Tyra's Gambler

by Velda Brotherton

  Coming up for air, he whispered, “I love you, girl. Thought we’d die before I told you.”

  “Shh. I already knew. Would you hush up and keep doing what you’re doing?” She straddled his belly and leaned back, giving him access while he continued to nibble lower and lower.

  He explored the flesh of her stomach. Hands cupping her hips, he moved lower, smelled her womanly fragrance, nipped at the inside of her thighs.

  She lay back and moaned with pleasure. His tongue found its way deep inside her, and she ground out a word he could not understand, raised her hips to entice him further. He continued to meet her desire, his own need painfully trapped in the soaked fabric of his pants.

  He could not let her go, had to keep her close like this, but he needed more, and with one hand struggled with the buttons of his jeans.

  “Oh, please, please.” She opened herself to him, increasing his desperate need.

  He had to get inside her. Now. The pain, the passion, blinded him. Coming up for air, he fumbled with the fly opening, but the wet buttonholes wouldn’t turn loose.

  “Goddammit.”

  Finally seeing his dilemma, she sat up and helped, her fingers more nimble than his. The top button came loose. He cursed under his breath, worked with the second one. His fingers, like frozen stubs, could scarcely feel the fabric, let alone the buttons.

  She leaned forward, whispered in his ear, “Let me.” So he did.

  He leaned back on his knees, letting her go to battle with them. She worked the stubborn buttons loose, one by one, so slow he thought he might burst with the dark passion that had him gritting his teeth and thinking up more curse words.

  The back of one of her hands rubbed up against the denim stretched tight over his erection. If she touched him like that one more time, it would all be over. And he didn’t want it that way. He craved the caress of the smooth, moist heat of her sex, forced his mind away from those thoughts lest they cause him to burst.

  “Almost got it,” she gritted between her teeth, and the button popped loose, and he popped out. She curled her fingers around him. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “Oh, my, my.”

  “Don’t do that, honey. Let go. Please. Now. Lay back.”

  She obeyed and opened her legs. Memories of searching for her in the black swirling water, of thinking he’d lost her, overpowered his senses, and he slipped a little ways inside. She was so tight, and he paused, afraid he’d hurt her again.

  When he did, her hand found him, down there, and she helped him finish what he’d started. It didn’t take much, and he came with a burst that clouded his vision and sent a white-hot heat through his bloodstream.

  She clung to him, crying against his throat, “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  He let out a huge breath and rolled over beside her. “I was afraid I’d hurt you. I was so—so goddamned horny. Sometimes danger does that. Especially when we think we’re about to die, and especially with men.”

  “Don’t be so sure it’s only with men.” She cupped his cheek and kissed him, her mouth hungry. “I must have been horny too.”

  He opened his eyes and stared up at her for a moment, then he laughed so hard his belly ached. She joined him, and they lay there for a long while holding each other and laughing. She made him laugh more than he ever had. In her company lived a bright pure joy. The way she looked at him cast a spell, like he was everything in the world.

  Through the silence left behind by the flood waters came the sound of his name being called. Over and over. Josh. Oh, for God’s sake. He’d forgotten all about leaving him stranded on the ridge. He must think they’d both drowned.

  “We’d better let him know we’re alive.”

  She nodded and let him go. He couldn’t get the wet pants buttoned, so he stood and, holding them up with one hand, waved and hollered till Josh saw him.

  “Uh, Zach, could you loan me your shirt? I can’t show up like this.” She gestured toward her nude body.

  “Forgive me, honey. I guess I forgot you aren’t wearing anything.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. How could you forget such a thing? Give me that shirt.”

  He unbuttoned and shed the chambray shirt, laughing when she put it on. The tail hung down around her knees. “Well, at least it covers you up good.”

  Holding hands, they waded across the receding waters to the ridge where his brother waited. If only he could let go, throw his hands over his head and shout with pure delight. Last time he’d felt that way? Before the war, when he and Josh were kids, wet behind the ears and too dumb to know what was going to happen to them.

