by D McEntire
The man was a goner, he silently vowed. What her brother had done was plum cultis and downright snaky. He had no doubt Trevor had meant for her to die. "What came 'bouts the fuss 'tween your pa and Trevor?"
Tears filled Bri's eyes as she answered. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but held still, afraid he wouldn't get an answer if she broke down completely. "My brother complained the entire journey about leaving New York. He wanted to return to the city and threatened to do so by taking our guide, Carlos. When Carlos refused, Trevor killed him."
Brody leaned in and wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek as she sucked in a breath to continue.
"My father thought Carlos had traveled a ways ahead to scout out the trail, but when he found Carlos' horse, he knew what happened." Bri sniffled, the most delicate sniffle Brody had ever heard. Just looking at her, even in tears she was right fetchy, he thought, then mentally kicked himself for being such a cod.
He shifted his body to regain his focus on her story. It was a mighty tear squeezer, but he didn't doubt its truth.
"When father approached Trevor, Trevor admitted to killing Carlos and said we would not be able to go further without the guide. Trevor believed killing Carlos would make my father take us back to New York."
Bri shook her head slowly and dragged in a ragged breath. The sound shook him to the core. Her sorrow seeped into him as if it was his own.
"My father no longer had any patience for Trevor. Harsh words were said between them. My brother struck my father. He had my father on the ground and . . .and . . ."
* * * *
Unable to hold back tears any longer, Bri broke down and sobbed heavily. Everything she'd held inside for the past two weeks came pouring out of her like rapids over a fall.
As Brody embraced her with his strong arms, Bri felt herself being cradled against his chest. His scent she found intoxicating. Her emotions wavered between sorrow at the memory of her father, fear and anger at her brother, and desire to get closer to this man who held her. She wanted to drown her woes in his body. She wanted to unbutton his shirt and press her mouth to his flesh, exactly where her head was right now.
His hand was gentle as it cradled her head. She couldn't stop the hiccups as her tears subsided. Realizing she had soaked his shirt and embarrassed at her breakdown in front of him, she backed out of his embrace. "I'm sorry."
Brody shook his head. "Nuttin' to be sorry for. You been through a mighty hard spell. One no woman should have to abide."
When he leaned back to look at her face, Bri laid a hand on his shirt. "I made a mess of your shirt."
"It'll dry." Brody's soft chuckle at her concern for his shirt warmed her heart and helped eased the ache in her chest.
Suddenly, she realized how close his face was to her; she thought he was going to kiss her. His hand rose to her face, and he used his thumb to wipe away tracks left from her tears. Bri braced herself, waiting for the moment when his lips pressed to hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
"You best be headin' back to the wagon. It'll be time to douse the light in a bit. We leave out at day bust."
Bri's eyes opened, and she blinked at the sound of his voice. He hadn't kissed her. The disappointment landed like lead in her stomach. Bri hoped she hadn't let on what she had expected. She didn't need mortification added to the long list of emotions plaguing her right now. With a small smile she definitely didn't feel, she nodded and took a step away from him. Brody started to move with her, but she held out her hand and shook her head.
"No. there's no call to escort me. You see to your business with your men. Good night." With that, she turned and walked to the wagon, her heart still low in her chest from memories and the longing to feel Brody's lips on hers. At least, a voice in her head whispered and lightened her heart a notch, she'd been gifted with the feel of his warm body against hers when he'd held her while she cried.
Thinking back on it now, the deed surprised her. Most men would take their leave of a woman in hysterics, but Brody didn't hesitate to comfort her. The thought both thrilled and saddened her. He was a man like no other, and a man she could not have.
Bri reached the wagon and climbed inside. She had a throbbing ache low in her belly, something that had begun the moment she wanted Brody to kiss her. The sensation was relentless, and she wished it away.
Settling onto her pallet, she knew even trying to sleep to be useless. Her body could not sleep during the night, and it was hours until daybreak.
