“Good.” Haskwell smiled, his brogue deepening. “Miss Honey isn’t herself tonight. I’ll take care of that. Meanwhile, you keep your mouth shut. Understood?”
The barkeep nodded. It wasn’t worth his life. He watched as Sam roughly dragged the young showgirl away, her feathers bobbing like a plucked hen’s. He had seen the abject misery in her eyes, but there was nothing he could do about it. Cursing, he returned to the bar and counted out his receipts.
It was a bad night all around.
The campfire oranged the night black sky, sending ribbons of flame and cinders sparkling into infinity. They had crossed the Texas border earlier that day, and already the wagon train was breaking up. The religious families headed east for places like Dallas, while the cowhands, their pockets jingling with coins, went on to Decatur.
Amanda sighed, turning over in the wagon. Jake and Aileen had gone to bed early, to prepare for their arrival in Waco tomorrow. Luke was still up. She could see him walking, his hands thrust in his pockets against the chill, his face harsh and thoughtful. He had done the work of three men that day, getting the cattle together, organizing the gradual drop off of the families, and keeping to the trail. She knew he was tired, but like a moonstruck animal he paced, his hand-rolled cigarette a red taper in the blackness.
For some reason, she shared the feeling. Every muscle in her body was as tight as a fiddler’s string, and her nerves jumped with the slightest noise. Annoyed at herself, she braided her hair and wondered why the wagon seemed so empty, why she felt so alone. Aesop watched her with wide, unblinking yellow eyes, but even his presence didn’t soothe her. Picking up her pencil, she stared at the page, but it stared right back at her—white and unfilled.
They would be arriving in Waco tomorrow. There would be a solicitor in town, of that Amanda was certain. Luke would seek him out, put an end to this marriage, and then the two of them would—
Would what?
They had planned to share the ranch, in an equal partnership. But how could they now, after sharing so much? Try as she might, Amanda could not imagine Luke acting as foreman, and herself as his ranch teammate. Every time she tried to envision any kind of working relationship, she drew a blank as empty as her paper. They had been intimate. They had lived as husband and wife. True, she had fought him every step of the way until recently, when he’d made life more pleasant than she could have dreamed possible— but she had always wanted him.
What did Luke Parker want from her?
It was a question that couldn’t be answered. Frustrated, Amanda went back to her work. Books had always helped her when she was upset, but she discovered that now nothing did. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mind, normally brilliant, would not even piece together a sentence. Exasperated, she tossed the pencil aside, barely missing Aesop, who ruffled his feathers indignantly and turned his head around away from her.
She wanted him. Amanda knew what the ache in her stomach meant, and also knew that tonight might be her last chance. Something had happened between them that day, when he had encouraged her to cross the river and conquer her fears, something that made her wonder if she could overcome her biggest fear of all.
Her nightgown clung to her and she plucked at the thin cotton fabric, peeling it away from her damp skin. It was useless. She picked up her journal, wrapped a worn knitted shawl around her shoulders, then stepped outside to the star-studded night.
He sensed her at once, the way a wolf startles when a man enters his space. Amanda saw him near the campfire, framed in orange and black, his face half-hidden in the darkness. Without a word, he extended a cup to her, holding it out like a child tempting a timid bird.
Amanda entered the circle of light, aware that they were alone, and that the prairie had taken on a deep stillness that spoke of the late hour. She took the cup, accepted his offering, accepted him. What was it that made him so compelling, that made her body lean toward him as if of its own accord? Was this what was meant by a mating urge? Perhaps, Amanda dimly reasoned, there was more to lovemaking than what she’d already experienced. And even if it was just for the man alone, then tonight—to hold him, kiss him, let him touch her—it was worth it.
He still said nothing, but simply picked up her heavy braid of hair and kissed it. His fingers toyed with the silken rope as if with an aching desire to undo it, to run his fingers through its chestnut length the way she’d done earlier in the evening, when she and Aileen had washed down at the river. When he lifted his face, Amanda could see that his beautiful blue eyes were filled with everything she was feeling.
And wanting.
