Willow

by Norah Hess

  It was time then for Rooster to place a ring on Ruth's finger, and Willow and Ruth and Rooster froze in place. In Rooster's rush to get married, there had been no time to purchase a ring, even if anyone had thought about it.

  Willow's mouth parted a bit in surprise when Jules reached into his vest pocket and fished out a gold wedding band. He nudged Rooster and handed it to the grateful man. As he slid it onto Ruth's finger, Willow looked questioningly at Jules.

  "It's Corrie Mae's," he whispered.

  Willow turned her head and mouthed, "Thank you," to her cook. Corrie Mae nodded and smiled at her.

  In just a moment the preacher was saying, "I pronounce you man and wife," and Rooster was finally allowed to kiss his love.

  Ruth's cheek was kissed by everyone, and Rooster's hand was shaken and his back pounded. Everyone trooped back out into the cold again. Rooster helped Ruth into the buggy that Aunt Jess used to ride in when she attended church.

  When the entourage arrived back at the ranch and Rooster wanted to get started for New Mexico right away, Corrie Mae had something to say about that.

  Her hands on her ample hips, she said, "Rooster, I'll put a hex on your marriage if you don't at least have a wedding breakfast." Everyone loudly agreed. The cold air had whetted their appetites. Rooster grinned and nodded his head. "Come on, Jimmy," Corrie Mae ordered, "you can give me a hand."

  By the time Rooster had driven the buggy back into its place in the rear of the barn and unhitched the horses, Jimmy opened the kitchen door and yelled, "Come to breakfast."

  Willow and Ruth had spent the time in the warmth of the big kitchen, and they were already sitting at the table when the men came inside and took their seats.

  Fried potatoes, ham and bacon, scrambled eggs, red-eye gravy, and hot biscuits were passed around. When only a strip of bacon and a spoonful of potatoes were left, and the men sat back with filled bellies, Corrie Mae poured coffee.

  When the men lit up their cigarettes, Ruth whispered to Willow, "I'm getting nervous about tonight."

  "Don't be, Ma," Willow whispered back. "Rooster is the gentlest man in the world. I think you're going to be in for a pleasant surprise."

  "Do you really think so?"

  "I wouldn't lie to you, Ma. Just relax and enjoy your honeymoon."

  "I believe I will." Ruth's eyes sparkled.

  "Well," Rooster said, drinking the last of his coffee and pushing away from the table, "me and Ruth will be on our way just as soon as Ruth changes into something warm."

  When he helped Ruth out of her chair and escorted her to the door, Willow wanted to go with her mother, to have a last few words alone with her. But it was obvious that Rooster was going to accompany Ruth into the house. So later, she stood with the others, waving good-bye to the newlyweds.

  "Rooster will take good care of her, Willow," Jules said as he stood beside her. "I know." Willow blinked away a tear. "It's just that I'm going to miss her."

  "Do you want to go to the house and talk about it?"

  "No, I don't!" Willow glared at him. "Shouldn't you be getting home?" As she walked away and disappeared into the house, Jules muttered with clenched fists, "Yes, it's time I got home, and I'm not coming back."

  But later, as he took the trail home, he knew that he would be back. Again and again until he wore her down. He had learned earlier that she still had feelings for him and he was going to work on that.

  When Willow entered the house, she went to her mother's room to tidy it up. As she made up the bed and picked up discarded clothes, she wiped often at her tearing eyes. The tears weren't for her mother, however. They were for herself Was she never to get over Jules Asher? It had felt so good to be held in his arms again.

  She consoled herself with the thought that he had gone home, and not back into the kitchen to spend time with Corrie Mae after the others had left.

  I've got to stop grasping at straws, she admonished herself. For all I know he took the branching trail to Coyote. Corrie Mae isn't the only woman who can comfort him.

