." Raegan looked up from unlacing her shoes. "A pretty little mare. I call her Beauty. Papa bought her for me the year before he was killed. He'd found a good-sized nugget, and he spent it all on Mama and me for Christmas."

Chase mentally shook his head. That sounded like something the irresponsible O'Keefe would do. Let tomorrow take care of itself, never mind that the money could have gone toward weather-proofing this shack a little. It must have been damn cold in here in the winter.

"Well." Raegan stood up. "I'll see you in the morning then."

"Yes. Sleep well, Raegan."

Chase kept his eyes firmly on clearing the table as he heard the rustle of Raegan's clothing being removed, then the straw mattress crackling as she climbed into bed. But in his mind he could see the slender perfection of her body, the proud jutting breasts and softly flaring hips.

Suddenly he had to get out of the shack, away from that body curled under the covers.

He stood outside on the stoop, gazing up at the star-studded sky. "God, Anne," he whispered, "what torture you've set up for me."

that might happen today. Others trudged along, silent and morose, shoulders slumped, beaten by the lure of gold, but unable to stop searching for it.

Chase shook his head in pity for these men gripped by a fever that made them forget everything else—family, health, the small enjoyments of life. This striving for gold had killed Willian O'Keefe and his sister Anne.

Lobo followed Chase back inside the shack and sat nearby as he hunkered down before the fireplace and, brushing aside the ashes, coaxed the red coals below into flames with small pieces of kindling.

Raegan had awakened at the sound of the latch being lifted, and she now lay in the warm nest of blankets watching Chase at his task. His face seen in profile seemed almost ruthless, but handsome nevertheless.

Her gaze traveled to his bare shoulders and back. His muscles rippled and bulged as he lifted a log and carefully laid it on the flames. She was shamefully aware of her nipples hardening.

"What's wrong with you, Raegan O'Keefe?" she whispered fiercely to herself. "That's Mama's brother. You have no right to be affected by him like that."

"But you forget," a small inward voice reminded her, "that he is not really your mother's brother. You need not feel shame."

Even knowing this, Raegan blushed a deep red when Chase suddenly called her name. "Are you awake? The sun is up and we should get goin' pretty soon."

"I'm awake," Raegan answered. Sitting up, she swung her feet to the floor and flinched when her bare feet touched the coldness of the rough pine-board flooring. She missed the warm softness of the bearskin that had always lain beside her bed. As she hurried to the fire, she saw the tightly rolled skins lying beside the door where Chase had placed them.

Raegan held her hands out to the warmth of the flames, unaware that their brightness outlined her body clearly through the thin, worn material of her nightgown. His loins knotting, Chase hurriedly turned his head away.

"I'll put a pot of coffee to brew and make us a bite to eat while you're gettin' dressed," he said thickly, hoping that she wasn't always so careless of her attire in front of him. He didn't need added enticements to fire his blood. It was already at a slow simmer.

As the room filled with the aroma of steaming coffee and frying meat, Raegan stood uncertainly, her dress and underclothes clutched in her hand. How was she going to get dressed with Chase only a few feet away? She couldn't bring herself to enter Mama's room for privacy. Old memories would be revived, and she was still too heart-sick to deal with them.

Chase glanced up from the frying pan and hastily got to his feet as he realized Raegan's dilemma. "Ill go saddle the mounts now, if you'll keep an eye on the salt pork."

Raegan nodded, sighing her relief when he walked outside. Mama had described her parents' home as being large. Maybe for the first time in her life, she would have the privacy of her own room at the Donlin house.

Chase returned as she was lacing up her shoes. A short time later he announced that breakfast was ready.

The meal was quickly eaten and the coffee drunk. "Well, Raegan, shall we hit the trail?" Chase stood up, adjusting the broad-bladed Bowie knife in its sheath.

Raegan rose, her eyes becoming damp as they moved over the familar room for the last time. Her gaze lingered a moment on her mother's closed bedroom door and she wished with all her heart and soul that it would open and that the gentle, smiling woman would walk through it.

But that would never happen again, she knew, and taking her rifle from over the mantle, she turned to Chase with a wobbly smile and said, "Let's go."

Outside, before mounting, Raegan shoved the rifle into her saddle scabbard. "Do you know how to use that thing, or is it just for show?" Chase teased.

Raegan threw him an indignant look as she gracefully swung onto the little mare's back. "Papa taught me how to handle firearms when I was ten years old. A female has to know how to protect herself in a rough miners' camp."

