by Cora Brent
It was a nice story. Two orphan boys taken in by a tough lone woman. “She sounds like a wonderful lady.”
James laughed. “She is. Just don’t tell her that. She’s a coarse one but that heart is richer than the deepest vein in the Scorpion. I’m sure you’ll meet her sooner or later.”
James Dolan appeared to be a good, upright man. The unruly outlaw of a brother didn’t seem to fit him. Annika wondered if he knew what Mercer really was. If he did, then apparently he’d chosen to overlook it. If he didn’t, Annika figured it was not her place to inform him.
“Have you always been a man of the law?” she asked with interest.
“No,” he admitted slowly. “That mine is a powerful seduction. I spent over a year heading down into that hole. Took a chunk out of my lungs too.” He paused. “I figure maybe I’ll live longer with the badge. And even though it doesn’t bring as fat a dollar, it’s enough. For a home,” he added carefully and Annika blushed, grasping his meaning.
The sky was nearly dark by the time they reached the schoolhouse. It was less than a mile outside of town but it seemed the comforting lights were a world away. Then Annika heard the crack of a gunshot from that direction and she was grateful to be removed from it.
James lit a lantern and watched her doubtfully as she surveyed the single room schoolhouse. The log walls smelled fresh and though there were no provisions inside, Annika was pleased. She could well imagine presiding over a class there. A narrow outhouse was perched several dozen yards away, the telltale half-moon cut into the door. The small neighboring building was to be her living quarters. It was sparse, with only a rope bedframe and no mattress. A large, terribly chipped wash basin and a single lantern were the only other fittings in the room. James apologized for the crudity and promised it would not be for long.
He placed the valise inside the room and observed Annika silently as she began to search through it, eager to locate some of the comforts of home.
“Annika, are you certain you wouldn’t like to board with the Swillings? At least until this place is furnished a little more satisfactorily.”
“No,” she insisted at once, feeling a deep and inexplicable pleasure over her new surroundings. “No thank you, James. I prefer to stay here. That way I can begin seeing to the school right away. I expect children might be arriving tomorrow?”
He nodded. “When word gets out you’ve arrived, then yes. The parents of Contention City are eager and won’t waste time getting acquainted.”
Annika was satisfied. “Good. Then I’ll happily stay here.”
James knew where the well was. He filled a bucket and the washbasin and then awkwardly asked Annika whether she would prefer him to stay for a while.
If she were being truthful, she would have admitted that she did wish for him to remain. But even with the lax propriety of Contention City, it wouldn’t be fitting. She was keen on washing up as best she could and removing the torture of her whalebone stays. She couldn’t very well do that with the city marshal hanging around several feet away.
Before he left, James brought something from the wagon. “You know how to use it?” he asked.
It was a rifle, a Winchester similar to Ebson’s but with a yellow look to the metal. James called it a “Bronze Boy”.
“I can shoot,” Annika assured him, accepting it gratefully.
Before leaving, James Dolan turned to her with thoughtful sincerity. “Contention City is lucky to have you, Miss Annika Larson. Everyone is glad you are here.” His voice dropped an octave and he sought her eyes. He didn’t squirm or twist nervously as another man might have. He looked at her straight and plain. “I am glad you have arrived.”
She felt a hot blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you, James.”
After an ardent promise to return in the morning and assist with the school preparations, James bid her good night. Annika closed the door, missing his presence immediately.
Still, she was glad for the opportunity to see to her own comfort after so many hours of dust, fear and monotony. After a few moments of searching, she found the precious squares of lavender soap which had been carefully packed in her trunk before leaving Wisconsin. They were meant to be used sparingly but Annika reasoned that after such a difficult day a small treat was in order.
It was now completely dark and the only light was from the single lantern. She covered the lone square window in the teacherage with a roughly hung petticoat and began to undress. Her ribs sighed with relief as she loosened her stays. It was a constant source of chagrin to Mari Larson that her daughter never allowed them to be pulled as tightly as they could have been. To Annika it just smacked of barbarity, this fashion which made breathing difficult.
