Tallchief for Keeps

by London, Cait

  Elspeth lifted her head and sighted a cliff where LaBelle Dupree, her grandmother and a reformed international jewel thief, had hidden her treasures. LaBelle had been a bit of a tomboy, something like Fiona, always into trouble, and she’d loved intrigue. Nothing satisfied her like plucking fortunes from the wealthy. Until Jake Tallchief had turned up at her fancy soiree and blackmailed her into marriage. Jake had only wanted to capture her, to prevent her from hanging or worse, and tuck her under his wing. LaBelle, once faced with a man she couldn’t push to do her bidding, had fallen deeply in love with him.

  Now LaBelle’s earring was Alek’s.

  Elspeth slid the reins through her fingers and glanced up at the clear blue June sky. Her ancestors had loved deeply, and she would settle for nothing less.

  Alek had carried the woven swatch with him for years.

  Elspeth ran her hand across her damp lashes, not wanting to believe the tenderness in Alek’s arms, the gentle, reverent way he touched her.

  A doe bounded across the path, startling Delight. Elspeth calmed her in a soft, gentling tone. The sound reminded her of Alek, whispering wild, exotic things to her, treasuring her with his body….

  A hawk swooped down in a grassy meadow, reminding Elspeth of Alek. In a cave beyond that meadow, Pauline Dante, the first woman judge of Amen Flats, had been held hostage. Matthew Tallchief, her childhood nemesis, and a sheriff’s deputy assigned to protect her from threats, had tracked the kidnappers and rescued her. There in the meadow, he’d won her heart by reciting Greek mythology.

  Elspeth stood in the saddle, absorbing the mountain’s familiar sounds and scents. Her eyes swept the valley below, a blend of rich fields, winding roads and the small town of Amen Flats. She stretched, her muscles aching from Alek’s lovemaking and from riding. Elspeth inhaled the pine scents and knew that she’d never pitted herself against anyone, any challenge, like Alek.

  She’d never felt more alive.

  She believed in her senses, in what they told her before the happening; they’d told her that Alek would be coming and that he would change her life.

  Lovers’ whispers swept through the pine branches, and Elspeth shivered because they sounded familiar, the tone the same as Alek’s and hers.

  Delight grazed in the meadow while Elspeth settled near her parents’ graves. She folded her arms over her knees and let the tears roll down her cheeks.

  She’d created a safe nest, and now he’d come to tear her loose.

  The wind whispered along her body. It caressed the tendrils of hair near her face, and she remembered her mother’s words, Love isn’t calm, Elspeth. It’s fierce joy, rising out of your very soul. Love can shatter and hurt and, if it’s real, it will take the wear and become stronger. There are no guarantees, nothing but the tenderness in a man’s eyes that’s just for you. When your time conies, honey, take a chance.

  Elspeth crushed a bluebell stalk. Alek’s black eyes had been very tender. He’d placed his face into the hollow of her shoulder, a gentle, sweet gesture from a hard man.

  Elspeth held the wildflower bouquet and thought of the heather that Alek had given her that night. She’d taken one chance with Alek Petrovna. Could she withstand another?

  You sense things, probably because of your seer and shaman blood, Duncan has a bit of the gift, but not as much as yours. You’ll know. Elspeth, when the man is right. You’ll feel like you’re walking on air when he looks at you. There’s a fever in your blood that is only for him,

  Elspeth had been too full of thoughts about Alek; he’d washed away the premonitions she’d come to expect. Even now, she saw flashes of him wherever she looked, big arrogant and bold, pushing…pushing….

  Elspeth placed her forehead on her arms, braced over her knees. Alek moved too quickly; he was too passionate, too ready to laugh or to rage…or to kiss her as if all his dreams were wrapped up in her.

  Your heart will know, even if you deny him, dear. The Tallchiefs are a complex brood, and I’ve always known that love wouldn’t come easy to you.

  At five o’clock in the afternoon, Amen Flats’s Main Street began settling in for the weekend. The scent of apple pie and backyard barbecues hung in the June air. High-school boys in their spotlessly waxed trucks and cars cruised up and down. The butcher hauled an extra order of hamburger into the local drive-in. Trucks and cars were already parking near Maddy’s Hot Spot, and the sheriff had slept in that morning to prepare for Friday night and payday on the ranches.

  At eight o’clock, the ballfield lights would flick on for the start of the first softball game. Families would sit on blankets lining the field, and babies would sleep through it all.

