Teton Splendor (9 page)

Chapter Nine

A horse snorted, and in the next instant, the young boy from the boat emerged from the thick foliage that grew in abundance along the banks of the Ohio River. The little fellow reminded Joseph of a drenched muskrat. The wet rags he wore clung to his thin body, and water still dripped from his unkempt hair. Trampling through the brush right behind the boy was Joseph’s horse.

Joseph sheathed his knife and relaxed his stance. He shifted weight from his right foot onto his left, and grimaced. Damn! He kept forgetting about that nasty gash in his side. It was about time that he took a look at his injury. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Sophie sat in a wet heap on the ground, shivering violently. Her lips had turned a shade of blue to match the dress she wore, and her eyes  appeared sunken and hollow. He had to get a fire started, and her out of those wet clothes, or she’d freeze to death by morning.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise,” Joseph said cheerfully, forcing his attention back to the boy. Astonished that the child had survived the river, he was also grateful for the temporary diversion. “How did you manage to round up my horse?”

“He dragged me through the river,” the little boy beamed brightly. He handed the reins to Joseph, and patted the gelding on the shoulder. The little tyke just barely reached past the horse’s belly.

“Did you know this was my horse?”

“Yep. I seen you with him earlier.” The boy avoided eye contact and stared at the ground.

“Well I thank you for bringing him to me. I need to get a fire going, and then I was gonna try and find something to eat. I bet you’re mighty hungry.”

“Yessir,” the boy answered eagerly, and lifted his head. His wide eyes were filled with hope. How long had this child not eaten?

“What’s your name?” Joseph asked conversationally while limping to his animal’s side. Thankfully, his rifle was still in its scabbard, although it would be useless for a while until it dried out. He pulled the gun from its sheath, water dripping everywhere. After inspecting the chamber, he set the rifle on the ground. He’d be practicing his knife and tomahawk throwing skills today if he hoped to catch anything to eat.

“My name’s Caleb, sir,” the young boy answered.

Joseph lifted the flap to his saddlebags, and pulled out a swath of oilskin. It was wet on the outside, but hopefully the shirt he had rolled up in it had remained somewhat dry. Untying his drenched blanket from the back of the saddle, he unrolled it and hung it over a low branch of one of the trees. Perhaps it would be dry enough later.

“You got a last name, Caleb?” Joseph glanced up from loosening the cinch on the saddle, and waited for the boy to answer. A look of apprehension passed through the child’s eyes. The boy’s eyes darted to where Sophie sat quietly on the ground. She hadn’t said a word.

“Why’s she cryin’?” Caleb asked, nodding toward her, his little forehead wrinkling in concern.

Joseph peered over his shoulder again. The need to start a fire to warm Sophie was more pressing at the moment than finding out what the boy was obviously hiding.  He grabbed the flint from his saddlebag. “She lost someone very close to her in that explosion,” he said, not taking his eyes off of her. Sophie slowly raised her head to him. Her expression remained stoic while her body continued to shiver. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Can you gather some wood for a fire, Caleb?”

“Yessir.” The boy scrambled off into the bushes.

Joseph limped toward Sophie and sank to his knees in front of her. He swiped at her tears with his thumbs. His palms lingered against her cheeks. Her skin was as cold as fresh snow in winter. A strong urge to kiss her again seared his insides. Joseph refused to contemplate his reaction to her. He had to stop this nonsense thinking. She was as soft and delicate as a spring flower, and not suited for a life in his mountains.  After she’d get a taste of winter in the Tetons, she would hightail it back to Boston as soon as the passes cleared next spring. He’d told himself repeatedly that he wouldn’t care for another woman who would only trample all over his heart when she returned to her former existence.

“Princess, you need to get out of these wet clothes,” he said slowly, his eyes on her. What sort of a reaction would his comment receive? “You’ll be a frozen icycle otherwise.” He held out his dry shirt. “You can put this on while your things dry out.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment, then nodded in compliance. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I’ll need help with the buttons at the back of my dress, and . . . and to loosen my corset.”

“Yeah. Of course,” he replied, and cleared his throat. Under different circumstances her request would have been far more enticing. With the memory of her kiss fresh on his mind, Joseph ground his teeth.

Dammit! Stop thinking about that
.

He scooted around her, grimacing at the pain in his side, and lifted his hands to her back. Her shivers continued while he worked the many buttons down the back of her dress. Her bronze skin contrasted sharply with her white undergarments when he parted the bodice.

Joseph had never seen a corset on a woman before, much less tried to remove one. He’d heard of the things and seen them displayed at the St. Louis dry goods stores, and always thought of them as an oddity.

“How do I . . . ah . . . remove this?” he asked, tentatively touching the stiff material.

“Just loosen the laces around the eyelets. I’ll be able to remove it myself once it’s not so tight,” Sophie answered listlessly.

Joseph quickly worked the lacings loose, searching for the right words to help her cope with her grief. He couldn’t think of anything to say at the moment that would ease her pain. In time, the loss would become more bearable.

