Copper Fire

by Fayrene Preston

  “Perhaps in payment the good man would take a few bottles of my patented medicine.” Phineas waved his hand in the direction of the wagon. “There’s not a thing it won’t cure.”

  “I’m sure,” Brianne murmured, her eyes on Sloan. She hadn’t expected an effusive greeting, but she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even said hello or asked about Patrick. “Mr. Lassiter, this is Mr. Phineas Tooley. A most unfortunate event left him without any money or a horse. It was lucky I came upon him when I did.”

  “Lucky,” Phineas agreed. “The unfortunate event of which Miss Delaney is speaking was in fact not an event, but a woman of questionable morals. I befriended her, you understand, after searching my soul and deciding I could overlook her dubious character. However, the hussy robbed and abandoned me! Out in the middle of nowhere!” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “And it couldn’t have happened at a worse time, given the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?” Brianne asked curiously.

  After a furtive glance over his shoulder he smiled broadly. “That’s a subject perhaps left for another time, Miss Delaney. Suffice it to say that you are indeed an angel of mercy.”

  Sloan remained stone-silent, but Brianne was receiving the oddest impression of ice-cold fury.

  Evidently Phineas received the same impression, because he took a step closer to Brianne. “At any rate, I’ll have to empty the entire contents of my wagon. I can’t possibly leave such valuable merchandise unattended.”

  Brianne fully expected a scathing remark from Sloan. Even Phineas cast a cautious glance toward him. Sloan's continued silence was deafening.

  “Phineas.” She waited until she had his attention again. “It just won’t be possible for you to take everything in this wagon into the hotel. Mrs. Potter would never allow it. But don’t worry. I’ll pay for someone to watch your wagon.”

  A huge smile made Phineas’s face fold into a series of creases, like a half-open fan. “Dear lady, you are too kind!”

  Brianne rescued her hands from Phineas's fervent grip and watched, puzzled, as Sloan turned on his heel and walked into the hotel.

  The heat from the bath water had eased some of Brianne’s tiredness. But nothing could make her fear and concern for Patrick go away. If it hadn’t been for the rain washing away all signs right after his kidnapping, she would have found him by now since she was an expert tracker. But tomorrow was another day, and hopefully she could find him. If she didn’t, though, she would telegraph Killara. She had made up her mind.

  Falcon was in New Mexico, Dominick was somewhere near St. Louis, and Cort and Sean were at Shamrock. Joshua was at Killara, very much a shattered man since Rising Star's death. But all without exception would come at the fastest possible speed. She had no doubt about that.

  She picked up a washcloth and squeezed the water out of it. No, the only doubt she had was about Sloan Lassiter.

  Sloan might not be the most comfortable person she had ever been around, but he was practically the only person in this town who would talk with her at any length. She had enjoyed having dinner with him last night. Their conversation had been stimulating. He had been stimulating. Yet a little while ago he had walked away from her as if she had suddenly become invisible.

  It was just as well, she told herself. She had enough on her mind without having to think about a dark, compelling man who revealed next to nothing about himself.

  Minutes later she closed the door to her room, then leaned back against it. Sloan was in her room … again! He was sitting so still, he might have been dead – except for his eyes. They were blazing with a fiery golden life. She should say something, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of a single word.

  “Did you get your gentleman friend settled?” he asked in a voice that was very low and quite calm.

  “I don’t know him well enough to call him a friend. And, yes, he’s in his room.”

  “No doubt in one of Mrs. Potter’s finest.”

  “He’s on this floor,” she admitted, thinking that she had never known anyone who could manage to convey so much displeasure without allowing a trace of emotion in his voice. “But he’s at the other end of the hall.”

  “I must confess, I’m surprised.”

  “Oh?” She pushed away from the door and walked to the edge of the bed. “At what?”

  “That you can still manage to stand upright with the problems of so many people weighing on your shoulders.”

  “Henrietta and Phineas are no burden.”

