Mountain Laurel (Montgomery/Taggert 15)
Maddie saw the blood drain from ’Ring’s face and knew she had a very special audience. Crystal-clear she sang the notes, and her A flats were perfection.
At the second set of trills, ’Ring began to sweat. Her voice surrounded him, went through him, and when she sang of fluttering from pleasure to pleasure, he felt the words as well as her voice.
It was at the end, at those final magnificent high C’s that he looked at her. He started at her feet and m
oved up.
When Maddie saw his eyes on her body, she, too, began to tremble, for it didn’t take much knowledge to see that what she saw in ’Ring’s eyes was lust. At the moment it didn’t matter that she didn’t know whether the lust was for her or for her voice. It mattered only that it existed.
Before the last note died, somehow ’Ring managed to make his way out of the cabin. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall and tried to get a cigar from inside his shirt pocket.
“There you are,” Toby said. “I was lookin’ for you and then I heard the caterwaulin’ and I knew where you’d be. You all right?”
“I…” ’Ring whispered.
Toby immediately went into action. He put his hands on ’Ring’s chest and guided him to a tree stump to sit down. When ’Ring kept fumbling at his shirt, Toby removed a cigar, lit it, then handed it to ’Ring, but ’Ring was shaking so much he could hardly hold it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Toby demanded.
“I think I’ve just visited the Garden of Eden,” ’Ring said.
“Huh?”
“Eaten of the Tree of Knowledge.”
Toby still didn’t understand, so when Jamie walked up he grabbed him. “Can you make any sense of him?”
They stood there looking at ’Ring, sitting on the stump, still shaking, doing his best to smoke the cigar to calm himself.
“Says he’s been to the Garden of Eden, eaten some fruit.”
At that moment Maddie opened the door. She took one look at ’Ring and sneered at him. “How dare you leave the room while I’m singing,” she said, and slammed the door, then angrily started walking down the hill toward the tent.
’Ring looked around Toby and watched her walk: full hips, a tiny, corseted waist. She turned and he saw her profile of breasts in front, a curvy backside.
Toby looked from ’Ring to Maddie then back at Jamie. “I’ll be damned,” Toby whispered. “He’s been struck at last.” Grinning, he pulled ’Ring off the stump and pushed him toward Maddie. “Go talk to her,” he said, laughing. “Bring her back up here. I’ll see that ever’body’s out a your way.”
’Ring managed to make his legs work long enough to get down the hill to her tent, but his hand was shaking so badly that he could hardly pull the flap to her tent back. He was only halfway inside when what looked to be a picture frame came sailing past his head. He slipped inside the tent and the flap closed behind him.
“How dare you?” Maddie screamed. “How dare you leave before I finish singing?” She grabbed a small jar of face cream and threw it at him.
’Ring caught it and started walking toward her.
“I am waiting for your explanation.” When he didn’t say a word but just kept slowly moving toward her, she grabbed a perfume bottle from the top of the trunk and tossed it. He caught it in his right hand.
When he reached her, he stretched both his arms around her, set the objects on the trunk behind her, then stood for a moment, looking at her.
It was when she looked into his eyes that she saw what he was feeling, and her heart leaped to her throat. She’d seen something of this look in men’s eyes before, but nothing anywhere near the intensity of this. He had never frightened her before, but this wild-eyed man did frighten her somewhat.
“ ’Ring, I—” she began, but he didn’t answer her. Where was the civilized, controlled man she’d spent three days with on the mountain? This man was neither civilized nor controlled.
Before she could think, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out of the tent. Jamie, Toby, Edith, Frank and Sam, and Laurel were all outside, not to mention about twenty miners. She closed her eyes against seeing them, for she sensed that it was no use trying to talk to this man who carried her. This man was not the man she knew.
He carried her up the hill to the cabin, shut the door behind them, set her on her feet, and looked at her with eyes that were burning with intensity.
“ ’Ring, you know, I think I forgot to do something. Maybe I should—”
He caught her in his arms as she started toward the door. As he held her, his hands moved down the back of her until he encountered the curve of her fanny, and he clasped the roundness.