Riverboats and Rainbows

RIVERBOATS AND RAINBOWS

by

Jewel Adams

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS P.O. Box 726 Lusk, Wyoming 82225 307-334-3165 www.whiskeycreekpress.com Edited by: Beverley J. Haynes Cover Art by: S. L. Carpenter

Copyright  2004 by Rhona Brown Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. ISBN 1-59374-0 Printed in the United States of America

Dedication To a very special lady that any mother would love. Thank you Christina

RIVERBOATS AND RAINBOWS PROLOGUE “Angie, what about a carnival, we could sell tickets and . . .” “We’d never break even. Besides, Clayton already has a carnival in the fall. No, it has to be something different…unique.” Shuffling through the fliers and brochures on her desk, she felt like pitching them in the trash. Why in heaven’s name did she agree to run this year’s Charity Drive? Because Auntie Belle wanted it, that’s why! Isabelle La Cross was the most infuriating lady in town. She may be her only living relative, but Angie could scream over the woman’s manipulation, especially when she used it against her own niece. If she weren’t so darn lovable, Angie would tell the lady exactly what she could do with her good neighbor crusades. “Look Sally, I’ve got an appointment at two, why don’t you take these and see what you can find. How about dinner at Rico’s, say at six? We can discuss it then. Maybe something will come to me by then.” “And what should I tell, you know who, when she calls?” “Tell my dear aunt I am working on it.” Under her breath, “If she gripes she can have the whole works back!” “Now I could never say that to her, she’s too sweet.” “Sweet?” Angie just glared at the girl as she sashayed out of Angie’s office. Sally knew exactly how to get to her. Falling back into the chair, the pencil started an impatient rhythm against the desk. “Come on Angie think of something.” As much as she was furious with her Aunt Belle for volunteering her, Angie acknowledged she wanted to do the best possible job. She’d just have to rearrange her schedule. La Cross Decorating took off this last year, what with the influx of new office buildings. At first, listening to Aunt Belle and locating the decorating firm in Clayton over New Orleans appeared to have been a terrible decision. Now, she actually employed staff besides her childhood friend, Sally. Sally was everything to La Cross, without her Angie wouldn’t have been able to hold it together. If she landed this account, she would give her friend a well deserved bonus. “Time is running out.” Spying the wall clock so was the day; if she didn’t hurry she would miss her luncheon appointment. Gathering her portfolio she rushed out of the office. As she passed Sally’s desk, “I’m late, if Mr. Greeley calls tell him I am on my way. I’ll see you at Rico’s.” “Right, six o’clock.” Motioning to the phone receiver she held. “Yes Miss La Cross, I’ll tell her.” Holding it out so the woman could hear, “Your aunt will be there as well.” Groaning, Angie pushed through the glass door. “Great!” The evening would be a disaster there was no way around it. Reaching the elevator she mentally clicked off the list of possibilities for the fundraiser. Maybe she should just do the same old routine, dinner and Ball, sell the outrageously priced tickets and be done with it. ****

Tossing her purse on the counter, Angie collapsed into the couch. “What a day!” Tired, but in high spirits over landing Greeley’s account, there was still enough time to change and make it to New Orleans and back before dinner. The idea came to her after leaving the restaurant. A riverboat would be the perfect place to hold the fundraiser! An old time paddlewheel floating down the Mississippi; they could have a casino and everything, right on the water. The patrons would love it. Somewhere she remembered reading about one, the Silver Queen. Yes, that was the name. An old water wheel renovated for parties and tours up and down the river. Grabbing a change of jeans, one of her oversized sweaters and a tank top, she quickly headed for the shower. It felt nice to be out of the strict business attire. Slipping on her fringed, soft leather boots, she pulled them up to her knees before running a brush through the thick, waist length waves of her hair. She clipped the long bangs back from her face, letting the mass hang freely down her back. The breeze was brisk as she drove the little MG down the ramp and onto the river expressway. Hitting the scan button on the radio it stopped on a Cajun station. The haunting music soon eased away the day’s strain. It was only three o’clock and wonderful to be away from the office. Missing the rush traffic added to her pleasure, but she would have a heck of a time getting back to Rico’s on time. Pulling into a parking spot on the crowded dock, Angie wasn’t sure where to go. She held her hand up to shade her eyes as she located the riverboat that seemed dwarfed by the larger barges and freight vessels dominating the waterways. Angie decided the walk up the wharf area would be invigorating, she left her car and headed out. More than one wolf whistle came from the decks above her, but she went on, ignoring the crude calls. She stood before the wooden gangplank of the relic and took in the fresh coat of white paint on the spiraled rails. Gold accents flourished over the intricate moldings. In bright red letters Silver Queen raced across the bow. It was beautiful. Angie felt her enthusiasm mounting. Holding the soft roped rail, she ascended onto the boat. No one greeted her arrival making her wonder if the boat was deserted. It seemed unlikely anyone would just go off and leave her unattended. “Hello! Is anyone on board?” When no answer came she ventured further, curious about the accommodations. Sliding open the etched glass door, she entered what looked like an old gambling casino, complete with a long, highly polished, wooden bar. Crystal glassware hung from racks across the full mirror backed wall. Liquor bottles lined the shelves, casting their rich hues into rainbows of dancing colors. The weirdest sensation washed over her, forcing her eyes shut. Sounds of tinkling music and laughter floated around her. The smell of heavy cigar smoke filled her nostrils. Blinking against her sudden nervousness, the sounds and blurred images faded as quickly as they appeared. She told herself, atmosphere is everything! Angela shook off the lingering sensations. The boat reeked of the Old South. The guests would certainly feel its history, adding to the entertainment. Without some information to take back to her Aunt all her plans would be much of nothing. Moving through the glittering room, past the felt tables and red velvet chairs, she decided to take her explorations further. Somewhere, someone must be around that could

help her. Gaining the outer walkway around the boat Angie looked back towards the monstrous wooden paddle wheel, she decided to try up towards the wheelhouse. The river always fascinated her and right now it was a marvelous sight seeing the dark muddy water racing past the low hull. Climbing the slanted rungs to the glassed in command center, she could see that no one was inside. The huge varnished wheel stood alone like a guard over the open decks below. The place glowed under pieces of brass equipment she couldn’t begin to name, all polished to a high sheen. Knowing it would be rude to enter, she only looked on with envy at the antiques. Brightly colored benches lined the lower deck. Large spyglasses were mounted on the rails for sightseeing. Glancing at her watch she moaned over the time. Angie decided she better find someone in the next half-hour or be late. Aunt Belle would be in a state if she failed to be on time. Making her way back down the ladder, she spotted an open door at the front of the wheelhouse on the main deck. Looking into the darkness, the steep ladder went down into what seemed like a bottomless hole. Hugging herself over the sudden chill that seized her she called out. “Hey, is anyone down there?” A noise she couldn’t identify came in answer to her question. “Damn.” Coming back any time soon, with everything going on, would be out of the question. She set her purse down on the wooden lid of the hatch. Angie needed both hands to maneuver on the ladder. Turning backwards, she gingerly felt with her foot until she located a rung. Holding the door molding Angie carefully started down the ladder. It took a few minutes before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She certainly hoped someone was down here and she wasn’t going into the damp recesses of this boat for nothing. Everywhere she touched felt clammy, making her shudder as she gripped another rung. She wished she could see the bottom. It happened so fast, her foot lost its hold on the slippery wood! Groping out she failed to regain her hold. The dark void swallowed her scream as she fell back into nothingness. Landing hard against the bottom, Angie let the blessed blackness take away the sharp cutting pain in her head.

CHAPTER ONE The Ante “Raise you a hundred Jamey.” The man’s enthusiasm flowed over the table to the unaffected player. The strong, tanned fingers slowly unfolded the cards, fanning them out for his private scrutiny. A full house, which meant Duncan was probably acting. James played him many times on the circuit. Duncan could never hide his eagerness when he thought he had James beat. Tonight certainly wasn’t going James’ way. A full two rounds of the deal and he’d only taken one small hand. Looking around at the other two players, he figured this pot was too rich for their blood. They’d fold on the raise leaving only Duncan and himself to bluff it out. Maybe he should call it a night? Damn, it was too early for that, but James knew when the luck wasn’t with him. “I’ll see your hundred Duncan, and raise you fifty.” He watched Duncan’s face blotch in anger. As he expected the others threw their hands down in disgust. James waited for Duncan to get over what his cards told his tighteyed stare. “You’re a lucky ass hole, Jamey.” Duncan tossed the cards into the pot. James pulled the money and cards over to him, showing little over the defamation thrown his way. Separating out the cards, he gathered the small winnings and pushed away from the table. “It’s been nice.” “You calling it a night?” James didn’t bother to answer. Duncan would relish starting a fight. Going over to the bar, James angled himself so he could see the entire room. “What will it be Mr. McFarlain?” “Scotch, Willie.” “Yes sir.” James saw the captain in the bar mirror as he entered the casino. Captain Welsh wasn’t to be taken lightly. The river was his domain and heaven help the bastard stupid enough to cross him. Welsh looked more disagreeable than usual. James cursed the fact this boat had been the only one available for the ride up river. If he wasn’t in such a hurry he would never have stepped foot on the Silver Queen. “You still work’n the river, McFarlain?” “Now where else would I be, Captain?” “Thought you might have smartened up and gotten off by now.” Off the river James’ business was his own. Gambling wouldn’t have entered his past life. But that was before the war and everything he’d known had been destroyed or taken away. “The river feels slow tonight.” “You should be captaining the Silver Queen, you always did know more than most men working the tables. Heard once you had a big plantation, down by New Orleans.” “Times change.” Sipping his drink, he didn’t mind the man’s probing. It was

common knowledge who he used to be. What he would be was no one’s concern but his own. “Out of luck tonight or are the tables too cheap for your liking?” “Like I said, Captain, the river is slow.” “Duncan seems to be having a good night.” James’ blue eyes watched the players’ reflections in the mirror. He didn’t like the way Duncan’s group looked, but kept it to himself. It was his last trip up river and he didn’t need any trouble. One of the crew called the Captain away. James motioned Willie to set up another drink. Anxious to be off the river James thought about the future, something he hadn’t done for some time. Mike would be waiting for him in St. Louis. They would start the drive from there to take the cattle to Montana. His crystal blue eyes went deep in concentration over the ranch, Twin Creeks. He didn’t like admitting how much he counted on that unknown place. When he won it off that man last year, he’d been madder than a rattler and ready to throw the deed away in the next hand just to be free of it. Why he’d pocketed the deed he couldn’t recall. That night in his cabin, it fell out of his coat. Picking it up James took his first look at the document. It was all there, all legally his, because of one man’s foolish pride in a card game. James thought long and hard over the land he now held title to. Remorse or conscience made him seek out the man that next morning. Mr. Burr must have been on a road of self-destruction. He learned the man got into another card game after James left. In the process Burr picked a fight with the wrong man and got himself killed over a fivedollar pot. Finding he couldn’t give the land back, James decided to investigate what he owned. Wiring a banker associate of his, he learned just about all he could without actually seeing the property. The reports said everything was in order with the deed and that Mr. Burr had no living relatives. The land and ranch were said to be in good shape, though neglected. Locating his brother Michael proved more of an effort than finding out about Twin Creeks. Mike, like James, left New Orleans after the war and discovering their uncle sold their home to carpetbaggers. It was a blow neither brother took lightly. James turned to gambling because it was there and he proved to be good at it. Being cautious over his playing partners kept him alive. He hated his present life and Twin Creeks looked like the answer he’d been searching for. There were enough funds from his gambling takes to buy a large herd of cattle and the stores needed to start the ranch. Hopefully, what was left would keep them going until she started holding her own. He learned all he could about the territory and James decided to take one last gamble. The cattle would be their staple stock, but there were herds of wild horses free for the taking. He planned to do just that. The government was hungry for horses, good riding stock, and James intended on getting in on the contracts they were issuing. Purchasing the stallion cost a large chunk of their funds, but he needed a good bloodline to start the horse ranch Twin Creeks would someday become. Mike hadn’t been idle since he’d seen him two years ago. Working as trail boss for various outfits he willingly joined James in the venture. Between them, they would

rebuild what took their family generations to accomplish and loose overnight. “Another, Mr. McFarlain?” “One more, Willie.” Home? It felt strange to call it that. Neither of them had seen it yet, but James felt anxious to get there. **** In the thick darkness she wasn’t sure if her eyes were open. But when she moved, the pain in her head sent them squeezing shut. Holding the back of her head she gingerly made it to her feet. Finding the wall as she reached out in the darkness, Angie bumped into the ladder. Leaning against it, she waited until the throbbing ebbed before trying to climb the slippery rungs. Angie feared falling again and stopped repeatedly to fight off the dizziness. It felt like it took forever to reach the doorway. After several tries to open the hatch, Angie put her full weight against it before finally dislodging the hatch door. She collapsed on the deck, exhausted by the effort. Moaning, she struggled to sit up and face the night. A cool breeze came off the river helping to clear away the fog inside her head. Angela cringed over the mishap of falling, deciding she more than missed her dinner appointment. She managed to standup, leaning against the boat for support, a strange steady vibration moved up her legs. For a second it confused her, but then she realized it was coming from the riverboat. Listening, she heard the swishing sound of the large wheel turning through the water. The movement of the boat was slight and sluggish, but unmistakable. “We’re moving! Oh no...” How long had she been out? Looking around her she failed to locate her purse, positive she left it beside the hatch. She tried to catch some light to see the time at her wrist, but strangely there wasn’t any light coming from the shoreline. Stumbling to the rail she scanned the dark line of trees along the riverbank. Wherever they were on the river was certainly a ways from New Orleans. Stars, she hoped this wasn’t an all night cruise. She was dirty and bruised all over. The knot on the back of her head felt so tender it hurt when she walked. Looking around the deck she couldn’t think past the throbbing to figure out what bothered her about it. She tried to push her hair back and she realized she’d lost the clip holding her bangs. She’d be damned if she would go back down there and look for it. “One fall a night is enough, thank you.” With the rail’s support Angela decided she better find the captain or manager, someone that could help her. She didn’t think they would turn back just for her, but maybe they could radio shore so her Aunt Belle and Sally wouldn’t worry. “Damn! I didn’t even tell them where I was going.” She could see it all now. Auntie would call the police within an hour of her missed dinner appointment. They would find her car on the docks, of all places. Auntie would go into vapors. Well, she couldn’t do anything about it until she found someone. The music and muffled voices drew her forward. It sounded familiar; she remembered feeling this way when she entered the room this afternoon. It seemed the Silver Queen was all she’d imagined it would be. His blue eyes seemed to find her of their own accord. Framed in the doorway was

something he never saw aboard Captain Welsh’s boat. Funny, but even after his initial shock over seeing the woman’s reflection in the mirror, he couldn’t stop looking at her. Wild dark locks of ebony hair floated around the woman like a protective cloak. They did little to hide the lovely creature behind the veil. Looking closer, James also saw the dirt smudged across her cheek and forehead. Sucking in his breath over what his scrutiny uncovered, anger and concern flared in unwanted quantities for the pain and confusion marring her lovely face. James tried to pull his eyes away, but she seemed to hold him in the most peculiar way. Maybe it was the outlandish attire she wore? It wasn’t everyday you saw a woman dressed like a man; an Indian one at that if those boots were any indication. Eyes the color of emeralds, they weren’t Indian and neither was that ivory complexion. James felt the strangest chill move over him. She was undoubtedly beautiful, statuesque, and yet too vulnerable as her brilliant eyes searched the room. For just a second they seemed to latch onto his, making him feel like she physically touched him or something more. But they pulled away too quickly to discover the answer. Angie wondered what it was about the room that made her uneasy. Things came too slowly past the pain assaulting her head. Just as lethargic were the eyes turning in her direction. Even the murmurs ended as an uncomfortable silence fell over everyone. No, that wasn’t right…every man, there were no women, anywhere! Angie swallowed hard over the ill feeling this gave her as she unconsciously raised her chin against their probing gazes. She tried to think past the foreboding she felt, but it became increasingly difficult. She wanted to tell them how rude their observations were, yet thought better of it. Seeing no one standing about that looked in charge, her gaze finally went to the bar. Having so many men in one room must have addled her, because she could swear the room looked different. Taking a deep breath she forced her unsteady legs to walk towards the bar. She could feel their eyes following her. It took all her control not to turn and glare back at them. She came hard against the bar and held it to fight the dizziness plaguing her. Afraid to look at any of the men leaning there, she tried to concentrate on only the young bartender and forming her words. “Excuse me? I need to see the captain or manager, please.” What was wrong with them? The buzz immediately following her announcement made her knuckles whiten in apprehension. “Can I help you?” The effort to turn and see the man who owned the deep decisive voice nearly defeated her. When she faced him his eyes stole the last of her breath. How long she looked at him she didn’t know or care. Shaking away the volatile feelings she brought her thoughts back to the here and now. But stars how he seemed to fill her mind. He was so...devastatingly handsome! Stars, but that hit on her head must have rattled her common sense. What was the matter with her? She never let any man affect her like this and certainly not a stranger. “Are you the captain?” His smile could melt ice, but it was the questioning in his cool gaze that captured her attention, making it hard to concentrate on his answer.

“No, but are you sure it is the captain you want to see?” “Well yes, I think so, unless there is a manager around.” Why had he approached her? Knowing every man in the room was glaring bug eyed at them James sure wasn’t paying any attention to the warnings. She was trouble he didn’t need. “Willie, go fetch Captain Welsh.” “You sure about that Mr. McFarlain? You know he ain’t going to like this none.” She listened to the conversation that concerned her yet seemed to be ignoring her presence. Angie hurt too much to care what these men thought. “Look, I need to get to shore or radio the authorities.” One of the men snickered. James watched the lady’s pride spark over the insulting remarks bouncing about the room. He couldn’t control his admiration when she refused to don the insults with even a reproachful glance. “Miss?” “Miss La Cross.” “Well Miss La Cross, I think the captain will be more than happy to oblige your request.” “Good.” She watched the man give a silent signal to the young man behind the bar, sending him out from under to do as she requested. “Thank you...McFarlain, isn’t it?” “Yes.” Angie felt better knowing the captain was coming. She couldn’t shake the growing nervousness over these men and their apt attention on her. Chancing a look about the room, not a one of them resumed their game seeming to think she was more interesting. She actually thought a few of the glaring eyes held expectancy in them. “Hey, what’s wrong with them?” “Wrong, Miss La Cross?” Moving closer to him, she whispered. “Why are they watching me? I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. If it’s a stag party or something like that, I am sorry.” James couldn’t stop looking at her. She made less sense than he felt his actions did. He didn’t like the men’s gazes anymore than she did. Something compelled him to try and ease her concerns. “You are a rarity on Captain Welsh’s boat.” “A rarity? In what way?” Was that innocent look in those green eyes as real as it appeared? “You are a woman.” Her laughter died beneath the unwavering look of concern he held her in. He was serious and Angie felt herself become cold over the implied danger. She would have left, right then, if the dizziness hadn’t returned when she tried to move. The strength in the hands holding her up became all too clear, tearing through her muddled thoughts. “Miss La Cross are you alright?” “My head, I fell.” When his fingers glanced over the bump at the back of her head, she groaned and fell against him. Righting herself wasn’t possible. Finding the will to leave what she found in his hold defeated her efforts. Closing her eyes she told herself it would only be

for a minute, just a minute. There was so much strength...and safety. James’ hands seemed to move on their own, retaining the embrace she didn’t end and he couldn’t. God, she was so soft, so very nice. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her and allowing the wild hunger loose that holding her drove to the surface. Shaking himself, his eyes registered the tight lipped anger and wanting his present stance brought out in his staring companions. Swallowing his groan of awareness, James needed to get a hold of himself. What the hell was he trying to do? Commit suicide? Before he could disengage her he heard the gruff astonishment of the Captain coming up behind him. “What the hell do you think you are doing, McFarlain? Damn, you know my rules and the consequences!” He lost his concentration to her fingers digging into his sleeve. Her silent fear was unmistakable. The distraction proved to be his downfall. He felt the hands relieving him of his gun, just before two pairs enclosed about his arms. She remained in his hold. It was the Captain’s fingers that came around in front of them to dislodge her. “Release the harlot this instant McFarlain!” James’ dislike for the man seemed to fuel his irrational behavior towards the woman. Mike and the two thousand head of cattle were forgotten. “I’d love to, but she is hurt.” The scoffs came from the room and James felt the dread close over him. A few well placed calls from the men reddened the Captain’s enraged face. “Look Welsh, I don’t….” “Save it McFarlain, your gentlemanly charms won’t get you out of this.” Angie couldn’t stop her shiver. Every spoken word made them worse. She should move away from the man whose arms supported her. Why were they mad at them? At him? She could understand the captain being upset over having an unwanted passenger. But why take it out on Mr. McFarlain? Calling on her remaining strength she pushed away from him and looked into the angry glare of his eyes. Was it her or the captain that lit that fire? His face was like stone, showing nothing of the turmoil she felt in the hands still holding her arms. His eyes held the graying of the storm she sensed, making her shake her head in denial, only to realize her mistake too late. His hold tightened over her renewed weakness, refusing to obey the Captain’s ravings. Pulling her back against his chest was the worse thing James could do. No one wanted to believe he didn’t know her. James saw this too often; they were now the night’s entertainment. An example for the Captain, not to be dismissed until tried and convicted. Rage engulfed him over what he knew was coming. Thoughts of fighting his way out ended as quickly as they surfaced. It would mean leaving Miss La Cross to face these men, alone. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to her. Neither would he release her to the furious man reaching out to pull her away. “Keep your hands off her, Welsh!” It was a foolish threat considering he was unarmed and held by two oversized goons. But the captain took the danger glaring at him at face value and stopped his advance. Cautiously eyeing James, “Then you admit it?” What was he saying? Admit what? Angie must have missed something. This had

gone far enough she needed to get a hold of herself. She managed to push herself away from McFarlain to face the captain. James watched the girl that disengaged his hold. She swayed, but he forced himself not to reach for her. Her eyes stayed him from helping. A daring mix of pride and stubbornness held her up. James felt something swell inside him for this woman, something he couldn’t define, but had to accept. “Captain, I believe?” “You know damn well I am!” “There is no need to get excited.” James’ humor nearly broke free. Her indignation was sending Welsh into a huffing fit. “You insolent….” “Welsh, I wouldn’t.” James’ voice was low and controlled, but it was a warning that silenced the room. Angie didn’t dare look at the man standing close enough behind her that she could feel his heat. Whatever they all saw in McFarlain she cared only for the relief she felt that it kept this bull of a captain away from her. “Look Captain, I think you have misunderstood. I’m sorry if you find my presence on your boat upsetting, but I can assure you it wasn’t intentional.” She didn’t like the way he was gloating at her. When he crossed his arms over his bloated stomach, straining the brass buttons of his uniform, she bit the inside of her cheek not to groan. “So your presence wasn’t meant to be found out, hey?” “No...I meant, I didn’t plan to be here at all. I fell down your ladder, and I guess I knocked myself out. Could you please contact the authorities, my aunt....” “The only authority around here is me and believe me, missy, you’ve made contact.” Why didn’t that make her feel any better? He certainly wasn’t what she expected and he’d not get any booking for the party with this kind of insolent attitude. If his eyes raked over her breasts one more time, she...she’d slap him, that’s what she’d do! “The name is Miss La Cross. Now, would you please radio the authorities and let them know where I can be picked up.” James hadn’t heard a Creole accent like that since leaving New Orleans. The lyrical tones almost made him miss Welsh’s reply. “Now, Miss La Cross, I’d be obliged to accommodate you if I had such a thing...what was it? A raydee-oh?” She ignored his sarcastic use of her name. “Then just let me off at the next port.” James tensed over what he felt was coming, which caused the brutes holding him to secure their hold more. “I’d be glad to, only we’ve some unfinished business to attend to first.” She wanted to ask what, but the whooping and hollering rushing through the room drowned out her voice. Clamping her mouth shut, she couldn’t stop herself from turning to Mr. McFarlain for answers. “Oh my stars!” Angie felt what little color she possessed drain away. Her anger surged over what she stared open mouthed upon. “Miss La Cross, I think it would be best if you didn’t say anything else.” Spinning back to confront the captain, she gripped the bar in order not to fall. Ignoring McFarlain’s warning her angry words were forced past clenched teeth. “What is

the meaning of this? Release Mr. McFarlain!” She was shaking under the shock of seeing him held by those men and a knife pressed to his throat! How dare they do that to him! “Missy, I have every intention of doing just that, but first.” She wanted to disappear from the sneer he gave her. “Men gather round.” Looking from him, back to McFarlain and the stern uneasy look he gave her did indeed shut her up. McFarlain’s eyes conveyed the message that she only made it worse. The knife pressing close to his jugular vein wasn’t a joke. Angie tasted the bitterness of true fear. “Now you all know my rules about women on board my vessel.” Looking directly at her, “They are not allowed and the punishment is severe.” His speech was hilarious, Angie felt like she was in some corny movie. Opening her mouth, she snapped it shut when McFarlain’s strained curse reached her ears. Glaring at him under the circumstances would be silly, but she was getting angrier by the second. Instead, she directed her tempered glare at the captain. Ugh, but she wanted to smack that satisfied grin off his pug face. Who did he think he was, anyway? She’d sue him for falling on his unattended vessel! Physical trauma, yeah, she probably suffered a concussion. Mental anguish was a certainty. Building up her nerve to verbally attack the man, the tirade froze in her throat over his next announcement. “Men, we have a wedding to perform.” “Wedding?” Her outburst drew everyone’s humorous glances. “Why yes, Miss La Cross...your wedding.” The men’s laughter echoed through her head like a bad dream. He grabbed her arm and made her follow the men leading McFarlain outside. To his credit McFarlain put up a valiant struggle. To her dismay, he received a vicious blow to his jaw for his effort. If he got loose the rage burning inside that man wouldn’t have stopped until these men were desecrated. Abhorring violence she couldn’t believe she was actually wishing he would break free. Angie swallowed back her cry over what his hard blue eyes told her. This wasn’t a joke. These men were serious. They all had to be nuts! All kinds of crazy thoughts careened through the intense pain that each dragged step sent off in her head. James never took his eyes off her. When she stumbled he’d gone wild. The anger over seeing her in pain took over. The ache in his jaw snapped him back into some resemblance of sanity, but the fury inside him was near uncontrollable. If only she’d keep quiet. He feared what they might do to her if she continued. It was obvious she had no idea of the dangerous extent of her situation. Welsh could be a vicious man. He relished the attention he was getting and it made him unpredictable. James wasn’t in any position to help either of them. Getting her away from these men was imperative. James didn’t like the ugly way the crowd was turning or the looks in their eyes for her. She didn’t realize what he was seeing and he hoped she wouldn’t, fearing what she might do. When they placed her beside him he took the chance to whisper to her. “Just do what he wants and agree with whatever I say.” Angie’s eyes enlarged over McFarlain’s request. Was he crazy too? Didn’t he hear

what the captain was up to? She wanted to ask him, but the captain didn’t give her a chance. “Now, I have here the bible and as captain I have legal authority to wed these two. It’s legal, you will be husband and wife. What better match, right boys?” The cheers sent chills up her spine. “Now, James McFarlain do you take Miss...what’s your first name?” Glaring at him she had a good mind not to answer. Scanning the sea of expectant faces her pride stiffened. “Angela.” “James McFarlain, do you take Angela La Cross as your lawful wedded wife?” Not looking at him she held her breath with the expectancy she felt over his answer. Why should she care? “I do.” The captain chuckled over the angry outburst everyone knew McFarlain wanted to lash out with. “And you, Angela La Cross, do you take this man as your husband?” “What? No love, honor and obey?” Her indignation made her antagonize the man. “Throw in obey would you Welsh, I think I’ll need that one.” Glaring up at McFarlain she didn’t know with whom she was angrier. The captain repeated the vow, tossing in obey at McFarlain’s request. “Well, we’re waiting, get to it Missy.” Angel didn’t need the obnoxious captain to tell her what he expected. “You can wait till....” “Angela come on, it’s not like we’re strangers.” Her mouth dropped open over James’ remark. She closed it when his hard gaze didn’t reflect anything close to what his words implied. Was he only saying this for their benefit? Instinctively, she knew, he was the only one here she could trust. He didn’t want this any more than she did. Why should he? Remembering his warning she gave the only sensible answer. “I do.” “Good, a wise decision Missy. I pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss your bride, James.” Before she could object McFarlain pulled her into his arms and captured her lips, smothering her protest in a kiss that did more than just silence her outrage. Too stunned to hide her response, she could only stare at him when he released her. The cheers ended her short lived trance, but the shouts coming at them quickly made her seek the very man that just left her totally rattled. Moving to McFarlain’s side she released her breath when his arm came about her waist. “Alright Welsh, you’ve had your fun.” “Not quite James. You never should have crossed me. Your marriage papers will be filed in St. Louis. You can pick your gear up there.” James had been afraid Welsh would do this. Right now, seeing the eager men surrounding them, it was probably the best way out for her. “Now James.” “Can I have my gun?” “Sure. Boys, give the man his gun.” She watched, too confused to do anything else, as the man passed the captain

McFarlain’s gun. The captain emptied the filled chambers of the bullets. Staring, she watched the bullets hit and roll across the deck before he passed the gun over to McFarlain. Starting to move away, James stopped and came back to her. Taking her arm, “Come on Angela.” Pulling her arm out of his grip, she stared at him in disbelief finally understanding what they all expected. “No...you are all crazy.” The shaking of her head wasn’t anything compared to what her knees were doing. “No, I am not going into that River!”

CHAPTER 2 Muddy Waters The water washed over her head, drowning out her screams as they entered the rushing current. It was his hand, wrapped in her hair that pulled her gasping to the surface. “Hold on to my belt!” The current was too strong to argue. They were caught in its drowning flow. Angie gripped the belt where his hand placed hers, she could barely keep her face out of the water continually sucking her down. Her moan over the pain in her head became lost beneath the wild roar of rushing water. “Kick with all you’ve got! Come on, we can make it.” Automatically she did what he wanted. All the while the word obey rang in her mind. Anger over what they’d done to them made her fight the sluggish haze trying to capture her. She felt the heavy weight of her sweater pulling her down, making her struggle for its release. She worked it off with the only remaining hold at her wrist where she held onto his belt. The strain was taking its toll, she must get rid of the sweater or loose the battle. Kicking harder, she struggled to get close enough to switch hands on the belt. When she reached to change her hold something hit her legs, pulling and catching them. The exchange never happened. Angie lost him in the current. James spun about over the sudden release of her weight. She was no where in sight. “Angela! Damn it woman, where are you?” Trying to keep above the water she called out to answer, swallowing the mud laced river water in the process. Letting himself go with the current he saw her arms thrashing before they disappeared beneath the surface. Swimming to the spot, he reached out touching something soft. Latching on to it James pulled her up against him, he held her limp body as he strained to get them to the shore. When his feet touched the muddy bottom he dragged them both up onto the bank before collapsing beside her. Gulping down air he fought his exhaustion. Moving over her, he rolled her onto her back. “Come on....” He watched. Placing his hand over her chest, he practically shouted when he felt her take a shattering breath. Holding her until she coughed up the water James fell back with her across his chest. ***** Angie fought waking; the dream far too real. The brightness intruded as she fought off the memories, all but those of him. His image brought on a storm of emotions. Remembering the kiss they shared overwhelmed Angie’s senses. James wondered when she would finally open her eyes. The memory he held of them couldn’t compare to the very real fresh green in their depths. Like a meadow caught in spring, life glowed in her eyes. His fingers stroked the satin strands falling down her back. He held her all night. Waking long before dawn, he’d refused to stir wanting to experience the feel of her against him. It wasn’t a liberty he felt she’d allow once fully awake. After the night

they’d been through it seemed only right to hold her. The bump on the back of her head went down some. The feel of her bare arms…he couldn’t get enough of how she felt. He almost regretted that the sun rose when she started to wake. But then, he was anxious to see what her reaction would be. Remembering how he’d kissed her peaked his curiosity, she’d drawn more emotions out of him than he’d felt in ten years. James thought a lot about that revelation. He’d changed too much since the war. Last night he’d felt alive. After the shocking admission he found he liked what was happening to him. Angela. Was she an angel? It was a silly thought, but it stayed with him all night. When her hands started to move over him, his own tightened to hold on to what they found. Angie’s head shot up causing her to cry out over the pain. She closed her eyes to the sensations, she didn’t want to know if what they said were true. She slowly opened her eyes and let his image rushed in, with it came the panic. “Oh no....” “Good morning.” Biting her lip, she couldn’t believe this. “Oh no...” “You said that.” “It happened. Didn’t it?” “ ‘fraid so…Mrs. McFarlain.” Her eyes blazed in disbelief as she shoved herself off of him, earning James’ smile before he eased himself up before her. Oh yes, she was going to be in one hell of a state. As he’d discovered during the night she lost nearly all her covering. Standing before him, with her hands on her hips, what he saw left little to the imagination. The material stretched across her breast was like a transparent skin. He decided to enjoy every lovely curve and luscious mound exhibited, at least until she realized how much was on display. Even the ridiculous mud caked pants she wore were enticing. The way they hugged her shape so tightly did unthinkable things to his male physique. His questions for her were piling up, but they could wait. James took his gun out of the holster, the act sent her stumbling back. He chose to ignore her reaction as he blew out the empty cylinders. “Are you hungry?” She was, but looking around she wondered where he expected to eat. There wasn’t a building to be seen. “Well I am. Why don’t you take care of…whatever, while I rustle up something edible.” He tossed her the matches from his pocket. “They should be dry, if not, lay them out so the sun hits them. Can you build a fire?” “Of course.” She wanted to groan over the defensive feelings he immediately called to life. “Give it a try.” Too confused to mouth the questions she wanted, she watched him take off into the woods. By the time she realized he actually left her alone it was too late to call him back. Turning around, all she saw were more woods and the river. Shivering at the memory of the muddy water she quickly busied herself. Angela’s frown deepened, the tips of the matches were damp. Locating a flat rock she laid them out like little soldiers to dry. The dampness in her boots finally penetrated her thoughts and she pulled them off, putting them over a thick branch with the hope they too would air out. The loss of her sweater made her angry. “Those creeps.”

Almost drowning and finding herself stranded with Mr. Macho made her scoff at the possible disasters that might rise up to smite her. Wondering how far it was to the nearest town made her fingers gingerly touch the knot on her head. Angie told herself that worrying over it wouldn’t change what happened. She needed to do something and started to gather the wood and build it up for a fire. “Can I build a fire…his mother is probably still on the farm!” Standing back she surveyed her handiwork then tried the matches until one finally caught. Once the fire got going she started to panic over the blaze she’d created. “All I need to do is start a forest fire.” “We could always jump in the river again.” Startled by his voice she jumped, but when her eyes saw what was hanging from his hand, “You killed a rabbit!” “I couldn’t find a bear.” Grimacing, she avoided him and the dead animal. James hid his humor over her reaction, but he wondered how she lived. She obviously wasn’t used to fending for herself. “Where are you from Angela?” She refused to face him over his question because of what she might see, she kept her attention on the river and answered. “New Orleans, actually outside in Clayton. Do you know how far we are from there?” He would have been surprised if she hadn’t been from there with that accent. It did get heavier when her anger rose to the surface. She was a long way from home. “We were only a few hours from docking in St. Louis. Walking, I’d say it will probably take us a full day to get there.” Spinning about she completely forgot about the poor dead bunny his attention was centered on. “St. Louis! No way, you must be wrong.” Placing the skewed rabbit over the coals, James tried to retain his patience over her outburst. “We will be in St. Louis by morning, sooner if we can catch a ride on the river.” The finality in his tone stopped all the arguments she wanted to voice. But how? “What’s wrong?” “I…I guess I must have been unconscious longer than I realized. But that can’t be right either, I mean it would have taken the Silver Queen days to get this far.” “Weeks.” “What?” “I takes her weeks to come up river fighting the current.” He seemed so sure Angie didn’t know what to say. Things about last night she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge started coming back. All those men...and the Silver Queen...it was different. What was it she’d seen? Trying to remember made her headache return. The uneasy thoughts made her eyes skip to him. Thankfully he was busy with their breakfast and didn’t see her wary scrutiny. Ignoring the dried mud on his clothes, the dark tailored suit wasn’t noticeably different, unless one looked closer. It was the cut. Fitted down to his firm waist, the coat’s bottom flared out in a long, rather unusual style. The vest was a fancy thing with its silver brocade design over the once white silk shirt. Even the thin tie was different. But she knew it was the holster, slung low about his waist that held her curiosity. She remembered that the other men wore guns as well, some were double holsters. Angie didn’t like the strange thoughts coming to her concerning the reason for such open firearms. The way he wore it, strapped tightly to his muscled thigh, stopping just

above the high black boots. He didn’t carry it for show. No, this McFarlain knew how to use it. Shaken by the truth she forced her eyes away. They came to rest on the thick brown hair. Before their dive into the river she remembered he had been wearing a black Stetson with a silver band. Didn’t gamblers once wear fancy garb like his? Was he? For some reason she didn’t ask, it didn’t seem important. Several of the men last night wore similar rakish outfits. And there were the moustaches. McFarlain’s was long on the sides, as were his side burns that jutted out onto his cheeks. On him it was a very attractive style, even if it was outrageously old fashion. Aware of her intense study of him, James decided not to interrupt her. Was she as fascinated about him as he was of her? Some of the things she said last night came back to him. “What was it you wanted the captain to call the authorities on?” “A radio?” “Yes, that was it. What is it?” Sucking in her breath, she couldn’t answer. She didn’t like the question his raised. “Angela?” “Its Angie, everyone calls me, Angie.” She didn’t seem to notice his eyes on her. James didn’t like the far away look her misty green eyes held him in. “Let’s eat, we have a long walk ahead of us.” They ate in silence and he was surprised she didn’t complain about eating the rabbit that upset her so openly. Something was going on inside that lovely head of hers that made him worry. Scattering the ashes he watched her move as if oblivious to his presence while putting on her boots. Taking off his jacket he went over and placed it around her shoulders. She moved freely about him and didn’t seem at all self-conscience about her lack of proper attire. “You might get a sunburn, keep it.” Slipping her arm into the long sleeves she rolled them up to her elbows. “Thank you.” He didn’t answer, just moved off and Angie followed in silence still deep within her own troubled thoughts. Once she wondered why she followed him, but dismissed the question, the others flooding her senses held more importance. Time seemed immaterial as they followed the riverbank. They came upon a large patch of raspberries. Eating all they could, McFarlain tore off a section of his shirttail to hold a store of them for later. It wasn’t until they walked some distance from the berry patch that Angie stopped cold. Turning, she looked back unable to see where they found them. “Something wrong?” “We just ate raspberries!” His broad shoulders straightened in warning. “But....” Her troubled eyes came back to meet his. Searching the electric blue depths she didn’t know what she expected to find. She was acting weird and felt his awareness, but the crazy thoughts wouldn’t stop. “Angela?” “There aren’t any berries in February.”

Only the nerve above his left eye flinched. His control was superb, but she knew that was exactly what it was...control. “It’s not February, is it?” Answering her proved difficult when she looked so scared. James couldn’t imagine what caused this reaction. She hadn’t even brought up last night, the ceremony, nothing! Now this. “Please tell me. What month is it?” “August. August twenty-second.” Holding herself, she forced the next question out past the quivering in her lips. “The year, what year is it?” He answered very slowly. “1875.” She wouldn’t faint. His eyes were trying to penetrate to her very soul making it extremely difficult to hold herself together. She didn’t want to listen to anything more...it was impossible! “Angela?” “I’m fine, I...that fall really did a number on me. I guess I’m just disorientated. It should pass.” Her excuse came too quick and given in the fear he glimpsed in her eyes. James didn’t think forcing her to tell him what was wrong would work. He took her hand and he led them on. Angie didn’t object to his hold, she needed the strange reassurance it gave to her. Chancing a glance at him, his proud features looked so strong, she tried to gather strength from him and not think anymore over the unsettling fears. Instead she concentrated on last night’s events. McFarlain hadn’t brought it up and she couldn’t make herself do it. No, she couldn’t deal with any of that now. Once they reached St. Louis...or wherever he took her, she’d get a message to Aunt Belle and Sally. They would know what to do. Angie was incapable of thinking straight. Maybe it was all a bad dream. She didn’t want to hear the facts that said she’d already slept and was still in this mess. James’ own thoughts were as troubled as the girl’s beside him appeared to be. Why had the date upset her so? He didn’t believe for a moment that the bump on her head caused this reaction. Troubled by what he couldn’t understand his concentration remained on her and what he was going to do with her. The marriage was a farce, no matter what Welsh did about filing the papers. But James knew he couldn’t just walk away once they reached civilization. Why should he suddenly be filled with compassion for the woman? His thoughts only left him more confused. The fact she failed to acknowledge their marriage bothered him no end. He’d have to get her home, back to New Orleans. She mentioned an Aunt; at least she had family. For someone that didn’t want to get involved, he felt up to his neck in trouble. He had a wife he held no claim on and to top it off he couldn’t make himself leave it at that. ***** The craft moved steadily up the river, but Angie barely took notice of the passing scenery. McFarlain called it luck when the barge came into view on the river. He’d hailed them down. The man and his young son were more than willing to take them the rest of the way.

He’d left her alone, seeming to understand she needed to think. Angie took in every nuance of these, two new people. What she saw made her more frightened than she wanted to admit. Anxious to reach St. Louis Angie hoped she would find some answers. “Captain Beck sent these for you.” Sitting down beside her, James passed her the biscuit and ham slice, which ended up sitting in her lap. “When will we get there?” “Before night fall.” She didn’t look at him and he wanted to make her. “Angela, we need to discuss some things.” Sighing, she realized it had finally come. Scooting back so she could face him, she told herself not to show him anything, no matter what happened. Even in their short time together she’d come to rely on him too much. The thought of not having him around to help her face what she feared made her stomach wretch. He’d done more than most men would under the circumstances and she couldn’t fault him. “You never told me what a radio is?” Raising her eyes from her lap, it was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Relief and curiosity over his reaction made her decide to tell him. “It is a machine that sends out sound waves and transmits voices or messages across the air to another machine called a receiver.” He accepted her explanation. “Sounds like a telegraph.” “Only there are no wires.” He was good. It must be all the card games she believed he played, he hardly blinked. All but that tiny nerve jumping over his eye, it was a dead give away. “It must be quite new, I haven’t heard of it.” “Captain Welsh obviously hadn’t.” She wasn’t ready to take this any further. “That man only sees trouble.” “It’s not real...what he did. I mean you don’t have to worry, I don’t expect you to be held by it or anything.” Why did her declaration send a spark of anger off inside of him? His own thoughts fell right in line with hers. Damn it, what was wrong with him! “Right, but Angela, I can’t just let you...” Go out of my life? She’d think him crazy to say something like that. Discovering what lay behind those crystal blue eyes wasn’t possible. She wanted to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair back from his tanned brow. Instead she pulled his coat tighter about her. “I’ll see you have passage back to New Orleans. You have an Aunt there?” “Yes.” She prayed she did. But Aunt Belle seemed far away. Blinking back the threatening tears she dropped her eyes, not wanting him to see her distress. When his finger came under her chin and forced her gaze back, she wanted to moan over the concern he held out for her to see. “Angela don’t. Tell me what’s wrong?” “I can’t.” Her heart wanted so to tell him. Confide in him about her fears, about what she believed just happened to her. His anger over her refusal came with a strength that wouldn’t stay buried. “Alright, if you’re so stubborn, than I can be too. You’re wrong about the marriage, its legal and very binding. You are Mrs. James McFarlain!”

