The Dove

by Kristy McCaffrey

  Logan removed his hat. “Regrets?”

  “No, not exactly. But I’m sure you didn’t plan to saddle yourself with a wife when you came to Las Vegas to make sure I wasn’t sick.”

  “No, can’t say as I did.” He took a swig of water from his canteen.

  “I never really saw myself getting married,” Claire said.

  “Because of your ma?”

  She nodded.

  “That would make for a lonely life, don’t you think?” he asked.

  Claire tore off a piece of bread and ate it. “Maybe. But the girls at the saloon…they have an odd sort of freedom.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The ability to come and go as they will. There was a woman who worked at The Dove some time ago—she called herself Bronco Betty. She was quite a character, and told the most fascinating stories of places she’d been, things she’d seen.”

  “You have a bit of wanderlust in you, Claire.”

  A wistful smile crossed her face. “I’ve always wanted to travel, to see what else the world has to offer. So many places, so many people. I’ve read of things in books that must be truly amazing to see in person.”

  “You’re a romantic,” he said.

  “No.” But she shook her head too quickly. “Just naturally curious, I suppose.”

  “You don’t have to sell yourself like Bronco Betty to see the world.”

  “You’re right. There was certainly nothing romantic about what the White Dove women endured night after night, but the rest of the time they did as they pleased. They didn’t walk around town worried about what other people thought, because everyone already thought the worst.”

  “Sounds as if you admire them.”

  Claire slowly chewed a piece of cheese. “I guess you could say they were my role models, and they were far from women with black hearts. Survivors might be a better way to describe them.”

  “So, it bothers you that you’re married.” Logan wondered why he hadn’t noticed it sooner. Claire valued her freedom.

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  If any part of it did, he wasn’t about to dwell on it. As he saw it, the good outweighed the bad.

  “No, not really,” he replied. “I can’t explain what brought us to this point, but I’m an honest fellow, and I’ll try to do right by you.”

  “You’ve sacrificed a lot.”

  “I don’t believe in sacrifice.”

  “How can you say that? What about going back to Texas to help your folks.”

  “That wasn’t a sacrifice, I was ready to go home.” Logan examined the cloudless, night sky. “You’ve forfeited a lot, putting up with all life had to offer because of your ma. You should follow your heart now.”

  “Have you?”

  Logan hesitated. For the last few years his heart had been in limbo. Going home to his family’s ranch had given him time to rest, to recoup his hurt over Dee’s betrayal. He answered as honestly as he could. “You’re a fire in my blood, Claire. I’d like to make this work.”

  Claire watched him in silence and Logan imagined her as a child, when a dove had come to her in a forest much like this one, and Tia had witnessed an extraordinary moment. Claire gave everything of herself—to her mama, her brother, the women in the saloons she tried to help—but at the same time she shielded her very essence from those around her. He suspected it had been a rare moment when the dove had been drawn to a young girl who had let her guard down.

  “What will happen when this is all over?” she asked quietly.

  He moved closer and lightly touched her face. “I was thinking I’d take you back to Texas. I was thinking that maybe we’d figure out a way for you to become a doctor.”

  “Then you would make a sacrifice. For me?”

  “No. I’d call it a compromise.”

  “What do you expect in return?”

  He brought his face to hers. “A babe, or two. A life—together.”

  He kissed her before a protest could pour out of her lovely lips.

  “Maybe you don’t realize what’s going on here,” he murmured, moving his lips down her neck then bringing his face directly before hers. He enjoyed the slight tremble of her body. “But this magic we generate isn’t the normal course between men and women.”

  “Like most men,” Claire said in rapid whisper, “you place far too much importance on sex.”

  “I’ve had sex, darlin’,” he said. “I’d rather have this.” He took her lips with his and thoroughly kissed her. Barely touching her, he was already close to the brink, desperate to be inside her, desperate to touch her in the only way he knew.

  Swiftly he stood, located a few blankets and, ignoring the tent, tossed them on the ground. He wanted her now, under the stars, with the scent of pine trees filling the air and urgency burning in his veins.

