Savage storm (55 page)

"I will see that Erica comes each week to receive your permission, Mr. Home, but I am a married woman and need no permission from you to live in my own house." She smiled sweetly too, knowing he could not argue with her logic no matter what Jason had insisted he do.

Clayton's brow furrowed in a deep frown as he looked at the vibrantly beautiful redhead. At least if Erica were in residence he would be reasonably certain Beau Ramsey wouldn't be. That thought settled the issue. "Until next week then, ladies."

"Until next week."

After thanking him again, the young women packed up Erica's belongings and then. Erica astride the black mare and Gabrielle upon Sunny's back, they were swiftly on their way.

^/u^/t^^EJW

Jason sat down wearily, leaned back against a tree trunk and rested his arms across his knees. Going up the Columbia River was a far more difficult task than floating downstream and he was exhausted. With strenuous paddling they had traversed a fair distance, but they'd also had to carry their canoes past long stretches of rapids. There was never a time when the going wasn't hard. He knew he'd pushed himself as far as he possibly could that day and there was not a man among them who could go farther. "We'll make camp here!" he shouted when he'd fmally caught his breath.

Michael Jenkins sprawled across a heap of leaves by Jason's side, gasping like a fish out of water as he tried to speak. "Do you plan to keep up such a brutal pace the whole way?"

"No," Jason assured him with a wicked grin. "Tomorrow we'll go faster."

"Dear God." Michael put his face in the damp leaves and waited for death to overtake him. When the Grim Reaper failed to appear he looked up again. "Your name will become a legend after this. Royal. If any of us survive to tell the tale that is."

"You'll survive. I'm asking none of you to do what I haven't done myself," Jason pointed out matter-of-factly.

"That may be true, but few of us have your stamina, or is it simply rage?" Michael inquired curiously.

Jason shot him an evil glance as he replied honestly, "It is both."

Turning over on his back, Michael gazed up through the branches which filtered the last rays of the setting sun. "How far are you willing to take this. Royal?'*

That he wanted to drive the Indians farther north without slaughtering every last one of them was a secret Jason planned to keep. The men who'd volunteered to go after the Giyuse were out for blood, but he was certain he would have their respect by the time they came within sight of the Indians' camp. He planned to use that respect then. It was pointless to reveal his plan to Michael Jenkins now, however. "I intend to teach the Cayuse a lesson they'll never forget. They'll not dare to butcher another settler because they'll know it'll mean a war in which their own families will be at risk. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Very."

Michael rested only a minute longer and then got to his feet to join the men who were setting up the camp. He was no killer, but it was clear to him that Jason Royal certainly was. He shuddered to think how the man must treat Gabrielle, but since she'd had her heart set on marrying him he'd waste no sympathy on her. His thoughts strayed swiftly to Erica then, and he wondered if he'd find the charming young woman married to someone else by the time he returned home. He was the only one of the bachelors who'd volunteered for this mission so there were plenty of men left in Oregon City to keep her entertained.

"Blast it all!" he swore loudly as he tripped over a gnarled root and nearly landed on his face in the dirt. He'd been so tired he'd not noticed the obstacle in his path. He looked around quickly, hoping no one had seen him since he didn't want to be the butt of any jokes, but fortunately the men were all occupied and paying no attention to him. He knew the others' names though he could call few among them friends, and he relaxed, relieved that his clumsiness hadn't been noted. He'd

volunteered to join the group, not only because he'd thought he owed it to the Whitmans but because he'd needed to get out of Oregon City for a while. He'd felt that he couldn't sort out his feelings for Erica when he saw her every day. Clayton Home had returned Lewis Bradley's money, and he'd heard the man had gone after his Indian woman to bring her and their son back home. Erica had never mentioned Lewis' name to him so he guessed she was over her infatuation with the man, but he didn't like being her second choice. Hell, he didn't even know if he was that high on her list since most of the other men simply ignored her. He couldn't understand their rudeness either, for she was a delightful creature with such pretty green eyes. With a sudden flash of insight, he realized he'd been an idiot to be so sensitive about being her second choice when she certainly had to know his first choice had been Gabrielle. He was mortified by that thought. It was obvious, yet it had escaped him during the many hours he'd agonized over the problem of taking a wife. As he helped to raise a tent, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of how foolish he'd been, and he hoped by some miracle Erica might still be single by the time he returned home.

