Before the Dawn

by Denise A. Agnew

  Amos sneered, his petulance well earned. He glared at Varney and his habit of smacking his food. Amos suspected Varney did it to spite him. Varney’s cold eyes never wavered as Amos settled firmly onto the blanket that would serve as his bed tonight, and the saddle nearby his pillow.

  Rather than argue the tone of his voice, Amos chewed his own jerky and wished he’d never agreed to pay Varney to track down Elijah. The man was a damned nuisance.

  Behind Amos a horse snorted. Wind danced in the trees as fog drifted nearby the warming circle created by fire. Last thing he wanted was to admit to this idiot in front of him that Elijah had bested him. Elijah never had the upper hand once in his life, and by damned, Amos wouldn’t let him start now.

  “I never should’ve let you do it this way.” Amos took a swig of the most disgusting coffee he’d every tasted.

  “You?” Varney threw another sneer Amos’s way. “You think you got power over me?”

  “Your good-for-nothing men didn’t do the job!” Amos’s temper flared. “They got themselves killed!”

  “Land sakes, McKinnon. What bug flew up your ass?” Varney laughed softly, but the rusty sound edged with cruelty. “You paid me and I’ll earn the rest of my money one way or the other. Hoops and Claypool didn’t mean nothin’ to me. So your brother and his bitch killed ’em. So be it. Elijah is somewhere in these here hills, and we’ll find ’em.”

  Firelight played over Varney’s angular, devilish features. He pulled a flask out of his pack and unscrewed the top.

  Amos cleared his throat. “Don’t get all corned.”

  Varney took a swig. “I ain’t been corned in a coon’s age, McKinnon. Don’t you worry none.” After a long time, Varney continued. “It ain’t time to hang up one’s fiddle, McKinnon. We’ll find your brother. And when we do, we’ll kill him and the bitch.”

  “I’ll do the killing. And the woman is also mine. I’ll decide what to do with her.”

  Varney snorted. “Yeah, I’ll just bet. What you gonna do? Carve her up? Rape her?” Varney laughed, clearly enjoying the thought. “Amos, you’re as savage as a meat axe.”

  Somewhere in the night, a coyote or maybe a wolf howled. Unfamiliar with all the creatures in the mountains, Amos felt a strange exhilaration increase his bravado. Living in the city had softened him, but now he yearned for wildness. He’d make this situation work one way or the other. He wouldn’t stop until Elijah’s eyes were stone cold dead.

  Varney spit and it flew to the left. “Well, your brother ain’t no dummy that I can see. After five years of having his brain marinated in the penitentiary, I would’ve thought he couldn’t think his way outta a sack.”

  Amos pitched the remainder of the coffee and put the cup by the fire. “I reckon he learned something Quaker on the Sabbath. Maybe he has more religion than I gave him credit for.”

  “That should make you hate him more, don’t it? Bein’ more Catholic and all. Tell me there, McKinnon. What made you hate papists when you was born one?”

  Varney’s question threw Amos. “I told you that already. Besides, Fenwick is my boss, and he pays me to hate them. That’s all it is.”

  Sarcasm in Amos’s tone wasn’t apparently lost on Varney. “Pay for hate. I like it.”

  Amos didn’t like how long it was taking to find Elijah. After all, the fog might stay for a long time, as he’d heard it sometimes did in these parts. Not long after Varney had helped him blow the tracks, they’d discovered the passengers on the train were plain scared. They didn’t resist further robbery. One man on the train was bleeding like a stuck pig—shot by either Hoop or Claypool. Didn’t look like he’d make it. Amos had almost taken the one old battle axe on one carriage and had some fun with her. That would have been tasty, but he decided it would take too much time from his main goal—finding his brother.

  Amos and Varney figured they’d find Hoops and Claypool easily. What he didn’t expect was to locate their bodies and no sign of their quarry.

  “Sakes alive, McKinnon, I told you I could do this with Hoop and Claypool.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t, did you? Hoop was a sorry puke and Claypool an idiot.” His anger made his accent thicken. “Sure, and they got themselves killed, didn’t they? That woman must have cracked Hoop in the head with that rock. He sure as hell didn’t fall on it by accident.”

