Wild Dawn

by Cait London

  She was crying when he returned to the cabin. Her tear-spiked lashes widened around glistening deep purple eyes as she watched him strip from his heavy coat. “Oh, MacGregor....”

  Dressed in her pantelettes, laced corset, and a frilly confection beneath it, Regina threw her small body against him, holding him tightly. “Oh, MacGregor. Where have you been?”

  Her arms wrapped around his waist, her face burrowed against his chest. Holding her tightly and smoothing the tumbled, fragrant hair, MacGregor tucked her face into the shelter of his broad shoulder and throat. “Tsiso, little one, what’s wrong?”

  Sobbing quietly, her hands ran up and down his back. “I’ve tried and tried ...”

  A sob stopped her, and MacGregor waited, his heart thumping unevenly. “I just can’t. No matter how I try, I just can’t do it.”

  “Do what?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even. Do what? Leave him? Go back to England? Sleep at night when the dreams come haunting her? Share his bed and life?

  “It’s appalling. A woman of my age and experience should be able to handle the matter.” Her small shoulders shivered, and MacGregor ran his hands down her back, warming her cold body.

  “Your dreams....”

  Against his chest her face moved side to side quickly. Fear gnawing at his entrails, MacGregor picked her up and carried her to his bed. Sitting down with her in his arms, he rocked her as he would Jack. Whatever her demons were, he wanted to protect her.

  “Look. Just look,” she murmured, leaning back from him, her eyes filled with tears. “How absolutely awful. This has never happened to me before.”

  MacGregor cradled her damp cheek in his palm, running his thumb gently across the tear trails staining the satiny skin. “Tell me so I can help.”

  Her head went back, and she glared at him through her tears. “I’m not helpless. Don’t you say that I am, or I’ll never bake you that bread you consume a loaf at a time.”

  Shivering in his arms, she sobbed again and blinked. One fat tear rolled across the back of his hand. MacGregor kissed her damp lashes, her brows, and the tip of her nose. “Sweetheart....”

  Squirming in his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. She whispered urgently against his throat. “This never happens to me. If you laugh at me, MacGregor, I’ll scalp that thick black hair of yours and then pluck every hair from your most sensitive parts. They do that in the desert for torture, you know.”

  He smothered a chuckle. “You’ve found other ways to torture me, Violet.”

  “Don’t you dare laugh....”

  Leaning back, MacGregor eased her from him, tilting her chin up with his finger. “Tell me why you’re crying.”

  She sniffed just once, a delicate reminder of her heavy sobs a moment ago. Pointing to her low lacy bodice, she whispered, “Look.”

  MacGregor’s eyes gazed at the full shimmering bounty scantily covered by thin cloth and lace. Dark, rosy nipples shone through the cloth as Violet leaned farther back, giving him full view of her breasts.

  He swallowed heavily, tantalized by rounded soft flesh pushing up at him. “I see,” he said huskily, his hand sliding to touch the outer curve of her breast.

  “You see what?” she demanded, brushing the back of her hand across her cheeks to dry them.

  Soft, sweet skin and rosebud-honey nipples, he answered silently. She shifted and allowed him a fuller view sweeping down to her tiny corseted waist. Squirming slightly on his lap, Regina lifted one dainty foot, and MacGregor’s hungry look swept down the long curve of her leg. Her soft buttocks slid from him as she stood, and MacGregor’s body hardened instantly.

  A lacy strap slid off her shoulder, the firelight gleaming on the satiny curve. Rounded above the corset, her breasts quivered as she pointed to her waist. “I’ve tried for a full hour and can’t unlace my corset.”

  He stared at her tear-stained face blankly. “You’ve been crying because you can’t get your underwear off?”

  Tilting her head to one side caused a thick strand of hair to slide down her breasts, brushing MacGregor’s hand. She scowled at him fiercely. “Of course! A lady usually has a maid to help her. I couldn’t ask you.... You’ve been sulking about as though I’d taken away a beloved toy—”

  “You’ve been crying because you couldn’t unlace yourself?” he asked again incredulously. “Violet, you’ve faced Tall Tom, nursed a sick baby across a desert, dug a bullet out of me, and led a raid.”

