“I’m probably sitting on the blanket. Really, about marijuana?”
“Got bottles of the medicine at the house. I also use it for the horses and dogs. It’s good for women’s ailments.”
“Mood improvement?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“More like headache improvement.”
“Yeah, men are good at giving women headaches.”
“You don’t like men?”
“I certainly don’t like their behavior a lot of the time.”
Dillon vowed to himself he’d change her mind real dang fast about men, certainly about him. “How did you escape jail?” He figured that was a more productive conversation between them.
She keened a long dispirited sigh, and leaned heavily against him. “A woman let me out. It’s a long involved story.”
“You said you’d been on the road for over twenty-four hours. Have you slept?”
“A few winks. I was on my last legs when I drove to Pine Springs.”
Dillon lazily stroked his fingers through her hair. “I won’t let you fall, little thang. Close your eyes.”
“I can’t sleep. My butt throbs.” Her cheek pressed more deeply into the flesh of his chest. “Maybe you should rub some marijuana on it.”
“Hemp oil,” he automatically responded. “More soothing.”
“I suppose you think it’s just fine to spank women here.” Her words slurred from fatigue. “Without their consent.”
Dillon puzzled over her words, without their consent. “You’ve never been spanked?”
“No. Not like that. Only as a kid.”
Dillon shouted yeehaw to himself several times, not caring if he acted like a crude primitive. As he’d suspected, he was the first man to know her butt this way. He sure as heckfire was going to continue knowing her derrière.
Whoa there, son of a gun! He commanded his lengthening cock.
Several owls hooted back and forth, the eerie sound hanging in the fog-dampened air. Jumping, she gazed around wildly.
“A family of owls,” he explained. “Probably talking about where to hunt.” Gently, Dillon roamed his hands over her back, so lovely and delicate beneath his palms.
“I should have known that. Not like I haven’t heard owls before.” Her little body slumped, and she allowed him to hug her close. “From being trapped in jail to being captured by you.” Her scathing tone was for the benefit of his ears.
“Why were you growing plants?” Dillon figured that was neutral enough.
“I was studying the genetic expression of plants grown organically as opposed to plants grown using non-organic products.” She added a moment later, “For ten generations. Now, all my precious plants are rotting at the police station. No one will take care of them. I loved my plants.”
Her raw sadness felt as though it penetrated his chest. That, or his heart already reached for her, his wife.
“Studying?” he asked.
“For my doctorate degree.”
“Do you mean a PhD?”
She nodded against him.
“I have a garden started, little thang. It isn’t being taken care worth a plug nickel.”
“Any hemp? Any marijuana?” she listlessly asked.
“Always hemp. Those pickup trucks you saw are made out of hemp, for the most part.”
She jerked upward, her gaze seeking his. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Automakers here figured if Henry Ford could do it, so could they.”
She blinked several times and Dillon witnessed her exhaustion. She ran on the fumes of her adrenalin, her face drawn, her eyes too wide. “Oil, you must not need to drill for as much oil here.”
“There’s drillin’ for black gold. It’s used mainly for health products and for improvin’ mined land.”
“You mean like Vaseline,” she stated. “I heard that a crude form is used for baldness. I think it was Edgar Cayce ”
“Edgar Cayce,” he interrupted, frowning.
“The American Prophet,” she added, shrinking back from him.
Chapter Eight
Dillon’s Sweet Thang
Dillon mentally kicked himself in the head. Course, he couldn’t have known she’d driven for so long without sleep, though, now, he’d frightened her with his abrupt tone. “Edgar Cayce is the name of our current vice president. He’s the youngest son of the American Prophet.”
“You mean Texas’s vice president, right?”
“Yep, sweet thang.”
“Isn’t he still old? I mean…how old is he?”
“Ninety-one and still in bull-prime shape. He likes running marathons.”
She stared at him as if his mind had done gone with the wind and left him mad. “Actually,” she drew out the word, “I have heard of a ninety year old running a marathon.”
Realizing he was about to enter dangerous waters, a collision between the truth of her Earth and his Earth dimension that might be better left for a later discussion, Dillon sought a way to lead her in another direction. “Still not tellin’ me your name?”
Averting her face a bit, she rolled her eye warily. ‘Why should I?”
“If you don’t have the prettiest profile, little thang.” Dillon could barely see the flush that stole over her cheek.
“I’ll bet you say that to all the women you kidnap.”
“Never kidnapped a woman. Never roped another woman.” Dillon paused, remembering. “Well, dang it, hang it, there was Velda when I was twelve. I was practicin’ with the loop, and she happened along saying she wanted to be roped. Offered to be a calf.”
She regarded him dubiously as Diamond picked up her pace beneath them. The trail had straightened. Gradually sloping downward, it followed the immense valley on the left hand side.
“You kissed her, didn’t you?”
“Several times. Then, and later. I hear tell she’s happily married now.”
Remembrance of his wife’s hotter-than-sin kiss hardened Dillon’s loins again, the heat crawling up his breeding shaft. He ignored it and kept his gaze trained on her face.
“Happily.” She slung the word at him like a whip’s lash.
