Yellow Rock (7 page)

For a crazy woman, she was damned astute. And she was staring him down with her blue eyes flashing some kind of accusation. To hear how her life had gone up until now made his gut recoil from actual physical pain.

“Your turn,” she pressed, crossing her arms in front of her.

He didn’t like being confronted, and he wasn’t a talker. Feeling like the walls were closing in around him, Dutch went outside and started yanking each of the war lances out of the ground. The Apaches have obviously have seen Willow with him. Now they had no doubt he’d accepted their gift. Taking Willow into his home meant one thing, and now they expected action. These lances are proof. He’d accepted the gift, and now he has to get off the mountain. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t have nearly enough gold to build his ranch, to build his life. He had nothing to offer to anyone…or to her, if he’d be so inclined. The more he thought about it, the harder he pulled on the lances until he growled, tossing each lance into the woods as hard as he could, and until sweat poured from his skin.

He’d tossed the last lance, breathing hard from his efforts. He turned and noticed Willow standing in the doorway of the cabin, her hair lifting with the breeze. Just like that, his heart fell all over itself. She’d been watching his temper tantrum calmly. Why wasn’t the sight of the war lances or his temper upsetting to her? Was she getting better? Could he tell her everything? Was she ready now?

Chapter Seven

He’d spent the whole day stewing over something and the more she pried, the more he’d shut down. Needing to keep herself busy somehow, Willow decided to go ahead and take the liberty to prepare biscuits and gravy from what was left of his flour and the left-over turkey.

Dutch hardly touched his meal, and didn’t even thank her for her efforts. He just sat staring at the wall with a silence of a man deep in thought. Wondering what was bothering him so much made her hands a little jumpy, but she was able to keep a clear head. Ever since she revealed her life to Dutch, her episodes subsided. She’d said the words that haunted her, and surprisingly, the world didn’t collapse around her. For that alone, her mood and hopes for the future lifted considerably.

“How much do you hate the Yankees, Willow?”

The question snapped her gaze to him. She had to think about it for a moment. Then she realized, she didn’t. “I’ve never met one. Not a single one for me to hate. I may have been a colonel’s daughter, but I’ve been kept sheltered from it all. Up till the last month, that is.”

“Well you’ve met one now.”

She stopped pushing her food around the plate with her fork to look at him. “You’re a Union soldier?”

“Not just a soldier, an officer. An officer who specialized in weapons and sharp shooting. But the war is over, and I’d like to put it behind me for good.”

She looked back down to her plate. In the real world she would have hated him. Her father certainly would. “I see,” she whispered.

“The last thing might be even harder for you to hear.”

Willow nodded, then laid the fork down. She folded her hands in front of her, and gave him her full attention.

“When I came west, I got myself lost. So lost I couldn’t find even food or water. I was close to death when I was found by an Apache woman named Bird-In-Sky. I called her Birdie since I struggled with her language. We fell in love and I had to engage in a physical fight with her brothers to earn the right to marry her. They beat me to test my worthiness and I survived. I found out later their intent was to actually kill me, so against they were over a white man living amongst them. They tried several other things over the course of a few months and I survived it all. That’s why they think I have medicine. They’re convinced something protects me and I can’t die. Then bad things started happening to their tribe, and a bunch of them became sick. Later, a few had started dying from freak accidents, and again, they’d reached the conclusion that I had caused the bad fortune as some kind of pay back for all the suffering they’d put me through. It got to the point they stayed away from me, fearing that I was the favorite of some type of vengeful god.

Hoping to change their luck, they agreed for Birdie and I to have our wedding ceremony. To be honest, by that point I was beginning to re-think my relationship with Birdie since she seemed to think about me in the same way that they did. She was afraid of me, afraid if she angered me, something bad would happen. Well, one-day Birdie and I were walking along a running creek when I found my first gold nugget. Gold was the reason why I came out west to begin with. I got really excited, and told Birdie I wanted to enough to buy a ranch. But she didn’t understand, since the Apaches have no use for gold and she nor the tribe were too happy about my wanting to take Birdie to live away from them. Her brothers tried one last time to kill me. One, who goes by the name of Crow Face, had never held a gun before. But, he stole my rifle and waited for me to look for my nuggets by that same creek. Only it wasn’t me. On that day Birdie went to the creek hoping to remove all the gold to keep me from leaving, and Crow Face accidentally shot and killed her. With her gone, there was no reason for me to stay so I left after that, and their tribe continues to experience even more death, suffering and accidents. Then you were captured. When they saw your beauty and your golden hair, they must have figured you were a gift, and they could offer you to me as a way to make things right, as a way to replace the woman they took from me. And now that you’re here, they think we are even and now want me to leave. To once and for all get off this mountain with the hopes their lives will find some peace and normalcy. So convinced that the whites bring more misfortune with them, they will kill anyone one comes near these rocks.”