When he was done, he quickly moved away from her. She’d have to do the rest of the undressing herself. His heart beat furiously in his chest, and despite the chill in the air seeping through his damp shirt, sweat beaded his forehead. Joseph cursed silently. The more he denied his attraction to her, the more his mind and body fought against him.

“You’ll find a private spot behind those shrubs over there,” he said, pointing to where Caleb had come from. He stood above her and held out his arm. Sophie glanced up at him, then placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up off the ground.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and offered a soft smile. Joseph swallowed, and nodded. Lowering her head, she clutched her hands to her chest to hold her dress up, and scurried behind the bushes.

Joseph followed her hasty retreat with hungry eyes. When she disappeared from view, he turned and ran a hand through his hair. He had anticipated an argument that she’d refuse to undress. Her willingness to cooperate was most surprising and it sure as hell didn’t help curb his attraction to her.

Thankfully, Caleb returned with an armful of twigs and branches at that moment, which he dropped at his feet.

“Can you pile up some kindling? Then we can get this fire started,” Joseph said, glad for the diversion the boy provided. Showing Caleb how to strike his flint against the sharp edge of his hunting knife, Joseph instructed him in how to start a campfire. When a sizeable blaze roared to life, he unbuckled his belt from around his waist.

“Are you a mountain man?” Caleb asked, staring wide-eyed at the tomahawk and small pouches dangling from the belt Joseph set down next to him.

“Some people would call me that,” he said. He pulled his shirt up and over his head, grimacing at the pain to his injured side. Glancing down, the area above his hip looked red and angry, and blood still trickled from a deep gash in the center. He spread his wet shirt in the grass close to the fire. He’d take a closer look at the wound later.

“Keep the fire going, Caleb. I’m gonna go see if I can find us something to eat.”

The boy stared at the injury, alarm registering on his face, but he didn’t say anything.

“Maybe you should get out of your wet shirt, too, before you catch cold,” Joseph suggested, reaching for his knife and tomahawk.

“I’m all right,” Caleb said quickly.

“Suit yourself.” Joseph shrugged, searching the boy’s face. Sooner or later, he was going to find out what the boy was hiding. He looked up, scanning the area to see where he might scare up a bird or some other small animal, when movement across the river caught his eye. A rider sat on a big dun horse, staring intently upriver. Debris from the steamboat accident continued to flow past. Joseph wondered how many people had survived and managed to reach dry land. He and Sophie had been swept quite a ways downriver. The man stared across the water directly at him, then yanked his horse’s head around and disappeared from view.

****

 Sophia huddled behind a screen of green shrubs and vines, and listened to Joseph’s deep voice as he instructed Caleb on how to build a fire. She clutched Joseph’s shirt tightly in her hands. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled deeply of the scent she recognized on him. A combination of leather and wood smoke, more masculine than any cologne the fine gentlemen of Boston doused themselves in.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” she whispered as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. How could she think about Joseph at a time like this? She had just lost one of the two people in her life who loved her unconditionally; who didn’t judge her based on the color of her skin. 

A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the shrubs behind her, and her shivering intensified. Sophia hung the shirt from a branch, and wriggled her arms out of the sleeves of her dress. The feeling of Joseph’s hands on her back lingered, just as her lips tingled from the memory of his kiss.

What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? Why had she thrown herself at him? She’d never done anything so brazen before in her entire life. The grief and shock over losing Lucy had left her dazed. Struggling to stay alive, to keep from drowning, had been terrifying. Joseph had been her life preserver. He’d put himself at risk in that river to save her, just as he’d defended her honor first in front of Andrew and then his father. At that moment when she flung her arms around him, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to have him hold and protect her, and forget about her grief and fear.

Joseph’s kiss had been nothing like Andrew’s. When Joseph wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, her entire body had come alive in a rush of sensations she didn’t know existed. Strong and intense, yet gentle and undemanding at the same time, his kiss left her wanting more rather than feeling repulsed and frightened. For a moment, she’d felt cherished, even loved. 

Just because you are infatuated with him doesn’t mean he returns your feelings.
You know nothing about him.
But, then why did he kiss you the way he did?

A completely different chill shook her that had nothing to do with the cold. Sophia sniffled, then wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress.  It was ruined already anyway. She struggled to pull the wet garment up and over her head. Why couldn’t she have worn a dress that had a separate skirt and bodice? This blue evening dress had always been one of her favorites. It complemented her dark hair and skin, and she had worn it specifically with the intent to see Joseph. A cold blast of air hit the bare skin on her arms when she finally managed to wrestle free of the dress. She hastily stepped out of the crinoline, and removed her corset. Once she shed the four layers of petticoats, she stood shivering in only her pantalets and chemise.

She eyed the shirt hanging on the tree branch. Joseph surely hadn’t meant for her to remove all of her clothes. The light cotton of her unmentionables would dry quick enough, even if she wore them. She was not going to strip down all the way to her birthday suit. With a shaky hand, she reached for Joseph’s shirt and pulled it on over her head. The material reached well past her hips and thighs, and she had to roll up the sleeves to free her hands. Still cold, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and glanced at the yards and yards of material strewn on the ground around her.  It reminded her of a caterpillar shedding its cocoon to begin a new life as a butterfly.