ChasetheLightning (27 page)

Somehow, they managed to get out of their clothes until
there was nothing between them but raw aching desire. His hands moved over her,
big callused hands that brought her nothing but pleasure. Hands that worshipped
her.

Rolling over, Trey tucked her gently beneath him. Eyes aglow
with passion, he claimed her lips with his as their bodies fused together, heat
to heat and heart to heart, until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she
began, until, in the end, they were truly one body, one flesh…

They napped, snuggled together in each other’s arms, and
then made love again, slower this time. Trey. He was every wish come true,
every fantasy she’d ever had made flesh. She dozed, her head on his shoulder,
and knew she wanted nothing more of life than to be with Trey, to bear his
children, and grow old beside him.

When she woke, she realized she wanted two other things,
badly. A bath, and something to eat.

When she mentioned it to Trey, he agreed to go downstairs
and see about getting some hot water sent up.

Rising, he washed up using the cold water in the bowl on the
bureau, then went downstairs to talk to the clerk.

A short time later, Amanda slipped into her tunic and padded
barefoot down to the room at the end of the hall where a young boy was pouring
the last bucket of hot water into the tub. He looked at her sideways, murmured
something unintelligible, and left the room just as Trey came in.

She luxuriated in the tub under Trey’s amused glance, smiled
when he took the soap from her hand and washed her back. And her front. And all
the places in between. The water was growing cool when she stepped out.

He peeled off his shirt while she toweled off.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m gonna take a bath.”

She glanced at the tub. “But the water’s dirty.”

“It’s clean enough for me. Besides, if we wait for more hot
water, we’ll never get out of here to eat.”

A short time later, dressed in their new clothes, they left
the hotel and headed for the nearest restaurant. Amanda felt much better.
Earlier, she had taken one of the headache powders they’d bought, though she
couldn’t swear that was what had made her headache go away. It could just as
easily have been the nap, or the hot bath, or just being with Trey again. In
his arms again. Warmth engulfed her when she recalled how fiercely they had
made love.

Now, waiting for the waitress to come and take their order,
she smoothed her hand over her new dress. Not for the first time, she felt as
if she had stepped into a Western movie. The restaurant was a large,
rectangular building. Square tables were placed at intervals around the room,
covered with red-and-white-checked cloths. Matching curtains hung at the
windows. There was sawdust on the floor.

She glanced at the people at the other tables. Men in shirts
and vests, canvas pants, cowboy boots; women clad in long-sleeved dresses and
bonnets.

Trey ordered steak, Amanda ordered fried chicken.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Much better.” She touched the lump; it had gone down quite
a bit. “Why?” she asked. “Why did those soldiers attack us?”

“They don’t need a reason, but I reckon there was a raid
somewhere. Maybe by another band of Apaches, maybe Comanches, maybe Kiowas.” He
shook his head, his expression hard. “It doesn’t matter. To the Army, one
Indian is the same as another. They won’t be happy until they’ve wiped us all
out, or confined us on reservations where they can keep an eye on us.”

“That’s awful.” Her eyes widened. Why hadn’t it occurred to
her before? Many of the historical characters she had read about or seen
depicted in movies and on television were alive now. Frank and Jesse James.
Custer and Crazy Horse. Geronimo and Cochise. She thought of the movie,
Broken
Arrow
. She had seen it several times on the classic movie station, and it
had become one of her favorite old movies. Jeff Chandler had been a
surprisingly effective Cochise, and Jimmy Stewart had been perfect as Tom
Jeffords, the man who had traveled alone to the Chiricahua hideout and made
peace with the Apaches.

“Do you know Cochise, and Geronimo?”

“I’ve met them. Why?”

“I just wondered. They haven’t been forgotten, you know. In
my time, they’re still making movies about their lives. I’m not sure how
accurate the history is, but…”

“The whites are a strange people. First they try to wipe my
people out, and then they tell stories about them.”

Amanda sat back as the waitress approached and served their
dinner. Chicken and potatoes and corn on the cob. Fresh bread and butter. And
coffee. She picked up her cup, inhaled deeply before she took a sip.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Amanda savored every
bite. The chicken was tender, succulent, the potatoes were swimming in gravy.
Apache fare had been filling, but nothing like this.