"You'll need that same know-how where I'm takin' you, Raegan," Chase informed her. "Man is at his crudest in the wilds of Oregon. Most have forgotten any niceties their mothers might have taught them."

"What about Indians?" Raegan picked up the reins, and with a nudge of her heel the mare followed the stallion as Chase led off. "Are they civil, or are they still fighting the whites in that region?"

"Some are friendly, some are not."

"You sound as if you like the red man." Raegan said.

"I've got nothin' against him. If he leaves me alone, I don't bother him. I'm on good terms with a Paiute chief near my place. I trust him more than I do most white men."

The morning was clear and cool with a sharp, diy tang in the air. Its briskness made the horses want to run, and in accord Raegan and Chase left off talking and put the horses into a long, swinging canter, Lobo easily keeping up with them.

With each mile that took Raegan farther away from the shabby shack, the two lonely graves beneath the lone pine, her spirits drooped more. A lump formed often in her throat, and the trail was blurred by her tears.

Chase glanced at her once, then quickly looked away from her drooping shoulders and tear-stained face. He had heard her sobbing in bed last night but hadn't dared go comfort her. If once he took her in his arms, God knew how it would end. The one imperative was that he must keep his hands off her. He suffered by just brushing up against her, or catching a scent of her hair that smelled like roses.

By the time the sun had moved overhead, they had entered country unfamilar to Raegan. It was a softer, greener place than she was used to. Her poignant memories faded somewhat as she gazed around at the wild, beautiful area. She was able to smile and say thank-you when Chase pulled the stallion to a walk and handed her a strip of pemmican.

"Are you tired?" he asked. "Would you rather dismount while we eat?"

Raegan shook her head. "I'm fine. I'd just as soon keep riding."

Admiration flashed in Chase's eyes. For all her delicate look, she was a sturdy little piece. "You're gonna fit into my country right well, Raegan." He smiled at her.

"I hope so." She returned his smile, swaying easily in the saddle. "Do you have many close neighbors? Women, I mean."

"There's a few. Not close by like maybe you're used to. The closest one is a couple miles from my place. They're mostly trappers' wives, a rough, hardy lot but good of heart. I think you'll like them." His smile widened. "They'll like
you."

Raegan returned his smile, looking forward to meeting these women he described. She and Mama hadn't mingled with the women who followed the men from one gold field to another. There had been few wives among them, and the others were not of the highest caliber in regard to morality. Consequently, she had never known the friendship of a young woman her age.

Meantime, Chase had remembered Liza Jenkins. That one wouldn't like Reagan one bit. Up until now she'd enjoyed the distinction of being the most attractive woman in the Oregon hills.

Once everyone saw Raegan, Liza's title would disappear like the mists when the sun hit them. Raegan was not only pretty, she was beautiful. And sweet-natured also.

There wasn't much sweetness in the widow's nature, Chase mused. She was selfish and grasping, interested only in herself. She tried to hide it, but she wasn't altogether successful, not where the women were concerned. The women in and around Big Pine saw through her. They suspected her flirty ways with men, especially with their own men, and the widow wasn't very well liked.

When they had consumed the pemmican, they urged the horses back into a canter. It was close to sunset when the Idaho border was left behind and they entered Oregon country. A short time after that they sighted a wide, muddy river. "The North Platte," Chase explained. Raegan held the mare back when they came to its banks and Chase, without pausing, rode the stallion into the water. She knew she was expected to follow him and, a little apprehensive, she urged Beauty after him.

The mare neared the center of the stream and Raegan flinched as she felt the cold water moving up her legs. She hurriedly yanked her dress up above her knees, then clutched the reins tightly as she felt Beauty swimming. Her eyes anxiously sought the other shore.

Finally Beauty's hooves hit bottom again, and soon the mounts were leaving the river, water streaming down their legs. "Well make camp here." Chase swung to the ground and stripped the saddle off Sampson. Raegan did the same for Beauty, then spent some time admiring the area, awestruck by the beauty and grandeur of the graceful, towering pines and spruce.

Then, her shoes squashing water, she walked over and stood beside Chase's hunkered figure. While she had gazed enthralled at their camp-site he had gathered a pile of dry tree limbs and now had a cheerful fire started.

He glanced up at her and frowned. "You'd better get those wet shoes and stockings off and prop them beside the fire to dry."

"I could have taken them off before I crossed, had you told me the river was so deep in the middle," Raegan spoke disgruntedly as she sat down on a flat rock and struggled with stubborn wet laces.