Jason remained seated for a while as he watched the others move about to make camp and gather wood for cooking fires. There was no reason for him to supervise this phase of the group's activities so he enjoyed the brief rest, feeling that he had earned it. He knew they'd get used to the pace he'd set in a day or two and the journey home would be a far easier one. His only worry was the possibility that the Cayuse would come looking for them as they made their way up the river. It was unlikely, but were he the Cayuse chief he'd be waiting for the white men who would be certain to come to avenge the Whitman massacre. He'd post sentries to watch the river so as not to be caught by surprise as those at the mission had been. A slow smile moved across Jason's lips as he realized the best plan would be to leave the river before they were sighted and to circle around the Indian's camp and attack it from the east. By

keeping the men moving, they'd appear to be a larger force than they were, and the Giyuse would be sure to flee to the north. Satisfied with that plan, he got up and stretched, then went to see what was being prepared for supper since he was very hungry.

While Jason and the volunteer army moved stealthily toward a confrontation with the Giyuse, Gabrielle and Erica established a far more pleasant routine. The redhead could handle horses with ease, but she was happy to let Erica assume the responsibility for milking the cow. Erica named the bovine Tulip and insisted the animal had a very pleasant disposition regardless of Gabrielle's opinion of her. They divided the rest of the chores equally and then cooked the meals together, often giggling uproariously when the new recipes they tried to devise failed to meet their expectations. On Saturday they went into town and attended two more weddings. Gabrielle simply ignored the curious stares and rude whispers that her appearance provoked, and since neither she nor Erica wished to attend the reception, they went to the dry goods store to purchase material for curtains before reporting to Clayton. He was exasperated with them for being so confident, but it seemed obvious that they were managing well on their own so he gave them permission to continue their arrangement for another week. On the way home, however. Erica had only to glance at Gabrielle's expression to know something was wrong.

"I'd ask what's the matter, but I think I already know. Iris hasn't let the story of that trapper she met at your house slip anyone's mind. I was hoping you didn't hear any of the whispers when we entered the church, but you did, didn't you.'

"Yes. But I can hardly confront Iris as if she is telling an outright He. Beau was there with me when she and Clayton came to call, but you'd think they'd caught us in bed together from the way everyone looks at me. I suppose such a delicious scandal will always be far more exciting than the truth. Still, I don't want Jason to suffer as a result of this gossip."

"Surely he'll not even hear it, and if he does he won't pay any attention to it," Erica insisted firmly. "Jason's hardly the type of man to listen to malicious gossip as you must know."

Gabrielle agreed—she did not want to explain that her husband had forbidden her to see Beau—but she knew Jason would be dreadfully disappointed in her and would say she'd brought this needless disgrace upon herself by disregarding his command.

"I just hope Jason will be home soon," she said. "Everything will be better then." At least she prayed it would.

Erica nodded enthusiastically. "Of course it will. Do you realize half the girls are married now? Even though you were the first bride, our wagon has not kept up with the other two when it comes to marriages."

Gabrielle was amused by that thought. "Was there some kind of a contest?"

"Not really, but as I sat there in the church this morning I realized we have fallen behind. Johanna seems to be making some progress with the preacher, and of course Iris is engaged; but Barbara and Margaret don't seem any closer to accepting proposals and the only man I'd accept hasn't bothered to ask me. So, our wagon is not doing well at all. Do you remember Jason telling us we'd all be married within two weeks? Looks like he was wrong."

"Well, I suppose Clayton and Iris could adopt any of you who don't wed. Would you like that?" Gabrielle offered brightly.

"Good heavens no! What a horrid idea!" Erica was convulsed with laughter at the lunacy of that prospect. "Not that Mr. Home wouldn't make an understanding father, but Iris would be the worst mother possible. Why, the very thought makes my stomach lurch!"