His unexpected anger sent her scooting back. “You aren’t serious?” “Wrong, I am, and so are the laws on the subject. The Captain wasn’t lying. Once those papers are filed there is no way of changing them. He docked last night, I suspect our license was the first piece of business to be dealt with this morning.” Leaning forward, he closed her open mouth. Whatever his reason for making such a ridiculous claim, it didn’t matter. James refused to take it back. The lady wasn’t going anywhere! “But that’s absurd, we were forced into saying those vows. Why, he didn’t even read from the bible.” “It doesn’t matter.” Rising before he could stop her, she glared down at him, pinning him with her flaming green glare. He hadn’t seen so much life in her and he loved it! He sensed she’d been hiding all this spunk. “There you are wrong, it matters a whole hell of a lot! When I marry a man, it will be done properly, in a church. Not by some lunatic Captain that probably can’t read!” When he stood up he towered over her, but it didn’t matter, the lady was on a roll. Her finger came up and poked at his chest. “And you...why you have no claim on me what so ever! And you know it! I’m not your wife and you can’t change that, no matter what the laws say.” His deep broad smile was disarming, halting her tirade and her finger. He moved too quickly, taking her hands and wrapping them around her back, then yanking her against him. “You are wrong...Mrs. McFarlain. We spent the night in each others arms.” His breath fanned her flushed face. “But...” “And when you were in my embrace...must I spell it out.” “I never have...” “No? Are you sure?” A blaze of color flooded her exquisite face. She stammered unable to destroy what he claimed. She didn’t know! Dear heaven she...no, it was only a dream, it couldn’t have been anything else. Could it? Before she could put her scattered thoughts in order he took her lips in a hold that left her falling weakly against him. His tongue demanded entrance and she couldn’t stop the pillage of his mastering assault. Deeper and deeper he delved into the warm recesses of her mouth, igniting a scorching flame that destroyed her arguments. Passion found its own life. A sensual heat, unlike any before, made her bold and reckless. Her arm wove about his neck, her fingers dove into the rich waves of wind kissed hair, bringing him closer. Her hardening breasts pressed in wanton abandon against the solid heat of his chest. James’ hand wove through the untamed tresses, binding her to him in a hold he never wanted her to escape. A fierce feeling came over him to possess this woman and stole away his logic. In that moment he knew nothing would stop him from keeping her. Pulling back he looked into the green fire of passion smoking her dazed eyes. “My wife, Angela! You can’t deny what is between us, any more than I can.” How she wanted to, but his power over her so strong, she couldn’t get a hold of herself. He left her to stare after him in amazed silence.

The afternoon dragged on forever for Angie. What happened between them preyed on her mind, out distancing her other concerns. She couldn’t fathom what to expect from him since his heated declaration. Neither did she know what to think about her own feelings where he was concerned. Through the dusty sunset she watched him move about the barge, helping the captain navigate the shallows. The long poles he walked up and down the deck with moved with expert ease through the rushing water. She didn’t think she could be wrong about his gambling, but seeing him like this made her decide there was a lot to learn about this man. Her thoughts deepened her frown. Would she learn? Or would St. Louis be the end of James McFarlain? The prospect left her more confused than before. Angie felt like a player with no say in the acts taking place around her. Dusk fell before the barge pulled into St. Louis. Angie saw James give the captain some money even though she heard the man tell him he worked enough for both their fares. He actually enjoyed the labor, and Angie added the knowledge to her fast growing store of information about this complex man. James placed her arm through his as he led them through the unfamiliar streets. He was relieved it was dark. Angela’s current clothing would be the first thing he’d take care of replacing. He held little doubt over her naiveté. Her shock over what he implied this afternoon told him more than she realized. Her innocence drove that violent urge to protect her closer to the surface. It also brought on some rather ungentlemanly feelings deep in his gut. Stirings he never expected to experience for a woman, but ones he was quickly coming to terms with. More than once Angela felt the gentle pull on her arm to keep her up with him. She couldn’t take it all in. Men were riding on horseback down the hard packed dirt streets. The boardwalks they were moving over were really wood. And the clothes! Stars, it was worse than she expected. Bustles and bonnets were the only styles she saw on the few ladies they’d encountered. Angie wanted to crawl in a hole and hide from the looks they gave her. It didn’t take much to know why they condemned her. God, no woman in her right mind would be dressed in a tee shirt and jeans! Hugging the coat around her proved difficult over the tight hold he maintained on her arm. If he knew how frightened she felt, he needn’t be worried she might disappear. He was concerned about her, she could feel it. If only she could tell him. Angie cursed her own weakness. Damn she needed him! Dealing with what she could no longer deny was impossible. But how? How did she go...back in time? CHAPTER THRE The Cowboy The door shut behind her. Angela finally released the penned up tension from their walk through town. James swore violently under his breath. She still maintained a death grip on his coat. Not one brutal look went unnoticed by her. He hadn’t been able to prevent the unspoken insults to Angela and it infuriated him.

“I have to go out. I’ll get dinner sent up.” “I’m not hungry.” He wanted to argue. She hadn’t eaten anything, but those infernal berries all day. Closing her eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to turn and face this man. She wanted to beg him not to leave her alone. “I’ll be fine.” The shaking in her voice tore through him. James didn’t know how to help her, or even what was really wrong. Leaving her to collect herself seemed the only way. Mike should be in the hotel somewhere and right now James needed his brother’s help. Dealing with Angela was a new experience. She wasn’t like the women he knew. No, she would not be forgotten the next morning. The door shut...he’d gone. The trembling in her lips wouldn’t stop and neither would the tears. Great shaking sobs tore through her. Standing in the middle of the room, through a watery veil, she searched its contents hoping it would help dispel the hopelessness she felt. A brass bed and nightstand stood beside the gingham draped window. Her gaze rested on the lidded pot under the bed. Groaning over what she knew they were there for, she forced her eyes to the pitcher and wash basin on the stand beside the dresser. The room and its contents laughed at her. Nothing changed and everything did. Where was she? What was happening to her? The questions made her headache. “Time? It can’t be possible?” But Angie lost all the arguments back on the boardwalk. On unsteady legs she crossed the room and stood before the basin pouring some of the water into the large flowered bowl. Dipping her hands into the cool water, she brought it up, letting it trickle down her face and neck. Ever so slowly her composure began to return. Dabbing her cheeks with the rough towel, her eyes caught her image in the small square mirror. “Oh Angie...” She looked as devastated as she felt. Dark circles rested beneath her overly bright eyes. Confusion and shock dulled their usual vivid green. Bringing her hand up, she tired to smooth the tangled mass of black curls. Her face was smudged with grease from the fall on the riverboat, her hair dulled by the river mud. God, she was filthy! Taking a deep breath she made up her mind. It took all her courage to walk to the door and pull it open. She dreaded facing those people again. Once started she refused to let weakness regain its hold. Descending the stairs, Angie couldn’t look beyond her destination. Whatever stares and mummers her presence restarted was unavoidable. She stopped in front of the hotel desk, her hands held tight to the rounded edge for support. When the clerk’s eyes came up so did his brow. He didn’t have to say anything. What he was thinking became all too obvious. Her ingrained pride reared at the unspoken insult. “I want a bath sent up to my room.” “It’s late Mrs. McFarlain.” She refused to show any of the turmoil the name he used inflicted. “I don’t care if the roosters are crowing. I want a hot tub in my room, in record time!” Some of her business sense took over. The man obviously didn’t want the scene her raised voice implied she’d be willing to display. Angie almost wished he would deny her

request. Suddenly, she felt terribly angry at the hurt inside and she would love nothing better than to vent her outrage on anyone that dared to step forward. “Is there a problem ma’am?” Angie turned ready to attack the voice. But what she saw stopped her cold. The man could have been his twin. Looking closer, the resemblance proved too great to be ignored. The same blue eyes and brown hair, and heaven help her, the man was just as handsome. Only, there was a difference, one that went deeper than the few years between this man and James McFarlain. His twin seemed to be missing the hardness she’d seen and felt in James. Her words came out without thinking, maybe it was the resemblance, whatever, Angie instantly trusted this stranger. “I have ordered a bath and it seems to be a problem.” He used a considerable amount of effort to pull his curious admiration away from her, to the gaping desk clerk. “Is there a problem giving the lady what she requested?” “I...no sir, it will be sent right up.” “Make sure it is.” Turning back to her, his humor was unmistakable. “I believe your bath in on its way. May I?” Before she could answer he took her arm and placed it under his own. Where James rushed to get her to the room, this man lingered, almost daring anyone to throw a look that even hinted of condemnation in their direction. “Your room ma’am?” “Upstairs.” Leading her to the stairs, neither said anything as they went back up to the room. Stopping before the door she indicated, he still held his hand over hers. Meeting his gaze, she didn’t flinch under the penetrating perusal he took of her. “Ma’am, may I introduce myself?” “By all means.” “Michael McFarlain, at your service.” “I’m not surprised, though I never would have believed there to be two men so close to each other.” “Then I didn’t misunderstand the name he addressed you by?” “No, though I dare say you had best find your brother for the explanation.” His smile took away some of the heaviness she still held. “Oh, you can be sure I will. The surprise he has given me is well worth my outrage over not finding him on the Queen. May I ask your name, lovely, sister in law?” “Angela, but Angie will do.” Taking her hand he kissed the back of it. Her blush couldn’t be hidden, nor the pleasurable laughter that followed. “Thank you Michael, for what you did down there.” “I can hardly wait to hear James’ excuse for leaving you alone to cope with the curs.” “Your brother will no doubt be furious that I ventured from the room.” Michael nodded in understanding. The bucket brigade began. Michael stayed by her side in the hall, until the staff finished setting up the bath. “Do you need anything else?” “No, this was all I wanted.”

“I will leave you then, he is probably looking for me.” Angie watched him leave from the door. Just before she closed it, she heard his laughter floating down the hall, his words brought her own. “Pants, by God! She’s wearing men’s pants! Oh James, whatever have you gone and done?” “More than either of you can imagine, Michael.” Her softly spoken words never reached the man, her husband’s brother. “What a heady thought.” Angie started towards the tub, when someone knocked on the door. Going back she didn’t open it. “Who is it?” “The desk clerk, Mrs. McFarlain. Your husband sent over some parcels for you.” Opening the door she stared at the man, then at the packages and boxes set about him. Pulling the door further open she silently motioned for him to bring them in. Remaining at the door she never let go of it. When he finished and moved to leave, he hesitated before handing her a sealed envelope. Her name was written across the front in a bold hand that she felt could only be James’. “He left this for you. Mrs. McFarlain, I ah, want to apologize. Your brother in law explained the tragic circumstances that preceded your arrival.” The man shuffled in front of her, unable to meet her eyes. “Well I...do you need anything? Dinner?” “No, but...thank you.” He finally smiled, his relief was so exaggerated it made her wonder exactly what Michael said to this man. Shutting the door Angie turned the key, locking it against any more unwanted intrusions. Setting the envelope beside the steaming tub, she quickly peeled off the dirty clothes. The water felt heavenly and she sank back into its heat, letting it soothe all the soreness away. Eyeing the letter, she finally got up enough nerve to break the seal. The thick paper quivered as she unfolded the single sheet. She knew what she expected it to contain, he probably came to his senses and was telling her goodbye. Dear Angela, I hope the items I sent are all right. The storeowner assured me they were the finest available. I have some things to take care of, before I can return. Keep the door locked and please do not leave the room, St. Louis is not safe for an unescorted lady. James “A lady.” Looking over at the wrapped parcels, her curiosity peaked. For the first time since coming to on the Silver Queen, Angie’s smile came unbidden. “James and Michael, my heavens what could happen next?” With a towel wrapped about her body and head, Angie arranged the unopened boxes of varying sizes on the bed. Pulling the string of the first box, she could barely keep her fingers from shaking as the brown paper unwound. Her pleasure came out in a giggle, as she pulled the pretty dress of pale blue up against her. The small print of lavender flowers on fine cotton felt cool and light against her skin. Holding it to her waist, it would be a perfect fit. Twirling around she couldn’t wait to feel the full skirt moving with each step. Laying it carefully over the chair, her excitement mounted. The next package took her breath away.

“Oh James!” The sheer white nightgown was completely feminine, and more exquisite than anything she had in her wardrobe. That James purchased something this elegant heated her body in daring awareness. Not wearing the luxurious gown went beyond all her warnings. Dropping the towel to the floor, she let the fine clinging folds slip over her skin in caressing softness. Angie refused to let any troubling thoughts intrude on her light mood and went on with her private party. When she finished, every garment she could possibly want, and few she never thought of before, were spread out across the room. Satins and lace, pastels and white dominated the ensemble. The under things were rich and delicate, she didn’t want to imagine how expensive they all were. There were four lovely summer dresses, all of different styles, and five of a heavier material, more for winter weather, appearing very serviceable. She laughed over the split riding skirt, knowing why he bought that one. Her jeans would be packed away; there was no reason not to. Two other skirts and several blouses rounded out the wardrobe. He also purchased her a heavy wool cape, making her wonder what he could be thinking. New Orleans never got cold enough for anything like this. It came with a wool shawl, thick mittens and fur lined boots. There was also a flannel nightgown that she swore she would get lost in. Leather riding boots and slippers were also been included. Looking at everything, she blew out her breath over the complete wardrobe. James thought of everything, including a large leather satchel to pack it all in. Angie spent the next hour carefully folding each article, leaving the blue dress and matching chemise and petticoats out for tomorrow. Unwrapping the towel about her head, she took up the comb and brush set she found in a beautiful red tin box. A white satin ribbon had been tied around it, both of which she stowed away at the bottom of the case. Absently combing out the waist long waves, she pulled the thick mass over her shoulders and nimbly wove a thick braid. Yanking out a few strands of hair from the brush, she used them to tie the braid off just below her breast, letting the balance hang in flowing waves. Deep in thought over the day she didn’t see or hear James when he entered. Tantalized by the gentle picture of loveliness she created he remained silent, leaning against the door he watched every graceful movement. Angela was beautiful and James couldn’t control the sexual responses she called to life. The gown proved even more exquisite on her, than when he saw it in the store. Tomorrow he would take her to finish buying any items he probably forgot. Mr. Grant was amiable enough about opening early or late. After what he spent in the man’s store, James didn’t expect any arguments. Laughing silently at himself, he still couldn’t get over Michael’s reaction to her. But then his brother was a well of surprises. Like meeting her before he could explain. He knew perfectly well that Michael wouldn’t have failed to notice a woman like Angela. James was still smarting from the raking he took over leaving her alone. He should have known she wouldn’t stay put. In the future he would have to be more careful...there would be a future. Tonight would guarantee it. But first James needed to uncover what was happening inside that lovely head of hers. She began humming an old Creole lullaby, something he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Closing his eyes, the memories it carried were so distant it was like seeing another person’s life unfolding. He let his mind slip into a simpler time and place. Straightening off the door, James pushed the images back into the darkness. That life no longer existed and neither did the people he once loved. The war took it all. The hate and destruction left behind still tasted too bitter to forget. Seeing him standing there brought her to her feet. His troubled eyes drew her to him. “James? What is it?” It took him a moment to focus on her. “You called me, James.” Her smile was timid. She hadn’t thought he would notice her avoidance of his name. She didn’t until this evening. She could sense his withdrawal, no he wouldn’t let her know where his thoughts had been and the knowledge hurt in an odd way. Angie moved away from him, afraid he might see the unwanted feelings his presence brought to life. “Did you and Michael get everything done?” “The herd is fine. He is staying down at the yard tonight with the men. We leave at first light.” She didn’t want to listen to what he wasn’t saying. Her stomach grew tight over what she felt it meant to her. “You have a herd?” “Cows...two thousand head of prime stock.” She could only nod over the unexpected announcement. He would be leaving and what she felt confused her more than she wanted to admit. Angela forced her attention away from what would come. She noticed for the first time the change in him. Gone were the fancy trappings of the gambler. James somehow managed to get cleaned up and shaved, even his hair was cut. She wondered how he accomplished it after the trouble she went through. Stepping back she took in his full view. The only familiar item was the ever present gun strapped to his thigh. “What is so funny Angela?” She didn’t realize she was being so obvious. “Nothing.” The skeptical rise of his brow said she wouldn’t get off that easy. “Alright, I am just surprised is all. You are a cowboy.” “A cowboy.” His flat repeat of the word sounded so funny. “Well yes.” She did try to be serious and not let her humor escape. Bringing her hand up to her lips to cover her giggle, the incredulous glare he sent her was her undoing. He stood there looking like everything she ever imagined or pictured a cowboy to be. Stetson type hat and scarf about his neck, to the boots with spurs at the heels. All that was missing were the leather chaps and she figured they would show up. Her giggles were unforgivable. “Angela, I don’t see anything funny about riding cows. It’s damn hard work.” Nodding her agreement past her laughter she couldn’t make it stop. “Oh James, it is not you, it’s everything! I’m sorry, honest.” Seeing him dressed like this…well it came right up there with whipped cream on a thick fudge sundae. The crowning piece of evidence for all that happened in the last twenty-four hours. Turning away she tried desperately to get a hold on her emotions. He was getting angry and she couldn’t blame him. Nerves made her fall into laughing fits. Angie knew she was well past any case of them she ever suffered in the past...or future!

Groaning, she looked back at him, his scowl made it all too real. “Angela….” The warning tone he used caused her to laugh harder, her defensive act failed. Exasperated, he went over to her and turned her to face him. He wanted to shake some sense into her. But what he saw made him groan instead. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks and the laughter turned to heart wrenching sobs. Pulling her to him he held her close, resting his chin on her head he let her cry it out. The answers he sought were close, she couldn’t deal with something like this alone and he wouldn’t let her. It was sometime before her sorrowful sobs gentled into pitiful sniffles. Holding her head, James raised her face to look at him. His thumb brushed away the dampness from her cheeks, not absorbed by his shirt. Looking over her reddened features, “I think you better explain what is behind all this, don’t you?” She nodded and at the same time. “I can’t.” “Angela.” “No, James.” Turning to move away, his large hands held her arms, locking her in place. “Don’t please, you don’t understand, you couldn’t possible understand!” “You’re right. I think you better make sure I do.” Studying him, she realized he meant every word. Her head shook to deny him, but he wasn’t going to let it go. His hold tightened. “Angela how did you get on the Silver Queen?” Pulling her up when she would have looked away, his gaze locked on hers with a force he regretted using against her. “What were you doing on that boat? Damn it Angela, tell me!” “Alright!” She jerk her arms against the trap he held her in and he let her go, but not far enough to escape. Angela rubbed where his hands had been. “You don’t realize what it is you are asking. James, I don’t even understand any of this myself.” “Any of what? What are you afraid of?” Her short laughter wasn’t like the last. James heard sadness in its notes, sending a chill up his spine. He braced himself over the way her eyes blazed at him. “You won’t quit, will you?” “No. We aren’t leaving this room until I hear it all.” Her chin came up slowly and he thought it was more in defense against what she expected from him, than the fear glowing bright behind that vivid emerald gaze. “I went to the docks in New Orleans, to check out the Silver Queen for a charity affair my aunt offered to manage this year. It’s a big event and I wanted to out do the last balls with something unique, something out of the ordinary.” She began a controlled pacing in front of him as her thoughts went back to the memory. James didn’t want to break the spell she seemed to have fallen under, but knew there were certain things she didn’t want to tell him. “When did you get on the boat, Angela?” Her eyes flared at him in warning, but she answered. “It was 4:30, I know, because I missed the rush hour traffic.” That laugh came again. “No horses and buggies, James...cars, motor vehicles that run on gasoline and drive over six lane thruways.” Her arms flung wide in emphasis.

If she wanted to shock him she failed miserably. That poker face defeated her. “Tell me the date Angela?” “Why is it important?!” He’d heard that same panic in her as when he gave her that answer to the same question earlier today. Refusing to let her avoid it, James stood his ground. “Say it.” “February 13...2004.” Taking a deep breath, she spoke out, repeating her breathless reply. “It was 4:30, Friday afternoon, February 13, 2004.” Different things she said on the trail came back to him, the raspberries and her argument against St. Louis. The way she paled when he told her it would take weeks to move up river from New Orleans. “You shouldn’t have been so persistent James. My answers only lead to more questions.” “Stop it Angela!” “Why? Don’t you want to hear what I thought when we reached St. Louis. Oh and my clothes, yes I’m sure you wondered about them. A woman wearing pants and a tee shirt. So improper! Well it’s not the wrong attire where I come from. Women wear pants like men, hold jobs that men do and still raise their families.” “Angela....” “What? Am I boring you? That’s funny James, because you certainly haven’t bored me. Why it’s been one giant surprise after another since we met. And you want to know what is really funny? I didn’t believe any of this was real, until tonight.” She ignored the anger coming to life in the man standing before her. Oh yes, he didn’t care for her outlandish rambling. “Yes, I thought I must be dreaming and that at any moment, I would wake up and be home. But the evidence just kept piling up, and St. Louis.... Oh James, our little walk earlier...well, that really did it. All those people, what their clothes and looks spoke, and the town, and men, and horses...Dear God, there wasn’t a familiar thing anywhere.” She was near hysterics and he moved towards her. “No! Don’t touch me! You wanted to know and by God, you will hear it all.” “You see, I couldn’t deny a whole city, now could I? So what did it all mean, to me?” Her clenched fist pounded at her heart. “One minute I am falling off a ladder into that dark hole, the next, I come to...in what? 1875? It sort of takes one’s breath away.” “And on top of everything, I find myself married to one hell of a domineering man. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you have been the only stable thing in this nightmare. But even that, is different for me.” “I can see you’re lost, well you aren’t alone. You see James, I have never relied on anyone in my life. No one! Only me.” “I own my own business. Of course that would probably be frowned upon here, like my pants were. Regardless, I am proud of my accomplishments. My decorating firm is one of the most successful in the New Orleans area and growing everyday, from nothing! I own my own house too. It needs work, but its mine. Bought and paid for with money I earned, and worked my tail off to get.” “I may not know anything about cows, but I do know what work is. Only mine was conducted from an office, not the great outdoors.” Maybe the raging anger in his icy blue eyes finally penetrated her tirade. But suddenly, she couldn’t go on. She felt drained and her defeat over the futility of what she

just did weakened her further. “Angela!” He reached her as she started to fall. Lifting her in his arms, he brought her limp form up to his chest. “James?” “Hush, I’m here.” “I lost my watch in the River.” “I will get you another.” Groaning, she tried to form the words. “Don’t Angela.” Taking her to the bed, his anger cooled over the surge of concern consuming him for her well being. “No you don’t understand. It was proof, you would have seen it’s all true, I don’t belong here.” Her disjointed words were as unsettling, as the outrageous tale she just let loose. “Its alright, you’re just tired.” “No.” Her hands held onto him when he would have placed her on the bed. “Please don’t leave me, I’m scared.” “I won’t leave.” His hand brushed back the dark waves of hair that came loose and fell across her face. “I can’t.” “I’m sorry.” He lowered her to the bed, easing down beside her. She snuggled up against him like she did last night and his arms closed around her. Her hand clutched his shirt as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t help it.” “What Angela?” “Fainting...always have whenever I get excited. The doctor said it my blood pressure shoots up or something.” “Get some sleep, Angela.” Her arm came up encircling his neck. Like feathers, her fingers played with the hair by his ear. That innocent act caused such a passionate drive in him, he didn’t want to believe the feelings. Just seconds ago he’d been enraged over what she was saying, what he was letting himself start to believe! It wasn’t possible. The future...no, it just couldn’t happen. His hand came up to her head and moved down the satin curtain. The lump was still there, smaller but large enough to notice. Had the injury caused this in her? Was it amnesia or something resembling it? Moving her closer as her breath softened into sleep, James decided it didn’t matter. He’d made his decisions concerning her out on the trail and nothing would alter them. If she tried to use this ridiculous story to stop him, she underestimated him. She called him domineering. He could hardly wait to hear what came next. He would be that and more, whatever it took, to convince her she was Mrs. James McFarlain, his wife. Welsh made good on his threat. James did have the satisfaction of putting his fist into the gloating bastard’s face, when he’d collected his gear. “You nearly killed her in that river!” Spitting out blood, Welsh felt too pleased with himself to let James’ attack spoil it. Laughing in a victorious sneer, “You’re a married man, McFarlain.” James closed his eyes over recalling his next words. “Good, if you hadn’t taken care

of it, I would have.” Michael’s unexpected laughter coming from behind him was the only thing that stopped him from tearing into that man again. Gathering his gear he stormed off, Michael at his heels. “Hey James slow down, she’s not going anywhere.” Spinning on his brother, “You stay out of it!” James should have known his anger would be wasted on Michael. He was enjoying his older brother’s predicament too much. “I take it your lady isn’t as pleased with the impromptu marriage as you appear to be?” “Mind your own business.” “But, dear brother, she is my business, much the same as you are. I think I will like having a new family member like Angela.” Glaring at him, James left him gloating in the middle of the street. It wasn’t until he reached the cattle yards that he learned how Michael met her. He had every intention of making Michael eat his words, however true they currently were, concerning Angela’s feelings. He wished he could spend more time with her, but they must leave tomorrow. They needed to get the herd to Montana before the snows hit. Careful not to wake her, he disengaged her hold around him. He managed to move her under the covers and straighten the gown that slid up to her bare hips. His fingers played with the soft material. She smelled like lilacs, all sweet and inviting. Standing beside the bed, he undid the large belt buckle of the holster. Releasing the tie above his knee he pulled it off and placed it over the headboard, within easy reach. James never took his eyes away from her as he undressed. In the lamplight his gaze steeled over. Nothing she did would change his decision. If anything, he was more convinced now that she couldn’t be left to her own devices. He didn’t want to think about what kind of trouble she could get herself into. If she said any of the nonsense she spoke of tonight to anyone else...well he would have to stop it from happening. He’d known this morning that there was only one way to keep her. Making what he implied they did together on the riverbank a reality was something Angela couldn’t dispute. Tonight she would become his wife in every respect. She couldn’t leave him then, not as his true wife. Her values were too strong and he counted on them in helping to convince her. She’d end all this foolishness once she accepted her position. Slipping under the covers, James waited. As he hoped, she moved towards him. He didn’t care what drove her to seek him, warmth or security. All that mattered was she wasn’t indifferent to him. Her responses to his kisses said this woman’s passion ran deep, like the depths in her jeweled eyes. James also saw her shock over what she discovered in herself. He didn’t think Angela ever touched the type of passion she obviously found in his embrace. Smiling as he moved the black curtain of hair from her face, her deep creamy features were striking, so defined and proud. The dark eyebrows and thick lashes against her cheek lent an angelic air to her beauty. “Are you my angel? Sent through time?” He couldn’t help but want to believe her. Too many years of reading men at the tables gave him an advantage. Her outburst truly sparked from the fear driving her secret

out into the open. He would find a way to deal with what she believed. James didn’t think she would let it go. Tracing the line of her chin, he extended his exploration to the bare skin at her shoulder. His hand pushed down the gown’s capped sleeve. The material barely covered the ripe mounds of her breast. The soft white satin molded their shape. Following the line of lace his fingers rose and fell over the full globes. With whispering touches, his fingertips glanced over the dark nipples pressing against the gown’s bodice. He watched as they hardened into firm unmistakable peaks. “Your passion betrays you, my wife.” As if she heard him, a sensual moan escaped in a soft purr past her parted lips. “Dream my lovely lady? You will soon find reality is much sweeter.” James’ hand closed over the mounds, slowly kneading her breasts’ heavy fullness to life. His lips nipped and teased the buds through the material, enjoying the way she began to move against him. Her eyes were still closed, but he knew her body was nearly full awake. Lowering the gown, he slipped it down past her breasts. The sight made him suck in his breath. He didn’t stop his exploration after their exposure, but neither did he start again until he took his fill of their loveliness. The gown’s satin was so slick it moved with ease past the curves of her hips. The dark vee of her womanhood was in sharp contrast to the rich ivory thighs guarding it. James visually explored the path over her flesh left by the absent gown. The palms of his hands flowed over her soft legs, touching and feeling every delectable inch of her fascinating beauty. His fingers delved into the fine sheen of her silk’s dark curls, his palm covered the warm mound just as his lips covered the dark nipple of her breast, sucking the desirable bud until it filled his hungry mouth. She pressed up into his palm, seeking his touch. He could feel her heat as she began a slow dance with her silk against his hand, undulating with the fire he stroked to life. Her moans of pleasure grew stronger as he witnessed the passion thirst act of her tongue running over her open lips. Full and dusky pink, her lips beckoned his. Kissing her proved to be the most pleasurable experience and James let his tongue devour her. When she began to battle him for supremacy, he gladly accepted her assault, taking and capturing her sweet nectar. James wanted more. His lips scorched a path down her neck to her breasts where he devoured the pliable mounds. Her hands were unable to remain passive. Heavy with the weight of sleep, they became bold as they moved over his back. Her fingers dug into his iron flesh, familiarizing themselves with his body. The excitement he felt pulsing to life inside her, fueled his own and James moved lower. His tongue lathed the opening of her belly button before moving on. No longer fighting the fire inside, he let his desire rule as he nipped and kissed the invisible line across her the top of her silk muff. Her fingers grew bold and held on to his head, unsure whether to guide him down or pull him back. But James wasn’t about to let her rule. His tongue found the soft slit in her silk and slowly licked the full length of her sex. She tasted like warm spring rain as the tip of his tongue dallied over the nub of her passion. Her groan of awareness went deep, full of wanting. Her fingers massaged his

scalp as if they could sate the beast inside of him. James smiled over the anxious purrs he called from her. Each stroke of his tongue took her closer to the ecstasy she wanted. She grew hot against his lips, her feminine passion started to flow with the intoxicating scent only a woman possessed and James lost himself to her. With fierce intent his lips closed over her clit and nursed the core of her sexual passion as if it were pure erotic nectar. She bucked like some wild thing beneath his assault and James held her hips, refusing to loose his hold on her sex. And as he sucked her silk, the tip of his tongue danced in a wild beat against her nub. Every touch caused her to go deeper into the throes of passion until she cried out and like some wild animal he drove into her silk, devouring her, wanting her to feel the depth of his control and the promise of untold passion that would come. James gentled his assault, bringing her slowly down from the realm of pure pleasure he’d taken her to. His hands moved over her skin as if their touch could calm the ripples still passing through her as he eased himself up the lovely length of her passion glistened body. He kissed her closed eye lids, knowing she was aware of every touch. He no longer held back his passion her own was strong enough to accept the intensity. Her legs moved up his, wrapping themselves around his hips, trapping his hand between them. James wanted her to feel the power of his need to claim her. Slowly he disengaged his hand, bringing their sex in full contact. She was liquid fire against the strengthening shaft of his penis. Settled against her hot silk he let them vibrate against each other until Angela moved, opening her thighs in acceptance. “Angela, you’re on fire.” “James?” Angie didn’t control the ecstasy in her responsive body. Liquid limbs moved with the sensual suspense he wanted from her. A mounting ache consumed her. She wanted what was missing. She needed to feel him and the search drove her wild. “Please James....” “I’m no dream, Angela. Open your eyes, I’m real, this is real and there will be no doubts in what we commit together, Angela.” Obeying his demand would be so easy, she wondered why she fought doing so. Her head rolled against what he was telling her, what she knew to be true. And yet she sought him. Her hands held him to her and when he rose away from her she groaned over the chill from his absent flesh. “Angela, look at me.” She forced her heavy lids open, to listen and do as he asked. James loomed above her in all his magnificence. Strong bulging muscles of coppery flesh covered his solid chest. His hair was all over his head. Her fingers reached up to push away the fallen locks from his brow. They retreated, but not before touching his proud chiseled features, glistening with the passion sparking between them. “Angela, you know we are not dreaming.” “Yes, I knew.” He smiled at her slip. “You’re a beauty, woman.” She blushed deeply. His finger pulled at her bottom lip in the most sensual way. She couldn’t help but kiss his fingertips. She caught her scent on his flesh and it sent a rush of warmth running across her stomach.

“I want you, Angela.” “I know.” She didn’t look away and she thought it was the first time he hadn’t used his control to hide his feelings from her. She saw the depth of his passion. His blue eyes held the crystal fire of male mastery over her and something more...a force so volatile in its strength it stole her breath, making her eyes question him. “You’re mine, Angela, my wife. Do you understand what I am saying? Mine alone, no other’s.” “Yes James, I want you.” He moved over her, never releasing her gaze. For a fleeting moment Angela fought the depth of his capture, but her loss of freedom was quickly forgotten as his body, in all its male dominance, folded around hers. Ecstasy was being in his arms and the admission made her want everything he possessed. His large hands caught her seeking hips, moving her to his will. She felt the thick shaft of his penis glide over the moist entrance of her virginity. She wondered if he knew how sensuous the head of his penis felt as it slid over that sensuous core of passion he’d brought to life. Angie never knew she could feel like that…never expected an orgasm to feel so damn good. She rose trying to capture the elusive probing, wanting him, welcoming his invasion. Then the plea she heard was her own, begging for the fulfillment he kept at bay. The tantalizing wisp of his lips across her burning flesh became maddening. Her hands captured his broad jaw locking his lips to hers in a kiss that commanded and gave in endless pleasure. Her expectancy rose to unbelievable heights when he allowed her womanly folds to close over the length of his shaft. For a moment all her adolescent fears of the unknown came rushing in and she stiffened at the eminent assault. “Angela look at me, see only my eyes and what they hold for you, feel only the fire we are lighting, let it consume your fears. I will not hurt you, I would never hurt you, Angela.” She listened to his soothing words, she wanted with all her heart to believe in him, forget the unbelievable. Angela wondered if he could fix the error in time, make it right. James held her wondering gaze. Her innocence was like the fragile petals of a rose that the slightest wisp of air could destroy. He was the destroyer, but in vanquishing her he would show her the beauty of loving. Rising, he held her, slowly he began the undulating ritual, making her seek him, want him with a heat of passion she could not deny. She was all beauty, pure vision and James cherished the treasure in his possession. He swore he would soon own the heart she protected from him. One day Angela...one day I will destroy your fortress and take what belongs to me. The silent vow carried the force of a man that forgot how to love and the violent flood of awakened emotions drove him to possess the woman that uncovered his well hidden heart. James drove deep, destroying her virginal seal and when she flinched, pulling back to escape his invasion he held her firm, refusing to let her deny his claim. Angela’s sharp gasps of breath slowly turned to deep intakes of air to calm her panic. She could feel every vibrant inch of his shaft inside her. Such power was frightening, she wanted to be rid of the threat and the truth out weighed the fading pain. And yet a fire started to explode inside her. One that caused her gentle flesh to close

around his masculine power and hold onto him…rule his dominance with her warmth, conquer the invader and when he pulled back Angela reached up and took him back. James lost all thoughts of gentle loving as her fervor engulfed him. Possessing Angela became everything, a force that drove him to fill her with himself. James buried his shaft to the hilt, ravishing the beauty now offered in abandoned surrender. “Angela...” Her name came in breathless ecstasy. “I’m here James, there are no dreams you don’t control.”

CHAPTER FOUR Scrambled Eggs And Bonnets “Damn!” Angela strained to see behind her. Again cursing the lack of a mirror that would have told her if the dress was in order. Hurrying, she ran the brush through her hair for the last time, tying the mass back with the blue ribbon at the nape of her neck. Sighing before the tiny wall mirror, at least she looked better than last night. Closing her eyes, the memories of what happened during the night with James made her heart shudder. Touching her cheeks she felt the consuming blush glowing there. They made love throughout the night, each time more passionate than the last. She discovered a side of James, she doubted he rarely showed anyone. She never wanted him to close her out again, but...”He did.” The truth brought a frown to mar the soft flush on her face. She didn’t like admitting it, but James returned to his hard stance this morning. Looking at the darkness outside the window, it mirrored her thoughts. He rose over an hour ago. He woke her and made sure she was out of bed and moving while he dressed. It was then, just before he left to meet Michael, that he made the announcement. “I will be back in an hour. Be dressed and ready to leave.” His stark order drove the sleep from her. She managed to keep her face away from his scrutiny and hide the flash of hurt he delivered. It wasn’t something she wanted him to see. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. After what they shared, she didn’t expect his dismissal and chided her foolish expectations. She told herself he had a life, and cows to tend to, she wasn’t a part of his plans. Why did she let herself believe anything else? Believed in him? Stupid longing of a stupid confused girl! At twenty-two she should have more sense than to fall in bed with a stranger, even one she was married to! Angela cursed the night, him, and Welsh, all of them. The marriage was a farce. A good excuse for a quick tumble between the sheets! Why was she shocked? He wasn’t any different than any other man. Time couldn’t change a man’s nature. She tried to justify her own part in their love making last night, blaming her unstable emotional state. The excuse fell short and didn’t excuse what happened between them. Sure, it wasn’t everyday a girl found herself thrown back in time. He certainly didn’t believe her. Hell no one would. She pretended to busy herself at the wash basin. He would not see any of the pain her trust in him cost her. She blamed herself, but she couldn’t forgive him for his part. All those flowery words, were just that...words! “Angela, you better get ready. We will grab a quick bite to eat.” “I’m not hungry...” she tried to soften the sharpness in her voice. “I’ll get something later.” The thought of eating her last meal, sitting across from him, why she would choke. She refused to think about what she would do with herself once he was gone. “When?” Confused by his question, she forgot herself and turned. She knew her face must be mirroring all the volatile emotions racing through her, but she couldn’t stop. “On the boat! When does it leave? Do I need a ticket or something?”

She tried to make it easy for him. All she wanted was for him to get out of her sight before she broke down in front of him. Waving him off, she hoped he got the message. “Just leave the ticket, I will find my way.” When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. The sharp intake of her breath filled the electrified space between them. Inwardly she felt like a fist slammed into her stomach. His eyes were so cold, so furious. She’d never seen him like this. The piercing shafts of blue ice drove the breath from her lungs. He dropped his gun belt on the bed. When he stepped towards her, she instinctively backed away from the threat he emanated. Angela’s chest heaved, forcing in the air she forgot to breathe. She wanted to run, but there was no where to go. When his hands reached out and captured her, he brought her hard against him. Forcing the contact she shirked away from. “James don’t...” “Don’t what? Touch you? Kiss you?” The vicious words came past his tight lips. She saw that nerve above his eye twitch in a wild rhythm. “Why are you doing this James?” His nostrils flared in rage at her. Angela bit her lip to stop their trembling. “Let me go.” His laughter was low and threatening. “After having you…” his eyes raked over her in blatant ownership, “I don’t think that is possible.” His words were meant to inflict the hurt they carried and she cringed, trying to pull back. “No Angela, I won’t let you go. There is a small matter you seem to keep forgetting.” He waited for her to look at him. She wished she hadn’t. “You are my wife. Whether you like the prospect or not, I have no intention of changing it. You are not going anywhere, but where I say.” “But...” He didn’t let her explain. Oh, God, had she misunderstood? His lips were hard and unforgiving, crushing hers, forcing what he believed she didn’t want to feel. Her defeat was swift and brutally thorough. The victory glowed in his eyes making her groan. “You can deny it all you want, Angela, but your body betrays you.” His hands moved over her arms, deliberately showing her how well he could control her. When they covered her breast, her nipples responded, in spite of the battle she waged not to let it happen. Toying with the hard evidence beneath his thumb, his words cut deep. “I’ve taken what is mine and I have every intention of keeping you around to enjoy you whenever I please. Look at me Angela!” She did, her eyes glistening with the pain he deliberately inflicted. “Don’t do this James.” “You are mine, Angela...my wife. I proved it last night and I will never stop proving it to you.” He released her then. But the burning proof of what he’d done flowed through her in agonizing reality. “Be dressed when I get back.” She stood there watching as he strapped on the gun and adjusted his hat. “Michael will be joining us for breakfast. The herd is already outside of town, we will join it there.” He stopped at the door. “And Angela, do be here.

St. Louis isn’t large enough to hide you from me.” The loud slam of the door, shattered the shocked trance she fell into. “Oh James...what have I just done to us?” Angela still felt sick inside over the memory. She wasn’t even sure if she’d been wrong in believing he was going to leave her behind. She wondered what changed his mind, and in such a violent manner? She’d gone over every bit of remembered conversation, searching for something that she did to infuriate him like that. But now, how could she explain she misunderstood? Would he ever believe her? Bringing her thoughts back, he’d be returning any minute. Checking the room one last time, there was nothing left to do, but wait. She sat on the edge of the bed. She supposed she could leave. The hurt he inflicted, after what they shared last night, left her devastated. She actually believed everything he said last night. Angela wanted what his words implied. She wanted James to love her. Swiping at a lone tear. He shattered that dream this morning. And yet, she couldn’t make herself leave. Where she would go, didn’t seem as important as staying and discovering why he turned on her like that. James could be two different people and Angela shivered over the one he showed her this morning. That man was cruel and hard, and wouldn’t easily forgive. Angela never felt so hopelessly trapped in a situation as she did at that moment. Even if she had somewhere to go he would stop her. But staying with him like this, God, it hurt to think of what their lives might be like. Numbed by what she believed she didn’t even flinch when the door was thrown open. Slowly her gaze leveled on his. Inwardly she died; nothing had changed. “Let’s go Angela, Michael is downstairs.” Pushing off the bed, she waited for him to gather their cases. Picking up her shawl from the chair, she wrapped it around her, knowing it wouldn’t keep the chill away. They were the only patrons in the dining room. She was relieved the early hour kept everyone away. Michael rose from his seat, but his smile for her was as forced as her own. “Angela, you look lovely this morning.” She felt James’ hand come around her waist. His fingers pressed possessively into her ribs as they directed her to the chair across the table from his bother. James took the seat between them. She knew Michael didn’t miss his brother’s terrible behavior. “Pass the bacon, Angela.” Michael reached for it even though it sat beside her and shoved it under his brother’s nose. Picking up the coffeepot Michael’s gaze questioned hers and she knew it wasn’t over the cup she raised in answer. The three of them ate in silence. What little conversation there was centered on the cattle drive. Angela kept her own company, trying to come to terms with all that happened. Dealing with James in his present mood wasn’t easy. Coping with the sudden changes taking place in her life proved near impossible. She gave up trying to eat, setting her fork down. “Angela, we don’t stop until late afternoon, you should eat something.” That did it! There was no way she could just let him treat her like some errant child. “How old are you, James?”