"You're right," Chase agreed ruefully, glancing down at his wet moccasins and buckskin pants legs. "I didn't think about your leather shoes and dress tail." His lips lifted in a grin. "I'm not used to ridin' with ladies."

"You're forgiven." Raegan grinned back, then unselfconsciously pulled her dress up past her knees and rolled a water-soaked stocking down over her shapely leg and off her narrow foot. She continued to talk as she bared the other leg.

Chase didn't hear a word she said. His eyes and attention were glued to the white flesh, the glimpse of the thigh he'd seen, the long length of leg and neatly turned ankle.

When she looked up at him questioningly, he tore his gaze away, realizing that she had asked him something. "Sorry, Raegan, but I didn't catch what you were sayin'. I was thinkin' about startin' supper," he lied.

Raegan pulled up her knees and tucked her skirt around her toes. "I asked if you'd please bring me a pair of dry stockings from my saddlebag. My feet are freezing."

"Right away." Chase jumped to his feet, thankful for the excuse to walk away from her. Otherwise he might have hunkered there indefinitely, ogling her legs. And, he told himself firmly, he would stay away while she donned the dry hose.

Soon the fire was crackling, blue smoke curling from it and disappearing into the tree tops. Raegan sighed with the comfort of dry feet and the warmth of the fire as she watched Chase bent to the task of cleaning the rabbit they would have for supper. To her amazement, he had shot its head off from the back of his mount.

Lobo came and threw himself down beside Raegan and laid his big head in her lap. She idly scratched his rough ears as she gazed into the flames, her thoughts back at the rude little shack in Minersville and of the mother and father no longer there.

When Chase handed her a tin plate full of crispy roasted meat, she forced her memories away and smiled her thanks. They both laughed when Lobo jumped up and bounded off through the forest.

As Raegan and Chase consumed their meal, night came on. An owl hooted high in a pine, and a small pack of coyotes came and squatted on their haunches just inside the shadows.

Raegan looked at Chase with alarm filled eyes. "Don't be frightened," he said soothingly. "They'll not come any closer. The fire will keep them back."

"What about while we're sleeping and the fire goes out?"

"It won't go out. I'll add wood every hour or so.

"What makes you sure you'll wake up in time?"

"Don't worry about it." Chase bit into a rabbit leg. "I'm used to doin' it. Relax and finish your supper. They won't stay long anyhow. They're just curious. They'll scoot when Lobo returns."

Raegan's appetite was pleasantly sated when Chase handed her a cup of steaming coffee. They sat a moment in comfortable silence, sipping the strong brew and thinking their own thoughts. Raegan mused on the turn her life had taken, and Chase wondered how he was going to keep his hands off Anne's daughter, wondering how it would all end.

The wind stilled, and suddenly the coyotes were gone. There was only the thump of hobbled hoofs heard in the darkness surrounding the camp.

Raegan's lids began to droop, and with an amused twist of his lips, Chase stood up and moved to the gear propped against the two saddles. He dragged out the bedrolls and spread them close to the fire, only a foot or so apart. He grinned at Raegan, who watched him sleepily, and motioned her to crawl inside one. She did so, pulling the top blanket up around her shoulders.

She knew no more until the rising sun striking her in the face awakened her.

The country grew more rugged the farther Raegan and Chase traveled. They crossed series of ridges and steep hills; the trees grew taller, and the air had a keen, invigorating edge. The trail they followed wound along the North Platte, and in the early dawn they saw deer trooping out of the forest and going down to the stream to drink. Raegan also caught glimpses of coyotes slinking through the trees and saw on the surface of the river wide circles made by feeding fish. This was all new to her and she was fascinated by it.

She broke a long silence between her and Chase. "Do we cross the river again at any point?"

Chase shook his head. "No, and to my knowledge no white man has ever gone into the wilderness on the other side. That is Tillamook land. Anyone tryin' to hunt or trap those woods is gonna be killed by Indians."

Raegan peered across the wide stream at the thick, dark forest and shivered. "Do
they
ever cross to this side?"

"I don't think so. No one has ever seen them if they have. It's like an unspoken agreement between us."

They drifted back into silence then, not speaking until an hour later when they came upon a spring trickling from under a large boulder. Chase reined in the stallion and slid to the ground. "We'll give the mounts a drink and let them rest a spell. It's tiring for them, climbin' up and down the hills."