  A hay baler prowled down Main Street, on its way for repair at Powell’s Machinery. Forced to move aside, a tractor ran up on the sidewalk, the driver cursing and slapping his battered Stetson. Dirty from working in the fields and building fence, a truckload of college boys home for the summer whistled at Sexy Sue, who wore a gold chain around her waist and had just gotten a brand-new rose tattoo on her ankle. According to gossip, Sexy Sue had pierced more than her ears, and the boys were drooling to know just what.

  With Megan strapped to his back, Alek sorted through his thoughts. He’d grown up in a town just like this, his teenage hormones lusting after another version of Sexy Sue before Melissa.

  When it came to Elspeth, maybe his hunger hadn’t changed. Alek stared at Jeremy Cabot leaving the feed mill in his red sports car. Jeremy did not return Alek’s unwavering stare. Alek managed not to flinch when Megan’s wet fingers investigated his ear and a certain warm dampness spread down his T-shirt. When Cabot’s sports car shot out of sight, Alek cursed the intricacies of diapers with sticky tabs; his engineering attempt had been admirable, if lopsided.

  Outside the newspaper office, Alek crouched in the midst of the dirt-bike squad. Bundled to his back while Sybil shopped, Megan alternately cooed and giggled and jabbered at the boys surrounding her.

  Alek liked the feeling of the toddler on his back almost as much as he liked her in his arms.

  “They’re girls. I can shoot off a ramp, fly up ten feet, spit another ten feet and still come down on both tires.” Jimmy Lattigo, the biggest of the ten- to twelve-year-olds, wanted a steeper ramp to jump his bicycle.

  “Who says we’re girls?” Ace Wheeler demanded.

  “You’re lucky you don’t drown when all that spit flies back in your face.”

  “Jimmy is a show-off. Watch this.” Mad Matt, his baseball cap on backward, glared at Jimmy and spit a perfect arc into the street.

  “Nice shot, Matt. I always thought the best riders were the most careful. They finished, while the ones showing off laid on the pavement, bleeding their guts out.” Alek tightened the sagging bicycle chain for Killer McGee. The raging discussion was a mix of air gauges, wheelies, tire treads and Annie Jones, who wanted to kiss the entire gang.

  Alek had been amid other children, hungry, damaged ones. The grins on these faces said that no one was hungry and the biggest problem was soap and fleeing Annie Jones’s mushy kisses. It eased Alek to know that in Amen Flats, most parents took care of their children and that they could sleep at night without fearing for their lives. There were images of children he would never forget.

  “He’s been in wars. He knows everything.” Shark Malone’s freckles caught the afternoon sun. Shark didn’t know that Alek had failed the diapering rodeo twice before succeeding—somewhat.

  Alek reached to ruffle a boy’s unruly hair, and another small boy—Tyree—timidly placed his hand in Alek’s. His mother had made Jimmy take Tyree, and Jimmy wasn’t happy about a kid brother in tow. Alek knew the feeling; as a boy, he’d been mortified when stuck with Anton and his sisters.

  A horseback rider came down the center of the street, and people came from their offices and stores to watch.

  Alek stood slowly, keeping Tyree’s hand in his.

  Maybe he needed the boy’s support; maybe he needed to take a breath before he passed out. Ele
ctricity played along his skin, and his pulse rate zapped into overdrive.

  Megan squealed with delight and bounced on Alek’s back as she recognized her aunt.

  Elspeth sat straight, shoulders back, the wind tugging at her dirty and torn blouse. Each movement of the horse caused a soft movement of her breasts. Her hair, loose around her shoulders, rippled and gleamed, black as a crow’s wing. The chaps covering her jeans were as worn as her western boots. Her gloved hand rested on her thigh, and the other skillfully managed the reins.

  Beneath the straight brim of her black western hat, Elspeth’s eyes were steady heat, searing Alek’s. She stopped the horse directly in front of him. There wasn’t a shadow touching her; she was all steel, all woman and knew what she wanted.

  Alek sucked in his breath and knew that what Elspeth wanted, she would take. Maybe it was Una’s shawl…maybe, just maybe it might be him. His brain swarmed with dreams and hopes, while a solid ache lodged low in his body, turning his thighs into stone.

  Elspeth’s mare held still as the squad hopped on their bikes and circled Elspeth on Main Street.

