“Depends on how deep it is,” Trapper Dan said. “It’s been dry out hare, so the river may be shallow. Problem is, its hard ta say cause at the Fork the water is mighty muddy. Ya cain’t see the bottom. Ya just have ta test it out with one of the horses. On top of thet, ya have a heavy wagon. If the mules get bogged down an don’t keep pullin’, the wheels might get stuck in the mud. Then no amount of pullin’ will get it out.”
Marcel was beginning to believe that at every turn there was the risk of losing everything that meant anything to her.
“If that happens, we will just have to empty the wagon down to the Piano and hope the mules can pull it out,” Marcel suggested.
“Hope it don’t come ta thet,” Trapper Dan mumbled.
That evening, once supper was eaten and everything was cleaned up, the three sat around the campfire. Marcel brought out a poem book and started reading aloud. Trapper Dan and Raven sat spellbound as she read Poe’s poem the raven.
“‘Prophet! Said I, ‘Thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that heaven that bends above us - by that God, we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angles name Lenore.’ Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’”
When she had finished, Raven looked at her with even more admiration. Even though the poem called the Raven a devil he knew she did not believe he was one. It also called the Raven a prophet. Everything so far, seemed destined, hearing her playing piano in St. Louis, then catching her from falling, and now traveling with her for the next several weeks or months depending on how long it took.
“Ya read with such… I cain’t explain it, only that it touched something inside me,” He told her.
“I could teach you to read but you have to pronounce the words right or you won’t be able to sound them out,” she explained. “Do you want me to start tonight?”
Raven nodded eagerly.
“I will get a simpler book. One I used to read as a child,” she told him, going to the wagon. Then she returned with a simple reader. “Come sit beside me and I will show you how to recognize the letters and the words,” she encouraged.
Raven was happy to come sit beside her, looking over her shoulder as she spoke softly, showing him what to look for. He felt he could listen to her soft, lilting voice forever and never tire of it. It was hard to concentrate because all he was aware of was the lovely smell of her and the sound of her voice drifting through the air, amid the smoke rising from the fire, heading for the heavens. Like that maiden in the poem, he felt Marcel was a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Marcel.
As Marcel read and pointed out the rudimentary of reading, she was aware of the feel of Raven’s breath on her neck, and the fact that his long hair was draped over her shoulder as the wind pushed it in her direction. She could feel his very strength as he sat beside her, his head bent slightly to look at the book. Only it unnerved her because he kept turning his head and looking at her face, his lips inches from her cheek.
The sound of his voice in her ear as he repeated the words she was teaching him, had a resonance that sounded soothing to her. Even though she taught him the proper way to say the words, his Indian accent still bled through, making his words sound exotic.
As she taught him, she turned to look at him, intending to explain a difficult word, only he was already looking at her. Their faces were so close that Marcel’s lips accidentally brushed against his. The feel of it sent a shiver through her. She started to pull back, but Raven stayed her with his hand on her neck.
“Don’t be frightened,” he murmured against her lips. “Your lips are the best part about you, the way you shape them when you read and talk. Those lips are sacred to me.”
Marcel widened her eyes. His words touched her in a way she hadn’t expected. She had never had anyone call her sacred before. Mostly it was Josiah calling her vain, or silly, never sacred.
“Thank you,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say, then she turned back and continued with the lesson, feeling her inner soul quivering at the closeness of Raven.
CHAPTER FIVE
arcel sat on the back of Pebbles, staring at the rushing water of the river before them. Trapper Dan had been right. The water was so muddy, they couldn’t even see the bottom because of the movement of the water stirring up the mud along the bottom of the river at the Fork.
“Nothin’ ta do… I mean nothing to do, but go in and test it,” Raven stated. He was trying hard to reform his English to please Marcel. Her face always looked so bright when he chose the right way to pronounce the words.
Raven urged Thunder forward, and he stepped tentatively into the water.
“Don’t seem very deep,” he informed them.
