Wilde-Fire: Wonder Women 0f The Old West (Half Breed Haven Book 1)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  He didn’t know what the hell had become of his partner. He didn’t like this one bit. He was already rankled that they had to split part of their profits with their long-distance partner, Jin Ting, in their scam. To him, it seemed they were taking all the risk whereas Ting had very little. Now his once reliable partner was missing. It was best to get a move on, he knew, and besides, he was eager to get the petite woman nude and in his thrall. Still, he had to ask. He stooped slightly until her face was only a few inches from his.

  “What the hell happened to your hand, girl?” he asked.

  It was then that Lijuan Wilde slowly raised her head and made eye contact with the bull of a man. The stink of his rancid breath filled her nostrils, but she maintained her feigned terrified look rather than display revulsion on her face.

  “Fall from stage when we stop at way station,” she explained, continuing to use broken English with the Chinese accent she knew so well from the Chows. “Land on hand. Break fingers. Much swollen. Hurt bad.”

  For an instant, Franks shook his head. It seemed for a moment so short in time it almost couldn’t be measured, he had thought he had seen some sort of steely glint in the woman’s eyes that against all reason screamed out one word to his small mind.

  Danger!

  Realizing how preposterous that notion was, though, he straightened up and looked back towards his horse. There was nothing dangerous about this mousy little creature before him. Dominating her was going to be so easy that it actually seemed to take away part of the fun he had envisioned earlier. He liked the ones that put up a fight before he snapped their necks.

  “Time to get a move on,” he instructed, turning back to her with a sharp gaze. “I know you wanna see your pappy!”

  With zero effort, he swung the two bags crisscross over his body and handed the regular travel bag to Lijuan’s good hand. Lijuan, for her part, said nothing. She took it from his hand and began to walk slowly behind him.

  As they walked, though, she chuckled to herself, knowing that none of the people that saw her would likely approach her and say a friendly hello. Whenever they were in town, Cat and Cass and even Honor Elizabeth had a gregarious hello for everyone they met, but not Lijuan, and she liked it that way. Now it was benefiting her.

  However, she had not counted on the sudden appearance of Chester Holloway from the alley between the barbershop and the stagecoach office whose front they were heading towards, and Frank’s waiting horse. Holloway was fumbling with the buttons on his pants, having obviously just relieved himself in the alley.

  Despite her act, Lijuan slipped by, giving a slight groan as Holloway’s eyes lit up as he spied her. He was the town lush and true to form, she could see he was drunk off his ass and grinning at her madly as he spied her. Holloway would have absolutely no compunction about approaching her. Too many times, he had pestered the sisters, especially Honor Elizabeth when they ran into him in the town. Lijuan had always longed to give him a good thrashing, but she deferred to Cassandra who wished her to stay her hand and Lijuan knew why.

  The story went that Holloway as a young man had fought valiantly with Sam Houston to liberate Texas from the advances of Santa Anna, something Cassandra respected a great deal. The young man had a personal stake in the fight because he had left the Alamo only a day before the Mexican forces surrounded it. His father and brother had fought and died in the siege shoulder to shoulder with Davy Crockett and the others. Holloway’s revenge had transformed him into a true warrior.

  Eventually, his skill on the battlefield served the Republic of Texas and ultimately, the U.S. when it became a state and he joined the Union Army. That was where Holloway’s story became murky and no one was for sure as to what transpired to lead him to be a washed-up drunkard on the streets of Alamieda so far from Texas. All that didn’t matter right now to Lijuan because he was heading straight for them. Holloway came right to a stop in front of a horse trough baring their way.

  “Out of the way, you old fool,” Franks snorted at him.

  “I always wanted to have me a “Wilde” time … what do you say, girl?” Holloway said anyway, holding up some bills at Lijuan. “Some nice Christian people that came … that came on the stage … gave me this when … I said I needed a little help.”

  The drunk fool swayed and fixed his gaze on Lijuan, licking his lips. Lijuan rolled her eyes. This was the last thing that she needed right now. He would blow her cover for sure if he kept talking. Cassandra would have told her she needed to think quick and Lijuan would have agreed. And so she did.

