“Besides, they have all that cake and chicken to put away. I left a bottle of whiskey, too, so don’t worry your pretty head. They won’t suffer without us.”
“I should have stayed to see Myra off,” she said.
“The preacher said he’d get her to Cortez and from there she can take the stage to Durango. You’re not worried about her being alone with the preacher, are you?”
“Not as worried as I am about the preacher being alone with Myra. I’m sure by the time they reach Cortez he’ll be well versed in Emerson and New Thought.”
“Is she taking that turtle?”
Jessica smiled. “I’m afraid so.” Three or four bumps later she added, “I’ll miss her.”
Rory snapped the reins and laughed. “Not for long. She said she’ll be back for Christmas.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” She watched him carefully, hoping to gauge the truth of his answer.
He turned to smile into her eyes. “I want whatever makes you happy, Jess.”
“I love you.” She reached up to touch his cheek and almost fell off the high seat.
Rory laughed, winked, and said, “Hold on, Jess. You’ve already got a bum shoulder. I don’t want to lose my wife before the honeymoon.”
Jessica blushed again and let a few silent moments pass while they bounced along. They seemed to be heading for a high-walled canyon. Behind them, the contents of the wagon shifted and rattled beneath a tarp. She had no idea what he’d brought along—that, too, was a secret.
Two hours later, just when she was starting to think, ‘some honeymoon,’ they entered the high walls of a river canyon that she recognized as the same one they had traveled through on the way to identify Jerome Stoutenburg’s body, the canyon where they had spent the night beneath the stars. She looked to the rim far above them and thought of Piah, of the night he had watched them make love, and she shivered.
Rory was watching her. He reached out and took her hand, covered it with his own, and squeezed her fingers gently. “Don’t worry. No one can hurt us now.”
Having given up on asking him about their destination, she simply inquired, “Are we almost there?”
“Just about.”
Jess studied the canyon. The river was still shallow, but the water rushed clear and steady over the rocky bed. Willow and cottonwood grew along the canyon floor. One wall was shaded, the other still ablaze with late-afternoon light.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking about the canyon walls. The formations are subdivided into a lower marine series and an upper or freshwater series of strata. The upper are the Jura; thus the term ‘Jurassic’ is given to the period in which it was formed.” When she realized she had slipped into a professorial tone, she turned to him. “What were you thinking?”
“I was wondering just how long it would take to get you out of all that lace. How am I supposed to get all those little tiny buttons open?”
“If you’d let me pack, I would have included a button hook,” she told him primly.
He merely smiled.
RORY PULLED UP on the reins, let the wagon slow to a stop behind the horses, and then set the brake. “We’re here,” he announced.
Jessica let go of the wagon seat and stared around the canyon. They were two miles south of the place they had once spent the night on the sandbank, alone with the song of the river and the sky clear and blue above them.
He jumped down, walked around the wagon, and helped her down. “Watch your dress,” he warned, grabbing the hem as it nearly caught on the high, spoked wagon wheel.
When he had her safely on the ground, he kissed her, bent her over his arm in a romantic embrace worthy of the cover of a dime novel.
Breathless when he released her, Jessica smiled up at him. “I must look a sight,” she said, trying to straighten the crown of flowers that rode atop her hopelessly ruined hairstyle.
He reached out, removed the pins one by one, handed them to her, and then gently untangled the wreath of flowers from her hair. She shook her long hair free until it hung down her back.
“There,” he said, carefully setting the flower wreath on the wagon seat, “now you look perfect.”
“Perfect? I’m dusty, disheveled, sweaty, and starving.”
“The first three sound delicious. I can take care of the starving.” He walked to the back of the wagon and began to untie the tarp. Throwing the ropes aside, he felt Jessica walk up behind him.
“What is all that?”
“A picnic basket, well stocked. Your valise—kindly packed by Myra—bedrolls, pillows, a tent in case it rains, a fry pan, a few bottles of wine, various and sundry other surprises.” More than pleased with himself, he tucked his thumbs in his pockets and rolled back on his heels.
Jessica entwined her fingers and shrugged. “Where do we begin? I’ve never been on a honeymoon, you know.”
“Well, seeing as how the dress has, I was thinking it might just fall off of its own accord.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She looked down and smoothed the intricate lace. “Do you think your mother would mind my altering it?”
He closed the distance between them and took her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed her palm, her wrist, and then the bend of her elbow. “I don’t think she could be anything but pleased with the woman inside it.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Rory?”
“What?”
She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Maybe it’s time we got down to the honeymoon part.”
“No doubt about it.”
The long row of nineteen covered buttons didn’t pose a bit of a problem, nor did the removal of Jessica’s high-button shoes. Rory smiled triumphantly as he slipped the long, silver buttonhook back into her valise and turned around to help his bride slide the heavy lace off.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he told her as he kissed her shoulder and then carefully pushed her dress down to her waist. Her breasts rode high and firm against the frilly trim of her chemise.