* * * *
Brody watched Bri return to the wagon, his eyes settling on the curves outlined in the men's breeches she wore. His body still felt her close, as if she'd never left his arms. She fit him like a well worn glove; reaching his shoulder, just the right height to lay her head.
When he'd stood in front of her, the urge to lean down and kiss those beautiful, trembling lips had been so strong he'd had to clamp his jaw shut. To break the spell, he'd brushed away her tears instead. If he hadn't known better, he would say she'd waited for a kiss. She had closed her eyes, and seemed to have leaned forward. He'd hankered to do just that, but had held himself back.
Now, his groin ached, and he knew there would be no release. He was on the trail and not about to go about buttering his corn while his men slept close-by.
Brody groaned, slid his hands to the front of his pants, and shifted himself. Bri's life was at sixes and sevens, the pain of her brother's deeds written all over her face, and he was not going to put another iron in the fire. She needed comfort, but he wasn't the right man for the job. She needed to be with one of those society nobs, he told himself.
Bri had said she traveled the world with her father and brother. He'd taken the words she chose when she spoke to be proof she'd come for a sound on the goose. No long, dusty trail rides, and no chores of running a ranch house had been her lot. Those things were his life, and all he had to give, he thought grimly.
After running his hands through his hair, Brody returned to the fire knowing he needed to get some shut-eye. The sun rose early, and tonight would be another night with little to no sleep.
* * * *
Bri heard the men moving about the camp. She sat up in her makeshift bed, not having gotten an ounce of sleep. Normally she would have been out prowling in the night, watching the creatures come alive and wander through the darkness -- much like her; but she hadn't gotten the chance.
Last night she slipped out of the wagon, intent on getting the blood her body still needed from one of the beasts sleeping a ways from camp. As soon as she climbed down from the wagon, she'd run into Brody, then had to think of a reason as to why she'd been up and about.
She'd known the reason of necessity hadn't been an option since Brody had been aware of the bucket the Indian had brought her. Instead, she had told him she needed some fresh air due to having difficulty in sleeping.
When she'd remembered their meeting earlier that night, she had quickly returned to her place inside the wagon before she'd flushed with embarrassment.
Bri's body seemed to move like molasses as she crawled to the front of the wagon and peeled aside the tarp. Daylight approached: streaks of yellow, orange, and red colored the eastern sky. She knew if she wanted to relieve herself and break her fast she had better do it now before the sun began to peak over the horizon.
After completing the first of her morning tasks, Bri found herself looking for Brody as she peered out of the rear of the wagon. She didn't find him. Throwing her leg over the wagon's panel, she turned to jump down. Hands gripped her from behind. Bri jumped. Fingers dug into her waist a little higher than she'd like, one hand perilously close to her breast.
"You scared me. I . . ." When Bri glanced over her shoulder, her words caught in her throat. Though the grasp was slightly uncomfortable, she expected it to be Brody once again coming to assist her out of the wagon, but it wasn't. This man's eyes seemed to bore into her, his face had not seen a razor in what looked to be months, his breath could kill a horse, and the smil
e he gave her sent a chill down her spine. Several teeth were missing, and the ones managing to stay rooted inside the black gums were dark and tobacco stained.
More disturbing to Bri than the man's looks and lack of hygiene was the recognition of his scent: the same one she'd picked up the night Brody left food at the creek. This was the man who'd hidden among the trees and waited for her to slip out of hiding. Bri's heart pounded mercilessly in her chest. Once again she'd been so wrapped up in thoughts of Brody she hadn't sensed anyone's approach.
"Reckon I'd help ya, ma'am."
His words were clipped and not at all pleasant. Bri wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this man as possible. Her eyes darted around in hopes of catching any of the other men's attention.
Bri smiled tentatively and attempted to ease out of his grip by moving slightly to the side in hopes of getting the meaning across that the man's attentions were not welcome.
After several anxious minutes suffering his stone-faced stare over her shoulder, she felt his hands release her waist. Bri quickly jumped from the wagon to put some distance between them. She fought the urge to brush his dirt and stench from her clothes. "Thank you, kind sir." She moved to take another step away from him. "I believe I will wash my hands and see Cookie for the morning meal."
