by Holly Bush
If she was so almighty sure of herself that her cabin was where she intended to be until she was dead and buried then why was his question rolling through her head, and her heart—yes, her heart—over and again. “Why don’t you come with me?” he’d said. Why didn’t she? Why didn’t she pack her few belongings and go with him, or even somewhere else? What was holding her here? Pride? Some sense that if she left that she’d given up, that the Thurmans and others had won? Won what? And there was still the danger that she and Gilly would be found out, however slim, and that Gilly would be punished. Why not leave and never come back?
“There’s nothing between us, Matt,” she said finally. “Only the danger of the river and the worry and the injuries that bound us together and perhaps some sense of obligation on your part. You have a life ahead of you at Paradise. A family to embrace. We’ll be long gone in each other’s memories other than a tense and worrisome time one spring and summer that thankfully had a happy ending.”
He was staring at her, and she could almost read his thoughts. Of course, he wouldn’t be easily gone from her memories, even if she did only recall him as an unlikely but welcome visitor, but she knew she wouldn’t remember him that way if she was honest with herself.
She would miss his masculinity that seemed to fit to what she was as a woman. She would miss his kisses, even knowing there’d only been the one, and she would miss maybe her one chance to have more. Because there’d been a look when he’d kissed her, a look of reverence, of passion, and of some primal want and need that she most likely would never be the subject of again. It had done strange things to her insides that eclipsed the powerful tension when his lips touched hers. She would lose her one chance of having a man look at her in that way when he left. The future would be dreary without the hope of it, but really, she was just a poor farmer, not someone who would be welcomed by his family, and he was just feeling obligated.
“I’ve got plenty more laundry to do.” She turned to the wet clothes waiting to be hung.
“What do you need today?” Dinson said. “I’ve got some turkeys cleaned and hung and beef as well.”
Matt had sent himself to town for supplies for Annie’s cabin. He’d been waffling, something he knew could be a flaw in his character, although it never exhibited itself on the battlefield. There, he’d decided, directed, and commanded with little hesitation other than the time it took to gather relevant information. He hadn’t even checked for an updated train schedule lately, but he would today.
It was time to go, although he couldn’t bring himself to set a date, much less say, “We’re leaving tomorrow or next Tuesday” or whatever. He still suspected there was more to her story and more dangers she still faced. It galled him to leave a woman unprotected. More than that, though, when he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave Annie Campbell. He looked forward every morning to seeing her, hurrying down the ladder from his bunk room, tucking his shirt in as he went to pretend he was desperate to see Ben—what he a fool he was. But she’d asked, and Ben had, too, when their journey would begin. It was time to face his mother and brother and sister and his past as well.
Matt bought salted pork, sugar, coffee, flour, jarred goods, two lengths of fabric, and a ready-made coat and a pair of boots that he thought would fit Annie. The clerk filled a box for him with thread and buttons and needles, too. He bought a fancy yellow tablecloth, too, after fingering it and its silky fringe. It was an extravagance that she didn’t need living alone, but it made him think of the story she’d told of her mother having come from a well-to-do family that would have been accustomed to fine things. Annie should have some of the same. He planned on leaving several gold coins as well. At least he would know she wouldn’t have to worry as much about where her next meal was coming from come December.
Dinson, the butcher, was still staring at him while he thought about the winter that would be here in no time. “The turkey,” he said. “I’ll take the turkey.”
Matt handed over a gold coin and got his change in paper money. He looked up at Dinson, after taking the sack that held the bird. “Does anyone keep an eye her?” He didn’t doubt for a minute that Dinson knew who he was talking about.
“Tom and Madeline Cartwright do. Although they haven’t been over to see her much since you’ve been there. That’s what they told me at church anyway.”
“I’m going to be leaving sometime soon. Can you let the Cartwrights know? I think Miss Campbell is worried about something but she won’t tell me anything specific.”
“I’ll tell Tom when I see him.”
It was the best he could do, he supposed, and it would be no different now than it would have been before he and Ben were there, he thought as he left the shop. It had been two years since her brother had been murdered. Maybe she was just jumpy, and maybe rightfully so considering her family’s history. But there was still something bothering him, and he led Chester from the stables back to the butcher’s shop and tied him to a post there.
“Forget something?” Dinson said. “Don’t think there’s much room on that horse to tie one more thing.”
“What happened to Jeremiah Thurman?”
Dinson’s face drained of all its color; even his lips looked white and they trembled. “I wouldn’t know anything about that and I’d advise you to leave it alone, mister.”
“Sorry to bother you,” Matt said and tipped his hat. He handed a paper to Dinson at the same time. “You can reach me by telegraph if you had to,” he said and stared hard at the butcher. “Send it to the Winchester office, to Matthew Gentry at Paradise. They’ll see that I get it.”
He’d not needed any more details than the look on Dinson’s face. Annie’s fear had to do with Jeremiah Thurman, the man who’d been readying himself to rape her but had satisfied himself, it seemed, by hanging her brother instead. What had she said? No, he disappeared. No one seems to know what happened to him. Why did he suddenly think that Annie Campbell knew exactly what had happened to Jeremiah Thurman?
