Eden Page 16

  His words made her laugh all the more, her hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. Then she touched his cheek with her palm, spreading her fingers wide over his jaw, lifting herself the mere inches it took to reach his mouth with her own. Her kiss was still youthful, innocent, but held a trace of knowledge yet untapped, of a siren’s lures and a woman’s yearnings. He let her plunder a bit as she wanted, then lifted over her, laying her back on the pillow and spending a deluge of kisses over her face and throat.

  She sighed and responded as he’d known she would. “John, you surely do know how to make me feel good,” she whispered, careful to keep the quilt almost over her head, lest the sound travel to the other room where Jane slept.

  “Well, you’ll have to be real quiet for the next little while now, Katie,” he said with a solemn purpose. “For I’m going to make love to you and we don’t want any noise to disturb your sister, do we?”

  She pushed at him quickly. “John, we can’t be doing that stuff with Jane on the other side of that door.”

  His lips touched her ear and his murmur was soft and pleading. “She’s so tired, she’s no doubt out like a light already, sweetheart. And even if she’s awake, she’ll not know what’s going on if you just cooperate with me and let me do this nice and quiet.”

  “John, you know I have a hard time being nice and quiet,” she remonstrated softly. “You get me all excited sometimes and I make noises and say things to you, even when I promise myself I’m not going to act so foolish.”

  He chuckled and held her close. “That’s not foolish, honey, just acting the way you should when your husband makes love to you.” He moved to lie atop her and held his weight from her slender form, holding himself up on his forearms and bending to spread another layer of kisses over her face.

  She slid her arms around his waist, apparently deciding that she’d argued enough and was willing to accept his choice, for her legs moved to make a place for him, settling him there where he fit so well. She lifted her knees and her nightgown pulled up, aided by his hand as he tugged it from beneath her. It was no effort at all to touch her warm parts while his hand lay beneath the covers and he used the moments to good advantage, caressing her and plying the soft, plush surfaces with careful touches.

  Her whisper was soft, almost unheard, but it made his heart joyous to sense her pleasure. “John, that always feels so good. You know just how to make me wiggle and make me want you right there, inside me where it feels so good.”

  “That’s the whole idea, sweetheart,” he managed to mumble, his thoughts speeding rapidly ahead to the details of making love to his woman. It would of necessity be a hasty coupling, but not without pleasure to Katie, for he knew her body well.

  And yet, there was with Katie, a joy beyond any he’d ever known before. A sweetness he’d sought and never found, a satisfaction he hadn’t known was missing in the areas of his private life. From the first time they had come together in this bed, he’d sensed a newness of his vision as it pertained to the art of making love. There was more to it than the simple slaking of passion, the need for completion, the scratch of a nagging itch.

  With Katie it seemed that his whole self was tied up in the act he instigated here, the marriage ritual that was so much more meaningful to him than the simple sharing of his body with another. For Katie was his. A soft, completely responsive woman who completed his life, who gave unstintingly whenever he needed her, who offered herself as the answer to his physical urges and his emotional cries. Cries he could not speak aloud, but kept buried in the depths of his soul. Her giving spirit, her generous outpouring upon him of physical and emotional bounty had made the difference for him between existing and living.

  And now, he took again what he needed from her, not failing to give the joy that was available at his fingertips for her pleasure. She rose to his touch, moving more rapidly as he shifted over her, his mouth at her breast now, his body against hers, not capturing her where she lay, but loving her as he held her beneath himself. Until he felt the waves of passion come together in a final outpouring of gasping ecstacy, until he knew she was sated with the trembling rhythms that still fluttered against his hands and mouth.

  It was then he entered her, carefully, gently and with a degree of patience he found incomprehensible. For he was on the cusp of release, his body aching to plunge and take, madly and desperately, having held back as long as he could in order to ensure her own culmination of pleasure.