  At that thought Willow gave way to a flood of tears as she ran to her room and slammed the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When Willow had cried herself empty of tears, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As she wiped her wet cheeks with the heels of her hands, she yawned. She was so sleepy. The day was only half gone, but she felt as if it had gone on forever. Ruth had awakened her before the sun was up, and the run-in with Jules, then her tears, had worn her out. All she wanted to do was find oblivion in sleep.

  She noted then the wrinkled condition of her blue velvet. She must get out of it before she took a nap. She stood up and pulled the dress over her head. Then she got out of the rest of her clothing. She picked up the robe lying at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. She would get dressed again when it was time to go to the cookhouse for supper. Tying the robe's belt loosely around her waist, she crawled back onto the bed and fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.

  The stallion took advantage of the loose reins lying on his neck and plodded on at a leisurely pace.

  Jules sat in the saddle, his body swaying with the slow motion, his shoulders drooping as he stared unseeingly ahead. He was having second thoughts now. Just because he had stirred Willow to passion didn't necessarily mean that she wanted anything more to do with him. Any skilled lover could probably rouse her as quickly as he had. Hadn't he taught her body to respond to hot kisses and caressing hands?

  Jules groaned at the thought of another man bringing Willow to that fever pitch. He closed his eyes against the vision of her in bed, her arms and legs wrapped around a male body, not his own, calling another man's name in ecstasy as she had once done with him.

  As he rode along, he remembered how it was making love to Willow. It could still be that way if he hadn't been such a stubborn fool, clinging to an old determination that marriage wasn't for him, that his freedom was more important than being tied down to one woman. He knew better now.

  "But I was a young fool when I thought those things," he cried out to the emptiness around him. "There's nothing I want more in the world than to be married to Willow. To love and cherish her, like the preacher said to Rooster today."

  Suddenly Jules picked up the reins and turned the stallion around. His mouth firm with stubborn determination, he headed back toward Aunt Jess's ranch.

  Today Willow was going to listen to him. He couldn't go on without her.

  The late afternoon sun was shining through the bedroom window when Willow came slowly awake. Her lips parted sensuously in a lazy smile. She had been dreaming that Jules was stroking his hand down her hip and thigh.

  She lay quietly, her eyes still closed, trying to recall the dream, to continue the pleasure of it. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she rolled over onto her back, coming up on her elbows. She had recaptured her dream, but it was no dream. It was real. Jules was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand slowly caressing her from her hip to her inner thigh.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she squeaked, slapping his hand away. "I thought you went home."

  "I started to," Jules said, but he got no further. His gaze, simmering with passion, was fastened on her chest.

  Willow looked down and grabbed at the edges of her robe. It had fallen open to her waist and half her body was bare to where the belt held the material together.

  When she reached with her other hand to pull the robe together, Jules caught her hand, whispering, "No, Willow."

  "Turn me loose," she panted, struggling to free her wrist.

  "In a minute," Jules said softly. He bent his head until his mouth came down on the velvet softness of her inner thigh. "Stop," Willow cried in near panic. His lips were only inches away from the curly thatch that was still covered by the robe.

  Jules only shook his head. A delicious warmth began to build inside her as his tongue laved and his teeth tenderly nipped at her trembling flesh. She pushed at his head, even pulled hi
s hair. When his arm snaked out and grasped her other hip, holding her firmly to him, she gave up and lay back down.

  Willow felt the robe's belt being undone, felt the cool air on her body and knew that he had parted the material. She stiffened when she felt his fingers in her crisp curls and knew what they meant. He was feeling for the little nub hidden there.

  She sighed when he parted her feminine lips and transferred his mouth to them. All other thoughts left her. She could only concentrate on the ecstasy his darting tongue and nibbling teeth were creating inside her. It had been so long since he had done this to her. Since she had done the same thing to him.

  Willow felt her passion building and tried to prolong the eruption that was sure to come. She didn't want the titillation of his tongue ever to stop.

  Then, as she had known would happen, her body's need would no longer be denied. Her soft cry of exultation followed the shuddering of her body when Jules brought her to a climax that shattered the world around her.

