Savage. Part 49

"I don't kiss liars," she said, and lowered herself to the ground by the fire. She set the Colt nearby, then eased herself down on her side and tucked the cloth mat under her head to use as a pillow.

Well, I was feeling too riled to sleep. I sat across the fire from Jesse and stared at her.

"I'll keep watch," I said.

"You don't need to watch me. me."

"I'm no liar, Jesse."

"That so."

"If you must know, I had to do some thinking about Sarah Forrest."

"Stead of me."

"Because of you. I needed to set matters right in my mind. You see...we were somewhat more than friends. I lived with Sarah for several months, and after the General and Mable were gone, we...we rather took up with each other. That's all."

"That's all, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"Betcha wasn't sorry when you was bedding her."

"I'm sorry now."

After a while, Jesse said, "Where you reckon she's at?"

"She might be anywhere. Maybe she returned to her home in New York."

"Maybe she's waiting for you at Tombstone."

"It doesn't matter, actually. I don't want to see her again."

Jesse was silent for a spell after that. She lay motionless, curled on her side, an arm tucked under the pad beneath her head, her eyes open and staring at me from the other side of the fire.

Finally, she said, "Don't go and throw her over on account of me."

"You're not the reason. I made my decision before you ever came along."

"That so." She said it calm and snide.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!"

"No call to curse."

"You're enough to drive a person daft!"

"It ain't me that had my way with Sarah."

"And I suppose you're just as innocent as the day you were born? You told me yourself about all the blokes who've had at at you." you."

"Didn't a one of them get get me." me."

"That so," I tossed back at her.

"Yep. And I aim to keep it that way."

With that, she shut her eyes. It was just as good as if she'd walked away.

I had half a mind to throw a stick at her. The other half wished I was hugging her. She was just the most infuriating woman that ever crossed my path.

My plan, from the start, had been to get shut of her at the first opportunity.

The sooner the better, I thought. All she does is make me crazy.

But the notion of parting with her made me feel cold and empty inside. I recalled how miserable I'd been after the flood, thinking her dead, and my joy when I found her.

Found her hogtied by the German.

Hadn't been for me, he would've had his way with Jesse for sure. She wouldn't be so high and mighty after that, and hold it against me about Sarah. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to rescue her.

Well, thinking such a thing made me feel awful lowdown, so I took it back and judged I was glad I'd saved her in time.

I wanted to stop thinking about her altogether. Sleep ought to do that. So I added more wood to the fire, then unstrapped my gunbelt and stretched out. The ground felt mighty hard. The fire kept the cold off my front, mostly, but it was no use at all for warming my backside.

Maybe we should've skinned that mule and made us a blanket from its hide.

The mule was long gone, though. No advantage to bothering your head about what you might've done different.

I lay on my side, curled close to the flames, and commenced to ponder all the things I might've done different if only I'd known what was to come.

It all ended up with this-from the time I'd set out for Whitechapel on that night so long ago, any different sort of move that might've saved me or the others from grief would've likely changed the direction of my life so that I never would've turned up where I was when Jesse bounced the rock off my head.

Maybe that would've been for the best, I told myself.

Didn't believe it, though. I judged I'd go through it all again for the chance to join up with Jesse.

I must've fallen asleep, for I woke up. It was still night. Colder than before. So cold I was shivering. What must've stirred me awake was Jesse adding wood to the fire. She was crouched at the other side of it, taking sticks from the pile and feeding them to the flames. She wasn't looking at me. I kept mum and shut my eyes. And pretended to be asleep even when she lay down behind me and snuggled in close and wrapped an arm across my chest.

I was purely astonished by her behavior.

It came into my head that this might not be happening at all. Maybe I was having myself another fantasy, like those last night. Or maybe it was a dream.

Jesse sure felt real, though.

Her warmth seeped through my clothes. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed against my back. I could feel her heartbeat and every breath she took.

By and by, she kissed the nape of my neck.

"Possum," she whispered.

Rolling over, I hugged her and kissed her mouth.

She didn't let me kiss her much, though. She said, "Don't get no funny ideas, Trevor. It's just too dang cold over there by my lonesome."

"I see," I whispered.

