Burnt Road: Dante

by Neal, Toby

  “Good morning.” Melody approached the fire.

  Paul nodded. He was shivering in a too-small T-shirt. He was probably just beginning his growth spurt, and if his big feet were any indication, he was going to be as tall as his father had been. The boy’s arms were ropy with slender muscles, his hands large. A mop of thick, dark hair hid his eyes.

  Dante crouched next to him. “You’re very good with the fire.”

  “My dad taught me.”

  “What was his name?” Melody asked.

  “Jacob.”

  “And your mother?”

  “April.” His voice hitched and he swiped at his face.

  “Where did you live?” Dante asked.

  Paul stood up quickly and stepped away, turning his back to them. His shoulders were rail-thin under his T-shirt. “I don’t want to talk about it. Or them.”

  “Okay.” Melody looked at Dante, and his expression was soft, sad, and aching for the boy the same way she was. She loved how they could communicate without words now.

  “I’m fine. I knew they were going to die.” Paul’s voice was steady. “Thank you for your help, but I should be going.”

  “Where?” Melody stepped forward. He didn’t want to be with them? He probably thought he’d be a burden. She had to find a way to make him stay.

  Paul strode over to the tent and picked up his crossbow. “I’ll be fine on my own. I can survive. I know how to hunt and live off the land.”

  “I’m sure you can, but…” Melody bit her lip, thinking fast. “Would you consider coming with us? We could use your help. We’re from Los Angeles and neither of us have camped much before.” A slight exaggeration, but not far from the truth.

  Paul cocked his head, fiddling with the arrows for his bow, stored in a pouch on a strap.

  “Yeah, we could use your help.” Dante was still crouched by the fire. “Neither of us know how to hunt and we have a long distance to go.”

  “So you haven’t had any fresh meat?”

  Melody gestured to the horses. “We can’t carry much food. We’ve only got a few days’ worth left. If you came with us, you could hunt. Then once you got us to our destination, a safe place in Idaho where Dante’s family is gathering, then you could stay and continue to help, or move on.”

  “Or…” Dante turned to look up at Paul. “You could go on your way now. But we really would appreciate your help. We’d be safer if you were with us.”

  Paul looked down at his big feet and nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll help you.” He looked up at Melody. “It would be my honor to be of service to you, after…” he glanced at the tent and then quickly away, his eyes swimming. He swallowed, his throat convulsing.

  “We really appreciate it.” Melody petted the puppies, rolling around at her feet, pretending she didn’t see his tears.

  Dante spooned the beans Paul had heated into three bowls. “I’m getting sick of canned food. It will be nice to have some fresh meat.”

  Melody sat down, crossing her legs, and took a bowl from Dante. Paul returned to the fire, squatting next to them, accepting the bowl that Dante offered him. They ate in silence, the sun rising in the sky, the wind playing with the flames, the horses close, and the puppies begging for scraps at Paul’s knee.

  Dante nodded his head at Paul and pointed into the valley. “We need to get you a horse.” Melody followed his finger. A herd of wild horses streaked through the valley below, dust rising up behind them.

  “What?” Melody swiveled back to Dante. “No way.”

  Dante and Paul wore eerily similar expressions: eyes narrowed, and mouths set in small, determined smiles.

  “Yes,” Paul said. “I reckon we do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dante

  Dante and Paul rode hard after the wild horses. Dante leaned low over Sweetie’s neck, coaxing maximum speed from the mare. The wind in his face, the thunder of hooves and the smell of horse and dust filling his nostrils were intoxicating.

  Paul rode Beauty like a centaur, the boy’s narrow face set in deep concentration as they chased the mustangs toward the mouth of a narrow canyon that led into their trap.

  They’d left Melody with her shotgun, the puppies and supplies, and gone down to reconnoiter the area some hours before. Exploring, they’d found a box canyon and prepped a big pile of branches, logs and storm debris to form a wall almost closing it off, but leaving a small opening.

