MM01 - Valley of Fire

by Peggy Webb

  She sighed. Wasn't that just like a Riley woman? She couldn't even get through one night without tumbling straight into the arms of this wife-chasing rake.

  The real trick would be to make sure that it didn't happen again. She figured she could act rage as well as she could act rich

  Drawing back as far as she could, she punched him in the ribs. “Let go of me.”

  “What the—” Rick's eyes flew open. Martha Ann's face was two inches from his nose, and she had murder in her eyes. He grinned. “Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”

  “Get your hands out from under my shirt.”

  “What a shame. That's such a nice place for my hands to be—even if I didn't know they were there.”

  “In a pig's eye, you didn't.”

  “Scout's honor.” His hands were still under her shirt, and her skin felt so good, he saw no reason to resist a quick caress or two. .

  Martha Ann shivered, and it wasn't from the cold. “Will you stop that?”

  He grinned. “You liked it, didn't you, Mrs. O'Grady.”

  “I did not. Remove your hands.”

  “Since I'm such a gentleman...”he paused, grinning at her, “... I'm bound to oblige.” He took his time, dragging his fingertips over her back just so he could feel her shiver again. Chuckling, he tucked her shirt back into her waistband and patted her bottom. “There. Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?”

  She'd gotten what she'd asked for and a lot more to boot. Darned his wicked hide.

  “It will be, as soon as you move your leg.”

  “Such a pity. I thought we were a great fit.” He pressed his leg intimately against her hip before releasing his hold.

  She scooted quickly away from him and stood up. The morning chill almost took her breath away.

  Rick stood up and stretched. “Aren't you going to thank me?”

  “Thank you?”

  “I kept you from freezing to death last night.”

  “Nobody freezes to death in the middle of the desert in the summertime.”

  “I thought it best not to take chances.”

  “What you did was take advantage. And with a married woman.”

  “Tsk. Tsk.” He made the small sound of remorse, but he didn't look the least bit remorseful. As a matter of fact, she thought he looked as pleased with himself as a naughty boy who had put a frog in the teacher's desk.

  Since she couldn't fill him with regret, she decided to fill him with fear.

  “It's a darned good thing Lucky didn't see you.”

  “You think he's out here in the desert? I thought he came to gamble.”

  “He did. He also likes to sightsee.”

  “At five o'clock in the morning?”

  “You never know about him. He could turn up anywhere.”

  “I'm shuddering in my boots.” He wasn't, of course. He was laughing.

  Martha Ann tried one last play. “He has a terrible temper. You can just look at that picture of him I gave you in Dallas and tell.” It was another lie, but she'd told too many to back down now. Her brother-in-law was a gambler and a wanderer, but he had the temperament of a sweet and people-pleasing cocker spaniel.

  “I think I can outrun him. I ran track in college.”

  Rick McGill was a perfect scoundrel through and through. It was obvious to Martha Ann that she'd have nothing to depend on except her own strength of character to resist him. With her track record, that was like going up against a grizzly bear with a peashooter.

  She dusted off her pants, raked her hand through her tumbled hair, and straightened her sweater. “I can tell you one thing, Rick McGill. This won't happen again.”

  “Martha Ann, there will always be a next time for people like us.”

  Chapter Four

  In the early morning light, they left the Valley of Fire. After drinking their fill of water and filling their pockets with the beans of the catclaw acacia, they headed west toward Las Vegas. The distant mountains still wore their nightcaps of fog, and the red desert was just beginning to awaken. A family of prairie dogs, coming out of their burrows for breakfast, scolded the disheveled travelers as they passed through the valley.

  Martha Ann and Rick ordinarily would have stopped to watch the chattering, lively little creatures, but they had miles to go before the sun turned the desert into an oven.

  “Do you recall any ranches between here and Las Vegas, Martha Ann?”

  “I remember two, but that was a long time ago. There is no way of knowing what's out there now.”

  “Don't worry. We're young and healthy. We can walk the entire fifty miles if we have to.”

