by Carol Arens
"This is different, isn't it?" she whispered. He'd been with other women, probably many times, but this was different.
He nodded, the weight of his male part heavy against her belly. "So different, darlin'. My body's been through this dance before, but I swear, it's my first time."
A kiss came next. It started tenderly, a peck and a gentle embrace of lips while his hand stroked toward the center of her craving.
His big rough fingers parted her curls and hovered over her swollen flesh. As soon as his finger slid inside her folds and began to stroke, the kiss exploded into an inferno, hot and greedy. Her hips lifted, as though he were a composer drawing sensual notes from her body. She was an instrument, responding to his touch. The symphony he conducted within her reached toward the sky, climbing to somewhere she had never imagined.
When she thought she had surely reached the stars, she felt the pressure of his manhood replace his fingers. It pushed at her and she opened her legs.
He entered slowly and she closed around him, welcomed him with a thrust of her hips. He pushed back and they rocked together, hurtling toward the place that made them one flesh.
* * *
Zane sat beside the campfire with his open palms stretched toward the warmth of the flames. He gazed at Missy's form buried beneath the blanket with a foot of blond curls peeping out the top.
Under the bend of Zane's knees, Muff sat tall, keeping a close watch on the sky to the west. Once in a while he growled with his furry ears erect and twitching. With Zane's mother's ribbon tied in a bow about his neck, the little dog made a funny sight.
"It hasn't made a turn toward us yet, little man, but it could."
Muff leaped to his paws and barked at the dark where shadows moved in the wind beyond the campfire's glow.
"You need to quit your trembling. It won't make that storm go one way or another." He scooped Muff up and tucked him under the blanket with Missy.
The lace of Missy's shift and the curve of her breast brushed his hand when he snuggled the dog close to her.
"Sure love to crawl inside with you both, but I've got some walking and considering to do," he whispered.
What had happened had happened and he wouldn't change that for the world. This was his wedding day and he'd never felt better in his life. But there were some troubles that came with it and he needed a good airing to settle things into place.
He walked down a slope toward the stream, and then paced up and over a small knoll. He didn't go far but he needed a little distance to think over the great change his life had taken. If there were any disturbance at camp he would easily hear it.
First he would deal with his troubles, put them in their proper perspective, then move on to rejoice over the path he had taken, or more correctly, the path his bride-to-be had set him squarely upon.
Number one, the problem that niggled at his heart most insistently, was the telegram that he had sent to Edwin Devlin. If Missy ever found out about it, and he didn't see how she would not, she'd be hurt. She might be angry enough to turn her back on him for good. Who could blame her, really? To anyone looking from the outside, it would appear that he had drawn her in with sweet nothings only to keep her close at hand until he could collect the money from her brother.
Zane squatted beside the stream and listened to the water run over rocks and around reeds. The babbling rush ought to soothe his nerves but the number-two problem was nearly as big as number one.
Missy was from a world he didn't know and was sure he wouldn't fit in with. His own life of living from town to town, earning the anger of most people he met, was no life for a wife. And babies, how would he tote a family around after men like Wesley Wage?
Zane picked up a stone and skimmed it across the surface of the stream. Splash, splash, sink.
Like one problem, two problems, sunk in the water. And that's all there were, two, but they were big ones.
He stood up and began to pace. Sometimes ideas came with movement. Action, the regular setting of one foot after another, put his mind in an orderly place.
A shaft of moonglow sliced over his boot toe. He glanced heavenward to see the moon shining down through a break in the clouds.
The sight of the brave little moon breaking through the chaos of the storm made him stop and stare. In the past he hadn't been much for signs, but he studied it, wondering if maybe...
First thing, he would wake Missy and tell her about the wire to her brother. He'd tell her the truth and silence her anger with a declaration of his undying love. If she tried to leave him he would kiss her and kiss her again until she listened to reason.
To describe Missy as remarkable was to do her an injustice. She was everything good, pure and fun. It might take an hour or two, but she would forgive him.
Problem number two was easier. The answer reached right out to embrace him. The town of Dewton needed a sheriff. He could honor his mother's memory by protecting the growing population and keep his family safe at home in the process.
Zane leaped in the air with a shout. His problems had answers that would work! If they wouldn't, why would the moon be beaming out of the storm like it was?
He'd received, of all the unexpected things he had never expected, a magical sign. Missy would be pleased.
Suddenly the air rushed out of his lungs, his heart slammed against his rib cage and knocked him back half a dozen steps.
As he stared at the little moon pushing back the storm, a yellow-winged butterfly flitted up from the grass, followed by another and another until, across his line of vision, the sky appeared to be covered with them.
Impossible, but there it was, a horde of blue, yellow, red and gold wings glittering in the moonlight.
"I'll be damned," he whispered to the night. "I'll be hog-tied damned."
A rolling cloud smothered the moon, but he had seen what he had seen. There was more to life than his dried-out heart had ever dreamed of.
He let out another shout, but it was muted by the sound he had dreaded most this stressful, wonderful night.
The rumble of a freight train's engine shook the air, coming fast and straight. The ground shuddered even though the nearest train track was more than thirty miles away.
