Marna (10 page)

It was early afternoon when the last log was forced
into place. Mama hurried to daub it, then scrambled to
the ground. There was one last thing she wanted, and it
would take some arguing.

She followed Matt inside, where he had gone to admire his fireplace before returning to camp. She stood
beside him, commenting softly, "Isn't it grand? The
cabin will be toasty warm on the coldest night."

Matt nodded, and she added in a rush, "All it needs
is a mantel to set it off."

"Woman, forget it!" Matt exploded. "I'm not puttin'
another lick of work on this place. A mantel is just
plain foolishness."

"It is not," Marna flared back. "It will pretty up the
room. Besides, where will we put the clock?"

"You damn woods queer fool, we don't have a
clock."

"We will have. Grandma has one for me, and that's
where I want it."

Under the pretense of squirrel hunting, Caleb came
by and walked straight into their heated argument. He
sat down on the hearth and listened to them quietly, a
dreamy look on his face as he watched Marna. Agitated,
she paced back and forth, her grace reminding him of
a mountain cat sliding through the forest. When Matt
wheeled and stalked angrily out of the cabin, Caleb
rose to his feet and fell to studying the area where
Marna wanted her mantel. After a couple of minutes he
turned to her and remarked, "If you'll help me, I think
I can do the job."

"Oh, Caleb, could you?" She came and stood next to
him, her eyes studying the wall also.

Her nearness and the faint scent of roses that teased
his nostrils were too much for Caleb. He reached for
her and grasped her waist. Startled, she stared up at
him. His hand came up and brushed the hair away from
her face. His eyes probed her features, finding the
beauty beneath the grime. He pulled her into his arms,
whispering, "Why do you hide your beauty, Marna?"

Marna's hands came up against his chest. She pushed
away from him. "Let me go," she begged, her voice
quivering.

Caleb released his pressure but kept his arms loosely
around her waist. "Marna, why do you stay with Matt?
Putting up with his insulting orneriness? He's never
gonna make you his true wife. You know he prefers squaws. He's bedded them since he was a youngster.
Let me build us a cabin. I'll love you like you should be
loved. I'll never look at another woman."

"No!" she whispered fiercely, straining to pull away.
"For better or worse, I'm Matt's wife."

"But damn it, Marna, he doesn't love you. Don't you
understand, he only married you because he felt obligated." His arms tightened, pulling her back in his
arms, his lips trying to capture hers. She jerked her
head back and forth, trying to avoid them.

So engrossed were they in the silent struggle that
neither heard the heavy door swing open. It wasn't until
Caleb had almost caught her lips with his eager mouth
that he became aware of Matt's presence as he slammed
the door with a bang.

Caleb's body went stiff. He swung away from Marna,
one arm still around her. "I couldn't help myself, Matt.
I love her."

Wordlessly Matt stalked toward them, his face grim.
Caleb held his gaze. "Let me have her. You don't want
her. You know why you married her."

"Yeah, it's too bad she didn't save your life, you're
so hot to have her." Matt's eyes ran insolently over
Marna's trembling body. "I think I'll keep her, though.
Some real dark night when I can't find a squaw, she
might take the edge off my appetite."

His words ripped through Marna with the force of a
blow. With a whimper of mortal pain she jerked out of
Caleb's arms and rushed out of the cabin. As she
dashed off the porch, she heard Caleb's angry roar,
the smack of flesh on flesh, then the thump of a body
hitting the floor and the savage grunts of the two men
as they wrestled each other.

With scalding tears running down her cheeks, Marna
blindly climbed a steep footpath to the top of a hill,
where she flung herself to the ground, her slender
shoulders shaking with bitter sobs. When only dry sobs
remained, she drew a hand across her wet cheeks. "At least he wants to keep me," she tried to console herself,
"if only to cook and keep his clothes clean."

She sighed wearily. Was Grandma right in insisting
she keep her face cloaked behind a film of dirt? A
neater appearance would give her some chance with
Matt. He was stirred by her body, she knew. She had
seen desire leap out of his eyes when he looked at
her.

She turned on her side, propping her head in her
hand. Gazing out on the red sumac and the yellow,
feathery goldenrod, she admitted to herself that Matt's
lust wouldn't be enough. She wanted his love and respect.

Her fingers dug into the sandy soil. She must talk to
Grandma, make her see that this time she was wrong.

Marna stayed on the hilltop until the sun was well in
the west She didn't want to return to the cabin. What if
Matt were still there, waiting for her? What if he were
still angry and had more harsh words to pile on her
head? She could not bear it.

But when she finally descended the hill and timidly
stepped through the cabin door, she was brought up
short, her mouth hanging open. Acting as though nothing had happened, and sporting a huge black eye, Matt
was busily constructing her mantel.

Matt's fight with Caleb wasn't mentioned. In fact,
Marna and Matt spoke very little as they moved into
the cabin the following morning.

Filled with excitement, Marna bustled about her new
home. She first swept out the two rooms with a bushy
pine bough, then cut piles of cedar branches and
dragged them inside the cabin. As she formed two mattresses from them, one for each room, little bursts of
song rose throatily. In between making up the pallets
and stowing away food supplies, she tended a kettle of
stew bubbling over the fire. Tonight they would have
their first meal under their very own roof.

