Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (35 page)

For a long moment they held each other. When he took his fingers away she knew an empty ache that only he could fill. He gently turned her on to her back, came between her legs, and settled his hips into the cradle formed by her thighs. He kissed her without hurry.

“I may hurt you a little—”

Her answer was little jerking movements of her hips. He entered a little way into her. There he stayed and kissed her swollen lips, licked them, nibbled. Every stroke of his tongue sent fire running wildly along her nerves from her nipples to her loins, and she was helpless to do anything but feel and lift her hips and move her hands down his back to his taut buttocks and hold them to her.

Pack had never been nearer to heaven. He lay mouth-to-mouth with his love, feeling the most wonderful of all touches—his throbbing phallus against the membrane guarding her virginity. How had it happened that this wondrous gift was his?

“Pack! Oh, Pack.” When she murmured his name, he lost his last remnant of control and thrust. She arched to meet him. The membrane thinned and yielded to his invasion. Mara made a small whimpering sound. A low, rough groan burst from Pack’s throat as her hot, moist flesh closed tightly around him and they were locked in love.

“Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’,” he whispered in taut agony, pulled back and then desperately sank deeper into her.

“I love you,” she breathed against his mouth. “Oh, I love you.”

Her words cut through Pack like a thin-bladed knife. Words he’d longed to hear, even though he knew she was unaware of what she had said. His hips jerked in response. There was no way he could keep them still. A love so intense flowed over him that it reduced everything else to insignificance. Mind-blanking pleasure washed over him in great waves as his life-giving fluid pumped into her.

When he could think and feel again, he realized she was still moving beneath him. He groaned and cursed himself silently. He had not been able to wait long enough! He began to move again when he became aware that he was still hard and needed to satisfy his own hunger again as well as hers. He whispered her name in a raw, shaky voice. He was slow and tender and determined to bring her gently to the mindless level where he and that part of his body that was inside her were the only things in the world.

A purr came out of her throat. “Pack . . . it feels so good,” she whispered and sought his mouth.

“For me too.” His tongue laved her lips while the velvety tip of his stiffened manhood moved deliciously up and over the hard nub hidden in the soft folds of her flesh. His movements were slow and precise, stroking to bring her to completion. He ignored the desire to bury himself deeply inside her and concentrated only on bringing joy to her.

Her feelings reached such heights that she forgot her shyness and slipped her hand down between them where they were joined.

“Oh . . . I didn't think you’d get all of it inside me.”

“Yes, darlin’ girl. We fit like we were made for each other.”

“I don’t care . . . I like what we’re doing!”

“Ma said it was one of God’s greatest gifts.”

“Brita said that?” she whispered.

“She said I could hold a woman closer to me with gentle words and deeds than I could with a strong rope.”

“You are a gentle man. Oh, Pack, now I know what you meant when you said a man would hurt me if he forced himself on me.”

“I knew you were ready for me when you became wet. It’s nature’s way of letting me go inside without hurting you. I’ll never, never hurt you that way.”

“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his lips. “I feel so safe with you. I’m glad I married you. Pack. . . .”

He had never known such a flood of tenderness and love as when his name came from her lips in a groaning appeal. Her hips tilted to take all of him; her fingers dug into his buttocks as little spasms inside her pulled him, hugged him, caressed him. He knew she was slipping into that sublime oblivion where he had been only moments before.

His breath faltered and he gasped. “Oh, my sweet.” He moved his lips and tongue over her mouth, instinctively seeking the inside of her lower lip. He shivered with pleasure when her teeth parted and allowed his tongue to play over hers. It was beyond his endurance to hold back now.

She was giving herself to him freely and fervently. When she gasped and cried out he tensed and shuddered as his love poured into her.

Mara fell into a deep sleep almost immediately after Pack withdrew from her and turned on his side. She lay on her back, her bent knees over his firm thighs that were snug against her bottom. He lay quietly for a long while, his splayed hand covering the surface of her belly.

She was his now, warm and weak from their mating. She would get used to his possession, learn to trust him, cling to him, and tell him her innermost thoughts. Thank God she had responded to his passion. This part of their life would not be repulsive to her. She had never known the touch of another man. He alone had possessed her. The thought awed him. He hoped that he had given her enough pleasure so that she would never again think of what that prissy old maid had told her.

