Oregon Trail Boxed Set

by Hutton, Callie

  “You look very pretty tonight, Mrs. Cooper.” Davis reached out and slid his hand behind her neck, drawing her to him. Gently he leaned down and kissed her. He moved his palm forward and cupped her face. Tilting her head he eased his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss. Sliding her hands up over his shoulder, Emma played with the wet, curly hair tickling the collar of his shirt. She sighed and moved closer.

  “You sure you want to go to this party, darlin’?” Davis whispered as he nibbled on the sensitive skin below her ear. “I can think of other things we can do to keep ourselves occupied tonight.” His heavy lidded eyes told her exactly what he had in mind.

  “We’ll be missed. People will come looking for us, to see if we’re all right.” She shook her head.

  He sighed. “All right.” His strong hands kneaded her shoulders. “We’ll continue this later.” After a quick wink, he lifted the dish that was their offering for the party, and giving her his arm, and they joined the other families ambling toward the area outside the supply store roped off for the party.

  Emma sat on a tree stump and watched the antics of the mountain men. It was obvious they were drunk. Their wives didn’t seem to mind, and just smiled when one of them grabbed a woman from the wagon train and started to dance her around. Everyone laughed, but Emma became more uncomfortable by the minute. Her tension only increased when another mountain man crossed the dance area and headed directly for her. Stumbling slightly in front of her, he reached down, and pulled her up. “Come on, little lady, let’s dance.”

  His breath was enough to kill a moose, and he was another man who had no relationship with soap and water. He may have been drunk and stumbling, but he had an iron grip on Emma. After only about a minute of this torture, she heard a voice over her shoulder. “Let the lady go, friend, I’m cutting in.” Davis reached between them to take Emma’s hands. The mountain man was not giving up his prize, however.

  “Get lost, buddy, the lady’s dancing with me.” He turned her so his back was to Davis.

  “Once more, friend, I’m cutting in.” Davis grabbed the man’s arm.

  “And I said I ain’t letting go. Get lost.”

  Davis spun him around. The drunk released Emma, and took a blow to the jaw. Reeling back, he stumbled, and after another punch directly to his oversized middle, fell to his knees. Not waiting to see if he could even get up, Davis took Emma by the arm and put distance between them and her overzealous admirer. She glanced over her shoulder to see the man holding his jaw and shaking his head, as he looked at Davis’s back in confusion.

  “Thank you for saving me. These men are a little bit scary.”

  “They’re drunk. Just stay next to me, and in a little while we’ll head back to the wagon.” He regarded her carefully. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His jaw worked as his gaze roamed over her face and body.

  “I’m fine. But I could use something to drink, I’m thirsty.”

  “I saw some punch over there.” He waved in the general direction of the supply store.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “No you don’t.” He snatched her hand. “We’ll go together.” He took her by the elbow, and they strolled past where one of the mountain men helped the drunk to his feet.

  * * *

  Emma dipped a cup into one of several punch bowls and gulped the refreshing liquid, and then dipped in again and downed a second one.

  “You really were thirsty. Let’s sit awhile so you can catch your breath.”

  They settled on a bench not too far from the dance area. “I wonder why the mountain men’s wives don’t seem to mind them drinking so much and dancing with other women?” Emma’s propped up her chin with her fist, her elbow resting on her knee, as she watched the goings-on.

  Davis grinned. “You see the size of those men? I’m sure they do whatever it is they want to do. Most Ute women tend to be easy on their men. Besides, not everyone has an exemplary husband such as myself.”

  She slanted him a look and smirked. “That punch was really good. Could you get me another glass?”

  Davis returned with a cup that Emma made quick use of. After about fifteen minutes her face turned a rosy red, and she giggled every time she glanced in his direction. As the fiddles began a slow number, she stood and held out her hand. “Let’s dance.” Humming the song, she dragged him onto the makeshift dance floor.

