by Tanya Hanson
“What are you saying, Eliza?”
“Make love to me there, Ransom. I won’t let you leave if you say no. I’ll”—she started to giggle at the widening of his eyes—”I’ll have you tossed in a hoosegow.”
“Eliza. You can’t mean…”
“I mean nothing else.” At the front door, she pulled their coats from a bentwood tree. “I’m no harlot, but I’m no skittish virgin either if that’s your concern. I’m a woman wanting a man. And truth to tell, you want me, too.”
Ransom’s lids lowered now like they might just before he slept. Her heart thudded.
“You’re so blamed beautiful a blind man would want you,” he said. “But Eliza…what would your gram-maw say?”
Her laugh burst through her nose like her first sip of champagne. “She’s miles away, and I promise not to tell her if you don’t.” Ransom grinned back at her. “Besides, Crusty knows we’re ‘spooning.’ He won’t think a thing if I’m not in the guest bed come daybreak. I know him pretty well.”
“But Miz Ida…”
Eliza ran her hand across a cheek wearing the stubble of a long day. It was the best thing she’d ever touched. “She’s a dear, but age has slowed her wits. Doubtful she’ll even recollect I was here. Now, let’s go.” She grabbed the lantern.
Into the cold night, he held her hand like he’d never let go. Ransom stubbed the toe of his boot against a rock and said, hesitant. “I’d like a better place for our first time, Eliza.”
“The barn is perfect, Ransom.” She couldn’t tell him, not now at least, that she’d had a soft downy bed for a man she hadn’t cared for much at all.
“At least we forgot to lock the barn before,” he said with a chuckle as they entered the barn.
“I reckon Crusty never locks up around here. Most folks don’t,” she said.
“More’s the pity,” Ransom said in a voice more hushed than usual. No need to startle the critters.
Eliza grabbed the blankets from her gear. “Why’s that?” She led him up the ladder to the hayloft and safely hung the lantern on a hook.
“Makes stock easier to steal.”
Alarm fizzed in her veins. “Why, you can’t think…Ahab Perkins is still hanging around?”
Ransom shrugged and pointed to the blankets. “Good henskins there. Best blankets in Texas. Perkins? Couldn’t say. Haven’t heard much about the gang lately. Likely they’re on a spree. New Mexico, most like. Seems they move west.”
“Well, nonetheless, let’s lock the door from the inside tonight.”
“All righty. I’ll go do it.”
When he rejoined her, all thoughts of horse thieving left her brain as they forged a nesting place in the loose straw. Coats, vests, and boots nestled in a pile of their own.
Eliza extinguished the lantern.
“Nah,” Ransom said, clearly disappointed. “Want to see you when I…”
Heat flamed underneath her skin. “No. Moonlight’s enough. Clouds cleared a bit.” She pointed to the silver rays sneaking through chinks in the planks. “I don’t want to alert the ’hands.”
“All right then. Come here, woman.” Ransom knelt in front of her and wrestled with her garments. “Why do you gals wear so dratted many clothes?”
“Me? I’ll have you know, Mr. Ransom.” She giggled against his lips. “I don’t wear corsets as a rule. Anything Godey’s Lady’s Book says is proper goes right out of my head.”
“Hmmmmmmmm.”
He nuzzled right below her ear, and for some reason the action was almost more delicious than the kiss. His apt hands had her out of the rest of her clothing, and despite the heat of him, she shivered against the hay. Her nipples tightened, and he laughed joyously.
“Those peaks just waiting for me,” he murmured as he laid her down upon the blanket and suckled gently, then with increasing ardor. A molten craving consumed her, and she frantically reached for the placket of his trousers.
His lips journeyed up the mounds of her bosoms, up the column of her neck until he nourished himself at her mouth. By now, she was on fire, burning with only Ransom able to assuage the flames.
“Now!” she screamed, doing her best to pull his trousers from his hips.
He knelt around her, the tip of him pressing into a womanhood aching with need. Tears welled as she groaned, “Ransom, now. Or I will die.”