Each time they mated he would see that she was brought to completion. He would take care of her, pamper her up to a point. She was strong-willed and would soon grow tired of a man who indulged her every whim. She was a fighter, but once she realized that she didn’t have to fight him she might even come to love him. When she had whispered the words earlier, she hadn’t even known what she was saying.

Pack tried not to think about Cullen. There was time enough for that tomorrow. Mara Shannon would tell him what had happened. He had to swallow the black rage that threatened to consume him when he thought of her cowering in the privy.

She rolled her head toward him and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He moved his hand up to cup her breast, pressed his nose against her face to smell the freshness of her skin, then tenderly kissed her forehead again and again.

“Little, sweet darlin’,” he murmured. “At last you are mine.”

*  *  *

Pack awakened suddenly, lifted his head off the pillow and listened. Through the window on the east he could see the light of dawn. His ears were trained to listen for normal sounds and for the lack of them. This morning the birds were not chirping in the trees above the house. Something had scared them away.

He looked down at his wife. She lay with her hand beneath her cheek, her hair spread in a tangle over the pillow. Pack realized suddenly that never before had he slept a full night with a woman in his arms. Never before had he wanted to. Now he wanted to spend every night for the rest of his life with this sweet woman in his arms.

A loud knock on the back door roused him quickly out of bed. It took only moments for him to slip into his britches, grab a shirt and leave the room. By then someone was shouting his name. He took the steps two at a time to reach the bottom before they knocked again and woke Mara Shannon.

“Pack! Pack!” The voice belonged to one of the twins.

Pack yanked open the door. Trellis stood with hand raised to knock again.

“What the hell are you—” He stopped when he saw the scared look on the boy’s face.

“Sam said to come. Steamboat shot the marshal.”

“Shot the marshal? Good God! What for?” Pack was momentarily stunned. Then he pulled his shirt on over his head, grabbed his boots and backed into a chair to put them on.

Trellis had started back down the path to the bunkhouse by the time Pack reached the porch. He hurried along the path, poking his shirttail down into the waistband of his britches. The sky was clear. The rain had washed the air, leaving it clean and fresh. The mares he had brought from town ran alongside the fence as he approached. Pack scarcely noticed any of this. He followed Trellis around to the back of the cookshack and out through a thick stand of knee-high grass to where Steamboat had planted his garden. On the far side he saw several men gathered about something lying on the ground.

“He’s still alive,” Travor called.

Pack looked over Sam’s shoulder and saw Ace January lying on his back, his blood-soaked hands pressed against his stomach. His hat was under his head. Pack’s eyes darted to where Steamboat sat on the wet grass holding a blood-soaked cloth to his face.

Ace looked up when Pack bent over him. “Ya gawdamned Irish bastard,” he snarled. “Ya muck-crawlin’ son of a bitchin’ mick! If I had a clear shot I’d a blowed you to hell.”

Pack was taken aback by the hatred on the man’s face. His voice was thick with rage.

“What did I ever do to you, Ace, to make you want to kill me?”

“You took my woman, damn your rotten soul to hell!”

“Your woman? You mean Mara Shannon?”

“You ain’t fit to lick her boots!”

“It was you she was hiding from? Damn you! You scared the daylights out of her.”

“I wouldn’t a hurt her. She got scared ’n ran off. I went lookin’ for her ’n saw you coming. I’d a killed you then, but I didn’t know which one . . . was you.”

“Yo’re done for,” Sam said bluntly. “Ya know that, don’t ya?”

“Me ’n Mara would a seen the world if I’d a got my hands on that gold.”

“Well, ya didn’t. The only thin’ ya can do now is make thin’s as right as ya can. Ya been roamin’ round here nights lookin’ for it, ain’t ya?”

The face of the dying man had turned a bluish gray. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. He looked old, broken, but he was lucid and spoke clearly.

“Give the gold . . . to Mara. Hear? I was goin’ to buy her everythin’ she ever . . .” His weak voice trailed away, then returned. “Prisoner . . . in my jail said . . . he was to meet a feller.” He paused, then spoke between rasping breaths. “With all the gold he could carry. I let him out and he brung me here.”

“What happened to the prisoner?” Sam asked.

“I killed him cause he was a blabberin’ fool. They told him his partner come here sick, then up and died. I figured he told somebody about the gold. I been waitin’, night after night, for him to try and haul it out.” He chuckled, then winced.