  “Are you sure about this, honey?” Davis asked as she turned into his arms. “You look a little flushed.”

  “I’m fine, I want to dance.” She pulled him close and Davis got a whiff of her breath and grinned.

  “Darlin’, I think we got your punch out of the wrong bowl.”

  She peered at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “The mountain men’s bowl of punch had liquor in it. In other words, dear wife, I think you’re a little tipsy.”

  “No, not tipsy, I just feel happy.” She looked up at him, and the heaviness in her eyes had his mouth drying up, and his nether parts growing strong.

  As they danced, Emma kept playing with the curly hair that fell over his collar. Then she began to rub her breasts back and forth over his chest.

  “I want to tell you something,” she breathed into his ear.

  “What’s that, darlin’?’ He laughed softly at this very entertaining side of his wife.

  “When you do those things to me.” She blew in his ear. “You know, at night?”

  “Yessss?” He hissed the word and clenched his jaw. Things were becoming interesting, but somewhat painful below his belt. One glance in her eyes and he smothered a groan, but still pulled her closer.

  “I just wanted you to know that I really, really like that.”

  “Is that so?” He sputtered, looking around to make sure no one overheard her confession.

  “Yes, that’s so.” She nodded smugly. “And I just wanted you to know that.” She tilted her head and smiled, driving even more blood downward.

  “Well, honey, I want you to know that I really, really like doing those things to you too.”

  “I thought so.” Emma snuggled closer.

  Laughing now, he danced her over to the edge of the gathering, then grasped her hand, tugging her toward the dark area where the wagons sat.

  “Where are we going? The party’s not over yet.” She pulled back.

  “This party is over, darlin’, but the one I have in mind is just about to start.”

  Emma smiled and slowly her mouth formed an “Oh.”

  “I like the shape of your mouth, honey. Let’s see if we can find a use for it.” Davis slung his arm around her shoulder and hurried her along.

  Before they even got to the wagon, Emma turned and pulled Davis’s head down, running her tongue over his lips. He sucked her tongue in and then thrust his into her mouth, swirling it around. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. The lower part of Davis’s body came to full and complete attention.

  “Do you like that?” She opened his shirt, then slid her hands around his back.

  “Mrs. Cooper. if we don’t get to the wagon soon, I’m afraid we’re going to scare the horses and scandalize the old maids.” Again he moved her along, hoping no one had witnessed their little exchange.

  Once in the wagon, they turned to each other, then frantically loosened buttons and removed clothes, all the while kissing, touching, and murmuring encouragement. Hairpins flew in every direction as Emma’s locks tumbled down.

  “Can I be on top this time?” Her body shone in the moonlight as she crawled on the pallet.

  Almost swallowing his tongue, he managed a grunt. “Darlin’, you can do anything you want.”

  Both more than ready, she settled herself on his throbbing manhood. Nature’s glow highlighted her pale skin, as she leaned over him to offer a searing kiss, her hair surrounding them like a silk curtain. Davis reached up, and cupping both breasts, fondled the sensitive nipples as he moved slowly, watching her closely. Emma raised her hands to he
r head, and pulling her hair back in a pile, smiled down at him.

  His breath caught. God she was beautiful. The extra weight on her breasts and the growing expansion of her waist, filled with his child, fired him more than any sight he’d ever seen. Groaning, he grabbed her hips and rocked her in the age-old rhythm of lovers. She clutched his upper arms, threw her head back, and closed her eyes, her hair streaming down. The picture she presented brought him so close to the brink he had to struggle to hold on, not allow his release until she found hers.

  He reached between them and fondled the swollen piece of flesh he knew would bring her along. Within minutes, Davis felt Emma grip his member, her body wracked with waves of pleasure that clenched and unclenched, pushing him over the edge.

  Sweating and panting, heart racing, Emma collapsed onto his chest. After a few minutes, Davis brushed her hair back from her face just in time to hear her gentle snore.

