Kentucky Bride

by Norah Hess

  In the barn, D'lise made short work of milking Spider, pitching hay to her and to Beauty, and scattering corn for her hens. She didn't take the time to gather any eggs that might have been laid that day.

  Nevertheless, for all her hurrying, when she stepped out of the barn she found that night had fallen, dark and starless with lightning zig-zagging across the sky. It was going to storm, and soon. A deafening crash of thunder shook the hills and she broke into a run, arriving at the cabin just as the storm broke in a wild fury.

  D'lise slammed the door behind her and Hound, and hurried to close all the shutters as the rain came down in torrents. She sat down in one of the rockers, trying to ignore the almost continuous glare of lightning that that pierced its way through the narrow cracks of the shutters, followed by peals of thunder reverberating through the hills.

  Where was Kane? she wondered. No doubt somewhere with Raven, all cozy out of the rain, without a thought of his wife cowering every time the thunder crashed.

  A sneaking suspicion had entered D'lise's mind as she milked the cow. Had Kane deliberately started an argument, giving him an excuse to ride away, to search out Raven? She didn't want to believe that, but the thought wouldn't go away. He couldn't be that jealous of Samuel simply talking to her.

  After a couple of hours, the wind died down and the thunder rumbled in the distance; the rain fell gently. The clock struck the quarter hour to ten, and D'lise gave up hope that Kane was coming home. She dropped the bar on both doors, picked up the candle holder, and walked to the bedroom. She stripped to the skin, then pulled a lightweight gown over her head.

  I'll never get to sleep, she thought, sinking down into the feather mattress. The welcoming warmth it would give on cold winter nights was smothering in the heat of late June. Tomorrow she would take it off and store it in the loft until cold weather… if she was still here.

  And just as annoying, a pine branch outside her window tapped and scratched on the glass. Then Scrag, banished from her bed by Kane, came to curl up beside her. His loud purring took away some of the emptiness where Kane should be lying, and her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

  The gallop Kane had put the stallion to slowed to a canter, then became a trot. Kane's rage had left him before he left the cabin and now only jealousy and self-contempt remained. He stared moodily ahead, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. He was beginning to learn, to understand the helpless love his uncle had held for his whorish wife. All these years he'd called the man spineless, accused him of having no self-respect, and now his uncle's nephew was following in his footsteps.

  Just like his uncle Buck, he had married a woman much younger than himself, and one of exceptional beauty. All those years when he had deliberately chosen plain, sometimes downright ugly women, had all been for nothing.

  "God, I don't want to love her," Kane whispered, his throat constricting, "but I do. She is like a disease that won't let up, always eatin' away at me."

  The village came in view and he urged the stallion into a gallop. He wanted to get to Buck's tavern and pour whiskey down his throat until his brain was numb. Maybe then he'd forget the wife whose beauty drew other men to her.

  His trapper friends sat on the wide porch that fronted the fur post, lazing away the day, when Kane drew rein and dismounted. "Hey, stranger," someone called as he flipped the reins over a long hitching post. "We ain't seen you in a new moon. The little wife sure is keepin' you home. She got you tied to her apron strings, friend?"

  When Kane turned from the stallion and faced the loungers, those who would have taken up the ribbing snapped their mouths shut. Kane's face rivaled the dark clouds building overhead. It was clear he had something on his mind—he was dark and brooding.

  "I was only joshin' you, Kane," the man who had spoken hurried to say as he slapped Kane on the back. "It's good to see you again. You got time to have a drink with us?"

  "I got all day," Kane growled, and led the way into the tavern end of the post.

  "Well, howdy, Kane." Buck Thomas grinned at Kane as he and his friends bellied up to the bar. "What brings you in? Have you finished buildin' that new cabin for D'lise? The last time she was in town, that's all she talked about."

  Kane's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. "When was D'lise in here?"

  Buck gave him a startled look. "Your wife wasn't in here, man. You oughta know better than that. I ran into her and Ellen Travis comin' out of Majors's store one day. We chatted a while, and I asked her how my kid was doin' on that fence. She said he done a fine job; then she rattled on about the cabin you was buildin' her."

