White Dawn

by Susan Edwards

  It was time for him to stop feeling sorry for his cousin; life dealt a lot of men a raw deal. That didn’t stop them from going out and supporting themselves. The inheritance was settled. John just wished there weren’t such bad feelings between his cousin and his grandfather. Much of it came from his grandfather. Gascon Cartier had never forgiven Willy’s father for running off with his daughter, then failing to provide for her. She’d died as a result. Yet as tragic and sad as that was, it hadn’t been Willy’s fault. Yes, John’s grandfather was in part to blame for Willy’s bitterness. John wished Gascon, before he died, could find it in his heart to accept his other grandson—but that wasn’t any more likely to happen than the Big Muddy suddenly flowing backward.

  Ben cleared his throat. “What do you think Willy’s gonna do when he sees Emily?”

  John frowned. He’d deliberately refused to think of his cousin and Emily. Or at least he’d tried hard not to. But he knew Willy well enough to know his cousin would consider her fair game. Hell, just knowing that John had seen her first, had spent time alone with her, had fallen in love with her, would make his cousin want to take her from him. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes.” His voice hardened. No way would he allow Willy to use Emily as a pawn in his bitter need to prove himself.

  Swiping a hand over his bearded jaw, Ben looked thoughtful. “He’s gonna make a play for her. Unless you stake your claim on her.”

  John cocked a brow at that. “Even if I stake my claim on her. But the truth is, I don’t have any claim to her. She’s free to choose any man she wants.” The thought made him feel ill. In his heart and mind, she belonged to him. But he couldn’t push her. Wouldn’t push her. She’d gone through too much. He needed her to choose him. To love him as much as he loved her. And for that, he needed her to trust him. To believe in him.

  “Reckon you’re right. And bettin’ man that I am, I reckon she’s smart enough to see through that cousin of yours. You’re by far the better man.”

  John laughed without humor as he recalled what she’d gone through with her father, the priest and the Indian warrior who’d saved her life. “That, my friend, is my biggest problem. I’m a man.” The thought left a dark, depressing cloud over him. Before he could win her, Emily had a lot to overcome.

  John felt a wave of exhaustion overtake him. After a few more minutes of talk in which he had to fight to keep from yawning, his friend got up to see about setting up camp, and left John to doze against the cabin’s log wall.

  Drifting in and out of sleep and occasionally hearing laughter in the background, John dreamed of Emily—with him, the two of them together, hand in hand, running through the meadow. Her blue eyes were filled with love, and her hair streamed out behind them. The scene slowed as they fell down onto the soft cushion of grass, his body beneath hers as he wrapped her in his arms. Her laughter floated on the breeze and her fingers tangled in his hair as her body arched and begged for his.

  “Sunshine,” he whispered in his sleep.

  He woke feeling refreshed. The sun had passed overhead, and, judging from its position, he knew it was late afternoon. The air blowing through the shack teased him with the aroma of cooking meat, confirming that Ben had gone hunting.

  With his belly rumbling, John struggled to sit up straight. Outside, he heard three voices: Ben’s deep, booming bass, and the soft chatter of the two women. Wanting to join them, he glared at his thigh and his blanket-covered lower body. He needed proper clothing first.

  As if she knew he’d woken, Emily stepped inside. John stopped his struggle to scoot across the dirt floor. The laughter in her eyes warmed him. No, it thrilled him to see her look so happy. It was the first time he’d seen her so relaxed. Her eyes sparkled, her face glowed and her mouth curved softly in a smile, making her even more beautiful than before.

  “Hand me my breeches,” he asked.

  Emily tipped her head to the side. “Why?”

  He glared at her. “I’m coming out.” He wasn’t going to stay in here a moment longer—not when they were all outside having fun!

  As if she knew she’d lose this battle, Emily went outside and returned with a lopsided pair of breeches. She blushed. “I washed them and mostly sewed them back up. I had to cut them off you.”

