by Pamela Morsi
"It's like a prairie fire," he whispered against her flesh. "You get ahead of it and start your own flame. When the two fires meet up, they consume each other."
His hand found the soft down covering of her womanhood and caressed it tenderly. He heard Hannah's gasp of desire and felt her pressing eagerly against his hand.
Finding the tiny nub that focused her pleasure, he flicked it leisurely and was rewarded with her cry of delight. Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled him to her. The kiss was neither tentative nor shy and Henry Lee heard only the roaring of his own blood in his ears as he struggled for control.
Hannah's body was about to go up in smoke. She could no longer tell where her flesh stopped and Henry Lee's began. Seeking the hidden wonders of his mouth, she pressed herself against him. She was so open, so empty and he could fill her, she wanted him to fill her.
The heel of his palm pressed with such wondrous effect against the treacherous slope that led to the valley of her womanhood. When his fingers reached that unexplored cavern, she cried out his name.
"Yes! Henry Lee! Oh Yes!" She arched her back instinctively and spread her thighs for him, begging for the consolation of his questing hand.
"That's right, Hannah," he whispered against her throat. "Open up for me and I'll give you a sweet cure for what is steaming inside you."
Gently suckling her hard, pointed nipple, his fingers teased the entrance to her woman-place and explored it without hesitation.
Pushing eagerly against the pressure of his hand, Hannah incoherently whined her need.
"You are so tight, Hannah," he whispered, his hot words burning the flesh of her breast. "So soft, so tight, oh, Hannah darlin', I'm going to make it real good for you."
As proof of his words he allowed one curious digit to delve inside as his thumb came up to tease the rigid little fuse that impudently peeked out of the curl-covered slope.
No longer able to embrace him, Hannah flung her hands to the ground, digging her nails deeply into the grass as if to anchor herself to the earth. Her head flailed back and forth as mindless, primitive whimpering escaped her lips.
She was trembling on the edge as he nipped the creamy flesh of her bosom and kissed the sting away.
A tremor began growing within her and Henry Lee, feeling it inside her, lavished his attention with renewed fervor.
"Feel me inside you, Hannah," he whispered hoarsely. "Feel me touching you, stroking you. Touch me back, Hannah. Squeeze my hand, yes, Hannah darlin', let me know you like it."
She exploded screaming his name as the muscles that surrounded his fingers contracted in ecstasy.
Henry Lee was watching her as she strained against him, her head thrown back in wanton pleasure. His own body ached with unassuaged need, but a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. He had never felt more a man.
As her passion eased, Henry Lee released her from his intimate caress. Clutching her damp womanly pelt possessively, he was hesitant to relinquish his claim. He pulled her tenderly into his embrace, nuzzling her neck, as he ignored the rock-hard evidence of his own lack of fulfillment.
"Oh, Henry Lee," Hannah's voice was breathless with wonder. "What have you done to me? I never knew anything could be like that."
Pulling back a little so that he could look into her eyes, Henry Lee couldn't keep from smiling in pride.
"There's more, Hannah, so much more." His eyes were alight with mischief. "And I'm willing to teach you everything that I know."
She giggled at his teasing and he pulled her into his arms, pressing his aching manhood against her.
The whiskey. His memory floated back unerringly. He was right to give her pleasure, but his own could wait. His whiskey was going to burn or his still explode if he allowed himself to make his decisions from his trousers instead of his brain.
He pulled away from her before he had time to talk himself out of it.
"I've got a lot of things to do this afternoon, Hannah," he explained feebly. Planting a hasty kiss on her forehead he stood and gave her one last longing look. "I'll see you at supper," he said as calmly as if he'd just chanced to pass her.
Hannah glanced down at her condition and quickly pulled up her chemise covering her naked bosom and thrust down her skirt that was bunched up all the way to her waist, not daring to stop to readjust her untied drawers.
"Henry Lee?" she asked tentatively, feeling both a sense of closeness at what they had shared and estrangement at his sudden erratic behavior.