Silently, she held out the journal, the cream-colored pages whipping enticingly in the night wind. Luke glanced down at the book, and understood immediately the significance of her offering. She was giving herself to him, telling him in the most eloquent way she knew just what he meant to her. His eyes filled, and he fingered the manuscript, knowing that he could never live from this moment unscathed. He had become a part of her, and forced her to become a part of him. Little by little she had chiseled away at him. This odd woman with her sea-colored eyes and piercing intelligence meant more to him than every soft, girlish southern belle he’d ever known.
He handed back the notebook, giving her a smile that she would remember in her dreams. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered. “I understand.”
Tears rolled down Amanda’s cheeks as she took her precious journal, the writing a scrawling blur. She clutched the book against her breasts, her toes curling in the sand against the chill. Her lips parted when his mouth brushed hers, then she eagerly met him, her cheeks wet, her body responding joyously.
“‘Knowledge without reason is love,'” she whispered. “Amanda Edison.”
Chapter
20
Luke laughed softly, the sound sensual in the warm open air. Amanda shivered when his body left hers as he climbed into the wagon, then felt the steaming warmth once more when he took her in his arms. The intensity between them deepened when their eyes met and recognized the mutual feeling between them. For a moment Luke simply held her, then kissed her softly, fully, arousing her as if they’d never been together and he was a lover newly welcomed.
It felt good to have him hold her, good to feel the strength in his arms, and the sensation of desire returned. Amanda could smell the campfire on him, the sharp, cutting scent mingling with the smell of the outdoors and the spice of the pines. His hands felt cold and rough, yet their difference against her skin was compellingly sexual. Perhaps it was meant to be this way, she thought, then he kissed her and she couldn’t think at all.
No one kissed like Luke Parker, Amanda was certain of that. Demanding and forceful, yet persuasive and tender, he was capable of making a woman forget just about anything. When he unbuttoned the fasteners of her nightdress, Amanda sighed and helped him. Both of them were aware that Aileen and Jake slept nearby, that they couldn’t make noise, but the silence and the warm darkness seemed to add to the erotic atmosphere around them. As the nightgown fell down around her waist, Amanda looked up into Luke’s passion-drugged eyes and felt completely lost to the powerful sexuality of the man. She let him draw her into his embrace, the softness of her half-naked body warmed by the smoothness of his worn buckskins and the man beneath.
Luke cupped her breast, feeling her heart beat wildly beneath his calloused fingers. He wanted nothing more than to take her now, to lie her back in the wagon and bury himself deep within her hot female sweetness. Forcing himself to remember her first experience, he gentled his kisses, taking his time to arouse her thoroughly. His mouth lowered, then took the bloom of her nipple between his lips, his tongue flicking over the diamond-hard point. Amanda arched instinctively, her head supported by his encircling arm, her hair spilling backward in a glossy chestnut wave. Her eyes opened slightly, turquoise pools that were smoky and hot, framed by damp lashes as she looked at him pleadingly.
“Now, Luke. Please.”
Her voice was a sultry whispe
r, more arousing in the stillness than he’d ever dreamed possible. Ignoring her plea, he let his hand trace enticingly up from her knee, to beneath the hem of her nightdress. His mouth took hers as she moaned—his hand, warm and gentle, encountered the silky bare skin of her thigh. Amanda’s body spasmed as he lifted the material aside, and his fingers raked through the soft brown curls, and downward.
She would have cried out except for his mouth on hers, stilling her words, his fingers bringing her enormous pleasure. She squirmed, helpless with desire as he lifted the rest of the nightgown over her head, then yanked it out of the way. Free from the restraining garment, she lowered herself down onto the wagon bed with Luke, barely aware that he had shucked his own clothes. When he joined her, as naked as herself, his body outlined by the firelight and the dim lantern, she smiled joyously and ran her fingers down the firm, muscular length of him.
Amanda felt him suck in his breath, and the knowledge that she could excite him with her inexperienced hands made her brave. Ignoring the passionate warning in his eyes, she boldly stroked him the way he’d touched her, and was gratified to see his eyes close and his breathing quicken. It was a wonderful, powerful feeling to arouse a man deliberately, and when his mouth crushed hers roughly, his hand impatiently parting her thighs, Amanda knew she’d pushed him to the limit.