  Varney chewed the rest of his jerky, tossed back the rancid coffee as if it tasted like fine champagne, and then spit into the fire. “What the tarnation are you worked up about? We’ll find him.”

  “If we don’t, you’ll be as poor as Job’s turkey.”

  Varney frowned and leaned back on his hands. “That so?”

  “That’s so.”

  Varney’s eyes glittered in the campfire. As bad eggs went, Varney was the worst, and he’d hired him for evil. Yet Amos couldn’t trust anyone, least of all a man like this.

  Varney sighed. “Well, you’re the biggest toad in the puddle.”

  Amos took a deep breath. “You know that ole bitch in the cabin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, come morning we’ll visit her again. I got a feeling she’d hide those two,” Amos said.

  “We’re miles from there.”

  Amos snickered. “Not that far. Yeah, we’ll visit her again.”

  Elijah stilled, his hands gripping the sides of the tub, his body still quaking from the spine-melting orgasm. His senses seemed heightened. He could see and hear all around him with painful clarity. Wind rattled the single window, and an owl hooted in the darkness. The fire crackled. His breath rasped in his throat.

  He opened his eyes and hung his head. His body started to soften, muscles releasing tension. And Mary Jane’s lovely, small hand still gripped his penis, his essence covering her thumb and index finger. An almost animal instinct demanded he snatch her up and sit her down on his hard manhood. He wanted to come again, spurt his seed into her womb with a primitive drive almost frightening in its intensity. He gritted his teeth and forced that idea right out of his head. It wouldn’t do. He couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to sink inside her, take her after what she’d told him.

  But not because she was no longer a virgin.

  No, he wanted to tear apart that Thaddeus what’s-his-face for taking a treasure that should have been reserved for a better man. A man she could honestly love. Her husband.

  Tears dried on his cheeks, for even as she’d caressed him and arousal had fogged his brain, he’d cried under her sweet attention. A woman had never given him so much. Maureen’s love had been innocent, a gift. Mary Jane’s affection twisted his insides as she forced him to reckon with his past. He didn’t know how he felt, other than drained and aching with awareness. He wanted nothing more than to lift Mary Jane from this tub, dry off, and lay her on the coverlet. He would lick remaining droplets off her pretty skin and devour the beautiful body she hid during the day under layers of mourning.

  “Darlin’, that was…” He trembled, emotion catching in his throat.

  She released him. When she spoke, her breathless voice, full of awe, comforted his soul. “It was amazing, Elijah. Such power. Such amazing power in your body.”

  He stood and water sluiced off his skin. He turned to face her, and Mary Jane’s eyes reflected uncertainty, and to his surprise, fear.

  Her gaze flicked to his penis, then she blushed. “You are still…um…”

  “It’s like that sometimes after a man spends his seed.”

  Stepping out of the tub, he grabbed a towel from the stand and secured it around his waist.

  “How long does it stay like that?”

  Her innocent question made him smile. “For a bit.”

  “Oh. Thaddeus was…well, he was nothing like you.”

  Oh, indeed. Any more questions of the same ilk, and he’d have to explain more than he wanted. No, couldn’t explain it. He’d want to show her.

  He held out his hand. “Come. It’s time we got some shut eye.”

  Trepidati
on retreated from her eyes, and calmness replaced it. She placed her hand in his. Once she stepped out, she dried vigorously, shivering with cold. Knowing she feared more intimacy, he dried himself and returned the towel to his waist. He sat on the bed. On occasion she’d look up at Elijah and catch him staring. He couldn’t help it. Nothing would please him more than to touch her round, full breasts again, her nipped-in waist and rounded hips. She wasn’t a skinny woman, but neither did she hold excessive weight. Her delicate bone structure reminded Elijah of a fragile and sacred pagan goddess. A mystery from Ireland’s past, when gods and goddesses ruled the earth. When she’d wrapped her fingers around him and stroked, offering mind-bending release, it had taken everything he had not to love her.

  Swift panic rose inside him. Love her with his body, that is.

  He couldn’t afford a deeper emotion beyond affection. Beyond delivering her to Pittsburgh and safety. Anything more he refused to permit.

