by Jane Toombs
Shame on her if she was. Her son needed a man's company, needed the kind of positive attention Bram was giving him. Thank heaven she didn't need such a thing. At least not from Bram.
"The thing is, lightning is always dangerous in the mountains," Bram said. Rain's a nuisance, but neither people nor horses melt so we could keep going wet, if we had to. Lightning's another matter. We're not up near any of the peaks yet--they're the most dangerous in a storm--but tomorrow we may need to take shelter in a safer place than the trail."
"Mokesh told me the Old Ones sometimes try to keep people away from the Superstitions," Davis said. "Maybe they know we have that map and so they're sending the storm to try to drive us out."
"A storm is a natural force," Vala protested.
"Yeah, I know, but the Old Ones use nature, Mokesh said."
Vala stuck to her guns. "Whoever the Old Ones were, I doubt the coming storm has anything to do with them."
Davis was unconvinced. "You said were, but it's are. Mokesh told me the Old Ones are still here, guarding the mountains."
Bram shifted uneasily. Old Ones. His grandmother had spoken of them. Not people, spirits--if you believe as the Ndee did. He shook his head. That part of him was long gone.
"You have to remember that Mokesh's world was not ours," Vala told her son. "Is not ours," she corrected.
"Okay, but we're in his world now. Maybe we don't know everything about it."
"Suppose we leave it at that for the moment," Bram said firmly, not wanting to be drawn into a argument that involved the Ndee. Ever. "What we need to do tomorrow is keep an eye out for the next marker the map shows. If it's a rock formation like the lizard was, we might be able to spot it in the distance."
"A bear, Mom," Davis said. "Remember to look for something like a bear."
"Not a real one, I hope!"
"No danger of that, not here," Bram told her.
"Good. Lizards don't faze me, not even gila monsters as long as they don't get too close. But I don't care to come up against an animal that's a lot bigger than I am."
"Wish we'd see a gila monster," Davis said wistfully. "It'd be cool to have a lizard for a pet."
"No reptiles." Vala's voice was so definite that Bram figured they'd had this argument before.
"Well, gee, we can't have a dog 'cause of the condo rules and I don't want fish."
"How about cats?" Bram asked, remembering Sheba's batch of kittens. His friend Nick was looking after them all and he hoped they were doing well.
"Mom?" Davis asked.
"There's nothing in the rules preventing cats," she said.
"Great," Bram said. "I just happen to have a few Siamese kittens that'll be looking for new homes soon. How do you feel about cats, Davis?"
"I never had one on account of my dad was allergic. But I'm not. Would you really give me a kitten?"
"You can take your pick once the Old Ones allow us to leave the mountains."
"Aw--you're like Mom. You don't really believe in them. I wish you could've talked to Mokesh. I really miss him." Davis yawned widely.
"Time to hit the old sleeping bag, partner," Bram said. "Dawn comes early."
After Davis somewhat reluctantly retired to the tent, Bram said to Vala, "Muscles still sore?"
She nodded. "Not quite so bad, though."
"Told you that liniment works. It's in my gear--I'll get it while you change and give you another rubdown." Without waiting for her to agree or disagree, he left the dying fire.
He took his time and, when he returned, she was in the gray sweats she used for camp sleeping. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea," she said.
"Harmless, wouldn't hurt a child," he said, well aware she wasn't referring to the liniment. He also agreed that maybe it wasn't such a good idea, considering how aroused he'd gotten the night before. But, he told himself, he'd risk it because she needed the rubdown so she'd feel better tomorrow.
As soon as his hands touched her bare skin, he realized he'd been lying to himself. He'd wanted to touch her, wanted the feel of her skin, soft and smooth under his fingers, wanted to run his hands over the sweet curve of her butt, to linger along her sides where he could feel the swell of her breasts. In fact, he wanted a hell of a lot more from Vala. Not that he was likely to get it, even if he was unwise enough to try.