  Jules held her close, his hands stroking her, soothing her. When her breathing was more normal, she felt him stand up, heard his belt buckle being undone, then the rustle of his clothes being removed. When she heard his boots hit the floor, she scooted down in the bed. When he knelt on the edge of the bed she reached for him.

  Jules gave a groan, almost of pain, when her lips closed over him. It took but a minute until he was pulling himself free of her. Willow opened for him, and he knelt between her legs. She took his hard, throbbing erection in her hands and guided it inside her.

  "Ah, Willow," he whispered as her hot, moist walls closed round him, "how I've longed to be inside you again."

  He grasped her small bottom and pulled her snugly into the well of his hips. Holding her there, he whispered huskily, "Work with me, honey," and began a long, slow pumping of his hips inside her.

  Her feet braced on the mattress, Willow reached eagerly for each long drive of his manhood. Perspiration sheened their bodies as the minutes passed and they rocked together. When Willow's body began to stiffen, alerting Jules that she was fast climbing toward the little death, he increased his pace and drove deeper inside her. In just seconds her soft cries mingled with his deep groaning as they found a relief that left them mindless.

  Willow had barely regained her breath when Jules started adoring her body. He rained kisses all over her, from her shoulders to her feet. At last he settled down to stroking and kneading her breasts, and finally taking one in his mouth. When his lips began to suckle a nipple, she bucked her hips at him, silently saying that she wanted him again.

  Two hours later, it was totally dark outside. Worn out, they wrapped their arms around each other and fell asleep. They were jerked awake by a pounding on the bedroom door and Jimmy calling to Willow that supper would be ready in ten minutes.

  Willow gathered her wits together, and praying that the teenager wouldn't open the unlatched door, she cleared her voice and called out, "I'll be right there."

  "I'll wait for you in the kitchen," Jimmy called back as his boot heels clicked down the hall.

  Willow felt around on the bedside table, searching for matches. When she got the lamp lit, Jules was already dressed and was pulling on his boots. He grinned wryly. "I'll have to leave through the window."

  "Have you had to do that before?" Willow asked, half joking, half serious.

  "No," Jules answered as he pulled on his jacket. "I've never fooled around with married women, so consequently I've never had a husband gunning for me either."

  He grinned crookedly. "I've had a few irritated boyfriends come looking for a fight, though."

  It flashed through Willow's mind just how many women Jules had slept with. And just as quickly came the thought that not once had the word love crossed Jules's lips as he moved over her, working the passion out of his body.

  She felt an empty sickness in the pit of her stomach. Her damn lustful body had betrayed her again. It was her bad luck that it had found in Jules's body a perfect match for its lust. The body cared nothing about what the heart might feel.

  Willow rose from the bed and took her time drawing on her robe. Let him leave there with an erection, she thought grimly as Jules's hot gaze raked over her bare body.

  As she tied the belt around her waist, she said coolly, "You'd better leave before Jimmy comes in here and wants to fight you."

  "The young devil probably would, too," Jules laughed, but there was a tone of uncertainty in his voice. It worried him that suddenly Willow had gone back to her cool, aloof way with him.

  "I'll come by in a couple days," he said as he pulled up the window sash.

  "Maybe you shouldn't," Willow said as he threw a leg over the sill. "I'm going to be pretty busy for a while."

  "Doing what? There's not much to do around a ranch in the winter."

  "There's always something to be done," Willow said and walked over to the wardrobe to choose something to put on.

  "But, Willow—" Jules started to protest, then stopped when Jimmy banged on the door again. "Damnit," he muttered and climbed on out of the window.

  Willow and Jimmy had no sooner sat down at the table than the ranch hands hurried into the cookhouse, closing the door against the biting wind that had come up. For a second Willow thought of Jules's long ride in the changing weather and how chilled he would get. She chastized herself then for caring. A cooling off would do him good.

  The meal was, as usual, delicious, and those gathered around to eat it were, as usual, in high spirits. Willow had noted that each night the group picked on one of the men to be ragged and teased. Tonight it was Brian. Sly remarks were made and innuendos exchanged. She didn't understand their meaning, but she wondered why the young man looked at Corrie Mae and blushed.