As if she opened for him, he entered, and she pulled him close, hands on his firm buttocks. His masculine thrusts completed her, made her the woman she was meant to be. Had her feeling loved and beloved although he hadn’t spoken any such words. His eyes locked with hers. Finally his lids squeezed shut and he exploded inside her, and she crossed her legs around him to hold him in, hold him close and forever. Even if he was leaving in the morning.
“Oh, dear God,” he breathed as she bore his weight with total delight. Finally he rolled off with a last kiss. “Sorry.” He took his bandana and cleaned her a bit.
“Sorry?” She rose on one elbow to look down at him. “Sorry? That was splendid.”
“If you think that, darlin’, you are a skittish virgin,” he drawled in that husky hushed voice of his. “There is so much more to show you. I just got caught up in the moment of your eagerness. Couldn’t slow down to give you the attention you deserve. Give me a while, and I’ll show you just what I mean.”
“Can’t you show me now?” She didn’t ask to be coy. Other than Royal, who obviously hadn’t been an ideal lover, Eliza knew little about the machinations of lovemaking. Right now in Ransom’s arms had only made her long for more.
“As to that, darlin’, with you naked beside me, it won’t take long. But it will take a little time. Come here.” He cuddled her against his chest, wrapping her in his unbuttoned shirt before covering them both with blankets. “Oh, there’s something else, Eliza. I know we haven’t been together much at all. Very long neither. And I ain’t saying this because of what we just did. But I know it in my heart.” He paused. “I love you,” he drawled in a slow low growl.
His words covered her both like a wave of cold water and a warm cool blanket. For a while, she couldn’t think of a thing to say and only squeezed his hand.
“Ransom, you sure?” She raised up on her elbow again, but he had already fallen asleep. She smiled against his lips and said, “That’s good, then. I love you, too.”
She recalled Royal sleeping sound right after, too and reckoned that was the way with men. As for her, she hugged Ransom close, reliving his words, seeing again the expression in his eyes when he’d entered her, sensing snow begin to fall as the moonlight disappeared.
Almost as if guided by someone or something else, her hand lowered underneath their makeshift covers to find his manhood, and her fingers closed around it. It sprang to such life at her touch she marveled that it had fit inside her; her fingers barely closed around it. Ransom grunted and woke right up.
“Ah, I see you have a taste for more.” He growled seductively in her ear. “But first things first.”
He burrowed underneath the covers and opened her legs, burying his face between them. At the near indecency of this—not even her wildest or most open-minded chums at school had ever spoken of such an act—she struggled, only to hear him mumble soft words and caress her inner thigh with his tongue. Soon she gasped, for he placed his tongue where the shaft had been before while his fingers caressed her cleft. Then his tongue began to move sinuously while his fingers entered her now, and within seconds, she writhed in rhythm to Ransom’s actions.
Suddenly the last shafts of moonlight exploded into a rainbow of countless colors inside her head, and every song she’d ever heard rang in her ears.
Her knees clasped around his neck, but she knew what he wanted next, his shaft deep within her. But no. She wanted something similar for herself, the taste of him, the feel of his length underneath her tongue.
“No, not yet, Ransom.” She wrestled him on his back, and began to love him with her mouth, watching the thrill dance in his eyes. Soon t
hey squeezed shut, and his body began to shudder.
“Sonofabitchandthensome,” he shouted out in a full-strength gravelly voice she’d heard once before. Then he plunged inside her, and she gasped in terror and contentment both.
****
“You all right, darlin’? Did I hurt you?” Ransom rolled on his back when he was done, barely able to breathe, but he’d heard her intake of breath. He grabbed her close with whatever strength he had left. Twice, so close together, and with the woman he wanted at his side forever and ever, had rendered him near powerless. There wasn’t enough air on the planet right now to fill his lungs.
“No.” The word came out breathless, and she didn’t say more than that, but the single word comforted him anyway. A woman gasping in delight meant he’d treated her right.
The words he’d just thought inside his head smacked into his heart now. Words he’d never imagined any other time in his life about anybody else. The woman he wanted at his side forever. He forced his own words from his lungs, and he meant every single one, swear on his gram-maw’s grave.
“Eliza, never thought I’d say these words. But I want to marry up with you.”
His heart pounded. Never expected a nay, but she took a long time to accept.
