A/N: Hello dear readers!
Here I thought I'd try my hand at a favorite western of mine, Rio Grande. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it, it's an amazing film! If you'd care to find out what happens by the time you reach the end or would like to give me some feedback, well, then by all means, leave a review and I'll be more than happy to oblige. Read and Enjoy!
Eleanor Sawyer had grown up in the old fort, so noises coming from outside the small cabin were no surprise to her. She hardly looked up from her work, her fingers darkly stained with the polish she used to clean her boots. The lantern at her elbow gave the room a warm glow. Music still faintly lingered in the air, floating through the open window to stir her bare feet to tapping and her lips to curving upwards in a quiet smile. Her mother nearly had kittens when she said she would not be attending the dance that evening. The petite woman's eyes had narrowed considerably when her daughter had followed that refusal with tying a slim, yellow ribbon in her chestnut hair.
"I'm certain you are aware what that means in a cavalry post?" she had asked stiffly.
Eleanor had merely given her staring father a shy smile and nodded. He had stepped towards her, gently touching the bright fabric with his large, sunbaked hand. His questioning look had been answered with a small shake of her head and he shrugged at his wife. Captain Sawyer kissed his daughter's forehead and had taken his wife by the elbow, guiding her out the door, his only child's grateful look following his iron-rod back.
A soft draught wafted in, the linen curtains, her mother's pride and joy, ruffled by its passing before they settled once more. The scent carried in was sharp, harsh; a desert wind. Eleanor let her imagination wander over the landscape that wind must have come across. There was no tenderness in this country, not in the currents that traveled it, that stirred its red dust to whip the unsuspecting or the unprepared. Many mornings had been spent sweeping that dust out of her family's doorway. Mrs. York often smiled and said that their little cabin was the cleanest in the fort.
The sound of the brush scrapping against the leather was as severe as the feel of the night's breeze. There was another smell in the air, though. It was musky, sweet, a mixture of hay, fine leather and horses. With the picket lines only a few yards from the cabin, it was to be expected. For Eleanor, it was also to be enjoyed. She had been riding almost from birth, as her father loved to say. Her mother couldn't object, though she had nothing but disdain for the animals that her daughter found more beautiful than anything on God's earth.
"A lady shouldn't have anything to do with the filthy beasts," she was wont to say.
"Neither should ladies take residence in military forts, but here you are," was always her husband's reply.
And he was right, Eleanor thought, but then, he was always right. The good Captain had also been absolutely certain that his daughter could ride and shoot as well as any soldier within a hundred miles of the Rio Grande, in his humble opinion at least. It was the most important one to her, though. Well, she mused as her smile widened; the second most important opinion.
Her green cotton dress swished against the wooden planks of the floor as she stood, taking one last glance over her work. She nodded, satisfied and strode to place them near the door, the boots hanging loosely from one hand and the lantern grasped firmly in the other.
As she leaned down, she heard a very quiet shuffling near the porch and froze.
Someone was walking around out there and the hair on the back of her neck felt as though it stood straight up. No one was supposed to be wandering around the compound. Everyone was supposed to either be at the party or guarding the walls. There were no internal patrols tonight. She blew out the lantern.
Taking a footstep from the open doorway, she brushed against the logs that formed the cabin wall, reaching behind her to grab the rifle her father kept near the window. Eleanor checked it swiftly to see if it was loaded, pointing the barrel at the floor. With a soft snap, she cocked the gun and sidled back towards the door, the butt of the rifle cradled in the hollow of her shoulder. If she had to shoot, it was going to hurt like hell, but she wasn't going to aim at anything until she was certain who or what was out there.
The moon was full tonight, but she stood still for several heartbeats, letting her green eyes adjust to the dimness. Taking a deep breath, she edged to the doorway and peered around the corner, towards the area where she heard the footsteps. She could make out a figure creeping along the wall, though she couldn't tell what manner of person it was, soldier, Indian, man, or woman.
Summoning the most fearsome scowl she could muster, she raised her gun, stepped onto the porch and called out calmly,
"I wouldn't take another step unless you'd like to have a smoking hole through your chest."
The person halted, though whoever it was straightened from their hunched position.
"That's hardly the kind of language a lady like you should use, ma'am."
That voice sounded familiar. The figure moved a little closer, cloaked by the deeper shadows of a column and she took a step back, silently imitating her father's colorful language when she felt the wall at her back. She didn't let the flash of panic she felt show in her voice, however.
"Then would you mind telling me who you are so that I might not have to use such language?" she asked evenly and frowned as she heard a quiet chuckle.