  Birk’s pickup, laden with a portable concrete mixer, slowed to a stop. Calum, laden with grocery sacks of Talia’s latest craving, placed the sacks on Birk’s hood. The brothers stood side by side, legs spread, arms across their chests, their faces impassive.

  “She always was the best horsewoman around,” someone murmured behind Alek. “Her mother rode like that. Straight back, eyes that could see into a man’s soul and find the dirt in it. She was a judge right here in Amen Flats. I saw her mother wound up, one day, and Elspeth right behind her. The two of them came after Lacey MacCandliss’s mother. You could feel the spit and fire coming off them when they rode into town that day. Everyone knew that when Pauline Tallchief rode like that on horseback and came into town by herself, someone had stepped over the line. Though only a bit of a girl, Elspeth was right at her side, riding straight backed and looking like steel. Never knew what they said to Ms. MacCandliss, but she didn’t treat her little girl as bad after that.”

  Lee Braker picked up the Tallchief story. “The Tallchiefs all pulled their weight when they lost their folks. Sometimes they’re plenty hard to understand because of those times. Every one of them has that Tallchief steel, clear through. Elspeth took on her mother’s chores right then and never complained. She was a champion trick rider when she was fourteen and making a nice penny at it, too. Or else she was at her loom, earning another penny, or in the kitchen trying to keep her family fed.”

  As Elspeth sat straight, watching Alek, he knew he’d pay hard for loving her. Deep down, there was the steel that had kept the Tallchiefs together, and they’d fight when pushed. But from the look of Elspeth now, the fights would be out in the open, not in the shadows of the past. It was worth the battle. She didn’t give an inch, her expression unreadable, and Alek wanted it that way; she had a right to her privacy.

  Tyree’s eyes were enormous as Alek walked with him to Elspeth. The four-year-old boy clung to Alek’s leg, peering up at her. “He’s afraid of the horse,” Elspeth noted curtly.

  Alek slowly took in her hat, the faded pink blouse, jeans and boots. “Did you get it settled?” he asked, even as he knew the shadows had shifted in Elspeth.

  She’d gone to the mountain, searching for answers and a measure of peace. He ached for her, because she’d torn herself apart along the way. Alek wanted to reach for her, to wrap her safely in his arms, but knew she’d have none of that tenderness between them now. Sunlight slanted down the set of her jaw. Sometime during the day, she’d cried, a tear streak dragging across her cheek.

  Elspeth ignored Alek’s question; she’d answer him when she was ready and not before. She tipped her hat western-style, and went dizzy with the sight of Alek. On the afternoon after their loving and subsequent cereal dumping, he was dressed in low-riding jeans, a faded T-shirt and a teething infant’s drool on his shoulder. He stood there, combat boots locked to the pavement the color of sundown, his jaw set, a tense muscle working beneath his dark skin. Slashing cheekbones, soaring black eyebrows and beautiful, curling lashes ran into a nose that had been broken and then to a tight, scarred, unforgiving mouth. She preferred that mouth in its natural sensual curve or widened in a grin that softened his face. When he fused his mouth to hers, assaulted her senses—

  She gripped her thigh with her glove and remembered Alek’s big hands soothing her. Rawboned, big and tough, there wasn’t anything sweet about him—until he tasted her, because that’s surely what he did, tasted. There in the dying light, shadowed by the mountains she loved, Alek stood amid the children he deserved. The infant strapped to his back could have been his own. Alek wanted a family and he wanted her. Fear shot through Elspeth, and she gripped the reins tighter, startling Delight.

  She wouldn’t know how to keep him when the excitement outside Amen Flats beckoned to him. She couldn’t bear loving him one day and then finding him gone the next.

  She didn’t know how to trust her emotions; she’d kept them locked and safe too long.

  “We’re planning a Fourth of July soapbox derby,” Alek said, and she knew that he wanted something from her that she wasn’t ready to give. The currents were there, running through Elspeth’s eyes, though her face remained impassive.

  “I’ve never ridden on a horse like that. Can I ride on your horse?” Tyree asked shyly, and Elspeth shivered in the late heat of the day.

  Alek realized suddenly that Elspeth kept her distance from children this age. She looked strong enough to take anything now, and he decided to push her a bit more; Alek wanted her eyes to flash and smoke at him. He bent to lift Tyree to his hip. “She’s got a hot date tonight. She might not want to right now.”

