“I don’t see no ring on your hand.” The woman looked at Mary Jane’s gloved hands. “Is it under them gloves or did the robbers take it?”
“No, ma’am.” Elijah shook his head. “It’s in my pocket.” He gave the old woman a gentle smile. “You see, Mary Jane and I had a bit of a disagreement, and she threw her ring at me. It’s in a box in my pocket along with my weapon.”
“Weapon?” The woman lifted her rifle higher and pointed it directly at Elijah.
Mary Jane gasped. “Please, do not hurt him. He is telling the truth. In fact, I would like my ring back. Would it be all right if he reaches in his pocket to get it?”
After the woman’s gaze darted back and forth between them for some time, she nodded. “Iffin’ he was my man, I’d make him earn the ring.”
A soft laugh escaped Mary Jane, and she stole a glance at Elijah. His respectful expression had not changed. “Well, he saved me from one of the robbers. I would say that is enough.”
The grizzled woman stepped nearer but kept her rifle aimed. Her expression lightened and a smile passed over her face so quickly Mary Jane could not say if she honestly witnessed it. “That’s all right then. A man who protects his woman, that’s a mighty nice gesture. ’Course a woman like me learnt a long time ago to rely on herself. Best you learn that, too, young lady.”
“Indeed.” Mary Jane took a slow step towards Elijah and removed her gloves. “Now can I claim my ring?”
The woman gestured with her rifle. “You there, Irishman. Take your weapon out nice and slow.”
His face remained a hard mask. “I’ve no designs to hurt you, ma’am. I’ll need my gun to protect my wife.”
Once more the woman’s alert and intelligent gaze darted from Mary Jane to Elijah. “Your man good as his word?”
Mary Jane nodded. “Absolutely. He would never harm a female.”
“Good then. Take out the ring and put it on your woman’s hand and speak your vows so I know you’re a might serious.” The woman’s gun made a motion. “I mean every word, young man. This rifle is my honor.”
“Of course,” Elijah said as he drew the ring box from an inside pocket.
Mary Jane did not know whether to find the woman’s request ludicrous or funny. Elijah opened the small box and reached for Mary Jane’s cold fingers. As his warmth enveloped her flesh, Mary Jane shivered in delight. Even in a flight for life, she found his touch arousing and comforting.
As he slipped the ring onto her left hand, he stood close and looked into her eyes. His powerful gaze held a wealth of emotions, many she could not identify. All of them blended together and started a firestorm, a yearning that declined to wait for privacy or safer circumstance.
“With this ring, I thee wed.” Elijah’s voice was deep and strong, sincerity in each syllable until she could almost believe them. “I promise to love and honor and cherish you until death do us part.”
When Mary Jane could do nothing more than sink into the warmth of his eyes, the woman prompted her. “Go on then, Mrs. McKinnon. Say your vows to him.”
Mary Jane swallowed hard. “I promise to love, honor and…”
Elijah’s eyes twinkled. “Obey?”
The old woman cackled, but Mary Jane ignored her. “Cherish. I promise to cherish you.”
Elijah drew her left hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “That will do very well, darlin’.”
Tears filled Mary Jane’s eyes at his tender declaration. Their quick vows could not have meant more to her than if they had stood in a church. The revelation stunned her.
“Looks like your woman has a fine, loving heart Irishman. You best treat her right.” The old woman lowered her weapon and winked at Mary Jane. “I never did obey my husband either, girly. Come into the cabin, and I’ll scrape up some food. I have some fine fixins.”
Mary Jane bit into the hot cornbread and sighed in ecstasy. Not even the hard bench beneath her or the gnarly wood table in front of her could put her off the buttery taste. With a fire burning in the huge fireplace and stew simmering in a pot over the flames, she realized how cold she had been. Welcome heat sank into her bones and gave her almost as much pleasure as the sustenance. She inhaled and caught scents of beef, wood smoke and dried herbs. Though the cabin appeared tiny from the outside, it boasted a living area with a horsehair stuffed settee, a wingback chair and a long wood table with bench-like seat on either side. A small kitchen and hearth graced one area, plus there was a mudroom and two rather large bedrooms. Not only was the place clean, the old woman kept tidy in every other respect. Calmed by the heat and comfort food, Mary Jane could almost forget the mind-numbing trauma of the last two days. She sipped from a goblet and sighed in pleasure as water bathed her throat.
