Flour spilled down to cover Jaime in a cloud of white dust, and she couldn't help herself; as the thick powder covered her face, she began to gasp and cough.
"What the hell?" Cord froze for only an instant before jerking away the ripped bag, which filled the inside of the wagon with flying powder. "Who in thunderation are you?" he bellowed, grabbing her arm roughly and jerking her out.
Jaime struggled in his grasp. Hacking, wheezing, she felt as if she were choking to death. He was hurting her, the way his fingers were pressing so brutally into her flesh as he pulled her from the wagon. "Let... let me go," she sputtered amid a snowy spray of flour. "You almost killed me with that knife, you idiot."
"If I'd wanted you dead, you would be." Holding her with one hand, he swiped roughly at the mask of flour. "You aren't Indian, that's for sure. Not with this pale face."
"Very funny." She twisted in his grasp, but he held tight. "Let me go, I say."
"You say," he snorted. "I'll say when I'm done with you. Now start talking. I want to know who you are and what you're doing stowing away on my wagon. If you wanted to go along, why didn't you say so?" He studied her as best he could, with the flour caked on her face. Only her wide, angry eyes were visible, ringed with white. "I don't recall seeing you before, but that hair..." He lifted a strand of gold.
Jaime continued to squirm. It had stopped raining, but the flour was clinging to her damp clothes and was extremely uncomfortable.
He released her to stand back and stare in wonder. There was no mistaking the turquoise eyes. He'd thought of them again when he'd traded a necklace made of the blue-green stone to the Cheyenne. And that hair, the color of gold.
"You!"
"Yes, me." Jaime indignantly began wiping her face with the hem of her calico dress. It was one of her favorites, given to her by Wilma Turnage, whose daughter had outgrown it. Now it was going to be difficult to wash. "Why didn't you just yank the sacks away if you knew I was under there? Why did you have to act like some kind of crazy savage?"
Grabbing her elbow, he steered her to the side of the trail and all but threw her down on a flat rock. Towering over her, he pointed a buckskin-gloved finger. "Talk, damn it. How did you get here?"
She enjoyed the gloating triumph of being able to tell him that, thanks to a slat-side bonnet to hide her hair and too many friends to count, it had been quite easy. Uncomfortable at times, because she couldn't have all the freedom she wanted to move around, it hadn't actually been too bad. She watched smugly as he ran agitated fingers through his hair.
"Why now?"
"Why now what?" She blinked.
"Why did you come with me now? Why didn't you stay with the others?"
She quickly explained how she was going to try to find her father, adding, "And since I'd made it this far, I had to try and go the rest of the way. Besides, I thought Jasper was going with you. I heard—" She fell silent, embarrassed to admit she had spied on him.
He smiled for the first time. "So it was you all those nights."
"You knew?" she cried in wonder. "But you never gave any indication."
"What? And spoil your fun? I wanted to see how long you'd keep it up. Usually, it's the other way around–men looking at women–but I don't guess I should be surprised at anything you do."
"It was just a game, something to pass the time and—oh!" She turned away, unable to bear the way he was staring down at her.
He was not about to show mercy, enjoying his torment for her having made a fool of him all this time. "You have to admit you keep turning up in the most unlikely places. First you come to my hotel room, wanting to marry me. Then you follow me across the wilderness to spy on me. You're a strange one, all right, but that still doesn't tell me why you crawled in the supply wagon. Surely you don't think I'm taking you the rest of the way?"
"You have to," she cried, anguish shimmering in her wide, frightened eyes. "Don't you see? I've nowhere else to go. You're my only hope.
"And surely you can see now you were wrong about me," she hastened to add. "I'm not puny, like you thought. I haven't been sick a day. Not the whole trip. And even though you didn't know it, I did my share of the work, as much as I could without risking you or your men seeing me. Please. You've just got to take me with you."
A tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it viciously, determined not to cry, lest he think her weak despite her accomplishments.