  Elspeth shot him a look that would have made her brothers take two steps back. Instead, Alek took one toward her and pushed again. “I bought the Kostya place.”

  The moment he’d seen the old ranch, he knew it suited Elspeth; laden with flowers and vegetable gardens, the yard spread into fields and the fields spread into mountain meadows. He could see Elspeth rocking a baby on their front porch, running after a toddler and swinging a child.

  He could see her in the old house, busy at her loom or walking and spinning on the huge old wheel on the front porch.

  Alek’s heart skipped a beat as he saw her in the old bedroom, dressed in yards of old-fashioned nightgown and waiting for him.

  The mare pranced backward; Elspeth’s soft mouth firmed, sunlight catching on the edge of her jaw, spilling down to her breasts, flowing with the horse’s restless, sidestepping prance. “The Kostyas haven’t wanted to sell their ranch.”

  Smolder. Steam. Heat Alek pushed her again. The lady had a chip on her shoulder, and he liked prodding it into a precarious tilt. “I’m from Russian stock, and they knew a Petrovna once. They like the idea of ties to their homeland continuing their ranch and want to retire into town. I traded them this house and any modifications they want. They’re in their new motor home, headed to a South Dakota reunion of their native village.”

  Elspeth narrowed her eyes. “What are you going to do with their ranch?”

  “Grow things.” Hold you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. Make children with you. Adopt children and give them homes. Keep them safe and then love you more.

  “You’re not a rancher, Alek. It isn’t easy.”

  “I’ll learn what I have to. I’ll make mistakes, but I’ll learn.” I’ve made mistakes with you—I’ll learn what makes you happy.

  Delight pranced beneath Elspeth, and she ran a gloved hand down the mane’s neck, soothing her.

  Alek stood and waited for her to make her call; he realized that he hadn’t known the meaning of fear until now. Living in war zones, lit by rockets and bullets, hadn’t prepared him for the freezing terror that she might not want him on a permanent basis.

  If she didn’t, he’d get drunk first and fall apart later and pick himself up to try again. She’d have a hard time gettin
g rid of him. He locked his boots to the pavement and waited.

  Elspeth’s brothers walked to Alek. Birk lifted Megan from Alek’s back and cuddled her on his hip. “Say ‘Birk,’ Meggie. Birk is your favorite uncle. You’re wet, kid. Uncle Alek needs diapering lessons, doesn’t he?”

  Calum snorted and placed his hand on Alek’s shoulder as they watched Elspeth manage the mare easily. “Women,” he said, as if the word explained the intricacies of the universe. “Elspeth the elegant can take the heart out of you when she rides. She hasn’t in years.”

  She’s got my heart now. Alek crossed his arms over his chest. Because if he didn’t, in another minute he’d be up on that horse, taking her out of town.

  Elspeth smiled at Tyree, a strand of hair whipping along her cheek and flowing into the wind. “Her name is Delight, and she’s the gentlest horse on the Tallchief spread. Her grandmother was my first horse, and they both loved little boys the best. Do you really want to ride with me?”

  “I…I guess so.” Tyree was too scared to know that Elspeth rarely came close to children this age; Alek ached for her.

  Tyree’s thumb was almost in his mouth when his big brother pushed it down firmly. “If you wet your pants, you’re in double-dutch trouble, shrimp.”

  Tyree turned slowly to his brother and from his look, his brother would pay for that one day.

  “I’ve never ridden in a soap box. Do you think I could ride in yours?” Elspeth asked Tyree, distracting him from the wet-pants shame.

  Tyree’s eyes went wide. “You never? You can sure ride in mine.”

  Alek lifted Tyree in front of Elspeth and envied the little boy. She placed her hat on his head and wrapped one arm around him. With the other, she guided the mare through her paces, circling the street slowly, then trotting, then stopping, shifting directions and repeating the fancy steps.

  Alek went lightheaded just looking at her. The dying sunlight caught on Elspeth, her hair swirling around her, and his heart stopped. Somewhere violins played—he was certain of it—and rose blossoms fell like rain. Maybe it was rain, sparkling in sunlight. Maybe it was moonlight and angels singing. He tossed in butterflies and magic fairy dust and listened to the uneven flip-flop of his heart. He dragged in a necessary breath of air and hoped no one heard it come out as a lovesick sigh. He locked his knees, because they were getting weak at the sight of Elspeth’s taut body, moving as one with the mare, controlling her.