Willow

by Norah Hess

  "Don't do it," he warned. "You won't like the consequences."

  "Consequences be dammed," Willow ground out and stiffened her muscles to throw herself at him.

  The appearance of Jimmy and the startled look on his face made Willow pause long enough to get control of her outrage. Her arms dropped to her sides and her fingers uncurled.

  "Let's get packed up, Jimmy, and get rolling," she said as calmly as she was able.

  Jules stood a moment, then turned around and stamped away, his back stiff and his stride long.

  Jimmy looked at Willow and knew from her stormy face not to ask any questions.

  As the days passed a cold aloofness existed between Willow and Jules, which the cowhands didn't miss. They laughed among themselves that the boss had probably made a move on their cook and she must have rebuffed him in no uncertain terms. Why else would he go around snapping and snarling at everyone? After all, Jules Asher could have any woman he wanted—until now.

  As for Willow, their respect for her grew. She was smart. She knew he was after only one thing and she wasn't going to have any part of it.

  Willow was her usual warm self, laughing and joking with the men as she served them their meals. In the evenings before retiring, she sat with "her boys," singing with them, accompanied by a battered guitar that Brian strummed. Sometimes some of the other men would wander over and join in. Her presence in camp made many a man turn back to memories of his youth, a loving family, perhaps a girl he had left behind to become a cowboy.

  When Willow saw sadness creep over some of the faces, she would suggest they sing some rollicking song that would bring smiles all around. She didn't like the sad songs either. They made her think of her mother.

  And always, Jules sat off by himself a dark scowl on his face.

  Three days after Willow and Jules had had their flare-up, they came to the outskirts of Ely. A sleepy cow town in the heart of cattle country, it had profited from trade with drovers and cowboys.

  There was a saloon, a bath and barber shop and a mercantile that sold everything from menswear to trinkets a cowboy might want to buy for some girl he had his eye on. Also in the store, walled off by itself, was a post office.

  The cattle had been driven into a loose milling pattern and left to graze while half the men rode into town to have that single drink before returning and relieving the ones that had been left behind.

  When Willow made it known that she was going to ride into town, Jimmy gave her an argument. "I don't think you should go, Willow," he said, his brown eyes serious. "There's another herd of cattle up ahead, and we don't know anything about the men who are driving them. They might not be very nice."

  "I can take care of myself." Willow said confidently. "I have a letter I want to send to Aunt Jess."

  "Jimmy can mail it for you," Jules said behind her.

  "I know that." Willow turned around, ready to do battle. "I want to look around in the store, pick up something for Aunt Jess."

  "She doesn't need anything, and I don't want you starting trouble that can only be settled with guns."

  "But I—"

  "But nothing. You're not going. And if you don't give me your word that you will stay with the wagon, I'll tie you to one of the wheels." Willow knew by the cold threat in his eyes that he would do it. "Oh, all right," she gave in ungraciously. "I give you my word."

  "It's for the best, Willow," Jimmy said, trying to console Willow before he set off to overtake Jules and his two friends.

  The camp was strangely quiet without Jimmy following her around, always talking. Finding nothing to occupy herself with, she walked toward the wagon, thinking that she might as well take a short nap.

  She had lifted one foot to the step-up board when she heard the sharp crack of a brittle twig being stepped upon. She looked over her shoulder and saw Joe Becker standing a few feet away, his loose, fat lips spread in a leering smile over his tobacco-stained teeth.

  "What do you want?" she asked, frowning at him.

  "I brung you a purty." He dangled a string of gaudy beads on his finger as he walked closer to her.

  Willow managed to keep the uneasiness out of her voice as she said, "Thank you, but I don't accept presents from men."

  "I bet if Asher brung you something, you would take it."

  "Then you'd lose your bet."

  "What about my cousin Buck? You're promised to him."

  "You're mistaken again. I have no intention of marrying him."

  "You will. Buck always gets what he wants. And he wants you in the worst way."

  "If you believe that, why are you buying me gifts?"