  All they had to do now was drive the herd into their makeshift paddock, then Dante would rope one of the mustangs while Paul kept the herd contained by blocking the entry. Hopefully there were some domesticated horses in the band of animals that galloped ahead of them now, tails high, raising clouds of dust that Dante screened out with his hat pulled low and T-shirt up over his nose and mouth.

  The lead mare, a bay with a wide blaze on her face, spotted the narrow canyon opening and tried to veer. Paul squeezed another burst of speed out of Beauty, bearing down to cut the mare off and turning her to go straight ahead. Dante and Sweetie kept pressure on the herd from the left.

  The horses galloped into the mouth of the narrow canyon, their hooves clattering on the rock floor. Dante slowed Sweetie to a canter.

  There was nowhere for the horses to go now. Dante needed to save Sweetie’s strength for working the capture. Paul reined Beauty in too, and they loped at a mellow pace, letting the band pull ahead.

  “This is a good horse.” Paul patted Beauty’s neck.

  “And you’re a good rider. How’d you learn to be such a cowboy?”

  “We had a ranch outside of Vegas. It got taken over by a gang from inside the city. We got out with our camping gear and not much else.” Paul’s expression darkened as he remembered all he’d lost. “The bastards took our horses and shot our dog.”

  “Shit. That sucks. We’ve run into some bad people, too. We had to kill a few of them.”

  “So did we. Some people just need killing.” Paul’s dark eyes flashed.

  Dante gave a bark of laughter at the boy’s comment, remembering Melody saying the same thing. “You’re pretty tough. How old are you, anyway?”

  “Twelve.”

  His guess had been right. Dante shook his head. “Glad to have you with us. You’ve got skills.”

  Paul’s skinny chest seemed to swell at the praise, and Dante smiled as the boy urged Beauty into a gallop to drive the mustangs the rest of the way into their trap.

  By the time Dante caught up, Paul had blocked the narrow exit out of the box canyon with Beauty, who snorted and stomped, eyeing the wild horses with an aggression and dominance rare in a gelding. Dante loosened his rope and shook out a large loop.

  He’d had months of roping instruction at the stables where he’d had horse therapy for his autism. The situation had evolved through his teens into him semi-working at the stables outside of Philadelphia. He helped care for the horses and learned to compete in, and eventually help organize, a rodeo event for kids with special needs.

  Now, twirling the loop of hemp rope they’d brought with them from the wagon, Dante wished he had the smooth rawhide he’d braided himself. This rope could catch on itself and refuse to open or tighten, even if he was able to get it over a horse’s head after all this time.

  “You can do it, Dante.” A glance at Paul’s eyes, shining with trust, and a smile, the first he’d seen on the kid, made Dante sit a little taller.

  He clucked to Sweetie and moved toward the milling herd of horses, neighing and surging back and forth against the steep walls that boxed them in. He rode Sweetie back and forth in front of them at a gentle trot, letting the nervous animals get used to him, burning off some of their energy. He assessed the herd, looking for a horse with a brand, that permanent sign of domestication.

  The brand on his own chest ached for a moment, but he remembered Melody’s soft kisses on it. He’d be domesticated for her any day.

  There was no stallion guarding the herd, and Dante was grateful for that. Having an aggressive stud
try to scare them off would have complicated things. He spotted two branded horses: an Appaloosa that looked to be part thoroughbred, long-legged and tall, and a showy palomino who kept arching her neck as if on a parade ground. Probably someone’s prized horse, the palomino looked to be the easier of the two to catch.

  Dante zeroed in on the mare, cutting her out of the herd with a couple of other horses. Spooked by his sudden rush, the bay lead mare tried to bolt out of the canyon and take the rest of the horses with her but Paul was too quick, heading her off with shouts and blocking the escape.

  The efforts of the lead mare drew off the extra horses Dante had cornered and now he had the palomino isolated. He moved in on her, spinning the lasso beside Sweetie, who chased the mare into a niche between boulders with all the skill of an experienced cow horse. Cornered, the palomino spun to face them, neighing in fright, and Dante threw the noose. It came up short, dropping with a smack onto the ground in front of the mare, who bolted.

