Rapture's Gold

by Rosanne Bittner

  She sucked in her breath, backing away. “See the light! You…you bastard! Get your clothes on and get out of here! You don’t love me! You just wanted to get me into bed! That’s all you’ve ever wanted! How much did you bet this time, Buck Hanner! How much will you win when you go back to town and announce that you conquered Harmony Jones?”

  He frowned, telling himself to calm down, to move carefully. He pulled on his long johns, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you really believe that? Do you think I’d make bets on a thing like that, or that I planned to make love to you when I got up here?”

  “Yes!” she retorted. She rubbed at her belly and he watched her with concern.

  “I hurt you.”

  “Yes, you hurt me!” she whimpered, her face red with anger and embarrassment. “I hope you’re satisfied.”

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Harmony, it always hurts at first, but then the hurt goes away.” He met her eyes. “It goes away, Harmony, and after that it’s all pleasure. Don’t do this, honey. I love you.”

  “I don’t want your love! I just want you to go away! I know all about love! You love people, and then they leave you! I loved my parents, and they left me on the docks. Two men came, drunk like you were last night! They were going to do to me what you did to me, when I was only six! That’s all men think about! That’s all they care about! If not for Brian…” She sucked in a sob. “And then Jimmie…he got drunk and tried it too. The only thing different this time is I was drunk along with you! Why did you do that? Why did you make me drink that whiskey? I didn’t want that to happen! I want you to go now! I’ll not love any man or be dependent on one. Do you hear? I came up here to pan for gold and to get rich. I’ll never, never trust or love anybody again, least of all a drifter like you who tricks a girl into his bed—a girl who’s never drunk whiskey before, never been with a man before!”

  He just watched her. She was so mixed up. He hated her damned parents, hated Jimmie, hated the men on the docks who had scared her to death so early in life, hated Brian O’Toole for leaving her.

  He stood up and began to dress. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Harmony, but put down the damned rifle. I’d never deliberately hurt you and you know it. Even in my drunken state last night, I’d have stopped if you’d asked me to. But you didn’t. And I’ll tell you one thing: whiskey makes most people tell the truth and follow their desires. You wanted me, and I think you still do. You told me last night you loved me.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it!” she retorted angrily. “And I’ll never forgive you for making me drink, for getting me all mixed up like that. You did it on purpose, Buck Hanner! You know you did!”

  He finished dressing, saying nothing. When he put on his hat, he turned to look at her. Then he walked straight up to her, yanking the rifle from her hands and throwing it on the bed. He knelt in front of her.

  “I’m damned sorry, Harmony. Does it hurt bad?”

  She reddened deeply. “Just go away.”

  “I don’t think you really want me to go. But I’ll go, because that’s the only way you’re going to realize you need me…and love me. And I love you, no matter what you say or do. Last night was the most beautiful experience I’ve ever shared with a girl. It didn’t happen just because of a challenge. It happened because I love you, Harmony Jones, and someday it will happen again, many times over, because someday you’re going to be my wife, when you think you’re woman enough for it.”

  He rose and walked to the door. He could only convince her that she loved and needed him by leaving her. It was the last thing he wanted to do now, but to stay would make her angrier. He wanted to hit her, yell at her, say things that would just make her hate him more; but he loved her too much to do any of these things. He hadn’t really intended for it to happen last night, but he was glad it had. She’d sure as hell have something to think about now, and he’d finally made sure he was Harmony Jones’s first man. It felt strange to bed a woman and still be challenged to win her over. If it weren’t so painful it would be almost humorous. Harmony Jones was truly the most stubborn person he’d ever met. He turned to her. She still sat pouting.

  “A hot bath helps,” he told her. “After I leave, heat some water and soak yourself.” He waited for her to look at him, but she didn’t. So he sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Shortcake. But I’m not sorry for making love to you in the first place. I love and respect you more now than I ever did, and there’s one thing you can’t change. I’ve laid my claim on you. You’re Buck Hanner’s woman now, not just little Harmony Jones. And you wanted me. I don’t give a damn how much you deny it this morning. You wanted me and you love me. You’ll realize that once I’m gone.”

