Wild Dawn

by Cait London

  Regina sipped her tea. “She’s taken a brutal beating. Apparently it wasn’t the first. She was too frightened to come today. I thought it better that she rest in quiet. She has my dogs and my pistol for protection.”

  “None of the girls hereabouts will work for Madam Joy. She buys girls from China, brings ‘em here. Nobody ever hears from them again, once they go down into the den. That’s what Madam Joy was fixing to do with Lilly. She’s too old to draw good money. Down in the den men don’t care who takes care of ‘em.”

  Beulah poured tobacco into a thin paper square, licked an edge, then rolled it into a cigarette. “Poor little thing. She’s tough and older than most. Couldn’t do a thing for her, though. The madam would have my hide. She’s got ways.”

  The “soiled dove” stuck a wood sliver into her small stove, lit it, and touched it to her cigarette. She inhaled and blew the smoke out her nose. “Miners and hide hunters want one kind of woman or they want another. Once in a while one of us girls gets a good man and a wedding ring. But Madam Joy’s girls always end the same: Dead. Saw a dead one once, must have been all of seventeen. Looked like she was fifty. The madam is out to get you, Miss Violet.”

  “Then perhaps I should visit with Madam Joy.”

  Beulah looked at her sharply. “You do and you might never have that baby you’re breeding. She’s got more potions—”

  “How did you know?” Regina ran her hand across her flat stomach.

  The other woman sat back in her chair and puffed on her cigarette. “You’ve got the look. Seen it often enough... and besides, any woman whose got MacGregor dancing around her skirts is likely breeding.”

  Regina flushed. “He isn’t dancing around my skirts.”

  “He’s the only reason the madam hasn’t jerked Lilly free. He walked right into the Last Dollar and told her he didn’t want anything happening to you. Bought Lilly for you. Said you needed company up there in that cabin. That anyone making trouble for you—”

  “That man. That possessive bully. How dare he?” Regina stormed, tugging her shawl closer.

  Beulah stared out her dirty window at the rainy mist for a minute, then spoke slowly. “Well, honey. MacGregor’s a whole lot of man. He’s the kind that sees one woman and wants her, no matter what. The thing is, no one can ever remember MacGregor wanting a woman for years. When he was a sprout there were plenty of quick turns on the blanket. Heard he had an Indian wife who died and left him with a baby.... Now you turn up married to him.”

  “He needed a woman for Jack. I needed help at the moment,” Regina stated sharply.

  “Sounds like a good bargain to me. You throw a man like that one into the blanket, and I’d take it in a minute.”

  ~**~

  Two weeks later MacGregor glanced at Jack trying to pull up on a fallen log. When he stood upright, Jack grinned at his father and yelled, “Da! Da!”

  A big strong boy, Jack would soon be walking, chattering to a brother or a sister with big purple eyes.

  Scooping him up, MacGregor hugged his son, who promptly bestowed him with a juicy kiss. Placing Jack on his shoulders, MacGregor unfolded Beulah’s note and read it again. “Violet is with child. Beulah.”

  That night MacGregor lay in his bed, staring at the rafters above him. The firelight danced in the shadows, and he closed his eyes. Violet.

  The thought of Regina with his child tightened the muscles around his heart and belly. She’d have known when she left... known that his child was growing in her. MacGregor’s fist hit the cot.

  Bastard child, she’d said. Bound for freedom, she hadn’t shared her secret. His fist hit the cot again. There were ways to rid a woman of an unwanted child—teas, potions....

  In a lithe movement MacGregor slid off the cot he’d shared with Regina. He ached to have her nestled against him, the womanly fragrances snaring him. Rubbing his palm along his bare thigh, MacGregor stared at the coals of the fire. “Violet will keep the baby,” he murmured. “But what of the father?”

  The sight of Regina’s eardrops in Pokey Wale’s grimy hand irked him.

  “Diamonds!” Pokey had exclaimed, turning his hand until the jewels sparkled. “Worked with a jeweler once in St. Louie. Them’s real diamonds. That’s a real ruby in your ear, too, MacGregor, as I live and breathe.”

  MacGregor’s teeth ground together, and he forced himself to relax his jaw. He remembered the diamond she’d offered him on the flats. The size of a bird’s egg, the stone was worth more money than he could earn trapping.... Regina’s jewels made her a wealthy woman. She didn’t need what he could give her!

