Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Branded by the Texans (lit)

  Beneath them, Diamond smoothly leaped over a suspicious mound of dirt, slightly throwing Kylie forward. “I gotcha.” Dillon anchored her to his chest.

  “Actually, that was kind of fun.” She hesitated, her fingers tentatively slipping through the lower strands of his hair. “You’re so big. At least I can’t knock you over or off.”

  “Nope. Think of me as your personal rock.”

  “Yeah, rock hard,” she muttered, almost so he couldn’t hear.

  “Sorry, darlin’, but you keep me stud-juiced up.”

  “Not a comfortable way to ride, is it?” She flung at him a breath later.

  “You’re soft. No problem.”

  She fingered his hair. “What if I can’t be a wife to all of you?”

  “Kylie, let us take care of you. Everything will go natural like. You’ll see. It’ll all work itself out.”

  She slumped against him, clearly dispirited. “What does that even mean? Take care of you?”

  “For now, it means feeding you, lettin’ you clean up, and puttin’ you to bed. You’re exhausted, little darlin’.”

  “Tell me what I don’t know.” She stirred, planting her chin on top of his shoulder. “It is beautiful here. The air smells so unbelievably clean.”

  Dillon would have questioned Kylie about her Earth dimension to pass the time, to understand her better, and to satisfy his own curiosity, but that would have to wait. He’d upset her now.

  “That’s one reason Dono, Dash, and I decided to settle here, the downright beautiful scenery.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Comin’ up on the twenty-fifth anniversary. Course, when we first made this place our home, we were living in a couple of large tents. We kept our horses in makeshift corrals and had a small herd of cattle.”

  “Twenty-five years ago, how old were you? Oh, that’s right. You did mention something about not aging.”

  “You ready for this, Sparks?”

  “Probably not, but go ahead, anyway.”

  “I was twenty-two back then.”

  “That makes you…”

  “Forty-seven.” Dillon darn certain liked her astonishment.

  “Well, gee,” she drily sang the words, “you don’t look a day over thirty-something.”

  “Thirty something?”

  “An expression we use instead of an exact age.” She hesitated. “How old are Dono and Dash?”

  “Dono is forty-five going on twenty-five. Dash is forty going on twenty.”

  “That’s so odd.” She became motionless as she tried to imagine what he told her.

  “It was odd for all of us as a culture until we got used to it. Didn’t take long. People adapted like ham and beans.”

  “Okay, I’m not following your history timeline.” Leaning back, she lifted her gaze assessing his features. “When were the plagues loosed?”

  “There were several from the late sixties forward. The first one was a cancer-causing plague, the rumor being it had been created to assassinate Castro in Cuba.”

  “Mary, Ferrie and the Monkey Virus.” Her words passed by his ear, a drifting sound. “I remember listening to the author of a book talk about a secret lab…I think it was in New Orleans…where they were doing just that, creating the strongest cancer virus they could. Ed Haslam, that might be the author’s name.”

  “That book wasn’t written here.”

  “That’s not a title you forget. Or the interview itself.”

  Diamond slowed her lope and broke into a gentle trot up a grassy hill. His little wife balanced, clinging to the column of his neck in more of a sensual gesture than to keep herself in the saddle. Cresting the hill, the mare returned to an easy rocking gallop.

  “It feels like I’ve stepped into a virtual world. Being here.” She repositioned herself, yet didn’t relinquish his neck. “Not one I’ve created or even knew existed. Are you sure you’re forty-seven?”

  How the heckfire did he answer her? She’d learn in time. For now, he’d show her just how stud-youthful he felt. “Yep, forty-seven. We’ve had to change our way of livin’. For years, the border war raged off and on. Parts of Texas were in chaos over how to set up an independent nation and who would be in charge. Most of us were fightin’ the Union and at the same time trying to build up Texas, then build a life however we could. With the lack of women, what had been normal between men and women, and creatin’ a family, got lost.”

  She nodded, an understanding gleam in her gaze. “The Three Star Republic of Texas. Do you have a president?”

  “Certainly do. President Chuck Norris.”