  Elijah stood, resolve renewed. “We need to dress in those clothes Mrs. Connor gave us.”

  She used the towel to blot water from her hair. “Why?”

  “Because we have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

  She nodded and sighed with obvious regret. She reached for the chemise and pantelettes. “It feels wonderful to put on clean clothes.”

  Gratified that she didn’t quiz him about what happened between them, he started to dress. The pants fit too loose at the waist—Mr. Connor had obviously weighed more in this area. Elijah tightened them with a belt and stuffed his feet into clean socks, then shoved on his boots.

  He was buttoning the shirt when she said, “That shirt is almost too small for you. It strains across the shoulders.”

  “It’ll do. Might be too big around the middle, but there’s no help for it.”

  He wrinkled his nose as he looked at his waistcoat drying over a chair. It smelled, but there was no helping that, either.

  She slipped into the threadbare gray dress. “Bother. This is too snug across the bosom.”

  Elijah’s lips twitched, but he stifled a laugh. “I like it. I won’t complain.”

  Her gaze flicked to his, and clear understanding lit her eyes. “Why, sir, I think you enjoy seeing my breasts unbound.”

  “I like them bound or unbound.”

  She made a tsking sound. “Well, the dress is barely long enough.” Mary Jane walked across the room with her hands on her waist. “Men shall see my ankles.” She shrugged. “I suppose with my boots on it will not so awful.”

  Truth be told, he didn’t like the idea other men would see her nipples pressing against that bodice or her ankles revealed. Watching Mary Jane finish dressing made his stomach clench and his body hardened again. He breathed deep and remembered they shouldn’t feel too safe.

  When she required buttoning, he assisted. “Come, let’s sleep. We’re off early in the morning.”

  He extinguished the lamp. They lay on top of the quilt, and his body curled around hers like a spoon.

  With one of her whispery, erotic sighs, she said, “Elijah, you are poking me.”

  Several seconds passed before he understood her meaning. “Sorry, darlin’. Holding you does that to me.”

  “Tonight was wonderful.” Her voice held sleepy sensuality. She clasped his arms and held tight. “I will never forget it. I regret one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I made you sad. That is the last thing I ever want to do.”

  Awash with confusion, he answered her the only way he could. “I’m not sad.”

  “You were when we discussed the prison. I felt it in your body. In your voice. The pain is still inside you.”

  She was right, damn her sweet hide. “I’ll allow that. I’m fine now. Go to sleep.” After a short time, he realized he had a question. “Darlin’, did your family blame you for what happened with that professor?”

  Her voice held infinite sadness when she said, “Yes. Especially father. He…he said that I would likely never marry because I was wicked and sinful, and my mother said she was ashamed. You see, they think I disgraced the entire family.”

  “That’s shite.”

  “Is it?”

  “Absolutely. If you were any more…what did you call it? Deported, you would have a stiffer corset than you already do.”

  She did laugh, then…a giggle of pure delight. “Deportment. Deported is not the right word, sir. But no matter. I cannot undo what happened.”

  “No, you can’t. But get it right out of your pretty head that you’re sinful and wicked. You’re…” His throat felt tight, the ache building inside him as he spoke the truth. “You’re a beautiful woman that deserves a man to love her. Any man with a lick of sense would see that.”

  She squeezed his forearm. “Thank you, Elijah. That is very sweet.”

  He snorted. “It isn’t sweet. It’s the truth.”

  She laughed softly. “Then thank you again. You are an extraordinary man.”

  Elijah’s gut tightened as her revealing words filled him. She’d told him an important piece of information. One he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Mary Jane must trust him, and that she thought him extraordinary…no one had ever called him that.

  She’d allowed him to take a bath with her, to touch her intimately. To stroke his cock until pleasure had sent white-hot streams of ecstasy from his body.

  Satisfaction and something close to deep affection coiled around him like the warmest blanket.

  No.

  He couldn’t allow her feelings to deepen, or his. It simply wouldn’t work.

  Elijah had the important business of revenge to complete.