  He slid within the narrow channel, his breath rasping in his chest, held close by the warm arms that circled him, his chest the recipient of a rash of kisses and murmurs he could not decipher, but accepted with the full knowledge that she was more than willing to travel this road with him.

  It took very little to push him over the edge, a simple matter of moving slowly, holding back the rush, breathing carefully and then finally turning loose the beast within himself that always seemed ready to burst free, the animal within that he kept on a tight leash. The part of himself that he would not turn loose to ravage her tender flesh, or frighten the joy from her heart.

  For John knew that deep within a man lived a part of him that could cause pain and irreparable harm should he not rein it in and control it. His kindness was not a facade, but a real part of him, one bit of himself he had honed and refined until it became his finest quality. And it was that single trait that had drawn Katie to him in the beginning. He would not abandon it now to become another version of man before her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE GARDEN TOOK UP much of their time over the next weeks. The plants were separated and placed in small holes, watered daily and tended with all the care two young women could spare. Katie looked down at them with pride, holding the watering can high, so that the spray would cover a wider area, and thought greedily of the crop to come. She knew how to can tomatoes, and Berta had said she could use a supply of Mason jars from the fruit cellar for the task.

  They would do up green beans, too, in fact there would be beans to pick in a matter of weeks. The carrots were ruthlessly culled, the smaller shoots pulled from their places to leave room for the sturdier plants to grow and develop. Katie felt guilty as she pulled the skimpier bits and pieces from the rows, but knew that the space she was making would enable the crop to grow to its fullest effect.

  The peas were going to be ready to pick soon, a fast-growing crop, one that Katie was not overly fond of, but which provided a fresh vegetable early in the spring. The morning glory vines were flourishing, growing rapidly along the strings they’d been provided, and before long the shabby outhouse would be shielded by a mass of early-morning blossoms when the sun came up over the trees and touched the greenery. Even the hired hands commented on the flowers that added color to the backyard, one man venturing into the garden’s boundaries several times to speak to Katie and Jane. A man she did not trust for some reason, for his eyes seemed to seek her out, and she felt a chill run the length of her spine when she saw him looking at her.

  She knelt now in the middle of the garden, her eyes ever vigilant, and she kept Jane in view. It was Saturday and Jane was home, not at the school in town, where John had decided she should still attend as much as possible. He made it his business to speak with her teacher. He let her know that Jane was staying at the Stanley ranch and he would take her into town two mornings a week to attend classes, and then pick her up to bring her back to the ranch and allow her to study at the small cabin with Katie as companion.

  Whether or not it was the proper way to do things, he didn’t care. If it was beyond the boundaries of legality to keep Jane from the Schraders’ reach, he was not concerned. Only the fact that the girl be kept safe, that Katie slept well at night, and that Jane might be assured of a future of sorts concerned him.

  The teacher was willing to go along with the unusual procedure, coming out to the ranch on Saturday or Sunday for an hour or so to work with Jane, and to his surprise to listen to Katie’s efforts to read and be an encouragemen
t to her.

  Jane looked forward to seeing her teacher, and Mrs. Rice would be here later on today if all went as scheduled. She had promised to show up in time for supper and Katie thought now of the meal she had planned for the teacher’s visit. Fried chicken was always a favorite with everyone, she had decided. And she could cook a chicken to a fare-thee-well. She’d have a bowl of fresh peas if there were enough of them ripe and then open a jar of applesauce that Berta had canned up late last fall.

  A sack of potatoes, a bit withered but still eminently edible, sat in her pantry, and her plan included having Jane peel and slice enough for supper once they got in the cabin and washed up after their gardening chores.

  And that time was upon them, Berta coming out onto the porch to wave and suggest that they might stop laboring in the spring sunshine. “Getting pretty hot out there,” the housekeeper said, looking up at the azure sky overhead that promised fair weather.

  “We’re about done for now,” Katie said. “It’s most time to get ready for Mrs. Rice. She’ll be here in a couple of hours and I got work to do, fixing supper.”

