A Worthy Heir

by Pat Ballard

  Feeling the beginning of an emptiness she didn’t think she could bear, she went to him. Kneeling in front of him, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest for the briefest of moments.

  “What’s this?” he asked in surprise.

  “Shhhh,” she repeated his words to him. “Concentrate on what you’re feeling. That’s all that matters right now.” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Kissing her way down until his belt buckle stopped her. She could already feel him responding to her, and when she unfastened his belt and pants, she heard the sharp hiss of air as he sucked in his breath. She didn’t stop until he was exhausted from her lovemaking.

  Later, as they lay in the tent, Reese said, “You asked me once if I’d ever made love to a real woman. I can answer that question now. Not until you. I’ve never known a woman as passionate and loving as you are.”

  “And you said it was obvious I’d never made love to a real man,” Pam smiled. “And you were right. In fact, I’d never made love to a man at all. My only sexual contact before you was the jerk who raped me when I was just a teenager.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Yes. Technically, you’re the first man I’ve ever made love to,” she answered quietly.

  “Well, I have to admit we’re experiencing some real fine sex. But I’m not sure that love has anything to do with it,” Reese answered, honestly.

  “It has everything to do with it for me,” Pam said, turning her head away from him, trying to hide the tear that slid silently down her face. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

  “I believe you, Pam,” he whispered, turning her face back to him and kissing the tear from her cheek. “But I’m still a little confused about our entire situation, so I was making the statement for myself.”

  He pulled her close in his arms and, for the moment, she felt warm and loved and protected. Let tomorrow bring what it would, she thought, as she drifted into a contented sleep.

  Chapter 12

  “I saw John Littlefoot today,” Reese said, holding Pam’s gaze.

  “Who?” She hoped her voice sounded sincere. She finished storing the food so it wouldn’t attract varmints to the camp. Supper was finished, and it was her favorite time of the day. Sitting around the campfire with Reese, listening to him talk, loving his relaxed state, and anticipating the moment he would take her hand and lead her into the tent for their magical lovemaking.

  “Don’t try to play it off, Pam. He told me everything the two of you discussed. He was very apologetic for spilling his guts to you.”

  A week had passed since John Littlefoot had come by the camp. Reese and Pam had settled into a routine. He was gone when she awoke every morning. She had supper ready when he came home at night. Sometimes they made love before they ate, and sometimes they made love after they ate. But not a night had passed that they hadn’t made love at least once. Several times, Reese had loved her awake during the middle of the night. Those times were the most precious to Pam. She gloried in the thought of him waking up and needing to touch her. To be near her.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Reese’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Probably never,” she shrugged.

  “Why?”

  “Why would I? It’s obvious you didn’t want me to know this is your land, or that you own a house here, or you would have told me.”

  “It’s not like it seems. I planned to tell you.”

  “It’s okay, Reese. I can understand your reasons for not telling me.”

  “Oh? And what are those reasons?”

  “You think I tricked you into marrying me to get your house and money, so it’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to keep this a secret so I wouldn’t try to get my hands on it, too.”

  “Don’t ever try to read my mind, Pam. It won’t work.” For the first time in many days, Pam detected the old hardness in Reese’s voice. He got up and threw more wood on the campfire, causing sparks to fly into the air before dancing into oblivion.

  “But I really do understand—”

  “No. You don’t understand, because you don’t have any idea what I’ve been doing.” He returned to his chair.

  “You’ve been taking pictures of eagles, haven’t you? That’s what you said you were going to do.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, and I’ve been doing that, too, for a magazine article I’m writing. But that’s not my main reason for being here this trip. I’m finishing a book that I have to have done in another week. I have a deadline for the end of this month, with a hotshot publisher who wants this one and maybe another one.”

  “A book on eagles?”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” he answered with a chuckle.

  “Then what is it about?” Pam persisted.

  “My ancestors.”

  “You’re doing a family tree?” Now Pam was really puzzled.

  “Kind of. It’s about my Indian ancestors.”

  “Oh!”

  “John didn’t bother to mention to you that I’m part American Indian, did he?” Was that a look of apprehension in those flashing blue eyes?

  “Well, he said he sure didn’t want to get your Indian blood stirred up. So I didn’t know if he was sincere, or just joking.”

  “He was very sincere. He looks more the part than I do, because his mom married an Indian. So he’s three quarters Cherokee, and I’m only one quarter.”

  “Was Fiona part Indian?”

  “No. This was on my mom’s side. My mom was half Cherokee. She was a descendent of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians. Do you know anything about the Trail of Tears?” As he talked, a quiet reverence crept into Reese’s voice. As if he were speaking of things sacred. As if he thought the spirits of his ancestors might be sitting in the shadows listening to his story to see if he would tell it correctly.

  “I remember studying a little about the Trail of Tears in school.” Unexpectedly, she felt guilty that she could remember so little about a subject that seemed so important to Reese.

