“I am Seminole. I will always be Seminole no matter what the government or those within the Seminole Nation now denying our claims to our land and our heritage say.”
“Your people are having problems?”
He nodded. “Since the war, many of the full-bloods have conveniently forgotten the sacrifices my people made to the Nation. Contributions of men like John Horse and Gopher John are being conveniently forgotten, as are all the African-descended Seminoles who negotiated on behalf of the full-bloods with the Spanish and Americans because we spoke all three languages. They definitely don’t want to discuss all the battles we fought together so that everyone could be free. The full-bloods have bought into the Redemptionist idea that we of African Seminole descent have no rights.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is. I think they’re hoping the wind will magically blow us away and take our claims with it so we can stop being a thorn in their side, but we aren’t going anywhere. We’ll make them recognize us if it takes us three hundred years.”
Olivia had had no idea such racial discord was rife among the tribes. Slavery had poisoned the waters of the country so pervasively that it seemed no group was immune. She wondered how much longer the issue of race would scar the lives and the land of a nation supposedly founded upon freedom. “What about the Blacks in the other tribes?”
“All the other so-called Black Indians have found themselves on the outs with the full-bloods, too—be they Creek, Cherokee, or Choctaw.” Neil could feel the old anger rising and sought to dampen it by changing the subject. “What was the most memorable event in your life besides the war?”
Olivia took the abrupt change in topic as a signal that he didn’t want to talk about that part of his life anymore, and she respected that. “Coming to Kansas.”
“No, before that.”
Olivia pondered her past for a silent few moments. “Probably my graduation from Oberlin. I’d never been so proud in my life. My parents were proud, too. My papa strutted around with a big grin on his face for weeks.” Thinking about her father made her wonder how he was faring. In spite of their differences over the arranged marriage, she loved her father very much. Her disappearance probably had him worried to death. She decided the time had come for her to let him know where she was, and that she was safe. Burying her daughterly guilt for now, she tightened her hold on Neil’s waist and asked, “What was your most memorable event?”
“Besides meeting you, and being shot because of it?”
She smiled in response to the humor in his eyes. “Yes, besides that.”
“Probably eating peaches and rattlesnakes.”
“Is that some kind of Seminole delicacy?”
“No, we were on a campaign in the Texas desert, and that’s all we had to eat. The peaches were in our packs. The snakes we caught.”
“Was this during the war?”
“No, during my time as a Seminole Negro scout.”
Olivia was quite surprised. “You were a scout? For how long?” The Seminole Negro scouts were very famous.
“Until the army broke its promises, took our homes, and left my people to fend for themselves. I resigned and started robbing trains.”
Olivia searched his eyes. What a life he’d led—and how much sorrow to make a man with such a storied ancestry descend into crime. She still didn’t think that his choice to be a train robber was justified, but she hadn’t spent her life being hunted and hungry, so she really had no right to be judgmental. Nevertheless, she said, “Robbing trains is wrong, Neil.”
“So is bringing two hundred women and children from Mexico to Texas, promising them they would be cared for and fed if their men fought Comanches and Apaches, and then turning your back on them. I wasn’t going to let my family starve.”
She nodded sadly.
“How about we talk about something else,” he offered in a soft, yet hardened, voice.
She agreed.
He raised her chin so he could memorize the lines of her face and the lush bow of her lips. “Let’s not fight over something that has no bearing right now.”
“But it does.”
His lips tightened. “You’re tenacious, if nothing else.”
She offered a small smile. His choice of occupation impacted any future they might want to have. “Kiss me then—”
“And you know how to end an argument, too.” He traced her lips. “Don’t you?”
She gave him a little wink, and he laughed and brought his lips down to hers. All other matters were set aside. Neither wanted to fight or argue when passion could be shared instead.