  He walked out and closed the door.

  The cabin was dark, and tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to call him back, wanted to run to him, wanted him to hold her. What stopped her? Was she that afraid of trusting someone? Of course she loved him. But her mouth would not open, and her legs would not move. Moments later she heard the sound of hooves striking the hard earth. He was leaving, taking the pack mules.

  “Buck!” she whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Harmony wondered whether she would ever stop crying. Every day was the same. Rise, try to eat, work the sluice, fill the jars, feed Amber sometimes. The coyote seemed to be her only friend. While she went about her chores, tears came sporadically, in sudden, unexpected bursts. She wanted desperately to hate Buck Hanner, for loving him went against everything she had promised herself when she’d come out here. Yet he’d been right about whiskey making people admit the truth. It had been so easy to do then. Why was it so difficult when she was sober to say what she really felt? Was that due to fear?

  The tears came again. Of course it was fear—fear of being deserted. What if she admitted she loved him? What if she dared to trust him, gave her heart and soul to Buck Hanner, and then he left her? There was no forever in Harmony Jones’s life. Forever might be for some, but it was not for many. The mountains were forever, day led to night forever. But people were not forever, and she knew that if she opened herself to Buck Hanner, if she admitted her true feelings, she would have to admit she was desperately in love with him, more in love than she’d dreamed she could be. Her desire for him was wild and passionate, despite her vow never to entertain such feelings for a man.

  Day in and day out she worked, and she argued with herself. She loved him, but she shouldn’t. She trusted him, but she shouldn’t. She wanted him, but she shouldn’t. And through it all she saw his handsome, tanned, rugged face; his bright smile; his sky-blue eyes; his thick, sandy hair; and his broad, muscular shoulders. She could feel his strong arms around her, protecting her, keeping her safe from all harm. She could taste his sweet kisses; she shuddered with rapture at the memory of his velvet touch in secret places. Only Buck Hanner had seen and touched those places. That knowledge gave her a warm feeling that made her cheeks redden. She knew deep in her soul that what he had done meant she belonged to him, and she liked the idea of belonging to him. Yet that thought brought back her old fears.

  On and on her thoughts whirled, in a vicious circle. Buck Hanner had awakened cravings in her that must now be satisfied. One night had not been enough. Her curiosity had been temporarily satisfied, but doing so had awakened her passion. That was what must be satisfied.

  Yes, she must admit she had enjoyed his touch, his tender kisses. She hadn’t even minded the pain all that much. It was gone now, and that softened the memory of its severity. Could he be right when he said it hurts less each time? Surely it was true. Doing some things for the first time did cause pain, but after you got used to doing them, the pain usually went away. And there had been such a pitiful sorrow in his eyes when he’d realized he’d hurt her. He really seemed to be sorry. Maybe he did love her. He seemed so sincere. But why did he love her? No one had before. And why had he resorted to getting her drunk to make it easier to bed her? That
was a dirty trick. If he loved her he wouldn’t have tricked her that way.

  Still, maybe he hadn’t intended any of it to happen. He’d sworn he hadn’t planned it, and in her state, she had made herself flagrantly available to him. If he really did love and desire her, how could she have expected him to turn away from her vulnerability and curiosity? But, she reasoned, because he had taken advantage of that very vulnerability and innocent curiosity, he could not love her.

  For a month her thoughts whirled, day in and day out; yet each day she missed him more, became more afraid he wouldn’t come back. Maybe he would send someone else with supplies. But she didn’t want anyone else. She wanted Buck Hanner. Her attempts to convince herself that he was not worth having, that he was a drifter, that he had tricked her, that he could not be trusted, that he wanted some of her gold—all were to no avail. For she always came back to the same unwanted conclusion. She loved Buck Hanner, every beautiful inch of him, and every gentle, kind, generous part of him. He was a wonderful man, a good man, who had suffered many hurts and losses himself. He understood a shattered heart. He, too, was lonely, and she knew by his eyes that he meant it when he said he loved her.