When the waitress came by to offer dessert, Amanda ordered a
slice of chocolate cake and another cup of coffee. She looked at Trey. “Aren’t
you going to have anything?”

“No.”

She looked thoughtful a moment. “Why don’t you have a piece
of apple pie?”

“Why?”

“Well, I’d like some pie, too.”

“Then have some.”

“Well, I want cake, too. So, if you had pie, we could share
our desserts.” She smiled at him. “What do you think?”

With a shake of his head, Trey ordered a piece of pie.

* * * * *

Later, they walked arm in arm down the street. “I’m
stuffed,” Amanda remarked.

“I’m not surprised,” Trey said, grinning. “I didn’t know a
little bit of a thing like you could pack away so much grub.”

“Well, you were supposed to eat half the cake and half the
pie, you know. That was the whole idea of ordering both.”

“You were enjoying them too much.”

“Well, they were mighty good.” Or maybe it was just being
with Trey that made everything seem brighter, sweeter, better.

Trey paused when they reached the hotel. “Why don’t you go
on up to the room.”

“Where are you going?”

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the saloon across the
street. “It’s time to make a little money.”

“Oh.” She ran her fingertips up and down his arm. “Will you
be gone very long?”

“Not with you here waiting for me.”

The look in his eyes sent a shiver of anticipation down her
spine.

“All right,” she said. “But be careful.”

He winked at her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m always
careful.” He kissed her, hard and quick, gave her an affectionate swat on her
behind as she turned to open the hotel door.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Hey, watch it,
cowboy.”

“Oh, I’m watching it,” he said with a roguish grin. “I’ll be
back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m counting on it.”

* * * * *

The saloon was in full swing. The gambling tables were
crowded, the bar girls were swishing back and forth from the bar to the tables,
smiling and serving drinks. They were pretty girls, if you didn’t mind the
heavy rouge on their cheeks and the world-weary lines around their eyes. A
piano player sat in the corner pounding out a rendition of
My Old Kentucky
Home
while three couples danced. The air was thick with smoke.

Trey found a place at a table in the back and sank into an
empty chair. The game was five-card draw, the stakes were high, and he was
feeling lucky.

An hour later, he was more than eight hundred dollars ahead.

He was thinking about calling it a night when Wolf Langley
slid into the chair across from him. Trey’s eyes narrowed as he met the bounty
hunter’s gaze.

“Evenin’,” Langley said.

Trey grunted. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Sensing the underlying tension between the two men, the
other three men at the table went suddenly still.

Langley raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I
didn’t come in here looking for any trouble. Just looking for a friendly card
game. Hell, I didn’t even know you were in town.”

At Trey’s nod, the other card players relaxed.

“Everybody in?” the dealer asked, and when the pot was
right, he dealt a new hand.

Trey played for another hour, winning more than he lost. It
was nearing eleven when he left the table.

Leaving the saloon, he started across the street, his
thoughts on Amanda. He felt a rush of desire when he thought of her waiting for
him in the hotel. She was likely in bed, her hair spread like wildfire on the
pillow.

He had just reached the boardwalk in front of the hotel when
something warned him. He wasn’t sure what it was, a shadow, a footstep, or just
that sixth sense that had saved his hide more than once. Dropping into a
crouch, he spun around, reaching for his gun, as a bullet whined through the
space he had just occupied and buried itself in the boardwalk. A muzzle flash
across the street was followed by another booming report, and the thwack of a
slug hitting the wall behind him.

He fired at the dim silhouette the muzzle flash had
illumined and heard a man grunt in pain, then the sound of a body hitting the
ground.

He started to straighten up when another shot rang out down
the street. A cry of pain echoed through the night, coming from above him, and
he sensed rather than saw something falling from the roof of the hotel. A man’s
body slammed hard onto the street, raising a cloud of dust.

Trey leveled his gun in the direction from which the last
shot had come, the shadows near the saloon he had just vacated.

