by Peggy Webb
She saw the teasing light in his eyes. “I love them, and I’ve decided I can't eat and cry at the same time.” She took the candy and peeled back the wrapper. “What's more, I'm going to share.”
She broke off a tiny bit of candy and held it to his lips. He took it all into his mouth—the chocolate, the marshmallow, the peanuts, and two delicate fingers. He wrapped his tongue around her fingers.
“Hmmm, delicious.” With his mouth full, his words were garbled, but she understood them nonetheless.
“There's more where that came from.”
He released her fingers and swallowed the candy. “Eight more, if I'm not mistaken.”
“I'm talking about the candy.”
“I'm not.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. Then he took her fingers into his mouth, one by one, savoring the texture and the special taste of her skin.
A flush heated her skin. Even after he let her fingers go and stood up, she still felt warm and languid.
“Tomorrow evening, Yellow Bird, I’ll come for you.”
“I don't know, Colter.”
“You will hear my signal and come to me.”
“The turtledove?”
“And you will ride with me.”
He disappeared as quickly as he had come, blending into the darkness so that she couldn't tell his direction. Instinctively, she knew he was running, and she leaned forward to catch the sounds. But not a single footfall marred the silence of the night.
She stayed in the swing a while longer, enjoying the luxury of doing nothing, then went inside to bed.
o0o
“Dad-blamed it, Jo Beth. You're slower than Christmas.” Silas moved from one cactus to another, taking pictures as fast as he could. “We've been here all morning, and I’ll bet I've made twice as many as you.”
“Four times.” She focused carefully, never looking up.
“Is that right? Hot dern, I'm gonna get rich.”
He moved around behind Jo Beth, snapped a great shot of the sky, then trained his camera on the western horizon. Colter and his stallion came into view.
“I've got that sucker now.” Silas frowned into his viewfinder as Colter came closer. “Hold it right there, Toronto.”
Jo Beth whirled around. “Colter. What a pleasant surprise.”
He smiled at her. “I knew I'd find you out here somewhere.” He held up the burden basket. “I brought lunch... enough for three.” He dismounted. “Hello, Silas.”
“Stay right where you sire.” Silas was clicking his camera furiously.
“Dad, what in the world are you doing?”
“Collecting evidence. I'm gonna send these pictures to my son.” He glared over the top of the camera at Colter. “Rick's a private eye. He'll know just what to do about you.... Shoot, I'm out of film.” He went to the Jeep to reload his camera.
“I'm sorry,” Jo Beth told Colter.
“It's better than being tied in the privy.” He caught her hand. “How are you?”
“Busy. Happy. And glad to see you.”
“Ready for a lunch break?”
“Yes.”
They let down the tailgate of the Jeep, and Colter unloaded the folding canvas chair Jo Beth had brought for Silas. Silas hopped around them like a bantam rooster, aiming his camera and yelling, “Gotcha.”
Colter took it all in stride, and Jo Beth smiled, but every time her father yelled, her heart broke a little. He needs me, she thought. Now, more than ever.
“Dad, let me put your camera away so you can eat lunch.”
“He just wants to get his hands on it so he can steal the evidence.” Silas, his Panama hat flapping with every movement of his head, nodded at Colter.
“Silas, I promise not to touch the camera.”
“Humph. A lot of good your promises are. You promised not to take my daughter captive, and look what's happened.”
Colter thought Silas must be more astute than he seemed, for at that very moment he was thinking ahead to the night, planning for the moment when he would take Jo Beth to his camp.
“Dad, this is Dr. Gray. Remember?” Jo Beth took her father's hand and led him to the canvas chair. “He doesn't want to take anyone captive. He's our friend, and he's brought us lunch.”
Colter prepared a paper plate and brought it to Silas.
“What is it?” The old man eyed the food suspiciously.
“Fresh fruit and fish I caught this morning.”
Silas took a bite and smacked his lips. “Toronto, if you ever decide to give up being a savage, I can get you a job as a cook. I have this friend back home in Mississippi. Owns this little old restaurant—the Lonesome Pig, it's called. We're buddies, the two of us. One time...”
Colter and Jo Beth sat on the tailgate, eating their lunch while Silas talked and talked, spinning his fantasies. With Silas's voice droning in the background, they carried on a quiet conversation.
“The fish is delicious, Colter.”
“I have a confession to make. I didn't cook it.”
“I know you're full of surprises, but don't tell me you have a cook stashed away in that tepee.”
“No. I carried some fish to your cabin this morning, and when Sara found out what I was going to do, she insisted on cooking it.” He smiled. “I think she likes me.”
“I’ll have to warn her about San Francisco doctors bearing gifts.”
“I've run out of gifts, Jo Beth.” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “The second stage must come to an end.” She caught her breath. “Are you ready for the third stage?”
She looked into his eyes. “How can I say no?”
“Holding hands!” Silas overturned his chair and grabbed his camera. The paper plate went flying into the sand. “Turn my back for one minute and look what happens.”
He stalked toward the Jeep, snapping pictures with a vengeance.
“I should go, Jo Beth, before I make him too agitated.”
“Colter...”
