Rainbow Fire

by Emilie Richards

  She had gotten from the tree to Jake's truck in a matter of seconds. Now she was moving carefully along the hill, intending to follow it to another in the long chain of hills and gullies that rimmed this section of road. Her hunter had the same problems and possibilities that she did. If she were lucky, he would search for her in the wrong places. If she weren't lucky, he would find her with unerring instinct.

  She took another step around the hill, then another, listening over the roar of the wind for any sound that might give her clues. There was a distance of twenty yards separating this hill from the next, and she calculated the odds of making it that far. Out in the open she would be a clear target. If it weren't for the dust. With the dust it was hard to say if she was a target at all. Everything depended on the wind. If she ran in the midst of a heavy gust, she would certainly be camouflaged. If she ran between gusts— and there would be no way to tell when she started which would be the case—she could be seen if the stalker were close enough.

  Either way, if she ran or if she didn’t, she was taking a chance. She balanced the possibilities and decided to run. At the beginning of the next strong gust of wind, she took off, speeding across the empty distance as she prayed that the gust would last. It didn’t, but no shot rang out to tell her that she had been exposed. She rested between rocks at the base of the hill and planned her next move.

  Minutes merged with minutes, hills with hills, as she made her way farther from the road. She rested at last in a cave-like projection of twin boulders and let the dust settle over her until she was indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape.

  * * *

  KELSEY WAS NOWHERE to be found. Dillon arrived at the Rainbow Fire hoping to see Jake’s ute parked beside the locked mine shaft. But the mine field was abandoned. Everyone with any sense had gone home to wait out the storm. Everyone except Kelsey.

  Without bothering to get out, he turned and started back toward town, stopping only when he saw Dimitri’s ute sloughing its way through the dust at the entrance to the Fifteen Mile Field.

  “No sign of her?”

  Dimitri stuck his head through his window and grimaced as dust filtered into his clean hair and beard. “No worries, we’ll find her.”

  “Did you search the old road leading off to the Breakaways?”

  “No. Do you want me to?”

  Dillon waved his hand in refusal. “You go back the usual way. Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t. I’ll take some of the side roads.”

  “What’ll I do if I find her?”

  Dillon shifted gears. “Turn her over your knee.”

  The old road leading out to the Breakaways, a reserve at the foot of the Stuart Ranges, had been abandoned years ago in favor of a better, straighter route. But Dillon knew that the beginning of the road provided a shortcut for some road train drivers who saw it as a way of cutting off extra miles and avoiding mining equipment that was being hauled to any of the nearby fields. Because of that fairly frequent usage, the road wouldn’t have looked abandoned to Kelsey, especially in the midst of a storm. Conceivably she might have confused the turn onto it for the correct one several miles up the Stuart Highway. Although Dillon knew that possibility was a long shot, he wanted to give it a try.

  He wove in and out of roads, some barely more than paths, until the road widened perceptibly. Then he slowed his pace, searching both sides of the road as his ute fought against the shrieking, driving wind.

  Less than a mile from the highway he stopped. There were no telltale tire tracks; the wind had taken care to smooth the ground to satin perfection. There was only a glimpse of metal caught between rocks a short distance from the road. Dillon reached for the full-length brown oilskin that he kept in his ute for emergencies. Snapping it as protection against the wind, he stepped out and went to investigate.

  The large slab of metal rattled against the rocks that held it, like a prisoner rattling prison bars. Dillon drew closer, shading his eyes against the stinging dust. The metal was so misshapen and dust covered that for a moment he didn’t recognize it. Then, his heart beat faster, he bent to run a finger down the distorted edge.

  The metal had once been the tailgate of a ute. Jake’s ute.

  He straightened and looked for signs of the ute itself. Dust greeted him, coating every particle of exposed skin and blurring his vision. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Kelsey? Are you out there?”

  The wind screamed back at him.

