Smolder on a Slow Burn

by Lynda J. Cox

  Allison literally felt the breath leave her with the possessive, oddly tender kiss A.J. slanted over her mouth. He forced her head further back, his fingers digging into her scalp, his other hand gripping her bottom, pressing her against him. Allison parted her mouth under the hungry, insistent pressure of his lips, and a molten heat pooled low in her stomach, spread throughout her whole being. His tongue forcefully invaded, demanding total obeisance.

  Allison didn’t even recognize the soft whimpering sounds breaking from her. A.J. pulled her more tightly into his embrace, lifting her slightly to him, dragging her hips over his. She clung to him, trembling and aching with a need she had never felt before.

  He pulled his head back and reluctantly Allison let him. His breath rasped against her cheek. “You still think I don’t want to kiss you?”

  All she could do was mutely shake her head.

  “Then stop believing for a moment I don’t want you.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he lifted her onto Dan. Before she had arranged her skirts in some semblance of decorum, he slapped the gelding’s rump and the horse took off in a rapid walk.

  Allison risked a glance back. He stood with his forehead pressed into Sugar’s neck, one hand gripping a hank of mane, the other hand on the middle of the mare’s broad back.

  After several long minutes, he cantered Sugar to her side. “I’m going to start looking for a small town. We both need a decent meal, a hot bath, and to sleep in a real bed. We’ve also got to get you something a little more suited to riding astride.”

  “Are you planning on robbing a bank to procure the funds for this?” Allison wondered how he could sound so normal and level when her insides were still quivering and her lips still carried the taste of him.

  “I’ve got some gold and green backs.”

  She whipped her gaze over to him. He laughed. “It’s not any of the famed lost gold of the Confederacy. I was paid damn well for fighting for Juarez some time ago, I made a small fortune over a summer on the plains, and I managed to save Clayborne and sold it for a very pretty price. None of this is ill gotten.”

  “How did you come to be in Mexico and fighting for Juarez? Most of the men who went to Mexico after the War signed on with the Emperor’s forces.”

  “I had no intention of signing up for another losing cause.” A.J. looked off into the distance. “I was looking for my younger brother. I thought he might be in Mexico and when I got there, I was in desperate need of money. Juarez paid a lot better than the Confederacy ever did and he paid in gold.”

  “Fair enough.” She turned her gaze to see where he was looking. For the previous few hours, she hadn’t been concerned with the reason he had pulled her off the train, but now that he wanted to find a town, that concern rose. “What if there are wanted posters for me in this small town you want to find for the night?”

  He lifted his shoulder. “I don’t think there will be. I saw that one on the rail line. Oakten is assuming you are staying with your train ticket, which is why the poster was new. Even if Garrison…”

  Allison didn’t miss the loathing and fury in A.J.’s voice when he spoke Garrison’s name.

  “…has figured out you aren’t on the train yet, he has no idea which way you went. There is a hell of a lot of territory to cover along the rail line. We’re about fifteen miles north of the line now. It should be fine for the night.”

  The sun was settling lower in the sky when they rode up to the small town of Harrison, Nebraska. “The irony of this doesn’t escape me,” A.J. said as they rode down the center of Main Street. They passed two saloons, a barber shop, a small church, a general store and mercantile and finally came to a little hotel housed over a small restaurant. As he assisted Allison to slide from Dan’s back, he said, “Let me do the talking. Just agree with whatever I say.”

  Too tired and saddle-sore to argue, Allison nodded. He pulled off his threadbare great coat and tied it behind the saddle. After slinging the saddle bags over a shoulder, he slipped an arm around Allison’s waist and guided her onto the boardwalk and into the hotel.

  The bells over the door jangled when A.J. pushed the door open. The clerk behind the desk looked up, his eyes narrowing at what Allison knew had to be their completely disheveled and filthy appearance. Sometime during the night her chignon had come completely down and she hadn’t bothered to even attempt to recapture the wild tresses. Her clothing was wrinkled almost beyond repair and the hem of her skirt was caked with mud.