"I had thought by now that you would know me when you saw me, ma'am," the figure strode forward one more time and Eleanor's finger tightened on the trigger.
She let out the breath she had been holding when she finally saw who it was, the moonlight streaming down clearly on a face she did indeed know well.
"Trooper Travis Tyree, you nearly had me kill you, sneaking around like that," she hissed, uncocking the rifle and lowering it.
The tall soldier removed his hat and inclined his head to her, speaking in a low voice.
"My apologies, Ms. Sawyer. I didn't mean to scare ya-"
"I didn't say you scared me, cowboy, I said you nearly caused me to shoot you," she replied harshly, setting the gun back inside the cabin before stepping back outside, "And what in blazes are you doing back here? Colonel York is going to have your hide for stealing his horse."
He didn't answer right away, coming to stand just in front of her, his gloved hands twisting his hat back and forth. Eleanor took the chance to look him over. He was just a bit thinner, though that was to be expected. Living as a wanted man doubtfully allowed for much time to stop and eat a decent meal. His shoulders were still amazingly broad, his features as chiseled and handsome as she remembered. It had been a few days since he had took off with the Colonel's horse, and even in the moonlight, she could see the smudges of dirt and grime on his uniform. There was a large patch on his jaw, she noted, tilting her head back to peer at his face.
"I see that living in the desert does not give one many opportunities to clean up a bit," she teased gently, lifting her hand to brush slender fingers briefly across his cheek, the scruffy skin rough beneath her touch.
Something flickered in his expression and she dropped her hand.
"No, I suppose not, ma'am," he murmured, looking down at her.
She gave him a small smile, but it turned into a frown when she took in the ripped condition of his uniform. She half turned.
"Let me get a light, I'll fix that tear-"
"That's not a good idea, ma'am," he objected quickly, moving to stand in front of the doorway, "unless you'd prefer if I get caught here." He looked down at his boots before saying quietly, "I suppose if that's the case, though, I wouldn't mind. I mean, if that's what you want, Ms. Sawyer."
Eleanor tilted her head up at him, noting that even in the dim light of night, his eyes were still as piercingly blue as they were in the bright sunshine. She could get lost in them, she often thought, watching as he and the other troopers trained and went about their daily routines. Perhaps it was how those eyes had met hers across the training field on a summer day not so long ago that had made her take notice of the wavy-haired recruit. She couldn't say, but once she had seen them, she hadn't seen anyone else's.
"I don't want you to get caught, cowboy," she replied quietly and he gave her a quick grin. It made butterflies erupt in her stomach to see that crooked smile.
"Then what do you want, Ms. Sawyer?" the tone of his voice only made the butterflies worse. It also made her wonder about the nature of the question.
She gestured for him to walk with her. "Let's talk somewhere that isn't so exposed."
He nodded. She held up a hand and went inside and lit the lantern, placing it on the table near the furthest window. She also picked up two little bags and stuck them in her dress pocket. Then together they snuck around the corner of the cabin. The back of the small structure was secluded; small mounds of hay lay clumped between the fort wall and the tiny house. The lantern that she had put near the rear window cast just enough light to see by. Turning back to him, she leaned back against the logs, clasping her fingers loosely in front of her.
"That pretty dress of yours is going to get mighty dirty with you standing like that, ma'am," he observed, motioning with his hat and she shook her head again.
"It can be washed, so don't you worry. You, however, never answered my question, cowboy."
He ambled over to her, his gaze once more on his hat as he turned it this way and that in his hands. When he raised his head, there was something behind his eyes that she couldn't quite describe.
"I'll answer your question if you'll answer mine, Ms. Sawyer. Does that seem fair?"
"I suppose so," she answered, curious.
He fell silent for a long moment, his gaze on his hands again, and Eleanor wondered if he was going to ask her a question at all. Finally, he let out a breath and reached out a gloved hand to take one of her smaller ones. She was mildly surprised, and pleased, at how warm the leather felt as it enclosed her hand in its rough embrace.
"Would you be so kind to tell me why you're wearing that yellow ribbon in your hair?" the question was softly asked, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a slow motion.
She bit her lip, her eyes focused on his hand gently holding hers.
"Because a handsome young trooper caught my eye," she started hesitantly, then lifted her eyes to meet his, "One that apparently has had some difficulty staying put long enough for me to tell him he has a sweetheart."
Her answer was honest, her voice full of an emotion that she was too frightened to really examine at that moment, too much in need to know his answer. Different emotions seemed at war in his features, though she was relieved to see that none of them were negative in nature. She bit her lip again before looking up at him shyly.