  He turned toward the road, following its barely perceptible edge on foot. He wasn’t even sure which way to go; he only knew that he was finally on the right track. Kelsey had been here, and there had been an accident.

  A hundred yards from the tailgate, he saw the dim, dust-coated outline of Jake’s ute. He started to run, covering the short distance like a man possessed. At the ute, he threw open the door and stared inside. Kelsey was gone.

  Dillon wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or distressed. She had been here, and there had been an accident, but now she was gone. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know where. He only knew he had to find her.

  But where? Along the road? Or had she wandered through the hills, dazed and disoriented? He considered his choices, then decided that if she were walking along the road, he could find her quickly in his ute. But if she were wandering alone through the open country, he could only find her on foot. His immediate choice seemed clear.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth again. “Kelsey! Are you out there?”

  When there was no answer, he started along the chain of low hills leading into the desert.

  * * *

  EVERY MUSCLE IN Kelsey's body was tied in knots, but with the self-discipline she had spent her adult years achieving, she made no attempt to change position. The dust had settled over her, just as it had settled over the rocks that sheltered her. So long as she didn't move, she was indistinguishable from them.

  Where was her hunter? Was he even now following the trail she had tried so hard not to leave? Did her footprints stand as testimony in the soft ground? Or had they been covered by the dust, a wind-driven gift from some guardian angel?

  And when the wind died, what was she to do?

  A strong gust sent debris spinning through the air. With it came the trace of a human voice. She resisted the temptation to lift her head in panicked surprise. Listening intently, she concentrated on the silences between howling gusts. There was nothing to hear.

  If her hunter were near, would she be able to hide, or would she have to defend herself? And what defense did she, cramped and aching, have against even a single bullet?

  "Kelsey!"

  This time the voice was clear and close. This time her head snapped up of its own volition. "Dillon." She whispered the word. For one awful moment she agonized over whether she had mistaken the voice. Would anyone care enough about another person to search for them in a storm like this one? Or was her hunter hoping she would believe the impossible?

  No! With a burst of faith, she clawed her way between the rocks. "Dillon!"

  She couldn't see anyone, only dust and spinning debris, but she heard his answer. "Kelsey, thank God."

  "Here, Dillon. By the rocks."

  When he finally materialized out of the storm, the expression on his face destroyed any doubts she had about how much he cared. Without a second thought she threw herself into his arms.

  Chapter 11

  DILLON WOVE HIS fingers through Kelsey's hair and tugged to bring her face to his. He had meant to demand an explanation, but one look at the joy in her eyes was his undoing. With a groan, he covered her dirt-streaked face with kisses, finally claiming her mouth. He tasted dust and desire as she wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her body against his.

  He finally tore his lips from hers. "What are you doing out in the middle of the bloody desert?"

  Kelsey came back to her senses slowly. When she did, she realized they were standing in the open, targets for anyone who wanted to trac
k them through the storm. "Someone tried to kill me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shelter of the hill where she had huddled in fear. "He may still be out there somewhere," she said softly.

  Dillon wasn't sure if the red haze he saw was dust or fury. "Tell me."

  Kelsey suppressed a shiver at his tone. This man was not the man who had kissed her. "I was run off the road by a gigantic truck," she said, moving close to him so her words wouldn't carry. His response was to the point and profane.

  Her hands slid between his, begging to be clasped, and he didn't deny her. "I found my way back to the road and braced myself against a tree, hoping someone would come along." She stopped, wondering if she should tell the truth. "Hoping you would find me," she said at last. "Dillon, I was such an idiot."

  He agreed, but his hands tightened around hers. "Go on."

  "After a while I heard the rumble of an engine, and I thought I was going to be rescued. Then the rumble stopped. I heard a click, and then nothing. I shouted, giving my name. A bullet split the tree over my head."

  "And you didn't see anything?"

  "No."

  "What did you do then?"

  "I made my way out here, hoping I'd be impossible to find."

  "You bloody well were. I was about to go back out to the road."

