Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) Read online

  “Stop, Blake. We mustn’t go further,” she said, breathlessly, as his hands continued to roam freely over her back. “Please.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled back from her, just far enough to look into her flushed face. “Did I do something wrong, darling?”

  Emily sat up straighter, pulling back beyond his reach. “No. I just don’t do this sort of thing, and I am at a loss as to why I instigated this particular episode. I am not interested in a love affair, Doc. Perhaps, I just wanted to make you feel better.” She was chewing on her bottom lip, showing her insecurities.

  Blake laughed. “Well, I did enjoy it, but I doubt I feel better at this precise moment.” His body was aching and his blood was on fire. “Did you enjoy it at all?”

  She smiled. “It was obvious that I did take pleasure in it—maybe too much. I don’t have time for a man, Blake. I need to somehow get my farm back, and I don’t have the slightest idea as to how to go about it. Until then, I cannot allow myself to be distracted.”

  Scooting his chair back, the doctor stood up and addressed Emily somewhat gruffly. “So be it, ma’am. That’s my cue to leave you to your business. Thank you for listening to me lament. I would consider it a personal favor if you would keep what I told you here, today, in confidence. Once people become aware of my past, they will think differently about me. Good or bad, it will make a difference.”

  Emily stood, “Naturally, I won’t say anything, but you need to come to grips with the guilt. It’s like a cancer, Blake, and it will ruin the rest of your life and the life of the ones you love. I know.” With a swish of her skirts, she retreated back to her gardens.

  How could she know, Blake asked himself? Someday, Emily would have to confide in him, just the way he had opened up to her. She had her own story to tell and he would be there for the reveal. But for now, he had sick folks to see and a primal yearning to conquer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cassie had grown reclusive in the days since her attack. She remained inside the hotel at all times, never venturing out. She dressed demurely with no accessories to highlight her youthful loveliness. Her hair was pulled tightly back and secured with many pins, not allowing one stray curl to escape its confines. She still smiled, and even laughed, but the tinkling gaiety in her voice was absent.

  Dora was concerned for her little woman-child.

  On Wednesday, the mayor’s wife, Trudy Anderson, rushed into the hotel, as excited as a new bride. “Can we put up these posters, Miss Dora? There’s going to be a dance this Saturday, at the Hall, and just everybody’s going to be there. Musicians from Denver are going to be playing,” she squealed. “Can you imagine? All the businesses are contributing food and drink and I know you’ll be most generous, seeing as how you own the most successful hotel in Kansas. May I?” She spoke so rapidly no one could get a word in.

  “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, girl,” Dora shouted. “Slow down and take a breath. May you what?”

  “The posters! Can I hang the posters in your hotel?”

  “Absolutely not, Mrs. Anderson,” Patty declared, aghast at the prospect of pieces of poorly printed paper pinned to every surface within eye level. “We run a refined establishment, not a saloon. However, we will gladly place small, tasteful cards in the dining room, on the center of each table. Naturally, I will design them, myself. Will that be satisfactory?”

  Impressed and slightly intimidated by the sophisticated woman standing before her, Trudy nodded. “Why, yes, ma’am. That would be perfect. I should have thought of that, myself. Thank you, Miss Patty. I’ll be on my way, now.” She gave a little curtsy and turned back to Dora. “You needn’t inform anyone of what you’re contributing. With the reputation you have, I know it will be simply magnifiquets!”

  Patty laughed aloud at the mayor’s silly and pretentious wife, practicing her French on the poor ignorant townsfolk. “Oui. Magnifique!”

  Dora looked surprised as she watched the chubby woman strut away. “I didn’t know Trudy spoke French.”

  “She doesn’t,” Patty giggled.

  “You know, Patty, this might be good. Maybe we can get Cassie out of her bad humor by getting’ her all gussied up and takin’ her to the dance. I’ll get Whiskey to escort us. Will you be a goin’?”

  “Someone has to stay here, Dora. You can tell me all about it. Right now, you’ve got a menu to plan and I have silly little cards to design. Hop to it, sister,” she laughed. Patty would not mind staying home. After all, she had no one special in her life, but Emily . . . now that was a different story.

