by D McEntire
Strands of hair fell across his collarbone, partly hiding a thick neck that called to her. Unable to stop herself, she raised her eyes to meet his. He stood unbearably close with his hands still on her waist and head bent to stare down at her face.
The look in his eyes surprised, but also frightened, her a little. As his intense gaze fixated on her, she heard his heart beat a fast, steady rhythm. The sound thundered in her ears.
For several moments, neither moved. Finally, Brody's grip on her waist loosened. His arms fell to his sides, and he cleared his throat. "How's the ride?"
Bri unconsciously continued her stare. She barely noticed Brody shift his stance and speak again.
"Bri? Everythin' alright in the wagon? It gets purdy bumpy in there."
Bri blinked once, twice, then realized he'd asked her a question. "Oh, no. I'm fine, thank you." She waved off his concern, not wanting to let him know she did feel a little bruised and battered from knocking around in the wagon. The last thing she wanted was for him to think her a weak female. But why she felt so inclined to do so, she had no idea.
* * * *
The minute Brody held Bri's hand in his as he helped her from the wagon he wanted to pull her close and kiss her senseless. Beautiful, with a small face and petite body, her long, black hair was once again in a single braid. He wanted to unbraid it and let it cascade down her back. He itched to feel its silkiness on his fingers.
Her blue eyes were stunning, and the darkness of her hair combined with the paleness of her skin made them shine like a clear day in spring. But several times he'd noticed them dim, and the cause had been plain to see -- wariness, as well as sadness.
As soon as he placed his hands on her waist he knew it had been a mistake. But, he immediately reminded himself, it was the proper thing to do. No man worth his breath would stand back and not assist a lady, leaving her to fall or injure herself. When his hands encompassed her small frame, heat soared through him and spread like wildfire. The sensation so powerful, he grit his teeth not to growl and toss her back into the wagon with him on her heels.
The thought amused him; as if he had a chance with someone like her. Though her men's clothing might say otherwise at the moment, she was definitely a woman of worth. A woman learned in the ways of society and most likely highly educated. He couldn't say the same for himself. Though he could read, was mannerable, and could farm, build, and hunt, he didn't have the gift of gab or the ability to spout soft soap to a woman as those men back East did. He just wasn't cut from the same cloth.
Dropping his hands, Brody immediately felt the loss. Her warmth was gone. He knew he had to step away. Clearing his throat, he tried to think of something to say to push aside his thoughts.
The first thing that came to mind was the long ride this afternoon, so he asked how she had faired. Bouncing around in the bed of a wagon for hours and hours had no doubt been uncomfortable, not to mention far from entertaining. He figured Bri was probably used to padded seats of coaches taking her to dine at hoity-toity restaurants and the like.
Brody closed his eyes a moment. He didn't have time to think about such things, especially when they weren't making him feel fine and dandy about himself. He had many a thing to offer a woman: respect, a home, greenbacks for essentials, and two strong arms to handle whatever needed doing. But what about love?
Funny, he thought, he couldn't seem to answer that question at the moment. His entire life had been spent learning the ropes of running a ranch and cattle driving. Settling down seemed to be one of those things he hadn't taken time to think about. It hadn't seemed all that important. So, why was he thinking about it now?
Knowing he was slipping into a hole his mind was busy digging with these thoughts, he spoke quickly, "I'm sure you'd be a wantin' to wash up 'fore dinner. The pond's not clean. The longhorns already laid claim to it. I can spare a bucket of water since we're not far from Fort Worth."
"That would be wonderful," she said with a smile.
The twinkle his suggestion brought to her eyes lifted his sagging heart. He was finally doing something right.
* * * *
Tarps for curtains had been connected to the side of the wagon for her privacy, and not only had Brody brought a bucket of water, which arrived warm from the fire, he provided a wash rag and soap too.
