Midnight Secrets

by Janelle Taylor

  Ginny remained in the concealing tree until late afternoon. She finally climbed down, drew her pistol, and sneaked to camp, praying the ruffians were gone. She watched and listened for another hour before assuming they had left her to her fate. All horses and gear had been taken, except for the mount shot from beneath her. She knew the bullets hadn’t gone astray; the men had wanted her alive to… She shuddered at the thought.

  The distraught female walked to Charles Avery’s body, knelt, and wept for his loss. He had been a good and kind man, only a misguided and tormented one. After what he’d suffered during the war and the tragic murder of his daughter, she understood what had driven him to this desperate act. She had no way to bury him, was not even able to cover him with rocks or a blanket to protect his body from scavengers.

  The Kings’ horse had died during the day and she raged at the men for not putting him out of his misery. She knew that was true because Charles had three wounds to his body, the one that had felled him and two in his chest, those she had heard from her hiding place. It was obvious the men had found his concealed cache and stolen it, which was no doubt their intention all along. They had taken his money and watch, too. They had left nothing behind for her to use: no canteen, blanket, or food.

  Don’t panic, Ginny. You’ll get out of this mess. Think.

  She remembered the satchel she’d left at the river. She hurried there and recovered it. At least she had a change of clothes, soap, a washcloth, and a brush. In her pocket, she had extra cartridges. And safety matches, she realized with a smile of relief. She had the river for water to drink. She had two weapons with which to hunt for food. She had strong legs, thanks to plenty of exercise on the trail and Steve’s lessons, to walk to civilization and help. It was early May, so the nights wouldn’t get too chilly. The thing to remember was to stay alert and to keep moving.

  You can’t head northwest to Hot Springs, Ginny reasoned, that’s the way their tracks lead. You don’t know where or how far away Little Rock or another town is. There’s nothing back trail for miles, and if you don’t stick close to the river, you won’t have a water supply and you don’t know how far the next one is. You could use—No, the Kings’ horse didn’t have any saddlebags to use as makeshift canteens.

  She couldn’t think of any use for the left-behind saddle to aid her survival. She’d heard and read that Indians used animal stomachs and bladders for water containers, but she couldn’t cut open the horse to do the same. Besides, she didn’t have a knife.

  Think, Ginny. She should get as far from there as daylight permitted. She prayed for Charles Avery’s soul and began walking in a knee-high section of the Ouachita River to hide her tracks. She didn’t remove her shoes and was glad she was wearing ones that laced snugly above the ankle and prevented excessive water from filling them. Her skirt tail was pulled from the back, between her legs, and looped over the waistband in the front to keep a soaked hem from slowing or tripping her.

  It wasn’t long before that precaution didn’t matter; the water level reached her waist and then her breasts. Fortunately it was a clear blue hue that didn’t cause her to worry about invisible creatures and perils. Balance was difficult and arm strain was the result during those minutes when she tried to hold her satchel over her head to keep it dry. Soon that was also futile. A few times she swam side-armed through deep areas to keep from leaving the water and giving a persistent villain a trail to find, which proved to be tricky with the satchel she refused to discard. Once she even hitched a short ride on a floating log that allowed her to rest except for kicking her legs to keep her moving. She realized her action would also deny the law a trail to follow; that couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t going to take any risk of being captured again.

  It was dusk when she halted and climbed onto the bank where the Caddo River joined with the Ouachita. She ached all over from trudging and swimming in the river. She lay on her back for a while and rested. Her stomach growled in hungry protest.

  “You’ll have to wait until morning when I can hunt something to cook,” she murmured as she stroked it.

  Ginny used eye and ear to check the location and detected nothing to alarm her. Miserable, she stripped off her garments and bathed in the river, aware her modesty had lessened since meeting Steve Carr. She used wrung-out clothes for wiping off and donned clean but slightly damp ones. Pants would have been better for riding, but her concealed weapon was easier to get at with a skirt. She was relieved to find the satchel was waterproof, as promised by the seller, though some moisture had sneaked inside around the opening. Having brought along two skirts and shirts, she draped the water-dabbled extra set over tree limbs to dry.

