Dragon Fire

by Linda Ladd

  "You're awfully quick to believe me. Why?"

  Their eyes seemed to fuse. "Because our souls have touched before. I knew of our kinship from the first moment we met. Did you not feel the hand of destiny binding us one to the other?"

  Stone Kincaid looked so startled that Windsor smiled, but his answer was cold with cynicism. "I don't believe in destiny."

  Windsor frowned. "That is very strange. If that is so, what is it that you believe in?"

  "I believe in revenge. That's why I can understand exactly why you came after me. I'm on my way to San Francisco to get a man myself, one who likes to use a whip, too—" He stopped in midsentence, then grabbed her shoulders again, his eyes burning into her face, hard, consuming. "Tell me about the man who killed the priest. Did the witnesses describe him?"

  "They said he was tall with blue eyes, but they could not see the color of his hair because he wore a black hat. And he wore a ring on one hand, in the shape of a coiled cobra with red, sparkling stones for its eyes—"

  Windsor's words faltered as Stone Kincaid released her and lunged to his feet. His face twisted with hatred, his eyes so full of bitter loathing that she was taken aback.

  "So now the bastard's using my name when he does his killing! Damn him! Damn him to hell!"

  Windsor said nothing as he took several agitated strides away from her. She could almost feel the waves of enmity flowing out of his body, like hot gusts of wind. He seemed a different man now, a violent one capable of terrible brutality. Some awful evil must have passed between him and Hung-pin's killer. Something that still dwelt deep in Stone Kincaid's soul, festering there like an ugly black tumor in a dying man.

  "Hung-pin's killer is the man you seek, is he not? The man you call Emerson Clan?"

  Stone swung around to face her. "Yeah, he's the one. He's worn that ring ever since I gave it to him at West Point. And you don't have to worry about avenging your friend's death anymore, because I'm going to do it for you. Your Chinese priest was only one of Clan's victims. He's murdered people before, during and after the war, and he's killed in even worse ways than with a whip, if you can believe that. But his days are numbered. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him."

  "We will find Emerson Clan together."

  At her words, Stone Kincaid seemed to become aware of her again. "No, we won't. Killing him is one pleasure I mean to reserve for myself."

  Windsor watched in silence as he jerked back the flap and exited the lodge, his face contorted by suppressed anger. His soul was very troubled. In the days to come, she must find a way to help Stone Kincaid attain inner peace.

  6

  Several weeks after Windsor had scraped an arrow across his scalp, Stone made his way slowly through the Osage village. The lodges were scattered over the wide valley in circular clusters, and as he walked, the Indians he encountered greeted him courteously, when they paid him any heed at all. Since the contest, Stone and Windsor had been treated well and given free rein to roam where they would. What was more, he didn't think White-Spotted-Wolf would prevent either of them from leaving the camp.

  But Stone was not yet ready to escape. His shoulder was still sore enough to make his grip weak and hard to sustain, though Windsor's unorthodox medical treatment had certainly appeared to accelerate the healing. He knew he would be wise to bide his time and let his wound mend longer before attempting the long trek back to civilization. He had already pinpointed his approximate location, and if his calculations were correct, the railway line west lay a day or so south. He felt sure he could locate the track bed if given time.

  His immediate concern was the weather. The snows were late in coming already. He sure as hell didn't want to be stranded in the mountains with the Osage all winter. Nor did he want to be forced to spend any more time than necessary with Windsor Richmond.

  Stone had already decided he wasn't taking the girl out with him. There was certainly no danger in leaving her among the Osage. Hell, they treated her like some kind of goddess, and if she ever did want to return to California, he had no doubt she could get herself there. Windsor Richmond had made her way to Chicago by herself, hadn't she? She would be fine without him, and Stone would be well rid of her.

  Pausing near the lake, he flexed his left arm, determined to keep his muscles strong. Lifting his face toward the sun, he basked in the warmth. The weather was unusually mild for early December, especially so high in the Rockies. Throughout the past weeks, the days had been sunny and pleasant, but the temperature dropped drastically when the valley was covered with darkness.

