by Myla Jackson
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my sister Delilah Devlin who never ceases to amaze me with her talent and generosity. As her younger sister, I've always looked up to her and aspired to her genius. Love you, Sis!
Chapter One
Spring 1860
Zachariah Braun surfaced from the pool, slinging water from his hair and whooping so loudly the sound echoed off the cliffs surrounding him.
For two long years he and Jake had panned, mined and trapped these hills with nothing but a little gold dust and holes in their boots to show for it.
Until today.
Today the sun couldn’t shine brighter, the air couldn’t be clearer.
Zach whooped again and then dove back into the stream-fed pool whose icy waters couldn’t begin to freeze his delight at the hunk of gold they’d found that day.
“Keep it up and you’ll have every damned claim jumper in the Rocky Mountains jumpin’ us.” Jake Thompson stood at the edge of the water, stripping out of his grungy work clothes and long underwear.
“Might as well get in with it all on. You smell as ripe as a polecat in heat.”
“You been sniffing polecats again?” Jake grinned, shucked his boots and dungarees and flung himself at Zach, landing with a big splash and a lot more noise.
Using the last of the lye soap they’d purchased from a merchant down in Idaho Springs last fall, Zach had scrubbed his clothes before stripping free of them and laying them flat to dry on a nearby boulder. Naked, he went to work scraping the stink out of his skin from the last couple months of hard work in the mine they’d eked out of the Rocky Mountain hillside on their claim.
Clean for the first time in days, Zach floated on his back, staring up through the aspens to the clear blue sky above. “Whatcha gonna buy with your half?”
Jake stripped his shirt off and flung it over the rocks, then rubbed river sand in his armpits and across his chest. “I’m gonna buy the biggest steak, the hardest liquor and the prettiest woman in Idaho Springs. How about you?” He ducked his head under the water and ran his fingers through the long, reddish-gold locks. When he surfaced, he shook his hair, flinging water over Zach.
“Hey!” Zach went under and came up ready for a fight. He jumped on Jake’s naked back and pushed him under, holding him down.
Beneath the surface, Jake hunkered low, grabbed Zach’s leg and pushed up and out of the water, tossing Zach high into the air.
They wrestled and splashed, too excited to feel the cold of the stream created by high country snow melts. Nor could it dampen the arousal Zach felt at touching Jake’s naked body, a secret Zach would never tell Jake for fear of losing the only friend he had on this godforsaken mountain.
When his skin started to shrivel and his balls began turning blue, Zach cried uncle and crawled out of the water to dry on a giant boulder bathed in the sunshine.
Jake climbed up on the rock next to him and stretched out.
If Zach hadn’t been a man, he’d find Jake…well, too darned attractive. As suntanned and well-muscled as Jake was, Zach was surprised every woman in the Pikes Peak Mining Country wasn’t after him.
Then again, there weren’t a whole lot of women in the mountains who weren’t already hitched or whores. Jake deserved a good woman. Shoot fire, they both deserved a good woman. But how the hell were they supposed to find one when they lived so far out in the hills? It took two days of climbing to get down to the nearest town.
Jake lifted up on his elbow and smiled across at Zach. “Well, what are you going to buy?” He glanced down at his cock, swelled and ready for action. “I don’t think I can wait a couple more days to get down to Idaho Springs. I’m already itching for some lovin’.”
Zach’s own cock swelled at the sight of Jake’s growing in size. The mention of women made it even worse. They hadn’t been completely naked since last summer. “I guess I’ll get me a female.”
“Yeah, the sooner the better. Been so long since I fucked me a woman, you’re beginning to look good to me.” Jake stared across at Zach, the smile slipping from his face, his mouth tightening. “Strike that. Didn’t mean that to come out that way.”
Zach laughed. His laughter did sound a bit strained, even to his own ears. “Know what you mean, buddy. You’re a fine specimen of a man. Any woman would be proud to have you.”
“You ain’t hard to look at yourself. Now that you’ve scraped off that beard, all you need is to slather on some of that fancy cologne the dandies wear in Denver and you’d be right charmin’. Ain’t no reason you couldn’t catch you some sweet young thing to get hitched to.”
His mind on the man next to him, the only human he’d spoken to in months, Zach could hardly picture a woman, much less a pretty one, he’d like lookin’ at for the rest of his days.
Squashing down the disturbing attraction he’d been feeling toward his claim partner, he sighed and lay back on the rock. “Who are we foolin’? What woman in her right mind would want to hole up in a shack with a couple of galoots for months on end?”
Jake didn’t answer.
Maybe he saw the wisdom in Zach’s words and silently agreed.
The next thing Zach knew, Jake had leaped onto his rock, grabbed him under the arms and legs and flung him into the pool. “Speak for yerself, old man. I’m getting me a woman if it’s the last thing I do.”
Zach hit the surface, the chill robbing him of breath. He went under and came up in time for Jake to land a big splash next to him, blasting him with a spray of water that left him spluttering.
Jake jerked his leg out from beneath him and Zach went under, grabbing for whatever handhold he could get, taking Jake back down with him.
When they finally came up for air, they stood face-to-face, close enough to touch…if they dared.
