Tennessee Bride
Page 38
For better than two hours he studied the ground and followed what he hoped was the right trail. Then he spotted a piece of lace tied to a bush.
River grinned. She had left him a trail! He ran up to the lace, then carefully studied the woods all around, spotting another piece of lace far in the distance. At first it looked like a spot of sunshine amid moving, shadowy leaves, but his experienced eyes knew the difference. He untied the first piece so no one else would find it, then ran to the second piece, untying that one also.
Yes, his Emma was a survivor, all right! She was brave and smart and beautiful. He could almost feel her in his arms already.
Emma had no tears left, nor any strength. She had managed to lower herself to the rock, or what she hoped was a rock, where she curled up to try to rest… and wait.
She had made her decision. She would try to stay alive until River found her. And if it was Sam Gates who got to her first, she would jump off the rock into the raging waters below and let herself drown.
Night settled over her, and a cold dampness seeped into her bones. Bent into one position, she began to ache; but she was afraid to move for fear she would disturb the rock or the ground beneath it. There was no true sleep for her, only an occasional drifting off from pure exhaustion. Even in those brief moments of rest the roaring of the river was a constant threat in her ears, and the chill permeated her damp clothes and into every bone and muscle. Everything she had brought along for survival was gone, and she realized that even if she could make it out of this place, she would probably die from hunger and exposure.
She forced herself to think of warm, happy times—of breast-feeding her babies, of talks in front of the fire in their little cabin, of lying with River on the homemade mattress, of being one with River. She could imagine that warmth, his arms, their homemade quilt covering them, the sweetness of his kiss.
She could vividly remember that first night he had come into the shed and had claimed her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. If she died, at least she had known true love, had known the feel of a baby in her belly and in her arms, the wonder of a gentle man. She refused to think of anything else, and her thoughts drifted that way until she realized it was morning.
“Emma!”
She blinked awake. She must actually have fallen asleep, for she heard River call to her in her dreams. “Emma!”
There it was again! Was she fully awake? She sat up, looking up but seeing no one. The voice had sounded far, far away.
“Emma! Answer me if you can!”
Her heart pounded with joy and disbelief. River! It was River. She screamed his name as loudly as her strength would allow. But she feared he would never hear her above the roar of the river. She struggled to get to her feet, her legs wobbly and stiff, everything hurting. She grabbed on to the root and screamed his name again.
“Down here! I’m down here!”
She waited for seconds that seemed like hours, watching, watching the bank above, screaming his name again. And suddenly he was there, looking down at her. He had a mustache, and his hair was cut short, but she didn’t care why. It was River!
Tears welled up in her soul, and she smiled through a clay-covered face, screaming his name again. She reached for him, crying out his name again, just as the ledge under her feet gave way.
River watched in horror as the huge chunk of clay collapsed. Emma screamed as she plunged into the cold, rushing waters below.
“Emma!” River screamed. He was over the side in a moment, sitting on his rump and sliding, sliding, bouncing over cold, slippery clay, half-falling and half-hanging on to roots to break the fall somewhat. The water! How she feared deep waters! Now her head had disappeared. It seemed to take forever to get low enough to jump into the water after her.
Emma felt the sudden silence of the water. Below it the roaring stopped. There were only soft bubbling sounds. She fought the tearing current, struggled to get her head above water. Finally she reached the top, but just long enough to take another deep breath. She reached out for something, anything to hang on to.
Again her head went under, and she remembered Tommy holding her upside down under the water until she could not go another moment without a breath of air. It was the same feeling all over again. She struggled to reach the surface, but she could not get there.
Suddenly something strong grasped her about the waist. She fought at first, thinking it was Tommy trying to drown her again. But the strong hands lifted her out of the water. She gasped for breath, choking and spitting, as a strong arm came around her under the arms and pulled.
“Hang on! I see a flat piece of bank up ahead!”
River! It was his voice! Had the river flooded again? Would they make it off the Jasmine? Was he clinging to a rope to keep the flood waters from sweeping them away? She clung to the arm. So strong he was. She stayed still for him, felt him pulling her then, felt solid ground beneath her. They fell together onto it, panting and gasping for breath.
“Emma! My God, Emma!” She felt a big hand push her hair back from her face, felt someone pull her close in strong arms. “My precious Emma.”
“River,” she whispered. She leaned back, looking into his face, reaching up and touching it. “You’re all right. You’re alive! I knew… you’d… come.…”
There were tears in his eyes as he put a big hand to the side of her face and bent to kiss her forehead, then held her close again. Oh, the wonderful security of those arms! There was nothing to be afraid of now.
She felt herself being lifted in the same strong arms. “I see a way back up,” he was saying. “We’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. It was like that first night. “River…” she said weakly. “Sam… he will come after us.”