  Her breathing deepened. She’d fallen asleep, apparently feeling safe even when she shouldn’t. For she wasn’t safe from his brother and accomplices, and she wasn’t safe from him. From this moment on, he would make sure no further lovemaking passed between them. A man like him, with a dubious past, could never have a woman like her. She’d play his wife for the rest of this trip, but that’s where it ended.

  Resolved that he’d done the right thing in not taking their lovemaking to the next level, he fell into a restless sleep.

  “I’m afeared your husband is right bothered.” Mrs. Connor placed another biscuit on Mary Jane’s plate and assessed her with worried eyes. “If I had my druthers, I’d say you two had a fight last night.”

  Mary Jane slathered jam on the biscuit and bit into it with relish. Her hunger seemed unusually healthy this morning. “Oh, believe me, Mrs. Connor, we did not argue.”

  Mrs. Connor’s face split into a big grin. “While I can’t say it’s fittin’ to admit, I did hear somethin’ and wasn’t sure I heard what I did.”

  Heat blossomed in Mary Jane’s face and inflamed her body. She finished chewing. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Connor.”

  What could she say?

  “Don’t worry none, girl. You’ll get no wrath from me. After all, you’re married.”

  Mary Jane dipped her head in agreement, but the lie burned in her gut like poison. She did not care for the charade, but what choice did she have? Lying to the woman felt somehow unclean, after all Mrs. Connor had done for them.

  “Mrs. Connor?” Mary Jane stood and walked towards the older woman. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I cannot thank you enough.”

  Then, totally on impulse, Mary Jane popped out of her chair and hugged the woman.

  At first the smaller lady remained stiff in Mary Jane’s arms, and Mary Jane wondered if she’d crossed a line. Then the woman wrapped her arms about Mary Jane and patted her back. “There, there now, girl. Don’t get all blamed sentimental or you’ll give me a powerful need to tear up, and I don’t cotton to that.”

  Mary Jane laughed and restrained tears. She heaved a deep breath and moved out of the woman’s embrace. Before she could speak, the door opened and Elijah entered.

  His gaze took them in. “Time to go.”

  His voice sounded clipped and sharp, and
Mary Jane acknowledged Mrs. Connor had detected his cool mood. When Mary Jane awakened this morning, he seemed less affectionate and more detached. Immediately she’d recalled her mother and father’s admonishments. Besides fornication being ordained only under marriage, this was why a woman kept her physical affections and virginity until she married. A man never wanted a woman if he already possessed her virginity…what mattered. And other men did not want used goods.

  No matter that Elijah had been kinder to her than any man she had known, he had one thing on his mind, and she knew he would not be deterred.

  Revenge against Amos.

  She should be repulsed by the thought of Elijah wanting to kill anyone. She did not know what she thought of it anymore.

  Mary Jane did not wish to test his mood, so she gathered her paltry belongings from the bedroom. She returned with her reticule and an old, rather floppy hat on her head.

  Mrs. Connor handed her a wrapped package of jerky and biscuits. “You take this now. You’ll be needin’ it.”

  “Thank you for your generosity.” Mary Jane smiled. “How can we ever repay you?”

  “No need to repay me, young lady.”

  Mary Jane hugged her again.

  Elijah kissed the lady’s hand like a gallant. “Thank you for use of your mare, Mrs. Connor. We’ll have her returned to you in good condition.”

  “Matilda is an old lady like me, but she’ll get you there.” Mrs. Connor waved one hand. “Now get out of here. Daylight is breaking higher. Wait. There’s an extra rifle in the small shed out back. I’ll get it for you.”

  The old woman left by the back door.

  A short time later, a loud report outside split the air.

  Mary Jane’s pulse quickened. “What was that?”

  “Gunfire. Sounded like it came from the shed.” Elijah retrieved the pistol from inside his waistcoat. “Wait here.”

  His command kept her stock still, heart racing as he left by the back door.

  Before she could move, the front door burst open and a man as tall, dark-haired and handsome as Elijah forced his way into the room. A short cry of fear and surprise left her throat. A long, deadly looking rifle pointed right at her. Fear sent icy tentacles marching up and down her back and paralyzed her throat. She wanted to scream for Elijah, but a new fear interrupted that thought. What if Elijah returned to the cabin? He would die in seconds.