Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)

  Chapter 14

  Clint warmed his backside on the rekindled campfire, and stared east into the dawn of the new day. Long, narrow clouds—resembling thin ribbons—threaded their way throughout the awakening image. He'd mistakenly figured morning would bring a clearer picture. But like the tangled up clouds, so went his jumbled thoughts.

  Clint scrubbed his hands through his hair, noting how it had grown too long. Tending the horses and fixing a small breakfast would take his mind off things. Off Jessie, and what to do about her. He started the coffee and brought out a jar of leftover mush and biscuits. A 'just in case meal' Mabel had insisted they bring. Smart woman, that.

  The biscuits hung over a small portion of hot embers from a forked stick and the mush bubbled next to it in the half-buried bean can, when Jessie stirred. She breathed in deeply and stretched under her blanket. "Mmmm. Smells good. What're you cooking?" she asked with a lazy, sweet smile.

  Something about that angelic face, flushed from sleep and the rising sun's warm glow, made him want to look his fill. Pleased, but not surprised, by her cheery nature after sleeping on the hard ground for so few hours he was reminded that since the first day he'd met her, she'd displayed a positive outlook and nearly always wore a smile. That is, unless she was blushing over something she'd blurted out without thinking. He smiled at that and at her. "Mush and biscuits. It's the coffee you smell, I'm sure."

  Jessie sat up, taking in the sights. "It's beautiful out here; now that I can actually see it. Are you all right? How are the horses? Oh. How's your arm?"

  "Whoa, whoa, and whoa, so many questions, so little time," he teased.

  "Okay." She stood and stretched again, not the least bit aware of the tantalizing show she gave him.

  Clint cleared his throat and turned back to the fire.

  "I'll only ask one then. How are you?"

  The corners of his mouth slanted upward at her concern for him. He lifted the biscuits from their perch. "Fine, Jessie. Come on over here and eat. We need to get back on the road. Still have about two hours before getting to Mary's, especially since we've got to take it a little slower with that wheel."

  Sheepishly she asked, "Can I use the . . . um . . . little girl's tree first, please?"

  He chuckled. Her absence of sophistication was gratifying. "Sure. Go over there behind the horses." He gestured with a shoulder. "There are some supplies for you to use." He nodded his head toward them. "Be sure to bury everything."

  She cringed at discussing such a private need with him.

  Clint watched her until she disappeared from view. To make sure she was safe, he told himself, though he knew that wasn't entirely true. Even in yesterday's wranglers and pink blouse—the color of her blushes—she seemed to shine with the glory of a sunrise. What a marvel she was. And a mystery how she affected him the way she did.

  When she returned, he was hunkered down in front of the fire dishing up her meal. A glance caught her inspecting his bunched up thighs. He shoved to his feet to offer her the plate. He had taken off the bloodied shirt, but the new one had yet to be buttoned, revealing his hair-dusted chest. Her large eyes slid down over the exposed skin. He stood frozen in place with her plate in his outstretched arm while her gaze followed the natural flow of the hair that tapered down his belly. Her mouth parted, and he caught his breath. Her eyes stopped on his belt buckle before suddenly widening in horror at what she'd just done. She glanced back up while a deep flush filled her face.

  An overwhelming rush of desire gripped him at her thorough inspection, and he knew she was seeing a potent look in his eyes now. One he was trying hard to mask and failing miserably at.

  He'd seen that kind of perusal from other women many times in the past, and a few from her. But this time he was shocked at his own reaction. He was troubled at her show of desire. A desire he was sure she was too innocent to know she'd shown him. Part of him wanted to act on it. The other part wanted to run for the hills. The part that wanted to act was intensifying with each new incident between them, making it harder to keep her at arm's length.

  He coughed and thrust the food at her until she grasped the tin plate. Taking hold with shaky hands and nearly overturning it, she thanked him and backed away.

  "Everything's ready to take back to the wagon. We need to eat and head out," he said while hurriedly buttoning up his shirt then shoving it into his pants.

  She kept her gaze averted. "I'd like to check your arm first."