  She made a small sound of dismay, and Dillon pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her back. He meant to reassure her, but at the first touch of her body against his, he kissed her again, a hard, bruising kiss that had nothing to do with reassurance.

  Kelsey parted her lips for the assault. She was alive, but now she felt alive. Alive and overjoyed to be. His hands slid slowly to her waist, molding her flesh as his mouth molded hers. She was pliant in his arms, no trace of the woman who had once demanded that he not hold her. She wanted to be held. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted him.

  Finally, Dillon was the one to break away. For moments he had forgotten dust and danger. He had forgotten everything except the way she felt in his arms. "I've got to get you back to the dugout," he said, forcing speech through a throat constricted with desire.

  Her arms tightened around his waist. For a moment she could think of nothing except the kiss. Then reality filtered in. "What if the man with the gun is out there somewhere?"

  "I didn't see a vehicle. I think he left. It's probably safe, but we'll go slowly. I won't let anything happen to you."

  She had just a trace of her old spirit in her voice. "And I won't let anything happen to you."

  Dillon smiled unevenly, ruffling her hair. Clouds of dust swirled into the air to meet the clouds still swirling about them. "You're a sight. A real dust bunny."

  "You're no Beau Brummell yourself."

  "Let's go home."

  And somehow, the way he said the last word was all she needed to gather her waning strength to make the trip.

  * * *

  KELSEY DOUBTED SHE would ever be able to rid herself of all traces of the dust storm unless she took a week-long shower. Coober Pedy had a new, reliable water plant, but water was still neither plentiful nor cheap. She used what was available as judiciously as possible until she was hopeful she had scrubbed away everything except the invisible residue that still seemed to clog each pore.

  Dillon approached with his own towel when he heard the bathroom door open. Kelsey stepped out, her hair a tangle of wet ringlets, her complexion a shining apricot and rose. When she saw him, her eyes lit up in a way that made him forget he was still covered with dust.

  He cleared his throat. "You look a sight better."

  "Do I? I feel like a sprig of saltbush." She lifted one hand self-consciously to her hair. "My hair still feels stiff."

  He told himself not to even as his hand stretched out to stroke her curls. "Not to me."

  Unconsciously she stretched toward his hand, like a cat having her ears scratched. "Dillon, I'm sorry. I should have listened to Dimitri."

  They had encountered Dimitri on the way back to Coober Pedy. The dust-coated mechanic had let Kelsey know his feelings.

  Dillon tried not to notice the way she rubbed her cheek against the back of his fingers. "No worries about him. He likes to stay busy. Now you've given him something to do."

  Kelsey winced. At that moment Dimitri was probably towing Jake's ute back to the garage. Both he and Dillon had assured her it was a job that couldn't wait for the storm's end. Cars and trucks left by the side of the road were certain to be immediately stripped and torched, a local form of revenue and recreation.

  "I didn't know a dust storm could be that fierce." Kelsey was sorry when Dillon dropped his hand. She just wanted to enjoy him for a while before the world intruded.

  "We don't usually have murderers skulking around, hiding behind dust clouds."

  "That's the first time I've been threatened directly."

  "You're forgetting Serge."

  She had forgotten him. She hadn't once suspected Serge as she huddled between those dust-layered rocks. "Do you think it was him?"

  Dillon shrugged. Kelsey had never seen a shrug with more deadly intent. She felt a pang of sympathy for Serge. "You're going to find out, aren't you?"

  Dillon didn't answer, but she knew he was going to confront Serge just by the way he ignored her question and asked one himself. "Do you know what a miracle it was that I found you?"

  For a moment neither of them could mask their feelings. Gratitude and something indefinable shone from Kelsey's eyes. Dillon suspected that his heart was in his. Time seemed to stop.

  "I'd like to make some of this up to you," Kelsey said at last, looking away.

  Dillon tried not to let his imagination run wild. He waited.

  Kelsey felt suddenly shy. "I'd like to take you to dinner. My shout."