  On top of all of that, he had made her a woman, his woman, and despite the pain that experience had been more gratifying than she had thought possible. The pain that lingered had frightened her, as did the realization of what she had done, and the knowledge that he had gotten her drunk. Because he had, she had thrown him out, had shouted hurtful words at him, words she now regretted. But he was not here for her to tell him so. She longed to feel his arms around her, to cry against his chest and to admit that she loved him. She was tired of fighting everything and everyone, of trying to be strong all by herself. Maybe it really was possible to love and trust. Maybe she really could belong to someone. Maybe she didn’t have to be afraid all the time, worried all the time.

  But then there was the gold claim to think about. She would not give it up. It was hers, Buck Hanner or no Buck Hanner. That was one thing that must not change. If he wanted her, he would have to let her keep working her claim. But maybe that was all he was after in the first place, a piece of her claim, a share of her gold. That was her biggest worry. Would he be as interested in her if she didn’t have this claim? All men lusted after gold. All men would do anything to get it.

  Reason told her that Buck Hanner was not like all men. He was one of the few who was different. He was his own man, strong and sure. He’d been in these mountains for a long time, yet he’d never bothered to prospect. He seemed to have no interest in doing so. He was simple, hard-working, very sure of himself—not one to wander the mountains searching for gold and leaving behind loved ones as Brian had. Somehow she sensed Buck would never do that. Every argument she gave herself was answered by the memory of the man himself, his gentleness, his sincerity, and the eyes—so true, so full of love. Yes, Buck would want her, gold claim or not. It wasn’t the gold, not with Buck, surely not with Buck.

  All that was soft and womanly about her had been aroused, stealing away her determination to be independent. She had been awakened by a man. She had learned that being with a man was very pleasing, that being a woman in the truest sense was extremely satisfying, and that wanting and needing a man was very sweet and very natural.

  But her reasoning, her admission of love, her resignation to her womanly feelings were to no avail, for Buck Hanner was gone. Once she had admitted her own feelings and had decided to believe that he loved her, she felt terrible about the way she had treated him. There was no mistaking the love and hurt in his eyes the morning she’d sent him packing. He’d been hurt many times, and now he’d been hurt again. She felt cruel, and she wondered if he thought of her that way. She couldn’t blame him if he did. Her tears of shame and doubt began turning to tears of love and remorse. What if he didn’t come back? What if she never saw Buck Hanner again! Maybe he would reach Cripple Creek and just keep riding, deciding that if she hated him so, he might as well forget her. After all, he had been a drifter for a long time, a lonely man, and he was a very proud man. She had injured his pride badly. She wondered if her own hurts and fears had turned her into a mean person. She felt like one, and she began to pray that Buck Hanner would come back. But there was no way of knowing whether he would, for winter was approaching, and soon he wouldn’t be able to get into the mountains at all. The weather was nice enough now, but what would it be like in two months, when he would normally return?

  September and October passed in autumn splendor, the aspen turning to brilliant gold, other foliage changing colors, the air crisp and clear. The nights became much colder, and she began using more wood. She worried about having enough. Buck had cut more for her, but she had sent him hopping so soon that he’d hadn’t had time to build up much of a store of it. She dressed warmly at night and used the wood conservatively.

  She allowed herself no spare time—no time to think and dream. That hurt too much, for all her lazy thoughts were of Buck Hanner and of the night he had done beautiful things to her, awakening her to splendor and ecstasy. She must not think about that, for Buck Hanner might never come back. She used all her spare time to hunt, smoking and storing up more meat; to fish; to cut more wood herself; to read; often just to pour out all the gold she had discovered and just look at it. At least if Buck Hanner did not return, she had this. Yet it was cold and hard to the touch. It could not love her back. It could not hold her or protect her, talk to her, laugh with her, kiss her, invade her. It could make her rich, but suddenly the thought of being rich and alone did not sit well with her young heart. Something more precious than gold had been presented to her—love—and she had thrown it away.

