Hidden Fires

by Sandra Brown

  Carson was nervous and kept clattering his china and cutlery until Olivia berated him and said that he was driving her to distraction. He humbly apologized and settled down somewhat.

  Lauren pinned on her veiled hat. There was a flurry of gathering up gloves, extra coats in case a Norther should blow in, blankets, flasks, and, at Rosa’s insistence, a basket of sandwiches. At last, they departed.

  Jared handed Lauren and his mother up into the buggy while Carson climbed in with them. Jared mounted Charger, whose golden coat gleamed from the brisk brushing Pepe had given him that morning at Jared’s instructions.

  “Why don’t you ride with us, Jared?”

  “And let Charger miss all the fun today? No, thank you, Mother.”

  Lauren looked at him and he met her gaze. She understood his purpose. He was showing everyone that despite the new business undertaking, Jared Lockett, like his father, was first and foremost a rancher.

  Pepe guided their buggy through the traffic. There was already a large gathering of people at the groundbreaking site but they moved aside and deferentially made room for the prominent family who had made the dream of a railroad a reality.

  Lauren was aware of curious stares. She felt self-conscious as Jared came around to her side of the buggy and lifted her down, taking her hand lightly as he led her to where Carson and Olivia had joined the other dignitaries. The mayor of Coronado was there, a county judge, the state representative from the district, several clergymen, and the Vandivers.

  Jared held Lauren’s hand throughout the mayor’s speech, and released it only when it was his turn to spade a shovelful of dirt.

  Lauren was proud to be standing next to him. He was playing his part well, she thought ruefully. If she was aware that the townsfolk watched every move of their favorite son and his new wife, she was certain that he was cognizant of it, too. He treated her with respectful politeness, but there was new warmth in the amber eyes that glanced at her with embarrassing frequency. She stifled a soft gasp when his elbow pressed against her breast as he held her hand under his arm. He looked down at her quickly, but he made no effort to remove his arm.

  Moving en masse to the park, they filed onto the platform that had been erected in the center of it for the official proceedings. The state representative introduced Parker Vandiver, who stepped forward to deliver a flowery speech which extolled the advantages of a community committed to growth and expansion. Coronado, he proclaimed, was such a community.

  “This railroad will pave the way for more commerce, more opportunity, more profits for all the citizens of this great city. We are proud to have a small part in bringing this about. We will watch with eager interest to see the progress you make. We want each one of you to realize the potential this offers you, your business, your family. We will be even more pleased when we can return to announce the completion of the track.” There was a smattering of applause and a chuckle or two.

  “There is a man not with us today who I’m sure would have shared in this celebration. Mr. Ben Lockett made strides for years to bring this railroad to his community.”

  Lauren risked a quick glance at Jared, whose face had turned as hard as stone. She prayed he could restrain himself.

  “Ben Lockett would have been proud to have stood here today and seen the fruits of all his labors. We grieve his passing and are grateful to his widow and son, who endorse this venture wholeheartedly.”

  There was a burst of applause and cheers from the crowd for Ben Lockett and his family.

  After a few more minutes of overblown oratory, Parker Vandiver took his seat. The mayor graciously offered the podium to Jared. He politely refused. The audience was disappointed, but some remembered when he had been honored after the war. He had refused to speak then out of sorrow for those not fortunate enough to come home. There were murmurs of approval and nods of understanding. They had been worried over some of his wild escapades, but anyone with eyes could see that he had married a real lady and was devoted to her. Marriage had settled him down. No doubt about it.

  It was a good thing that the attention of the crowd was riveted on Jared and his wife, for had they been watching Olivia, they would have seen the perturbed expression on her face. She was angry with her son for not publicly commending the Vandivers and the railroad venture.

  The formalities were out of the way, and everyone was ready to have a good time. Barrels of iced-down beer were heaved onto wagon beds, relay races were organized, the band assembled in the bandstand and began playing their limited repertoire.