Mary Jane saw the approval in Elijah’s expression as he sat across from her, his plate full. He, too, drank an entire tankard of water in one gulp.
The old woman, who called herself Mrs. Peg Connor, stirred stew in a huge, black pot over a healthy fire.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Connor,” Mary Jane said. “I have not had cornbread in…well, I have only had it once.”
Mrs. Connor’s eyes widened, and a quizzical expression crossed her face. “Only once, child? What was wrong with your mama?”
Mary Jane laughed, and Elijah’s serious expression eased as he joined their amusement. “My mama, as you call her, has not cooked a day in her life. I come from a wealthy family, and we have kitchen staff. I also have never cooked much myself, though I would like to learn. Cook gave me some lessons until my mother caught her and demanded I stop.”
The woman’s face grew more puzzled, and then Mary Jane realized her mistake. “You ain’t cooked for your husband?”
“Oh…well, um…he does most of the cooking. It is an unconventional marriage.”
Elijah’s eyes darkened with caution. “I learned cooking from my Ma, Mrs. Connor. She is a fine baker.”
“Uh-huh. I see. I always say whatever works for a couple works for a couple. There’s no special rhyme or reason to it, whatever people might say.”
“I doubt you ever listen to those people,” Mary Jane said.
Mrs. Connor’s laugh turned into a cackle again. “That’s a mighty true, young lady. Now you eat that all down. This stew is almost done.”
Elijah dug into his cornbread, then ate the other food on his plate with equal gusto. Mary Jane noticed that Elijah always ate as if someone might steal his food at any minute.
“This is most generous of you, ma’am. What is this white food? It’s very good,” Elijah said.
“That be hominy, Irishman. My husband, God rest his soul, brought the recipe from down south. He was from Missouri, and had particular likes and dislikes with food. Can’t say I miss that part about him.”
Mary Jane laughed, and the old woman joined her. “This is too much food, ma’am. Surely you will have some.”
“Never you mind. I’ll have some later. You need something in your belly afore you trek into the forest again. I won’t send you off without it.” Mrs. Connor turned back to them. “Now I know you’re heading to Portage, but you won’t get that far without the right supplies. I’d give you my horse, but she’s the only ride I got. I have a pack you can carry, Irishman. We’ll stuff it full of food enough to carry you to town.”
Elijah swallowed. He’d thrown the food down his throat like he hadn’t eaten in twenty days. “We’ll pay you.”
Mrs. Connor planted her hands on her hips. “That ain’t my way. You two need help, and I can see that. I ain’t going to make things worse on you by taking your money. It’s my Christian duty and besides that, I want to.”
Mary Jane liked the warmth she witnessed in the woman’s eyes. When Mrs. Connor first came at them with the rifle, Mary Jane thought the eccentric old lady meant to shoot.
“Is there water where I might freshen up when I finish eating?” Mary Jane asked, feeling so grimy she wished she could soak in a tub.
As if she read Mary Jane’s min
d, the old woman said, “There is at that. I got a tub in the extra room. We can heat water for you. I got soap I made from plants that works every bit as good as that stuff you buy in the stores. Clean you right up…both of you.”
“Thank you.” Mary Jane could not believe their good fortune. “This is so wonderful. I cannot tell you—”
“Then don’t, Mrs. McKinnon. You’re a mite tired, I can see. You’ll both want to rest here tonight.”
Elijah chewed before adding his thoughts. “We need to get to Portage as quickly as possible before dark and alert authorities about the train.”
“My guess is, and my guesses are almost always right,” Mrs. Connor tapped the side of her forehead with an index finger, “that someone already knows about the train. They probably all think you’re both dead. But if you leave now you won’t make it to Portage afore dark. There’s a marauding mountain lion about these parts that’s causing havoc. You don’t want to encounter that creature at night. Best to set out fresh first thing in the morning.”
