Caleb looked at her sharply, sensing the leashed turmoil beneath the quiet words.
But Reno simply nodded, satisfied. “Nearest preacher is at the fort over the divide.” He smiled at his sister. “I’ll stand up for you, Willy, even though it will cost me most of a summer’s digging.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
“Pleasure?” Willow’s voice made the men exchange uneasy glances. “There is no pleasure in a wedding performed under threat of a six-gun. That’s why you’re giving up your summer of digging, Reno. You want to make sure the wedding takes place.”
“You’re wrong, Willy.”
She looked at her brother as though she had never seen him before. “How can you be so sure? What makes you think that Caleb won’t just leave me and ride on as soon as he’s out of range of your gun?”
“What kind of man do you think I am?” Caleb demanded angrily.
“Old Testament,” Willow said succinctly. “You owe me nothing. I’m no kin to you. I was simply a means to an end. An eye for an eye and a virgin sister for a virgin sister. The fact that you seduced the wrong man’s sister is a trifle that I’m certain God will forgive. Your intentions were pure. Justice without mercy. Retribution.”
“I didn’t take you for revenge,” Caleb said between his teeth, “and you damn well know it. I wanted you!”
“Not as much as I wanted you.”
Willow. Push me away.
Though neither spoke aloud, the memory of Caleb’s words lay between them. The memory of what had happened next also lay between them, Willow’s eagerness to complete the union, her body tempting him unbearably, her voice telling him how much she loved him.
“Willow,” Caleb whispered, reaching toward her.
Silently, she stepped just beyond his reach.
Caleb dropped his hand and turned to Reno. “I’m marrying your sister. You have my word on it.”
“I never doubted it,” Reno said calmly. “We’ll leave during the next storm. That way I might be able to keep this place a secret long enough to file a claim on it.”
Moonlight glinted in Caleb’s eyes as he looked at the sky. “It might storm sometime tomorrow. Hard to tell with a sky like this.”
Willow looked at Caleb and then at Reno. She said nothing because she didn’t trust herself to say anything more without revealing that she had no intention of marrying him. Nor did she intend to cause the funeral her brother was so eager to enforce.
“Come on, honey,” Caleb said gently, holding out his hand once more. “If we’re going to ride out tomorrow, you need to rest.”
Willow took another step backward, away from the man holding out his hand to her.
“Willy, you’re being foolish,” Reno said in an impatient voice. “Caleb seduced you, he’s marrying you, and that’s the way it ought to be.”
“No, it isn’t.” Willow focused beyond the two men. “A marriage ought to come from love, not duty.”
Reno made a sound of amusement and disgust. “A woman taught me back in West Virginia that love is for boys and girls who aren’t grown up enough to know any better. Caleb is a man. He knows his duty. It’s time you learned yours, Willy. You danced the tune and now it’s time to pay the piper.”
“Yes,” she whispered, accepting the outcome of her own choices, shivering as a chill roughened her skin. “I understand.”
“Good,” Reno said, relieved. He stepped forward and hugged her. The embrace was awkward because she was stiff, unmoving. “Come on, Willy,” he coaxed. “Don’t sulk. If you didn’t have a lot of feeling for Caleb, you wouldn’t have become his woman. If he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t have taken you. Now you’re getting married. What’s so awful about that?”
Willow turned and looked at her brother.
When Reno saw her face, his eyes narrowed. “Willy?”
“Tell me,” she said softly, “how would you feel if our positions were reversed? How would you feel knowing that your bride came to you because the only I other choice was certain death?”
Reno’s mouth opened, but he was too shocked to say anything.
Caleb’s low, savage cursing was the only answer Willow got. It was enough.
“Yes. That’s a fair summary of how I feel.” Willow stepped away from both men. She wrapped her arms around herself, noticing for the first time how cold she was without her jacket. “Excuse me. I have things to do. I wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared if a storm blows up unexpectedly.”
“I’ll help you,” Caleb said.
“No.”
“Damn it—” began Caleb.
“Yes,” Willow interrupted bleakly. “Damn it. Damn it straight to Hell.”
