Free Tender Touch by Charlene Raddon

where Barret was and what he was doing. Instead, she found herself comparing Barret’s kisses with Nigh’s, Barret’s touch, Barret’s whiskey stink.
    From the deeply shadowed woods Nigh watched her scramble into bed and cursed himself. He’d asked for trouble, kissing her like that. Insane. Every night he’d struggled to banish the memory of her naked body from his mind. His palms itched to touch her each time he looked at her until he thought he’d go crazy with wanting. But a woman like her would never want a man like him, even if she hadn’t been made to fear men and sex.
    One kiss, he had told himself, a taste to carry with him in the pocket of his heart. That was all he’d intended to take. He’d expected her fear, and knew he could use it to make her submit to him. He didn’t want her that way. But that hint of passion in her eyes had been like a promise of hope, of something that might have been—had life not destined them for different roads and made a match between them impossible.
    Tomorrow he would help her find her sister, then walk out of her life. That simply. He would make it that simple. There was no place in her life for him, none in his life for her.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Independence, Missouri sat on a high point of land overlooking the surrounding country. At the landing on the Missouri River, six miles away, emigrants reconstructed the wagons they had dismantled for the steamboat trip up river. Then they struggled up the steep bluffs to the camps at the outskirts of town.
    A pall of smoke hung low over the town from the cook fires of thousands of emigrants. The camps were so close together Brianna couldn’t tell where one ended and an-other began. The press of humanity suffocated her and she longed for the quiet, open country they had left behind. She craned her neck, twisting this way and that, hoping to spot Julia and half-expecting to find Barret instead.
    The noise and confusion in the camps were horrendous. Never had Brianna seen so many people, and from every walk of life. Farmers and professional men camped side by side, sharing whiskey bottles and daily news, trail advice, recipes, and dreams. Here and there grazed herds of oxen, horses, mules, even pigs, whose droppings littered the meadows, as plentiful as spring wildflowers, making Brianna thankful to be on horseback.
    Columbus led her through the chaos to a spring where a crowd of people waited to fill cook pots or to water animals. He slipped easily from the gray’s back, and then reached for Brianna. She was so busy studying the people, she barely noticed how close he stood or the way his hands lingered at her waist after lifting her down. It was good to feel her feet on solid ground again and give her aching backside a rest.
    Columbus had let her stop and change back into her dress before entering town. Still, she felt dirty in front of the women chatting amiably while they waited their turn at the spring. They seemed to be having such fun. Mrs. O’Casey had been the only woman Brianna had had to talk with in the last three years. She’d missed having friends her age.
    Nigh noticed the direction of her gaze. “Them women might know where to find your sister.”
    Her eyes swung to his tanned face, so familiar and comforting to her now, and back to the clutch of women.
    “’Fraid they’ll bite you?” he teased.
    “No, but they might be rude.”
    “Seems to me you’ve lived through worse than that.”
    He was right. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders the way she always did when seeking courage, and edged closer to them.
    At the fringe of the small circle, she stopped to glance back uncertainly at Columbus. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to go on. She cleared her throat, brushed at the dust on her dress, cleared her throat again. Automatically her hand went to the button beneath her bodice. “Excuse me.”
    The women went right on talking. Only a short round woman with graying hair