  Ginny felt better after taking a bath and brushing the tangles from her long hair. She braided it to prevent more during the night, then scrubbed the soiled clothes and hung them over branches to dry. She put aside her belongings, gripped the derringer in her hand, and lay down on the grass to sleep. She used the satchel as a pillow and one of her garments to cover her shoulders and arms. The heavy bag had been a nuisance to carry all day, but she might need the changes of clothes or Slim’s confiscated pistol with its six bullets. Many times she had quelled the urge to toss the weapon aside and was lucky it hadn’t gotten waterlogged.

  At last her empty stomach and fatigued body allowed her to fall asleep. Her hand relaxed and the derringer slipped from her grasp.

  Ginny heard birds singing. Her stomach growled. She yawned and stretched. Reality flooded her and she opened her eyes with reluctance to test it. She was lying on the ground beneath a tree, so it hadn’t been a bad dream. She caught sight of a dark figure from the corner of her eye, shrieked in surprise, and jerked to an upright position against the tree. She gaped at the man sitting cross-legged nearby. “How did you find me? I traveled in water all afternoon.”

  “A Comanche warrior taught me how to move across the land without being seen and how to know somebody had passed before me even if he covered his tracks with skill,” Steve explained. “Be it on dirt or in water or by foot or on horse, it matters not to me. But you did a good job, Anna. The average man or tracker couldn’t have located you, or surely not this fast.”

  Ginny realized it was only confidence in himself that caused him to speak the truth without conceit or thought that it might sound like bragging. One thing she was certain of was that Steve possessed enormous prowess. But one thing he didn’t possess was a proper greeting. There wasn’t a glad-to-see-you or comforting smile in return, and she wondered why he seemed… almost cool and wary. His ebony gaze, as usual, was as impenetrable as a moonless night. He appeared on rigid alert that was understandable under the circumstances. Except for a tan low-crowned hat lying beside him, he was attired all in black, even down to his gunbelt and holsters. His sable hair was finger-tousled, and dark stubble grew along his jawline and above his mouth. If not for his aura of mystery and reserve, she would fling herself into his arms and cover him with kisses. “I had a good teacher, a very demanding scout. I’m happy to see you. I was afraid no one would come after us or would be misled by that false trail Rollie made.”

  He caught her use of the man’s first name and wondered why she seemed so calm after what she’d endured. He had expected her to leap into his arms with joy and shower him with praise and thanks, and was miffed when she didn’t. He was mystified by why she looked and behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “That false trail didn’t trick me for a minute. I realized in a hurry you weren’t heading for New Orleans or someplace southward. Took me a while to get the news and to catch up because I waited in town for you until one. They pushed you hard and fast, but you didn’t hold ‘em back any. It would have helped me if you had found cunning ways to slow ‘em down a mite.”

  Ginny asked herself if his tone and expression had bewildering edges of accusation to them. “I dared not provoke them, Steve; they were evil men. I tried not to call attention to myself. I even skipped all my customary grooming until last night. The wa
y they were eyeing me was scary.”

  Steve noticed how beautiful and fresh and desirable she looked, too much so for his troubled and doubting state of mind to handle. “You’ve had a rough time of it. I could tell what happened back there in the last camp.”

  Ginny’s thoughts had been diverted by her rescue and handsome lover. His remark brought back the horror of yesterday. “They killed… him. We tried to escape, but…It was awful. I didn’t even have a way to bury him.”

