White Wolf

by Susan Edwards

  The night before reaching the Platte, Jessie sat in front of the dying embers of the fire, thumbing through her guidebook for information on the famous river. She held the pages up to the lantern beside her and scanned page after page. To her disappointment, there wasn’t much mention of the famous river. When Rook joined her, she turned to him. “Rook, did you know that Platte is French for flat?”

  Rook grunted and lit his pipe. Jessie smiled, well used to his ways. He’d talk when good and ready; then there’d be no shutting him up. “Is it really as flat as everyone says?”

  Settling himself on his box with a block of wood in one hand, his knife in the other, Rook went through his nightly ritual of smoking his pipe. After several minutes, he stuck the stem into the corner of his mouth, then stroked his beard.

  “Ah, so now ya wants to know ’bout the Platte, eh, lass? Well, it’s true. Flatter ’n a pancake, she is. The river is like none other. Floats bottom-side up. Not more ’n a couple inches deep in some places, yet it’s a mile wide.” With his smoldering pipe clenched between his lips, he whittled over the fire. The slivers of wood fell into the flames and caught fire.

  Wolf stepped from the shadows surrounding them. “My people call the river Nebraska. It means weeping water.”

  Jessie held her breath, and her heart fluttered with pleasure when he stepped into the flickering light. It was obvious he’d just come from bathing in the river. Rivulets of water dripped from his long hair and rolled down his bare chest. He hunkered down in front of the fire and held his hands out to the warmth of the glowing embers.

  Drops of water slid from his shoulders and hit the fire, sizzling loudly, sending wisps of steam rising from the pit. Mesmerized, Jessie stared at his profile. She watched the soft glow of light flicker and dance along the hard planes of his face, chasing away the concealing shadows and softening his hard features.

  Her gaze devoured the long, thick lashes shielding his eyes, the gentle slope of his nose and the relaxed set of his full lips. Even his jaw seemed less harsh in the firelight. Desire unfurled deep inside her, but Wolf seemed oblivious to it—and her, she thought sourly. In fact, it seemed as though he’d forgotten her presence entirely as he engaged Rook in a discussion of the coming day. A wave of frustration hit her. He spoke to her only when necessary. And no matter how many excuses she found to speak to him or to see him, she hadn’t been able to break down the barrier he’d erected between them. Her heart ached with deep disappointment.

  At her side, Sadie growled. Wahoska sauntered into their midst, taking his place beside Rook. Jessie glanced down in annoyance. The animals’ animosity toward each other seemed to symbolize that between her and Wolf, a fact she meant to change. “Hush, Sadie,” she commanded, her voice low and husky. During a lull in the men’s conversation, she addressed Wolf. “I talked to James tonight. He thinks we’ll reach Fort Kearny tomorrow.”

  Wolf’s gaze snapped to hers. “We’ll be camped within three miles of the fort by nightfall.” That said, he went back to staring into the glowing embers.

  Jessie swallowed a groan of frustration and ignored the speculative glances Rook threw her way. She tried again to engage Wolf in conversation. “Before we leave in the morning, I’m going to go see Susan Hail’s grave.”

  “Best do it early—before chores. We leave at daybreak.”

  Encouraged, Jessie sighed, resting her chin on her drawn-up knees. “What an incredibly sad and romantic story. Imagine her poor husband burying her, then returning all the way back to St. Joe to fetch a headstone and bring it back here in a handcart.” She watched Wolf from beneath her lashes. No response. Her lips tightened and her gaze narrowed. Some sense of devilment prompted her to ask, “Do you suppose it’s true that she died drinking water poisoned by Indians?” That got a response.

  Wolf whipped his head around, sending drops of water flying. He stood and glared down at her. “More likely she sickened and died from drinking water polluted by too many people and animals camped too close to the water supply,” he snapped. Planting his hands on his hips, he frowned. “Don’t you have something to do besides talk our ears off? If not, why don’t you be a good girl and head off to bed?”

  Stung, Jessie stood toe-to-toe with him. “I’m not a child to be ordered to bed, White Wolf.” Her chin jutted out. “Seems to me that you’re the one who’s touchy as a teased snake. Maybe you should take your own advice and find the nearest hole in the ground to slither into.”