  John ignored his body’s reaction to the knowledge that she’d seen him naked, that she’d taken care of his needs. That thought still embarrassed him. He frowned at the missing portion of the pant leg.

  “I’ll sew that piece back on after you heal and we don’t need to change your bandage so often.” She hesitated, her cheeks rosy with color. “Do you need… I mean, should I send Ben in to help you—”

  “I think I can manage, Emily,” he interrupted softly. Actually, he wasn’t sure how—but somehow he would. It was one thing to know she’d taken care of him like a babe while he’d been unconscious. If she tried to help him now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from reacting to her closeness.

  Nodding, she left. “I’ll ask Ben help you outside, though.”

  John rolled his eyes. He didn’t want Ben to help him walk. Did she think he was still some helpless kitten?

  Twenty minutes later, he was thankful for his friend’s assistance—though a bit disgusted that he was still so weak. A trip into the trees quashed any idea of taking a bath, too; he was far too tired from this walk. Still, the prospect of a hearty meal with meat cheered him, as it did Fang, who lay happily gnawing on a bone. Over a meal during which they all sat outside on a blanket, John dug in, feeling as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  After the meal, with the cool night air easing the heat of the day, he, along with Emily, Ben and Mary, sat talking. John fought waves of exhaustion and struggled to remain awake. At last giving in, he eased onto his back and stared up at the star-studded heavens. Never had a night seemed so beautiful or perfect. He glanced sideways at Emily, his gaze roaming over her silvery hair.

  She reclined beside him, laughing at one of Ben’s outrageous stories. Tonight she was animated, different from the woman he’d found nearly two weeks ago. Life flowed from her and into him. Listening to the sweet music of her voice and the caress of her laughter, he gave in to his need to sleep. With his Lady Dawn beside him, nights didn’t seem so long or dark.

  Emily stared up at the stars, finding peace and a sense of rebirth in watching the jewel-bright lights twinkle and dance high above her. One shot across the sky, falling somewhere beyond the horizon. The moon, a silver crescent, hung as if dangling from an invisible wire. The night was balmy, the breeze a soft caress over the land, and she’d opted just to sleep outside.

  She’d fashioned two pallets on the blanket. John lay several feet from her at one end of the blanket, and she lay on the other side. He’d fallen asleep shortly after supper and no one had wanted to wake him. Today had been his first day of activity and he’d fallen into a well-deserved exhausted slumber. She studied him, noting his pallor from trying to do so much.

  Ben and Mary were bedded down a short distance from her—close enough to be on hand if need be, but far enough that she and John had some privacy. They’d refused the use of the crude cabin, saying they preferred the outdoors to its stale, stuffy inside. She couldn’t blame them for that. She herself had found she loved sleeping outdoors beneath the stars. Fully relaxed for the first time in a long while, Emily gave herself over to the night.

  As she stared up at the sky, the events of the day crowded in—from the fear of intruders, to the horror of how both she and John must have looked, to the relief that had flooded her to learn that Ben and Mary were staying. Some of the weight had eased from her shoulders.

  Maybe now John wouldn’t worry so much. Right, she thought. She couldn’t see John sitting back, allowing Ben to work while he himself healed. Still, he had no choice—not for a while.

  With Ben’s help, fresh meat wouldn’t be a problem. No more boiled beans and bear fat—and in a day or so she’d have something decent to wear. Mary had offer
ed to help her sew a blouse to wear with her skirt, and an extra dress.

  John’s shirt over her skirt covered her, as well as a pair of heavy wool pants that Mary had loaned her. She rubbed the long sleeve of the buckskin garment between her fingers. She hadn’t been able to give up wearing it. She’d miss the comfort the shirt gave her. Like John himself, it was big and reassuring. She felt as safe in his clothing as if he were holding her.

  Emily smiled in the darkness. It felt wonderful to be in the company of another woman, too. And to be among people who spoke her language. Over dinner, she’d felt as though she’d stepped into another world—a world of laughter, friendship and acceptance.