  He came up out of his chair and was standing in front of her before she had a chance to blink. “You little fool! Don’t you know the jeopardy you put yourself into by stopping to help a strange man?”

  “I couldn’t pass him by!”

  Gripping her shoulders, he spoke from between clenched teeth. “Not only should you have passed him by, you should have ridden so wide a circle around him, he wouldn’t have even known you were in the area!”

  She wrenched out of his hold. “I wasn't going to leave someone who needed help alone out there.” “No, of course you wouldn't! That would have been the sensible thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

  “Sloan! I was raised to take care of myself. I can put a bullet in the center of an ace of spades at a hundred paces.”

  “But can you put a bullet in a man’s heart?”

  “If I have to.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Swiftly, she moved to where her gear was piled and jerked up her rifle. Pointing it straight at his heart, she asked, “Do you want me to prove it?”

  He smiled, and his voice quietened. “You wouldn’t even get that rifle cocked, redhead.”

  She believed him. She tossed the rifle down. “Get out, Sloan.”

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  Brianne exploded. “I don’t understand you!”

  He didn’t understand himself either. And he didn’t understand her. She was standing within arm’s reach of him, her hair streaming in wild glory down her back, her skin giving off the sweetly seducing fragrance he had first smelled when he had seen her in her bath.

  Angry at her for putting herself in danger, and angry at himself for being angry, he reached for her.

  She didn’t come to him easily. She pushed against him, fighting with all her might. But his strength was the greater, and so was his need.

  His mouth crushed down on hers; his powerful arms pulled her tight against him. Reason wasn’t entirely lost, but the rationality that remained was fogged by a pounding desire. He stripped off her robe, then fell with her onto the bed.

  Brianne felt the impact of the mattress against her back and was furious. She didn’t want to feel the weight of his leg as it lay over hers. She didn’t want to experience the rub of his tongue against her own. She didn’t want to feel his hand covering her breast. She didn’t. She didn’t.

  Sloan’s fingers grasped a ribboned bow over her breast and pulled. So easy. He untied another, and another, until he could lay the edges of the gown back and bare her breasts. He tore his mouth away from her lips so that he could see her, and what he saw nearly took his breath away. No woman could be so perfectly formed, he thought. It had to be an illusion.

  He reached out and cupped a long-fingered hand around one generous globe, finding the perfection no illusion. Her body filled his hand, giving him the sensation of cushioned velvet.

  Brianne raised her fist and hit against Sloan’s chest, but the impact had all the force of a puff of wind. When had she become so weak? she wondered. When had she become so hot?

  “Stop,”she said in a voice that sounded more like an entreaty than an order. “Please … ”

  Gazing into her emerald-green eyes, he saw that they had softened. He liked that look. “I don’t want to stop, Brianne.” His warm palm slid over her breast, and his thumb and forefinger closed on one hard nipple. A soft breath escaped her lips, and he tried to capture it with his mouth
. “Say please again,” he whispered against her lips right before his tongue plunged back to the sweetness.

  Desire was a new sensation to Brianne. How easy it would be to give in to it. Heat was exploding everywhere in her. Yet she couldn’t surrender. It wasn’t in her.

  She tried to twist away, but with one strong arm he brought her back. She rolled her head, trying to escape his mouth. “Stop it, Sloan. Now.” Her words were soft, but he heard.

  He raised his head to look at her, keeping his hand on her breast as if he had no intention of letting her go. “I want you, Brianne.”

  “But I don't want you!”

  He smiled. “I can make you want me, and I won’t even have to work at it.” To prove his point, his thumb began grazing back and forth across her nipple. A moan escaped from her on an indrawn breath. “See?”

  Brianne looked up at him and was immediately confused. How could Sloan’s face remain so hard even while he was seducing her, even while he was smiling ?