"This is crazy." He shook his head, looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head again as he laughed at the ludicrousness of the situation. "Absolutely crazy. I can't take you with me. On down the trail, I'll abandon the wagon to move faster. You'd have to ride a mule and—"
"I could do that," she interrupted to say.
He scratched his whiskered chin. "Yes, I'll just bet you could."
"Then why won't you agree?" She felt like grabbing the front of his fringed shirt and giving him a frustrated shake but thought better of it. "I tell you, I've proved I'm strong enough."
When he did not say anything, but merely stared at her as though he might actually be considering it, she pushed on.
"I can help you. I even know how to cook. I won't be a bother at all. Believe me, if I have to ride a mule, I will. And you'll never hear me complain, I promise."
"I've a mind to put you on one right now, and I won't hear you if you do gripe, because you'll be on your way back to catch up with the others."
"You can't send me back," she argued. "Are you so stubborn you won't admit I'm strong enough to make it?"
"That doesn't mean I want to be saddled with you."
As he spoke, he was wondering what in hell to do with her. She had indeed proved she could make it, but he was fed up with having anybody to look after but himself.
Jaime felt her temper abating. From afar, so many nights she had secretly shared his frustrations and weariness. With heartfelt compassion, she said, "What they did was wrong. They shouldn't have deserted you."
He stopped pacing to regard her in silence. She was not the demure young woman he remembered. Life on the trail had not only matured her but improved her appearance as well. She was robust, skin tanned to a soft bronze, her cheeks pink and glowing. With a warm rush, Cord realized he found her even more appealing than before.
Jaime didn't like the way he was staring at her and prodded, "Are you going to let me go with you?" She took a step back towards the wagon. "It's starting to rain again. You won't make me go back in the rain, will you?"
"Get in," he ordered brusquely. "And hang on. I'm going to get us to the crag up ahead. Then I'll decide."
She moved all the way forward to crouch behind him as he took the reins again. "I won't be any trouble. Actually, I'll be a big help, because I've learned a lot."
"Have you now? Seems to me the only thing you've proved is that you can stay hidden. And why don't you show me how well you do that by making yourself scarce for a while? I've got to watch where I'm going in this rain, and I don't need you at my ear nagging."
Jaime made a face he did not see and withdrew.
Cord did not like thinking how she had managed to make a fool of him or how most of the others had probably laughed at him behind his back. Well, by God, he would see how hard she laughed when he sent her on her way to try and catch up with the friends who had aided in her little scheme. She wouldn't think she was so smart or brave if the Indians caught sight of that long gold hair.
Instinctively, he shuddered to think of her in the hands of savages. He knew what they could do to white women, and he couldn't risk her suffering such a fate. That meant he would have to turn around and give her safe escort. His approach to the Sierras would be delayed, and he would also have to face the grinning, gloating faces of those who had deserted him.
But what if he allowed her to go with him? Evidently it meant a hell of a lot to her to get to California. Maybe, he grudgingly reflected, she deserved to make it the rest of the way. He wasn't about to tell her so, but he was plenty impressed with how she'
d fared so far. Still, he was entitled to the sweetness of revenge and intended to erase that smug look on her face.
"If I let you come along," he said thoughtfully, "but there's something we have to get straight."
Jamie cried, "Anything."
"Well," he drawled, enjoying the moment, "I have to know—which do you intend to be?"
"What...." She stammered, confused. "What do you mean?"
"My wife or my whore?"
He swallowed to keep from bursting into laughter as he heard her sharp gasp and felt her instant recoil.
He made his voice gruff. "Don't be so naive, Jaime. Once upon a time, you offered to be my wife, remember? And I thought you were a whore. So if I trouble myself to take you the rest of the way, I think I should be pleasured one way or the other."
Jaime felt her confidence slipping away. "You want me to"—she swallowed hard, barely able to confirm his ultimatum—"sleep with you?"
"Of course," he said brightly. "Your free ride is over, Sunshine. From here on out, it's pay as you go, or I'll leave you stranded on the side of the road."
