Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature

by Susan Johnson

  “You couldn’t have known, George,” Blaze assured him. “Nor can you inquire after every passenger’s motives.”

  “Sure enuf, there, ma’am,” he answered with a modicum of relief. The frontier attracted people who wished to escape the complications of their past; it wasn’t prudent to ask a person’s last name. “The lady was right polite though, spoke real qualitylike. That’s why I remember where she were goin’. Thought she might be the new school marm up that way. She’s there by now, though,” he noted with a nod in the direction of Great Falls. “That stage gets in round supper time.”

  After thanking the ticket agent for his information, Blaze and Daisy took their leave.

  “Jo could be at Flynn’s by now,” Daisy remarked, trying to be reassuring as they began retracing their steps home.

  “God willing and the Empire boys notwithstanding,” Blaze murmured, her face grave. “Your father and Trey left too late to be of help,” she added, biting her bottom lip.

  “Jo has a weapon.”

  “We can only pray she doesn’t need it. One woman against who knows what,” Blaze noted, nervously. “I wish your father hadn’t taken most of his men.”

  “Jed and Matt are here. They’re good trackers. Although, in all likelihood, Father will reach her first, or better yet, she’s already at Flynn’s,” Daisy murmured.

  And neither woman cared to contemplate the alternatives.

  “We have to tell Lucy,” Blaze said, tersely.

  “Brace yourself for another tirade,” Daisy warned.

  But when they reached the Plantation House, the anguished mother they’d so recently witnessed in full tragic form had gone out for the evening.

  ❧

  “She must have recovered from her swoon,” Daisy observed, drily.

  “How fortunate for us,” Blaze briskly said. “We’ll leave a note. And if Lucy cares to reach us tonight for more details, she can come to the house.”

  “Ten dollars says she won’t.”

  “A thousand dollars says she won’t. The Finnegans are having a dinner and dance and she and Ed are very close, I hear.”

  “But then Mabel Finnegan has taken an interest in the church choir of late, I understand,” Daisy noted with a quirked grin. “The new choir director has more than a fine voice, rumor has it.”

  “My goodness—Mabel?” Blaze looked shocked.

  “Who would think,” Daisy replied, smiling faintly.

  “I can’t say she doesn’t deserve a bit of fun in her life. Ed’s never home.”

  “Which fact allows for private choir lessons in Mabel’s parlor, I’m told.”

  “My word,” Blaze breathed, the image enough to leave one speechless.

  Chapter 18

  When Jo estimated they were nearing Flynn’s ranch, she offered up a long, perhaps slightly too loud, plaintive sigh that pricked up her horse’s ears and caused it to whinny back. But intent on her plan, she ignored the fact that her acting was less than professional and said in a less dramatic fashion, “I’m completely exhausted. Is it much farther to the rendezvous?”

  Her guide shot her a glance. The truth was not likely to get him his remaining fee, which was to have been paid when they reached their destination. “Mebbe another hour—more likely two,” he said about the four-hour ride.

  “Oh, dear. Is there a ranch nearby where we might stop?” Jo spoke in a small wispy voice. “Even a brief rest would help.”

  Her guide hesitated, weighing the danger of approaching Flynn Ito’s in the dead of night.

  “Surely, there must be somewhere we could find accommodations,” Jo insisted, reining her horse to a stop and sighing again.

  Her guide brought his mount to a halt. “I don’t know, lady.” He frowned. “The people round here are apt to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “If you could just point me in the right direction,” she said, her tone soft with appeal. “I’m sure they won’t shoot a lady.” Considering Flynn’s reputation with the fair sex, she just might just be closer to right than wrong. “Tell you what.” Caution colored every nuance of Howard Nagel’s tone. “If’n you don’t mind ridin’ a piece on your own, I could take you as fer as Flynn Ito’s fence line.”

  “I would be ever so grateful.” Jo’s smile required no pretense, but for good measure she added a further embellishment as stage prop to her artifice. “Do you think my friends may have sought shelter with this Mr. Ito as well?”

  “Doubt it, ma’am. He don’t take kindly to strangers ridin’ in.” “In any event,” she said with genuine delight, “if you’d be so kind as to show me the way, I’ll take my leave of you there.”

  “It’s a fer piece yet.”

  “How far?”

  “Mebbe five mile or so to the ranch once we reach the fence.”

  After traveling for hours, surely she could manage a few miles more. “I’ll be perfectly fine,” she pleasantly said. “Why don’t I follow you,” she suggested, waving him on.

  When they reached the barbed-wire boundary of Flynn’s land, a broad valley lay before them in the moonlight, spreading out as far as the eye could see, a silvery ribbon of river visible in the distance.

  “That’s it, ma’am.” Her guide pointed to a barely perceptible flicker of light. “Sun River Ranch. You still got time to change your mind.”

  “I appreciate your help, Howard, but I’ll be quite safe, I’m sure.”

  “Suit yerself, ma’am.” In Montana Territory, it never paid to get too personal. No questions asked was the golden rule.