  *

  “Doc, it really itches bad. Don’t know what I got into, but I’m about to lose my mind. You got to do somethin’.” Whiskey was almost in tears.

  Dr. Donovan carefully examined the big man’s back and waist. “Have you been out in the woods or in the tall grass?”

  Whiskey shook his head. “Nah, Doc. I ain’t been no where, but here.”

  A soft breeze blew in through the open windows of Dr. Donovan’s office, and carried with it a delightful fresh scent, giving Blake an idea.

  “Whiskey . . . you sure do smell good, almost divine.” He watched the old man turn colors. “Are you washing with a new soap or rubbing a new lotion on your pretty face?” he teased.

  “Just something . . .” he mumbled.

  “Speak up, man. I can’t hear you,” the doctor insisted.

  “Dora fixed me up with some fine smellin’ Frenchy soap. She likes it and so do I. Just ‘cause I look like a hermit, don’t mean I have to smell like one.”

  “Well, ordinarily, I would agree with you, Whiskey, but in this particular case, I think it would be wise for you to go back to your old lye soap. The perfumes in that soap are causing the rash and it will only get worse. Tell Dora that a man is supposed to smell like a man. Of course, you can try the fine milled soap I use. Emily seems to like it.” He grinned.

  Whiskey’s eyes lit up and he smiled from ear to ear. “So, it’s that way with the two o’ you, is it? Well, I’ll be a skunk’s uncle. Never saw that comin’. No sirree. Congratulations, Doc . . . You got some of that soap o’ yourn, I could try?”

  “Sure.” Blake reached into a drawer and grabbed a large bar of store-bought soap wrapped in yellow tissue paper. Before he gave it to the old man, he had one more thing to say. “Don’t mention this conversation to Emily. She doesn’t know that she likes me, yet. I’m waiting for her to discover it, for herself.”

  “Whatever you say, Doc. Hee, hee. You gonna give me that thar soap you’re a wavin’ around?”

  Blake laughed and tossed it to his friend.

  “You bringin’ Emily to the dance? Dora and me are goin’.”

  “Tonight, after dinner, I’ll bring it up and see how she feels about it. She seems to think she can’t spend her time having fun. With Emily, it’s always her farm, her land, or getting even with someone. What’s got into her, Whiskey? She wasn’t always like this.”

  “Dora told me that, one day, Eve took all the gals out to her favorite place for a little relaxation. Emily saw the farm and she’s been dreamin’ of it, ever since. Don’t think nobody lives there. She sure was hurt when she learned she couldn’t buy it.”

  “Yeah, well, owning land isn’t everything. I got me a little piece, not too far from here, and I haven’t been there but once in my entire life. Maybe if I had a wife and family, I might want to live there. Right now, it doesn’t mean much to me. Do you think Emily would be interested in it?” Blake asked, hopefully.

  Whiskey shook his head. “Nope. She’s got her heart set on that one farm in particular, and no other one will do. Thanks for the soap, Doc. Gotta go.” Whiskey put the soap in his pocket, and set off whistling. He felt pretty good about life, once again. It had been a long climb back from heartache, but thanks to Dora, he’d arrived.

  It was Saturday, and the hotel guests were excited about the dance. Many of the ladies had brought their party dresses, and now they would get the opportunity to wear them. Dora was beside
herself with all the extra cooking and the getting ready. She wanted to look real nice. After all, she’d be going with Mr. Bernard Allen.

  Cassie was slowly getting ready, as she had no real inclination to go. She was afraid people would look at her and stare, or talk behind her back. She was also nervous being around young men. No longer was she a total innocent. She had an idea what went through their dirty minds when they complimented her on her pretty dress or her tiny waist. Her stomach tightened into knots at the mere thought of it, and she felt as though she was going to be sick. Her hair wouldn’t stay in place and her dress, she felt, was too revealing.

  “Why do I have to go?” she cried, as she pulled furiously on the bodice of her lovely dress, threatening to tear the lace trim. She was clearly miserable.

