Sudden Storms (7 page)

He gently pulled her into his arms. The beads of water still clinging to his body united with the warmth of his skin, moistening her nightdress like a hot, sweet, summer cloud burst.

His mouth began discovering hers once more. Now, the uncompromising, powerful, thrilling kisses they had shared under the sweeping boughs of the willow returned. Rivers was bound helplessly in the confusing yet ecstatic thrill the feel of his mouth toying with her own sent resounding through her.

“Now,” he whispered as his body seemed to unwillingly separate itself from hers. “I clean forgot to keep hold of my towel. So, unless you’re wantin’ to see me bare neked…ya better…”

Rivers gasped and, without waiting for him to finish his sentence, turned and fled across the hall to her own room. She could hear his mischievous chuckle as he closed the door behind her.

Climbing back into her own bed, a contented smile donned her beautiful cherried mouth. The knowledge he had forgiven her the cruel words she’d spat at him earlier sent her off to a peaceful, if somewhat dreamy slumber—dreams dominated by the perfect kisses of the man who, in fact, held her heart captive.

CHAPTER FIVE

After the night Weston Warner came to supper, Jolee lost some of the extreme nervousness that had previously enveloped her in his presence. Weston spent more of his time visiting with Jolee when he dropped by now and again and even escorted her to one of the church socials in town.

Yet as Rivers watched Weston and Jolee becoming more familiar, her own anxieties deepened. She knew she could no longer stay in the Gray home once Jolee married Weston and moved to his farm, as she had no doubt she would. But returning to her grandparents seemed a dismal prospect. Furthermore, Rivers knew she could not continue to hop boxcars from town to town, living the existence of a drifter. She’d grown beyond posing as a young boy to find work—grown beyond the lonely, unsafe life of an orphaned girl. She was a woman and longed for a home, a life, to be loved and to love in return.

Trying to push the necessity of leaving to the back of her mind, Rivers attempted to go about her existence each day happy for Jolee and Weston and yet selfishly hoping their engagement, when it was announced, would be a long one.

Rivers tried in vain to push other thoughts to the dark recesses of her mind too. Thoughts of a strong, handsome, untouchable man whose kisses still burned through her memory! Paxton had become increasingly less friendly. Ever since the night Weston had come for supper, the night she and Paxton had shared such intimate moments, he seemed to withdraw into an impenetrable hull. He smiled seldom, talked even less, and seemed to wear a perpetual frown across his brow. Rivers knew he’d regretted his flirting with her. He rarely met her eye to eye, and he was brief in his conversation with her. He was polite to everyone, even to Rivers—coolly polite. Still, Rivers sensed his discomfort with her.

Several times, she’d tried to find the courage to leave them, these people she was in love with. But each time, the now-fading courage that had carried her through so many of life’s trying situations abandoned her completely. Often at night, she’d hear the distant rumble of the train on the tracks and listen to its mournful whistle seeming to warn her, calling to her. But each time she let the train echo into the distance without an attempt at joining its journey.

And then, Jolee was bitten. The horrible guilt Rivers felt toward the incident, coupled with Jolee’s need for help, kept her from leaving when she came closest to finding the will to do so.



For Rivers, the events of the day Jolee was bitten began with an unpleasant interaction with Paxton. As she stepped out of the house on her way to the barn, Rivers’s shoe caught on a loose front porch board. Consequently, she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees, a painful splinter puncturing the palm of her hand, burying itself under her flesh.

“Ow!” Rivers exclaimed. Sitting down promptly on her behind, she studied the large sliver of wood imbedded in her palm.

“Let me see it,” Paxton growled, as he mounted the front porch steps. Hunkering down before her, he took Rivers’s hand in his own, studying the splinter.

Rivers gasped as, without pause, he drew her hand to his mouth, taking the exposed end of the splinter between his teeth tugging on it. “Ow!” Rivers exclaimed once more.

