by Betty Brooks
"What stranger was that?" George Watson asked, peering at Rainey from beneath beetled brows. "You never mentioned nothing about no stranger to me, Rainey."
"They wasn't nothing much to mention," she said. "And he wasn 't sparking me, Willis! He just squired me around the dance floor." She looked at him curiously. "How do you know he's a drummer?"
" 'Cause he came to our cabin with his satchel," Willis explained. "Set and talked with Pap for most of the day. Mam asked him to supper an' he et two plates of turnip greens and hog jowls. I'm suprised he could ask all them questions of his'n around all that food he crammed in his mouth . Managed, though. Mighty curious feller."
She frowned. "Curious about what?"
He laughed, and the sound grated on her nerves. "Not what? Who. It was you he was curious about. You and your grandpa and Sadie Thompson and Thornton Lassiter-"
"Me an' Sadie? Why would he be curious about us?" "Don't know." Willis shoveled a forkful offried pota toes in his mouth. But that didn't stop him from talking. "It's my guess that drummer wasjust makin' conversa tion. You know . . . butterin' us up so's we'd buy some of his pistols and knives."
"Is that what he was selling? Pistols and knives?" At Willis's nod, she said, "I hope he stops by here. I could use a new knife.The blade's comin' loose from the handle."
"If I'd knowed that, I'd of bought you one," Willis claimed.
"I can buy my ownself one," she said sharply.
Silence descended and they turned their attention to the meal. When Willis had scraped his plate clean and washed the last bite down with coffee, he said, "That was a real tasty meal, Rainey. You're gettin' to be a mighty good cook these days." His gaze lowered to her shirt, which was stretched tautly across her breasts, and then lifted to meet her eyes with a long look. "Let's go outside and jaw awhile. I reckon it's past time I told you what I come here for."
So there had been a reason other than a free meal! She'd suspected as much."I got no time to fool around,'' she said smartly."If you got somethin' to say, then spit it out."
Willis shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it don't need no fancyin' up. Old George knows what I got in mind, Rainey, and he's already give his go-ahead."
Rainey's gaze flickered to her grandfather, who looked away quickly to evade her eyes. Her lips thinned
and her eyes narrowed sharply on the old man. What had he given his approval on anyway? "Speak your piece, Willis. I ain't got all day."
He sat up straighter. "I been thinking hard about marryin' me a wife," he said slowly. "And I had in mind that you'd suit me just fine."
Fury surged through Rainey. "Oh, you did, did you? " She scraped back her chair and rose abruptly. "Well, Iain't of such a mind, Willis Johnson! I'd rather marry up with our mule, Samson, than to marry up with the likes of you!"
Rainey stormed out of the cabin and fled into the woods. Although Willis was the main source of her anger, her grandfather was allotted a good share of it, too. How could he have agreed to Willis's proposal? Willis, of all people! The moment her erstwhile suitor de parted, Rainey returned to the cabin and faced her grandparent.
''How. could you do that, Grandpa?" she fumed, hands planted firmly on her hips. "You know dang well he won't make no kind of husband. He's lazy as an ol' hound dog that's lost its smell."
George Watson sat down in his rocker and pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket and bit off a chew. "He ain't my first choice, Rainey," he admitted, working the tobacco around in his jaw. "But I ain't heard no other offers comin' your way. You're nigh onto eighteen years old now. The folks hearabouts is already sayin' you're over the hill. Ain't no man gonna want a woman who's been left on the shelf like last year's sour pickles."
"Don't you call me no pickle!" she said, glaring heatedly at her grandfather. "An' I ain't gonna marry up v.ith just anybody. I aim to be a mighty finicky chooser when it comes to pickin' myself a man. It's for sure I ain't takin' no bottom-of-the-barrel man like Willis Johnson!"
"Did I come at a bad time?"
The amused voice turned both their heads. Rainey glared at Thorne, who stood in the doorway. His gaze was penetrating, as though he'd heard every word her grandfather had said, the way he'd compared her to a sour pickle. Did he, like Grandpa, think she was over the hill? Surely not, else he wouldn't have kissed her the way he'd done. Neither would he have agreed to her proposal.
