Authors: Sylvia McDaniel
“Don’t worry about Becky. She can take care of herself,” Wade replied.
But the way he burned after touching the prim Miss Rachel Cooke, who in the hell was going to take care of him?
Chapter Two
D
ear Diary,
Three days have passed since Papa was taken from us. Though Mr. Ketchum has been a Godsend, I miss Papa so. Mr. Ketchum said it was unusual for the Pawnee to actually attack a wagon train, since they usually only steal livestock. I wonder what we did to provoke the savages.
Today, while Becky reluctantly drove the team, I went through Papa’s belongings. Six hundred dollars doesn’t seem like much to buy supplies, take us to Oregon and get us settled and fed through the winter. I can’t help but wonder, will it be enough?
Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. The children were finally asleep. Grace had found every possible excuse to avoid bedding down, until Rachel had lost her temper and scolded the child. What was wrong with her? She’d snapped at everyone all evening after finding Mr. Ketchum teaching Becky and Toby to shoot while Grace watched. The children had looked at her like she’d grown an extra head, and from the way it pounded, she wondered if it were true.
When she stepped out of the tent, the scene that greeted her was enough to make her want to crawl back in and hide until morning.
Becky hovered around Wade with a coffeepot in hand, refilling his cup and smiling flirtatiously. Her hair gleamed in the firelight, her apron was spotless as if she’d just stepped from someone’s parlor.
Rachel felt like her sister’s exact opposite. Strands of hair curled around her cheeks and neck, having escaped their knot earlier in the day. Her apron looked as if it had gone off to war and lost. Maybe it was better this way. After all, she wasn’t looking forward to confronting Mr. Ketchum.
Apprehension guided her footsteps to the glowing fire where Becky played hostess. Her sister smiled and flirted, the tinkle of her laughter resounding in the night air. Rachel cringed. The giggle grated on her already tightly strung nerves.
Wade leaned against his saddle, a smirk on his face as he sipped his coffee and watched Becky. Rachel had to give the man credit; he never seemed to get overly excited about the girl. Then again, Papa had warned her that men acted on urges more often than feelings.
Rachel stepped into the light of the campfire, and Becky glanced up. “Why don’t you go on to bed, Rachel? You look worn out.”
When had Becky ever been concerned about her health before?
“No. I want to talk with Mr. Ketcham.”
Becky sighed, her eyes clearly sending Rachel the leave-us-alone message. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No,” Rachel said, spreading out a blanket to sit on.
“If this is about my shooting that gun—”
Wade interrupted. “Go to bed, Becky.”
Becky’s spine stiffened and she turned upon Wade, giving him a glare that should have singed his hair all the way to its roots. “You want me to leave?”
With cool authority, Wade replied, “Yes, you.”
Her hands grasped the skirt of her peach muslin dress, and she raised it, flashing an ankle. “I was bored with the company anyway!”
As Becky flounced off toward the wagon, Rachel tried to suppress the smile that came naturally at her sister’s childish gesture, but somehow the corners of her lips turned up.
“I’ve never had a lady call me boring before. But it was worth it, just to see you smile,” Wade said.
Embarrassed, Rachel felt herself blush. “I shouldn’t. But Becky is often difficult, and you handled her so well.”
“Becky is a kid in a woman’s body.”
“Mr. Ketcham!” Rachel exclaimed indignantly, then sighed. “I must admit you’re right.”
“I just tell it like I see it, honey.”
Tension spread around the campfire, different from the tight ache that lay coiled in Rachel’s body. She watched Wade stretch his long legs, crossing his right boot over his left ankle, and settle back against his saddle. Self-consciously, she touched a hand to her straggling hair and waited. Silence filled the camp, and he bestowed on her a patient grin.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, Rachel blurted out, “About this afternoon. I know you know how to use a gun, but Toby is too young to be handling guns.”
“Most boys his age are out hunting with their fathers.”
“He’s only twelve,” she argued.
“He should know how to take care of himself.” Wade said as he took a sip of coffee. “You’ve coddled him.”
“I have not!”
“Then why can’t the boy start a fire, hitch up the wagon, saddle a horse or shoot a gun?” Wade picked a blade of tall grass growing close by and chewed on it. “What happens the next time someone attacks you? Who’s going to protect you, Rachel?”
Rachel jumped up and paced around the campfire. “Papa did all those things.”
“He’s gone,” Wade quietly reminded her.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry in front of him. “I know.”
“All of you should be able to hitch the wagons, as well as start a fire and shoot a gun,” Wade stated.
Tears burned the corners of her eyes. “Toby is a child.”
“Like hell he is.” Wade tossed the grass aside and rose to his feet. “He’s a young man.”
Rachel walked to within inches of Wade, her chest heaving with suppressed tears. “I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“Then let me teach him,” Wade countered.
Rachel shouted, “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’ll teach him?”
Wade resisted the urge to throttle the woman. “What kind of a man do you think I am?” He lowered his voice, restraining the memories of a little boy scorned by fellow parishioners. “I’m a gambler, a card shark and the son of a saloon owner. But I don’t make my living by killing men.” He took a calming breath. “That’s the problem with you Bible thumpers. You’re too busy looking down your noses at us sinners.”
“Just because I’m a preacher’s daughter doesn’t mean I look down at other people,” Rachel said defensively, her voice high.
“Then why am I not good enough to teach Toby?”
Her bottom lip trembled. She closed her eyes tightly as if trying to block out the truth. “Until two days ago, I had a father to protect me, hitch the wagon, start a fire, hunt for food. Now I’m alone in the wilderness, hundreds of miles away from Oregon, with three children and a useless sister.”
As if all the strength left her body, Rachel sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. “I’m scared! I don’t know what to do!” She wept, gulping sobs coming from her throat.