  Claire didn’t speak as she went to him. He brought his mouth to hers and tugged her against the length of his body. She matched his need with her own, moving a hand behind his head and deepening the kiss. Logan lowered her to the ground, knelt before her and unbuttoned the barriers that blocked his assault, his patience all but gone.

  Baring her breasts, he moved his hands and mouth to them together. Claire released a sharp intake of breath as he eased her to the ground, slid off her skirt and undergarments, and moved over her, pausing just short of penetration.

  “You seem to think this will make everything all right,” she said, her voice ragged. “This only makes it harder.”

  “You think too much.”

  She lifted her head and kissed him; her hands cupped the sides of his face. He settled more fully onto her and enjoyed the pressure of her breasts and thighs against him. His body thrust into hers and she closed around him, taking him fully, and he lost himself to the pleasure of touching her, the intimacy shattering in its rawness.

  Logan gripped her buttocks with one hand and her hair with the other, unable to stop the release that slammed into him. With every thrust he consumed and filled her, fighting for air, exhaling her name on the barest of breath. He grasped and struggled to get closer, to make it last longer.

  He hadn’t told her he loved her. He never said anything he didn’t mean. But God knew she was an inferno in his blood, a blaze that burned through every nook and cranny of his mind and his heart. Resting his head against her shoulder, he was gripped with the fear of losing her.

  He inhaled the scent of her—sex and woman—and ran his tongue between her breasts, tasting the salt of her sweat. He looked to the dark cleft where they were still joined and an aftershock of release rolled through him. His mouth consumed one taut nipple and he began an aggressive assault with his tongue as her fingers dug into his scalp.

  Gathering her close beneath him, he shielded her body from the cool night air. A primal urge overtook him—he wanted a babe in her belly, an irrevocable link that would bind her to him for all the years to come. He ruthlessly pushed aside the thought she might not stay with him. Buried deep inside her, he wondered if she had any idea of the rashness that overpowered him. In a haze of sex and lust and need, he convinced himself he had every right to stake a claim on her body in the most basic way a man could.

  He had every right to stake a claim on her heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the pre-dawn mist, Claire climbed up the hill to be alone, having left the warmth of Logan’s body as he slept. She willed her mind to focus on the steady rhythm of the upward hike, but stray thoughts filtered past her resolve and her mind replayed the previous night’s activities over and over.

  Logan had made love to her with an intensity that frightened her, overwhelmed her, and left her wanting him even now. If she were completely honest, she’d gone to him with an equal amount of fervor—desperate to have him inside her, desperate for the madness whenever he touched her.

  The woods were quiet, the stillness deafening. A white haze from the respiring trees wove in and out of the tall pine trunks; Claire stopped, closed her eyes, a
nd inhaled deeply. Logan had woven his way into her life much the way the morning fog permeated every corner of the forest. But, it was her own desires that had led her to this point.

  Logan thought he’d done right by marrying her, but she would have gone to him anyway. With her strong convictions faltering, the marriage had occurred at an opportune time, with the tension between the two of them hovering near a breaking point. Her helplessness and inability to think straight when he was near both frustrated and bewildered her. It seemed inevitable that the marriage and this whole dream existence would eventually come crashing down around her. All the more reason to embrace what she had, and leave the worrying till tomorrow.

  She opened her eyes and continued the uphill climb into a forest dense with fir, pine, and spruce. The exertion helped take her mind off the man she was fairly certain she could love—if she didn’t already.

  At a trickle of water cascading down a rocky slope, she splashed some of the cool liquid on her face. A voice startled her, as it uttered a squeal of surprise followed by a muffled grunt. It sounded like a child. Looking around, she tried to locate the source as she methodically circled the area. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a small leg vanish behind a boulder.

  “Jimmy?” The name escaped her lips in a breathless plea.

  She dodged between trees, and wondered why she couldn’t see the youngster. She wasn’t that far behind him. Distantly, Claire acknowledged her growing disorientation—Logan would wonder where she’d gone—but a fierce need to catch the child gripped her and she raced with the sole focus of reaching him before he disappeared for good.