His eyes finally looked at her. Hers glared back at him with all the indignation she felt. Setting back in his chair, he folded his arms and answered. “Thirty-two.” “And how long has it been since someone told you what to put in that obnoxious mouth of yours?” It was the start of a battle she had every intention of taking to the fullest. She never gave him the chance to answer. “Personally, no one has dared to instruct me since I was five and that was seventeen years ago. The last one that did, looked something similar to this...” Angela moved without thinking, dumping a full bowl of eggs into his lap. She stood and glared down at his unmoving form in the chair. “I think I have had enough breakfast. If you will both excuse me, it’s been lovely, I will wait outside where the air is fresh.” Raising her chin and squaring her shoulders, she pertly turned her back on them and exited the room. James’ tight gaze watched every, delicate sway of those righteous hips as they dismissed him. It wasn’t until he heard the front door slam shut that he reached for his napkin and began picking the eggs out of his lap. “You missed some on your vest.” Michael tried to cover his humor with a cough, but failed. “You ought to be thankful the grits were on my side.” James cool gaze turned to his brother, bringing out his uncontrollable laughter. “That poker face of yours, isn’t working too well big brother. Maybe it’s you that needs the fresh air.” **** Angela sank onto the hard wood seat of the buckboard. She wished he would leave, she refused to look at him as he loaded the last of the packages into the wagon bed. The sun was just starting to light the sky. She felt like she already put in a full day. The strain of being in his presence exhausted her. When it was Michael and not James that climbed up beside her to drive the wagon her relief was all too apparent. James’ steady stare over the back of his mount told her that he caught her smile. Her fingers curled around the ribbon of the bonnet he purchased for her. Stubbornness left it dangling in her hands. All her objections over the additional items he purchased fell on deaf ears. He hadn’t said a word about the eggs, she almost wished he had. Yelling was preferable to the polite silent treatment he used against her. “I am going to go out and start them moving. Catch up when you can.” His horse was beside the wagon next to her, making it impossible to avoid him. He tipped his hat to her before spurring the horse and riding off. In spite of everything, her senses reeled over the marvelous sight he made. Michael let his breath out in a low whistle before moving the team out. “Now that, my dear sister-in-law, is one hostile man. Care to enlighten me?” “No.” “I didn’t think you would. I have a feeling this is going to be one very interesting trail drive.” “How long will it take?” “To reach Montana or to break through the ice between you two?” He was trying to use humor to make her feel better, but the truth in his words brought back the hurt.

“I think Montana is a safer subject.” “But not half as interesting.” Looking at her determined stance, he shrugged. “If you insist.” “I do Michael.” “Baring all unforeseen disasters, we should reach it in about eight weeks.” “What!” “Cows move rather slow, dear sister.” His finger came over and pushed her chin up, shutting her open mouth. “It gets damn dusty on the trail, Angela. Oh, by the way, the bonnet.” “What about it?” She pulled it into her lap. “You really do need it. The sun is unmerciful and your skin isn’t tough enough to stand up to it. Besides it helps keep the dust out of your hair. Baths, are a luxury out here.” Angela eyed the ridiculously shaped hat. Its stiff brim was at least eight inches wide, she figured it was there to shade her face. She realized Michael was trying to help her understand. Looking in back of her, she saw the cloud of dust the wheels kicked up. The deep smile he gave her finally brought a small one of resignation to her tight lips. “What other little gems of information do you have stored away?” “All kinds, Angela.” The serious side look he gave her said it included information about James. She wanted so to ask, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something told her not to bring Michael into her problems with his brother. After the way James acted in the dining room she’d have to be blind not to realize it would only cause trouble between these two. That was something she didn’t want to be responsible for causing. Her eyes scanned the open expanse of land they traveled over. It was beautiful. “What is that, over there?” Her finger pointed to the strange cloud on the horizon. “Our cows.” She looked from him, back to the cloud. “But...” “Dust.” “You’re serious, aren’t you?” “Two thousand head of cattle don’t tiptoe, Angie.” Nothing else needed to be said. She pulled the ribbon loose from her hair. Bringing the lengths over her shoulders she started a tight braid. Then she coiled the thick rope around her head. The bonnet came next, covering her entire head. “I think that will work fine, Angie.” “I would prefer a hat.” “And pants?” She needed to turn her head to see if the humor she heard was real. “I still have them and if I think they’re appropriate, I will use them.” “That ought to be interesting.” An instant image of an outraged James came to mind, shamefully making her smile. “Michael, do you think I can have a horse?” “Do you ride?” “Yes, I’ve ridden since I was ten.” “I don’t see why not.” “Good, I’d like one.”

“I will see what I can do for tomorrow.” “Do you mind if I pick him out?” He studied her for a moment. Michael possessed the same ability to hide his emotions as James. It was something Angela should start learning to do. “I don’t want some gentle nag, Michael. I really can ride.” “James won’t like it much, but then I kind of like seeing him lose that infernal control of his. The horses are kept to the rear of the herd. Before we join the other wagons, I will swing by. There is a lovely mare I think you will approve of. She’s got spirit and needs a firm hand, but she’s one hell of a cowpony.” “She sounds wonderful. Is she neck or knee trained?” His surprise over her question was obvious. “I broke her both ways.” “She’s your horse, isn’t she?” “Raised her from a filly. Her mother was the only thing left that the yanks didn’t take.” Angela couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it before. The Civil War, it had only been…what? Ten years, since it ended. Had James been in it? Of course he must have. Was that the reason for the hardness he carried? She needed to know. “You and James were in the war?” “We were there.” She saw the tightening in his lips. Her questions died. “Where are you from Angela?” “Clayton parish, outside New Orleans.” “Our place was just north of New Orleans.” Michael went on to describe their plantation. Angela knew the area. It was one of her favorite locations. Many of the old plantations still existed as working farms by the decedents of the original families. Others were restored as museums. Her curiosity became too great to remain quiet. “What was your place called?” “Spanish Oaks.” Angela could barely contain herself. She knew it well. She spent more than a few weeks there, during the summers. In fact it was at Spanish Oaks she learned how to ride. God, how she wished she could tell him about it, how beautiful it still remained. “Is something wrong?” “No, I thought I might have known your home, that’s all.” “A lot has changed.” “You’re right.” It was best not to take this any further. Michael’s own curiosity concerning her could lead to problems. Angela must reinforce the fact in her mind. His New Orleans and hers were worlds apart. She didn’t need a repeat performance after what she’d gone through with James. Telling anyone else was out of the question. “Michael?” “Umm?” “I’m going to need your help.” She rushed on before he got the wrong impression and thought she meant with James. “I don’t know anything about cattle or living out here. Nothing, zip!” “I figured that.” “Oh. Well could you explain things to me?”

“Angela, we don’t expect you...” She cut him off. “What? Work? And what am I suppose to do for eight weeks, stare at the scenery? Michael, I want to help. I promise not to get in the way.” “Honey, you can’t help but do just that. Look, I’m not trying to say you aren’t capable of helping, but this is a trail drive. We have nearly thirty men signed on.” Angela chewed her lip, knowing exactly where this was going. “You are an oddity.” “You mean I am a woman.” “You certainly can’t deny it.” She looked away. What she would face in this time was becoming brutally clear. Living in a man’s world wouldn’t be her choice for time travel. God, it was still so hard to grasp where she was. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just, if you weren’t James’ wife, you most certainly wouldn’t be along. The best thing you could do, would be to….” “Be seen not heard?” Nodding at her his concern became evident. He was only trying to tell her what she faced. “I have never been very good at playing a shadow.” Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defeat. “Somehow, I knew that. Just be careful, Angela.” “I will stay away from the men, Michael.” “I know.” Eight weeks! It couldn’t go fast enough. Her worries were mounting. She thought hard over what he tried to tell her. Angie was smart enough to fill in the gaps and they all concerned James. Where Michael voiced his concerns, James wouldn’t. No, he would keep them to himself, letting them simmer into a boiling rage that would eventually spill out...at her! The only thing she could do would be to avoid all potential trouble. But how did one woman sidestep thirty men? Especially when she had to live with them for eight weeks? Having Michael’s mare would help. At least she could ride away from them. As he promised Michael came in behind the herd. The dust was awful. She gladly accepted the kerchief he offered her. Tucking it into each side of the bonnet, she felt like a robber looking for a bank to hold up. The mare proved to be everything he’d promised. A deep red sorrel, with a white blaze flowing down to her nose. “Oh, she is wonderful. Please, can’t I ride, now? It’s still morning, I could have all day to get to know her. Please?” It was awful of her to put him on the spot like that. She just couldn’t help herself. “You will need to change.” “Alright.” But looking around, she groaned. “Where?” “Get in the back of the wagon and get out what you need. You can climb in the chuck wagon and change in the back.” She looked where he pointed. The desire to ride won out over any misgivings she felt. After several attempts she finally managed to get over the wagon seat. On her hands and knees, she climbed over the sacks and boxes of supplies to reach her case. More than

once the jostling wagon threw her into something. She didn’t have to look to know there would be black and blue marks for her efforts. Michael pulled up beside the chuck wagon. Across the horse teams she was introduced to Robert Hayes, the cook. As far as she could tell, past his full bristly beard, he looked to be in his forties. A small man, he reminded her of a wiry fox terrier, with sharp dark eyes that made quick with appraisals. She didn’t think he ever changed his opinion about anyone. She was relieved when he gave her a half smile; it was a start. “Boss said to expect you, Mrs. McFarlain.” “Bob could you pull up and let her get in the back to change?” The man didn’t voice the question in his eyes, stopping the horses as Michael requested. Michael tossed her things in the back before coming around and helping her down and then up again, over the back gate of the chuck wagon. “I will get the mare ready. Don’t take too long.” “I won’t.” She pulled the canvas flap back into place and listened while Michael explained to the older man. Mr. Hayes’ grumbling filled her with dread. When she heard him mention the boss and that he wouldn’t like stopping, she nearly ripped the buttons off the dress. Discarding everything but her chemise, she quickly donned the riding skirt and a blouse. She pulled on the riding boots but try as she did they refused to fit. They were just too small. “Damn!” “Something wrong, missus?” “No, I’m almost finished.” Gathering up the dress and petticoats she didn’t have time to be neat and rolled them together in a ball. She started to leave the wagon as her eyes caught sight of the object hanging from a peg. “Mr. Hayes?” He answered from his seat. “Yes, missus.” “This hat in here, is it a spare?” “Why suppose it is. Forgot all about it.” “Good.” “What?” Calling out. “Nothing.” Ignoring his mumbling, Angie made her decision. At the flap she looked back at her bonnet hanging on the peg. Her soft laughter felt good as she adjusted the worn hat over her coiled hair. “One step at a time, Angie, the pants might be too great a shock.” Going to the buckboard she searched until she located her boots, trading them for the slippers. The rawhide fringe showed below the mid calf skirt. The soft-soled boots were her favorite. They didn’t have the heels she would have liked for riding, but they would do. Repacking the case, she finished just as Michael rode up leading the mare. Dismounting, he tied his horse to the wagon. Angie took the mare’s reins. Moving up to the mare she let the horse check her out. The soft nostrils flared in and out as the animal sniffed her much like a dog would do. Her large brown eyes held a deep intelligence. Angie talked in a soft cooing voice.

Smiling, when the horse rubbed her head up and down the front of her blouse. “Well what’s the verdict?” “We like each other, don’t we...What’s her name?” “I call her...Cactus.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope, but then she’s earned it.” Michael watched the interplay going on between them. “I’ve never seen her act like this.” “I don’t think I want to know what she usually does. If you don’t mind, I’d like to call her something else.” “Be my guest, but you might not want to once you’re on her back.” “Does she buck out?” “That and more.” Angie eyed the man and the mare, wondering which looked more suspicious. She was too pretty to fit the name, but then looks were deceiving. Glancing back at Michael, she questioned whether he was trying to get her to change her mind. Running her hand down the mares’ neck, Angie brought the reins around and gripped the saddle horn. “You want a leg up?” “No, I’ll manage.” The horse’s head swung back to watch her in wide-eyed curiosity. “We will both be fine, won’t we, lady?” Angie said a silent prayer before taking a step back. “Angie!” She swung up in the saddle with remembered ease. The mare was a perfect lady, only side stepping while she settled into her seat. “Yes, Michael?” His mouth was open. “Damn.” Turning he walked away shaking his head. Another man rode up taking over the wagon and Michael mounted his horse and rode over to her. “I hope she keeps behaving like this.” “Don’t worry, I expect some problems.” “It’s not her I’m worried about, exactly.” She followed the line of his gaze. There on the horizon was a rider coming towards them. Angie stiffened, “James...”

CHAPTER FIVE Challenges Pulling up beside the wagon, James moved the horse up to walk with the wagon. “How’s it going Hayes?” “Fine boss.” “You seen Michael...and my wife?” “Yeah, they showed up a little while back.” James was slowly loosing his patience. Leaving the herd to find out what was keeping those two raked across his nerves. Damn he couldn’t get her out of his head! He’d been furious to discover she planned on leaving him this morning. Nothing they’d shared during the night made any difference to her. A floodgate of emotions opened inside him and James cursed the strength of it. Touching his hat, he moved away from the wagon. The tightness in his jaw eased over his thoughts. She proved to be one surprise after another. But damn it, he didn’t care. If she turned into a raging hellcat it wouldn’t change his mind. She was staying! One thing helped firm his conviction. Last night, she’d been his. She could deny their marriage, where she belonged, everything. But she hadn’t been able to hide her feelings from him while in his arms. The mare was jumpy, making her curse the cause. Every muscle in her body tightened in apprehension. James was getting closer, each extended stride of his mount made her desire to turn the mare and run away, increase. She’d never had this kind of problem dealing with men. Groaning, she admitted James wasn’t just any man. They all stopped at once, and Angie learned what they meant by a Mexican standoff. Her fingers tightened on the saddle horn when those oh so blue eyes took in everything from her hat to her boots. Anger was putting it mildly for the blaze igniting inside the man. Her back stiffened. God, he was awesome. “What the hell do you think you are doing? Get off that horse.” “James, she is...” “Shut up Michael, I thought you had more sense than to let her twist you around in circles.” How dare he attack Michael, when it was her he was mad at. The way the two of them were looking at each other filled her with dread. “Stop it!” The mare started to fidget. Angie automatically checked her. “Get down, Angela.” “No James, I won’t. I asked Michael for the horse and I intend on riding her.” “Not that one, you aren’t.” “Lady suits me fine.” “Lady?” His eyes leveled on her, noting the way she stood her ground. “That’s right James. I guess it depends on the handler as to how a woman behaves.” Angie didn’t wait to see how he took her declaration. Lady sprang past him with all the urgency Angie conveyed. James’ heated curse followed them. “Shit!” Spinning his horse around, James took off after her. Angie heard the hoof beats baring down on them. Lady picked up her speed telling Angie she could probably outrun most of the drive’s string, except one. Running away wasn’t the answer. She slowly brought the mare under control and they stopped to wait

for James. Reining in, he slowed some distance from her, needing the time to bring his rage under control, fearing its force and what he might do to her. Angie closed her eyes as he neared, swallowing some of the angry words she felt he deserved. “Keep your distance James, I have no to intention of being dragged off her.” He pulled up, pushing back his hat as he leaned forward over the saddle. “And what if I chose to do it anyway?” Taking a steadying breath. “Then, I will fight you.” “Like you did last night?” Her cheeks blazed. She stared at him with all the indignation his remark evoked. “That has nothing to do with this.” “No? Personally, I think it has everything to do with it.” Lowering her eyes against the confusion he gave her was a mistake. James moved faster than she would have believed possible. His arm pulled her out of the saddle and over onto his before she could react. The hold pinning her down made a joke of her brief struggle. Breathless and defeated Angie gritted her teeth to push the words out. “Let me go!” “Say please.” Her lips pressed shut. The sudden relaxing in her body didn’t fool James. “I think there are a few things we need to get straight.” She turned her face away from him, but his hand brought it back. His fingers burned her cheeks. “That is the first, Angela...I won’t be dismissed. You see, you will accept me into your life and that includes my rules.” His insolence infuriated her and Angie refused to acknowledge his command. The wild defiance in the woman drove forth his desire to tame her. “If you want to ride, ask me.” Her green eyes were hard as daggers. “You will ask me, Angela, only me.” His eyes devoured her. Ice meeting fire couldn’t be more explosive. His lips held the commanding power he could conquer her with and ignite all her senses. She could no more stop what was happening, than control how she came to be in his life. Lifting his lips from her, he looked into her heavy lidded eyes. The green pools glittered with the fire of her passion. His hand pulled the hat from her head freeing the braid. His fingers worked the satin ribbons loose. “Kiss me Angela.” He made her come to him, watching the battle she waged to defy him and lost. Her aloof softness proved his downfall, James folded her to him, he could never be close enough, never get enough of her feminine curves. Memories of ivory skin and lush sensuous breasts brought with them the purpose he couldn’t forget if he wanted to hold...all of her. Ending what he started was the hardest thing James ever asked of himself. Holding her head between his hands, he crushed the lush waves of black hair. “Ask me Angela.” “Don’t James.” He wouldn’t end this. It was a test of wills, one she feared she already lost. She saw

the force driving his words. Could she allow herself to give so totally, be controlled so unconditionally? Hadn’t he already betrayed her? The memories felt like ice water, stiffening her in his hold. It was all wrong. What he wanted, she couldn’t give. “Angela?” “You want too much from me, James.” She watched her words steal the warmth from him, hardening his eyes against her. She wanted to tell him she was a person, not some thing he could manipulate, but the speech suffocated her throat. He would never have listened. They rode back in silence. The mare trailing behind. His arms were steel bands, all gentleness lost. She desperately tried not to let her back touch him, but he even refused her that peace. Angie knew the battle had escalated to a full blown war. One that used unfamiliar weapons and would be fought in unfamiliar territory. James deposited her with Mr. Hayes. The day turned into the longest she could remember. Sore and bruised from the constant jostling on the wagon bench, Angie gritted her teeth until she thought they would crumble. Mr. Hayes didn’t try to talk to her and she was too upset to hide it. Her mood turned sullen as the hours crept by. Michael came by to check on her. Nothing was said about what happened, but she could see he blamed himself. When they finally pulled up to make camp, Angie thought she’d fall off the wagon she was so stiff. Walking around soon loosened her cramped legs. Mr. Hayes was well ahead of the herd. He briefly told her it gave him the time he needed to prepare the vittles. Vittles...she hadn’t really eaten in two days but just imagining the meaning of that word killed her appetite. Regretfully, food wouldn’t take the ache inside away. She fretted all day over their fight. All the tenderness and warmth vanished from the man. She mourned the loss of what she held for only a moment. Will you ever hold me like that again? The question hurt. James was driven to bend her to his will. Why couldn’t he see that she already gave herself to him willingly? Having only her thoughts to deal with all afternoon, Angie grew brutally honest with herself. After coming to terms with the impossibility of being here, it wasn’t too hard to admit what she felt for James. In two days she not only married a stranger, but she possibly fell in love with him. Her perception of love and being in love, were so distant it could be funny, if it didn’t hurt so damn bad. She always thought it would come slow and gentle, just sort of happen. How wrong she had been. Loving James was like being caught in a hurricane. The storm was fierce, leaving her all topsy-turvy. There wasn’t any logic, not even a direction to go towards. All she wanted was for James to love her for who she was. And his ideas were so foreign, she didn’t know how to go about it. To let him dominate her would be the worse possible thing she could let happen. Eventually she would rebel and they would be right back to start or behind it. No, there must be a mutual give and take for the relationship to survive. Not for a minute did Angie think she was out of options. James may think she needed to stay with him, but she learned at an early age, there were no guarantees in life. Even Auntie told her right from the start that she must make her own life and Angie did just that. It’d been lonely, but she’d dealt with that too.

“Auntie, for the first time, I’d love some advice. Tell me how to live in a world I have no wish to deal with. Tell me how to make a man, I don’t know, love me.” Pushing her foolish musing away, she didn’t like the lost feelings that came over her. Aunt Belle and Sally, were the only two people from her life that mattered. What would they think happened to her? The horrible possibilities were too awful to dwell on. Taking a deep breath, Angie realized she would have to be the one to make the effort with James, he was obviously too stubborn. First she needed to find a way to correct what James believed she did to him this morning. She realized now she’d been wrong in believing he was shipping her back to New Orleans. Her hurt and James’ anger took the misunderstanding further than she could correct with an apology. Michael told her they didn’t know each other. He was right, but only to a point. Angie knew James well enough to realize he wouldn’t believe anything she said right now. She needed him to believe in her, not the possession he’d taken on. Since coming to on the Silver Queen she had been reacting, not thinking, which wasn’t like her. “That changes right now.” Walking over to Mr. Hayes, Angie decided what needed to be done first. “Mr. Hayes, what can I do to help?” Shocking him hadn’t been her intention. Standing around, while everyone besides her had something to do, wasn’t acceptable. James McFarlain was going to discover what being his wife meant to her. If this cattle drive was his life, then it would be hers. She would be a working partner and he might as well get it through that gorgeous head of his. She stood there and took the squinty-eyed perusal of Mr. Hayes. “If’n you’re serious, I could use some wood.” Smiling, she nodded and started towards the stand of trees closest to the camp. “Hell, why not. Never could stand useless people.” Angie giggled over the man’s grumbled remark. “Neither can I, Mr. Hayes.” It felt good to be doing something after sitting all day. Ask me...His words came back to her. “Give and take, James.” It would hurt, but she would ask him for Lady back. Getting off that wagon would be worth seeing him gloat. After several trips, she made a large stack of wood. “Is this enough?” “Should do fine, Missus.” “Please call me Angie.” “Don’t know if I can do that, you being the boss’ wife and all.” “It’s a long trip Mr. Hayes.” He thought a moment. “It’s Bob, Miss Angie.” “What’s next Bob?” “He ain’t going to like this none.” “Then he doesn’t have to know.” Those dark eyes looked real hard at her over that. “We need water.” “I heard a creek over by the trees.” “Take two buckets and fill them only half full, it’ll make it easier to carry.” She did as he instructed. The empty wooden buckets were heavy. She could feel the strain of the day catching up. Working in an office most the time didn’t prepare her for these types of physical demands. The water was crystal clear and cool. The temptation proved too great to pass up.

Looking about, she decided she’d have no better time than now to get the trail dust off. Once the men came, she wouldn’t dare. Unbuttoning her blouse Angie splashed the water over herself, washing everywhere she could reach without disrobing. Tonight she would wash out her clothes, for now she felt cleaner. When she came back Bob chuckled over the wet curls around her face. “Thought that’s why you took so long.” “I’ll watch the pot if you want to go?” “I think I will take you up on it. There’s biscuits in the oven. When they’re done put in the other batch. The stew’s simmering, just keep it stirred.” Seeing the large coffeepot. “I’ll make some coffee. How many scoops?” He looked at his hands then hers. “Six hands full.” “Hands full...right.” At least she kept the question out of her voice. When he left she checked everything. Filling the coffeepot that lacked a basket to hold the grounds, she forced herself to drop the grounds into the water. Grimacing, she hoped they would all sink to the bottom, thoughts of gagging on them wouldn’t leave her. Setting the pot on the iron grate over the coals, she busied herself with the various tasks. The first batch of biscuits was golden brown. Searching through Bob’s stores she found a large basket and towel and wrapped them in it. Suddenly, the ground felt like it was vibrating. Startled Angie came slowly up, trying to locate the cause. “The cattle.” The low moos grew louder, for a second she almost panicked thinking they were coming into camp, but the ground settled. She heard the high whistles of the men and their strange shouts to the cows to settle them down. Tomorrow she promised herself she would see them for herself. Right now dinner for thirty needed to fixed. “You done right good, Miss Angie.” “Thank you.” “Best we eat now, they’ll be drifting in shortly.” “Drifting?” “Takes shifts, some eat, some work the herd, goes like that till after dark. Keep the coffee going all night for the men.” “Do you have two pots?” “No, never thought to, I guess.” Was there? Yes, she’d seen one on the buckboard, storing the information away. They finished up dinner. Bob carried some more water in, filling the wash tub for the dishes, while Angie set a kettle on to heat the rinse water. Getting the blue dress and fresh underwear she went into the wagon and changed. Thankfully they weren’t too wrinkled. Brushing her hair out, she tied it back with the ribbon. The men started coming into camp. Angie suffered their curiosity with a bravado she didn’t honestly feel. Each time she heard another horse, her heart started fluttering. What would he be like tonight? Had his temper cooled off? Every time James failed to show, her apprehension mounted. Absently, she dished out the meals and poured coffee. Bob took the pot from her. “You’ve done enough, take a break.”

Giving him a shy smile she wondered if he wasn’t more concerned she’d burn somebody than for her tired state. Moving off, she finished washing the few clothes, draping them over the bushes behind the wagon. Keeping a watchful eye, it was nearly dusk and still James didn’t come into camp. She kept telling herself his absence was because of the cows; after all they were his concern. But Angie knew better. When Michael came into camp it took everything not to go rushing over to him and ask where James might be. Staying beside the wagon she waited for him to join her. Carrying his plate and coffee, after stopping and talking with the men, he finally made his way to her. “How are you?” “Fine. Sit down Michael and eat, you must be tired.” “More hungry. Come on join me. Did you eat?” “Aren’t you afraid to ask?” His chuckle helped break the tension hanging between them. They both started talking at once. He motioned for her to go on, while he ate. “How is he, Michael?” “Like he’s got a burr up his...sorry.” “I get the picture. God, Michael, I’m sorry I got you in the middle of this.” “Hey Sis, don’t worry about it.” He watched her smile fade. “By the way, you ride very well.” “Thanks, I don’t think it matters.” “Angie you may not want any advise, but give it time. Neither of you had any time to get used to each other.” “I know. Michael, I don’t want you and James to argue because of me.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I can handle James, you just take care of yourself.” The two people deep in conversation didn’t see the piercing blue eyes riveted on them. James’ jaw hardened over what he saw and the physical stab the sweet scene rendered. All day he thought about his treatment of her. He’d been angry and regretted letting it rule his actions. Control seemed a foreign commodity since Angela entered his life. But the emotions taking hold of him right now made him ignore all his good intentions. “James...” Angie struggled to her feet. “Michael was just...” “I have eyes Angela. Entertaining you isn’t part of the work requirements around here.” “I…” The sharp glare he threw cut through her and silenced the defense she tried to issue. “James there’s no need for this.” “Brother, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. Goodman is waiting to be relieved.” Setting his half finished dinner down, Michael came slowly to his feet. Angie inwardly moaned. Blue on blue clashed as their gazes locked. She forgot to breathe, the air vibrated with the unspoken rage. Her breath came out in a rush when Michael stormed off without another word. Looking at James, she grew furious over the unfair way he attacked his brother. “James how could you. He just came in to eat. He didn’t even have a chance to finish.

We were just talking.” His expression didn’t change and neither did the condemnation in his cold glare. “This is a working camp, in case you haven’t noticed, not some social tea.” The hateful words stung. “Mr. Hayes could use some help, you’re not on a joy ride Mrs. McFarlain. Those cows are your future as well as mine and Michael’s. I expect you to do your share.” Angie caught Bob’s open mouth ready to defend her, but her warning glance stopped him from saying anything. She’d already caused a riff between brothers she didn’t need to take it any further. The battle was hers and James’ and she’d fight it alone. Calling on all her former abilities to face clients down, her gaze never faltered before his. “Are you quite through...Mr. McFarlain?” He stiffened over the unexpected calmness coming from her. Didn’t anything effect her? His answer came hissing out, “Yes.” Looking at him a moment, the stern set of his jaw kept her words back. James resisted the urge to reach out and stop her as she walked past him in dismissal. Driven by the fuming anger and hurt she refused to show, she moved mechanically over to the wash tub and started the dishes. Aware of his every move, she could feel his eyes on her back. She knew when he left, the hoof beats vibrated in her head. Using her shoulder she wiped the sweat off her forehead and the tears that escaped down her cheeks. Angie didn’t know or care how late it was when the last dish was washed. Bob rinsed and dried; neither of them said anything. Going to the buckboard, she found the spare coffeepot and got it ready. It struck her that she didn’t have the vaguest idea where to sleep. The men were rolled up on blankets on the ground, their snores only made her feel her own need to lie down...anywhere. “Miss Angie?” Just turning to face Bob hurt. “Yes?” “I set out a bunk in the wagon for you. I put your case in there too.” Her smile was filled with gratitude. She managed to climb up and over the raised gate of the chuck wagon. “O-h-h, Miss A-ngie?” “What is it Bob?” She wondered what made him stutter. He hadn’t before. “Well, just don’t keep the lamp on long.” “Oh, alright.” Moving into the wagon, she found her case. Bob’s request sounded strange and Angie wondered if he worried about the oil? Realization came slowly and so did the image of an old western cartoon, with a woman’s silhouette displayed on the wagon’s canvas. “Thank you Bob, you old coot.” Opening the case Angie thought she would cry. Satin or flannel, neither gown was suitable for the place or heat inside the wagon. Turning down the lantern, she hoped no one would have cause to come in. Leaving on the chemise and one petticoat, she carefully put the rest of the garments away. Lying there, she fell asleep with troubled thoughts and one very disruptive man on her mind. Taking the first watch, it was nearly one, before he returned to camp. Scanning the sleeping bundles he failed to locate Angela. Cursing, James’ anger once again interfered with common sense. He hadn’t even thought about her comfort or what she would do for sleeping. Damn, what the hell was wrong with him? His scowl was darker than the ones

his men gave him after his outburst at her. It appeared she’d already gained their respect. Or was it just the fact she was a woman? And Michael. Christ, he’d kicked himself all night for flying into him like that. Michael was naturally friendly and Angela was now family. What he’d done was unforgivable. Michael avoided him tonight and never gave James the chance to apologize. He couldn’t blame him. Tomorrow he’d find a way to make it up to Michael. They’d both be cooled down by then. If today was any indication of the days ahead, James knew he was in trouble. Right now his only concern focused on finding her. “If’n you’re looking for your missus, I bunked her down in the wagon.” Meeting Hayes’ reproachful gaze was tough. “Thank you, Hayes.” Placing his bedroll beside the wagon, he stared at the blanket of stars, wishing he could hear her breathing. He hated admitting it, but he missed having her beside him. Damn, he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

CHAPTER SIX Annie Oakley “Now look, Miss Angie, you have to hold them like you was caressing them.” She nearly moaned over his choice of words. “There’s too many reins.” He adjusted them between her fingers. “Just let yourself feel them, each one has a different touch.” “I know and they all have a different horse, with a different personality.” “Yup, now just let them move out, real slow and easy.” “Slow, alright now boys, let’s go.” The sun was just over the horizon. Her days were starting at such an ungodly hour. She’d already put a full day in with breakfast. James proved more elusive than learning how to drive the wagon’s team. Angie blamed her current predicament on James. It would have killed her to ask him for the mare after last night, but she would have. The fact she hadn’t been given the chance to humble herself, left her facing another bone jarring day on the wagon. She still ached all over from yesterday’s ride. She hoped to stave off the boredom off by asking Bob to teach her things today as they rode. She never expected he would take her lessons so far. “How am I doing?” “Well, real good, considering you’re holding them like you’re afraid they will bite.” Glaring at him, she tightened her hold on the team’s reins. “Now bring your left hand in a mite and ease them over that way. We’ll go around the herd. Always give them critters a wide berth.” “The cows?” “Yeah, they’re unpredictable and down right stupid. Why anything could set them on a stampede.” Concentrating on his words and the team, she managed to move the horses where he wanted. The power she felt in the reins was awesome. “What happens if they start running?” “People get killed.” His direct statement drew her shocked gaze. “No sense side step’n the facts. Said you wanted to know.” “I do, but killed?” “When you feel the earth shaking so bad you think you can’t ever keep your feet under you, you get the hell out of the way. If you’re in the wagon, get off and climb a tree.” “What if there aren’t any?” “Then, start run’n those four horses in front of you as fast as you can. Try and g’it out and away, if’n you’re caught up in it, run with them or you will get trampled.” Maybe this was a bad idea? Angie took a deep breath and refused to let the possibility deter her. She must do this. She needed to learn all she could to survive living here. The differences were mind boggling. She almost dreaded the feeling that everyday would bring something new to deal with.

Angie finally seemed to get the feel of driving the team and began to relax. Her eyes constantly scanned the horizon, when they weren’t on the ground before them, avoiding large holes or rocks. “He’s out tracking the trail ahead. Left before dawn, probably won’t be back until tonight.” Biting her lip, she blushed over the information. “Thank you.” Trying not to show what the news did to her wasn’t easy. That he didn’t give her the courtesy of informing her of his absence said he didn’t want to see her. How long could she take his cold anger? Deciding she couldn’t let his callous attitude affect her, Angie felt determined to go ahead with her plans to become a useful...wife. She told herself it was like starting a new career. She’d just take it a day at a time. **** Pacing outside the chuck wagon, Angie could have screamed at the sleeping men. Didn’t anyone care that James still hadn’t come back? Dinner finished hours ago. Michael and Bob reassured her he would eventually get back. They didn’t seem to find the lateness of his arrival upsetting. She set a plate of stew and sandwiches by the fire to keep warm for him, and made a fresh pot of coffee. Going to bed before she knew he was safe, went beyond her. Her temper ran high. She didn’t want to worry about him. But damn it, she did care! Moaning and holding herself, she suddenly had a terrible thought. Were there Indians about? If Bob were awake she’d ask him. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? “Angela? Why are you up? Is something wrong?” Spinning at the sound of his voice, she barely managed to stop herself from running into his arms. All the hours of worry came rushing back. “Where the hell have you been?” James wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her over the concern he heard. “Did you miss me?” “Miss you?” Angie clamped her teeth down; she couldn’t possibly admit it. God, he looked wonderful...and smug. “Of course not, dinner was over hours ago, yours is on the fire staying warm.” The nervous way her hands wrung in front of her made a lie out her casual words. James took the chance. “I missed you, Angela. Everywhere I looked I saw you, I never thought I would get back here.” He walked towards her, forcing the honest words out past the questioning way she searched his face. Silently, he begged her to believe him and end the misery for both of them. “I... Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” He was so close she could see the firelight dancing in his glorious eyes. “Did you miss me, Angela?” His softly spoken words fanned her parted lips. Heavens, what was wrong with her? Nothing really changed between them. It was all wrong, “Yes.” Closing her eyes, Angie didn’t try to stop him from capturing her lips and devouring them. Her resistance never surfaced. All the warnings were lost in his embrace. His hands buried themselves in the long silken tresses. God, it felt wonderful to touch her again. Lifting her in his arms, James never released her lips. The way she clung

to him said she would not have let him. He took them some distance from camp before he lowered her feet to the ground. Her hands reached out to him when he left her. Taking his coat off, he laid it out over the ground. James moved back to her slowly savoring every beautiful nuance of her in the moonlight. Angela’s surprised gasp floated across her lips as he swept her up in his arms and lowered her down on his coat. “I want you Angela. I need to taste you, make your silk hot and sweet. Do you want me Angie?” Looking down into the green embers, James smiled over the warmth they held him in. “James...?” His finger covered her lips, silencing her words. “Hush, Mrs. McFarlain.” Why didn’t she stop him? They needed to talk about things, get things settled. But passion ruled, stealing away the logic. All the words of explanation fell away in silent whispers from her lips, his were all encompassing. His wandering lips were like tiny sparks of life as they touched every sensitive, erotic zone of her willing body. Angela couldn’t say how or when each piece of her clothing disappeared. His impatience made quick work of every article and yet she failed to remove his, oh no, his touch ruled her naked body. She buried her fingers in his hair wanting to bring his lips back to hers, but James wanted to ravish her and Angela couldn’t halt her escalating passion. Waves of hot ripples followed the course as his nips, and his tongue dances went still lower. When his tongue slipped into the folds of her vagina Angela sucked in her breath and closed eyes. Every delicate sweep of his hot lips over her clit took her ecstasy higher. She gasped her breath and whispered his name as he raised her hip higher to receive his avid attention. “James, please…I wanted you inside me…now!” He silenced her repeated request with his lips, smothering kisses over that sweet mouth, “gladly wife.” Angela took his tongue deep and held him there as he drove his enlarged cock to the core of her sexual heat. Again, and another forceful lunge, he took hold of her hardened nipple and she thought she’d die over the convulsive depth of feeling shooting through her. She tried to push up, take more of him inside her hot folds but he held her hips. James was the victor as he ground into her, pressing deeper and harder until she thought he’d become part of her being. Her head was flung back against the throes of contractions coursing through her. James held himself back wanting to feel her hot tender sex close tight about him as if she could swallow his cock. “Oh gawd, Angela, you feel so fucking good!” Her nails raked his back as her sex cries filled the night air. James loved how she felt, how she sounded when he plunged into her with his rock solid cock. He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on by a woman. But Angela was his, and with each invasion he showed her how deep his claim went. It was a head stealing act, it was a wildness inside of him that he let loose. “My wife Angela, feel me, feel every vital inch of me.” When her silk started to relax around his cock James gently pulled back, enjoying how her sex danced around him as if trying to prevent his leave. But James was far from

finished, “I thought about how I would fuck you today. In fact, I thought of little else my beautiful wife.” “Hmm, I’m glad. I like how you fuck.” “I thought so.” As they talked he moved back inside her warm, slick silk. He watched how her eyes grew heavy in awareness and glowed with anticipation. “You want more, Angie?” “Always, I never knew I could feel so much…” “Pleasure?” Her soft laughter, turned to short gasps as James ground himself against her clit, spreading the folds of her silk so she could feel the coarse hardness of his male body over hers. “You’re hot Angie, it feels so damn good.” But she was beyond talking and James smiled in victory as she tightened around his cock making it jump inside her. “Not yet Angie.” He moved so fast, her protest never found its voice. Angela found herself facing the ground with James’ hands at her hips, raising her butt up, forcing her knees to support herself. “James?” “Hush, you’ll like this.” But Angela wasn’t sure… “Oh…” His cock felt endless as he slid it back into her vagina. She felt his body slam into her butt. At first shocked by the turn of positions the sudden contact surged through her and Angela found herself pushing back to join his assault. James’ body stiffened under the throes of convulsions as he rocked into Angie, driving himself in as deep as he could go. And when she met him he thought nothing could be so glorious! Each violent thrust of his cock touched her deep inside and when he came Angela could feel the pulsing hot fluid rush through her. In breathless wonder she cried out, “Oh my! James!” His hands kneaded her buttocks and Angela lost all concept of time as the sensations ruled. She felt his hand move around her hip and then his fingers found her clit, plying it with an expertise she relished as it drove her climax to new limits. The exhilaration felt unreal, but so damn good and Angela let it come in all its wanton glory. The blanket of stars surrounded them in a protective cloak. James stole her thoughts as he vanquished her body deep into the night. Angie bemoaned the loss of her defenses against this man. Being held in his confident arms and feeling the tender touch of his powerful body proved the conqueror of doubts. But Angie knew they would surface once his loving touch deserted her; she wanted so much more. **** “Angela, I’m sorry. I promise when Michael and I return, I will personally bring Lady for you.” Angela just stared at him and wondered if last night really happened? Dropping her hands from her hips she finally heard what he said. “You are both leaving?” James’ hand cupped her pouting chin. “Honey, that stallion is our future.” Yes, last night he told her of his dream for Twin Creeks. “I know. I’m sorry. When will you get back?” “No longer than five days.” Biting her tongue, Five days, whatever would she do with herself?

“I will miss you, be careful ok?” Angie knew she wouldn’t show him how upset she felt. Pulling her to him, “I have one very beautiful reason to be just that.” “Am I seeing a new side to James McFarlain?” He smiled down into her questioning gaze, one that said more than her light words. “New and unexpected, but wholly acceptable.” Neither of them took their eyes away from each other, to see the rider approaching. “Well, well, you two are certainly brightening my morning. Angie you’re slowly changing my mind about the life of a bachelor.” Turning within James’ embrace she looked up at her good natured brother-in-law. “Well, dear brother, maybe you will find some nice girl in town to bring home.” James laughed at the stunned look that came over his brother. “Honey, I don’t think he is quite that convinced.” “You never know what the next day will bring.” Her hands tightened on James’ arm at her unexpected statement. Angela quickly hid how upset it made her. “You have the food I packed?” Michael nodded. It was time to say goodbye. James turned her back around to face him and kissed her with all the longing he knew she wanted. Angela’s forehead went to James chest when his lips released hers. She wished his kiss didn’t have to end. Now wasn’t the time to let him see how she felt. “I have to go Angela.” His arms tightened, but she forced herself to move out of his embrace. “Right, the sooner you leave, the faster you will be back.” “You’ll stay with Hayes.” “Yes James.” He stared at her a moment as if trying to see if he should believe her. He smiled shyly when he realized she caught him. Angie watched him mount. Her hand came up to her lips blowing him a kiss, which he pretended to catch. She walked forward as they rode off, staring after them until they disappeared from sight. Wrapping her arms about her waist, Angie decided last night must have been a dream, reality was now. “Nothing really changed, did it James?” But he was past hearing the painful admission. She’d seen the questioning in his eyes. He still didn’t trust her. He made passionate love to her; the hours in his arms had been heavenly. But this morning he’d brought her back to earth just as she’d feared he would. The fire may have gone out of his anger, but he still believed she was capable of leaving him. Denying that she was married stopped working back in St. Louis. Sadly, Angie didn’t think convincing James would be as easy. What she felt right now, made her think it might be impossible. **** James’ foreman was a Mr. Whitney. He came across as all business. She’d been surprised to learn James instructed the man to report to her throughout the day. Angie listened to his reports and stored them away until he left and Bob could explain them to her. Without Bob, she’d never have known half of what the man told her. Bob took it

upon himself to educate her on cows and all the possible situations that could occur on the trail. Angie was an apt listener. She may not have actually seen the herd up close, but every bit of information was kept ready. Thankfully nothing required her attention. Angie thought being away from the herd was a considerable handicap. Whitney obviously didn’t expect her to actually get involved. But Angie knew if something happened, she wouldn’t be just a listener, regardless of the attitudes she would undoubtedly face. It was the second night since James and Michael left to fetch the stallion when the storm hit. All through the night it rained. This morning it grew heavier and showed no sign of letting up. Whitney hadn’t come to the wagon as usual after breakfast and he’d missed the mid-morning report as well. Bob was as jumpy as Angie. The wagons were all together and having an awful time getting through the mud. One of the men from the herd rode up to the wagon. “Ma’am, Mr. Whitney sent me to see if you all were keeping up.” “What’s your name?” “Jenkins, ma’am.” “We’re managing Mr. Jenkins. How is the herd?” His hesitation sent her back up. Bob spoke up. “Best spit it out, boy, this here is your boss lady.” Angie watched the young man shift uncomfortably in his saddle, “Well, Mr. Whitney didn’t want to upset you any.” “Mr. Jenkins, I appreciate the concern, but I am more anxious over ‘my’ cows.” Even if she was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact they were hers, these men mustn’t suspect. “Yes ma’am. The cows are jumpy, nearly lost control of them a ways back. A hundred or so head broke off from the main herd.” Angie felt her heart begin to skip. These cows were James and Michael’s livelihood. That wonderful night he told her everything, all the plans about the horses and the stallion. But the cattle would make or break them the first few years. Every head lost meant a step closer to failure. “Are they back?” “No ma’am. Whitney sent two men back to round them up, but they ain’t come back.” Her decision came instantly. “Jenkins, you know Michael’s mare?” “Oh, yes ma’am.” “Good, go and get her saddled and bring her back here. And Jenkins, move it!” The boy jumped at her last order. Giving her a thoughtful smile, “Yes, ma’am.” “Bob, I’m going in the back to change.” “Figured as much. There’s a leather poncho back there you might need.” “Thanks.” Angie climbed into the back quickly pulling out her case. Her hands hesitated over the riding skirt. There was no decision to make, riding through bushes in the skirt would be a hindrance. “Bob find me a pair of chaps.” “There’s a pair under your bunk.” Discarding the damp dress and undergarments, she pulled her jeans on. The chaps

came next followed by Bob’s old hat. “At least he’s not here to see me.” “You alright?” “Yes, is Jenkins back?” “He’s coming.” Straddling the bench Angie pulled the poncho over her head. “Hot damn!” “Bob…” “Sorry, Miss Angie. Always suspected you had more than looks go’n for you.” “Well, thank you.” “Better take this along. No telling what you will run up against.” “A compass?” “Just bare north and to the left right here.” His finger pointed to a degree before the large N. “You’ll find us if you get separated.” He placed something heavy in her hands. “What’s this?” Turning it over she almost dropped it. “A gun? Oh Bob, I can’t.” “Then you ain’t going.” With eyes that reflected his determined stand she realized he would stop her. Unraveling the gun belt, Angie slipped it around her waist. Buckling it in the last hole, it hung down on her slim hip. Bob tied the strap around the chaps over her jean clad leg. Taking the gun out of the holster, he gave her a quick run down. “Its loaded, carries six shots.” “A six shooter...” Angie couldn’t believe this was happening. Brushing her amazement away she hung on his every instruction. “Yup, there’s more bullets in the belt. All you do is point it and squeeze the trigger back. Just hold it steady and be ready for a kick when it fires.” Swallowing hard, she prayed she wouldn’t have cause to take it out of the holster he put it back into. “Now what? Bob, I have to get going.” “Not without a bed roll and supplies.” Throwing it to the waiting Jenkins, the boy strapped them on the mare. Before backing off the wagon, Angie leaned forward and kissed the man’s cheek. “Thanks Bob.” Blushing, he put up a cross front. “You be careful, I have no intention of facing that man of yours alone.” Mounting the mare as if they’d never been parted, Angie moved her out with Jenkins following. Topping the next rise, Angie reined in over the unexpected sight. Two thousand cattle minus a hundred filled her vision. “My goodness!” “Ain’t they something.” “They sure are Jenkins.” She could have sat there and looked at them all day. Their deep red and white coats glistened under the pelting rain. All the pictures she’d ever seen couldn’t compare to the real thing. “Where is Whitney?” “Right back there. Come on.” She followed the boy, knowing his manly pride had taken over to lead her down. Jenkins couldn’t be much younger that she was; maybe eighteen or nineteen tops. He held a wealth of knowledge she wished she possessed.