  “That’s the reason my publisher wants this book. He thinks I’m on to an idea that can be used as assigned reading in History classes that will make the story come alive and live longer in people’s minds. My book is fiction, but it’s based on complete facts of things that happened to the Indians who were driven from their land and forced to live on reservations.”

  “So was your mom on a reservation?”

  “No. As I said, her ancestors became known as the Eastern Band. Her great-great-grandparents hid in these mountains when, in 1838, the federal government came and forced most Cherokees to go west to Oklahoma. They managed to keep this very land that we sit on right now, and it’s been passed down through my ancestors until now. I’m the last surviving member from my mom’s family, so if I don’t have children, I plan to leave my land to John Littlefoot’s children. Our grandfathers were brothers, so we’re second cousins.”

  Darkness had settled in around them. The only light was the campfire that flickered eerie shadows against the trees and underbrush surrounding them. Some of the shadows almost looked like ghostly bodies hunkering around to listen to Reese’s story.

  A shiver ran over Pam. She tried to hide it from Reese, but his ever-watchful eyes caught the action, and he moved closer to her and took her hand in his.

  “Does it bother you that I’m part Indian?”

  “Oh, Reese! Not at all. I’m intrigued with your story. I want to hear more about the Trail of Tears. It sounds so terrible.”

  “It was atrocious. It’s one of the saddest episodes of our American history. What it boils down to is that white settlers moving into the areas pressed the U.S. government to do something about the Indians, because the whites just didn’t want them around. So in 1825, the government formally adopted a removal policy, which was carried out in the 1830s by President Andrew Jackson and President Martin Van Buren. So, as a result, the Indians of the southeastern United States—primarily the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw,
Creeks, and Seminoles—were moved hundreds of miles to a new home.”

  “But that’s horrible!” Pam protested.

  “Horrible doesn’t come close to describing the conditions these people were made to endure. They were taken from their land and forced to march a thousand miles. Some made part of the trip by boat in equally horrible conditions. Thousands died on the trip. That’s why it’s called The Trail Of Tears.”

  “But if they were forced to leave, how did your people wind up with this land?”

  “As I said earlier, my mother’s people became part of what’s known as the Eastern Band. Prior to the Trail of Tears, a small group of Cherokees in western North Carolina had received permission to be excluded from the move west. This group was often called the Oconaluftee Indians. They didn’t live on Cherokee Nation land and considered themselves separate from the Cherokee Nation. Also, a few of the Cherokees just refused to be removed, so they hid in the mountains around here and managed to escape the soldiers and spies who hunted for them. My mother’s people were in the few that managed to escape the removal. Many of those in hiding were eventually allowed to settle among the Cherokees of western North Carolina. That was the beginning of the Eastern Band of Cherokees.”

  “Did Fiona know about all of this?”

  “Ah, yes. Fiona knew. And she hated every aspect of it. She hated that her son had married a “half-breed,” as I once heard her yelling at him. She hated it that my mom owned land here, because she was afraid that would lure my parents back here. And she hated it that my mom’s blood runs strong in my veins, calling me here, making me want to spend hours, days, weeks, exploring these hills. I love taking photos of everything that exists in these mountains. I love just sitting, breathing in the very spirit of the history that hovers over this land. Yes, Fiona knew this. And she hated it to the point that she would do anything to get me back to Dallas, to her manmade, concrete world.

  “When my mom died in the car accident, she was on her way back from here to get me. She’d made arrangements with John’s parents to live with them until she could find a place for us to live.”

  The fire had died down to smoldering embers, allowing the darkness of the night to crowd closer and closer. Lightning flashed in the distance and a soft roll of thunder followed it.

  “But enough history for tonight.” Reese’s voice broke the silence. “It’s gotten hotter since the sun went down, I believe. I think from the look and feel of things we’re in for a storm. Why don’t we go to the falls and cool off a little.” He reached for Pam’s hand and pulled her from her chair.

  Instant heat washed through her body, and it had nothing to do with the pending storm. Anticipation caused her pulses to accelerate with a throbbing that coursed through her being. She could already feel Reese’s hands on her, touching, caressing, bringing her pleasures that she’d never known existed.

  Clouds had covered the moon, so the only light was from a flashlight Reese had grabbed as they left the camp. It cast an eerie circle of light on the path in front of them, but everywhere else was pitch black, giving Pam the impression she was being led into some dark cave by her Indian captor. The thought caused a nervous giggle to rise in her throat.

  “Care to share the joke?” Reese’s voice shattered the dark night.

  “It’s nothing,” she covered. “I think I’m just nervous tonight, since it’s so dark. Are you sure this is safe?”

  By now they were to the edge of the waterfall. Reese shined the light around to make sure nothing hovered close to harm them, then snapped the light off and reached for Pam.

  “Tonight I’m going to teach you to be one with the universe. When it’s totally black like this, there’s no visual to distract from our concentration. Just feelings. Sensations. Being. Just be, tonight, Pam. Feel my hands on you as I touch you. Let the sensations sear your mind. Feel how hot with passion my hands are on your flesh. Touch me back, Pam. Let me feel, too.” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want to disturb the night.

