The Savage Moon

Chapter Two: Embers

"Cecelia! Did you finish washing that laundry yet?!!"

She heard her mother call out from up the hill. She missed her mother's comment afterwards, muttered under her breath, about how Cecelia seemed to spend more time in the river lately than the fish.

The thought occurred to her that it was taking her a bit longer to do the wash today than previous days. She was just lost in dreamland today.
And the realization that she'd been imagining that silver-eyed stranger laying in the grass with her, brushing her hair back from her face.... shaking her head to clear it, she twisted the last piece of laundry until it was no longer dripping and gathered up the basket to head back to the wagon.

She hadn't seen him again since that evening, but it was only bound to be a matter of time. There are only so many places one can go when they are apart of a wagon train.

She took pieces of clean laundry and hung them up on the makeshift clothesline. She brushed her hair back from her face and braced her hands against her back to stretch it. They'd been on the trail for two weeks now and though she was still adjusting, she'd begun to notice that her body was becoming acclimated to the rough living.

She picked up the basket and turned to walk toward the back of the wagon when she noticed him. Leaning against a wagon up ahead in the convoy, on the edge of a group of dusty cowboys, there he was.. looking directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks.

She smiled as she saw his knowing smirk, vowing to resist his charms, whatever the cost.

Gathering her composure, she began again to hang the wash on the line.

She had no idea of the tempting picture she presented. The heat of the day had already plastered her blouse and dress to her frame in a way that made his mouth water. There's no harm in looking... He told himself. He also couldn't help but be pleased by the blush that stained her cheeks when she caught him looking at her. It served his small sense of vanity to know that she felt the attraction between them, whether she knew it or not.

He had no doubt that she was an innocent, despite what experience she might think she had. She certainly looked young enough. All the more reason to keep his distance. The last thing he needed was some irate Eastern Yankees angry because he deflowered their daughter.

He pushed away from the wagon and tossed the dregs of his coffee on the ground. He was going to have to find another excuse for being away from camp. He needed to get his mind clear, but he couldn't seem to do it if she was within sight.

What the hell's the matter with me?! You'd think he was some green youth, chasing his first skirt.

He shook his head, disgusted with himself and went to find out if the wranglers needed any company. That should keep him busy for a while...

. . .

Cecelia sighed and stretched her aching muscles. She'd done her usual round of chores and then some, feeling the need to use up some of her excess energy. Ever since he'd walked upon her bathing, she'd felt edgy and restless, unsure of herself and what the anxious feelings presented.

Her mother had gone on up the wagon train to visit with Mrs. McCrary, so she grabbed a change of clothes and her bar of lavender soap and made her way down to the river. She sighed as she finally made it to the shelter of the trees that lined the riverside.

They'd made camp in a natural field, just off of the river, but sheltered from the wind by the surrounding trees. Their little camp seemed isolated and private and everyone seemed to have finally been able to breathe, rather than being so on guard, as they had been.