Noble Savage

by Judith B. Glad

  The spring emerged from the hillside a hundred feet or so below the head of a narrow, rock-filled draw. The chunks of dark stone were sharp, not yet weathered, and Katie picked her way carefully among them. She ducked under a cedar and found herself in the mouth of a semi-cave. An enormous slab of rock had cracked off one wall of the draw and lay diagonally across, braced against the opposite wall. The far opening was narrow, and a few feet beyond it was a solid wall of lichen-covered rock. The best part was that there wasn't a breath of wind in here.

  A quick inspection showed no signs of recent occupation, although there were some small, dry bones scattered across the floor. Thoughtfully she emerged and retraced her steps partway down the draw. After relieving herself behind a bush, she returned to where Luke waited.

  "You'll never guess what I found!"

  "If it ain't food, I don't care," he said. "We've still got a ways to go before dark."

  "Wait." Laying a hand on his arm, she held him. "You wanted to reach timber so we'd have a way to build a shelter, don't you?"

  He pulled free. "That's what I said. Let's go."

  "Luke, darn it, I'm trying to tell you we don't have to go any farther today. I found a place--"

  "Katie, it's gonna snow tonight."

  "I know that. And I can think of one or two things I'd rather do than wait out a snowstorm in a shelter where we can't even have a fire."

  At last he looked at her as if he'd heard her. "A fire?"

  "Go and see." She gestured him to go beyond the spring. "It's just a little way."

  While he was gone, she looked around the hillside. They had no ax, but Luke had the Bowie knife he'd taken from Whitney's lackey. She'd seen a couple of dead cedars the last little while, so once they had their gear unloaded, she'd take Salome out after a load.

  "You'll what?" Luke said, later, when she told him her intention.

  Katie smiled at him across Salome's back. "I'll go fetch some firewood. Let me have your knife."

  His mouth worked a moment. Finally he said, "You are the stubbornest, contrariest, damnedest female I ever did see!" He slammed his hat on his head. "Didn't your ma ever tell you that a woman's work was keeping house and cooking and the like? You leave getting firewood to me whilst you get our beds set up and figure out what we're having for supper."

  He stomped out, pulling Lafayette with him.

  After a moment, he returned. "And don't cook up a feast. If we get much snow, we could be here a week or so." Once more he stomped off.

  My, he was cranky. She'd better give some thought to supper then. In her experience, a cranky man was a hungry man.

  With a smile, Katie untied the thong around his bedroll. "Make the beds, hmmm?" She looked around the small shelter. The three animals took up nearly all the central space, leaving only room for a fire ring and a narrow strip along one side where the roof was lowest. Just right for a bed.

  One bed.

  The rocky floor of the cave would pull the heat right out of them if they were to lie on it without padding. She unrolled the tattered gunnysacks from the stock car and spread them out. There were enough that the rectangle she made with them was two sacks thick and a little wider than her single bed in Boston.

  Luke's tarpaulin was long, but not very wide. She laid it down atop the gunnysacks and spread both his well-worn blanket and her quilt on top, then she folded the excess canvas back up, like a bedspread. It more than covered everything, and still she had to fold back about a yard.

  All day long Katie had considered her future. By leaving the train, they had considerably reduced the odds that they could survive if the weather turned bad. She'd known that when she emerged from the stock car, and she'd seen nothing today to convince her otherwise.

  If they had stayed on the train, sooner or later Luke would have challenged Hamilton Steens Whitney III. That had not been her intention when she hired him, but she saw now that it was the inevitable outcome of their circumstances.

  She'd take her chances in the wilderness before she'd let Luke be stabbed in the back, or ambushed. Whitney was too crazy to be diverted from his pursuit of her, and Luke was too noble to abandon her. If there was a man alive, other than the menfolk in her family, who could get her safely to Salt Lake City, it was Luke Savage. And he'd do it at any cost to himself, even the ultimate one.

  So here she was, miles from nowhere, bound for God only knew where, and her chances of getting there depended greatly on Luke's strength and tenacity.