"Don't make me use my Bowie knife." The warning was no sooner out than her lips covered mine.

She was likely joshing about the knife.

I didn't want to risk riling her, though. We kissed and squirmed some, but I took care to keep my hands from straying anyplace that might offend her.

Later on, she lay still with her face buried against the side of my neck.

She seemed to be asleep.

But then she murmured, "This ain't working out."

"What have I done?"

"It ain't you, this time. It's the ground. I just can't find me a way to..."

"Here, then." Holding Jesse against me, I rolled onto my back. "How's this?"

She didn't answer at first. She lay still, then shifted about some. She gently pushed my knees apart and eased her legs down between mine. Her hands curled over my shoulders. She lowered her face against my cheek.

"Am I squishing you?" she asked.

"Not at all."

"This is real nice."

It was and it wasn't. Her hair made my face tickle so I had to scratch now and again. Her chin felt like a rock digging into my collar bone. But those were minor bothers. It was wonderful to feel her stretched out atop me, heavy and warm. A spot too too wonderful, actually. wonderful, actually.

Before you know it, a certain part of me commenced to push at Jesse.

It upset me considerable. But Jesse didn't speak up or slap me, so I judged she must be asleep.

I quit stroking her back, squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to make my problem go away.

Jesse moaned a couple of times. She squirmed, which didn't help at all. By and by, though, she lay still and commenced to snore.

I went through a mighty rough spell, what with the way she felt on top of me and knowing she was asleep-and all the temptations that ran through my head. But I kept a tight rein on myself. Somewhere along the way, I fell off to sleep.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX.

We Carry On When morning came, I woke to find Jesse sprawled out beside me. She lay on her back, an arm across her eyes to block the sunlight.

I took a quick look about. The fire had died. The mule meat above it had shrunk considerable and dangled from the rack like several lumpy, leather belts. General was standing motionless, head down, a few yards beyond the rear of the buckboard. No sign of any intruders.

Satisfied that all was well, I turned toward Jesse again and crossed my legs and studied her.

She looked peaceful and beautiful, spite of her mouth hanging open.

A warm breeze made her hair stir ever so slightly. It wasn't blowing enough to move her shirt. Her shirt had gotten itself twisted around her somehow. It was drawn tight against her chest. With every breath she took, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s seemed to strain at the cloth.

Lower, some of the b.u.t.tons had come open and her shirt was spread apart, leaving her belly bare all the way down to where her dungarees hung about her hips.

It made me hurt to see the awful bruise. It had a dark ring in the center from the muzzle of the German's rifle. Around the ring was a purple smudge. I was glad we'd killed the varmint.

Below the bruise, Jesse's skin looked smooth and velvety. It was spread over with a golden fuzz too fine to see at all if you didn't look close. You didn't need to look close to see the locks that curled out from under the waist of her dungarees. They gleamed as they swayed in the breeze.

I had an urge to kiss the wound, to caress her, to run my hand over her silken belly, ever so lightly. I wondered if I should be able to feel the fuzz. I rather ached to touch the curls and slip my fingers through them.

But caution won out.

She was bound to pitch a fit if she should wake up to find me pawing her.

Afraid that temptation might overcome prudence in the long run, I stole to my feet, picked up my gunbelt and hurried on down to the creek. I pulled off my boots and waded in.

I spent a while swimming and floating, then sat on a rock to let the sun dry me. I felt just bully.

And better yet when Jesse crept up behind me. Far as I knew, she was still asleep. All of a sudden, she wrapped her arms around me, pressed herself against my back, and kissed my ear.

"Whoever you are," I said, "you'd best not let Jesse Sue Longley catch you."

"Why's that?"

"She's the jealous sort. And quite the sc.r.a.pper. If she should find you chewing on my ear, she'd likely bash you senseless."

"Chewing, huh?"

So then she did take to chewing on my ear. It felt mighty strange. I got all goose b.u.mpy, and squirmed until she quit.

"Ain't mule," she said. "But tasty."

Holding on to my shoulders, she stood up. "How's the water?"

"A trifle chilly. Rather refreshing, though."

Jesse stepped around to the front of the rock. She had left her boots behind, the better for sneaking up on me, no doubt.