Zane ran toward camp but the distance back was longer than he had remembered. His boots seemed made of lead. Rain lashed his face with big stinging drops that blurred the land before him. The distant rumble grew so loud that he could not hear his boots pounding on the earth.
He cursed himself for giving in to the whim to walk off his problems. It had been pure folly to let Missy out of his sight on a night like this.
Wind pressed Zane backward. Leaning into it, he fought for every step toward the dimming campfire. Wet hair whipped across his face, stinging his eyes.
Violent gusts buffeted him from side to side, back and forth. Sand and bits of flying grass pelted his hands and head. He raised his arm to shield his vision.
Where was Missy? He'd expected her to be standing, fearfully clutching Muff to her middle, looking for the man who should have been there to shield her.
The blanket she had been sleeping under had blown and snagged on the pair of saddles lying a few feet from the dying fire.
A woman in a white shift shouldn't be hard to spot in the dark, but all that met his gaze was hurtling debris. Perilously close, the tornado swept over the earth, roaring and sucking up everything in its path. Through the glare of fractured lightning he watched its long funnel eat up the land.
"Missy!" he shouted, but couldn't hear his voice.
"Miii-sss-y!"
Prairie sod, no longer firm under his boots, looked as though it had taken on unnatural life, as though it had become ocean waves, but made of sand and torn-up sections of sod.
The horses were missing as well as Missy. Swaying on his feet, trying to hold on against the wind, he prayed that Missy had taken the animals and now rode toward safety.
Surely that is what she had done. Right now she was probably lookin
g for him, riding into peril because he had felt the need to go walking about.
God forgive him.
"Ace!" he yelled, knowing that it was beyond hope that the good animal would hear him. He let out a shrill whistle, even knowing the horse was gone.
A flash revealed the shimmer of something stuck in the blanket that flailed over Ace's saddle.
Mercifully, the wind shifted. The freight-train noise grew more distant. The ground settled under his feet and he was able to dash toward the saddle.
He yanked the pearl-tipped thing from the blanket, pricking his palm.
It was a hat pin.
Missy's hat pin. The very one he had last seen buried in the fleeing behind of Wesley Wage.
Chapter Fifteen
Missy tugged against the twine binding her wrists. The narrow brown cord was wrapped so tight that it felt like barbed wire cutting into her flesh. A pair of red welts was all she had gained for her struggles.
Good and truly trapped on Number Nine, with Wesley Wage's rigid arms about her, she tried to think of a way out of this mess.
Today was her wedding day and she would not spend it as a captive to a bank robber...or, as seemed increasingly likely, swallowed alive by a tornado.
Before this day was done, she would stand before the preacher and become Mrs. Zane Coldridge, legally wedded
and bedded.
"You are no gentleman, Mr. Wage." The fitful wind caught her words and blew them back at his face.
Behind her, she heard the wanted man chuckle. She leaned forward so that she wouldn't feel the ripple of it against her back.
"That is a fact, Miss Devlin," he yelled over the war cry of the storm. "Though I was raised to the highest of social standards."
"Let me down, you fool!" she yelled back. She jabbed backward with her elbow but only brushed the cloth of his dandified coat. This earned another humorless chuckle.
With two riders on her back, Number Nine struggled. The horse tried her best to outdistance the sweeping funnel cloud that seemed closer by the minute, but the poor animal was a stable rental, surely frightened and longing for the comfort of her stall.
"What was that, Miss Devlin? I can't seem to hear you over the wind."
Aunt Hattie's left foot! What was she to do now? If it were simply a matter of her own survival, she could ride along with the villain until a moment of escape presented itself. But with Ace and Daisy tied to Number Nine's stirrups, Zane was stuck. Without a horse, he might not survive.
Missy shivered, but not from the damp weight of the air. She thought that she could free the horses, but there would be a loss involved. The cost of freeing them would likely break her heart.
She stiffened her back, set her mind, turning it away from the hurtful truth that saving Zane would likely cost her Muff.
The pup was tied up in Number Nine's saddle pack and once she got the horses free, there wouldn't be time to free him.
The brave little dog didn't deserve to be left behind. He had acted like the biggest and bravest of canines while Wage was abducting her.
The villain had come upon her during a sweet dream of flowers and wedding vows. She had assumed that the man holding her hands together was Zane until Muff started to bark as fierce as though he was a full-grown wolf and she opened her eyes.
Before her mind understood that she should fight, the twine had been secured about her wrist, her mouth clamped over by Wage's soft, stringy hand.
While she had been biting and kicking her assailant, Muff had chomped onto the man's ankle and pant leg. A wild beast could not have been half as brave.
In the end, Wage had produced her pearl-tipped hat pin, pointed it at Muff's throat and ordered her up on the horse. Her plea to leave Muff behind had been turned down. It seemed that Muff was the price of her cooperation.
Now, she was faced with the unthinkable. She would be forced to leave her little protector behind.
One thing mattered...freeing Ace. If she didn't, Zane might be killed. Even as bold and brave as her intended was, he couldn't outrun a tornado.
