by Sharon Ihle
Mariah and her father exchanged glances, and Zack, the patriarch, took the responsibility of yet another lie. "Ah, no, Cain, I'm afraid not. You were an only child... just like our Mariah." He gave her a warm smile, and then went on with his plans for the show. "I've been thinking about changing your part, too, baby. We've about wore little ole Princess Tanacoa to the ground."
"I thought I was doing just fine." Mariah glanced at Oda, seeking a little support, and noticed that her mother had fallen asleep.
"It ain't that you can't do the job," Zack said. "I was just thinking maybe we ought to try something new, maybe an act like that Princess Lotus Blossom and her blasted Tiger Fat cure. Why, she reels in the suckers with that spiel faster than she can count the money."
"And she's as crooked as Daisy's hind legs, too—don't forget that." Mariah looked at Cain, which was a mistake. His expression had hardly changed since their talk at the depot, and was still incendiary enough to melt the buttons on her bodice. She clasped her knees together tightly, careful not to brush against his legs, and quietly said to her father, "I think one Princess Lotus Blossom is quite enough."
"But that's just my point, baby. Don't you see?" Zack was far too caught up in the creation of a new show to notice that his wife was softly snoring, or that his daughter and Cain were so intent on each other, he might as well have been playing to an empty hall. He went on, his enthusiasm increasing as he visualized the new act.
"Why, there must be hundreds of Kickapoo Indian shows, maybe even thousands." He lowered his voice. "And each one of them has an Indian princess or a medicine man. Ah, but if we was to dress Mariah up in a Chinese mandarin robe, put her hair in one long braid down her back and maybe add some silk veils—you know, kinda wrap her up like a cocoon—why, she could just as well be a princess from China as a Kickapoo Indian." He tapped his index finger against his forehead. "Ayuh. That and a grease stick with a little more of a yellow cast to it, and I believe it'd work at that. What do you say?" He elbowed Cain in the ribs. "Can't you see Mariah done up that way?"
He certainly could, but Cain doubted he and Zack were picturing the same "princess." His Mariah was naked, her body shimmering through gossamer scarves as silken as her skin. At the image, desire flared in him, and Cain dropped his arms in his lap, hoping the gesture would hide his growing ardor, if not cool it. Through a throat so tight it barely allowed the passage of air, he said, "Sounds like it might bring 'em in all right. What do you think, princess?"
Taken off guard—for she, too, had been distracted with other thoughts—Mariah accidentally brushed her knee against the inside of Cain's thigh. The train chattered over a rough section of track, vibrating her body from head to toe, and Mariah forgot what they'd been talking about. "Ah, whatever Zack decides will be best for the show. I never question his judgment."
"Oh, I ain't quite decided yet, baby." Zack went on, verbalizing a few other ideas, oblivious to the fact that neither of them was listening to him any longer.
As her father's voice droned on, Mariah's eyes met with Cain's and locked. In that split second, she knew precisely what he was thinking and how he was feeling. She drew in a long breath as the train's whistle sounded, and the grind of the laboring engines filled her ears, merging with the sudden roar of her own pulse. Straining under the arduous task of climbing high into the San Juan Mountains, the locomotives chugged and steamed, building pressure in an almost perfect imitation of the way her own body was reacting to Cain and the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the railroad car.
Cain restlessly shifted his hips and then took the frock coat from the seat beside him. After carefully folding the garment, he draped it across his lap. Then, with much difficulty, he tore his gaze from Mariah, turned toward Zack, and made several comments about the suggestions he'd come up with to improve the show.
They went on this way for two hours, the incessant clack, clack, clack of the train growing in intensity, gathering momentum, fueling both Cain and Mariah almost beyond endurance. By the time the cars had passed through Rockwood and climbed to where the rails spread out along a narrow, rocky shelf blasted out of the side of the granite mountain, Oda had awakened, her features pinched, her complexion leaning toward green.
Reaching for her new cigar case, she said, "Take me outside, Zachariah. I ain't going to last much longer."