  His whispered, passionate words and his hands on her body drove Pam to a point that she had never been. It felt so right, so primal, to have him take her here on the cool grass, with the sound of the water falling around them.

  There was a difference in his lovemaking tonight. Almost as if sharing his history with her had freed him of a bondage that had held him back until now. There was a wildness, an abandonment that she had never experienced in him. And her own spirit met his—matched his, as they celebrated the night with their love.

  Almost too exhausted to move, Reese took Pam’s hand and helped her to her feet. Again he flashed the light around to make certain his footsteps were sure as he led her into the falling water. The cool water chilled her hot flesh, causing a shiver to run over her body. But Reese’s lips on hers turned the shiver into a tremor of a totally different nature.

  “I just don’t seem to be able to get enough of you,” his lips whispered against hers. When she opened her mouth to respond, he claimed it before she could get a word out.

  And he proved, yet again, that he couldn’t get enough of her. As they reached their pinnacle at the same time a flash of lightning rent the sky, illuminating their bodies in the falling water, and for a brief moment Pam thought they looked like a statue of two lovers caught unaware.

  The fierce clap of thunder that followed the lightning let them know the storm was on them.

  “We’d better get back to the tent and make sure everything is tied down and safe,” Reese said, leading her out of the water.

  By now the lightning was so continuous that they didn’t need the flashlight to light the way. By the time they reached camp the wind was blowing so hard they had to lean into it just to walk.

  “This is not good!” Reese yelled, dodging something that flew by his head. He drew Pam closer to him, to protect her. Finally they made it to the tent and dove in for shelter.

  The trees overhead moaned and swayed under the assault of the wind. The lightning was constant and the thunder so loud that Pam, who usually loved storms, clamped her hands over her ears to shield them from the noisy onslaught. She could tell Reese was truly concerned as he gathered her close to him and positioned his body over hers to protect her in case one of the huge trees decided to give way under the wind.

  “I think it’s blowing over,” he yelled between claps of thunder.

  Pam smiled and nodded her head, hoping he was correct. She studied his face in the flashing lightning. A face that would be burned into her mind’s eye for as long as she lived. A face that she had grown to love to the point of distraction. A face that would soon be just a memory. So she studied it. Memorized it. Etched it into her subconscious so that on dark, lonely nights she could conjure it up and remember the brief, wonderful time she’d had loving this man.

  She fell asleep fearing, dreading the future.

  Chapter 13

  Pam awoke to the sound of soft rain falling on the tent. But the wind had stopped blowing so hard. And it was light outside. Slowly she became aware that she wasn’t alone. Turning her head slightly, she looked into Reese’s blazing blue eyes.

  “You know, you’re a constant surprise to me,” he said, running his thumb over her sleep-swollen lips.

  “I am?” She was so surprised to find him still here with her this morning that she couldn’t think of much more to say.

  “Yes. You are. Every other woman I know would have been in hysterics last night during that storm. But you had the audacity to fall asleep in the middle of it!” Wonder and just a little awe tinged his voice, to Pam’s surprise.

  “Well, I just happen to love storms. Although that one last night was a little too much to really love.”

  She expected anything except his booming laugh. “You love storms? I didn’t know that about you, Pam.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Reese,” Pam whispered, wanting to tell him that one of those things was that she loved him so much she’d do anything to make him h
appy.

  “Hmmm. Want to elaborate on a few?” he teased, sliding his hand down her throat to let it stop and rest gently cupping a breast.

  “Well, for one thing—”

  “Um-hmm,” he whispered.

  Pam was aware of the rain quietly pelting the tent, and Reese’s mouth lowering to replace his hand. Sweet, delicious sensations shot through her body as his mouth covered her peak.

  “Reese, I can’t talk with you doing that,” she groaned.

  “I know. So don’t talk just yet. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

  Later—much later—Reese handed Pam a cup of coffee. It had stopped raining long enough for them to make coffee and find a few things to eat that hadn’t blown away in the storm. But the rain had started back, so they sat cross-legged on the bed to drink the coffee and eat some stale raisin bread that had managed to make it through the storm.

  “So, tell me all those things about you that I don’t know,” he picked up where they’d been a long while ago. “For starters, tell me how a city girl like you came to be so comfortable in a tent during a raging storm. Why weren’t you screaming hysterically?”

  “Well, I’ve spent about as much time in tents as I have being a city girl,” she started to explain. “When Tom and I were kids, and even after we were teenagers, our dad thought the ideal summer vacation was to spend it traveling through different parts of the country. Camping and ‘living off the land,’ as he used to say. And I don’t mean a week or two. I mean the entire summer! So I’ve done my time in tents, under about all the weather conditions there are.”

  When they’d first arrived here, Pam thought she’d love it when the time came for her to let Reese know that his punishment for her was something she was quite comfortable with. She thought, then, that she’d feel jubilation at putting him in his place when the time came. But now she only wanted to share the knowledge with him. She had no desire to get back at him.

  But to her astonishment she could feel him withdrawing from her.