Heart of the Rockies Collection

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Heart of the Rockies Collection Page 40

by Kathleen Morgan


  “Nothing’s wrong,” she managed to grit out in reply to his question. “I just forgot, for a moment, the reason for this trip. And I’ve got to get home before”—in spite of her best efforts, she barely caught the sob that rose in her throat—“b-before it’s too late.”

  The confusion faded from his dark eyes. “Oh yes. Of course.”

  Now she’d gone and offended him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it was your fault. I just . . .” She heaved a weary sigh. “I just need to stay focused, that’s all.”

  “Feeling guilty for enjoying this beautiful day, are you?” Jesse asked, sudden realization dawning in his eyes. “And for the pleasure of my company?” he added with a wicked grin.

  Hot blood rushed to Shiloh’s face. “It wasn’t like that at all. Now, are we going to sit here and jaw all day or get on with our journey?”

  He shrugged and released her reins. “Sure.” He lifted his gaze to the sky, where the sun was already beginning its downward descent. “Let’s make the most of the three or four hours of daylight we have. I know a perfect spot to make camp tonight.”

  With that, they set out once again, and the next few hours passed with some satisfying miles covered. Just about the time the sun started to set, they came upon a nice-sized creek flowing through the open meadows in the rolling foothills of the Hogback range. Enough small trees grew closely together in one spot near the creek to offer some shelter, and it was there that Jesse led Shiloh to make camp for the night.

  “Tell you what,” he said as they tied their horses to a nearby tree and proceeded to remove the saddles and other gear. “Why don’t you start gathering a mess of firewood for a cook fire and to keep us warm tonight, while I go see if I can catch some fish from the creek? Some trout would sure taste good right about now, don’t you think?”

  Shiloh’s mouth began to water at even the thought of fresh fish roasted over a wood fire. “I think that’s an excellent idea. Just don’t disappoint me, now that you’ve got me thinking about such a delicious supper.”

  Jesse laughed. “Give me a few minutes to fashion a spear from one of those saplings growing down by the creek, and you’ll have your fish before you can even collect enough wood and get a fire going.”

  The earlier tension dissipated in the friendly rivalry as Shiloh set to work gathering twigs and pieces of wood. And, true to Jesse’s challenge, she had barely gotten a good, hot fire going when he sauntered back, the mouth of a big cutthroat trout gripped in each hand.

  As she set to work cleaning the fish of their innards, Jesse quickly fashioned a long, smooth, wooden spit to hang between two forked branches he’d rammed into the ground on either side of the fire. After shoving the spit through both trout and flavoring them with some salt from his pack, he set the spit on the forked branches. Soon the savory aroma of cooking fish began to fill the air.

  From her saddlebags, Shiloh pulled out some slices of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a bag of dried apples. After cleaning off a relatively flat stone, she laid a cloth over it and placed the additional parts of the meal upon it. Jesse glanced at the offerings and then gestured to the bread.

  “Let’s save the bread for breakfast,” he said, digging through his own saddlebags to extract a bag of flour. “I’ll make some bannock bread for us tonight with my ration of annuity flour. It’ll taste great with the fish.”

  Shiloh leaned forward in interest. “I’ve heard of bannock bread but never had any. How do you make it?”

  “In its simplest version, which is what we’ll have tonight, you just mix flour and water, roll the dough into a long snake, and wrap it around a green stick that you then hold over the fire to bake it.” He grinned. “There are more complicated recipes that require butter and other ingredients, but that’s too much to bring along when flour and water will do.”

  In another ten minutes, Jesse handed Shiloh her own stick with the dough wrapped around it and they both proceeded to bake their bread until it was a golden brown. By then the fish was done.

  As they ate, Shiloh couldn’t believe how delicious everything was. Between the two of them, they soon consumed an entire fish, some of the bannock bread, and most of the cheese and dried apples, washed down with the fresh, cold creek water. Finally, replete, she leaned back against her saddle with a contented sigh.

  “Why is it food always tastes so good eaten out-of-doors?” she asked, pillowing her hands behind her head.