Neil undid the remaining hooks on her corset so he could bare her fully to his hungry eyes and hands, then dallied and feasted until her hips took on a sensual rhythm. He dragged his lips up her nakedness until he found her mouth. While he plundered her lips and sucked the tip of her tongue, his hand kept her breasts wanting, then slipped down to possessively map her hips and the front of her skirt-covered thighs.
The heat between Olivia’s thighs had never known life until Neil. The warm, strong hand moving purposefully over her made her want to part her legs so she could feel more. He obliged her by exploring their trembling inner lines with a slow urgency that sent the fabric sliding sensually up and down the sensitized skin. Her passion was building, her nipples hard, her mouth parted under his deepening kiss. She was damp, yearning, and her virgin’s body instinctively knew what would come next, so when his hand moved between her legs and cupped that spiraling space, the sensations were too much and she exploded with a loud, strangled cry. Clinging to his hand, her body convulsed with a pleasure she thought might blow her apart. His fingers continued a slow tease, and she cried out again; trembling, dying. Then he was kissing her and her legs were open as wide as the Kansas plains so he could do to her what he may.
And what Neil mayed was to touch her fully. To facilitate that he slid his hand beneath the skirts and snow white slips, caressing and squeezing the whole way until he found her drawers. He could feel how wet the vee of the undergarment was, and he smiled like a lover at the sight of her rising to the play of his hand. He acknowledged how hard his manhood had become in appreciative anticipation, but he concentrated on pleasuring her. He circled the bud put there by nature for her pleasure and for his, and her thighs widened even more.
Olivia was in a world where nothing existed but sensation; the sensations of her drawers being tugged down her legs; the sensations of being naked beneath her skirts; the sensation of his bare hand gliding like silk over her bare thighs. It was heady, wanton, and so very divine she didn’t want to leave his lap ever.
Neil could feel a spreading spot of dampness on his back that had to be blood, but he put off investigating it for now. Instead, he swung their bodies around and gently laid her down on her back on the cot. Seated above, he looked down into her eyes and slid his hand back beneath her skirt. His gaze held her captive as he played and coaxed and teased. When her lids fluttered shut in response to the simmering contact, he pushed her skirt up her legs so he could see her in the candlelight. Her hair was dark, soft, wet. When he brushed the tip of his finger over the swollen, trembling temple at the apex of her thighs, she sucked in a breath and her hips rose invitingly. Soon they were rising shamelessly; openly. Unable to resist the sweet offering, Neil lowered himself to his knees and kissed her there.
Olivia shot up off the cot, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?” She backed up until the dirt wall prevented her from going any further.
He grinned. “If you come here, I’ll show you….”
Her eyes did not diminish in size.
“Thought you wanted to know…all…”
“I do, but—”
He whispered, “Then come here, woman.” He reached for her and felt the pain in his back flare and the stitches burn like tiny pokers. By sheer force of will he gently took hold of her waist and pulled her closer. Neil and his pain were running a race to see who would win. The pain had a g
ood head start—Neil could feel the throb at the center of the wound deepening to red like coals in the bottom of a fire pit, but the need to show Olivia just how magnificent desire could be made him endure. Running his hand down her luscious breasts, he whispered in the half dark, “You want the man you marry to love you this way, Olivia…you want him to touch you, stroke you….” He leaned over and nipped each bud with lover-soft teeth. “Bite you…”
She groaned and twisted.
Neil worked his hand between her thighs. She was running with desire, and because he had prepared her so very, very well, he knew she was ready. With his hands he teased her until her thighs parted, and then he leaned in and kissed her sweetly. “You want a man who can do this….”
Neil sucked the citadel into his mouth, slid a finger into the warm recesses of paradise. As the orgasm grabbed her and flung her to Topeka, Olivia screamed loud and long. But he didn’t stop. While she convulsed and arched and felt herself going mad, he dallied, licked, touched, and played until he’d had enough. For now.