Late in the afternoon Matt left to do some hunting.
Although he said nothing, Marna was sure he'd return
by evening. But dusk turned to dark and there was no
sign of Matt. Marna made her third trip to the window.
He won't be back, she thought, tears near to brimming.

She moved to the table and lit a candle. Standing a
moment in silent debate, she walked to the door and
opened it. She picked up the kettle of stew from where
she had placed it to keep cool, brought it inside, and set
it close to the coals to warm slowly. If Matt should
return, she would have his supper ready.

She sat down and stared hopelessly into the flames.
She might as well go to bed. The lonesome silence only
made her more depressed.

After checking to see if the latchstring was out, just
in case Matt came back, she went into her room and
changed into her gown. To her surprise, a drowsiness
came swiftly, and she slipped into sleep.

It was but minutes later that she was awakened by a
rough hand on her naked breast. Her eyes flew open
and she stared into the leering face of Corey. Automatically she struck away his hand and scrambled out of
his reach. Desperately her eyes ran around the room.
There was nothing to defend herself with.

"Don't be afraid." Corey's nasal whine came softly.
"I won't hurt you." He reached down and fumbled between his legs. "Look," he urged. "Look what I've got
for you."

For the first time she became aware that he wore
only his shirt. As she stared wide-eyed at the pulsating
member in his hand, panic swept over her. Grandpa
always looked that way just before he jabbed himself
into the women he brought home.

Suddenly Marna was no longer afraid. Anger that
this hulking beast would dare lay hands on her surged
through her veins. She was a decent married woman,
and this person had no right to treat her in this manner.
With a sudden twist of her body, she darted past him
and raced for the other room. With Corey swearing at
her heels, she threw herself at Matt's saddlebags. Her
fingers groped frantically for the long-bladed knife she
had seen there earlier.

Her fingers closed around the handle just as Corey
sprang at her. He grabbed the neck of her gown and
pulled. The worn material gave way, exposing her
body. Her arm came up, poised to strike. Corey gripped
her wrist and twisted. The knife dropped, and her only
defense was gone. She gasped in terror as she was
flipped onto her back and firmly pinned down.

She fought him silently, furiously, her nails raking at
his face, gouging at his eyes. But her meager strength
was no match for his brutal power. She felt herself
growing weaker and knew that her blows were only
annoying pats to him. When she saw his raised fist
coming toward her she used the rest of her breath to
call Matt's name.

Corey's fist landed on Marna's chin and her head fell
limply to one side. He sat back on his heels and let his
eyes run hungrily over the curves and valleys of her
helpless body. Swiping at the trickles of blood running
down his face, he licked his lips in anticipation. He
reached out a hand to stroke her. Then, sensing the
presence of someone else in the room, he stiffened. He
turned his head fearfully and gazed on the figure of
Matt.

The large man stood there, strangely silent as his
fingers opened and shut spasmodically. Corey scrambled to his feet, his ruddy complexion gone ashen.
Forcing an artificial smile to his fat lips, he said, "No
harm intended, Matt. I didn't think you'd mind...
sleeping with squaws and all."

A mirthless smile wreathed Matt's lips for a fleeting
second. Then he lunged for Corey. "You rotten scum.
Forcing yourself on an innocent woods girl."

His right fist flashed up, found Corey's chin, and
lifted him to his toes. As the hunter grunted, his left fist
caught him just below the ear, sending him crashing to
the ground. He stood over the fallen man, gasping for
breath. "Get up, you bastard, and fight."

But Corey had had enough and cowered away, shaking his head.

Matt stared down at him, then swung a contemptuous foot to his ribs. His voice hoarse with emotion, he
grated out, "Don't ever let me catch you around here
again. Don't let me see you even lookin' at her."

As Corey grabbed his trousers and crawled toward
the door, Matt lifted Marna's limp body onto his bed of
cedar boughs. Tucking the blanket around her nakedness, his fingers brushed the velvet feel of her and hot,
surging liquid shot through his veins, making him catch
his breath.

The next morning Marna awakened, shivering with the
cold. Half asleep, she pulled the covers closer around
her shoulders. Her jaw ached painfully, and when she
reached up to touch it, she realized that she was bare.
Corey's hateful face swam before her. She stared at the
wall, remembering her struggle with him. What had
happened after he hit her? Had Matt heard her cry in
time?

She lay still, concentrating on her lower body. She
felt all right-no different from any other time. There
would be a telltale soreness, she imagined, if Corey had
had his way with her. Matt must have come in time.
She doubted that Corey would have put her in bed and
covered her up.

An embarrassed flush surged over her. If that were
the case, Matt had seen her nakedness. She rolled herself tighter in the blankets. How could she ever face
him?

She lay a moment longer, then sat up. Drawing on
her buckskins, she thought rapidly, I must start some
new stew in case he comes home for supper.

Her day was spent alternating between hope and shy
dread of Matt's returning.

It was full dark when Matt entered the tiny clearing
and saw the dim light in his cabin window. A flutter of
excitement swept through him. That small candle welcomed him to his home. Inside it would be warm and
clean, with good smells coming from the fire.

He pulled the mount in. With this new glow of wellbeing, he slid eagerly to the ground.