wildcat, and with every twist and turn of her body, he realized more
fully just how grown up the woman was, how evocatively mature. She
stared at him with death- defying hatred, and as he gazed at her, she
lunged against him again, trying to bite his shoulder.
'For the love of God!' he snapped, rolling with her to retain his hold
without bringing bodily injury to her or losing a hunk of flesh himself.
She freed one wrist from his grasp and began tearing at him again. Their
momentum was taking them closer and closer to the rear of the wagon, and
then suddenly they were outside it, plunging down to the dirt together.
She shrieked, and he realized then that she was fighting to free herself
from his hold rather than fighting to harm him. But he wasn't about to
let her go. She was too unpredictable.
Their limbs entangled, and her petticoats rode around them. He could
feel the slender length of her legs, warm and alive, scantily clad in
pantalets, against his own.
She reached up to strike him again, and he caught her hand with a
serious fury as his patience snapped.
'Enough!'
He drew her hands high over her head and straddled her hips, pinning her
down at last. Her hair lay spread out over the dirt in a majestic fan
while the Texas sand smudged her beautiful features. She gasped
desperately for breath, her breasts rising and falling with her effort.
She was down, subdued at last. He released her wrists, remaining
straddled upon her, careful to maintain his own weight. 'It's all right'
-- he tried to tell her, but to no avail. She tried to twist, lashing
out, clawing for his face.
She caught his chin and drew blood.
'Woman, no morel' he shouted. His hand raised high and with
determination, and he caught himself fight before he could slap her in
return. He saw her eyes close tightly in expectation of the blow, but it
did not fall. He held her tight, trying to check his temper, staring at
her hard. Then he caught her arms and dragged them high above her head,
leaning close and hard against her. His anger faded at. last as he saw
her eyes go damp with tears she fought to control.
She was hysterical, he realized, and yet she had really come at him with
an attempt to kill.
She shuddered and gasped, and a trembling rippled through the entire
length of her body. Still, he could not trust her to release her.
'We're the damned cavalry!' he repeated.
'Listen to me! No one is going to hurt you. The Indians are gone. We're
the cavalry. We want to help you. You do speak English, don't you?'
'Yes!' she snapped furiously, and the trembling ceased. 'Yes, yes, I
understand you!' Her eyes beheld him, then glazed over again.
'Bastard!' she hissed to him, 'Murdering, despicable bastard.'
'Murdering bastard? I'm trying to help you.'
'I don't believe you!'
Startled by her words, Jamie fell silent. Her eyes remained locked with
his, the tears she would not shed highlighting the deep blue color. Her
hair fell in tangled streams around them both, like a pool of sunlight