  "Because I'm gonna have a taste of you before he makes you his bride."

  Willow's irritation turned to panic when suddenly she was shoved from behind and boosted over the wagon seat so that she landed on her back on the floor. The breath was knocked out of her, and before she could cry out, Becker's big body was on top of her, pinning her down, his fingers clawing at the neck of her shirt.

  She was helpless from the waist down, his weight making it impossible to move. But her hands were free, and she raked her nails across his face. Becker let out a yell of pain and slapped her hard across the face, then captured her wrists and held them in one hand. And though she twisted and turned, trying to shake him loose, she was helpless to stop him from ripping open her shirt and clawing her breasts from her camisole.

  "My, ain't they purty," he said, licking his lips. "I'm sure gonna have a fine time suckin' on them." He leered down at her as he pinched one of her nipples. "You're hurting me," Willow cried out.

  "That ain't nothin' to the way my cousin is gonna hurt you when you're married to him. He's gonna keep you naked and tied to the bed. So you just be good to ole Joe, cause he ain't that mean if he don't have to be."

  Willow hadn't called out yet; she had saved her energy to fight Becker off, but when he snaked down his hand and ripped open the fly of his trousers, she screamed, and in desperation managed to free her hands. Again and again her hard little fists hit him in the face, but all the while his hands were busy, trying to strip her trousers off.

  Finally, sheer will could no longer support Willow's failing muscles. She was exhausted and breathing fast. With her last strength, she opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could.

  Becker swore an ugly oath. Doubling up his fist, he clipped her hard on the chin. With a sigh, she wilted into unconsciousness.

  Jules hadn't been able to banish the image of Willow's disappointed face when he told her that she couldn't go into town. He knew it wasn't fair that she had to stay behind. She had worked hard, preparing good, nourishing meals. And it wasn't easy handling a big strong team and bouncing along in a wagon all day.

  But had he allowed her to go to town, there would have been trouble. Some men always made fools of themselves over a beautiful woman. If any male accosted Willow on the street and one of his men saw it happen, there would be gunfire and one or two men could end up lying dead in the street.

  But what's to keep me from bringing Willow into town and staying with her while she looks around? he thought. I'll do it, he decided, turning his horse around. I'll go get her right now.

  Jules was nearing the camp when he heard Willow scream. The hair rose on the back of his neck. Had a bull wandered away from the herd and walked into camp? The older longhorns could be meaner than hell if they found a person on foot. Or maybe she had been bitten by a rattlesnake.

  When his horse thundered into camp, he recognized Becker's horse cropping grass nearby. "The rotten bastard," he ground out, his eyes glinting with cold rage. He almost ripped the wagon seat off to get to the man.

  Startled, Becker looked up when Jules's feet landed beside him. His face went dead white, and his eyes fixed on Jules in dread fascination. "She lured me on," he whined, putting up his hands to ward off what he knew was coming. "I didn't want to get in the wagon with her, but she insisted. She—"

  The fat man didn't get to finis
h his sentence. Jules's rock-hard fist smashed into his mouth and nose, sending blood and teeth flying. Becker was grabbed by the arms then and lifted off Willow. With one heave Jules sent him flying over the wagon seat, landing hard on his rump. Jules followed him, and for several minutes his punishing blows landed on Becker's face.

  With a promise of more violence in his eyes, Jules panted, "Get on your horse and ride the hell out of here. If we ever run into each other again, pull your gun, for I will draw mine." When Becker had pulled himself into the saddle and ridden away, Jules climbed back into the wagon.

  He knelt beside Willow and his heart thudded. She was so pale, her long lashes were a startling black on her cheeks. Had the bastard killed her? When his trembling fingers picked up her wrist to feel for a pulse, he saw the angry looking scratches on her breasts. He wished with all his heart that he had shot Joe Becker. If he ever saw him again, he would.

  When he felt a steady beat in the slender wrist, he drew a breath of relief She was alive. He looked more closely at her limp body. Her shirt was ripped and all the buttons gone, but the trousers were intact. Becker hadn't had time to tear them off her. For the first time, he was thankful for their snug fit.