She didn't have to ask twice. Used to her motion sickness, Zack locked the hinge in his wooden leg, leapt up from his seat, and pulled Oda up alongside him. "We'll see you two a ways down the track," he said. Then he and Oda moved up the aisle toward the front of the train.
Cain waited until they'd left the car before asking Mariah, "What was that all about?"
"Oda gets sick when she rides the train. Especially with all the twisting and turning now that we've climbed into the mountains. She and Zack will probably spend the next three hours the way they usually do: riding up front on the platform behind the tender."
Three hours, he thought to himself. Three impossibly long hours. How would he be able to sit through those interminable minutes across from Mariah, feeling her legs nudging his, remembering the way she'd moved beneath him and called out his name just a few nights ago? Cain didn't know if there was a word for the way he was feeling—"aroused" didn't come close in intensity—but he did know that the next few hours were going to seem like three weeks if he couldn't think of a way to distract himself. And soon. But how could he, with Mariah sitting there looking so damned tempting?
Seeking a few distractions of her own, she was staring out the window at the incredible scenery, the tall timber and snowcapped peaks looking down on the rapidly moving Animas so far below. The train rounded a sharp bend, and Mariah swayed like a gentle wave, her knees rubbing against Cain's, the river lapping the beach. She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath, thrilled to have had even that small contact with the man she loved—the man who was almost, but not quite, hers. Never to be completely hers.
The train twisted around another bend, the car rattling and lurching from side to side, and this time, it was Cain's knees crossing the boundaries. His voice low, he said, "This is one hell of a train ride, princess. Is it always this... this stimulating?"
She nodded, both torturing and thrilling herself by keeping her gaze locked into his. "I think," she said a little breathlessly, "it has something to do with the narrow gauge of the tracks. It kind of exaggerates the movements."
His nostrils flared. "It sure as hell exaggerates something."
"Yes." Her voice was but a whisper. "I would say that it does."
Desire rippled down Cain's spine, shooting sparks to every sensitive spot in his body, a few of those sparks landing in places he'd hadn't realized before could be erotically charged. How could he not respond to Mariah? The way she was looking at him was enough to put him over the edge. Her eyes were languid, heavily lidded, the dark amethyst color barely visible beneath her sooty lashes, and her moist lips were slightly parted, offering several tantalizing glimpses of her tongue.
Knowing only that he had to make an attempt to be with her, Cain leaned forward in his seat, capturing Mariah's legs between his knees, and said, "I've been watching that mind of yours working for as long as I can stand it. A 'penny' for your thoughts, Miss Penny."
* * *
Across the aisle and down two rows, Artemis was in the midst of a rousing game of paper-scissors-rock with the youngster sitting next to him. He'd just slapped his palms together twice and balled his fist to form a rock, when something crashed against his shoulder, nearly knocking him off his seat.
"Hey." He looked up at the clumsy passenger.
"Beg pardon," Tubbs said, barely glancing in the kid's direction.
"Oh, ah, that's all right." The words had come automatically, and Artemis had even turned back to the boy to resume their game, before the significance of what had just happened sank into his mind. It was time. Lord almighty. It was time.
Swallowing the sting of bile, Artemis said to the youngster, "I,
ah, got to get some air now. Maybe we can play more later." Then he rose from his seat with shaking legs, and made his way toward the back of the train.
* * *
Cain continued to coax Mariah. "Just a few words, princess, a little hint about what you're thinking right now. That's all I want."
"Is it?" She blushed as the words left her mouth, feeling ridiculously shy. But Mariah didn't let the attack of nerves stop her. She went on. "I was just thinking how much fun it'd be to, ah..." Adjusting her skirts so the passengers across from them couldn't see, Mariah nudged his calf with the toe of her boot, then let it drift up his leg to the knee. "... raise a little Cain."
His entire system seemed to shut down, but somehow, Cain found the strength to lift the coat from his lap. After offering Mariah a glimpse of his obvious discomfort, he let the garment settle back over his groin. "Haven't I mentioned that in my past life I used to be a mind reader?"