Vala's increased awareness of Bram made his massage far more erotic for her than it had been before. She tried in vain to block out those feelings and concentrate on the easing of her aching muscles. Instead, she found herself wanting him to go on and on, to touch her in places that had begun to ache for a far different reason than riding a horse. Catching herself just before a moan of pure pleasure escaped, she said, "Enough!"
"You're right." His voice held the same husky catch she'd heard in her own. "Or maybe wrong," he added as he stopped and moved away from her. "Maybe it's not nearly enough."
His words jolted Vala. What did he mean? If she agreed it wasn't enough, what might happen? Unable to decide what to say or to face the matter head on, the only thing she could think of to do was ignore what he'd said.
"I could use another ibuprofen, if you have one," she told him.
Once in the tent with her sound-asleep son, Vala didn't dissolve into sleep as easily as she had the night before.
It was as though she could still feel Bram's hands on her body, stroking, arousing....
It made her remember how she daydreamed about him when she was in high school. Not that she'd thought about him caressing her, a kiss was as far as she taken her fantasy about him. She'd longed to have him notice her, to think she was beautiful--even if she didn't believe she was--to ask her for a date.
Not that she would have been allowed to go out with him if he had asked. Not only was he older, he was also, in the eyes of parents of daughters, at least, dangerous. But that wasn't the only reason she found him fascinating. She carried around like a treasure the one time their glances had crossed when they passed in the hall.
His eyes, dark and fathomless, promised a delicious wickedness she couldn't quite imagine, though she was willing enough to experience it. His hair, equally dark, long and lustrous, never stringy, framed a high-cheek-boned face, a different face, one that made her tingle inside every time she saw him.
So here she was in the Superstitions with the guy. And he still intrigued her, she may as well admit it. Turned her on as well, since she was being honest with herself.
She definitely was not going to act on the attraction, though. Never. After all there was Davis to consider. Davis, who could and did sleep though vast amounts of noise and commotion....
Stop it, she warned herself. You are not going to throw yourself at Bram or even hint you might be available. You're going to behave in a mature fashion, which doesn't even include the possibility of involvement. He probably isn't really interested in you anyway.
Lying awake, looking up at the stars, Bram saw the first tiny cloud drift across them. Weather coming, definitely. Whatever the storm proved to be like, though, it'd be nothing compared to his own inner storm warnings.
Vala had been the one he'd always noticed in high school. He hadn't been sure why. For one thing, she'd had a long neck that made her look graceful. For another, her aloofness made her mysterious--what was she really like? Pretty enough in a different, less obvious way than some of the other good-looking girls. Fragile was the word that had come to him then.
In reality, Vala had turned out to be anything but fragile. She'd married the wrong man, obviously, but had the courage to divorce him and raise her son alone. She'd even been prepared to venture into these dangerous mountains alone to try to make Davis happy, foolish as that expedition would have been.
And so here they were and he wanted her with a much fiercer need than the boy he'd been in high school. Then he hadn't taken his desire any further than maybe imagining kissing her because, for some reason, he couldn't picture himself doing anything more. Not with Vala Channing, even given that she'd allo
w it, which he'd doubted.
What would be her reaction now? She'd certainly given him no reason to think she'd been attracted to him when they were teenagers. Did she feel any differently now? Was he the only one feeling the intangible link between them? He didn't think so. He could sense she was as aware of him as he was of her.
Best to leave it alone, he knew that. Always a mistake to get involved with a woman you were paid to guide.
Business and pleasure needed to be kept apart. Making love with Vala would be a risk. Unfortunately, he was a risk-taker. Not so daring a one as he'd been as a teenager, but risk was an intrinsic part of him, impossible to eradicate.
From somewhere far off a coyote howled at the moon. The Ndee thought of Old Man Coyote as a trickster. If he believed in the Old Ones he might think he was being warned. Or challenged.
Remembering the feel of Vala's body under his hands, he smiled, anticipating the challenge to come.