Chapter 7
“Hand me the sugar, Ben,” Annie said as she put away all the supplies that Matt had brought to the cabin.
“Here, let me help you,” Ben said and squeezed himself beside her in the side room. “I can lift it.”
She smiled at him and watched as he concentrated on lifting the cloth bag of sugar. His arms shook with the labor, but there was no use trying to help him. She thought she’d most likely insult him, and she’d never dream of doing that. He was kindly to her and helped her even when he was unable to get off the mattress just by being happy and appreciating every small thing she did for him.
“There. Too high up for any critters to get to,” he said. He turned his head to stare at her. “He’s getting ready to go, you know, miss. He wanted to make sure you had a few things before he left.”
She nodded and fought tears. “I know. He didn’t have to get any of it. I could have put another layer of paper in Teddy’s boots.”
But Ben wasn’t having any of her false smiles or laughter. “It’s not just that he’s trying to make up for what you done for us.”
“He doesn’t owe me anything. Neither do you. What kind of person wouldn’t help another?”
“He’s worried about you, miss. The boots and coat were to make your life easier. That shiny yellow tablecloth was to make you happy. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded. Tears fell down her cheeks and off her chin. “I do. I’ll never forget either of you.”
“Can’t understand why he hasn’t asked you to come with us. You would have a comfortable life at Paradise.”
“He has asked me, Ben. I’ve said no. He’s been a gentleman to me, you see. There’s no reason for you to scold him.” She looked at her hands and then up at Ben as more tears fell. “Help him when he gets home. I think he’s terrified and embarrassed, and sometimes things happen and you start doing something one way and it’s too hard to change or maybe just too easy to keep on doing what you’re doing. He’s going to have a
hard homecoming.”
“Too easy to keep doing what you’re doing? You could be talking about yourself now, missy.”
Annie wiped her face with her apron and kissed his cheek. “Come on. We’ve got to see about roasting this turkey.”
Annie heated water and filled her tub before shooing Ben out of doors. She scrubbed her hair and washed her body and soaked her bones in the hot water. After her bath, she sat on the porch with Ben, combing out her hair and telling him what she was going to make herself with the yards of fabric Matt had brought her. She watched Matt coaxing Chester to drag a log that he had intended to cut for firewood but hadn’t gotten done. She didn’t know why he was dragging it around her yard other than to keep from having to sit with them on the porch, listening to the crickets and enjoying a pleasant evening talking and being together before he and Ben left. She had enough firewood to last for two winters now anyway with what Matt had felled and split. Ben had gathered kindling in the near woods, too, limping around on his crutches and filling a burlap sack he’d strung around his neck.
She watched Matt brush down Chester and strip to the waist to wash in water he’d hauled up from the well. Dear Lord, he was a handsome, well-built man, his arms and chest tan from the sun and thick from the hard work he’d done. He poured the water over his head, soaped up his hands, and scrubbed at his hair, making her think of when he could barely stand and she’d washed his hair for him on the porch. He disappeared in the barn, leading Chester in, too.
“I sure hope I’m not too much of a burden for this trip,” Ben said.
She looked at the old man, and she could see he was worried and anxious. “What would happen if you had to delay somewhere? He’d never leave you. You may have to take a few days somewhere to build your strength back up.”
“He’s weighted down already. I don’t want to be the cause of more. His daddy and I met at the stables in Winchester where I was working when both of us were just young bucks. He offered me a job at twice the pay, and Miss Eleanor fixed two rooms for me above the old barn. They took me in like family.”
“You’ll be fine, Ben. I’m sure of it.” Then she realized his eyes were misty. She reached across and held his hand.
“I don’t know exactly what happened on the river that day, other than I was probably being a stubborn old fool. He saved me, he did. I can remember different bits and pieces, you know, when I wake up from sleeping sometimes. After my leg was broke he picked me up and put me on Chester. I was freezing and screaming and the mud and the boulders were flying down at us and he’s just whispering to Chester, Back up boy, that’s right. Back up.” He turned to look at her. “I’d never been so terrified in my whole life.”
Annie walked with Ben into the cabin and helped him get his shoes and shirt off. She sat beside him on the bed and held his hand until he drifted off to sleep. And then she made a decision.
They were leaving tomorrow. He hadn’t said as much, but she knew. It was cowardly, he thought to himself, to not be able to just say the words. I’m leaving you. But he couldn’t. He’d bought a small wagon that Chester could comfortably pull with room on the seat for both him and Ben and enough in the back that Ben could lie down if he wanted or needed to. But he couldn’t say the words to Annie. He’d bought her supplies and that damn yellow tablecloth. Her face had lit up from her normal wary to joy when he’d handed it to her. She’d smiled at him and touched the cloth and made Ben touch it and help her spread it on her table. She’d tried on her new boots and declared Teddy’s to be her spare for in the barn when she had to muck the pig stall. But he couldn’t say the words.
She’d baked the turkey in the wood oven that sat out back of the cabin, spooning the drippings over the top of it and making sure that it was cooked just right, with the corn bread stuffing falling out of it. They held hands and said their thanks and were cheerful together. But he still couldn’t say the words.