“That’s incredible…” Willow whispered, truly stunned by his story. Even more surprised to feel some empathy for the Apaches, to understand Birdie’s fear of losing Dutch, and even more so, to be able to sympathize with the fact that the invasion of their culture wasn’t much different than what the Union had done to the south.

“I’ve gotten away with mining here and staying, because they owed me something. But now that the debt is paid, they have no fear of killing me if I refuse to go. I’m guessing those lances are the number of days we have left.”

“So much to think about,” she whispered.

“There’s one more thing; my name isn’t Dutch, or Yellow Rock by the way.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lucas Rayburn.”

Willow pondered that for a moment. All this time, she’d put her trust him and she didn’t even know his rightful name—and here he was a high ranking Yankee who’d lived as an Indian. The fact that she wasn’t running, screaming for her life out his door, must have meant she was gaining a foothold on her thinking. Hope began to spring a well inside of her. Maybe she’d be alright after all.

“How did you get the name Dutch?”

“Ilene down at the Agave Saloon. I told her my family originally migrated from Deutschland, and she mistakenly thinks I’m Dutch. Ilene is soiled dove, Willow. But I’ve never, not once had use for her services. For some reason, it’s important to me you know that. Anyway, Ilene kept on calling me Dutch and the name stuck in Hell’s Creek.”

“I guess Clem was right. He’d told me you had no use for women. I guess you must still be in mourning for your wife. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, reaching out to put her hand on his. His skin, thick and browned by the sun, quivered under her fingers. When he spoke, it was heavy with emotion, but she couldn’t decide which kind.

“To be honest, I feel guilty because I haven’t mourned for long. I’ve often wondered if my love for Birdie was based more on gratitude than real love. She saved my life. Something so powerful does something to a person’s way of thinking.”

“I suppose it does. That’s too bad,” Willow whispered, wondering if her attraction and trust toward Dutch was for those same reasons. He’d saved her life, and she’d done nothing but cling to him ever since. Maybe it wasn’t love, maybe it was only gratitude. The thought weighed itself in her mind until it fell like a rock to her gut. She realized she’d been truly happy thinking she might be falling in love. She withdrew her hand realizing she couldn’t have been falling in love with a man she didn’t know. She was only with him because her troubled mind forced her to find sanctuary with him. Where would she be if she had never experienced all the horror? Wouldn’t Willow Blanford in her right mind hate a man like Lucas Rayburn?

Dutch took a sip of whiskey, and then closed his eyes as he swallowed. It was like he was trying to drown out his memories. Maybe she was crazy for thinking she was falling for Dutch, maybe she’d be crazy not to fall in love with him. But the man had not once given her a reason to believe there was anything between them. He was just a nice and fiercely beautiful man who’d made himself perfectly clear that his only goal in life was to find his fortune in gold and then build himself a ranch. Just by being here, she knew she was risking his dream. Guilt shot through her mind until her body took command. She might have intruded on his life, but Dutch had kissed her first and she could still feel the warmth of it on her lips. Despite it all, she wanted more kisses, more of everything.

“I’d like some of that,” she said, gesturing toward his glass.

“My whiskey? I don’t know. Have you ever tried it?”

“No, but there’s a first for everything, right?”

“With you? Every single day.”

“Funny,” Willow commented, as she dumped out the old coffee and then held the empty cup out for Dutch. She then held the cup to her nose and grimaced at the sour smell burning inside her nostrils. “How the hell do you drink this? It smells just like kerosene.”

“It almost is. I changed my mind, give it back, you don’t need it.”

She let some whiskey touch her lip and her face puckered. Dutch chuckled and then held out his hand. “You heard me, give it back. You’re still too wet behind the ears.”