  Jesse shrugged, popped his last bite of trout into his mouth, and chewed and swallowed before replying. “Likely because we’ve had a hard day of riding, and anything cooked over an open fire tastes better. Plus, it was all freshly caught or made. Well, the fish and bannock anyway.”

  She shot him an impish glance. “In addition to the most excellent company, of course.”

  He arched a dark brow. “Oh, so now after that brush-off earlier, I’m suddenly back to being excellent company? Fat chance of that.”

  At the memory of her chaotic mix of guilt and pleasure this afternoon, and her brusque behavior toward Jesse, Shiloh’s smile faded. “I’m sorry for that,” she said, her expression turning serious. “It was nothing you did. I just . . . I just was feeling badly, worrying about my sister.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear I didn’t offend you in some way. Considering I’ve managed to do that a lot since we first met again.”

  He rose and began gathering up the small pile of fish bones left over from the meal. After tossing them into the fire, he picked up a few thicker pieces of wood Shiloh had gathered earlier and laid them onto the slowly dying flames. In no time, the fire spread to the newly added limbs and rose high once again.

  For a while, they watched the arcing flames dance, ebbing and flowing, throwing off occasional bright red embers to flare then dissipate in the darkness that enveloped them just outside the cozy haven of the fire’s light. Sparks popped and crackled; the tangy scent of wood smoke permeated the air. She followed the trail of a few sparks as they rose into the night sky, where her gaze snagged on the stars, intense points of light in the black canvas of the heavens. And, once again, Shiloh was overcome with a sense of gratitude and deep peace.

  “You don’t know how much this means to me,” she said at long last, never taking her eyes off the stars. “The fact you offered to escort me home.” Shiloh paused, then looked to Jesse. “It’s bad enough I’m dragging you on a long and arduous journey. But the consideration of returning to Castle Mountain Ranch surely can’t sit well with you, either.”

  “I put all that behind me years ago.” Jesse heaved a weary breath. “I’m beginning to wonder, though, if you have.”

  For an instant, Shiloh was tempted to pretend she didn’t understand what—or who—he was talking about. As much as she’d resented Jordan all these years for her condescending, older sister ways, the long-simmering and unresolved anger at her for the lies she’d told about Jesse was the true source of her guilt. She claimed to be a Christian, yet she couldn’t let go of that anger or find forgiveness in her heart. And it was a shameful secret she’d never shared with anyone.

  Leastwise, not until now.

  “If you’re asking if I’ve ever forgiven Jordan for what her lies about you caused,” she said tautly, “no, I haven’t. Not only were you brutally whipped and humiliated because of her, but I lost the best friend I’d ever had. When you rode away that day, Jesse, you took my heart with you.”

  She laughed, and the sound was softly considering. “After that day, I’d thought I’d successfully hidden you back in the deep recesses of my mind, never to be thought of again. Because I didn’t dare think of you, or I might not long endure the pain. But I realize now that I did so for another reason entirely.”

  Shiloh hung her head and when, after a time, she didn’t continue, Jesse gently prodded her. “What was that reason, Shiloh? You need to face it, name it, before you can come to terms with it.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right.” The admission, though, was a hard one to make, even to so
meone who was the most likely to understand. “It’s just that . . . how do you face the fact that you hate your sister? That, sometimes, you even wish her dead?”

  Jesse stared at her, stunned. It was one thing for him to distrust and even hate the people who had hurt him, time and again. But he had never imagined that kind, happy, generous Shiloh would ever possess such feelings. She was light, brightness, and should never have had to experience such darkness.

  And maybe she never would have if she hadn’t met him. Bitterness filled him. No one who came to care for him ever had a happy ending. Not his mother. Not his wife. And now, it seemed the same might happen to Shiloh if she once more came back into his life. If he let her come back into his life.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he snarled, picking up a twig and savagely throwing it into the fire. “Don’t turn your back on your family because of what happened to me. I wasn’t entirely innocent in that encounter with Jordan in the barn. She didn’t hog-tie and drag me kicking and screaming in there, you know.”