Bri felt utterly relieved at the thought of being clean. Brody's thoughtfulness warmed her to her toes. With approximately three feet in which to undress and give herself a sponge bath, she relished it like a treasured gift. It occurred to her how something taken for granted in her former life was now a luxury.
Finished with her bathing, she redressed in her borrowed men's clothing, rinsed out the wash cloth, and emptied the bucket onto the ground outside her makeshift tent. Shoving aside one of the tarps, she stopped abruptly, shocked to find Brody leaning against the side of the wagon.
Her cheeks heated at the thought of him standing outside the tarps while she'd washed -- totally naked -- although he could not see through the curtain, or at least she hoped he hadn't been able to.
"Thought I'd remain near 'bouts in case you be needin' anything. Not all the men know'd you were inside. I didn't want anybody interruptin' your privacy."
Bri nodded her understanding, holding down the urge to giggle like a school girl receiving a boy's attention for the first time. To stop herself, she handed him the cloth and soap. "Thank you for letting me use these . . . and for standing guard."
Brody tipped his hat. Bri glanced at his hands, noticing he had also taken the opportunity to wash. "Grubs awaitin'," he said while pointing to the chuck wagon.
Bri allowed him to take her arm, pleased at his manners.
"Come get yer' grub!" Cookie shouted as he ladled stew onto the tins held by the men standing in line.
As Bri took her own place in line, Brody stood behind her. He bent to her ear and whispered, his soft voice sending a wave of chills down her spine. "A body better be knowin' how to be acting at the chow wagon: wait your turn, don't stir up dust, and never, ever, touch Cookie's stuff. That would sure 'nough cause a ruckus, not to mention gettin' somethin' in your food not fit to feed a dog."
Bri put her hand to her mouth to hide her chuckle. Taking another step as the line move forward, she finally stood in front of the cook.
"This here son-of-a-gun stew's my specialty," Cookie told her with a toothy grin.
"I'll get that for you." Brody stepped in front of her and held out a tin for Cookie to fill before she could move.
She caught the amused expression on the cook's face as he spooned on stew, plopped a sourdough biscuit on top of the steamy mass, then heaped on a serving of peach pie. When Brody turned away, she almost laughed when the cook gave her a wink.
Brody took her arm and led her to a place to sit; a patch of soft grass rather than the hard dirt. She felt the warmth of his arm around hers and savored every minute of it, knowing his touch would not come very often as a cattle driving was hard work, not to mention the fact he would soon be leaving her at Fort Worth.
"Is this okay?" he asked, stepping over to the patch of grass.
"Yes. Perfect." Bri would sit on a pile of cow dung if it meant he would sit beside her. She blinked at the thought, covering her sudden chuckle with a fake cough.
"Are you alright?"
Bri nodded and cleared her throat, pretending she had dislodged whatever had caught there. Cutting off his attention to her fake malady, she quickly settled on the grass Indian style, something she would never have managed in a dress and corset.
Brody handed her the tin. Bri couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the peach pie. Bringing the tin up to her nose, she inhaled the aroma and sighed, then glanced around, hoping no one noticed her unladylike behavior.
After picking up her fork and dipping it in the stew, she stopped. Where were her manners? She waited patiently until Brody settled beside her and dipped a piece of biscuit into his stew. At that moment, Bri brought her fork to her mouth and ta
sted. Her stomach growled the moment her taste buds got a hold of the food, and she quickly swallowed, utterly aghast at the noise.
Under her lashes, Bri watched Brody as he ate. Strong jaws flexed as he chewed. Each time he brought his fork to his mouth, she couldn't help but stare at his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. The thought made her breath catch, which she played off with another small cough. Stop it, Bri, before he believes you are ill.
When Brody glanced her way, she quickly lowered her eyes to her plate and moved the stew around to fork up another bite. She felt his eyes on her several times. It made her nervous to eat while being watched, but then again, knowing he seemed to find her interesting made her feel good.