“You don’t want to be happily married?” Dillon turned the tables while his insides soared. With her feisty spirit, she’d rein him and his brothers in like they needed.
He didn’t own any illusion that he’d be stud dominant with her during their lovemaking or whenever she stepped out of line. Still, he and his brothers would do good with a woman directing them at times, like all menfolk.
“Happily married,” she spat, venomous as a baby rattlesnake. “I don’t know many people who are actually happily married.”
“It’s required here.” Hellfire, he’d just opened another door to the differences between their two Earth dimensions.
“Required?” She cocked her head, more adorable than any of his pups. “How does that work?”
Dillon decided on bluntness. “If you’re not happy after a year, you can choose another man. That’s our way here.” He watched her eyes widen like saucers. “There are a lot of differences in our culture here.”
She scowled, her eyes turning all stormy with anger. “Like abducting women. And,” she huffed a determined breath, “spanking them.”
“Women are scarce here. Like I said.”
“Well, no wonder with the way you treat them. They probably all ran away.”
“It’s first come, first serve. Mostly.” He finished saying all he was going to say about her accusation. “Damn, little thang, if you ain’t got sparks.”
“Sparks,” she challenged.
“Like the sparks jumpin’ off a campfire when a log cracks and explodes.”
Not breaking her stride, Diamond jumped over a fallen tree limb. Dillon trapped Kylie against him for an instant to stop her from swaying backward. Her impassioned pants caught him off guard, and he nearly took possession of her lips again.
Not now, he told himself, but later, when he could turn her soft with desire. Th
ere was only so far a man could push a woman.
“Sparks,” he murmured down to her. “That’ll be your handle until you tell me your name.”
“I could lie about my name,” she snapped, her voice mere breath.
“You could. You could choose any name you want here.” Her feminine scent lassoed him. Fair’s fair, he thought, breathing in her sweet-as-honey musk. “You smell like violets and the earth they sprout from.”
“Poetic,” she sarcastically snapped Yet, her rapid little pants didn’t end, and her palms practically caressed his shoulders.
“Poetic, mmmm, yes.” He let his breath fan her cheek.
“What if I wanted to be called Violet instead of Sparks?” she contentiously demanded.
“Sparks when you’re hot and blazing for me. Violet when you’re all soft and hanging onto me.”
She trembled for a moment, quickly halting herself. “What happened to all the women, if they didn’t run for the borders away from men like you?”
“Plagues, mostly. Biological attacks from the Union and once from China. Not only were they devastating at first in wiping us out, but they also sterilized our women.”
“So you couldn’t reproduce as a population.”
“Right. There were a few unintended consequences. An enhancement of our immune systems for those who survived.” Hell, he might as well tell her. His concern was how many shocks she’d already faced.
“You said consequences.” Her hands molded the roped muscles of his shoulders.
“The aging gene was kicked out or repressed. We mature in age to a degree, but death is rare nowadays.”
She stilled, not breathing for instants.
“You’ll be infected soon with the same consequences. That’s how it’s worked before with Arrivals.”
“Arrivals? You mean like me.”
“Yep. Depending on your immune system you could have the flu for a few days. But that’s all.”
“How am I supposed to believe all this?” Her palms slipped down his chest.
“It won’t be belief. Soon you’ll know for yourself. Hang onto me, Sparks, we’re about to go up the steps.”
Her head whipped around, and she looked for what he talked about. Catching a glimpse of the first few flat rocks, she turned back, grabbing hold of his neck. Dillon wrapped both arms around her as Diamond slowed, preparing to hop up the series of small rock plateaus that acted like a natural stairway to the next section of the trail.
“Where the…the heck do you live?”
Dillon wondered why she hadn’t used the curse word she’d intended. He damn well knew she hadn’t accepted her situation, except as she had to, so far.
“A large stretch of grazing land that’s part of a miles’ long valley between two mountain peaks.”
She gripped him tighter, flattening her round plump tits against him as Diamond gathered her haunches, then leaped onto the first flat rock. Gaining momentum, Diamond powerfully jumped up the plateau steps, her body shifting and twisting with the uneven flow of the steps.
With the last large hop onto the trail, the mare halted and steadied herself. She twitched her tail with accomplishment before easing into a walk.
His Kylie lessened her grip slowly. “Talk about isolated.”
“One reason we saved the Republic and kept ourselves free. Our people know how to survive in the backwoods.”
“When you said ranch, I thought…well, like a ranch. Not a cabin in the backwoods.”
Dillon tossed his head back, howling a short laugh.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“A cabin in the backwoods with you sounds all too good, Sparks. There are three cabins we use for working the back acres of the ranch.”
“We? Who is we?”
Cool as the first winter wind, Dillon answered, “Me, my brother, Dono, and my brother, Dash.”
“Dash with the hemp pickup.” She yawned, obviously so fatigued that her body was taking over and demanding rest.
“Yep. Close your eyes.”
She let her head rest against his chest, most likely unable to do anything else. “You probably need a wife to do all the domestic stuff. Cooking, cleaning…with two brothers.”
“Got it covered. But not the gardening.”
“Books.”
“Books?”
