Ballad Beauty (13 page)

Jenny nodded and watched him walk down to the creek. She moved so her back was to him. She had never seen a man fully naked before and had no intention to start now. She had seen parts of naked men at the clinic, and none of those parts ever really appealed to her. Of course, those body parts usually had been shot or stabbed or diseased.

She’d heard some of the whispers of the girls at The Thompson School as they gossiped about men and what went on between a woman and a man in the privacy of their bedroom. She knew it involved having sexual relations and that you had to take off your clothes to do it—whatever
it
was. Some of the girls said it hurt, and some claimed it didn’t. That was the extent of her knowledge.

Mostly, she knew the results. She thought of the poor fallen women at Dr. Randolph’s clinic, many no older than she, their bodies swollen with unwanted children they would leave at the doorsteps of an orphanage. Dr. Randolph worked with these pitiful women and tried to give them ways to prevent such happenings. Some listened to him; the majority didn’t. She never asked what information he shared with them. She didn’t feel it was her place to know about such things.

A fly buzzed around her nose, and she tried to brush it away. It was persistent, though, and she found herself snapping her head back and forth to avoid it from landing on her nose as she waved her hand wildly in front of her.

Then she caught sight of Noah. Her hand fell. So did her jaw. He was already in the water, which reached his waist. His shoulders were broad. Even from this distance, she could see the muscles that rippled across them and his bronzed back. His arms were sculpted as if an artist had hewn them from rock. She didn’t know a man’s bare arm could be so mesmerizing.

He rotated around in the water and dipped his head, wetting his hair to wash it. He squeezed his eyes shut as he ran the cake through his dark, wavy hair. The lathered soap drizzled down his face to his imposing chest. It, too, was bronzed by the sun and covered in a mat of thick, dark hair that tapered into a thin line that disappeared into the water.

Jenny couldn’t breathe. At all. She’d heard the expression of something taking your breath away, and now she knew what it referred to—Noah Webster’s muscular chest and flat stomach. He was like something out of one of Miss Wilson’s Greek art books—only better—because he was flesh and blood. She felt wicked staring at him, but she couldn’t bear to look away. She’d never thought of the word beautiful applying to a man, but that adjective barely began to describe him.

Noah plunged his head under water to rinse his hair. That broke the spell. She reached and stirred the stew. Her mind wandered all over the place, but every time it came back to Noah. She resolved to push all thoughts of this handsome cowboy from her mind. She must concentrate on reaching Prairie Dell and straightening out this woeful situation with Sam. Maybe he could give the money back, and they could start fresh. But in her heart, she knew that was nothing more than a naïve fantasy.

What would she do or say to him once they arrived in Prairie Dell?

CHAPTER 15

Noah knew something was different the minute he stepped up to the fire. Jenny looked at him like a hungry wolf would a plump sheep, naked desire painted across her face. It took him aback. He didn’t think nice girls had those kinds of urges. The painted gals had all led him to believe that nice girls married and simply tolerated their husband’s ways in the bedroom. He’d even heard that after a few children, many husbands spent themselves with the crib girls and left their wives alone entirely.

Now here was the most innocent girl he’d ever laid eyes on with a yearning on her face that was strictly for him. His manhood stirred, ready to leap to attention for her. And he wanted her. Badly. More than badly. He wanted her more than any man could ever have wanted a woman.

How had the Good Lord ever gotten him into such a mess?

Despite his fresh bath and clean shirt, Noah felt the trickle of sweat run down his back. He glanced up at the late afternoon sun, which had nothing to do with his problem. As his gaze fell, it landed smack dab on Jenny McShanahan. She made him nervous. He acted like some wet-behind-the-ears schoolboy around her, not the adult he was. He probably started a sentence seventeen times, but as he looked up at her, he couldn’t for the life of him remember where that sentence was supposed to head.

Instead, he’d said he needed to do some laundry. So did she. At least she took her things farther down the way. He gathered her upbringing did not include washing out her undergarments next to a man.

He heard her humming “
The Irish Rover.”
Funny how he’d gotten use to her humming and picked up the names and tunes of over a dozen songs since they’d been on the trail. He’d always thought of himself as tone deaf, but he could recognize each melody after only a few bars.

He kept her in sight, though. All day long his neck had that tingling feeling it got when something wasn’t right. Nothing had been out of the ordinary today, but the bristling had showed up, all the same. He watched for a sign of anything unusual, any glimpse of men on horseback in the distance, but nothing appeared.

He had explained the rules of the road to her. She knew that those who camped out on the prairie often shared a fire or a meal together if they came into contact. She even began quoting that obnoxious city dandy again about life on the trail. He thought if he ever met the all-knowing Milton Mulholland, he would cram his
Guidebook to the American West
so far down the man’s throat, it would never see the light of day again. Maybe then Jenny would quit citing the offensive moron at every turn.