  Again she realized just how much she’d missed carrying on a simple conversation—exchanging thoughts and ideas. Tonight’s laughter and good-natured arguing in which no one got mad or hurt was new to her. She found she enjoyed it very much.

  Laughter had been rare in her family, and arguing nonexistent. There were no other views to be considered—only her father’s. She’d thought she found everything she’d ever longed for with her warrior, but now she knew better.

  There had always been a chasm between her and her godlike warrior, one she couldn’t cross—and now she realized it was the ability to talk and be understood. To know what he liked and disliked, how he thought, what he believed in. And they’d been unable to share even laughter over some silly joke.

  While she’d shared countless smiles with her Indian lover, it wasn’t the same as sharing thoughts and beliefs, wishes and dreams. Emily had loved joining in with Mary in teasing John about some of his and Ben’s past exploits. And she’d loved how the men had gotten their own back—at least at Mary—by teasing her in kind.

  It truly amazed Emily that in so short a time, she knew so much about John: how he normally hated the name Johnny, yet how it had comforted him when he’d been sick with fever. How he made a lousy patient, because he liked to be in control. How he was stubborn and he’d refused to let her give up on life. Most of all, she knew John Cartier was kind. He had a soft heart when it came to injured animals like the hawk and the wolf…and even like her.

  She thought hard. What had she known about her warrior? She scrunched her eyes closed, trying to envision her golden Apollo. Sadly, she had to admit to knowing very little. What he ate, how he liked his food cooked, his daily routine, how he liked to be touched and to touch her. How he liked her hair. How kind he’d been to her. And…and what else? Surely there had to be more, she knew. She searched her mind, but aside from what she’d said, she couldn’t list anything that would tell her who he truly was.

  She’d known nothing of his thoughts, of the things that made a person who he was. She’d not learned of his family, or who his friends were. She hadn’t even learned his name! In a flash, she remembered the first night he’d held her. She’d dreamed he’d spoken to her in English. That night he’d told her some strange story about a coyote and his friend the spider. The next day, and every day after, he’d not spoken one word of English except her name: Emily.

  He hadn’t even shared his name with her! He had to have known what she was asking, had to have understood that she would have liked to know. She’d just called him her golden Apollo, but had never known anything more.

  She called his image to her. It came. She expected to feel pain, to want to weep for him, but she only felt sadness that she hadn’t been able to get to know him. Not even his name. If she knew so little of him, how could she have loved him? Yet hadn’t her feelings been strong? Overwhelming?

  She turned her head to check on John. Truthfully, she just wanted to look at him. A dark lock of hair had fallen across his eyes. Tenderly she reached out and brushed it aside. His head turned toward her, as if seeking her touch. She wanted to give it, but she didn’t.

  She longed just to close the distance between them, to let him hold her close. But she couldn’t. Even if he opened his eyes and held out his arms, she didn’t dare. Because she wanted him. Because she wanted him as a woman wants a man—and she knew how it felt. Her body tightened with need. But was what she’d known—that intense pleasure her warrior had given her—all there was to a relationship with a man? Wasn’t there more?

  She hadn’t understood before, but now she knew there was. All during the day and evening she’d seen it in Ben and Mary. The pair knew each other so well that oftentimes one would anticipate the needs of the other or even finish the other’s sentence. It was something she’d never seen, and to her dismay she wanted to experience it.

  Suppressing a moan, she turned away from John and closed her eyes. Stop thinking of him, she ordered herself. Her mind and heart were jumbled with need and confusion and doubts. At the bottom of it all, one question demanded an answer. How could she think herself in love with one man, then days later feel an equally strong need for another?

  She feared the answer. If it was lust, then she was no better than her father’s mother. If love, she feared becoming too close. For surely he’d abandon her as had everyone else…eventually.