  “Wait!” she yelled, confused and curious.

  She sprinted under a branch and veered around a tree trunk, the single braid flopping against her back and stray wisps of hair clinging to her mouth. Her side that had been wounded by a bullet in Cimarron began to hurt, but she didn’t give in to the impulse to check for blood seepage from the healing wound.

  Her hair snagged on something—maybe tangled up in a tree branch—jerking her head back painfully. She twisted and fell to the ground, breaking her fall with her hands. Scuffed boots filled her vision and the sweet smell of tobacco assaulted her nose, prompting waves of nausea and panic.

  Sandoval gripped her arms and hauled her upright onto wobbly feet. His grin exposed brown-stained teeth and his eyes glittered with malice. “I have what you look for.” He spun her around and dragged her behind a cluster of trees.

  “Lemme go!” a young boy screamed, struggling against the rope that tied his hands around a skinny pine tree.

  Jimmy!

  “You lemme go, you hear me?” He shrieked like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap.

  Claire yanked free of Sandoval and ran to her brother, his blond hair dirty and his brown eyes wild with fear as he looked at her. Tears blurred her vision.

  “Jimmy, it’s me. It’s Claire.”

  He gazed up at her as she tentatively reached out for him.

  He flinched. “You’re not Claire. My sister’s dead.”

  She saw a half-crazed creature before her—torn shirt, filthy trousers, threadbare moccasins, and struggled to find any resemblance to the little boy who had enjoyed the bedtime stories she would create of far-off places and heroes with hearts of gold.

  “I’m not dead,” she said quietly, aware that Sandoval stood less than ten feet from them. “I’ve come back for you.”

  Jimmy’s eyes flicked to Sandoval then back to her. He’d lost weight and he appeared taller. When she again reached a palm to his cheek he didn’t move away.

  “I’d never abandon you,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting in Las Vegas for you and Mama to return, but when you didn’t, I tried to find you myself. What are you doing up here?”

  His wide-eyed gaze bore into hers with equal amounts of fervor and terror. “Mama’s lookin’ for the color,” he replied, his voice barely audible.

  Claire didn’t understand.

  The click of a gun ended any further discussion.

  “No secrets,” Sandoval said.

  Claire faced the Mexican, blocking his view of her brother.

  “I’m not tellin’ you nothin’, you stupid bastard!” Jimmy grunted as he battled again with the rope that tied him to the tree.

  Claire remained impassive despite her shock over her brother’s outburst.

  “Maggie’s up here somewhere,” Sandoval said. “I mean to find her.” He looked directly at Jimmy. “Tell me where you left her, cadajón.”

  “You’re a pile of horse shit, too!” Jimmy spit back. “And she’s as crazy as you are. You’ll both be struck down by the curse.” His boyish voice rang with accusation.

  “The foolish work of an ambularia,” Sandoval muttered. “Luttrell does not scare me from his cold grave.”

  “You weren’t there,” Jimmy said, tugging hard against his ropes. “You weren’t there when the spiders came!”

  “What are you talking about?” Claire asked, alarmed by the image.

  “Ma’s lookin’ for Luttrell’s treasure. He told her he hid it somewhere up here, but when he got sick he had a witch put a curse on it. We’re all gonna die up here.” His face twisted as he struggled against the ropes, nearly pulling his arms from their sockets. “I think we were close ‘cause there were big black hairy spiders everywhere. I ran as fast as I could, but that was yesterday. I don’t know where Ma is,” he said to her. He looked at Sandoval. “I don’t know where I went or how I got here. I can’t lead you back to her.”

  He paused and gulped for air, and his eight-year-old self surfaced. “She probably didn’t make it,” he whispered.

  Anger and horror sliced through Claire. Damn her mama for all of this. Maybe it would serve her right to be mutilated in some ghastly fashion, but on the heels of that thought shame hit Claire hard. Let her be all right. But God only knew what could have happened to Jimmy, running around alone up here. And they were still in trouble.