“Mrs. McFarlain!” “Mr. Whitney.” She gave him a moment to get over his shock of seeing her there. “Have my men returned with the lost cattle?” He was upset, making her wonder if it was her presence or his failure to protect her husband’s herd that galled him. “No, no sign of them yet.” She didn’t miss the way he fidgeted to avoid her gaze. “Who did you send?” “Macklin and Andrews, they’re good men.” She remembered them. Neither one impressed her, in fact she avoided them. Arguing the point in the rain would be useless. The cattle were all that concerned her. “Are the cattle any calmer?” “Somewhat.” “But?” “If it starts thundering, I don’t think we can hold them.” Remembering something Bob told her. “Wouldn’t it be better if we held them down here and settled in until morning?” “We’d loose time.” “Time isn’t my concern, those cattle are.” He thought before answering. “Then, yes, it would be safer.” “Then do it Whitney, and see you don’t loose any more. Send a man to tell Mr. Hayes to make camp for the day. Jenkins, you will go with me. We need to help the others bring in the strays. I want one other man...Hooper.” Hooper was the only man she had talked to. Michael introduced him, telling her he’d worked many drives with the man and he was one of the best. She hoped he was loyal enough to Michael to go with a woman. “Two men?” “Two and one woman, Mr. Whitney, that makes three. The two you sent don’t seem to be capable of handling it.” Angie was past caring what the man thought. She didn’t like the way he handled any of this, nor how upset he was getting. When he rode off to carry out her orders. She turned to Jenkins. “Tell me, did you see the cattle run off?” “Why no, Whitney just told everyone they had. He and the two he sent after them were bringing up the drag line.” Maybe Angie’s imagination was going wild in the excitement, but the disagreeable conclusions were only getting stronger. Patting Lady’s neck, “I hope Michael was right about you, I’ve a feeling you’ll be doing all the work today. I’m just along for the ride.” Rodeos and films were the only place Angie had seen cow ponies work. Getting back the cattle was imperative. Already her legs were soaked. The serape kept her dry from the waist up. Raising her face to the sky, she frowned over the dark gray blanket of clouds. The storm wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Watching the man making his way over to them, she wondered why Whitney didn’t come back. Again that uneasy feeling came over her. “Whitney said you wanted to see me, Mrs. McFarlain?” “Yes Mr. Hooper, Michael said I could count on you if the need arose.” It was a small lie. “Can I?” Her gaze never wavered under the man’s hard scrutiny. Male clients always did this to her, but never with this degree of intensity.

“He said you were...unusual.” “I am also in need of your help.” She accepted his superior smile for the obvious. “Mr. Hooper, I want those cattle back.” “Andrews and Macklin...” “Would it have taken you this long to round them up?” Of course Angie had no idea how long they’d been gone, but it was a mute point. His dark eyes became tight. What was it, knowledge, anger, or both? “Nope.” He knew or suspected, she could sense it. “Will you help me get them back?” His eyes rested on the gun. “Can you use it?” Her stomach flipped over. “If I have to.” “Let’s go. One thing.” “Yes?” “When I say jump you do it, no questions asked.” His ultimatum left no room for arguments. She needed him and Angie would do whatever it took, even swallowing her pride. If she held any doubts that the cattle had been rustled he just ended the mystery. “I won’t like it, but I will.” Nodding in silent understanding, “Jenkins when we reach ‘em, you guard the rear.” “Hooper?” He looked back at her. “What about Whitney?” “He’s trapped, the men will take care of your cattle here.” Breathing a sigh of relief, she fell in beside him as they rode off. She caught his glance, watching the way she rode. Had he smiled? All kinds of questions hit her. The biggest one being, what did she think she was doing? Annie Oakley she wasn’t. Thank heaven, James wasn’t here. No one heard her breathless conclusion concerning James. What he’d do when he found out about this put knots in her stomach. What they were riding into, sent shivers up her spine. They rode for what seemed like hours. Hooper stopped on and off, studying the terrain. Angie couldn’t see anything past the mud and almost doubted whether he could. She had no choice, but to trust him. The rain eased into a soft drizzle, making the going easier. When he motioned them to stop, Angie came fully alert. “They are over that hill, probably making camp for the night.” Chewing the inside of her cheek, she tried to quell her nerves. “Jenkins, I want you to guard our backs. Mrs. McFarlain...you know what we’re riding into?” “They stole my husband’s cattle.” “I don’t think they’ll be willing to give them back.” “How many, Hooper?” His brow rose. “At least two more have joined them.” Could they honestly do this? Angie forced her queasiness to stay hidden. “Pull your hat down and stay behind me.” Doing as he ordered, she didn’t need to ask why. Hiding the fact she was a woman was imperative. Her hand brushed the gun covered by the serape. Pulling it out of the holster, Angie held it under the garment. If she needed it, trying to draw it out in panic would be stupid. Images of gunfights, with bullets whizzing wildly in the air, made her

hands shake. Closing her eyes she forced her heart to slow down. Now was not the time to chicken out. “Ready?” She forced a nod, incapable of speech. Jenkins had already ridden off. Angie followed Hooper. The man’s voice came in low measure and held the full threat of what was coming. “They won’t expect anyone from the drive. Keep your guard up no matter what they say, the wind can change in a second.” Topping the rise, the camp and cattle came into sight. The size of the herd surprised her, a swift calculation said there were more than a hundred head. Hooper started down, she counted four men around the fire and none out with the cattle. “They are all in camp. You still with me?” “Yes.” Her hidden hand tightened over the gun’s handle, while her index finger slipped cautiously around the trigger. Asking herself if she would shoot seemed ridiculous, she figured the fear gripping her would act for her. Andrews approached as Hooper pulled up just within their camp. “Why Hooper what happened, did Whitney get impatient? Them cows scattered for miles, took us all day to find them.” “Did you get them all?” Angie half listened, her attention went nervously to the other three men now rising slowly to their feet. “Oh, yeah, we got them. Didn’t we boys?” Sweat broke out over her lips. “Who’s your friend, Hooper? Don’t rightly recognize the boy.” “Could ask you the same question, Andrews?” “Oh, John and Bill? Why we ran into them out here.” Moving the gun forward to face the men walking in closer, her gaze never left them to see what Hooper was doing. “Grubs ready, why don’t you two, join us?” Andrews turned and started to walk back to the fire. Holding her breath she felt it coming before the men started to pull their guns out. “Stop right there, all of you! Hands up...Now!” God, she’d watched too many cowboy movies while growing up. What the hell was she doing? She couldn’t believe she just said that! “Better do like the lady says, boys. Jenkins, you got a line on them?” “Sure do. Right now, Andrews is near get’n a third eye.” The men’s hands came cautiously up. Angie didn’t realize she was holding the gun with both hands. The barrel swayed in her unsteady grip, earning their wide eyes stares. She was so nervous that one of them would move that her gun kept jerking from one to the other. What if they did and she had to shoot? “Shit Hooper! She’ll kill somebody.” “Maybe. See’n they are her cattle I’m not stopping her, if’n she’s a mind to. I just hope for your sake she raises that barrel from where it’s a dropping.” Nearly moaning over where and what Hooper’s calm announcement said, she almost gave in to her nervous laughter over the terror entering the wide-eyed gaping men.

“Boys, you’d best take off those guns, real gentle now.” Angie wanted to close her eyes; this couldn’t be real. How the hell had she traded a portfolio for a gun? “Andrews, you take a rope and tie your associates up, real tight, now.” Hooper tossed him the coiled rope. “Jenkins?” “I’m right here, Hooper.” She almost jumped out of the saddle at the sound of the boy’s voice beside her. “Pass your rifle to Mrs. McFarlain and go tie up Andrews. And Jenkins, check all the ropes.” “Yes, sir.” Angie let go of one hand to take the heavy rifle, bringing it up under her arm. Holding both weapons on the men brought low curses from them. More than once she struggled to pull the barrels back up because of their clumsy weight. “They’re secure!” “Walk over to the fire.” Hooper walked his horse out and she saw the guns he held in both hands. Angie gave the mare the knee signal to follow suit. “Now, you all lie down and get comfortable, Jenkins tie their feet up.” When Jenkins finished, Hooper dismounted and walked over to her. Taking the rifle first, his other hand closed over hers stilling the shaking gun. “It’s over Mrs. McFarlain.” Her eyes came down to his. Nodding, her grip finally eased on the gun, which he took control of. “You did real good...for a greenhorn.” **** The rope slapped her thigh, making the cow move back into the tight herd. Wiping the sweat from her cheek, Angie felt the now familiar alertness of the mare just before she took off after another cow. It was a thrill she would never tire of. Quick as lightening the mare would move one way or another, out maneuvering the cow until she turned it back toward the herd. “How you doing, Ma’am?” “Fine. Did you see her? It’s so automatic, so beautiful.” Hooper just shook his head and gave a low laugh. “A lot different than what you are used to, I take it.” “You couldn’t imagine, Mr. Hooper.” Angie constantly watched the herd. “How is Jenkins?” “I think those four are more trouble than these three to four hundred head of cattle.” She was glad he brought it up. “Are they all ours?” “Them that ain’t, don’t have any brands. No one could claim them, so my guess is they are yours, you earned them.” He rode off before she could say anything. Hooper told her they should meet up with the main herd by nightfall. They still had Whitney to contend with. Looking back at Jenkins leading the string of horses with the men tied to the saddles, she worried over what would happen. Every movie she ever saw showed rustlers being hanged. The thought made her sick. Facing James after what she’d done added to her anxiety. He should be back by

tomorrow. At least he wouldn’t see her like this. God, he would be livid. “So much for obey.” The sun was still up when they rejoined the herd. Angie followed Jenkins into camp with their prisoners. As they rode in they both looked at each other in surprise. Tied to the chuck wagon was Whitney. Bob came up and took hold of the mare while she dismounted. He shouted out orders to the men to take each man to a different wagon and secure them. “Bob? How did you know?” “Didn’t, the fool tried to sneak off and the men caught him. Spilled his guts like a yellow bellied sapsucker.” Angie was too tired to be angry and ignored the man glaring at her from the wagon wheel. Jenkins seemed to get a second wind and started telling everyone what happened. Angie groaned, it would be impossible to think that James wouldn’t hear about it. The men thoroughly enjoyed the retelling; their robust laughter and remarks over the bodily damage that the prisoners faced, became the talk of the camp. Hooper came riding in. She learned he was a serious man and awfully quiet compared to the others. She made the right decision in trusting him. He hadn’t said anything, but she could imagine what he must have thought riding in there with only a woman to accompany him. She wondered which of them would be considered more fool hardy. “Bob, I’m going to freshen up.” He absently acknowledged her announcement, anxious to join the others and get the low down. Shaking her head she started toward the wagon. “You bitch! I’ll get you for this.” Stunned by the vicious threat, she froze and stared at Whitney. His anger caused spittle to form around his mouth like a mad dog. “You’ve no one but yourself to blame Whitney.” Hooper’s remark drew her attention away from the tied man. “The lady did what she had to, you ought to be glad James and Michael weren’t the ones to uncover your thieving.” Whitney spat at them. Hooper’s hand closed over her arm leading her away. “Stay clear of him. Men like that always want someone to blame.” Upset by the danger she felt, she looked around at the other prisoners. Their eyes were on her too, causing a shudder to pass through her. Hooper had Whitney moved away from the chuck wagon. He also posted two guards at each side of the camp and got the men back to work. It seemed the lines of authority were drawn and no one objected. Crawling into the bunk, the whole herd could have stampeded and she wouldn’t have noticed.

CHAPTER SEVEN Know Me! Blowing out an admiring whistle Michael rubbed his chin. “Damn, isn’t she something.” James couldn’t have agreed more with his brother’s exclamation. But his thoughts over her weren’t as complementary as everyone else’s appeared to be. Grinding his back teeth he fought back the rage bristling to life. The more he heard about her crazy escapade, the more he wanted to get his hands on her. Was it just him? Didn’t any of them realize she could have been killed? “Michael take care of Diablo.” “Sure James…Hey go easy, okay?” The cutting glare in his eyes said it all. Whipping the horse about, James left the group and headed for camp. He swore beneath the force holding his jaw when she wasn’t to be found with Hayes on the chuck wagon. Somehow he’d known she wouldn’t be. “Where is she?” The older man took his time answering. “I reckon she’d be with the herd. Because of them.” Hayes’ thumb jerked back to the buckboard trailing behind him. “We been short handed.” James quickly took in the four tied men and the guards riding along side the wagon. “They’ve been a real handful. That Whitney’s got a real hard-on for your wife, blames her for his current misery.” James’ piercing blue eyes went back to Hayes over the warning. Cursing the reason, James touched his hat brim and left. Going over to the buckboard, James dismounted. Whitney was sitting by the tailgate. The sneer on the man’s face as James approached him was all it took. Griping his shirt James dragged Whitney out of the wagon. Holding him up their faces were only inches apart. “I ought to hang you right here.” The man’s eyes widened before he regained his bravado. James wanted a fight, releasing his rage on the culprit would do fine. Turning the man over to the law was the last thing he wanted and he knew the reason had nothing to do with the rustling. Throwing him back against the wagon, James walked away before he lost control of his sanity. “If I wasn’t tied I’d show you and that uppity wife of yours who you’re dealing with.” Turning back James’ hand found the man’s neck, lifting his choking carcass straight up in the air. “You’ll live to face the law’s justice, only because I won’t dirty myself with your filthy blood. But you utter one more word against my wife and I’ll see to it it’ll be your last.” Dropping him, James walked away from the collapsed heap. “Put a gag in his mouth.” “Right boss.” James didn’t wait to see his order carried out he had more important business to attend to. ****

Why in the hell was he just sitting here? Topping the rise he’d scanned the vast herd locating Angela almost immediately. Every muscle in his body tightened at the sight she made. “Son of a bitch!” Racing out after a stray, he watched her work that idiot mare of Michael’s like they were an extension of each other. Art in motion couldn’t have been more exciting. “God, she can ride.” It killed him to admit it. The magic wore off as all of Angela penetrated his senses. Knowing she was bound to defy him and seeing it was like a slap in the face. Seeing her in those infernal pants made everything all too real. If he’d thought any of the stories about her capturing the rustlers were an exaggeration, the only outlandish part was Angela, herself. “She puts the rest of us to shame.” Turning to face Hooper, James’ fist connected with the man’s unsuspecting jaw and sent him flying off the horse onto the ground. James stayed mounted. “What the hell were you trying to prove taking her into a camp of rustlers?” Hooper’s hand worked his jaw. The man’s eyes took in the furious man staring down at him. “I don’t remember either of us trying to prove anything. Getting the cattle was why, the how just happened. In case you’re interested, they were her cattle too. If I had a lady with that kind of gumption I’d be damn proud to admit it.” The calmly spoken words hit home, making James’ eyes go back to her. “By the way, you gained close to two hundred and seventy head. Whitney and his boys have been busy. The extras were all unbranded, something she corrected last night. They all bare the TC mark now.” James watched the man collect his horse. He wasn’t sure if it was the surprise or pride that kept him silent. Hooper stared at him before rejoining the herd. “Keeping something that free on a leash is impossible, McFarlain. Maybe you ought to try to accept her qualities for what they are, instead of trying to change them into preconceived notions. It isn’t often a man holds something as rare as that woman.” James never heard so many words come from this man. Having said what he had to, the man turned away and headed back to the herd. James fought the conflicting emotions Hooper gave life to. Going down there and yanking her off that blasted horse is what he wanted to do. Tanning her righteous little hide for her fool act was imperative. Watching her work, his pride refused to admit she rode better than most of his men. She hadn’t been hurt...this time. He intended to ensure there wouldn’t be a next. “It’s not finished Mrs. McFarlain, far from it. There are other ways.” His lips eased over the very male options coming to him as he rode away. “He’s back? But...” Angie bit off her words. James was here, had been all afternoon according to Bob. Why didn’t he come to her? Surely he heard what happened. Taking a cautious glance at the buckboard she saw for the first time the gag in Whitney’s mouth. “Oh stars...” “What’d you say, Miss Angie?” “Nothing, I’ll get the wood.” He’d heard alright. Angie didn’t like the uneasy thoughts coming over her. James must be terribly angry if he couldn’t even confront her. Gathering the wood she couldn’t

keep her conviction silent. “Here all day, oh Angie, you’re in it deep this time.” Where he’d been hiding himself plagued her. She hadn’t seen Michael either. She supposed she should be relieved. They were a day late, but even knowing they were safe didn’t quell her soaring apprehension. Groaning, she realized he must have seen her at the herd. Stubbornly she squared her shoulders. There had been little choice. Between having three men tied up and three pulled as guards, the herd’s needs came before self-preservation. She was a grown woman capable of making sound decisions, whether he cared to admit it or not, she’d not apologize. Dumping the arm full of wood, a quick appraisal of the area said he was still missing. Brushing the debris from her clothes, her stomach lurched, she’d forgotten all about the jeans. “Bob, I’m going to wash up.” “You’d best hurry, they will be coming in shortly. And don’t go far, we’re getting further away from civilization each day.” She didn’t really hear Bob’s warning over her concern for letting James find her in pants. Meeting him in a dress would at least keep his mind off how defiant she’d been in his absence. She did the best she could with the creek’s trickling stream. How she mourned the lack of bathing facilities. At least she found a good cover of trees and bushes that allowed her to take a more thorough washing. Angie even chanced rinsing the accumulation of dust from her hair. Bending low over the running water, she let the force pull the strands clean. **** The black shiny mass sent rivulets down the beauty’s slim bare hips. Carson’s brown eyes were fastened on the unexpected sight. Maybe Whitney’s screw up wasn’t a total loss. Parting the branch he watched the lady pull on the delicate underthings, regretting their flimsy cover. He hoped she would turn towards him first. His imagination was doing just fine from the view she’d already supplied. He hadn’t seen so many lush curves, in such an attractive package, in a long time. Whoever she was he intended on becoming intimately acquainted. Looking back at the camp he cursed its closeness and the men starting to ride in. He might have chanced it, but Carson had too much at stake to let his loins dictate, no matter how pretty and tempting the bait. The herd was big enough to get him the stake he needed. Whitney’s small rustling operation wasn’t his style. That idiot hadn’t waited for him and the boys to arrive. Carson hated a man that didn’t follow orders. If he didn’t need that bunch to help with the herd he’d let them all hang. He’d settle up with Whitney when this was over. Blowing the lady a silent kiss, “later beautiful, we’ll meet soon enough.” **** There was no time to dry her hair. She gave it a quick brushing over the increased sound of voices coming into camp. Her fingers made quick work of buttoning the dress. Unsteady fingers smoothed down the dress folds of small pink checks and adjusted the prim neckline. “A definite improvement.” Wringing out the pants she rolled them up in the towel, hoping they would dry by

morning. The nights were getting chilly; Angie wasn’t looking forward to the approaching winter. She’d never been to Montana. Something told her it was very different from New Orleans. Her lips pressed together when she realized she’d never seen snow. She held a feeling the omission ranked right up there with cows, rustlers, and everything else that she was coming to grips with in this world. Unfortunately none of it came close to the very hostile man she expected to encounter…soon After putting her things away, Angie went to help Bob dish up dinner for the crowd. Her nerves were drawn tight. She found it difficult to keep her smile in place for the good natured bunch. The men talked to her now, always putting in their barbs or giving her advice about the steers. Tonight Angie’s attention went past them. Her eyes were on constant vigil for the man that still hadn’t appeared. “Looking for someone, Mrs. McFarlain?” Jumping at the sound of his voice directly behind her, the spoon full of stew nearly ended up on Bob’s head. Struck silent by his presence and the unfathomable look he held her in, Angie stood there as if in a trance. “If you’ll excuse us boys...my wife and I have something to discuss.” No one moved least of all Angie. James took the spoon from her hand and deposited it into the pot. Her eyes were fastened on his every move. He stood so close to her that when he bent down she was too captivated to do anything. It wasn’t until she felt herself being flung over his shoulder that she understood his intent. “James! What are you doing? Put me down!” “Shut up!” That, and a not too gentle swat on her rear, ended her protest as he walked them out of camp. Angie didn’t look for help knowing there would be none. She’d expected his anger, but this? Trying to brace her hands on his back so she didn’t flop around like a rag doll, she had little say in where they were going or how she would get there. When he stopped and put her down she would have fallen if his hands didn’t capture her. What he did next she couldn’t believe, not even from James. James sat down on a log and pulled her across his lap, holding her struggling body in between his legs, he locked her flying arms in place. Then in deliberate slowness he pulled up her skirts and petticoats. “What are you...? Don’t you dare! You better not do this James McFarlain!” “Shut up, Mrs. McFarlain.” His open palm came down hard, sending out a resounding slap through the darkening woods. “Ouch! Stop it!” Again he repeated the act, drawing her sharp heated curse. “That’s for disobeying me.” The next was louder, so was Angela’s swearing reply. “And that, my dear wife, is for putting your precious hide in danger.” “Ugh! Stop it, you beast!” “You haven’t said the magic word my sweet...” His hand again made contact, “loving…” and again, “...wife!” “Alright, please...please stop it.” James smiled; looking at her squirming rear beneath the bloomers, his hand rose and

made contact once again. Groaning, her agonized question came out. “What was that for?” “For showing your...assets off in those infuriating pants!” Pulling her up, he righted her on his lap. Her eyes glared at him through the bright curtain of unshed tears. God, she possessed such a well of pride. He wanted to comfort her, but reminded himself why he did this. “You...” “I wouldn’t say it, not unless you’d like a repeat performance.” Her jaw barred down against the threat she knew he’d carry out. “Let me up!” Watching him shake his head she knew exactly what he wanted. “Please, damn it!” He released her. Angie pushed off him, stepping away before turning back to rally against those gloating sapphire eyes. “Damn you, James McFarlain!” Her eyes smarted as much as her backside, but she refused to give him any satisfaction by rubbing either. When he came to his feet she didn’t move, denying the need screaming inside to run. His first step towards her brought her hand out, “Don’t you come near me.” He smiled and kept coming, forcing her to step back. His eyes were like molten sparks raking over her disheveled state. Angie bit her lip to stop the trembling. She wanted to be mad, even hate him for what he just did to her, but every fiber of her being betrayed her. The traitorous feelings turned to liquid fire, moving with a madness she couldn’t take back. “Stay away, I’m warning you.” “You forget your gun? From what I heard, you had them shaking in their boots.” His words confused her. She could swear she heard pride in his voice. Still moving back, she nearly tripped over a rock. “Stop it!” Panic was taking over. “When you branded the cattle did you get the TC straight?” “What?” Angie didn’t know what to say. She wished he’d stop stalking her, she couldn’t think past his eyes and what she thought they held. After what he just did, she must be mistaken. Her feet moved as if to run, but James proved to be faster. Catching her around the middle, his hold knocked the breath and fight from her as he brought her fully against him. Bringing her gaze up to meet his, Angie tried to see what to expect. “If you ever, ever put yourself in danger like that again...” “James?” Did she dare to believe? “Never again, Angela.” His lips were heaven. Her arms flung about his neck, her fingers grasped his hair to keep him to her. All the anger left her when his arms crushed her to him, deepening the hold. Her hair was cool, still damp from the washing and he gave into the urge. His fingers stroked and pulled the braid apart. Memories of her fine body didn’t compare to the vital woman in his embrace. The reality made him moan over what he could have lost. The truth cooled the consuming fires of passion flaring between them. Pulling back, his large hands captured her face so he could look directly into her emerald eyes. “If you ever make me feel such fear and anger for you again, I will do more than just warm my hands on your backside.” “I...I’m sorry.” There were no lies in his eyes. He was allowing her to see the feelings that drove him to the extreme. Angie’s heart felt like it would burst.

Retaking her lips, his own held such longing she melted against them, giving freely of the love she wanted him to discover. Impatience made her hands seek him out. Together they went down to the ground on their discarded clothing. Naked in each other’s arms, James soothed and calmed the blaze of ignited passion. “Angela, you will promise me not to do anything that foolish again?” She told herself this needed to come, but all her earlier arguments were lost to his caresses upon her night cooled flesh. “I...you weren’t here.” Between her kisses over his face, she tried to explain. “I needed to get the cattle back, Whitney...it just didn’t feel right.” “Angela!” Holding her back from him, his renewed anger glared down at her. “I’m not kidding, you’re not to put yourself in that kind of position again. This drive isn’t some game, it’s real and deadly serious.” Something she didn’t want rose to life inside of her. “James, I did what I needed to done. The cattle mean so...” Tightening his hold he ended her explanation. His eyes returned to that familiar unapproachable stance against her. “Promise me, no more.” Why couldn’t he admit she did the right thing? Angela wondered if she misunderstood him again? Beneath his anger she thought she saw pride in his eyes for what she accomplished. She didn’t expect praise, but neither could she accept this and it went deeper than capturing rustlers or wearing her jeans. The lengthening silence put more than space between them. She wanted to try to make him understand. “James, I can not just shut myself off from something that means so much.” “You mean you won’t.” Her eyes pleaded with him to open his mind to what she found so difficult to tell him. She wanted to be a part of his life, not some object. His rage and unmovable stance defeated her “Alright James, if that’s what you want to believe.” Feeling his hand covering her lower stomach was more destructive than the fury coming to life above her. Marring their love making with arguments wasn’t fair. Pushing with her elbows she tried to rise from beneath him, but James quickly prevented her escape. His hold and body weight defeated her. “Why are you being so stubborn Angie? Do you enjoy taking risk? Is that it, Angela?” “No! Just let me up, okay?” When he refused she glared at him. What she saw in the stiff lines of his face filled her with an uneasy feeling. “What’s wrong Angela? I thought you liked playing with danger?” Pushing at his hand as it moved up her side. “Stop it James, I want to get up.” His hands covered her breast, making her breathing become erratic. Oh, God, not like this. Her stomach tightened over the sensation his touch ignited. He deliberately teased and tantalized her, bringing forth the sensual responses he knew she would be incapable of controlling. But Angie felt the difference. It wasn’t loving James wanted, it was the control. Rule her in a way she wouldn’t be able to defy. Angie could sense her eminent defeat in his capable hands. “Please James...” “Angela, I’m all the fire you’ll ever need.” Tossing her head against what he meant and could do to her, Angie failed to prevent

the betrayal of her passionate responses. “James, don’t do this…not like this, please.” His lips ended her plea. The hunger inside him went beyond his control. James wanted more than she was willing to give. Where Angela was concerned he would fight anything that tried to stop him from possessing the one woman he wanted. Molten fire blazed wherever he touched. His caresses branded her and his desires became her own. Blue shafts of crystal glowed in victory above her before his head lowered, creating a path of searing ecstasy across her hot, satiny flesh. Her fingers clung to his bronze shoulders needing their strength for support. Angie lost all contact with herself; James was the master of the fire only he could sate. Her moan of defeat drove him further in his possession. In unrelenting determination he took her, proving to them both how powerful his hold could be. She laid there under the blanket of stars, opening beneath him in complete surrender. He took his victory in passion’s caress, with ecstasy as the weapon. James knew how to wield the instrument of passion until she begged him to take her. Fulfillment and sweet bliss covered her defeat. But sadly Angie found no joy in James’ arms. She learned that no matter how hot the flames of passion rose, without the embers of love, the beauty only became consumed in the inferno. Exhausted from his trip James fell into a deep sleep. Angie stayed in his arms, her eyes closed against all the troubled thoughts hounding her. Carefully disengaging his heavy arm from her waist, she rolled away from his side. She watched as his arm searched to reclaim her, thanking the night when he settled back into the sleep driven breathing. Gathering her scattered garments, she didn’t try to retrieve the ones still under him. Pulling the dress over her head she settled for its covering. The dark mood she existed in took her steps away from camp until they stopped beside the small creek. Kneeling, her hands pulled the rumpled dress over her head. Taking a piece of the underwear she dipped it in the cool water. She let the cloth’s soothing dampness cleanse away his clinging scent. Washing away the evidence of their shared passion didn’t clear away the memories. James accomplished his goal; he conquered her will and found victory in her wanton submission. Angie felt terribly ashamed of her weakness where James was concerned. She doubted he’d find anything sweet in her thoughts now. Their battle escalated to war this night and he’d been ruthless in his siege. She prayed she would never again confront the hard stranger that ruled the man she faced tonight. A protective pride surged inside her over the truth. She wanted James, not this hostile angry man. Looking up at the stars she wondered if they were the same ones? She found Orion’s belt, and the North Star, the brightest. They were all there, unchanged through time. “Help me find him.” Embarrassed by the longing she heard in her voice, as always the answers were only to be found within. Tonight he thought he won. She could let him believe, give him what he wanted...total submission. “In other words, kiss his royal ass!” She nearly laughed over her outburst, but the truth would go away. “Oh girl, it would never work, you’re not the type.” The hard admission choked in her throat, because she knew what it meant and what

she’d face with James because of it. But neither could she live in his image of her. Not even for James and the love she so desperately wanted from him, could make her live the lie. “I’m sorry, you’ll love me for myself, or...” Angie couldn’t bring herself to finish the conviction she couldn’t let go of. “Me, damn you! I am the one who rides horses, wears pants and yes, gets back what belongs to me and that includes you, you lug head. I can’t be this other person, no matter how hard you push me to fit your image.” Coming to her feet Angie adjusted the dress over her damp skin. Her eyes caught the slight light breaking over the horizon. Dawn should represent new life, a new beginning. “Well, dear James, I’ve a feeling today is going to be very enlightening if nothing else, for both of us.” **** “Angie? Angie is that you?” Michael moved around the horses. “Damn, it is you. It’s still dark for crying out loud.” “Are you through Michael?” “Yeah, I guess so.” She smiled as she pulled the cinch tight about the mare’s belly. “Are you always so disagreeable in the mornings?” He could be such a pussycat. She knew exactly why he was so excited. Shit, the whole drive probably knew what happened between them last night. At least they all had a good idea, if Bob’s red faced stammering told her anything. The poor man was beside himself when she’d come back to camp and gone into the wagon. When he saw her come out in her riding skirt, he started banging pots on the grill and cussing a streak. At least she wasn’t wearing her jeans, but if they’d been dry she’d have worn them. “Come on Angie, what are you doing?” “What’s it look like?” “Damn it woman, are you crazy?” She clutched her fingers together so he wouldn’t see them shaking. “No.” “Then you’re plain stubborn.” “Not really, though maybe a touch, that is if you want honesty.” “Stop fooling around. I’m serious.” His hand came over her arm. Steadying herself, she turned away from the mare and faced his anxious stare. “Angie, honey, don’t you realize what he is going to do?” “I’d say he’ll probably try and pull me off this saddle again, something I have no intention of letting happen.” “You think that will stop him?” “No, I think he will get tired of doing it.” Michael blew out his breath. Her hand came up and touched his cheek. She didn’t like to see him so upset. “Michael it will be alright. Remember you told me we don’t know each other. Well, we don’t, not really. I’m only beginning to learn about James...the man. And oh Michael, he is a wonderful person, even the dark James.” She saw the defensive way his eyes drew together. War did this to men; the life it stole from these two was unforgivable. “But Michael, James must also learn to see me. The real me, I can’t pretend to be someone else. It might be easier, but it won’t last.” She knew he understood.

“If you see him, tell him I will be out with the herd. It’s where I belong, they are my future too. Besides, Bob has run out of things to teach me, except maybe how to shoot this infernal gun he insisted I wear.” Angie mounted and looked down at her brother-in-law. His lips were tight, but he didn’t try to stop her again. It wouldn’t have changed her mind. “I’ll be out shortly. Take the front, west point. I’ll tell Hooper.” “No need, I already did.” Angie decided to satisfy her curiosity. “Michael, why wasn’t Hooper made foreman when you two left?” “He refused, doesn’t like giving orders, never did.” Angie held her thoughts. Shrugging as she moved out, she didn’t think that was the reason, but after knowing him she doubted she would ever get enough out of him to get an answer. Hooper still acted like the foreman, but with James and Michael back that would probably change. Angie took up her position as the herd started moving out. The sunrise was breathtaking, filling the deep blue sky with shafts of brilliant pinks and oranges. Smiling, she felt it would be a beautiful day. **** Rising with a start James’ sensed she was gone. Shaking the residue of sleep from his body, he quickly dressed. After finishing with the gun belt, he bent down and picked up the soft, white-laced garment she’d left behind. Her seductive scent still clung to it. Tucking it into his shirt, James smiled, anxious to find her before the day started. Walking into camp, he failed to see Angela. Bob was busy seeing to the last men in for breakfast. The camp looked ready to move out. Circling the chuck wagon, he almost laughed seeing her pants hanging inside. Stretching, he felt the confidence move through his long limbs. She’d finally come to her senses. James grew impatient, wondering where she could have gone. Bob was loading up the last of the cooking pots. Shoveling down the scrapings on his plate, the old man practically yanked it out of his hand. “I’m on a tight schedule, got no time for lagers.” Ignoring the man’s unusual sharpness, “Where’s she at, Bob?” Mumbling to himself, James didn’t catch what Bob said and followed him as he climbed up onto the wagon seat. “Slow down Bob, where’s Angela?” “Where she always is this time of the morning. Where else would the gal be ‘cept taking care of them cows of yours. Might be you should be a getting there as well?” Flicking the reins Bob left him standing there, catching dust in his open expression. “She wouldn’t! Damn it all Angela! Doesn’t anything get through to you?” Spinning with the anger seizing him, James stopped, suddenly remembering he didn’t have a horse. A violent curse struck an enraged glare out at the world. Bringing his hat down he swatted his leg venting his outrage. Giving it up he started walking just as Michael came riding up leading his horse. “Forget something brother?” “Yeah, too damn much, it seems.” James took the reins he tossed him. “Want some advice?”

“Nope.” “Going to listen to it anyway.” “Figured as much.” Adjusting himself in the saddle, James stilled his impatience to go find her. “Alright Michael, lets have it.” His brother studied him for a minute. “She’s right about one thing.” “What’s that?” “You don’t know her. I’d go so far to say that the men out there know her better than you in some respects.” “I don’t think I like what you’re implying.” “Why? Because you haven’t taken the time to find out who the lady is you were so determined to keep as your wife?” They stared at each other. “It’s not too late to find out, James. She’s waiting for you out at the herd.” **** Angie felt his eyes on her as she worked a steer. Moving the animal back to the herd, she turned and stared back at him. It only took seconds for her to make up her mind. Urging Lady back, she pulled up beside him. “Sleep well, James?” He refused to look at her. That twitching nerve above his eye gave everything away, but Angie remained riding beside him in silence. “I would have preferred to wake beside my wife.” Her sly smile greeted his blustery blue scrutiny. Those crystal orbs took her in from Bob’s old hat that her hair was coiled up under, to the leather chaps tied around her skirted legs. She could see the flash of disapproval knowing the skirt showed as much as her jeans would have. Dragging her gaze back to him, he still wasn’t ready to listen to her explanation for wearing them. He was angry, but thankfully she knew it was her James riding beside her. For the time being the dark stranger didn’t exist. “Your wife would have liked it as well. Maybe tomorrow morning we can correct the situation?” “Stay with me today, Angela...please?” Angie held her composure over the softening in his command. “I’d like nothing better, James.” The blood started racing inside her. Was he trying? She believed he truly wanted to make an effort and her elation became so great she could hardly contain it. Together they worked the herd. More than once she saw the fierce tightening in his virile frame soar to life when she would take out after a steer. Angie held her tongue when he’d shoot forward and take over the job. It might be a small start, but James made the effort and she understood it went against the man’s character to allow her to remain at the herd. She didn’t want perfection, neither did she expect him to change for her, but the concession, no matter how small, meant the world to her right now. She just finished tangling with an extremely stubborn cow when she heard him coming up behind her. Expecting his criticism she braced herself not to retaliate. “Angela, keep behind me.” Confused, she looked over at him as he moved in front of her. Ready to question his

order, her voice stilled upon seeing the riders approaching. Automatically her hand went to the holster. Checking her over active imagination, she eased the horse in behind James’. The ominous stiffening in his broad shoulders held its own warning for her. By the time he pulled to a halt before the approaching riders Angie felt the foreboding closing in. James forced his attention not to stray back to her. She was there and so far following his orders. Her damnable curiosity prevented him from leaving her behind; at least he knew where she was. They were about half a mile in front of the herd. Shit, he wished he’d had time to alert Michael. “Angela ride back and get Michael...and Hooper.” Fighting her ill feelings over leaving him, his request couldn’t be ignored and she turned to do as he asked. “It’s alright Angie, we’re here.” Michael and Hooper rode forward and joined James. Looking at them in surprise, she didn’t hear their approach. James’ authoritative voice called out, “That’s far enough gentlemen. Can I help you?” There was no friendliness in the greeting. Angie could see the four men that stopped some twenty feet away. One of them moved his horse up a few feet. “You be the trail boss?” “If it’s important?” The man’s closed smirk at James’ terse reply sent a shiver over her. She didn’t like his dark clothing; it seemed out of place out here. She remembered the way James dressed on the Silver Queen, but this man’s attire wasn’t like that either. It seemed more like he was saying, here I am make something of it. She wished she didn’t feel so right about her conclusion. Taking a closer look, he came across with a goodly amount of confidence. Slick brown hair, with cold eyes set in a good looking face. A smaller build than James and Michael, but wiry like a coiled snake. A wary shiver past over her. She pulled her eyes away from him trying to listen to the conversation. “There’s no work available, we’ve a full crew.” The stranger’s quick look made her wonder if he knew it was a lie. James sent three men to take in Whitney and the others to the closest town. Hopefully the men would be returning tomorrow. Angie felt relieved that James wasn’t considering hiring these men, something didn’t feel right about them. The man sat back in his saddle. “Sure could use a few days pay, if nothing else. The boys and I have been riding sometime.” “Where you from?” “Come over from St. Louie. No work, so we pushed on, hoping to hitch up with a drive.” If only she could see James’ face. She nearly groaned when she saw Hooper’s hand go casually down to his thigh. There was nothing innocent about his action. “`fraid we can’t help you.” The man didn’t say anything for a moment. “Sorry to trouble you.” Touching his hat, he started to turn back to the others, but stopped. His eyes looked on her making her suck

in a breath. The way he smiled, as if he were seeing through her, made her stomach turn over. Lady felt her nervousness and began fidgeting beneath her. Steadying the mare, Angie almost missed the man’s nod for her benefit. The abruptness with which James came to her side told her the performance didn’t go unnoticed. “You alright?” “Yes. He’s trouble, isn’t he?” James wasn’t surprised at her deduction as they watched the men ride away. “They won’t be back.” Angie didn’t voice her feelings to the contrary, hoping he was right. **** Pulling up under the cover of a stand of trees, Conrad watched the man riding possessively beside the woman. “What now boss?” “When Whitney and the others join us we take them.” “It isn’t going to be easy taking that man’s property.” Still watching the two riders, “no...but it certainly will be worth it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT Terror “He’s beautiful, James.” His laughter sounded wonderful, warming away the morning’s chill. “I doubt if he’d accept the compliment.” “He’s got Arabian in him.” “Let’s hope he passes those bloodlines I paid for into our mares.” “Do you really think we can get enough mares rounded up before winter sets in?” Turning her to face him and not the stallion, “He’ll do the rounding up, sweet lady.” She had a lot to learn, but he knew she would. “We’ll turn him loose until spring.” “But won’t he run off?” “He won’t stray far, the herd stays on Twin Creek property. Michael and I will investigate to be sure.” Angie couldn’t fathom the amount of acreage James told her the ranch held. The farther north they rode the more anxious she became. Her eyes went away in thought. The last week things were changing between them. Every day brought them closer together. Oh, he still maintained his reservations and her independence still flared up in face of it, but slowly they were each coming to terms with each other. Tucking his finger under her chin, he brought her attention back to him. “Hey, why the deep thoughts?” Wrapping her arms about his waist, she placed her head over the strong beat of his heart. “I will miss the drive.” His low laughter made her cuddle closer, enjoying their short time together before the day started. “So you will miss the herd and dust?” “Hmm, and Bob’s fabulous fare.” “Now I know you are crazy.” His lips came to rest against the top of her head. “You’ll have enough to keep you busy at the ranch. I told you I don’t know what we’ll be facing with the house.” “It will be fine.” “Are you always such an optimist?” Looking up at him and remembering her convictions concerning them, “Always, my dear husband.” James’ smile shined warm and his eyes brightened upon her. “Then I promise never to question it.” The kiss he gave her felt friendly and familiar, filling her with a merry-go-round of feelings, the dominant one being she belonged. It came slowly, the acceptance inside her, but Angie did feel right beside him. “What else is bothering you? Believe it or not, I am beginning to know those looks of yours.” James’ humor with her was lost in the concern of his sky blue eyes. “Those men...they are really gone, aren’t they?” Angela had been on edge since the incident with the strangers. James tried to keep his own concern hidden from her. “They are gone.” Michael and Hooper scouted the perimeter for signs and found

nothing suspicious since last week. To be safe James moved Angela further back in the herd, knowing she’d never stand for being banished back with Bob on the chuck wagon. If James were completely honest, he’d admit to liking her near him. It still bothered him knowing she could get hurt, but then something like that could happen anywhere. He did learn that Angela could handle herself quite well. “Michael is coming.” James’ arm remained around her waist as his brother rode up. “Morning Angie, James could I see you a minute?” Angie watched the two of them move out of hearing distance. It wasn’t like Michael to exclude her in anything concerning the drive. The way James’ eyes kept coming back to her made her temples begin to pound. The shuttered look in his eyes as he approached told her she had every right to be worried. “James? What’s wrong?” “Angela, I want you to go back and stay with Bob today.” “But...” “Please, honey.” “Alright. Can’t you tell me what has happened?” His lips drew tight, but he finally answered. “Jenkins’ just came back into camp. He’s in pretty bad shape.” “What...” “He’s been shot.” “Oh no...the others?” “Dead. They were ambushed. Whitney has friends.” “Those four men!” James realized she didn’t miss much. “Most likely.” “Then they will be back for the cattle.” “Go help Bob.” She quickly moved to do as he asked there wasn’t time to object. His arm reached out and stopped her. “Angela don’t take any chances.” Putting on a brave smile, “The same goes for you, McFarlain.” Silently her eyes said what neither of them ever spoke. Turning away she escaped the question in his thoughtful gaze. James watched her go, wishing he’d made her tell him if what he’d seen in those endless green eyes were true. These last few days there had been such a change in her...or was it him? Had he been so wrong about her? Damn, he cursed the trouble keeping him from finding out. **** “How is he Miss Angie?” “He’s resting finally, but this bouncing isn’t helping him any.” Angie looked back at the pale boy. She bemoaned her lack of medical knowledge. It didn’t take an expert to know that Jenkins lost a lot of blood. At least the bullet wasn’t in him. But the jagged wound, front and back, of his shoulder scared her to death. She refused to think of the two men that didn’t returned. “He needs to lay still or the bleeding isn’t going to stop.” “Don’t see how we can?” Angie’s anxious gaze scanned the herd trying to locate James or Michael. They were

riding in a close group because of the threat. She knew Bob grew nervous over being this close to the herd, but Angie felt better just knowing James was near. Images of the stranger and Whitney kept her nerves strung tight. They were down to less than twenty men; the wagons were helping to keep the herd in line. It killed her to be sitting here and not helping. Chiding herself, she knew anything she could do for the boy she would. He started moaning again after a wheel hit deep in a rut. “I better go back with him.” “I’ll take it slow, we’re going threw a bad stretch.” Making her way to the back of the wagon, she called to Bob. “If you see James or Michael call them over.” “Will do missus.” Smiling down at the boy’s half opened eyes. “How are you doing?” “Not too good, Mrs. Mc...” “Hush, I’m here, try and take a drink.” Holding the tin cup to the boy’s parched lips she didn’t pull her attention away when she felt the wagon sway under the weight of someone entering. Thinking it was James Angie turned after settling Jenkins back down. “James we need to stop...” Her words died over the gun pointed directly at her chest. “Now that sounds like a wonderful idea, Mrs. McFarlain.” Her fingers firmed around the cup to keep them from shaking. It was the stranger, swallowing, her stomach groaned. Whitney wouldn’t be far behind. For some reason Angie knew this man could be more dangerous then all of Whitney’s threats. Unconsciously her eyes searched for an escape. “Tch, tch, that would be a fool thing to try.” “What do you want?” His smile for her nervous question made her cringe. “Just your lovely company for a while. Tell your driver to move the wagon out...real careful like, away from the others.” Conrad watched the play of emotions passing over that pretty face. She even proved to be more beautiful up close. Whitney underestimated the lady. Conrad believed she could be quite a handful. Hearing how they’d been caught he figured they left a lot out of the telling. “Pass me your gun. Whitney’s still hot as sand about you taking him like you did.” Those green eyes grew large and Conrad enjoyed the discomfort he gave her. He didn’t intend to let Whitney get his dirty hands on her, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her believe otherwise. “Miss Angie, is everything alright?” Motioning her to pass the gun to him, Conrad pointed his at the back of the driver’s head. Angie’s heart felt ready to burst, “Bob, pull the wagon out. Jenkins can’t take anymore.” “I ain’t sure the boss would like it...” She stared at the man fearing what he might do. “Do as the lady says old man, unless you’d like to see her pretty body shot threw.” Bob spun around in the seat. “Why you!”