She turned around, looking up the long pinched nose of her kidnapper. Her hair flew about his half-bald head like slapping fingers. "Let Zane's horse go, I'll do anything you ask."
"I truly would be a fool to do that, now, wouldn't I? I aim to collect that price on your head."
"Clearly, this storm has addled your brain. You are the criminal with the price on his head."
"Play the innocent, then, maybe you are. It makes no difference either way."
So be it, he'd slammed the easy door in her face. She would pick her moment then leave her best little friend in the care of an unprincipled criminal, and a brain-addled one to boot.
"You are a fool to the bone," She shouted in his face. "But are you a killer, too?"
"You offend me, Miss Devlin. In my line of work there is the occasional and unavoidable act of violence, but so far, no killing," he called. "I assure you, I'm the highest-minded of criminals."
"Kidnapping women and puppies while they sleep is less than admirable!"
He cocked his head and arched a razor-thin eyebrow. A pea-sized ball of hail smacked him between the eyes. "You'll barely be bruised by the adventure...and according to your journal, you are quite fond of adventure."
"There's adventure and there's madness, you fool." This was not adventure. This was life and death.
"And Zane?" She longed to scratch Wage's face, to rip at him with her teeth, but her bound hands prevented her. "You'd let him die?"
"He's a resourceful man. In my experience, he keeps turning up like a bad penny." A sudden gust buffeted them so that Wage had to grab tight to Missy to keep his balance in the saddle. "You'll make me comfortable, Miss Devlin. Financially speaking, that is. I don't intend to lose you. With his horse restored, Coldridge would be on us like a shot."
Suddenly, the wind felt like a living creature...a demon let out of the underworld. It plucked at the roots of her hair; it stole her breath and roared in her ears.
The funnel that had been dogging them was so close now that Missy sensed a change in air pressure. It was likely that she and Wage would die in the next moment or two, but not before she gave Zane his chance.
The wind pushed. Hail beat down, stinging like an attack of bees. Wage fought to stay in the saddle while urging the terrified horses away from the sucking center of the storm.
Escape was simple. Missy leaned sideways, with the draw of the wind. Wage toppled and Missy landed hard on his groin. He squealed, piggy-like.
She scrambled to her feet. Half-blinded by sand and debris, she felt her way along Number Nine's neck and shoulder until she came to the place where Ace's reins were secured.
With her hands tied and numbed by ice pellets, she couldn't manage the knot. The leather was stiff; her petticoat blew about, snapping at her fingers and obscuring her view of the tangled leather.
Too soon, Wesley Wage struggled to his feet, buffeted to and fro while grabbing his crotch. He hobbled toward Missy, shoved her hands away from the knot then untied it.
He slapped Ace's rump. The horse trotted several yards away and pranced in a nervous circle.
"There!" Wage shouted and grabbed her hands. "The damned animal's free, now get back on the horse."
"I won't!" She raised her knee, threatening his injured area. He let go of her bound wrists.
"If you don't come with me you're going to get sucked up in that thing!"
She reached for the saddlebag, but that knot fought her as well. Muff whimpered inside. Wage spun her around.
"Look, Miss Devlin, come or don't, I'm out of here." He pulled into the saddle, fighting the gusts that tried to blow him down.
He stared down at her, his eyes grown round and lidless with fright. He reached for her with flexing fingers.
She stumbled backward, shaking her head, her hair wild and hissing like Medusa's serpents. Suddenly the hail quit.
"Two thousand dollars isn't worth my life!" he yelled,
then kicked Number Nine hard in the side. He rode away with Daisy bouncing behind.
Missy ran and stumbled. Up again, she covered her face with her arms to protect it from gusts that came from every way at once. She plodded in a direction that she hoped was away from the twister's path. With the noise, with the prairie being heaved and spewed about, she couldn't tell.
Beside her she recognized the solid thump of Ace's hooves.
"Run!" She shooed her arms at him. "Go find Zane!"
Instead of running, the big horse leaned against her. She grabbed onto his mane and twisted her trussed-up hands in it.
She let the horse drag her, while she held on for dear life, praying all the while that Zane was in a safer place.
* * *
Daybreak shone bright without a cloud in sight. Neither was Missy in sight.
Tracking was impossible with the ground torn up as it was. The path that three horses would have taken had become unreadable.
With his hat blown probably back to Luminary, the sun shone bright in his face. Heat waves blurred the horizon. He shaded his eyes with his hand but the land gave nothing away.
An hour of walking toward the east revealed nothing. For no reason other than to ease the strain on his eyes, he turned north. One direction was as good as another since he had no idea where Wage had taken Missy.
Two hours north proved futile so he turned west. His shadow, this early in the morning, stretched long and for three more hours was his only company.
Before he met Missy, his shadow had been the only company that he required most of the time. Now, without her, every second stretched out long and full of emptiness.
"Where are you, darlin'?" he whispered. All at once he shouted, "Missy!"
With any luck, Wage had gotten them away from the tornado. So far he hadn't found what he feared the most. In all his hours of searching he hadn't seen any sign of death for woman or beast.