  As Jared was helping Lauren off the platform, one of the local youths came rushing up to him. The boy’s freckled face was flushed, and his carrot-red hair radiated from his head like a burnished halo.

  “Jared, Jared, there’s gonna be a shootin’ contest and they sent me to fetch you. Come on. They’re waitin’.”

  Jared smiled at the boy’s exuberance. “Lauren, may I present Billy Holt. Billy, Mrs. Lockett.” The boy gave her a perfunctory nod. “Shooting contest, huh?” Jared continued. “Why did they send you after me, Billy?”

  “Ah, hellfire and damnation! You know—” Realizing what he’d said, Billy turned scarlet cheeks toward Lauren. “Oh, pardon me, Miz Lockett,” he gulped. Not able to meet her eyes, he turned back to Jared. “Hell, Jared, you know you’re the best goddam shot anywhere around. It won’t be no kinda contest atall if you ain’t in it.” He was so excited that the other expletives escaped unnoticed.

  “Lauren, what do you think? Would you like to see a shooting contest?”

  She smiled up at Jared. “It sounds as though everyone will be disappointed if you don’t enter it.”

  “I’ll do it only if you’ll go with me and watch.”

  Billy was hopping first on one foot and then the other, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. “Please, Miz Lockett?”

  “Yes! Lead the way.” She laughed.

  Billy leapt into the air and whooped, then raced off to let the others know that the star attraction was on his way.

  Jared yelled for Pepe to bring his holster and pistol from the back of the buggy.

  Lauren looked up at him in feigned exasperation. “You knew all along there would be a contest, didn’t you? And you planned to enter it.”

  “Well, it’s nice to be begged every once in a while.” He grinned engagingly. “I just hope I don’t humiliate myself. Obviously I have a reputation to maintain.”

  They strolled over to the men who were gathering for the contest. Some were checking out their revolvers and others were placing bets on the outcome of the match. The odds were strongly in Jared’s favor.

  Billy and some of his cohorts had assembled bottles and cans for targets, and were lining them up on a fence rail about thirty yards away from the large oak tree that served as the base.

  Jared took off his coat and handed it to Lauren as Pepe brought him his holster. He checked the Colt pistol, twirling the chambers and nodding in satisfaction. Lauren remembered being told that vaqueros loaded only five of the chambers in the Colts which most of them toted. The first chamber was always kept empty, preventing excited cowboys from shooting their own knees, toes, or friends in a stressful situation.

  The ground rules were laid down by Carson whom, it appeared, was the accepted referee. “Each man takes three shots. One miss and he’s disqualified,” he intoned.

  The ten men entering the contest lined up. Jared was last in line to shoot. He caught a glimpse of Kurt Vandiver leaning negligently against a tree. He wasn’t watching the contest. He was watching Lauren. Jared looked toward her and she gave him an encouraging smile. He turned his attention back to the contest.

  It became boring as all of the gunmen proved to be expert marksmen. But slowly, one by one, they began to miss shots. There were three entries left, Jared among them, when someone suggested that they “fan” their hammers and try to hit three of the targets.

  The first man stepped to the line that had been drawn on the ground and, when given t
he signal, fired rapidly while fanning the hammer of his pistol. He hit three of the targets. The second man only hit two of the bottles.

  Jared stepped to the line. He picked a cheroot out of his breast pocket, nonchalantly struck a match, and lit the cigar, drawing on it for several seconds while everyone stood stock-still in anticipation and awe at his insouciance. His pistol was in his holster, though Lauren had seen him loading it while the others were shooting.

  “Call it when you’re ready, Carson,” he said over his shoulder.

  “You’re going to draw?” Carson asked in amazement.

  “Yes. Call it.” He spoke calmly, though Lauren could sense his excitement.

  Carson shrugged and gave the call. “Draw!”

  With the speed of lightning, Jared whipped his pistol from the holster and loud retorts spewed from the barrel so fast that they sounded like one continuous blast. When the smoke cleared, the witnesses saw only one bottle left on the fence. He had hit five out of six!