“Don’t get any ideas old man.” “Bob please do as he asks.” It seemed an eternity before the man eased the team out of the line and Angie breathed again. Her eyes never left the man, nor the gun pointed at her. “What are you going to do?” “Your husband and that brother of his aren’t easy men to deal with, but that will change.” Holding herself, Angie feared the man’s meaning, sorry she asked. But he wasn’t the type to let her off. No, that cold glimmer in those dirty eyes said he enjoyed her fear too much. “I think your man will be willing to trade.” “The cattle...” In agony the answer came past her trembling lips. “You’re a smart one.” Keeping his eyes on her, “Old man, head for that stand of trees.” “What do you think I’m doing, you just ease up on her, you hear.” Conrad chuckled over the old goat’s concern. Easing back the canvas flap he took a quick look to see if anyone was following. “He’s not as sharp as I’d be over our departure.” “James will come.” Smiling at her defensive stand, “I’m counting on it, ma’am. Now move back here beside me.” Jenkins hand gripped Angie’s skirt. “Just give me a moment.” “I’ve no time for dead men.” Turning on him, “He’s not!” “A minute that’s all.” “Jenkins it’s alright, just lie still.” Angie leaned closer at the boy’s urging. His hand pressed something cold into hers. Her fingers closed over the large pocketknife. Taking a cautious look, the man’s preoccupation with watching for James allowed her to slip it into her pocket. Giving the boy a thankful smile, Angie moved away before giving the man a reason to come for her. “Pull up here old man.” The wagon came to a grinding halt within the tree cover. “Ladies first.” Biting the inside of her cheek to keep her fear and anger in check, she climbed over the wagon gate. He jumped down beside her before her hands released the wagon. Grabbing her arm he pulled her up beside him to face Bob. “Now, you tell your boss if he wants to see her again to take his men and ride out before dark. Tell him if no one comes back to bother us, I’ll drop her off at the springs in two days time. He can get her there. If I see anyone doubling back...just tell him he’ll never lay eyes on the lady again.” Bob nodded, his eyes full of hate as the man dragged her around to the horses. “Well, well, there is justice after all.” Angie had to force herself to see what he meant. “Diablo...” She forgot that James tied him to the wagon as a precaution. “You can’t take him.” “There you are wrong lady, now get up on his back.” When she hesitated. “I’ve seen

you ride, so stop playing games, come on!” Allowing him to take the stallion brought all of her anger to the surface. The cattle were bad enough; they’d be ruined. “No! I’ll go, but not on him.” The man came up in her face. “You get your sweet ass on that horse or I’ll blow the whiskers off your friend’s face. Now move it!” Indecision fled when he moved the gun in Bob’s direction. “Alright!” Accepting the hand he offered, he lifted her up onto the stallion’s broad back. Wrapping her fingers into the thick black mane, she had little choice but to hang on as he took the lead rope and mounted her mare. Fighting to stay on the racing animal she stole a glance back. Bob was already turning the wagon and moving back towards the herd. “I wouldn’t try anything funny, Mrs. McFarlain, personally I’d like nothing better than to roll around on the ground with you.” The image he painted ended all thoughts of falling off to delay their escape. Angie fought the tearful anxiety taking hold inside. She reassured herself that James would find a way to help her. He must. They rode in silence after his veiled threat. She kept looking around expecting his gang to come bounding out of the woods at any moment. The anticipation of meeting up with Whitney and his friends set like a rock inside her stomach. When they failed to appear, she began to wonder what the man was up to. The distance they were covering made it seem odd that they weren’t joining the others. Jenkins’ knife kept hitting her thigh. Trying to devise a plan to escape defeated her. She had no idea where she was, only that they were still headed northwest. The sickening reality set in that if she did get away she could easily be in worse shape out here in the wilderness. Staring at her abductor’s back, all the ill feelings she felt about him came back...and more. The guns he wore, it could only be her rampant imagination, but she couldn’t shake the belief he might be a gunfighter. His clothes certainly fit the role. He wasn’t as small as she’d thought before. He was lean, quick and taller than she’d realized. There was a tightness about him that reeked of danger. “You’re quieter than I expected.” When she didn’t answer, he pulled the stallion up beside him. Taking a thorough look at her, his hand came out and pushed her hat off her head. “You shouldn’t hide all that loveliness. How long is it?” She swatted his hand away when he reached to release the coiled braid. His laughter echoed coarsely over the hills. Angie didn’t like the way he kept looking at her. So hungry, those soiled brown eyes practically devoured her. “Where are your men?” Distracting his thoughts away from her became imperative. “The boys?” The way he gloated made her cringe inside. “About now, I’d say they are up to their necks in cattle.” Dropping her eyes she didn’t want him to see what his revelation did to her. James... She couldn’t stop from looking back again. “He won’t be coming.”

Slow and mean his words drew her stormy eyes back his way. How that green fire blazed at him. Soon he would destroy the hope she threw out in his path. She would be a fighter and he looked forward to it all. Changing his plans because of a woman wasn’t like him. But Conrad was a man that made decisions that benefited him. Having the stallion would give him the stake he needed without the problem of getting rid of a herd that size. And the lady, she’d certainly be better company than Whitney and the others. She’d earn him a pretty profit once he tired of her. Yeah, maybe Mexico is where he should take her. She would be a rarity down there, bring in a good price with the Comanchero. Mexico was a long ride. Long enough to satisfy his thirst for that ivory skin of hers. He’d tame some of that wildness out of her by then. The bile rose in her throat over the way his eyes penetrated her clothing. Dropping her own, she couldn’t stand it any longer. What she saw left her weak, she didn’t like the hopelessness suddenly surrounding her. Why did this have to happen? She needed James. Angie was frightened. Believing this wasn’t real would be a further waste of energy. If only she could take control of the lead rope, without it she would never be able to control Diablo. Breaking her neck wouldn’t help anyone. Think Angie, think. But what could she do? Lying in the cover of bushes James’ angry glare scanned the herd. He failed to locate her in their midst. Hooper and Michael came crawling back to join him. Slowly they edged back down the hill. “There’s only ten of them with the herd.” James didn’t have to ask. Both the men shook their heads against his silent questions for Angela. “Where the hell has he taken her?” “Nowhere near here. From the way Whitney is carrying on down there, I don’t think things are going as planned.” “We’ll take the herd back after night fall. Hooper go get the boys, Michael and I will keep on eye on them.” They all knew what James was saying. After Hooper rode out, James turned back to face his brother’s dark scowl. “Where is she?” The thoughts that settled inside him since Bob’s excited arrival ignited his rage into a cyclone. “I should have gone after them.” “You know you couldn’t, not after what Bob said he threatened to do to her. You don’t expect him to be at the springs, do you?” “No.” It was the hardest admission he’d ever forced to give. Every minute she failed to appear, the stronger his conviction came that the man had no intention of returning Angela. “I want Whitney alive.” “Alright James, I’ll pass the word.” James moved off needing to be alone. Not going after her until retaking the herd became a decision only he could make. Without learning from Whitney about the kind of man that held her, meant his search could turn into a blind chase. He didn’t want to think on the position she was in and clung to his hope she would be safe.

The night raid upon the thieves was an expertly maneuvered plan of destruction. James’ men silently took out each rider, until only Whitney remained. With all his men in position, James took out Whitney. The man hardly satisfied his anger. He was a spineless coward. Dragging him down off his horse in front of the campfire, James wanted to tear the bastard apart, but Angela’s welfare prevented it. “Who’s got her, Whitney?” James didn’t show what the man’s satisfied sneer did to him. “You’ll never find him. He must have found your wife quite a prize to take off with her. Conrad loves the ladies, real hard on them, likes to hurt them real good.” It took Michael and Hooper to hold him back from the man’s throat. “James it won’t help. Come on, think of Angie.” Shaking off their hands, his body shook with the effort it took to regain his control. Walking up to Whitney, the man backed away from the vicious threat coming from James. “Where did he take her?” “Hell, I don’t know. No one knows him that well.” “You better. Boys bring the rope.” “Hey, McFarlain, you can’t do this!” “Who’s going to stop me?” Taking the rope, James began working the ends into hangman’s noose. Whitney’s eyes grew enormous over the object taking shape. “Somebody stop him.” The men stood in place, no one’s expression changed. “You killed two men, Whitney.” “I didn’t, it was Conrad, he’s the one.” “We don’t have Conrad here, do we Whitney?” “I...look, maybe he’s headed back to the cabin, yeah that’s where he’d go.” “Tie his hands, boys.” Two men moved forward. “No, I’ll tell you where it is. Come on McFarlain.” James held up his hand, stopping them. “Talk Whitney.” The man gave directions to their cabin. “Tie him up.” “No, you can’t do this.” James didn’t bother to ease the man’s fears. Turning away James’ only thought rested on leaving to find Angela. The scuffle behind him brought him around, his gun came out of the holster automatically, but Hooper’s was faster. James watched as the gun fell from Whitney’s hand, before the man joined it on the ground. “Bury him.” Looking at Hooper, “Thanks.” “You want company?” “No, stay with Michael and get the herd to Twin Creeks.” A silent understanding passed between them.

Michael caught up to him as he finished strapping the bedroll to the saddle. “James, the boy wants to see you before you go.” “I’ll bring her home Michael.” “I know you will, give her my love, o.k.” “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Entering the chuck wagon, James turned the lamp up. The boy’s sick pallor made his insides revolt. “Jenkins, you awake?” “Boss?” “Yeah, I’m here boy.” “He’s got her?” The lad’s painful words nearly stole James answer. “Yeah.” Jenkins’ hand grabbed his shirt, lifting himself up to face James. “It’s Bill Conrad that’s taken her. Conrad, the gunfighter, I saw him, I gave her my knife.” James grew cold over the boy’s revelation. “Take it easy Jenkins, I’ll get her back.” “Whitney lied, Conrad’s place is west, near the Black Hills. Heard them talking when they thought I was dead. He won’t take her there.” “What makes you think that?” James stiffened over the boy’s hateful statement. “Won’t take her there, too many men. Heard them say it was like a town...outlaw town.” James settled the boy back into the cot. “Get well, you’ve a home waiting for you at Twin Creek.” The lad smiled, and James ruffled his head, surprising himself over the affectionate gesture. Jenkins’ words followed him back to his horse. Bill Conrad. They’d only met by reputation on the river. James’ blood pump with ice. Riding through the night his thoughts filled with her image. Every detail, every moment they shared came back in vivid clarity. He thought about that first night and St Louis, the outlandish story she told him about time travel. Knowing her now, James didn’t think it was as crazy as he first thought. Angela was too different, unique. “We will have time Angela, I swear it!” **** Ignoring the plate of beans he set down in front of her, Angie kept her eyes plastered on the darkness outside the ring of firelight. Nightfall came and filled her with warnings. The way he constantly watched her, she knew her ugly thoughts weren’t far from what he planned to do to her. How to stop the degradation that was coming captured her thoughts. Anything was better than the horror stealing through her. Just imagining the thoughts going on inside that lovely head thrilled Conrad. He intended to make sure all her worrying wasn’t wasted. Rising to his feet he stretched his limber body out to its full height, smiling when she turned further away. As if by holding herself, she could disappear. Walking over, he stood beside her, his hand reached out and pulled the tight braid loose from the crown of her head, something he wanted to do all day. The long thick rope

of pure black hair snaked down her back resting on the ground near her curved hips. She smelled clean, all sweet, like summer flowers. His fingers itched to feel the shiny satin strands. “Take it out.” Angie bit her lip. Clenching her finger she held her body still. His hand reached out and wound itself through the dark rich coil. “Do it, or I will.” Holding back her cry for the pain, her shaking fingers went to the braid after he tossed it over her shoulder. Conrad watched as the solid mass of shimmering waves unfolded in the firelight. He had to suck in his breath over the picture she made. “It’s time to turn in, over there. I’ll check the horses, you do as you’re told and it will be a lot easier for you.” She couldn’t look at him. The tight spring inside her snapped. Never could she passively accept the fate he planned for her. Seeing him enter the brush where the horses were tethered, she came carefully to her feet. Trying not to draw his suspicions, she moved towards the blankets he placed out, but instead of stopping, Angie let her feet go. Running into the darkness, she didn’t care where as long as it was away from him. The thick brushes scratched and caught at her, but nothing slowed her panicked flight. Not until a solid mass swallowed her in its hold, then she stop. Hitting an unmovable wall that held her fast sent her frightened scream out, but the massive hand that covered her mouth made it a sad whimper of protest. Kicking, her legs were lifted off the ground as she was carried backwards...away from the camp. A rush of sensations flew through her fright. The body holding her was so big, too large to be that man’s. The realization that a new danger now held her captive made her try harder to escape. A new fear seized her, but all her attempts were useless in the iron arms wrapped about her. She couldn’t see who held her only felt the strength of the man. When his arm locked her against him, fear gripped her and the weakness stilled the struggles she waged. In a strange detachment Angie’s senses clarified, allowing her to focus. Through the trees she saw her captor come through the bushes. His anger over not finding her sent a vicious snarl from his lips, making her press into the man holding her, almost as if she sought his protection. Somewhere in her rationale mind the argument battled that this man was also a captor. But the violent raging man drawing out his gun was the threat that carried the greatest fear. Renewing her mindless struggles for flight, her silent plea for escape was instantly arrested by the powerful body holding her in its awesome vise. Movements other than the man’s by the fire captured her attention. In agonizing slowness the dark sleek figures took shape. Moving as if a part of the night surrounding them, they circled the unaware man in the light. Angie’s eyes grew enormous over the scene the man holding her wanted her to see. The woman in his arms stopped struggling, only her sharp breathing indicated her awareness of what was happening. Holding her above the ground, Striker felt the tension flow through her curves. The soft beauty pressed firmly into his steel frame awakened his senses to the earthy contact. He waited for the sign of any feeling for the man about to die. When none came he knew his suspicions were correct. Her flight into the woods already confirmed that the

fear and hostility he’d seen in her were for that man. Together they watched the end come. The stunned look on his face as the arrows lodged in his shoulder then leg, forced Angie’s head back against the assault. The scream of pain cutting through the night forced her eyes to squeeze shut, thankful when it finally ended. The sudden movement jerked her back to the present. She was being carried away from the ugly scene. She felt the other’s presence though she couldn’t really see much more than the swift shadows moving around them. That terrible man was dead, she should be free to go to James, but something, someone, prevented that from happening. A fierce rage came to life inside her. The injustice proved too great and her body caroled into action against the new threat. Striker issued his curt orders, his attention fully on the woman springing to life against him. Her feet were taking deliberate aim to inflict severe injury to his male pride. Swinging her lithely to his side he held her like an errant child, ending the threat, but not the fight she waged for freedom. Releasing her mouth, his eyes darkened over the vicious threats that spewed out. Holding her with one arm pinning her flying fist he lifted her with him onto his horse. The hard landing knocked the breath from her and for a moment her struggles ceased. Striker had too much ground to cover to let her vent her rage. He quickly tied her wrist before the jolt he’d given her wore off. His powerful arms turned her around jerking her back firmly into his body, where his thick thighs locked her in place. Everything happened in a swirl. Before she could catch her breath, the horse lunged forward, throwing her back against the man. Angie squirmed over the very real contact of male form. His body overpowered hers by size alone. The rippling forearm hugging her waist made her teeth bare down to silence the moan she wanted to give in to. The defeat she felt wouldn’t make him go away. Chancing a look to each side, Angie saw the truth of her fears come to life. The breathless admission she’d tried not to see came unbidden. Indians. Closing her eyes, Angie willed only one man’s image to fill her thoughts. ‘James, oh James, I depended on you from the start, please come to me, now. I need you. I never told you...I love you.’ The woman’s trembling finally calmed. Careful not to wake her, Striker eased her legs over to one side, bringing her within the cradle of his arms. Her soft warm breath fanned the bare skin of his chest. The delicate features were cast in the moon’s illumination. His hand moved the thick waves of hair back from her face so he could see her more clearly. The long midnight tresses were like a blanket of mink against his arm. She held rare qualities most women would envy. He knew he did not ignore that fact since seeing her this afternoon. Following their progress, the man had been a careless fool not to notice their presence. Looking on her, Striker decided she could blind a man’s senses. A warrior could easily fall prey to the charms of a woman such as this. Striker refused to listen to the possibility that he already fell under her magic. He wanted the stallion. She was only an added captive that ran into his arms...for protection? That man must have taken her, she was not his. Striker smiled knowing he’d ruined the man’s plan to make it so. She was now his captive. His to do with as he pleased. It turned into a weighty

thought, one he would have to think on. Already he’d seen the hunger in his brothers’ eyes. She would be too valuable to take lightly. The stallion was no small prize either. Had that man stole them both? Striker believed it to be true. His thoughts darkened. Who did she belong to? A man that held such a horse and woman, would not easily give them up. Sensing the way she felt against his flesh, Striker didn’t take the warnings coming to him lightly. Her man would come. Keeping his prizes would test his abilities. A proven warrior his chest swelled in determined pride. No man ever bettered Striker. This woman’s wouldn’t. Stroking the silken sheen at her temple, his stormy black eyes softened. She would not willingly accept what the spirits changed. He had not been the instrument of destruction, but neither would he give back what he now held. **** The sun intruded on Angie’s exhausted sleep. Raising her arms against the assault, she groaned over the stiff ache in them. Arms! The tightness at her wrist brought her fully awake. Taking a steadying breath over the rush of events coming back to her, she cautiously opened her eyes. Beneath guarded lids she scanned her surroundings. All her fears were confirmed as her gaze came to an abrupt halt on the man. Kneeling by the small fire, his attention was on the skewered meat. Fighting her rising panic she watched the way his body moved, captured by the grace in the large frame. The muscles rippled across his shoulders, beneath the dark coppery sheen of skin. Black as the night the length of thick straight hair rolled with each calculated movement. A leather band tied across his brow kept it from falling in his face. High up his arms, pulled over the bulging biceps, were silver arm bracelets. She thought if he flexed the power at his command he would bend the metal. God, he was as big as she’d first imagined. Straining to see his face Angie almost gasped when he turned those onyx eyes upon her. Embarrassed he’d caught her scrutiny she tried to drop her eyes but found it impossible. His commanding gaze was like a magnet, capturing and holding her own. She expected a savage face instead of the proud, dominant features that held a masterful grace. The straight nose and high, prominent cheek bones, were a striking combination. But it was his eyes and their unreadable depths that held her fascination. When he rose to his full height on those powerful legs the spell was broken. Blinking rapidly, Angie pushed herself up to her knees. His hands lifted her to her feet. Holding her arms, he led her to the fire. Retaining his hold, his other hand brought up a large knife. Clamping her lips tight, she forced herself not to move. The deadly blade slid between her wrists, snapping the rawhide thong away. Putting the knife back in its sheath his fingers closed around her wrist and began massaging the tender red welts. Closing her eyes against the sensation, Angie wasn’t sure if it was his surprising gentleness or the blood rushing to her fingers that held her in mute acceptance. It took a moment for her to realize he stopped, her eyes fluttered open. He stood there watching her. Try as she may she couldn’t fathom what his gaze held for her. All Angie knew or cared about was the fact his eyes didn’t reflect the terror her other captor

possessed. Right now, they were a rainbow in the storm of her existence. Motioning her to sit by the fire, she did, taking the seat across from him. He didn’t miss her caution. Her breathing eased when he didn’t object to the distance she put between them. Accepting the piece of rabbit extended on a stick, she ate without tasting. All the while her eyes moved around the perimeter, stopping only when they found Diablo and Lady. Looking past the horses, she knew her assumptions were right; there were no other horses in his camp. Throwing caution aside she looked again at the animals. A blanket type saddle was now on Diablo, her own saddle still sat on lady. Bringing her attention back to him, she couldn’t make herself meet the intensity in his eyes. The questions filling her head were too chaotic. Had she dreamed last night? Where were the others? Maintaining her control became difficult when he rose before her. He moved quickly, exemplifying his agile strength. Her stricken eyes followed his movement over to the horses. She took a tentative glance around her, stopping when she sensed his eyes on her. Bringing her own back she lost her breath over the tensed stance he turned to face her with. Against her will, her eyes traveled up the spread legs and powerful thighs, over the corded expanse of his stomach and chest, to meet his forceful glare. Words weren’t necessary. Everything about him said he was ready to stop whatever she thought she might like to try. Acceptance over what she would face moved slowly through her tense body. Escaping this man would not be possible, wasting her energy trying was her decision. Throwing what was left of the meat into the dying fire, Angie came determinedly to her feet to confront him. Though she fought down the urge to run, her eyes blazed with the desire. As if he understood, he nodded slightly before turning back to the horses. It would take more than her small legs and Jenkins knife to beat the man. Angie wondered just how she planned on accomplishing such an unthinkable feat. Ignoring his offer of help to mount the mare, Angie swung up into the saddle with defiant ease. His dark eyes didn’t missed anything. It was a foolish act, one she regretted. She should have played the weak female and caught him off guard. She knew he would be on alert now. Sighing in self-scolding, she told herself to be more careful. Striker hid his mirth over her shame for showing him her abilities. Anger ruled, he didn’t think it would happen again. He already knew she could ride and well. His curiosity mounted to learn what other talents the woman possessed beyond her valiant beauty. Leading the way Striker listened as she fell in line behind him. If she knew how to throw that small knife, he suspected it would have already been lodged in his back. For some reason, he didn’t believe her capable of hurting another, unless like a mother puma she was forced to protect the ones she loved. He developed a keen awareness for the woman. His decision to take her up into the mountains, to his winter quarters, alone, was a good one. Until the threat of her man was eliminated Striker couldn’t bring any attention to his people. No, they suffered enough hardships because of the whites. To bring her and the trouble she posed to his village would be forbidden. A winter together would ensure the woman’s position in his tribe. If her man were out there, it would also give Striker the time to deal with him...alone.

Her lips pressed together in angry longing for the courage to take off on the mare. It goaded her to see him riding like he expected her to follow. He hadn’t even turned to look back at her, so sure she would follow. And riding Diablo as if he owned him. Where were the others? Was that why he grew so cocky? Were they out there in the woods, ready to jump if she flinched wrong? Pulling her eyes back from the trees, she didn’t think she’d see them if they were there. Looking up at the sun’s position, she felt surprised to see they were headed in the same direction as the cattle drive. The herd? Did James get it back? James and Michael would. Just as she was sure James would be coming for her. Nothing would make her believe otherwise. The man before her proved impossible to ignore. She couldn’t stop her unsettling belief over what might happen when James did show up. The Indian wasn’t just another man. But then neither was James.

CHAPTER 9 Unintentional Consequences The circling scavengers filled the sky. James urged the horse on. The dread entering him increased since relocating their trail and picking up the additional tracks. He felt positive, he was following Conrad and Angie, but the other tracks appeared to also be in pursuit of them. Were they Conrad’s men? James grew uneasy over the lack of answers. He counted at least eight other horses. The closer the trail took him to the circling buzzards, the firmer the belief he was about to discover something he would dread. Dismounting as he drew near the grove of trees, James tied off his horse. Pulling out his gun he made his way around the brush. The scent of damp ashes filled the air. Stepping into the clearing, his feet turned to lead as the sight invaded his mind. Checking every thing, he finally breathed…she wasn’t a part of this. James’ booted foot rolled the body over. Conrad’s unseeing eyes glared out of the bloated face. Looking away, James cursed the man and whoever robbed him of killing Conrad. The arrows protruding from the dead body told the story of what must have happened. The fact Angela’s body wasn’t to be found didn’t give James much hope. They were Sioux arrows. From the frozen horror on Conrad’s face there’d been no warning. The state of the body told him he was at least two days behind them. Losing Conrad’s tracks cost James precious time. James refused to think of the new threat Angela now faced. He could only hope she survived. She was strong; he counted on her will to get her through the ordeal she faced as the Indians’ captive. Picking up their trail, James followed it throughout the day. It was nearly dusk when he pulled up to study the sudden changes in the tracks. The riders broke off the four different directions. They’d been heading west. Now, only three continued that way. Two went south, two doubled back east and two more were headed north. Getting down he took a thorough look at the prints. Only one held the shoed prints of Angela’s mare. Looking north James knew he could be falling for a trick. It would be like them to lead the mare out so he’d follow. The three riders continuing west, one could be Angela. The decision he faced wasn’t likeable. If he made the wrong decision he would never again find the trail. Mounting, James started west. Pulling up, he looked again towards the north, for a second he didn’t move. Swinging the horse about he gave up the battle. Whatever the feelings were coming over him, he gave into them, praying it would lead him to her. **** Watching him to be sure his eyes were truly on the trail ahead, Angie let another leather fringe drift to the ground. Every time she dropped another bit of something she force herself not to look back. He seemed to sense every change in her movements. It came to her that she could help James find her. And as long as she could get away with it she would leave a trail of evidence. Bits of Lady’s mane, thankfully the horse didn’t feel the shanks of hair her fingers yanked out. She’d left them draped over branches as she passed. Her boot tassels were missing from the top half on each side. She

didn’t dare go any lower; the skirt hid the missing fringe. She’d even taken a few strand of her own hair. He’d looked back then, but all he witnessed was her ruse of braiding her hair. Before that she deliberately let it catch on the branches, letting the force pull the strands loose. Poor Lady, all Angie had left was her mane. Tearing the material of her blouse or skirt would be too loud. That man’s ears heard everything. At least he couldn’t see behind him. Captivated by her scheme, she missed the fact that he pulled up the stallion. It wasn’t until his hand grabbed Lady’s bridle that her head came up. His other hand closed over her wrist, raising it up from the horse’s mane. Her fingers closed in defiance over the condemning evidence. The violent curse passing his thinned lips didn’t have to be in English. Angie braced herself for what might come. Seeing him pull out a piece of rawhide rope, her leg came striking out in retaliation. Almost unseating him, Angie swung Lady about, bringing the horse high in the air in a deliberate attempt to strike him. He rolled over the side of Diablo avoiding the flying hooves. Ducking low over the mare’s back to avoid the branches she urged the mare on. She almost screamed hearing the horse baring down on them. It was a stupid attempt and she knew it before his hands took hold of her. Arms and legs struck out at anything they could find. She refused to give up. All her anger and hurt gave her a surge of strength to battle the power she couldn’t possibly win against. Striker fought the hellcat attacking him. Her small fist connected with his solid flesh. Not wanting to hurt her for doing what he expected before this, he tried to be careful as he set her down on the ground. The sudden release at first stunned her. Her eyes searched to find the cause. Not ten feet from her stood the Indian. His long powerful legs were bent prone to attack. Stepping back Angie tried to find a clear path to run. All around them the trees and thick brush blocked her way. A thought came and she was too scared to question it. Taking off towards the trees, instead of running around them, she ducked down and crawled into the bushes. The man’s stunned curses followed her, but were lost the deeper she went in. On hands and knees Angie kept going. Her heart pounded in her head. She could hear his running footsteps searching for her. When they stopped so did she. She could sense him trying to locate her. She cringed, sure she could feel his eyes raking over the brush that hid her from view. She wanted to scream out under the pressure building inside her, but with a will surpassing any before she remained silent and unmoving. Ages passed, her body cramped over holding the same position. He hadn’t moved, she heard nothing. It was a waiting game, a game of nerves. His dark eyes moved like a hunter over the thicket. She was still in there; he could sense her illusive presence. Bending soundlessly, Striker gathered up some stones. Aiming his shots well, he started to methodically throw the stones into the thicket, one in front of the other from the perimeter. The blood drummed at her temples. Each step brought him closer. If she didn’t run soon he’d be right on top of her. Filling her lungs, Angie made her move just as she heard

his step beside her. Turning, she rose to run the other way. Looking back she realized her mistake too late. Nearly running directly into his large waiting form, she ducked to avoid him. Gyrating he moved quicker, anticipating her move and catching her about the waist. His large arms lifted her up like a feather, depositing her over his shoulder. Angie’s fist pummeled his back, getting no response for the exhausting effort. When his hands pulled back, first one side of her skirt than the other, her fist stopped in mid air. True fear shook her to her bones. He knew exactly what she’d done. Bringing her off his shoulder, he placed her under his arm at his side. Angie saw only the ground, closing her eyes she didn’t want to know what he would do next. Her squeal filled the air when he lifted her up. Opening her eyes her hands came out in time to land on Diablo’s neck. Vaulting up behind her he pulled her into his body’s encompassing prison. The arm about her waist tightened, daring her to fight him as it squeezed the remaining air from her lungs before slowly releasing the vise. The act took the last of her strength, when he brought her fully against him Angie didn’t have any fight left. His nostrils flared over the woman’s enticing fragrance. For now she was willing to accept where she belonged. He’d underestimated her he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Striker no longer doubted the presence that followed. But from here on, her man would have to work to follow their assent into the mountain range. The gag cut into the side of her mouth. Resting her head back against the tree trunk he’d tied her to Angie only had herself to blame for the harsh treatment. The Indian was once again going back to cover their trail. It became a ritual he’d taken up since discovering her tricks. Each time he tied her so securely she couldn’t move a muscle, and every time Angie felt her strength deserting her further. She felt so tired, but resting while he was gone wasn’t possible. The crazy thoughts that assaulted her wouldn’t allow any blessed sleep. If he failed to return it would mean her death. The tiniest noise in the darkening forest sent fear running through her. Pictures of bears and mountain lions prevailed. She couldn’t even defend herself should they materialize. It seemed like hours before he would silently appear before her. He didn’t come directly to her this time. Wondering why her gaze fastened on his movements. When he began tying the squares of doeskin about the horse’s hooves, she couldn’t understand the reason. Whatever this strange turn meant, she knew they weren’t stopping as she’d hoped. The sun began to set and all she wanted to do was lay down and sleep. Riding in front of him the balance of the day exhausted her. His constant nearness and her struggle not to touch him took all her energy. He’d refused her attempts, locking her firmly to his frame. His body’s savage heat invaded every inch of her being, forcing her to face what he meant to her. The truth became something she swore to fight until the strength left her. Repeating to herself, only James, only he held her heart, no other, never. It was strange how she felt the Indian’s understanding for what she fought against. There was something almost akin to respect in his gaze for her. Sadly, she also saw his determination not to let her win their silent battle. Angie mourned the defeat his presence instilled. Fighting him seemed a wasteful thing, but to give in would mean destroying the hope she clung to concerning James.

Tying the last hoof, she failed to notice that he’d finished. Watching her beautiful evergreen eyes, Striker could guess the direction of her veiled thoughts. Silently he vowed he would crush the force of her hopes. Time would help him. Her protective barriers were firmly in place. The war they would soon engage in could become fierce. Already, she faced her surrender to the physical power he held over her. That she hated the admission didn’t surprise him. For a woman he felt proud of the strength she possessed. She was worthy of a man of Striker’s caliber. A weak woman would drain him of his strength and prowess; he couldn’t allow that intrusion. The squaws of the village were weak, beaten by the hardships forced upon them from the constant fear and flight to escape the white invasion. Striker felt that he found a white woman worthy to fight her own blood’s destruction. She could give him the healthy sons he desired. The conviction came to him during the night. Using one of their own, mixing of the bloods and his would be dominant, his sons would be Sioux, but they would need the woman’s blood to survive. She would see they did. See they possessed the cunning of their enemy to win. Untying her he didn’t wait for her to rise. Picking her up in his powerful arms, her own held back from holding onto him. Soon she would trust him, for now it was as he expected. She was tired; they would ride all night. Striker wanted to reach the cavern before the snows came. The air grew heavy with its burden. Settling her before him she didn’t resist as he cradled her against him. Pulling the fur robe about them he wrapped her chilled skin in his warmth. Latching it closed they started out. She would soon be asleep, then he could move faster. Cold drops wetted her cheeks making her move closer to the warmth folded around her. From somewhere her mind registered the night and the heavy snow falling, but Angie became too tired to care about what was happening around her. Striker eased her soft, pliable body closer. He liked the way she cuddled up to his large frame. She felt so tiny it bothered him. The squaws never complained of his size, in fact their eyes looked upon him in favor. He hoped that White or Indian, women were the same when it came to lying with a man. Hurting her wasn’t his intention. She would fight him at first, on this he understood she must. He would give her the respect she deserved, but he was the man that now claimed her, she would have to accept the fate binding them as one. **** James’ anxious eyes searched for another sign. Leaning low out of the saddle his finger scooped up the torn piece of rawhide. Pressing it to his lips he smiled over what Angie left for him to find. He’d been right to come north, thankfully she’d been able to tell so. Her signs started this morning. She’d certainly been inventive, using things he would recognize. James didn’t want to think over the chance she was taking. Her defiant act could cause her captor to retaliate in ways James refused to consider. Close to noon Angela’s signs suddenly ended. He couldn’t shake the sick conviction that she’d been caught. The lack of her guidance meant wasted hours searching until he could again pick up their trail. They were headed for the mountains. Damn, it was so close to Twin Creeks he was afraid to let himself admit it. This savage must have a hunting lodge or winter camp

hidden up here. James drew so close to them, maybe a half day behind, Angie gave him the help he needed to catch up. But he knew the going from now on would be nearly impossible to track. The savage nearly covered everything. The signs of a struggle he’d come upon were the only visible evidence of her existence. God, it almost killed James to see the proof of the fight she’d wage against the man. Having a clear print of the man finally gave James some idea of just who he would be up against. The leg spread between footprints out did his own gait. Rage filled him for the brute holding her. “God, Angela don’t fight him.” A new fear seized him over the wrath her stubbornness might bring down upon her. She was smart and he hoped she realized the potential danger the man posed to her. He needed to reach her and soon. James grew puzzled over the man’s actions. Why did he bring her up here, alone? Why not to his village? Answers eluded him. The time it took to relocate their trail infuriated him. He’d been right, they were headed directly up the mountain. If only he had an idea of where? The sky kept getting darker with the impending snowfall. He’d lose all chance of following them if it started. “Damn you! You’ll not keep her! If it takes me forever, I will get her back!” His violent curse echoed through the sheer cliffs. Going on in the dark would be foolish; he wouldn’t be any good to her dead. Anger possessed James to build a large fire. “I’m here you bastard. Feel me and know I’m coming for her. She’s my wife and no one will keep us apart!” Sitting on the stallion at the top of the rise Striker’s eyes blazed with the rage he felt directed at him. The man’s fire looked small from this distance, but Striker knew the anger that fueled it was driven by a fierce fury. Touching and holding the man’s possessions created a bond between them. “Your search will be long and harsh. I will be waiting.” The woman stirred and moaned in his arms as if she sensed his closeness. Tightening his hold, he urged the stallion on; taking her away from the man’s far reaching power. Striker felt the need for haste steal over him. Killing the bond between these two was vital in order to hold her. Their battles would start tomorrow. **** A chilling uneasiness replaced the deep sleep that held her. Angie’s eyes slowly focused over the unfamiliar surroundings. The high walls of solid rock loomed over her. Her hands felt the ground beneath her. Where was she? The fire was blazing, she could smell something like corn coming from the pot, but there was no sign of him. Sitting up, the howling wind drew her to the cave’s opening. Outside it looked like a moving wall of swirling white. “Snow...” Her breathless exclamation brought her closer. Wrapping the blanket around her, Angie was drawn to the new sight. Standing before the entrance her hand went beyond the invisible wall of warmth. The force of the whipping snow stung her hand. Jerking it back, “I never realized.” All the movies made it appear so gentle and soft, not this torrent. “Of course, it must be a blizzard.” She should have realized, “James...” With his name the fear came. Was he out in

this? She couldn’t see anything. She remembered they were on a mountain. Looking about the cave it must be inside the mountain. Right outside the opening could be a cliff, she couldn’t tell. All the horror stories she’d heard about people freezing and lost in storms like this made her groan. James was caught in its fury. A sad laughter escaped over her longing. It would be impossible to find him. When it ended, yes, she would find a way to get to him. James was here; she could feel his presence. The thought gave her back some of the courage she lost on the trail. The hair at the nape of her neck pricked in awareness. The man stood behind her. Angie didn’t turn to face him, standing there she continued to try to reach out to James. “He’s coming for me. You won’t stop him.” “Maybe you should not will him to you, I will kill him.” Stiffening, the man’s evenly given vow came through very clear. Somehow she’d always known he could speak English. She made herself turn to face him. “You knew he would come.” “I knew.” “Let me go to him.” She sensed his refusal before his eyes hardened. “Why not? We have no quarrel with you. That man took the stallion and me to get my husband’s cattle.” He hadn’t been unreasonable since she’d met him. She prayed she could make him listen. When he refused to answer her and moved to tend the fire, Angie stepped back into the cave. Somehow she knew not to pressure him, not now. “What is your name?” “Is it important to you, woman?” “Not really, it is just better than calling you man.” “Why not Indian or savage?” “I don’t know, I only see a man.” Her answer was automatically given, not aware of the effect it had on the man staring into the fire. “How does your man call you?” “James? He calls me, Angela. Everyone else calls me, Angie.” “I will call you...Summer, your eyes are like a deep pool on a summer day.” Angie swallowed the argument resting on her tongue. If he wanted to call her by another name, why should she care? “And what should I call you?” “My people call me, Striker.” She hated herself for asking. “Why?” His eyes came casually up to hers, she thought he smiled, but it was hard to tell. “When I was a boy my brother and I were hunting for the great puma. We hid in the cliffs around her den. Waiting for the hunter to wake, another more deadly hunter appeared beside us. This hunter struck with little warning, flying through the air to lodge his fangs in our young flesh.” When he stopped and stirred the coals, Angie didn’t realize he’d captured her attention. “What happened?” He didn’t look back at her. “My hand and knife were quicker.” “You caught a snake in mid air?” Angie heard the awe in her own voice and cringed. “And severed his head. From that day I was known as Striker, the Sioux warrior faster than the rattlesnake.”

