Another Dawn

by Sandra Brown

  "Yeah," Lee agreed, his eyes narrow and hazy. "Reckon she does?"

  "Wouldn't surprise me. You can tell by—"

  "Their eyes," Lee finished.

  "What can you tell by their eyes?" Jake struck a match against the tree and both boys jumped guiltily. He laughed at their confounded expression.

  He had stepped out on the porch after his visit with Ross, wishing he didn't have to endure this party. He should ride into town and raise hell, blow off steam. What he needed was some good whiskey, some bad woman, some hard gambling. Maybe then the images of Banner would be blotted from his mind and he could go on with his life as he had before that cursed night in the barn.

  Pictures of her were flashing through his mind so vividly he had expected Ross to know what he was thinking about. Banner in her bridal nightgown, Banner in the tight britches, Banner serving him dinner, Banner lighting his cigar, Banner standing on the stool with her back turned and her fanny in the air, Banner just out of the bath. Banner, Banner, Banner. She had a monopoly on his thoughts. He wouldn't have been surprised if Ross had cursed him, lunged out of his chair with a pistol drawn, and put a bullet right between his eyes. And for what Jake was thinking about his daughter, Ross would have been vindicated.

  But Ross had treated him as he always had, and that had make Jake feel even worse. He'd been glad when Lydia called their visit to a halt by sticking her head around the office door and demanding that Ross come out to greet the mayor of Larsen who had just arrived.

  The moment Jake stepped out on the porch, he spotted Banner. She was laughing with her friends. He was glad she was laughing. She had looked so stark and wounded after what he had said to her that afternoon. But it had been necessary to hurt her. He had felt compelled to insult her in the crudest, crudest way. She would be better off seeing his true nature right now so she would get any romantic notions out of her head.

  Seeking diversion from his tumultuous thoughts, Jake had ambled toward Lee and Micah, whose heads were bent together like conspirators. He had guessed they were up to no good and he had guessed right, if their guilty expressions were any indication.

  "How come all the girls are over there and the two of you are lurking in the dark over here? Did they scare you off?"

  "Naw," Micah told his older brother. "We were just discussing women in general and one in particular."

  "Which one in particular?"

  They pointed out Dora Lee. "What about her?" Jake asked with mild interest.

  "We were just speculating on whether the rumors we've heard about her are true," Lee said.

  "What are the rumors?" Jake's analytical eyes hadn't left the girl who was chatting with much hand gesturing and eyelash batting. He could tell even from this distance that Dora Lee was the kind of woman he despised. She thought too highly of herself and of her appeal, just as Priscilla Watkins always had. She was smug about her prettiness and her motions were calculated.

  But that was just the kind of woman he needed tonight, one he had absolutely no tender feelings for.

  "The rumor is that she, you know..." Micah finished with a wink.

  Jake's smile was slow and lazy. "Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I can settle the matter here and now." He stepped away from them and they were left to admire him with awe.

  "Jake," Micah whispered after him, "watch it. She's the mayor's daughter."

  Jake grinned another of those heart-stopping, but dangerous, smiles. "That's the best kind." He winked at the boys who poked at each other's ribs punishingly.

  "Mama and Papa wanted me to go to that new girls' school in Waco, but I—"

  Dora Lee suspended her boasting recital and stared at the man who was walking through the dancers. In the lantern light, his hair shone white, though his skin was dark. Even from afar she could tell that his eyes were intensely blue. "Who is that?" she whispered.

  Banner followed her gaze and spotted Jake coming through the crowd of bobbing dancers. His hips rolled as he walked in a loose-boned cowboy stagger that somehow called attention to the place where his gunbelt bisected his middle. If she had noticed the decisive evidence of his sex earlier, she was sure that the lascivious Dora Lee did now.

  Nor could the breadth of his shoulders be disguised beneath the white cotton shirt stretched taut over their width, and the black leather vest that looked as soft as butter. The red bandana tied around his throat lent him a rakish air. He looked as cunning as a tomcat that had just caught a mouse, and as dangerous as a mountain lion on the prowl.