  “Come on, Lijuan!” Holloway begged.

  Lijuan raised up on her tiptoes and looked over at Franks’ shoulder. “Could that be the friend you mentioned?” she asked him.

  As Franks turned to look at who she was talking about, in a flash, she viciously elbowed Holloway in the stomach, knocking him into the horse trough. Sputtering a second later, he fought to pull himself out.

  “Nah, that ain’t him … what the hell?” Franks looked confused as he turned to find Holloway in his current state.

  “He barely stand up!” Lijuan gestured vigorously. “Fell over! Much drunk! Please, please take me to father!”

  She had done well, she thought. Franks spat at Holloway where he had freed himself from the trough and sat with his back propped up against it, soaking wet.

  As Franks untied his horse, though, he looked at Lijuan suddenly.

  “He called you Lijuan?” He said. “What’s that mean?”

  “Drunk must know one Chinese word …” Lijuan muttered, shaking her head slowly. “He say, ‘come on bitch’!”

  Franks snickered to himself, making a note of that for later when he was commanding her to service him. He would surely use that word on her. Might as well make her feel a little bit at home before he killed her.

  He pulled Lijuan up onto the horse after he mounted it and she stuck the suitcase between her body and his. As they started to move, though, Lijuan heard Holloway cry out behind them.

  “Fuck you, Lijuan! I really wanted the mulatto one of you, anyway!”

  “What’s he sayin’ now?” Franks asked as they drew further away.

  “Do not know. Man crazy. Crazy drunk!” Lijuan hissed.

  She looked back, and as a retort for Holloway saying his preference was Honor Elizabeth, with her unbandaged hand, she raised her middle finger at him, which to her was letting him off easy for nearly blowing her cover.

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  To Catalina’s delight, the posse swept down out of the forest and onto open range. In a deft movement, she took her hat off and clipped it to her saddle horn with a special clip. It was something Honor Elizabeth had rigged up for her long ago. Honor was handy like that, and the three sisters always appreciated her ingenuity.

  Free of her hat, Catalina took a look back at the woodland they had emerged from and the mountain ridge that they had come over to reach the sprawling flats. The ridge was the last of the Cedar Ledge Ranch land they would ride upon. For a moment, she let her gaze linger on it.

  Cedar Ledge was the family’s land, but many times, in private moments between Catalina and her father, the old man would always reassure her that Cedar Ledge was truly hers for the land had been in the Corderro family for generations and as Mercedes’s only child, it was her birthright. It was an honor and a responsibility she took seriously.

  Right now, however, was no time for weighty thoughts. With her hat removed, she shook her wavy hair that had tumbled free on her shoulders as it had done hours ago when she was with Selena. Quickly, she launched into the reason for removing her hat and that was to get Pretty Feet into a full gallop.

  “Twin Buttes! Straight ahead!” She called out, urging the posse behind her to pick up speed and match hers.

  Off in the distance, perhaps a mile or so away, were the Twin Buttes. They were downright miniature compared to their soaring brethren to the north in Utah’s Monument Valley, but they jutted high enough to be seen a
t this distance. Passing between the two would lead them into the valley and the home turf of the Fenwick Gang Catalina knew soberly.

  Looking around at several of the men, Newell amongst them who now matched pace with her gallop, she couldn’t help but shake a disquieting feeling. During their time in taking the short cut over the Cedar Ledge ridges, she had listened to their boasts and banter. The young men of the posse seemed to have a completely scripted idea of how their encounter would go with the Fenwicks, right down to how many shots it would take to drop the Fenwick brothers and capture Ma Fenwick so she could have a date with the gallows back in their town.

  Cocky. Way too cocky, she knew. Catalina doubted very few of them had ever faced any real danger. It was never anything like what one would imagine. The Wildes were as confident as they came and yet, look at what had almost happened to her.