The word "No," came out as a soft groan, and then Mariah's eyes rolled to a close as she understood the power she had over this man. And the power that he had over her.
Cain only understood that he could no longer just sit there watching her changing expressions and the way she squirmed in her seat. He had a feeling, as he noticed her breasts rising and falling beneath the velvet jersey, that she couldn't just sit there much longer, either. Her eyes were too languid, too seductive.
The train took another sharp bend then, lurching violently, and pitched Mariah forward, nearly flinging her off of her seat. Cain automatically reached out to her, preventing the fall, and in the process caught her at the bust. He held her that way many moments longer than necessary, the pads of his thumbs caressing her rigid nipples through the velvet jersey, and then finally released her. Mariah's features were tense as she fell back against her seat, her lips parted in ecstasy.
"Good Lord," Cain said, beside himself with lust as he gazed at her expression. "You're about to, ah... without me, aren't you?"
Mariah laughed from deep in her throat, then dragged in a breath and let it out on a long shudder. "Uh... huh."
"Oh, hell." Cain's whole body went rock-hard, his blood thundering through his veins. "I can't take any more of this, princess. Not one more minute."
Leaning forward in his seat, he shrugged into his Brother Law coat, stood up, and buttoned it at the waist. Then he reached for Mariah's hand and tugged her to her feet. "They added a parlor car with private compartments near the back of this train. We're going to go find us an empty one if I have to empty it myself."
* * *
Outside on the step of the last car, Artemis leaned his elbows against the rail and cautiously peered down the sheer face of the rocky cliffs which supported the railroad tracks. The Animas River raged through the gorge below, wide and strong, but since he was gazing at it from hundreds of feet above, to Artemis it looked like a small trickle—and even more like a slender, watery grave that would soon claim his new best friend, Cain Law.
Even though the two men were alone, Tubbs talked out of the corner of his mouth, his gaze directed away from the kid as he said, "What happened to the old man and woman? I didn't see them."
Still staring at the water, Artemis shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't see them leave their seats."
"Maybe they went to one of the parlor cars for a better place to sit."
"No. I was with Zack when he bought the tickets. He didn't pay extra for no parlor seats. I expect they're just taking a walk somewheres."
Tubbs stayed quiet for a few minutes, checking the landscape ahead until he was satisfied with the deadly drop below. Then he glanced at Artemis and said, "Go get him, kid. Tell Slater anything you want to, as long as it's not the truth. Just get his ass back here, and get it here now."
* * *
The first two compartments Cain opened—and had to mutter apologies into—contained well-heeled families seeking privacy with their small children. The third housed a group of four businessmen. When he opened the next, and found it empty, he pulled Mariah inside and slammed the door behind them.
"What if the conductor comes by?" she asked, apparently more concerned about the fact that they hadn't paid for the special accommodations than she was about privacy. "We don't have tickets to be in here."
"The last thing I'm worried about right now is a damn ticket." He glanced around the small compartment. It had the same bench-seating for four as the other cars, a small aisle between the two pairs, and a window overlooking the deep gorge below. Best of all, it had a door. When Cain discovered that the door had no lock, he turned to Mariah and held out his hand. "Give me one of your shoes."
She was wearing a pair of scalloped high-topped boots made of kid leather, but it took less than a minute for her to unfasten the buttons and drop one boot into his waiting palm.
Cain hunkered down and wedged the toe of her boot under the door, slamming the heel of his palm against the back of the shoe until he was certain that no amount of force from the other side of the door would jar it loose. Then he stood up and turned to face Mariah. She was standing with her back against the window, a self-conscious grin wobbling the corners of her mouth. She was breathing heavily, gripping the edge of the velvet window curtain for balance.
From the corner of his eye, Cain could see that she'd tossed her second boot onto one of the bench seats. Along with her drawers.
"It looks like you're in as big a hurry as I am, princess," he said. "That's good, because I've got a feeling this isn't going to take too long."