  A.J. didn’t look much better and with the combined effect of his revolver on his thigh and at least three days of beard stubble, she had no doubt they appeared utterly disreputable.

  A.J. walked her to the clerk, and stepped on her skirt, tripping Allison in what she knew to be a deliberate act. He was the utmost in solicitation and concern. “Just a few more moments, dear, and I’ll have a room for us and you can lie down. I promise.”

  If he hadn’t already warned her to fall in with his actions, she would have snapped her head to one side to stare at him. His southern drawl was almost entirely gone. Every vestige of suspicion was wiped from the clerk’s face.

  “Is your wife ill?”

  “No,” A.J. said. “I’m hoping you have a room for the night.”

  Allison leaned into his left side. His thigh was pressed against her and she could feel the muscles bunching and knotting. He tightened his arm around her waist. Even though he had told her what his plan was, this was something new.

  “We’ve just had a run of really bad luck. Our wagon broke an axle about fifty miles back and then the oxen wandered off in the night. To get both of us and our two horses on the train and get us to Oregon would cost us all the money we’ve saved for a homestead. We had to abandon the wagon with all our belongings.” He leaned over the counter, closer to the clerk, taking almost all of his weight of his left leg, adding in a conspiratorial manner, “Add to that, she’s in the family way.”

  “Adrean, don’t be telling people that.”

  The clerk smiled. “Ma’am, we see a lot of ladies in the family way here. Most of them are as shy about it as you are.” He glanced at the ledger. “I have a room right here on the first floor, so you don’t have to climb the steps. Room’s three dollars a night. Supper is promptly at six and it’s fifty cents a head. If you’re late, Mrs. Oaks won’t be happy.”

  A.J. stiffened next to her. Allison stroked the arm he still held around her waist. “I’m sure we’ll be right on time,” she murmured. “What is she making for supper, Mr…?”

  “Schaffer, Brad Schaffer.” He lifted his shoulders. “As to what’s for supper, that’ll depend on what you want. We’ve got a menu and everything. Mrs. Oaks just likes folks to be here at six so she can get the meals cooked and on the table while the sides are hot but we serve until seven thirty.”

  A.J.’s rigidity eased as Allison continued to stroke his lower arm. “I know exactly how she feels, then, Mr. Schaffer.” Allison added. “I get so flustered when I have supper ready and Adrean is out in the fields and loses track of the time.”

  Schaffer turned the register around, handing a pencil to A.J. “Sign here. I’m guessing you and your missus will want breakfast, too? It’s fifty cents each for breakfast.”

  A.J. nodded, signing himself and Allison into the hotel. Dipping into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a crumpled green bill, smoothed it out on the counter and then handed it to Schaffer. “There a livery in town?”

  “Down the other end of the main street. Only one in town. You can’t miss it. Rates are a buck a night per head…” Schaffer pulled the register to him and glanced down. “…Mr. VanBuren. Where you folks from? I can’t quite place the accent.”

  “Southern Indiana. How much extra is a hot bath?”

  Schaffer grinned from ear to ear. “No extra. We’re the only hotel in a five county area with bath tubs in every room and hot and cold running water.”

  A.J. grinned down at Allison. “You hear that, Alli? Just like that real fancy hotel
I took you to in Chicago.”

  Shaffer pushed the room key across the counter. “Have a nice stay, Mr. VanBuren. Hey, you related to the old President?”

  “Not that I know.” A.J. took the key. He hesitated moving away from the counter, so Allison slipped her arm around his lower back and softly said, “I’d really like to rest my head.”

  Most of his weight fell onto Allison as they walked down the carpeted hallway to the room numbered on the key, but she also suspected that if anyone noticed, it would have appeared that she was leaning heavily on him. The muscles across his lower back quivered and bunched against her steadying arm.

  The moment the door closed behind them, A.J. dropped the saddle bags to the floor and collapsed to his knees. His hat tumbled from his head and he crumbled to the floor, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. He buried his face in his arms, hands clenched into white knuckled fists.