For some reason, she didn’t doubt his story. Striker was an awesome presence. It seemed he could very well be capable of accomplishing such a feat and probably more that she didn’t want to know about. “Where are we?” Striker looked around them. “In a cave.” Was it humor? Whatever, she ignored his answer. “How long will the storm last?” “Long enough.” She couldn’t stop her feet from moving. He watched her nervous pacing increase and knew where her thoughts were. Dishing up the mush, he set hers down beside the fire. Settling back he watched her. God, she wished his eyes would turn away. She couldn’t eat and occupied herself with exploring the cave. She found the stores of grain and dried meats, even feed for the horses that were tethered further back in the cave. There appeared to be only one way in and out of the cave. She found a small pool of water that collected from an underground stream seeping through the rock walls. Turning she jumped. “Striker!” He could be so quiet. He set down a steaming pot of water and handed her some articles. “I will stay in there.” Turning he left her to stare after him in question. Uncoiling the bundle, she found soap and comb within the folds of the dress. Holding up the garment, Angie saw it was a light doeskin, like the one he now wore. Looking down at herself she hadn’t realized how filthy she’d become. Angie couldn’t remember how many days it had been since leaving the drive. Taking the man at his word, she hastily stripped off the dirty clothes. Standing naked in the small area she squeezed the cloth and let the warm water trickle over her skin. The bath felt wonderful. Drying off she pulled the soft gown over her head; it came down mid calf. The front had a deep vee with rawhide ties, which she quickly pulled together. Rinsing out her things, she draped them over the rocks. Striker included a pair of furred moccasins; their warmth too inviting to pass over. They felt soft and cozy covering her legs up past the dress. Stepping out into the main area she watched as he turned back from the entrance. His intense dark eyes drew a deep unwanted blush from her cheeks. This was a mistake. She never should have accepted his gifts. Looking back at her wet clothes it was an error she couldn’t correct. Dropping her eyes, she went to the fire. Her fingers were shaking as she began combing out the long tangles from her damp hair. Knowing he watched her made every movement a strain. Pulling it all to the side she loosely braided her hair. She couldn’t bring herself to leave it free. “Do you always braid it?” He was so close. “Yes.” Wanting to keep the distance between them, she started to rise, but his hand on her shoulder stilled her escape. He moved around her and sat across the fire facing her. Gripping the comb, her eyes were timid in meeting the danger poised before her. Angie forced herself not to display the turmoil drowning her senses. Somehow she must

find a way to take his mind off what she felt was coming. The storm howled outside, but she feared the one gathering between them held more fury. “Where are you from, Summer?” The question surprised her. The thoughts coming to her scared her more. Could she? It was a chance... “That is a hard question to answer.” His brow arched, with the question he didn’t try to camouflage. “Why do your eyes hold fear for the answer?” Maybe she shouldn’t do this. “I don’t come from the world you know.” “The white man’s world is not a stranger to my people.” “It is not this world, not this time.” Striker saw the strain her words caused. She was scared and it wasn’t the same fear she carried for him. “There are many worlds the spirit can travel. Summer’s spirit has come through the plains?” Could he really understand? Angie forgot the reason that had made her expose herself. Something, a need for understanding made her go on. “I came here from the future. This is 1875, by white man’s time. In my world, it was 2004, over a hundred years from now.” If he thought her crazy, his expression didn’t change. She’d come to her knees in her excitement. “What was your world like?” “Oh Striker, it’s so different. How can I explain?” Angie groped for something he could relate to. “Have you seen the railroads?” His face changed over her question. “It rides on metal tracks that destroy the land. The men kill everything for sport, not food.” Caught up in the step she’d taken, Angie failed to notice the dangerous change in the man. “Soon there will be more machines like the railroad. Horseless carriages will replace the wagons and horses. In thirty years towns will be everywhere. They will find gold first in the Dakotas, I think, and then California. It will bring people to the land and all the way to the Pacific Ocean. People, white men, will flood the land, raping it of the riches it holds.” “Settlers will come and claim the lands as theirs.” She tried to remember things he might be aware of. “The country will be divided into more states.” “This is all white law, not the people’s.” Angie heard the anger vibrating through him, regretting that she said so much. “What of my people, Summer? You have not told me of the tribes? What of the buffalo?” He refused to accept her silence. “The buffalo will almost be killed off, only a handful remain.” “And the people, what happens to my people? Your eyes say you know. Summer?” “Striker, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “Tell me, Summer.” Her eyes brightened and she was angry with herself for being so selfish. “The white man will take everything. The Indians, all the tribes, will be rounded up onto reservations, life will be hard and unfair. You will fight, but it doesn’t stop what is coming. The people will be pushed further west. I remember there were Cheyenne and

Sioux.” “We are strong Summer, how can this happen?” “War, disease, starvation. The “Trail of Tears” is only the beginning.” He came to his feet before her. Angie rose to face him. It seemed imperative to make him understand. Whether she had been wrong to start this, he did have a right to know. “Tell me more.” He forced the harsh words out. “I...Striker, I’m sorry. I don’t know the details, only that it happens. There is one man, a Colonel Custer, your people call him Yellow Hair. The tribes, Sioux and Cheyenne, get together for a great battle. It is fought at Little Big Horn river. Sitting Bull and Red Cloud are the chiefs. They defeat Custer, killing every man, but Striker it doesn’t stop it. Red Cloud, I think, goes to Canada, but he comes back and is forced to stay on the reservation. He is killed there, his son was with him, but I don’t remember if he died as well. He never should have come back.” “Your words are painful, Summer.” “I shouldn’t have told you. It’s just...can’t you go? Leave and take your people to Canada, away from the killing? It’s not just here. It happens to the western tribes, the Apache, Comanche, Lakotas, they all face the same end. All the killing and battles don’t change the future.” “And your world. Does the fighting go on?” “Not with the Indians, but yes, there are still wars. Bigger and more destructive, fought with greater weapons across the world. Men fight, they always fight.” “And women, Summer, do your women fight?” “I’m afraid you wouldn’t like my views on that. Where I come from women have as many rights, the same as men. They are equal. In your world I am learning it is not the way.” She held his gaze. “Yes, Striker, some women fight, it is their choice.” “And yet you have feelings for a man in my world? He is not of your time?” Her soft laughter darkened his eyes. “My James does not always like my ideas, but we have begun to accept each other. I want to learn what he feels, accept what I can not change.” “Your...James, he feels the same? He knows of your other world?” Her eyes turned a rich emerald over her thoughts. “Yes, he feels the same. But my world? Does he believe? I think he knows what I said was true, but believing is difficult.” “White men do not see past their noses. They ignore the senses and what they hold out for us to see.” He was so adamant she dared not argue. “Tell me of the people in your world.” “Oh it does get better, many of your people become very rich and out smart the government.” “But not all?” “No, sadly much remains the same.” Angie sat back down with the man and they talked for hours about everything she could remember. Striker was fascinated over the wonders she spoke of and angered over the plight of his people. “They are fools to believe in these treaties and allow themselves to be herded to reservations. All lies, Summer. The young men argue, but no one listens.” “So you fight?” “Yes, we kill, but…it doesn’t stop them from coming. Your words are true.”

“You can’t change it. Go to Canada, find some land and settle there. I can’t remember, I know there was some fighting, but it seemed the Indians had more freedom and were treated right up there.” “You have given me much to think on.” Her eyes followed his rising. “It is getting late, the storm has ended.” Angie turned, surprised she failed to realize that everything grew still outside the cave. Striker helped her to her feet, so she could go to the entrance. Together they looked out over the carpet of crystal white snow. “My goodness.” His unusual soft laughter made her fidget. “I have never seen snow.” “In my world, it comes every season.” He was teasing her. She didn’t know what to say. “The snow is deep and dangerous. It hides the drop off. Not three feet in front of us the cliff goes straight down.” Angie stepped back. His arms came around her waist. She became mesmerized by his closeness, the feel of his breath against the side of her head. “One must know the mountain before the snows to venture out. A man may still fall to his death.” “James.” She didn’t mean to speak out. The tightening of his hold filled her with dread. She turned her eyes up to his. Her heart was in their depths, pleading for what she wanted from him. His large hand rose and touched her cheek, brushing back a wisp of hair, before turning away. The dark green eyes followed the man…nothing changed. Fighting the tears, her gaze pulled back to span the white fairyland below. “Where are you?” **** Pushing the blanket off, James stood and brushed the snow away. Searching through the deep drifts in front of him, he cleared it away, until he found the branches lifting them carefully up he pushed it away exposing the dry wood stock. Working quickly, he soon had a fire blazing. Scanning the darkening skyline he cursed the lateness. His search couldn’t begin until tomorrow. Taking in the terrain James made his decision. He would head up to the crest, from there he could watch for any movement. The snow would be his ally this time. Anything moving would be easily spotted, the man would have to come out sometime. All James needed were some tracks in this and he would find them. He didn’t expect the Indian to just lead him to their cave or whatever shelter he held her in, but neither was the man perfect. He’d slip up and when he did James would be there. “Don’t give up Angela. I will find you.”

CHAPTER TEN Summer Angie woke with a start. Looking around her she immediately felt the change. “Striker?” He was gone. The fire was down. Holding herself over the chill in the cave she gathered up some kindling placing it over the coals. On hands and knees she blew softly on the embers making them glow and flare up with each breath until the wood finally caught. Gradually feeding it more wood she finally had a strong fire. Placing the pots on to warm, the thoughts she didn’t want to come wouldn’t be held silent. Striker must have been gone some time. How late was it? She’d fallen asleep and never heard him leave. Checking the horses they were both still there. She gave them some feed and water. Going to the cave’s mouth she checked the snow for his footsteps, but didn’t find any. She didn’t think it snowed again. Remembering what he said about the cliff held Angie back from going outside. She did move forward seeing only air, she quickly told herself he wasn’t lying. Looking around the cave she felt sure there must be another entrance. Why couldn’t she see it? If Striker used another way out, it would to be safer than the cliff. Angie searched every where, running her hands along the walls, but nothing lead to a passage. “Unless you move through solid rock, I give.” Deciding she’d wasted enough time, Angie put her time alone to better use. Finding a fur pouch she went threw the stores and filled it with various supplies. If she were able to get away she’d have to survive until she found James. To the food she added a spare flint and Jenkins’ knife. Striker might discover her pilfering, but it was a chance worth taking. Angie hid her bag behind some rocks by the horses. Her clothes were still damp, so she brought them out by the fire. Last night they spoke little. Striker told her to go to sleep. She’d watched him from her pallet until her lids were too heavy to keep open. He’d been upset over the things she’d told him. Angie gained another night, but the despair she inflicted left her feeling terrible. She wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t bring her up here for conversation. She wished she knew something about his customs. If only she could convince him not to... “You make a good fire.” “Striker! Where were you?” Damn him for being so quiet, she’d never get accustomed to it. Where he came from is what she wanted to know. “I caught breakfast.” He dropped the rabbit at her feet. It dawned on her what he expected, when he tried to pass her the knife. Holding up her hands and backing away. “Uh, uh, I can’t do that.” “Summer it is food.” “Look, I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it. Where I come from meat comes wrapped in neat little packages, all ready to put in the pan. I don’t have to look at sad eyes or touch its fur and I won’t do it here.”

She knew she sounded totally insane, but the thought revolted her. If he wanted a battle she’d give him one. There was no way she could bring herself to do it. “This must be one of the things I must deal with about you.” His meaning shook her and foolishly she threw it back at her. “You could always save yourself the trouble.” “I’d rather clean the rabbit.” Pressing her lips together she held back the feelings this brought on. Angie did help prepare the other items, without protest. But she nearly gagged when she saw him put the remains of the rabbit into a pot of water. “In the winter one can not always count on fresh meat. The stew will feed you and take away the hunger in your belly.” Ashamed of her reaction, she didn’t have the knowledge of hunger. But Striker did. What little he’d told her yesterday of the hardships said all his people suffered from starvation. “I’m sorry.” “You have no reason. Your world does not understand the sacrifices.” She should, heaven help her she should have understood and she hated her lack of feeling, promising herself she wouldn’t let it happen again. She felt so ashamed that she tried to use her knowledge against him. Striker didn’t need to say angry words. Summer carried deep feelings for others. Her shame tore at him, but she needed to learn of these things before actually facing them. What she would confront in his life would be more different than he’d first imagined. His world and hers did not mirror the other. Summer still needed to come to terms with where the spirits brought her. Her medicine was stronger than he’d ever believed. As his woman, she could earn respect for her visions concerning the people. If they listened things might go better. He did not forget her words about Canada. He’d been there once as a child. His father’s relatives lived there. There was peace in their existence. The children and women were healthy and strong. He faced many decisions. If he were to move there, he could never look back. Starting a new life, the old must not come between the new. Summer’s words came from her heart. Her eyes reflected her own anger the fathers were carried far into the sons and their sons. Summer told him to make a new life for his family. Beneath her words she was telling him he must go alone, turn away from the tribe and their ways to protect his own. He didn’t think she knew he took her words to include her and the sons she would bear him. But Striker did. No, he couldn’t give her what she’d begged him for. Letting her go was not possible. Everything was going wrong. She wanted to make Striker talk, but couldn’t find the courage. Time had run out and she felt what was coming. Heaven help her, she didn’t understand her own feelings concerning this man. She should fight him with every ounce of her being. Accepting this would destroy what she just started to find with James. Trapped by Striker and the snow, Angie felt the emotions going wild inside her. She wanted to run away. This shouldn’t be happening. Striker wasn’t a bad person, in her heart she could admit she liked him, even respected the person she’d found him to be. But she couldn’t abide what he was going to ask of her.

James was her husband. Striker didn’t care and Angie couldn’t grasp the differences between their beliefs. Because of some archaic code she now belonged to him and it didn’t matter what she wanted. Angie grew furious. First that cruel man, now Striker. He wasn’t cruel, but he could and would use that awesome strength in his possession against her...if she forced him to. ‘Oh James, where are you? Can’t you hear me? I’m scared. I’m so damn afraid of what will happen tonight.’ “Summer?” Jumping to her feet, “No!” Striker sensed the fright building inside her and she understood his feeling concerning her. Rising carefully to his feet, “You can’t stop this.” Her lips trembled. “Don’t do this to me.” He moved away from the fire. His body readied to act against her if the flight he saw took hold. “You have always known why I brought you here. I do not want to hurt you.” “But you will, oh Striker, don’t you see. My heart is not free to give to anyone else. I could never be the woman you want. I could hate you.” His smile was sad for her. “You can not hate, your heart will mourn its loss, but it will never hate. There is too much kindness and compassion inside to let darkness enter.” Shaking her head against his penetrating words, the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, stay away, don’t kill what I hold so dear.” “I kill only that which keeps you from me. If it dies, I have no reason to kill the man.” Her knees couldn’t hold her. Going to the ground Angie wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shaking sobs. Standing over her Striker braced himself against the pain he knowlingly inflicted. Picking her up in his arms all the fight left her as she turned into his chest. Her tears were cool on his skin. “I won’t hurt you Summer. Accept where the spirits have brought you. Don’t fight what you can not control. You told me all the battles did not stop the destruction. It is in my care they have given you and I accept the challenge it means to hold you.” Every softly spoken word drove into her mind shattering the fragile barriers of denial. Ever so gently he laid her on the furs. Kneeling beside her, his eyes never left her closed lids. Alert to the slightest change in her, his hands carefully untied the strips of rawhide. Moving down her stomach to the curve of her thighs his hands closed over the hem, slowly bringing it up. Angie felt the dress being drawn from her body, but she couldn’t move. Gripped in the emotional turmoil, she seemed unable to respond to the screams going off in her head. Deep, black embers took their breathtaking journey over the lovely curves of his woman. Striker never witnessed such beauty in a woman. Skin as creamy as a newborn fawn inflamed his male awareness. The ginger peaks of her breasts were taut against the lush mounds that could fill his eager palms. The ebony sheen of soft womanly fuzz held the entrance to the secrets her curved thighs guarded in tight protection. Still she kept the green gems of her eyes hidden from him. Her rose petal lips were parted beneath the sharp intake of breath that caused her breast to pulse in an inviting

rhythm. Striker reached out to release the thick black rope of hair that graced her form. His strong fingers raked through the twisted coils separating the sable waves. Softer than the finest furs she laid upon, the dark mass filled his palm sending a arousing sensation up through his chest. “Summer, open your eyes, look at me as I look upon your beauty.” He waited patiently for her to obey his gentle command. Unable to refuse Angie’s lids fluttered in protest against his overpowering image. She turned her head away to deny his presence and what he was doing to her. “Do you fear me, Summer?” “No...” “Can you find the hate you so desperately seek?” “No...please, don’t do this to me.” “Look at me.” His hand moved her head back to face him. “Am I the cruel man that took you from him?” Her eyes widened, her head shook in denial. “See me, Summer, see the man whose eyes hold you in warmth and longing. See only the truth not the lies your mind wants to hide behind. There is no shame in what we share. I could force you to give yourself to me. You can fight and I will suffer every blow to ease your loss. Only see the truth behind the lies.” His fingers brushed away the tears. His probing gaze never left her. “Let me go.” “You ask for what I can not give to you. All else is yours, but never can I let you leave. You belong here at my side, no where else. You know I speak the truth, you can not lie to yourself.” He pinned her hands above her head and into the mass of dark hair spread out over the fur. Striker knew he needed to give her pride, above all else he would never take that away. His next words were meant to bring to life what honesty cooled. In her heart she would always know the truth. She came to him in peace before the actual taking, that knowledge would always be in her heart. “You are so willing, my woman. One would never believe another held what I now do.” His body was poised to prevent any harm she might do to herself. His free hand moved over the snowy globes, working the buds to instant life. “No, you mustn’t.” Her anger proved slow in coming, but fight she must. “Your pleas are weak, my woman. Already your body knows my touch and calls out for comfort.” A furious rage exploded inside her, shocking her with its intensity. She almost allowed him...! “No!” His words poisoned her mind and she pushed them away. Like a wave the force ripple to life beneath his touch. His hand took hold of hers just as they rose to strike with the rage lighting her eyes. Ah, they grew as dark as a storm for what he deliberately brought to the surface. Striker’s pride swelled for the woman. He let her small fist come free and with them she rose to the attack. Her body was a glorious fever against his own. He let her vent her outrage against him, taking the blows that bounced off his rugged chest. Only if she damaged herself would he truly stop her. So strong did she fight that her strength was quickly lost.

With a great show of effort he recaptured her flaying arms and pinned her kicking legs beneath his own. His breath mixed with her own. He was so close to her he could see the gold specks of light in her large eyes as they glared righteously up into his own. “Do you quit?” “No!” “Then I must make you.” His lips took hers ending the game and starting a more heated and serious one. His hand reclaimed the prize. Pressing and rolling the tender tips of her breast beneath his thumb she groaned into his mouth. His tongue drove deeper, plundering the sweet fruit she tried to keep from him. Vanquished, he took all she tried to hide, leaving her tender lips swollen and breathless from his assault. His fiery kisses moved down to take in the soft mounds of her breasts. He wanted to swallow the honeyed flesh that sparked his passion. Licking and nipping he drove her body wild beneath him. While his manhood pressed in abandon against the heat of her womanly folds. Summer fought the sensations he called from her, her hips pulled back only to have her pelvic arch in wanton search for what he teased her unmercifully with. Striker released her hands that no longer fought against him, but asked to touch past her denials. His lips recaptured her own drowning the jumbled words, ending her battle. So sweet were the honeyed denials as they pleaded for him to take what was now his and in the same breath cursed the weakness she sought him with. His roving hand delved into the fire of her womanly sex. All soft, her liquid warmth filled his hands opening like the morning sun, basking under his manipulations. Striker guided her hips in place, his powerful thighs spread her own, she felt like warm sable beneath him, all womanly and wanton. His lips held hers, his manhood posed above her, together they drove to the hilt filling her being with his own essence. Capturing the captive, claiming all that was his, the woman’s moan came unbidden escalating to a frantic pitch as her finger clawed his flesh in a hold that demanded he come closer, even deeper and Striker gave her all she craved. Driving into her he plundered the sweet folds ravishing the beauty in his arms. The force flowed between them until she matched his manly rhythm, together they took the drum beat to a fevered crescendo. Striker pulled her to him holding her as he flooded her womanly cavern, spilling his seed to her very core. Her cries held the wonder that echoed his own. She was his! Holding her he felt the undulating soft flesh surrounding his thick shaft in a protective cloak. Striker had never touched a woman as deeply as he did Summer. Stroking the long waves he held her until she calmed from the force still sending tremors through her tiny frame. His fears had been unwarranted. She took the full power of his manhood and demanded all that he possessed. Lying back with her, he cradled her to him letting her snuggle up as close as she wanted. Pulling the furs over them his lips pressed into her brow. “Cry Summer, cry for the loss and for what you know has taken its place. Let the tears cleanse away the pain. You are mine, Summer, mine through the plains of time.” **** Time didn’t exist in their small world. The days passed but she lost count. Striker filled every second with his tender caresses. Over and over he took her on a journey of

pure sensation, where reality couldn’t intrude. Another time, another world, it became so many memories that blurred and faded in unreal confusion. Only Striker held her world. His ardent touch and masterful body became Summer’s existence. He took her on a journey of discovery over her new world. Teaching the woman, for the girl no longer existed, not here with him. He protected her from the dark troubled emotions, expelling them from their haven. Summer found warmth and love in a gentle way, from a tender man. His words soothed her fears. He listened, never doubting, of her endless tales of what would be. His acceptance of her earned her own for him. Nothing mattered beyond the smoke stained walls of the sheltered cave. All warnings of the impending reality were lost within the circle of Strikers capable hold. The sweet song filled the high cavern resounding off the stone ceiling. Striker let her song fill his heart as Summer herself now did. Gazing upon her, he marveled over the strength of his feeling for the woman now a part of his life. Neither of them could have known the depth of the bonding holding them together. Captured by the new and unfamiliar emotion Striker devoted himself to discovering Summer. He learned she no longer held to the lies denying her feelings for him. There was still pain for what she turned away, but her own honesty made her accept the life she now shared...with him. He told her that first night he would not kill the man and Striker would keep his oath to her. He’d been lax in not keeping the man stalking them in sight. No, his day and nights consisted only of Summer. Today he needed to go out and be sure her past did not infringe on their new beginning. Only if the man left could Striker protect Summer’s heart. He didn’t want to think on the pain she would suffer if he failed. A heart torn between loves could too easily shatter into dust. “Summer, your song warms my heart. You will teach me the words so together we can sing our sons to sleep.” The surprise in her eyes quickly vanished, pushed out by the warmth she held him in. She was an innocent in so many things, making him wonder over the ways from where she came. The old ones must be sorely lacking in educating the young. Summer was well past the age when most girls in his village give birth to their first child. The instincts she seemed to lack were a worry over the decision he reached to take her to Canada. A driving urgency took hold of him to protect his woman and their future babes. Striker wanted a good life for his family. A life free of the blood and destruction she made him see would soon be upon them all. As a warrior he rebelled against these feelings. All the people should be his concern and his body’s prowess their protector. As a man the need went too strong in him not to protect his own. The spirits brought her on a journey and lead her to him. With his life he would cherish the gift bestowed upon him. Striker saw past the present to the far reaching meaning of Summer’s presence now irrevocable entwined with his own. Her knowledge would warn of the paths to avoid, insuring their children and their children a future to be lived in the light. The darkness could be eliminated. The suffering ended. Summer came here for a reason, one he knew she did not understand as he did. But when she truly accepted the spirits’ fate she would see the truth. Until then, Striker would be there to guide her way.

“Summer, I must go out.” Those shimmering eyes held such trouble she tried not to show her concern. They both knew it must be faced. Her hands shook, spilling the water she was pouring. His large hand took the pot away. Tucking his finger under her chin, he raised her lovely face to his. Slowly her eyes met his. “You will be safe in here. The rifle is there. You remember how I showed you to fire it?” She nodded. “I will be back after night fall.” Nervously her gaze jutted to the barely lit sky outside. All day? The feelings it gave shot a chill through her. “I will try and get something bigger than a rabbit.” He was teasing her, trying to draw out a smile. Her attempt at skinning the last one had been disastrous. “You’ll be sorry you ever convinced me to learn.” Lifting her chin higher, “But you must. Many times I will be gone for days to hunt, then you must take care of yourself, rely on only your abilities.” It would be easy to argue. When he was with her she thought nothing could go wrong. But he was trying to make her understand. Striker wasn’t trying to take the independence she cherished away, he was making her channel it, make it work to her advantage, not let it control her actions. Her shy knowing smile filled his gaze. He was truly proud of her accomplishments. She tried so hard and was learning quickly the things he taught her for survival. His eyes darkened in a seductive heat. “When I get back will you warm my cold body?” “And massage away the stiffness in your muscles?” Her hands held a fire of their own as they moved languidly over his large shoulders. “I think what you should have asked the spirits to send you was a geisha girl.” She loved it when his brow rose in fake anger, when she deliberately spoke of things he didn’t know. He’d make her satisfy his curiosity tonight. Her eyes sparkled in mischief over the ways she could demonstrate. “Maybe I should ask them to tame some of your obstinate ways?” “But then I would bore you.” Pulling her into his arms, he lifted her up to accept his thorough kiss. Her arms encircled his neck trying to change his mind and continue. Setting her from him, “Summer could never bore Striker, infuriate, confuse, even humor him, but never will he tire of her.” Watching him gather his weapons and pull the white furred jacket on, he turned into the abominable snowman before her eyes. His huge body was covered from head to foot in the white furs. He’d told her how he had chosen the furs in order to blend in with the winter landscape. The flash of another image came, but she quickly pushed him away. Her hand reached out and touched his shoulder as he bent over the leggings. His arm wrapped around her waist. “What is it? Your eyes look troubled, all clouded, like a lake before a storm?” “I guess it’s just my womanly weakness. Be careful.” Her fingers absently pushed back the wave of black hair.

Striker buried his head against her breast. “You make it hard for a man to leave your side.” Her small hands cupped his face smiling down at him. “Good, then you will be sure to hurry back where you belong.” His low growl as he came up, lifting her over his shoulder sent her gay shriek out. “Let me down you big ox!” “If you tease, you should be able to take it as well.” “Oh don’t please...stop it Striker!” His fingers tickled her until she squirmed, trying to avoid him. Lowering her to the pallet he pinned her arms beside her head. “Now woman, I must go!” In beseeching subtlety her eyes drew him down, until he folded her to him taking her lips and drowning in what they promised. His chest heaved from the battle he waged against himself, Striker pulled away, leaving them both burning in unsated fires. “Tonight Summer.” Rolling over she watched him lift himself up into the small cavity between the ceiling and wall. He no longer hid his entrance from her. His powerful arms slid back the trap door that shielded the opening. Just as quickly he was gone and the door firmly in place. She knew it would once again be camouflaged from sight. Staring up at the darkness she couldn’t make herself rise. All the unwelcome feelings he kept away fell upon her. Her eyes brightened with unshed tears, but she couldn’t decide whom they came for. The sadness filling her became a heavy weight, carrying messages she didn’t want to listen to. Striker,,,her heart swelled over what he meant to her. But there was another, equally potent image always there beside him. Together they tore her in so many directions she held herself to stop the onslaught. Could she love two men? Two so very different men? Her heart cried out its answer, only confusing her more. Angela or Summer? Who was she, really? Did she even know anymore? “Why did this happen? I accepted everything! Being here. James. Why did you have to bring him into my life? I’m so confused.” **** His patience had finally been rewarded. Days turned to weeks, but slowly and methodically James narrowed the area down to this mountain. Taking up his hiding place, he waited. Remaining under cover, James waited to be sure the Indian was truly gone. “I’m here you bastard. Hunt all you want, I’ve already beaten you Moving out from the brush James ignored the trap door. Staying within the trees he made his way down the mountain face, knowing he’d find what he sought. Finally, he found what he missed before. The cave’s opening was effectively hidden behind a group of bushes and boulders. A small footpath covered by the deep snow was almost indistinguishable up the mountain face. If he hadn’t continually come across the scent of their cooking fire he would never have concentrated his search in this area. The harsh terrain and sheer cliffs denied accessibility. Knowing the man had taken the horses, James had been looking in areas a horse could maneuver, not a mountain goat.

Checking the area before exposing himself, James felt confident the Indian was off chasing the false trails he’d set. He’d left his horse and signs of an active camp far over on the next mountain for him to find. It would be sometime before he worked his way there and back. Enough time for James to get Angela away. He needed to get below the snow line. Once there he could hide their tracks. Clearing the path as he went so their departure wouldn’t meet with a mishap, he finally gained the entrance. Standing just inside the darkened cave, his eyes took a moment to adjust. She was by the fire. God, she looked wonderful. His frantic search failed to uncover any marks of abuse on her, allowing James to visibly relax. Stepping into the open, her back was to him. Impatient to see her, he spoke out. “Angela...” Her small gasp filled the room, he watched as she spun and pushed herself back from the fire into the shadows. “Angela? Its me, James, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” James? Was it really him? The man standing there looked nothing like the image she cherished. The lean face looked haggard beneath a full beard. Ice caked the thick whiskers lending a cruel air to the man. But only one man held those sky blue eyes in his possession. Their crystal depths were searching her own in such longing her heart cried over the pain he inflicted. “James...” He started towards her, seeing the instant stiffening in her body froze him to he spot. Trying to understand what held her back from him was pure torture. The ugly answers filled him with rage. A second of sanity told him not to show her his feelings. What she might do worried him more. “Angela, I’ve come to take you home.” “Where’s Striker?” His jaw clenched shut over the concern in her question. “If you mean the savage, he’s off chasing my tracks.” The blaze in her eyes sent up a clear warning that he better use extreme caution. Angela had changed. The reason sent a thunderous fury loose inside of him. “We must go now, Angela.” Could she? The battle was tearing her apart. James stood before her, the reality she feared to confront. Everything was all mixed up. She couldn’t bring herself to face him. Oh God, not after what she allowed to come between them. How could she love him? Them? Hurt and anger came rushing in. Why hadn’t he come sooner? She knew it was too late, what they had was now lost. “I...go home James.” What she just did to him nearly killed her. His body shook in denial. “You are coming with me Angela.” She called on every speck of courage she could summon to suffer his rage. “I can’t go with you, you know I am right. Leave James, just go.” It was the only way. She didn’t want to hurt him, but his pain would be worse if she allowed him to do this. “Why Angela?” Blinking back the tears, “You know perfectly well the answer. Leave it be James. Don’t destroy what we once had, I’m begging you.”

Nothing she said registered past the consuming anger shutting out her hateful words. He didn’t care what made her act like this. He wouldn’t leave without her. “Get your things.” Shaking her head, she backed away from the uncontrollable force stalking toward her. She’d hurt him, but it was nothing compared to the hate he would soon hold her in. If only she could get outside...Angie’s feet carried her past him, but James moved with the swiftness of anger at his command. His hand grabbed her braid, dragging her back against him in a hold that locked her hard in place. Pulling her back with him, she fought the cord wrapping around her wrists ending her struggles. Unable to break his hold her painful cry came when he jerked her arms back securing them behind her. “You want to make it hard? Alright Angela, we’ll play it your way. Whatever foolish notions you’ve got in your head, I’m just as determined to get rid of them. Now let’s go. Where are the horses?” She couldn’t answer past the wrenching pain for what she’d done to him. He misunderstood her silence. “Damn your stubborn hide!” Picking her up he carried her over his shoulder, searching until he found Diablo and Lady. Putting her in back of the horses where she couldn’t go around, he saddled the mare, dismissing Strikers saddle he used only the hackamore for the stallion. Jerking her up into the saddle he tied her legs to the stirrups. Untying her hands he retied them to the saddle horn. Leading the horses out into the main cave, he stuffed supplies into a sack. Taking one of the huge fur blankets he wrapped it around her and tied it in place. The tears wouldn’t stop, there weren’t any arguments or fight left, James’ rage had stepped beyond hearing. All she could think about was what would happen once he got her away. How badly would he be hurt by her? God, she never wanted to do this to him. And Striker! She shivered over what he would find on returning. Would he think she had run off at the fist chance? Believing what he was capable of doing made her groan. Two men carrying such strong hatred. It was a bomb ready to explode and she caused it to happen. Shock drugged her senses numbing her to the decent down the cliff. James set a grueling pace, forcing the horses at break neck speed to reach the bottom. Being tied left her helpless to the bone jarring ride. She accepted the punishment in silence. Nothing James did to her could be as harsh as the guilt she put on herself. She had no idea how long they rode before he stopped. The movement at her wrist finally penetrated, drawing her anguished eyes from their distant place. “I won’t tie you again unless you make me. Don’t try and run Angela, I promise you won’t get far.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her jaw from trembling over his anger. He didn’t have to worry, Angie wouldn’t rum. Sadly, she didn’t possess the strength to try. He left her there on Lady. Looking back he knew she wouldn’t leave. It was like she wasn’t really there at all. He hated what he did to her, tying her like that, but he hated what she tried to do to them more. She’d not punish herself for what happened, he’d see she didn’t. Somehow he would prove to her nothing had changed. James took the time to cover their trail and set out a new one. It would take an expert

tracker considerable time to unravel the puzzle. Rejoining her, he placed the reins in her fingers. “Angela, we’ll ride all night. Can you stay up?” Her vacant eyes seemed to look past him. Cursing under his breath, James tied a lead on Lady. He couldn’t take any chances. They were only a day from the ranch and he intended on getting her there in record time. That bastard would follow and James wanted to be sure she was where she couldn’t be reached. Settling this was something he looked forward to. They rode hard and James pushed the horses to their limits, only stopping when he dared not take them any further. More than once he almost left Lady behind. Diablo could have carried the extra weight, but it would have slowed them down. Right now speed was everything. By mid morning, James didn’t bother covering their tracks, they were too close to bother. Angela was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop. Crossing the duel streams he knew the ranch would be up ahead. On each side of the valley, the mountain ranges went back like a line of soldiers. James saw the riders approaching, recognizing Michael in the lead. “Angela, its Michael.” Looking back at her James smothered his groan. Pulling Lady up, he pried her hands from the reins and pulled her over in front of him. Her eyes closed almost instantly. “I’m sorry honey.” “James, my God, is she alright?” “We rode all day and night, she’s exhausted.” James carried her into the house. Michael hadn’t been idle fixing it up. The evidence of fresh floorboards, mended walls and ceilings were everywhere. “Bring her in here. I thought she’d like this room.” “She would Michael.” James lowered her into the full bed. Untying the rope around the furs it fell away. “James?” His brother’s eyes rested on the doeskin. “We’ll talk later.” Michael left him alone with her. Untying the moccasins he slipped them away. The festering hatred wouldn’t be still. He rid her of the Indian garments, tossing them to the floor. Holding his eyes tight he forced himself away. Rummaging through the drawers he found the crisp flannel gown. His hand lingered over the satin lace in loving memory. Shutting the drawer he closed it away. Covering her in the warm material, he gently placed her under the covers, tucking them in around her. “You’re home Angela, this is where you belong.” Before he turned to go, James gave into his need. The long braid on her shoulder soon came loose into a soft blanket of black waves. Turning away he picked up the fur and doeskin and left the room. Walking into the large living area he went directly to the fireplace and tossed them into the fire, watching as the smoke rose before they burst into flames. “Burning those won’t change what’s happening.” Michael stood beside his brother watching the garments burn. “No, but at least I don’t have to see it thrown up in my face.” Michael gave his brother time to calm down, pressing a mug of coffee into his

hands. “I started water for a bath for you.” “That bad?” Shrugging, Michael smiled. “I chased enough polecats out of here. I’d hate to start over.” “She’s changed Michael. My Angela isn’t in that room.” “Give her time, James. You can only guess what she faced.” “A Sioux warrior. Shit Michael it took me weeks to pin him down! He had her alone in that cave all this time. I’m not blind!” “Neither is she.” Blue met blue in stark meaning. “She is hurting James and so are you. Wash and get some rest.” “He’ll follow.” “I’ve already posted guards.” Nodding, James was too drained to argue. Would everything get better? He just didn’t have any answers. **** The angry war cry filled the mountain peaks and vibrated across the snowcaps that shook under the echoing rage. Striker’s fist hit the solid rock as his eyes followed the tracks in the distance. Turning back into the cave his torch lit up the room. Beside the disheveled furs laid the skin she had been working on, the stone rested where it had fallen. His enraged eyes blazed over the signs of the struggle she waged. “Summer!” Fury carried her name through the emptiness. She hadn’t gone freely, of that he was sure. He could imagine the man’s reaction to her refusal. “If you harm her, I will kill you. No oath will stop me!” Striker cursed his oversight at the man’s camp. Leaving the horse after finding him made his error twice as hard to live with. Gathering up what he would need, Striker strapped on the hunting knife and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He wouldn’t be back. There was only one place to take the horses down off the mountain. Even in the dark he could find it. After he got the man’s horse and circled back he’d pick up the trail by morning. His failure to Summer weighed heavy on his heart. The damage to her own was too painful to think on. Nothing would stop him from getting her back. Nothing! Gaining the open air, exerting his body as he raced over the snow cleared his mind to plan her rescue. He would be one against many. There were ways to whittle the man down and Striker would use every skill in his possession to get back the woman now holding his heart. “Believe Summer. Listen only to the truth in your heart. Hear me woman, believe!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN Cold, Hard Realities “Call Aunt Belle...No one on the boat...leave, the traffic.” “Angela? Honey, come on...wake up. It’s only a dream.” “No...marry you?” James watched her shake her head over the dream’s recall. “Oh God, I don’t belong here...scared, take me back. No, no, I’ll wake up, it has to be a bad dream...they’ll think I’m dead.” Wringing out the cloth he placed it on her forehead, trying to ease the fever that brought this on. “I’m sorry Angela. I never should have driven you so hard. Wake up please.” Her lips were dark against the clammy pallor of her skin. They continually moved and he knew she was reliving all that had happened since...she’d come back in...time? Yes, damn it, he believed her! Why hadn’t he listened? So many things would have been different, he would have understood. “Striker...please let me go. I love James, you don’t understand. Don’t do this.” His anger came to a boil all over again as she called out. “James! I need you. I’m so frightened. I can’t stop this...can’t fight anymore...so tired. Destroyed everything, too late, why James? Why didn’t you come? Heaven help me, I’m so confused. Striker hold me, everything is all right in your arms, just hold me. Too much pain.” James held her down against her struggling. His eyes burned over what she unknowingly told him. “I’m sorry Angela.” “Don’t hate me, I didn’t want to hurt you. Never wanted to hurt you, James. What have I done? I can’t stand what I see in your eyes.” Her head tossed and she fought his hold, just as she had at the cave. “Striker! I can’t leave him! Let me go back. I must stay. Striker don’t let me go... “ “Angela! Stop it! You’re home, damn it open your eyes, it’s James! I’ll not let him have you. Do you hear me? Angela!” “James what’s going on? What are you doing?” Michael’s hands gripped his brother’s shoulders. “She’s got a fever.” “Then yelling at her won’t help. Here, put the blankets on her, we’ll sweat it out. Go get some hot water and make some tea, there’s tonic on the shelf in the kitchen over the sink, put some in the tea. I’ll handle her, go on James...” James relented. Angela’s words devastated him. Michael watched his brother leave, sharing the pain carved across the angular planes of his face. Turning back to the tossing girl. “Oh Angie, what’s happened to you? Come one sis, let’s get you well, everything will look better when you’re well. That’s it settle down and sleep. No dreams, lovely lady, only healing sleep.” Holding her hand he felt her grip him back. Sitting there he talked softly just letting her know he was there for her. Slowly her breathing calmed and the delirium faded. When James came back, Michael held her head up giving her the warm tonic. Shortly after, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. “She’ll be alright now, the fever has broken. She needs to rest, come on James.”

‘It’s so bright. Why is there so much light?’ Turning her head, Angie tried to escape the light. “Well look who’s decided to join us? Come on Angie, you can’t sleep forever.” “Go away Michael...Michael!” Sitting up issued an outpour of protest from the aches shooting through her. “Hey, not so fast. You’ve been a pretty sick lady these last few days.” Michael helped her sit up into the pillows. Smiling over the questioning gaze she held him in. “You’re at Twin Creek. Though you weren’t in very good shape upon arriving.” He didn’t miss her worried frown. “James?” “I finally got rid of him. He’s been in here at your side for the last two days.” “Two days?” Patting her hand, he placed the tray across her lap. “Bet you’re hungry?” The warm smells assaulted her stomach, revolting her senses. “Ugh! Take it away Michael...please.” “Alright, but try the tea and a biscuit at least.” Almost afraid, she forced herself not to concentrate on anything other than biting. The biscuit worked and she finished it, then the tea Michael insisted upon. But the tension inside mounted and Angie gave up the struggle and put words to her fears. “How is he Michael?” “I guess lying won’t help?” The pensive movement of her head urged him on. “He’s in pretty bad shape. Mad, hurt, feels like he failed you. Most of all he’s worried about you. You want to talk about it?” “No.” “If you change your mind, I’m always available.” “I can’t.” “Hey, it’s alright. I understand.” If only James did. What must he think? “All your things are here. I put hot water in the basin.” “The room is lovely Michael. Did you do all this?” White ruffled curtains flowed lazily against the chilly breeze from the cracked window. The walls were papered in creamy white with the small imprint of blue cornflowers. Deep blue dust ruffles graced the dresser and chair. A laced dresser scarf hung from each side. A matching tablecloth reached the floor over the two-seater table. “I would love to take credit, but most of it was already here. Actually once the dust was cleaned away the place was in good shape.” “I’d like to see it.” “When you’re ready. Do you need anything?” “No, I’m alright, you go on.” Turning back at the door, “Angie, I’m glad you are here.” “Thank you Michael.” Standing before the wash basin, Angie pulled the ribbon loose. The nightgown slipped past her shoulders, down to the full curve of her hips. Opening the door, James saw her. Captured by her movements he was transfixed. She wrung the cloth over her shoulder, letting the water trickle down her bare ivory skin.