  He drew the shirt together, and then began to gently pat her cheeks, urging softly, "Wake up, Willow. He's gone. It's me, Jules. Open your eyes and look at me."

  Willow's lids fluttered, and then her amber-colored eyes stared up at Jules. She gave a glad little cry and reached her arms to him.

  Jules leaned down and gathered her trembling body into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. And while she clung to him, he stroked her hair, her cheeks, murmuring the kinds of words one spoke to a frightened child.

  Finally the tremors that had shaken her body eased somewhat, and when Willow lifted her head to gaze up at Jules, she found her lips mere inches from his. He caught a sharp breath, and cupping a hand to the back of her head, he brought his lips down and settled them over hers.

  It began as a gentle, soothing kiss, but soon deepened into urgent pressure that demanded a like response. A sensation she had never known before surged through Willow. On their own, her arms lifted to clasp Jules's shoulders as her lips stirred with the same urgency as his. With his lips still fastened on hers, Jules eased her back down and stretched out beside her.

  The hungry pressure of the kiss continued as they strained against each other. Finally, out of breath, Jules broke the sensuous contact. Willow held her breath as his head lowered and his lips parted against her throat. They lingered there a moment and then slid slowly to her breasts, where he planted gentle kisses on the scratches Becker had put on the white flesh. His tongue then caressed her sensitive, swollen nipples as his hands slid restlessly over her ribcage. Willow made a low, throaty sound when his hot mouth settled over one breast. She tightened her arms around his shoulders when he drew the hardened nipple between his lips and began to suckle it like a man dying of thirst. When the hardened nub became swollen, he switched to its twin. While he was giving it the same attention, Willow was moaning and thrashing her head. She wanted more, but was not quite sure what it was her body was demanding.

  Then Jules was lifting his head and rising to his knees. He removed her boots, then gently eased her trousers down over her hips, pausing to kiss her smooth, flat stomach before stopping them down her legs. Her torn shirt and camisole came next, then her underwear.

  As he drew off his boots, then shucked off his clothes, he didn't take his eyes off her slender, lovely body. Willow had leaned up on her elbows to watch him disrobe, and she stared in fascination at his long, hard arousal, which throbbed and jerked in anticipation of burying itself inside her warmth. She knew now what it was her body wanted. It wanted to be filled with every inch of Jules.

  Still in a storm of passion, Willow reached eager arms to him when he inserted a knee between her legs, parting them for his entrance inside her. A moment later all her desire died when he entered her with a hard thrust of his hips. She gave a pained cry and tried to push him off her.

  "I'm sorry, Willow." Jules's body grew still. "I had no idea you were still a virgin." He gently stroked her hair off her forehead. "It will stop hurting in a minute," he said. "I promise."

  He didn't know if it would or not. He had never had a virgin before. A good feeling rose inside him. No other man had ever been there before him.

  Jules bent his head to lick his tongue over a nipple, then drew it into his mouth. He had roused her to a fever pitch this way before; maybe it would work again.

  It took but moments before he was proven right. Willow was making little moaning noises in her throat and was caressing his shoulders and back. He slid his hands under her hips and began to move slowly inside her. When she made no outcry and lifted her long legs to wrap them around his waist, he increased his pace, his thrusts long and rhythmic.

  Willow responded by eagerly lifting her hips to receive fully each long drive of his hips. Jules felt as if he would climax immediately. But he gritted his teeth and continued to drive inside her. He wanted it to be good for her, too.

  When he felt the walls of her femininity tightening around him, he increased the bucking of his hips and rode a crest that left him weak and drained. Never had he experienced a release so all-consuming.

  Tremors were still shaking Willow's body. He drew her close in his arms and stroked her back until she lay quietly, her breathing even again.

  Chapter Nine

  Five weeks passed before the Asher herd had been driven across Oklahoma and on into Kansas. Another few days and they would reach their destination in Wichita.