  It was a measure of her trust in him, Katie realized, that she wasn't at all frightened. From childhood on, she'd been taught that life held no guarantees, yet she knew she and Luke would reach Salt Lake City.

  But just on the off chance that she never got there, Katie wasn't going to waste tonight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Katie stirred the portable soup to which she'd added shaved jerky and the three wild onions she'd dug at one of their rest stops. A bit of corn meal to thicken it, and it would both warm them and fill their bellies.

  Luke came back with a second load of firewood. "This ought to hold us." He dropped it just inside the shelter. "Snow's starting," he said, rubbing his hands briskly along his arms. "Getting colder, too." He seemed to be looking everywhere but at the bed she'd arranged.

  "Supper will be a while yet." She cocked her chin at the coffeepot. "There's water hot, if you want to wash." One of the best things about being off the train was having the privacy to wash more than her face and hands. Katie had given herself a quick all-over scrub, shivering in the cold, baring only one part of her body at a time. She'd also washed her pantalets. They were draped on a straggly shrub behind the cave, out of the wind, hopefully out of the snow. She'd have to remember to bring them inside before she went to bed.

  At the thought of going to bed, her whole body grew warm from the inside out.

  "I'm obliged," Luke said, squatting by the fire. Extending his hands, he held them over the flames. Katie watched him covertly. With quick, furtive glances, he was taking inventory of their shelter. She stifled a smile as his gaze kept returning to the single bed, then skittering away.

  This was the man who'd been all over her like skeeters in a swamp just last night?

  "Something bothering you?"

  If possible, he hunched even farther into his sheepskin coat. "Not a thing."

  "Why don't you take off your coat and stay awhile, then?"

  "Don't tempt me, woman."

  "Tempt you? All I said was why didn't you--"

  He leapt to his feet, almost cracking his head on the slanting rock overhead. "I'm goin' outside. Call me when supper's ready."

  For a moment Katie stared at his retreating back. Then she smiled, pleased to have her suspicions confirmed.

  Luke Savage was just a little bit shy, and he was a gentleman. He might take advantage when he could, like any man. As he had last night. But now she knew that he would have released her the instant she so much as blinked an objection. More than ever she was satisfied that she had put her life and future into the right hands.

  The trouble was, there were times when a gentleman was not what a woman needed.

  * * * *

  His fingers were numb and his moustache ice-coated when Luke returned to the rock shelter and dumped one last load of firewood just inside. He was cold clear through, and still it didn't counter the fire that burned in his loins.

  Did she have any idea what she was doing to him, he wondered, glaring at Katie across the fire. She was so damned innocent. He'd sensed that in her reaction to his kisses, had it confirmed in her enthusiastic but inexpert response to his caresses last night.

  One bed. Luke shucked his coat, held it just outside and shook the snow from it.

  Just one bed for the two of them. He hung the coat from a projection in the protected gully wall, removed his hat and knocked it against the leaning slab to dislodge the ice that coated it.

  She wasn't looking right at him, but he had a hunch she was watching him as
she knelt on the other side of the fire and stirred something in the battered cook pot, using a peeled stick. A meaty odor teased his nose.

  "There's utensils in my gear." He was tired--damn, he was tired. Luke lowered himself onto his heels, closed his eyes. First thing he'd build when he got a place of his own was a proper chair. "Only one plate, but we can take turns."

  "I found them." Her voice was soft. "Did you want to wash first, or just eat?"

  "Eat," he decided, without opening his eyes.

  He heard her move around, smelled again the mouth-watering aroma of cooked meat.

  Something bumped lightly against his legs, startling him from the doze he'd fallen into.

  "Supper," Katie said, holding out his plate with the tin cup standing on it. Steam rose from the cup.

  Crackers slid from the plate as Luke took it. Before he could react, Katie had picked them up and replaced them beside the cup. "There's biscuits, too. Just a minute."

  She fetched two of the biscuits she'd taken from the crew cook tent and a couple of slices of dried apple. A canteen scuffed against the ground as she knelt beside him. She slipped its strap loose from her shoulder, setting it next to his boot. "The soup's pretty hot, so be careful. And there's plenty."