The two young women passed the time on the rest of the way home by making up possible combinations of the bachelors and the young women who were still single. The next morning when they attended church, they could not help but recall the

silliest of the pairings as they gazed around. Being so amused, Gabrielle did not let the dark glances she received phase her, but when the young women returned home at noon to find Beau seated upon the front porch, it was difficult to maintain her composure. When she introduced him to her friend, he smiled warmly, but clearly he was anxious to speak with her alone. Seeing that. Erica excused herself discreetly to begin preparing the midday meal.

"Come for a walk with me. I want to talk with you." Beau reached for Gabrielle's hand the minute they were alone. "Just for a little way, not far."

"All right," Gabrielle agreed. "Just let me unsaddle the horses first." She led Sunny and the black mare to the barn, wondering what Beau could have to say other than goodbye. Unable to wait for him to begin, she asked impatiently, "Have you come to tell me goodbye?"

Beau took the mare's reins and led her into her stall for unsaddling. "Not exactly," he called over his shoulder. "But that's what I want to discuss."

Gabrielle made a silly face at him. "Don't tease me! Either it is or it isn't."

"How does Sunrise like it here?" Beau asked with a sly grin, not about to satisfy her curiosity until the time was right.

"He loves it!" Gabrielle called back. She removed Sunny's saddle and bridle with exceptional speed, then had to stand and wait for her caller to finish his share of the work. Finally he joined her, and taking her hand, he guided her down the path which led from the barn to the surrounding fields.

They strolled a considerable distance before he spoke. "I've decided to go to California, but I want to wait until Jason comes home before I leave." His glance was fond as he looked down at her, but his expression was reserved, as if there were more to his decision than he'd admit.

"I certainly hope you don't plan to come and tell him goodbye because that would be foolhardy in the extreme," Gabrielle suggested, not understanding why Beau had decided

■ to wait for Jason's return. He seemed to be in a relaxed mood that day, confident as she'd remembered him, so she did not hesitate to question his motive.

"No, I'm not that great a fool," Beau repUed with a chuckle, but after a moment's pause he grew more serious. "I want to make certain you are a married woman rather than a widow before I leave."

Gabrielle swiftly pulled her hand from his and drew away. "What a horrid thing to say! Even if you do wish Jason dead, how dare you admit such a dreadful thing to me?"

Beau gestured helplessly, raising his hands to the heavens. "I am not wishing the man dead! All I am saying is that someone is sure to be killed any time there's a battle with Indians, and if it's Jason, I'll not go off and leave you alone again."

Gabrielle shuddered, horrified. "The possibility I'll be a widow, ever, is too ghastly even to contemplate. I think we should just say our goodbyes now, and wish each other the best. I'll not encourage you to cling to the hope we'll be able to marry someday. It's just not going to happen. Beau, and if you let yourself think it will then you'll miss whatever chance you'll have to be happy with someone else. Please just make your plans and go as soon as it's convenient for you. My welfare should be your very last consideration."

Beau scuffed the toe of his boot in the moist soil before responding to her advice with a sarcastic question. "How would you feel if I insisted you were to stop loving Jason?"

"I couldn't do it." Gabrielle admitted frankly.

"Well then don't tell me I can't still love you." He looked up then, his dark eyes filled with a pain so deep it was close to hatred.

"I think we'd better go back to the house," Gabrielle replied breathlessly.

She turned to hurry up the path. She didn't want to prolong the sorrow of their goodbye, and she knew if she stayed there with him a minute longer, she'd be in tears since he'd

communicated the sharpness of his anguish so well.

Beau followed along silently, thinking he'd made as bad a job of saying goodbye as he had of everything else. When they reached the front porch of her home, he went straight to his horse without having to be told to be on his way.

'TU send that letter every Christmas, if you promise to send a reply."

Cabrielle walked to the young man's side, attempting to smile bravely. "I promise."

Beau looked down at her, his heartbreak compounding as he thought how unlikely it would be they'd ever meet again. His eyes filled with tears he made no move to brush away, and when he tried to say goodbye he could not even speak the words.