Elijah did not argue, and the half amusement in his eyes showed he appreciated the woman’s candor. “You have room for us tonight?”
Mrs. Connor sat on the bench next to Mary Jane. “That I do, Irishman, that I do.”
“We thank you, then.” Elijah smiled.
“I’d purdy much do anything for a fellow Irish.”
“Connor is an Irish name,” Elijah said. “Was it O’Connor at one time?”
“That it was. Was O’Connor many moons ago when my husband’s family first came over in the sixteen hundreds. Now my side was a mishmash of German and French and maybe a tad dratted English. My husband’s father changed it to Connor ’cause people had a prejudice, you know. Dropping the O was the only way to make most of the high and mighty ignorant of his heritage.”
The woman’s expression filled with enjoyment as she related several tales of her ancestor’s adventures. Whether any of them could be true, Mary Jane could only wonder.
Elijah’s initial appetite slowed, and he pinned Mrs. Connor with an intense look. “Why are you out here in this defenseless place?”
Mrs. Connor nodded towards her rifle propped up near the hearth. “I ain’t defenseless. I’ve been widowed near twenty years.”
Mrs. Connor stood and went to a cupboard where she grabbed two wooden bowls and filled them each with stew. She placed a bowl each in front of Elijah and Mary Jane and provided worn but clean spoons.
“How did your husband die, Mrs. Connor, if you do not mind my asking?” Mary Jane asked after chewing one bite of delicious meat and potato.
Mrs. Connor’s eyes went cloudy with distant but painful memories. “An old mountain lion done ate him.”
Mary Jane’s mouth popped open—the revelation left her shocked.
“I’m sorry,” Elijah said. “That must have been horrible.”
The woman nodded, but then smiled. “He was a mite older than me…my husband that is. Twenty years older in fact. He said his time would come sooner rather than later, and he taught me how to live off the land.” She settled onto the bench, beside Elijah this time. “Leastwise, he taught me what I hadn’t learnt already from my folks afore they died.”
“That is wonderful.” Mary Jane meant it. “Your husband sounds like a fine man.”
As her eyes seemed to turn a brighter shade of aqua, Mrs. Connor sipped water from her own tankard. “These here pewter tankards were a wedding gift from some friends. We were young couples together. They’re gone now.” Her eyes grew misty and took on a far away glaze. “They was killed during a train wreck on that there damned Allegheny Portage Railroad near ten years ago. I don’t take that damned steam contraption to get over the mountain. You shouldn’t either.”
“We’re going to Pittsburgh, Mrs. Connor.” Elijah explained their circumstance and how Mary Jane’s father’s father had passed away.
“Horror of horrors, young lady.” Mrs. Connor reached across the table and patted Mary Jane’s hand with gentle concern. Her veined, callused hand felt comforting. “Bless you. I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”
“Thank you. I am ashamed to say it, but the wreck has wiped him from my mind.” Mary Jane’s gaze met Elijah’s. “I cannot believe I could forget poor Father’s body.”
The old lady drew her hand back. “Don’t you fret none. That ain’t your daddy in that body. Your daddy moved on to heaven.”
Somehow this woman, with her deceptive hard outer shell, made Mary Jane’s guilt evaporate like dew under intense sunshine. “You are right. He is at peace.”
“Now, on to more practical matters. I have a map that’ll get you to Portage faster than if you was navigating on your own. Now, you’re such a nice couple I might let you borrow my horse anyway.”
“We couldn’t let you do that.” Elijah shifted and stood to his full height. “You’ve already done enough for us. How would you know if we’d bring the horse back to you?”
“Nonsense, boy. It was wrong of me to suggest you hoof it to Portage on your own weary feet. It’s a goodly ways from here. You’re honest and I can tell. You’ll get Matilda back to me.”
“Matilda?” Mary Jane asked.