  Lifting Regina’s purple ribbon from a peg, MacGregor ran it across his lips. “And I gave her boots and moccasins. Offered to keep her safe and well fed—she can buy men to work for her.”

  He crushed the ribbon. “She’s carrying my child.”

  Two days later MacGregor placed Jack in a cradleboard and laced him in tightly. The baby chattered, excited about the routine trip outside to tend the stock and gather wood.

  “Well, son. Our Violet is on the run, and she hasn’t made up her mind to have us yet. We can’t let her stray too far while she’s making up her mind. We’ve got to find ways of sweetening the pot.”

  Jack grinned up at his father, his new teeth shining. “Da. Da.”

  MacGregor picked up the cradleboard and eased his arms into it carefully. “What we have here, Jack, is a reluctant woman. A hard woman. Set in her ways. The thing is, I mean to have her. You’re going to be my bait. Violet’s got a soft spot for you.”

  Leaning against the cabin walls that night while Jack slept, MacGregor closed Regina’s book of romantic poems with a grim thud. He ran his fingers through the hair on his chest slowly, staring at the fire. Regina’s small hand had snared a portion of his heart and left him aching. Dark purple eyes stared at him from the shadows, drowsy in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  MacGregor’s hard thumb ran across the purple ribbon marking the poetry.

  “Violet MacGregor wants courting, does she?” he asked the shadows. “She dreams of storybook love and walks away from a marriage to me.”

  He threw the book against the wall. “I won’t be bullied by a half-pint Englishwoman.”

  ~**~

  “Tear it off,” Mortimer-Hawkes demanded softly as his cane tapped Covington’s fingernail. “You’ve failed, Lord Covington. Regina isn’t dead, or you would have her earrings. A few coins in the right hands and the story was mine. A miserable attempt and easily foiled. You tried to kill my daughter, Lord Covington, and for that you will pay dearly.”

  The marquess sliced a grim look at the other man’s pale face. “You’ve failed to conquer her, and I shall have to take up the reins now. Tear off your fingernail as a sign of your allegiance and your apology for trying to harm Pagan. She was tempered for a stronger man than you, a miserable, spineless excuse of a man.”

  He nudged the pliers closer to Alfred Covington’s sweat-covered hand. “Now.”

  “She’s with a madman. The two of them killed my guide. Regina’s ‘gone Injun,’ as they say here. Taken to the wilds as if she were born here. You can’t blame me for your daughter’s savage ways.... She tried to kill me first. She—”

  The marquess’s amethyst eyes flashed angrily. “Regina is a lady. Say that she is anything but a proper lady, and I shall call you out.”

  When Covington’s blue eyes widened, the marquess placed his Hessian boot on a velvet floor pillow to study the polish. “I’ve changed my mind. Pull out two nails. One as a pledge for your allegiance and one as an apology for your slur on my daughter. Or I shall gladly kill you.”

  ~**~

  Chapter Fifteen

  A cowbell echoed through the June morning, cutting through the sounds of the grazing sheep and the mockingbird trill. Regina straightened from hoeing the small garden, tilting the broad brim of her straw hat against the bright sun.

  A tall man walked toward her, and she immediately recognized the familiar sw
ay of broad shoulders and easy long-legged stride. MacGregor’s white shirt shone brightly in the sun as he led his Appaloosas and two heavily loaded mules across the lush meadow filled with flowers. His long switch reached out to tap and guide a small mottled brown cow with curved horns and swaying udders.

  “MacGregor....” Regina whispered, her hand raised to cover her rapidly beating heart. Dropping the hoe, she stood on tiptoe to better see the man coming toward her. A daisy tumbled down from the ribbon tied at the hat’s crown, and she pressed the flower to her chest.

  Striding through the high green grass, brushing aside a sea of yellow and purple flowers, MacGregor led his horses, the two heavily loaded mules, and the cow. Jack napped within the shadows of a small seat safely lashed to the back of a horse.

  Jarred by the grim determination locked in MacGregor’s rugged features, Regina held her breath. She instinctively smoothed his large shirt, covering the loosened waistband of her cotton skirt. The baby— MacGregor’s child—nestled beneath her hand, and now his father strode through the field toward her like a knight claiming his lands.