“Until tonight.” He kissed her cheek, then vaulted on to his stallion and rode away.
Silas chased after him with the camera.
“Dad! Dad! Come back.” Jo Beth caught up to him and took his arm. “It's all right, Dad. He's gone.”
“Wait till Rick sees this evidence. He’ll tar and feather that Toronto.”
“I'm sure Rick will take care of everything.” She patted his hand. “Now, why don't we load our gear and go back to the cabin. I’ll bet Mom is lonesome without us.”
“I'll take her picture.”
“That's a grand idea.”
Jo Beth loaded her equipment and the folding chair, then began to collect scraps. Sitting on the tailgate was Colter's burden basket. She picked it up and caressed its rough sides.
“Colter,” she whispered. “What am I going to do?”
o0o
The call of the turtledove came late that night.
Jo Beth sat beside her open bedroom window and listened. Her parents had been in bed for at least two hours. They were safe, at least until morning.
She rose from the chair, and then sank back down, thinking. Could she do this? What if the impossible happened and she fell in love? Who in the world would watch after Silas and Sara?
The call of the turtledove sounded once more, urgently this time.
She leaned out the window. Colter was silhouetted by the moonlight, strong, bare-chested, and beautiful, astride the black stallion. She had to go. If she didn't, she'd always regret it.
Without another thought, she ran across the wooden floor and out the front door.
o0o
Colter saw her coming. Her hair was long and loose, and her feet were bare. When she reached the edge of the porch, she stopped. He urged the stallion to a gallop. The stallion veered sharply beside the porch, and Colter reached for her with his right arm. With one powerful motion, he swung her onto the blanket in front of him and raced off into the night.
They rode in silence. Colter was vividly
aware of the woman in front of him, of her bright yellow hair, her pale white skin, and her slim hips, pressing against him. All his senses were alive. He felt the stirrings of the nocturnal desert creatures, saw the special brilliance of the heavens, and heard the soft rise and fall of Jo's breathing.
His arm tightened around her, and he pressed his knees into the stallion's sides, urging him on, hurrying him forward toward destiny. When his camp came into sight, he reined the stallion in.
He dismounted quickly and held his arms up to Jo. Her eyes were bright as she slid into them. He pressed her close for a moment, then released her.
“Wait by my side.”
She stood quietly while he tethered the stallion and readied him for the night. Then he took her hand and led her into his tepee. A glimmer of moonlight shone through the smoke hole and around the loosely fitting door flap.
Jo Beth stood in the small shaft of light while her eyes adjusted to the semi-gloom of the tepee. When she saw Colter's blanket, spread upon the hard ground, she started toward it.
“No.” He caught her shoulders. “Stand here where I can see you best.”
Jo Beth trembled when he put his hands on her face.
“Are you afraid?” Colter stroked her cheeks.
“No. Excited.”
His fingers traced her face, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her nose, her lips. “You are beautiful.”
“And you.” Jo put one fingertip on his shoulder bone and raked it down his smooth bare chest.
When her finger met the resistance of his belt buckle, she traced the path back upward.
He caught her hand, pressing it flat against his skin. “You are so fair.”
She kneaded her fingers in his warm flesh and closed her eyes. “Sometimes I think you must be a dream, Gray Wolf.”
“Dreams can't do this.” He kissed her. It was a joining of immense tenderness, and it took great restraint on his part. From the first day he'd met her, from the moment Jo Beth had followed him into the moonlight, he'd wanted her—here in his tepee, here in his arms. She was destined to be here, his gift from a capricious Fate. She belonged. She was his. And he would handle her the way he handled all precious gifts—with great care.
He lifted his head and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I want you here with me through the night.”
“I’ll stay until morning comes; then I must go.”
“It will be time enough.”
Still gazing into her eyes, he began to unbutton her blouse. She stood very still, watching the pleasure in his face as the blouse parted. He removed the blouse, folded it neatly, and placed it on a full duffel bag. He took the same care with the rest of her garments, handling them almost with reverence.
And when she stood before him, an alabaster carving save for the soft blush on her cheeks, he came to her. His hands and lips were poetry as they moved over her. She closed her eyes. The beauty of his touch filled her with fire until she was melting, her blood flowing richly through a body that was liquid and burning.
Suddenly she felt his hands leave her. There was a soft rustling in the tepee. Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes. “Colter?”
He was standing beside her, nude except for the bright Indian blanket draped over his shoulders. His eyes gleamed in a face gone tight with passion. He stretched out one arm and drew her to him. The heavy blanket fell around her.
They stood facing each other, shrouded in their bright cocoon. Her arms slid around his shoulders. He lifted her up and they became one.
A shaft of light pierced the velvety darkness, shining down on the two who loved. The blanket covered them, holding the heat, doubling the fire of their passion. Jo Beth clung to his shoulders, and Colter began to murmur in the musical language of his ancestors.
He lay down with her, the blanket spread underneath them. The rhythm of his Apache song increased with the rhythm of his body.