  Pain darkened her eyes. “Yes, even then I knew that you went willingly. And maybe that’s as much a part of my anger at my sister as anything else. That she stole you from me and didn’t even appreciate what she had.”

  “Oh, Shiloh.” A pitying look on his face, Jesse shook his head. “I wasn’t any big catch.”

  “You were to me! And Jordan knew it.”

  Once more, Jesse was taken aback. He had known Shiloh cared for him but was surprised to hear how deeply her feelings for him had gone. As deep as his for her?

  But would he have done differently that day, even if he’d known? Shiloh was but a child then, a mere twelve-year-old, freckle-faced, pigtailed girl. True, he’d immediately liked her, but part of that might well have been because she always looked up to him with such trust and admiration. A heady combination for a youth who’d rarely had a friend, certainly not one who thought so highly of him. Yet what normal male could’ve resisted the strikingly beautiful Jordan Wainwright?

  “Well, though you might not have realized it then,” he said, his tone grim, “you should now. Your sister was doing you a big favor. I wasn’t any good for a sweet kid like you. And, even though I didn’t force myself on her like she claimed, I still got what I deserved for being fool enough to think Jordan saw any value in me.”

  “So, anyone who loves you is a fool, is she?” Anger glinted in her eyes, and Jesse had the uneasy sense that they teetered on the brink of yet another argument. “So, is that what you thought of your wife too? That she was a fool for loving you?”

  At the mention of Onawa, pain stabbed at him. He had loved her deeply, and she, him. He would never denigrate what they had by calling his wife a fool.

  “Onawa saw me for what I was and accepted it,” Jesse muttered. “But then, she was an Indian.”

  “And that’s the difference, is it? No white possesses the ability to see you as you really are? And so, if they think they do, that makes them fools?” Her fists clenched, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Or is it just me? Do you just think I’m a fool for caring about you?”

  Though it gladdened a part of him to hear her speak such words, it also frightened him. “I don’t think you’re a fool, Shiloh,” he softly replied. “But I don’t understand what you want from me or where you expect this to lead.”

  Her eyes grew big. She swallowed hard. A grim satisfaction filled him. So, Jesse thought, I’ve finally made her think about this, take it seriously.

  “I-I don’t know where I expect this to lead,” she whispered, never taking her gaze off him. “All I know is that I want to be your friend again, to have what we once had.”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “And is that realistic, considering you’re not a little girl anymore? To have what we once had?”

  Shiloh expelled a breath and looked away. “Probably not. But we can still try and be friends, can’t we? And take whatever else comes as it comes?”

  She wasn’t going to let things be. Jesse should’ve guessed it would come to this. And this was but the first day of their journey. What an idiot he’d been ever to agree to this trip!

  Still, he had no choice but to see it through, for Shiloh’s sake if not for his. And he’d do anything for her, he realized. Anything but let himself fall in love with her.

  “Look, let’s make a deal,” Jesse said. “We can try the friendship thing. But you must also work on forgiving your sister. I don’t want to feel responsible for getting in the middle of that. Especially now, when we don’t even know if she’ll survive whatever befell her.”

  “Have you forgiven her?”

  “That’s not the issue, and you know it. Your forgiveness doesn’t hinge on mine. I’m not the Christian here, after all.”

  She managed a sad little smile. “You were once.”

  He steeled himself to the swift wave of yearning her words stirred. “Well, like a lot of other things, that’s long gone.” Jesse leaned over, grabbed a few more pieces of wood, and threw them on the fire. Then he climbed to his feet.

  “We’ve a long day of riding ahead of us, if we hope to cross the Colorado River before nightfall. Let’s get some shut-eye.”

  Something flickered in her gaze—another question or attempt to renew their discussion perhaps—then was gone. She sat up, turned around, and began to unfasten the bedroll from her saddle.

  “Good idea,” Shiloh said. “Not that it’s likely I’ll get to sleep anytime soon. You’ve given me too much to think about for that.”

