***
Bridget rolled over onto her side, her shoulder stiff and sensitive from lying in the wrong position. It was dark outside. She must have slept far past suppertime.
Feeling no motivation to rise, Bridget blinked at the bright moon shining on the other side of the window glass. The rest hadn’t helped the pain inside of her. Pain for Ishkode’s situation, for the love they could have shared if things had been different.
She remembered how it felt to have him surrounding her, with his arms fencing her in, his gaze on her alone. And then his fingers on her face and then his lips….
Bridget closed her eyes tightly as if it would keep her from the memory. She ached to see him; the intensity of the ache was remarkable.
I’m going to see him.
Though the thought originated in her own mind, it still startled Bridget. Yet, she moved almost involuntarily out of bed, fumbling for her boots. For the third time in three days she snuck from her house. It was much less of a heart pounding phenomenon this time. She figured that once one completed a first reckless act, it was far easier to carry out the next.
Bridget knew that by doing this she was committing to her decision to accept the feelings which had developed toward Ishkode. There was no pretense to hide behind this time. She couldn’t claim to be doing this only for Thomas’ good. It felt so final. There would be no backing down from this when her family found out. This act would not be over looked under any circumstances. She would be labeled as a sympathizer. Bridget didn’t care, she was one. No, she thought. She wasn’t a sympathizer. She was in love. And as a woman in love, she wanted justice for her man’s people—the ones he cared about.
Bridget couldn’t bring herself to knock on the door when she arrived at the house, thinking it polite not to disturb Megis. She rounded to the back of the house, peering into the window. It was Ishkode’s room and the window was directly over his bed. Bridget rapped her knuckles softly against the window, but received no response. Ishkode’s lashes were moving quickly back and forth in deep sleep. She wondered if he was dreaming of her. She hoped so.
Hesitant, Bridget stood helplessly in front of the window watching him for many moments. Then she finally knocked a little louder. This time his eyes opened. He didn’t startle when he saw her. It made Bridget believe that he really had been dreaming of her, making the transition into being suddenly with her quite seamless.
Ishkode stood, moving toward the front door. Bridget made her way around the house and met him there. Without a word, Ishkode took Bridget in his arms.
Now that she was here, she didn’t know how to explain her presence. Telling Ishkode straight out that she was declaring her love for him was suddenly much harder than she’d expected.
Why did you come?
It was the very question Ishkode had asked her the night she’d brought Thomas to him. Evidently neither of them fully understood what they were feeling for each other and how it was possible. Bridget took some comfort in that. At least they were both on the same page. That was more than could be said of the relations between most white men and Indians.
When Ishkode looked down into her face and then kissed her, it was confirmation that Bridget didn’t need to explain her presence. He knew why she was there even if she’d only just pieced the reason together herself.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Bridget breathed.
Ishkode finished kissing her neck before he stilled. “Cannot do what?”
Bridget tightened her hand on the back of his neck, her fingers digging into the thick, black braid that hung down his back. “I can’t pretend I don’t care.
“I never did think you did not care.”
It was the only time Bridget could imagine being relieved to have been transparent.
“There’s talk at the school. It’s been going on for a long time, but one of the teachers has been caught mistreating a student multiple times. He needs to be brought in. I’ve been spineless to watch all of it and do nothing.”
“No. You are brave. Far more than me.”
Bridget held onto Ishkode as if her life depended on it. “No,” she murmured.
They held each other for many minutes before Ishkode spoke. “The teacher deserves to be caught. But, he will not.”
Bridget’s eyes searched his face. “I can do something about it. I can speak to someone.”
“Who?”
Bridget shook her head. “I don’t know. But, I’ll find someone—some way…..”
“It would be dangerous,” Ishkode said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You are against them all. Alone.”
Bridget knew his words were true. Yet, there had to be something….
“Go,” Ishkode ordered, pushing her from him. “You will not be safe if you stay.”
“I’m already not safe. I’m not safe because I intend to stand by you from now on. My family could shun me forever, but, God help me, I love you and will do my best to protect you and Animkii and my students in any way I can.”
Bridget kissed Ishkode again before leaving the reservation behind, arriving back home just as the sky began to lighten.
***
It happened the following day. Bridget saw the outcome as a relief and also a reward for stepping out the way she had in spite of her fear.
The news came in the most unexpected way when Bridget was at the pond filling up another wooden bucket to water the horses. Suddenly, Ishkode was beside her. She cried out in both shock and pleasure. Then fear set in when she thought of what would happen if her parents found him here. She dug her fingers into his powerful arms, wanting more than anything to fall into them and allow them to wrap her up in an embrace. “Ishkode, what are you doing here? If you’re caught…”
“I have to tell you.”
Bridget’s brows lowered in question.
“The professor at the school. He was arrested.”