Inside, Zach knew his feelings for Jake were wrong. Men weren’t supposed to lust after men. What would people say?
Hell, who would know? They lived so far in the back country the only living creatures they saw were wolves, deer and a few stray Indians.
If he wanted to touch Jake, he could and no one would be the wiser. His hand was halfway there before he realized what he was doing and jerked it back.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Jake asked. He reached out and laid his hand over Zach’s heart. “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you?”
Zach shook his head, even as he wanted to shout, Yes.
Jake’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “I know what you’re thinkin’. It ain’t right. Men aren’t supposed to like each other. You know…that way.” His hand slid down Zach’s torso and into the water where even the cool mountain stream couldn’t shrink his arousal.
When Jake’s hand circled his cock, Zach jumped back. “Damn, Jake. It ain’t right.” Revulsion warred with desire. Jake’s hand had felt good. Damn good and Zach wanted more.
“Who’s around to say it ain’t right?” Jake waved at the forest around them before his gaze settled on Zach’s face. “I’d wondered what it would feel like to touch you there.” He closed the distance between them again. “Don’t you wonder?” He lifted Zach’s hand and guided it to his rock-hard dick. “See? The sky ain’t gonna crash in. The world ain’t comin’ to an end. We’re just two men.”
“Two men sinnin’.” Zach’s fingers curled around Jake’s cock, reveling in the rush of heat pooling in his own groin. He backed away, his hand falling to his side. “We best get back to the shack. We got work to do before we can make that trip to Idaho Springs. Never know how long this good weather’s gonna hold out.”
Jake sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Not yet. I want more.” He stared across at Zach. The way his gray-eyed gaze locke
d on him made Zach’s cock swell even larger.
If he didn’t find some relief soon, he’d explode. “You’re killin’ me, Jake,” Zach said. “If we weren’t such good friends, I’d punch you.”
Jake glanced down at Zach’s engorged member. “I just know I can help you there.”
Zach shook his head, the horror of what would happen if the men of the hills found out making him resist when all he wanted was Jake’s hands on him again.
“Let me.” Jake reached out again and this time Zach didn’t back away. Seeing Jake naked made him hornier than a boy with his first whore.
As Jake’s fingers closed around his cock, Zach shut his eyes. “We really need to get to Idaho Springs and find us some women.”
“We will. Soon enough. But for now…” Jake smoothed his hand over the length of Zach’s shaft.
She ducked low in the brush, holding her breath and praying he didn’t find her. The years her husband insisted she hunt with him had paid off. She’d learned to walk softly through the woods, to crouch low so the animals would not see her, and stay upwind to keep her scent from alerting their prey.
If she had any chance of evading Running Bear, Honor Whitaker had to be smarter than him. She couldn’t outrun him, so she had to use her brain to outwit him. She’d be damned to eternity if she had to live the rest of her life kowtowing to yet another man who thought she was nothing more than slave labor to cook, clean and bed whenever they liked. She’d make it to San Francisco and set up a hat shop if it was the last thing she did.
Wearing nothing but the doeskin squaw dress and moccasins she’d been given by one of the older women of Running Bear’s tribe, she didn’t know how she’d be received by white people if she ever made it back to civilization. Hell, she didn’t even know where civilization was. She’d worry about proper clothing when she got there. They’d know she was a white woman because of her red hair and firm grasp of the English language. But would they treat her any better than an Indian squaw after being with an Indian for the past six weeks?
First things first. She had to get away from Running Bear and find people of her own kind. On top of the last ridge she’d crossed, she’d spotted a thin line of smoke, maybe a mile away from her current location. If she could make it there without getting caught, she might just find someone who could help her find her way to San Francisco.
Movement between the trees made her catch her breath and sink lower into the brush and decaying leaves of the forest floor. An elk cow lumbered through the forest, followed by a calf half her size.
Honor let go of the breath she’d been holding. No sooner had she taken another when she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. Just past the elk and her calf, Running Bear eased through the aspens, his naked, bronzed skin and tan breechcloth blending with the shadows. So silent were his movements, not even the elk could discern him from the rustle of spring-green leaves in the breeze.
Her heart pounding, Honor lay perfectly still, barely breathing as Running Bear moved past her and disappeared over a rise. She counted to thirty, giving him enough time to get out of earshot of her position, before she made her next move. On thirty, she eased up out of the leaves and crawled on her hands and knees to a ravine that led down the opposite hillside and hopefully in the same direction as the plume of smoke.
As the ground grew steeper, Honor clutched at the rocks, working her way down the rugged incline. The ravine swelled with running water from snow melting in the higher meadows, the water pure and crystal clear. She stopped to scoop a handful and drink, careful not to leave a trail or linger too long. She had to put as much distance as possible between herself and Running Bear before she could rest.
The rocks dropped off sharply on the side of the stream she was on. If she wanted to go farther down the hill, she’d have to cross the water and continue down on the opposite side.
Gathering the hem of her doeskin dress, she hiked it up to her knees, stepped out on a large wet stone and leaped to the other side. Her foot caught on loose gravel. Her arms flailed and she reached out to grab anything to save her from falling.