"You... you would do that?" she asked shakily, fearfully.
"Of course," he lied. "I wouldn't hesitate to stick you on a mule, give him a slap on his rump, and send you home."
She could have told him she had no home, but she kept silent, not wanting his pity—if he was even capable of the emotion, she thought bitterly.
"Come now," he prodded, lips twitching. "You were willing to marry me to get there. What's happened to change your mind?"
"There... there's no preacher," she floundered, trying to think of a way out of her predicament.
"We can live as man and wife and get married the day we get to California. But I'm giving you a choice. You can be a prostitute, pleasure me whenever I want, and when we get there, I'll pay you for your services.
"One choice gives you respectability and security," he pointed out. "The other gives you money, and you'll be rid of me when we arrive. It's up to you."
Jaime glared angrily, sullenly, at his back, the soaked buckskin shirt stretched across taut muscles. "I'm not surprised you would attempt to take advantage of me. You're just as ruthless as the Indians I've heard about. You... you're probably no more than a savage yourself."
Cord winced at the barb. Popping the reins, he set the mules to trotting faster. "I think we'd better finish this conversation when we get to shelter."
"There's nothing more to discuss." She settled back, washed with anger. She would beg no more, by God. "I'll find my own way out there, all the way on a mule, if need be. The company of a jackass would be preferable to yours, anyway."
Cord paid no attention to her, concentrating on maneuvering the wagon. Through a blinding sheet of rain and mist, he urged the team onward. Reaching the first protective outcropping of rock, he leaped down and grabbed the mules by their harness to tug them on. They resisted, leery of the overhang and the dark cavern beyond, but he jerked and pulled till they and the wagon were under shelter.
"We'll dry out and camp here for the night," he told Jaime. "The storm is already breaking up."
She had got down by herself and stood watching him warily, hands on her hip.
Cord glanced around in the dim light. "I think I can find enough dry wood to build a fire. It's going to be a cold night." He unhitched the mules, knowing they would head out into the rain to start grazing on the bunch grass beyond, then tethered the horse.
Noting the wagon rested on a slight decline, Jaime picked up a large rock and braked one of the front wheels.
Cord saw her and snapped, "You should have let me do that."
"I've done it before," she enjoyed informing him. "Only you didn't see me then."
"Be glad I didn't. You'd be back in Missouri by now."
"Why?" she flared, ready to face the inevitable confrontation and get it over with. "Once I proved I was as strong as any of the other women, why would you have turned me back? I'd really like to know just exactly what it is about me that rankles you so."
"All right, I'll tell you—it was your deception, damn it. Your friends told me you were desperate to get out there and meet your father, and when you came to me that night, you were planning to dupe me and you know it."
"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose, but I would have married you. I wasn't lying about that."
"Oh, you would have married me, all right, and then walked out on me once we got to California. That's what made me mad, little lady, and that's why I made up my mind you weren't going."
"If Captain Wingate hadn't backed out at the last minute, he might have decided different."
"That wouldn't have mattered, because he wasn't the one paying passage for the women I signed on. It wouldn't have been up to him."
The air between them crackled with animosity.
"Well," Jaime said finally, lifting her chin, "you can't make me go all the way back to Missouri."
"But I can refuse to take you the rest of the way to California."
"No, you can't, because I'm not asking. I've changed my mind about wanting to go with you. I'd rather face Indians, bears, whatever is out there, than be forced to endure your insufferable company for even one day, Cord Austin.
"And if you won't be gentleman enough to at least give me one of your mules"—she stared up at him through a veil of angry tears—"I'll walk, by damn."
She turned away, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "No, you won't, and stop that cursing. Is that something else you learned on the trail?"
"What I do or say is none of your business." She twisted futilely in his grasp. "Now let me go. You've no right to stop me."
He was fighting to keep from smiling. "Are you really sure you'd rather be raped and scalped by Indians?"