He should tell her he was there, but he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed just a little while longer. Reaching for the towel her eyes caught his reflection in the mirror. “James.” His name came out in a breathless whisper. Slipping her arm in the sleeves she quickly pulled the gown back up. He was behind her before she could tie the ribbon. “Why do you hide from me?” “I...” Her eyes dropped from the intensity of his in the mirror. His hands captured her shoulders turning her to face him. “Angela, I’ve missed you. I never had the time to tell you...” Angie’s fingers covered his lips. The bright green eyes searched his with sad conviction. “Don’t make it worse James. I...I never wanted this, honest.” His hands clasped her wrist, drawing her hand away, but refusing to let her pull back. “I love you, Angela. I don’t care what happened. Look at me. It doesn’t matter. You are my wife.” He wanted to stop the tears, end the trembling in her lips and body, but he feared her rejection more than anything else she could do or say. “You don’t...” “What? Know, what’s happened? Angela if I had any questions, your fever gave me all the answers. Hey, don’t look away, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The man forced you.” The flash of outrage lighting his eyes crushed her. It would be so easy to let him believe. “No James. Striker didn’t rape me. There was no force, not like you think. I’m sorry, I won’t lie about it to you or myself.” “Angela.” He couldn’t keep the warning out of his voice. Hating himself for forgoing all his self-lectures on how he wanted to handle this with her, logic deserted him. “Tell me you don’t love me, Angela?” His outburst startled her and she tried to pull away, but his fingers turned hard in renewed anger. “My wife...nothing has changed that fact. Nothing you say or do will make me release you.” Her eyes pleaded with him to stop. She feared he had already closed himself off from her. “Don’t do this, you’re only hurting yourself.” “No you’re wrong, the hurting has been done and I have you back.” “Why are you doing this? You will end up hating me! I can’t live with that from you. It’s my shame, not yours. Let me go. Please James, before we destroy each other.” The stern contours of his face reflected her fears. “You are not going anywhere, with or without that savage. If he shows his face here, I will kill him.” Angie paled under the force of his promise before he shoved her away. The walls vibrated from the man’s furious slamming of the bedroom door. “...I’m sorry.” Going to the window her eyes searched the valley with its grand mountains. “Stay away, Striker.” His words to her came back in all their shattering meaning and she knew they could

very well cost him his life. James would not reverse his stand and Angie was too tired to try and talk to him. His eyes had shown her the truth of exactly what she always feared from him. Anger and rage ruled, soon it would simmer into an unforgiving hate. Feeling as if she were being torn apart, the tears rolled down her cheeks. James was an innocent victim. She wished vehemently she could change what had come between them. It was some time before she left the bedroom. No one seemed to be about. Relieved she decided to tour the house. It was a rambling ranch style, with an upstairs over the back section. Off the hall from her bedroom she found a study and another smaller room that was taken over by a mix-match of crates and furniture. Directly in front of her room was the living area. A large expansive room ran the width of the house and was nearly as deep as the rest. The stairwell to upstairs went in back of a massive stone fireplace, whose chimney went up to the high ceiling. Windows were all around, filling the room with bright sunlight. Off to the left was a dinning room and she found the kitchen through a swinging door. It was a large warm kitchen, with an open eating area and table that sat four. A large pantry sat off from the sink and cupboard area. The rows of shelves still held various jars of canned vegetables. At the back of the pantry was a door leading down to a root cellar. Angie shied away from the dark door. It was enough to know it was there. Since her fall down another dark hole she had no desire to venture down. Making herself a cup of tea, Angie decided to take it out on the front porch. Wrapping a shawl around her the sun looked so inviting. The sheltered valley wasn’t as bitter cold as the mountain. Walking out onto the large porch she almost screamed when Jenkins stood up. “Darn it Jenkins you scared me.” “Sorry Mrs. McFarlain.” The boy’s face grew red because of her outburst. “How are you, Jenkins?” “All healed. Bob still won’t let me ride.” “I should think not.” Jenkins shifted uneasily. “How long have you been waiting? I didn’t hear you knock back in the kitchen.” “Didn’t knock...” “Oh then, why...” Angie’s question dropped. Her eyes went to the rifle he picked up as he moved to the porch railing. A volatile mixture of anger and hurt reddened her cheeks. “It’s a warm afternoon, why don’t you sit and drink your tea.” “I’ll make you some.” “No thanks.” He took a seat up on the rail. She didn’t think what was between James and her was common knowledge, but she still felt uncomfortable. If it had been anyone but Jenkins she would have gone back inside. “You look better.” “I guess I was a sight. I don’t remember.” “Michael said you had a real bad fever.” “I’m better.”

“It’s been quiet since you arrived. They are taking Diablo out to the herd. They found a lot of good mares in the group.” “Won’t they run off?” “Naw, the valley goes back for miles. Plenty of food and water for both herds. The mountains are a natural corral.” “Are you going to stay on?” “Thought I might, for awhile.” They fell into a companionable silence for a spell. “We came across Conrad.” “I didn’t know his name.” “Indians are funny people. Have their own way about them. Own laws. Some aren’t far off the mark.” Angie’s fingers played nervously with the shawl fringe. So, they all knew. It didn’t matter, only James did and she knew his feelings. She suddenly felt tired. “I think I will go in.” He stood up when she did. “Miss Angie, the men wanted ya to know…they’re glad you are alright.” “Tell them I’m grateful.” “Will you be coming down to the barn to ride?” “Maybe in a few days.” “Lady went out with Diablo, couldn’t keep him from her. He nearly tore the barn down to get her out.” She didn’t say anything. Closing the door she leaned wearily against it. “Oh Striker, don’t come, please don’t.” **** Angie was sitting in a chair in the far corner by the window. When the door opened she knew Michael and James didn’t see her. She almost spoke out, but stopped over their next words. “It had to be him.” “Well the fire is out, didn’t do any real damage.” “He didn’t intend it to. It was another jab, just to irritate me. First the well, then the corral, now this. What next Michael? And why hasn’t anyone seen him? Shit, he’s too damn big to miss.” “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” Angie came out of the chair and walked over to them. “Angela?” “It’s Striker, isn’t it James?” “Yes.” He hadn’t wanted her to know. What she’d do with the knowledge worried him. “We don’t know for sure, Angie.” Michael was only trying to help. She knew it was him, “He won’t stop.” Their gazes clashed. James’ hardened to an icy sheen. “This won’t change anything.” It was useless to try and reason with him when he was like this. Walking passed him, his hand caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

Looking from his hold on her to his eyes. “To make dinner, unless you would like to?” His hand fell away. But the anger refused to release her, following her to the door. Angie busied herself trying not to think. He came in again, under another excuse to check up on her. She swore if he came through that door one more time she would throw something at him. She couldn’t take this from him. “Tried and convicted!” Slamming the oven door. James came bursting into the kitchen. She was surprised his gun wasn’t drawn. “What was that?” “You mean this?” Angie let a pot fly past his head. “Or was it this?” Picking up another, she aimed it at his feet. “Get out of my kitchen...out!” Her order snapped him out of his shock. He turned without a word and left. “And don’t come back, not until I call you for supper!” James stood there leaning against the door. Michael came running down the stairs. “What was that?” He started towards the door. “I wouldn’t open that, if I were...” A pot smashed against it before Michael could put his head in. Jerking back he stood there staring at the door. “Damn!” “I tried to warn you.” “Like hell you did! What did you do to get her riled like that?” “Nothing. I treated her just like I normally would.” “No wonder. Sometimes I think mom must have dropped you as a babe and addled your brain.” “For a younger brother, you’re getting awful bossy.” Michael just shook his head and left. James smiled. Dinner was a civil affair. If Angie had an appetite it disappeared in the wake of James and Michael’s constant stares and over politeness. Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown the pots? Like everything else what was done was done. When they offered to do dishes it was all she could take. “Well then, I’m going to bed, good night.” She left them to it. Whatever sickness came over her it still lingered. She couldn’t shake the weariness, practically crawling into the bed. She didn’t have the energy to get up and turn down the lamp. Entering the bedroom he almost spoke out before seeing she was asleep. Easing himself in beside her he gently moved her into his embrace. It felt good to finally hold her. When she cuddled closer his arm automatically tightened. Kissing her brow. “Sweet dreams, love.” Thoughts of what she would do in the morning when she found him beside her kept him awake for some time. He’d deal with it; somehow he knew he would handle it. He had to. **** Her hand brushed at her nose to ward off the tickle. Turning over, Angie tried to

recapture her sleep. Moaning when the sensation came again. “James stop it, I’m sleeping.” “Really? I’m not.” His heart swelled over her groggy reprimand. She used his name...his. Taking her hair he brushed it across her cheek, watching as her hand lazily pushed it away. He let her pull the pillow over her head. There were other places to take his antics and he wasted no time in starting. There was so much gown and so little Angela, if he hadn’t found the hem he would have torn the stupid thing off her. Her back was tucked invitingly into his groin. His hand moved over the satin softness of her hip relishing the tiny moan he invoked. Extending his exploration, his hand covered the mound of silky heat, bring her back more securely against his growing arousal. She stirred. “James?” His name came in a cautious whisper as she turned over onto her back. His hold moved up encircling her waist. Every muscle tensed as he waited to see what she would do, now that she was no longer blinded by sleep. He could feel the tightening in her stomach and it caused his own to cord in apprehension. A fierce wave of denial shot through him over the pain brightening her eyes to a deep green. And something else filled the ocean depths. Was it fear? Fear of his touch? Male instincts as old as man rose with a force that wouldn’t be leashed. Angela’s lips trembled under its wake. His large frame folded over her in silent determination. Holding what was in his arm, possessing what was his to love. His hand shook with the control he used to restrain the desire alive inside of him. Capturing her head he guided the shaking denial that never had a chance to find its voice. Her lips were tight beneath the assault of his probing demands. The possession was swift, destroying each fragile barrier she fought to maintain. Like a starved man he plundered the depths past the tender petals of her lips, stealing her breath, drowning in her sweet warmth. Her small fist clenched, pressing against his chest, the battle lost to the man above her. The strong fingers wiped away the tears falling into the dark satin at her temples as his powerful legs overtook her own, spreading them beneath him. Raising above her, his fevered eyes took in every delicate feature. The plea from those beautiful emerald eyes was lost to the raw impulse he failed to master. James saw only what he wanted, shutting his heart and mind to the truth. Angry words or tears would not stop what Angie saw in him. Gripped by his need to recapture what had been taken from him, James became unreachable. The tears fell in spite of the knowledge. She cried for what they both lost and what she knew would never be found. When he took her, he buried his full length inside her, driving to reach the heart no longer open. Fierce in his passion, anger and pain lent a force that sent her broken sobs to the surface. Her hands tried to sooth the man whose pride she’d destroyed. But the tenderness was devoured by the greedy throes of desire that held none of the passion once given and received in loving care. Angie’s own body was seized in the cruel enlightenment of lost love and mourning for the devastation still to come.

As hard as he strove to recapture the memory, Angela eluded his reach. She became a silent vessel that lacked any warmth. Driven by the burning rage, the truth carried him to an exhausted summit. James refused to listen to what his heart told him. He wanted his Angela. He held only a shadow. Angie stayed in his arms when he pulled her over to his chest. Her tears were dried, her cheek rested in the damp evidence of their passing. There was no tender stroking. His hands held her in cold refusal. Thoughts of spending their lives repeating what just started made her clamp her eyes shut. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to let her go. Whatever James decided she would accept. She shuddered in betrayal over her acceptance of such a fate. Against her will, Striker filled her mind. To hold another man’s image and memory while being held in his arms became her final insult to James. She sensed James knew what she’d done. If his pride demanded payment than she’d not utter a word of protest. But in her heart she wept over the destruction he brought down on them both. **** Angie kept her back to him as he entered the kitchen. The silence between them carried into the morning. James joined Michael at the table. She couldn’t eat. Her stomach was a mess. If only he’d talk about it, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not James. Hearing the chair scrape she knew she needed to face them. Turning around those glacier blue depths instantly found hers. Their cold glare moved through her veins, making her knees tremble beneath the blue wool dress. Growing nervous under his unrelenting scrutiny, her fingers tucked a loose strand of hair up into the chignon. The defensive act only seemed to clarify the inadequacy she felt under his condemning examination. Michael left without a word. She wished she possessed his freedom. James stood at the table looking at her. Angie thought she’d scream if he didn’t say something. “We have to go out on the range, we’ll be gone most of the day.” He turned and walked to the door. Angie wanted to yell at him, anything to draw out his emotions. She had always known this would happen. But it hurt so much to be on the receiving end of his cold and unforgiving punishment. Stopping at the door, his parting decree issued its retribution. “Hooper will be staying here with you at the house. I’ve put eight men on guard around the complex. Your savage best not show.” The warning was clear. Angie took his hateful words, but her chin rose a little higher. Silently at his back ‘Yes, he is my savage, my lover, my betrayal to you!’ The way he reeled through the door, she wondered if he read her traitorous thoughts. She just made it to the table before her legs gave out. Lowering herself into the chair she let the sobs come. The fury of departing hoof beats resounded with their inescapable condemnation. It was so unlike her to give in to self-pity. But she couldn’t control the outburst. The prospect of living under his hate crushed the will from her soul. Was that why she longed for Striker? Because he could take away the pain? Striker...James called him her savage. The proud magnificent features of the forbidden image filled her mind, making it difficult to fathom the hatred James carried.

Fueled by the loathing between Indian and white, its dark life bred hate on both sides. But all she ever saw in Striker, was the man. Heavens, how she tried to resist the temptation, it was unforgivable on her part to compare them. James, now driven to possess what they lost would never relent; his rage wouldn’t allow it. Harsh in her honesty, she admitted that fate intervened and never allowed her the opportunity to reach the dark part of James. And yet, she felt as if she’d always known Striker. Why? She feared what would happen if Striker came for her. In the same breath she prayed he would. “Need some help with dishes?” “Hooper!” Flustered over what he must be seeing in her, Angie quickly rose and went to the sink. “No...I can manage. Did you eat?” “Could use some coffee.” “I’ll get it, sit down.” She couldn’t face him and used the excuse to gather the cup. The clear gray eyes followed the shell of the woman he remembered. His jaw clenched down hard over what he figured caused such a change in her. Hooper hadn’t seen her since McFarlain brought her home that morning, even then Hooper knew things wouldn’t be easy in this house. Rising, he went over and took the mug from her, pouring the coffee and another one for her. “Sit down, they can wait.” “I really ought to...” “What’s the matter greenhorn, lost your nerve?” His eyes expected and took the flare of pride thrown out at him, glad to see it. She walked regally past him. He placed the mugs down and waited until she regained some control. “Seems like I am your shadow.” He’d have been worried if she didn’t give him a look that said he could go to hell. He wondered how long the woman he discovered out on the drive could last under McFarlain’s treatment. McFarlain was a fool to smother her like this. Hooper knew damn well he wasn’t protecting her as much as keeping her here. That Sioux warrior could waltz in here if he had a mind and no one would even know it. He was damn curious as to why he didn’t. “I don’t cotton to being here on false pretenses.” Her eyes dropped, but came flying up under his next words. “Your husband seems to think you are in danger. Are you?” Giving him an unfaltering look. “No Hooper, I am not in danger.” If honesty kept him from shooting Striker than he would get an ear full. “Thought not.” Hooper went slow over his next question. “This Sioux warrior, when he comes, do I kill him?” “No.” She hadn’t flinched and he admired her honesty. “Alright, I won’t, unless he forces the question.” “He hasn’t killed anyone.” “You don’t think he will?”

“Like you said, it depends on how the question is asked.” “He’s creating quite a free for all, out there. There are at least two or three incidents a day, and never in the same place.” “I take it he is running everyone around.” “In circles.” Angie hadn’t meant to smile. “What’s his name?” “Striker.” “It fits.” True to his word, Hooper became her shadow. They fell into a companionable silence. She never left his sight for long, but Hooper gave her distance. Angie breathed a little easier knowing he would at least hold back from using those guns. Michael told her about Whitney and how fast Hooper truly was with those guns. She always suspected as much. James was too. But he would not stop before killing Striker. Striker would fight, she knew that, but she also realized everything he was doing now, was to wear James down. Striker was living by the oath he had given her. How could he be so sure of her? Sitting in the chair she’d claimed as her own, Angie let the deepening sunlight warm her. The day went by at a slow pace. There was nothing for her to do besides fix the meal on their return. She remembered reading that depression could be the cause of weary exhaustion. Pushing out of the chair Angie rejected the notion. “No, I won’t let it take over.” All day she tried to sort everything out and find some salvation in the mess she’d created. Striker was out there. She knew now, he was waiting for her to come to him. James filled her mind, tearing it apart. Could he ever forgive her? Before Angie could find the answers rifle shots rang out around the house. Running to the door, Hooper’s capable frame came out of no where blocking her exit. “You had best stay here.” Fighting herself, she nodded. His eyes searched her for a moment, before allowing himself to leave. Going to the window she tried to see what caused the commotion. A smoldering log rested between the men in the yard. She waited anxiously for Hooper to come back in and tell her what happened. But when the next shots came she couldn’t stand it any longer. Running out into the yard, her eyes didn’t find him, easing the tightness in her chest. Another shot rang out. Angie’s hands came up to hug herself and stop the scream dying to come forth. Following the gun barrel she instantly found the target. There on the far rise stood Striker! In blatant arrogance he remained in full sight mounted on a horse. She would have screamed for him to leave if Hooper hadn’t gripped her elbow and forced her to pull her eyes away. “Mrs. McFarlain...look only at me. They can’t hit him that far away, don’t give them a reason to try.” His harshly whispered words broke through the fear. Her single nod of understanding eased his hold. “I’m alright.” Believing she was once again in control, he went back to the men.

“Boys forget it, he’s not in range.” “Want we should go after him?” She didn’t see Hooper’s look in her direction. “No, he’d be gone before you left the yard.” Her eyes couldn’t break their distant vigil. He looked so noble and...angry. She could feel his infinite gaze invading her. Mesmerized she never heard the horse riding up behind her. The nerve of that bastard! And her, standing there staring up at him in such a brazen manner. James’ rage blinded his strides to Angela. “Angela go in the house!” Ever so slowly her brilliant green depth focused on the furious image stealing away another. “James?” The torrent in his frigid blue eyes consumed her, believing she created his presence to punish herself. She felt so odd. “I said go back inside. Damn it Angela its freezing out here!” Taking hold of her arm, he would have yanked her about only she seemed to go completely limp at his touch. “Angela!” It only took a second to realize she fainted. Scooping her up in his arms his long strides took the steps two at a time bringing her quickly into the warmth of the house. Setting her in the large cushioned chair by the fire, he started rubbing her icy hands. “James is she alright?” “Get some brandy!” Forcing the fiery liquid past her protesting lips, she coughed violently as the burning drink seared into her chest. Watching her, James knew she’d come fully around. “Feeling better?” “Yes...No!” Shooting out of the chair she pushed his hands away running for the bedroom. “Angela!” “Leave me alone!” On unsteady legs she managed to reach what she sought just as the wrenching drew her stomach up. Hugging the basin, the tormented heaves nearly sent her knees out from under her. Uncertain how to help, James approached slowly. “Angela are you alright?” “Get out!” She forced the miserable order out before the next spasm overtook her. Her tearful anger stilled his steps. Torn between his own needs and wanting to help her, he finally moved towards her. Taking her in his arms her protests were too weak to fend him off. He held her as her body repulsed what little remained inside. When the convulsions calmed he lifted and carried her to the bed. Leaving her for a second he fetched her nightgown. Finding her curled like a child into herself James’ large hands eased her back. His fingers struggled with the heavy dress buttons. “Please go away. I can’t...not now.” James stiffened in outrage over exactly what she implied. Shoving her battling hands away. “You think I don’t know you’re sick! Stop fighting me, Angela, I only want to help.” The buttons flew off the material. Angry tugs rid her of the stubborn dress. Seeing

the shock in her eyes, he squeezed the gown into a tight ball in his fist. Throwing it at her he stormed from the room. Seeing the rumpled gown lying beside her, her fingers dug into the soft material. “James...Oh James, I’m sorry.” Miserable and not wanting him see her sick like that, she hadn’t felt the tenderness in his touch. Turning on him like that was a horrible thing to do. Clutching the gown to her chest, Angie curled up with her misery and cried herself to sleep. After cooling off James was incapable of not seeing if she was alright. Finding her as he’d left her he finished what he started earlier. Careful not to wake her he dressed her in the gown and gently placed her under the covers. Pushing the mass of black waves away from her face, “Have I been so terrible, you’d believe me capable of such malice? God, Angela what’s happened to us?” Leaving her, James needed time to sort out the overwhelming troubles driving the wedge deeper between them.

CHAPTER TWELVE Truth Or Dare “It seems to be letting up today.” James statement pulled her eyes away from the window. “Yes, it appears to be a lighter fall.” She hid her concern as she did everything else since that ill-fated day she last saw Striker. It was also the last time anyone else saw or felt his presence on the ranch. A heavy snowfall started that night. When she woke the next morning, a thick blanket of snow covered the world outside her window. She prayed the snow was the only reason for his absence. This was the sixth day, an accumulation of probably three feet piled up and still more came. Angie decided she hadn’t missed anything by not seeing it before and this made up for a lifetime. Knowing he was out there in this, preyed on her nerves. Only telling herself he was more than capable of taking care of himself, quelled her fears. At least she hadn’t gotten sick again. One thing for sure, she would never let brandy pass her lips again. Just thinking about it made her queasy. “You want to play some cards?” Holding in her sigh, she agreed, but told James she would put on some coffee first. The kitchen became her private haven. Because of the snow everything pretty much came to a screeching halt around the ranch. James and Michael spent the last two days inside the house. She wished something would happen that would require their attention...away from here! The snow wasn’t the only thing that changed. James had taken up residence upstairs with Michael in one of the bedrooms up there. Angie felt like she was walking on thin ice just waiting for the fall. Although she felt relieved over the distance he imposed, she couldn’t help but be anxious over James. He changed. That she caused this latest attitude was obvious. Her unthinking remark sat like an ocean between them. She wanted to explain, but he hadn’t asked, so here they were, existing in a tight little world of polite nothingness. Which of them would explode first became the paramount question. Bringing out the coffee she took up her seat. James already dealt the cards. Poker, funny she never played before now. It wasn’t a hard game. But playing it with James was an experience. She didn’t try to beat him. She just did and it bothered him. It was that little nerve at his temple that told her so much. She was surprised in all those years on the river that he made a living at it. Was she the only one that noticed? Lucky for him they hadn’t. Every time he bluffed, it would jump like crazy. “Angela, it’s your bet.” His impatience with her sent her teeth on edge. “I can’t bet without match sticks.” “I’m tired of using them, we need higher stakes.” Her eyes shot up in concern, but his were on his cards. Looking at her own she almost held a perfect royal flush in diamonds, one card shy.

“Alright, what are we betting then?” “You pick.” Her? Looking about, she didn’t know what to use. “How about coffee beans? I’ll get them.” “No, same as match sticks.” “Buttons?” Shaking his head he never lifted his eyes from the cards in his hold. She quickly ran out of suggestions and patience. “Then you decide.” “Truth and dare.” Her brow rose in slow suspicion. His gaze came across the table and stayed steadily on her own. “Whoever wins gets to either ask a question that the other must answer, in all honesty. Or they may pick a dare.” “That the other must do?” When he nodded. “Are you sure you aren’t from...oh never mind.” Sometimes she wondered about him. Playing his version of a very modern game didn’t make her feel very confident. Telling herself it was only a game, she shrugged it off. Putting down one card, she picked up the one he dealt. It was the nine of diamonds, an ace would have been asking too much. Lying her cards down. “A straight flush.” Throwing his cards in, “You win. What will it be, truth or dare?” “A dare. >From now on I dare you to show me your cards when you lose.” “A note of mistrust, Mrs. McFarlain?” “A suspicion, Mr. McFarlain.” Her smile drew his own rather coy one. Angie won the deal, giving herself two pairs. He took three cards to her one. He had no problem showing her his three jacks. “I pick a dare.” His eyes sparkled so she began to have misgivings about agreeing to this. “I dare you to let your hair down.” Self-consciously her hand went to the chignon she began wearing. Hating the way his eyes looked so self-knowing, she pulled the pins free letting the lengths drop down behind her. Taking up the cards his hand covered hers. “I believe it’s my deal.” Pulling her hand back from under his, “Of course.” She could have kicked herself over the shakiness she heard in her voice. He was up to something and the belief made her watch his moves closely. “Do you want any cards, Angela?” Bringing her eyes away from him she finally looked at her cards. Three aces stood out in surprise. “Two please.” Almost afraid to look at the new ones she was almost relieved when they didn’t help. When he didn’t do anything, she laid her hand out. “I’ve three aces, I think I would like…” “Four kings...I think I get to chose.” Sitting slowly back in her chair, she forgot to breathe. “Truth...Tell me about the future...if you dare.”

A nervous laugh escaped. But the seriousness in his unreadable stare didn’t falter. “You aren’t serious?” Leaning forward, “Ah, but I am.” “But you never believed me.” “The truth Angela.” Was he serious? If he was tricking her she’d never forgive him. Where should she begin...”I was born on January 2, 1982 in Claysville.” In his silence she went on to tell him about her childhood, her parents death and Aunt Belle’s freewheeling belief in bringing up her unexpected charge. Once started the game was forgotten. If she slowed he would ask a pointed question. James never made a comment until she finished with that night on the Silver Queen. “You know the rest.” “Do I?” “Yes.” Not liking what he meant she refused to be lead into this. When he took up the cards, she just stared at them. “I’m tired James, I better start dinner.” “You’re a coward, Angela.” Sitting back down, “Why don’t you just ask what you want to know?” Had she played right into his hand? “Do the rules still hold?” “Rules?” “Honesty? Will you answer truthfully?” Her eyes glared in indignation. “I have never lied to you about anything.” “I never thought you did, but then I’ve never asked what I am about to.” “Go on ask it.” His eyes held the depth of an endless summer sky and gave nothing away. “Does he know?” Catching her breath there was no need to ask whom he referred to. Her back stiffened to hold her gaze steady. “About where I came from?” When he nodded, she fought to remain seated, dreading where she felt the conversation was going. “Yes.” “I suppose his reaction was different?” James watched the way her hands tightened into small fist. “He believed me, if that’s what you want to know.” Damn. She sounded so defensive. “This is pointless James. You don’t care what Striker thought.” His eyes pinned her to the seat. “But I do.” The cold from outside seemed to creep up through the floorboards. Her troubled question came out in a strained whisper. “Why?” “Because I want to know what makes him think he can have you back.” A brittle glint filled his eyes belying his calm composure. The striking blue eyes followed her cautious rise. “I must start dinner.” Ignoring the mounting fury trying to stare her down, Angie made her legs move. She concentrated on reaching the door and the escape it offered. The scrape of his chair behind her felt like nails on a chalkboard. “What are you afraid of Angie?” Her lips trembled in silence. Pushing through the door she never looked back. Holding her breath she prayed he wouldn’t follow. Gripping the sink, she was shaking

from head to toe as she pulled forgotten air into her lungs. The steady fall of white crystals beyond the window captured her attention. “I hate snow!” Days turned to weeks with little gaps of clear skies. But always the snow would start again. Angie found minimal relief from the smothering existence. Unable to stand the confinement, she put all her energy into fixing up the small spare room. At first she only wanted to stay busy and avoid James, but as the clutter cleared the ideas sprouted. The room would be a perfect place where she could go to be alone. Taking various pieces of furniture from the other rooms she soon had a small writing table and chair, and other articles. It actually felt cozy. James watched her take another set of books she’d found into the room. Tormented by the distance now between them, he forced his attention back to Michael. “…if we force the herd down the box canyon, barriers could be in place before they make the sweep and head back out.” “It sounds good Michael. We can wean out the mares and the stock we will start to break for the army.” “The contracts call for a hundred head.” “From what we’ve seen it shouldn’t be a problem. The stock won’t be of the quality we’d like, but that will come.” “Diablo will see to that.” “It’s a good start.” Both their gazes followed Angela as she walked unseeingly past them again. It was always the same, unless one of them spoke directly to her, she hardly acknowledged their presence. Michael’s hand gripped his arm when the door shut behind her. “James, be patient with her.” “Patient? How much more space can I give her?” Sitting wearily back in his chair “We never talk or even look at each other! I sit here day after day watching her pull further away from me.” “You’re still angry...” “Damn right! I’m furious.” James pushed up from the table. Hissing out the hateful words. “She still wants to go to...him.” It killed him to admit it. Angela didn’t have to actually say it, he could feel it, see it in those distant green jewels as they searched for...Striker! The savage stood between them like a mountain. Standing in front of the window, “You won’t risk her life in this, will you you bastard?” James knew the snow was the only thing keeping him away. Once the weather broke he would come. She knew it too. Nothing he did made any difference. He refused to give her up. “Damn it Michael, I love her.” “She loves you too, she always did.” James couldn’t bring himself to voice his doubts over his brother’s belief. She’d never really told him. Was it guilt that made her turn away from their love? Or had this man stolen her heart? How could he get her back? Angie saw James at the window, trying to ignore the tension rippling across his back she headed for the kitchen. Everyday grew more difficult. James’ anger was seething. She

tried desperately not to ignite it, staying out of his way. As much as she dreaded what might come if he lost his control, her own nerves were strung so tight she almost welcomed the release. Lining up the kitchen chair with the cupboard, on the top shelf she’d seen a stack of large paper. Climbing up on the chair she stretched to reach it. A fierce wave of dizziness struck her. Grabbing the shelf she held on until it eased. Taking a calming breath she slowly lowered herself and sat down on the counter, fearing the rest of the decent. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Her appetite was nonexistent. Even during her busiest work schedule she never felt like this. Always tired, knowing she should eat for the energy, she just couldn’t make herself swallow. Thankfully James and Michael hadn’t noticed. Angie brushed away the concern, telling herself it was the inactivity of being cooped up inside. Biting her lip she tried to keep away the nagging suspicions that kept surfacing. Shaking her head in denial, “No, I can’t be...I just can’t” “What’s wrong Angela?” “James!” Flustered and trapped, her mind raced for a feasible answer. “The paper, I can’t reach it.” She held her breath barely managing to cover her relief when the sharp blue of his eyes softened. Fearing he’d feel her weakness she refused his offer of assistance and managed to get down on her own. Suffering a flash of anger was better than the questions she dreaded from him. “You could have asked for help.” Keeping the pain out of her eyes proved difficult. Once again she hurt him. “You were busy.” His brows drew together. “Why...the paper?” He cursed his own cowardice in not asking what his heart needed to know. That building need to know if what Michael said was true, made him follow her in here. “I thought I would draw.” Her answer scarcely penetrated. James’ preoccupation with his thoughts kept him from noticing her body’s trembling. Needing to escape his presence, she reached out to take the paper from him. When he didn’t release it she wasn’t sure what to do, knowing she was near collapsing in front of him. “I better take it to the room.” “You can’t hide, Angela.” Afraid of what James wanted and her persistent weakness, Angie tried to make light of his words and their dark meaning. “Don’t be silly, I just can’t stand being so inactive.” Was the trembling, he now noticed, fear? Her relief when he released his hold and let her escape was far too noticeable, sending his own body into a violent wave of submerged rage. As fast as her wobbly legs would allow she left him and sought her bedroom. Leaning up against the closed door for support the papers scattered before her as the room started spinning. “No...!” Forcing it away she stumbled to the bed falling across the coverlet. Closing her eyes,

she waited for the whirling sensations to pass. Wiping at the tears on her cheeks she tried to concentrate. “Am I?” Moaning, she held herself over the unwanted answers that flooded in. After everything that happened since waking on the Silver Queen, Angie honestly failed to notice the absence of her monthly cycle. Never regular to begin with, she didn’t think there might be any other reason. How she wished she knew more. Could she honestly be pregnant? Groaning over the possibility, the thoughts that came with it took on monstrous proportions. “Oh God, help me...I don’t know, who...?” The image of both men filled her vision, James or Striker? Either could be the father of the child she could no longer discount as being real. Giving into the consuming self-pity, she cried for them all. One thought persisted past the hurt. Covering her stomach in a protective hold. “You won’t suffer, I promise.” Her heart filled with the strange new awareness and a fierce, shattering force that she felt for the safety of the child she carried. The child came before any of them. The strength of her growing conviction helped her to sort through the troubles. Recalling when the first signs of morning sickness appeared and trying to compare it to what little knowledge she possessed about pregnancies, didn’t lend any answers. No, the time frame condemned her, either man could be the father. The harsh truth made her seek answers from James and Striker. They both drew their strength from that unrelenting pride in their own abilities. If set side by side their physical attributes were formidable and equal. But the similarities ended there. Striker, his image brought a flush of unwanted warmth over her. He spoke of their sons. Had he known? How could he be so sure of her? Shaking her head it wasn’t possible that he could know, was it? Was she carrying his son? Angie tried to dismiss her memories, forcing her concentration on James. He’d never mentioned children. She didn’t know how he would feel towards a child. A baby that possibly wasn’t his? An uncontrollable shudder stole through her. She tried to rid herself of it and picture him holding the child. As much as she wanted to see the image, in her heart she knew exactly how he would react. Just as she’d known how he would feel about her, after... Taking a deep breath, she couldn’t dwell on it. No, she had another’s welfare to think of now. Coming to terms with this new responsibility turned into an awesome challenge and feelings couldn’t cloud the truths. James would never accept another man’s child...and never Striker’s. The child would be a lifelong reminder of what stood between them. Even if his pride could heal, his heart could never mend from such a rending blow. Would Striker accept the child if it were James? Hadn’t he accepted everything about her? If she allowed herself to believe, Angie already knew her answers. There was still James...her husband. A marriage neither wanted, but there had been love. How desperately she mourned its loss. Her heart’s longing could no longer remain blind. What they had, had only begun to flourish and neither of them could prevent it from slipping away. If she could give back anything it would be his pride. “Why did you bring me here? Why? Do you see the pain I’ve caused him? It’s not

fair! Do you hear me?” The rush of air against her tear streaked face made her sit up. A strange, frightening feeling moved over her. Angie heard the devastating groan, realizing it came from her. “Noo!” **** Everything grew unnaturally still bringing Striker cautiously to his feet. His dark wary eyes went directly to the dimly lit house in the valley below. “Summer...” A fierce, mounting rage pierced his virile frame, drawing every muscle into a tight alert coil. Across the snow covered land his angry denial screamed out trying to stop the destruction knifing through his heart. Striker lifted his tortured face to the starless night watching the soundless movement of violent clouds gathering in force, knowing he was helpless to stop their course. “We are one! I will find you! Believe, you must believe.” His living agony cried out to hold her. “Summer!” James heard her violent scream, running to her room. A force barred his entry. With strength driven by fear he pushed past the barrier. The room was dark, the cold air bit at his skin. “Angela!” He saw her, didn’t he? She sat on the bed as if frozen in fear. Reaching her, afraid of the belief entering him, James pulled her into his fierce embrace. “Angela, oh honey, what’s wrong?” His body stiffened. Drawing back, James’ eyes searched the dull unseeing mossy green eyes. “Angela?” The terror seizing him held its own life. Gripped by what he saw in her, he started to shake, feeling the strength leaving him. “Angela! Angela, look at me! Talk to me...please.” Her eyelashes didn’t even flicker causing him to shake her...nothing. Pulling her back against him. “Oh God not this...”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Discoveries The bright light pressing down on her tender lids made Angie seek the ebbing darkness. “...must go back. Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. James...Striker help me.” “Angela dear...Doctor what’s wrong with her?” “She is coming around, Miss La Cross. That’s a nasty head injury, it’s lucky they found her.” Belle backed away from the hospital bed to let the doctor examine her niece. Watching in anxious concern she waited for some sign of encouragement from the man. Damn, she wished she’d been able to get Angela back to Clayton and Doctor Abet. These New Orleans’s doctors are all so young, they couldn’t possibly know what they're doing. “She is opening her eyes now.” She tried to peer over the man’s shoulder. “That’s it Miss, let us see those pretty green eyes.” “No...wrong, let me go back.” “Angela? Angie La Cross don’t you close those eyes. I won’t hear another denial from you!” “Aunt Belle?” Smiling smugly at the doctor, Belle let the false sternness fade from her elegant features as she moved to the girl’s side. “That’s right Angie.” Blinking against the sights and sounds assaulting her, Angie didn’t want the reality to enter her senses. The dreaded truth came through her clenched lips. “I’m back.” The older woman let out a relieved laugh. “Well I should hope so my dear.” Angie felt the tight clamp on her hand forcing the present to seep through her defenses, no matter how hard she tried to prevent it. Squeezing her eyes shut she sought other images, other faces. “Where are they?” “You are in New Orleans Hospital, Miss La Cross.” Dr. Roy Blance was ready to shout for reinforcements in order to get the older lady out of the room. “Could you leave us please? I need to examine your niece. I will call when we are through.” “Do what you must.” “Nurse Jensen would you help Madam La Cross. Get her some coffee or something.” “Young man, I am not an invalid.” Inwardly groaning, Roy wanted to duck and avoid the jaded daggers the lady tossed over her departing shoulder. He gave a sigh of relief when the door finally closed. Turning back to his patient he moved closer, intending to give her the attention she needed. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, even with the bandage around her head and the distressed pallor; the artful features were inescapable. Pulling his attention back where it belonged, he was relieved to see some color returning to her exquisite face. “Miss La Cross...Angie? Can you open your eyes?”

The man she refused to look at misinterpreted her soft moan of disappointment. She felt the cold object being pressed against her chest. The finger lifting her lid and the flash of light drew a painful cry. “No, please leave me alone.” “Do you hurt?” Oh God, she did, but not like he meant. Her head held that familiar ache of so long ago. As if she needed to kill the last vestige of hope, “Where am I?” Roy smiled, she would be fine once the disorientation cleared away. “New Orleans, in the hospital. You took quite a fall.” Opening her eyes they searched the stranger’s concerned face. “The date...tell me the date.” His brows rose over the worry in his eyes for her question. “It’s February 14, 2004.” “Only a day.” Angie groaned out the breathless admission. “Why yes, I take it your Aunt had a lot to do with them finding you so soon. Seems she doesn’t take to being told no very well. She drove the whole state out to look for you last night.” “Last night? I missed dinner.” Hadn’t she known Aunt Belle would freak when she didn’t show? It was just like her to call out the troops. She tried to concentrate on what the doctor was saying. “...it’s a good thing she did. It might have been days before anyone found you on that old tub.” “Tub?” The Silver Queen was old, but hardly fit the disgust she heard in his voice. Roy wanted to ask her why she was on the discarded relic, but she wasn’t up to being cross-examined. He’d be sure that the sheriff, pacing outside the door, didn’t gain an entrance either. But damn, what in the world was she doing on there in the first place. The woman’s inborn qualities forbade any association with the docks. From what he heard, only the impression she made with the men there led the authorities to search the area after locating her car. Ordering some medication to ease her discomfort, Roy tried to harness his own curiosity. “The nurse is going to give you a shot, it will help with the headache.” It did hurt. “No!” Gripped by a sudden uneasiness she felt her panic rising. Startled by her outburst Roy rushed back to her bed. “What is it?” Angie gave up trying to rise under the siege of pain brought on by the movement. Taking her hand because of the anguish furrowing her brow, “Hey, as my patient I order you to lie still, o.k.?” “Yes...” Breathlessly she consented. When he started to leave she held on to his hand. “Wait...no medication. I can’t have a shot.” “I didn’t want to give you anything before, but it’s alright now. You have a concussion, my staff will monitor you, there is nothing to worry about.” “No, please.” She wasn’t sure how to say it or even if she should. My God, had any of it happened? Or was it only a hallucination? The pain in her head was real enough. They were real! Angie couldn’t believe otherwise. “I can’t.” “But Miss La Cross, you really...” “I may be pregnant.” The girl’s large pleading eyes looked as confused and shocked by her statement as

he felt over the unexpected revelation. “I see, in that case, I’m glad you said something.” “It would hurt the baby, wouldn’t it?” “Any medication could do fetal damage. How far along are you?” It was strictly a clinical question...wasn’t it? “I don’t know exactly.” One day here, three to four months there? It all seemed so outrageous. Thrown back in time and then, BAM! Here she was back in the present with hardly a beat missed. Was she crazy? Angie had to know. “Can you find out?” She still held his hand and he felt the tremor pass through her. “I can, once your have recuperated from your injury. For now you need to rest.” “Alright...Doctor?” “Yes?” “Please, my Aunt Belle, she doesn’t know.” His smile surprised her. “I’d be the last one that would want to inform her.” Remembering the way her aunt could be, Angie almost laughed, understanding exactly what he meant, only the possibility she might have to be the one made her teeth clamp tight. “Get some rest.” “Thank you.” Roy left when her eyes closed. Entering the corridor... “Dr. Blance?” Turning, he faced a pleasant surprise. A pretty blonde vision stood behind him. Her dark blue eyes shined in threatening tears. “Yes?” He wanted to reach out and hold the woman, but didn’t, cursing his position. “I’m Sally Mercy. Is Angie alright?” “Miss La Cross?” “Yes. Oh how is she?” “She’ll be fine, she’s resting.” “Is it bad, her aunt said, she...she...” He could imagine what the highly excitable La Cross matron would imply. “A concussion and a few bad bruises, nothing serious.” “Oh thank goodness. Then she’ll be coming home soon.” “After a few tests.” He was so enraptured by her he didn’t realize what he’d revealed. “Tests? But I thought you said it wasn’t serious?” Covering his mistake, Roy said the first thing he thought of. “Is Miss La Cross’ boyfriend coming?” “Boyfriend?” Sally’s girlish laughter echoed down the empty corridor. “Angela La Cross hasn’t had a boyfriend since 9th grade.” Seeing the man’s surprise. “Oh she could, never doubt there’s been interest, but my friend has always maintained other priorities. First there was her parents’ death and Aunt Belle’s entrance into her life. Then studies right through college. Now, well Angie has been working non stop for the last year to get her business off the ground.” “Damn, that reminds me, I have to cancel her appointments.” Roy’s mind registered everything his patient’s friend disclosed. For some reason he

didn’t think Sally missed too much where Angela was concerned. His curiosity and concern for the girl inside rose about twenty notches. “Can I see her?” “You can go in, but she is probably sleeping. You’d be doing her a favor if you took her aunt home.” The girl followed his gaze as the sharp clicking of heels drew closer. “That’s not an easy order, Doctor.” “No doubt...” Roy made a quick exit after firmly telling the ladies Angela wasn’t to be disturbed until the afternoon. Thankfully, Sally managed to dissuade the woman’s arguments to stay. He took care of the anxious sheriff still waiting in admitting. “When can I question her?” “Tomorrow, possibly.” “Alright, but the captain won’t like it.” Roy kept silent over his opinion it was Miss La Cross’ aunt that wouldn’t like the delay. Since midnight and her arrival at the hospital, it certainly hadn’t been dull around here. **** The room finally got quiet. Angie had never been in a hospital, everything she ever heard was true. They really did wake you up every hour. She gave up trying to sleep. Her head hurt too damn much anyway. At first, seeking the peace of sleep, she hoped she would wake and find herself back in her room. She actually missed the lace and ruffles and old fashion bed surrounded in cornflowers. No matter how hard she tried to will herself there, nothing worked. Now all she had were her thoughts to rely on to convince herself it honestly happened. “It did happen.” James...Striker, they were as real and alive as she was now. And then. They weren’t some figment of her imagination and neither was her belief in the child. “He is real, I feel him.” Angie didn’t have any tears left for the pain inside her heart. “I will find a way back, I have to.” **** “Well?” Ready to scream, Angie’s hand fidgeted with the smaller bandage at the back of her head. “The test was positive.” “It was real...” The girl’s breathless exclamation drew his frown. He’d pushed the test through because of her highly agitated state, afraid of what she was doing to herself. She needed to rest, she’d barely slept and wouldn’t until the questions were answered. His hopes that she would now seemed futile. “Angela I’ve made an appointment with an obstetrician, Dr. Gantry, she’s very good.” “What?” She almost missed what he was saying. “I mean, I thought you could be my doctor, the baby’s doctor?” “It’s a little out of my field.” “But you can?” “Yes, but Angela, Clayton is quite a drive, Dr. Gantry’s practice is there.”