Mrs. Connor’s broad smile teased. “My horse, young lady. My horse.” Mrs. Connor filled them with wild tales of hunting in the mountains for deer and bagging the occasional bear. “Not too many mind you. I figure the animals got as much right to live here as I do. They was here first. I figure those train robbers are not honorable. The animals, you know, they kill only to live. Train robbers, well, they kill for greed and hate and revenge. Revenge is a sick motivation if you was to ask me.”
Mary Jane’s tankard stopped halfway to her lips as she threw a startled glance towards Elijah. If he’d drawn personal offense from the woman’s statement about revenge, he didn’t show it.
Instead he sipped the last of his water and placed it down on the table. “Right you are, ma’am. A wise woman.”
Did that mean he would abandon his quest for revenge?
The sun started to go down before they considered retiring for the night.
“Now, how would you like a bath?” Mrs. Connor asked them.
Once they heated water and poured it in the large tub in the second bedroom, Elijah told Mary Jane he would wait out in the living area while she bathed.
The old lady would have none of it. “Mr. McKinnon, now you get in there and help your Mrs. bathe. Better yet, the two of you can bathe together. Makes it quicker and you look a might tuckered out the both of you. You should go straight to bed right after.”
Elijah started to protest, but the insistent lady poked him in the ribs with her fingers. “Go on now. I’m about to find some sleep myself. I’ll be out like a candle in a wee moment.”
With that the petite woman stomped into her room and closed the door. A lock snicked shut.
Warmth blossomed in Mary Jane’s belly and her heart pounded a new beat that spelled anticipation and maybe a smidgen of fear. She headed into their designated bedroom and Elijah followed. He closed the door and took Mrs. Connor’s idea by sliding the small bolt to lock.
That lock and the predatory gleam in his gaze caused Mary Jane to take two steps back. And another.
Elijah caught up with her and slipped one arm around her waist. He whispered, and his hot breath in her ear made her shiver in delight. “Keep your voice low so she can’t hear. Go ahead and take your bath. I’ll stay turned away.”
“But we cannot. I…you…we are not truly married.”
“No. But I have self-control and so do you. There’s no help for it.”
He released her and walked to the single small window where light hardly reached as night came early in this mountainous area. Quivering with a combination of delayed excitement and disappointment, she undid her clothes. She accomplished this before in his presence. She could do it again.
“I need assistance with these buttons.”
He complied, working swiftly to undo the small butt
ons on the back of the mourning dress. When the dress gaped in the back and the bodice slipped forward, she caught the material before it could fall to her waist. He swiftly turned back to the window.
After easing from the dress, she hurried to shuck her chemise and pantalets. The cool air nipped her skin, even though a fireplace snapped and crackled on the other side of the room. She tossed them onto a primitive wooden chair and made her way to the tub. She stepped in and found the hot water a soothing balm to banish the cold. She slipped and landed in the tub with a squeak and splash. Water lapped over her face. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and drew her upward. She sputtered and choked.
Elijah stared down at her with worry. “By the saints, darlin’, are you hurt?”
She laughed, embarrassed. “Goodness, how clumsy of me.”
Easing her down into the water, Elijah gentled his grip. His gaze turned sharp and hungry when it landed irrevocably on her breasts. While she could have protested his presumptuous stare, she did not.
She wanted this. Feared this.
Elijah leaned his forearms on the tub. “You are more beautiful than I dreamed.”
“You dreamed of me?”
“More than you know.” He allowed his fingertips to slice through the water, stirring a response that ached between her legs. “You’re a goddess.”
“Surely not, sir.”
Caressing her with a devouring look, Elijah’s murmured, “I’ll help you wash.”
His attention slipped to her waist, to the curled hair of her mons and down her legs. She should feel outrage. Modesty. Instead all she could imagine was allowing him every liberty. Of learning what it would feel like to discover physical delights with Elijah Jonas McKinnon.
But no. There could be no delights beyond this. Her experience with Thaddeus had proved…unsatisfactory. Could making love be any different with a man like Elijah?
As she glanced down at Elijah’s breeches, his manhood pressed solid against the strained material. Clearly he wanted her in the most carnal way. Fists clenched as his sides, his eyes also betrayed him. Did her face mirror all the emotions tumbling chaotically inside?
Before the Dawn Page 17