  He scanned the rocky shoreline, his gaze stopping when he found Windsor. She stood at the edge of the lake with perhaps a dozen young braves, who sat cross-legged on the ground around her. The water behind her sparkled deep blue, without a ripple to mar the glossy surface. Sapphire, like her eyes, he thought, then shook his head impatiently, chagrined at himself. Despite all his resolve, Windsor Richmond continued to fascinate him. She was so strange. He never could quite figure out what she was going to do or say next.

  At the moment, she was instructing the young Osage warriors in her unorthodox method of fighting. Curious to hear what she was telling the boys, he drifted closer. He leaned his shoulder against a cottonwood tree, far enough away to be unobtrusive but close enough to listen.

  "I have come from a faraway, ancient land called China," she told them in her lilting voice. "When I was a child, even younger than you, a great master shared his deep wisdom with me. Like your people, the Little Ones, we of China believe that all creatures are sacred, be they great or small, weak or fierce."

  Windsor paused as she caught sight of Stone. First she seemed surprised to see him, then she presented him with a lovely smile. Stone glanced away, not wanting her to think he was particularly interested in her discourse. She began again.

  "So it is better to deal with force inflicted upon oneself by running away from the aggressor. For one of true wisdom prefers peace and quiet above victory."

  Stone was not impressed. Windsor Richmond's turn-the-other-cheek philosophy didn't exactly ring true, not when she had journeyed all the way from San Francisco to stick a knife in his back.

  A rush of anger, cold enough to chill his bones, swept over him. So now Clan was using Stone's name when he tortured and killed. Stone's jaw clamped tight. The idea made him sick to his stomach. If it was true, Stone had to be careful. Clan already had a warrant for treason on his head, one issued by the army right after the war. Now there could be a warrant out in Stone's name, too. But he wasn't surprised. Clan had always been clever, so clever in fact that he had managed to hide his real character from Stone during their years together at West Point. God, Stone had actually considered him a friend then—up until the moment he had caught Clan feeding information to the Confederates during the war. Dozens of their comrades in arms had died because of Clan's treachery.

  Trying to suppress the rage spinning like a typhoon through his soul, Stone concentrated on what Windsor was saying.

  "You and I, and all living creatures, are one with nature, and it is of great importance for all of us to observe the natural laws of existence. If you do this, no force of man can harm you. The lessons the Old One taught me will help you learn to fight, if you will but listen and learn. There is one which is of particular importance, and that is this: never must you meet a wave head-on; instead, strive to avoid it. There is no need to stop a show of force; it will be much easier to redirect that force. To be victorious, you must learn more ways to preserve life, rather than try to destroy it. Always remember: avoid rather than check; check rather than hurt; hurt rather than maim; maim rather than kill. For all life must be considered precious, because none can be replaced."

  Except for mine, Stone thought. You certainly made an exception to your fine rules in my case. Irony twisted his mouth. Windsor hadn't hesitated to track him down. And he would probably be dead right now if the Pawnee hadn't attacked the train when they did. Regardless, he had to admit the
logic of her teachings. While he watched, she demonstrated several blocking procedures, her elbow bent to deflect an opponent's blow.

  Slowly, deliberately, she moved within the circle of her enraptured students, her slender body graceful and sure-footed, her long, shiny blond hair braided into a queue down her back, snaking around her shoulders when she moved quickly, gleaming as pure as the golden rays of dawn. She still wore her odd black tunic and trousers, and each time she turned or bent, the soft, silky fabric molded provocatively against her high breasts and slim hips.

  To his annoyance, Stone's body was profoundly affected by the slow, suggestive positions she was demonstrating. He muttered a string of low, self-disgusted oaths.

  "Why Stone-Man-Show-Courage-When-Arrow-Parts-Hair say words to self?"

  Stone stiffened. The low voice had come from somewhere close by, but when he looked around, he saw no one. Nevertheless, he knew who had spoken. His new friend Sun-On-Wings was the only one who continued to call him by the ridiculously long name with which White-Spotted-Wolf had saddled Stone during the celebration after Windsor's contest. Most of the Indians had abbreviated it to Arrow-Parts-Hair, which was embarrassing enough. A moment later, Stone was able to search out the boy's hiding place in some nearby bushes.