"I believe that it's your turn now," she prompted in a soft voice and she saw him swallow hard.
"Because I couldn't stay away, Ms. Sawyer," he murmured, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his hat floating to the ground forgotten, "Because I find myself liking it too much when you call me 'cowboy'."
"You're too formal, Travis," she chided with a smile.
"And you talk too much, Ellie," he muttered, the name making her heart flip.
She had been kissed before, stolen touches at the various functions or lazy spring evenings. Many a fresh-faced trooper had bestowed her with their attentions, though she had very rarely allowed any of them this kind of liberty. It was hardly in her interest to offer her lips to any young buck that happened to ask for them.
But nothing had ever felt like this.
When he kissed her, his lips fitted to hers as if they had been made to do so.
He had waited for this for so long. From the time he had seen those bright green eyes dancing with merriment that hot summer, he had been hers. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone or anything that beautiful. And when he talked to her, she hadn't dismissed him, hadn't looked down her nose at his slow, careful drawl, his dusty, worn uniform, or the fact that he couldn't dance. Eleanor had accepted him as he was, first as a friend. They had spent many afternoons riding, talking, sharing one another's small allotments of time. He could always find her near the picket lines in the late afternoons and early mornings, her hands busily currying a coat or her voice softly whispering into a flickering ear. The first time he had seen her really smile was also the first time he had ever plucked up the courage to talk to her.
She had been wearing that same pretty dress, the one that made her eyes appear so vividly green, it was nearly startling. She had a brush in her hand, easily stroking it over the rich black hair of a mare's flank. Her hair had been escaping from the clip she had worn to keep it away from her face and her lips had curved into such a mischievious, happy grin that it was infectious...and breathtaking.
"Ya seem to have quite a way with the horses, ma'am."
She had looked up at him, that smile never leaving her features.
"Perhaps, but I suspect it's probably the other way around. They're enchanting creatures."
He nodded in agreement, dropping his saddle to the ground nearby and coming over to run a hand fondly across the mare's neck. He patted her and she nickered quietly, making Eleanor's face light up. She glanced up at him from her position near his right.
"It seems I'm not the only one."
"Yes, ma'am. I've been around them since I was knee high."
"Only knee high? I seem to have a few more years experience then, cowboy."
Travis found her impish smile bewitching and had him grinning crookedly back at her.
"Yes, ma'am, I reckon so."
And now she wore a yellow ribbon just for him. It made him want to shout from the tops of the walls, but he knew better; he also knew that she deserved better than a life on the run. Travis was determined, now more than ever, to make that life possible for her, with him.
Eleanor kissed him back, her mouth gliding silkily against his. She tasted so sweet, even better than the molasses candies he was so fond of. Her hands moved, coming to rest against the coarse material that covered his chest. Heat crept over his flesh at just the contact of their lips, then flared in his abdomen as his hand trailed up to cup the back of her neck, the other coming to rest at her waist.
When the stiff leather of his glove grazed the bare skin of her neck, she shivered, shifting her body closer to his. He let out a small groan, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her to him more fully, as his other hand tipped her head back to gain better access to her mouth. Eleanor's lips parted in surprise, unintentionally deepening the kiss and Travis used the opportunity to softly nibble at the flesh of her bottom lip. Shyly, she copied him. He made an approving hum at her attempt and, seemingly emboldened by his acceptance, she sipped at it, her hands smoothing up the darkly blue woolen shirt to wrap around his broad shoulders. Lord, but she felt good pressed up against him like this, the curves of her body fitting to the hard lines of his like the final piece to a puzzle.
Her fingers wove their way into the wavy strands of his dark hair, anchoring him to her. They parted for air and she let out a tiny moan of protest, the quiet mewling sound sending a shiver of desire down his spine. The trooper was walking on the thin edge of a knife; stray too far and they were both going to tumble.
But when she was looking up at him like that, her lips swollen from his attention and her green eyes sparkling in the soft light, he couldn't help but to kiss her again.
She responded eagerly, her pliant mouth parting for him once more and he took the silent, unconscious invitation, tentatively slipping his tongue to explore and experience the honeyed taste of her bottom lip. She made a small noise of surprise, her slender fingers flexing against his scalp and it pulled another groan from him. There was only so much tempation a man could take. His tongue swept part her lips to gently touch hers, then retreated, coaxing it to follow. His arm tightened around the curve of her waist when he felt her small tongue dart out to met his. He moved from her mouth, peppering the curve of her jaw with feather light brushes of his lips. Pressing them against her neck, nipping the soft flesh, then soothing with his lips and tongue. Eleanor's body arched at his minstrations, her head falling back and his fingers drug themselves up her spine, then down again.