  She thought it was nice to have a man who didn't make a bad situation worse by complaining. She smiled at him. “You're not such a bad guy, Rick McGill.”

  “You're not so bad yourself, Martha Ann O'Grady.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “You have dust on your cheek.”

  “So do you.” Impulsively, she brushed her hand across his cheek. She realized too late that was not at all the kind of thing Mrs. Lucky O'Grady should be doing. Under the guise of dusting herself off, she pulled back from him. “We must look like a couple of hobos.”

  “Make that hungry hobos. I keep thinking of a big juicy steak and fluffy biscuits and a mountain of scrambled eggs.”

  “It's cruel to mention food to a starving woman.”

  “I don't mean to be cruel, sweetheart. Just keeping the vision before you.” He took her elbow. “Let's press on.”

  As they began their descent down a rocky incline, Martha Ann spotted the ribbon of paved road.

  “Rick, look.”

  “By George, we're in luck.”

  “Maybe a car will come along,” Martha Ann said as they hurried toward the highway. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  They didn't.

  Three hours later they were still walking. Although they had followed the winding path of the road, not a single car had darkened the horizon. Just when they were getting ready to take another break, they spotted a ramshackle fence. Their sagging spirits lifted like a bat-wing kite on a windy day.

  “A ranch,” Rick said.

  “It's bound to be.”

  They joined hands and followed the fence, their faces shining with sweat and joy.

  o0o

  Clyde Running Bear was out beside his barn trying to decipher the mysteries of his ancient tractor. He knew nothing about repairing his wonderful machine, but that didn't keep him from trying. Putting down his wrench, he wiped his greasy hands across his greasy face and looked toward the horizon. He blinked and looked again.

  “Velma!” He. sprinted across his fine yard toward his grand house, scaring two chickens who were scratching in the dirt for worms. “Velma, honey! Shake a leg. We've got company.”

  The screen door flew open, and his wife appeared. She wore the sexy bright pink leotard that he loved so well. He stopped in silent appreciation of her beauty.

  She wiggled her hips and winked. “What did you say about company, Clyde?”

  “Are you trying to entice me, woman?”

  “Always have and always will.” The screen door slammed shut behind her, and she shimmied across the porch. “Do I look all right?”

  “Honey, if we didn't have company coming, I'd show you just how all right you look.”

  “You Paiute devil, you.”

  Any other day he'd have let matters take care of themselves while he took care of his warm and willing bundle of beauty, but he had company coming. He pointed into the distance. “Look, there's two of them.”

  Velma shaded her eyes. “It looks like a couple of lovers.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I just know these things, Clyde.” She descended the front porch steps, being careful to miss the broken fourth board. “How do you suppose they found us way out here, Clyde?”

  “I guess the Lord sent 'em, Velma. He knows how lonesome you get for somebody besides me to talk to.”

  She reached up and patt
ed the curls on her shiny blond wig. “Come on in,” she yelled. “The gate's unlocked.”

  o0o

  Rick and Martha Ann came through the gate. Six chickens watched them with malevolent eyes, and a fat, lazy dog merely yawned and went back to sleep beside the broken-down front porch. The ranch they had found wasn't exactly South Fork, Rick thought, but at least the owners would have water and a telephone. Keeping a tight and protective hold on Martha Ann's hand, he led her up the dusty path toward the waiting couple. The man was squat and square. His high-cheeked, pockmarked face was covered with grease, and two black braids hung onto the bib of his overalls. The woman beside him was tall and full-figured without being fat. Stage makeup covered a face that had probably once been pretty, and shiny sequins decorated her bright outfit.

  “Hello,” he said. “I'm Rick McGill, and this is my companion Martha Ann O'Grady.”

  Clyde stuck out his hand, then remembered it was greasy. He pulled it back, wiped it on his overalls, and offered it again. “Welcome to our house.”

  “We don't get much company,” Velma said. “What brings you two out this way?”