“You mean Doesn’t seem very deep,” Marcel corrected.
“That too,” Raven smiled. Come on in beside me and we will cross first before risking the wagon,” he told her, trying to choose his words carefully so as not to make a mistake.
Marcel gave a hopeful smile, a little afraid to bring her horse into the water.
“Pebbles used to crossing rivers,” Raven encouraged her.
“Very well,” she murmured, giving Pebbles a kick, only Pebbles hadn’t expected the kick, and he leaped forward into the water, splashing next to Raven. Marcel could feel herself slipping from the saddle when her foot came out of the stirrup as Pebbles leaped forward. Instinctively, she grabbed out toward Raven to steady herself, only causing him to come plunging down into the muddy water beside her.
“Hell and damnation!” Marcel bellowed when she rose out of the river, muddy water flowing down her face, her hair coming loose in a soggy mess from the pins.
Raven laughed. “Are those the proper words to say when falling into a river?” he asked.
“Precisely!” Marcel quipped. “Now look at me!” she said, staggering to her feet.
Raven stood and steadied her. “I think ya look rather alluring,” he laughed.
“These are the only trousers I have to wear. I will have to put on a dry dress.”
“I don’t mind seein’ ya in a dress,” Raven smiled.
“Seeing you, in a dress,” Marcel corrected, and he laughed.
“That’s what I said!” he teased.
“I can’t ride a horse in a dress,” Marcel complained.
“Sure ya ken,” Trapper Dan insisted. “Ya just leave all them petticoats off and hitch the skirt up between yer legs an tuck it in yer belt,” he instructed.
“Is that so?” Marcel said. “Only I am covered with mud!”
“Thar’s clean water in the barrels. Just take yer outer clothes off, and have Raven dip some water over yer head.”
“I will not disrobe in front of you!” Marcel said in a pinched voice.
“Then remain muddy,” Trapper Dan gave the alternative. “Only we don’t have all day ta mess round. It’s up ta you.”
“Oh!” Marcel hissed. “Fine. At this point, what even matters?”
She pulled the wet clothes off, revealing her muddy shift and pantaloons, which were clinging to her body in a most indecent way, she realized, only it was too late to pull the other clothes back on.
Raven was pulling off his buckskin shirt. He took something from his saddle pouch and went behind a tree. When he emerged, he was wearing nothing but a breechcloth, which caused Marcel to draw in her breath at the sight of him. She could not tear her eyes away from his perfect physic, of rippling muscles beneath his dark skin.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Trapper Dan said. “Thet’s his native dress. He only wears his buckskins when we travel in polite society,” he laughed.
Raven came up beside Marcel and dipped out some water, pouring it over his own head as he smiled at her. Marcel watched the water flowing over his skin, washing the mud away. He was standing so close she could have reached out and touched him, only she didn’t dare.
“You should r
emove the rest of the pins in yer hair, so I ken rinse it out fer ya,” Raven said, softly.
“You mean ‘I can rinse it out for you’,” Marcel said in a shaking voice.
“Yup. I plan to do just that if you allow me to,” Raven chuckled. He watched as she raised her arms to her hair to remove the rest of the pins, letting the wet strands fall about her shoulders. Raven could see her soft, pleasing breasts through the wet material of her shift as the thin material clung to her body. It was hard to remove his eyes from her, loving the way her long, golden brown hair draped over her in such an enticing way.
“Are you going to pour the water?” she asked when he made no move to rinse her off.
Raven dipped the water out and slowly poured it over her head with one hand, while he worked the mud out with the other. Feeling Raven’s hands in her hair was an unexpected tantalizing sensation to Marcel. She found herself holding her breath as his fingers worked through the strands of her hair. She could feel his fingers brush against her breasts when he lowered them through her long tresses. Her skin shivered at the touch the same way it had when she had felt his hand brush her bottom while adjusting her stirrups. It all seemed unintentional, while somehow feeling sensual. Marcel chose to close her eyes and try to think about something else.
