Under Wraps

by Patricia Green

  She smiled up at him and he returned the greeting. A crooked thumb jerked toward Glee. "She always talk like that?" the woman asked with a grin.

  Alex chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Must be a schoolmarm." Her gaze returned to Glee. "You goin' to Salt Lake to teach, Miss Montrose?"

  "No, Missus Totley. I'm on my way to California."

  Becka shook her head. "Too bad. Lisa needs some help with her letters. I done all I can, but it ain't enough."

  "Ma-a!" Lisa pleaded, turning crimson.

  The girl’s dark brown focus hadn't left Alex for a moment. He hadn't missed it, either. What a life for a young woman, he thought. He figured she was maybe fifteen or sixteen, starved for attention, for excitement, and stuck out here, miles from anything to tease her young mind. A wagon-load of travelers must be a real treat.

  "I'm sorry I won't be able to help. We really are in something of a hurry."

  Becka approached the back of the wagon, but Alex heard her say, "Yep. Winter's a comin'."

  Alex turned to watch through the wagon.

  Glee gestured to Hakki, who lifted his head slightly from Amina's lap. "This is Hakki, the fellow I told you about."

  "Don't hold much fer slavery m'self," Becka said with a frown. "You from the South?"

  "I assure you, Missus Totley, Hakki is not my slave." It was true. Technically, he was the Sultan of Constantinople's slave, not hers. "He is my protector and friend. And, this is Amina, my maid."

  Becka nodded toward the little black woman. "'Afternoon." She turned away from the wagon and went back toward the house. "Well, bring him in. I can't look at him in that wagon, now can I?"

  Alex watched Becka and Lisa move into the house, just before he heard Glee whisper. "Can you walk, Hakki?"

  "I can try, mistress."

  "We'll help," she assured him.

  Alex removed his hat to push dark hair out of his face as he watched her helping Hakki into the house, rifle clutched at her side. What made him think she'd unshackle him so that he could carry Hakki into the house? She obviously didn't want it known that he was a prisoner, and yet she wasn't ready to release him either. It was a wonder that neither of the Totleys noticed his fetters. Of course, they hadn't exactly been looking at his feet.

  * * * *

  Glee watched as Becka Totley spread some sort of smelly unguent on Hakki's wound. The interior of the cabin was no more appealing than the exterior. Crude wooden furniture: a table and three chairs, a big bedstead, and a smaller one, crowded the small space.

  "He shouldn't oughta travel fer a week. Maybe more. The thing was startin' ta fester."

  Glee's eyes went round. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid we can't abide anywhere a week. We've got to get over the mountains before winter sets in."

  "Leave 'im in Salt Lake, Miss Montrose. You ain't got no need fer a 'protector' with that big, strappin' fella along." She went to the hearth and threw on another log, then turned to her daughter with a frown. "Go on an' finish yer chores, Lisa. We'll need the firewood."

  The girl rolled her eyes, but left just the same.

  * * * *

  Lisa went to the wood pile and picked up her discarded axe. She hated chopping firewood, but there really was no alternative if she and her ma were to keep warm. And Ma had enough to do, what with the animals and trying to make a little money off the winter vegetable garden.

  "Howdy, Miss Lisa," the man from the wagon called.

  Lisa looked at him immediately and she blushed. He was by far the handsomest man she'd ever laid eyes on. The boys in Salt Lake who sometimes came to visit with their mothers were babies compared to him. Even with a scruffy beard beginning to sprout on his chiseled cheeks, Lisa could see the rugged planes of his face, and the sensuality of his lips. What would it be like to let him kiss her? Much better than that ol' Nathan Wilkes, she suspicioned. But the dark-haired man would want much more than kisses, she was sure. Them golden eyes just seemed to look right inside her. A delicious thrill coursed through her young body.

  "Mister," she responded with a shy bob of her head.

  "Need some help with that wood?" he asked.

  Lisa licked her lips and looked back toward the house. Would Ma get mad if she let the stranger chop some wood? It didn't seem like such a big deal. He was so broad and strong looking, he'd probably be able to chop more in an hour than Lisa could all day.

  "Ya sure ya don't mind?" she ventured.

  He shook his head and Lisa was mesmerized by the brush of his longish hair against those broad shoulders.

  "Tell you what," he said, with that oddly accented deep voice. "You help me, and I'll help you."

  "Help you?"

  He gestured. "Come over here, Lisa and I'll show you what I mean."

  There was something dangerous about him, something under the surface. Instinct told her to stay away from strangers, and yet, Lisa couldn't resist those golden eyes or the pirate's grin he bestowed on her. She dropped her axe and wiped sweaty palms on her denim pants. How she wished she was wearing a dress! She only had two, both old and graceless, but she at least looked like a girl in them. And her hair was a mess, too. Her thick light brown braids were tucked under her old hat. Without thinking about it any further, she pulled off the battered hat and shook her braids loose, feeling the tap-tap of the ends against her bottom.

  With as graceful a stride as she could manage, Lisa approached the wagon and smiled.

  "I hate choppin' wood, Mister."

