The Runaway (5 page)

She slipped her feet into the water and sighed as the cool liquid caressed her swollen flesh. The chill water rolled over the feverish wound, deadening pain and offering her a little touch of paradise. Who would have thought she could find that in this arid country?

She slid deeper into the little pool enjoying the feeling of cool water embracing her flesh. Her smock rode up around her waist as her butt pressed into the cool mud at the bottom of the hole. She laid her head back on the bank and luxuriated in the sensations.

A bird called out sharply, startling Delilah out of her reverie. She sat bolt upright, pushing her formless dress modestly about her body. She glanced left, right, and back again, wildly looking about her but nothing was in view. Gradually, she began to relax again, easing her back against the bank, soaking in the cool clear liquid. The mud at the bottom of the pool seeped around the feverish wound in her foot, giving her a taste of heaven.

Chapter Twelve

Spying

Carson walked home from checking his traps, Sharps .50 rifle in hand and one small rabbit slung over his shoulder. He’d hoped for more—maybe a prairie dog or three—but this would be meat enough to cook a thicker stew. He wished he could catch a rabbit every day.

He’d seen no game at all that was fit to shoot. A big bullet like a .50 would rip the hell out of smaller animals so he only used it if he saw something worthy. A buffalo would be ideal, but he hadn’t seen one near his farm in nearly two years. A wolf or coyote was also acceptable and a deer would be a blessing, but until one showed itself in the area there was nothing to do but look and wait and farm while hoping for more game.

He ascended the little hill that climbed from the water hole behind his house. It was a good site to get a look at his land and he still held some small hope that a game animal might appear, coming toward the water.  What he actually saw surprised the hell out of him and sent him dropping to his stomach so he wouldn’t be noticed.

Below him, Delilah bathed in his pool. He couldn’t believe it. He set his rifle and the rabbit to the side and carefully crawled to the crest of the ridge so he could take another look.

It was true! He wasn’t dreaming!

Delilah sat in the clear water up to her waist not twenty feet away from him. He could see more of her bare thighs than he had yesterday. Her dress barely covered her groin leaving all that dark flesh exposed to the sky. She’d flung her long hair out behind her and her head and back lay against the side of the pool. He had never imagined seeing anything so beautiful.

His cock stirred in his britches, but he refrained from touching himself, afraid of disturbing her and making her cover her thighs. He knew that he should slip back down the ridge, make some noise to warn her he was coming, and bring the rabbit up to the house. He knew he should do this but he couldn’t stop watching. He imagined what it would feel like to dip his hand into the water and slide it over her dark bare flesh.

She squirmed as he watched, and her dress slid just a little higher. A tuft of black hair peeked out at the sun before she unconsciously lowered the thin fabric again.

Time passed before she pulled her injured foot up so she could look at it—unintentionally opening her legs for Carson’s inspection. He leaned forward, eager to see, only to be disappointed again. Her foot obscured his view of her groin, covering her just as well as her dress had.

He looked around, wondering if there was a better angle, but also fearing to risk attracting her attention by moving. His sense of caution tortured him. An almost half-naked woman sat twenty feet in front of him! Why couldn’t he stand up and go down to her and discover what it meant to be a man?

Unfortunately, he knew the answer. Delilah had shown him just how little she thought of him last night. He was nothing—a sodbuster on a worn out farm. If he went down to join her she would turn away and leave and Carson couldn’t bear the thought of that. She’d only been with him a day, but he’d do anything to keep her here with him.

She was probing that bad foot again, working at it with her two thumbs. Was it possible that he’d missed something in the flesh? Could he have left a tiny sliver of wood inside her?

She let go of her foot and splashed water on to her dark arms, rinsing the dirt and grime of travel from her flesh. Water soaked the thin material of her dress, giving Carson a much clearer view of the contours of her breasts. One nipple pressed visibly against the fabric. His own fingers squeezed his hard cock through his pants.

Delilah stood up, feet planted firmly in the center of the pool. While Carson watched she bent over to wash her legs. Her dress gaped open further exposing her body while she splashed water on her thighs.

She looked around, convincing Carson she was thinking about removing her thin garment. He unfastened his pants in expectation, taking his rigid meat into his hand and squeezing hard on the swollen head.

Delilah evidently changed her mind. She sunk to her knees and splashed water up beneath her dress, rubbing with her wet hands against the flesh of her stomach, touching her breasts beneath the thin cotton covering.

Carson muffled a groan. He didn’t want to spill in his hand again, he wanted to thrust himself hard between Delilah’s legs. He wanted to feel her body all around him. He wanted her to squeeze him in her arms while he kissed her lips and filled her with his seed.

His cock had never been this rigid. His hand moved rapidly, pretending to be Delilah’s sweet body. His balls tightened in expectation. He was close, closer, closer—“Oh, Delilah,” he gasped.