"Your ultimatum as to my either marrying you or being your whore is the same as rape, because I'd never give myself to you willingly. As I said, you're nothing but a savage like the rest of them." She clenched her fists, fighting the impulse to punch him right in the face, because she could see laughter dancing in his brown eyes and knew he was enjoying her humiliation. "I'd rather die," she said with cold finality.
Cord's humor disappeared in a flash. "Hear me, Jaime. I don't rape women. As for what I said back there, I was joking, paying you back. Not that it makes a damn now." He released her so abruptly she stumbled backward a few steps, fighting to keep her balance on the rocks.
"If you want to go back to Salt Lake, I'll take you in the morning.
"Frankly," he added, "I pity the man or beast that dares cross your path, but I'd be remiss in my duties as a gentleman not to offer safe escort."
Jaime watched, boiling with fury, as he turned away, dismissing her to begin searching for dry twigs. Finally, at once realizing how childish it sounded, she retorted, "Well, I'd have to be pretty desperate to want a man like you."
"Fine. We understand each other." He glanced at her and frowned. "Do you have any other clothes?"
"I have one other dress, but it's still damp from washing."
"You need something dry. One of the prostitutes' bags was stored in the supply wagon and she forgot to take it out. See what you can find."
Jaime declined, petulantly saying she doubted she would find anything decent.
"Then stay wet and get sick, if you're so almighty proud."
Jaime knew she was being ridiculous. Her clothes were damp, and she was starting to shiver in the chilly cave-like shelter.
Climbing back up into the wagon, she looked about in the faint light and finally found a bag amid the sacks and barrels. Opening it, she took out what looked like a pair of ruffled trousers and stared curiously.
"Bloomers."
She jumped, startled, unaware that Cord had slipped up behind her soundlessly and astonished he had been able to do so. "You move like a cat," she grumbled.
"Bloomers," he repeated. "Didn't you see some of the women wearing them under their skirts on the trail? They learned real quick that hoo
ps are cumbersome, but without them dresses drag on the ground and get dirty. How did you manage?"
"I pinned rocks in my hem and got black and blue shins like everyone else," she admitted irritably.
"Well, you'll be more comfortable in these." He picked up the rifle he had come to retrieve from where he had stashed it out of the rain. "I'm going out to see if I can shoot our supper. The fire is going good, and I left some wood stacked nearby. Don't let it go out."
When he was gone, Jaime changed into the bloomers and shirt. Though a bit large, she was amazed at the comfort the clothes provided. Unpinning her hair, she combed it to hang straight down her back to dry, then went to see about the fire.
Time passed, and she alternated between piling on wood and wandering about inspecting her surroundings. The rain had stopped, and the late-afternoon sun was shining. Venturing outside, she walked up the crest of the ridge, drinking in the sweet evening air in the quiet aftermath of the storm.
She could look out over a long shallow valley ahead. It skirted a narrow creek, and here and there the grass was pocked with clumps of cactus, glistening in the rain-washed radiance.
Her stomach rumbled with hunger. The buffalo jerky was all she'd eaten since the day before and very little of that. Spotting a patch of pig weed, she gathered an armload and returned to the campsite. Taking a kettle from the wagon and hurrying to fill it in the creek nearby, she soon had the greens boiling over the fire. While they cooked, she found meal and stirred up a batch of drap dumplings.
From somewhere in the distance as shadows fell, a shot rang out. She hoped it meant there would be meat to go with the greens.
* * *
When Cord returned, he paused outside the shelter to stare at Jaime, her long golden hair shimmering by firelight. He could not help thinking maybe it was a shame they weren't continuing on together. Having someone so lovely along would have been nice, even though he would make better time by himself.
Looking at her, he could not deny wanting her, just as he had the first night they met.
Suddenly he felt the need for a drink.
He made his way on down to the camp and dropped a rabbit next to the fire. "I'll clean it in a minute," he said, turning to the wagon where Jasper had kept bottles of whiskey stashed inside barrels of meal.
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