  Jake stopped, took the cheroot from his mouth, dropped it in the dirt and ground it beneath the toe of his boot. Every movement was sensuous, slow, deliberate.

  "That's Jake Langston," Banner said. "He's my foreman."

  Dora Lee had bitterly regretted missing Banner's wedding. She had missed it on purpose, going to Galveston for an extended visit with a cousin so she wouldn't have to celebrate "Banner Coleman Day," as she had scathingly called it. She never liked sharing the spotlight with anyone, especially Banner, who outclassed her on every point.

  But when Dora Lee returned from her trip and learned what had transpired, she had been furious with herself for missing what she considered a much deserved comeuppance for Banner. She had also heard talk of the cowboy who had rallied to the Cole mans' defense. She had thought the accounts of him were exaggerated, but obviously they weren't.

  Jake kept up that predatory gait until he stood within a few feet of the gape-mouthed Dora Lee. "Dance?" That was all he said. It was enough. For once having nothing to say, Dora Lee glided toward him and allowed herself to be swept into his arms and away from the group of envious young ladies.

  Banner felt something die inside herself. He hadn't even looked at her. His eyes had been trained on the girl she thought to be blowsy and loud and obnoxious and thoroughly unlikable.

  Good! Let him have her! They deserved each other.

  "Why are we all standing around here?" she said with forced gaiety. "Let's coax these gentlemen to dance."

  She began circulating and flashing the smile that had tripped many a hopeful heart before she became promised to Grady Sheldon. Within seconds she had a partner, then another, then another. She whirled in time to the music, laughing gaily, smiling, convincing the young men she danced with that there was hope of winning her heart yet, and convincing her parents that she had come through a terrible ordeal unscathed.

  But Banner cataloged every move Dora Lee and Jake made. She knew when his arms tightened and pulled her closer to him, and she knew when Dora Lee submitted and allowed it. She also knew the moment they disappeared behind the barn.

  Within minutes Jake was cursing himself for coaxing Dora Lee into the shadows. She was stupid and vain and silly, but he had known that when he went after her. Her predictability was wearisome. She pretended coyness, but surrendered with a notable lack of resistance.

  The conquest had been too easy, and there was no thrill to what he found when he peeled her bodice back and bared her breasts to moonlight and his eyes.

  "I don't usually let a man—"

  "Yes, you do." He kissed her neck, then raised his head to test her reaction to his lack of chivalry.

  She gazed up at him with vacuous eyes. She wet her lips and tried again. "But I really like you, Jake."

  "Then show me," he whispered raspily.

  Her tongue whipped around his mouth like a striking snake. She tasted disagreeably like dill pickles. He wanted none of her, but forced himself to fill his hand with her generous breast. His body responded to the touch of female flesh, but from the waist up, there was not a whit of desire to be found in him. He could have her, possibly slake a longing that had been building in him for weeks. But the relief would be temporary. The hunger would come back tomorrow, because it was for someone else.

  He wasn't being fair to this girl, silly and self-centered though she was. Since when had the heartbreaker Jake Langston started worrying about fairness? Since the night in the barn. He was getting soft and sentiment
al in his old age. Ordinarily he would have taken a tart like Dora Lee without a moment's hesitation.

  Instead he kindly pushed her away. "We'd better get back." Anxious now to be rid of her, he fumbled with the buttons on her dress. He saw that she was about to object and rushed to add, "I don't want your pa to come looking for you."

  To save face, Dora Lee pretended that she had called a halt to things and restored her hair with swift, trembling hands. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I guess I lost my head there for a moment when I let you touch me. I.. .want your respect." She prattled on until they returned to the parry.

  Immediately Jake excused himself from her and went to get a beer. He took a long drink just as Lee and Micah came rushing up to him, breathless and wide-eyed. "Well?"

  He smiled sadly at their innocence and wished for a moment he had his back. "Dora Lee definitely does. Good luck."