Beneath him, in the pool, Delilah’s spine abruptly straightened and she yanked her dress down to fully cover her thighs.

Carson immediately realized his error. He slid down the ridge away from the pool, snatching up his rifle and the rabbit as he went. His pants slipped down around his knees. His stiff dick still jutted out in front of him just a few quick strokes shy of spewing out his seed. He snatched up the waist of his pants in the same hand holding his rifle and ran away from Delilah out into the prairie, hoping against hope that she hadn’t seen what he’d been doing.

Chapter Thirteen

Doubts

Delilah stood in the pool, dress yanked down to cover her legs, waiting for Carson to appear so she would know which way to run. She didn’t understand what was taking him so long. He’d been patient with her before, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had seen her bathing herself and she knew beyond a doubt that to excite a white man was to invite his attention—however unwelcome. Why then was Carson not appearing so he could finish satisfying himself? It made no sense.

Her eyes darted from right to left and back again. Where was he? Why hadn’t he appeared yet? Why hadn’t he just come right over the top of that ridge and taken her here in the water?

Where was he?

She backed out of the water hole, still looking around for the white man. Her foot immediately began to hurt again. The cool water might have reduced the swelling somewhat but it hadn’t magically cured her infection. A slight breeze rustled past her, chilling her flesh through the wet dress and making her nipples painfully hard. She didn’t need her body encouraging Carson. Why hadn’t she shown more sense? It was one thing to soak her feet but to let her dress get all wet as well? Every curve of her body was vividly exposed now. She might as well beg him to attack!

Where was he?

Why was he playing with her like this? She backed closer to the little house, wondering where he was hiding, wondering when he would stop playing cat and mouse. He wanted her, didn’t he? He was white and she was black! White men took colored women when they wanted them. Any moment now he’d jump into view, run her down, rip her dress off…

Where was he?

He wanted her, didn’t he?

By the time her dress dried out, Delilah had given up worrying about Carson. He wasn’t coming for her. She’d been wrong. Could she possibly have misunderstood his interest? She was still pretty, wasn’t she? Why hadn’t he come down that hill at her? Why had he turned her world upside down?

Why did it bother her so much that he had?

She needed to get on the road again but her foot simply wasn’t up to it. In a few days she might be able to, but right now she’d get nowhere without Carson’s mule. How was she going to get that animal from him? And even if he did give it to her, could she keep it? A woman—a runaway slave—on her own in this country was not going to get far. She’d had her share of hiding and fleeing to make it to Oklahoma. She needed Carson if she was going to get much farther.

But what could she do to get him on her side?

He didn’t want her.

Chapter Fourteen

Dinner

When Carson returned to the house, he had a dead rabbit slung over his shoulder. That little bunny was the most exciting thing Delilah had seen in a long time. Meat—Carson had found meat—and that meant they were going to eat truly well tonight.

Her mouth began to salivate and her stomach to rumble. Her hunger was so intense that for the first several moments she forgot that Carson had seen her bathing in the pool. Then his cheeks reddened and he looked away from her face and she remembered everything.

Carson’s response confused her. Why was he embarrassed? She knew he’d been alone for a long time but was it possible that he didn’t understand what it meant that she was colored? Was he actually interested but didn’t know he could have his way?

“You caught something,” she told him just to try and get him talking.

“It’s not much,” Carson said.

“Yes, it is,” Delilah told him. She forced herself to reach out and touch his forearm to see how he would respond—risking triggering the violence she feared.

Carson trembled at the contact—trembled and looked away. “I’ll dress the rabbit,” he said, leaving Delilah to stare after him as he left.

For the first time since she had awakened in this place, Delilah decided to make herself useful but she didn’t have the tools she needed to follow through on her intention. She hobbled into the little house but the vegetables were still in the garden. Nor did she have a knife to cut them with if she went out to pick them. So she emptied the bucket into the pot and went out to fetch more water. This was hard on her foot, but she wanted very much to look less like a burden to Carson.

He looked up at her from near the barn. “Hold on there!” he told her.

He leapt up from cleaning the rabbit and hurried to her side. His fingers touched hers as he took the bucket from her. “You shouldn’t be walking,” he said. “Your foot’s not healed.”

Delilah liked the way he spoke to her—strong, but not in the cruel preemptory manner of the Colonel.  “I want to help,” she told him.

Carson grunted, like he didn’t understand her words. “You just sit down by the wall over there,” he said. “I’ll finish dressing the rabbit. Then I’ll get the water.”

He turned around without waiting for an answer, carrying the bucket with him as he went back to his work. He was quick with the knife, cutting open the skin, and removing the meat for eating. He wrapped the cuts up in the skin and carried them with him when he went to fill the bucket. There was blood on his hands when he came back to join her but that didn’t trouble Delilah.