Chase the Fire

by Barbara Ankrum

She blinked."Was there a question?"

  "I'm wondering if you would consider it."

  Nora studied their hands, still linked together."I suppose it would depend on how much that particular doctor needed me. But, yes, I'd... consider it. I'd seriously consider it."

  Elliot pulled her tighter against him and kissed her cheek tenderly. "That's good to know, Miss Harper. That's very good to know, indeed."

  * * *

  Dancing lightened Libby's mood as she was spun on the arms of three other men and Jonas in the Forward, Backward Eight, a square dance done with four couples. No one called the dance. Everyone knew the steps. The musicians played everything from "Turkey in the Straw" to "Camptown Races," until Libby finally pleaded fatigue and asked Jonas to get her some punch.

  Then several cowhands who had already heard Cynthia Pratt's voice, begged her to get up and sing for them. Blushing, she took the platform next to the musicians' and whispered a request to the guitar player.

  Libby searched the crowd for a glimpse of Chase. He'd studiously avoided her all day. Once she had seen him walking with Tad and his new kitten, later with several Mexican women who obviously appreciated his good looks. Tonight, she'd seen him dance with nearly every woman at the party but her. She had no right to feel jealous, but she did. Just once, she'd like to dance in Chase's arms, to know what that felt like.

  Cynthia started to sing, her sweet resonant voice doing justice to the bittersweet song she had chosen.

  "Green grows the laurel, all sparkling with dew,

  I'm lonely my darling, since parting with you.

  But by the next meeting I hope to prove true,

  And change the green laurel for the red, white,

  and blue."

  "Hi." The voice came from behind Libby. Even before she turned, she knew who it was. It was eerie, almost as if Chase had read her thoughts.

  "Hi, yourself," she replied with a shy smile.

  "Care to take a turn with me?"

  "I... I was wondering if you'd ever ask me."

  Chase's right hand closed around hers and his left went to her waist. Her crinolines rustled as they moved together. He spun her slowly across the dance floor in time to the song. He was a wonderful dancer and made the steps seem effortless, in contrast to some of the clumsy attempts of the cowboys on the floor.

  "I once had a sweetheart, but now I have none,

  Since she's gone and left me, I care not for none.

  Since she's gone and left me, contented I'll be,

  For she loves another one better than me."

  "Pretty song," Chase murmured against her hair.

  "Mm-hm." Libby pulled back slightly, trying to make light conversation. "Did you know it was that song that gave us all the name gringos?"

  He looked to see if she was serious.

  "During the war with Mexico," she explained, "the Irish-American soldiers sang it constantly. All the Mexicans could make out were the words 'green grows." She smiled and shrugged. "Gringos."

  "You're a wealth of information tonight, Mrs. Honeycutt."

  She chuckled. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

  He drew her fractionally closer, tightening his hand at her waist. "At this very moment? Yes. You look beautiful by moonlight, Libby. Did I ever tell you that?"

  "I believe you did, one drunken night," she recalled with a bittersweet smile.

  "Ah, yes..." He smiled, too. "But you have outdone even that memory for me tonight, Libby." His eyes blazed down into hers and his thumb caressed her waist.

  "You're just not used to seeing me in a dress."

  "You'd outshine the other women here no matter what you wore. You know that, don't you?"

  She looked away, realizing how often since she'd met him he'd made her feel beautiful. She felt it right now, with his arms around her. Whether it was heaven or hell to be here, she couldn't decide.

  "I saw you talking with Colonel Carson earlier. Were you discussing the herd?" he asked.

  Libby nodded. "He's made arrangements to have an army detail meet the herd in Las Vegas on the first of August to escort it to Fort Union."

  "Good. That will save us a day or two of driving them."

  "Where will you be going after the herd is delivered?" How will I bear it when you're gone?

  He shrugged. "Omaha. I've had a job offer from Grenville Dodge to work for the Union Pacific Railroad. I suppose I'll go there." Tell me not to go, Libby. Just tell me.

  "Oh."

  "Have you and Jonas set the date yet?"

  "I... no, not exactly. Right after the herd is delivered."

  "Oh."