  Cutting through the grazing sheep, he reached to rub Maude’s forehead. Laddie and Venus barked frantically, jumping up on MacGregor’s long legs. He petted them, but his black eyes never left her, the desire in them causing her to flush deeply. She ran the back of her hand across her hot cheek, brushing away the clinging tendrils.

  His baby rested beneath her palm, and Regina took a deep breath. He’d find out in time, and she’d fight him for the child. But just now she hungered for the sight of him. Part of her ached to run into his arms.

  Part of her ached in terror. MacGregor had the intent look of a hunter now, stalking his quarry. Something deep within her shivered in terror. She couldn’t be owned.

  He stopped in front of her. The angles of his face jutted against his dark skin, his hair almost touching the collar of the shirt she’d sewn for him. Two tiny, fresh razor cuts slanted across his jaw, and droplets of water clung to his hair.

  MacGregor tossed the switch aside and lifted his hat from his head; the ruby glittered in his ear. His lean tanned fingers closed slowly on the hat’s brim, the white knuckles showing for just an instant. He shifted on long legs, the gun belt gleaming in the sunlight. “ ‘Morning.”

  She nodded and heard herself return the greeting, “ ‘Morning.”

  The grooves sliding down his cheek deepened as he smiled, and Regina’s heart lurched. She blinked once, and his grin deepened, his eyes sparkling beneath the sooty length of black lashes.

  MacGregor’s smile... a beguiling, courtly, heart-stopping smile.

  Her eyes widened. MacGregor’s courting smile, she thought wildly, fascinated as he took a step closer to her and the reins slid to the dewy grass. MacGregor’s black eyes swept slowly over her face, and she forced herself not to shiver, fighting that trembling caused by just looking at him.

  “You’re looking well, MacGregor,” she managed huskily, trying to keep her tone even.

  “I tried to stay away longer. Tried to give you the time you need to heal,” he stated softly, studying the daisies tucked into her straw bonnet and searching her face within the shadows. “Can’t stay away any longer, Violet.”

  She tensed as he reached to stroke a fingertip across the heavy braid flowing down her left breast. Tracing the length slowly, MacGregor stared at her intently. “Jack’s needing his ma, Violet. I’m needing my wife. I tried what you said, paid an Indian woman to tend Jack. But she said he was too ornery. Said I was ornery, too. That’s why I’ve come to you. Seems like you’re the only woman who can handle the pair of us.”

  Her eyes widened at his admission. “MacGregor, you know—”

  He ran a fingertip across the sensitive tip of her swollen breast and up her inner arm before she stepped away. “You’re a beautiful woman, Violet MacGregor. Enough to make a man lose his head like I did.... Maybe I went about it all wrong, but I reckon a man can make things right if he tries hard enough. That’s what I’m here to do, Violet. Make things right for you.”

  MacGregor’s tone lowered, his hand cradling her hot cheek as he leaned down to brush a kiss across her parted lips. “So I’ve come to you, Violet. Sold my place—”

  “You sold your homestead?”

  He shrugged, scanned the lush meadows spreading across the valley, and nodded. “A man wants a home. You’ll be needing help. I’ll start plowing a cornfield at dawn if you’ll let us stay.”

  MacGregor turned to her, his expression still. He nodded to the cow, munching on the lush grass. “The cow is yours. Figured Jack will be needing the milk, too, maybe. The settler said the cow makes sweet milk with plenty of cream for butter....”

  He was already moving in on her and soon he’d be.... Catching her breath, Regina crushed the daisy in her hand and threw it to the ground. “You’ve told everyone in Primrose that I’m your... your wife. You’ve set up my account without my permission and entered my affairs as though you—”

  Her hand slashed between them. “You have no right.”

  MacGregor locked his long legs at the knee and tilted his head arrogantly, his expression grim. “I wanted you safe.... Seems you’ve stirred up that Chinese whore... woman who owns the Last Dollar. She thinks you’ve got something she owns. Offered a bag of gold dust to the first man who brought you in for her. They’d just started bidding on who would have you first when—”

  MacGregor’s jaw tightened ominously when he took a deep breath. “I’m asking this time, Violet. Asking if you’ll let Jack and me stay.”