  “My private plane crashed in the Valley of Fire.” Rick was dying of thirst and eager to get to a phone, but he supposed he'd be curious, too, if a couple of dusty strangers had turned up on his doorstep.

  “You fly? I've always wanted to talk to somebody who could fly one of those things.”

  “Where are your manners, Clyde? These folks look hot and thirsty. Go out to the pump and get a bucket of fresh water.” She took Martha Ann's hand and led her up the steps. “Come on in, you two. Land, how far did you have to walk? It's ten miles or more to the Valley. It must have been hotter than the devil's breath out there.” She picked up a dingy cloth and wiped at the jelly stains on the back of two kitchen chairs. “Sit down. Clyde will be back with that water in a little while.”

  “Thank you.” Martha Ann smiled at her hostess. “Water sounds wonderful.”

  “It certainly does.” Rick rubbed Martha Ann's palm in a gesture of reassurance. The strain they'd been under since the previous day didn't show. She was sitting serenely in the jelly-stained chair as if she were planning to dine at the Ritz. She had class; there was no doubt about it. He relaxed a little. Their situation could have been worse.

  “You two traveling together?” Velma noticed they were still holding hands. That pleased her. There was nothing she loved more than romance.

  “Yes.” Rick saw no reason to go into the whole story.

  Martha Ann saw the gleam in Velma's eye and hastened to set her straight. “It's merely business. I've hired him to take me into Las Vegas.”

  They weren't fooling Velma. She was planning to pursue the subject a while longer, but Clyde came through the door with a bucket of water. She went to the cabinet and searched out two glasses that matched; then she filled them and set them before her guests.

  “So, you two are going to Las Vegas?” She winked at Clyde.

  “Las Vegas? That's where I met Velma. She was the prettiest thing out there. A dancer. Had legs so long, I swear she could kick the stars.” He grinned at his wife.

  Rick could tell that his host and hostess were enjoying themselves, but he was anxious to make arrangements for himself and Martha Ann. “That sounds like fun, Mister...” He waited for his host to supply his last name.

  “Running Bear. I'm fifth generation Paiute.”

  “Mister Running Bear.”

  “Call me Clyde.”

  “Clyde, I wonder if I can use your phone?”

  Clyde slapped his knee and chucked. “Did you hear that, Velma? He wants to use the phone.”

  Velma hooted with such full-bodied laughter, her false curls bounced up and down.

  Rick didn't find his request funny, and he had a feeling that what he was going to hear next wouldn't make him laugh either.

  “Clyde calls a phone the devil's own contraption.”

  “Not good for a thing except to tear a man's nerves to pieces. All that racket going on when a man's trying to eat or sleep or love his woman. I wouldn't have one of the things, myself.”

  “The noise is a consideration, of course.”

  It took Rick's last bit of effort to be polite. He thought that one more piece of bad news would make him cuss, and he'd given up cussing fifteen years ago as a useless waste of time and breath. But he didn't want to hurt Clyde's feelings. Furthermore, there was Martha Ann to consider. He'd always prided himself on knowing how to take good care of a woman.

  So far he'd done a lousy job of it with her. It galled him that he had failed to get her to Las Vegas without mishap. The least he could do now was to stay calm and in control.

  He bought time to put things back into perspective by drinking his water and studying his surroundings. The room looked as if it had been furnished by a garage sale addict. Three rusty bread boxes lined the counter. Beside them were two toasters, four spice racks, two automatic coffee makers, two sugar bowls, and three cracked teapots. Two clocks on the wall told the time, one a yellow tin rooster with a rusted red comb and glow-in-the-dark eyes, and the other a green plastic frog whose pink tongue flicked in and out on the quarter hour. It was nine-fifteen, and the tongue was moving in and out, mocking him.

  It seemed that Mr. and Mrs. Clyde Running Bear had two of everything except a telephone.

  Martha Ann smiled at him as if to say, I can handle it. Rick patted her hand as if to say, We'll make it.