  She didn’t think she could survive another hurt like the ones she’d had. And she certainly wasn’t ready to try. Not yet. Not for a long time. Maybe never. Too much had happened in so little time; it was hard to accept it all. Yet one truth stood out as clearly as the black sky above her. Survival demanded she protect her heart. As soon as John was well, she’d remind him of his promise to take her back to the mission and her mother’s friend. She’d focus on that—on getting back to the mission. She’d pray Millicente was still there. Then she’d seek out her blood father and put the past behind her. Perhaps she could try to secure some sort of post or job wherever he was. Love had no place in her life. She didn’t want it. And she didn’t need its fickle character to ruin her life.

  With her mind made up, sleep should have come easy. Yet the thought of leaving John, of never seeing him again, left Emily feeling hollow inside.

  Chapter Nine

  In the four weeks since John’s accident, he’d recovered amazingly well. Emily was pleased—and relieved. Each day she walked with him to help him regain his strength. Except for still using makeshift crutches that Ben had fashioned from tree branches, he was almost back to normal. And his wound was healing nicely.

  Overhead, the sun trickled down between the leaves. The air was hot, still and stifling. At her side, John kept pace with her deliberately slower rhythm. She enjoyed their morning and afternoon strolls—and they had nothing else they needed to do. With Ben’s and Mary’s help, there was lots of free time to be had for all.

  The quiet and easy companionship she and John had formed over the past month soothed and healed her battered heart and calmed her fraught mind. For the most part, she managed to keep fear and worry over the future at bay. It was easy to do out here, she supposed. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. Of course, sooner or later she’d have to leave this quiet, beautiful land and return to the real world. And that meant saying goodbye to John. Some of the pleasure in this outing dimmed. How could she, in so short a time, have come to rely so much on another person? Hadn’t she learned better?

  He’d promised to be a friend. And he’d kept that promise. She’d never felt so close to another person in her life. Even with her mother there’d been a barrier. Timothy.

  When John’s wolf raced ahead of them, Emily put the depressing thoughts from her mind and gave herself over to the moment. There would be time enough later to worry over the future and examine her feelings for John.

  Fang ran into the shallows and rolled on his back, then leaped to his feet and loped back to them, dripping water. Emily yelped when the beast shook himself off with a delighted bark.

  John waved the wolf away. “Outta here, mutt,” he said in a growl. But Emily heard the laughter in his voice.

  “I notice he didn’t spray you with water,” she grumbled, though not really put out. In fact, she felt slightly cooler and wished she could just strip down and swim. But those days of going
about as she pleased were over. In truth, if given the choice again between a silent lover who would show her a new freedom she’d never even dreamed of, or the friendship and pleasant companionship John offered, she’d choose John. Having someone to talk to, someone with whom to share ideas was more valuable than being able to spend afternoons swimming lazily in the water with a man who looked like a god.

  Fang barked again, as if urging them to hurry. Emily’s laughter rang out. “Patience, wolf. Your master cannot run about.”

  The animal, frustrated that no one would play with him, cocked his furry head to the side, then lunged toward one of John’s crutches. John whipped the crutch out of reach and easily blocked the jumping animal. The wolf fell back and sprawled on the ground, but not for long. In a flash of gray, his jaws locked on to the other crutch before John could lift it out of his reach. With one sharp tug of his strong neck and with his hind legs planted, the animal yanked his master off balance.

  Emily rolled her eyes, knowing what was to come. She stopped and waited and watched with undisguised amusement as John launched himself at the wolf with a fierce roar. Fang barked and growled, but kept a firm grip on the crutch. Emily shook her head, watching man and beast finally fall to the ground, ignoring the crutch to wrestle beneath the shade of the tall cottonwoods.

  At last, John pinned the squirming animal and yelled in victory. He released his pet, earning himself a few swipes of the beast’s tongue on his face. Fang jumped up and rested his one front paw on his master’s chest.

  It still amazed Emily to see a wild animal—one that she knew from experience to be capable of ruthlessly stalking and killing even human prey—behaving more like a spoiled dog.

  “I never knew a wolf could be tamed so easily,” she said, more to herself.