  “What can I do?”

  Sweat was already dampening his shirt back. “Just below the waist band, on the left side, push the heel of your hand into my back as hard as you can. Put all your weight into it.”

  Allison didn’t hesitate. She knelt next to him and leaned her weight onto her hand. Almost immediately she felt the muscles quiet their spasms. A long tapering breath escaped him. His hands unclenched.

  She kept the pressure on his back but asked, “In the family way? That fancy hotel in Chicago? Mr. VanBuren?”

  A.J.’s voice, muffled in his arms, sounded sheepish. “I had most of it thought out. Unfortunately I also had to do some fast thinking on my feet…or at least one foot. Though, if you look at this with some logic, it hasn’t worked out that badly. Garrison wouldn’t expect you to be traveling with a man and posing as a married woman and most certainly not one in the family way. No one is looking for me which will help with your ability to not be seen. You didn’t do too bad, either, with that comment about being flustered when you’ve got supper ready and I’m out in the fields and lose track of the time.”

  He did have a point. “Be that as it may, I thought a proposal of marriage would have been more…romantic. As we’re supposed to be married, there had to have been a proposal.”

  “My knowledge in that area is rather limited. I’ve only proposed marriage one other time.” He craned his head to look over his shoulder at her. “And so you do not mistake me, there was a proposal in there somewhere.”

  “I suppose I accepted. Aren’t we putting the cart before the horse here, though? I still have a wanted poster out there offering a reward for my return to Colton County.”

  “We’ll get that straightened out, I promise.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  His grin washed away most of her worry. “Most things in life really are that simple, Alli. Ease the pressure and let me see if I’m going to be able to stand.”

  Allison rocked back onto her heels. A.J. cautiously and with deliberation stood, scooping up his hat as he did. He held his hand down to her and pulled Allison to her feet. “I’m not going to risk my back spasming again, so please hand me the saddle bags.”

  Allison lifted them and handed them over. A.J. dropped them onto the round table near a rice screen in the corner of the room. He opened one of the black leather bags and pulled out a roll of large green bills. Both that roll of bills and the room key went into a pocket of his denims. “I’m going to take the horses down to the livery, stop at the mercantile and get both of us some clean clothes, and then get a shave. I wouldn’t want to miss Oakt…” He caught his mistake instantly. “…Mrs. Oaks’s insistence on a prompt appearance at six for supper.”

  “And, what should I do while you’re gone?” She didn’t think she would ever understand him. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had proposed marriage in the most unorthodox manner, she had accepted, and now he was going to leave her alone without even so much as a “fare-thee-well.”

  A small pistol came out of the saddle bag and A.J. set it on the table. “Lock yourself in and take a long, hot bath. If anyone tries to get in, shoot them.” He tapped the end of her nose. “You’ve a dirt smudge on your nose, by the way.”

  “I’ve never shot a gun in my life.” Allison stared at the small pistol. What else did he carry in those black saddle bags? She was beginning to believe they were magical. He’d kept a small frying pan, a cooking grate in there, and now this little pistol.

  “It’s not hard. Pull the hammer back and squeeze the trigger. Imagine it’s part of your hand and point your finger at your target. Just be sure what you’re shooting at because it’s only got one shot and it doesn’t reload quickly.” He sauntered across the room and paused before he pulled the door open. He glanced over his shoulder, a renewed grin crossing his face. “Just don’t shoot me by mistake.”

  “I’ll try not to.” She tried to keep the confusion and hurt from her voice.

  A.J. walked back to her, snagged her around the waist and pulled her into him. He caught her chin in his hand, tilting her head to him. His lips whispered against hers, with no more weight than the caress of a feather. He stepped back, trailing his hands from her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Allison nodded. “A.J., I don’t think I like being Mrs. VanBuren. I like the sound of Mrs. Adams better.”

  “So do I,” he admitted, settling that battered, sweat-stained Confederate cavalry officer’s hat onto his head. “So do I.”