  “Does your neighbor have a phone?” Rick asked.

  Clyde laughed again. “He's got one, but he's twenty miles away.”

  “I wonder if you could drive us. I'd pay you, of course.”

  “I'll be glad to... as soon as my truck's fixed.”

  Rick wondered if he was paying for all his past sins and indiscretions. “How long will that be?”

  “Could be two days or could be two weeks. Ralph picked it up last week and said it would be ready soon. But time doesn't mean a thing to him.”

  “Now don't you two worry,” Velma said. “We've got plenty of room, and we’ll be pleased to have company.”

  “Absolutely. Why, when Ralph brings back my truck, I'll take you into Las Vegas myself.”

  “Can I go too, Clyde?”

  “That's what I had in mind all along, honey. The trip will do you good. It'll be just like a picnic, the four of us in that truck. Well set up chairs in the back end.”

  Throughout this exchange, Rick and Martha Ann had been watching each other. Their expressions had run the gamut from disbelief to resignation to wry humor.

  “Thank you for that gracious invitation,” Martha Ann said.

  “We accept,” Rick added.

  “I'll bet you two are starving to death.” Velma jumped up and began to bustle around the kitchen. In short order she had set two plates of warmed over refried beans in front of her guests. “You two eat hearty. Clyde and I have plans to make.”

  Their hosts went out the front door.

  Rick looked at the beans on his plate and thought of the beans still in his pockets. Martha Ann began to chuckle.

  “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She picked up her fork and took a mouthful. “But I never question a gift horse.”

  “I think that's 'look a gift horse in the mouth.' “

  “Whatever.” She took another forkful. “You know, you've handled yourself very well in this situation. I like a man with a sense of humor. I might even get to like you in spite of your notorious wife-chasing ways.”

  “You're a champ yourself, Mrs. Lucky O'Grady. If I'm not careful, I'm going to let liking you get in the way of my plans.”

  The remark about his plans was loaded. Martha Ann decided to ignore it. “I always try to count my blessings. We're not in such bad shape after all. Clyde and Velma are sweet, and a soft bed tonight will be wonderful.”

  “It certainly will.” He grinned.

  “Soft separate beds.”

&nbs
p; “Sweetheart, the distance between two beds is very short.”

  “You're going to find out just how impossible that journey is.”

  “Good. Easy victories bore me.”

  “I can promise you one thing, Rick McGill: You won't be bored.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  o0o

  After they had eaten their beans, Rick went outside with Clyde to give him advice on fixing the magnificent but ailing Ford tractor, and Martha Ann stayed behind with Velma.

  Even though the women were using a dishpan and water heated on the stove, they made quick work of the dirty dishes.

  “It's just wonderful to have somebody to talk to.” Velma dried her hands on the dishtowel. “Clyde's a love, of course, but he grew up out here in the middle of the desert with nothing but jackrabbits. Me... I'm a city girl. I like bright lights and crowds of people. Say, I'll bet you lost everything you had in that plane crash.”

  “All I have are the clothes on my back.” Martha Ann smiled. “But I'm still in one piece. That's what counts.”

  “Don't you worry about a thing. You're tall enough to wear my things. I've got a little more hip than you now, but in my day I was just as slim and pretty as you are.”

  She took Martha Ann's hand and led her into a bedroom that looked like something straight out of The Arabian Nights. Gossamer curtains and gold tassels draped the walls and the beds. Dozens of candles in brass candlesticks decorated the two bedside tables and the top of the dresser. It was a fantasy room made for love.

  “You like it?”

  “I think it's a wonderful room.” Martha Ann did think it was wonderful. She'd never let convention dictate her own tastes and life-style, and it was obvious that neither did Velma. She'd found a soul mate. “I really do, Velma.”

  “Great. Then you'll love the clothes I'm going to lend you.” Velma reached into her closet and pulled out a hot pink harem suit. The legs were slit at the sides and the minuscule top was decorated with rhinestones. “One of my old costumes. I think it will fit.”