  He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair until it stood out in peaks. “It doesn’t make sense. There isn’t anything you can’t do.”

  “MacGregor, are you going to help me or not? If you don’t, I’ll cut the laces, and French cord can’t be replaced in the American wilds,” she stated haughtily.

  He stared at her blankly for a moment, then sighed. His book had warned of women’s shifting moods. Whatever Regina’s current mood was now, it gave him an excuse to hold her. “Let me have a closer look.”

  MacGregor spread his legs, placed his hands on her rounded hips, and smoothed the curve thoughtfully. Then he drew her between his legs, until his face was just inches from her breasts.

  He kissed one shimmering tip through the delicate cloth, and Regina’s body tensed as she inhaled sharply. MacGregor nuzzled the cloth lower over her other breast and kissed a slow trail to the rosy tip. This was what he wanted, the soft flesh flowing and heating beneath his touch. The scent of cinnamon rose from her skin as her fingers caressed the back of his neck.

  MacGregor tugged lightly at the cloth between her breasts. “The laces are fouled. This may take some time.”

  “MacGregor—” Her protest died as their lips met and she pushed him back down on their cot...

  ~**~

  MacGregor’s dark weathered skin beaded with sweat, the areas around his mouth pale in the morning light. “You’ve been sick again,” he said tightly. “Dropping weight until a good wind would blow you away.”

  Regina wrinkled her nose, trying not to smell the frying bacon. She pressed her palm over her stomach and swallowed uneasily. Jack babbled, fighting the length of toweling binding his fat tummy to the chair. Gnawing at his bacon strip, he held the thick slice up to Regina, a smile on his greasy chubby face.

  Sitting weakly, she gripped the table for support while MacGregor grimly finished the bacon and placed sourdough biscuits on the table. In another moment he was sitting across from her, filling her plate and grumbling. Running the flat of his hand across his lean stomach, he looked at the bacon as though it were live snakes. “I’m not feeling that good myself.”

  Jack gurgled and threw his chewed rind at Regina. Instantly her stomach rose, and she ran for the door.

  Leaning against the cabin, inhaling the fresh cold March breeze until her nausea eased, Regina closed her eyes. MacGregor’s baby had caused her breasts to swell. That tiny life nestled in her as surely as England and her father lay in her past. She had to wrest free of MacGregor... and soon.

  Before he discovered the baby. If she didn’t leave him soon, she would never have the freedom she must have....

  MacGregor stepped outside and closed the door. “Jack’s in his pen.”

  Inhaling the air, he leaned against the cabin with her. “Violet, I’ve been thinking about your sickness.... In the war men’s minds made them sick. And I read in the book that women have queer urges and need time to sort them out.”

  “Your bloody book can go to—” she managed between her teeth.

  His black eyes traced her pale face slowly. “I’ve seen trapped animals chew off a paw for freedom. Maybe that’s what’s happening to you.... At first light I’ll take you to Primrose,” he said stiffly.

  “Really?”

  “You just lit up. So leaving me makes you happy, when nothing else will... Come back inside,” he muttered roughly, taking her hand in his. “You’re cold.”

  ~**~

  Chapter Fourteen

  Regina stepped from the brilliant M
arch sunlight into the smoky gloom of Primrose’s Last Dollar Saloon. She wiped her muddy boots on the grate, and the sunlight spread around her body, outlining it on the dirty floor.

  In the shadows the male inhabitants turned to her, grumbling. “Close the door!” “Damn! What’s a woman doing in here?” “Sun can blind a man.”

  She smiled, closed the door, then dusted her hands on her trousers. “Mr. Pokey Wales, please. I understand that he wants to sell his farm.”

  A rough-voiced bartender nodded to a man sprawled over a table. “That’s Pokey. Boys, pick him up and take him outside for the girl. Women can ruin business.”

  In the daylight and sitting braced against a wooden barrel, Pokey’s reddened eyes squinted up at her. “That land is worthless. Not a trace of color anywhere on it. Bought it from a drunkard. Don’t want to skunk you, ma’am.”

  Pokey stared at her sheep drinking from the swollen stream coursing through Primrose’s main street. He blinked. “Woollies. Big ones.”

  She crouched beside him. “My sheep and I need a home and quickly, Mr. Wales. They’re needing shearing. How much?”