  Luke sipped, not quite burning his tongue. The taste of the soup, rich, meaty, with just a hint of onion, awakened his appetite. All of a sudden he felt as if he could eat a horse. Good thing there wasn't one around.

  "Good," he said, between sips. "Real good." The biscuits were on the hard side, but still tasty, and the crackers crumbled into the soup made it thick enough to chew.

  Katie moved closer to the fire and sat quietly, watching him eat. Luke was too hungry to care, until he was halfway through his second cup of soup. That was when he realized she hadn't eaten a bite. "Here. Take this," he said, holding out the cup.

  "I've eaten enough," she said. "While you were outside."

  Unsure whether to believe her or not, Luke continued to hold out the cup. "Take it!"

  "Oh, all right!" She snatched it from his hand. "Give me the spoon."

  She finished the soup and used a splash of water from the keg to wash out the cup. When Luke handed her the plate, she wiped it with her skirt and set it atop the cook pot, which she placed just outside the shelter. He saw her anchor the plate with a big chunk of rock. Only a determined critter would knock it loose.

  "I'm going to bed. The water's still hot, if you want to wash."

  If it hadn't been for the quiver in her voice, Luke would have been fooled. As it was, he had to bite his lip to keep a grin from his face.

  The little vixen was as goosey as he was. He looked at her until she lifted her chin and looked back. In her eyes he read decision. Confusion.

  Desire.

  Well, hell!

  Katie shivered as she lay snug and warm under the quilt, the blanket, the tarpaulin, and her wool coat. Who could ask for a snugger nest, she wondered, as goose bumps chased themselves down her arms.

  She'd removed her dress, chemise, and the cotton petticoat, but had kept her wool petticoat and camisole on. Both pair of her socks were laid across a rock, airing out since she didn't dare wash them. What if she had to walk again tomorrow? Wool took so doggone long to dry out.

  The fire was banked, but flames still flickered, sometimes casting a hint of Luke's shadow on the wall beside her. One of the donkeys snored softly, a comfortable counterpoint to the whistling of the wind outside their shelter.

  A splash, a scrape of metal on stone, another splash, told her that Luke was washing. Would he remove his shirt? His pants?

  Again shivers danced along her spine. He wore longjohns, red ones, she saw when she stole a peek at him. Would he remove them?

  Her pa only took his off to be washed, from first snowfall to when the willows started misting green along the creek. Ma had often teased him about it, cajoling him out of them every couple of weeks. Katie had a mental picture of them hanging on the drying rack before the hearth.

  Suddenly she understood the rest of the picture. Ma and Pa had insisted he had to stay in bed until his underwear was dry. Her godparents had always taken the Lachlan children to their cabin for the afternoon, returning them just in time for supper. Ma had fed Pa his dinner in bed.

  Now Katie realized that dinner wasn't the only thing Ma had given Pa on those long winter afternoons.

  "There's nothing in the world better than loving a man," her ma had told her, more than once, her voice soft and gentle, her smile radiant.

  "It's the most wonderful feeling, Katie," Ellen had said when she asked her sister about being married. "I can't describe it." She also had smiled, the contented expression of a cat with a mouthful of feathers.

  Unsatisfied with both answers, Katie had decided that something was missing in her that she had never felt desire for any man.

  Not missing. Only sleeping. Waiting to be awakened.

  She rolled over and looked straight at Luke. The fire had burned low, but still gave enough light that he appeared more like a dark shadow than a real person. He was bare to the waist, the tops of his longjohns hanging down over his pants, his chest gleaming bronze in the firelight.

  His hands went to the fastening of his pants. As she lay, mouth dry, he opened them, let them drop, stepped out of them. His movements economical, he slid the longjohns down his legs and kicked them aside. Back to her, he bent to pick up the scrap of cloth she'd made into a washrag. Quickly he washed himself, bending and stretching with all the grace of a panther.

