Beyond the Broken Road, page 15
“Wanted me back then? I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a homely, dried-up woman.”
He chuckled. “You are huh? Well, if you’re dried up, you don’t have to be. You can flow like the breezes through the trees, the river in the bottom of a canyon. You know it’s in you. And homely? You have to be joking.”
“Not at all. I’m not pretty one bit. I know that.”
He smiled, his eyes smoky with the reflected firelight. “No, you’re not. You are beautiful, with exotic, finely drawn features, eyes so dark that a man could fall right into them and never want to come out. Your face has expression in it, shows everything you are thinking from that wet squirrel look, to right now when you look soft and desirable, your body wanting things you don’t even know about yet. I could teach you about all that, Abby. You want it. You know you do.”
Her heart began to beat more quickly. "I'm not ready," she whispered, knowing from her body’s reaction that she wasn’t being honest. Physically she was ready for things she’d never even imagined but emotionally. Emotionally, she was afraid. She wanted so much but what then? Could she then ever return to the life she had left?
"I told you once you'd have to beg me to take you into my bed. I might have bent that some--begging won't be required." He took her hand in his and kissed the fingers, his lips lingering. "But I promise you, I'll never force you. It wouldn't be worth much that way."
She didn't know whether to feel glad or disappointed at his firm statement. She didn’t want to be forced, but she was afraid of yielding. Not so much for the physical act itself as for what it would mean afterward. She saw by the steady expression in his eyes that he meant what he'd said. If she ever did come to him, she and he would both know it was for no other reason than that she wanted him.
"I’ll need some sizes,” he said, if you don’t want to keep wearing what you are into rags,” He grinned.
"It would be nice to be able to change. I'd sew a dress from cloth, except--"
He grinned. "You can't sew any better than you can cook."
"Maybe a tiny bit better." She smiled
"There are other things… that matter more to a man.” His smile was slow and so seductive that she felt herself melt. She wondered what would come next and realized that several possibilities were occurring to her. She thought about touching his lips with her fingertips and to resist the temptation brought her hands together on her lap.
He sighed. “I’ll have to get an early start tomorrow, guess I should head for bed.”
That she had not expected. She looked at him, knowing her surprise showed in her eyes as he grinned. “And you aren’t ready for anything more. You know it, and I see it. I don’t want anything you’ll regret the next morning.”
She managed a shaky smile. That was true, but she didn’t want to face it. She wanted… She didn’t know what she wanted and so rose as he did. She watched as he blew out the lamps; then followed him down the hall toward the bedrooms. At her door, he released her hand, which she'd barely realized he'd been holding. "I won't see you in the morning, but Ollie will keep an eye on things. I should be back by nightfall; but if I’m not, don’t worry."
"Keeping an eye on things? Like me to make sure I don’t leave?"
His smile vanished. "I told you if you want to leave you can. You decide on that, just tell him. Your horse is in the pasture below the barn. Ollie will take you wherever you want to go." With that, he was gone. She was left to light her own bedroom lamp and to know that she'd hurt him. She thought of apologizing, but given the heat of her own feelings, the look in his eyes, she knew going to his room wasn't wise unless she was ready for more from him, and she wasn't...
Lying in bed, Abigail thought over her strange day, learning to cook from an aging rustler, entertaining an outlaw gang, and finally sitting on the sofa with Sam as though they were a married couple. She swallowed back tears. Although she had never thought she wanted to be married, never wanted to be subservient to some man, she let her mind consider how it might be if he was her husband. What if he was lying beside her right now, naked and ready to teach her all the things he knew about her body, about how to please his body?
The tears ran down her cheeks and onto the pillow. It was such an impossible dream. He was a rustler and she a spinster. Never the twain should have met, and to what could it lead but more tears? There was no hope for them. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.
CHAPTER 12
Abby, eyes still swollen from the tears of the night before, didn't hear Sam ride out in the morning, but she felt his absence in her soul. That scared her as much as her confused feelings of the night before. She dashed water in her eyes and managed a smile for Ollie when he came to the kitchen, showing her how to bank the stove for bread making. Together they put together the ingredients for loaves of bread. She worked out some of her internal frustration as she kneaded the dough into the yeasty loaves.
When Ollie had disappeared to take care of the outside chores, Abby took Sam's dry shirts and pants from the line and brought them into the house. The shirts smelled of soap and the outdoors. She brought a basin of water into her bedroom to wash, doing the best she could with brushing off her riding skirt. She passed the remainder of the day sorting through the books, dusting furniture and watching for the dust of a horse in the distance.
She sat on the porch and watched the sun go down. A waxing moon rose over the hills to the east. Her mind was blank. She didn’t try to think of what she would do nor why she missed that man so much. She thought of how she had seemed to know him the moment she saw him in Tucson. How her heart leaped when he came near her. She forced all that from her mind. She could make no choices right now. She could only sit and watch the moon, the stars, the distant hills, hear the sounds of the men laughing in the bunkhouse and then silence, except for the yodel of coyotes in the distance, that seemed so complete it enveloped her in its warmth.