Drawn to him by the memory of the love they'd shared for so many years, Gabrielle rested her hands lightly upon Beau's chest and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. Her lips were soft, her mouth inviting, and he hesitated only an instant before hugging her to him, pressing her so close she could feel the wild pounding of his heart rather than the gentle beat of her own. The warmth of his affection enveloped her with the same sweet longing which tore at his soul as they kissed for the last time. She was as stunned as he by the depth of her response, for it was as though they had never been apart and her love were still as strong as his. He kissed her then as he had the night of the storm, with a passion so intense she grew weak in his embrace. When he finally released her she stepped back quickly, preferring to wave from the safety of the front porch as he rode away. She waited until he was lost from view before wiping away the last traces of tears from her cheeks, but whether they had been Beau's or her own she could not really tell. As she turned to go inside, she found Erica standing at the open door, a look of such disbelief upon her sweet features she knew her friend had seen all there was to see.

"It's true isn't it? Iris isn't telling lies about you at all, but the truth!" She gasped sharply as she stared at the young

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woman whose word she'd never once doubted. "My God, Td just come to the door to see if Beau wouldn't like to stay for something to eat and there you were in his arms kissing him as though the world were coming to an end!"

"For him it has»" Gabrielle responded softly.

"How can you do this to Jason? You two have only just gotten married and you've already taken a lover?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "No. Beau is not my lover but my best friend. He's going to California and as we'll never see each other again he came to say goodbye. That's all you saw. Erica. Don't think there is any more to it because there isn't."

"Even if there were you wouldn't tell me about it would you?" Erica asked pointedly, her green eyes aflame with anger.

"No." Gabrielle saw no reason to apologize for being the type of person she was. "If you want to go back to Clayton's, I'll understand. I'll miss you terribly, but if you think the worst of me too, then perhaps you should leave before your reputation is ruined simply by association."

Erica shrieked with frustration. "Oh no, I want to stay. Just because one of the handsomest men I've ever seen kisses you goodbye as though he had no intention of leaving is no reason for me to desert you." She marched toward the kitchen then, so confused she was no longer certain just what she really had seen.

Neither of them had much appetite for the meal, and finally Gabrielle gave up the effort to eat and laid her fork across her plate. "Forgive me. I know my secretive nature offends you, and since we've become so close, I don't want to do anything which will jeopardize our friendship. But I can't explain anything to you until Jason comes home because so much depends on him. I don't expect you to be content to wait, but I must beg you to try."

Erica had been pushing her food around her plate without eating a bite either. Now she lay her fork aside. She tried to read some deeper meaning in Gabrielle's troubled glance than she found in her words, but couldn't.

*'Do you expect me to forget what I saw today?" she finally asked.

"No. I can't ask that, but please keep it to yourself."

Drumming her fingers nervously upon the table. Erica shook her head in wonder. "Fve never seen anything like that, Gabrielle. I thought Beau was going to devour you and it certainly looked as though you were enjoying it."

"I was," Gabrielle admitted readily.

"But don't you love Jason?"

This time, Gabrielle made a greater effort to share her feelings with her friend. "I love my husband dearly, but I love Beau too. I love them both but in entirely different ways and for different reasons. I know it's confusing, but I must insist the subject of Beau is closed." Looking toward the embers glowing upon the hearth, she shivered suddenly, "Don't you think it's gotten chilly in here?"

She got up from the table to add wood to the fire, her decision to change the topic of conversation a firm one. Shivering still, she rubbed her arms to get warm, but she could not suppress the memory of Beau's lavish goodbye as easily as she'd asked Erica to disregard it. Their conversation had been far too unsettling. What if Jason were to die? What if the endlessly exciting man who was her husband were to perish before she could tell him she loved him? It would be futile to have the words carved on his tombstone since he'd never read them.

"I should have gone after him," she told herself angrily.

"What?" Erica had been carrying their dishes to the sink but she set them down quickly and rushed to her friend's side when she saw her pained expression. "I beg your pardon, what did you say?"

As Gabrielle looked up, she didn't see her friend's worried glance, only the memory of her husband's angry stare. "Oh, Erica, I am terrified. I'm afraid I've lost Jason. I don't think he's coming back."