* * * *
Firelight played across Bri's smooth porcelain skin. She had rebraided her hair after bathing. How he longed to see it hanging loose, cascading around her shoulders.
The woman was amazing, Brody thought as he ate his dinner. Most women would be skittish in the dark, jumping at every sound and eyes darting everywhere at once. Not Bri. She seemed at peace as if she enjoyed the night. Her demeanor was quiet, but at ease.
Coyotes yipped in the darkness. They, along with the other night sounds, didn't seem to bother her in the least. Instead, he saw a smile on her face as if she enjoyed the outdoors, at least during the night. But, that didn't correlate with other impressions he had of her. How could a woman with her upbringing not be afraid, especially in this place?
As he studied her, Brody caught her peeking at him from under thick, dark eyelashes, and he wondered what she thought of him. Did she think him a rough-neck cattle driver? Someone whose only skills were ranching and driving longhorns? A man with no book learning or proper upbringing?
Brody did a mental headshake. She probably thought all of those things, and by the way he looked right now -- dirty and dusty from weeks on the trail -- he couldn't blame her. Although he cleaned up the best he could each night, he was certain he still looked as though he'd been run through by a stampede of longhorns, and his clothes probably smelled like it as well.
The men sitting around the campfire chatted and laughed, and every now and again he saw Bri laugh softly at their tall tales. She seemed to listen to everything, watchful of the men's carryings-on.
Brody wandered what it would be like to see Bri join in the hilarity. He wanted to hear her laugh aloud and see a bright smile upon her face, easing the guarded look he noticed she wore when he was near. He discovered he wanted to see the real Bri, the person she'd been before she wound up out here alone. Before they reached Fort Worth he hoped to find out more about her, catch a little of that side, and more importantly learn how she had gotten herself alone in this place.
Most of the men finished their meals and returned their tins to Cookie, then settled back in their places on the hard ground. One picked up a guitar resting beside his saddle and began to stroke the strings. A moment later, another man pulled a harmonica out of his pocket and played along. An upbeat melody had the men tapping their feet or slapping their hands on their thighs to the rhythm. Brody was surprised to see Bri join in, tapping her hands on her pant legs and nodding her head to the beat.
The music swelled as the men grew louder with their night time serenade, but stayed below a level that could spook the cattle. Brody glanced at Bri. For a while she seemed to be caught up in the fun, but then her facial expression changed and her eyes held a far-away look. His curiosity whispered to him to offer a penny for her thoughts and hear the secrets she held inside.
One upbeat song faded into a low, slow one. Brody took the change in pace to ease Bri away from the group so they could talk. He stood and stretched. "Bri, would you like to stretch a bit 'fore turnin' in for the night?"
A wary look crossed her face, one Brody didn't miss. She obviously knew he was going to ask questions, and by the slight tremble of her hands when she fidgeted with her cup, she seemed spooked to give answers. He only hoped she would be truthful and not give him a load of bull.
Holding out his hand, he assisted her to stand, then grabbed her tin and cup. Side-by-side they headed to the chow wagon where Cookie took the items and began cleaning them in a bucket of soapy water.
"We'll just walk over yonder," he told her as he pointed to the trees behind one of the wagons.
She nodded and walked by his side in silence. Brody sensed waves of anticipation coming off her. He noticed she walked stiffly, seeming gathering her thoughts with each step. Her face tense, her mouth stretched in a tight line.
Brody cleared his throat. "I reckon you know what I'm about."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod once.
"I ain't gonna beat the devil around the stump. What in the blazes has you in the prairie by your lonesome?"
For several moments Bri remained silent. Brody gathered she wasn't going to answer, until she finally spoke. "My brother left me here."
The words bounced around Brody's ears like a bullet in a cave. He stopped and grabbed Bri's arm to halt her steps. "You sayin' your brother skedaddled, leaving you high and dry?" Brody's blood was already boiling before he heard her answer.