Sam wasn’t going to make it home before morning. She didn’t know what time she knew that, but it was clear he had decided to spend the night in whatever town he had gone. Maybe he’d gone whoring—to one of those women who laughed at all his jokes, a woman who knew how to please a man. She felt her jaw clenching and forced herself to relax. She couldn’t be other than she was. She would never know how to please a man. Never know the secrets of the flesh.
Back in the house, she picked up the shotgun from the kitchen. Certain that Sam wouldn’t be riding back this late, she bolted the doors before she undressed and slid between her covers. She lay there uneasily, still determined to not think, not attempt to plan anything. She just needed to sleep and set her mind to that.
It seemed she lay there a long while, hearing the night birds, a hawk shriek in the distance, little creatures scurrying around outside. When she slept, her dreams were filled with some kind of monster chasing her in a wooded forest. When did the monster change? Or had it always been Sam? Because it was him ravishing her, kissing her, making her body his plaything.
The sound of hooves outside woke her from her restless sleep. At first, she felt relieved Sam was home. Then she knew it wasn't him. Two horses. She heard sounds of dismounting, and she got out of bed, put on the big shirt she'd been wearing, grabbed the shotgun and hurried to the great room.
She heard the kitchen door rattle followed by silence and the sounds of boots across the porch. She was frightened but surprisingly steady. Someone was opening a window. A dark shadow seemed to fill the open space. It was only when he stood, when she felt the energy of the room change, that she knew it was Sam.
She made a small sound, not much but enough to alert him. He had to see her with even the limited moonlight flooding the room and walked toward her. For a reason she couldn’t understand, she didn't put the shotgun down.
He stopped scant feet from her. "Interesting view to come home to," he said.
She swallowed hard, torn between the urge to throw herself in his arms or to throttle him for coming in like that and scaring her half to death. "What do you mean?"
"I can see you got damned pretty legs, but then there’s that third leg pointing at me, looking like it’d like to blow me to kingdom come or wherever I’m heading after here.” He threw his hat backward landing it squarely on the sofa and took another step toward her.
"I thought you weren't coming home tonight. I was scared when I heard two horses outside."
"One was a pack animal.” He took another step. She knew she ought to put the gun down, but she didn’t. He didn't order her, as he advanced toward her, each step slow and measured with no hesitation.
He only stopped when the gun was pressed against his chest. "You fixing to use this?"
"I was scared."
"Still are, I'd guess."
“Some.”
"I told you if you ever pointed a gun at anyone, don't make it a bluff. Now in a minute, I'm going to take that gun out of your hands, then I'm going to put myself into them. If you don't want that, you better pull the trigger." His teeth flashed white in the moonlight. That smile told her he meant exactly what he said.
She lowered her eyes, then the gun, putting it carefully onto a stand beside her. He reached out and took her into his arms, pulling her against his body. Pressed against her body was his belt buckle, the soft fabric of his shirt now under her fingers. She could have pushed away, but instead, she threw her arms around him. Her fingers delved into the thick hair at the back of his neck.
“When I come back to you, this going to be my usual greeting?” he asked with a chuckle.
"Which one?" His laughter deepened, and she could feel it vibrate into her.
"I'm glad you're safely home," she whispered against his chest.
"Lady, you've got a strange way of showing it."
"I didn’t have my finger on the trigger... after I knew it was you anyway."
He smiled and then bent to claim her lips. He had kissed her passionately before, but never with such a claiming as he parted her lips with his tongue, then delved within. She felt the impact of the kiss through her whole body as she clung to him, aware that under that big white shirt she was naked and could feel his hands against her buttocks, pressing her against him, making her feel his hardness. Before she realized what she was doing, she moved her own tongue to tease his lips and enter his mouth as he'd done hers.
It was as though she melted into him as their bodies strained together. She wanted something more. His hands were now under her shirt, against her bare skin, stroking her buttocks. She wanted him to take off her shirt, to peel away the layers, to teach her all that he knew. And then she felt frightened. He would suck her into him. There would be no way to walk away if she ever let him possess her so completely, and he would possess her completely.
Her mind dazed with the passion, her body fighting for what it wanted, she forced herself to push away. She didn’t expect him to so quickly step back. She felt a chill.
He smiled, his eyes smoky with his desire, his breath was coming hard. “I liked that. Did you?”
“You know I did.”
“Do I?”
"I missed you.”
“Good, I bought you some presents but first I’m hungry. Anything left around here to eat?"
"OIllie taught me to make bread today. It didn't turn out too badly. I could slice some for you, dip it in egg and fry it... I think there is an egg or two left."
He smiled. "Maybe you'd like to keep some chickens."
Her smile widened. "I've never had chickens, actually only seen them from a distance, but I... yes, I’d like to have chickens."
In the kitchen, he lit the lamp as she rekindled the fire in the stove. He sat in a chair at the table, his leg thrown on the one beside him and watched her work for a moment. “I forget my head when I’m with you. I still gotta take care of the horses. Be right back." He rose from his chair and went outside, leaving the room darker and less inviting. She could not believe how his energy filled a room, filled her.