  Then, as if a flash of light had suddenly sought out and revealed the darkest place in her mind, she remembered why his smile seemed so familiar to her. She had seen that same smile on the only living thing that had ever hurt her – a wolf. He had looked at her with pale gold eyes and a teeth-baring smile right before he sank his teeth into her arm to tear at her flesh.

  The memory brought back her strength. In the space of two heartbearts she rolled off the bed, lunged for the rifle, aimed it right at his heart, and thumbed back the hammer. “This is a Model 1873 Winchester forty-four forty,” she said, “and it is now cocked, with a bullet in the chamber and fifteen more behind it.” A forceful and cool assurance filled her voice.

  Her face was flushed with anger, and her gown was gaping open, exposing heaving breasts that were tipped by rigid nipples. Sloan thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. God, but he wanted her!

  “Mrs. Potter is going to be awfully upset if she finds blood splattered all over this room,”he said calmly.

  “I’ll buy this damn hotel if it comes to that! Now, get up, Sloan, and get out of here.”

  He sat up, slid to the edge of the bed, and stood up. Slowly, he walked toward her, stopping only when the barrel of the rifle was touching his chest. “You’re an interesting lady, redhead. You’re wealthy enough to buy a hotel, you have guts enough to shoot me, and you’re beautiful enough to make me want you as I've never wanted another woman. I’ll leave for now, but I’ll be back. We’re not through, you and I. Not nearly.”

  Brianne slept badly and awoke later than she had intended. As a result, it was seven o’clock by the time she was ready to leave. Striding past the dining room on her way out of the hotel, she heard, “Brianne, oh, Brianne!”

  She stopped and Henrietta appeared in the doorway, her field-mouse brown hair in a neat bun, her high-necked blouse tucked neatly into a brown skirt.

  “Are you going out, dear?”

  Holding her rifle in one hand and her saddlebag in the other, Brianne nodded. “I don't know when I’ll be back, but I’ve left instructions with Mrs. Potter that you’re to have anything you need.”

  “That’s very kind of you, dear.” Henrietta wrung her hands together. “You’ve been so good, and I hate to ask anything else of you.”

  Brianne glanced down to see that she was impatiently tapping the toe of her boot against the polished oak floor. When had she acquired that habit? “Is there something else you need, Henrietta?”

  “No, no … ”

  “Oh, of course!” Brianne exclaimed, upset that she hadn’t realized before. “You’ll need a few changes of clothes, won’t you?”

  “Well, yes, now that you mention it. Since I have only the clothes on my back, at least until I’m able to get home and obtain another position teaching school, it would be more convenient – ”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy looking for my brother, I didn’t even think.”

  “Oh, my dear! I know how worried you are about the dear boy, and I hesitated even to bring up the matter. It’s just that this skirt and blouse have gotten so dirty, and I don’t even have anything else to wear so that I can wash and dry them.”

  “Don’t worry, Henrietta. As soon as I get back, we’ll go to Nilsen’s Emporium. I’ve met the young woman who runs it along with her father. She’ll be able to help us.”

  Henrietta gave Brianne a relieved smile.

  “Well, good morning, ladies! What a pleasure it is to be greeted by such beauty upon first awakening.”

  Brianne turned to find Phineas Tooley descending the stairway, resplendent in a brown and mustard yellow plaid suit, the jacket of which buttoned at his sternum.

  “Good morning, Phineas. I'd like you to meet Miss Henrietta Jones. Henrietta, this is Mr. Phineas Tooley.”

  “Delighted, delighted.” He grasped Henrietta’s hand and pumped it, but his eyes were on the rather imposing slope of her bosom. “I could feast on your beauty, madam.”

  The former schoolteacher retrieved her hand, took a step backward, and gazed at the funny-looking little man as if he were a particularly reprehensible insect.

  “You two can keep each other company while I’m gone,” Brianne said with a brightness that attempted to smooth over the situation.

  “I’ll stay in my room until you return, my dear,” Henrietta intoned, and turned to make her way up the stairs.