“No,” she argued, summing up her nerve. Then she titled her head back and swallowed the entire contents in one gulp.

“God almighty, Willow. You’re only supposed to sip the whiskey.”

“Oh, it burns, it burns, it burns…” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. It was like swallowing fire, she could feel the heat pass through her and then melt everything away.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smiling wide. Already, her muscles along her neck and spine softened. “I’ve never had anything like that.”

Dutch’s eyes watched her intently. “Obviously. But you’re cute when you bounce.”

Willow’s smiled faded. “Was she beautiful? Your wife?”

He seemed surprised by the question, and she realized she’d bounced hard enough to expose the swell of her breast over the hem of neckline. She quickly fixed it. Dutch politely dropped his gaze.

“Yes she was.”

“Do you miss her—even a little?”

He shrugged. “She was my first. But like I said, I wonder often if what we had was true love. Even with her around, I never stopped thinking about the gold, about what I wanted. It was almost like an obsession. I suppose real love should have conquered that obsession, but It didn’t. But sure, I’ve had moments where I missed the companionship…listen, let’s get out of here and go sit outside. We can talk out there while we build a fire and look at the stars.”

Clearly, he was uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to let him escape so easily. Maybe it was that devil part of her that her father hated, but at least she was starting to feel like her old self and all that came with it.

“I’m jealous,” she admitted.

“Of what?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Of the gold.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I wonder what it’s like to be obsessed over by the elusive Lucas Rayburn. To bear the brunt of so much passionate thought and energy.”

“What makes you think it’s such a big deal?” he asked, pausing at the door, letting go of the door handle.

“Just female intuition, Dutch. You don’t do anything half way. In everything you do, you’re always all in. No wonder Birdie tried to gather all the gold, and Ilene the whore keeps trying to get with you.”

“You know when we first met, you tried flirting with me. But that’s when you were crazy. How do I know if you’re speaking from the lucid you, or your crazy side?”

His voice became thick and heavy, and his eyes darkened, igniting hot sparks between them. The power of his masculinity effectively deflated her temporary bravado, and back into submission. “Never mind, you’re right, let’s go sit outside. It’s getting hot in here,” she relented, breaking the tension and using her hand to fan herself. The whiskey was already doing strange things to her insides, making her wonder if some cool night air would fix her sudden bout of hot flashes.

They worked quietly side by side, stacking wood to build themselves a small fire. When they’d finally settled themselves, Dutch had chosen to sit across the fire from her, but she felt closer to him now that he opened up his past with her. As their gaze locked through the fire, Willow wondered if maybe the Apaches were right about Dutch. It did seem if the man held special magic or medicine. His eyes continued to hold her captive as crimson flames danced lights and shadows across his face and tugged at her emotions. For whatever reason, be it she was crazy or just extremely grateful, all she knew was that right now she wanted to erase Birdie from his mind and replace his memory of the Apache woman with thoughts of her. Just plain and crazy Willow from Georgia.

As if reading her mind, he patted the spot next to him. “Come here, Willow. Morning is going to come too soon,” he observed thickly. The tone of his voice shot a tremble and an incredible urge to make Dutch hers in every way imaginable, right to her soul.

She moved to sit next to him and then gazed up to the stars. Dutch laid his arm around her and leaned himself closer. The heat of his body seemed as warm as the small fire, and for a while, they just sat watching the flames chew away at the pine log inside.

“Willow. I’m just going to come out and say this. There’s nothing I want more in this world than to lay you down and make love to you. But you’ve been through so much, and it’s still raw in your mind and your flesh. Not enough time has passed for you to have healed. I couldn’t live with myself if I happen to do something that might hurt you, inside or out. So, I just want to hold you, and kiss you, and make damn sure that when you leave me tomorrow, you’ll know you’re a woman worth loving.”

She snuggled herself under his chin as his arms wrapped her in a tight embrace. There was nothing left to do or say. She’d be leaving tomorrow and just like her father and the Wiles, she’d likely never see Dutch again. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry, her misery was so great. She reached down for his whiskey bottle and took another long sip. She thought this liquid was supposed to kill pain. It wasn’t killing her pain though, and she set the bottle back down disappointed.