Raven poured a second dipper over Marcel’s head. His eyes drank her in. Every curve revealed beneath the material of her clinging underclothes was not missed. He could see her shivering but chalked it up to her being chilled from her damp clothes and hair. Raven had her turn, so he could pour the water over the backside of her, and it was then he noticed the opening in the back of her pantaloons. The very sight of her pale, white bottom sent yearnings through him, causing him to come to attention at the very sight of her. He could feel his heart speeding as he longed to reach out and touch her bare skin. He ran his fingers through her hair, working more mud out, and let his hand lower slowly, until it found his desire, smoothing his hand over her bottom using the excuse of washing the mud away.
When Marcel felt the touch, she caught her breath, trying not to indicate any alarm as his hand softly caressed her bottom.
“I think you are clean,” he said in a husky voice, even though his hand still remained against her skin.
“Thank you for your assistance,” she mumbled, but she didn’t move away from his touch.
“Is there anything more you wish of me?” he asked, as he leaned his mouth against her ear, his dark, wet hair falling over her shoulder to mingle with her golden brown strands.
Marcel reached up and tangled her fingers in the hair falling over her shoulder. “Nothing comes to mind,” she breathed.
“If you think of something…” Raven murmured quietly.
“Are you two gonna take all day?” Trapper Dan bellowed. “Yer wasting daylight!”
“Sorry,” Marcel called back, hastily turning only to find herself in Raven’s arms, his bare skin pressing against her wet shift, his strong chest clashing with her soft breasts.
Raven lowered his head and kissed Marcel’s neck, causing her skin to shiver. Her back was up against the wagon, so she couldn’t step away. His lips felt soft and warm. The touch started to warm her very soul, and her face felt hot, while her heart was trying to thump out of her chest.
“You should go in the wagon and get dressed,” Raven mumbled against Marcel’s neck.
“Yes, Trapper Dan is getting impatient,” she agreed.
“Your skin is so soft and white,” Raven breathed, kissing her neck once again while his hand reached around behind her to caress her bottom again.
Marcel drew in her breath. She felt her hands tracing over the strong muscles’ of Raven’s back, strangely pulling him closer to her. “You have such smooth skin,” she mentioned.
Raven could feel himself weakening at Marcel’s touch and the feel of her bare skin under his caressing fingers. Only this wasn’t the right time or place. He straightened up.
“Hurry and get dressed,” he said and reluctantly turned away.
Marcel climbed up into the back of the wagon, feeling a cross between excitement and shock at her actions. She was even more confused at the fact that she allowed Raven to touch her so intimately and hadn’t stopped him or slapped his face. There was something deep within her that craved that touch. Marcel was trying to analyze her unacceptable behavior. She could still feel the sensations that his hand on her bottom had brought about, and the feel of his kiss on her neck still burned. She didn’t think she could look him in the eye now, without out reliving the heat that surged through her body at his touch.
Her fingers fumbled with her wet underclothes, setting them aside and grabbing some dry articles out of her trunk. Then she pulled out a dress, stepped into it, and buttoned it up the front. Next, she pulled the hem of her skirt and tucked it in the belt of the dress, before stepping down from the wagon.
“My boots are wet,” she told Raven showing a bare foot.
“Hold on, he said and grabbed something from the pouch on his horse. “They might be a little large on you, but they will keep your feet warm,” he told her, giving her a pair of knee-high moccasins. “I will lace them up tight for you,” he told her kneeling as he fitted her foot into the moccasins.
The feel of his fingers on her leg as he fitted the moccasins to her foot had the same effect that his touch had caused before. His very closeness, even when he wasn’t touching her, seemed to grab her in a way she couldn’t understand. Only this was a wild savage, she kept telling herself. He just didn’t seem so savage at the moment. After all, Trapper Dan had domesticated him in many ways, she had to admit.