  The music stopped, but he didn't let her go. Instead they stood looking into each other's eyes. He couldn't very well kiss her right here in front of all these people, but he wanted to. Damn it all, he wanted to.

  "Elizabeth?"

  Jonas's tight voice separated them as surely as if he'd parted them with his hand.

  Libby flushed with embarrassment. "I... we were just dancing," she said guiltily.

  "The music's over," he replied, sending a hard look to Chase. "Come with me, my dear. I think it's time for my little surprise. Mr. Whitlaw... stick around. This might interest you, too."

  Harper took Libby's hand and led her to the musician's stand. Unable to watch, Chase made his way to the refreshment table and slugged down two cups of strong punch, wishing for something more potent.

  It was only out of some kind of morbid curiosity that he stayed. He was a glutton for punishment. And tonight would end it for them. He knew that.

  The liquor in the punch left a numb trail blazing down to his gut and he fought the sudden twinge of nausea that resulted. If he got drunk, so be it. Drunk or not, he'd never be rid of this ache growing inside him.

  A silver spoon clinking on crystal brought Chase's attention to the stage on which the musicians stood. He saw Harper and Libby facing the crowd of guests. Assuming a magnanimous air, Harper started to speak.

  "Most of you know Elizabeth Honeycutt. Some of you know I've been after her to be my wife for some time now." An expectant murmur rose from the crowd and Jonas gazed at Libby, who managed a forced smile. "Well, by God, she's finally agreed to change her name to Harper."

  Applause and cheers rippled through the crowd as Jonas bent to kiss Libby chastely on the lips. She flushed right down to her toes and wished she could be anywhere but where she was.

  "I have a little present for you, Elizabeth," Harper then said, opening the small black velvet box he'd kept in his pocket. From it, he withdrew a stunning diamond ring surrounded by perfectly cut sapphires. To the oohs and ahhs of the crowd, he slipped it on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  "It's... it's beautiful, Jonas. Thank you," she said, knowing the extravagant gift required some kind of response. The audience approved, with shouts and catcalls.

  Jonas turned and smiled expansively at his guests. "I think this calls for some kind of celebration, don't you?" He motioned dramatically to his Chinese cook, Soo Ling, to ignite the charge on the string of fireworks set up in the corral farthest from the house.

  The charges exploded one at a time, pitching flares of color into the sky to the delight of the audience, young and old alike. As colors blossomed—red, white and blue—over their heads, Libby's gaze collided with Chase's. A thousand regrets passed between them in that one look; for each of the days, years, lifetimes they wouldn't share.

  Chase tossed back the last of his cup of punch and lifted the empty cup in a silent, mocking salute to her. Then, his stride stiff with anger, he walked to his horse and spurred Blue off into the darkness in the direction of her ranch.

  And with him, he took a piece of Libby's heart.

  Chapter 21

  Summer burned its way across the valley, scouring the land with heated, moisture-sucking winds and dust storms. The chamisa dried, as did the grama grass, forcing Libby and her men to search the higher altitudes for the foraging herds of wild horses. Will Tuerney and Ladder Hopkins, s
o named for his tall, lanky body, were sent from Three Peaks to help in the roundup. Together with her men, Libby went out in search of the stock needed to complete their string of horses for the Army. They stole young stallions from every wild herd within forty miles of her ranch, but strangely never ran across Diablo's manada.

  Days were long and sweltering. Nights cold and, for Libby, endlessly long. Chase avoided her at every turn, speaking directly to her only if she asked him a question. Given the choice, he'd have stayed behind to work with Straw, shoeing the horses, or he'd have ridden ahead with the others if she'd stayed at the ranch. He'd accompanied her reluctantly on a trip to Santa Fe, so she could keep her appointment with an attorney and he could buy a new pistol to replace the one Bodine had stolen from him. But their trip was anything but comfortable. Silence rode along with them like a third companion.

  She didn't want things to be left the way they were, but she could find no help for it. The men were set to leave for Las Vegas with the herd the next morning.

  It had taken two and a half weeks to round up the last of the mustangs. As she, Miguel and Ladder drove the last four stallions into the holding enclosure, she noticed the dust cloud issuing from the high-railed breaking pen. But it wasn't until she got closer that she noticed who was doing the breaking. A frown crossed her face.