  A great roar went up from the onlookers and other contestants. Billy was turning somersaults in the winter grass. Lauren clapped her hands in delight. Jared took all of the slaps on his back with casual aplomb.

  “Goddam shootin’ machine, that’s what.”

  “Quicker’n a mad rattler.”

  “Heard that Rudy Mendez is just as fast. You can tell that sonofabitchin’ Ben taught them boys how to shoot.”

  Lauren was so wrapped up in the commotion that she didn’t notice Kurt standing near her.

  “It’s a pity he can’t control his drinking as well as he can that Colt.”

  She whirled on him, furious. But Jared’s approach prevented her from snapping a rejoinder to Kurt’s petty observation. Instead of wasting thought on him, she congratulated Jared as she helped him put on his coat. “Jared, you were brilliant.”

  Undaunted, Kurt interrupted any response Jared might have made. “Lauren, I have a surprise for you. Come over here. I want to show you something.”

  “Jared?” Lauren looked up at him. She didn’t know how to rebuff Kurt without making a scene for everyone in town to see.

  “It’s all right, Lauren. I’d like to see this surprise, too.” Jared took her arm possessively and followed Kurt’s stocky figure as he plowed his way through the throng. There was a small cluster of people gathered around something, and only when Kurt rudely shoved them aside did Lauren see it was a motorcar.

  She had seen them in North Carolina, particularly on her trips to Raleigh, but she had never seen one in Coronado. Apparently no one else had either, because the automobile was causing quite a stir.

  “It’s an Oldsmobile. One of the gasoline-powered models,” Kurt boasted. “I want to take you for a ride in it, Lauren.”

  The automobile was beautiful. The sides and motor casing were glossy black, trimmed in red. The tires had white sides, and the hubs of the wheels were red. The upholstery was black leather. There were two brass lanterns mounted on the front of the car, and brass accents shone on the steering stick and a mounted horn.

  “I… un—”

  “I’m sure your husband,” he stressed the word, “won’t mind. Would you, Jared?”

  Aware of the people standing by listening to every word, Jared smiled expansively and said, “I think Lauren would enjoy that very much. Here, dear, let me help you.” She saw the tight lines around his mouth as he lifted her carefully into the vehicle. She wanted to protest, but knew she couldn’t.

  Kurt went to the front of the car and made a big show of cranking the motor. It churned to life with a terrific racket. Running around to the driver’s side, he vaulted into the seat beside Lauren. Unconsciously she moved her skirt away from his heavy thigh. The gears were engaged and the automobile moved forward. Lauren cast an anxious look back at Jared, but he was staring at Kurt’s back with a threatening scowl.

  Kurt took the road that led down to the river and followed near its banks. They crossed a narrow bridge and continued on the road to the opposite side. They were virtually out of sight, hidden by the trees that grew along the riverbank on both sides. Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the ride, but the ominous presence of Kurt made Lauren terribly uncomfortable.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked close to her ear.

  “It’s very pleasant.”

  She shifted farther away from him on the narrow seat. He continued to maneuver the car along the rough road, and Lauren was relieved that he didn’t try to engage her in conversation.

  “I’d like to go back now,” she said. “Jared will be worrying about me.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “I’m not fooled by this so-called marriage, Lauren. Separate bedrooms, isn’t it?”

  “My married life is none of your business, Mr. Vandiver.” Her voice was hard and cold, but her cheeks flushed hotly. His swift, derisive look told her he was not convinced. He did, however, turn the automobile around, recross the bridge, and retrace their way back to where they had started. The crowd was still there. Jared was leaning against a tree, casually smoking a cigar. Only his flashing eyes indicated his anger.

  In his haste to get out and help Lauren down, Kurt didn’t take time to cut the motor. Jared strolled to the car with studied leisure, then jumped onto the seat vacated by Kurt.