But he held it firmly, placing the tip of the splinter between his thumb and the knife blade. He pulled the splinter out quickly and rubbed the sore area of Rivers’s palm vigorously to ease the pain.

“Somethin’s not right. Somethin’s keepin’ them from goin’ ahead,” he muttered, standing and offering his hand to Rivers. She took it, in return of his offered courtesy, and dusted off the back of her skirt.

“Something like what?” she asked.

“Somethin’ like you,” he stated. For the first time in days, the intensity of his sapphire stare met hers.

“Me?” she asked, placing one hand to her bosom. Her heart began to throb with the intense pain stabbing her there as realization hit her. “You mean because I’m here…and she thinks I don’t have anywhere to go? You think she’s…”

“I think she wants somethin’ to be goin’ on between you and me, and that’s why she won’t give herself to him,” he interrupted.

Paxton clenched his teeth tightly as he watched the expression of realization forming in Rivers’s eyes. The same expression had once filled Ruby Dupree’s—the expression of injury and heartbreak. He’d done it to her. He hadn’t meant to, but it had happened. The difference being, if Rivers looked deep enough into his eyes, he knew she’d see the same emotion reflected there. He cursed himself for trapping the girl’s heart. Yet he’d done it on purpose. The night by the pond found him weak and unable to resist her any longer. And here before him, the hurt all too apparent in her eyes, she stood—beautiful, desirable, perfect, and now hating him.

Paxton felt ill. Sickening heat seemed to tear through his body as he fought to resist pulling her into his arms. He was no good, a hardened, rough ol’ bobcat with nothing to offer a warm, soft, sweet-tasting bunny like Rivers. He had to keep reminding himself she deserved better. He had to make sure he did not give in to his selfish desire to own her—she deserved better.

She looked back to him then, and it was nearly his undoing. Tears brimmed plentifully in her eyes, and he felt her pain piercing his own heart. He realized then his actions, or rather lack of action, had been breaking her for weeks. It was further proof, reassurance he did not deserve her.

Rivers thought she might die from the pain clenching her heart. As she looked at him, having already known this day would come, knowing she could never hope to own the heart of a man like Paxton Gray—as she looked at him, she asked, “Then what do you want me to do, Paxton? What do you want me to do? You tell me that because I’m here Jolee won’t move further on with Weston. But then you tell me I can’t go. What do you want me…”

“I want ya to help me convince her that I’ll be fine without her here,” he explained. “Let her think what she wants, and then when she finally accepts Weston…you can do whatever ya feel ya need to.” He took a deep breath and looked out toward the fields nearby. “There was this girl, ya see. Years back. Jolee’s worried I won’t ever…that I…” he began.

“Ruby,” Rivers stated and watched as he looked back to her quickly, surprise apparent on his face. “Jolee told me about your Ruby when I first came here.”

“What did she tell you?” he asked, suddenly angry.

“That you were in love with a woman named Ruby. That’s all I know. She left you, ran away or something, and you’ve never gotten over her,” Rivers mumbled, struggling to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes.

Paxton inhaled deeply, and Rivers knew he was barely controlling his temper. Yet control it he did.

“I want ya to help me convince Jolee, Rivers. I want her to think…to think I’ve some interest in you—enough that she’ll think if she marries Weston, you’ll stay with me. She’s wasted enough of her life takin’ care of me.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She loves me so much she can’t see it makes me miserable to see her lettin’ her life pass by because of it.”

Rivers studied him as he gazed out over the fields. Oh, how attractive he was! The breeze caught the tousled locks of hair at his forehead and blew them back for a moment. She loved him! She would never love anyone like she loved Paxton Gray! She made a silent oath, promising herself she would never forget how wonderful he was, how handsome. He was compassionate, self-sacrificing. For all his selfish, crabby pretenses, he did not hide his true self very well. He had a heart, a feeling heart, though he would like everyone to think otherwise. Rivers knew his heart, knew him for his goodness as well as his physical beauty.