“Please, I really don’t care.” Silently she repeated her conviction that it wouldn’t matter. “Alright, but if I feel any special treatment is called for...” “I’ll listen, honest. How far along am I?” “Based on the exam, ten to twelve weeks. I’ll schedule an ultra sound for next week.” Angie only half listened to the man’s directions and order that she rest for a week before returning to work. Her attention captured by the elation of knowing it all really happened. Everything, the good and bad, existed. James, Striker, Michael, she didn’t dreamed them up. She still lacked the answer she sought concerning the child, but just knowing of the life inside her, all the troubles seemed dim in comparison. Sally sat in the waiting room when they entered. “Remember, rest and take those vitamins.” “I will, thank you Doctor Blance.” “I’ll see you next week.” After saying goodbye, Angie joined her friend. “Ready to go home?” How she wished she could. “Yes.” Both girls were silent as the car moved out into traffic. `Was it only a couple of days ago that she drove to the docks?’ “A lifetime.” “What did you say?” “Nothing.” She wished she could tell Sally...no, no one would believe her. Angie thought hard over what would come. One thing kept preying on her mind. Could she get back? If she did, whom exactly did she want to go back for? Sorting out her jumbled thoughts in the car wasn’t possible. Entering her house, she almost felt a physical blow by the cold fact she was a stranger here. Moving about the living room, her hands flowed over the furniture as if it would help to reacquaint her with where she now found herself. “Angie, you want to talk about it? I’ll make some tea.” “Talk?” Damn, she’d forgotten her friend was there. Sally called out from the kitchen. “Well yes. How did you get on that boat and in those clothes? Your aunt was fit to be tied over that bit of news.” “Clothes?” She’d been wearing the blue wool one. “Yeah, Aunt Belle has it and the other things too. Where did you get all those things?” “I don’t know.” It was the safest answer. Sally carried the tray in and passed Angie a cup. “Well, you can expect the third degree from her.” Noticing Angie’s sudden paling, “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you, you better sit down.” When Sally took the cup from her shaking hands Angie sank into the chair. “Doc is right you need to rest. I’ll handle the office, you better stay home for awhile.” “I guess you’re right.” She tried not to show her relief, all she wanted was to be left alone. “I am tired.”

“I can take a hint.” Sally fetched her purse. “Listen, if you need anything call.” “I’ll be fine. Oh, Sally where is my car?” “Your aunt has it, she should be over soon.” Hiding her dismay she didn’t have much time. “I think I’ll lie down.” “You better or Dr. Blance will be upset. On second thought if he did worry about you maybe he would show up.” “You’re terrible.” “Can you blame me, he’s a hunk. But all my wishing won’t help.” “Why not?” Angie thought they’d make a nice couple. “Oh girl, you are sick. That man’s eyes were only held in one direction...you. Even fished around to see if you had a boyfriend. I’d say it was more than a clinical interest.” “Sally! He’s a doctor.” Sally’s departing comment made Angie cringe. “Even doctors have eyes Angie.” To the closed door, “I’ve got enough problems, my friend.” Taking her own advice Angie did lie down, her head hurt terribly. She felt like jet lag settled over her, she was so tired. “Too much happening, too fast.” Closing her eyes she wondered what was happening there. Would James think she left? How could he know where she really was? “Striker!” Groaning and clutching the pillow to her chest. “Oh no.” Sitting up as if she could help them all, she held her head over the pain the sudden movement rendered upon her. “He won’t know. What if he tries...Oh please James, don’t do it.” All Angie could think about was that Striker would come for her and find her gone. What might happen truly frightened her. If James thought Striker and she were gone... “I have to get back.” Her legs came over the side of the bed. “You are not going anywhere young lady, now get back in that bed.” “Auntie!” “That’s right.” Angie gave up. She knew the woman’s moods too well to argue. That determined gleam in her eyes said it all...Angie just became her Aunt’s new project. “I’m fine, really.” “Oh I can see that. Not home ten minutes and already you’re moving about. I personally talked to that upstart, Dr. Blance. Rest, with a capital R, was his order and I intend to see it is done.” Groaning, her Aunt gently pushed her back into the bed. Of all the times for the woman to become the mothering hen. Angie needed to be alone. Damn! She didn’t have time for this and her ingratitude came flying out. “Don’t you have a charity or something to take up your time?” “As a matter of fact, no. I have assigned everything out. I’m yours for the next week.” “This is silly.” “We’ll see. Now get some sleep. How’s Chinese sound for dinner?” Pouting and pulling the coverlet up to her chin. “I’d prefer Italian, lasagna and some hot peppers.” “Nonsense, egg fu young, sounds better. I’ll call out for it in about an hour, after I

put my things away.” “Aunt Belle, you are not staying here, your place is only ten minutes away.” “But I can watch you better from the other room. Get some rest dear, we’ll talk after dinner.” Rolling away from that curious light in her aunt’s gaze, Angie moaned over exactly what the questions would be about. No way would she give the lady any explanations. Play dumb, too bad she didn’t think of it in the hospital and fake amnesia. Aunt Belle would just have to find her own answers for the dress and where they’d found her. Her arguments with Aunt Belle drained what little strength she had in reserve. “Sleep...just a little while.” The dream moved through a strange sequence of unrelated events. Striker dominated the illusion she walked through, like an absent observer. All around her things shifted and changed. He was there, always talking to her. She tried so hard to answer him. “I’m here.” She told him, but he didn’t hear her. She tried to touch him, but he eluded her efforts. Frantic, Angie searched for some way to make contact with Striker. She watched as he picked up his rifle and knife, then put on the fur covering he used to hunt winter kills in. “No don’t leave me, don’t go.” When he turned, the hope that surged quickly died over the pain and anguish distorting his fine proud features. He looked so lost and troubled. Her own sorrow made her weep. Through a veil of tears she followed him across the strange room. Something scared her, telling her not to look beyond him. He knelt before the pallet. An unnatural need made Angie fight her increasing fears to seek what held his attention away from her. She strained to get closer and hear his tormented words. “I need to go hunting. You...remember what I taught you?” His broken words tore at her heart. “I will not be gone long, when I get back we will talk...about Canada...and our future. Summer, you must believe, never stop believing, the spirits will guide you back.” “I’m here...Striker, please look at me!” Angie’s cries went unheard by the man. “Why can’t you see me?” Something was terribly wrong. He spoke to her as if she were there, but never to her. Something seemed to hold them apart. “Come back to me, Summer.” “I want to, with all my heart I want to be with you.” The truth tore from her lips, rending her heart under the pain. “Striker?” “The worlds hold you back, you must not fear the plains. Find the way home, Summer. I will be here. Search your heart and come back to me.” Drawn by the fear inside her, her eyes went beyond him to where he spoke. The scream of denial tore threw her terror. “Angie! Angela wake up. My god, what’s wrong child? What is happening to you?” Struggling against the hands holding her down, Angie fought off the encroaching present. “No, I’m here...Striker help me!” Her sobs tore through her, assaulting the woman trying to control her thrashing. “Angela, wake up! This is your Aunt Belle speaking and you better listen. Open your eyes, right now!” She tried not to, oh how she tried to ignore the order. He had been right beside her, if only...That was her! But it couldn’t have been.

That shell of a body? She was a zombie? Yes, she finally saw it...me! “It was me.” Groaning she wanted to hide and tried to curl up into a small tight ball and keep the painful truth away. But how could it be? How could she be there like that, that unseeing body, and be here? The knowledge came slowly past the devastating images that would be with her forever. She existed in both places before. Only now, she, the real her, was back here. Somehow a part, a receptacle had been left behind. Had the same thing happened here? Had they found a shell of herself on that boat? The unsettling reality that it happened like that wouldn’t leave her. It wasn’t a dream. She’d been there with Striker. He knows. He really knows she is not there. Striker was talking to her spirit, trying to draw her back into herself. But how could she find the way? “Angie, do you hear me?” Straightening away from the girl, Belle quickly reached for the telephone. “This is Isabelle La Cross, give me Dr. Blance.” Never taking her eyes away from her trembling niece, “What? Listen, I don’t care if he is operating on his mother! You get him and tell him it is urgent!” Growling into the receiver, “Thirty minutes and not a second longer.” Hanging up the phone Belle sat down beside Angie. Ever so gently she turned the fretful girl to her and pulled her into her arms. “It’s alright child. Hush now, everything will be fine.” Letting the sobs come. How could it ever be right? How could she get back? How!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Guide Striker turned back before leaving and looked again at Summer’s image. How it pained him to see the lifeless form that no longer held her spirit. He’d felt her just now. Her sorrow filled his heart. “Believe in us, Summer.” He would never stop telling her. His strength would guide her back. Today held the hope he’d been searching for since getting her body back in his care. She’d come close today; his awareness of her was keen. “Soon you will find the way back...you must.” His troubled eyes lowered to rest upon the beginning evidence of their child. “He needs you. Our son needs his mother.” Striker fought down the rage consuming him. His fear for the woman he loved and the child yet to be born, glowed like a hot iron in his side. Could the child live without her spirit to guide him into the world? The question plagued him. Hi couldn’t shake his conviction that it was her awareness of the life inside her that made her go back. Again his failure to keep her safe ripped through him. It was the added pain she confronted because of the child and her white husband that caused her frightened flight. “It is not his child, Summer.” Striker’s feelings were too strong to be questioned. The child would be his son and no others! “I won’t fail you again!” Striker silently left the wigwam and made his way out of the dense cover hiding it’s existence. He’d known exactly what he would find the night he’d gone for her. The spirits were with them, bringing bright sunlight to melt the snow and then a hard freeze. The ground held its secret of their passing in its frozen depths. He’d known the man would be waiting for him to come for her. Striker needed to be sure Summer wouldn’t be hurt. He drew the others away from the house by setting fire to the barn. Yet he still sensed the trap waiting for him inside the house. He met the man head on. The pain and instant rage glaring back at him momentarily stunned Striker. The man’s suffering was etched across his proud face, now devoid of the strength Striker once felt from afar. Understanding the pain vibrating between them didn’t lessen the battle. Neither of them would freely release the woman they both claimed. Striker felt his body ripple as it tightened to battle the man coming at him. His belief that only he could save her carried him against a force as vital as his own. Like thunder cracking against the mountains’ stone cliffs, they locked on to each other. Their powerful bodies fought for supremacy as they fell over furniture and crashed through walls. Pulling out his knife Striker gripped the blade. When the man lunged for his throat Striker brought the knife handle down across his head. Blinded by rage, the man never saw Striker’s hand rise to deliver the silencing blow. Pushing the heavy weight off him, Striker quickly bound the man’s hands and feet. There was no time to waste; soon the others would come back. The red glare outside was quickly fading. Ignoring the room he knew to be hers, Striker’s powerful legs took the stairs two at a time. Kicking open the door he went quickly to her. He refused to look into her eyes; afraid the pain he’d seen in the man downstairs would overtake him as well. He wrapped

her in the blankets before picking her up. Once outside he never looked back. Reaching the horse, they were soon off and riding deep into the woods. The clear moonlit night guided their escape to the north. In two days time, they would reach the hide out he already erected and stocked. Not until winter’s harshness ended could he chance the rest of the journey into Canada. Pulling her limp form up against him, he held her, trying not to think on the truth that Summer wasn’t really with him. His heart cried over the loss. Through bared teeth he fought the sorrow. “I can not allow it to enter my heart!” He thought only of the future. Summer needed his strength. Until she returned he would guard the vessel her spirit needed. It made no difference where he took her she would find them. “Time is only a step, walk through the plains Summer, I’ll be here waiting.” **** “Well! It’s about time you got here.” Walking past the woman into the house, Roy forced his temper down. “Where is she?” His quick scan of the elegant furnishings did not contain Angela La Cross. “In there.” The subdued reply drew his unwanted attention back to the older woman. Taking his first real look at her Roy could see where Angela inherited her looks. What was she, in her early sixties? The lady still had that rich black hair, only a light trace of white at each temple streaked its ebony luster. Those vibrant green eyes hadn’t dulled with age. Roy saw the distress she tried to hide. “What exactly happened?” Her direct glare came up to his. The deep jade pools were filled with questions, a foreign emotion for her. The knowledge left a queasy feeling in his stomach. “I’m not sure. She was sleeping, like you instructed. I heard her cry out and went to see what was wrong.” “Yes? What did you find?” “Besides her violent ranting?” The lady rose and began to pace. “Nothing! At least nothing I can put into words.” “If you pulled me away from my patients on a wild goose chase...” “Oh stop it! Of course I didn’t. What I’m trying to tell you...well it is just hard to say exactly. Something has happened to my niece.” Dread crept inside Roy over what the woman hadn’t told him. Turning and going to the door he harnessed his impulse to burst into the room. He carefully opened the door and slipped inside. Standing there, eyes trained to notice every nuance of his patient made their sweep. His jaw clenched down over the signals reaching his mind. Drained of all vibrancy and looking worse than when she arrived in the ambulance, Angela was curled up like a small child. Moving cautiously to the bed, Roy told himself to go slow. Her eyes were open but instinctively he knew she wasn’t aware of his presence. What ever caused such a turn around in her dealt quite a shock. He searched her vacant gaze for some recognition. “Miss La Cross? Angela? It’s Doctor Blance.” While he talked to her, Roy checked her pulse and heart. All was fine, but he could tell by her state that her aunt must have had her hands full. Roy wasn’t getting through to

her and that scared him more than her physical condition. Maybe...”Angela, how is the baby? Are you in pain?” Taking her hands, he firmly pulled them away from her lips. Just as determinedly he straightened her legs and moved her onto her back. “Is there something wrong with the baby, Angela?” He stayed in her line of vision, watching as her eyes began to focus on him. “Doctor Blance?” “Yes, how is my prettiest patient? Is everything alright?” The tears sprung up and her soft pink lips trembled uncontrollably. Unable to ignore what he felt, Roy brought her up in his arms and against his chest. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here, just take it slow. That’s it, deep breaths.” His hand absently smoothed down the tangled mass of hair. “Tell me what happened, Angela. You need to talk to me.” Don’t say anything! The warning echoed inside her head. “I’m fine.” “Really? Your aunt doesn’t think so and as much as I hate to agree with her, neither do I. Are you in pain?” “No, I’m sorry she called you.” Roy eased her back onto the pillow. “I’m not, something has obviously happened to leave you like this. Why don’t you tell me?” He could sense that whatever she said would be lie. She’d gone from total withdrawal to an intense protective state. “I...I had a bad dream, that’s all.” “A nightmare?” “Yes, falling...I was falling again.” Avoiding his scrutiny Angie spoke the lie. Striker I need you. What’s happening to me? “I want to go back.” “Back where, Angela?” She spoke out, a trembling groan of despair gripped her. “Angela, where is it you want to go?” “Home.” She turned away from him. Stopping his hand from reaching out to her, Roy knew finality when it hit him. “I’ll stay a while.” He didn’t expect any response. He remained until she fell into a peaceful sleep. If it were only dreams, the girl gave no indication that they returned. He’d never felt this inadequate. As a doctor he wanted to help, but something told him Miss La Cross needed more than he could prescribe. He left, giving her aunt instructions to call him if anything more happened and to be sure she showed up for her appointment next week. * ** * “I’m fine and I’m going back to the office tomorrow.” After two days of her aunt hovering over her, Angie had had enough! She also made sure no one had any reason to believe she wasn’t her old self again. The decision she came to made it imperative to get her aunt out of her house. “It’s too soon.” “Auntie, I appreciate your concern and company, but honestly it isn’t necessary. I’ve a life to get back to.” “Alright Angela, you will be sure to keep your appointment with the doctor?” “Yes, that is if you can part with my car.” Teasing her aunt, Angie hoped it helped

stop her worry for her niece. Ushering her to the door Angie’s hand rested heavily on the knob as she watched her aunt drive off. “Finally.” Moving with more energy than she’d exhibited in days, Angie gained the bedroom and pulled out the travel case. A few last minute items fit into the open spaces. After trying for two days to will herself back she decided it was going to take more dramatic measures. Sitting down heavily upon the bed she closed her eyes over the failed attempts. So many times she felt his presence. Striker came so close to her she could feel his pain and his love. Believe! His words never left her thoughts or her heart. “I do Striker and I’ll find a way.” He was trying to guide her back. Something kept stopping her and the question hounded her, “Why can’t I follow you?” She thought of going back to the Silver Queen but dismissed the notion; it wasn’t the way. Neither was staying here. Her house, everything around her, became a hindrance to leaving. She pushed out the office number on the phone. “La Cross Designs, may I help you?” “Sally, it’s Angie.” “Hi stranger.” “Hi. Listen, I’ve just sent my aunt home.” “Now I know you are okay. You are aren’t you?” “Yes, but I do need some rest. I can’t get it around here.” “You want to stay at my place?” “Thanks, but I’m going to take a mini vacation.” “Sounds exciting. Where to?” Angie’s thoughts drifted a second. “Where ever I land.” “...you sure that is alright?” “I’ll take it easy.” Angie took a deep breath and plunged forward, “Sally, take over the business for me...you can do it, Sally.” There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line. “Angie? Why don’t you meet me for lunch?” “No, I’m already packed.” She tried to keep the lightness in her voice. Sally knew her too well. Before she gave any more away Angie needed to hang up. “Would you tell my aunt when she calls?” “Sure, Angie. But I don’t think...” “Everything will be fine. Give her my love and you’ll always have mine. Bye Sally.” Placing the receiver back in its cradle, Angie opened the night stand drawer and took out the letter. She set it in the travel case. If what she prayed for didn’t work, she would destroy the letter. If not, Sally would eventually get it. Somehow Angie couldn’t find it in her heart not to tell Sally everything, no matter what the outward circumstance might end up being. **** “James, be reasonable. There is two feet of snow out there, and more coming!” “I’ve already lost a week.” “If there were any tracks they’re gone now. You aren’t well enough to go out there!” James turned to look at his brother, “Michael, I have to go. You know I do.” The serious slump of Michael’s shoulders ended the protest. “How are you going to

find them?” “I’ll find him.” Mounting the horse, Michael passed him the lead to the pack mule. “If you’re not back by in four weeks I’m coming to find you.” “Take care, Michael.” Digging his heels in he started off at an easy gait, there was no need to rush. When he topped the rise he pulled up. Up here he could scan the vast dips and swells of the white mountain peaks. He listened to his instincts and turned north. The savage wouldn’t have taken her back to the cave. The drawn lines in his face tightened. “Three days, not much longer.” James would only ride that far than make the sweep back. He didn’t think the man would chance any more than that with Angie in her condition. Waiting for spring would be mistake, the Indian would move as soon as he could. “If you’re there, I’ll find you.” James rode out. One thought refused to leave him since that night he’d lost her. “Why didn’t you kill me, you bastard!” If he could use the knife handle the blade would have been just as easy. James knew which he would have chosen! **** The small red car swung into the snow packed parking lot. Grabbing her purse Angie squared her shoulders and told herself this place would do the trick. After a morning of refusals from the various mountain lodges she refused to give up. “One of these places has to have someone willing to guide me in to the mountains.” The wooden walk led up the steps to the old door of the lodge’s general store. There were not very many cars in the lot. It wasn’t a good sign. Pulling the parka up around her ears she couldn’t blame them, “Damn, I hate the snow!” The door protested loudly over being opened so did the burly man inside. “Hey, shut it! You’re letting the heat out!” Angie fought with the door until it shut snuggly back in place. The heat in the room assaulted her. She pulled her gloves off and pushed the parka back off her head as she made her way to the counter. It was obvious the ill tempered man was in charge. Snapping his suspenders over the red flannel shirt he finally stepped around the counter. “You want a room or a cabin? Rooms are warmer. Cabins come with a stove but it’s up to you to keep the fire going.” “Neither thank you.” Holding his pen above the lodge register he finally took a look at her. “Lost?” Angie shook her head, “Actually, I need a guide.” “A guide?” “Yes.” “Missy, all you got to do is follow the road to get on down to the valley.” Angie didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. He appeared more disagreeable than the rest and she hadn’t even explained yet. “I want to go in, not out.” The man’s thick brow rose in question. His shaking head said it all. “It’s winter, in case you haven’t noticed it’s snowing. I ain’t got no guides in winter. Don’t think anyone has.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Thanks anyway.” There was no sense arguing with him, she’d already heard all this before.

“Now wait up, there is someone. Course he’s an ornery sort.” Angie let go of the door. She tried to keep her eagerness under control. “Who?” “Joe Wind.” “Where can I find him?” After some ‘it’s probably a waste of time’ and ‘how hard it was to go up in the winter’ the man finally drew her a map to Joe Wind’s cabin. She drove nearly an hour over roads a heavier car wouldn’t have gotten through. More than once her MG swung wide on the ice. It was nearly sundown when she found the last bend that would take her to the man’s place. Angie reluctantly stopped the car. Only a slight indication existed of where the road might be beneath the blanket of snow. Checking the map she wondered if she would even know if she were lost or not. Frustrated, she crammed the map into her coat pocket. She took a second to argue with herself before shoving the car door open. The deep snow covered road cut through the trees, she couldn’t see very far in and decided it probably followed the mountain side in. “It’s a good day for a walk, Angie.” So far the only smart thing she’d done was to stop and buy appropriate clothes and gear. New Orleans was a far cry from Montana and she already knew what winter meant in the mountains. Pulling on her gloves and tightening the hood, she secured the backpack and started up the trail. Luckily the new snowfall was powdery and easy to walk through. After walking nearly an hour Angie began to doubt the wisdom of continuing. A line on a hand drawn map didn’t indicate distance very well. Checking the time, Angie decided to go another twenty minutes before heading back. She reached the end of the road before her time ran out. She couldn’t see anything through the trees and nothing looked like a cabin. The light was failing fast and Angie felt her panic rising to the surface. She beat her hands together in cold frustration. Admitting defeat she turned to head back to the car, something through the trees caught her eye. Between two trees the snow seemed to have caved in. She moved closer to it and was sure the indent was caused by footsteps. The path meandered through the trees. She refused to listen that it might have been an animal that made the trail. When the small cabin set back in the side of the mountain came into view she gave a great sigh of relief. The place looked deserted except for the lazy drift of blue smoke from the pipe stack. The snow covered the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, but before she could reach out and knock the door swung open. A man stood back in the shadows. All she could see were the laced fronts of his boots over thick legs. Legs that were spread wide in an unwelcoming stance. His silence heightened the intimidation Angie felt. She took a steadying breath, she didn’t come all this way to be run off. “Joe Wind? The man at the lodge down the road said you might help me.” He stepped aside without saying anything. She hoped she wasn’t misunderstanding him as she moved forward and into the room. She kept moving until she stood in front of the fire. She turned around to face him when he finally shut the door. Her eyes strained to see the man against the light in the room. A soft illumination moved through the cabin as her eyes adjusted to the lantern he lit. Angie couldn’t say what she felt when she finally saw

Joe Wind. “Coffee’s hot.” “Thanks I could use some. It was quite a hike up here.” His kept his back to her, but she’d seen his head turn slightly over her statement. She could now see the long stalk of hair hanging down past his shoulders. The gray length was tied back with a leather throng. He wore a blue plaid shirt and heavy winter pants that were tucked into the large boots. When he turned the sharp profile creased with age displayed his Indian heritage. An odd feeling of loneliness swept through her, but quickly disappeared when he moved to hand her the coffee cup. He motioned her to take the chair. She sensed his dark eyes were taking their own study of her. Meeting his gaze she smiled at the man, “You are Sioux.” He accepted the fact with a nod. Angie realized how stupid she’d just been. “Wrong time...” “What is?” “Nothing, I came to ask you if you would guide me into the range?” “Where?” “Twin Creeks, maybe further.” He considered her request and her, but he wasn’t offensive. She saw something in his gaze, it almost felt like recognition, but that couldn’t be. “Will you take me?” “Why must you go in now?” When her thoughtful gaze came back to him she answered, “I need to get back.” “It’s a long journey to where you need to go.” For a moment she thought he understood, then decided it must only be her wish for what she wanted so desperately to hear. “I know, I can ride.” “We will leave at dawn. You can sleep over there.” Her eyes brightened in hope, “thank you.” Joe wasn’t very talkative. After a meal of dried meat and gravy over biscuits, he brought out his riding gear to get ready for the trip. Angie offered to do the dishes. When she finished she joined him back at the fireplace. One of the bridles and reins needed covering. She started braiding on the fur strips over the leather. Intent on her task she failed to notice the man’s intense concentration on what she was doing. “Who taught you?” “Striker, he said the leather grows stiff in the cold and will chafe the horse. Fur side out, always out for winter to save the animal.” Her hand stopped in motion suddenly realizing what she said. He didn’t have the knowledge to recognize Striker’s name, Angie relaxed and finished braiding the reins.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Going Home The crack of the rifle brought James spinning around. Maybe it was only a hunter. James would find out before moving on. There’d been so many wild goose chases what was one more. The rushing creek was evidence that the snow was beginning to melt. He’d spent six weeks up in these mountains without finding the savage’s hideaway. James figured his luck needed to change. The pass was still snowbound, which meant they were still up here. Unless Angela’s condition improved they weren’t going anywhere until she could be safely moved. James decided he only had about two weeks left to find them. If he failed to locate the camp then he would loose her, maybe forever. “I won’t let you leave me, Angela!” **** “What do you mean she is gone?” Sally stepped out of Aunt Belle’s way and swallowed down the urge to yell back at her! “She left, said she needed some time alone.” “Hogwash! The girl is ill. She has no business going anywhere!” “I know, but she wouldn’t listen.” “I don’t know why you let her go like that.” Telling the irate woman she didn’t have the chance to stop Angie seemed like a useless waste of energy. “She said she’d be back in a few days.” “Where is she?” Sally hated answering this one, “I don’t know.” She watched as the older woman huff over the answer and swallowed whatever she wanted to scream before storming out of the office! Sally chanced looking out in the hall. Madam La Cross stood before the closed elevator door trying to regain her composure. Sally finally breathed when the lady stepped into the elevator and the door slid shut. The tension gathered at the base of her neck and all her massaging couldn’t take it away. Sally carried her sick feeling for Angie back to the desk. “Wherever you are, you better be alright. I don’t think I’ll survive another confrontation with your aunt!” **** The morning air had a sharp bite to it. Angie was grateful for the clear blue sky and hoped the good weather held. Her gaze drifted to the man riding before her through the snowdrifts. Even after two days together idle conversation was not part of Joe Wind’s vocabulary. Angie looked about and wished she could tell if the area looked familiar. Remembering the last time she came through here with James, she decided to give up the effort. The valley where the house used to be wouldn’t escape her discovery and that was more important. Oh yes, the valley would be forged into her memory. “There should be a large cave near here.” Angie waited and watched the man’s shoulders tense. “That would be the winter cave.”

“Is that what they call it now.” She accepted the name, but wanted to add it was Striker’s Cave. But her knowledge came from another time. “If it is the same cave we need to take the path from there down off the mountain.” “We are.” A slight smile eased the tension in Angie. “Good. How far is the valley?” Joe never turned to give his reply, “Another day’s ride.” James made it in record time, but then he’d been driven to reach the ranch. Angie felt a tremor pass through her over the memory. “We will rest here.” Joe stopped and dismounted; Angie didn’t hide her surprise. The man’s eyes devoured her before coming to rest on her stomach. Instinctively her hand covered the child. Any arguments she thought of issuing were lost when he reached up and pulled her from the horse. Despite his age she felt the latent power still within his grasp. Neither of them spoke a word. Angie walked out her stiffness and decided she didn’t want to know how Joe Wind discovered she was pregnant. It seemed as if the child were growing in leaps the further they rode into the mountains. She’d already unbuttoned the pants, unable to tolerate the constraint. Rubbing her hands over the evidence of the life she carried, Angie took it as a positive sign that she was doing the right thing. “Help me to find you, Striker.” Her heartfelt plea floated out with the breeze as it moved through the treetops. “You can hear the wind talk?” Angie looked up at the man standing beside her, watching the trees sway. “I want to.” His slight nod of acceptance was all she received before he walked back to the horses. She couldn’t help but wonder if Joe Wind knew more than he was saying. Not that he said much at all. The rest of the day was uneventful. Angie wondered over the wisdom of trying to return, if it was even possible. That evening Joe kept the fire blazing but the warmth couldn’t vanquish the chill that seemed to have overtaken her. She tried to keep a positive outlook, but the strain was getting to her. “I will make it...I have to!” **** “Why won’t it work?” Angie turned around in a circle again. She was sure this was the spot where the house once stood. The rise that Striker stood upon was right there...so why didn’t she feel anything? Her hands clenched in frustration. Something should be happening to indicate she was going back! Joe watched the woman pace across the clearing one more time. The tension puckered out from her lips. He wished he could help her and the child, a child that was acting very impatient to come into the world. He wondered again if his old eyes failed to notice her advance condition in his cabin. It seemed unlikely, knowing he never would have agreed to bring her out here regardless of the legend’s dictates! He also didn’t like the questions he carried concerning the wisdom of this particular legend. Maybe the truths became lost through the ages.

Trapped in his indecision he failed to notice that the woman mounted her horse and started riding off. Reaching his own mount he raced to catch up with her. Seeing the determination in her gaze he held back from stopping her. Joe decided to wait and watch, let her find her way. There it was again...a shiver of a feeling tickling over her, pulling her toward the canyon wall. Angie’s heart raced as she moved the horse out to follow the sign she nearly missed. “He must have taken me from James.” Of course! It would explain why there hadn’t been any feeling at the ranch site. Angela refused to worry over the buildings that weren’t there any longer. She couldn’t let anything interfere with the sensation now calling out to her. “It is getting stronger.” She smiled at Joe, but it did little to ease the concerned frown on his face. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he tried to stop her. She prayed she wouldn’t have to find out. “I’m here Striker, show me the way...” **** The trapper moved off down the river. Striker followed the canoe’s progress around the next river bend before feeling comfortable over returning to camp. The fool’s gunplay concerned him, but so far Striker saw no sign of her man. His gut twisted over the thought of that man...James. Striker knew he was up here somewhere, hunting them. All he could hope for would be that he could keep their camp hidden until they could leave. Striker didn’t want to dwell on the fight that would come should he discover them. Only one of them would leave these mountains should they meet again. Striker cursed the trapper before finally turning back. That gunshot could ruin everything and Striker’s shoulders ached under the tension seizing him. He knew every animal and noise within two days of the camp. He listened as his eyes searched the area. If only Summer would return, they could leave then and find safety in the distance. He closed his heart to the pain wanting to swallow him. She would return! His refusal to believe otherwise was the only thing keeping him going. Their child needed her. She’d not turn away from her son’s call. Where his own failed Striker believed the child would guide her back to them. “Open your heart to his call, Summer!” **** The warm blast of air made her catch her breath. Too quickly it vanished, flying away on the breeze, “Striker?” No, it wasn’t him; this was a different feeling. Something new and fresh, not quite real...Angela sucked in her breath as her arms wrapped protectively around her protruding stomach. “Oh yes...I hear you. Show me the way! Please help me!” Through her tears Angie pleaded with the tiny force. She realized now that it had been the child calling to her. This child, the one she must be with in spirit as well as body in order for him to survive. “He’s so small.” She could feel the vibrancy slipping away and it crushed her heart as nothing else. “I’m here little one, I’m here and want to be with you!” Angie didn’t remember dismounting as she took another step through the snow to a stand of trees. Something, an invisible wall, shimmered before her just beyond the entrance to the tree line. For an instant she hesitated and turned back to look at Joe Wind.

Angie returned the slight nod of encouragement he gave her. Turning back, Angie walked forward and prayed she would find them on the other side. She remembered what Striker told her about the plains of time, “I’m here...” The air shimmered like a thousand miniature icicles. They danced around her and then...all grew still! Angie sucked in the cold air. It felt as if she hit a brick wall. For a moment she wondered if she would die. No, a surge of warm awareness said she lived. She could feel the life flow through her and to her child! Her shaking hands reached out to hold on to the child gaining strength inside her. His movements grew strong and sure as if he were testing each kick and hit inside the womb. Relief and elation brought on a rush of tears and laughter. “I’m with him, I’m really a part of him now!” Her gaze swept around the small room she remembered from her dream. Only now she could reach out and touch. The robe covering her was coarse and warm, “buffalo...” Afraid to move but unable not to, Angie slowly sat up and brought her legs out and over the pallet. Her toes touched the cold dirt floor and dug in. A thousand sensations shot into her brain, telling her it was real! Tears of joy flowed unchecked down her cheeks. “Oh Striker, I made it.” The urgency to find him seized her. She moved too fast and almost fell under the weakness in her legs. It was frightening to think about how many days she must have laid here, a shell of herself. “Poor Striker.” Something pulled on her attention, helping her to push the worrisome truth away. There! Again she heard the strange noise. Moving under the care her weak body demanded proved frustrating. The noise came from somewhere outside and filled Angie with a sick feeling that left her cold. Impatience drove her to the rawhide flap over the entrance. She pushed through it. “Argh!” the bright sunlight playing off the snow blinded her. With her eyes forced shut Angie took deep breaths of the icy air. Gradually the tightness in her eyelids eased. Rapidly blinking against the intruding light they slowly adjusted to the daylight. Another ugly reminder of just how long she’d been absent from herself. She focused on the reality of the world before her. She was here now, this is all that mattered. The child would live. The distant grunts drew her forward. It was difficult to pinpoint which direction the sounds were coming from. One thing grew very clear to Angie, she couldn’t mistake the sounds for anything other than those of fighting. Skin hitting skin and the groans only another human could make! Her own fist came up to her mouth and she bit her knuckles to keep her scream silent. Over and over the two men rolled, hitting at each other as often as either of them could. Angie watched in horror as first Striker than James would be on top delivering another blow! “Stop it!” Her cry was wasted on the men. Their battle too fierce to allow any outside interference. The gunshot sounded as if it were right beside his head and James instinctively rolled away from it. In an unreal moment he watched the Indian react the same as he and push away in the other direction. They stared at each other a second, both seeing that neither of them held a weapon.

For a heavy moment their confusion froze them, then they both moved to take up the battle. Another shot rang through the air, bringing Striker and James spinning about to face her. Angie watched as Striker dropped slowly to his knees. She stared at his face that reflected first surprise then an unmistakable smile of relief. She became so captured by the warmth radiating from him that she failed to notice James. The clasp of his hand over her wrist jerked the gun skyward. It fired from the movement before he managed to wrestle it out of her grip. Angie cursed the weakness that allowed his strength to overpower her. “Stop it James!” It didn’t surprise her that the gun was now pointed at Striker! “James, don’t do it! Please, I beg you!” The hatred in his eyes left her numb in fear that he was beyond listening. “Angela...” She slowly shook her head against the silent question coming from James. Angela prayed he wasn’t blinded by hate as she let the fur slip off her shoulders and slide to the ground. At first James just watched her, but then his gaze moved down, ever so slowly, as if he knew what she wanted him to see. Those cold blue eyes settled upon the evidence of her final betrayal. “Let me go, James.” The nerve above his eye jumped in a maddening beat. Angie held her breath as her fear swelled. “You’re asking the impossible!” “No. You know I’m right. Please James, go home.” Angie never took her eyes away from him, afraid of what he might do. She prayed for Striker, wishing beyond hope he would disappear, move away to safety. Angie took a shaking breath as she felt Striker moved up behind her even before James’ eyes riveted on him in rage. For a second she closed her eyes, only James could make the decision now. Striker’s hands came forward to rest on her shoulder. The relief his touch wrought became more than she could ignore. Angie leaned back trying to absorb his strength. James watched the silent play of emotions flowing from his wife to the other man touching her. His blood boiled in outrage! He wanted to kill him! Destroy the bastard! He didn’t want to look at Angela. Never wanted to see the truth in her eyes. Eyes that now held fear of him in their depths. Could he honestly live with the hate they would reflect if he killed this savage? Angie gulped the air into her lungs as she watched the gun lower to his side before dropping into the snow. She started to step forward but Striker held her fast. He was right of course, she needed to let James go. “I’m sorry.” James looked at her a long time before turning and walking away. Striker and Angie watched James ride away. Never once did he look back. Striker felt the weakness overtaking her long before she reached for him. Picking her up in his arms Striker still felt the wonderment over her presence. She was here. All would be right now. Their child would have her to guide him into this world. As if his son heard his father’s thoughts the child moved against his ribs, the

sensation felt wondrous. “He is alright Striker. He’s strong now.” Striker’s thumb brushed away the tears from her warm cheeks. Instead of setting her down he held her to him. He kissed this woman that nearly crushed his heart and gloried in the taste of her salty tears. Together they deepened the embrace that forged their force as one throughout time!

EPILOGUE Sally held her hand up to shade her eyes as the helicopter lifted off the pavement then slid sideways over the treetops. For a second she watched the air batter the pines. “I’m sorry Miss Mercy, there really isn’t anything more we can do. Maybe in the spring...” The sheriff didn’t finish the sentence and looked away from her. Sally already heard how everyone thought Angie’s body might appear once the snow melted. Oh yeah, some unsuspecting hiker might stumble upon her decaying corpse. “No! She is not out there!” “Miss...” Pushing past the man, Sally didn’t want to hear the sheriff’s excuses and she certainly didn’t want his fake sympathy. Sally managed to reach her car and start it. Locking all the doors she swung out of the parking lot and drove off down the road. She managed to drive a mile or more and escape the crowds before having to pull of the road because the sobs overtook her. Sally didn’t fight them this time. She needed the release. More than once she lashed out and hit the steering wheel in anger. “Where are you? I know you aren’t out there, not like they think! Damn it Angie, I can still feel you!” She relived every hour of the search for Angie. It was some time before Sally regained her composure. Today had been the worst. Everyone had given up looking for her friend. There wouldn’t be any more search parties. Taking a deep breath Sally silently admitted that they would never find Angie. She remembered seeing Joe Wind standing off by the trees, alone and away from the crowd. He watched her, too. That man was a strange one and her rational mind said he could have killed her best friend. But something told her he wasn’t the killing type, no matter how outlandish his story to the sheriff had been. “Walked into the trees and disappeared...yeah, okay, Angie is now some kind of magician!” But even as she tried to seek sarcasm her hand closed over Angie’s letter on the seat beside her. “Damn it Angie, why should I believe you? He could have forced you to write this!” Closing her eyes Sally didn’t need to open the letter again. She knew it by heart. Her head went back against the seat as the memory of that awful day replayed itself like some kind of horrid nightmare. One a person could never get out of their head... “Call the police!” Sally stepped in between the stranger and Aunt Belle, “Let him finish, Aunt Belle. Just calm down and listen to what the man has to say.” The woman glared at Sally as if she were as guilty as the silent man behind them. Oh yes, Madame La Cross had already screamed her verdict of guilt out for all to hear. With one last umph! of anger, Aunt Belle moved away to stand facing out of the window. Sally felt tension crimp her neck. She forced herself to turn and face Joe Wind. “Alright, you have the ten minutes you asked for. Please explain to us why we shouldn’t call the police?” “They won’t find your friend, no one can.” The honest light of sympathy in the man’s eyes wasn’t something Sally could accept.

“Where is Angie, Mr. Wind?” For a second she didn’t think he would answer. Aunt Belle must have felt the importance of the words he finally started speaking, for she slowly turned to watch him answer. “She is no longer in this world.” “I never heard such rubbish!” “Aunt Belle, please let him finish!” Sally didn’t like having to act as a mediator for this man, but she felt whatever he said would be important...even if she might use it to hang him as Angie’s murderer! The way he stared at her, she wondered if he read her unkind thoughts. But then what did he expect showing up here like this. And him being the person claiming to know what happened to her friend! He pulled his attention away and looked at Aunt Belle, “Your niece is not here anymore. She is gone from the world we know, but she is not dead.” Sally had to give the woman credit, she didn’t even flinch before him and Sally knew how painful those words were to them both. “You can’t expect me to accept this? What proof do you have?” They both watched as he pulled an envelope from his coat pocket, “Her own words may explain this better.” For a few moments no one moved until Sally realized Aunt Belle had stepped back and away from the man, as if the letter were a weapon. Sally held out her hand, “I’ll take it.” He gave her a slight nod and placed it in her palm. Sally would recognize Angie’s writing anywhere. She looked at Aunt Belle, “It’s not opened, she addressed it to me.” Aunt Belle just stared at her, Sally didn’t think the woman would ever forgive her for letting Angie leave that day over two weeks ago. The army of searching law officers and private detectives hadn’t turned up any news of her whereabouts. Joe Wind was the first person to even claim information about her. Sally pried open the seal as if it would fall apart in her hands. She had to take a deep breath just to still the shaking in her fingers in order to read the letter. “Dear Sally and Aunt Belle, The fact that you are reading this means I am no longer around. Believe me when I say this is what I want. To try explaining all that has happened to me would be impossible and unbelievable. I will attempt to ease your minds about my welfare. To start, I didn’t just fall and hit my head on that boat. What happened to me was unbelievable even for me at first, but so very real. Somehow I managed to go back in time, to 1875. I married a man named James McFarlain. You may find him in the history books someplace or his brother Michael. Though it isn’t important. What is, is that I came back to our time when I woke up in the hospital. I know this is hard to accept, especially for you Aunt Belle, but I desperately needed to get back to the past. You see I was there much longer than a day, months actually. I became pregnant and it was imperative that I get back to Striker. Oh that’s right you don’t know about Striker. It’s too complicated to go into, but know that I love him and he is the father of my baby. And our baby was from his world, not this one. So you see there was no other way. I am sorry I hurt you both. But I must return to him. I must find a way for our baby’s sake. Please call off the search for me, Aunt Belle. I know you probably have everyone

searching for me, it won’t do any good and only hurt you more. Please don’t do it. I love you and I am so sorry you have to be hurt like this. Telling either of you wasn’t possible, you would have locked me up. I am fine, honest and I’m with the man I love. Believe this and be happy for me, ANGIE PS. Joe Wind is being kind enough to help me reach Striker. He doesn’t know why I need him to guide me in to the mountains, so don’t blame him. I beg you not to hurt Joe Wind, he is totally innocent. “...I must return to him...for our baby’s sake.” Baby? Oh yes that much Doctor Blance verified, much to the shock of Aunt Belle and Sally. “A baby, damn Angie what happened to you?” If Angie’s own words could be believed her friend’s body would never be found. “I need to know for sure, Angie!” Even Joe Wind tried to help Sally and Aunt Belle accept what Angie told them. He explained how she came to him and how he knew who she really was. “A legend...well you will be one, but maybe not for the right reasons.” Sadly, Sally knew Aunt Belle wouldn’t quit looking for Angie. She would hire private detectives and pay for more search parties. A couple of industrious detectives turned up historic records of a ranch called Twin Creeks that did have an owner named Michael McFarlain. They also found a record of a marriage on board the Silver Queen of James McFarlain and one Angela La Cross. It wasn’t enough to prove anything. Sally took it upon herself to search further. She didn’t find anything more on the McFarlains or the Indian called Striker. There was a small piece in a newspaper about a flood that came through the Twin Creek area and destroyed a ranch. No names were mentioned so she couldn’t be sure it was Michael McFarlain’s ranch that washed away. The legend Joe Wind spoke of did mention a Sioux brave named Striker. Unfortunately, it didn’t give any kind of detail that Sally could research any further. “Just enough information to make me want to believe all this.” She sat up and took a deep breath before turning the key and bringing the car to life. Glancing at the map once more, Sally checked which road she needed to take. She eased the car out on to the icy road, “I really hate snow.”