  Picking up her lantern, she turned to leave. “Just in case I’m too busy with my chores in the morning, I’ll go see Susan’s grave now. She’s sure to prove better company than you!”

  The two men watched until the moving light faded, swallowed by the darkness. “Ya gonna let her go off alone in the dark, lad?”

  Wolf glared at his old friend and shrugged. “She can take of herself. Don’t know why she carries a whip. Her tongue can rip shreds off a person without even trying.”

  Rook sent shavings of wood flying. “Reckon you’re right. Jess ain’t no fainthearted town gal who needs a man to protect her from trouble. The lassie’ll be fine out there by herself.”

  Wolf snorted and shrugged his vest on. “Reckon she’ll cause the trouble!”

  Rook calmly wielded his hard blade against the soft wood. “Ya riled her on purpose, lad. Don’t think I can’t see what’s goin’ on b’tween the two of you. I gots eyes, ya know. They may be old, but they’s not blind.”

  “Now you’re the one talking crazy, old man. She’s nothing but trouble.” Wolf paced in front of the fire, shadows dancing around him. After a few minutes, he took off into the prairie.

  Rook grinned and shook his head. Those two were the most stubborn people he knew. He eyed the two animals left behind. They faced one another, low growls coming from both throats. He sighed. “Reckon you two should settle your differences as well.” He went to the wagon and returned with two meat-covered bones. Sitting, he called each animal to him, holding a bone out to each. The dog and wolf snapped up their bones, eyeing each other before plopping down—one on either side of Rook—to gnaw their unexpected treats. Neither animal was willing to leave in case the other was offered more prime scraps.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wolf donned his vest, feeling like a heel. For days he’d done his best to avoid Jessica Jones. It was for her own good. He’d tried to convince himself that he was protecting her from hurt and disappointment, but deep down he knew better. By keeping his distance, he was shielding his own heart from pain.

  The love in Jessie’s emerald-green eyes scared him because he knew there could be nothing lasting between them. To pursue her meant commitment, something he longed to give but couldn’t. And he knew her brothers well enough to know he’d have to deal with them if he hurt their sister. The Jones siblings were close, tight-knit. He was no longer angry at being deceived. Part of him even admired their courage, all in the name of staying together. All he had to do was think of his own siblings. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other.

  Yet, because of his family, his commitment to the People, he couldn’t remain in Oregon, nor could he expect Jessie to return with him when his future was uncertain. Come spring he’d return to his cabin, his horses and his lonely existence. The thought left a hollow ache in his heart.

  Slowing when he neared the faint glow of Jessie’s lantern, Wolf crouched down in the tall grass to watch over her and make sure she returned to camp safely. He plucked a blade of grass and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to see what his eyes couldn’t in the blanketing darkness. To his right, bedded down half a mile away, cattle lowed. Behind him came the quiet murmurs of emigrants preparing for bed. And from somewhere in front came the sound of crying.

  His eyes snapped open and sought the woman he feared he was losing his heart to. The flickering lantern revealed that she was still crouched beside the grave, sobbing. She was right. He was snake-headed. It was his problem that he wanted her so badly he couldn’t sleep, co
uldn’t concentrate on his job. With a sigh of defeat, Wolf went to her.

  Standing behind her, he opened his mouth to apologize, but no words came. Her heartbroken sobs ripped holes in his gut and left him reeling for breath. He stared at his hands, wanting nothing more than to reach down and gather her into his arms, but they fell uselessly to his sides. He feared if he touched her he’d do more than offer comfort.

  Jessie didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his presence, but judging by the set of her shoulders she knew he was there. Tension thickened the air. Wolf hunched down and tentatively laid his hands on her shoulders. Beneath his fingers, she shook as she continued to cry. Swearing, he let his hands follow the taut line of muscles to her neck, then back down as he sought to soothe and comfort.

  Wolf lost track of time as he knelt beside her. Finally her sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup. When she spoke, her voice was low, husky with emotion. Reaching out, she lovingly traced the lettering on the headstone.