“All right then. Yes.” Eliza mumbled against his chest. At first she seemed kind of stiff, but right off, she curled against him like two spoons colliding in a silverware chest. Even spent as he was, his fingertips found her nipples and had him almost begging for more. But her soft snore told him she was satisfied. He chuckled in fulfillment against her hair.
While she lay cuddled against him, the poem he’d been imagining started to take root in his mind. That granny poem had so delighted Eliza. Heck, he knew in his heart he could do better. He would arrange words just as good for her Christmas present. Reciting a poem to her on Christmas morning might be just the start of a million poems he’d give her in their long life together.
Eliza, you are to me…strong as a willow tree.
By the time his brain and body woke up at the same pace, daybreak wasn’t long off. He’d been a man of the wild outdoors long enough to sense dawn even in the dark. God, he had to find Gitts. Ahab even. Let them get on to safety. Let him return to respectability and take on a bride.
Wound so tight against him, her body almost screamed at him not to leave. Eliza might be his future, but Ahab and the boys were his past. Both needed his full attention. With a solemn kiss of promise on her forehead, he scrambled into his clothes and near melted, seeing her curled up warm and safe. Parting from her even for a day or two broke his heart. But all would soon be well. He’d warn the gang and get on with his own life.
He kissed her one last time, grateful when she stirred against him, saddled up Nitro so quietly the other horses didn’t stir. From her saddlebags, he took the grub she’d got from Miz Letha May, and set off in the falling snow. A good thing, that. He’d leave no trail behind.
She’d said something about her granny’s reward money, and for a flash, Ransom was tempted. Having some significant cash in hand could let him start out a new life, a new life worthy of a wife. Might let him somehow restitute the crimes he’d spent half his life doing.
The icy morning air bit into his skin, and he longed for her warmth almost with desperation. But Ransom wasn’t a turncoat. Not even for money, not even for Eliza. He’d get his warning done, and come back for her.
Chapter Seven
All night long, Eliza had pretended sleep, choking back tears and soaking up Ransom’s warmth. Her life had been perfect for that little space of time, and now what?
At Thanksgiving, Jack Ransom had mauled her, thieved granny’s horses. Lied to her every step of the way since she’d invited him to Stony Brook for Christmas. Knew the whole time she was Eliza Willows. Hid his true voice as easy as he disguised stolen animals.
Oh, all the pretence, all his silly comments about what he reckoned outlaws might do. He knew full well what they’d do. Because he’d done it himself.
But all during the night, her heart softened with unbidden love, and her body screamed with desire as he snored softly next to her. He had proposed. Even knowing who she was, he’d asked for her hand. He must have known she’d find him out someday. Maybe he planned to confess, right his wrongs, mend his evil ways.
Then why leave her now? She no longer believed for a second he was after some two-timing husband.
It smacked her in the gut. He was rejoining the gang. Whatever reason he’d had for leaving them the last few days had come and passed. He certainly hadn’t left Ahab Perkins to come find a wife.
Her heart cracked. The proposal must have been a sham after all. Likely to soften her up when she found out who he really was. That was it. Of course. What well-satisfied woman could bear to see her lover’s neck stretched?
In the dawn, the ugly image of him swinging from a noose burst in her head as she scrambled awake, unsurprised to find the hayloft empty. Desolation swamped her. He might have treated her right and kept her warm last night, but he also might have filled her head with false promises. But if he hadn’t…
What if he truly meant his love, his proposal?
She chewed her lip as she held down shivers and climbed into her clothes. Oh, it could be sweet satisfaction upon Granny’s sensibilities to return to the Stony Brook with an outlaw as her mate. But buttoning her vest, Eliza realized she wasn’t that granddaughter anymore. Granny was an old woman, and they needed to be friends.
And the best way into Granny’s good graces once again would be getting Ransom arrested and convicted. Her heart smashed beyond fixing this time.
Spirits heavy, Eliza climbed down the loft ladder and saddled up Firewalker. The paint nuzzled Oneida as he passed the mare, and Eliza’s heart panged. Of course Nitro’s stall was empty, and the barn door unlocked. She shoved away the delicious memories of last night.