  "What the devil are you doing, Sun-On-Wings?" he asked impatiently.

  "Do not speak with loud voice, or Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman will find where Sun-On-Wings hide."

  Irritated, Stone grimaced. "There's no need to hide if you want to learn how to fight, for God's sake. All you have to do is go over and sit down with the other boys."

  "Sun-On-Wings no need learn to fight. Me a man, a fierce warrior." Sun-On-Wings sounded a mite insulted, but he went on in a low voice. "Me hide so me can see Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman change self into the wind."

  Stone shook his head. Almost every day since Stone had been brought to the village, Sun-On-Wings had sought out his company solely to discuss his obsession with the idea that Windsor was the spirit of the wind. No matter what Stone said or did, the sixteen-year-old would not give up the absurd notion. Although Stone rather liked the impressionable young man, his patience with him was beginning to wear thin.

  "Like I've told you before, Sun-On-Wings, Windsor's a flesh-and-blood woman, just like any other woman."

  "You are wrong, Stone-Man-Show-Courage-When-Arrow-Parts—"

  "Oh, for God's sake, Sun-On-Wings! Just call me Stone, will you?"

  The handsome young brave nodded. "Grandfather give big name for big man, but tongue grow twisted if say much."

  Stone felt an overpowering urge to laugh. How in the devil had he gotten himself into such a preposterous predicament? If he ever got out of the mountains alive, neither Gray nor Tyler, nor anyone else, would ever believe all that had happened to him.

  "Tell me, Sun-On-Wings, just how long do you plan to skulk around in the bushes like this?"

  "Sun-On-Wings watch until Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman ride on wind."

  Stone shook his head, but he didn't waste his breath trying to talk sense to the boy. Sun-On-Wings was not going to listen to him.

  "Is Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman your woman?" Sun-On-Wings demanded suddenly.

  "No."

  "If woman share lodge with man, she him wife."

  "She's not my wife."

  "Then I want her for woman."

  Stone was annoyed with the whole conversation. "Look, Sun-On-Wings, I hate to tell you this, but Windsor won't take a husband. She considers herself a nun."

  "What is this nun?"

  "A nun's a woman who serves the gods. Like your medicine man, I guess."

  "Medicine man take woman him want."

  "Well, Windsor won't. She told me."

  "Me make her feel love. Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman live in heart." Sun-On-Wings touched his chest emphatically, shaking the, two long white eagle feathers in his scalp lock. "Me play flute and sing wi-gi-ie of love so her come to Sun-On-Wings' lodge."

  "Suit yourself," Stone grumbled, washing his hands of the subject.

  Intentionally not looking in Windsor's direction, he headed for the rocky trail that led alongside the water. After walking for a time, he rounded a curve of the narrow beach that jutted into the lake and took him out of sight of the village. A good distance away, he sat down and leaned back against one of the big boulders that towered above the water.

  A slight wind had risen, riffling the calm surface of the water, making the afternoon cool and pleasant. The sun felt almost hot beating down on his bare head, and the mountain lake was beautiful, mirroring tall, craggy peaks crowned with snowy caps.

  He thought again about leaving the Osage. He was eager to reach San Francisco and locate Clan before he disappeared again. He had already decided that when he left the Indians, he would head for Silverville. As far as he could calculate, the mining town lay a two or three days journey to the south. If he could make his way that far while good weather held out, he had friends there who would help him. Hopefully, the western expresses would still be coming through there to pick up shipments of ore.

  He smiled, thinking about the rowdy little town. He had spent several months there before the war, surveying track to the silver mines located high in the mountain from the storage warehouses in town. Sweet Sue had made his winter there memorable, to say the least. He hoped she still ran the Pleasure Palace.

  Thoughts of Suzy Wright dissolved as Windsor Richmond walked into view just below him. Not wanting to talk with her, Stone inched backward into the shadows of the trees, where she would have trouble seeing him. He wondered if she had followed him.