  “You can bring her in the house if you want to, Katie,” Berta told her, and Katie only smiled and shook her head.

  “Naw, she can’t stay too long, and me and Jane want to take advantage of her while she’s here with us. Got to learn all we can while we got her handy.”

  Berta nodded, as if she understood the need for learning that drove the two young women. And then, at a cry from Jane’s lips, Katie looked up to see the buggy Mrs. Rice used to convey herself back and forth, coming down the long lane from the main road.

  “She’s early today,” Jane said. “I’m glad we’re about done here.”

  “Go on ahead and I’ll finish up taking care of the litter,” Katie said, gathering up the strewn, feathery carrots they’d culled and the weeds that had been stripped from around the tomatoes and corn.

  Slender and bright, the green stalks were above the ground, leafing out in proud display as the cornfield gave a small intimation of the stature it would achieve over the next weeks. They’d hoed carefully around each hill, mounding the dirt and cleaning up the eager weeds that would threaten the corn crop should they let them have their way.

  Now she piled two buckets full of the residue and watched as Jane went to the cabin and took off her heavy shoes outside the door before she went in, barefoot on the clean, wooden floor. She’d scrubbed it early on in the morning after the dishes were washed and the sun had been allowed to shine in the doors and open windows to aid in the drying of the wide boards.

  Having help in the house was a boon, Katie decided. And Jane took on the chores assigned to her with a cheerful mien that spoke well for her innate sense of goodness. So thankful for a safe place to lay her head at night, she gladly pitched in and did more than her share in keeping the small house neat and clean.

  Now, Mrs. Rice climbed down from the buggy, tying the lead line to the hitching rail and lifting a hand to wave at Katie. “You coming in the house, honey?” she called. “I brought you a book to use this week.”

  Katie’s heart lifted with anticipation as she heard the words. The teacher was quiet, unassuming and didn’t offer any criticism for Katie’s lack of schooling, but offered her help as if it were the girl’s due to be assisted in her studies. And now, she’d brought a new book. Katie’s steps were rapid as she carried the buckets to the dump pile behind the barn where all such refuse was spilled out to dry, and eventually be burned. Her quick nod at Mrs. Rice seemed to assure that lady that Katie’s presence would very soon be felt in the cabin, and the teacher rapped on the screened door and entered the cabin with a muted word to Jane.

  The refuse was dumped quickly and from the back of the barn Katie saw the shadowed form of the ranch hand, Clay Thomas. Bill Stanley busied the man with general chores and he seemed to fit in well with the rest of the crew. But today he’d appeared to pay special mind to Katie’s presence behind the barn, and as she emptied her pails of weeds onto the refuse pile, he approached her.

  “You need any help there, missy?” His eyes seemed bold, she thought, scanning her form with heat, and she clutched the pails tighter in her hands and made to move past him. Being rude was not called for, but she simply didn’t like the man.

  “I’m fine, Clay,” she said shortly, unwilling to tarry longer.

  “I’d be glad to lend a hand with your work,” he said softly, his dark eyes intent as he stepped before her, blocking her path.

  “My work’s done for now. I’m heading back to the cabin to get ready for supper.”

  His gaze stayed on her, his jaw taut, as if he were riding a fine line. “Maybe I can give you a hand.”

  A shiver of apprehension shot through Katie and she shook her head. “I don’t need any help, Clay. Jane’s in the house, waiting for me.”

  He stood before her in the doorway leading to the darkened barn, the shadows behind him seeming threatening to Katie, her skin pebbling with a sudden cold that frightened her. As if she were once more cast into the past, with a vision of Jacob Schrader before her, she looked over her shoulder, seeking a path of escape.

  “Come on in here a minute, girl,” Clay said with an urgency in his voice that brought Katie’s senses to a sharp edge. And then the man reached for her, his big hand seizing her forearm. “I want to talk to you for a minute.”

  Katie pulled back from him, but to no avail, for he was strong, a good foot taller than she, and had the husky build of a man who had worked hard making his way in the world. He tugged her closer to him and she jerked away, the pail in her left hand hitting the side of the barn with a clatter.