She’d always known Paxton Gray was only a dream to her—that a man such as he was would never give himself to an orphan girl who drifted from town to town by riding the rails. Yet she had so desperately wished that he would. But he wouldn’t. She knew.
All good things must come to an end
, her father had always said. And so, end it must.

“I’ll stay until we see Jolee married, then I’ll be on my way,” she told him. It was what he wanted to hear. “I promise.”

Paxton looked back at her, nodding with appreciation, though he still wore a heavy frown.

“Let’s start with a little outin’. Today,” he said, “I told Weston to meet us here just before noon. Follow my lead, Rivers. That’s all I ask. Follow my lead for a few days, and then ya can be on your way and rid of me.”



“Ya look pale, Rivers,” Jolee said as she sat next to Rivers in the wagon later that morning. “Ya feelin’ okay?”

Rivers forced a smile and nodded. “It’s nice to get out, isn’t it?” she said, trying to change the course of the conversation.

“Oh, yes. This’ll be so fun. Just the four of us,” Jolee sighed. “Paxton so rarely allows himself any relaxin’ time lately.” Jolee looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. “It’s a little cloudy though. I don’t know. We might get wet out here.”

“We might,” Rivers mumbled. She was certain her heart had tried to quit beating. She felt cold, lonely, empty. Glancing up at Paxton, however, she knew she would not simply fade away, for the hammering in her chest at the sight of him reminded her that the broken heart beats on.

Paxton halted the team and helped Rivers down from the wagon as Weston assisted Jolee. Just the simplest touch, the feel of her hand in his, caused Rivers’s flesh to erupt into goose bumps. She wondered how she would endure life without such thrilling sensations to experience.

“Rivers has never seen the writin’ on the rocks over here, Weston,” Paxton remarked.

“It’s purty interestin’ if ya ask me, Rivers. How the Indians made pictures on the rocks and now we can look at ’em and try and figure what they were wantin’ to say,” Weston agreed, taking Jolee’s hand and leading her toward a nearby rock formation.

“You’re right. I guess Jolee wasn’t your friend yet when ya showed up on the front porch askin’ for work and lookin’ like a boy,” Paxton snapped in response.

“You’re being cruel to me, Paxton,” Rivers said, painful emotion rising within her.

“This here’s my favorite,” Weston called over his shoulder, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to join him and Jolee. “See here,” he explained. “This looks like a family to me. Ya see a man, a woman, then some children added in.” He smiled flirtatiously at Jolee, and Rivers reached out to touch the markings with her own hand.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “I wonder what they made these with. You would think they would’ve worn away by now.”

“I’m glad they haven’t,” Weston commented. “I’ve always found all this interestin’.”

Rivers glanced up at Paxton to find his gaze firmly affixed on her. She uncomfortably cleared her throat and moved to a different impression on a nearby stone.

“That ol’ tree is around here somewhere, ain’t it, Paxton?” Weston asked a few moments later.

“What ol’ tree?” Paxton grumbled. Rivers looked to him quickly, recognizing the irritated intonation of his voice.

“Don’t play the dumb dog there, boy,” Weston chuckled. “That ol’ tree everyone carves their names in. Yeah! There it is. Yonder,” he said, pointing to a huge and ancient-looking cottonwood. “Come on, Jo…I’ll show ya.” Taking her hand in his, he led her in the direction of the tree, motioning for Paxton and Rivers to follow.

Paxton paused, seeming determined not to follow. “Come on, you old grumpy Gus,” Rivers prodded, taking Paxton’s hand and tugging on it. Paxton sighed, obviously irritated, but followed. Somehow, Rivers’s curiosity was completely teased. She couldn’t think why he would be so unwilling to look at an old tree with names carved in it. Still, if she was going to endure the kind of heartache their pretending was causing her, he could at least look at the old tree.