“Arrested?” A surge of excitement coursed through Bridget. “For mistreating Edward! Thank God—someone in law enforcement listened! Did Gideon report them! I’m so grateful someone was smart enough to pay attention!”
“No, it was not because of Edward,” Ishkode said.
“What do you mean?” Bridget asked, bewildered.
“He was arrested for violence. It was a man in town.”
Bridget glanced around, unable to allow the nagging fear of being discovered disappear from her mind even when the news was so distracting. She led Ishkode toward the back of the barn which afforded them slightly more seclusion.
“So he’s been removed from the school. That’s important,” Bridget said when they were hidden. She took the Indian’s hand, wishing nothing more than to be close to him. Her brow wrinkled when she noted that he didn’t look relieved by the outcome. “This is a good thing.”
Ishkode shook his head. “He was not arrested in defense of the Indian. It was for a different reason.”
True. The law had found a way to take care of him without showing an ounce of sympathy for Ishkode’s people. Bridget wrapped her arm around his waist, her hands sensing the tension in his body.
“But, Edward’s safe now,” she offered, the words sounding weak even to her own ears.
She watched Ishkode’s face, only looking away to follow his gaze when his eyes turned from her. Bridget’s heart leaped into her throat when she saw her father standing only a few paces away.
“Pa,” Bridget breathed, feeling light-headed.
Isaiah’s face was etched with rage. “What is this, Bridget?”
Bridget was overwhelmed by the calm that enveloped her. It was as if the Lord had been preparing her for this moment all along and she’d now arrived ready. “This is Ishkode, Pa,” she answered, her voice steady.
Isaiah’s eyes bore into hers before they turned on Ishkode, his distaste tangible. No words were needed. The situation was clear to all involved.
“I will go,” Ishkode said. He nodded to Isaiah and was gone.
Bridget exp
ected the explosion to take place before the Indian—the one she thought she might be coming to love— was out of earshot, but her father didn’t speak. They’re eyes remained locked for a matter of moments before Isaiah turned away as well, leaving Bridget alone.
Bridget released a pent up breath.
Now they knew. It would no longer be a secret. God only knew what the future would hold now that she was being true to Ishkode. And herself.
Epilogue
It had been nearly a week since Ishkode came to tell Bridget about Mr. Jameson’s arrest. The matter had been dealt with unceremoniously and was already beginning to fade into the background of everyday life. Even Bridget had managed to focus on her work, though she upheld what she believed as she worked in the school, refusing to compromise her convictions any longer. Thus far, no one had crossed her about it.
“Have the next two chapters of your literature text read by next week’s class,” Bridget said on Friday afternoon, her mind already looking forward to being away from this, resting for the weekend. She was about to dismiss the class when Thomas spoke.
“Another story about the white men no doubt.”
Bridget was taken aback by the disruption as he hadn’t spoken against her in some time. She ignored him.
“There will be a short test on the contents on Monday.”
“On the principles of the white man,” Thomas said, continuing in his attempts to antagonize. “Nothing else.”
Bridget nodded toward the door. “Meet me in the hall, Thomas.”
Thomas glared at her, though he complied.
Bridget told the class to begin reading and joined her wayward student in the hall. “Would you care to explain what that was about?” she asked, her voice low.
Thomas was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his eyes down. “I needed to talk to you.”
Bridget chuckled bitterly. “You do know that you don’t have to disrespect me in order to do that, don’t you?”
Thomas didn’t answer. “My father needs to see you.”
Bridget’s heart hammered. “Why?”
“He has something he wants to say to you,” Thomas responded, vaguely.
Bridget’s mind raced. She had to see him. Now.
“He wants to see you now. You can go to the reservation,” Thomas said, with the first hint of amusement she’d ever detected in his voice.
Bridget laughed because she knew that the emotions must be more than evident on her face.
Perhaps one day Thomas would come to a point where he’d be able to speak to her without insults. For now, Bridget wasn’t offended though. It was still an enormous move in the right direction. In that moment she couldn’t be more grateful that he’d been the one to give her this news.
Bridget ended class and dismissed the students as if in a trance and only an hour later she was once again at Ishkode’s doorstep. She was disappointed, however, not to find him inside.
“The river,” Megis said, her smile knowing. “He is at the river. Go.”
Bridget didn’t know the exact direction, but knew the moment she saw Ishkode in the distance. She ran to him, stopping when he turned to look at her.
“Your son said you wanted to see me.”
Ishkode nodded.
One a few terrible moments, Bridget was afraid that he was going to tell her that they’d made a mistake—that they were a mistake.
“At times it takes one,” Ishkode said. His dark irises settled on her. “Only one.”
“One?” Bridget repeated.
“Yes. You.”
Without permission, Bridget’s vison started to cloud as his meaning became clear.
Ishkode took a few slow steps toward her. “I did not know that it was possible to mend the injuries inflicted by the white man. You show me different. It took only you to make me believe it possible.”
