Gunslinger's Daughter

by Margaret Tanner

  “My God, Georgina,” he groaned. “I want you so badly it’s killing me to be denied.”

  “If you want to, Marcus, we could…”

  “No, my darling.” He trembled against her. “When we consummate our marriage, we’ll do it in a nice comfortable bed by glowing lamp light so I can gaze upon your loveliness. I want us to be able to touch and taste each other. I want to make love to you slowly, to worship your body with mine.” He went on passionately. “It has to be perfect for you, not like it was before.” His eyes darkened with remorse. “I loathe myself for what happened by the creek. I could rip out my tongue when I think of the foul things I said to you.”

  “Sh.” She put a finger to his lips and he drew it gently into his mouth. “It doesn’t matter now. You love me and you married me and that’s all I care about.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” he promised huskily, reluctantly putting her from him and standing up.

  “We have to keep moving, Georgina, we’ve got a lot of miles to cover before dark. McGuire said we shouldn’t travel at night, too easy to get lost.”

  They mounted and rode away, and the midday sun beating down from a bright blue sky burned their backs. McGuire had told him of an inn where they could spend their first night, but they would have to camp out for the second one. After they picked up the boy, Marcus decided they would take a coach from Londrigan to Deadwood and spend a few days there before heading home. He wanted to take Georgina shopping for her and the boy. How they would cope with a child, who was little more than a baby, he couldn’t begin to imagine.

  On and on, they journeyed through great tracts of open range. George started to feel weary. She was used to roughing it, so how was Marcus coping? She kept glancing at him, but he did not seem to be showing any real signs of fatigue. When dressed in his fancy clothes he looked like a dandy, but he had spent time in the army and this obviously stood him in good stead now.

  The sun, drifting behind the distant ranges turned the sky pink. Shafts of crimson seeping across the mountains caused them to look as if they were awash with blood. As dusk fell, they arrived at a hotel on the edge of a small town. It had wooden shutters on the windows, and was surrounded by trees.

  A balding, overweight man greeted them at the door with a cheerful grin. “Patrick O’Dwyer at your service.”

  “I’m Marcus Lindquist, this is my wife Georgina. We need your best room for the night.”

  “We got married this morning,” George explained, dragging off her hat and causing her hair to tumble down over her shoulders. “That’s why we want something special.”

  “You’ll get it. I’ve got a private sitting room. I’ll take you there and the wife will get you a drink and something to eat. Bet you could do with a nice hot bath?”

  “Is it possible?” Marcus asked, trying to remember when he had ever felt so dirty.

  “Yes. I’ll get one of the men to see to your horses.”

  “We need to be up and about early tomorrow,” Marcus told Patrick as they followed him inside.

  The small sitting room contained four tables set with snowy cloths and gleaming cutlery. There was a brocade couch in one corner and two armchairs.

  “This is nice, Marcus.”

  “It’s surprising really. I didn’t expect to find a place like this out in the wilderness.”

  They sat on the couch. Patrick’s wife Maureen brought Marcus the whisky he had ordered and the coffee George asked for.

  “We’d like to have a bottle of your best champagne with our dinner,” Marcus instructed.

  After George finished her coffee, Maureen took her into a room running off the kitchen. A large tin bath filled with steaming water dominated the little room. George wished she had clean clothes to change into, but they were travelling light, because they wanted to collect Danny quickly in case the Shannons moved away. He was all she had left of Johnny.

  She lay in the warm soapy water with her eyes closed, and Johnny’s laughing face suddenly swam into view. I’ll look after Danny, I’ll treat him as if he were my own son, Marcus will, too.

  She glanced down at the simple gold wedding band and suddenly thought of Christina, the mother she could not remember. All the strange snippets of conversation, the veiled warnings from McGuire made sense now. I have to look forward, put the past and all its tragedy and betrayal behind me she thought fiercely. Tonight, I’ll truly become Marcus’ wife, and we’ll have years of happiness together.

  After she finished bathing, George made her way back to the sitting room so Marcus could use the tub.