  “Woollies.” He stared at Je t’aime and the mule loaded with Regina’s chest. “A woman with woollies. I reckon I can part with the land. The cabin is warm. Hauled in a black walnut, sassafras, and wild cherry timber a while back. Settlers couldn’t pay the price, so the wood is still there, behind the house. Reckon that ought to add to the price.... How much are you willing to pay?”

  “Ah. That is the problem, Mr. Wales. Would you take these diamond eardrops as payment?” The diamonds sparkled in the palm of Regina’s embroidered kid glove. “They are genuine, I assure you.”

  “Pretties. There’s a Chinese woman here that pays high for pretties. Reckon we got a deal, ma’am.”

  ~**~

  Lilly shivered with the pain burning across her back. Sold to her mistress at the age of thirteen, Lilly had tasted the lash often in five years. Madam Joy knew how to give pain and not leave marks on her prostitutes. Lilly’s almond-shaped eyes slid to the small woman walking out of Primrose. Easing aside the dingy lace curtain covering the grimy window, Lilly wrapped her red silk gown tighter around her slender body.

  The woman of the sheep walked alone, pride straightening her back. Dressed in men’s trousers and a fringed Indian jacket, the small woman carried a long rifle easily. There was something in the set of her jaw and in her shoulders that Lilly admired and wanted for herself.

  The woman led the big horse easily, the dogs obeying her commands to herd the flock of sheep out of Primrose. “A woman who is not afraid,” Lilly whispered. “A woman who will rule her life. As I cannot.”

  Lilly’s delicate fingers crushed the tattered curtain. At eighteen she knew her future. She had refused to work the opium den under the Last Dollar and had received Madam’s lash. Lilly stretched a slender arm upward, allowing the loose silk sleeves to slide down her bruised skin.

  She studied the marks, her expression hardening. Once entering the den, many girls never saw the sun again. This beating had left marks on Lilly’s small face and across her ribs. Aching, she rose unsteadily and slipped out the back door.

  At the outskirts of Primrose Regina turned to the soft cry, “Missy! Missy!”

  The girl ran to Je t’aime, her slender hand touching the reins. Beneath the flowing silk gown embroidered with dragons, her willowy body was nude. A swath of sleek black hair slid aside to reveal a blackened eye and a swollen, cut mouth.

  “My dear, what has happened?” Regina asked.

  The girl clutched the robe around her, shivering in the cold wind that swept up her body. “I come with you, ma’am. Please? I am strong. I can cook and work.... I sleep outside and eat little.”

  Acting quickly, Regina wrapped a soft cotton blanket around the girl’s thin shoulders. “You’ve been beaten,” she said quietly. She studied the girl’s horror-filled expression. “Of course you may come with me. We’ll settle this matter when you’re feeling better. Get up on my horse.”

  A heavy woman dressed in a tight indigo dress stepped from the shadows. “About time you pulled out, Lilly,” she said, her worn face grim beneath the heavy white coating. “Good luck, girl.”

  Seated on the horse, Lilly huddled beneath the blanket and tried vainly to smile. “Good-bye, Beulah, my friend.”

  The woman’s bleached hair caught the sunlight in greenish tints. “Pah. You just remember where my crib is if things don’t turn out. You can’t stay ‘cause of the madam’s bad medicine, but reckon there’s a hide hunter or two that would get you out of town... as a favor to me.”

  ~**~

  That evening MacGregor leaned against a birch tree and watched the smoke curl upward from the small cabin nestled in the trees. Leaving Jack with a settler, he’d followed Regina out of town and to her land.

  “Fool woman,” he muttered, then tore off a piece of jerky with his teeth. Chewing on it, he watched Regina scavenge through the trees for dry branches while the dogs frolicked at her legs. Her sheep grazed on tufts of grass above the snow.

  Another small woman dressed in Regina’s clothes moved in and out of the cabin, dragging hides and litter out. Between them they unloaded Regina’s chest. Watching the two women tug the chest into the cabin, MacGregor spat out the chewed meat. Picking up his rifle, he circled the cabin and noted the heavy wolf sign.