  She vowed that if Buck Hanner ever returned, she would never hurt him again, never send him away. She wanted to be his woman. She wanted to be loved and held. It was a nice feeling, a little frightening to be so trusting, but nice.

  By the end of November it had snowed often. Sometimes several feet had fallen overnight, but it melted away within hours because of the dry air. Then it got colder, and snow began to accumulate. She trudged through it, dug through it, did everything necessary to keep panning. She wondered who would help her if Buck had ridden off somewhere. She began trying to harden her heart a little against the possibility that he would never come back, that some stranger would come riding to her cabin to tell her he was her new guide and supplier. How could she trust anyone new? Such a man might be sent by Wade Tillis.

  She realized more and more that there were many reasons to hope Buck Hanner returned with the supplies. There was no way she could possibly trust anyone else. Buck Hanner had made her more dependent on him than she realized, whether she loved him or not.

  Yet what did any of it matter? If he didn’t come back, she didn’t care what happened to her. Nothing would matter anymore without Buck. And he’d been gone longer than the first time. Maybe something terrible had happened to him. Or maybe the worst had really happened—he had left her, left Cripple Creek forever, because she had hurt him so deeply. Hadn’t she told him she hated him?

  Again tears came too often. How could a person love and hate someone at the same time? But that was the way it was with her and Buck. She had hated him, but now she knew she loved him. He had loved her, but now maybe he hated her for being so mean to him. Why didn’t he come? Why was he taking so long this time? Her loneliness knew no bounds.

  Buck struggled with a long train of mules. In winter he took along more provisions than usual. The miners in the hills always needed more in winter. It felt good to be back out here alone, where he could really think. Jack Leads had sent him to Santa Fe with a huge order of supplies for an Apache Indian reservation. The trip had taken longer than he’d thought it would, for he’d been instructed to wait there for a load of supplies from Mexico, as well as trade goods from the Indian reservation.

  He’d been glad to be kept busy, so he wouldn’t go up the mountain to Harmony. She needed to be without him, the longer the
better. It was hard staying away, hard not going to her and begging her to love him, but he didn’t want her that way. It had to be her decision, her need, her desire. She had to know, inside herself, that she loved and wanted him. She had to admit to it and take him again without the help of whiskey.

  But to be away from her was the worst torture he’d ever experienced. Every inch of him ached for her. Every manly instinct told him he should be with her, holding her, protecting her, making sure nothing happened to her. But it was too painful to be around her and have her look at him with such hurt and hate. He couldn’t have picked a worse way to take her for the first time—getting her drunk first. It had only made her distrust him more. She was sure he’d tricked her. If only she hadn’t been so vulnerable, so sweet that night, so curious and easy…if only he’d had more willpower…But his own consumption of whiskey had broken down any resistance he had left. He’d loved and wanted her for too long, and now every part of him screamed for Harmony Jones.

  The memory of her sweet lips, her luscious body, her softness, roundness, the virgin nipples, the aching glory of invading her for the first time, all of these kept torturing him, invading his thoughts, his dreams, disturbing his sleep. He tried the whores, but that did no good. How could any woman satisfy him after he’d been with Harmony? No one was prettier or softer. No one was able to carry him to the heights of ecstasy he’d found the night he’d made love to the woman-child he thought he might never touch that way.

  Why had she come into his life? He had been stupid to volunteer to guide her. He should have known the moment he saw her in Cripple Creek, when she again aroused his desire as she had on the train, that he was headed for trouble. He’d vowed never to love again the way he’d loved Mary Beth, yet he wondered if perhaps he loved Harmony even more. Yes, he did. For he’d bedded Harmony, claimed her. He’d never had the chance to do that with Mary Beth. And his manly instincts told him that Harmony Jones belonged to him now, no matter what happened after this. She could never deny that, never deny that Buck Hanner had invaded her, made a woman of her. And he’d been direct and sincere when he’d told her he loved her.