  Kane felt foolish, and the red that crept up to his hairline gave the fact away. Of course D'lise would never enter a tavern. He ordered a bottle of whiskey and some glasses for his companions. As he filled his own glass, then pushed the bottle down to be grabbed by the trapper at the end of the bar, he asked himself why D'lise hadn't mentioned seeing Buck. He remembered the day two weeks ago when Ellen came by, inviting D'lise to her home for luncheon, saying that Sarah Patton and Claudie Jacobs would be there also.

  His fingers turned white, he gripped the glass so hard. Had it all been a hoax, an excuse for Majors to see D'lise? His heart gave a painful beat. Had his wife been in on the deception also? If not, why hadn't she mentioned seeing Buck? Was it because she hadn't spent all her time at Ellen's, maybe none of it? Had she been with the storekeeper all that time?

  Kane downed the whiskey in his glass, then splashed it full again.

  The tavern whores, who had been inching closer and closer to the bar, wondering if any of the trappers—especially Kane—could be coaxed across the street to their quarters, decided it was worth trying.

  "Hi there, Devlin." One woman sidled up to Kane. "I've missed you all these past months. Did you finally get lonesome for Corrie?"

  "How you been, Corrie?" Kane hung a loose arm across the woman's plump shoulders.

  "Like I said, I been missin' you." She leaned into his lean frame. "Everyone's been sayin' you're so wrapped up in your bride that we won't be seein' you around anymore." She laid a hand on his hip. "But I knew better. I told the girls that you'd miss your rowdy lovin' and come visit me again."

  When Corrie's fingers started inching toward Kane's crotch, he removed his arm and turned his body back to face the bar, dislodging her hand. "Look, Corrie," he said, almost overcome from her body odor and the strong perfume she had liberally patted on her shoulders and between her heavy breasts, "right now I want to visit with my friends. I'll talk with you some more later on, all right?"

  "Sure, Devlin," Corrie agreed, reading what she wanted to in his words—a promise to take her to bed later on. "When you're ready, just go across the street and I'll be right behind you." She gave his arm a squeeze, then sat down at a table in a corner and crossed her legs, waiting for Kane to signal that he was ready for her.

  The whore grew tired of waiting as the sun started its westward path, and Kane gave no hint of needing her soon. He and his friends had shoved two tables together and now sat talking about trapping as they passed a bottle among them. Corrie noted that Kane drank more than the others, and she frowned.

  "A few more drinks and he ain't gonna be worth spit in bed," she complained to the others.

  "I don't think he ever had in mind to bed you," one of the whores taunted Corrie. "If he did, he'd have done it by now."

  "That's a lie, Maybelle," Corrie snapped indignantly.

  "You're just jealous 'cause he never took you to bed."

  Maybelle shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I took that as a compliment, seein' as how he always favored ugly whores."

  Corrie jumped to her feet, her fingers curved into claws, ready to go for Maybelle's hair. She caught Buck's cold stare then, and sat back down. The fur post owner allowed no fights between the whores. They either got along with each other or they left. Maybelle rose and sauntered over to the bar and struck up a conversation with the village blacksmith. A few minutes later, he was escorting her outside. B
efore the door closed behind them, a streak of lightning lit up the sky.

  Seeing it, Buck frowned. It was almost as dark as night outside, and before long, rain was going to be pouring down on the hills. He looked at Kane. Damn, but he's drunk, he thought. Drunker than Buck had ever seen him. Would he be able to sit the stallion, get home before the deluge that was on its way?

  He walked over to the table, hoping that the big trapper wasn't in a quarrelsome mood. D'lise would be worried if he didn't get home soon.

  Kane's brain was so numb with drink that he gave Buck no trouble at all. He agreed with a loose grin that he had to get home to his wife, and let Buck lead him outside and help him climb onto Snowy's back.