Now he was lying in his bunk, in his short drawers, looking up at the barn roof, counting the beams and then the roof boards, hoping to fall asleep. He’d worked all day, as hard as he could drive himself, so that he’d be able to drop off to sleep from exhaustion. But his plan hadn’t worked. He was lying there thinking of Annie and that gap between her front teeth that made her look young and vulnerable, especially when she smiled at him as she had today, and beautiful, too.
Then he heard the creak of the barn door as it opened. “Are you asleep?” she asked.
“No.” He pulled his pants on. He stood and went to the edge of the loft to look down. “What are you doing here?”
She climbed the ladder, and he helped her up the last tall rung. He dropped her hand as soon as she was on two feet and walked away to lean against the barn beam near his mattress. She didn’t say anything. She began unbuttoning her blouse. He watched her, willing himself to say no, to stop her but was unable to say a word. She unhooked her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She took a step to him, stopping in the last rays of the setting sun and pulling her chemise over her head as she did. Annie Campbell had a glorious body, which she’d hidden successfully under her brother’s and father’s clothing most of the time. She was long-limbed and strong but rounded just right, with breasts the right size for his hands. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder as she undid pins and dropped them on the floor.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, now finally able to say the words he owed her. He noticed his voice shook as he spoke, and he swallowed.
“I know,” she said and walked to him. “I know. There’s never been a man I’ve wanted to do this with before now. Never thought there would be. But I want you to love me tonight. Will you?”
He gently moved her hair away from her face. “You are so very beautiful.”
She reached up with both hands to pull his face toward her, brushing her breasts against his bare chest as she did, causing him to hiss an intake of breath. She touched his lips with hers lightly, and he closed his eyes, feeling her breath against his mouth, not daring to move. She touched his lip with her tongue, and he growled low in his chest, pulling her into his arms and turning his head to slide his tongue in her mouth. He held the back of her head steady with one hand wound in her hair and the other rubbing the warm length of her back.
She unbuttoned his pants and pulled his short drawers down until he could step out of them. His sex was already hard and aching, and she stared down at him and licked her lips. She walked to his mattress and lay down. He stood there, looking at her, thinking how much he wanted her and how their coupling would change everything. It didn’t stop him from lying down beside her. His hands shook as he touched her face and neck, slowly working his way to her breasts, watching her eyes as he did, ready to stop if she wanted him to.
She smiled at him. “The past is gone. This is the now. I want you to touch me.”
He groaned as his hand closed around her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and kissing her hard and impatiently. Leaving no doubt in either of their minds that he wanted her desperately, wanted to be inside of her, and moving in her. She wasn’t shy, running her hands over his chest and arms and back down to his buttocks with swift traces. She was breathing rapidly and pushing her hands through his hair, devouring his mouth and sucking on his tongue.
Matt rolled her on her back and spread her legs with his knees. “Stop me now, Annie,” he whispered.
She shook her head and pulled his mouth down to her. She lifted her hips up until she found his cock and rubbed her sex on its tip with a blatant invitation. She was hot and wet and he was lost. Matt entered her swiftly, and she threw her head back as he did, revealing her long neck and uptilted breasts. He waited, letting her grow accustomed to him inside her. She opened her eyes then and looked at him with heavy lids, her mouth open slightly and moaning as he began a slow rhythm within her. He dropped down to his elbows on either side of her, feeling her nipples hard against his chest. She stretched her arms above her head and wrapped her legs around his hips, and he moved in h
er faster with each stroke. They were both sweating and panting and he could hear the sounds of his push and pull. She smelled like mint, like her soap that he’d come to associate with her. He was home in her body and was quickly losing control. She arched and sighed and he strained, taking short breaths, eyes closed, his world reduced to this woman, this act, and its purpose.
Annie’s heart had finally slowed its rapid beat and she turned her head to look at Matt. He had an arm over his eyes but she was certain he wasn’t sleeping.
“Annie, you’ve got to come with me now.”
“No, Matt, I don’t. This is my farm, my life.”
He stood and pulled on his pants, wandering up and down the length of the loft, shaking his head occasionally and talking softly to himself. He looked at her. “I can’t split myself. I don’t know what to do. I’ve got obligations . . .”
“You’re not obligated to me. This didn’t change anything. I never asked anything of you.”
He eyed her furiously and pointed at her. “Not obligated!” he shouted. “What a damn fool thing to say. We didn’t just screw here. You’re no barmaid waiting for me to leave a silver coin.”
She stared at him. “I’m not so different from them, I imagine. And from the sounds of what you’ve said, you’ve done your share of whoring. You didn’t take any of them home to your mother.”
“What are you talking about? I won’t deny I used the services of some soiled doves along the way, and both of us knew before anybody took off a stitch of clothing that I wasn’t staying, that I was paying for services and that she knew that as well. This is nothing like that.”
Annie pulled on her chemise and her skirt and buttoned her blouse. It was for the best, she supposed, that they argue and be angry with each other. It would take the sting of his leave-taking from her, or at least delay it until the anger had gone and left her empty at some later date. Maybe it would be enough to keep her from crying and begging, for what, she wasn’t sure.