  “Thank you very much for your help,” Jo said, handing him the rest of his fee.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” With a dip of his head, he turned his horse and rode away with a clear conscience and the most money he’d ever earned for half a day’s work.

  ❧

  Jo’s bay took the fence with a hunter’s spring, clearing the top wire with a foot to spare. But the moment she landed on Flynn’s land, three riders, one of them an Indian, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and she realized Howard knew of what he spoke. Flynn didn’t take kindly to strangers.

  “Lookin for someone, ma’am?” It wasn’t a polite question and the rifle the man speaking had trained on her was cocked.

  “Yes, I am,” she replied, careful to use a courteous tone, conscious of the precariousness of her position. “Mr. Ito is a friend of mine.”

  “He prefers ladies wait for an invitation,” the man said gruffly.

  “I’ve come all the way from Helena today. I’m sure if you asked him, he’d want to see me.”

  The moon was so bright, she could see the three men’s eyes as they appraised her, and she caught no glimpse of benevolence.

  “I met Mr. Ito at Stewart Warner’s dinner,” she went on in explanation, feeling a need to breach the uncompromising silence.

  The man with the rifle nodded. “Could be.”

  “He told me about the fire.” Three glances narrowed and she realized she may have made a mistake. They were contemplating whether she was a spy for the Empire. “Please, I’ve been on the road all day. Ask Flynn if he knows me. If he doesn’t, let him decide what to do.”

  The lengthy silence was broken only by the swish of the horses’ tails, the men’s scrutiny unwavering.

  “You have to give up your weapons,” the leader finally said. It was a brusque, curt command augmented by three rifles held high and directed at her head.

  She quickly complied, handing over her Colt that hung from the gun belt on her saddle horn.

  The man who had done the speaking motioned for her to fall in beside him and they all rode in silence toward the lights.

  When they reached the ranch house, the men dismounted and signaled her to do the same. Without speaking, they indicated she follow them as they ascended a short flight of steps leading onto a porch that stretched the length of the facade. With the shadowed porch and sense of complete isolation, the heavily armed men crowded around her suddenly took on an ominous note
.

  As they came to a halt before a heavy timbered door, the leader knocked in a sharp staccato rhythm that may have been a signal.

  The sound of boot heels crossing the floor echoed in the quiet of the night.

  Jo’s heart began beating furiously. For the first time since she’d left Helena, she questioned the intelligence of her plan.

  The door swung open slowly.

  “This here lady says she knows you, boss.”

  The light was behind him so Flynn’s face was in shadow, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp and lucid animosity. “She does, does she?”

  His low growl came from deep in his throat; the harsh, disobliging tone so striking, one of the men immediately seized Jo’s arm and began dragging her away.

  “Flynn! For God’s sake!” Jo cried, struggling to dislodge the man’s rough grip as he pulled her toward the stairs. “You can’t do this! Tell them you know me! Flynn, damn you, say something or my father will have your head!” she yelled, scrambling to secure whatever leverage she could against Flynn’s cold gaze.

  “Let her go.” The words were without inflection.

  “I should hope so,” she blustered, shaking off her captor’s hand, stalking back to the opened doorway and gazing up at Flynn with blazing eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are!”

  “Someone a lot bigger than you,” he said in that same neutral tone.

  “I’m not afraid of you!”

  “You’re on my land and my porch—a helluva long way from Helena—and if you had half a brain, you’d have sense enough to shut the hell up.”

  “I don’t have to shut up. For your information, I came up here to apologize, but believe me, I won’t now! In fact, I don’t ever want to see you again!” Spinning around, she began to stalk away.

  She didn’t see the faint nod of Flynn’s head dismissing his men, no more than she heard his footsteps as he overtook her. But she heard his voice in her ear when he said, “You’ll get lost at night, you little bitch,” and she felt his hands close around her waist and lift her off her feet.

  She was kicking and squirming and screaming at the top of her lungs as he carried her at arm’s length before him into the house. Once inside, he dropped her so abruptly, she gasped and waved her arms wildly trying to keep her balance.

  Shutting the door, he stood quietly as she found her footing, waiting for her attack. But she brushed her hair back from her face instead and stomped her boots to shake down her riding skirt, a small cloud of dust settling on his carpet with her effort. Then she straightened her belt and shirt cuffs and collar as though it mattered what she looked like at one in the morning in the middle of nowhere. When she finally looked up, her gaze was cool. “I hope you’re more gracious to your other guests.”

  “If I invite them, I am. No one invited you.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m here.”

  “So I see.”

  “You needn’t be so rude.”

  “Pardon, me, who was just screaming at me and trying to unman me with her boot heels?”

  “I expected you to be more pleasant.”

  “And I expected you to stay in Helena.”

  She looked sheepish for a transient moment before changing her mind, her gaze altering before his eyes into her more familiar straightforward directness. “I felt I should come and apologize for arguing with you in Daisy’s office.”

  “But you forgot about the apology,” he murmured sardonically. He knew why she’d come, but regardless she was tempting, she was damned inconvenient at the moment.

  “You can be extremely irritating; you know that, don’t you?”