  His legs were long and straight, not bowed as were those of so many men who spent their days astride. Narrow hipped, broad chested, he looked twice as brawny stripped as he did clothed.

  Strong. Intrepid. All man. He half turned. His sex jutted boldly, unconstrained by clothing.

  Katie licked her lips. Once. Twice. "Luke?" she said. No sound came out.

  She swallowed. "Luke?" This time it was a husky half-whisper.

  He went dead still.

  His voice was as husky as hers when he spoke. "You're sure?"

  "I'm sure," she said, as all her doubts evaporated.

  Three steps brought him to her. He knelt beside the pallet, drew back the covers. A cold draft swept across Katie's body. Before she could shiver, his hand lightly cupped her chin.

  "I want you," he said, hoarsely, "and I know you think you want me." His thumb stroked across her lips.

  Katie's tongue darted out, of its own accord, its tip just tasting him. The skin of his thumb was warm, rough, and salty.

  "If you change your mind, tell me. I'll stop. Right then. All it will take is you saying no."

  She reached up and caught his wrist. "Come to bed, Luke."

  Had he groaned? She wasn't sure, for as he slid down beside her, Katie could think of nothing besides the heat of him, the size of him.

  He filled the bed. It had seemed large enough for the two of them, yet now there was no place for her except tight against his body. As his arm enfolded her, she found she couldn't move in any direction except closer.

  He smelled of soap, the mild, faintly spice-scented soap she'd found in his bedroll. His skin radiated heat. He lay perfectly still beside her, holding her loosely against him, his opposite arm resting across his belly.

  Katie waited.

  And waited.

  Luke did nothing. She moved against him, ever so slightly. Yes, he was still aroused, although perhaps not as much as before. "Luke?"

  "Um-hmmm?"

  "Aren't you going to...well, I thought...." She reared up on her elbow and glowered into his face. "Aren't you supposed to...well, to do something?"

  Almost before she knew it, Katie was flat on her back, pressed flat to the hard rock floor by a naked man.

  "Sweetheart, if I was to do to you want I want, you'd never forgive me." He bent to her and kissed her, his lips questing across hers. "I want you so bad I can't hardly stand it, Katie. I was just layin' there thinking pure thoughts, trying to get myse
lf cooled down a bit." Hot against her face, his breath was coming fast, as if he'd just run a footrace. "I don't want to hurt you."

  She kissed his bristly chin, which was all she could reach. "I don't think you could hurt me, Luke. You're too good a man."

  "A man can hurt a woman powerful bad her first time, if he ain't careful," he said, breath hot against her face. "I've seen--" He shook his head, eyes closed, and suddenly rolled away from her. "You don't want to know what I've seen."

  If she had had any remaining doubts about his goodness, they were gone now. "You won't hurt me." Raising herself again on her elbow, she laid a hand across his chest, delving through the mat of dark red hair covering his male breasts. A pebbled nipple grew instantly hard under her seeking fingers and she paused to toy with it.

  Luke's whole body jerked, as if he'd been shot. "Careful, sweetheart," he gasped.

  For a moment she didn't understand, then Katie remembered the deep twist of desire she'd felt last night when he'd plucked at her nipple. "Is it the same for you?" she wondered aloud.

  "God, yes." His hand wrapped around her nape and pulled her face to his. "Just take it easy with me, will you? I'm right on the edge."

  The embers popped, flared, as a sap-filled knot caught. It threw Luke's face into high relief, showed the lines of strain in his cheeks, the clenching of his jaw. Instantly Katie drew back. She touched his face, one finger soothing along his cheek. "Am I hurting you?"

  "You're killin' me, sweetheart. But don't stop." His mouth captured her finger, his lips closed about it, his tongue flicked at it.

  "Oh, my!" Fighting the instinct to clench her fist against an unbearable sensation, Katie let him draw the finger into his mouth. He suckled it, and she felt the pull clear to her toes.

  "Luke!"

  Once more he rolled, this time putting her beneath him. His leg held hers to the ground, his chest was a wall preventing her from rising. His hand went to her throat, stroked, then came to rest at the lacy edge of her camisole.