  Her eyes widened, turquoise pools he wanted to dive into. “Chuck Norris, the martial arts movie and TV star?”

  “He’s a martial arts champ. Don’t know about him ever bein’ an entertainment star.”

  “Wow, this is going to be interesting. That is, who people were in my dimension and who they are here.”

  Mightily pleased that she was accepting the situation, Dillon also reminded himself not to push his little filly too far too fast, despite her obvious resilience. “What roles did your Chuck Norris act in?”

  “It’s been ages since I’ve seen his movies and the TV show. He was the good guy who came to the rescue of those who needed his help.”

  “Sounds like our Chuck. He led the White Hat Raiders on missions deep into Union territory.”

  Diamond halted with a jerk, her side gaze fastened on a coiled rattler about thirty feet from them. “Steady, girl.” Dillon eased his rifle from the saddlebag scabbard as Kylie whipped around at the waist to see what occurred.

  “Rattlesnake,” he explained. Swinging the rifle around slowly, he aimed using one arm. Dillon sighted the middle-aged snake, its tail tip high and vibrating furiously in warning.

  “You’re one good-looker, brother snake. Tell you what, you head on your way, then we’ll head on our way.”

  Transfixed, his Kylie didn’t move. He scented little fear from her, though it was there, whiffs of her primitive odor.

  Taking his sweet time, the rattler slowed his tail. Gradually uncoiling his thick long length, he slithered like a king across the trail in front of them. Dillon smiled to himself, admiring the snake’s splendid diamond pattern. “Brother snake, you would have made some fine boots,” he called out.

  “All clear.” Dillon sheathed the rifle while Diamond walked forward carefully, rolling one eye toward the spot where the rattler had disappeared. “Hate to kill ’em, if I don’t have to.”

  Palming his woman’s sweetly shaped back, he stroked. “I owe rattlers. Their meat helped save us when we were being starved out. Their venom is used in several health remedies. One restores a damaged heart muscle. Had to use it once for Dono.”

  “What happened?”

  Dillon allowed himself to peruse her face, pale from their encounter with the rattlesnake. Damn, if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even with her tiny tear tracks.

  “Dono got shot in the heart. He was on a raid to knock out a Union repair facility. On the way back to the border, they were ambushed. The fool stood up to lob a cocktail bomb. It got the job done, but he was peppered. One of the bullets lodged in his heart and it was tipped with depleted uranium.”

  “He survived…how?”

  “The doc with them stabilized him, using a scaler wave machine. He extracted the bullets and the toxins, but the damage had begun in his heart. Dash had been monitoring the raid, just in case. Claimed he had a bad feeling. We rode out to meet them with the venom preparation, fast as the horses would travel.”

  “There wasn’t a faster way to travel?”

  “At the time, our aircraft would have been shot down. The roads were blockaded. And they were in the New Mexico back country, past the Carlsbad Caverns, inside the deep forest.”

  Restlessly, she shook her upper body. “Things are so different here. I’m glad you saved him, his heart.”

  “Dono’s gonna be extra glad when he gets a l
ook at you.” Dillon knew the moment the words left his tongue, he shouldn’t have said anything. She withered like rose after a thunderstorm, her eyes deeply shadowed by worry. “Kylie, it’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

  She averted her face, her color high. “Maybe I’ll pretend none of this is real. That it’s all a dream.”

  “Dang it, Sparks, I won’t be a pretend husband to you.”

  “If it was only you,” she paused, “it might work.”

  Her breeze-soft words made it to his ear.

  Drawing his woman closer, Dillon loosened the reins, letting Diamond surge forward, to a floating trot. Instinctively, his wife’s hands caught his shoulders as she swayed forward. Avoiding his gaze, she looked down, and Dillon longed to cradle her, comfort her. But it was better not to stop.

  Seeming to sense his desire to get home, Diamond launched into a ground-eating gallop down the gentle half-mile incline that lead into their valley. Once the mare reached the area where the trail leveled out, she settled into a fast walk over the flat enormous stones.