“I love you,” she said in response.
He held her hand while she stepped out of the dress, then he picked it up off the ground and laid it across the wagon seat. Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and boldly pressed against him. He dipped his head to kiss her, explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and didn’t stop until they were both eager for much more.
Rory bent down and slipped his arm beneath her knees. She hooked hers about his neck and let him carry her to the back of the wagon. He set her on the wagon bed and she frowned, disappointed when he didn’t jump up beside her.
“Where are you going?” she said, pouting. “Do you just plan to leave me sitting here in my skivvies?”
“Not for long. Pretty soon you’ll be sitting there in nothing.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a good place to set up camp.”
“Do you have to do that right now?”
He stopped and turned around. Mimicking her, he put his hands on his hips and gave her a knowing half smile. “Do you plan to boss me around for the rest of our natural lives?”
Jessica folded her arms beneath her breasts and didn’t say another word until he turned away and then she mumbled, “Only when you need it.”
A few minutes later he had spread out the bedrolls near a fallen log, set up a fire ring, and filled a bucket with water. “Can I get down yet?”
“I’ll lift you down,” he said, making good on his word.
He led her to the pallets, held her hand while she sat down, then sat down beside her. He handed her a clean towel that was folded at the end of his bedroll. “I thought you might feel better if you washed o
ff some of the dust.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Here.” He took the cloth from her. “Let me.”
Dipping the towel in the bucket, he wrung it out and then slowly, carefully, moved the soothing, tepid dampness over her cheeks and nose. Jessica closed her eyes and he pressed the cloth gently against one then the other. She tilted back her head and he swabbed her neck, her shoulders, the crevice between her breasts.
Jessica licked her lips and opened her eyes. Immobile, he was staring down into them.
“Let me,” she said, wresting the cloth from his hand.
As he unbuttoned his white pleated shirt and pulled it out of his waistband, she dipped the cloth back into the bucket and then squeezed the water out of it. He was bare to the waist, his biceps knotting as he unbuttoned the front of his trousers and slid them down.
“Damn it,” he grunted.
“What?”
“Boots. I forgot to take off my boots.”
Jessica giggled and pressed the wet cloth against her forehead while he struggled to get his boots off, shuck out of his pants, and keep his balance on the bedroll.
“You can look up now.”
She did. He was sitting naked as a newborn on the blankets, but there was nothing that resembled a babe about him. Except maybe the glow beneath his tan cheeks.
Jessica got to her knees, pushed him back until he lay across the blanket, and began to stroke his eyes and then his lips with the wet cloth. She brushed it across his shoulders, down his chest, and followed the dark trail of crisp hair that tapered down to the thatch from which his manhood sprung erect and throbbing.
She touched him there, moved the wet cloth over him again and again, slowly at first, then faster—gently at first, then with added pressure. He groaned aloud.
Jessica smiled. “I think I’ll take to this marriage business.”
He could barely utter the words. “I knew you would if you gave it a chance, Professor.” Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her down beside him before she could torment him any further.
“Wait. Please.” She sat back up, hastily took off her underclothes, and then stretched out next to him, lying on her uninjured shoulder.
He stroked her neck, traced her ear, cupped her breast. Jessica slid up against him, felt his skin next to hers. She slipped her fingertips into the swirls of hair matted across his chest. His heart was beating hard against her palm.
“Make love to me, Rory,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait.”
He gently shifted her until she lay on her back, then rose above her, amazed to find her slick and ready for him already. “Are you bossing me around again, ma’am?”
“I said please, didn’t I?”
“No. But it doesn’t matter,” he said.
Jessica lifted her hips, nudged him, teased him, begged him without words until he slid into her so far that she gasped and then cried out, unable to hold back.
Rory steeled himself while she shuddered around him. When she settled down, when her cries subsided to mere whimpers, he began to move again. Over and over he drove into her, bringing her back to life, rekindling the fire inside her until she was dewed with sweat, clinging to him, riding him high with her legs wrapped about his waist.
He dipped and bucked, felt her rasping breath as it teased his ear, heard her moans turn to mewling cries, and knew he was about to explode. “Hold on, Jess. Hold on to me.”
She did. He drove full length inside her and let go his seed. Their cries of release blended into echoes that reverberated off the canyon walls.
HE KISSED HER temple and held her close as she slept in his arms. The afternoon was almost over, the sun slipping out of the canyon. Rory knew he had never felt as happy or as complete, and now that he had Jess, things would only get better.
He thought about getting away long enough to prepare dinner and then awaken her with a kiss. She snuggled closer and he let time pass by without moving. He closed his eyes, willing to join her in sleep for a few more moments, until a shot rang out.