Perhaps Grandpa should be made aware of their agreement.
"You come at the right time," she said. "I don't have to choose somebody like Willis for a husband, Grandpa. They ain't a bit of need for it. Thorne's teaching me how to be a lady. He's gonna help me bait a hook for the teacher man."
Grandpa ceased his rocking, looking stunned. "That so, Thorne?" Grandpa asked.
Rainey waited a long moment for Thorne's reply. "I said I would teach her," he admitted.
"Did, eh?" George Watson was silent for a long mo ment, seeming to take fresh measure of the man he'd known for so many years. "You think this Robert Golden suits her, then? That he'll make her a good husband?"
"I didn't say that." His gaze bored into Rainey. "But she seems to think that's what she wants."
"Females her age don't always know what's good for 'em," George remarked mildly. "That why you're here this early? To give Rainey lessons on trapping the teacher?"
"No," Thorne replied. "I came to tell both of you that I'll be leaving for awhile." His gaze never wavered from Rainey's.
She was silent for a long, tense moment, feeling as though she'd been struck dumb. Then suddenly she
found her tongue. "You can't leave now," she protested. "You promised to teach me, Thorne. I need you here." "My sister needs me more," he replied firmly. "She's
alone with my father and he's apparently very sick." "But Thorne. . . ." Her voice trailed away. What
could she say? She felt completely bereft, as though he'd already gone and left her. She swallowed around a knot that had formed in her throat. "You have to go, don't you?"
"Yes, Rainey," he said gently. "Ihave to go." "When are you leaving?" she whispered. "Tomorrow."
"But your farm?" she reminded him desperately. "The fields need plowing[ They can'twait, Thorne! You know that!"
"The fields are the least of my worries."
She swallowed hard and lowered her eyes. But he would not allow her to avoid his gaze. He strode swiftly to her, tilting her chin up with a large, calloused fore finger. "I have to go, Rainey. You must see that."
She nodded, her eyes misting suddenly. "I know," she said huskily. "How long?"
"How long will I be gone?" She nodded her head. "Idon't know. Isuppose as long as I'm needed. Will you be all right while I'm away?"
"Willis and Zeke are gonna be pestering me around every bush when you're gone. And Willis was just here begging Grandpa for me to marry him , and Grandpa-" She sent him a furious look. "-said it was okay,and now Willis ain't gonna take no for an answer since he's got Grandpa's go-ahead."
Thorne looked at the old man piercingly. "There's a solution for that, you know. You could go with me."
Her eyes widened and she caught her breath. "To St. Louis?" He nodded. "But why?"
"You have so much to learn, Rainey. And I'm not sure how long I'll be gone." He grinned down at her. "We just started the lessons and if we stop them now, you might forget everything you've already learned."
She started to tell him that she'd never forget those
moment in his arms but kept her mouth shut. He might decide to leave her behind. And she had to go. She just had to. She looked at her grandfather, silently seeking his permission, and he nodded his approval.
"Sounds like a mighty good idea to me," he growled. "You ain't used to
him hesitantly.
"They's plenty of folks around to see to my needs. Sadie Thompson, for one. She'd come, was she asked." Rainey was amused by his self-satisfied smirk. "I imagine she would."
Thorne, who had been waiting te
nsely, replied, "Then you agree?"
"Guess I'd be a pure fool not to," Rainey replied. "I 'spect it would do me good to see how other folks live. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow. Early."
She could hardly contain her excitement. "How early? I can be up most anytime. I won 't even go to bed if you want to leave in the night."
"I think we can spare enough time to sleep a few hours," he said wryly. His gaze traveled the length of her, taking in her breeches and homespun shirt. "Wear that pretty gown of yours, Rainey. Women in breeches have no place in the city."
After settling on the hour they would leave, Thorne bade them goodbye and left them seated on the porch. George had already turned his attention to tamping tobacco leaves in his corncob pipe, but Rainey was watching him, her eyes wide with excitement.
It was hard to believe that she was really going to St. Louis. But it must be true. Thorne wouldn't fib about a thing like that. He was taking her with him. Oh, Lordy, how she loved that man!