"Of course he is!" Erica reassured her quickly. "Why

wouldn't he?"

Gabrielle turned back to the fire, watching the flames dance with the same fascination Jason had shown when they'd last talked together. "He might not be able to. Erica. In fact, he might already be dead and I won't even know it until the men return to tell us what happened."

Erica was so horrified by Gabrielle's gloomy words that she did not know what to do. She slipped an arm around her friend's waist and hugged her tightly. "Oh no, nothing's going to happen to Jason. He's far too clever to fall victim to a savage."

Gabrielle shook her head sadly as she whispered, "He may already have."

Jason wiped the sweat from his eyes and peered through the dense underbrush toward the sound of rifle fire as he knelt to reload his own weapon. The raid had begun with the first light of dawn. It was now close to noon and after hours of fighting the battle had dwindled to scattered fire in no more than a dozen places. They'd struck a decisive blow, of that he was certain. The majority of the Cayuse were retreating rapidly, leaving only a few warriors behind in this part of the forest to hinder their enemy's pursuit. Jason planned to deal with those braves, then regroup and treat the casualties before pushing farther north, sweeping the fleeing Indians before them. He'd given the men a final warning that morning: only mad dogs killed women and children. He knew they believed he'd come after any man who selected a woman or child as a target. Now he was going back over the terrain they'd crossed, searching for stragglers. Women and children, he feared, might have fled into the woods and been left behind during the first stages of the attack. He could be called a traitor to the cause he was leading, but no army worthy of the name killed civilians. He'd do his best to protect the Indians he knew to be innocent of the responsibility for the Whitmans' deaths.

Warned by the ominous snap of a dry twig, Jason lunged to the right, scrambling to his feet, hoping to provide a moving target and thus escape injury but the Cayuse warrior had crept up right behind him. The brave snarled a filthy curse as his knife pierced the taut muscles of Jason's upper arm for he'd aimed for the middle of his back and was disgusted he'd not moved with sufficient stealth to surprise the white man and kill him. He raised his knife again, ready to strike another vicious blow, but his prey was now on his feet and facing him.

Although his left arm was nearly useless, Jason had no intention of attempting to run away. He tossed his rifle aside since he'd not finished reloading it and drew his knife. Circling the Indian he now saw was a brawny brute, he returned the man's curse with an even stronger one. He knew how to fight very effectively with knives and relished the prospect since his adversary seemed so eager for hand-to-hand combat.

"Come and get me, you bastard, come on!" he shouted at the brave in his own tongue, knowing an enraged foe was a careless one.

Through the red haze of his anger, the Indian saw little except that he'd not killed the tall white man as he'd intended. He wanted to hack his foe's body into tiny bits so his comrades would find what was left of him and fear their own fate at the hands of the Cayuse. That he'd failed in his initial attempt didn't deter the brave and he lunged again, but missed. The injured man had managed to dodge his blow. He continued to swing his weapon in wide arcs, using brute force rather than cunning. He slashed the air but inflicted no further injury, for despite Jason's height and size he leaped from one spot to another with the agility of a young stag.

Jason knew he was bleeding too badly to make the fight a long one. He'd swiftly tire and then his death would be certain. In a surprising change of strategy he lunged, not away from his opponent but toward him, using his right shoulder to hit the man hard in the stomach and send him sprawling on his back in the leaves. He jumped astride the brave then, wrenching the

knife from his hand before his opponent regained the breath knocked out of him by that savage blow to the midsection. Dazed, the Indian's eyes filled with terror as he looked up at what he knew was the face of his own doom.

Jason tossed the brave's knife away and then went to work with his own. Holding it to the man's throat, he threatened him with every vile act which came to his mind should the Cayuse dare to return to their former home. He wanted to send what was left of their number so far north they'd never see another white settler let alone harm one. To emphasize his point, he drew the blade of his weapon slowly down to the man's navel, exerting just enough pressure to leave a long bloody trail without actually disemboweling him. He leaped to his feet then and gestured for the brave to rise. "Now go! I let you live to carry my message so don't delay in relaying it!"