She laughed bitterly. Last night had been her idea. Ransom would merely think her an abandoned female bent on revenge. Outside, she waved to a ranch hand she knew, ignored his curious expression, and headed to the house to bid farewell to Crusty and Ida. A couple of inches of snow hugged the ground, but flakes had stopped falling.
“Where’s your man?” The codger winked at her, his breath white on the air.
“He’s not my man,” she said with a lie she hoped Crusty was too deaf to hear. “Just business. But I’ll be on my way.” Her heart was too heavy to tell the old man her plans to turn Ransom in. Christmas was the time for miracles, and maybe, just maybe, she’d come across one.
“You ought to get some breakfast in you,” Crusty said, forehead furrowed. “And you ain’t seen Mother yet.”
She ought to eat and greet, but she didn’t want to take the time. Besides, Letha May had sent food. “Hallo her for me, won’t you? I’ll stop by before the New Year, I promise.”
Crusty frowned. “You taking Oneida with you? Don’t much like you alone on the trail with thieves about.”
“No. No. You keep hold of her until we sort things out. And I’ll be fine.” With her shoulder, she gestured back to Firewalker with a nudge. “I’ve got a Winchester in my gear. And…” she patted her thigh. “A Colt strapped to one leg underneath my skirt, and a knife on the other.” She hugged him and rushed away. Her gun-toting habits were another behavior that insulted Granny, but Pleasure Stakes and its confines were not always diplomatic.
Outside the gates of the Southern Star, she tried to read Ransom’s tracks. Indeed, he seemed headed east for Cahoots, but after following him to Wolftail Creek, she realized he’d doubled back. At his attempt to outwit her, her heart sank to the bottom of her boots. Her intuition had been right. He hadn’t been headed to find the scar-faced man in Cahoots at all, but the opposite direction toward the Canadian River and the ravines and gullies of Backbone Hollow with a million places to hide.
Now came the most important decision of her life. Should she head for Cahoots and the sheriff? Or get to Backbone and gi
ve Ransom a chance to reveal himself? True, he was a hooligan and a bandit, but he did possess the strength of character to admit his ignorance and declare he wanted to learn to read. It took something of a man’s man who could admit something like that. Her heart softened.
And he had asked to wed up with her.
For much of the morning, snow lay over the saltbush and nutgrass like any downy counterpane. It wasn’t as bad a winter as others she’d known. By noon, the snow had turned the consistency of grits, reminding her she was starving. When she paused by an ocotillo tree, leafless with clumps of snow, its prettiness reminded her of the Christmas tree Ransom hadn’t seen for years and years, even though the shrub shaped opposite of a pine, in a V. Her heart tugged, thinking of a small boy who’d lost everything way back when.
Firewalker licked up some snow until Eliza could find a spring, and she reached inside her gear for a chunk of Miz Letha May’s ham. It was gone, her good feelings fled, and she cussed Ransom out loud as she kicked at a drift.
“Sorry, ’Walker,” she hugged the gelding’s neck. “That was most unladylike of me. But he’s left me to starve. I feel like skinning that scoundrel alive. Which I ought to do to some poor jack rabbit and fry him up.” She grimaced, for such was an activity she most disliked performing.
But like shooting, she knew how, thanks to Stony Brook ranch hands, and did so, crying the whole time. The little critter was tasty but reminded her too much of Eastertimes long ago with Granny helping her color eggs with brown onion skins. But hunger was a powerful thing.
For a silly flash, she longed to be a child again, except that would make last night impossible, and at least she had the memory of Ransom’s unselfish loving to hold close to her heart forever and ever.
Amen.
Respectfully, she buried the little bones, then washed her hands by rubbing snow between them. Gloves on, she warmed herself by her fire just a little longer before heading to Backbone. It might be just a whim, the tracks were long melted, but he had definitely not been headed for civilization.
A weak sun pulled out from the clouds, making the ocotillo into a skeleton of shade as she approached Firewalker to mount up. She heard, then saw, a rider approach across the snow-patched grasses. Alert, she rested her hand on her rifle, but the newcomer dismounted, stalking over with confidence if not exactly friendliness.