She massaged the feeling back into her skin and set aside her clothes carefully. Using a knitted cotton square, she washed completely, reveling in the feel of the water running over her breasts and pooling on her belly. She removed the pins from her thick blonde hair and allowed it to fall in warm waves over her naked skin. After she slipped back into her chemise and covered herself with a worn dressing gown, Annika ate the last of the moist cornbread Mrs. Tarberry had so kindly packed for her journey.
Tomorrow she would write to her parents in Wisconsin to inform them of her arrival. Tonight she would enjoy a good night of sleep. The bed was less than ideal without a mattress, but she figured she could layer the rope crossings with enough clothing to render it somewhat comfortable. Suddenly she could scarcely keep her eyes open. There was much to be done tomorrow and rest would come easily after such a long ordeal. Annika yawned and stretched luxuriantly. Then she jumped a foot in the air with the sound of a sharp knock on the door.
The teacherage was so small that the door itself was scarcely three steps away from where she stood. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest as she picked up the Bronze Boy.
“If you’re pointin’ that rifle toward me, Miss Larson, I urge you to reconsider.”
Annika knew that voice. She also knew she would not be quick enough for him. Annika lowered the rifle and Mercer Dolan stepped through the door without awaiting an invitation.
“Evenin’,” he said, tipping his hat as if he were invited to a Sunday social. “I reckon you and I are due for a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her shrewdly. He may have dispensed with his mask but he was still every bit the outlaw.
“No,” Annika told him, pulling her dressing gown more tightly over her bosom as he watched with amusement. “I don’t believe there is anything between us which bears discussion. I did not tell your brother of your exploits on the road nor do I plan to.”
“Exploits,” Mercer laughed loudly. “Miss, can you try not to sound like a schoolteacher or is it just goddamn unavoidable?”
“Mr. Dolan,” she said coldly, rising and trying to exude some air of authority. “Whether you came here to insult me or threaten me, you’ve been successful. I beg you to leave now.”
“Threaten you?” Mercer widened his eyes and grinned. Though a careless shadow of beard had emerged across his jaw, he was absurdly handsome. And he knew it, closing the door behind him and moving ever closer in the confines of the tiny room. “Now why would I do a thing like that to such a piece of pretty sweetness?”
Annika swallowed. There was nowhere for her to go. She was at his mercy. “What do you want?”
He smiled again, this time dropping the irksome swagger. “I want to apologize, Miss Larson. I know you were frightened today. That was not the intention.”
Annika refused to be cowed, meeting his eye. “Your friends had some intentions to be ashamed of, Mr. Dolan.”
There was nothing timid about the purposeful way Mercer Dolan’s eyes raked her over. She felt unclothed, indecent, but resisted pulling her gown around her body even more tightly. Mercer’s eyes were full of a fire of want. She knew any attempt to cover herself would only rouse him further.
His voice was thick as he held her gaze. “A lady is a sight to behold in these parts, Miss Lar
son. Brings out the foolishness in some men.”
“Foolishness,” Annika spat. “Does a lady’s presence bring out a thieving bravado as well?”
He was thoughtful. “Depends on the lady, Miss Larson.”
“Today you’ve held a gun to me and barged into my living quarters after dark. You may as well call me Annika. And I will call you Mercer.”
He said nothing, but his expression changed. He stopped overtly appraising her assets and stared at her with something resembling wonder.
“Why do you do it?” she asked quietly.
Mercer didn’t answer so Annika felt brave enough to continue. “Why not find your way honestly like other men? Your brother, for instance.”
His brown eyes suddenly flashed. He did not appreciate the mention of James.
“I’m not my brother,” he finally said in a voice full of soft regret.
“I know,” she told him.