As she worked at the stove, she thought about the whirlwind of emotions that Sam Ryker carried with him. Like a vortex, he left her panting for breath. From the time he'd come home, he'd taken her from fear to anger to passion, to caring, and back through the whole range of emotions. She had been eager to see him, afraid of his appearance, afraid of her own responses. By the time he had returned bringing with him sacks filled with the food he'd purchased, Abby had fixed a fresh pot of coffee and fried up the bread. She poured him a cup of coffee and set the plate of food in front of him.
“This looks great, Abby. Thank you,” he said, taking a quick sip of the coffee before he began eating. She put away the supplies, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at knowing she had prepared what he was eating.
"Want your gift?” he asked as he put his fork down.
“What is it?”
“Got to open it to find out.” He laid a small parcel, wrapped in plain paper on the table.
She felt afraid that he'd bought her a wedding ring. She had married him. She should have a ring if she had truly been a wife. But she was not. If he gave her a ring now, she couldn’t wear it. How would he feel about that if she rejected his gift?
His smile disappeared. "You won't take a present from me?" he asked, his voice coolly emotionless, but she'd already seen the disappointment.
She had no choice, so she took the package, thanked him, and managed a smile as she undid the string, then folded back the paper. She was shocked to find a silver hair clip.
"I thought women liked things for their hair. You've been tying yours back with a piece of leather. This would look prettier. If you don't like it, you don't have to keep it."
She shook her head, fought against yielding to tears. "I love it. It's a most considerate and beautiful gift. Thank you."
He reached into the saddlebag he'd put beside his chair and handed her another wrapped parcel. "Maybe you'll like this too then."
Because it was larger, she had no hesitation and opened the gift, smiling when she saw the brush and comb, also of silver. She looked up at him. "They're beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much."
She heard a sigh of relief that she realized he'd only let out when he saw the pleasure on her face. "I wanted to buy you a dress. I'd have gone to Harshaw instead of Tubac if I hadn't been hoping there was a dressmaker there." He shrugged. "No luck though. I did buy you some boys' pants and shirts that ought to fit well enough. At least it'll give you something to change into; and when I go south again, I can find more."
She swallowed, grateful for the gifts, but not liking to hear any reference to his riding south. Hopefully, she would be able to convince him not to return there, not to do something so wrong and dangerous; but he was tired. Tonight, was not the time to argue her points. She would wait.
She half expected Sam to suggest they sleep together, but he headed for the room he had been using, leaving her alone. Later, she lay in her room, in the darkness ,thinking about what she felt with him near her. No longer did the night seem filled with possible dangers. Instead, it was filled with images, throbbing sensations, and forbidden dreams.
“Are there any women living near here?” Abby asked as Sam manfully struggled to eat more than a few bites of the gummy oatmeal she had cooked.
He managed to swallow the lump in his mouth, washing it down with coffee to avoid choking. "What?" he asked when he could.
"You know, other ladies nearby. Neighbors."
Sam nearly forgot the question in the pleasure of watching her moving around his kitchen. She had worn the new shirt he'd bought her, a green plaid that accentuated her figure defined her. He liked seeing her in things he'd bought and would be glad when the leather skirt wasn't required. He'd see to that on his next trip south. Nightgowns too, lacy ones. Nogales had a lot of shops.
Abby looked at him, her mouth open as though to renew her questioning when Ollie came through the kitchen door. Fortunately, from Sam's perspective, saving him from having to admit he'd already forgotten her question.
"You are going to have to start knocking," Sam told him as Abby poured Ollie coffee, then reheated Sam's.
Ollie scowled at him. "What fer?"
"You might interrupt us by barging in, besides, I don't think Abby likes it," Sam said, shifting the blame for his decision to Abby's shoulders.
Although it was true she would prefer a warning knock, she didn't intend to let herself be put between Sam and his best friend. "That's for you two to work out, Sam.”
He took a drink of his coffee, burned his mouth, and grimaced. "What did you want?" he asked when he could get out the words without coughing.
"Boys just wondered when we'd finish breaking those horses."
"I have to chop wood this morning. We're almost out of kindling," Sam said. “Have them start without me."
Ollie gave him a peculiar look but finished his coffee in a few gulps and was gone with no further questions.
"Why was he so surprised by that?" she asked as she cleared the table.
"I don't usually let them handle the horses without me. Some of them get too rough. Horses do better with a gentle hand.” The expression in his eyes told her it was also how he saw a man handled a woman.
"Then you shouldn't today either. I could chop the wood." She smiled as she realized how silly that sounded.
“Can you?”
“Of course.
“Have you ever done it?”
“Well, no, but how hard can it be?”
"I'll chop the wood," Sam said, rising. "I like your pretty little toes just the way they are." He grinned at her embarrassed flush as they both looked down at her bare feet.
Abby hadn't gone without shoes so much since she'd been a child. No, that was wrong. She'd never been allowed to go barefoot then either. She liked the feel of the smooth wood floors under her feet, liked the way it felt when her toes spread out instead of being pushed tightly together.