  His head bent to her and his mouth touched her forehead, even as she pulled away from his touch, and shoved the other pail between their bodies.

  With a low growl that expressed his anger and frustration with her reticence, he pulled the bucket from her grasp and tossed it aside, then clamped his hands on her waist and lifted her from her feet.

  She flailed against him, crying out and pushing against his shoulders with all her strength. From behind her she heard a sharp sound of anger, a word that she’d only heard before from the lips of Jacob Schrader and she twisted in the grip of the man who held her, turning her head to see who was behind her.

  John stood in the corral, his hands fisted against his sides, and as the ranch hand deposited her quickly on the ground, Katie’s husband caught her against himself.

  “I see Mrs. Rice has arrived. Are you going in now?” he asked, his voice harsh, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the man before him.

  Katie shivered in his grasp, her heart racing, her body trembling. “Yes, I’ll go to the cabin, John. I was just—”

  “Never mind, Katie. I saw what you were doing.”

  With a quick movement, he put her to one side, pushing her out of the barn, toward the cabin on the other side. “Go on now.”

  She hastened to do as he bid, not hesitating as she heard the low sound of his voice behind her, heard the answering words of Clay as he spoke a challenge. And then came the sound of a body hitting the wall and with a quick glance over her shoulder, Katie saw the ranch hand on the ground, John standing over him with the glare of anger, the fury of a man who seeks revenge on his face.

  She scurried out of the front of the barn, across the yard to John’s cabin, and her heart pounded with fear, knowing that John was involved in a fight with a man who was taller and larger than he.

  The cabin was before her and she hastened to enter, listening to the muted sound of Jane’s voice humming a song as she climbed the single step to the porch and went inside. Jane was sitting at the table, peeling potatoes, a piece of brown paper salvaged from the purchase of supplies holding her work before her. A kettle of water held the two potatoes she’d already pared and cubed, and now she looked up at Katie.

  “I don’t think we’ll need many more, Katie. Do you? These are good-sized spuds.”

  With a look of greeting to Mrs. R
ice, Katie nodded. “Should be plenty,” she replied. “I’m going to use the stale bread to make up a little batch of dressing to put in the oven so we should have plenty with one more.”

  Jane and Mrs. Rice watched her closely as she washed her hands and found the half loaf of bread from the last baking that sat on the kitchen dresser, as if they sensed that she had more than supper preparations on her mind. Cutting the bread quickly into cubes, Katie tossed them into a pan to lose their last bit of freshness while she washed and floured the chicken she planned to cook for supper.

  Her hands trembled as she worked, thinking of John and his anger, hoping against hope that it was not directed at her. Even the joy of cooking escaped her today, it seemed. She only thought of the men in the barn, of John’s fists and the fury she’d seen on his face.

  Her hands moved with automatic precision. A small pan of peas was quickly cleaned, the pods discarded, the small, green specimens put in a small saucepan to cook quickly and then be set aside till suppertime. She watched from the corner of her eyes as Mrs. Rice reached down to the voluminous bag she was in the habit of carrying with her, and from its depths drew a book, an obviously unused textbook of sorts, placing it on the table and then looking up at Katie. Her smile was bright, but her eyes held a trace of worry, as if she sensed that Katie was troubled.

  “I brought you a reader, Katie. I know you’ve learned a lot of words, but this has many of the easiest words for you to practice with. You can read through it quickly, I’ll warrant, for the stories are simple, but I think you’ll like it, and it’s not so challenging that you’ll get weary in well doing.”

  Mrs. Rice was fond of such wording as she spoke and Katie usually enjoyed hearing her opinions. She admired intelligence and Mrs. Rice was a smart lady, one who was more than willing to share her knowledge, and seemingly had much to share. That her mind was filled with John and the scene behind the barn was keeping her from her usual interest in the teacher and her kindness.