  “You know,” Kylie began. “I can understand where you’re coming from. Not that it makes it any easier for me. It doesn’t.” After lacing her fingers behind his neck, she continued. “It’s been drummed into me since I was little. Bloom where you’re planted. I’d swear, sometimes, Mom had an internal tape recorder she’d switch on.” She choked out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s probably why I went the route I did with my education.”

  “Gardening.”

  She nodded. “The genetic structure of plants, the generational difference between those raised organically and those that aren’t, to put it simply.”

  “Kylie,” he rubbed her back, “I’ll make certain you bloom. Hell, darlin’, I don’t mean just passionately. I mean you.”

  “My own personal sun,” she drily joked a moment later.

  Still, her sad expression nearly undid him. Good lord, her eyes were deeper than any well he’d ever dug. The crystalline waters of her soul shone up at him, and his breath bucked back into his lungs.

  “Are you sure you’re only a woman, little thang?”

  “What do you mean?” Her words jumped at him.

  “Your eyes are radiant. Like an angel.”

  She blushed and lowered her eyelids, obviously hearing his sincerity. “I’m a woman.”

  Dillon spoke the Charley Pride song running through his mind. “You’ve got to kiss an angel good morning, and love her like the devil when you get back home.”

  She blushed fiery red this time, and Dillon rumbled a laugh.

  “You probably are the devil.”

  His wife shoved at his chest. The small imprint of her hands felt like the burning brand of passion. Dillon glowed with happiness while his cock gave a good twitch.

  “Woowee, you’re a darn strong woman.”

  “You’re just saying that.” She flipped her hair and thrust out her adorable chin.

  “One of the first things I’m gettin’ for you is a ridin’ hat. The sun has made your cheeks pink. I shoulda known better. Here.” Dillon plucked off his Stetson, placing it on her head.

  “I can’t see.” Reaching up, she tilted his hat back a bit, and peeked out at him. “I feel like I’m in training to say yeehaw and woowee.”

  Heartily amused, Dillon lifted the corner of his mouth at her bewildered expression, cute as a kitten, and her imitation of his woowee. “How’d you like to ride with me when I check on the cattle?”

  “You don’t mean double, do you? That wouldn’t work.”

  “Nope, it wouldn’t. You’d have your own mount. Once you’re riding well enough, I’ll take you with me.”

  She shrugged, a delicate movement. “Why not? I like riding. I still don’t see how,” she wiggled into a new position, “how the three of you are going…to, to share me.”

  “We’ll duke it out if we have to.”

  She stared at him, the brim of the hat framing her startled gaze. The high level of her intelligence shone in her eyes like stars on a moonless night, and Dillon realized how much that meant to him. He hadn’t given it a whole lot of consideration before. He’d simply been desperate for his own woman.

  “You’re serious.”

  “Irresistible,” he muttered.

  Dillon brushed his thumbpad over her full kissable lips. Her eyes turned stormy with arousal and his loins twisted like a rodeo bull. After trailing his thumb along her cheekbone, he cupped her dainty shoulder, then claimed her back again with his palm.

  “Yep. More than likely, Sparks, we’ll hash out any differences with words like I told you earlier. Lately, I’ve been hard on Dono and Dash for brawling like a couple of stud dogs at each other’s throats. At times, darlin’, a good fist-bashing fight clears the air like a long pounding rain.”

  Dillon watched her think about what he’d said.

  “John Wayne. I can still see his long arm shoot forward and his giant fist crash into a man’s jaw during a bar fight. Summer vacation when I was a kid, I’d watch his old west movies.”

  “John Wayne was an actor in your dimension, like Chuck Norris?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fond of the Male Species

  “Chuck Norris was a generation after John Wayne. He wasn’t only an actor. But that’s how most of us knew him, assuming we’re talking about the same man.”

  “Tall, broad-shouldered, features like the side of a craggy mountain?”

  She gave a nod.

  “Long Gun John, what we call him, used to drink many a cowpoke under the table. Got into a disagreement with him once down in San Angelo. Damn! He had a wind-up right cross that sure did stagger my jaw. Watchin’ his eyes, he was dang surprised I didn’t fall like a big ole bag of spuds.”