With a heavy, sorrow-filled sigh that blew through him like a winter breeze, he watched her look away before speaking. "Can we sit over there and talk? I'd rather not try to do this and walk at the same time."
Brody eased his grip but continued to hold Bri's arm as he escorted her to a group of rocks and waited for her to settle before finding his own spot to sit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bri knew this moment would come, and had been dreading it from the time she awoke in the wagon and discovered he had been the one to find her and place her there.
She didn't want to air her family's fallacies, nor did she want anyone's pity. At this point, she didn't really know what she wanted, besides having her happy life back. But that was not going to happen. Right now she had no home, no possessions, and no family except her murderous brother. She didn't even have proper clothes to wear.
Gazing off into the night, she gathered her words and her courage to tell her tale.
"My father, brother, and I left New York a few months ago. We began traveling west, then south." Bri smiled as the picture of her father revealed itself in her mind. Still gazing into the darkness, she continued with the story. "My father wanted a new start for us. We traveled to many countries before coming to this one, and after two years in New York, he believed it time to move on once more."
Brody remained silent. Bri was grateful he listened instead of interrupting.
"The trip was difficult." Bri lowered her head and began fidgeting with the rope she used as a make-shift belt, needing to do something with her hands. "My father and brother had many disagreements. To be honest, my brother never agreed with any of my father's wishes." Bri sighed and shook her head.
"What happened?"
She turned her face to meet Brody's eyes. "He killed my father, took the wagon, and left me here to die."
* * * *
Brody's heart stopped as he heard what Bri said. It took one hard case to kill his own pa and leave his sis to die. Just hard-down meanness, he thought to himself while gritting his teeth.
"You three rode alone?" Surely, he thought to himself, her pa had had the common sense to hire a guide and men armed to the teeth. Especially riding through Indian Territory. Brody held his tongue, not wanting to bad-mouth her kinfolk to her face.
"A guide took us to Chicago, but we had to procure another to take us south," she replied.
Okay . Brody was now wondering what had happened to the guide. If she told him the guide had pulled up stakes, leaving the two feuding males and a lone female to find their own way, he was going to utter curses bad enough to make Cookie cover his ears.
"Bri, what came about the guide?"
For several moments, Bri didn't answer. He watched as she sat straight as a rail. She had turned her face away once more to gaze out into the darkness. Finally, she spoke, her v
oice sounding small to his ears. "My brother killed him as well."
Her answer was far worse than Brody could have imagined, and something he couldn't let fly. Her brother was a mighty bad egg, and was sure as buzzard food if he ever set eyes on him. "How long you be in these parts alone?"
Brody waited while she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them to regard him once more. "About fifteen days."
Riled up, Brody's head was a heap of emotions: anger at her brother, confusion as to why her pa had brought his family to Texas in the first place, and sorrow for what Bri had to abide. "How didja survive?"
An uneasy expression flashed across her face. The very same one he'd seen when he asked her if she wanted to stretch her legs a bit. "I ate raw fish, if I could catch them." She shrugged slightly. "But, mostly I had nothing."
The memory of what he had thought to be a young man sneaking around the camp that first night came to mind. It had been Bri attempting to steal food. Brody bit back a curse, realizing how hungry she must have been.
Red-eyed and clenching his fists at his sides, Brody found himself wanting to know who this lower than dirt brother of hers was so he could kill him with his bare hands. "Bri, what's yer brother's name?"
When Bri started fidgeting again, Brody slid off the rock and used a finger to lift her chin so their eyes met.
"Bri, what's yer brother's name?" He tried to keep the anger he felt out of his voice, afraid she would not answer if she knew what went through his head.
"Trevor." The word was spoken on a whisper, as if she was afraid to utter it, and that didn't sit well with him.
"He ever hurt you, I mean, 'sides leavin' you here?"
Bri shook her head. "No."
"But he's got ya spooked?"
This time she nodded.