Jo Beth was carried to a place she'd never been, a bright and shining place, filled with light, rich with color, burning with the flames of a thousand stars. She climbed up, higher and higher. Earth Mother reaching for the Father Sky. The sky came down, bold, full of thunder and lightning. Earth trembled beneath it. Lightning seared, splitting the earth, burning through its core. The earth rocked with the assault; then slowly its fertile center opened to receive the life-giving rains of the sky.
Still joined, Jo Beth and Colter lay together on the blanket.
“What is that beautiful language you spoke?”
“Athabascan. The language of my people.”
“Teach me.” She traced her hands over his face.
“The language?” His smile was teasing.
“Whatever.”
He sat up, taking her with him. Kneeling beside her, he taught her the words of simple courtesy, “please” and “thank you.” He taught her words for greetings and partings.
“I need you, Yellow Bird.”
“How do you say that?”
His eyes became hooded. “This is not a language lesson.”
He reached for her. His hands were dark on her shoulders. He didn't bother with words; he didn't have to. His silence was more eloquent than a two-hour oration.
Her body went languid as he positioned her. He came to her kneeling. And the journey started all over again.
It was a journey that lasted through the night. And just before dawn pinked the sky, he dressed her and carried her from his tepee. The stallion neighed a soft greeting.
Colter put Jo Beth on the horse and mounted behind her. It was a different journey they made this time, a journey filled with the nostalgia of parting. Neither of them spoke until they were within sight of her cabin.
Leaning close to her ear, Colter whispered, “I’ll come for you again tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Listen for my signal.”
Then he lifted her off the stallion and watched until she had entered the cabin. She stood just inside the door, listening to the sound of hoof-beats until they faded in the distance.
o0o
Jo Beth had slept only three hours when her mother came to her bedroom door.
“I thought I'd better wake you, Jo Beth. You don't usually sleep this late.”
“I guess I'm just tired from all the desert photography.”
She hated lying. As she got out of bed she thought briefly about confiding in her mother. Would Sara understand the need, the passion that had driven her to Colter's bed? Would she remember what it was like to want a man so badly that he filled her thoughts every waking moment?
Jo Beth didn't know. Nor did she know how she would explain to Sara that Colter was more than an interlude, more than a desert affair, that he had toppled her beliefs and threatened her lifestyle in a way that no man ever had.
Instead of confiding, she smiled. “What would I do without the two of you taking care of me the way you do?” She reached for her robe. “Thanks, Mom.”
Sara eyed her keenly. “Jo Beth, we both know who's the caretaker around here.” She crossed the room and put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. “Honey, I don't want you sacrificing your life for us. We'll manage just fine.”
“I know that, Mom. And I won't.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.” Her fingers were crossed behind her back when she said it.
Jo Beth somehow managed to get her equipment loaded and out to a place where the giant saguaro cactus grew in abundance. For once, Silas was content to sit on the porch and read a book. It renewed her hope.
Alone in the desert, Jo Beth thought about Colter. Forget the sparks. He'd gone so far beyond sparks that he was setting dynamite next to her heart. She would have been thrilled to learn that love was not an obsolete art, except for one thing—her parents.
She had two brothers to share the responsibility, but being a daughter was different. She felt a need to personally oversee their care. Rick had hired full-time help, of course. And they were good. There was no doubt about that. Rick's wife,
Martha Ann, was more than willing to let Silas and Sara stay with them, but she had three rowdy boys who were more than a handful, all the same age, triplets. And she was pregnant again. Jo Beth couldn't ask her to take on more responsibility.
There was her brother, Andrew, of course, but he hardly had room for himself and his bird dogs at his little cabin in Boguefala Bottom. Anyhow, Andrew wasn't exactly the stabilizing influence Silas needed. He'd probably have Silas riding wild horses and chasing wild women.
Jo Beth wrapped up her day's work and headed back to the cabin. There was only one thing to do—break off with Colter before it was too late.
o0o
She didn't wait for the night; she drove straight to his camp. He came to the opening of his tepee. Jo Beth fought the urge to run straight to his arms, but she knew that if she went into that tepee, she wouldn't have the willpower to leave.
Hanging one arm over the side of the Jeep, she called, “I need to talk to you. Colter.”
He walked toward her, his moccasins moving silently in the dust and his bare chest gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. He didn't speak until he was standing beside her Jeep.
“I'm listening, Jo Beth.” He put one hand on her arm.
“Don't.” She pulled her arm away. His face gave away nothing, neither surprise nor anger nor hurt. “I can't say what I have to say if you're touching me.”
“Not touching you is pain, Yellow Bird.”
“For me, too.” She looked at him standing beside her Jeep and was sorely tempted to change the nature of her visit. “I've been doing some thinking today, out in the desert by myself.”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is. First I want you to know that you've made me change my mind about falling in love.”
He merely smiled, waiting.
“If there was ever a man I could fall in love with, Colter, it's you. I want to thank you for that.”
“I liked the way you thanked me in the porch swing.”
“So did I, but you don't have a porch swing.” She tried to keep her voice teasing, but the tears kept showing through. Her throat was scratchy with emotion.
“Jo Beth, tell me what's wrong.”
“You always know, don't you?”
“Only because it's you.” He propped his arm on the Jeep and leaned toward her. “Tell me, Yellow Bird.”