Sitting on the floor, as hard as he’d ever been in his life, Neil turned and rested his back and head on the edge of the cot. He wanted her so badly, but he let the pain he’d suppressed until now rise to the surface so it would kill his need to sink between her legs and love her until the earth was no more. Dios! He let the memories of loving her sing in his mind for a moment or two longer, then felt the agony. And once he did, every breath he took sent knives through his back, so he took in short, shallow breaths instead.
Olivia, still reeling from his exquisite loving, was floating in a pulsating reverie when the sound of his breathing rose on the silence. She sat up and moved to him. “Are you okay?”
“Nope. I’m bleeding, I think. Could use a few slugs of willow tea, too, if there’s any around.”
Worried by his revelation, Olivia scrambled off the cot and picked up the lantern. With a gentle hand she made him turn his back to her so she could see. Sure enough, the entire base of the shirt tucked into his denims was dark with blood. “Move up onto the cot so I can get a better look.”
Neil did so and decided lying down was wonderful. When he could, he undid his belt buckle so that she could tug his shirt free.
Olivia eyed the wound. “You’ve torn some of the stitches. I’ll go see if the storm is over. You may need the doc.”
Before she could run away, he grabbed her hand. “Whoa, Madam Mayor. Hold on a minute. I just need you to put something on it to stop the bleeding, and the tea.”
Willow bark tea was a standard remedy for Doc Johnson’s patients. It was an Indian remedy he’d learned from Chase Jefferson. It worked so well on dulling pain that he prescribed it for everything from toothaches to gout. There’d been a steady pot of it brewing for Neil since his injury, and Olivia had brought a jar of it into the cellar with the other supplies.
She took him the now tepid jar of tea, and he drank a long swallow. The bitterness of the brew showed on his face when he handed it back. She sealed the lid, then set it on the floor near her feet. “Now let’s look at your back again.”
He raised up so she could turn up the tail of his shirt, then she brought the lantern closer. She gently removed the bandages. Had she been a woman with a weak constitution, the sight of the fluids and blood oozing from the stitching would have sent her into a faint, but since she was not light-headed (unless the temperatures climbed into the nineties), she dabbed at the oozing with the clean cloths from the aid kit. “It was probably bleeding more profusely earlier, but it seems to be slowing.”
“Probably all that kissing and hugging.”
She chuckled softly. “Probably.” She put a clean bandage over the wound. Now that the potential crisis appeared under control, she let herself remember all that he’d done to her and all that she’d felt. It was mind boggling. “Well, there’ll be no more kissing and hugging for you for a while, Mr. Seminole. You need to rest.”
“You’re such a cruel mayor, Olivia Jean.”
He eased over so he could see her face. He reached out and teased the nipple bared by her still open corset. “So did you learn enough tonight?”
The heat of embarrassment flooding her face matched the heat of arousal that flooded her thighs. She tossed back softly and sassily, “For now.”
He tried not to laugh because it hurt to do so.
Olivia leaned down and kissed him. “I’m going to see if the storm’s over. It sounds pretty quiet out there now.”
“Better do up your clothes first,” he pointed out.
She peered down at herself. She’d totally forgotten her disheveled state. A bit embarrassed, she fastened her corset and the buttons on her blouse. “I can see now that being around you is going to turn me into a pagan.”
“But a beautiful one.”
She didn’t bother with her drawers. She admittedly liked the wanton feel of being naked beneath her skirts. Shocked by her outrageous thoughts, she climbed the stairs. The overhead door was heavy even for a woman of Olivia’s size, and it took her a moment to get it up. She raised it a bit higher so she could see out. Rain. Gray. The cool air felt good. She raised the door a bit higher to see if her house was there. It was, and so was the working end of a rifle less than six inches from her face.
“If you move you’ll have a closed casket at your funeral.”
Olivia didn’t dare breathe. Suddenly the door was whisked out of her hand, and there stood Two Shafts wearing a beat-up rain slicker. He looked grim but wasn’t armed.
The voice behind the gun said, “Where’s my brother!”
