Tennessee Bride

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I’ll remember.”

  He rode off into the trees, quickly disappearing. She wondered what he did when it stormed, how he stayed dry. And then as she stood watching after him, she wondered if he had really been there at all.

  Her mind raced with confusion. She still felt warm and wonderful. He had said she was pretty, brave, nice to talk to, smarter than other white girls. He had held her hands, and… and he had put his mouth over hers and kissed her. The wild man River Joe had kissed her, and she had let him!

  She put fingers to her lips again, still wondering if she had lost her mind. The thought of his doing other things to her brought an intense desire to every nerve in her body. Never had she felt so strange, so alive, so different, so withdrawn from all her other problems.

  She heard a horse now and gasped. What if it was Tommy! She ran to the cabin, telling herself it was silly to worry, because River Joe was watching this time. But was he really? Or was he just toying with her in a different way from Tommy?

  She reached the steps and turned to see it was Luke who was coming. She wondered if he had seen Tommy, if he knew. Would he be angry, force a marriage then and there? Knowing Luke, he would be angry not at Tommy but at Emma for not letting Tommy have his way. He would be angry that she had spurned a potential husband. Maybe he would even drag her to another settlement and offer her to any man there.

  Emma had hated being alone, but she also dreaded Luke’s return. Now that her mother was dead, there was no buffer between herself and her stepfather; and Luke was a man who enjoyed showing his authority. She hoped she could keep things peaceful for the next few days—until the Jasmine came… and River Joe.

  Thunder and lightning ripped the sky as Luke rode his horse into a shed and unsaddled it. He came toward the cabin then, carrying his musket and supply pack. He stumbled slightly, and Emma felt sick. Luke was drunk.

  Chapter 4

  “Curry that horse down for me, Emma,” Luke grunted, not even asking first if everything was all right. “But go fix me somethin’ to eat first.”

  He walked past her and into the tiny kitchen of the two-room cabin. Emma followed him inside, noticing that he reeked of corn liquor and tobacco. He sat down heavily in a chair, as though his legs would hold him no longer. Luke had gotten lazy and was gaining weight. He was a big man to begin with, tall and strong and menacing, with a shock of thick, dark hair and a heavy, dark beard. He took off his hat and threw it on the floor, and Emma hurriedly began cutting some bread.

  “I would have come home yesterday,” he said, his words slurred, “but Tommy come home last night a terrible mess. I helped Jake tend to him.”

  Emma felt a nervous heat come to her face and hands. “What do you mean? Did he get hurt?” she asked carefully.

  “That damned black horse of his throwed him. Can you believe it?” The man chuckled then, and some of Emma’s panic left her. “He’s always braggin’ on that animal,” Luke continued, sniffing and wiping his nose on his shirtsleeve. Emma handed him some bread and honey. “His ‘fine black’ really landed him a good one,” he went on, biting into the bread and continuing with his mouth full. “Like to killed the boy. Tommy hit his head on a post and then a rock when he landed—and to top it off he landed face down in manure.” Luke hurriedly swallowed and then laughed louder, slapping his hand on the table. Crumbs were stuck in his black, curly beard. “Serves him right for always braggin’ up that horse.”

  Emma smiled, realizing Tommy had lied about everything, too embarrassed to explain what had really happened. Now she had something on Tommy. If he bothered her again she could threaten to tell everyone it was not his horse but one small girl who had beat on him and given him his wounds. That was the last thing he would want his father and his friends to know.

  She knew though that it was still only a matter of time before he found some way to get back at her. She still had to get away. Tommy’s misfortunes had put Luke in a good mood, which was rare. She dared to take heart in his laughter, but in the next moment her relief quickly vanished as she handed him some hot coffee.

  “Here, Luke.” She gasped and let out a little scream when he suddenly grasped her wrist tightly, making hot coffee spill onto her hand. Her eyes quickly teared and she looked straight at him in surprise.

  “What the hell happened to your face?” he growled.

