Sins of Summer

by Dorothy Garlock

  “You’re a sweet woman, Dory.” His voice came softly again. She could feel his face in her hair.

  “You don’t mind my bobbed hair?”

  “I like it. There’d not be much danger over a campfire or of being hung up in a briar patch.” She felt the silent chuckles against the cheek pressed to his chest and heard the steady thrum of his heart.

  “Jeanmarie loves you and Odette. Thank you for being so patient with her.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for that. I like the little tyke. I’m thinking you were like that when you were her age.”

  “I had a mama and a papa.”

  “She’ll have a papa.”

  Dory felt a peace like the calm following a vicious storm. She wanted to see his face and tilted her head. The silver-gray eyes looking down into hers were warm and caring. He moved his face until his lips could reach her mouth. The touch was feather light. Dory felt as if she were drunk with happiness.

  “Ben, I don’t care what you’ve been.” Her voice was choked with emotion. “What you are now is what I love. And you wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t lived your life as you have so far. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Right now I’m having trouble understanding anything. It’s hard to think clearly holding you like this.” His hand stroked her arm, and where her hand rested against his side, she felt him tremble. “I picked a hell of a time to hold you. We’re both sore from the banging we took. I keep wanting to touch like this”—his fingers stroked her breasts—“or kiss your lips—”

  “—You can.”

  “I don’t dare. I wouldn’t want to stop.” He pulled her up onto his lap, cuddled her against him. She lifted an arm to encircle his neck. “I’ll be content with this… for now.”

  Odette lingered in the kitchen when Ben didn’t immediately come back after carrying Jeanmarie upstairs. She sat down at the table and opened the book James had given her to read, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the written word. Her eyes kept going to the door. She wished with all her heart that he would come back in while she was here alone.

  With her head bent over the book, she stared at the page and relived every minute she had spent with him, what he had said, the touch of his hand, the warm look in his eyes. She had thought he liked her, but since she had recovered from her illness, he had been distant. At times he ignored her.

  Glory! A man like James wouldn’t want a girl who couldn’t hear. He would want a pretty girl, a girl he could talk to in the dark, one who didn’t have to see his lips to know what he was saying. Misery washed over her. She had been foolish to dream that someday he would come to her, take her in his arms and tell her he loved her.

  She looked up and he was there… looking at her. Her face turned fiery red. Had she said aloud the words she had been thinking? She jumped to her feet to flee. He was across the room in two bounds and took her hand before she could reach the door. Gently, he turned her face up to his so that she could see his lips when he spoke.

  “Odette! Are you afraid of me?” He spoke slowly, but anxiously.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Did Ben tell you to stay away from me?”

  “No.”

  “Stay with me awhile. Please. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself.”

  Odette studied his lips carefully. He had such a beautiful mouth, and the way his lips formed the words made him easier than most to understand.

  “I lived with my mama till she died.” she said after they had sat down. “Papa came and here I am.”

  “Where did you live?”

  “Seattle.”

  “I’ve been there.”

  “See ships?”

  “I went to Victoria on one.”

  Odette smiled. “Me too.”

  James picked up the book. “You like it?”

  “Very much. Baby don’t.” She shook her head and laughed.

  James couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so pretty and fresh and sweet, and when she laughed, her eyes were like stars. He reached out and took her hand again. They gazed at each other; he at her incredible blue eyes and soft mouth made for kisses, she at his handsome face and dark auburn hair.

  “Odette, has anyone ever kissed you?” The words came out before he could bite them back. He held his breath for fear they would frighten her away. Relief made him weak when she tilted her head, looked into his eyes, and seemed to be thinking of how to answer his question.

  “Mama did.”

  “I mean a man. Have you been kissed the way a man kisses a woman he likes?”

  “No, James. No man liked me that way.”

  “I like you that way.”

  “You want to kiss me?”

  “Only if you want me to.”

  Her lips parted and her breath came quickly. She closed her eyes and moved her face close to his.

  James stood and pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flew open. His heart was galloping like a runaway horse.

  “I might not get to do this but once, sweetheart. I want to do it right.”

  “Sweetheart?” she said, as if that was the only word she understood.

  “Yes, sweetheart. I want you for my sweetheart.”

  A brilliant smile came over her face. “I want you for my sweetheart too.”

  James put his arms around her and pulled her to him. In all his life he had never felt anything as incredibly wonderful as this sweet, soft girl against him. It was more than a sexual feeling. He knew what that felt like. He had experienced that at different times. This was loving and giving and sharing, and he knew in his heart he would die to protect her. All these thoughts went through his head as he lowered it to her waiting lips.

  His hungry mouth found hers waiting, and held it gently. It was so warm, so soft, and she gave of herself so freely, that logic fled his mind. He held her and kissed her with fierce possessiveness. When he broke away, she gasped for breath and clung to him as if to melt into his hard body. She breathed in the scent of him and savored the taste of him. There was a strange sense of rightness being here in his arms, as if it were where she was meant to be.

  “Sweetheart, sweetheart—” he murmured thickly. His mouth parted over her lips, his breath cool as mint, his cheeks pleasantly rough on her face.

