Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two

by Jane Bonander

  She thought back to the other times Jason had tended to her cuts and bruises. It seemed he always saw her at her absolute worst.

  “Nancy,” Ivy called. “You bring Rachel some tea, and Jessie, get some towels and make a compress.” She gripped Rachel’s hands and looked at her sternly. “Were you coming from the reservation?”

  Rachel nodded, then smiled up at Nancy as she set a cup of tea down in front of her. “I took the shoes out there. The children needed the shoes.”

  “Shame on you!” Ivy scolded. “Jason? Did you hear that? She went to the reservation by herself. Me and Earl warned her about that.” She gave Rachel a stern look. “What were you thinking of, girl?”

  Rachel wasn’t in any mood to be scolded. Ignoring Ivy’s little tirade, she glanced longingly at Jason’s broad back. He’d ordered compresses for her ankle, then left her. He treated his horse with more care than he’d just given her. In spite of that, she ached for him.

  He was still angry; she deserved his anger. If she’d been wise and had kept her feelings about Buck to herself that day, Buck wouldn’t have been arrested. Whether she’d meant it or not, it was all her fault. And this time she wasn’t just taking the blame because it was her nature. She took the blame because it was hers to take.

  Everything Jason had ever said to her about his people, all of those things about how they weren’t considered human and weren’t allowed the same rights as Whites, had once seemed an exaggeration. She’d listened with polite, even sympathetic interest, but she hadn’t entirely believed him. After all, he was seeing things from the other side of the fence. It had taken so much tragedy for her to realize that he’d been right all along.

  But she had so much to tell Jason. She wanted to go back a few weeks and start over again. She needed to tell someone about the money, and she wanted it to be Jason. Because whether he believed it or not, he was the only person she truly trusted. She wanted to tell him about Buck’s response to the leather money pouch that had been stolen from Jeremy’s safe. And about the disappearance of her mother’s cameo brooch… She wanted his confidence again. She wanted his trust. And, she realized, pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering, she most desperately wanted his love. But that, she realized, was something he hadn’t even given her before.

  Now, there he stood; completely and utterly shutting her out, his eyes focused on something outside, on the street. If he’d turn and take just one step in her direction, she’d do the rest. She’d run headlong into his arms, hobbling all the way, begging him to forgive all of her foolishness. She ached with longing. Her anguish deepened when he hurled himself away from the window and stormed out the door, leaving her without so much as a backward glance.

  Jason deliberately slowed his pace as he crossed the street, trying to get a handle on his feelings. His heart had rammed into his rib cage when he’d seen Rachel, her face drawn and white and her sweet mouth trembling with fear. But at least she was alive. He’d feared the worst when the horses had sped into town without her or the wagon. She was bedraggled and hurt and he’d treated her with the same indifference as he had the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. He hadn’t known her then, but now there was no excuse. She’d nearly been killed, yet he couldn’t meet her halfway. Damn his stubborn pride! Thank God he’d asked Ben to keep an eye on her while he was gone in case she ventured out of town. He couldn’t have lived with himself if something had happened to her.

  She didn’t seem like a very strong woman, but when he thought about what she’d already been through in her short time in Pine Valley, he realized she had an inner strength that matched the strongest he’d ever seen.

  How he’d wanted to pull her into his arms. Just touching her foot had sent crazy waves of longing crashing through him. Longing for what they’d once had… he wondered if they’d ever have it again. If there was a chance, everything that was standing in their way would have to be cleared up. And it was up to him. He knew he could hold a grudge forever. He didn’t think she was capable of it.

  Now, he had a damned good idea who was behind all the little mysteries concerning Weber and Ritter. And, if he was right, he also knew who’d been trying to kill Rachel. He didn’t know why, and he knew he couldn’t prove anything, but he had a gut feeling.

  Stepping into the saloon, he pulled the pungent coffee smell deep into his lungs. An alarm went off inside his head. Yes, this was where he’d smelled that special brand before. So, now he knew who had been behind the attempts on Rachel’s life, but he sure as hell didn’t know why. Not yet.

  Harvey glanced up at him from behind the bar. “Well, Doc. Haven’t seen you in here for months. Can I get you something?”

  Jason’s gaze went to the office door, then drifted slowly back to the bartender. “Your boss in?”

  Harvey looked away, busying himself with a row of bottles. “Yeah. He’s… he’s been in there all morning.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. You’re a liar, Harvey. He strode to the office door just as Bram Justice opened it. The saloon keeper stepped back, surprised.

  “Jason,” he said with a quick smile. “Is something wrong?”

  Jason nodded. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  Justice, fully composed, ushered him into his office. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

  Jason swallowed a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

  Bram poured the coffee, then set the china cup and saucer down on the desk in front of Jason. He inhaled the aroma again. This was it. His heartbeat sped up, adrenaline pressed through him. This was the coffee he’d smelled that morning he’d found Rachel huddled and shivering in the black corner of a root cellar.

  Schooling in his thoughts, he casually sipped the coffee. “Unusual-tasting stuff. Sort of the ‘sour mash’ of coffees, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Justice ignored him.

  “Do you get it around here?”

