Blood and Dust

by D McEntire

  Hearing a soft voice, Brody returned to his earlier spot in front of the wagon's rear panel. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Did you say something?"

  The woman smiled sweetly, leaving him breathless. Her face was that of an angel; eyes like deep blue pools and a porcelain face framed by black, silky hair. He blinked when he noticed her mouth moving.

  "I said, thank you for the food and for taking care of me. And, please call me Bri. Ma'am sounds like you are talking to my mother."

  The sudden change in her expression, the furrowed brows and cloudiness of her eyes, after she spoke of her mother made Brody wonder about her family, but he didn't have time to chew the fat. If he wanted grub, he needed to grab it now or he'd have to wait until later, much later. He tipped his hat, excused himself, and headed to the chow wagon hoping his men hadn't wiped the pots clean.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The wagon bumped and rocked along the trail. Bri listened to the baying of the cattle and the clang of items knocking together in the wagon through ears slowly losing focus on sound. She was drifting off once again into the day sleep. Her body still felt weak, the loss of blood from the evening before not yet being replenished.

  With her kind, once blood was gone from the body, it was gone. Regeneration could only be acquired by feeding.

  After telling herself she'd take the opportunity during the dark of night to sneak away from camp to take from one of the longhorns, she allowed the thought to fade before she let herself go.

  "Father, why are we leaving yet again? Are we not safe here in New York?" Bri watched anxiously as her father hurried about his office, gathering papers and stuffing them into his bag. "Father?"

  Roland Wallace, Bri's father and sire, stopped what he was doing and let out a long breath. He ran a hand through his hair, which she noticed had begun to grey on the sides. "Bri, I want you to go to your room and pack your things. We are leaving New York at dark."

  Fear jumped a notch. "What? Why?" Realization set in at the only reason they would leave in the dead of night -- her brother, Trevor. Clasping together her trembling hands, she took a step in retreat. "Oh, Father. What has he done this time? He promised!"

  Eyes filling with tears she could no longer hold at bay, Bri found herself engulfed in her father's strong arms. He held her close within the security of his embrace. "It's nothing for you to worry about. Just do as I ask."

  Bri felt his lips press the top of her head before he pulled back at looked at her face. He raised his hands and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. Her father's gaze met hers. Bri knew he waited for her to acquiesce.

  Hurrying to her room, she began packing her dresses as neatly as possible while in a rush. Soft laughter made her whirl around.

  The sight of Trevor in the doorway to her room, his arms crossed over his chest and a glint of menace in his eyes, made her blood run cold.

  "Going somewhere, Sis?"

  She knew that tone -- one she heard many times when her brother was displeased at their father's decisions. She watched as he changed his stance to casually lean against the door. Dark hair framed his face and fell onto his shoulders. His eyes, black and dangerous, narrowed, watching her every move. A slight smile, almost a snarl, tipped his lips.

  "Didn't father tell you? We're leaving . . . but then again, you probably already know the why of it, don't you?" Long ago Bri noticed the playful boy who had taken care of her and laughed with her no longer existed. That person had been replaced by something or someone cold and dark. Though she had grown to fear her brother over the past few years, she returned the narrow-eyed stare.

  When Trevor straightened, his arms fell from his chest. "Yes, he told me. So be it. I'm tired of this city anyway. There's bigger and better cities out there you know, and I can't wait to see them." With that, he turned and walked away.

  A cold shiver ran through Bri as her mind began to imagine what insane notions played in her brother's mind. He would never stop, she thought grimly. Once again, tears fell from her lashes. Though some were for her brother and the boy he'd once been, most were for her father. He'd tried so very hard to get Trevor on the right path and change his ways.

  Bri brushed her tears away. Her heart felt as though it were breaking for the both of them, and she felt powerless to do anything about it.

  Bri rolled onto her side, still in her dreams. The scene faded away, leaving blackness to surround her.

  Bri. Sister mine. I see you are alive and well in this God forsaken country. I never doubted it. Your persistent nature has shown once again. Come to me, sister, or I will find you.

  Bri jumped, grabbing the blanket and bringing it to her neck as her heart hammered in her chest. "Just a dream. It was just a dream," she muttered.

  Though she tried to reassure herself, Bri couldn't push aside how loud and clear Trevor's voice had sounded in her ears. Worse yet was the fact his words were not at all a part of what she remembered of the night in their hotel room in New York -- the night they'd had to flee. Was he out there somewhere? Following her?

  But, why?

  Her mind raced. She had no idea what Trevor wanted with her. He'd left her with nothing but the dress she had worn that night. Possessing no money or anything of value, the only possible explanation she could come up with was that he had decided to kill her as he'd done their father.

  Bri's head began to ache at the chaos spinning through her mind. That and the need for blood. She prayed evening was close, as it meant stopping soon. Even more so, she prayed for the chance to sneak away.

  * * * *

  Taking in a deep breath, Trevor held it and listened to the sounds of the town -- the place he'd found after following cattle drivers herding filthy animals along a well worn trail.

  He had been told the next stagecoach wasn't due to arrive for at least another week, and the trip out of town had already been spoken for. Although he had no doubt he could persuade whoever had done the procuring to hand over their paid means of travel to him, he did not want to wait. He'd been in this hell-hole long enough.

  As a man's lifeless body slumped to the ground, Trevor sighed heavily, releasing the breath he held. He removed a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped the blood from his mouth. With a feeling of disgust, he glanced down at the man. "Worthless, weak humans, not willing to ride at night." Snarling, he used his boot to roughly shove the body behind a stack of wood and out of sight.

  His latest attempt to acquire a guide to take him to the railroad, so he'd be able to return to New York, had once again fallen apart when he'd mentioned traveling during the night.

  Unfortunately, Trevor's skill at the art of compulsion had not yet come to full power and only worked periodically.

  Once he had come upon a man with a wagon pulled by a single, tired-looking horse. Trevor had convinced the man to do the deed, but hadn't gotten far before they had run into trouble. Wild creatures hiding within the shadows had spooked the horse, just as they had done when he'd taken his father's wagon.

  The driver had lacked the ability to control the beast, which resulted in the wagon nearly overturning several times. The last instance had thrown the human from the bench. Trevor had leapt from the seat in order to prevent injury to himself, and after he'd discovered the human suffered a mortal head wound, followed the horse quite a distance to where it finally settled.

  The fiasco had demolished the canvas covering the wagon, leaving no protection for him against the sunlight. The sun had peeked above the horizon and he'd had to seek shelter at an abandoned, run-down shack.

  Trevor returned to the town the next day to begin his search anew. He'd vowed to find a man who not only knew the way to the railroad and had the means to keep him secure from the daylight, but who also possessed the skill to handle any situation which may arise. He planned to take several horses along this time in case one became hobbled during the journey.

  Trevor's frustration over his lack of success had reached its limit.

  Damn you father for bringing us here!


  Baring his fangs, he clenched his fists at his sides. Trevor rode the wave of anger at his father, but reminded himself of the need to remain focused. Returning to New York was his number one priority right now. Everything he wanted had been at his fingertips while in the big city: money, power, sex and blood.

  With only a raggedy, uncovered wagon, a single horse that had seen better days, and no provisions, not to mention knowing nothing about this land, he needed a human's help. The reality of his situation galled him.

  Trevor thought about the wagon his family had used for travel and how, as he'd urged the horses on in the dark, it also crashed. The image of the beasts bolting once they'd broken free from their harness burned in his mind. They'd left him stranded. Just as he'd left Bri.

  Trevor couldn't help but chuckle softly at the irony.

  Moving to leave the alley, a familiar sensation brushed over him and he stilled. Bri. His sister was alive and not far away. The realization brought a smile to his face. Plans began to buzz in his mind. She was the solution to his dilemma.

  Bri. His beautiful sister.

  Sister. The thought amused him. He knew Bri wasn't really his sister. The only blood they shared was what Roland, their father, put in their veins.

  Trevor shook his head. He refused to think of Roland as his father or even his sire for that matter. The man had taken them from an orphanage and made them his children, turning them into that which he was now: vampire.

  Perhaps he should be thankful, Trevor thought as he glanced over his shoulder at the pile of wood behind which he'd shoved the body of his latest victim. Anything he wanted was at his fingertips now that Roland could no longer hound him for his actions. He'd taken care of the problem, as well as the old man's favorite, Bri; or so he had thought.

  "Good ol' Bri," Trevor muttered. He had plans for her indeed, he mused. Having Bri present herself in distress and needing to travel with an escort was the perfect plan. A human male would leap to her rescue in the single beat of a heart.

  Speaking of the beating of hearts .

  Distant voices of a man and a woman had him smiling in the darkness of the alley. The woman would be just what he needed tonight, and the man, he thought in amusement, would serve to wet his whistle.

  With long, purposeful strides, he walked out of the alley and approached the couple with ease.

  * * * *

  The sounds of nature began to shift as the sun slid toward the western sky. Grasshoppers and birds quieted, while crickets settled in to take their place. Brody ushered a line of cattle to the area the beasts would rest for the night. He urged them in further, closer to one another to ensure they were easier to manage in the dark.

  Brody felt more tired than normal, and knew the cause: endless thoughts of the woman he rescued. Bri had told him she had an illness which caused her skin to react badly to sunlight. What in tarnation was that about? He'd never heard of such an illness. Then again, he'd been able to tell from her accent she was not from this country. A part of him wondered if she made up the excuse because she hadn't wanted to leave the wagon out of fear; fear of the men, fear of him, or both.

  Dismounting his horse and grabbing the reins, Brody wiped his brow with his arm, pushing his hat back slightly as he did so. Her situation had him vexed. Why was a young daisy of a woman alone in this dangerous land, and dressed in men's clothing to boot? Was she on the lam? If she was, he was going to be between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't put it to rights in his head she would do something to be hiding from the law, and turning her in to the Rangers was not something he felt he could do.

  Tonight he'd talk to her and get some answers, he told herself. Even if I have to drag them out of her. A bad feeling lay low in his gut, telling him he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

  Letting fly a whistle, he got the attention of one of his hands. After motioning for the man, he waited for him to reach speaking distance. "Paco, who's taking first watch?"

  "Me, Senor Brody," Paco answered, pointing to his chest. The man's English held a strong Spanish accent, but Brody had no trouble understanding him.

  "Okay, grab your grub first." When Paco nodded enthusiastically, Brody slapped a hand on the man's shoulder before turning to lead his horse to where the mounts would be tethered for the night.

  Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of the wagon in which Bri had ridden, and he wondered how she'd fared during the long journey. It suddenly occurred to him she most likely had not left the wagon the entire day, if the story about her reaction to sunlight was indeed true.

  Brody muttered a curse. He should have thought to bring her something to keep in the wagon for necessity, but he had been wrapped up in wondering what she was doing out here, as well as taking care of matters along the trail. Damn!

  He felt like a clod. How many times had he messed up? If he had to take care of a bride, he would probably put her in her grave before their first anniversary, he thought grimly. He had better stick to trail driving and ranching, they seemed to be the only things he was good for.

  As if reading his troubled thoughts, Frank appeared at his side. "Gave woman pot. Covered wagon. She is safe." Stopping in his tracks, he eyed Frank curiously, but Frank ignored him and continued on his way to retrieve his saddle.

  Brody couldn't help but wonder what possessed the man to take up her care. He thought it odd because Frank wasn't one to see to the needs of anyone, except him, and only when necessary.

  With a mental shrug, Brody set off for Lil' Dave's wagon, and Bri.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The wagon made a turn and slowed. When Lil' Dave called for the horses to halt, Bri silently prayed the time had come to stop for the evening. An hour ago she had gotten her hopes up, only to be disappointed to find they'd pulled off to the side to wait while a few ranch hands riding flank rounded up strays.

  The ride along the trail thus far had been long, and when not sleeping off the lethargy of the daytime hours, her mind had filled with thoughts of Brody; the way he walked, talked, smelled . . .

  The wagon pulled to a stopped and rocked slightly. Bri scooted to the end of the bed, then slowly peeled aside a section of tarp. Finding evening on its way, relief washed over her. Her body needed blood as it struggled to recuperate after last night's tussle with the wildcat.

  A sense of panic struck her. Now that they had stopped for the night, she would be expected to leave the seclusion of the wagon and no doubt have to answer a lot of questions. Bri didn't blame Brody. If she found a woman alone in this empty land, she would have questions, too.

  Doing a quick fix of her hair, as best she could without a brush, comb, or mirror, Bri rose on her knees and made sure her shirt was tucked in and presentable. She wished she had a mirror, horrified at the thought of possibly having dirt and dust on her face. She didn't want to meet any of the men, especially Brody, looking like a street urchin or homeless beggar. A part of her longed for her beautiful dresses, if only to make herself fanciful to please him, entice him, to . . .

  Whoa, Bri. Stop it. He's a cowboy, not a man who would be interested in a woman dressed in fancy attire.

  Bri sighed. Her mind was right. He wouldn't care for a woman like her. She hadn't been able to take care of herself. How could she possibly see to the needs of a man, help with ranch chores, take care of children or run a house? An ache settled in her chest. She had no knowledge of any of those things. Her father had always seen to it his children's needs had been met by hiring staff to do so. She had to admit to herself she was a spoiled rich girl.

  Through the cloud of dust from the horses riding through, Bri could see a lone figure. A tall, lean, muscular body walked in her direction. Immediately, she recognized him, which didn't surprise her much. Her thoughts seemed to be stuck on him so deeply she could sense his presence at any given time. Tingles ran over her body like butterflies brushing against her skin whenever he was near.

  Bri covered her face and groaned quietly. What was she going to do
when they had to part ways? Brody said he would take her to the next town, but that meant she would be stranded there among people, which was impossible. No way could she stay there. Where would she be safe during the daylight?

  The tingles along her skin ramped a notch. She raised her head to find Brody within feet of the wagon. Bri plastered on a bright smile in greeting. "Are we stopping for the night?"

  Brody dusted off his hat, slapping it against his leg as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am . . . Bri. We've put to settin' up camp. Cookie'll get viddles on right shortly."

  Bri watched him fidget as if unsure of himself around her. The notion made her smile widen. She had never had a man act in such a way in her presence. "Is the sun far 'nough in the horizon? I mean, can you leave the wagon?" he asked.

  Bri found it her turn to nod. She was all too eager to leave the wagon.

  When Brody's hand came out to take hers to help her down from the bed of the wagon, Bri's heart jumped. She was actually going to touch him. Oh cut it out you silly twit! Giving herself a mental kick, she realized he waited with his arm outstretched. A flush of embarrassment crept into her cheeks as she placed her hand in his, feeling the calluses of a man who worked hard every day, and allowed him to guide her out of the wagon.

  Without warning, his hand left hers. Both his hands grabbed around her waist. Bri sucked in a breath. His grasp was strong, but gentle, as he lifted her from the wagon and set her on her feet.

  Bri lowered her gaze and took in the sight of his hands on her waist: long fingers attached to dark, tanned hands. Her gaze slid up his arms -- muscular with blue-tinted veins close to the surface. His shoulders were broad, and Bri found she needed to tilt back her head to take them in. She also noted he stood at least a foot taller than she did.