“In my car. Gardening books.”
She’d willed the words out despite her exhaustion.
“Your car is safe, Sparks. God, you’re a strong little thang.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t escape from you.”
“The Good Lord sent you to me.”
“Is that what you really believe?” she asked after a moment.
“Yep. I do.”
“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
Where she found the strength to keep speaking at all had him purely astounded. “Spirit,” he murmured, “I should have named you Spirit.”
“Sparks. I kind of like it.”
“Do you like me yet?” He’d teased his words down to her. Still, he wanted her to like him. Crazy as a rutting stud, he wanted her to like him.
“You do feel good.”
Dillon figured it was probably because she was out of her mind with the need for rest that she admitted to what she felt.
“You feel like rose petals, a rose-petal woman.”
“Roses,” she whispered, the word barely distinguishable. “I’ve always wanted a rose garden.”
“Yep, so does Dono.”
Dillon felt her try to stop herself from falling asleep. Instead, she collapsed against him, her body slack as a sack of grain. Rapidly her breathing deepened into slumber. Dillon gently repositioned her within the curve of his body. She was so soft, so small and so precious to him that he groaned.
He pondered over a world that would jail a woman like her. Here, for all their tough ways, it would be considered a barbaric act. Course, she could have been lying to him. But he’d heard the ring of truth in her voice. He’d listened to her utter despair and felt her animal-like desperation.
He’d been that desperate to escape before, when his border-stationed platoon had been routed by a much larger Union force. They’d been chased for nearly a hundred miles, blasted with sound cannons and constantly shelled with bio-gasses.
With their ears bleeding despite the barrier of their specialized helmets and with black patches eating through their protective uniforms, they’d used every trick they could just to stay alive and out of Union hands.
It had been Dono and Dash, flying in Dono’s ground jet, who had defied their own orders and come to the rescue. Insulated from the Union’s weapons by a new force-field design, they had peppered the invading troops with white phosphorus bullets quickly causing their retreat.
Fast production of the ground jets had helped end the Union’s determination to conquer the Three Star Republic of Texas. Now everyone who could afford one, kept them for protection and for patrolling the border.
Keeping hold of her with one arm, Dillon dived his hand inside his largest saddlebag and retrieved a woolen blanket. After draping it around her, he smoothed her hair back enjoying the rich thickness.
Dillon wondered how much she’d remember of what he’d said to her, given her state of exhaustion, though he had a suspicion the sharpness of her mind wouldn’t let her forget. He knew a smart little filly when he encountered one.
“Hey, Diamond girl,” he crooned to the mare. “You doin’ okay?”
Diamond bounced a few steps and swished her tail in answer.
“Not far to the hut. There’s a storm brewing. One of those sneaky kind.”
Dillon glanced up at the clear night sky only partially obscured by the leafed-out trees. More and more the wondrous brilliance of the stars could be witnessed again, now that the ash residue from weapons used during the last war receded. “We may need to hunker down for a spell.”
With the trail becoming steeper, Diamond launche
d her weight forward, using her strong shoulders muscles to easily adapt. She quickened her pace, knowing the hut was ahead.
“Extra oats and apples for you,” Dillon praised. Diamond flicked one ear back at the word apple, one of her favorite treats. Dono kept an organic supply in the barn cooler, picking them up whenever he went to El Paso.
Likely enough, his brothers knew about Kylie. Craig would have wasted no time letting them know. They were probably in a frenzy of whooping celebration, that is, until they started preparing for her arrival. No doubt, they’d worry if the storm hit. Dillon hoped his brothers wouldn’t be durn foolish enough to come lookin’ for them.
Out of habit none of them traveled this side of the mountain with any kind of contact device. It was far too easy for area bandits and the Union raiders to use locators, then mount an ambush. As it was, the isolated wilderness provided the most protection. That, and his deadly aim with the guns and knives he always carried.
If need be, he could bury a knife into the side of a runnin’ rabbit, skin it, and cook it over a campfire. Peeking down at his wife, he promised himself he would always take care of her and always protect her, no matter what life delivered their way.
She hadn’t moved, not the smallest twitch.
* * * *
Dono whooped, galloping around the large area of the front room. “Did you see her? Did you see her?” he shouted toward Dash.
“Yippee,” Dash yelled over and over, springing up and down on their heavy duty couch. Each time he jumped, his fists flew into the air along with his mane of hair. “And her name is Kylie. That’s a sweet sounding name.”
Sam, Dono’s cat, bobbed his head up and down, following.
“Whooooweeee.” Dono pumped his fist into the air. “That means we got to get everything orderly ’round here.”
“It is orderly.” Dash jumped down from the couch and swooped a hand over Sam’s head in a pat.
“Well, where it ain’t.” Dono stared at the image of their wife on his phone screen and knew he’d been bewitched, already.
“Yeah, okay. We’ll make it spic and span. Then, I’m organizing the lovemaking books.”
“You better find a place for ’em she won’t find for a while, till we find out how she is. Hey! Grab your jean loops. Craig is sending us some vid of Dillon lassoing her.” Dono thumbed the reception dial on his palm phone.
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 8