What happened next was inexplicable. Mercer was still staring directly at Annika with hot intensity but he hadn’t moved. She slid out of the dressing gown, feeling it slip from her shoulders and stood there before him in only her thin chemise. She’d never been so undressed in front of any man. When she placed a palm against his rough cheek he closed his eyes. The heat of his skin was penetrating. Mercer’s strong arms pulled her against him with a fierce hunger she had never known in all the chaste touches of her life. Annika registered the broad expanse of his chest and the feel of his hands on her back. But it was the crush of his lips against hers which brought a silent gasp to her throat and urged her body to press against him harder. He moved one hand up through her hair, pulling her roughly closer as his tongue conquered her mouth. Annika’s breasts strained against the flimsy fabric which was rudely pushed away. With a shock she realized she was bare from the waist up. A hard presence was pressing between her legs and she welcomed it. She wanted to feel more of it. As his mouth sought her breasts she was overcome.
God above, how could she resist this? How could any woman? She understood it all then; the passions which drove people into the abyss of lust, no matter the consequences.
“No,” Annika whispered, meaning the word and yet not meaning it.
But Mercer paused, withdrawing his mouth. It was long enough for some of her lost senses to resurface and she pushed him away, furiously covering her naked skin and shaking with a new kind of fear. She had been horribly imprudent, flinging herself at a violent man and bringing him to a craze of passion. How could she expect a lawless thug like Mercer Dolan to respect her refusal?
Mercer looked away as Annika shakily pulled her clothing around her body. He seemed to be struggling with himself.
“Mercer,” she started to say.
“Quiet,” he whispered roughly, shaking his head as if he were in some pain. His hat had fallen to the dirt floor and he carefully placed it back on his head, still not looking at her. With a mix of relief and regret Annika realized he was intending to leave. “You keep that fella close,” he said, motioning toward the Bronze Boy.
“I will,” she whispered as he slowly opened the door. “And Mercer? I won’t tell anyone. About this afternoon.”
His grin was so devastating she nearly ran into his arms, consequences be damned. “Well,” he drawled. “You’re mighty generous, darlin’.” Then he was gone.
Sleep did not arrive as easily as Annika had earlier supposed. The brief moment she’d spent in Mercer Dolan’s arms kept playing in her mind. She blushed over the memory of his hard arousal, half wishing she had not stopped him. And then cursing herself for such stupidity.
Mercer Dolan was part of that rogue band of outlaws whose name, The Danes, were on everyone’s lips in these parts. He was loose and dangerous. He bloodied men in the streets of town and kept with whores. He was not a man who could be possessed by any woman. Annika was sure of that. And though the feeling brought her shame, she wanted every inch of him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Contention City, Arizona
Present Day
Maddox felt a certain heaviness in his gut as the miles passed. He tried to ignore it, leaning forward and increasing his speed beyond the limits of the law. He was daring it all; life, death, man’s trail of broken laws. At one point he noticed movement on his right side and saw a small herd of wild brown horses galloping as if they were trying to keep pace with the superior power of his bike. Or perhaps they just considered him a kindred spirit and wanted his company.
In a flash of the landscape his eyes caught the letters of the green and white sign. Even without it he would have known exactly where he was. Contention City was scarcely twenty miles away. He could discern the shadows of the Scorpion Mountains as they guarded what was left of the old gold mine. The ground which sloped above the Hassayampa was littered with perilous shafts from the boom years of the Scorpion. No matter how often Priest had forbidden him as a child, he had loved hiking up there.
Soon he would see Priest. He wondered if his father expected him, or if the old man figured that even in this desperate hour Maddox wouldn’t be able to face them. Jensen. Gabriela. Seeing them would be unavoidable. He could bear it. Give Maddox McLeod a bottle of whisky and a willing woman on his lap and he could damn well bear anything.
The remaining miles flew by too quickly. He hoped to make it to Priest’s house without running into anyone he knew. He just wasn’t up to that shit. Except for the old man, he’d cut off all contact once he was out. All those familiar faces were sandwiched with the pain. When he’d first left the only home he’d ever known, it had been a rough couple of years.
He’d spent his time wandering the southwest aimlessly, working sporadically, until he lost a gamble to a dangerous man. He didn’t have the money to pay what was owed, but Orion Jackson could be pragmatic when he wanted to. He allowed Maddox to remain in Quartzsite to work off the debt. By the time Mad was all squared up, he recognized he’d found the new home he’d been searching for. Orion was pleased to allow him into the Defiant fold for good. Maddox wasn’t shrewd like Casper or sharply intelligent like Grayson but he’d made his own way and earned his spot in the club. He didn’t say so out loud but he loved those men. All of them.
Maddox rode through the center of town and breathed easier when he did not immediately see anyone familiar. He sure wasn’t expecting a line of enthusiastic greeters on Contention Way, but he was relieved to see no one except a couple of white-haired snowbirds.
As Maddox idled at the stoplight his heart thumped when he noticed a police car parked on the corner. But the officer inside had a bagel between his teeth and appeared to be writing something. He did not pay any attention to Maddox. He wasn’t Jensen. Maddox vaguely recalled Priest mentioning that Jensen was reduced to pure desk work since the line of duty gunshot wound which led to a knee replacement.
As he coasted to the edge of town where his father’s house sat, Maddox passed Jerry’s, a local drug and convenience store. It was an unremarkable place and shouldn’t have caused the jolt of agony in his chest. Except it was where he had met her for the first time.
He had been guilty of committing yet another beer run with his pals. Indeed, he’d almost bowled her over with a case of Budweiser in his arms while his friends yelled at him to hurry the fuck up. By that time his brother, Jensen, had forgotten boyish pranks and was aiming for the police force. He saw right away that she was pretty; dark-haired and petite, obviously Hispanic. Maddox liked girls and they unanimously liked him back. But this one took one look at him and sniffed with a disapproval which was tantalizing. She’d rolled her eyes and let him pass on his way as if he were nothing but a traffic sign to pause over and then forget. And yet it was only a few hours later he’d kissed her for the first time.
“Stop it, stop it, fucking stop it,” he grumbled out loud as he turned onto his father’s rural street. The memories wouldn’t get to him. Nothing would.
The house was as he remembered. It only seemed smaller. The brick red exterior had faded into the co
lor of Sonoran desert sand. A Nissan Versa was parked in the driveway. There was no flicker of curtains in the house windows or any other sign his approach was heard although to him the bike sounded loud as thunder. Inside that house was his father. His dying father.
Maddox sighed painfully and dismounted. He’d known Priest was ill. He shouldn’t have waited this long, dammit.
It felt odd knocking on the door of his childhood home. It felt even odder to see the face of his brother again after a long decade.
“Maddox,” said Jensen, opening the door.
“Hey,” said Mad awkwardly, stepping over the threshold. He’d thought it would be difficult to contain his ferocity if he was ever confronted with Jensen again. But surprisingly he felt nothing but a vague sense of weariness.
Jensen stood back a moment then reached out a hand, which Mad accepted with reluctance.
His brother smiled. “You look good, man.”
Maddox managed to smile back. “You look like hell, Jen.”
Jensen’s grin turned rueful and he ran a hand through his thinning dark hair. He wasn’t quite thirty, still a young man, but the years weren’t wearing well on him. He’d been athletic in his youth but had grown slightly overweight and ambled toward the living room with a pronounced limp. Maddox could smell the rank haze of booze this early. Jensen had been hitting the bottle. Hitting it hard.
The two men stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable moment. They were brothers. They shared blood and their own unique history. And yet, Maddox mused, they were virtual strangers. He didn’t know this man. For the first time he felt a twinge of regret about that.
Jensen was shifting his weight awkwardly and glancing down the hall. “He’s been waiting for you.”
“You told him I was coming?”
“Yes.” Jensen frowned at him. “Even though I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Fuck you, I said I would. He’s my father too.”
Jensen shook his head and stared down at the cracked tile floor. “Shit, Mad. I don’t want to fight. Whatever there was to fight over no longer exists.”