  Sandoval stood across from them, his gun leveled in their direction.

  “You’ll just have to make an effort on my part, cadajón,” Sandoval said. “What about you, puta? Any idea where is tu madre?”

  Claire thought of Logan, knowing he would look for her. She nurtured that thought as she tried to devise a plan of getting away from the Mexican. “My husband and I were following you,” she said.

  Sandoval laughed. “Only a maleficio would get you a husband.”

  Claire winced at the reference she had cast an evil spell over Logan.

  “Did you show him all your medicinas so he can protect his cock from your bad temper?”

  “Don’t speak that way in front of Jimmy.”

  Sandoval raised his arm and pointed the gun in her face. Claire stopped breathing.

  “Don’t mess with me, señora,” he hissed. “I’ll blow your lovely brains out and make your brother eat them for dinner. I owe you that for what you did to my shoulder.”

  Fear consumed Claire. Her heart squeezed her chest as she fought the urge to whimper. If he shot her in the face, she wouldn’t survive—she wouldn’t want to survive.

  “Please, Raul.” The sound of her voice surprised her, its calmness almost bordering on sweet. “Let us go back to Las Vegas. We don’t care about the money, or gold, or whatever it is. Jimmy’s just a little boy. For once in your life, show some mercy.”

  Sandoval’s dark eyes narrowed. “Mercy?” He sneered and kept the gun pointed at her. “Where was mercy when mi padre beat me for no other reason than the sun was up and I crossed my eyes wrong? You have not suffered.” He snorted. “You keep your body from men, but you have not learned—that is all you are good for.”

  He shoved the barrel of the gun onto her forehead and she stumbled into Jimmy.

  “You are nothing, ramera. You fancy yourself too much.”

  The trembling began in her shoulders and traveled quickly to her arms and legs. No matter how hard she willed her body not to betray her, her lungs rattled ev
ery time she sucked in air.

  He sniffed close to her hair. “I can smell your fear.” His low voice didn’t keep the words from Jimmy. A mockery of a smile spread across his face, and his smell repulsed her. “It makes me think of chapete.”

  She knew his meaning, and tears sprung into her eyes. Her mind would snap if he raped her. Every hope she’d ever clung to, every dream of a world where good triumphed over evil, shattered in that instant. Everyone said she was strong, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t protect Jimmy, or herself.

  “I’ll take you to where my ma is,” Jimmy blurted out. “I’ll try to remember. I’ll do my best, but only if you stay away from my sister.”

  Satisfaction showed in Sandoval’s eyes. “Cadajón saves the day.” He stepped back. “But only today. You will pay for all your sins, vagamunda. Vengeance is due the wronged, and I never forget. I’ll take every one of your nine lives.”

  “The wicked will burn in hell,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Sandoval let out a bark of contempt. “Hell?” he boomed. “We all burn in this life.” He watched her with undisguised hatred. “And some more than others.”

  Numb, Claire knew Sandoval wouldn’t kill them. He would do far worse. At whatever cost, she had to find a way to get Jimmy free.

  Sandoval forced her and Jimmy onto a horse. Claire sat behind her brother, their hands tied to the saddle pommel. Sandoval held the reins as he rode ahead of them.

  “Do you know where Mama is?” Claire whispered into Jimmy’s ear.

  Jimmy shook his head and glanced over his shoulder at her, clearly upset by not knowing. “It’s so confusing. Everything looks the same.”

  Sandoval heard them. “The problem will be solved as soon as Maggie notices her kittens are with me.”

  Claire didn’t know about that. Her biggest concern was how she might get Jimmy free. She wondered where Logan was, if he realized yet whether something had happened to her. Was he trailing them even now?

  * * *

  At first Logan was annoyed; then, panic seized him. Claire’s early morning disappearance was more than an effort for privacy. While he refused to believe she had willingly left him—her horse still remained—he realized he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain. Last night had bound the two of them more tightly together, but maybe it was too much for Claire. He had to consider that perhaps he was pressing too hard to engage her heart.