Chapter 4
The next morning the sky was overcast when they saddled up. Feeling much more like herself, Vala made sure to watch just how Susie Q's saddle went on. Maybe tomorrow she'd try doing it.
After about an hour on the trail, they all heard a faint rumble of far-off thunder. Minutes later, Bram pulled off the trail, guiding them to a small flat-topped rise that rose several feet above the rest of the niche in the rock wall. Two rugged-looking crags loomed above them.
"Let's get the tent up," he said.
With Vala lending a hand, they soon had her tent ready, plus an extension fastened on and the gear stored inside. As the first rain drops fell, Bram rechecked the horses' tethers and then eased into the tent with her and Davis.
"How come you picked this place?" Davis asked.
"We're not in a hurry, so why not stay dry instead of wet?" he said. "Best to get off the trail anyway. If this turns into a gully washer, water comes pouring down the rocks like a river. Doesn't do to get swept away."
Lightning flashed and a close crack of thunder startled Vala.
"Just like Mokesh said." Davis spoke excitedly. "The thunder spirit really does live here."
Vala had never been afraid of thunderstorms. But she felt they were a lot more vulnerable in this tent than she'd ever been in a house.
"Close!" she cried as a brilliant shaft of lightning heralded a reverberating boom. Rain thrummed on the tent. Close also applied to their quarters. The extension held most of the gear, including saddles, leaving the three of them crowded into the main tent, which was really intended for sleeping. At the moment, the sleeping bags were unrolled on top of the ground cloth for them to sit on.
"You know what Mokesh would say?" Davis asked. Without waiting for an answer he went on. "Bad weather's the time to tell stories 'cause the snakes aren't out so they can't hear."
"What have the snakes got to do with it?" Vala asked.
"If the weather's good they might be hiding close by and hear," Bram said. "There are some stories the snakes don't want people to tell."
She looked at him, astonished.
Davis took the information in stride. "Yeah, you got that right, according to what Mokesh said. So who's gonna go first?"
"How about you, partner?" Bram said, pleasing Vala who could see Davis was bursting to tell one.
"It's a story I heard from Mokesh," Davis began.
"Some things about it I don't understand real well, but it's a story about how an old Ndee medicine man named Wandering Shadow found the pouch lost by the Great Spirit."
He went on to tell about Wandering Shadow getting lost in a blizzard and discovering a shining warrior lying in the snow. "He built a fire and gave this warrior all his water and all his food, but then the warrior left him and disappeared into the blizzard."
"Wandering Shadow decided it was his time to die--" Davis paused. "Mokesh knew when it was his time to die, do you think maybe all the Ndee do?"
"At one time, I believe they did," Bram said. "Now, though--" His words trailed off and he shrugged.
Again he'd surprised Vala with what he seemed to know about the Apache--oops, Ndee.
"Anyway," Davis went on, "instead of dying, Wandering Shadow found this shining lost pouch and knew he had to return it to Spirit Mountain. After he did that, he got one wish--a big wish, a thunder wish. On account of 'cause he was a wise old man, he wished his people wouldn't ever have to be cold or go hungry again. So do you know what he got for them?"
Vala shook her head.
Bram said, "I do, but this is your story to tell, not mine."
"The gift of the Great Spirit to the Ndee was the buffalo," Davis told them.
"I liked that story," Vala said.
Bram nodded. "That's what I mean about treasure. The buffalo were a greater treasure to Wandering Shadow's people than gold or jewels."
"Yeah, I guess they were," Davis agreed. "But they wouldn't be to me. I'd rather have gold any day." He looked at Vala. "Now it's your turn, Mom."
"I don't know any legends," Vala said. "And I've never been any good at making up stories."
"You could tell about when you were a little girl and lived in Arizona," Davis said. "You hardly ever talk about that."
"Sounds good to me," Bram chimed in.
Vala thought a moment. "Okay, I can come up with something about that time. Davis's story mentioned a thunder wish, mine'll be about rain."
"That leaves me lightning," Bram said.