“Amanda.” She could barely hear his whisper. “Are you ready? Do you want me?”
She nearly cried out, but answered with her body, arching her back to take him. Experiencing a moment of fear as he poised between her legs, she relaxed as he seemed to sense her hesitation and instead of burying himself within her, he slowly entered her, one small bit at a time. Now, there was no pain, only the sensation of her body expanding, her hot wetness closing around him, welcoming him within her. Amanda urged him on, fully aroused now and wanting the fulfillment that she sensed he would give her this time. Yet deliberately, he teased her, making her want him even more, allowing her body time to get used to this intrusion before giving in to what they both craved. As he thrust more deeply within her, she was so aroused and so ready that the passion began for her almost immediately. Everything was obliterated for her except wanting, and her entire world was reduced to what was happening to her in that moment. Luke thrust into her again and again, and her body responded, aching for it, wanting everything he could give her.
And then it happened. Amanda’s eyes flew open as her body reached its pinnacle and climaxed with wave after wave of emotion. Clutching his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his, she pulled him tightly to her, overwhelmed with joy. Her reaction was so honest and unrestrained that any control Luke exerted was lost. Spilling his seed deeply within her, he held her in his arms, her heart beating wildly against him, echoing his own.
Then, she started to giggle. At first, Luke couldn’t believe the sound that came from within her, a soft, girlish laughter that sounded as sweet as a tinkling bell. Stifling her with a kiss, he smiled in the dark wagon.
“What’s so funny?” he whispered.
“Nothing,” Amanda sighed, contentedly. “It’s just that I’ll have to reformulate my thinking that females don’t derive pleasure from lovemaking.”
“Are you saying that you’ve changed your mind?” Luke grinned.
Amanda smiled, then reached for him, deciding that, at times, it didn’t pay to explain.
She showed him instead.
Jake and the others awoke the following morning, and with them came reality. Luke rose to meet them, then returned with a cup of scalding hot soup and a few doughy biscuits stuck on a stick. Alone in the dim interior of the wagon, Luke insisted upon feeding Amanda bites of the delicious bread and sips of the soup. It was like having a picnic, hidden from parental prying eyes. When she finished, he helped her dress, reluctantly pulling a soft wool gown over her slender body that was still pink and glowing from love-making.
Like two children, they giggled and played. Luke tried to pull on her boots, but it was difficult to slip the tightly laced leather over her finely shaped feet. Laughing, Amanda tried to help him, and ended up tumbling backward in the wagon. Luke’s eyes warmed, and she would have stayed there far longer if Pop Finnegan hadn’t called out.
“Waco! Got to get on the trail. Everyone ready?”
“Jesus,” Luke swore, while Amanda blushed hotly. He took her hand, loving the way she looked this morning, her hair tumbling about her shoulders, her skin radiant. Even her eyes glowed, reminding him of an ocean at sunset, warm and filled with soft colors. “You’ll ride with me today?” It was a question, very unlike Luke—uncertain and tinged with a fleeting shyness.
Amanda smiled. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else. As Shakes— I mean, I would love it.”
Waco! Amanda sat in the front of the wagon, adjusting her glasses to get a better view of the town. If anything, it was even rougher and wilder than Abilene. Cattle roamed through the streets as cowhands tried in vain to keep some semblance of order, but no one seemed to notice or mind. Well-dressed men and woman tended their shops, which appeared scarcely more than a few seasons old. The saloon and the hotel looked established, but everything else had the new look of a business that had yet to weather bad times. Ships lined the Brazos River, filled with cotton and cattle products, returning with just about everything else. Amanda saw barrels of rum, kegs of good Kentucky bourbon, bolts of cloth, and piles of finished goods. Like many of the other southern towns, Waco attracted carpetbaggers, those despised money grubbers who came from the North with their sharp accents and gaudy clothes. With them came gamblers and prostitutes, the scourge of the reconstructed South. With the formation of the trail and the newly found wealth from the Longhorns, the town wore a veneer of sophistication that already showed cracks.