  Bram was at his files, his back to Jason. “It’s not so unusual, really. The mercantile has it.”

  “But they ship it in for you, don’t they? From where, New Orleans?”

  Bram turned around slowly. “And if they do? Does that make it a crime?”

  Jason gave him an expansive, innocent smile. “Certainly not. I just said it had an unusual taste.”

  Bram gave him a careful look. “Of course.”

  He sat back, trying to enjoy the exquisite taste of the coffee. “How’s Karleen?”

  Bram stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a doctor, Bram. Even if I hadn’t heard she was pregnant, I would have guessed it, back when she was running that high fever.”

  “She’s fine.” His answer was sharp, contained.

  “Is she going to keep it?”

  Bram turned, his black eyes glowing with hatred. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Jason sighed and put his cup on the desk. “That’s a dangerous choice, Bram. Have it done wrong, and she could die.”

  Suddenly, Bram attacked. “This is my business. I don’t want or need your opinion. No half-breed is going to make the decision for me.”

  Jason raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Just remember what I said. Abortion could kill her and the child.” Keeping in mind what he’d come into the saloon for, he asked, “Have you been here all morning?”

  Bram’s expression was carefully closed. “Why?”

  Jason shrugged. “Harvey said you’ve been working in here all morning. But,” he added, shifting in his chair, “I thought I saw you race into town just a short while ago.”

  Bram turned away, busying himself at his files again. “Harvey was mistaken. I… I did go out for a few minutes.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Or are you doing Tully’s dirty work? God knows he’s not capable of doing his own anymore.”

  So, he wasn’t the only person who’d noticed Earl’s lack of energy and interest. It probably gav
e Bram a false sense of security, knowing the marshal wasn’t as quick as he used to be. “No, I’m not doing Earl’s job. Just curious, I guess.”

  He rose to leave. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Justice merely nodded, but continued to watch him until he was gone.

  Once outside, Jason crossed to his office. He found Ben waiting for him inside.

  “Well? What spooked the horses?”

  “Not ‘what,’ but ‘who.’ ”

  “Bram Justice?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I saw him ride into town just before you brought Rachel in. Did she say anything to you?”

  “No,” Ben answered. “She was pretty shook up. The wagon tipped over on top of her, but she somehow had curled up under the seat so she wasn’t hurt.” He paused. “She could have been, though. Bram was poking around, probably looking for her body when I scared him away. I think he would have finished her off, Jason.”

  Jason let out a long sigh, then rubbed his neck. He didn’t want to think about a world without Rachel in it. It was people like her who made it bearable for the rest. “Thanks, Ben. I’d hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

  Ben shrugged. “You were right to have someone watch her.”

  “Yeah, now I have to watch him.” And he also had to figure out a way to keep a closer eye on Rachel.

  Rachel had felt listless ever since her accident. Her sore ankle gave her an excuse to do little, and she’d have happily stayed in her room, but Ivy refused to let her sulk. Of course, Ivy didn’t know she was sulking, for she always pretended to be interested in Ivy’s prattle.

  “I think you should go.”

  “What?” Rachel asked, pulling herself away from her day dreaming.

  “I said, I think you should thumb your nose at this whole danged town and go to the basket social.”

  Rachel laughed, but only to cover her feelings of emptiness. “Why would I want to put myself through that kind of punishment?”

  “Oh, now, everyone doesn’t think you’re an ‘Injun lover,’ you know. And anyways, what’s wrong with it? I like Indians just fine. Most of us do.”

  Rachel picked up the feather duster and dutifully went over the rungs on all the chairs at the table where they sat. “But most of them would gladly point the finger at any Indian who supposedly killed a loved one, wouldn’t they? That makes me lower than low, Ivy.”

  “But you said you were sure that Jeremy’s killer had a scar on his cheek.”

  “That’s right. He did. But I didn’t remember that until I really came face to face with Buck. Something cleared in my head, like fog rolling away. It was the strangest sensation.”

  “Well, I don’t want you moping around here anymore. Get out,” Ivy urged. “Get out and meet some new people. If you’re gonna stay on here, you’ll have to make some friends.”

  If I’m going to stay on here, I’m going to need Jason’s love. “Oh, but I—”

  “Now, don’t back-talk, girl. Take out your prettiest dress, you know, the light blue one you rolled into a ball that day at the cabin.”

  The thought of wearing her wedding dress no longer made her ache. She’d gladly buried her feelings of hurt regarding her wedding and everything that had gone along with it. “And what am I supposed to do with it?”

  Ivy shook her finger in Rachel’s face. “I said, don’t sass me, girl. That basket social at the church starts in three hours. You go get ready, and I’ll put together a basket that’ll have every man there droolin’ over you and your lunch.”

  “But, Ivy. It’s a summer dress. I’ll freeze to death in it, especially since I don’t have my cape.”

  Even though Ivy had often offered hers, every time Rachel put it on, she smelled the smoke that still permeated the fabric. She realized she’d rather freeze to death than wear something that reminded her of her close encounter with death.