  Lord, how long since he’d remembered those days? Since he’d even thought of them? He yelled a loud wahoo, wrapped his arms around his brother and lifted him off his feet, set him down.

  Josh laughed. “What’s going on? You lost your mind, or what?”

  “Nope, just happy to be alive, that’s all.”

  Josh glanced at Tyra. “You want to tell me why you’re wearing my brother’s shirt? And where’s your britches? And one more thing, what is wrong with him?”

  “Not really.” She turned to Zach. “I think you’re scaring Josh. He might think you’ve gone mad.”

  Josh nodded. “Just a little. We’re running from nine kinds of lawmen, all bent on hanging me and sticking you two in a hole for the rest of your life, and you’re acting like an idjit.” He studied Tyra, then Zach, then Tyra, and his eyes brightened.

  “Oh, I get it. That’s what you were doing over there so long. And why she doesn’t have on any clothes. Well, if you ask me, it’s about time. Thought I was gonna have to tie the two of you together in one bedroll to get you to catch on.” He threw an arm around Tyra’s waist. “Or better yet, grab her for myself to make you pay attention. Don’t mind him. He’s always been dumb as a goose.”

  She kissed Josh’s cheek. “Dumb as a goose? Oh, it was way worse than that.”

  “Will you two kindly stop discussing me as if I’m down there in that water? I’m standing right here. And for your information, Josh, she was taking a bath in the creek when we got caught in the flood waters.”

  “Ah, yes. An interesting story.” Josh laughed.

  “I think we need to see what we salvaged out of the flood and figure out how to replace some of our lost stuff. This trail isn’t exactly alive with trading posts or towns where we can buy things.”

  “Even if it were, we’re out of money.” Tyra reached out and took Zach’s hand.

  “Give me a saloon and a poker table, and I’ll fix that.”

  “Or maybe you could work some of your magic, like that trick with the two glasses.”

  Zach sighed. “Okay, let’s get serious.” He pawed his way through the pile of belongings he and Josh had rescued from the flood. “Well, it looks like we need coffee, a pot, there’s only one canteen, and our bedrolls are all gone. We did save the saddlebags, but most of the supplies were around the campfire, so they’re all gone. I’d say it’s going to take three full days of Texas Hold ’Em to win enough to even begin to replenish what we lost.”

  “You forgot to mention Tyra’s britches and—uh, all her other pieces of clothing. And where’s her Colt?”

  “Oh, crap.” She pawed at her waist, as if she might find the lost gun there. “I hung it in a tree down by the creek. Hey, maybe it’s still there.” She started down the incline.

  “Wait, I’ll go with you.” Zach hurried to catch up.

  Josh hollered, Zach turned. His brother raised a hand, opened his mouth, and dropped to his knees. What the hell…? The shot rang out as the question ran through his mind and he ran, yelling, “No, no.”

  Behind him, Tyra screamed.

  “Get down. Down.” Zach reached Josh, who lay on his face in the grass. In his back, a small bloody hole. Such a small hole. He couldn’t be hurt. Just knocked down, that’s all. He dropped to his knees.

  “Josh, Josh.” The words came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t remember forming them.


  He turned his brother over, stared at the hole in his chest, his open eyes staring unseeingly. Dear God, he’s dead. How? Who? Where? Shaking his shoulders, begging him to open his eyes. All this like he was someone else, the man on the ground. Because if it were him and that was Josh, his brother was dead. He had a goddamned hole in his chest big as his fist.

  Tyra fell down next to him, sobbing, holding on to his arm. “The bastards. Bastards.” She kept saying it over and over again. A litany. The world went silent, a noise in his ears coming from inside his head, from his heart, his soul, every piece of him. Wailing. A noise like he’d not heard since the war. Like he’d prayed never to hear again.

  She put her arms around him, but he would not be consoled. Leave me be to mourn. Just leave me be.