  Sweetie was after her instantly, almost leaving Dante in the dust as he tried to retract the rope.

  The two went through the whole maneuver twice more before Dante was able to drop the rope around the mare’s neck.

  The palomino panicked and fought, but Dante secured the lasso to the saddle horn. Sweetie braced herself against the animal’s struggles, facing the mare and emitting a reassuring neigh, bobbing her head in a friendly way.

  Dante glanced back. Paul and Beauty had moved out of the narrow opening and the herd streamed past, dust billowing behind them as they galloped out of the box canyon.

  Paul rode up beside Dante. The palomino had tired of her struggles and stood, snorting and rolling her eyes, but no longer fighting.

  The brand on the horse’s hip was the letter P. Paul pointed at it. “She’s meant to be mine. Looks like a purebred Quarter Horse.” Paul openly admired the mare’s conformation and showy coloring. “I’m sure I can ride her.”

  “Beauty’s wearing an extra halter under her bridle. Why don’t you see if you can get it on her?” Dante had begun pulling up the extra rope generated by the palomino’s movement, gradually working her closer and closer. “Here’s something she’ll recognize.”

  Dante reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a handful of peppermints. He gave them to Paul, who then slid down off of Beauty and removed the halter under the geldings bridle.

  Moving slowly, his palm open with a peppermint at its center, Paul approached the palomino.

  The mare threw her head up and snorted. She paused, her eyes rolling and nostrils flaring, clearly detecting the smell of the treat on the boy’s palm.

  Paul closed the distance, murmuring gently as the mare shuffled her feet, but her ears came forward and she stood quietly as he held his hand out.

  Slowly her velvety nose extended, and she took the mint, crunching it and bobbing her head in enjoyment. Paul stepped even closer, reaching up to pat her sweating neck and stroke her shivering shoulder, talking to her all the while. “Such a good girl. What a beauty you are, and smart too. Smart enough to know a good thing when you see it.”

  Dante barely heard Paul’s voice, but watching the bond form between him and the horse brought a suspicious prickling to his eyes.

  The palomino would help heal Paul’s heart, just as Melody was healing Dante’s.

  Paul fed the mare another mint, holding his hand below the halter’s opening, and she thrust her nose through the loop to get at it. The boy had the halter on and buckled by the time she was done crunching the sweet. He gave her another as a reward.

  Paul clipped a lead rope to the halter’s ring under her chin, talking all the while. Dante had been edging the other two horses in closer, and soon the palomino was only six feet from Sweetie.

  Paul gave the mare’s nose one final pat and turned back to Dante. “I wish I could ride her now.”

  “I think we should give her time to get used to us. We don’t have a saddle, so you’re going to have to go slow with her. We’re not set up for bronc riding right now.”

  Paul nodded as he swung back into Beauty’s saddle. “I’m going to call her Bella because Beauty is already taken.”

  Dante nodded. The kid was smitten. “Good name.”

  Bella snorted and fell in step with the other horses, giving no trouble on the lead rope as they walked back to meet Melody.

  She was performing yoga poses under a mesquite tree. He could watch her lithe body do that all day. The puppies came scrambling over, causing Bella to shy, but Paul jumped down from Beauty and calmed her. They reassembled the camping gear and mounted up, Melody doubling up with Dante.

  They didn’t make many more miles with the horses tired from their exertions, but as the afternoon wore on, they found a narrow arroyo with a stream at the bottom, a good place to camp for the night.

  “I’ll see if I can get us a rabbit for dinner.” Paul nocked a quarrel into his crossbow.

  Melody opened her mouth to call him back, but Dante put a hand on her arm.

  “Thanks, Paul, we could use some meat.” The boy waved and walked off. “I thought maybe we could have a bath in the stream and a little privacy.” Dante quirked a brow.