  He pulled her against his chest, and drew a light blanket over them. As he settled in, he grinned. His wife would not be happy in the morning.

  16

  Emma awoke with a headache, and ran her tongue over her fuzzy teeth. Her mouth felt as parched as a dessert. Despite it being morning, the inside of the wagon was dark gray, with a chilling dampness. A quick glance between where the canvas and wagon met revealed a slow, steady rain.

  She eased her aching head toward her husband, who leaned on his elbow, wide-awake and smiling, his eyes sparkling. What was that all about?

  Then she remembered the night before, and groaning, grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Davis said as he eased the blanket down again.

  “Please, I’m so embarrassed.” She rolled over, giving him her back.

  Davis placed his hand on her shoulder and edged her back around, smoothing the loose hairs from her forehead. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Mrs. Cooper.”

  “I acted like a harlot.” She moaned and covered her face with her hands.

  Pulling her hands down, Davis looked at her, biting his lip, apparently trying hard not to laugh. “Ah, honey, don’t fret. That’s the best time I’ve had in years. You can be a harlot with me anytime you want.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek.

  Suddenly she sat up, the blanket falling to her lap. “Oh my goodness.” She turned to him, her nakedness forgotten. “Suppose I hurt the baby last night?”

  “Sweetheart, you didn’t have that much to drink. It’s just that you’re not used to it. You can speak with Dr. Bennett later, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. But for safety sake, let’s not drink punch again until after the baby comes.” He gave her that lazy, lopsided grin. “Then you can have all the mountain men’s punch you want.”

  Emma yanked the pillow out from behind her and swatted him in the head.

  * * *

  The group of emigrants now faced the worst part of the trip. Already tired after months on the road, they now had to deal with hot and dry end-of-the-summer days, with a burning sun beating down on them relentlessly. At least Davis and Emma had fresh oxen to pull the wagon down steep, narrow paths.

  Emma saw Nate just about every day, but he hadn’t approached her since he spoke his intentions before they’d reached Fort Bridger. She still wasn’t sure what Nate hoped to accomplish. It was almost like he thought she would just bounce from one husband to another with no thought. It was bad enough she’d been forced to marry again so soon after Peter’s death. But, in truth, she had to admit it appeared to be working out all right. She and Davis got along, and while she wasn’t sure he loved her, he seemed to care a great deal.

  As for how she felt about him, she was still confused. Thinking again about last night, heat rose from her toes all the way to her hairline. She glanced at Davis, afraid he could read her thoughts, but he was staring straight ahead, his mind a million miles away. And Emma was afraid if she admitted she loved Davis, even to herself, there would be no hope of returning to Indiana. He’d already stated his case in that regard. He would not take her back home.

  Enjoying the peace of the rocking wagon as she worked on the new dress and considered her future, Emma put down her sewing and glanced at her husband. “You know, we never got a chance to speak with Ezra about the Indian problem.”

  “I saw him for a little bit this morning when I went to fetch the animals. He said he had heard the same things as the Preston ladies. He didn’t seem concerned, though. Apparently, one of the reasons Nate and his cohort are with us is to help with any Indian concerns.” He snorted at this last statement. “If we have to depend on those two nitwits who can’t seem to get out of each other’s way, all I can say is I’m glad I taught you to shoot.”

  Emma had gotten to the point where she no longer jerked the trigger, but pulled it slowly. Now her shots were more accurate, and each day Davis moved her targets further back. As her skill improved her confidence grew, and it felt great.

  * * *

  Davis glanced up sharply when the wagon in front of him slowed and eventually rolled to a stop.

  “What the devil did we stop for?” He mumbled as he climbed down from the front seat. He followed several men heading toward the front of the line. His heart did a double thump at the sight of a band of mounted Indians talking to Ezra. Nate and the other corporal, rifles handy, had joined the group.