“Hush. Sam Gates is dead, and so is Tommy. They will never touch you or bother you again. You belong to Joe Rivers; you always have and that’s the end of it. We will not speak of them again.”
She mumbled something about losing the baby, about Jim Jackson, about Tommy’s burning body. Always there was a gentle but firm reply for her not to think any more about those things.
“The baby was a gift,” he told her as he laid her on a blanket. “The Maker of Breath caused it to happen so that you would not be raped. I am only sorry that I was too badly hurt to help you. For this I will never forgive myself. I would die for you.”
She lay peacefully, everything around her seeming like a dream. Someone built a fire, then removed her wet clothes. Someone was washing her with heated water, then drying her and putting a warm, cotton gown on her.
“I brought some of your clothes because I knew the Maker of Breath would help me find you and you might need them,” he was saying.
Warm blankets came over her, and moments later someone was lying beside her. “I will keep you warm,” he said. “I have put warm rocks around your feet. Sleep, Emma. I pray you do not get sick from all of this like the first time.”
“River,” she whispered. She snuggled close against the powerful chest, breathing deeply of his familiar scent. At last he had found her! Again he had saved her from the terrible waters, and finally she rested again in his arms. “The babies…”
“The babies are fine. Mary and Grace are taking good care of them. We are free now, Emma. Soon we will be back home, and you can hold Rachael and Joshua.” He kissed her hair, wanting to weep with joy. “No one will be looking for us anymore. All who know about us are dead.” He thought of Joanna. She would not tell. He was glad the woman was free of Sam Gates.
Emma fell into a deep sleep, brought on by terrible exhaustion combined with the exhilarating relief of knowing she was safe now.
“My God, Emma, you gave yourself to them to save my life. I will never again let that happen. I was so afraid I had lost you forever.” She heard only part of the words.
Emma awakened with a start; Tommy’s face was leering at her in a dream, the
n Sam’s. Suddenly both men burst into flames. Emma cried out, and then strong arms held her fast. Someone kissed her cheek gently.
“It is all right. You are safe now,” said the voice.
Morning was breaking bright and warm. She vaguely remembered falling into the river, the cold waters, the strong hands saving her. But that had been morning, too. Had she slept all the rest of that day and all the night?
She focused her eyes on the man who held her. “River,” she whispered.
He petted her hair. “You have slept a long, long time. It is good.”
“River, that… horrible man… Sam…”
He put fingers to her lips. “I told you yesterday we will speak of it no more.” She saw the intense pride and possessiveness in his eyes. “You belong to me. Nothing can ever change that.” How he loved her! He had vowed he would never tell her what Sam Gates had done to her. Gates was dead and would never come into their lives again; and River knew who owned Emma Simms’s heart, her body, and her soul.
Their eyes held and hers filled with tears. “That… that place… that mine… they said a doctor there would make it so I… couldn’t have any more babies! I didn’t go there, did I? They didn’t do that to me!”
“No,” he said gently. “You did not go there. You will have many more babies, Emma Rivers. And only one man will give them to you.”
He met her lips gently, then pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. She hugged him tightly, enjoying the wonderful, safe feeling of his strength, the glorious, familiar scent of him.
“What do you think about Texas, Emma?” he asked softly in her ear. He rose slightly, kissing her forehead. “I will always love Tennessee as my home, as the place where I found you. But we have bad memories here, and if anyone should blame me for what happened to Sam Gates—”
“River! What did you do to him? Are there men after you?”
“I do not think so. I killed him, Emma. A snake bit him, but I was the one who put it there.”
She gasped. “He’s dead! He’s dead! And Tommy too… the tent caught fire.…”
“I know. I found his body.” He would not tell her Tommy was still alive when he found him. It would bother her to know that he lay suffering for that long, for her heart was too soft, and perhaps she felt responsible. “Remember,” he said gently, “we will not talk about any of these things anymore after today.”
She ran her hands along his muscled arms. “I’ll go to Texas if you think that’s best, River. I would go anyplace with you. You know that.”
He smiled softly, his eyes showing tears. “I am so glad I found you. The Maker of Breath is with us, Emma. I feel it. I will take you home and you will be with Josh and Rachael again. They will be so happy to see their mama. And then we will leave for Texas. Maybe Mary and Grace and the others will come with us.” A tear slipped down his cheek and she brushed at it.
“Make love to me, River,” she whispered.
“You are too weak.”
“No. I need you to make love to me.”
He smiled through tears, coming down to meet her mouth again, gently moving his lips to her neck, her shoulder.
She opened her eyes and saw a bird flutter by. The forest was her friend again. There was nothing to fear. She was with River Joe.
… His lips warmed my own,
And together we lay
In the soft mountain grasses,
Where he made me his bride.
And our love, through all hardships,
To the end shall abide…
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