  “June second, 1852,” she whispered sadly. “Her husband must’ve loved her an awful lot to have gone to so much trouble to preserve her final resting place so everyone who passes by will remember her. I wonder if she knew how lucky she was to have found a love so strong that even in death she wouldn’t be forgotten.”

  He felt her shudder. Staring down at the top of her bent head, he fastened his gaze on the back of her neck where her silky black curls had fallen aside. He twirled the fine strands around his fingers, then his hands slipped beneath the dark curtain of hair and slid forward to her face. He felt the wetness dripping from her chin and closed his eyes against the pain that cleaved his heart in two. Tenderly, he stroked her tears away with his thumbs.

  She glanced over her shoulder and her haunting green gaze captured his. His insides squeezed. When she spoke, he had to lean close to hear. “I’m sorry, Wolf. It’s not your fault. I’m too boyish. Men want women who are beautiful—like Coralie—or they want someone like their mother, someone who will cook, clean and bear children.”

  Her chin came up. “That’s not me. I’ll never be able to stay home and cook and sew all day.” She waved her hands. “Look at me. I don’t wear my brothers castoffs because they’re all I have. I wear men’s trousers and shirts because I’m not comfortable wearing a dress.” Fresh tears welled. Wolf watched her fight them back. Her jaw tightened and her nostrils flared. “I know and accept that I’m not woman enough for a man like you.” Her lower lip trembled despite her brave words.

  “Oh, hell.” Wolf pulled her against him, turning her so she sat in his lap. Rocking her, he smoothed the hair from her face. “Ceye sni yo. Don’t cry, Jessica. Don’t do this to yourself. You were right. I’m a low-down, rotten snake. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault,” he murmured.

  The dam holding back her tears broke. “Look at me, Jess,” he whispered, using the nickname he knew she preferred. She shook her head, hiding her face in her hands. Wolf cupped her chin in one hand, forcing her to look at him.

  She stared up at him, her eyes luminous in the moonlight. He wiped the tears away. “What’s this about your not being woman enough?” She sniffed and tried to look away, but Wolf held firm.

  “It’s true. I don’t blame you for wanting Rosalyn,” she said.

  Wolf sighed and pulled her closer. So much for trying to keep his distance. When the soft curve of one breast brushed against his arm, he nearly groaned aloud. “You foolish girl, I’ve never kissed Rosalyn Norton. Nor do I plan to kiss her, or do anything else with her. You are much more of a woman than she. You have what it takes to live anywhere and survive. Not everyone can do that, Jess. You should be proud to be a strong woman.”

  “But you said—”

  Wolf silenced her with a finger pressed against her lips. “Don’t remind me. I know what I said, but it wasn’t true. I wanted to make you mad so you’d stay away.”

  “But why?”

  Wolf drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he struggled with his emotions. “Listen to me, Jessica. I’m not the right man for you. You need someone who can make a commitment, someone who can stay in Oregon and marry you—like Elliot. You don’t need a half-breed who doesn’t know what he wants in life. You need—”

  Jessie turned in his arms, rising up onto her knees, her eyes filled with longing, her lips full and inviting. Her fingers slid up and over his shoulders until she caressed the back of his neck, bringing her face close to his. Her warm breath rolled across his lips. She sighed. “What do I need, Wolf? Show me what I need.”

  Unbridled desire flooded him. He’d never wanted anyone or anything as much as this green-eyed enchantress. Her lips, full, pink and lush, tempted him. Her breath, innocently alluring, drove all his hard-won resolve from him. Closing his eyes, hp drew a shaky breath. Pain sliced through him. Refusing her was sheer torture.

  He wanted nothing more than to stroke the moist flesh of her inner mouth with his tongue and savor the sweet scent of her. Passion raged inside him, but he held back, afraid of frightening her with the enormity of his desire. His hands framed her face, held her captive as his gaze roamed over her features, seeing the ghost of pain and rejection in her eyes.

  “Please, Wolf, show me how to please you,” she pleaded. Her lips trembled, and the green of her eyes swam in a pool of despair.