The man's cold stare didn't waver. Bri got the feeling he was sizing her up for his next meal.
"You lost, Branson?" Brody's voice was music to her ears, and she almost sagged in relief. Actually, she wanted to run to him and hide within the protection of his strong arms.
"No, sir. Jest helpin' the lady down from the wagin', 'tis all." With that, the man turned on his heels and walked away.
Bri closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart.
"You alright?"
When she opened her eyes, Brody stood in front of her.
"Yes, he surprised me." Bri desperately tried to shrug off the matter. She didn't want to cause any fuss among the men. Brody had enough dealings without having to worry about her and mutiny among his hands. "I thought I would get some breakfast," she said to change the subject.
Brody smiled, a sight so charming it made her legs weak, and she couldn't help but smile in return. His face looked boyish at times, but other times it was firm and set -- not a man to go toe-to-toe with. The idea brought a sense of pride. It was one of the things she liked about him; Brody knew how to handle himself. She wondered how he would handle her.
* * * *
Seeing Branson with his filthy hands on Bri's person ran through Brody like a rock slide. The man was an ornery cuss and not someone you would introduce to your worst enemy.
Brody held in the growl threatening to escape his throat. His mind quickly pointed out the fact the only reason the man remained on the payroll was because Brody's father hired him years ago. He'd felt sorry for the man's inability to find work elsewhere. But it had only taken his father a short spell to learn the why of it. Branson was meaner than a snake and about as poisonous as one; he had to be watched like a hawk. You didn't want to turn your back on him, especially if you were a woman. Stories of Branson's dealing with women had made their way to Brody's ears long ago. He didn't want to scare Bri, but she needed to have care around the man.
Brody told himself he would make sure the man stayed clear from her.
"You give me a holler if'n he gets you bothered up." Without another word, he escorted her to the Chuckwagon.
The men were lining up for breakfast when Bri and Brody joined them. He noticed her glance more than a time or two at the sky. Though it took him a moment, he remembered her trouble with the sun. Glancing up himself, he realized she didn't have long before she needed to return to the covered wagon and out of the sunlight.
"We should be at Fort Worth by tomorrow if'n there ain't any difficulty 'tween here and there," Brody said as he led her away from the wagon. "Have you thought 'bout kinfolk to express?" He glanced at her face as he led her to a place to sit. She seemed to search for an answer, but he had a bad feeling he already knew.
"No. All I had were my father and brother."
"Any friends or partners of your pa's?" he asked handing Bri a tin heaped with the morning's breakfast after she lowered herself to the ground. Knowing he surely barked at a knot, he pushed the subject anyway. He didn't want to leave her in Fort Worth until certain someone would fetch her. Brody settled beside her.
After a few moments, she turned to regard him and offered a slight smile. "My father did have business with a man. As soon as I recall his name, I'll contact him while in Fort Worth. I'm sure all will be fine." She sat her tin down at her feet, then turned and placed one hand over his.
The warmth of her touch shot clear up his arm. At the same moment, it traveled south to his groin. Brody wanted to pull her close, but dared not to in front of his men. He could already feel their eyes on the two of them, and though he didn't care a continental what they thought, he didn't need to suffer their teasing the rest of the trail.
"Brody, you have done so much for me already. Please do not trouble yourself. I'm sure my father's business partner will send for me."
A cloud of dust caught Brody's attention, and he stood. From a distance, and closing in fast, a rider approached. Immediately, he recognized the figure astride the beast: Trace. As the Indian did every morning, Trace had gone ahead a few miles to scout for breaks in the trail or other hazards.
Reaching camp, Trace slowed his mount to a walk then halted, dismounted, and led his horse to where Brody stood beside Bri. Trace was back earlier than usual. In fact, he hadn't expected the man to return for at least another hour.
"Brody. Found wagon in trees," Trace said, pointing in the direction from which he came.
The news caught Brody by surprise. "Any folks with the wagon?"