  "Of all the hair-brained, idiotic—!"

  "Yee-haw!" Straw crowed from his place on the six-foot corral fence. "Hang on to that jigger-brained knothead, Chase!"

  "Hoo-hoo! Don't let him make ya meet yer shadow, boy!" Early shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I got money ridin' on ya!"

  "Yeah, Chase!" Tad chimed in, "show 'im who's boss!"

  The moon-eyed roan gelding in the breaking pen swung madly about, trying to fishtail its rider off, but Chase hung on with a tenacity born of sheer determination and skill. Libby watched from atop her dun-colored mare. She didn't know who she was more furious with: Chase for wanting to ride that fractious beast or Early for letting him do it.

  She'd seen perfectly healthy men bleed from the nose or ears after riding a bronc, just from the jolting. Blast him! It had been less than a month since he'd nearly been killed! Whether he was doing this to prove something to himself or to her wasn't important. She kicked her horse nearer the breaking pen.

  "What in God's name is Chase doing riding that bronc?" Libby demanded of Early, who was balanced on the top rail of the breaking pen. "How could you let him get near that devil?"

  "He ain't a child, Libby," Early admonished her."He's healed up good, an' he's got a mind of his own. Once he makes it up, you know there ain't no stoppin' him. 'Sides, it appears he's got that sidewinder right where he wants him."

  "He's going to kill himself, is what he's going to do," she muttered. "The idiot."

  "Maybe," Early agreed, "but he'll have a helluva time a-doin' it."

  She couldn't help, however, grudgingly admiring Chase's considerable skill. The man rode like he was born on a horse.

  The air was thick with dust churned up by the bucking roan and the wilting heat made the fine silt cling to every exposed part of the body. The roan was wild eyed and furious, but Chase was firmly settled against the bucking roll and showed no inclination to be parted from his saddle. A dark V of sweat made his shirt cling to his muscled chest. Moisture glistened on his face.

  "Ride 'im, boy! Hell, that feller kin set that devil!" Will exclaimed, punctuating his praise with a wet stream of tobacco juice.

  "Hey, Ma!" Tad called, seeing her. "Lookit Chase! Ain't he somethin'?"

  "I see him." She raised the volume of her voice a notch so he'd be sure to hear. "But a fool and his saddle are soon parted!"

  Chase made the mistake of breaking his concentration at her taunt. In the moment it took for his eyes to meet hers, the mustang wrangled the upper hand. The animal careened, bucking into the split fence sideways, trying to knock Chase off. He saved himself a smashed femur by pulling his leg up at the instant before the gelding crashed into the wood. It cost him, however, his balance. "Whoa!" he cried, as he was launched off the horse with the next buck. He tucked his head and hit the ground rolling until he ground to a stop, halfway across the paddock. For some moments, he didn't move at all.

  Libby's instinct was to rush to him to see if he was all right, but she held back, wanting neither to embarrass herself nor him. Will vaulted over the fence and chased the loose bronc down, tying him deftly to the railing.

  To her great relief, Chase slowly got to his feet, apparently unhurt. He was spitting out dirt, scowling at her. Covered as he was from head to toe with dust, only his leafy eyes and the squint lines around them were untouched.

  "You still in one piece, Chase?" El called with a grin.

  "Yeah..." He looked like he'd just taken a roll in a cattle wallow. Retrieving his hat, he slapped it against his chap-covered thigh, sending up a cloud of New Mexican earth. The gelding perked his ears and gave Chase a condescending look from his place at the fence, snorting disdainfully and tossing his head. Chase narrowed his eyes.

  Early let out a hoot of laughter. "I think ya just come down a notch in his estimation, boy."

  "Yeah, Chase, don't feel bad," Will Tuerney chortled good-naturedly, "He weren't the puniest one of the bunch. Only the second puniest!" Will crumpled into a fit of laughter along with most of the others.

  Libby knew only too well the men saved the worst of the lot for last and they'd nicknamed this particular gelding Lucifer, for good reason. Looking at Chase, she pressed her lips together as laughter bubbled up inside her, too. It was awful of her, but she couldn't seem to help it. It served him right for being so obstinate.

