by Vivi Holt
One eyebrow arched and his lips turned up at the edges. “You leaned forward and you slipped?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lean out so far? What were you looking at?”
“Nothing! I wasn’t looking at anything! I was washing clothes. And you can let go now. Thank you for your help.”
He laughed and released her, and she splashed back down into the water, her arms flailing. His hands pulled her up again and he grinned. “Perhaps you should try to find a foothold first.”
She stood and worked at straightening her skirts, which floated up around her like a tent. When she walked toward the shore they dragged behind her, weighing her down. He was watching her, she could sense it. She pushed forward, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“May I?” He was beside her in a moment, offering her his arm. She took it and he helped her to the shore. They climbed up the bank together and stood, arms still linked, looking into each other’s eyes.
Thomas leaned over her, his tall frame bent to meet hers. His eyes sparkled and his lips twisted into a half-smile. His eyes roamed from hers, traveling down her face to her lips and hung there. She bit her lower lip and felt her cheeks flush with warmth. His grin deepened and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel his heart beating against her. Her own heart raced and her breathing turned shallow and urgent. She didn’t know if he intended on kissing her, but his eyes looked hungry and stirred something deep within her she’d never felt before.
His lips found hers, and they were soft and wet with river water.
At first the kiss was gentle, but when she didn’t pull away he sought her hungrily, a soft moan escaping from the depths of his belly. He lifted her up, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly to him. Her body flooded with desire, and she found herself deepening the kiss, seeking more of him. Her hands raked up his bare chest and found their way to his neck. She wrapped them behind his head and laced her fingers through his wet hair, pulling him closer still.
What was she doing?!? He was her boss, her only hope of escaping from Fred and Quincey. What if this kiss ruined everything? What if he sent her back? She couldn’t risk everything for a kiss. And she was married, like it or not – she wasn’t free to kiss anyone, least of all Thomas. Her sweet, kind, handsome Thomas, who always put everyone before himself. She couldn’t hurt him like this.
His lips traveled down her neck, teasing and taunting with soft nibbles. She could feel herself melting into him … and she gasped and pulled away.
His eyes narrowed and he exhaled sharply. “Why are you running from your husband, Genny?” A muscle in his jaw tightened.
“What? Why… well, because I wanted an adventure, that’s all.” She couldn’t think clearly. Her breathing was ragged and she gasped against the constrictive corset that cut tightly into her waist. He wanted the truth, but if she told him, what would he do with it? How would he react? Would he believe her? What if he thought less of her?
If he knew that someone else treated her as though she was nothing, someone who was supposed to love and value her, then maybe he’d think that she was nothing as well. And he’d pity her. The last thing she needed right now was for Thomas to pity her. She wanted something else from him, she knew that. She wasn’t certain exactly what, she was so confused, but she knew it wasn’t his pity.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his still-wet hair. He stepped back and forced a tired smile to his face. “Well, you got it – you got your adventure. I hope you enjoy it. You know, someday I’m going to need you to be honest with me, Genny. Someday you’ll have to tell me the truth. I just hope you’ll trust me enough … someday.”
Genny stifled a sob. She did trust him, as much as she’d ever trusted anyone. But how could she let go and trust him completely? She didn’t know how; she wasn’t sure she was capable of it. That kind of vulnerability would only lead to pain and disappointment. She didn’t believe he wanted to hurt her, but even so, he would. Everyone did. At some point everyone she cared about hurt her, whether they meant to or not. And in her experience they usually meant to.
But Thomas was different … wasn’t he? He was trustworthy. He was honorable. He wasn’t like the other men in her life. She wanted so badly to fall on her knees and tell him everything, to spew it all out and keep nothing cloaked by darkness any longer. If only she could.
Emotion surged through her, overwhelming her, and she stumbled away from him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Genny!” cried Thomas.
She didn’t turn back. Crying hard now, the tears blinding her vision, she ran and ran, gasping for air. She wanted so badly to share everything with him, but in the end it wouldn’t change anything. Regardless of how she felt about him, no matter what he felt for her, she was married. That was something that couldn’t be undone, couldn’t be overcome. She belonged to someone else.
She had to stay away from Thomas. She’d tried to ignore the growing feelings she had for him, but it wasn’t working. Her heart was flooded with them – she admired him, his strength, his spirit, his determination.
By the time she reached the back of the chuck wagon, the tears had slowed. She grabbed hold of the wagon and leaned against it, sobbing softly into her hands.
“Genny, what’s wrong?” Sarah hurried to her, wrapping her arms around her shaking body in a gentle embrace.
“It’s Tom. I’m married – my husband might be a varmint, but I’m married. In his eyes, in the eyes of the law … and Tom doesn’t understand. I can’t tell him the truth, because he’d never believe me, or he’d pity me and I couldn’t stand that. I don’t want him to think me a liar or pity me. I don’t know which would be worse. What should I do?”
Sarah smiled and patted her shoulder. “Oh, I thought maybe you had feelings for Tom.”
“I’ve tried so hard not to, but he’s just so …”
“Wonderful?”