He finished rinsing his last shirt and twisted the water from it. He placed it flat on a nearby rock to dry and walked back to their camp. The stew’s savory smell greeted him as he approached. His mouth watered instantly. He couldn’t wait to fill his belly. Maybe that would fill other needs in him, as well.

Jenny returned minutes later. She hadn’t been very talkative since they’d settled in for the rest of the day. He found himself drawn to those lash-fringed eyes. The depths of her green orbs made him feel like a drunken sailor responding to a siren’s call. He dropped his gaze but only saw her rosebud of a mouth. No, that wouldn’t do at all. He fixed his hat low on his brow and focused on the gliding spoon as he ran it through the stew.

“That smells heavenly. I’d read about things such as rabbit stew and beef jerky. I never imagined myself eating them, though.”

He glanced up at her sharply.

“Oh, but I really like your stew, Noah. You are an excellent cook.”

Slightly mollified, he looked away, but not before catching her flirtatious smile. Didn’t the girl know she played with fire?

He had to stop himself from pulling her up against him and kissing her senseless. He realized she didn’t have any idea of what she did. He’d kissed her but good, and even though he let her know there could be nothing between them, she still must have thought about those kisses as much as he had.

This poor slip of a girl had never been kissed—probably never had any man show her attention—but she responded to him in that way women had. She may not know what she did, but she did it all the same. He didn’t know whether he should say something to her or not. One more smoldering look might drive him over the edge.

“Are we going to eat that, or are you going to stir the night away?” she teased.

“Get the bowls, Miss McShanahan. We’ll dine at the top of the hour.”

The sun was setting as they settled down with their steaming supper. Jenny had put biscuits on, and she’d done a nice job with them. Between the bread and the stew, he couldn’t have asked for a better meal. Except every bite he took, he wished he tasted her instead. He knew he wore the hungry wolf look now because she was as skittish as a colt.

More long looks passed between them. Noah shoveled in bite after bite, not aware he ate, so intent was he on staring at the lovely creature before him. He was so wrapped up in Jenny that the whinny of a horse close by startled him. He lowered his bowl, on edge, angry that he hadn’t heard anyone approach.

Star and Sassy both answered the other horse’s greeting when two men rode up over the rise. Both sat the same horse, which looked as if it had seen better days. He winced at the weight the nag carried.

The taller man dismounted first. He had a long, string-bean build with shaggy hair and a frayed hat. He wore a hard look. Noah’s mama would say he had a lot of miles on him.

A shorter, stout man followed him to the ground. He looked like a mean cuss that had spent many a night in a bar fight. Noah had no other reason than instinct to distrust these strangers. The way the taller one looked at Jenny, though, was all he needed to tell them to move on.

Jenny beat him to it by greeting them instead. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said brightly. “It’s so nice to have some company. It can get awfully lonely out on the trail.”

He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, but she must think they should be hospitable to these men, as he had explained earlier.

“Why, hello to you, ma’am.” The tall outsider’s mouth smiled, but Noah saw the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Could smell that stew the last three miles, I’d reckon.”

“No, Ned, I betcha it was four.” The other man moved closer to them. He swept off his hat, baring his bald head. “Homer Perkins, folks. This here’s my brother Ned.”

Ned nodded curtly. “Do you think you might spare us a bite or two?”

“We’d be happy to have you join us.”

At least the tension between them had been broken, but it was traded for a new kind of stress. He didn’t like these men. He knew his eyes and his body language told them that much.

They ignored him in favor of staring at Jenny. She scooped stew into the cups they’d pulled out. She chatted with them, playing the perfect hostess. He suppressed a smile at her eager hospitality.

His neck twittered again and began to itch. Now that was a really bad sign. The itching let him know the danger was real. His itch never steered him wrong.

“Mrs. Webster and I would be happy to let you fellas partake of our meal, but we wouldn’t want to hold you up in your travels.”

He’d told Jenny when they set out that if they encountered anyone on the road, it would be better for her reputation if they thought her his wife. It was a pretense she argued about at first until he persuaded her to its logic. The men stationed at the first fort they passed had assumed that to be the case, and he was pleased that she didn’t correct them.

Homer slurped the stew up and wiped away the juice that dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand. “I know you might be wary of strangers, Mr. Webster, but we was hoping to share your fire tonight.” He looked hopefully over to Jenny, who glanced tentatively at Noah.

“My wife is a little bashful around strangers, Mr. Perkins.” Noah glared at Ned, who couldn’t seem to take his hungry eyes off Jenny. “I’m sure you won’t mind camping down a ways from us.”