He couldn't get enough, pressing her back against the wall of the cabin, their bodies fitting tightly together, creating a friction that was slowly, but surely going to drive him insane. Then she suddenly angled her head and sucked on the lobe of his ear, nibbling at it with a tender grazing of her teeth. He growled at her in warning, but she ignored it, her hands tracing strong, sure patterns across his chest. She was like a shot of warm whiskey, heating his blood. It roared in his ears, demanding that his body give in to what it needed. Her hips suddenly met his when he found a sensitive spot just beneath her ear and it was almost his undoing. He pulled back, intending to stop, but her hungry mouth found his again and he gave in, drinking her in like precious water. God, she tasted too good; she felt too good.
He tore his mouth from hers, panting like he had run across the desert from Fort Apache to Reno.
Travis leaned his forehead against hers, his heart racing and he mildly noted that she was breathing as heavily as he was. Her hands moved from their resting place against his chest and landed on his biceps.
"If we keep this up, darlin', I don't know that I'll be able to stop," he muttered in her ear, his lips caressing the delicate shell and she shuddered against him.
He closed his eyes, willing his rebellious body to obey him. She wasn't helping though.
"What if I don't want to stop?" she asked huskily and he bit his lip to keep back the groan that was building in his throat.
"You don't know what you're askin' of me, Ellie," he replied in a low voice, turning his head and placing a soft kiss against her temple before pulling back enough to look down into her eyes, "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life."
His gloved hand cupped her chin, his thumb running lazily across her full lips.
"And because I want you that badly, I want to make it real official-like before I take you in that capacity," he leaned down and kissed her tenderly and she gave him a slow smile.
"You sure know how to propose to a woman, cowboy," she teased, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and he grinned crookedly.
"Frankly, ma'am, I've spoke more tonight than I have since Sunday School Recitation."
She leaned up to barely press her lips against the stubbled skin of his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose.
"Now how can I resist that kind of sweet-talkin', I wonder," she whispered, her lips kissing first one corner of his mouth, then the other, before brushing across his lips lightly.
"That's not an answer, Ellie," he growled.
"You haven't asked me the proper question, Travis," she retorted.
He shook his head and let out a chuckle, pinning her with his baby blue gaze. Eleanor bit her lip, then slipped her arms fully around his neck.
"You ought to know by now, cowboy, that I'm yours, in everything but name, and I alwa-mmph!"
He didn't let her finish, swooping down and sealing her lips with his. It was possessive, hard, parting her lips hungrily, and claiming her mouth as surely as he intended to claim her as his bride. When they parted, he was grinning like a fool.
She couldn't seem to help grinning back up at him, her eyes giddy with happiness. Knowing her answer, and the feelings in those expressionate eyes that she could never hide, made his heart feel like it was going burst right from his chest.
"You look like a happy man, cowboy."
"There won't be many days when you'll see me happier, Ms. Sawyer, that I guarentee you," he replied.
Eleanor tilted her head, seemingly listening and he turned his head in the direction of the main building.
"The dance has ended, I believe," he whispered, and she turned her attention back to him with her big green eyes.
"You've got to get out of here, Travis!" she hissed, then placed both her hands on his cheeks, "Don't you let them catch you, Trooper Travis Tyree," she whispered fiercely, "Not until you've made me a happy wife for many years yet."
With that, she kissed him, quick and hard. Then she was pushing at his chest, shooing him towards the darkest corner of the cabin. He reached down and grabbed his hat, shoving it on his head and grabbing her hand. They rushed to the furthest edge of the cabin's shadow. Eleanor reached into her pocket and pressed the two small bags she had snatched from the cabin into his hand. He gave her a questioning look and she smiled at him softly.
"Molasses and some tobacco."
Travis brought her hand to his lips, pressing them to her open palm before letting go reluctantly. Looking at her for what would be the last time for a while, he fled the fort, leaping onto his borrowed horse and taking off into the desert.
Eleanor stood for a long moment, watching his retreating form through a crack in the wall until the night swallowed him. Then she smiled, turning on her heel and heading back towards the cabin.
He would come back. She knew that as surely as she knew the wind brought the red dust to caress her boots, and the old tune that filled the air as she hummed.
In her hair, she wore a yellow ribbon
She wore it in the winter and the merry month of May
And when I asked her why she wore the ribbon
She said "It's for my lover in the US Cavalry."