  The party wound down. Jake spent some time with Ma, whom he had sorely neglected to visit. She rested in a rocker on the porch, fanning herself. He tried to keep his mind on their conversation, but his eyes continually strayed to Banner. She danced with every man there, young and old.

  And she had a damn good time doing it too. Did she have to hold her head at just that angle, baring her throat to that yokel who looked like he wanted to take a bite of it? Wasn't that jackass holding her too tight and didn't she care? Who was she waving at? Who was that brilliant smile for? And if Randy asked her to dance one more time, Jake was going to have to do something about that stud once and for all. Castration came to mind.

  He whipped himself into a fine froth. By the time the guests had left and Jake made his way to their waiting wagon, his gut was coiled so tight he was ready to hit something.

  They made their goodbyes.

  "Wonder what that is?" Ross asked. He gazed toward the northeastern horizon. It was tinted a dull red.

  "Fire," Jake replied, following Ross's gaze.

  Micah whistled through his teeth. "Must be a helluva fire to light up the sky like that."

  "I wonder what it could be. It's a good distance from town," Lydia said.

  "Brush maybe," Ross said reflectively. "We need rain something bad. It's been a dry spring."

  That seemed to satisfy everyone's curiosity about the fire. But it wasn't burning nearly as brightly as the green jealousy in Banner's eyes.

  TWELVE

  "Ross, this is—"

  "Be quiet, woman, and kiss me."

  "But—"

  Ross covered Lydia's mouth with his, stopping her insincere protests. Knowing he enjoyed the chase, she sometimes gave him one. But her responding kiss was just as hungry as his.

  He pulled her down onto the blanket in the hay and rolled her beneath him, heedless of the havoc he wreaked on the dress she had worn to their party. The guests had departed, the musicians had packed up their instruments and left for home, Ross had sent Ma to her cabin without letting her start the clean-up, everyone at River Bend had retired. They were left blissfully alone.

  As his tongue went on darting, teasing forays into her mouth, his hands pillaged her hair, seeking out pins with nimble fingers and pulling them free.

  "Shame on you," she breathed, when at last he released her mouth to nuzzle her neck.

  "I had about all I could stand of manners and respectability for one night." He chuckled. "I needed some good ol' vice, a reminder of my wicked youth."

  "So that's why you dragged me up to the hayloft rather than into our nice, respectable bedroom."

  "There's something naughty about making love in a haystack, isn't there?"

  "You ought to know," she said with mock primness. "You've brought me up here on more than one occasion in the middle of the day. I was always afraid the children would catch us while they were playing hide and seek."

  Ross laughed as his hands worked free the buttons on her bodice. "That threat only added to the excitement."

  She plowed her finger through his dark hair and lifted his head to see his face. "I don't need anything to add to the excitement. Every time I've made love with you has been exciting."

  "That kind of talk can get you in a heap of trouble, lady," he warned in a low, vibrating voice.

  "I like this wildness in you," she whispered. "That streak of Sonny Clark is still there if anybody but me knew to look for it. You're my outlaw and I love you, no matter what name you live under."

  His eyes rained emerald fire down on her. The emotions that shimmered from her face were as untamed as his own. "I love you, Lydia."

  "I know. I love you too."

  They kissed with a heat that hadn't cooled in twenty years of living together. Hasty hands tore at clothes they couldn't be rid of fast enough. He reached beneath her skirt and petticoats and unfastened her drawers. When she was free of them he lifted her on top of him to straddle his hips. Their hands engaged in frantic combat over the buttons of his trousers.

  Cries of ecstasy echoed in the still, quiet barn when they came together. As passionately in love with him as ever, Lydia's head fell back and she rode his hard body. She allowed him liberties with her breasts. He primed them with hands mat knew just what to do to give her the most pleasure, then took them into his mouth to love.

  "Ross, Ross, Ross!" She collapsed onto his chest when the climax came.

  He reached high into her at the instant of his release. As always, he died a little, only to be renewed, refreshed, and reborn. Lydia always returned as much as she gave.