  He shook his head. "You've hardly enough cash to see you through your stay here."

  She banished her shyness as unworthy of a grown woman. "Tonight. At the Pizza Palace. Anna's promised us her best dinners," she said firmly.

  Dillon saw the subtle lift of her chin, and he wanted to kiss away her stubbornness. But somehow this afternoon he had passed the point where casual kisses were possible. If he kissed Kelsey again, they would end up in bed. And she wasn't ready for that.

  "You get some rest. If the Palace opens after the storm, I'll be happy to be your guest." He brushed past her and closed the bathroom door behind him.

  Kelsey stood in isolation in the hallway and looked at the closed door. Her experience with men was limited, but she knew what she and Dillon had just narrowly avoided. What she didn't know was how she felt about it.

  * * *

  AS FURTIVELY AS it had rolled into town, by late afternoon the dust storm rolled back out again, moving its devastation farther east. Coober Pedy's residents came out of hiding, swapping tales of this storm and worse that had long since passed. Among others, one story flew through town that Sergeant Newberry had been found at an unidentified miner's dugout when the miner returned from work early because of the storm's approach. The rumors varied. Some said that the Sergeant had been caught with the miner's wife; others said that he had been caught poking around the dugout with no good explanation why. Whatever the reason, Sergeant Newberry seemed to be sporting a black eye.

  The Pizza Palace was open but nearly empty when Kelsey and Dillon arrived for dinner. Kelsey had made arrangements with Anna earlier in the day as she had waited for Jake's ute to be fixed. Anna had promised to save a bottle of red wine and make ravioli, which she had assured Kelsey was Dillon's favorite.

  Now Anna greeted them at the door harboring a chubby, serious boy about ten years old under the ample curve of her arm. "Meet my son, Giorgio. He'll take care of you this evening. Say hello to Kelsey and Dillon, Giorgio."

  "How's it going, mate?" Dillon asked, extending his hand.

  Giorgio blushed as he shook Dillon's hand. Kelsey wondered what Anna had threatened her son with to get him to wait on them tonight.

  "Giorgio, take Dillon
and Miss Kelsey to their table."

  "Follow me," Giorgio said, clearing his throat immediately.

  Kelsey and Dillon followed him through the small restaurant to a door leading to what Kelsey had assumed was a storage room. She caught Dillon's expression. He was trying not to smile. "You arranged this?" he asked just loudly enough for her to hear.

  "Not this," she assured him. "I think Anna wants us out of sight."

  Giorgio opened the door and stood back so they could enter.

  Kelsey had guessed correctly that the room was used for storage. She had guessed incorrectly about Anna's intentions. Anna had transformed what was really no more than a walk-in closet into an intimate, private dining room. Just large enough for a tiny table, the room was lit by candlelight, and the table was draped with ivory linen. Storage shelves lining one wall were curtained off with flowered cotton, and a single fragrant white blossom adorned the table, which was set with delicate china and polished sterling.

  "You like it?" Anna stood in the doorway behind them, her arms folded across her breasts.

  "It's beautiful," Kelsey assured her, avoiding Dillon's eyes as she turned to Anna.

  Anna crossed the room, reaching behind the cotton hiding the shelves and flicked a switch. In a second the room was filled with the sentimental sound of an opera overture. "Puccini," Anna said. "You will digest better to Puccini. Come, Giorgio, we'll start with the wine."

  Kelsey waited until the door had closed before she turned to Dillon. "I did not plan this," she said, stumbling over the words. "I simply told Anna I wanted to treat you to dinner. I didn't ask for any of this, this. . ." Words failed her.

  "Romance?" he supplied helpfully. "I'm disappointed. I thought you were trying to seduce me."

  Something rumbled in her throat. Before she could push it down, it erupted into laughter. "I wouldn't know how! Is this how it's done?"

  Dillon laughed, too, more to keep from grabbing her and showing her than for any other reason. "This is a start, Sunset."