  The meal was eaten and the coffee finished, but the men still lingered. Willow thought that perhaps they didn't want to go out into the cold weather. But it wasn't that chilly, for heaven's sake.

  Finally, Corrie Mae said briskly, "The coffee pot is empty, so you fellows might as well leave."

  When all the men but Jimmy gave the cook a woeful look, she grinned and relented. "After Willow and I visit a while, maybe I'll make a fresh pot, and you who care to can have another cup."

  Male faces brightened and there came the sound of chairs being pushed away from the table. When the last one had passed out the door, Corrie Mae picked up the supposedly empty coffee pot. "I had to tell them all the java was gone"—she grinned as she refilled their cups—"otherwise they'd sit here until midnight.

  "Now," she said, sitting down, "tell me why you look less rested than you did when you went to the house for a nap."

  "I just couldn't fall asleep." Willow shrugged.

  There was a short silence; then, as Corrie Mae spooned sugar into her coffee, she shocked Willow by saying, "Jules wouldn't let you sleep, would he?"

  "What are you talking about?" Willow gaped at her cook.

  "I saw him go into the house this afternoon, and I never saw him come out. I imagine that Jimmy's arrival sent him out the window. I tried to keep the kid from going over there, but he insisted that you had to eat."

  Corrie Mae glanced at Willow's fiery red face and said softly, "Don't be embarrassed, Willow. He's crazy about you. He might not tell you that, but in those nights when we sat here in the dark, all he talked about was you."

  "You mean he didn't… you didn't… go to bed and…"

  "Not one time. Jules and I are only good friends. Like I said, all we did was sit in the dark drinking coffee while he talked about you. He hoped that you would think we were in bed together and be jealous."

  "His plan did work to a degree. I was jealous. I also learned to hate him."

  "But that hate for him is gone now, isn't it?" Corrie Mae looked hopefully at Willow.

  Willow toyed with her spoon, making circles on the oilcloth-covered table. She needed so badly to confide her heartbreak to someone. It had been out of the question to tell her mother all that had happened be
tween her and Jules, how she had foolishly thought he was going to marry her. So she had kept her hurt and disillusionment bottled up inside her.

  Sitting across from her, however, was the one woman who would understand her pain and torment. She had thought for some time that Corrie Mae's gay laughter and careless attitude were a cover-up for some painful happening in her life.

  She looked up at Corrie Mae, started to speak, and then broke into tears. The big woman scooted her chair up beside her and put tender arms around her shoulders and held her.

  When Willow had wept away most of her bitterness, she was handed a dishtowel and told to wipe her eyes. When she had done as ordered, Corrie Mae said softly, "Now tell me all about it."

  For half an hour, with her head on the cook's comfortable shoulder, Willow unburdened herself When she finally grew silent, Corrie Mae gave a harsh snort. "I think most men are the sons of Satan. They work in different ways. Some will beat you, break your bones, batter your face. Then there are the others who will inflict pain to your heart and mind. I don't know which is worse. I do know that it takes longer to heal mental pain."

  Neither woman spoke for a while, each dwelling on past pains they were unable to put behind them.

  Corrie Mae broke the silence. "What you need, Willow, is to get away from the ranch for a few days. Go someplace where you can be alone and think things through. You must come to some kind of decision about Jules. You must either give in to his terms, or leave Texas. Go so far away he'll never find you."

  "I admit I've longed for some solitude, but I don't know where I'd go to find that around here."

  "I know of a place," Corrie Mae said. "It's a spot where I go when sometimes life seems unbearable."

  "Where is that?" Willow questioned, interested.

  "I have a small cabin almost on top of the mountain. Only wolves and eagles and a few Indians know that it's there. I keep it well stocked with supplies and there's plenty of chopped wood. It's the perfect place for healing the mind, Willow. The men can handle things here at the ranch."