  The stallion knew the way home and, wanting his supper, started out at a fast walk, as if knowing also that his rider would fall off his back if he were to increase his pace. Buck watched them out of sight, shaking his head, wondering what had set Kane off. He doubted that he had come to the village just because he missed his friends.

  The reins clasped loosely in his hands, his chin almost on his chest, Kane was only vaguely aware of the lightning and the risen wind. He was completely unaware of the Indian pony that followed him at a distance. He was half asleep when Snowy stopped abruptly and snorted.

  He stared owlishly at the barn, the big door the wind had blown open. "Looks like we made it home, huh, fellow," he muttered, more or less falling out of the saddle and fumbling with the belly cinches before finally dragging the saddle off the stallion's back. He dropped it to the ground, then managed to slip the bit from Snowy's mouth. The mount trotted inside the barn, and Kane, leaving the riding gear on the ground, staggered his way to the old cabin. He fell across the bed, wondering where D'lise was.

  He didn't hear the cabin door open quietly, the footsteps that approached the bed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  D'lise came awake to bird song outside her window. Goodness, what time was it? she wondered. She turned her head to see if Kane had overslept also. When she saw the empty space beside her, yesterday's events washed over her like a douse of cold water.

  They'd had a terrible row, and Kane had ridden off to the village—or to find Raven.

  A pained look came into her eyes. Evidently he had found his Indian lover. She sat up in bed, a flicker of hope in her breast. Maybe he was rolled up in his blankets in the main room.

  She stood in the connecting doorway, the light going out of her eyes. There was no long body sleeping there.

  With drooping spirits she went into the kitchen, built a fire in the small fireplace, and put a pot of coffee to brewing. She told herself that if she kept to her regular routine, Kane would arrive to eat breakfast with her.

  Keeping to her customary procedure, she washed her face in the battered basin, then brought her brush from the bedroom and stepped out on the small kitchen porch to groom her hair.

  As she pulled the bristles through her curls, making her scalp tingle, she breathed deeply of the rain-cleaned air. The rain would bring out the wrinkled and pitted morel mushrooms. She would spend the morning looking for them.

  When D'lise had brushed all the tangles out of her hair and tied it back with a ribbon, she remained on the porch a while, taking in the beauty of her surroundings. She glanced down at the old cabin and was about to look away when her heart began to beat so hard it took her breath away. Raven, her long black hair unbound and tangled on her shoulders, had just stepped through the cabin door, Kane coming along behind her. The Indian woman stood a moment, saying something to Kane, then climbed onto a pony D'lise hadn't noticed tied to a tree. As she rode away, Kane turned back into the cabin.

  D'lise's heartbeat was so painful she couldn't catch her breath for several seconds. In a bitter rush of memory, she recalled the time she'd seen Raven at the half-finished cabin, remembered Kane taking her inside, recalled that he had never mentioned the woman's visit.

  heartsick, she took a pail off the wall. Although she should go milk Spider, she was going to go look for the mushrooms first. Should she run into Kane right now, she might attack him.

  She had just called Hound to her when she heard the footsteps on the porch. Her eyes widened in alarm. It was Kane! She ran to the door, but before she could bolt it, the latch clicked.

  Kane awakened with a groan, a hundred little hammers pounding in his head, the hot rays of the sun burning like a fiery torch in his eyes. His lips were dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

  He ran a palm over his whiskered jaw and frowned as he realized he'd slept in his buckskins. He turned his head to ask D'lise how that had come about—and froze.

  It wasn't his wife's soft, sweet-smelling curls spilling over his chest, but straight, coarse hair, rank with the odor of bear grease. He shot up in bed like a startled deer. What in the hell was Raven doing in his bed, and buck-naked at that?

  In that same moment, he became aware that his trousers were unlaced, his flaccid member lying exposed. "Dear God," he muttered, "I must be havin' a nightmare." His gaze ran wildly around the small room. Where was D'lise in this crazy dream?

  His throbbing brain finally began to operate, and some of yesterday's events came back to him—his angry ride to the village, the heavy drinking with his friends. He vaguely remembered being put astride the stallion, the reins shoved into his hands. But after that it was all pretty blurry. How he had ended up in the old cabin, and with Raven, he had no idea.