  Her thoughts drifted to the moment she had awoken and had caught Avery Bolton kneeling over her, practically drooling with her shirt in ruins. The incident still troubled her. What if she hadn’t come to when she did? What if she had emerged from unconsciousness to find him violating her in the worst way imaginable?

  She only knew two things. First, that it had been a close call, too close, and second if she had come to in the middle of the act, she would have killed him on the spot. No, better yet she would have waited until she found Lijuan and turned him over to her. Lijuan pulping his prized appendage to jelly would have only been the opening act to what she would do with that hammer until he was begging for death.

  Catalina forced her mind back on to her original train of thought. Yes, this posse was a concern in their brazen overconfidence and that could be placing them in harm’s way. Naturally, she was confident in her and Honor’s abilities, but they had earned the right from their many adventures over the last few years. She was basically riding into battle with wet-behind-the-ears greenhorns.

  She didn’t know these men, obviously, and she currently wondered who could be counted on when the bullets started flying, as surely they must. Perhaps Winston? Catalina didn’t really know the man, having only seen him in passing during the times she had come out to the ranch to work her ways on Selena, which had born fruit in this afternoon’s sizzling tryst in Selena’s cabin. Still, she thought she would feel him out. He may not have been a true foreman, but he looked the part and perhaps, his abilities would match the look.

  As she slowed her horse, though, to begin to look through the group of riders, she was interrupted by Newell who rode next to her."

  “I sure want to thank you for allowing us access across your land,” he said with a pleased look, his right arm sweeping at a point in the horizon. “That was a sure-fire shortcut you gave us. We’d had to go clear around there if you didn’t show us the way!”

  Catalina grinned at him. “And to think all it cost you was our company,” she responded and then turned to him with a slight smile. “Listen, tell me about Sheriff Underwood. Sounds like he sure did mean a lot to you.”

  “That, he did, ma’am,” Newell shook his head.

  As the young lawman began to speak glowingly of his late boss at the tail end of the pack, Honor Elizabeth had deliberately slowed her horse to a trot, causing Carver to do likewise. They fell back somewhat behind the posse then. Honor wished to have her privacy when she spoke with the man.

  “So, Mister Jackson, how did you come to be involved in this posse?” she gave him an easy smile, initiating the conversation.

  “Same way as that Mister Winston did back where we picked up you and your ah … sister. Done got drafted, I did!” he explained.

  “I fail to understand,” Honor mused, intending to hear the full story.

  “I was volunteered to go along,” Carver willingly expounded. “Deputy Newell stopped at all the ranches along the way, looking for people to ride with him. My boss, Mister Belafonte … he and the Missus said if Newell was lookin’ for men, then to take me.”

  “That was rather forward of him to volunteer an employee into a dangerous situation,” Honor remarked.

  “I don’t blame him, ma’am. What choice did he have? Mr. Belafonte isn’t gonna do anything to make him look bad in front of the white ranchers. I’m guessin’ he just wanted to show his ranch would do its share against stoppin’ these rustlers.”

  “Correct me if I am in error, but am I to understand that your employer, Mister Belafonte is a man of color?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Honor considered this for a moment. She knew there were indeed a very small number of negro-owned ranches dotting the southwest. She had even been to one once on the other side of McClatchy Bluff. She knew most of these were run by former slaves who had made it big in the West, following emancipation after the bloody War Between the States had come to its end.

  “That is truly wonderful for Mister Belafonte!” Honor marveled as she threw her shoulders back and gave a sharp nod of her head. “I now understand why it would be of such an important nature for him to keep his good standing in your community!”

  He dipped his head at her with a smile. Honor truly meant what she said. It always gave her a sense of pride when a person of color had come to success when the odds were forever stacked against them. Just for a moment, it made her wistful for her ex. He had been a black man who had made a name for himself with the stage line he operated along with his younger sister.

  They had shared a love that had burned brightly for a time. However, their circumstances did not allow for them to continue as they had, and they had parted ways. They had both taken other lovers since then, but as long as they were still single, whenever their paths crossed, they fell immediately back into bed with each other with the same passion as their very first time in a small cabin on the grounds of Cedar Ledge.