“Yes!”
“He is a good man, and I think he’d understand if you told him about your husband and why you had to leave Texas.”
“Perhaps,” Genevieve wiped the tears from her eyes with her wet apron. She glanced at it in dismay – suddenly remembering her current sodden state.
“Not to change the topic of conversation my dear, but why are you soaking wet?” asked Sarah, her eyes twinkling.
Genevieve surveyed her muddied clothing. Her dress dripped, her apron was covered in filth, her hair was slicked to the sides of her head, and her boots were wet through and sloshed with each step. She burst out laughing. “I fell in the river watching Tom bathe,” she cried.
Sarah burst out laughing. “You did? You hussy! Was he dressed?”
Genevieve shook her head, unable to speak as she felt her cheeks redden at the memory. “He was only wearing pants!”
“For shame, Genevieve Waters! Did he look good?”
She nodded and giggled. “He sure did.”
“Well, no wonder you fell in the river.”
The two women bent double as laughter burst from them. It filled the night that had descended on the campsite as the herd settled to sleep and the cowboys lay around the fire, playing cards, whittling or snoozing, while they waited for their supper.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Genevieve rose early and decided to take a walk along the river bank. Her throat felt sore and her nose had a little tickle in it. She must have gotten a cold the previous night in her wet clothes. She’d changed as soon as she finished talking with Sarah, but it took a while for her to warm up. Especially because she avoided the campfire the entire evening.
She didn’t want to have to speak to Thomas, and didn’t think she’d be able to face him without her cheeks turning red. Just the thought of him, bare-chested in the water, sent her heartbeat into a frenzy. The way he’d held her in his arms, pressed up against him in the river … she had to get away from the camp, and walking had always been a good way for her to clear
her head and get her mind off things.
The morning was still and silent but for the trickle of water and the call of various birds. She climbed down the riverbank where the water shallowed and stepped out into the center on various rocks that jutted up through the water, creating a footpath of sorts. Beyond the rocks, an intricate levy of sticks, mud and grass blocked the descent of the river, and she could see a beaver busily chewing on a stick. It sat upright on its flat tail, its whiskers twitching as it bit into the wood.
She made her way across the river on the flat rocks and mounted the bank on the other side. Beyond her as far as she could see stretched the prairie, with tall native grasses swaying gently in an undulating wave of golden brown. She gasped. It was awe-inspiring to see such a magnificent prairie, seemingly without end, under the clear blue sky.
She walked forward and lifted her arms above her head. With a laugh, she twirled in a circle, her eyes skyward. The freedom she felt was something she’d never experienced before. She didn’t know if Fred and Quincey would still come after her, but suddenly she no longer cared. She had friends now, friends who would stand beside her. Friends who wouldn’t let her be taken against her will back to Texas.
She was finally free to do as she wished and to go where she wanted. And this – this amazing adventure through the heartland of America – this was what she wanted. To be able to see and experience the beauty of her homeland: the magnificent diversity, the raw wilderness, the imposing size of it. She soaked it in, her mouth pulled into a wide smile. Ma would have loved to see this.
She swept her gaze across the wide, flat prairie, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise – a herd of bison grazed nearby. Their dark brown backs dotted the prairie to the horizon – there must have been thousands of them. They grazed silently, their enormous heads bent to the long grasses below. For some, only their shoulders and backs were visible. For those closer by, she could see their furry heads and necks and their long pink tongues pulling at the grass.
She heard the sound of the breakfast bell ringing upriver, back at the campsite. Several of the bison raised their heads, and one close by snorted at the sound. They began to wander off, glancing back toward the campsite with wary eyes.
Genevieve sighed and turned to make her way back across the river. Something had changed in her overnight. She felt different today – free, alive, content. She wasn’t sure what had caused the change, but she thought it might’ve had something to do with her encounter with Thomas. The way he’d looked at her as he held her on the river bank, the hunger in his eyes for her … she knew then how he felt about her, that it was possible he shared her feelings. She couldn’t ignore it any longer – she cared for him. It didn’t make any difference, since she could never be his, but admitting it to herself brought a new-found peace.
She leaped from stone to stone and hiked up the riverbank on the other side. With a wave to the beaver, still working on his dam, she hurried back to camp.
Chapter Fifteen
Thomas lifted his hands and pushed them back behind himself, stretching out his tired muscles. It had been a hard day – a good one, but he was tired. Several stragglers had gotten lost along the river bank, and they’d had a devil of a time finding them all and bringing them back into the herd. Then they’d spooked an enormous herd of buffalo on the other side of the river, which had stampeded and almost caused his herd of cattle to join them. Thankfully, he and Dan had worked together quickly to turn the spooked cattle in on themselves before they’d gotten far.
He removed his Stetson and pushed the hair back from his face. It was caked with sweat, and he wished they hadn’t left the river behind. He could have done with another swim tonight. Especially like the one he had last night. He grinned at the memory and pushed his hat back into place.