  Kane's face turned a pasty gray. Good Lord, had he done more than sleep with her? He looked down at his manhood as if finding the answer there. He hurriedly pulled the buckskins together and laced them tightly. Now to get Raven out of here, and pray God D'lise didn't see her leaving.

  His hand wasn't gentle when he shook the Indian awake. When she blinked open her eyes, he demanded harshly, "What in the hell are you doin' in my bed?"

  Raven trailed a dirt-rimmed finger down his cheek.

  "You know what I'm doing here," she answered. "Don't you remember the good time we had last night?"

  "I damn hell don't!" Kane brushed her hand away. "And I sure as hell didn't invite you into my bed," he bluffed, not knowing what had happened during the night.

  "That is true." Raven nodded. "But when you found me here, you didn't turn me away. You were eager to know my body again."

  "You lie," Kane gritted between his teeth. "Even dead drunk, I wouldn't want you in my bed again."

  Raven's face darkened at the insult, and her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "You'll regret those words someday, squaw-man," she hissed vehemently, jumping out of bed and jerking the doe-skin tunic over her head.

  Kane was right behind her when she started for the door. "Just what do you mean by that remark?" He grabbed at her arm and missed as Raven eluded him and stepped out onto the porch. "What are you plannin' in that schemin' mind of yours?" he demanded, stepping outside behind her.

  "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" Raven sneered. Leaving the porch, she climbed onto the spotted pony's back and gave the little animal a hard thump of her heels. He sprang away into the woods.

  Kane glanced down the hill at the new cabin, praying that D'lise hadn't seen Raven. His heart dropped to his stomach. His wife stood on the porch, staring up at him. As he called himself all manner of fool, she turned and walked into the cabin.

  With a ragged sigh and a pounding head, Kane walked into the cabin, but almost immediately stepped back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped off the porch. He might as well go and get it over with.

  As Kane walked down the hill, he was assailed with doubts. How was he to convince D'lise that he wasn't guilty of sleeping with Raven when he wasn't sure that he hadn't? He lifted the door latch, knowing that he was going to have to talk as he'd never talked before.

  The door barely missed hitting D'lise as it opened. She stepped back, her features cold and pinched when Kane walked inside. "Look, D'lise," he began right off, "I know how it must look to you, but I can explain everything."
>
  "Can you now?" D'lise's eyes shot scorn at him. "Even if I hadn't seen that slut leaving you, I can smell her on your body."

  Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed the air. "I also smell cheap perfume and the body odor of whores on you." Her eyes ran over him with distaste, and Kane shrank from her scrutiny. He knew how he must look—whisker-stubbled jaw, messed-up hair, wrinkled buckskins—and he must smell like a whorehouse.

  There was a tonelessness in D'lise's voice as she said, "Save your explanations. I've believed your lies before, but never again."

  "But, D'lise, I have never lied to you," Kane said earnestly. "That damned Raven—"

  He closed his mouth. D'lise had walked through the door, slamming it behind her. He banged a fist on the table in frustration and self-contempt. He had brought it all on himself through his jealousy and suspicions.

  After Kane drank two cups of coffee, one right after the other, he went into the bedroom to get a change of clean clothes and gather up his shaving paraphernalia. It was no wonder D'lise had curled her nose at him. He couldn't stand his stench either. He'd go down to the branch, and in the process of cleansing his body maybe he could do the same thing with his mind, once and for all wash from his brain the distrust he so often felt for his wife.

  He had learned a lesson this morning. Things weren't always as they appeared. In D'lise's eyes, he must look guilty as hell, but in his heart he felt sure nothing had gone on between him and Raven last night.

  Kane stood in the bedroom doorway a moment, looking at the bed, the covers that had been thrown aside, the one pillow dented by D'lise's head. He knew it would carry the rose scent he always smelled in her hair. With a ragged sigh, he hurriedly snatched up what he needed, not wanting to smell up the room with his presence.