That thought brought a momentary frown, which quickly disappeared.
She would consider it later.
Right now she would think about all the things she would see when she got to St. Louis!
Eight
The sun had barely crested the eastern horizon when Thorne and Rainey rode into Lizard Lick to catch the morning stage. He dismounted and unfastened her worn bag from the saddle and dropped it beside the long bench outside the ticket office. Then he lifted her down from the saddle. "The stagecoach won't leave for another twenty minutes or so," he said. "You'd best wait here with the luggage while I take the horses to the livery."
"All right." She looked down at her long skirt and finding it wrinkled, tried to smooth them away. By the time she'd finished, his luggage had joined her own and he was leading the horses toward the livery down the street.
Deciding she might as well make herself comfortable while she waited, she seated herself on the bench and looked westward. The stage would enter town from that direction. She was squinting into the distance when a movement from her peripheral vision caught her attention. Her gaze swiveled and stopped on Willis Johnson who was just exiting the saloon. That was surprising since the saloon should have been closed.
He spotted her immediately. "Rainey!" he called out, waving to her. He staggered slightly as he crossed the street to the stage office. ""What're you doin' here?" he asked, in a slightly slurred voice.
"You been drinkin'," she accused. "Shame on you, Willis .Johnson."
"Aw, Rainey," he whined, wavering slightly as he tried to keep his balance. "I just had a few little drinks. Not much. I ain't really a drinkin' man. You know that. An' I'd make you a good husband if you'd just-‘" Forget it, Willis," she said impatiently. "I ain't gonna marry up with the likes of you. If I didn’t know it before, I'd darn well know it now. man that'd stay out liquorin' hisself up the whole dang night sure ain't the kind of man I'm lookin' for."
"You got it all wrong, Rainey. I ain't been liquorin' myself up the whole night. I just kinda fell asleep at the table and they left me where Iwas." His voice had a complaining whine. "It ain't right, leavin' a man lay like that, neither. I woke up with a crick in my neck."
He squinted at the luggage stacked beside her and. leaned closer. "You goin' someplace, Rainey?"
His stale whiskey breath almost gagged her, and she leaned away from him. "You dang right I am. I'm goin' to St. Louis."
His gaze narrowed. “By your lonesome? You can't go by your lonesome. Your grandpap wouldn't let you do that."
"I ain't goin’-“ She broke off as the sound of clatter wheels caught her attention. "It's comin'. The stage coach is comin'!" She strained her eyes to catch the first glimpse as it came around the bend. Excitement gripped her and she was barely aware of Willis's obnoxious presence.
"Heeeaww!" the driver shouted, rounding the stand of cottonwoods that had blocked her view. "Heeaww! Get along there!" The horses raced down the road and entered Lizard Lick at a heart-stopping speed, scatter ing pebbles and sending up a cloud of dust in its wake. "Whoa!" The horses were reined in beside the stage office, and the driver barely waited for the stagecoach to stop moving before he leaped down from the high seat. "Howdy, Miss," he said in his loud, booming voice.
His narrowed gaze took in the luggage beside her. "Be the two of you all we got in passengers today? "
"They's two of us right enough," she answered. "But this'n," she said, jabbing her thumb at Willis, "he ain't one of -em."
"Well, where's the second one then? We ain't got all day. I got a schedule to keep, miles to cross, an' Lizard Lick ain't more'n ten miles from my startin' point."
Rainey looked anxiously down the street. "We can't leave without Thorne," she said. "He's just seein' to the horses."
"He better hurry 'cause I can't wait." He lifted her bag and piled it in the luggage rack and began strapping it tightly.
"You're plannin' on goin' someplace with Thorne?" Willis demanded, curling his fingers around her forearm. "What for, Rainey?" His fingers tightened, digging into her flesh. "You ain't got no business runnin' off with him. You're mine. You know you are. Been waitin' a long time for you to grow up."
She jerked at her arm and frowned up at him. "Leave go of me, Willis!" she snapped. The stage driver frowned at them. "What in hell is going on?"