A curse escaped Wade’s lips. What now? He had a hysterical woman on his hands, and he’d never dealt well with tears. The only medicinal thing he had in his saddlebags was a bottle of Kentucky Red whiskey, guaranteed to wash the dust from his throat and soothe her pain. He picked up the cup Becky had left on the ground.
Strolling over to his saddlebags, he pulled out the bottle and poured himself a half-cup, Rachel a quarter-cup of whiskey. Then before Rachel noticed, he added a dose of coffee to hers. One quick glance at Rachel’s sobbing form was enough to convince him he was right in giving her the alcohol.
She sat on the ground, her head cradled in her hands, crying. Her sobs weren’t as violent, but her shoulders still shook. He sank down beside her and placed an arm around her. “Here, this will make you feel better.”
She lifted her head, her large hazel eyes glittered gold in the firelight. He ached with the grief he saw reflected in the depths of her stare, and wondered if his eyes had looked the same way. For the first time in many years, he had a sudden urge to protect someone, to take care of her.
“What is it?” Rachel asked as she moved away from his arm.
“Coffee.” Wade didn’t want to lie to her, but if he told her the truth, she would never touch the drink.
She sniffled and took a sip of the hot brew. Immediately, she coughed and sputtered. “Why can’t Becky learn to make a decent pot of coffee? It’s so strong.”
“I made this pot. It’s a different kind. They brew it in Kentucky.” His conscious twinged.
“This is awful.” She took another sip and grimaced.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, too for my outburst.” She wiped her eyes with the tail of her apron. “But I miss Papa so.”
“You’ve been through a lot these last few days.” Leaning back against his saddle, he watched the firelight’s shadows flicker on Rachel’s flushed face.
“Papa was taking Bibles to his new church in Oregon.”
“I know.” Wade sipped from his whiskey. “But loaded down the way that wagon is, it’ll never cross the Divide. What was your father thinking, dragging along an organ?”
“I insisted.” She hiccupped. “The organ belonged to my mother.” Her voice rose with fierce determination. “I won’t leave it behind.”
He watched as she finished the coffee in a single gulp. For a woman who had never tasted whiskey before, she was catching on quickly. “Let me pour you another cup.”
She sniffled, but appeared calmer. “All right.”
Wade poured the coffee into the cup and then went to his saddlebags. With his back shielding the bottle from Rachel’s view, he poured more whiskey into the cup. Hopefully, this would be enough to send her into peaceful oblivion for a little while.
Handing her the cup, he sank down on the grass beside Rachel. In the flickering firelight, her features seemed more relaxed. There was a softness about her expression, that made her…pretty.
If only her chestnut hair was not drawn back in that tight little bun. How would she look with her hair falling past her shoulders? Would her tresses feel as silky to the touch as they appeared?
Until tonight, he’d never noticed how lovely she was. Her drab dresses, schoolmarm bun, and the stress of the last few days had disguised her beauty. But tonight, with the glow of the campfire in her eyes and the light of the moon reflecting on her hair, she had rocked his senses all the way to his toes.
Hazel eyes beseeched him. “Wade, about Toby…” Her words slurred through her full lips, beckoning him to kiss her.
“Yes, Rachel.” He sighed as his eyes wandered over her body, taking in her ample breasts and small waist. How could he ever have thought of her as plain?
“He looks up to you. Please don’t let him get hurt.”
“I give you my word, Rachel.” Wade lay down in the grass, his head supported by his arm. The whiskey had relaxed him except for the lower half of his body, which suddenly sprang to life, pushing against the buttons of his pants.
He turned his attention to the night sky, hoping that concentrating on the twinkling stars would ease the hardness between his thighs. “Have you ever seen a prettier sky?”
Rachel leaned her head back, and losing her balance, fell backward. “The stars were never this bright in Tennessee.”
Wade held his breath. She was so close. He could reach out, touch her, hold her. “Did you ever take the time to notice them?”
Rachel sat up, her body swaying. “You probably think I’m a dried-up old maid, who’s never sat under the stars with a man before.”
Wade chuckled and pulled her beside him. “No, you’re wrong.” They were lying face-to-face, body-to-body. He ached to touch her intimately with his hands. “If you’re an old maid, it’s because you’ve been hidden from sight, taking care of your family. Some man out West will snatch you up for himself.”
Rachel sat up and for a moment he thought he’d said too much. Reluctantly he rose beside her.
“Everyone depends on me,” Rachel murmured. “It’s been that way since Mother died.” She gazed into his eyes. “That’s why I’m so protective of Toby and the children.”
They were mere inches apart. A soft, musky smell tickled his nose. He reached out, and without meaning to, caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re a good woman, Rachel. But you’ve got to learn to let go of them so they can grow up.”
“It’s my duty to protect them. Keep them safe.”
He became bolder, running his fingers through her silky hair. He had to know how she looked without that wad of hair on the back of her head. His searching fingers found the hair pins and he pulled them out, one by one. Mahogany curls tumbled, around her, flowing past her shoulders almost to her hips.
Wade stared in wonder. What had he done? The transformation left him stunned. He’d uncovered a gold mine right beneath his nose.
“What are you doing?” she breathlessly asked.
“Seeing how beautiful you are,” he whispered in the night.
The hardness between Wade’s legs pulsated in rhythm with his heart. His head was fuzzy, but the sensation was so pleasant, so warm. He couldn’t resist his need to touch her.
Hands still tucked inside her hair, he pulled her closer to him. Her lips were full and sensuous, and he watched as she nervously ran her tongue across them. He couldn’t help but wonder, would she taste as sweet as she looked?
Hazel eyes widened as his mouth descended onto hers. Warm, full lips met his as he gently tasted her. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. She moaned, a soft little sigh, and opened her mouth beneath his as he savored her sweetness.