Ishkode was close enough to reach out and touch her now. “I will protect you as you have protected my people. We will stand together.”
“We will?” Bridget hardly had the courage to believe his words.
Ishkode nodded.
Bridget’s laugh was relieved. “I thought you were going to tell me that this would never work—that we couldn’t be together.”
Ishkode shook his head. “No. We will be together. I do not want to be without you.”
Bridget didn’t wait any longer to reach out to him, kissing him. Ishkode’s touch was passionate and tender at the same time. “And don’t I have a say in this?” Bridget teased, softly.
“Yes,” Ishkode whispered. “And your answer?”
Bridget’s hands came up to frame his face, her fingers moving along his chiseled jawline. “Yes,” she answered back before she claimed his lips once more.
The kiss was meant to assure him of her loyalty, but she knew by the emotions pulsing through his body that the first kiss had been enough. It took only one.
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Rowdy
Chloe Martel
Rowdy
Copyright 2016 by Chloe Martel
First electronic publication: June 2016
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.
Rowdy
Chapter 1
Alma Abrams rode Roach into town, which comprised a long dusty road, a post office, a newspaper office, three hotels, four general stores, a meat market, bars, brothels, three restaurants and two boarding houses; there was a deputy sheriff, two constables, three doctors, a justice of the peace; and two lawyers. There was even a telephone and telegraph service. Calico, the Mojave’s silver-producing star, with over five-hundred silver mines—this was where the wanderer Alma Abrams would make her home.
She rode to the closest tavern, outside of which a dirt-encrusted man sat, his head lolling on his chest. Roach let out a soft neigh. Alma stroked her mane. “Easy, girl,” she muttered, and Roach quieted. “You, my good man,” she said, trotting over to the man and gazing down at him.
“What sort of evil excuse of a man bothers a working man . . . arg!” He looked up under the rim of his hat, and his expression changed in a moment from one of hatred to one of complete shock. Alma knew what the man saw and what he had expected to see. He had expected to see a man, like him, covered in dirt and with a tough body worn by decades of hard labor. Instead, what he saw was a woman of twenty-four, with smooth, white skin, wide blue eyes, golden hair tied back in a bun, wearing trousers which hugged her tight figure and a shirt – a man’s shirt – which showed the tops of her pert breasts. Alma allowed him one of her smiles. A smile is just one weapon in a woman’s arsenal, after all.
“Excuse me,” the man breathed. He climbed to his feet and dusted down his clothes. “I didn’t mean to speak with such haste. Neither did I mean to imply any sort of . . . of . . . Excuse me, miss, but what is a woman like you doing in Calico?”
“I seek a room,” she said. “Surely a man as distinguished as yourself would know the best room in the town?”
Alma was not surprised whe
n the man blushed and then puffed his chest up. Men, she had learned, were gluttons for flattery. Even when the flattery was obviously absurd, even when it was completely dissociated with the reality of the situation, they were gluttons for it. This man did not look distinguished, but that did not stop her cool calm flattery from reaching his ears and having its effect.
“There’s Beryl’s hotel at the end of the road, there.” He pointed to the far end of the town to a two-story building whose blue paint chipped and flaked in the setting sunlight. “Be careful, mind, miss. All hotels round here serve a double purpose, you see, as, err . . . How do I say it, miss? Err . . .”
“Brothels?” Alma offered.
The man was so shocked to hear Alma – clearly an angel – utter such a dirty word that he took a step back. His blush deepened, and then he nodded quickly. “Yes,” he muttered.
“Very well, then,” she said, and led Roach toward Beryl’s.
Alma did not have to look back to know that the man was watching her. If he stopped to think for a second, he would realize it was completely unnecessary to ask a local where the hotels were. Calico was a small town of around one-thousand inhabitants. It would not be a tall order to find the hotel for herself. But the man wouldn’t think; he would do exactly as Alma wanted him to. He would go into the tavern and tell the miners about the arrival of a golden-haired woman wearing trousers and riding a horse, unaccompanied by a husband, seeking lodging. And the miners would whisper fiercely, and soon the owners of the Silver King Mining Corporation would hear of it. Alma’s plan would be set in motion.
She tethered Roach to the post and walked into the hotel. A barrel-chested woman stood behind a desk. She had thick, strong hands and thick, strong legs and a thick, strong head. She grimaced when Alma approached the desk. “Is your husband here already?” she said.
“I am afraid I am a widow.” That wasn’t strictly true, but the Lord knew that people – women especially – treated widows better than lone travelling women. Wanton women, Alma thought with a bitter taste in her mouth. But she did not let her internal monologue show on her exterior. She liked to think of herself as a master of the exterior. Her mind could run in the opposite direction to her face and nobody would know but her. She could grin during an execution and scream in terror during a proposal of marriage.
Romance: The College Bad Boy: A Young Adult Romance Page 101