Sweetwater (48 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

Travor took Colleen to her new home, helped her to wash, dressed her in one of his shirts and put her to bed. Joe Fiala’s wife, Una May, left their supper on the stove and went with Joe to their rooms in the bunkhouse. Travor brought Colleen a plate of food and insisted she sit up to eat it.

“You’ve not had much of a chance to look at the place, but do ya like what ya’ve seen?” Travor sat on the side of the bed when she finished eating. One arm stretched across her, the other hand cupped her bruised and swollen cheek.

“Very much. But I’d be happy in a dugout if you were there.” She held out her arms and he bent over her. “Ya know what I was thinkin’ when I was sure I didn’t have a chance of gettin’ back to ya? I wished that we’d loved each other like we wanted to that night when we was lyin’ on the grass in the shed and ya said we’d wait till the preacher said the words.”

“I wanted ya to marry me ’cause ya wanted me, not ’cause ya might think ya could be expectin’.”

“Ya still don’t want to … be with me … like that till we marry?”

“Ah … honey. I want ya so bad it’s almost killin’ me not to get in that bed with ya. Yo’re the sweetest woman—” There was a deep huskiness in his voice. He nuzzled his face into the soft skin of her neck. She stroked his dark hair lovingly. “When I saw ya standin’ there and that … sorry piece of dung lookin’ at yore sweet bosom, I wanted to cut his heart out!”

“It’s over. We won’t think about it. Travor … get in bed with me. Hold me.”

“Darlin’ girl.” He lifted his head to look at her. “Ya sure … ya want me to? I love ya so much. It’ll be hard not to—do more than hold ya.” His eyes were bright, raw with feeling. He brushed her lips with another kiss.

“I want ya to, Trav. I want ya to … do more than hold me.”

He searched her eyes for confirmation of her words, and when she smiled at him, he could see her love in them.

“Kiss me, honey. I won’t come to my woman smellin’ like horse dung.”

They whispered to each other, mouth to mouth, sharing breath and soft, sweet kisses. His fingers smoothed the hair back from her ears.

“Ya don’t—smell like that.”

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a dog’s tail.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“Darlin’ girl, I’ll be just outside the door at the wash-bench.”

“Hurry.” She kissed him with fiery sweetness.

Colleen lay waiting. Her heart hammered in anticipation of what was to come. Today she had thought she would never know the joy of being with her man.
Thank God for Linus.
She hadn’t thanked him properly for going for Travor, but she would.

She heard Travor come back into the house and turned her eyes to the doorway. He appeared there shirtless, his broad chest covered with a light sprinkling of dark hair. With his eyes on her, he came soundlessly across the floor.

“I’ll blow out the lamp, if ya want.”

“Ya don’t have to.”

Travor got carefully into bed, and reached out to Colleen lying on the far side. He pulled her to him gently, as if she would break. He didn’t speak until she lay fully against him.

“Come to me, darlin’ girl. Ya feel so warm, so soft. I’m holdin’ the whole world in my arms.” His lips snuggled in her hair. She could feel the excitement begin to build in him.

“Ya feel good, too.”

His lips moved down her cheek until they found her lips and kissed her until he began to tremble. Her mouth was eager against his as his hand traveled down her back to the fullness of her hips and pressed her to him. The silky down between her thighs teased his hardened flesh. When she moved her thigh between his, an inarticulate sound escaped him.

Travor gently turned her onto her back and raised himself on quivering arms to hover over her. His thumb caressed her lips before he kissed her, gently, wonderingly, the touch filled with love and promise.

“I’ll love ya forever, darlin’.” The words were wrung from him in an agonized whisper.

“I’ll love ya, too, my sweet—” The rest of her murmured reply was lost in his kiss.

Borne beyond constraint, he lifted himself above her.

Scarcely believing that this was happening, Colleen opened her legs to welcome him when she felt the first firm touch of his hardened flesh probing the moist opening in her body and instinctively lifted her hips to the indriving shaft of pleasure.

In a haze of ethereal delight she was conscious of only a slight, swift tinge of pain. Then she was rocking, rocking, borne on a floating rhythm of a mighty wave. She writhed in her search for gratification; and when it came, she found she was no longer herself and whole, but a body of many fragments, alive with vibrant sensations.

Travor’s mind and body came gradually back together with hers. He raised himself on his elbows and looked down into her face. Her magnificent blue eyes shone like a million stars.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said when he was able to speak. “You’ve given me the greatest gift I’ve ever had or will have.” The words were whispered against her lips before he kissed them as if he had never kissed them before.

She pressed her hands against his back when he would have moved from her.

“Not yet. Please stay.”

“I may never leave.” His chuckle was a low loving sound.

“Ya can’t stay forever!”

“No, but I could stay all night.” His chuckle was low and loving as he turned on his side taking her with him.

“Trav,” she whispered several kisses later. “Do you think Trell and Jenny are as happy as we are?”