A voice called, “Don’t shoot!”

Langley! Trey walked toward the bounty hunter cautiously,
his gun ready. “What the hell’s going on?”

Langley replaced the spent cartridges and holstered his gun.
“Looks like those two were after the reward on your head.”

“You saved my life,” Trey remarked, unable to keep the surprise
out of his tone.

“Only seemed right, since you saved mine.”

“Yeah.” Trey eased the hammer down on his Colt. “So where
does that leave us?”

“Don’t worry. I said I wouldn’t come after you again, and I
won’t. But if you’re smart, you’ll hightail it out of here. This is Tucson, not
some one-horse town. The marshal will be on his way. And he’s bound to
recognize you too.”

“You’re probably right, dammit.” Trey slid his Colt into his
holster. “Obliged for your help. I never would have seen the one on the roof in
time.”

“Yeah, well, I may regret it later,” Langley said with a wry
grin. “You’d better get going.”

“On my way.” Turning, Trey almost plowed into Amanda who was
running across the street toward him.

“Are you all right?” Her worried gaze moved over his face,
her hands running restlessly over his arms and chest.

“I’m fine. Come on, we’re getting out of here, now.”

She didn’t argue.

Twenty minutes later, they were ready to go, riding double
on Relámpago because Trey didn’t want to take the time to buy another horse. He
noticed the crowd had gathered in front of the hotel. A man holding a lantern
was kneeling beside one of the bodies. Trey heard someone say, “Here comes the
marshal,” and the crowd parted.

Trey swore softly. “Time to make tracks,” he said grimly,
and reined the horse around, heading away from the hotel at a walk so as not to
attract any attention.

Once out of sight of the hotel, he urged the stallion into a
lope.

Amanda clung to Trey, her arms tight around his waist, her
cheek resting against his back. One thing about life in the Old West, she
mused, it was never dull.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they left the town
behind.

“There’s a piece of land I’ve had my eye on,” he replied. “I
was planning to settle there after I’d squared things with Hollinger. I think
now’s a good time to light out in that direction. No one knows me there.”

“Oh, I remember. You mentioned it once before, didn’t you?
You were going to use the money from the bank robbery…” Her voice trailed off.
The money he had stolen was sitting in the back of her bedroom closet, in a
house that she probably would never see again.

“Something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no.”

“Come on, sweetheart, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing, really. I guess I was just feeling a little
homesick.”

He placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll
build a new home. Together.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with love as she imagined
them building a house, raising a family. A boy and a girl, she thought, with
Trey’s dark hair and eyes. She slid her hand over her stomach. She could be
pregnant, even now. The idea thrilled her even as it gave her pause. Having a
baby in a modern hospital with a doctor and drugs and emergency help if needed
was one thing; having it out here, in the wilds, was something else entirely.
Sanitary conditions were poor, hospitals few and far between. Childbirth would
be risky, at best.

She was still considering the implications of being pregnant
when they stopped for the night.

They had done it often enough so that it took no time at all
to make camp.

“No fire tonight,” Trey said when she started looking for
wood.

“Why not? Oh. Of course.” A fire could be seen for miles out
here, where the land was flat and there were no trees to diffuse the smoke.

They settled down on the blanket with Trey’s arms around
her. She shivered and he drew her closer, his lips moving over her face, along
her throat, the curve of her shoulder. And then he kissed her and she shivered
again, right down to her toes, but not from the cold.

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight two nights later when they reached
Canyon Creek. Amanda stared at the town. Late as it was, the saloons were still
open. Yellow lamplight spilled out onto the street. Someone was playing a
lively song on a piano that was sadly out of tune.

“Seems we’ve come full circle,” she murmured, and even
though home was over a hundred years in the future, she felt a sense of
homecoming as they rode down the dusty street. This might be as close to home
as she ever got.

As always, Trey’s first thought was for Relámpago. He left
the stallion at the livery barn after instructing the owner to be sure the stud
got a good rubdown and a quart of oats.

“It’s too late to go to the land office tonight,” Trey said
as they walked toward the hotel. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.”