Silently, both men watched as Willow walked into the night. When they could neither see nor hear her anymore, Reno let out a long breath.
“Good thing she wasn’t packing a gun,” he said. “She’d have gone for it.” Reno shook his head. “And it’s a good thing she thinks she loves you, Yuma man. Otherwise she’d cut your throat while you slept.”
Caleb shook his head. “If that’s what she wanted, Willow would take me head on and wide awake, even knowing she would lose. There’s no quit in her. I admire that, even though it would be a lot easier sometimes if she was meek.”
Reno shook his head in amazement. “She was such a sweet little girl, all smiles and mischief and golden hair.”
“Sweet little girls have to be packed in cotton and put on a high shelf if they’re going to stay sweet.” Caleb looked out into the darkness that had swallowed Willow. “I’d rather have a woman who won’t fold up the first time life gets hard. I’d rather have a woman who makes choices and doesn’t whine if things don’t turn out the way she expected. I’d rather have a woman’s passion than a little girl’s sweet smiles. I’d rather have…Willow.”
“You’ve got her.” Reno smiled slightly. “She’s mad as a cat in a bathtub right now, but she’ll come around and make the best of it. She doesn’t have any choice and she knows it.”
“I’d rather she came to me willingly.”
“From what I’ve gathered, lack of willingness on her part hasn’t been a problem for you,” Reno said sardonically.
Caleb turned so swiftly on Reno that he instinctively tensed.
“Preacher or no preacher, Willow is my wife,” Caleb said savagely. “She came to me as innocent as any woman ever came to a man. If you do anything to make her feel ashamed, you’ll get the fight you’ve been begging for. You’ve got my word on that.”
Reno’s left eyebrow climbed in a black arc as the flat promise in Caleb’s voice sank in. After a moment, Reno laughed softly and held out his hand. “Welcome to the family, brother. I’m glad Willow found herself a man she won’t have to apologize for when fighting time comes around.”
Grimly, Caleb smiled and he shook hands. “Don’t worry, Reno. If you ever need another gun, you just send word. I’ll be there come Hell or high water.”
“Well, there’s one fight coming I won’t have to send word on. Hope to Hell Wolfe is around somewhere. Two guns against Slater’s bunch isn’t enough.”
“It might be if you have a repeating rifle.”
“Wolfe told me about that fancy long gun of yours. Said you can load and fire damn near at the same time.”
Caleb nodded.
“Have to get me one of those,” Reno said. “Wish I had one now.”
“So do I. Is there another way out of here?”
“Maybe. Depends on the horses you’re riding. Look here…”
Reno hunkered down on his heels and began drawing in the ashes with a twig. The passage of the stick left a dim white line through the darker ashes on the surface of the fire as Reno talked in a low voice about the valley and the mountainside.
Across the small valley, Willow froze, listening as hard as she could. She hadn’t been able to hear the individual words while Caleb and Reno spoke, but she had been able to distinguish voices f
rom the random whisper of wind and the rush of the creek. The abrupt lack of conversation made her fear it wouldn’t be long until Caleb came back to bed. She wanted to be somewhere else before that happened.
Hurriedly, Willow tore a blank page from Caleb’s journal and stuffed it into her jacket pocket with the pencil she had already taken. She kept the journal as well, for it had Caleb’s carefully drawn map of all the rugged country they had covered, as well as the easier passes they hadn’t taken. Between that and her ability to read the stars, she should be able to find her way back over the mountains, even though she would be traveling at night to avoid attracting attention.
Willow walked toward the horses, dragging her saddle and a hastily made bedroll behind her. One big jacket pocket was filled with venison jerky, which was all she would have to eat until she reached Canyon City. The prospect of short rations didn’t bother Willow nearly as much as the fact that she would have to leave her mares behind. She simply hadn’t the skill to hide them and herself as well. They would be better off with Caleb, who had cared enough for the Arabians to ignore his own exhaustion and go back over the divide to rescue the four mares.