  This is what it means to be kissed by a man you love, Odette thought. The taste of him, the feel of him is wonderful. His tongue circled her lips, coaxing them to open, then darted inside. Her skin tingled. Every tiny hair on her body seemed to stand at attention. She wanted it to go on and on. When James moved, she was disappointed. His hands moved to her upper arms and his mouth was no longer on hers. He turned so that the lamplight shone on his face.

  “I love you. I want to marry you.”

  Odette was in such a daze she couldn’t think, but something deep within her stirred. She shook her head.

  “You don’t want me, James. I can’t hear.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Maybe not now. But later.”

  “Honey, I love you. I want you to be my mate for life. We’ll make our own family—have babies.”

  “I won’t hear our baby cry.” Tears filled her eyes, making them sparkle like diamonds.

  “You can see him cry.”

  “I talk funny.”

  “No. There’s nothing wrong with the way you talk.”

  “A girl said so. Said I talked bad.”

  “She was jealous ’cause you’re so pretty.”

  “They call me… dummy.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and he sipped at them with his lips.

  “You’re smart and sweet and wonderful. Sweetheart, I love you the way you are.”

  “I love you, James. You make me happy.”

  “Darling girl. This is new to you, I know. We’ll go slow. Let’s keep this to ourselves for a while. Don’t tell Ben. Don’t tell Dory.”

  “Why, James?”

  “Because I want to talk to Ben first.”

  “I’ll tell no one. You sure you w
ant me?”

  “I was never more sure of anything in my life.”

  He tilted his head, then spoke to her without sound.

  “Ben and Dory are coming down. I’ll leave you, sweetheart, but I’ll take this with me.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead and went out the door.

  CHAPTER

  * 22 *

  One thing was certain. Dory, with her bruised and swollen face, could not attend the burial service for Marie Malone.

  She and James had talked it over and decided the decent thing to do would be for him to go instead. He would simply tell Chip Malone that Dory wanted to come but was unable to. She sent a pink rosette made from a satin ribbon Jeanmarie had worn on her bonnet the first time Marie had seen her. James was to lay it on the grave, a token from Marie’s granddaughter.

  During the early morning hours the sister and brother had labored over a letter to Judge Kenton. They thought it better not to involve Steven in their plan to ask the judge about dividing the property. Milo and Louis were very capable of making his life miserable should they find out that he had advised them.

  After the burial James would ride into Spencer and ask McHenry’s son Howie to deliver the letter. They told of the events of the past few days and of the prior abuse Dory had endured. They stated that it was no longer possible for them to continue being in partnership with their half-brothers.

  Howie McHenry was an eighteen-year-old replica of his father and just as trustworthy. The journey to Coeur d’Alene and back would take most of three days—longer than James wanted to be away from the homestead.

  A large crowd had gathered at the churchyard by the time James arrived. He tied his horse to the rail and went to stand in the back of the crowd. Chip, with his hat in his hand, stood at the foot of the grave while the preacher spoke of the good things Marie Malone had accomplished during her lifetime. He said a prayer, then led the group in singing the hymns, “Rock Of Ages” and “Shall We Gather at the River.” When the voices died down, Chip threw a handful of dirt on top of the box. Then a crew of men with shovels quickly filled in the grave.

  Almost the entire town of Spencer had come to pay their respects. Marie Malone had been well liked. She had wheedled Chip into building the schoolhouse and paying the teacher out of his own pocket. She had been responsible for the paint on the church and the bell in the tower and had helped to raise the money for the hymn books. The mourners filed past Chip, offering their condolences, then drifted to the wagons and buggies that lined the lane alongside the church.

  James waited until Chip stood alone beside the grave before he approached him.

  “I’m sorry about your wife, Chip.” On impulse James held out his hand. Chip grasped it quickly and gripped it hard.

  “Thanks for coming, James. Marie suffered greatly the last week or so. I’m thinking it was a blessed relief to her to get it over.”

  “Dory wanted to come, but couldn’t. She sent this from Jeanmarie.” James took the rosette from his pocket and placed it on the mound of dirt alongside a bouquet of wild crocus and one of buttercups.

  That was kind of her.” The two men stood silently for a moment, both looking at the mound that covered the grave. When Chip raised his head, there was a look of bleakness in his eyes.

  “Can you come out to the house, James?”

  “No. I’ve got a few things to see to in Spencer and then I have to get on back.”

  “This is a busy time. Who’s working your crew?”

  “You wanting to hire him away from us?”

  “No.” Chip smiled. “I’ve got all the foremen I need unless you’re looking for a job.”

  “I’m not looking.”

  “If you ever decide you want to get with a good outfit, let me know.” Chip pulled two cigars out of the inside pocket of his coat and offered one to James. When James shook his head, Chip put one back, bit off the end of the other, and struck a match to it. “A few days ago a marshal was here asking questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “He asked about people in the area. Mainly he wanted to know how many whores were in the area. As far as he knows, four have been killed since the first of the year. A couple of Indian women have been found dead, but there is no way of knowing if they were whores.”