The person came into view, and Olivia looked up into the dark, angry eyes of a hat-wearing, outlaw-smelling, black-leather-wearing woman who could only be Teresa July. Olivia hid her smile and gestured, “Down here.”
Neil heard Teresa threatening Olivia, and he struggled to his feet with the intentions of calming her down before she recklessly shot the mayor. However, sitting up made the pain in his back burn like wildfire, and he was still sitting on the edge of the cot when they reached the floor of the cellar.
Teresa ran to him and looked down into his pain-filled face. “Neily, you okay?”
“I’ve been better, but it’s good to see you.” He acknowledged his brother with a smile. “’Bout time you showed up.”
“Didn’t get the wire from Tamar until a few days ago.”
Tamar was Neil’s mother. Neil suddenly remembered the dream. Tamar had always been a magical, mysterious woman. That he had somehow wandered into her dreams was not so far-fetched to those who knew and loved her.
Teresa asked, “We came to take you home. Are you ready? Where’s your horse?”
Olivia watched and waited. She assumed he would be going, and there was nothing she could do to prevent the leaving. Even though he’d given Chase his word, there was a judge coming who might remand him to the territorial prison. Given the choice, Olivia didn’t think he’d keep his word. He was an outlaw, after all.
Teresa asked again, “Neil?”
Neil was studying Olivia standing over there so silently. If he left, he’d be breaking his word not only to Chase but to her as well. He still didn’t know a whole lot about her, but what he did know, he liked. He liked her smile, her wit, her sense of purpose. When he first met her, he’d told himself she was a woman who could make a man lay down his guns, and dammit if he hadn’t been right. His eyes met Olivia’s and held. “I’m staying here.”
Relief closed Olivia’s eyes.
“What do you mean, you’re staying here?” Teresa sounded stunned.
“Just what I said. I gave Olivia my word.”
Eyes filled with disbelief, Teresa looked from Olivia to Neil. “The judge is going to put you in prison, Neil.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Probably. Yes,” she contradicted firmly. She then looked over at Olivia. “Has he been drinking?”
“Just bark tea.”
Teresa said, “Get your gear. Where’s your horse?”
He laid back down on the cot. “Tee, I’m not leaving. There’s some bounty hunters in town hoping to tag me and bring me in. Be real appreciative if you could add your gun to the sheriff’s until the judge arrives.”
“Neil, this is loco.”
“Maybe.”
Teresa threw up her hands and said to Shafts, “You talk to him.”
“Not me.”
“Shafts!”
He shook his head.
Neil said, “Tee, I need to sleep. Can you yell at us from outside?”
Exasperated, she turned on her heel, climbed her leather-clad body up the steps, and disappeared.
Olivia watched her leave and was concerned.
Shafts assured her, “She’ll be back after she cools off. I’m going to find Jefferson.”
Olivia asked, “Isn’t there a warrant out for you, too?”
“Yep, but I think I can convince Chase he’d rather have me shooting with him than at him.”
“Can you assist your brother back up to the house before you go? His needlework needs repairing.”
But when Olivia glanced Neil’s way, she decided moving him would have to wait. He was asleep.
Chapter 11
While Neil slept, Olivia went to check on her house. Back in Chicago, cyclones were relatively rare, but out here on the plains they were a deadly menace from spring through fall. The previous year, a twister had torn through the town of Prescott, leaving sixteen dead and two hundred and fifty people injured.
Olivia saw Teresa July sitting on the edge of the porch, but Teresa had such a disagreeable look on her dark face, Olivia passed her by without a word and went inside.
During the onset of the storm Olivia had been so focused upon getting Neil into the cellar and gathering supplies, she hadn’t time to close the window shutters. As a result, she found damp floors, walls, and furniture. Panicked at the thought that she hadn’t closed the shutters in the shop either, she quickly went to see. They were closed. Her precious fabrics and dress forms wearing their half-finished ensembles were all dry. She sent praises to heaven and returned to her living quarters.
Something Like Love Page 17