Amanda was fascinated. Scribbling furiously, she recorded each impression, even the dust that covered everything, including her notebook.
“How far away is this place?” Luke asked her.
Amanda shrugged. “Maybe we should ask someone. There’s a store.” She gestured to a wood frame building sandwiched between the saloon and the dressmakers, with a red lettered sign advertising everything from boots to grits.
“Nice place.” Luke removed his hat as they entered, taking in the neat rows of cloth, tins of flour and sugar, boxes of fruit, and bushels of potatoes. Several men nodded to Luke, then stared as Amanda explored the store, poking her head into every nook and cranny. Luke sought out one of the men and asked directions to the ranch, while Amanda stood by the scale, ignoring the curious glances she received.
The shopkeeper, a plump little man whose face beamed from behind the counter, gave her a friendly smile, then returned to weighing a mound of potatoes. “Will that be all, Elvira?” he asked the small, frail woman on the other side. When she nodded, he placed her groceries in a basket. The scale bounced back to zero, but not until the shopkeeper walked away.
“You ready, Amanda?” Luke called to her and she joined him, still watching the procedure behind her. This time another man was buying apples. The scale registered a bit more than the three pieces of fruit warranted, and Amanda frowned in annoyance.
“What’s wrong?” Luke noticed her interest and her silent speculation. “I got good directions. They say it’s just outside of town.”
“That storekeeper was fixing the scale,” Amanda commented. “I swear he was.”
“What are you talking about?” Luke glanced back at the ruddy-faced man who was cheerfully balancing a sack of flour. “They say his name’s Mitchell. He’s been here for years.”
“He puts his thumb on the scale to add to the weight,” Amanda reasoned. “Think about it. Every time he walks away, the scale bounces back as if pressure is off. And those apples weighed two and a half pounds. I did a lot of work with scales in school, and there’s no way that fruit could have been more than two. He must have made a fortune cheating these people.”
“Amanda.” Luke had a warning in his voice. “We’re just moving in here. It wouldn’t be
the best way to start out by accusing someone of thievery. Let’s go find the ranch. Do you have any introduction or a copy of the will?”
Amanda nodded, her thoughts reluctantly diverted from the store, then withdrew an elegantly penned envelope. “It’s from the lawyer who settled the estate.”
Luke scanned the letter, amazed at the writing and the rich quality of the stationery. The note was from Richard J. Phipps, attorney at law, and simply stated that a Mr. Austin Rutherford had bequeathed his ranch to Amanda Edison, aka Fess Tyson, in deep appreciation for the many hours of enjoyment she had given him with her books. Frowning, Luke pocketed the missive, then turned their wagon east.
The homes that lined the street grew less bawdy and impressive as they got farther from the heart of town. Ranches sprawled far and wide in a country that was untainted by man. Cattle roamed freely, branded by the cowboys, inciting range wars as hungry ranchmen gave into the temptation to obliterate a prior mark with their own. Longhorns ranged the prairie, along with an occasional Angus. Mesquite waved softly in the wind, and prickly brush grew everywhere, causing the cowboys to wear chaps in order to prevent the sticky weeds from tearing their legs. In the black lands, cotton studded the landscape, growing rich and prolific.
In short, there was opportunity here. Land, water, and cattle were in abundance for the taking. Luke surmised that the ranch would need a good deal of work, but that was something that never frightened him. Already he could picture his own range, thick with grass and roaming with cattle. It was a place where he could begin again, maybe even start a family.
He glanced at Amanda, but she was staring straight ahead, fascinated by everything she saw. He smiled as he thought of her that morning, sated from lovemaking through the night and giggling like a schoolgirl. There was a softening about her that was terribly appealing, even in the way she wore her hair. Her tight bun was gone, and instead, her thick chestnut curls tumbled loosely around her shoulders, held back with a leather cord. Her lips parted, dewy with excitement, and her eyes widened in astonishment. Luke’s eyes followed hers, then he dropped the reins as they spotted the sign for the Triple Bar Ranch.
Wild Is the Night Page 22