  “I suppose you told him he could find one at the Callahans,” James’s eyes turned ice cold. His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “I told him nothing of the kind,” Chip replied stiffly.

  The words that formed on James’s lips died between hard-clamped jaws. This was not the time or place to get into an argument.

  “He’s been to our place,” James said, then added, “I didn’t see him.”

  “I’ve been wondering about how safe Dory is out there by herself. As far as reputations go, undeserved as it is, she’s considered one. Now don’t get your hackles up. You know it as well as I do.”

  “Don’t lose a minute’s sleep over Dory. She’s not out there alone. Old Wiley guards her like she was a gold nugget. Ben is there. We’ll take care of her.”

  “She’s always welcome to come stay at my place for a while. Rita, our housekeeper, is always there. The families of some of my men live nearby. There would be children for Jeanmarie to play with.”

  “How do I know she’d be safe there? Maybe you’re the one going around killing the whores.”

  “Or you.” Chip grinned, and James’s answering smile lent a fleeting warmth to his features.

  “If it’s me, Clara at the Idaho Palace is safe. I’d see that nothing happened to her.” Even to James the words sounded false and he wished he hadn’t said them. Hell, he’d been with Clara one time and when it was over he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Chip smiled again and put his hand on James’s shoulder. They started walking toward the hitching rail.

  “That marshal is nosy. He had a half-dozen wanted posters he wanted me to look at. Guess he’s trying to rack up some bounty money while he’s here.”

  “See anyone you know?”

  “Not even close.”

  “He’s a piss-poor marshal if all he’s doing is going around the country counting the whores and showing wanted posters.”

  “The murderer, whoever he is, is crazy, but crazy like a fox. He’ll be hard to catch. I’m glad Waller is with you and Dory. I was hoping he’d take a shine to her.” Chip’s slow smile altered the stern cast of his face. “Milo and Louis would find that a bitter pill to swallow. I bet going up against Waller would be like bucking a whirlwind.”

  “Yeah. I guess he’s got no quit a-tall when he’s riled.” He was tempted to tell Chip about the beating Ben had given Milo, but he knew it would bring up the question of why. He went to the rail, untied his horse and prepared to mount. “Be seein’ you, Chip.”

  “Thanks again for coming, James. Tell Dory to take good care of my granddaughter.”

  For a moment James sat gravely looking at the man he had heard about all his life, but had never really known. Then finally he nodded and put his heels to his mount.

  Chip watched James ride away and suddenly felt more lonely than he ever had in his life. When James was out of sight, he went slowly to his buggy. One phase of his life was over. The next phase looked bleak indeed.

  James had plenty to think about as he rode toward Spencer. He didn’t like Chip Malone very much and searched his mind for a reason. Chip was a fierce competitor. He would crowd the river if he could to get his logs to the big sawmills first and get the best price. Hell, he couldn’t blame him for that. Chip had been a hell-raiser in his day; he had drunk, fought, gambled and been an all-around disappointment to his father. Chip was a rough, arrogant man who had expected his son, Mick, to be the same.

  James’s mother had said that down under all that rowdiness Chip Malone was a good man. Once he had married Marie he had seemed to settle down and had put all his energy into the business. That was why he had been so successful. It was said that he was a rich man. He
paid his men well and they were fiercely loyal to him.

  James kicked his horse into a lope and shoved Chip Malone to the back of his mind. It was more pleasant to think about Odette. She occupied his thoughts a lot lately. For the life of him James couldn’t understand why Ben was so against his courting her. Did he think he just wanted to get her in bed? He had to admit that it had crossed his mind. He was a male and his desires were as strong as any man’s. The memory of her soft body against his caused a turgid swelling in his groin. She was so sweet, so fresh, so fragile. He’d be so gentle with her, so careful.

  Hell, how could he say any of this to her father?

  When he reached Spencer, the merchants who had attended the burial were reopening their doors for business. The warm sun had dried the streets that weeks earlier had been a quagmire. The sign of spring was evident on the porch of Bessie’s restaurant. The sweet potato vine that had been growing from a pot in the front window during the past few months was on the porch, and woe to anyone who dared pluck a leaf from the vine. More than the usual number of people were on the street. Most had attended the funeral and had stopped to make a few purchases before heading home.

  A hoop being rolled by a cotton-headed boy came toward James from out of a side street. It frightened his horse; the animal squealed and shied. The giggling youth grabbed the hoop and ducked out of sight behind a building.

  James dismounted in front of the mercantile. He spoke to the men he knew, tipped his hat to a lady, and went inside the store. Several customers were lined up at the counter. While James waited to have a private word with McHenry, he looked at the goods piled on the tables and arranged on the shelves that lined the walls.

  McHenry’s, like most mercantiles in the Northwest, carried everything from garden spades and barbed wire to ribbons and silk underdrawers. One table held dress goods, another shoes and hats. On the ribbon and lace table James saw a small red-satin heart-shaped thing edged in white lace. It was stuffed to resemble a small pillow. On it the words I love you were embroidered in white. When James picked it up, the scent of roses wafted up to set his heart thumping. The scent was the same as the one he had smelled last night when he had held Odette in his arms.