"She ain't goin'," Willis snapped. "Put her bag back down."
As the driver hesitated, a hard voice spoke. "Leave the bag where it isl"
Rainey breathed a sigh of relief. Thorne was back. He'd settle Willis's hash. As the two men faced off, she
climbed aboard the stagecoach and settled herself on the seat. She wasn't going to allow anyone to stop her from enjoying this moment. She was going to St. Louis, and with Thorne. It was only a moment before Thorne opened the door and entered the stagecoach. Rainey peeked out the window and saw Willis staring at her, and the look in his eyes sent a chill sweeping through her. There was hatred there and she felt the heat of it as the stage gave a lurch and jerked forward.
But moments later they rode out of town and she settled back again. Willis Johnson was only a small fly that had been effectively swatted by Thorne. He had taken care of her problem, just as he'd always done. She could forget about Willis and everything he represented.
Later that day they reached Canton. It was there they would transfer to the train. Rainey's excitement was so great that it colored her cheeks and brightened her eyes, giving her a glow that made passersby stop to look at her. They waited on the platform while the train shuddered to a stop beside it. It was then that the con ductor, who had been waiting for that exact moment, jumped down from the train and pulled out the steps. "Need any help with those cases?" he asked Thorne. "No. I can manage," Thorne replied. "We might as well go on board, Rainey."
She climbed the steps and looked down the long, narrow car that seemed full of travelers. "Where should we sit?" she asked. "Wherever you like," he replied. "Providing the seat isn't already occupied." Rainey hurried down the aisle, her gaze going from one seat to another. Most, she found, were already occupied. And when she found one that was not, the seat next to it had been taken. She was despairing of finding two together when they reached the end of the car, but there, as though waiting for the two of them, were two seats. She scooted quickly into the window seat, while Thorne tossed their cases onto the shelf above and then seated himself beside her.
"All aboard! All aboard!" The conductor 's cry came from outside and it was followed by several people hurrying into the train to find seats.
Moments later the train jerked, then chugged out of the station. The journey lasted most of the day. During that time Rainey watched out the window while Thorne pointed out different things to her, a cow nudging her calf, a horse and rider galloping across a meadow. They traveled over high gorges and deep ravines, crossed rivers and creeks and forests that were so dense it appeared as though nothing could penetrate them. As time passed and Rainey became accustom
ed to the swaying of the train, she began to relax, leaning back against the seat. The action made her bodice pull closer against her breasts, and she felt Thorne's eyes on them.
Although his gaze made her hot, she gave no sign when she spoke. "You're so good to me, Thorne."
"Why do you say that?" he asked, admiring her with his eyes. “Cause it’s true.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Ever since you come to the mountain you been lookin' out for me. You always seen a need in me afore I ever knowed it was there." She covered his hand with hers. "You been a true friend. Nobody could ask for a better one."
He took her hand in his and stroked her palm with his thumb. "I want to be more than a friend to you, Rainey. Surely you know that by now."
She lowered her gaze quickly, evading his eyes. "I ain't so sure I know what you're talkin' about, Thorne." "Yes. You do." He leaned closer and his voice was a husky whisper. "You haven't so easily forgotten how it felt to have my mouth on yours for the first time, Rainey." She blushed rosily. "And neither have I.”
"It ain't seemly to talk like that," she muttered. "Why not." His eyes had become dark, slumberous.
"Why is it unseemly to speak of an act that is so pleasing to the senses? Even now I remember how smooth and silky your flesh felt beneath my fingertips, and how your breasts became taut and swollen when I stroked them." "Thorne!" she protested, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't."
"Why?" he asked again. "How can I keep silent when I think of it all the time. I even dream of you at night, Rainey, the way you were at the dance. With the swell of your breast pushed above your bodice, so creamy and smooth. And I remember how your hair felt silky when I smoothed it back, how your breath came so quickly, and how the moistness I found between your love-swollen lips almost drove me wild with desire."
She pulled her hand away and covered her face with her hands. "Don't say such things to me," she said, her breath rising and falling unevenly. "Not with all these folks around us. They'll know, Thorne."