He dove over her, covering Jessica with his body. She woke up screaming.
“What is it? Who’s shooting at us?”
He shoved her head down and pinned her there. Where was his gun? Why in the hell didn’t he have it nearby?
Cursing himself for not wanting to wear a gun on his wedding day, he heard another shot ring out. It splintered a rock nearby and sent fragments shooting in all directions. Another bullet followed almost immediately and pinged off of a boulder not far from the wagon.
He grabbed Jessica’s arm and shouted, “Come on!” and in a crouch, ran with her to the side of the buckboard. They huddled beside it, Jessica shivering, her arms crossed over her breasts.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out.” He reached beneath the tarp and pulled out a rifle and his gun belt. He handed her the revolver.
Another bullet cracked through the canyon, the sound reverberating off the canyon walls. “Whoever he is, he’s up there.” Rory pointed to a spot halfway down the canyon wall. “You aim that way and fire. Don’t use up all the bullets at once, space them evenly. I’m going to run up to that boulder and try to get closer.”
“Oh, God, Rory. You’re naked.”
Another shot hit the dirt close to the wagon wheel.
“Honey, I’d rather be naked than dead. Count to three and start shooting.”
She counted and fired. He ran. Jessica squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger a second time. The hidden gunman shot back. Rory crouched low behind the boulder, waiting for the man to reveal enough of himself to make a target.
Jess fired again.
Rory’s head went up over the rock and a bullet ricocheted beside him.
Jess screamed.
“Keep shooting. Don’t worry about me,” he told her.
She fired again. Two bullets were left.
There was movement on the ridge. Rory’s rifle barrel flashed and a shot rang out.
With a shout, the man on the ridge stood to his full height. Rory fired again and their assailant pitched headlong into the canyon.
Jess dropped the gun in the dirt and ran to Rory’s side. His gaze never left the place where the sniper’s body disappeared into the brush. He slipped his arm around Jessica.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Still shaking. Are you?”
He kissed her temple. “I’m fine. Get dressed. I think that was Chako, Piah’s nephew.”
“Do you think he was alone?”
“He was alone or someone would still be shooting at us.”
SHE DRESSED AND waited with the loaded gun in her hand beside the wagon. Still shivering despite the heat, she didn’t move until Rory was back.
“It was Chako.”
“The boy?”
“Yep. He’s dead.”
She set the gun down and stood up. “Do you think any more of them will come?”
He shook his head. “No. From what I heard from the sheriff when he notified the BIA and then went over to the reservation himself after Carmichael’s death, Piah and his men were acting alone. The rest of the Utes either had no knowledge of his plan or wanted nothing to do with it.”
“But the boy—”
“He was never seen again after the night Piah and the others died. I thought he might have died in the cave or run off, but he must have been hiding out here in the canyon. When he saw us, he probably thought he could avenge Piah’s death.” He moved away, intent on starting a fire.
Jessica looked off toward the spot where the boy died. “It’s all so terrible.”
Rory paused with an oak branch in his hand. “It’s all over now. I covered him with rocks, the way his
people would have.” He looked into her eyes, tried to measure the depth of her fear. “If you want, I’ll take you home.”
She frowned. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I would like to stay until morning, at least. It’ll be easier traveling in daylight. We aren’t in any danger, but if you don’t want to stay, I’ll understand.”
Dusk had settled around them. She knew he was right. Still, she wondered if she would be awake all night waiting for someone else to attack them. “How did you feel when you knew you had to get back on Arthur the bull?”
He smiled. “Scared out of my wits.”
“But you did it.”
“Yep.”
“Well”—she sighed and resigned herself to facing her fear—“I guess that’s about how I feel right now, but I’ll stay.”
He dropped the wood into the fire ring and went to her side. “Good. I’ll make it worth your while.”
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Jessica carefully scrambled over rocks, artfully avoiding branches and gravel as they worked their way up a sloped slide area a few yards downriver from the campsite.
She hollered up to Rory, “Where are we going now?”
“Keep moving.” He paused to watch her struggle upward. “Do you need help?”
Quite testy, she snapped back, “Of course not. Let’s just get this over with.”
“I don’t know why you’re so out of sorts.”
“Me? Me out of sorts?” She huffed and puffed, praying no one rode into the canyon and caught her running around in her underclothes. Jessica told herself not to worry, that it was his land after all, that he had warned his hands away from the canyon for at least four days. “I don’t know why you think I’m out of sorts. After all, yesterday was my wedding day. I was up before dawn, married, trundled off in a wagon, dressed and undressed, then shot at. Today you force me to march up the side of a mesa in my chemise and pantalets.” She stopped to catch her breath, dared to look downhill, regretted the move, and then yelled up at his back, “Of course I’m not out of sorts!’’
“You forgot to add the part about lovemaking.”
Past Promises Page 35