"You can have lightning, there's only rain in mine."
She paused, wondering how to begin. If it were only Davis and her there'd be no problem, but Bram would be listening, too. "Once upon a time," she finally began, "there was a little girl who wanted to dress up like a princess for a Halloween party her friend down the street was having."
"The little girl's mother didn't sew and her father thought buying a ready-made costume was a waste of money, so her mother taped together a white dress out of old left-over crepe paper stored in the attic. She trimmed it with gold fronds meant to decorate a Christmas tree. The little girl thought she was beautiful in the paper dress, especially after her mother curled her straight hair."
"As she walked down the block to the party house, it began to rain. Her pretty dress just sort of turned to mush and her curls disappeared, so she ran home crying."
"Her mother didn't have any more crepe paper, but she found a piece of black cloth. So she cut a hole in it for the little girl's head to go through, other holes for her arms and trimmed it off so it made a long dress. She braided the little girl's hair, made a pointed hat out of cardboard, colored it black with a crayon and told the little girl it had stopped raining and now she could go as a witch."
"The little girl didn't like that idea one bit, she was sure she looked awful and everyone would make fun of her. Then her father said, 'A princess is boring. A witch is interesting. Wouldn't you rather be interesting?'
"Well, she didn't know whether she would or not, but she went to the party as a witch. No one laughed at her and so she had a good time after all."
After a pause, Davis said, "Grandpa was right. I think witches are more interesting. For one thing, they get to turn people into frogs."
"While the poor, boring princess only gets to kiss the frog," Bram put in. "Ribbet," he croaked.
That cracked Davis up.
"The best I can come up with is a story about something funny that happened while I was at law school," Bram said.
In her surprise, Vala blurted, "You're a lawyer?"
He shrugged. "I know everyone hates lawyers but someone has to do it."
"How come you're a guide, then?" Davis asked.
"Which would you rather be?" Bram countered.
"A guide!"
"So you've answered the question. It's like witching, guiding is more interesting."
"For your story, I think I'd rather hear why you switched professions," Vala said. "You said yours would be about lightning--so how did it strike and change your mind?"
"It's not as funny as the l
aw school incident."
"We don't care, do we, Davis?"
"I want the lightning story," Davis told him.
"You might say it all started off with a necktie," Bram began. "I happen to hate them. In Arizona you can usually get by with a bolo tie, but not in the court room. So I bought a expensive silk, very conservative, navy blue tie, learned how to put the correct knot in it and never unknotted it, just slipped it over my head until the next court case. Kept the thing in my blazer pocket, left the blazer hanging at the office."
"At the time my mother was making rag rugs from old nylon stockings and panty hose and was always scrounging for them. So I asked the secretaries in the law firm I worked for to save hose they couldn't use for my mother's rugs. Came a day in court. The day before, one of the secretaries told me she'd brought me a pair of old black panty hose. I was busy at the time and told her to just stuff them somewhere out of sight."
"On the court day I'm running late, grab the blazer, put it on when I'm almost to the door of the court, reach in my pocket for the tie, slide it over my head and try to tighten it as I enter the courtroom. The judge, who's just been seated, stares straight at me, his eyebrows rising higher and higher."
"I fumble with the tie, can't find the knot. Not until the snickering starts do I realize what I've done." He paused. "Know what it was?"
"I bet that's where your secretary put her black panty hose," Davis said, snickering himself. "In your pocket."
Vala found the picture of Bram in a courtroom with panty hose draped around his neck irresistibly funny. She and Davis couldn't stop laughing.
"Got cited for contempt of court," Bram added. "Blasted judge had no sense of humor. That's when I decided it was entirely possible I might have picked the wrong profession. End of story. Time for a song."
"Good idea," Vala told him. "How about 'You Are My Sunshine?'"
They started with that. Davis taught them a couple he'd learned in camp and they sang those and others, one after another until they grew hoarse. At that point Davis eased down and stretched out on his sleeping bag.