When Raven finished lacing up the moccasins, he let his hand smooth up her leg while her foot rested on his knee, seeking beneath her skirt, and over her pantaloons, relishing the feel of the soft material against his fingertips. He could feel her skin quiver through the material beneath his touch as it approached her warmness. He longed to touch that bottom once again and leaned forward, reaching around her, capturing her bare skin in the grasp of his hand. Raven heard her draw in her breath, her skin quivering all the more as his seeking fingers brushed against her, wanting the feel of her in a way he had not imagined he would ever be permitted to achieve.
Raven expected Marcel to pull free of him. He risked her anger, but he couldn’t help himself. Just the feel of her was all he desired. He rewarded himself and heard her gasp, and then her breath came in shivers.
“Are you two gonna take all day?” Trapper Dan was calling at the front of the wagon.
“I’m tyin’ up some moccasins to ‘er,” Raven called back. “Be a second still,” he added.
As he said the words he continued to draw out Marcel’s breath in ragged gasps with his caresses, then rising to his feet as he continued smoothing his hand over her, he captured her trembling mouth in his.
Marcel found herself drowning in his kiss and the touch of his fingers as he pulled her very soul from within her in a way that astounded and frightened her all at the same time. She knew she should not be permitting this, yet something was pulling her to Raven in a way she couldn’t resist.
Raven clutched her to him as her body quivered in response, then her breath started to calm beneath his lips, as she clung to his neck.
“What have you done to me?” she whispered, trying to understand her strong draw while feeling guilty for even allowing that draw to overcome her.
“Only what you have permitted,” Raven responded. “I would never force my touch upon you. If I have offended you…”
“You have awoken something inside of me,” she breathed. “I had not expected… It doesn’t seem proper, yet…” She didn’t know what to say.
“We need ta get going,” was all Raven said, knowing he had overstepped his bound. “The sooner we get across this river and on our way, the sooner we can set up camp and commence with my reading lessons again.”
Raven took Marcel’s hand and led her to Trapper Dan’s horse, helping her up, placi
ng his hand firmly on her bottom as he did so. Slowly, they guided their horses through the river again, and once reaching the other side, Trapper Dan headed the mule team through the muddy water, making sure they kept up a steady pace so the wheels did not bog down.
Once across, the three continued. Only now Trapper Dan noticed Raven and Marcel gazing at each other in a peculiar way. It must have been caused by Raven having to rinse the mud off of her body, he thought with a smile. Raven looked exceptional happy, and Marcel looked a little subdued.
Marcel could not refrain from admiring Raven’s masculine body, as the sun shimmered on his bare muscles while he rode his horse beside her. She looked at his hands, holding the reins of his horse, and imagined them touching her the way he had been touching her earlier. She was trying to decide if she was going to allow him to touch her like that again? She knew she shouldn’t, yet the very thought of it caused a strange excitement to race through her. Just remembering the way he had kissed her as he brought her body into a splendor she had never experienced before shook her very soul at the thought. He was a Sioux. When this journey was over with, she would never see him or Trapper Dan again. It wasn’t wise to get herself entangled with a wild Indian.
By the time they stopped to camp, Marcel was still at odds with herself. She tried to think of other things and busied herself fixing the meal.
“I’m gonna crawl under the wagon ta get my winks,” Trapper Dan announced when the meal was over. “We should get an early start in the morning, seein’ as how crossing the river slowed us down some. We’ll be heading on up ta Castle Rock an then ta Scotts Bluff. After thet we’ll be crossing in ta Wyomin’ an on ta Fort Laramie. By the time we get ta Fort Laramie, we will have gone over six-hundred miles since Independence.” He shook his head just thinking about it. It took some doing just to bring his pelts in and the prices kept dropping every year.
“How far are we from Fort Laramie?” Marcel asked.
“Bout two-hundred miles, I reckon. That should take us a couple weeks ta travel if we make good time. With yer wagon, I’m figurin’ it’ll take us longer, though.”
Sagebrush Serenade Page 5