  “You call that a ride, Vandiver?” He rammed the car into gear. Lauren clutched the seat as the car lurched, almost running over Kurt, who scrambled out of the way just in time. It had all happened so quickly that he was stunned as his Oldsmobile sped away at a speed he would never have dared to push it. The crowd went wild with hysterical laughter at his expense.

  Jared handled the steering stick like a magic wand, turning corners at breakneck speed, managing to hit every chuckhole in the road. They drove around the square in the middle of town several times, until Lauren’s head was spinning. She clung to Jared’s arm for fear of being thrown off the seat as the car bounced over the streets. Finally they left the center of town, taking one of the lanes that led away from the city.

  The wind lashed her face, and her bonnet blew back, painfully pulling against the pins that held it on. She would have reached up to take it off, but dared not release her grip on Jared.

  He was laughing uproariously, like a naughty child who had pulled off a tremendously funny joke on his school-teacher.

  “Did you see his face, Lauren? Did you? That sonofabitch! I’ll show him how to drive a car.” His hat had blown off, and his hair tumbled around his head. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered in delight over his own devilry.

  Before she realized it, Lauren was joining his laughter. They were like two children let loose from restrictions for the first time. Jared risked looking at her when he heard her laugh. He realized his error when his eyes returned to the road. It had curved and they were headed for the ditch. “Hold on!” he shouted as he applied the brakes. They slowed then, but the automobile was going too fast. The wheels locked and the car spun crazily until it slid off the road and the front wheel on the driver’s side sank up to the hub in the soft ground. Jared cut the chugging, choking motor.

  They were gasping for breath, momentarily shaken over their narrow escape from death or severe injury. The car sat at a perilous angle and Lauren had been thrown against Jared. He looked down at her and asked, “Are you all right?”

  She took stock of herself. “Yes, I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly. “I’m not so sure about Kurt’s Oldsmobile.”

  Then they burst into spontaneous laughter. They laughed so hard that tears gathered in their eyes. It was the first time they had ever laughed together. There had been times when one of the Mendez children had reduced the family to laughter with an antic, but this was different. This was a personal moment that they were sharing.

  Lauren dabbed at her eyes with her gloved hands and drew the long, lethal-looking hatpins from her hair. The hat came off and her heavy bun drooped almost to her shoulders; strands of hair escaped it completely.

  Jar
ed’s merriment subsided and, of its own volition, his hand touched the knot of hair resting against her neck. She raised her eyes to his and they held only briefly before she was in his arms. It happened quietly, naturally, instinctively. He held her to him and whispered her name repeatedly against her ear, his breath sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

  He drew back and searched her eyes for some sign of rejection, but saw only invitation. His mouth took hers in a telling kiss. Their lips sought and found and celebrated each other. The kiss was tender, but held promise of restrained passion. It was committing, but left room for reservation, for caution. It was a kiss for the moment. For now. Only now.

  Jared pulled away from her and studied her face, startled by the intensity of his feelings. They stared at each other in a silent communication. Then Jared rasped, “Lauren, kiss me again. Kiss me—”

  “Lauren, are you injured?” Kurt was galloping toward them pell-mell. He reined up before his car and dismounted, running to Lauren’s side and offering his hands up to her. Before she could assure him she didn’t want to be rescued from Jared’s embrace, his beefy hands gripped her around the waist and swung her down to the ground. “Lauren, are you all right? That idiot could have killed—”

  The breath gushed out of Kurt’s body when Jared’s fist landed squarely in his stomach after first spinning him around. Kurt landed on his back in the ditch and, before he could regain his breath, Jared had straddled his chest and pushed the barrel of his pistol against Kurt’s nose.

  “If you ever, ever, touch my wife again, I’ll kill you, Vandiver.” His face was an inch from Kurt’s and the words were strained through his teeth. “If you even look like you’re thinking of touching her, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?”

  “Get that goddam gun out of my face,” Kurt said with misplaced bravery. “It’s not loaded. You emptied it on that last round.” He struggled but couldn’t budge Jared.