  After a while she let her arms fall away. Where she went he didn’t know. Where he went wasn’t that ridge where his brother lay dead. It was a small adobe shack where their mother sat fashioning silver and turquoise rings, where two boys played in the dust around her and everyone was happy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tyra sat a few feet away from Zach, who continued to cradle Josh’s body. Tears wet her cheeks. She feared she might never stop crying. Nothing made sense. There was no one in sight anywhere. Perhaps her tears blinded her, but nothing moved out there. So much foliage and trees on the ridges and hillsides someone could easily have slipped away out of sight before she even thought to look. Who would shoot a man like that from so far away they couldn’t possibly tell who he was?

  Poor Josh. Poor, poor Zach. How long was he going to sit there holding his brother, rocking and crying? It was hot. So hot. They’d have to bury him soon. Before…oh, my God. Thinking about it was so terrible. How could she help Zach? What if the shooter came riding up soon to check his handiwork? What if he killed Zach next? And her naked of clothing and not a weapon to stop it.

  Wiping her eyes, she crawled to her feet and went to stand beside him. Laid a hand on his shoulder. He did not pull away, but turned, wrapped his arms around her, and sobbed, face buried against her stomach. After a while, she dropped to her knees and pulled him close so that his head rested on her shoulder. She caressed the back of his head, his hair drenched with sweat.

  Nothing made a woman feel more helpless than a man enveloped by grief. All she could do was hold him. The grief could turn to anger at any time, and that she might not be able to handle. She had seen it with Blair and with James Lee. Anger in a man like Zach could be a terrible, frightening thing to see. He’d almost killed Barney, and though she’d tried she couldn’t stop him except with a bullet. One thing for sure. Zach might have a vicious temper, but he would not hurt her. Never would he hurt her. But what might he do to himself?

  Silence. He’d stopped weeping, his breath hot against her skin when he spoke. “Did you see anyone?” His voice so broken she could barely understand him.

  “No. I tried, but there was no one in sight.”

  “Used a big gun from a distance. Not a ranger or marshal. They want him alive.” He gulped in air with each curt sentence, like he couldn’t quite continue to breathe.

  “Why didn’t he shoot us? Or at least shoot at us?”

  He only shook his head. Was quiet a moment, and so was she. A stiff wind rose and blew a strand of hair across her face, cooled the sweat where their bodies touched. She wouldn’t let go of him to push it back, just let it remain in her eyes. This man she loved so fiercely was punishing himself, and she couldn’t help him. Could only hold him and hope for an outcome they could live with.

  “We don’t have a shovel.” At last he pulled back, took her by the shoulders, and stared into her face for a long time, his eyes red and swollen, disbelief twisting his features. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “It’s okay, Zach, sweetheart. We’ll figure out what to do. I’ll help, whatever it is.”

  “He was my baby brother, Tyra. My baby brother. I laid eyes on him when he was five and I was ten, and it was like we’d been together forever.”

  Not his real brother, then. No wonder they were so different in stature and coloring and looks. The poet and the gambler. No, wait. Josh had been labeled a killer. Was it possible Zach just didn’t know him, after all these years apart? Still, when men are brothers, they are brothers for life.

  “When you are ready, Zach. When you need me to do something, I am here. There is a lot of soft earth down where the water washed in, and it’s receding fast. Maybe we can find something to dig a grave for Josh.” She stumbled over his name and turned away so Zach wouldn’t see the tears pouring from her eyes. Who was she grieving for? Though she liked Josh, she hardly knew him, so it must be Zach for whom she cried.

  After a long silence, she went through the items they’d saved from the flood, found a shirt and britches Sam and Micah had left behind. She was able to wear them, didn’t really care what she looked like.

  They buried Josh as deep as they could dig in the soft earth, then found rocks to pile on the grave. “To keep the coyotes and wolves away from his body.” Zach broke down again and dropped to his butt near the grave. She continued to carry rocks, piling them precisely so they wouldn’t tumble down.

  When she struggled with a large boulder, he came to her, took it from her, and placed it on the grave. “That’s enough.” He wrapped her in his arms and rocked back and forth without saying anything. Then at last, “There’s an overnight stop a few miles from here. If it’s still open, maybe we can get something to eat.”