He heard her confusion and desire in his name and he could not face her. He couldn't look her in the eye.
Turning away from her, he answered simply, "I've got to get back to work."
Hannah sat up stunned and watched him walk away. Her confusion turned to dismay as she realized that she must have injured him somehow. He was walking strangely, partially bent over, as if he couldn't straighten up.
* * *
CHAPTER 13
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The clatter of the rails and the intermittent, rhythmic motion of the rail car could not lull Hannah out of her anxious excitement. Dressed in her new blue calico and fancy bonnet, she sat next to a dashing, well-dressed man in a brown suede coat and string tie, who just happened to be her husband. Their mood was light and carefree, as if the last few difficult days had not happened.
Not that Hannah had forgot the incident under the catalpa tree. It had hung between them like an inflexible barrier for the last two days. Then this morning when she had awakened just a little before dawn, she found Henry Lee in the kitchen, coffee already made, and in a talkative, friendly mood. A sharp contrast from his previous constant absence and few mumbled words. He'd had the wagon hitched, loaded and ready and his excitement and enthusiasm for the trip was contagious.
She had been somewhat surprised to find a coffin loaded in the back of the wagon. She had been unaware that Henry Lee did that kind of work on the side, but she was very proud. She remembered how pleased the Hensley family had been with the coffin he'd made, and although this one did not seem as nice, she knew his work must be good for him to get requests all the way from Muskogee.
Henry Lee had laughed and joked all the way to Ingalls. He smiled and teased and made outrageous compliments about her new dress and bonnet. It was almost as if, in his time away from her, he had thought up stories and jokes to entertain her. He was well-known for his charm, and this morning every scrap of it was directed toward his wife. Considering the strange situation that existed between them, Hannah couldn't imagine why, but she was not such a fool as to question her good fortune.
Henry Lee's effervescent behavior was partly in response to what had happened under the catalpa tree, but also stemmed from nervous excitement. Never before had he smuggled whiskey so deep into the territory and he found the fear of discovery to be very heady stuff. The stationmaster had looked askance when he had brought in the coffin. Unlike Hannah, who accepted his lame excuse without question, the stationmaster found Henry Lee's story of shipping a friend's body to Muskogee unusual.
Henry Lee insisted that the coffin be shipped on a later freight, rather than in the baggage car of the train that would carry himself and Hannah. If someone did decide to open it, or if it fell and burst open accidentally, he wanted a running start on the law.
He just hoped that Harjo's brother-in-law could be trusted to read between the lines of the telegram that he had just dictated.
COFFIN OF YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW HARJO TO ARRIVE ON 6:30 KATY FREIGHT STOP WIFE AND I TO ATTEND FUNERAL STOP H.L. WATSON
Outwitting the law was not the only concern that made Henry Lee nervous. Tonight he was going to take Hannah to his bed. Finally. He had spent two days listening to the drip of whiskey from the coiled condenser and planning the total and complete seduction of the woman he'd married. No more crazy loss of control and wallowing with her on the floor or the ground. He was going to make careful, exquisite love with her in the best bed in Muskogee.
Thinking about it, he turne
d to give her a teasing smile. She looked wonderful in her new dress. He'd thought the bright blue would do more for her than the washed-out pastels or the severe blacks and browns that seemed to comprise the bulk of her wardrobe. Her clothes seemed too matronly, almost as if she had thrown her corset across the armoire years ago. He couldn't imagine why. Twenty-six was not such a great age, and today, smiling and giggling, high color in her cheeks, she didn't look a day over twenty. He vowed that he'd see that she had more clothes that flattered her. Her looks were not typical, but, he decided, she was no less pretty as a result.
Although Hannah had traveled a good bit in the Oklahoma Territory and in southern Kansas, this was her first trip through the Indian Territory and she was both surprised and pleased by the difference in the scenery. While the Oklahoma Territory seemed ideally suited to the growing of wheat and corn, an endless flat prairie resembling what her family had left in Kansas, the Indian Territory was more wooded, hilly and less suited to farm life. As the train wound its way through the hills and valleys beside the Arkansas River, she commented on the contrast. "It's so different from the farmland across the border."