“How did ya know it was still here?”

“As marshal I’d a known if it was found. Wasn’t even thinkin’ about the gold last night. Just waitin’ to get a shot at Pack when . . . I saw the old man dig up
my
gold.”

Pack glanced over his shoulder at the hole in the middle of the garden, then back at Ace. His eyes were as vacant as a blind man’s eyes.

“That old man . . . I never saw a draw as fast. Hang the dried-up old . . . bastard!” Ace reared up. His head dropped back and blood gushed from his mouth. “Hang ’em for killin’ me—” After gasping the words, Ace rolled accusing eyes toward Pack. His jaw hung down. The eyes that remained open and staring were the eyes of a dead man.

Pack stood and shook his head in disbelief. “It was him Mara Shannon was hiding from. I thought it was Cullen.”

“He was goin’ ta kill ya, Pack.”

“I guess he was. Mara Shannon was carrying on that someone was after me last night, but she was in such a state that I didn’t pay much mind. I thought it was just more of Cullen’s threats.” Pack looked over to where the twins were helping Steamboat get to his feet. “What’s he got to say?”

“I’ve not talked to him yet. I woke up when he left his bunk. He was mighty sneaky ’bout it. I got to thinkin’ it was a mite early for him to be startin’ breakfast. When he didn’t go in the cookshack, I got up and was ’bout to slip out the door when I heard the shots.”

“You hurt bad, Steamboat?” Pack asked.

“Not much.”

Pack pulled the cook’s hand away from his face. “Looks like the bullet sliced through your cheek. You’re damn lucky.”

Sam reached out and lifted a Colt .44 revolver from the holster on Steamboat’s hip. “Ya’ve got some talkin’ to do, but it can wait till yo’re patched up.”

“Sam, is there really gold in them sacks?” Travor asked, his voice shaking with youthful excitement.

“I haven’t looked at it, but I’m thinkin’ it is.” Sam walked over to the cloth sacks piled beside the hole. He looked at the face of each of the men. “It’s government gold. I’ll be turnin’ it in ’n collectin’ a reward. I been huntin’ it for nigh on two years. After I collect, I’ll pay each a ya fifty silver dollars.”

In the stillness after Sam’s words, Pack looked at Aubrey, then Riley. He knew Willy like the back of his hand. The gold would be only a bother to Willy. Riley wasn’t a threat. Aubrey was the only one to worry about.

“Aubrey, if Cullen or any of his bunch came back and found out about what’s here in these sacks, they’d move heaven and earth to get it. They’d kill the boys, Mara Shannon, all of us without batting an eye.”

“I be knowin’ that, Pack. And I be knowin’, too, that ye ain’t havin’ much use fer me.”

“And you’re knowing why.”

“Aye. ’Tis me fondness fer good Irish whiskey what made me the drunk that I am.”

“I’m hoping that’s all in the past. For my mother’s sake and for my brothers, I’m willing to lay it to rest, if you are.”

“It’s decent a ya . . . considerin’. I want ya to know that I ain’t got ter be so low that I be puttin’ my lads up ter be killed by robbers ’n thieves.”

Trellis and Travor watched and listened to the exchange between Pack and their father. The hope that the contention between the two men could be settled so they could all live on the ranch peacefully was plain on their young faces.

“I was sure you’d see it that way. We better get Steamboat patched up and take care of the marshal. We’ve got a canvas in the wagon, don’t we, Willy?”

“Ya know durn good ’n well we do. I don’t go noplace without a tarp or two. Guess ya want me ta get it ’n wrap that buzzard in it. A pure-dee old waste of a good tarp, if ya ask me.”

“It’s got to be done, so get it. What do you want to do about the sacks, Sam?”

“Leave them here for the time bein’.” Sam dropped the heavy canvas bags back into the hole one by one, and shoveled a few spadefuls of dirt over them. When he finished, he was breathing hard.

“Do you think Ace shot first?”

“ ’Pears so. Shape he was in he couldn’t a lifted a gun ta shoot after Steamboat got him. ’N he couldn’t a got as close without a gun on the old man. There wasn’t a split second atween the shots. I want to hear what Steamboat’s got to say. I’d hate to see that old man hang for defendin’ himself against a crooked lawman. If he comes outta this, I’ll see that he gets a cut a the reward money.”