  He smiled, and Lisa's teenage heart pounded.

  "It's a tough chore for such a pretty girl," he said.

  Lisa felt her narrow face heat with flush, and she looked down at the toes of her boots. She heard him chuckle and her gaze went back toward his face, stopping abruptly when she saw the shackles around his booted ankles.

  She took a step back, alarm widening her doe eyes. "What's that fer?" She pointed.

  "That's what I need you to help me with, Lisa," he explained. "Can you keep a secret?"

  Splitting her gaze between those shackles and his golden eyes, Lisa nodded. "I- I guess."

  "Good, because you see I did a rather stupid thing. Made a really big mistake."

  "'S 'at why ya got them chains on?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "No, it's more like how I got them on."

  It seemed to Lisa like the stranger talked nearly as confusin' as the lady with her mother. "Whatcha mean?"

  "We found the shackles along the trail, and I picked 'em up. A sort of souvenir. Miss Montrose thought it was silly." He lowered his voice. "She's a little uppity, you know."

  Lisa stared at his smiling face. Yeah, for a rugged man like him, that prissy lady would seem pretty uppity, though Lisa secretly longed to be as graceful and well-spoken. But she wanted to hear the rest of his story and he appeared to be waiting for some response, so she nodded.

  "Anyway," he continued. "I've been playing with them for about a week. This morning, I tried them on. When Miss Montrose saw me with these things around my ankles, she got kind of mad. She grabbed the key before I could free myself, and said that I deserved to work the day with them on just for being so foolish."

  "That weren't very nice!" Lisa spouted.

  The man shook his head. "Nope. But it was my own fault, too. I knew she thought my interest in them was witless, but I just couldn't help myself. Do you understand?"

  Lisa understood very well. Her ma often thought Lisa's interests were foolish and chided her for wasting her time.

  "Ya want me ta help ya get loose?"

  He nodded and grinned. "If you do, I'll chop one hell of a pile of wood for you. You won't have to chop for a week or more."

  Lisa smiled. "Fine by me, but how do I get ya free? Ya know where the key is?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he said, and Lisa thrilled at the flattering tone of his voice. She felt like a woman all of a sudden.

  "In the wagon there's a little chest with brass bands. It's not locked, but I don't know what's inside. This morning, I saw Mi
ss Montrose toss the key in there. All you have to do is get the key. Think you can do that, pretty Lisa?"

  Lisa's heart swelled. He thought she was pretty. No one had ever said she was pretty before. And yet, this handsome, older man thought she was good lookin'.

  "Sure I can," she answered. The little trunk was buried beneath a thick bedroll and a pair of leather coats, and she found it easily enough. But the contents halted her. Inside were beautiful, transparent silk garments, the like of which she had never imagined.

  "Lordy!" She held one up against her little bosom. It was a sheer blouse, made of the softest, filmiest turquoise fabric she'd ever seen. It had no buttons, but seemed to tie in the front. There was a kind of skirt of the same stuff, though Lisa figured parts were missing or it was unfinished, because there was only a long front panel and a similar one in the back. They were held together on a band of golden ribbon. Who would wear such scandalous attire? Even bawdy house women hangin' from the windows on "Sin" Street in Salt Lake wore more than this. Did these things belong to Miss Montrose?

  Lisa examined a little magenta silk support for around a woman's breasts. She fitted the cups over her own adolescent bosom and was disappointed that she was so lacking.

  "Don't look so unhappy, they'll grow," the stranger said from the front of the wagon. His golden eyes, holding a combination of amusement and gentle understanding made her flush and drop the costume as though it burned.

  "I- I ain't never seed anythin' like this before," she sputtered. "Is that Miss Montrose some sort of actress?"

  The big man shrugged noncommittally. "Did you find the key?"

  Lisa stuffed the clothing back into the chest and fumbled around until she located the key. She held it up with a triumphant smile.

  "Bueno," he said with another breathtaking grin. "Now come and set me free, little one."

  Lordy, she loved the way he talked. And what did "bueno" mean? Was it something sweet and cozy? It must mean something warm, considering the way he said "little one." Lisa felt like she just might burst.

  She stood at the side of the wagon watching him unlock his fetters. "What's yer name, Mister?" she asked shyly.

  "Alex Pacheco," he answered, flexing his freed feet. "Dios but that feels good!"

  Lisa moved aside as he made to jump from the wagon, and then gasped when he landed. He was a giant of a man! At well over six feet, Alex was much taller than her father had been, and taller than any man she'd ever seen before. He hadn't seemed quite so intimidating sitting up there on the wagon bench, and now she was a little frightened. She glanced toward the house, wondering if she'd done something bad.

  "Now, about that wood..." he said. He went right over to the wood pile and set to work, chopping the logs with swift, powerful strokes that kept Lisa spellbound. His shoulders bunched as the axe rose, his biceps knotted, and Lisa wondered if he'd split the seams of his old, worn-out shirt. Within an hour, he'd gone through all the logs she'd set out for the next three days' fires, and had notched the axe into the stump.

  "Thanks, Mister Pacheco," she said softly.