  They lay together quietly, breathing rapidly, listening to the song of the cicadas in title trees outside. She unbuttoned his shirt and sifted chest hairs through her fingers. They murmured love words, they kissed—the intensely private exchanges of lovers who are familiar and devoted. Finally, they drifted into more meaningful conversation.

  "Banner seems to be fine, don't you mink?"

  Ross sighed, shifting to draw Lydia closer. "I think so. She's intelligent. She's as stubborn as another female I could name." He pinched her bottom lightly. "It would take someone with bigger balls than Grady Sheldon's to defeat Banner."

  Lydia snickered, and tweaked a chest hair. "But weren't you worried about her? For a while? Just a little?"

  "Yes. I was worried. You knew it all along, didn't you?" She nodded, rubbing her smooth cheek against his nipple. "I can't quite get used to the idea that our baby girl isn't a baby anymore. Banner is a woman and has to stand on her own two feet. She'll be held accountable for any decisions she makes from now on and that frightens me. She's so damn impulsive. It's easier to leave Lee to his own devices, I guess because he's a boy. But I want to go on protecting Banner." He ground his chin against the top of Lydia's head. "I love both our children so much, sometimes I'm afraid for them."

  Lydia squeezed her eyes closed- She knew the kind of parental panic he was talking about. Each time Lee or Banner left her sight, a desperate feeling of finality clutched at her heart. She was always afraid that might be the last time she would see them. Such notions were foolish, but every parent had them.

  Lifting herself slightly to gaze down at Ross, she said, "Maybe we wouldn't feel that way if we... if I had been able to have more children."

  That again, Ross thought.

  He turned his head to gaze up at her. He still thought hers was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. It wasn't traditionally pretty as Victoria Gentry's had been. But it had much more life, vitality, character, spirit. Her sherry-colored eyes glowed with the personality of the woman inside. Ross took in each lively feature, the cascade of tumbled hair and the well-kissed fullness of her mouth.

  "Lydia, you have made me happier in the last twenty years than I ever knew was possible. I told you that the number of children we had wasn't important to me."

  She lowered her eyes self-consciously. "I know that's what you've told me. I just hope it's so."

  "It is. I wouldn't change anything about our lives since the day we left Jefferson with Moses and the baby."

  "I'm so
glad you already had Lee. And I'll be grateful to God for the rest of my life for giving us Banner. I only wish I had been able to have more of your children. I'll always regret that, Ross."

  This had been an issue between them for a long time. She couldn't accept the fact that she hadn't conceived after Banner was born. He had assured her a thousand times that he didn't feel shortchanged. He loved Lee. His son may have been born of another woman, but Lydia had nourished him. And Banner. Banner, the child he had created with Lydia, was very special.

  He wanted to take that sad expression off her face forever. But he knew it would recur. All he could do was go on reassuring her. His hand found her breast warm and full. He cupped it lovingly and finessed the nipple with his thumb until it beaded.

  "There's nothing to regret, Lydia," he whispered softly. "You have done nothing but please me. Ever." He raised his head and pressed his lips against her breast. She watched as his mustache surrounded her nipple. His lips enfolded it. His mouth sucked it. Then he stroked it with his tongue.

  Her eyes closed. She breathed his name repeatedly and wondered if God would punish her for loving Ross more than she loved Him. Ross rolled her on her back and covered her body with his. He was hard again and she was! dewy with need. He drew back and in one long, slow! plunge gave her his love.

  Lydia's thoughts, those both happy and sad, scattered as the winds of passion rushed through her once more.

  * * *

  Banner tore the pins from her hair and flung them into the | darkness. She struggled with each one. They had secured themselves in her hair with the tenacity of fish hooks. As, soon as she worked one free, she flicked it from her fingers over the wagon's edge before she could scream. She was in a tizzy.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Taking down my hair."

  "Why?"

  "Because I can't stand it up any longer."

  "What's the matter with it?"

  She shook her head, sending her hair flying in every direction. When a silken coil slapped Jake in the face, he brushed it away.