  Patty was walking past the young woman’s room, when she heard her anguish. Tapping on the door, she stuck her head inside. “Cassie? Can I be of some help? Are you having trouble getting dressed?”

  Cassie turned around and her cherubic face crumbled. “Oh, Patty,” she sobbed. “Look at me. Do I look like I’m ready for a dance? I can’t go. I just can’t.” She pulled one more time on the dress, completely shredding the delicate material. As if on cue, a big curl fell down across one eye, causing her to cry all the more.

  Patty ran in and took Cassie in her arms. “Darling, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. No one is going to force you. Please, sweetheart. A dance is supposed to be fun and make one happy, not miserable. I’m staying here, and if you want to help me, you can stay here, as well.” Patty gently ran her hands up and down Cassie’s narrow back, as if she were still a small child. “Hush, darling. Don’t cry.”

  Cassie sniffed a couple of times, and then turned her big, watery, lavender eyes on Patty. “You’re wonderful, Patty. Nothing ever upsets you. What are you doing here in this dirty little town?” She sniffed again, followed by a hiccup.

  “Oh, it’s a very long story and not too interesting. I just needed to be on my own for a while. My whole life was planned out for me from the time I was born. I have found freedom living here, and I love it. So . . . are you going or staying?”

  Taking a deep breath, Cassie nodded. “I’m staying.”

  Patty smiled at the courage her young friend was displaying. “Very well. I’ll inform Dora that I need you here. Come downstairs after you’ve repaired your face and your hair. Oh . . . you might want to change your dress.” She winked at the smiling girl before she left the room.

  By the time Patty arrived downstairs, practically all of the guests had departed for the Hall. The only other person there was Dr. Donovan. He was very attractive, all dressed up for the dance. Of course, he was always handsome, whether he was wearing a plaid shirt rolled up at the elbows or a fine black coat and white shirt, like the one he wore now. His dark blonde hair was worn a little too long, but it was always clean and inviting. A stubborn curl was always threatening to spill down over his forehead. His best feature, Patty thought, was his mouth bracketed by a pair of deep dimples. He was always ready with a smile. His lips were smooth and well formed. She had often times wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips and run her tongue over them. Patty sighed, as she imagined what it would be like to be loved by such a man.

  “Hi, Patty. Is Emmie about ready to go?” His rich baritone voice was music to her ears.

  “Emily? Is she going? She said nothing to me.” Patty was surprised.

  “I asked her and she didn’t say no. I just assumed she’d want to go. After all, she can’t work in those blasted gardens at night.”

  Patty laughed. “Emily doesn’t need an excuse to refuse you, Doc. She just won’t come down. You could go up and check for yourself, I guess. I wouldn’t say anything—especially if I didn’t see you go up.” Her eyes glistened in delight. If she couldn’t have the fair doctor, then by golly, she wanted Emily to enjoy his company.

  “Fine. I’ll do that.” He ran toward the stairs, taking them three at a time, passing Cassie on her way down.

  “Where was he going in such an all fired hurry? He didn’t even say hello,” the young girl complained. She didn’t like being ignored.

  “He’s going to try and coax our Emily into going to the dance with him. I wish him luck. It’ll take a heap of persuading . . . By the way, we didn’t see him climb those stairs, did we?”

  Cassie giggled and shook her head. “Who?”

  Blake stood outside, in the hall, drumming up the courage to knock on Emily’s door. What could he say to convince her to go with him? He really had no idea. His plan to get Emily to fall in love with him, wasn’t working. Of course, he had to admit, it wasn’t much of a plan. As he continued to stand there, trying to think of just what to say, the door suddenly opened, catching him by surprise.

  “What the he . . .?” he gasped. “Oh, hello.”

  “Dr. Donovan. You have the very bad habit of popping up, at any given moment, without being invited. What can I do for you, now?” Emily asked unsmilingly, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “How did you know I was out here?”

  “I could smell your soap,” she grinned. She’d been talking to Dora.