  Ivy wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Then you can use mine. Smoke smell or not, it’s better than nothing. And if you won’t wear it, I’ll find something else for you to wear. I ain’t lettin’ you get by with spending your time in that little room. If Jason don’t know what he’s got—”

  “Jason?” Rachel interrupted, her heart leaping.

  “Oh, now don’t go thinkin’ I haven’t been aware of what’s goin’ on between the two of you. You wear your heart on your sleeve whenever you see him. And he’s been slammin’ around here for days, ornery as a mule with a boil on its butt.

  “Now,” she said, refusing to let Rachel argue, “I don’t know what happened, and it ain’t none of my business. But I do know when two people belong together. Now, if he’s gonna be so stubborn, give him something to stew about. Get on over to that basket social and find yourself another beau.”

  Rachel bit back a sad smile. “Just like that?”

  Ivy nodded. “Just like that. I’ll drag you over there myself if I have to. The reverend was by earlier. His brother-in-law is in town, and I think the reverend was lookin’ to fix the two of you up. Now, get—”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Rachel swung away from her. “I won’t go if I’m going to be fixed up, Ivy. Honest, I won’t go.”

  “Well, why in tarnation not? What’s the harm?”

  Rachel shook her head violently. “If it will get you off my back, I’ll go to the social, but please don’t try to fix me up with the reverend’s brother-in-law.”

  Ivy stood back, her hands on her hips, and considered her. “Seems it would put a bee in Jason’s britches if you let me fix you up with a beau.”

  Rachel drew in an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “If you don’t stop worrying about my love life right now, I’ll pack my things and leave.”

  “And where would you go?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll go back East where no one knows me. I’d rather live like a spinster than have some strange man forced on me.”

  “Now, you really wouldn’t leave, would ya?”

  Rachel rubbed her temples. “Ivy, I’ll go to that silly basket social if you’ll please just leave me alone. I don’t want any help from you.”

  Ivy looked away, appearing hurt.

  “Oh,” Rachel said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Ivy. I… I just don’t want or need a man in my life.”

  Ivy sniffled. “You promise to go to the social?”

  Rachel sighed again. “I promise.”

  “I’ll make you the best basket,” Ivy said, her enthusiasm quickly restored. “I have some chicken I just fried this morning, and some lemon pie, and I’ll whip up some fresh buttermilk biscuits…”

  She was making Rachel tired. “Fine, fine,” she said as she limped to her door. She turned back to say something, and Ivy had already disappeared into the kitchen.

  Going through her sparsely furnished wardrobe for something special to wear depressed her further. Besides the dress she’d worn for her wedding, which hadn’t even really been a wedding dress but a garden dress, she had few nice things.

  Rummaging through her clothes, she came across the light blue-figured batiste hanging on a hanger. She gently ran her fingers over the open oversewn lace inserts at the hem and the waist. At the neck she stopped, imagining the cameo nestled in the folds of the lacy fabric. The sleeves were long, Juliet type made of net, but certainly not warm. Should she wear it anyway?

  Why not? Now wasn’t the time to brood. And she might as well forget how the cameo would look, because it was gone. She did know that when Captain Weber returned from Sacramento she was going to confront him about it.

  A sick feeling burrowed into her stomach as she glanced at the dress. She didn’t want to wear it. It was like an open admission that she was out looking for a man. Tossing the dress one last look before washing up, she wondered why she was even bothering to dress up at all.

  She was overdressed and she felt foolish. The other women wore serviceable, warm dresses. Hers was neith
er. It wasn’t appropriate for a rural basket social. And the reverend’s brother-in-law, a young blond man with an eager, pleasant face, hovered nearby. Once he’d discovered her hobbling into the church hall on a makeshift crutch, he apparently decided to become her slave. He’d told her he’d get her anything she wanted.

  She wanted to go home. She was cold, miserable, and sick to her stomach. The over-eager suitor caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back, hoping she wasn’t as sick looking as she felt. Surely he didn’t think this was a date. The reverend had introduced them when she arrived—what was his name, again? Oh, yes. Darwin… Durwood? No, Darwin. Darwin something-or-other. Poor man, he was probably very nice. He had kind brown eyes. Sort of puppy-dog eyes. And a puppy-dog personality, always eager to please.

  She frowned and looked away. When had she become so cynical?

  “Is… is something wrong, Mrs.—er… Rachel?”

  He was at her elbow. She gave him a weak smile and shook her head. She wished the afternoon and the evening would end. So, this is the way it would be for the rest of her life. Meeting perfectly nice men, then comparing them to Jason.

  If she hadn’t been so miserable, she might have laughed. Comparisons should have put every man ahead of Jason, considering his sarcasm, stubbornness, arrogance, and lack of trust. But for some reason, she couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life with a mild-mannered man who seemed to know her every desire—and acted upon it—before she even knew it herself. It made her feel shame, because she didn’t think there was a woman alive who wouldn’t adore that trait in a husband.

  The reverend went to the podium and raised his hands. Everyone fell silent.

  “This is a wonderful turnout,” he said with quiet enthusiasm. “I’ve been blessed twofold this week, and I want to share my joy with all of you.” He tossed a warm, loving smile at the pale woman sitting across from Rachel.