  Jesse’s smile was mirthless as he walked around to his own bedroll. “So have you,” he muttered under his breath. “And the least of it will be the fact you’ll be sleeping just across the fire from me.”

  Shiloh woke shortly after dawn, feeling refreshed and eager for the new day. She glanced across the now-smoldering ashes of last night’s fire, expecting to see Jesse snuggled in his own bedroll. He wasn’t there, and his bedroll was already fastened to the back of the saddle lying nearby.

  She sat up and looked around. He was nowhere in sight. Both horses, however, were still tethered to a line running between two trees about ten feet away.

  Likely he’d gone to wash up or hunt for small game, she thought. Climbing to her feet, Shiloh first stirred the ashes and found some still-red coals beneath them. She carefully lay some tinder atop the coals and, as the small bits of grass and brush began to smoke, leaned over and gently blew to encourage them to catch fire. When flames finally began to lick at the tinder, she added small twigs and then a few bigger pieces of wood, taking great pains not to smother the revived fire.

  She filled the small tin pot she’d brought along with water from her canteen, slid a long stick through its handle, then hung it over the fire using the forked sticks still standing from last night. A nice cup of hot tea would taste wonderful and help take the edge off this chill morning, she told herself. Especially after she’d finished washing up a bit in an equally chill creek.

  Though the night had been just above freezing, if the lack of frost on the dried grasses was any indication, it had just barely been so. Luckily, the day already promised to be a fine, sunny one and would warm nicely. Just not before she’d washed and they’d had breakfast and ridden down the valley for a few hours.

  There was still no sign of Jesse, so Shiloh dug through her saddlebag again, extracting a wrapped bar of soap and a small towel. There’d be no privacy for a true bath while on the trip. There would also be no body of water worth washing in that would be warm enough this time of year, but she could at least cleanse as much as modesty allowed. And, in another day or two, maybe she’d attempt shampooing her hair.

  She met Jesse heading up from the creek. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face. His shirt slung over one shoulder, he wore only his buckskins, loincloth, and moccasins. Droplets of water clung to his muscular chest and arms.

  Warmth flooded Shiloh’s face, as much from finding him half dressed as from the frisson of pleasure that coursed throu
gh her at the sight of him. He was a tall, well-made man and, to her way of thinking, far too attractive with his dark, exotic good looks. Well, she quickly amended, far too attractive for her anyway.

  “Oh,” she managed to choke out as he drew up before her a few feet away. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

  “The same place it looks like you’re now headed to.” His mouth lifted in a smile. “You look like you could use a bit of cooling off.”

  Shiloh stared at him, taken aback at his comment. “What . . . what exactly do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing much. You just look a bit flushed, is all. Kind of sweet, actually, along with that tousled mane of red hair.”

  If she’d blushed before, Shiloh’s face felt as if it were on fire now. Her mouth went dry, her palms damp.

  Kind of sweet . . .

  So, he thought she looked sweet, like some little kid, while she was standing here trying not to ogle him. Frustration filled her. What would it take for Jesse finally to see her as the woman she now was, rather than the girl she used to be? And, even more to the point, would she dare try it, if she even knew?

  “Well, just give me a little time to clean up and brush my hair, and I’m sure I’ll look a lot better.” With that, Shiloh stepped around him and hurried down the path to the creek. Behind her, she heard Jesse’s deep chuckle.

  Her cheeks still burning, she threw down her soap and towel onto some rocks on the bank of the swiftly flowing water. Kneeling, Shiloh splashed several handfuls of the frigid water onto her face before her skin began to feel normal again. Then she unwrapped her bar of soap, washed her hands, then scrubbed her face and neck. A few more handfuls of water to rinse off, towel herself dry, and she felt a lot better.

  Pulling her brush from her jacket pocket, she then tried to tame her unruly hair. She ended up plaiting it into a loose braid down her back and then tying it off with a blue ribbon. With no mirror to check her appearance, and with the creek flowing too fast to offer any kind of reflection, she had to suffice with patting her hair to make sure the rest of it wasn’t sticking out at any strange angles around her face.

 

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