  “So, what did happen?”

  “We started tradin’ punches, crunchin’ each other’s mugs. The furniture got dragged out of the way to give us lots of room. Truth is, we were both drunk as skunks who’d found a passel of fermented berries. I think the liquor got to us before the blows.

  “We ended up falling toward each other like two collapsin’ buildings. It was lights out for me. Dono pulled me outta there by my boots. Next day, I woke up in our hotel room, my head achin’ like an axe hit it and my jaw not far behind. Learned a damn good lesson, though.”

  “What?” Several emotions flitted like dark butterflies in her eyes.

  “Don’t fight drunk. Never been that drunk since, Sparks. Closest was when I had a bad leg wound and they were fixin’ me up.”

  “Yeah, I got drunk once. Hated it, the way it made me feel. I like a drink or two, though. Is…is John Wayne still alive here?”

  “Nope. He was shot down on a mission flying an experimental supersonic jet he’d funded. He and his two other pilots proved the jet’s worth. To save his two other jets and the pilots, he took the crossfire attack from the Harriers the Union sent up to intercept.”

  “A hero here, too, even after World War II. Where were he and his pilots flying?”

  “They were over Washington, D.C., using their beam weapons to destroy the main avenues and unoccupied buildings. We’d never been able to penetrate that far east.”

  “Wow. Beam weapons?”

  “Particle accelerator technology, using red diamonds. So far, it’s too dang costly for general use, and not enough is known about the negative effects.”

  “What does D.C. look like now?”

  “The avenues were repaired. New buildings constructed. It’s mostly empty, though, except for the fat-cat politicians holdin’ court with the lobbyists. Far as we can tell, the Union is really operatin’ out of Denver. Lots of Fed buildings there, and NORAD’s right around the corner in Colorado Springs.”

  “Sean David Morton, a psychic type. Mom got his newsletter. I recall reading a prediction he made about the U.S. government moving to Denver. Mega weird.” Her intense gaze searched his face and they rode in silence for a time, their gazes simply immersed in one another.

  Fina
lly averting her eyes, she looked across the high grass meadow. Winter stalks still waved in the light sweep of wind while new growth sprang up, bright green and inviting. Tall, uneven rows of conifer trees stood on one side of the meadow, majestically pointing to the blue heavens.

  It felt darn good, her little laced fingers pulling slightly on his neck, her hips rocking gently with his while her woman’s carnal rose cradled the base of his breeding shaft. A man could get too used to a woman like her, just exactly like he’d planned on doing.

  “A meeting of the minds.” She brought her eyes back to him. Too loose, his hat sat cock-eyed on her head. “Don’t laugh,” she warned as he grinned at her. “You put it on me.”

  “I’d say a meetin’ of our bodies, too.”

  “Typically male.”

  “I’ll make you fond of the male species yet.”

  “That might take some doing.” Her honest and hurt tone sank into him. “Not that I hate men. Not really. Some of their behaviors…let’s just say, leave a lot to be desired. Before you say it. Yes, I’ll grant women have behaviors men don’t like. However, that changes nothing for me.” She one-eyed him and her fingers dug into his neck.

  “Like I said,” Dillon drawled, “I’ll make you fond of the male species, especially me.”

  His Kylie cocked her head as much as his Stetson allowed. Peering from beneath the brim, she evaluated him with what he called a woman’s goddess intuition. “We’ll see, since I have no choice.”

  “Nope, Sparks, you don’t.” She scowled before he tightened his hold around her sexy hourglass body. “Hang on, Diamond is gearin’ up to gallop. We’re on the last three quarters of a mile.”

  “Woopee,” she muttered drily.

  Dillon leaned forward, signaling the mare. Diamond sprang into a gallop on the wide trail leading to the ranch house. With each stride, the mare increased her speed until she was close to a flat out run.

  Keeping one arm looped tight around his neck, Kylie also grabbed his hat and held it down. “Omygawd,” she shouted, “there’s wolf running with us.”