  As she cried in grief, Steve pulled her into his arms. He was glad he had finally gotten a normal reaction from her. Perhaps she was in shock; he’d seen Indian and war captives act strangely upon their rescue. To get at the truth, he must be patient and sly. The telegram from Texas sparked suspicions about her, as did possible slips by her during the wagontrain journey. It was hard to believe she didn’t know in advance there was no ranch in Waco, no fresh start ahead. Yet he didn’t find it impossible that her own father would misuse her this way; his had deceived and betrayed him long ago. He also knew from experience that women could be cunning and dangerous criminals. He had chased, exposed, and captured a female rustler, a murderess, and a bank robber. Those vixens had done their deeds willingly and eagerly, but Anna might have been ignorant of the real situation or acting out of loyalty to her father.

  Ginny snuggled into Steve’s strong and protective embrace. She allowed the cleansing tears to flow for a while. She had endured a terrible ordeal, but she was safe now. Her love was holding her and was stroking her back with tenderness. After she composed herself, she asked, “What about the wagontrain? How could you leave it?”

  Steve was affected by her contact, her smell, her voice, and the pain of possibly having lost her. “I put Big L in charge; he’s better trained than I am.”

  Ginny’s heart fluttered. “You left to come after me?”

  He used a misleading answer. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  She looked up into his dark eyes and murmured, “Thank you, Steve. I was so scared. I tried to remember everything you taught me. Your training was the only reason I survived and was able to escape. I’ll never again complain or refuse any lesson you want to teach me.”

  Pride flooded him from her sincere words, at least he presumed they were honest. If she was only a good deceiver, he worried, he could be wrong. “I’m glad you finally understand and accept why I was so tough on you. This untamed land can be a dangerous place, Anna.”

  She stared into his softened gaze and her heart warmed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you for being here when I need you.” She craved him so much that she couldn’t stop herself from pulling down his head to seal their lips.

  Steve’s body flamed with a need that dulled his warring senses. In spite of his anger and doubts about this woman, he had been desperate to locate and rescue her. He had been filled with anxiety during every mile he traveled, praying he wouldn’t come upon her discarded body along with Avery’s, praying the gang wouldn’t be so intoxicated by her beauty that they brutally ravished her. If the villains had harmed her, he would have tracked them to the end of the world and slain them, slowly and painfully as the Indians had taught him long ago. Guilt over deluding her had been his riding companion, and would be until he was certain she was totally innocent. If she was cleared, she might never forgive him for tricking her. He might never possess her again. That thought drove him to surrender to her.

  Ginny’s heart pounded with excitement and her flesh burned with desire. She was glad she had bathed and changed clothes last night. Steve’s unspoken summons for her to yield her all to him was clear, loud, powerful, and irresistible.

  He was as consumed by her as she was by him. They experienced an urgent, almost desperate, yearning to fuse their bodies into one. Their mouths meshed many times with hungry, deep, and feverish kisses. They sank to the grass, locked in each other’s arms.

  Steve’s eager hands stroked her breasts through the material of her shirt. His lips worked over her face, her ear, and down the silky column of her throat. His tongue teased into the hollows there as his quivering fingers unbuttoned the fabric obstacle and found no chemise to create another one. His cheek nuzzled her bare chest until his mouth reached a rosy-brown peak and fastened onto it. He lingered and stroked it for a minute, then drifted his tongue toward the matching bud nearby. He lavished delight between the two mounds and caused her to moan and thrash with white-hot passion. His hand traveled downward and worked its way underneath her skirt, which had been hiked up by her movements. His fingers inched to her warm moistness, entered it, and stimulated another peak to pleasure.

  Ginny was adrift on a spellbinding cloud of enchantment. She ached to merge her body with his, as the core of her womanhood demanded almost immediate appeasement. Everything he did to her heightened her hunger for him. She stroked his hair, neck, and shoulders. Her fingers wanted to clutch him tightly to her. She had feared never seeing him again. What had seemed the darkest moment of her life was becoming the brightest one. Ever so often his stubble scratched her skin, but she didn’t care, if she noticed. She was too lost in the wonder of Steve Carr and the power of what he was doing to her.