  “If only you could have recalled my imperfections while you were still in Helena and sent me a note instead.”

  “I won’t be in the way.”

  “You’re already in the way.” He’d have to delay his attack while he sent her back and hope like hell the Empire didn’t strike in the interim.

  “I don’t know how you can say that. Your house is so large, you won’t even know I’m here.”

  “Jesus, Jo, could you be any more naive? Yes, I’ll very much know you’re here because my cock is at full attention whenever you’re within ten miles. But my lust aside, this isn’t a good time. I told you that in Helena. The Empire might attack any moment. This isn’t a fucking game—it’s real life; people get hurt. I don’t want you to be one of them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t help,” he curtly said, trying to think of something other than the exquisite feel of her hot cunt closing around his cock. “I’m going to have to have you escorted home through a countryside crawling with my enemies which overrides about ten thousand sorrys.”

  “Let me stay,” she said as if he’d not spoken. “You look tired.”

  “I am. You still can’t stay.”

  “I could help you sleep.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll be good.”

  “I’m not interested in good women. Never have been. You’re going back.”

  “Damn you, Flynn, stop being so boorish and rude. I’ve been on the road all day and half the night, I’m dead tired and all I want is a bath, something to eat and a soft bed to lie on.” Her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes welled with tears. “And if you wish to continue to harangue me, you can do so in the morning.”

  He tried not to be affected by her distress. He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked even through a layer of trail dust. He definitely tried to blot out any thoughts of her eager, hot-blooded passions. And if her tears hadn’t spilled over, he told himself, he might have succeeded. But they did or perhaps he wasn’t yet completely delusional about his ability to withstand her allure. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, reaching her in two swift strides. “Hush, darling,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  The platitude echoed in his brain—jarring and ridiculous— but the lush feel of her effectively stilled his reservations and even the callous savagery of the world and their irreconcilable differences were eclipsed by the wave of happiness that engulfed him. And for those transient moments, he was able to forget what lay before him, what he had to do tomorrow or the next day, how she couldn’t be a part of his life in this perilous time.

  Her cheek lay against his chest, her body melted into his and she held him tightly, as though the tenacity of her grip would ensure he stay. “Tell me you’re happy that I came,” she whispered, looking up at him with soulful eyes.

  “How could I not,” he said softly.

  “Then I can stay?” A plaintive, small query so out of character, the words stayed in her brain as though burned there with fire. But she waited for his answer, desperately waited, feeling as though her life depended on it.

  When he didn’t reply, she said, “Please,” in a breathy little sob and he couldn’t refuse even while he knew he should.

  “For tonight,” he consented, unable to send her away.

  Understanding she daren’t ask for more, she said, “Thank you.”

  He smiled for the first time since his return to his ranch. “You’re the pushiest little bitch I’ve ever met.”

  “You like me anyway.”

  He grinned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “I know,” she said with a happy smile. “And I like you enough to travel all this way to hear you say disagreeable things to me.”

  “We’ll call a truce tonight,” he whispered, dipping his head, brushing her lips with his in the lightest of kisses.

  “I’ll take whatever I can get,” she breathed.

  His smile was instant and very close. “I can help you there.”

  “I rather thought you might. I expect a special reward for traveling so far.”

  “How special?”

  “All night special.”

  He glanced at the clock, decided he could sleep some other time and said, hushed and low, “I just happen to have a night free.”


  “Do we have a bedroom?” she inquired, playfully, surveying the room. “Although, in my current state of sexual deprivation, that couch will do.”

  “It’s not big enough,” he replied with the practicality of a large man who also happened to have more in mind than a quick fuck.

  “Ummm ... I like the sound of that.”

  His grin was wicked. “Little tart.”

  “Actually, a very dusty tart. Would a bath be out of the question?”

  ❧

  A short time later, Jo was eating a roast beef sandwich Flynn had made for her since his cook was sleeping, a glass of wine was beside her on the small bench and she was watching him set out soap and small wooden tubs in his Japanese bathhouse. The building had been constructed over a natural hot springs, the weathered wood smooth as silk, the slatted floor and tub surround beautifully joined with an artisan’s eye for wood grain. A folding screen of glass overlooked a small walled garden, the early-spring flowers pale and fragrant in the moonlight.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “We don’t have anything so gorgeous in Florence.”

  “Bathing in Japan is steeped in tradition and ritual. It’s about entering quiet spaces, relaxing at the end of the day, cleansing one’s soul. Father was fortunate to find this hot spring. One reason, I suspect, he wanted this land.”

  “This experience might turn out to be the highlight of my trip,” she said, smiling. “The tub looks large enough for—”

  “Eight.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m insanely jealous.” She doubted he’d bathed with seven men.

  Communal bathing was normal in Japanese households, but he chose not to explain. And in honesty he couldn’t deny her assumption. “I’ve been told it holds eight,” he corrected, gallantly.

  “That’s better. And I’ve been told you’re a virgin.”

  His gaze flicked up and met hers in a flash of surprise. Then he dipped his head and said, soft as velvet, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How did that happen ... a handsome man like you?”