  She swallowed. “I… I fell… on the dock. The river water is so high that it’s right up to the edge, Luke. The dock is slippery. I didn’t think it would be that bad. I went out to see if the Jasmine might be coming, and I slipped and hit my face on a post.”

  He studied her for a moment, then let go of her. “Serves you right for bein’ stupid enough to go out there.” He continued to study her closely, and she struggled to keep from turning red or looking guilty. “You ain’t seen that River Joe anywhere around, have you?”

  Emma shook her head. “No, sir.” She backed away and put a hand to her heart. He was here, Luke, she wanted to say. He was here, and he kissed me, right on the lips. He’s coming back for me. How she wanted to say it, to throw it in his face! But Luke was drunk. And even sober, he would surely beat her for being with the white Indian. If she had any hope of Luke allowing River Joe to court her, this was not the time or place to bring it up.

  “Well, you ever see him, you shoot first and ask questions later,” Luke ordered. “Jake says that River Joe carved a man up pretty bad up at the Gillmore settlement. He don’t watch out, he’s gonna get himself hung.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Carved a man up?” She could not imagine River Joe being that vicious, not the River Joe she had just been with.

  Luke guzzled some coffee. “Knife fight. The way Jake tells it, that River Joe spoke to a white girl, and the man that was fixin’ to wed her got all hot and pulled a knife on River Joe. I always heard no man pulls a knife on that white Indian and lives to tell about it. I guess maybe the story is true.” He bit off another piece of bread and honey. “At any rate, Jake seen it all. It’s lucky for River Joe that the other man pulled his knife first, but people are still talkin’ about puttin’ a noose around that white Indian’s neck. Jake says River Joe put that knife into that man’s gut and just moved it right up to his throat like he was slicin’ open a hog for slaughter.”

  Emma put a hand to her stomach. River Joe? The man who had just touched her so gently? Kissed her so softly? The man who said he’d be watching out for her?

  “I better never see him come around here or I’ll shoot him on sight,” Luke was saying. “I could do it and nobody would blame me.”

  Emma struggled not to cry. There had been little hope before that River Joe might be able to approach Luke about seeing her. Now there was no hope at all. In fact, he would be better off not even to try. But that left her right back where she had been before—with no future but to be handed over to Tommy Decker. And at the moment, she wondered how wise it would be to go running off with River Joe, if indeed he was truly serious about taking her away. She shivered at the picture of Joe ripping his knife through a man’s insides, and she wondered if that was how she would end up if she went with him.

  “By the way, when Hank Toole gets here on the Jasmine, I’m talkin’ to him about spreadin’ the word up- and downriver that I’m sellin’ the farm, Emma.” Luke burped loudly before continuing. “All I got to do is figure out what to do with you. I’ll talk to Hank about it.” He guzzled more coffee. “You’ve had your mournin’ time. Your ma’s dead and you’re a woman now. Tommy’s been after me for a long time to let him marry you. Your ma always fought it, but she ain’t here to bitch at me for it now. So I reckon if Hank don’t have any better ideas, Tommy can have you if he still wants you. Go on now and curry down that horse.”

  Emma moved toward the door, wanting to scream in desperation. She hesitated in the doorway, struggling to find a way to change his mind, again feeling prison doors closing around her. River Joe had slaughtered a man with his big knife.
How could she let herself depend on such a man?

  “Maybe… maybe I could go with Hank to Knoxville,” she suggested carefully. “Find that Mrs. Breckenridge… get a job, Luke. Then I’d be gone and wouldn’t be a burden to you.”

  He turned and looked her up and down. “I’ll make the decisions, girl. And you ain’t got the education, nor money nor anything else to be goin’ off to the city like that. If you go with Hank, it will be for other reasons. I’ll decide after I talk to him.”

  She felt fear creeping through her bones. “What do you mean… other reasons?”

  Luke slammed down his coffeecup, making her jump and spilling coffee on the table. He got up and walked over to her, fists clenched, and Emma cringed against the door, staring up at his black beard and dark, bloodshot eyes.