  “You’ve sold your property assuming that I—” Regina placed her hands on her waist, and his eyes skimmed down her body and the cloth tightening over her full breasts. She crossed her arms protectively over the sensitive peaks, willing her body to stop trembling. “MacGregor, I am not alone here. We are managing—”

  “Divinely,” he finished for her. “Two women. Two small women. One with the grit of a mule determined to go uphill when the going is easier downhill.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her and nodded. “That’s you. Seems I’ve been taking the uphill trail since we met.”

  Taking a worn paper from his pocket, MacGregor hesitated and studied the tiny violet she had embroidered on his cuff. “Silly little thing. But it’s your mark and makes me proud.”

  He placed the papers in her hand. “You own Lilly now.”

  In the sunlight the bold Oriental brush strokes looked like whiplashes on white flesh.

  “Slavery,” she spat the word at him as she tore the papers, tossing the shreds to the morning breeze. “You make a habit of buying women, don’t you, MacGregor. You traded ten plew for my first time with you—”

  “The madam,” he said tightly, “was hopping mad. Short of killing her and setting a price on my head, I did the easiest thing. That first time in the cabin, when we bargained, I wanted you, virgin or not.”

  “We made an insane bargain, but one that served its purpose. I will repay you, MacGregor—”

  The hot look he threw at her stopped her.

  Sunlight skimmed along his clean-shaven jaw, a muscle tensing beneath the dark skin. His fingers curled into a fist, the knuckles whitening across the darkly tanned back. He forced them to uncurl slowly. “The garden needs fencing. The cabin needs a room or two added. You’ll need wood for the winter. I can make myself useful. The bargain stands—”

  Regina’s hand skimmed across her stomach and MacGregor caught the movement, his expression darkening. “I’ve missed you, Violet. You’re looking tired,” he said, taking a step nearer.

  “Da!” Jack’s sleepy cry stopped him. “Da! Eat! Down!”

  She turned toward the cry, her eyes lighting. “Jack— where is he?”

  Hesitating a second, MacGregor took her wrist and slid a thin gold band on her finger. Lifting her hand to his lips, he whispered huskily, “I know you have better. The ring is from me, small and proper. Just like you.”

  Lifted from the hors
e, Jack rested in the crook of MacGregor’s arm. He stared at Regina with big, black drowsy eyes. MacGregor straightened Jack’s cloth shirt and trousers. “We cleaned up in the stream before coming here. Didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten our manners.”

  “He’s such a beautiful boy,” she whispered, aching to hold Jack close. “Such a fine lad.”

  Regina tugged her hat off and toyed with Jack’s chubby hand. He whimpered and clung tighter to MacGregor, staring at her solemnly.

  “Oh, Jack, how you have grown, my little man!” Regina exclaimed, leaning to kiss Jack’s plump cheek.

  “He walks now,” MacGregor stated softly above her head. “You won’t have to pack him very much.”

  When she looked up, his dark eyes were filled with her reflection. The fierce longing wrapped around her, crushing her with a velvet fist. MacGregor’s large hand ran down her shoulder to the back of her waist, urging her closer until her body touched his. His fingers trembled slightly as though he feared she would move away.

  Entranced by the tender expression in his dark eyes, Regina closed her eyes as he kissed her lightly. The brief kiss promised a sweetness that made her ache for more.

  “Da,” Jack gurgled shyly, then pointed his finger at Regina’s earlobe bearing the ruby stone.

  “Yes, darling. Your father has one, too. They were my mother’s.” When she kissed his hand, he grinned and turned away, hugging his father tighter. “Oh, MacGregor. He’s wonderful.”

  Stepping back from MacGregor’s touch, Regina shivered and caught her lower lip between her teeth. MacGregor’s son had her love in his chubby fist. His father was another matter.

  Taking a lacy handkerchief from her shirt pocket, she carefully wrapped his ring in it and slid it back into her pocket. “Don’t think I’m keeping this, Mr. MacGregor.... Jack needs food and rest. If you want to stay a day or two, that will be fine. I’ll keep Jack until you’re settled in somewhere else.”

  When she reached for Jack, MacGregor stepped back. “He’s heavy.”

  Placing the boy gently on his moccasin-covered feet, MacGregor crouched while Jack clung to his fingers.