  She glanced around, but she didn't seem to be searching for him. Then, to his utter shock, she suddenly swept her tunic up over her head. Unwittingly, he came to his feet, his jaw hanging slack. His gaze riveted like a magnet to steel on her naked back, just as she stepped out of her trousers. Completely nude, she dived into the frigid mountain lake.

  When his astonishment had receded, Stone was furious with her. He stalked to the bank, palms planted on his hips. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

  At the sound of his voice, Windsor jerked around in the water, obviously surprised to find him so near. "Why, I am swimming, of course."

  "Dammit, I'm talking about you stripping down buck naked in front of anybody who might happen along! Don't you have any modesty?"

  "No one is here but you, and I did not see you. Where were you?"

  Stone felt a hot flush creep up his neck. "Never mind that. You shouldn't undress out in the open where someone might see you."

  Her calm sapphire eyes searched his expression. "I have embarrassed you, I think," she ventured slowly, an expression of realization dawning across her face. "You have never seen a woman's unclad body before, have you, Stone Kincaid?"

  "Of course I've seen naked women. Lots of them!" he snapped with more feeling than was necessary.

  "Then why are you so upset?"

  "I'm not upset, dammit!"

  "You sound upset, and you look upset."

  "Oh, for God's sake, do whatever you want! Just stay away from me!"

  "Why do you avoid me, Stone Kincaid?" she called as he turned away. "We should have started making our plans to capture this man called Clan—"

  "My name is Stone! S-T-O-N-E, Stone! Just one little word! Can't anyone around here just call me that?"

  As he glared blackly at her, Windsor's delicately arched blond brows puckered. "It is the Chinese way to use two names. I do not understand why you are always so angry with me. Perhaps if you will tell me what I do that offends you so, I will stop doing it."

  Against his will, Stone found his gaze drawn down through the crystal-clear water. Vaguely, he could just make out her nude body, her soft white breasts and long, shapely legs glimmering palely beneath the surface as she moved her arms back and forth to keep afloat in the deep water.

  Suddenly a highly disconcerting thought struck him. He whirled around and scanned the th
ick tangle of bushes alongside the boulder-strewn bank, then swiveled around to confront Windsor again.

  "And cover yourself when you get out, for God's sake! You never know who might be hiding in the bushes!"

  For the first time since they had met, Windsor laughed, a soft tinkle of genuine amusement. "You Americans are really very peculiar," she said, then smiled up at him, looking so unbelievably beautiful that Stone's breath felt trapped in his throat.

  Swallowing hard, he set his jaw and hastily took his leave with long, furious strides, swearing when he glimpsed a pair of white eagle feathers gleaming from the dark depths of a thick fir tree alongside his path.

  7

  Windsor opened her eyes, listening to the rain beating in a steady drizzle atop the mat-woven roof of the lodge. What had awakened her? She lay still for a moment, wondering if Jun-li had called to her. Raising herself on one elbow, she found the capuchin curled quietly at her feet. She glanced around and discovered that Stone Kincaid lay sleeping several feet away, half shrouded by shadows hugging the far wall. She was surprised. He had been so angry about her swimming in the lake that she had expected him to spend the night elsewhere.

  A low rumble of distant thunder rolled and echoed through the stormy night, and Windsor realized the cold rain must have driven Stone Kincaid inside. Sitting up, she folded her legs into the lotus position and contemplated the man she had wanted to kill.

  Stone Kincaid was a strange and silent man whose words and deeds baffled her, but he had shown much bravery. She wanted to become his friend, in the way she and Hung-pin had shared a close kinship. She wanted to help this big, troubled American find spiritual peace.

  Like a silk scarf floating weightlessly to the floor, a forlorn sadness settled over her heart. Of late her own spirit had been tossed about in turbulent seas, plagued by inexplicable conflicts she had not known before she had met Stone Kincaid. Tomorrow she must find a quiet, private place where she could empty her mind of conscious thought and seek inner solace.