  She nodded, glanced down at her state of strange dress right to the bare feet. “I can’t—how can I…?”

  “You’re okay. They’re used to seeing Indians and Mexicans dressed in all manner of ways.”

  “But I’m white.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  She didn’t argue anymore but kept quiet while they saddled all three horses. “Maybe we can trade this one for some food and a pair of boots. Let’s go. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  In silence, she put her bare foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Squinted into the sun, dropping fast toward the western horizon. It would be dark soon. Maybe they could make the stage stop before then. Too bad she couldn’t have gone down and checked for the Colt, maybe still hanging in the tree where she’d left it when she took off all her clothes, laid them precisely on the creek bank, and waded in to take a bath. Hated losing that gun. What a stupid thing to do. Maybe if she hadn’t been naked…if Zach hadn’t stopped to make love to her and gone back up the ridge to where Josh was…maybe then he could have prevented what happened.

  No use in that sort of thinking. None at all. It might have resulted in Zach being shot too. Stop. Stop it now. Just follow him until he feels safe stopping for the night. And she did. On he rode, even when darkness closed down around them like someone had laid a blanket over the land. Even when her body sagged in the saddle, her legs grew weary, her eyelids drooped. Still she kept quiet.

  At last, ahead, a flickering light. Thank goodness. The closer they got to the lit window the more visions of food haunted her. At last there would be something to eat. How long had it been? She couldn’t remember. A hulking building loomed. As if it weren’t there he kept moving. On past the feeble lamp glow and the building and into the never-ending night.

  Her head nodded, she slipped, startled awake when she thudded onto the ground. All around her stillness. No sound of horses’ hooves. Her own mount stood patiently over her. Where was Zach? For a moment she lay on her back. Stars littered the sky like someone had scattered bits of diamonds all over heaven.

  Get up, girl. Get back on that horse before he leaves you behind. He’s not here. His mind is back there in that hole with his brother. You’re not a helpless baby. Catch up to him, help him get through this. Don’t just lay on the ground like a nitwit.

  Crawling to her feet, she captured the hanging reins, moved around her horse’s head, stopping to rub the soft muzzle, then placed her left foot in the stirrup and swung up. A younger
Tyra wouldn’t have flinched at riding flat out in the pitch dark, but it wasn’t the wisest thing she could do. Neither was risking straying off the trail and becoming so lost Zach wouldn’t be able to find her when he did decide to look. So she dug in her heels and trusted the horse to see better than she did.

  She met Zach coming back to look for her, hollering her name. Morgan pulled up without direction from her.

  “What happened?” Zach asked. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Stupid me, I went to sleep and fell off.”

  “Tyra, I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention. We probably should stop for the night.”

  “That’s a good idea.” No use mentioning to him they’d ridden right by the stage stop. It would only make him feel worse. All she wanted now was a place to lie down and sleep.

  He didn’t say much while they prepared to camp. Just, “No need for a fire. Let’s just go to sleep.” He put their saddles side by side, took the horse blankets, the only ones they’d rescued from the flood, and spread them out together. While he worked so precisely, she waited, unable to speak. He wanted her next to him, and that mattered more than anything else at the moment. He lay down on one, and she lay on the other. In silence he gathered her in his arms and held her close.

  When she awoke the next morning, he was still holding her, sleeping so soundly she lay very still so as not to disturb him. His eyes were swollen from crying. The first time in her life she’d ever seen a grown man cry like he had. She’d never felt so close to anyone as she did to him. It was much more than love, but she found no way to express it except that it filled her with serenity. If she had to guess, she’d believe this was the way the nuns wanted them to feel when they knelt at the altar in church.

  And that was probably a sin, thinking that way about worldly love.

  She brushed the sun-streaked hair off his forehead and placed a feathery kiss on each eye, as if she could heal him of his grief. But of course that wasn’t possible. She lay back against his shoulder and was startled awake by him moving about.