  “Corporal, can you speak to these Indians?” Ezra addressed Nate as Davis walked up to the small group gathered in front of the first wagon.

  Six Indians dressed only in breechcloths and carrying spears, sat on their horses, facing Ezra and the two soldiers. The emigrants that had joined the group stood back a bit. Nate immediately began using sign language to communicate with the man who must have been the chief. He sat the biggest horse, stood in front of the rest of his group, and wore a headdress, while the others only had leather strips around their heads.

  The chief signed back to Nate, who turned to Ezra. “The chief says too many white men come here. They kill the buffalo and disturb the earth. He wants to know if we’re staying or moving on.”

  “Well did you tell him we’re only passing through, Corporal?” Ezra licked his lips and glanced sideways at the group of Indians.

  “I did.”

  As soon as Nate finished speaking, the Indians climbed from their horses and headed down the length of the wagon train. Davis immediately jogged to his wagon. Emma still sat on the front wagon seat, holding her sewing with white knuckled hands.

  “Why are those Indians here? What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know for sure yet, honey. I don’t think anyone does.” He reached up for her and swung her down alongside him. “I think it best if you don’t say anything.”

  The Indians poked their heads into the back of the wagons, rummaging through belongings. Some of them came out holding treasures they’d found. The chief remained in the front with the two soldiers and Ezra.

  “Come on, let’s go up front with the others.” Davis urged Emma along.

  “Do you think we should take the shotgun?” Her voice shook.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think if they were going to attack, they would have done so by now. If we all keep our heads this may end soon.”

  Emma and Davis joined the gathering group of emigrants. A few feet from where they stood Abigail and Elizabeth clutched each other, with Jeb standing behind them, his hands anchored on their shoulders. Sarah and Buck, with all of their children, huddled together. Everyone watched as the Indians went in and out of wagons, sometimes coming out with an item, sometimes not.

  Nate and the chief still used sign language to communicate.

  Each time one of them moved their hands, Ezra asked Nate to interpret. From what Davis heard, the Indians expected tokens for allowing them to pass through. He guessed that’s what all the picking through the wagons was all about.

  Eventually there was a pile of things in front of the chief. There were pots, pans, blankets
, dried fruit, a small mirror, a child’s doll, men’s shirts, eating utensils and other items in the growing mound. The dress Emma had been working on landed on top of the pile. Davis squeezed her hand and shook his head when she gasped.

  Three female Indians joined the group on horses. They pulled a small wooden wagon that most likely had been confiscated from previous emigrants. They stopped in front of the pile and bent to load the cart.

  The Indians returned from searching the wagons and spoke to their chief. He signed something to Nate. Working to contain a smile, he told Ezra they were disappointed because they didn’t find any liquor.

  “The chief says they got many bottles from the last wagon train that passed through,” Nate added.

  “Corporal, ask the chief if we can move on now. The sooner we get away from here, the better I’ll feel.” Ezra wiped his forehead, either from heat or fear.

  Nate again signed the chief who nodded. The women had finished loading up their wagon and had started back to their encampment. The Indians on the horses turned and followed. The chief signed something else to Nate, who shook his head yes. Looking around slowly at the group of emigrants standing there, the chief nodded, turned his horse and rode away.

  A collective sigh of relief rose from the group.

  “What did the chief say before he left?” Ezra asked the solider.

  “He said we should move quickly, and don’t offend the Great Spirit’s earth.”

  “Well, that’s the best advice I’ve had in a long time.” Ezra clapped his hands. “Let’s move out people, and make it fast.”

  The group took little time getting back to their wagons. Within minutes they were on their way again.

  “Did you see the Indians took the dress I was working on?” Emma huffed as the wagon started up again.

  “Darlin’, I’m just glad they took your dress and not your hair. That was a pretty close call. I’ll admit it’s been a long time since I was that scared.” Slapping the reins at the animals, he looked over at her. “You sure seemed to stay pretty calm, Mrs. Cooper.”