He’d been surprised when Genevieve fell into the river and had acted on impulse, running to her and lifting her into his arms. It wasn’t until she looked into his eyes that he remembered he wasn’t dressed. Then he became very aware of her body pushed up against his. The thought of it sent a tingle through him and he felt his pulse race. It had been all he could do not to go far beyond kissing her.
If only she weren’t married.
He punched one hand into the other and his face flushed with warmth. That cad who came looking for her didn’t deserve her. He could tell what kind of man her husband was from the moment he walked into the camp. He was far too old for her, and looked as though he’d seen one too many bottles of whiskey. Not to mention the condition of his horse – any man who let his horse get into that sorry state didn’t deserve any kind of wife, let alone one as beautiful and sweet as Genevieve.
The warm glow of the campfire beckoned to him through the falling darkness. He’d bedded Alto down for the night in the remuda with the rest of the horses. He’d have to choose another animal to ride tomorrow – he’d ridden Alto all day today, and his coat was soaked in sweat when they were finally done. He needed a break.
His mind wandered back again to Genevieve. She was such a mystery to him. One moment, she seemed so soft and vulnerable, and he could have sworn that she was attracted to him. Then all of a sudden, she transformed and withdrew into herself – she acted cold, distant, as if she didn’t care one whit about him. It was most troubling. And yet he couldn’t help remembering what her lips tasted like. He licked his own dry, chapped lips at the thought.
Genevieve was serving mugs of stew to the crew when he reached the cozy circle around the campfire. She sneezed into her handkerchief and wiped her nose. Cookie was nowhere to be seen, and he shook his head. If he had half a brain he’d send Cookie packing at the next town. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it – the man seemed so forlorn and all alone in the world. Genevieve had told him about how Cookie had lost his family, and it tugged at his heart strings. It was no use; he couldn’t cast the man off.
“Smells great.” He smiled at Genevieve, who blushed red at the sight of him. He sat in his usual place by the campfire between Dan and Dusty.
“Howdy boss,” said Dusty. His hat was on the ground by his side, and the ring it had left on his forehead stood out bright in the firelight.
“Dusty, Dan. Evening, y’all.” Thomas nodded to the group, who murmured greetings in reply.
“Tough day today, boss,” said Dan, taking a giant bite of the stew and chewing with a contented look on his tanned face.
“Yes, it was. Now that we’re past the river and the bison herd, I hope we’ll have less to contend with for a while.”
Genevieve handed him a steaming mug of stew and he nodded thanks. She smiled, blushing again, and his smile widened to a grin. She sure seemed disconcerted by their encounter the previous evening – she looked as though she might drop hot stew in Bill Hanover’s lap. Her cheeks were red, and she kept glancing back at him over her shoulder. A thrill ran through his body as he watched her.
She finished serving the group and, taking a mug of her own, sat close to Thomas to eat. He pushed himself back to sit beside her. She smiled up at him and took a bite.
“This is tasty,” he said, cursing himself for his feeble attempt at conversation. What he really wanted to do was take her into his arms and kiss her hard on the mouth. He clenched his jaw and tried again. “Did you know that I grew up in Ohio?”
She shook her head. “No, I just assumed you were from Texas.”
“Nope, I’m from Ohio, near a little town called Burlingham. My parents own a ranch there.”
“So you grew up on a ranch?”
“I sure did. My family is still there – my brother Harold runs the place now. Pa always expected me to have a ranch of my own. He told me so every chance he got. But a ranch is expensive and I didn’t have any money until last year – I took my chances in the Montana gold rush and it paid off.
“So, I went down to Texas right away. The economy suffered after the War Between the States, and cattle were being sold off at rock-bottom prices. And since the miners and settlers up
north love their beef, I figure I should be able to run a successful cattle ranch in Montana Territory. Assuming, of course, that nothing else goes wrong and we make it to Montana.” He took another bite of stew, as Genevieve listened with what seemed like great interest. “So what about you? Are you from Texas?”
Genevieve ducked her head and nodded, “Yes. My parents moved there before I was born. I’ve never been anywhere else.”
“I guess I met your pa…”
“No, that was my stepfather.”
“Oh? I was wondering, since you said you didn’t have any folks the first time we met.”
“Yes. He married Ma after Pa died.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your pa.”
“Thank you.”
“How did you meet your husband?” He could tell she was uncomfortable with his questions, but he wasn’t sure why. He just wanted to know more about her so he could try to understand her, understand how she could be married to that man Quincey and why she was running from him. He knew he could never have her, that she was someone else’s wife, and the frustration of that fact made his blood rush in anger.
He’d never met anyone like her before. Sure, there had been the occasional kiss in Ohio when he was just a young man, but since leaving there he’d hardly even seen any eligible women, let alone had the opportunity to get to know one. Certainly no one as beautiful, caring and strong as Genevieve.
She swallowed hard and her eyes looked moist. “I … that is to say … he was my neighbor. Excuse me.” She stood and hurried off, looking to be wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
Thomas leaned back on his hands and sighed. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Now she was gone and no doubt angry with him. He shook his head.