Homer laughed and looked to Jenny. “Oh, Miz Webster, we are as harmless as bedbugs. Maybe a little pesky, that’s a fact, but we won’t be causing you no trouble.” He looked to his brother. “Will we, Ned?”

Ned Perkins snorted. “Wouldn’t cause you no grief at all. What d’ya say, Miz Webster?”

Jenny bit her lower lip and turned to him again. He could tell the men had begun to frighten her by the look on her face. Still, she lifted her chin a notch. “What do you think, Noah?”

Maybe it would be better if he kept his eyes on them. As dark as it got on the prairie, if they slept twenty yards away, he’d be hard pressed to see them.

“I think we’ll be fine, gentlemen. Feel free to throw down your blankets over there.”

He ignored the unspoken question in Jenny’s eyes. “Let’s settle our things this way, honey. We want the Perkins brothers to have plenty of room.”

He busied himself in getting out their own blankets and motioned for Jenny to clear away the supper things. She took the dishes to the creek to rinse them. Noah watched both men as they stole furtive glances at her and then between themselves. No, he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

She returned with the dishes and dried them with a dish towel. She placed them back in a saddlebag and secured it before she turned to him.

He rested his hands atop her shoulders. “Honeybunch, I think you got a bit of dirt on your cheek. Let’s go get it cleaned up.”

Jenny touched her face as Ned snickered. Noah took her hand tightly and pulled her along behind him. He led her back to the creek so he could speak to her alone.

“I don’t like those men,” she whispered. “Why did you ask them to stay?”

He leaned down and dipped his handkerchief in the water and brought it to her cheek. As he wiped away the imaginary dirt, he said, “Because I
don’t
trust them, darlin’. I’d rather them be close by than sneaking up on us.”

“Oh.” She shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around her. He touched his hands to her shoulders and rubbed them lightly up and down her arms to warm her.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Webster,” he quipped. “I’ll protect you.” He brushed his lips against hers quickly for reassurance and then took her arm in his and led her back toward the fire.

As they reached it, she said, “It was nice meeting you, gentlemen, but we’ve had a full day. I think I’ll retire. Hope you like strong coffee and cold biscuits because that’s all breakfast will be.” She nodded to them and went to the blankets Noah spread out.

Jenny didn’t think it wise to argue with Noah about sleeping so closely to each other. She didn’t want these two men to know that she and Noah weren’t husband and wife. In fact, she was grateful he would be so close to her.

She made her nest for the night. She smiled up at him when Noah pulled an extra blanket over her. He bent to kiss her cheek. “It’ll be cold tonight, honey. Sleep tight.”

He certainly knew how to put on a show for strangers. First, he kissed her as he wiped at her cheek, and now this. She found it hard to sleep as she was worked up over his behavior. She listened for over an hour as Noah tried to draw the two men out in conversation, but they didn’t take any of his bait.

Despite her nerves, she fell into a fitful rest.

Jenny awoke sometime later. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept. The fire burned low. She could feel the cold air on her face and knew the temperature had dropped considerably since her afternoon bath. Noah had said that it had been a freak day for the warmth they’d experienced. She supposed tomorrow would be cold again if tonight was any indication.

She was on her side and faced the fire. She could see two shapes on the other side and knew it to be their company.

She suddenly realized she lay against Noah, which explained why she was so toasty, despite her face being cold. He was pressed up against her, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her back. He emanated an immense heat. Why, if he were always this hot, he had no need of a coat!

The twinge hit her, and she knew why she’d awakened. She had forgotten to relieve herself before she turned in for the night. The strangers had made her so nervous, it slipped her mind. There was no way she could go back to sleep unless she took care of this.

Gently, she picked up Noah’s hand so as not to wake him. She lifted it from her and slipped out from under the blanket, gathering her cloak about her. The chilly night air caused her to shudder. Already, she longed to be back next to Noah’s heat, but nature called.

She tiptoed from the campsite and made her way over the rise. She wouldn’t need two minutes of privacy before she was back under her blankets. She attended quickly to her business and started back toward the glow of the fire in the distance.

An unexpected hand gripped her waist and yanked her back, hard. Another hand covered her mouth as cold fear nestled around her heart.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, Miz Webster,” breathed someone on her neck. “A sweet morsel like you shouldn’t run around alone in the dark.”

A rough hand worked its way under her cloak and grazed against her breasts as she squirmed.

“No corset?” the voice whispered. “You are a brazen one, Miz Webster. No wonder your husband’s so taken with you.” The man pinched her nipple and twisted it. Jenny tried to scream out behind the hand, but it died in her throat. She began to struggle.

The man clutched her waist more tightly, choking the breath from her. He twisted her head to the side, his hand still over her mouth, and nuzzled the back of her neck. The stiff whiskers rubbed into her delicate skin as his lips and tongue ran across it. She thought she was going to be sick.