Trace shook his head as he turned away and pulled an object from his saddlebag then returned to stand before Brody.
* * * *
When Brody stood to regard a rider approaching camp, Bri had to swallow the lump in her throat. No one would be coming to Fort Worth for her. She hated lying to Brody, but she wanted to save him the trouble of fretting over her. He was a rancher with no time for a woman hanging on him like a child to its mother's skirt.
Bri told herself to keep to her story, and once he left her at Fort Worth she would return to hiding. After that she had no idea what she was going to do or how she would survive. But that was her concern, not Brody's. Getting his cattle and men across this dangerous land and through Indian Territory was more than enough weight for one man to bear.
Leaning around Brody, she watched Trace dismount, then speak to Brody before removing an item from his saddlebags. Bri's eyes widened, both in surprise and delight when she recognized one of her gowns in Trace's hands. She jumped to her feet so quickly her tin sailed off her lap and onto the ground, her breakfast flying in every direction.
"My gown!"
Placing her hand on the gown's sleeve, she felt the silk beneath her fingers. Noticing the mass of fabric being pushed closer to her, she glanced up to see Trace offering her the dress. She smiled and accepted it from his hands, then hugged it tightly to her chest.
Bri thought she would never see any of her belongings again, but this gown, this one thing, had made its way back to her. It gave her hope. Maybe her tale to Brody will not be a lie after all. Maybe things will indeed work out somehow.
"The dress was with the wagon?" Brody's voice cut into Bri's thoughts, the word "wagon" suddenly sinking in.
As Trace nodded, Bri could feel her heart race with anxiety. Was it her wagon? Where was Trevor?
Realizing what the presence of the wagon really meant, Bri pushed down the sick feeling washing over her. If the wagon was near, she had no doubt Trevor was close by as well. This also meant the high possibility of Trevor's voice inside her head not being a dream after all.
Bringing herself out of her thoughts, she turned to Trace and placed a hand on his arm
. The man flinched at the touch, but his gaze didn't falter from her face.
Bri didn't know if his sudden movement was because she was a white woman, a woman in general or because she was a vampire. Since his father, Frank, knew what she was, she figured Trace knew as well. Whatever the case, she pushed it aside and thanked him. "Trace, thank you for returning this to me."
Trace gave a curt nod.
Suddenly, Bri realized what she had done with her breakfast, and her face burned with embarrassment. She raised a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my goodness. Look at the mess I made. Cookie is going to be so angry."
Tossing the gown over her shoulder, she bent and retrieved the tin. Finding it covered in dirt and mud, Bri worried her lip. Not because of the food she'd wasted, but because of the mess. Laughter made her look up. She found both Brody and Trace smiling and chuckling softly. It was then she realized she must look a sight on her hands and knees fretting over spilled food.
"Don't you fuss none. Cookie won't say a cross word." As Brody pulled her to her feet, she noticed his smile fade to be replaced by concern. "Want me to dish up 'nother tin for you to eat in the wagon?"
Bri wanted to sigh, curl against him and purr like a content kitten. The man treated her like a precious gift. "No, no. Please, don't go to the trouble. I'm fine." She was lying again. She had taken only a bite or two before Trace had produced the gown, not to mention the fact her need for blood had still not been met. But, she wasn't going to let on to any of those things. Brody didn't need to have a woman underfoot to attend to constantly.
With another word of thanks to Trace and a smile at Brody, Bri turned and made her way to the wagon with the idea of packing her dress away neatly. When they arrived at Fort Worth she hoped to be somewhat presentable, vowing she would not embarrass Brody by having him be seen accompanying a woman wearing dirt and men's clothing.
Bri lay in the bed of the wagon, rocking and rolling as the wooden wheels maneuvered over ruts and holes in the dirt and bounced over rocks. Belly full, thanks to Brody who had not believed her story of not needing breakfast and instead brought her another tin heaped with food, Bri held her gown in her lap. She brushed one of the sleeves over her face, feeling the cool silk on her skin.