  In the night the two women awoke to the sound of wolves howling and then rapid rifle fire. Twice more the wolves’ eerie call sounded to be silenced by gun shots. Regina gripped MacGregor’s rifle and stepped out into the moonlight, checking the flock. Laddie circled the sheep restlessly, a dark shadow on the snow, while Venus whined and stayed close to her side.

  A rapid succession of rifle fire shattered the night, and then the silence stretched for endless minutes.

  Standing beside Regina, Lilly’s almond-shaped eyes widened, her small face turning pale as she wrung her hands. “Madam Joy....”

  “Shh.” Regina waited, but the starlit night remained quiet. “Go back to the house, Lilly.”

  “You come, too, Missy.”

  Regina shook her head. “These are my sheep. You’re ill. The night’s damp chill won’t help you to recover. Go along, now, Lilly. Take Venus—I’ll need Laddie.”

  Regina propped the rifle across her lap as she sat on a log, watching the shadows around the meadow. Laddie acted calmly, circling the sheep to her orders, and the night quieted. When she entered the cabin an hour later, Lilly helped her from her jacket.

  “Poor Miss Violet. So tired. You drink tea while Lilly comb your pretty hair?”

  “I am so happy to have you near, my friend,” Regina stated sincerely. “You are a treasure.”

  Lilly blushed shyly. “One is happy to serve Miss Violet.”

  Regina stroked Lilly’s bruised cheek. “I am not your mistress, but your friend, Lilly. When you wish to leave, you may.”

  Later, Regina listened to the night slip away and the sound of doves greeting the dawn.

  When she closed her eyes, MacGregor’s long, hard body lay near her. The fierce desire to have him ran through her like a flame. His body filled hers . .. then she opened her lids, the aching hunger quivering within her like a thin, tightly strung wire. Her hand foraged for the hair covering his chest and found nothing but the flannel sheeting of the cot. Rubbing her palms together, Regina turned to her side to watch the dawn slip through the window.

  MacGregor. MacGregor... When she closed her eyes, she saw his face darken with passion. When she had danced for him, MacGregor had taken her fiercely, possessively. The flames danced in the shadows of the lodge, twining with their bodies wrapped in her shawl as they twisted seeking passion, his mouth tasting hers with sweet delight.

  He hadn’t liked it, his dark mood wrapped in that set jaw and his scowl, but he’d brought her to Primrose. He’d stopped at the edge of town, spread his legs and cradled that rifle in his arms. MacGregor hadn’t looked down at her as she came t
o say thank-you and ease that scowl.

  He’d held his breath when she’d stroked his cheek. Then he’d given her just one word and it meant the world.

  “Go,” he said. His one word meant her freedom.

  ~**~

  Three days later, Regina returned to Primrose alone and swathed in her finest dress. The paisley shawl caught the sun and shimmered around her shoulders.

  She eased her skirts away from a drunken miner lying on the boards scattered across the muddy street. After entering the dry goods store, she arranged payment with the manager, who held her emerald earrings to the sunlight and nodded. “Done. You have an account.”

  The balding man stared at Regina over his spectacles. He handed the earrings back to her. “Won’t need those. Got no use for such things here. MacGregor said to give you anything you wanted. Said he’d come to collect you when he was ready.”

  “MacGregor?” she asked ominously.

  “Yep. Stopped by here. Said you was to have what you needed. Left a pack of green wolf hides against your account. Said they came off the Pokey Wales place. Said there would be a purple-eyed woman, talking funny, wanting to do business. Reckon you fit the bill.”

  “MacGregor?” she repeated softly. “Collect me? Like a piece of wayward baggage? When he was ready?”

  “Yep. Said you was his wife and that he’d be moving in soon. Made a point to let the boys know that you was married and that he’d be mighty unhappy if they stepped over the line with you. Some young pup mouthed off about how a man should keep his woman, and MacGregor near killed him.”

  “That—” Regina pressed her lips together. She’d end MacGregor’s claim to her at first chance. “Do you have a judge in town?”

  “Judge Beauregard has arthritis. Won’t be around till June or July when it’s good and warm.”

  In the afternoon Regina found Beulah’s tiny shack on the backstreet. Over a tin cup of tea Beulah asked, “That young Chinese girl, Lilly... is she healing?”