Grasping nothing but air, she tumbled down the steep hillside, her body flopping like a rag doll, taking a cascade of rocks with her. Pain shot through her ribs, beat against her arms and legs and finally crashed against the side of her head.
Her breath came in gasps, terror gripping her lungs like a giant hand. Fear trumped pain as she neared a sheer drop-off that would send her plummeting fifty feet to the bottom of the cliff. If she didn’t stop herself, she’d die.
Honor clawed, grabbed, dug in her heels, anything to gain purchase on the hillside. Tears streamed from her eyes, her hair tumbled into her face and her hand caught a loose tree root.
Her fingers closed around the root in a grip so strong it anchored her to the earth.
I will not die.
Downward momentum carried her body past the root and nearly yanked her arm out of its socket. Her fingers pulled free, and she reached out with her other hand to grab hold of a slim sapling.
With her feet dangling over the edge of the cliff, Honor lay still, breathing hard, tears making the dust cake against her face. “God help me,” she whispered.
God hadn’t helped her in the past six weeks. Everything she’d accomplished she’d done on her own. Her survival and her escape were because she had kept her wits about her and formed a plan.
With every ounce of strength left in her, she dragged her body up the hillside, her hands tangling in roots of trees clinging to the treacherous slopes. When she could brace her feet on deeply embedded rocks, she climbed up to a point where she crossed through a stand of trees.
Far enough away from the vertical drop-off, she sank to her knees and leaned back against a stout aspen.
The entire situation threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe she should have stayed in the Indian village and waited for someone to rescue her. But who would that be? She didn’t have any family waiting for her back East. Her husband had died and left what little he had to her. Just enough to secure passage on the wagon train going to California.
She had been the only survivor of the attack as far as she knew. No one would know to look for her.
As her breathing returned to normal, her stubborn determination pushed her to her feet. She hadn’t come this far to second-guess her decision to escape. She set off down the hillside on a path of her choosing, skirting the cliffs to take the gentler slope to the valley below.
Tired, bruised and aching in every muscle and bone of her body, she fought to keep her noise to a minimum, moving from shadow to shadow, just like she’d learned. She had to get away from where she’d fallen as soon as possible, leaving no signs of her passing. If she planned to live, she’d have to do better than sliding down hillsides, making enough noise to bring Running Bear and the entire Apache Nation to her location.
The sky opened up at the bottom of the ravine, breaks in the canopy of trees revealing incredibly blue heavens. Water tumbled through the ravine, over rocks, flowing downward to feed a stream at the base of the mountain.
Honor followed the sound of rushing water, the ground leveling out with the streambed. Parallel to the water’s path, she pushed through a stand of bushes into a secluded grotto with a deep pool and large boulders surrounding its edge.
About to step forward, Honor stopped.
The water in the center of the pool bubbled, then two naked men splashed to the surface. Both were large, heavily muscled, handsome men and unmistakably white.
Honor’s breath caught in her throat and she shrank back into the shadows of the brush. Her first instinct was to rush out and beg them to save her from the savage tracking her. The days spent in captivity made her wary, less impulsive. She studied the two men, wishing she could tell by looking at them if they’d help her or try to claim her as their own, just like Running Bear.
She might be better off finding her way to an actual civilized town where she could establish her
independence from any man. With the decision to move on made, she almost backed away and left the pool when she noticed something peculiar about the two men.
Both of them had their hands beneath the water’s surface. The more Honor stared, the clearer and more shocking their actions became. Honor gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. The shorter man had his hand on the taller man’s shaft.
Honor held her breath, her eyes rounded, the shock fading, but a different emotion taking over. Suddenly the juncture of her thighs dampened, a tingling sensation spreading throughout her body, causing her temperature to rise and her cheeks to burn. Was she having the vapors?
Certainly she wasn’t aroused by such brazen behavior between two men. Intrigued, yes…but aroused? Men didn’t do those kinds of things back East. The lines separating men and women were firmly drawn and nobody crossed them.
Or did they? Had she led such an overprotected life that her husband did not see fit to inform her of such deviances from what was proper?
Appalled at her carnal curiosity, rather than run away, Honor remained rooted to the spot, her gaze riveted on the handsome men. Her body grew warmer and more agitated. As a widow, she’d known a little passion. Passion she’d hidden from her husband, the parson. Even in Running Bear’s bed, she’d achieved a certain amount of…satisfaction, although love had nothing to do with what they’d shared.
Passion did not automatically accompany love. Another truth she’d learned early on in her marriage to the good Parson Whitaker. God forbid she should actually enjoy coupling with a man. He’d taught her that fornication was the duty of a wife to her husband—its sole purpose to beget progeny, not for pleasure. Pleasure in fornication was a sin.
What she witnessed in front of her was wrong on every level of what Parson Whitaker had preached to her. Yet, it fascinated her so much that she forgot where she was, that she was hungry, bruised and desperately on the run from a wild Indian who would not give up what he considered his.
The shorter man stroked the taller man, his arm moving back and forth, faster and faster. The taller man reached out to the shorter one and touched him beneath the water’s surface, his hand grabbing on to the man’s member.