  “It ain’t for you to wonder about, girl. You’re my property now and I’ll decide what to do with you.”

  “But… I got a right to know, Luke.”

  His hand came hard across her face, so hard that she fell against the door, a flimsy door that might as well not have been there, for the bottom of it was broken and hung loosely from the frame. The door swung open and Emma fell down the wooden steps to the ground.

  “You got no rights, girl! Now go curry that horse like I told you! Do it quick or I’ll come out there and lay into you some more!”

  Emma scrambled to her feet and ran to the shed where Luke had left the horse. She grabbed a support post inside the shed and wept. Outside, clouds opened up from the now-dark sky, and rain began to pour down in a sudden torrent. Soon rain began dripping through a hole in the shed roof.

  Emma cried from confused fear and the lingering pain of Luke’s blow. She glanced at the cabin. Luke had lit a lantern, and through the window she saw him raise a bottle of whiskey. Rain dripped on her head, and she stumbled around the post to another stall, which she had cleaned out and filled with fresh hay just that morning. She fell sobbing into the hay, determined not to go back into the cabin that night for fear of a worse beating. She would wait. Luke would soon fall asleep from all the whiskey.

  She had to think. She had to stop crying and decide what to do, to figure out what Luke meant about talking to Hank first. And most of all she had to decide if River Joe really would help her, and if she could really trust him after all.

  She curled up into the hay, wondering if River Joe was out there, wondering how safe she was anywhere now.

  Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, occasionally lighting the inside of the shed with its brilliance. Emma had fallen into a weary sleep, lying curled into a corner of the clean stall, unaware of the dark figure who moved to the back of the shed and looked through an open window. He saw her lying there when the lightning flashed again, then moved through the window like a silent shadow.

  Thunder rumbled through the mountains and the horse whinnied. Emma stirred awake, sensing in her sleep that something was amiss. Her eyes blinked open, and she saw a talk dark figure looming over her in the darkness.

  She gasped and started to rise, but a big, strong hand immediately covered her mouth. He came down close, and an arm moved around her shoulders. Broad shoulders hovered over her as he laid her back down in the hay.

  She pushed against him in a fruitless effort to get away, momentarily confused, her first thoughts of Tommy.

  “Don’t scream,” said a soft voice. “It’s me. River Joe.”

  She stopped pushing, but she lay breathing in short gasps, wondering if she was any safer with this man than any other. Something she could not even explain kept her from screaming out when his big hand slowly moved off her mouth. In spite of what she had heard about this man, she could not bring herself to scream and risk Luke’s coming out and shooting him.

  He lay on top of her then, one leg sprawled over her own, one hand under her back, the other hand at her neck. He moved it over her throat and to her cheek, touching it gently, his arm pressing against one breast.

  “I saw him hit you… saw you fall,” he whispered.

  Thunder crashed and lightning flashed again, lighting up his face, which seemed even more handsome in the night, and yet wilder. His hair was brushed out long, and some of it fell lightly against the side of her face.

  She knew she should be terrified, yet she felt no fear. For several long seconds they lay there, watching each other whenever the lightning made things brighter, and she wondered why she didn’t fight him as she had fought Tommy. Then he came closer, his mouth covering her own, his tongue parting her lips and moving inside her mouth, his hand leaving her cheek and moving down, reaching under her hips as he pressed the kiss harder and moved himself directly on top of her.

  She felt a swelling hardness push against her pelvis, and she whimpered in a mixture of fear and desire. She pushed at him then but he only held her tightly, leaving her mouth and moving his lips to her cheek.

  “Don’t fight it, Agiya,” he said softly. “I will make you my woman. I cannot let any other man be the first to do this.”

  “No, River Joe,” she whispered. “I’m not ready. I hardly know you.”

  He kissed her eyes, and again she wondered why she didn’t fight harder.