The breeze shifted, bringing with it the murmur of male voices from the campsite. Willow relaxed slightly, knowing that she had a few more minutes before Caleb came after her. She wished she could be gone before Caleb sought her out, but that would be too dangerous. If only a few minutes separated them, he would come after her and catch her. She needed time to put enough distance between them that chasing her would be futile.
Ishmael scented Willow and nickered softly. She put down the saddle and quickly opened the bedroll as though she planned to sleep in the meadow with her horses. The blankets were lumpy with the various things she had between the layers, but she doubted Caleb would notice in the dark. Her carpetbag would have been too obvious, so she had left it behind.
Willow sat down and wrote quickly, saying what had to be said despite the pain it cost.
Matt, I’m sorry I’m not the innocent girl you remembered. Forcing Caleb to marry me won’t change what happened.
Don’t come after me. Let me shed the past and start all over again as a widow. I won’t be the first such widow, and I won’t be the last.
If you ever see our brothers, tell them I think of them often and remember them with love.
Willow paused, her courage faltering at the thought of what she had to say next. But it must be done. Caleb must understand that he had no duty to her.
Caleb, take your pick of the mares as payment for bringing me to my brother. Please take the other three to Wolfe Lonetree. He can have one if he’ll care for the other two until I can come for them.
If you do that, you have no other duty toward me. We are both free to begin over again.
After a few minutes, Willow went out among the horses, silently saying good-bye. The mares took the nighttime visitation with the same gentle spirit they took everything that came to them from their mistress. Tears burned behind Willow’s eyes as she felt the velvet muzzles snuffling over her, nudging her, asking to be petted and loved.
Caleb will take good care of you. Better than I could. He’s strong enough to get you to safe pastures.
Ishmael’s head came up and he nickered softly, looking into the night past Willow’s shoulder. She turned around slowly, knowing who would be there.
“It’s too late to start sleeping apart,” Caleb said, gesturing toward the place where Willow had left her bedroll and her saddle at its head as a pillow.
Willow shrugged, not trusting her voice.
“Come back to bed with me, honey. Nothing has changed.”
She shook her head with a weariness that was apparent even in the moon’s pale light.
Caleb’s hand shot out, catching Willow’s arm as she turned away. Willow made a startled sound. She had forgotten how quick he could be.
“Please don’t touch me.” Willow’s words were un-inflected, remote.
Caleb’s eyelids flickered at the distance in Willow’s voice, but he didn’t release her. “You’re my wife.”
“I’m your whore.”
His breath came in with a ripping sound. His other hand shot out. He pulled her close, imprisoning her in his arms, wishing there were sunlight so he could see her eyes.
And then Caleb saw Willow’s eyes, and wished the moon were less bright.
Her eyes were no more alive than her voice. A fine tremor moved through her body as she stood within his arms. Once that trembling would have signalled the depth of her passion for him. Now it signalled a terrible combination of shame and acceptance.
“You’re not my whore,” Caleb said in a savage voice. “You were never my whore!”
“Fancy lady. Whore. Call it what you will. It doesn’t change what happened, what I am.” Willow turned away as much as Caleb would allow her. “Let go of me.”
“No,” he said, and pulled her tight against his body.
Caleb’s flat refusal was unexpected, as was the arousal he made no effort to hide.
Willow was shocked. She hadn’t expected him to require her presence in his bed tonight. She hadn’t really believed that he thought of her as his whore.
She had been wrong. But then, she had been wrong about him before.
“I see,” Willow said. She forced her hands between their bodies and began unbuttoning her jacket with fingers that shook. “You want to rut between my legs again.”
His hand came down hard across her mouth. “Stop it. You’re my woman, not my whore, and you goddamned well know it!”
Caleb’s eyes were narrow slices of silver in the moonlight. His mouth was a black line. His face was utterly savage.
Willow could see the rage in Caleb, taste it, feel it. He was more angry than she had ever known any man to be. Without warning, he moved his hand and replaced it with his mouth. He was so quick that she had no chance. She was held within the fierce cage of his arms, no way to turn, no escape, nothing but the urgent pressure of his mouth breaking open hers, leaving her defenseless against his kiss.