  Willow mopped at her sweating face with a clean dish towel as the chuck wagon rattled along. It was summer now, and the sun's rays beat down unmercifully on man and beast. She mentally promised herself that this was the last cattle drive she would ever make.

  A little smile twitched the corners of her lips. She was safe in blinking that. Mrs. Jules Asher wouldn't be expected to drive a chuck wagon, or cook for a bunch of hungry cowhands. She would stay home, keep the house spotless and cook her husband good, nourishing meals.

  And best of all, her little mother would be a part of her life again. Jules and Aunt Jess would like her gentle mother. Everybody who knew her liked Ruth Ames.

  Except for Ruth's husband, that was. Sometimes it seemed that he hated his wife. Certainly he didn't respect her. If a man didn't respect his wife, he couldn't really love her.

  And that was the mistake Mama had made in her marriage. She had never stood up to her bully of a husband. Otto was the sort of man who took advantage of the weak and the helpless, riding roughshod over them.

  But time was growing short for Otto Ames to mistreat his wife. As soon as they returned to the ranch and she and Jules were married, they would ride to her father's ranch and take Mama away. Her father would never stand up to Jules.

  Jules. Willow's eyes grew soft. The nights spent with him had made the hot days bearable. Their passion for each other had only grown with time. It seemed the long hours of making love were never enough. She thought with a smile that it was a good thing that Jules had to leave the wagon at a decent hour to keep from being caught there by Jimmy or one of the other teenagers. They would wear each other out otherwise.

  "I don't want to leave you," Jules would complain as he drew his trousers on. "I'm never going to leave you once I get you home. If I live to be a hundred, I'll still want to make love to you."

  "And I'll be ready for you," she always answered. And I will be, Willow thought. It took but a touch of Jules's hand, a smoldering look from across the evening campfire, and a raging desire to be in his arms rose inside her.

  He had taught her many things about lovemaking during those hot, steamy nights. Things she had never dreamed happened between a man and a woman. At first she had been timid and bashful, but now everything they did to each other seemed natural and right to her. She was as eager as Jules to explore the pleasures they could bring each other, ki
ssing and getting to know every inch of each other's bodies.

  Willow made herself stop thinking of Jules. Desire for him was building inside her, and it was several hours before darkness when the camp would sleep.

  Willow let her mind wander to other things, once stopping to wonder if Joe Becker had showed up at her father's ranch yet. She wouldn't be surprised to find her father and Buck Axel waiting for her when she returned from the cattle drive. But having her father find her didn't frighten her anymore. Jules would soon send them packing.

  "That's what I said, Buck. Your intended is drivin' a chuck wagon and cookin' for a bunch of cowhands on a cattle drive to Wichita," Joe Becker told his cousin.

  "Who owns the outfit?" Otto Ames demanded.

  "An arrogant bastard from Texas. He owns a big spread near El Paso."

  "How in the hell did Willow get there and hire on to cook for a bunch of men?" Buck paced angrily back and forth. "It don't make sense."

  "She was this Jules Asher's housekeeper first. Then the day before they were supposed to go on the trail, the cook there broke his ankle. Miss Ames offered to replace him. Said she had done for you a couple times, Otto."

  "His housekeeper, huh?" Buck said suspiciously. "I wonder if she's his bed warmer too."

  "I wouldn't be surprised. He's a right good looker. These bruises you see on my face and my two missing teeth are his work. He went crazy mad because he thought I was lookin' at Willow. After he beat me up, he fired me. Said if he ever seen me again he'd shoot me."

  "When are we gonna go after her, Otto?" Buck asked.

  "We can't go now, Buck. We're gonna start our own drive day after tomorrow. Anyhow, there's no hurry. We know where to find her when we're ready. As soon as we get back, we'll go get her."

  "And then what?" Buck growled, giving Otto a hard look.

  "Then we'll have a wedding." Otto's eyes narrowed in determination.

  "You've been saying' that for months and nothin' has happened yet. I'm gettin' damned tired of waitin'."