  “You know all you need to know.” He kissed her nose. “And I know the Maker of Breath brought me here to you and gave me these feelings.”

  He bit lightly at her lips, then invaded her mouth again. She wanted to protest, to stop his hand from moving around her hip and down to her knee, then slowly up her thigh under the leg of her bloomers; but the feel of his big hand touching the bare skin of her leg sent a fire through her blood that was too wonderful to stop.

  His kiss was rich and warm until his lips left her mouth again, traveling over her throat and down her dress, kissing at her full breasts through the cloth.

  “Please don’t,” she whimpered. “I’m scared.”

  His hands moved from under her dress to the buttons at the front. “What did I tell you about being scared, Emma?”

  She wondered at the odd power he seemed to have over her. Never did she have more reason to fight this, yet none of the objections in her mind would culminate into a physical attempt to get away. He was unbuttoning her dress. Every touch was so gentle, every word whispered softly. If she was being forced, then it was being done magically, gently; and she knew in reality she was not being forced at all. She wanted him. She wanted to know what this was like, and she wanted this strange, wild but gentle man to be the one to show her.

  Her dress came open. He gently pushed one side off her shoulder, exposing a breast, and she gasped when his big hand pushed her breast up full, cupping it gently. She could not stifle a whimper when his mouth came down to cover a nipple, and she shivered with a brand-new, wonderful passion when she felt the warm moistness of his mouth as he softly sucked at the fruit of her breast.

  What a fool she must be, lying there in a shed with this wild, white Indian she hardly knew! What kind of power did this man wield, that he could so easily make her want this? He continued to taste her breast in a lovely, pulling motion, while his hand left her breast and moved back down under her dress, into the waistline of her bloomers, down over the hairs no man had ever touched, his fingers invading the most private part of her body.

  She grasped at his hair, weakly whispering for him not to touch her there, but his fingers worked in a magical, circular motion that brought the wonderful ache to her insides and made her gasp for breath. He kept it up, bringing on the most wonderful, almost agonizing desire she had ever felt. Tommy had never made her feel this way. Surely this was exactly what he had tried to do to her, and yet it was nothing like this.

  “What are you doing?” she whimpered.

  He left her breast and moved his lips over her throat to her mouth. “Hush, Agiya. This is only the beginning.” He moved one finger deeper inside her, making her gasp and whimper. “Someday I will taste you here, where my hand touches you. I will taste the sweet nectar of my woman.”
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  His mouth covered hers again, and she felt a wonderful, warm pulsation deep inside, a pulsation that turned to an almost aching throb, while the thought of what he was telling her made her arch up, pushing against his hand, wanting his fingers to move inside of her.

  Tommy had made similar remarks, but in a sneering, threatening way, as though she were an animal. But River Joe didn’t make her feel that way at all. She felt like a beautiful woman, and it excited her to know she was pleasing this virile man. He was pulling at her bloomers now, moving them down over her hips. He sat up and pushed the front of her dress up to her waist, then gently pulled the bloomers down over her legs and her old leather shoes.

  She lay naked from the waist down but was not afraid. Lightning lit the stall again, and he groaned something in the Cherokee tongue. He lightly stroked her secret place and rubbed her flat belly.

  “I was right, Agiya,” he said. “The hairs of your love nest are also the color of cornsilk. You are magic. You make me feel weak, yet when I put my life in you I will feel a new power.”

  Her heart beat wildly at the knowledge of what he was telling her. He would mate with her. She should stop him, yet she seemed to have lost all control over herself. He grasped her knees and pushed her legs apart, and they felt almost numb. He stood up, unlacing his buckskin pants and stepping out of them. He untied his loincloth and let it fall, and in the light of the storm she looked upon man, able to see only a dark spot at first.

  He knelt between her legs, and the lightning flashed brighter. She saw him better then, and to her he looked huge, much too big to mate with her.

  “Wait!” she squeaked, putting her hands against his powerful chest as he came closer again. He only grasped the hand and squeezed it.