He popped the buttons on his jeans as he crossed the short distance between them, and shoved the pants down to his knees when he reached her. He lifted her off of her feet and pressed her against the window, pinning her there, and raised her skirts up to her waist, filling his palms with gobs of purple homespun. Then he filled Mariah.
* * *
Artemis raced up and down the aisle of each car, frantic after the first pass through the entire train. There was still no sign of Cain or Mariah. It was like a nightmare, a feeling that they'd somehow been transported to another train and another time. Was it possible? Could they have just disappeared?
Each time he reached the front of the train, he found Zack and Oda standing out by the coal car. In the last car, Tubbs waited like a starving vulture. But still no Cain. No Mariah. By the third pass through the cars, in his panic, Artemis didn't recognize anyone, not even the boy he'd been playing paper-scissors-rock with. Glory be. Where could they have gone to?
* * *
The glass cold against her naked bottom, Mariah groaned as Cain thrust into her. Within seconds, the searing passion of her man became more than enough compensation for any heat loss she might have endured, and she welcomed all that he had to offer, giving herself up to him with complete abandon. She wanted to hang on to the exquisite sensations as long as possible, to indulge her senses with every heated inch of him. But because of that intense passion, along with the way the train rattled against her spine, she exploded almost instantly.
Cain was certain he'd done little more than drive into Mariah—two or three short thrusts, he figured in the misty reasoning of runaway passion—before she arched her back and began to buck against him, moaning her pleasure in high-pitched, staccato cries. The strong contractions of her body sent Cain hurtling toward that same point of no return in the very next instant. His knees buckled with the force of the first impact, nearly sending them both to the floor, and he gripped the burgundy velvet curtains for balance, tearing them from the wall. Only a pair of gold satin pulls and tassels were left of the window drapes, and Cain clung to those cords, somehow remaining upright.
And then he felt himself coming; coming, laughing, and, hell, maybe even crying in a heated rush of such intensity that he feared he might black out. Mariah erupted a second time, crying his name aloud in the throes of her pleasure, and from somewhere within him came a sudden impulse, a primitive urge to arch his back and cut loose with a howl. He was a savage now, a beast, a madman whose throat
strained to release a primal roar; but still vaguely aware of their surroundings and the need for relative quiet, he managed to restrain at least that urge.
When he was spent, Cain fell against Mariah, burrowing through her hair until his mouth met the satin of her moist skin. His teeth gently nipping her neck, he drew in a long, shaky breath. Then, his voice husky with the kind of emotion he knew he'd never experienced before, he said, "Oh, how I love you, Mariah. I'll love you forever."
* * *
Tubbs's cheeks puffed out, coloring a little as he glared at Artemis and said, "They didn't up and throw themselves off the train, kid. They have to be here somewhere."
His chin quivering, Artemis sniffled. "But I looked everywhere. I'm telling you, they ain't on the train no more."
Tubbs grabbed him by the shirt collar and pushed him until his head was sticking out over the black iron safety railing at the back of the car. "We don't have the time for your nonsense, Artie. We've got to take care of business, and we've got to do it now. You ready to talk sense?"
The air current generated by the speed of the locomotive was cold, icy against Artemis's skin, but that wasn't what got his knees to knocking and his hands to shaking. The view did that all by itself. Tubbs had leaned him out over the railing on the inside curve of the rails. Dead ahead, he could see a tight bend in the tracks, a turn around the mountainside which would leave precious little room between the jagged rocks and his head—if any.
Artemis nodded rapidly. "Yes. Yes."
Tubbs pulled him back inside the railing. "Good thinking, kid. Now here's what we're gonna do, and this time, you do it exactly the way I say. Are you with me?"
"Y-yes, sir. I am."
"Good." Tubbs pulled up the waist of his trousers and adjusted the angle of his guns. "You and I are gonna search this train from one end to the other—together. You just walk on ahead of me, pretending like you don't know me, and I'll let you know when to stop or if I want you to check a compartment door."