  They enjoyed roast beef and vegetables slathered in gravy, with thick slices of freshly baked bread. For dessert, they had apple pie and freshly churned cream. She had one glass of champagne because Marcus insisted, but didn’t particularly like it.

  “An acquired taste, Georgina. If you don’t like it, leave it. I’d like to retire soon. I’m anxious for you, my darling.” Desire leapt like twin flames from his eyes.

  Later, in their bedroom, she eagerly went into Marcus’ arms. His mouth was hot, urgent against hers. Heated delight swirled through her as his hands and mouth explored at will. She felt as if her body had suddenly turned into a fireball.

  He moved away from her so his eyes could worship her naked loveliness. Such pure white skin. He stroked her from shoulder to thigh, and the surge of desire her beauty aroused, caused him to become almost light headed.

  She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She caressed his body, shyly at first, but gaining in confidence until she became wanton. She let her fingers close around his throbbing, silken shaft, while a trembling Marcus growled his approval.

  “I didn’t know it could be like this,” she whispered, letting him wake the passion that had lain dormant until he fanned it into life. She felt heat in the deepest recesses of her womanhood. Her desire burned like a raging fire, and only Marcus could quell it.

  When their desire was finally slaked, they slept.

  * * *

  They set off at first light after a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and biscuits. This leg of their journey would be the longest and most arduous. In many places, the track disappeared into the forest. Their pace in the summer sun was steady rather than speedy, but the closer they got to Londrigan, the more apprehensive George became. What if the Shannons were gone? Johnny would never be lost to her if she had his son.

  They passed no one. “I can’t believe what a vast empty land this is,” Marcus remarked.

  When night fell, they camped by a creek. George got a campfire going while Marcus attended to their horses. They toasted bread on a fork over the flames, and piled beans on top.

  “What do you think of cowboy vittles, Marcus?”

  “Nice,” he said, tucking in with gusto. With his hair ruffled, a dark shadow of beard on his jaw, and dressed in trousers, had he been wearing a holster he could easily have passed for a cowboy. His only weapon was rifle.

  They built up the fire even though it was warm, to keep wild animals at bay, then stretched out on their bedrolls. They did not speak, but almost at the same time, moved closer together and George went eagerly into Marcus’ arms.

  His mouth claimed hers in a long passionate kiss. His tongue, darting and flicking inside her mouth set her nerve endings on fire. She opened his shirt and rested her palms on his bare chest. Slowly, she moved her hands down his body, and he noisily sucked in his breath when her fingers slipped inside the waist band of his trousers.

  “No, Georgina, please.”

  “Yes. I want us to make love out here with the grass under our backs.”

  The black velvet sky was pin pricked with a million twinkling stars while the fire threw out a comforting glow. Their bodies were seared together by mutual desire. The night birds serenaded them, and Marcus had never experienced anything so sensual.

  “Oh, my darling,” he groaned, unbuttoning her shirt with trembling fingers. He put his tongue out to touch the warm tip of one nipple, whi
le he covered her other one with his hand. Soon this wasn’t enough. He started suckling her breast like a baby, while George worked frantically on his trousers.

  She wanted him now. She couldn’t wait a second longer. She was burning up with need. White hot flames licked at her body and only Marcus could extinguish them. George had never known such exquisite agony.

  Their need became so great, so urgent they could not be denied any longer. They wanted to feel bare flesh searing bare flesh. When they were both naked, Marcus rolled off the blanket so the cushioning grasses could caress their skin. The man in the moon stared down on them from beneath his silvery halo, bathing nature’s bed in a translucent light.

  George’s welcoming body was hot and moist, like the petals of a rosebud opening to receive the sun. She let Marcus slip inside, thrusting, drawing back then thrusting a little further into her warm depth.

  Suddenly, George’s ripening womanhood exploded into life, convulsing and closing around Marcus like a sheath, drawing him in deeper and deeper. Her eyes were tightly closed, because the stars going off inside her head appeared so bright they were blinding. Instinctively, she put her hands on his buttocks and pushed his body into hers.