Motionless, Willow waited for the intimate thrust of Caleb’s tongue. It didn’t come. Instead his mouth gentled and his tongue coaxed hers in a sweet seduction that was more threatening than any forced claiming would have been. It was the same with his hands sliding softly over her body, spreading pleasure in their wake, making her tremble.
Despair washed through Willow. Caleb knew her too well. Helplessly her nails bit into his upper arms as the wildness in her sensed the outlet he was offering and clamored for release.
“Yes,” Caleb said savagely, biting Willow’s neck with fierce restraint as he felt the sleek pain of her nails. “Come to me. You’re hurt and angry and don’t know what to do. Take it out on me, Willow. I’m not afraid of the passion in you. Let it free.”
The realization that Caleb knew about the wildness that seethed beneath her unnatural calm wrenched a sound of despair from Willow’s lips.
“Stop, please, stop,” she begged in a shaking voice. “Leave me some pride, Yuma man. Even a whore needs a little pride.”
A chill went over Caleb. “Stop staying that. Do you hear me? You’re not a whore.”
“Prove it! Let me sleep where I like. Let me sleep alone!”
There was a silence that stretched until Willow wanted to scream. The only signs of her turmoil were the tremors that shook her randomly. None of the emotion showed on her face. She simply watched Caleb with the eyes of a stranger as she waited to find out whether she was woman or whore.
And he knew it.
“Sleep where you please whenever you please,” he said coldly. “I’m damned sick of being treated like a conscienceless seducer by you and your brother.”
Abruptly, Caleb released Willow and stepped back.
“Let me know when you get over your sulking and want to be treated like my woman. Then I’ll let you know if I still feel like being your man.”
17
N OT until Willow was mile
s beyond the valley’s narrow entrance did she dismount and remove the shreds of her riding habit from Ishmael’s feet. The stallion snorted as the last thong was taken off and the scraps of material fell away. He stamped impatiently.
“I know,” Willow said quietly, stroking Ishmael’s neck, soothing her edgy horse. “The rags bothered you, but they kept your hooves from making noise on the rocks.”
Unhappily, she looked at the sky. Dawn lay just over the eastern horizon, bleaching stars from the night. She wished she could simply go to ground and hide for the day, but that would be certain disaster. It was much too close to the valley for her to be safe. She had to ride fast and hard through the day and the next night as well.
Tomorrow at dawn she would be able to picket Ishmael in some secluded meadow and sleep at his feet. Tomorrow, but not today.
Willow got back in the saddle and rode on down the mountainside, leaving the hidden valley farther behind with each moment. Around her the land slowly condensed from the night, revealing the silhouettes of distant peaks against the pale sky, and a mixture of grassland and forest nearby. She kept Ishmael just on the margin of the forest, where there was enough open space for speedy travel and enough cover nearby if she needed it.
The heavy shotgun lay across Willow’s thighs. It made for awkward riding at times, but she had discovered during the long night that she liked the feel of the smooth wooden stock and the reassurance of the twin barrels loaded and ready to fire.
Ishmael’s head turned suddenly to the left as he looked across the grassland to a place where a brook flowed between ridges on the way to joining a larger creek. The stallion’s ears pricked forward and his nostrils flared deeply as he tested the wind.
Without hesitation, Willow turned the stallion hard to the right, fleeing whatever he had scented, heading for the cover of the forest. Heart beating double time, she guided the stallion deeper into cover. When the trees were so close around her that the horse had difficulty walking—and she had difficulty ducking branches—she turned and urged Ishmael on a track parallel to the one they had abandoned.
No matter how carefully Willow listened, she heard nothing but the creak of her saddle, the muffled rhythm of Ishmael’s hooves on evergreen needles, and the soft sighing of wind. Gradually, the forest thinned to scattered groves and then scattered trees, and finally nothing but meadow grass, wildflowers, and willows growing on the margins of the stream. The park was at least a mile across at its narrowest and went on for five miles. It was more a basin than a river valley.
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