  Honor was brought back to the present as Carver spoke again.

  “The Belafontes got everything they have through hard work and grit. They deserve it. Now as for you, ma’am, I got to say, you are the finest spoken woman I’ve heard since the Massuh’s wife back on my plantation. In a strange way, you almost sound like the mistress in the way you speak.”

  Honor turned away from him slightly as more memories flooded her. This time, they weren’t bittersweet. They were happy memories. When the Confederates had taken control of Arizona during the war, Whip had packed teenage Honor Elizabeth and Lijuan off to the Wilde family’s ancestral home in Philadelphia, as he did not wish to have them living under the Confederacy. Cassandra had remained behind as did young Catalina who drew no attention due to the numerous Mexicans in Arizona. Whip did not want attention drawn to Honor’s and Lijuan’s races.

  In Philadelphia, Honor had attended a finishing school for negro girls. Even if Lijuan could have gotten into it, she didn’t wish to. Such things had no interest in the young woman who was something of a maverick.

  Honor Elizabeth, though, had relished it and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Mostly because of one thing—one woman. In an irony, Whip had sent the girls away from Arizona to keep them away from the Confederacy, but her teacher wound up being a Southern transplant. She was not just any teacher. In fact, she had been one of Cassandra’s instructors at a Virginia finishing school before the woman had left Dixie.

  Miss Melanie Mae Masondale! How Honor still missed her. Melanie Mae had been the consummate Southern belle, hailing from a tobacco plantation in Virginia. That was until she could no longer tolerate the atrocities against the colored race that so outraged her. When a young abolitionist from Philadelphia had come to town, the pair had quickly fallen in love and she had followed him back to the North where she would help take up the cause.

  The pair had married, but she had insisted her students where she found work in the negro finishing school still call her Miss Melanie Mae. Honor didn’t know why or care why she wished so, but she had grown to love the woman and all the refineries that she had taught her. Cassandra had held a special connection with Melanie and some of her family, so it had been natura
l when Miss Melanie had taken a special interest in Honor Elizabeth.

  Never knowing her own mother, and her step-mother, Mercedes, dying so quickly after she had become a part of the Wilde family, Honor had never had a mother figure in her life until Miss Melanie. Gradually Honor’s Southwestern twang, often snickered at by the other students began to fade as she begun unconsciously picking up Melanie Mae’s affectations and way of speaking. To this day, she still spoke that way and Carver was only one of many who picked up on the unusual combination of a colored woman from the Southwest whose cultured voice had a decidedly Southern belle lilt to it.

  Later, when Honor had moved on to college studies in New York City, in which Lijuan finally had reluctantly joined her, she had found herself teased by a number of her fellow colored classmates, but any taunts fell on deaf ears. Even her three sisters always had a good laugh over it, saying how the four of them stuck out enough as it was and Honor was only adding fuel to the fire with her diction. However, Honor Elizabeth quite loved the way she spoke and wasn’t going to change it for anyone, thank you very much!

  Leaving her memories behind, Honor continued her flirtatious nature with the man riding next to her.

  “I thank you very much for saying so,” She replied to his previous compliment. “The West may be a yet untamed part of America, but there is no reason not to bring a touch of civilization into it.”

  “Sayin’ that only further perplexes me, ma’am,” Carver said.

  “Please call me Honor Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, ma … Honor Elizabeth. As I was sayin’, sure is strange to see someone like you out here in the middle of a posse. I could easily picture you sittin’ on a veranda somewhere sippin’ on some fine mint juleps.”

  The image he described cracked her up. Honor nearly lost the firm grip on her horse as she threw back her head in laughter. “I may have a love for culture, but I share many loves with my sisters,” she explained. “And one of the foremost, sir, is the love of seeing law and order reign. If there are murdering cattle rustlers plaguing your valley and you need help putting a stop to it, well, it is just the sort of thing we girls always find ourselves in the middle of.”