  “Georgina,” he cried out when his control completely snapped. His wild thrusting took him in further than he had ever been before. George felt as if he had touched her womb. Instinctively she knew, tonight under a prairie sky, Marcus would give her a child. As she plunged from the pinnacle of passion, and sanity returned, she started weeping because she never wanted it to end.

  “Oh, Marcus,” she sobbed. “You won’t leave me?”

  “Never, my darling.” He wrapped his legs around her and they lay together, joined as only a man and a woman united in love can be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Shannon cabin was small, built from rough logs, with a stone chimney at the back. Marcus was amazed at how people could live in such primitive places.

  A tall, bearded young man came out to greet them.

  “Is your name Shannon?” Marcus asked him.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m Marcus Lindquist, this is my wife Georgina.”

  “Yes, I’m Michael Shannon. What do you want?”

  “We’ve come to collect Johnny’s son,” George interrupted. “I’m his sister.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I am. Johnny’s dead. He wants me to have his son now his grandmother can’t look after him.”

  “Johnny’s dead?”

  “Yes, hired guns shot him,” Marcus said.

  “Sonofabitch,” Michael spat the word out. “I rode with Johnny for a while, that’s how he met my sister Sarah.” His mouth twisted. “We had a falling out over the way he treated her. Still, I’ll give him his due once he knew she was with child he married her. Took off the day after the wedding, though. Come inside, Danny’s having a sleep. Ma hasn’t got long. There’s no other woman to look after him, that’s why I sent word for Johnny to claim the boy.”

  Marcus suppressed a shudder as they entered the cabin. It looked clean, but had a dirt floor and the walls were lined with newspapers. The chairs and table were hewn from tree trunks. It was even more primitive than McGuires, he at least had proper furniture.

  A wizened woman with yellow, parchment like skin sat in a rocking chair.

  “Johnny bought it for her,” Michael explained, following Georgina’s eyes.

  “You’ve brought someone to see me, son?” Georgina picked up the Irish accent straight away.

  “Mrs. Shannon, I’m Johnny’s sister.”

  “So, you’re George, he mentioned you often.”

  “This is my husband, Marcus.”

  “How do you do, Mrs. Shannon?”

  “You married an Englishman?”

  “Ma, don’t get upset, Johnny’s dead. George has come to collect Danny.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s the light of my life is little Danny. Wish to God I were well enough to keep him. He’s all I’ve got left of my poor Sarah.”

  “We’ll look after him.” George knelt beside the chair and picked up the woman’s wasted hand. “I’ll love him as if he was my own. He’s all I’ve got left of Johnny.” George’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Jesus, you bloody women,” Michael said.

  “Don’t blaspheme,” his mother admonished. “Get them some coffee, son.”

  “I’ll do it.” George jumped up. “You’ll have to tell me all Danny’s likes and dislikes, Mrs. Shannon.”

  “After I’m gone, Michael is going to leave here, too many sad memories.”

  “Yeah, well it was never much of a place anyway, Ma.”

  “Do you know anything about horses?” Marcus asked.

  “I’m the best horse breaker in these parts, that’s how I met Johnny.”

  “Well, I could have a job for you. I intend starting up a horse stud, supplying mounts for the army, I’ve got a few military connections out here,” George heard Marcus say as she poured the coffee into tin mugs.

  “There’s a cabin for your mother, too.”

  Behind Mrs. Shannon’s back Michael shook his head. “Sounds good, Ma, you’ll be near Danny, too.”

  “Yes, son.” Mrs. Shannon gave a wistful smile.

  After they finished their coffee, Marcus and Michael walked outside. George forced herself not to dash into where Danny slept and grab him.

  “Did Johnny visit here much?”

  “A few times before Sarah had the baby, once afterward. Stayed long enough to get her in the family way again, then he was off. After she died, he called in once, said if anything happened to me, you would look out for Danny.”