"They sent scouts out here, when it became obvious that the government was going to move the tribes west of the Mississippi. The Indians looked for the type of land that seemed most familiar," he explained. "Woods for game and hills for running streams were more important than being able to plow a straight furrow," he told her. "The Indians never intended to farm in the way that white men did. They lived in Indian towns and hunted game. Their farming was more like a big garden where everyone took a share."
"This land doesn't look very good for farming," Hannah agreed.
Henry Lee nodded.
"They made their choice more on sentiment than good business sense," he said. "My mother was a half-breed Cherokee," he said tentatively, and watched with pleasure as she easily accepted this piece of information. "Mama said that when the scouts saw the foothills of the Ozarks around Tahlequah, it reminded them of the Great Smokies and so they chose it, even though you can barely grow a weed in those rocky hills!"
The two shared a laugh together. The impracticality of choosing a home based on the beauty of the land, rather than its ability to provide a living, was something that neither would have done. Both of them, however, secretly admired the spirit that maintained the courage to do that.
They arrived in Tulsa a little before noon. They were to change trains with a layover of about two hours. Tulsa was a sleepy little village of a little over a thousand people.
"It's not much of a town," Henry Lee told her as they left the train. "Its only reason for existing is to be a railroad junction for the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe and the Frisco."
Hannah glanced around unimpressed by the few little dismal buildings. "Ingalls is more of a town than this," she said.
Her husband agreed. "Tulsa was laid out by the Frisco Railroad Company and is as efficient as a train schedule," he said. "The streets running east and west are numbered, First Street
, Second Street
, Third Street
. The streets running north and south are split down the middle by Main Street
, and are called avenues." Gesturing to the dusty thoroughfare they crossed he widened his eyes in sarcasm. "Pretty fancy name for this old cow trail, don't you think?"
Hannah agreed with a throaty giggle.
"All the avenues east of Main Street
are named, by the A-B-Cs after cities east of the Mississippi." He pointed eastward and explained, "There's Boston Avenue
and Cincinnati Avenue
, like that."
Hannah nodded her understanding.
"All avenues west of Main Street
are named for cities west of the Mississippi, like Cheyenne Avenue
and Denver Avenue
." Henry Lee's eyes lit with humor. "The public joke among the men here in town is that no matter how drunk you get in Tulsa, you can always figure out where you are."
Laughing at his joke Hannah asked him, "Well, Mr. Watson, you seem to be perfectly sober today. I suppose you know exactly where you are. But do you know where you're going?"
Henry Lee smiled down at her. He enjoyed teasing her and he was beginning to love it when she teased right back.
"Yes, ma'am. I know exactly where I'm going. I'm taking my bride out for a bite to eat."
"We're going to a restaurant?" Hannah was delighted by the adventure.
"I have some friends who run the best restaurant in Tulsa." With a grin he added, "It's also the only restaurant in Tulsa!"
Marco and Rosa Morelli were getting on in years, but still maintained the love of life and adventure that had brought them from Naples, through New York and Chicago, clear across the plains to this desolate little town. They had tried farming, sheep, and cattle, but had ultimately found their niche in cooking good hot food for train passengers passing through.
"My friend, Mr. Watson!" Morelli called out, raising his hands as a gesture of welcome. "Rosa and I have missed you. You stay away too long."
Henry Lee grasped the man's hand as a screech was heard from the doorway.
"You!" the woman yelled at him. "Don't you know that you cannot live without good food, but do you come in to eat? No, not for months we don't see you, and I ask my husband, I ask him why. Is he hurt? Is he in trouble? What kind of busy does he have that he can't pass this way and let me fix him an antipasto?"
Hannah was taken aback by the woman's strange manner, but Henry Lee didn't seem to take it seriously and grabbed the handsome older woman around her ample waist for a big hug.