  Steve’s mouth returned to hers. His teeth nibbled at her lips. He kissed her several times, short and light, then long and deep. Tension mounted within him. Self-control was difficult to maintain any time he touched her. Her responses and satisfaction made it even harder to master himself. His heart thudded forcefully. No challenge had ever been as potent as she was. No nourishment as filling. No experience as rewarding. No fear as great as losing her to death. She was his! For now.

  Ginny clung to him, wanting and needing him fast. She savored his taste and feel. Her actions coaxed him to take her swiftly. She didn’t know how long she could accept this bittersweet torment.

  Troubled hearts, dazed minds, yearning souls, and ravenous bodies craved and sought comfort. Ginny relaxed her thighs as Steve’s hand nudged them apart. Both trembled in suspense and eagerness. They kissed as he unfastened his pants and, with her help, slid them past his hips. Without removing her garments, she assisted him with getting through the privacy opening in her bloomers. They tingled with rapture as they were united. In minutes, they were moving almost fiercely, with Steve embraced securely by her encircled legs. Their pace was swift and rhythmic, building to a climactic and stunning release. They relaxed in each other’s arms, not moving or speaking until their erratic breathing and racing hearts returned to normal.

  Then Steve withdrew and rolled to his back. He didn’t know what to say or do following the heated episode that had taken place so unexpectedly. “We’d best wash up,” he said, trying to sound composed. “You must be starving.”

  Ginny also felt slightly awkward after the uncontrollable coupling. She was glad he didn’t apologize for his feverish behavior, as she’d evoked it. “Your perception and skills are enormous. You see and know everything.”

  “I wish I did, woman,” he murmured, then stood, stripped, and entered the water. After he had washed and had left it, he dried off with the skirt she tossed him. He sent her a half-smile and nod of thanks, then put on his clothes.

  Steve built a fire and warmed beans while she freshened up in the river and redressed. When she finished, he said, “Let’s eat and get moving. We have a long way to travel before dark.”

  Ginny assumed he didn’t want to chat because this total privacy and recent intimacy had made him skittish again. Yet, she allowed it to tell her he must care deeply for her or he would pass it off casually. The fact he couldn’t discuss it and it made him nervous misled her, warmed her heart.

  After they finished the scant meal and loaded his gear, Steve coaxed them to get moving. “Mount up with me until we find you a horse,” he said.

  She smiled. “I’ll be so glad to get back to the wagontrain.”

  Steve noticed she had forgotten about her father, a proper burial for him, and the brutes who had abducted her and stolen the gem
s. “We aren’t heading to rejoin the others. I’m going after that gang.”

  Ginny hadn’t forgotten about Charles Avery but had pushed the man and his murder to the back of her mind to avoid suffering over them. She couldn’t ignore the fact there might have been something she’d done wrong that had gotten him killed. Nor did she want to think about where she would be at this moment if she hadn’t escaped and Steve hadn’t rescued her. “Please don’t, Steve. Let the authorities catch them and punish them. You don’t have to take revenge because of me. I wasn’t harmed.”

  Steve pulled her up behind him, ignoring her words. “Hold on around my waist. We have lots of territory to cover; they have a good lead on me.”

  “Please don’t,” Ginny persisted as they headed off at a gallop to return to the last campsite to begin his frightening task. “There are five of them. They’re well armed and dangerous. I have faith in your skills, Steve, but you’re only one man. Don’t go after them, at least not alone.”

  Steve’s body stiffened. His voice was monotone as he revealed, “It’s my real job, Anna. I have orders to go after them and bring them to justice.”

  Somehow Ginny knew his two words had nothing to do with being a wagontrain leader and scout. “What do you mean, it’s your ‘real job.’ ”

  CHAPTER 12

  Ginny’s nerves were taut, her heart pounded, and she held her breath in dreaded anticipation of his response. Somehow she sensed there was a secret and powerful reason for him coming after them that had nothing to do with his love for her or wanting to rescue her. Somehow she felt his answer was going to be detrimental to their relationship. She wanted to cry and scream before he admitted some awful and damaging truth. She waited and agonized over the destruction of her beautiful dream.