  Chapter Nine

  Thou art to me a delicious torment.

  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Deep in thought, A.J. walked slowly down the center of the street, the package from the mercantile wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string under one arm. This situation was getting out of hand. When he pulled Allison off that train, he had only intended to use her to draw in Nathan Garrison. Discovering Garrison in Omaha and noting the fool so openly trailed her had been a heaven-sent bonus. He owed the man a bullet between his eyes for his murder of Jed. Knowing that Garrison still worked for Oakten meant he might be able to kill two birds with one stone, as the old adage went. If Oakten was as desperate to find Allison as it seemed he was by offering that astronomical reward, she could be used to lure that bastard in as well. He had sworn, when he knelt at Cathy’s grave that he would kill the men responsible.

  And that vow brought him to another wrinkle in this whole escapade. As marriage proposals went, he was certain, his proposal to Allison was neither romantic nor anything he had even planned. He’d been a second year cadet at the Virginia Military Institute when he asked Cathy on bended knee to marry him, his heart in his throat. He had promised Cathy when he proposed to her that he would always love her and so long as they were both alive there would never be any other. He had reiterated that promise in his vows six months later and he had kept those vows, even long after Cathy’s death released him from keeping them. The real question was did he still love Cathy or was it her memory and the need for vengeance he was clinging to?

  Troubled with the direction of his thoughts, he stepped up onto the boardwalk outside the barber shop and let himself in.

  The barber, a completely bald, slightly heavy-set man, heaved himself to his feet. “What can I do for you?” He dropped the copy of The Policeman’s Gazette he had been reading onto the counter-top.

  “How much for a shave?”

  “Twenty five cents and for another twenty five, I can cut your hair.”

  “Sounds fine.” A.J. sat in the barber’s chair. The barber tilted it back and A.J. heard him lift the lid off a warming box. A moment later, a hot, moist towel was wrapped around his face. His eyes slid shut.

  “Passing through?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Our wagon broke an axle and that night our oxen wandered off. I’m beginning to think getting to Oregon isn’t as great as everyone says it is. Never shoulda listened to my wife about how wonderful it’ll be.”

  “Name’s Sean. I’ve been to Oregon. Actually was born there. It’s too damn wet for my tastes.” The
barber pulled the towel from A.J. and lathered his face. “‘Course, we got stuff they ain’t got, like snow eye-ball deep in the winter, and tornadoes in the spring and summer, and hail storms like that one yesterday just about any season. You and your Missus weren’t caught out in that, were you?”

  “Almost. We found an abandoned homestead to shelter in.”

  Sean tilted A.J.’s head back a little more and the razor whisked down his throat. “Lucky for you. Could have been really bad if you were out in it. I’ve seen hail, but I ain’t never seen hail that big.”

  His head was twisted to the other side.

  “If I chatter too much, just tell me to quit. But there’s something about my chair that makes most men doze off. Must be relaxing.”

  “You’re not talking too much. And, I can’t doze off. If we want to eat, I was told we have to be in the dining room by six for supper.”

  “My missus runs a tight ship over there. If you’re late, you just tell her it was my fault, that I got to chattering and I made you late. She’ll just roll her eyes. She’s a good woman. Never thought I’d learn to appreciate Helga after my Mary. Helga had it rough when we were first wed.” Sean wiped away the last of the shaving lather and put another hot, damp towel around A.J.’s face. A few moments later, the barber was lifting his hair and the only sound was the snipping of scissors, until Sean spoke again. “Helga thought I was hanging onto a ghost or a memory. Took me a while to convince myself I needed to let go but I did that long before I asked Helga to be my wife.” He abruptly changed subjects. “Been a while since you had this cut.”

  “A couple of months.”

  “I’m done, but if you wanna sit there for a few, it’s fine.”

  A.J. shook his head and handed the man a dollar. “Keep the change for the advice.”

  Sean laughed and tilted the chair to an upright position. “Not sure what advice I gave you, but thanks…and you’re welcome.”