  Melody’s lips lifted in a sultry smile. “I like the way you think, darling Spock.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Melody

  The water was ice-cold, and goose bumps raced from Melody’s toes up her body. She shivered, and Dante placed a warm hand on her lower back. His fingers trailed down to her bottom, cupping one cheek as he leaned over to kiss her ear. Tingles of pleasure and warmth radiated down, hardening her nipples and strumming an ache between her legs.

  “Let me wash you.” Dante breathed against her neck. He nibbled, sending tingles across her skin.

  “Yes, please.”

  Dante led her further into the stream, the cold water reaching to her knees, smooth stones under her feet making her slip.

  Dante caught Melody, his hands on her waist, face close, curls loose and flowing over his shoulders.

  Melody inhaled, smelling his scent—horse, dust and man.

  He lowered to his knees, keeping a steadying hand on her hip, and dipped a cloth into the water, running it up her thigh. Shivers raced over her and Melody moaned softly as his hot lips followed the cold water.

  Dante ran the cloth over her belly, water dripping down to her heat, making her shudder. She closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation: Dante’s mouth and hands, the rough, cold cloth—it all felt so good, so damn good.

  He brought the wet rag over and around her breast, brushing over her nipple and eliciting another moan. “I love the sounds you make.”

  “I love how you play me like an instrument.” Melody looked down at Dante. He was staring at her, and the heat in his golden eyes heated her, too. She dropped to her knees, splashing into the cold water, gasping at the chill and surprising Dante.

  “I wanted to pleasure you, Melody.”

  She touched his cheek and he leaned into her touch. “Let me wash you first. Please.”

  He turned away, his gaze falling to the water rushing around them. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that much touching.”

  Melody bit down on her lip, the pain grounding her. She was here, on her knees in a freezing stream, surrounded by crumbling cliffs of ancient rock with the love of her life: the man she never knew she needed but now couldn’t live without.

  “I understand. You know I do.” Dante nodded, but didn’t look at her. She took his hand, placing it over her heart. He looked down at his fingers on her breast, and Melody placed her hand over the burn on his chest. He flinched, but didn’t push her away. “Your heart is mine, right?”

  He lifted his eyes to her face. “Forever and always.”

  “And mine is yours, Dante. All yours.” There were tears in her voice, and a sensation of falling drifted over her as she stared into his golden eyes. “I want you to brand me too.”

  He shook his head, his mouth pained. “No.”

&nbs
p; “Listen.” She took his face in both hands. “You feel my pain, right?” He nodded. “So, believe me when I tell you that I feel yours.”

  Dante tried to shake his head but she held him firmly, not willing to let him go for anything, not until he understood what she was trying to say. “That burn on you is mine.” Her voice was harsher than she meant it. “I want the same on my skin. So that you know that I’m yours.”

  “I know you’re mine. You accepted my ring.”

  “Then let me do this.”

  “The memories, though.”

  “Will come sometimes. And I will chase them away. Do you hear me?”

  Dante’s eyes opened wide. “You can do that?”

  A smiled tugged at her mouth. “You make me into Superwoman. I can do anything with you.”

  Dante laughed, the sound joining the soft babble of the stream and lifting Melody so that now she was flying. She took the cloth from his hand and dipped it into the water, bringing it up to his chest, touching the sopping wet cloth to his pectoral. Goose bumps spread from her touch, and he stiffened. She ran the cloth down his body, over his strong abs, and around to his back, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  He took a deep breath as she ran the cloth over his lower back and his butt, then up to his shoulder blades.

  Melody dipped the cloth again, washing his neck, bringing the cloth up to his cheeks, running it over his closed eyes.

  He was so beautiful.

  She tugged his head down by those curls and kissed his eyelids, his nose, lips and chin. She licked the hollow between his collarbones and pulled a hardened nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it so that Dante moaned, his hands reaching for her. “Stop, I’m going to embarrass myself.”

  Melody looked down at his throbbing erection. “You are Superman,” she laughed. “Nobody could get hard in this temperature.”

  Dante stood, sweeping Melody up into his arms. He walked to the shore as she squeaked in delight. “My turn.” He lay her down on the bedding. ”Spread your legs.”