  “Johnny wasn’t a bad person, Mrs. Shannon, he was just a little wild. A rolling stone, McGuire called him. I didn’t even know about Sarah or Danny until a few days ago. Hired guns ambushed Johnny and shot him, with his dying breath he made me promise to look after his son.”

  “I don’t blame the boy completely,” Mrs. Shannon went on sadly. “Sarah was sixteen when they met. She fell madly in love with him, threw herself at his head, and you know men.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “She was a pretty gal, my Sarah.”

  “I’m sure she was. How did she die?”

  “Miscarried, caught child bed fever and was too weak to fight it off, I suppose. That was about six months back. Michael and I have been struggling along ever since. I haven’t been well for a couple of years, got a growth. It’s eating me away, but I’d have to be dead before I let anyone take Danny to the foundling asylum,” she finished off passionately. “I only hung out this long because of him.”

  “How old is Danny?”

  “Two.”

  The same age as me when my parents were murdered.

  * * *

  Marcus and Michael had just returned when a noise came from behind the piece of calico dividing this room from the sleeping quarters. A child toddled out, a boy with Johnny’s dark curls and impish smile, but George’s green eyes.

  She scooped him up. “Danny, Danny.” She rained kisses all over his face.

  The child kicked and screamed. “Ma. Ma.”

  “Put him down, Georgina.” Marcus ordered quietly.

  “He doesn’t like me,” she whispered brokenly.

  “We’re strangers to him,” Marcus said gently, gazing into her stricken face. “Give him time.”

  Michael took the boy from Georgina and handed him over to his mother.

  “I know it’s stupid, but I wanted him to love me straight away.”

  “He’ll love you,” Mrs. Shannon assured as she rocked Danny on her lap. “Who couldn’t love a pretty gal like you? You were just frightened, weren’t you, Danny boy?”

  “We had hoped to take the child and leave straight away. I wanted to spend a night in Londrigan before taking the coach to Deadwood,” Marcus said. “There are a few legal matters I must attend to, and Georgina and Danny will need new clothes.”

  Danny wriggled off M
rs. Shannon’s lap and headed toward Marcus. “He’s a fine little fellow. You certainly did well by him.”

  A chubby baby hand touched the top of Marcus’ boot, then he raised his arms. Marcus picked him up and sat him on his knee. “Is this what you want?” He laughed as he gave the child his fob watch to play with. “You see, Georgina my love, you should have been wearing a colorful bauble to catch his eye.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” She edged toward Danny this time. “Don’t shrink from me, darling,” she said softy, putting out her hand to ruffle his curls. “I’m going to be your Ma from now on.”

  “I’ll get his things ready. There isn’t much, only a couple of toys and some papers.” Mrs. Shannon shuffled away. She was bent double and George thought she looked ready to snap in half at any moment.

  She came back with an old rag doll, several wooden blocks, a picture book and a few items of clothing. “Not much, the doll and book belonged to Sarah.” She handed the things to George and gave Marcus several sheets of paper. “To do with the marriage and Danny’s birth. Go now, better than prolonging the agony.”

  “Thank you, I swear we’ll look after him for you,” George promised.

  “I know. I wouldn’t have let you take him otherwise. Goodbye, Danny boy; see them off, Michael.”

  George’s eyes were full of tears as she kissed Mrs. Shannon goodbye.

  “God be with the three of you,” the woman said. “I can die easy now.”

  “Maybe we should stay with you until…”

  “No, Michael will see to me. When I’m gone, he’ll join you.”

  Marcus still held Danny who played happily with the watch. Michael held him while Marcus mounted then gave the boy back to him.

  “I’ll be seeing you in a few weeks I expect. As soon as Ma goes, I’ll leave this cursed place.”

  “I’m sorry.” George didn’t know what else to say.

  “She’ll die a happy woman knowing Danny’s safe.”

  As they rode away, George turned around to give one final wave to Michael Shannon. She glanced at little Danny sitting happily in front of Marcus, still playing with the watch, his chubby baby fingers trying to pick it open.