  "It's fine, Jessie. You can do that at Mary's."

  With no more conversation they ate, Clint directed the clean-up, gathered the horses and supplies, and then they headed for the wagon. Jessica sucked in a huge breath at the sight of the dead grizzly bear. "Oh Clint, it's massive. I can't believe you had to face that thing!"

  "Yeah, big," he replied while hitching the horses to the wagon, and re-organizing the mess the bear had made. He hated leaving the bear to be foraged by the wildlife, but by its outward signs last night he was fairly sure it wasn't rabid, and the priority at this point was to get Jessie safely to Mary's.

  Her eyes were the size of saucers. "Weren't you scared at all? I'm afraid I would have fainted dead away."

  "Guess that's the difference between men and the weaker sex, eh?" He enjoyed needling her.

  "Weaker sex? Well, when it's time for the babies to come we'll see who the weaker sex is," she said without thinking, he figured, since she stopped short. He cocked his head around in time to watch her cheeks mottle with color, and grinned.

  He grasped Jessie by the waist and hoisted her up to the seat. He swung up himself, took the reins in his gloved hands and gave them a snap, coaxing the horses along. "Let's take it easy today, girls."

  After about an hour of silent riding, Clint felt his body weight slumping harder into the forearms he had resting on his thighs. The reins were loose in his grip now.

  Jessie leaned forward to peer into his face, and frowned. "Clint, are you all right? You haven't said a word in miles and you seem flushed to me."

  He felt chilled, and dazed. With the back of her hand she touched his forehead. "You're burning up! We should stop. I need to see that arm."

  "No! We can't risk stopping."

  "Why not?" She scanned the area. "Isn't it safe here?"

  "That's not it. I'm not feeling right and if we stop—leave it be, Jessie." He knew what was happening. He'd lost a lot of blood and now his body was trying to fight back. But getting Jessie out of harm's way and safely into Mary's care took precedence over everything.

  She put a hand lightly on his shoulder, "Father God, You already know what we've been through, and only you know the dangers we face. Help Clint get us safely to Mary's, and please, heal him. Thank you, Lord."

  "You didn't ask anything for yourself." His voice came out weak. Still, he wanted to know if she ever thought of herself first. If she did, he'd never seen it.

  "I don't need anything, Clint. I'm concerned about you. Can I take the reins?"

  The desire to tease her was so great, he wondered about it, especially at a time like this. "Yeah . . . just like a woman . . . always wanting to take over." He chuckled faintly.

  Jessie didn't speak again until the road opened into a clearing and they could see the little cabin with smoke curling out of its chimney. "Thank you, Lord," she said out loud.

  He grimaced.

  When they arrived at the cabin Clint barely managed to stop the horses. With the last of his strength, he twisted on the seat and laid a hand on Jessie's thigh to gain her complete attention. When their eyes connected, he said, "Jessie, the horses . . . " He took a deep breath and tried again. "Jessie—"

  "Don't worry. I'll take care of the horses." She was staring into his eyes with a slice of fear in her own. He probably looked like death. He certainly felt like it.

  She jumped out of the wagon and turned to look for a place she could grab on his body to help him down. He sat on the edge of the seat, contemplating his exit strategy, when she extended her arms
up to him. He wanted to grin at the absurdity of it. One wrong slip and he would crush her. But he'd seen her determination before. He gave her a cautious look. "Okay little one . . . let me step down first."

  She nodded.

  He inched his way down the edge of the wagon until his boots landed hard on the packed dirt. His legs felt like they would shatter at any moment, and he wondered if they'd hold up. Jessie pulled him up against her.

  If only I weren't so weak. He would have laughed over his one track mind if he'd had the strength. He needed to focus. To lift dead weight the size of him off the ground would be an impossible feat for her.

  "Come on, Clint."

  Each step became increasingly difficult. Jessie watched his feet. Clint watched the cabin door. He stumbled and groaned. Her head popped up. Alarm; he saw it in her eyes. So lightheaded. Must take another step. He felt his eyes roll back.