  Wolf crushed her to him, unable to deny either one of them what they both wanted and craved. He thrust his tongue past her parted lips, taking her with a savage need that rocked him to the soul. A low groan rose up in his throat.

  He tried to draw back, to go slowly and gently, but Jessie would have none of it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she held him to her, her passion matching his as her tongue snaked out to tease and torment his.

  Their mouths mated as they each relearned the feel, texture and taste of the other. Locked in each other’s arms, they fell to the soft bed of grass. Jessie lay sprawled across Wolf under the bright canopy of stars and moonlight. Wolf showed her with his lips what he needed while his hands stroked the gentle sway of her back and inched down to grip her buttocks, pulling her against him for one brief moment before rolling her beneath him.

  When he pulled away, Jessie stared up at the man she was falling in love with. The soft grass pillowed her head, and her mouth burned from the heat of his kisses. More. She wanted more. Her eyes begged him to return to her. Wolf lowered his head once again, his lips searing a path along her jaw and down her throat, pausing to linger at the hollow he found there.

  A shiver of anticipation ran through her when his fingers feathered down the center of her chest, then splayed over her belly. When his hand brushed the underside of her breast, her breath caught in her throat. He cupped the slight mound of firm flesh, and the warmth of his palm caressing her left her gasping and clutching his shoulders. A throbbing ache began between her legs. “Please, Wolf,” she said in a whimper. Her voice ended on a husky gasp when his fingers kneaded one cloth-covered nipple, bringing it to a hard, throbbing peak. Her breast swelled in its eagerness for his loving attention. In that moment, Jessie felt like a woman.

  He unbuttoned her shirt, the brush of fingers warm against her bare skin. Need, want and desire now warred with embarrassment and shame. She stopped him, pulling her shirt closed. “Wolf—”

  His lips moved over hers. “I want to see you, Jessica. I need to see you,” he whispered, his lips meeting hers in a brief, teasing caress.

  Eyes wide, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m not much of a woman there, Wolf,” she confessed, her voice small, filled with uncertainty.

  Wolf laughed, the sound soft, not unkind as he traced the curve of her jaw. “Sweet Jess. What I felt was very womanly. Trust me.”

  Shy and uncertain, she stared up at him. “Okay, but your vest goes first.”

  Wolf sat up, his gaze holding hers, but before he could shed the softened deerhide, Jessie rose to her knees and pulled the garment from him, then splayed her fingers out over his chest. Her unbut
toned shirt parted to reveal creamy, smooth skin.

  Jessie’s fingers threaded a path through the furry mat of springy curls that begged to be touched and caressed. To her surprise, he shuddered when her fingers rubbed his nipples. Moving her hands upward over the hard planes of his chest, she stroked the breadth of his shoulders, then leaned into him, bringing them flesh to flesh, hardness meeting softness. Jessie’s head lolled back as she reveled in the rough texture abrading her sensitive flesh.

  Wolf moaned and shoved her shirt down her arms. When her breasts were bared to his hungry gaze, he gripped her waist with both hands and slid his lips down the side of her neck, leaving a trail of heated flesh in his wake. One arm supported her from behind, while the other drifted down to stroke her belly, moving ever upward. Slowly he bent her over his arm until golden moonbeams revealed her aroused flesh to him. His fingers, rough and callused, caressed one rosy peak.

  Jessie cried out. Her fingers dug into his arms as waves of new and wonderful sensations swirled through her, leaving her weak and giddy. Then she was lying on the ground, his mouth warm and wet as it closed over one straining breast. Her back arched as he licked, laved and worshiped until she feared she’d burst.

  When his lips pulled away and moved to her other straining nipple, the night air brushed over her moist skin, making her shiver with awareness. Again his tongue stroked and teased before his lips closed over the tight bud, drawing it into his mouth to suckle. Jessie gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. “Don’t stop,” she begged, moving restlessly under him.

  Wolf groaned and lifted his head for a brief moment before resting his forehead against her desire-flushed skin. “God, Jess, we’ve got to stop. Now.” When she protested, he laid a finger against her lips. “Trust me. If we don’t, I’ll take you right here, right now.”