  “Miss Emily,” he said formally. “It would be my great honor to escort you to the dance, this evening. May I?”

  Blake looked so uncomfortable and unsure of himself—Emily had to snicker. Putting her hand up in front of her mouth, she managed to stifle the urge to laugh. He seemed so sincere.

  “I’m flattered to receive your kind invitation, but I do not plan to attend the dance. Thank you for thinking of me. Anything else, doctor?”

  Taking a step inside the doorway, Blake nodded. “As a matter of fact . . . yes. Were you going out, just now?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to comprehend his next move.

  Very quietly, he pushed the door closed with the heel of his polished boot. Smiling, he said, “Emmie. I’m tiring of this game we’re playing. You know I am sweet on you and I believe that you are attracted to me, though you protest. You are of an age, which allows me to be honest and direct. We belong together, Emmie. The kiss we shared was proof of our compatibility. I want to get to know you much better, darling. Give me the chance.”

  Emily stood as if she was carved from stone. As much as her heart told her to give in to her emotions, her good sense told her to stand her ground. What was more important? A farm of her own, to live on until her death, or a quick relationship that could end in disaster? “You are direct, doctor. Being of an age, all of twenty-three, I might add, does not entitle you to liberties, sir. While the kiss was amazing, and I did find it utterly wonderful, I still have no interest in forming a relationship with you or anyone else. I don’t need a man in my life. All I want is my farm. If you could get it for me, then I would be extremely grateful.”

  Blake put his hands on Emily’s delicate shoulders and held her tightly, wanting to shake some sense into her pretty head. “That farm! That’s all you ever say,” he shouted. “Nothing could be that important. You are wasting your life and mine, too. I could give you a farm and much, much more, but honestly, your obsessive desire for that farm is disturbing. It’s not healthy. Don’t you want children, Emmie? Don’t you care for me at all?”

  She twisted away from the doctor’s firm grip, and walked over toward the window. Looking down, she could see a little girl of about three, sitting on the hotel’s lush, green lawn, rolling a ball. The child was so sweet and happy playing there. Emily couldn’t remember ever having been happy as a child. Her childhood was a nightmare and something she ran from. Tears formed behind her eyes, and then she felt strong hands around her waist, turning her gently away from the happy scene below, and toward him.

  In a hoarse voice, Blake spoke softly, “Tell me what has frightened you, so. I know it’s not me. Who hurt you, darling?”

  Her tears were flowing freely now, and Emily had not enough strength to hold them back. Her body trembled as Blake pull
ed her into his strong arms, breathing softly into her silken hair. She stood encased in his embrace for several minutes, allowing herself to relax, until her legs began to weaken in response to the pleasure she was receiving.

  Blake led his beautiful Emmie over to the bed, and very carefully positioned her back upon the pillows. Allowing his gaze to rest upon her loveliness, he lowered his lips to hers and covered her face with soft kisses. He kissed her eyes and her nose, nibbled at her ears and trailed hot kisses down the column of her neck, all the while, breathing in her intoxicating fragrance. He brushed his mouth lightly across her lips and took thorough possession, gaining entrance to the luscious haven of her mouth, and groaned with delight, as he tasted her. He could not get enough of her womanly essence.

  Blake continued his kisses, stealing her breath away. He laid claim to her body with his lips. She was his. He could feel her submission as she melted against him. But he also knew the timing wasn’t right. Emily was running from something—perhaps she was afraid of men—certainly she was angry with them. He needed to help her face her demons before he could truly make her his own.

  Reluctantly, Blake pulled away and looked down at Emily’s swollen lips and smiled. “You are truly the most beautiful of God’s creatures,” he whispered softly.

  She looked up, incapable of response. Her heart was racing, her flesh burned with the heat of desire for this man, and now he was pulling away from her arms. With a quizzical look, she murmured, “Did I do something wrong? Why have you stopped?”

  Blake chuckled. “No, believe me, darling. You’ve done everything exactly right, but my need to possess you is very strong and powerful . . . too strong to allow me to continue before you are ready.”