  "De nada, Lisa," he replied. "Is that a creek I hear back behind the house?"

  Lisa nodded. "Yep. Are ya thirsty? There's water in the rain barrel over yonder."

  He chuckled. "Yes, I am thirsty, but I'm more interested in a bath. We've been out on the trail without seeing a creek or a stream for days. I must smell like a bear."

  "Then yer the best-smellin' barr I ever met," she enthused, then flushed. Why had she said that? He'd think she was some sort of silly little girl if she kept acting so dumb. But he didn't seem to notice her gaff.

  "Gracias." He smiled. In only moments, his long stride had taken him to the wagon where he fished around for a short time, finally extracting a towel, a razor, and soap. He nodded in Lisa's direction. "I'll just go wash up," he called.

  Lisa smiled and waved as she watched him heading over the tree-lined path toward the creek. A thought struck her, sly and unbidden and she frowned. He'd be mad as a hornet and twice as dangerous if he found out, but Lisa suddenly couldn't resist the idea of watching him shuck his clothes and wash off all that trail dirt. If she kept well-hidden, she could enjoy watching his bath and he'd never know.

  Lisa bent down and removed her shoes and wool socks. She knew the stones and pine needles would prick her feet, but they'd also make her more cautious of where she stepped and so make her much more quiet. She counted slowly to fifty and then followed down the path, taking a shortcut toward the water at about the halfway point.

  She heard him humming as she approached the creek, and slowed until she'd spotted him. He was setting out his towel, soap and a razor on a big rock at the water's edge. Then, he turned toward the water, looking around lazily as he unbuttoned his shirt.

  Lisa felt unbelievably wicked as she watched that shirt peeled off those massive shoulders. At first, his back was to her, but soon he turned to pull off his boots and socks and she could see the dark matted hair on his chest. The sun was beginning to set, but the last golden-red rays were glimmering over his bronze flesh and he seemed to be magically afire. She didn't dare make herself known, but she did dare to shimmy up a closer tree so that she had a better viewpoint.

  Alex's pants landed in a heap by his shirt, and Lisa suppressed a gasp of awe at his golden body. He scratched the thick curling hair at the juncture of his thighs, and rubbed his flaccid masculinity for a moment, at ease and enjoying his nakedness.

  Alex picked up the soap and waded into the freezing water. It only reached his knees, but he scooped water into his wide palms and wet himself thoroughly.

  Soap dribbled in a white, frothy stream from Alex's chest and down his belly. He scrubbed the dirt and sweat off vigorously, and then paused, cocking his head to one side as though listening.

  Lisa's stomach rose into her throat. Had he heard her somehow? Had she made some sort of noise? She watched him look around, and then go back to his washing. Lisa stifled a sigh of relief, but her whole body tingled. Fleetingly, she wondered if she'd go to Hell for spying on him like this.

  Pretty soon, Alex waded out and dried himself with a huge towel, wrapping it around the back of his neck, apparently unaffected by the cold. She watched him scrape off his whiskers, and sighed anew at his handsome features.

  Lisa had gotten the impression from her ma that there was likely something between Alex and Miss Montrose. A little surge of hopeless jealousy burgeoned and died in the space of a heartbeat. They'd be an odd couple, she mused. Yet, who could resist him? Even prim, over-educated Miss Montrose would surely succumb to Alex's appeal, wouldn't she?

  Whack, whack, whack! Alex beat his clothes on a rock, forcing all the dirt into the air like a tiny dust whorl. Once they were dry-cleaned to his satisfaction, Alex pulled on his garments again, and taking his things, began the return trip to the house.

  It was dark, but Lisa knew the way very well, so she had no trouble getting back home, beyond a few bites on her bare feet from unseen rocks.

  * * * *

  Glee stood. "We've been here for hours. I'm sure we're keeping you from something, Missus Totley. We should be on our way."

  The older woman shook her head. "Naw. It's dark. Why don't you folks stay the night?"

  "Oh, I wouldn't dream of putting you to any trouble. You've been very kind as it is."

  Becka smiled and shook her head again. "Ya sure got a way with words, Miss Montrose. Wish I could teach Lisa to talk like that."

  Glee blushed. "Thank you."

  "Fer what?" She stirred a pot hanging over the small stone hearth. A delicious aroma had been wafting through the place all afternoon, and Glee's mouth was watering. "Ya like chicken 'n' dumplin's?"

  "Is that what you're cooking? Is smells very appetizing."

  "That mean ya like it or ya don't?"

  Feeling a trifle helpless, Glee sat down again. "It means it sounds wonderful. But we really couldn't expect you to feed us. I assume you're all alone here, and it must be di
fficult enough without feeding strangers."

  "Gets kinda lonely, Miss Montrose." She stopped and looked out the dark window for her daughter. "Oh, Lisa's here, I know, but it ain't the same as havin' grown-ups to talk to." She turned back toward Glee and then toward the window again. "My Johnny's been dead just three weeks, but they been the awfullest weeks I ever knowed."

  "I'm very sorry for your recent loss, Missus Totley."