  Phineas's gaze followed her stiff-backed ascent. “No doubt the good woman suffers from costiveness.” “Costiveness?”

  He swiveled to face Brianne. “Costive habits can be brought on by failure to go to stool at the usual time. I’m sure that must be Miss Jones’s problem.”

  Brianne was sorry she had asked. “Oh.”

  “Tooley’s Miracle Restorative would do the trick.” His forefinger punctuated the air. “Two or three bottles, I judge, and the difficulty will be overcome. I’ll go inform her of this cure immediately.”

  Brianne just managed to catch the edge of a brown and yellow sleeve. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, at least not right now. At any rate, I’ve got to be going. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Good luck!”

  “Thank you.”

  From behind the outcropping of rocks, Kamanahua, son of King Tanamoro of the Hawaiian island of Lakahani, crouched his six-foot-seven-inch frame and trembled with fear at the sight of the woman riding toward him.

  Soon she would find him. He put his hand against his chest and pressed hard, trying to slow the beats of his heart. For days he had successfully hidden from anyone who happened to pass too close to him. But this woman was riding slowly, and her eyes were constantly scanning the area around her. She was looking for him, and if he did not do something, she would find him.

  But what should he do?

  He squinted against the bright sun. She did not look like a missionary, he thought. The missionaries he knew all wore black and had pinched faces. Her face did not look pinched. Still, he was sure if he could see her eyes, they would be stern. But what if he were wrong? He could be wrong. The missionaries were always telling him he was wrong.

  Just then the sun glinted off the gold cross hanging at her throat, and he nearly cried out in anguish. She was a missionary, and soon now she would see his hiding place.

  He must act! If he could jump out and capture her, he could force her to take him back to the ocean so that he could sail home. Yes! That was what he would do! He would be a warrior as his ancestors of old. He would be brave.

  Looking again, he gave thanks to the king of the gods. At least she was alone. And small.

  He leapt out in front of the horse and waved his arms. “Auwe! Auwe!”

  “What the – ”

  Dancer reared, and taken by surprise, Brianne fell off the horse to the ground. A sharp twisting pain shot up her left leg, and she screamed.

  “Are you in hurt?”

  Brianne raised her eyes, then had to raise them higher. Standing in front of her was a giant of a young
man. He was as big-boned and brown-skinned as he was tall. Naked to the waist, he had rolled up his trousers to his knees and tied his jacket around his middle. As for his shoes, they were knotted together by their strings and hanging around his thick neck along with an ominous-appearing chain of teeth.

  Brianne’s first impression was that he was an Indian. Her second made her hold back all judgment.

  He was bending over her with an expression of extreme anxiety on his dark-skinned face. “Are you in hurt?” he asked again, his dark eyes brimming with tears. “I am apology.”

  Brianne made several quick judgments. Her rifle was about twelve feet away on Dancer’s back. And there was no way she could run because she could feel her ankle swelling. If necessary, she could use the knife she kept sheathed in her boot. But most of all, she found it hard to be afraid of someone who was about to cry because he was so obviously worried about her. She tried to rub her ankle through the leather of her boot while she took in the strange sight of the man in front of her. “Your name is Apology?”

  “No.” He straightened and thumped his chest proudly. “I am Kamanahua. I am an Alü. My father is the king of Lakahani. I will become the king when he dies.”

  “What did you say your name is?”

  “You can name me Kamanahua.”

  Brianne grimaced with pain. Gingerly she began easing off the boot. The pain from her ankle and the confusion the young giant was causing were making her light-headed. “Can I just call you Kam?”

  Vigorously, he nodded his head, then took a deep breath, his eyes staring fixedly at the cross at her neck. “Are you a religious? Do you believe in the white man’s God?”

  Brianne threw him a bewildered glance. “God? Yes, of course.” Setting her boot aside, she gazed with horror at her left ankle. It was already twice its normal size. And the pain was terrible. But she didn’t think it was broken.

  “Then you are a missionary.”