"I have been busy, and you will approve, I know," he told her. He turned and gestured to Hannah. "Rosa, Marco, I'd like you to meet my wife, Hannah."
Rosa screamed again and pushed Henry Lee away. "Why do I waste my breath on a man who lets his wife stand starving in the doorway? Come in! Come in!" she said to Hannah hugging her like a long lost friend and then holding her at arm's length and taking a good long look at her.
"Is she pretty, Marco?" she said in a way that conveyed that she definitely was. "A good, strong girl he picks," she spoke secretively to Hannah touching her finger to her brow, "I knew he was a smart one, learn from my Marco. When you pick a wife, you pick one that don't look like the wind would knock her over."
Rosa placed her hands on Hannah as if measuring the width of her pelvis. "Look at these hips, Marco. The boy will get plenty of babies from this one, no trouble."
Hannah's face flamed scarlet. Such plain speaking was embarrassing, but she could tell the woman had meant her words for the best. Besides, Hannah thought, it wouldn't hurt for Henry Lee to be aware of his wife's more practical advantages. Rosa fixed them a wonderful meal of some of the strangest dishes that Hannah had ever tasted. Everything from the pickled onions, through the spaghetti and on to the dessert custard was unique. Marco gave them lessons on spaghetti twirling and Rosa promised that she would teach Hannah everything she needed to know about cooking for a new husband. When Henry Lee declared that his wife already was the best cook in the territory, Rosa raised her hands to heaven.
"Thank God, at last he is truly in love! When a man believes that his wife cooks best, you know that his stomach has become as blind as his eyes!"
The Morellis were busy serving customers and Hannah and Henry Lee laughed and talked. When the last of the customers had headed out the door the two came and joined them at the table.
"I have a business proposition for you," Morelli told him. "It is something for the future, to set aside now. A young husband like yourself should think of the future, I know. Next time you look, you'll see the house full of bambinos and say, 'How this happen?'" he joked.
Henry Lee gave a startled glance at Hannah. He wondered when they would start telling people about the baby. Morelli was right, the future was here with them and a good husband and father would be making plans.
"What kind of business do you have in mind?"
"It's not business, not yet, it's investment," the older man told him. "The old Indian whose allotment sets just south of town here, he comes in to eat Rosa's cooking sometimes. He tells me he no like to live so near the town, make him crazy he says. So he go to live nearer his son. He want to sell his land, sell it fast."
Henry Lee nodded, interested.
"I think I should buy it. The town gonna grow I think, and it has nowhere to grow this side of the river except that way."
"Well, if you think you should buy it, why mention it to me?"
"Ah," Morelli dragged the sound out almost mournfully. "My Rosa and me, we got good sense and hard work, but we got no money." He gestured comically pulling the insides of his pockets out to show that they were empty.
"My good friend, Henry Lee, he got good sense and hard work, too. But, he's got money."
Hannah looked at Henry Lee, surprised. She hadn't been aware that Henry Lee was doing any better than the other farmers, but she was proud to hear otherwise. A fine man like her husband certainly deserved to do well.
Henry Lee saw the look on Hannah's face and immediately worried that she had heard enough to become suspicious.
"We don't want to bore you ladies with this business talk," he said. "Hannah, maybe you could get Rosa to show you the kitchen?"
Rosa wasn't buying any flimsy excuses. "Men!" she said. "They don't want us to hear their business talk, you know why? 'Cause we are so smarter than them, and they are afraid that we will find out!"
Hannah laughed.
"Come, little new bride," Rosa urged her, "I have new dress I've been making for my granddaughter, you must see it."
The two women disappeared through the door that led to the living quarters upstairs and Henry Lee turned to Morelli.
"How much does the old Indian want?" Henry Lee asked.
"He is not greedy," Morelli answered.
Henry Lee was sure that even if the city did not prosper and grow into the land, it was still fairly good bottom ground land that could be farmed and the trees on it, alone, would be worth the asking price. Morelli could come up with about a third of the money needed, if Henry Lee could make the rest.