  Chase cast a glare at her. "'Et tu Brute?'" he growled, actually speaking to her for the first time in days.

  Libby rocked in her saddle, gripping her sides as laughter escaped. It felt good to laugh, to release some of the tension of the last few days. "Brutus, am I?"

  "Watch out when he starts quoting Shakespeare," El warned between hoots of laughter.

  Chase determinedly shoved his sleeves up past his elbows. "Oh, yeah? You think I can't ride this demon from hell?" he asked, stalking to the wary beast once more. The gelding rolled its eyes and backed into the fence.

  The smirk fell from Libby's lips. "Chase! Oh, for heaven's sake! How stubborn can you...? You're not going to—"

  "The hell I'm not. I never met a horse that could throw me and get away with it."

  "Whoa! Stand back," ribbed Will Tuerney, covering the horse's eyes with his neckerchief. "Whitlaw's gonna give 'er another go. Ho-ho! Five more says he won't get airborne a second time, Early!"

  "Yer on!"

  "Ya-hoo!" Tad shouted.

  Chase mounted the mustang whose feet were splayed nervously out to both sides. This time, Chase decided, nothing would distract him from his job. Including the beautiful blonde glaring at him across the fence.

  As soon as Will removed the wipes from the gelding's eyes, the roan was off like a caged grasshopper. It bucked and twisted, fishtailed and spun, employing every means at its disposal to dump its rider back on the ground, to no avail.

  Chase stayed in the saddle as if he were glued to it, relying on his instincts to tell him which direction the animal would go in next. He wore the animal down methodically, refusing to be cowed or intimidated. Finally, the roan settled into an exhausted trot, allowing Chase to guide him around the ring masterfully. The men let out whoops and hollers of appreciation.

  With a light tug on the reins, Chase brought the roan to a stop in front of Libby. A rare, triumphant smile brightened his dust-coated face and he arched an insolent eyebrow at her. "He who laughs last," he said cockily, "laughs best."

  Libby shook her head and raised her own brow. "Ah, but we'll see who's laughing later when you come to me for the liniment." She tossed her golden braid over her shoulder and turned her horse toward the barn.

  Chase frowned, watching her go, and absently rubbed his already aching shoulder. He cur
sed silently but imaginatively, and told Early to saddle up another horse.

  "Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, brother," El said, coming up behind him. "I was worried about you for a minute."

  Chase stared after Libby. "Horses, I could always handle. Women? That's another story."

  "Your mind's made up, then, about leaving tomorrow?"

  Chase nodded.

  El took a deep breath of the arid, sage-scented air. "I'm sorry, Chase."

  "Yeah... well..." Chase stared at the tips of his boots, unable to find words to express his own regret. He wasn't the kind of man who shared his feelings, even with El. "What about you? I'm sure I can scare up a surveying job for you on Grenville's team." Even before he'd asked, he'd known what El's answer would be. El had spoken of little but Nora since the Independence Day celebration.

  "After we deliver the herd, I'll be coming back here for Nora. She said yes to me. I'm gonna marry her, Chase."

  "I'm happy for you, El," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "She's a terrific lady."

  "I'm crazy about her." El laughed as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. "We're going to be married in Santa Fe. I... was hoping you'd come back and be my best man."

  After a moment of thought, Chase shook his head. "I'm honored that you'd ask me. But I can't stay."

  "Violet's already written me, worried about you."

  Early led a bay gelding into the pen for Chase and motioned him over. Chase looked back at El. "I'll leave it to you to convince her to stop worrying. Tell her I'm fine."

  "Are you?" El asked doubtfully.

  Chase pushed away from the rail, his arms spread wide. "Right as rain." He turned to run a soothing hand down the neck of the nervous bay horse.

  El shook his head as he watched Chase work. He could see the old armor returning in the unfathomable depths of his old friend's eyes. You can convince the world of that, Chase, but who's going to convince you?

  * * *

  A knock on the door brought Libby's attention up from the meat she was putting in individual packets for the trail ride on the morrow. It was past day, but not quite night. The summer sun stayed out late, and the evening crickets sang outside her open windows. "Yes?"