“I hope so, sweetheart. But I doubt it. No one in the whole world could be as happy as we are.”

In the bunkhouse at Stoney Creek Jenny lay beside Trell. Colleen’s capture by Hartog, her narrow escape, had made them realize how fragile life was. Tomorrow they would be married, but they still had tonight.

Her brilliant green eyes laughed up at him. She and Trell had come together as man and wife, as woman and man, as male and female, and their hearts were still pulsing with the joy of it. Her face was damp and flushed and lighted with a happy smile.

“You’re not sorry we didn’t wait?” he whispered, moving his hands down to her buttocks and kneading gently while being careful the splints on his broken leg didn’t scrape her soft skin.

“No, no, no.” She stroked his hair. Love for him filled her heart. “And I’m not ashamed of what we just did.”

“This is a part of married life that some women don’t like.”

“Then they don’t love their husbands as I love mine! I read somewhere that this is one of God’s great gifts to mankind. I understand now what that means.”

He caressed her mouth gently but firmly. A little sound of happiness came from his throat. He held her tightly to him and pressed her head to his shoulder.

“When I saw you at the stage station, and you flashed those green eyes at me, I was lost. You’ve not been out of my mind since. I never dreamed that I’d hold you like this.”

Jenny laughed happily, her mouth against his smooth skin. Her fingers gently stroked his chest.

“I never thought I’d be so brazen as to lie naked in the arms of a man. I thought only whores did that.”

“Well … do you like it?”

“I love it. And we can do it every night for the rest of our lives! Trell,” she lifted her head as if a sudden thought had pulled it from his shoulder, “do you think Travor and Colleen are as happy as we are.”

“I hope so, my love. But I doubt it. No one in the whole world could be as happy as we are.”

A KEEPSAKE GIFT
FROM
DOROTHY GARLOCK
TO YOU

T
ASTES FROM THE
F
RONTIER

Recipes from the Past
used by characters in
Dorothy Garlock’s
books of
early America

In my books of the Old West, I have tried to show you the world in which our ancestors lived and in which my characters made their way: to let you smell the wilderness, feel the rockiness of the road as metal-bound wagon wheels jolted you along the trail, experience the loneliness of the endless prairie and shiver in the icy mountain streams. This booklet is intended to bring you the flavor of the food. Here are thirty recipes, just as they were passed among the settlers—imprecise and improvised—not especially for
your
kitchen or table, but food for your imagination.

If you have enjoyed this addition to Sweetwater, I would like to hear from you—and if you have a recipe from the past you would like to share, I will add it to my collection. Who knows, the collection may result in a book … someday.

To my readers—your letters are precious treasures. Thank you.

c/o Warner Books

1271 Avenue of the Americas

Time Life Building

New York, N.Y. 10020

Love and Cherish
(Warner Books—1995)

1779 Kentucky

Running frantically into the Kentucky wilderness after being sold to a pair of despicable trappers, Cherish Riley met a tall, lean, buckskin-clad man with a large brown dog who offered her his protection. Within hours he had proposed marriage. He needed a woman to care for his motherless child. Cherish agreed because she had nowhere else to go. There were miles to travel, angry pursuers, hostile Indians and frigid winter weather to face before they reached the safety of his cabin on the Ohio River, but plenty of time for Cherish to fall in love with the mysterious, silent man.

INDIAN PUDDING

Mix a scant cup of molasses and one of corn meal. Add one egg, a heaping spoonful of butter or fat, dash of salt, ginger or cinnamon to taste. Beat this, then stir it into a quart of sweet milk that has almost come to a boil. Remove from the fire and add a cup of cold milk, Pour into a pan and bake one hour.

BLACKBERRY MUSH

Add small amount of water to washed and picked-over berries. Cook until berries are soft. Mash through a sieve. Mix sugar and large spoonful of flour. Add to berries and return to cook until thick, stirring constantly. Cool. Good with milk.

Wild Sweet Wilderness
(Warner Books—1985)

1803 Missouri

Berry Rose Warfield was eighteen years old when she arrived at the village of St. Louis on the Mississippi River. With only her gentle stepmother beside her she left the wagon train to search for her father’s claim and brave an unforgiving frontier. Trappers, rivermen, riffraff and savages stood between her and her land. Spunky and mouthy, Berry was fast with a musket and slow to believe in a man. She was determined to prove that she was a match for the hardworking cynical trader who fell in love with her, temper and all.

TO DRY APPLES

Slice apples into thin slivers or core and slice into rings. If in rings, string on a cane pole and set out in the sun until the slices are brown and rubbery. This usually takes three days to a week.

FRIED APPLE PIE

Cook apples in a little water. Add sugar and cinnamon or nutmeg. Roll pie crust out on a floured board. Cut in circles by tracing around a saucer or small bowl. Place a large spoonful of apple mixture on one side of the circle. Fold over and pinch tightly to seal. Cut three or four small gashes in the top to let out steam. Fry in a small amount of grease in a shallow skillet until brown on both sides. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon.