When Passion Calls

by Cassie Edwards

  She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm going to go and wash up and change into something more comfortable. I won't take long. Don't you either. I want to see where Trapper Dan lives, then come home and try to get some rest. I want to be fresh for tomorrow. Shane is depending on me."

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Melanie paced the parlor floor. Shane had encouraged her not to go into St. Paul to watch the poker game. A saloon was not the proper place for a lady, even though Melanie would be there for a purpose other than that which drew the sorts of women who could be found there regularly.

  She had argued with Shane, yet in the end finally acquiesced because she knew that he had enough on his mind without her causing him undue stress.

  Stopping to stare at the clock on the mantel, Melanie sighed. The hands on the clock seemed not to have moved at all since the last time she looked. The minutes were dragging into hours.

  She went outside to stand on the porch. She lifted her hair from her shoulders and let the summer breeze caress the nape of her neck. The sound of hammering drew her gaze to Shane's farm. The new cowhands had arrived. The stable was being rebuilt.

  Her gaze traveled back to her own farm, seeing the activity of her cowhands doing their chores. A feeling of apprehension swept through her with the realization that she was now in total charge of the cowhands. With Terrance gone, all the responsibilities of the farm rested on her shoulders. If she did not succeed, the end result would be the same as if Terrance had gambled the farm away on a reckless game of poker.

  She could lose it all.

  Her thoughts went back to the previous night, when she had told Terrance he had to leave, and later, when he had shown her where Trapper Dan lived.

  "Trapper Dan," she whispered, peering up at the butte that reached into the dark depths of the forest. "Perhaps I should go there now after all, instead of later to plead with the man. If I could talk him into leaving the area, not to be seen or heard from again, even pay him a good amount of money to leave, Shane wouldn't have to chance being hurt by challenging him."

  She placed a finger to her lip. "Should I?"

  She exhaled a nervous breath. "I'll wait a while longer," she said, moving back into the house. "If Shane doesn't come soon, I'll go and talk with Trapper Dan."

  Plopping disconsolately into a chair, Melanie picked up her embroidery piece and began to work on it. She grumbled to herself when she pricked a

  finger. She hated to sew! She would rather be outdoors in the sunshine! When she got married and had children, would she be content caring for them? Would she not long to be with Shane, to do everything with him, side by side? It seemed that when that time came, she would have to make adjustments as Shane was now doing in his new life. If he could do it, so could she.

  Perhaps it would not be so bad to be ladylike all of the time, instead of being called a tomboy forever.

  Terrance slouched down low over a glass of whiskey at the bar, his eyes squinting as he peered through the haze of smoke toward the group of men standing around a table, waiting for Josh and Shane to begin their poker game. Terrance had decided to come and watch. A lot depended on the winner todayperhaps even Terrance's future. If Shane lost, Shane would leave and everything would get back to normal between the Stanton and Brennan families. Melanie would have no choice but to forget him. She would more than likely turn to Josh. For sure, she would come begging for her brother to return and run the farm!

  Taking another quick gulp of whiskey, Terrance shuddered as it rolled down the back of his throat, burning it. He got a glimpse of Shane at the table as a man stepped aside. Hate grabbed Terrance at the pit of his stomach as he looked intensely at Shane who sat so smugly smoking a cigar and shuffling cards, his back straight, his blue eyes gleaming.

  Terrance's thoughts went to the previous night, when Melanie had forced him to take her to point out Trapper Dan's house to her. There was no telling what she planned to do with the information, except perhaps tell Shane about him and take him there.

  But Terrance had decided not to go and warn the trapper that he could expect trouble just yet. If Shane lost today, there would be no need to warn anyone. Shane would be gone. He would be out of everyone's lives. Even Trapper Dan's.

  Setting his glass aside, Terrance inched toward the crowd of gawking men as Shane began dealing the cards. Smoothing his mustache with a finger, Terrance watched eagerly, not doubting who would be the winner. Shane had been raised with Indians, and Indians were not known for their skills with cards.

  He smiled to himself as he looked at Josh, whose smile was broadening with each card he picked up.

  Shane puffed on his cigar, eyeing Josh warily, then began picking up his own cards, one by one. First a two of spades, then a jack of hearts . . .

  Before Shane picked up another card, he drummed his fingers on the tabletop and stared down at the cards that still lay face down. Five-card stud. Only three cards to go. So far he had nothing that even resembled a winning hand.

  He reached for a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Taking a sip, he continued looking at the cards. In his mind's eye he was remembering the many hours that he had sat beside the fire in Chief Standing Tall's wigwam playing with

  these exact cards. They were the old chief's cards. If Shane looked hard enough he could see where the paint had been rubbed off at the corners by him and the chief through the many hours of their playing poker.

  Setting the glass back down on the table, Shane glanced over his shoulder. He was not looking at the men who stood there, watching. Something else had caused his attention to be drawn from the task at hand. It was a presence of sorts, as though the old chief were there, his dark eyes twinkling.

  Shane lifted the glass again. He nodded and smiled over his shoulder as he made a sort of mock salute with the glass, then swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.

  ''Shane, you've three more cards to pick up," Josh said, frowning. "What's the matter? Don't you know how to play?" He chuckled low and tipped his whiskey glass to his lips, emptying it in large gulps.

  Shane looked across the table at his brother. He smiled slowly at him, then continued picking up the cards. One by one he placed them in his hand. He was careful not to show any sign of having drawn the three cards that gave him a winning hand.

  His gaze moved from card to card. Three jacks, two twos. Josh could get better, but with five-card stud, it usually took several tries.

  "Well, I'd say it's about time," Josh said.

  "How many cards are you going to discard, Josh?" Shane asked, slapping his cards face down on the table before him.

  Josh plucked two cards from his hand and shoved them into the middle of the table. "Two," he said, watching as Shane dealt him two more cards.

  Shane lay the deck of cards aside again and watched Josh's expression as he fit his cards together in his hand again. Nothing. He could tell nothing about his brother's reaction. Josh was being careful.

  Then Josh glanced at Shane. "How many do you discard?" he asked, folding his cards back together.

  "None," Shane said nonchalantly.

  "None?" Josh gasped, then he smiled sarcastically. "You took none because you don't even know what is worth keeping or throwing away."

  "I wouldn't be so sure, Josh," a man across the way said. "Looks to me like he knows damn well what he's doin'."

  "Yeah," several voices agreed.

  "Anyhow, Shane, I've got openers," Josh said, scooting several coins out into the middle of the table.

  Shane puffed hard on his cigar, squinting his eyes when the smoke spiraled up into them. He looked at Josh's cards held tightly in his hands, then up into his brother's eyes. It looked as though Josh thought he had a winner because he was looking damn smug.

  Or was Josh looking so smug because he truly believed that Shane was stupid enough to challenge him to a game of cards without knowing how

  to play himself? It was Josh who was the daft brother, it seemed.

  "I'll c
all you," Shane said, scooting coins out onto the middle of the table. "And I'll raise you." He dropped several more coins in the middle of the table.

  "Damn," Josh said, cocking an eyebrow quizzically as he looked over at Shane. He followed Shane's lead, matching the amount of money he had placed in the middle of the table. Then he watched, breathless, as Shane revealed his hand to everyone as he lay them down on the table, face up.

  "Show 'em, Josh," Shane said, tipping his chair back, rocking slowly back and forth on the hind legs.

  Josh paled as he studied Shane's cards, then slapped three kings on the table. "Seems you got lucky," he said thickly. He cringed as Shane dragged in the winnings.

  "Your turn to deal, Josh," Shane said, slipping his cards over to his brother. "Better luck next time."

  Shane slowly stacked the coins before him, purposely rattling them to draw Josh's full attention, to torment him.

  Then the card game continued. Shane won hand after hand. He could see a cold, silent rage and humiliation in his brother's eyes, the smug smile replaced by a dark frown.

  Suddenly Josh threw the cards on the table and burst up from his chair. Shoving the spectators aside, he stormed toward the door. Shane grabbed

  the cards and slipped them into his pocket and followed Josh from the saloon. He grabbed Josh by an arm and swung him around to face him.

  "Let go of me," Josh said, jerking his arm free. "Haven't you humiliated me enough? Just go on to your farm, Shane. You've won it fair and square."

  "Josh, come home with me," Shane said. "For me the poker game wasn't so much to win the farm and take it away from you, but to prove to you that I could. Come home, Josh. Though I won at cards today, I do not want to deprive you of anything. I know how it feels to be deprived, to lose everything. It happened to me at age four."

  Shane placed a hand to Josh's shoulder. "Let us live as brothers," he said softly. "We will share everything equally." He smiled slowly. "Except for Melanie, of course. She is mine, Josh. She is going to be the mother of my children.''

  Josh's mouth was agape, finding Shane's generous offer hard to comprehend. Josh knew that if he had been the victor he would have laughed in Shane's face and ordered him to leave!

  But now?

  Now what should he do?

  With every fiber of his being, Josh wanted to return to the farm, to be a part of the everyday excitement of watching it grow. It had been his life for as long as he could remember. These past weeks it had been hard to live away from it.

  Yet, he still could not envision himself sharing everything equally with Shane. He could not accept the fact that Melanie would more than likely marry Shane. If she did, she would move into the

  Brennan mansion. That would mean that if Josh returned, he could only observe her from afar. He would have to watch her going into Shane's room each night. Realizing what would be going on behind the locked doors would be more than he could bear! He did love Melanie. With all of his heart.

  Josh broke away from Shane. "Go to hell, Shane," he growled. "And take Melanie with you! I don't need either of you. Do you hear?"

  Disbelieving, Shane watched Josh shove his way angrily through the crowded sidewalk. He wanted to go after him and try one last time to convince his brother that they could be friends. Their father would want it that way. So would their mother. It was not right for brothers to be enemies!

  Especially not twin brothers.

  Then Shane looked at his horse, loaded down with traps hidden beneath a blanket. The true reason he had not wanted Melanie to accompany him into town was because he had planned to go to Trapper Dan's immediately after the card game. Had he won or lost, he had planned to go to the trapper's cabin and finally get his revenge.

  He had waited long enough!

  The man would be forced to remember that day long ago when so many innocent people were slain for the meager belongings the men had taken from their boat and bodies. Shane was going to tear the trapper's cabin apart to search for the ring that had been stolen from his mother's finger.

  He did not expect to find it.

  But nevertheless, he would never rest if he didn't at least search for it.

  Turning to look at Josh one last time, Shane was torn. But words and time seemed wasted on his brother. It would be up to Josh to make the next move. He knew that he would be welcome at the ranch, that he would still have possession of what was rightfully his.

  In two wide strides Shane went to his horse. He untied the reins from the hitching rail and mounted. Wheeling his stallion around, he urged it into a lope along the crowded thoroughfare. When the edge of town was reached, he sank his heels into the horse's flanks and broke into a gallop along a narrow, dusty road toward the dark shadows of the forest.

  His only concern was the Indian woman. How could he prevent her from being harmed?

  Discouraged, feeling as though he himself had participated in the poker game and lost, Terrance stepped from the saloon and watched Shane ride away. His eyes squinted narrowly as he studied the blanket at the rear of Shane's stallion. It was hiding something bulky beneath it.

  He twirled the end of his narrow mustache as he tried to figure out what Shane was transporting. If he didn't know better he would think it was traps! He had seen Trapper Dan carry the same sort of bundle on his horse.

  "Trapper Dan!" he said, gasping. He took a shaky step forward and leaned against the support

  post at the front of the saloon. "I've got to get to Trapper Dan and warn him about Shane. Even about Melanie! Now that Shane won the poker game, he sure as hell won't be leaving these parts. He'll be here now until hell freezes over!"

  His mind fuzzy from alcohol, Terrance stumbled from the sidewalk. He laughed nervously when he came near to being trampled by a horse and buggy as its owner swung it away from him, just in time. His hands trembling, his knees weak, Terrance grabbed his horse's reins from the hitching rail and tried to place a foot in the stirrup. Each time he tried, his boot slipped out again.

  "God damn it all to hell," he muttered, trying to force himself to focus his full attention on the stirrup. He laughed throatily when he was finally able to get his foot in.

  He pulled himself up into the saddle and straightened his back. He teetered dizzily, then managed to get his horse out among the other horsemen. Not wanting to take the same route that Shane was taking, he took off in another direction, hoping he could get to Trapper Dan first.

  If not, who was to say what would happen? Who would die?

  He smiled crookedly. By damn! Maybe Trapper Dan would get the best of Shane! This could be the best way yet to rid himself of that half-savage!

  "Yes," he whispered. "It could really happen! Trapper Dan's killed many a man in his time. One more won't matter none!"

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  Melanie drew her hair back and secured it with a ribbon, then slipped into her buckskin riding attire. The waiting had become too intolerable! She wanted so badly to go into St. Paul and learn the results of the poker game, but she couldn't because Shane had adamantly told her he did not want her to.

  So, while she had this time to kill, she would make good use of it! It wouldn't take her long to get to Trapper Dan's. She would plead her case, pay him well, leave, and surely be home before Shane returned.

  She did not want to let herself think about the possibility of Josh being the victor. If he was, Shane would lose everything again. That would be unjust, for Shane had just been given his rightful place in lifethe way it should have been since he was four years old.

  To lose it all again would be worse than unjust!

  Chapter Thirty

  Trapper Dan's cabin was within view through the trees. Shane dismounted behind a thick cover of brush and secured his reins, then moved stealthily on toward the house, breathing shallowly. One hand was on his knife sheathed at his waist; the other grasped his slim rifle firmly.

  Moving to the back of the cabin, hugging the wall with his back
, Shane listened for voices in the cabin. All that he could hear was some hammering.

  Taking a quick step he went to the window and quickly scanned the inside. His eyes lit up. Trapper Dan was alone. He was absorbed in repairing traps. It would be easy to slip into the house and shoot the bastard.

  But that would be too simple. Shane had other

  plans for him. He wanted him to suffer slowly while he died.

  The sound of someone singing from somewhere close by drew Shane's quick attention from the trapper. He followed the sound with his eyes and got a glimpse of the Indian woman in the nearby river. She was immersed in the water, all but her head. She was taking her morning bath.

  This made things much simpler for Shane. He had worried about her welfare. Now he had the chance to warn her, to make sure she did not get in the way of whatever might transpire here if Shane's plans went awry.

  Moving back into the forest, taking a wide circle around where the cabin's clearing reached into the forest, Shane crept to the river's edge. He hid behind a tree as the woman left the water and slipped her buckskin dress over her head. Then he made a dash for her and had his hands clasped over her mouth before she had time to cry out with fright.

  Drawing her backside against the front of himself, pinioning her there as he held his hand firmly over her mouth, Shane leaned his mouth to her ear. "I'm not going to harm you," he whispered. "I have come to help you. After today you won't ever have to look at that damn trapper's face again, much less be obedient to his wishes. Nod your head if you understand that I am your friend and have no intentions of hurting you."

  Her wet, glossy black hair smooth and sleek against Shane's face was reminiscent of Cedar Maid's beautiful hair. The thought of Cedar Maid

  made him more determined to carry through with his plan.

  The trapper would die slowly. And painfully.

  The woman nodded her head. Shane removed his hand from her mouth. She turned wide, dark eyes to him as she swung around to face him.