Thunder on the Plains

by Rosanne Bittner

  He stopped, the words catching in his throat. Sunny again felt the unwanted jealousy gripping at her. “That made you fall in love,” she finished for him.

  Colt took another deep breath, and it was obvious he was having trouble finding the words. “I, uh, I used the money your father paid me to set up a little farm in eastern Colorado—built a cabin. We got married, and to my own surprise I actually enjoyed being settled. Then Ethan was born. I helped deliver him myself—my ‘little colt’ LeeAnn called him, seeing as how the only thing I had ever helped deliver before that was foals.”

  He smoked a moment longer, and Sunny waited quietly, letting him tell it at his own pace. “I can’t even begin to describe how it feels to a man to have a son. I thought I had finally found what I needed in life. And then one day I—” He cleared his throat. “I went hunting. We needed the meat. I’ve had people tell me I shouldn’t blame myself, that I did what any man would do in the same situation. But that doesn’t help. I’ll never stop blaming myself for being gone that day.” His voice turned gruff with anger and bitterness. “Ever since then I’ve been able to understand why LeeAnn’s father shot himself for feeling responsible for his wife’s death.”

  His voice broke on the last few words, and Sunny’s heart went out to him. She touched his back in a caring gesture. “My God, Colt, I hope you haven’t thought of doing such a thing.”

  He cleared his throat again and took another drag on the cigarette. “I suppose I’ve hoped it would happen in a roundabout way. When I went after the Pawnee, I literally prayed I would get killed, but luck wasn’t with me, I guess. I still wake up in cold sweats, sometimes screaming. I keep seeing it all in my dreams—the cabin on fire, my son’s little face gone, LeeAnn’s naked body full of arrows. If I told you the other things they did to her, you’d be sick…like I still sometimes get sick.” His voice withered on the last words, and he rubbed at his eyes.

  “Colt—”

  He waved her off, putting the cigarette to his lips and rising. He walked off into the darkness for several minutes, and Sunny could not help her own tears. Finally, he reappeared, carrying a couple of pieces of dried wood he had found washed up on the beach. He put the wood on the fire, and Sunny could see his eyes were red from silent tears. He no longer had the cigarette.

  “It’s pretty here,” he said. “The Great Lakes are beautiful, but I miss the mountains. Too bad there aren’t nice big fresh-water lakes like this out west. I have a feeling that as things get more settled out there, people will be killing each other over water rights.” He sat down next to her again, and neither of them spoke for several long seconds.

  “Colt,” Sunny finally said, “you aren’t joining the army to preserve the Union or fight slavery, or because you have no family, are you? You’re just joining up in the hope you’ll be killed.”

  He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the fire. “I’m not sure. I do think the slavery thing is completely wrong. Before I came here I helped a young Negro boy escape to Canada. That’s what got me interested in joining up—hearing the things he told me, and reading a book called Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

  “Yes, I’ve read it myself. This country should be ashamed it lets such things go on.”

  Colt picked up a small stick and poked at the fire. “I know this war is more political than anything else, but the fact remains that if the Union wins, there will be no more slavery in the South. And if my death comes in the process of doing some kind of good, then it hasn’t all been for nothing.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Colt, the others are right. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to your wife and son. It isn’t like you to just let yourself die, and I don’t believe you want to. It’s just something that sometimes sounds easier than facing the pain of your loss.” She turned to face him better. “I know how it feels to want to die. I know there is no comparison, but there were moments when I didn’t want to go on after Father died. I’ve suffered my own form of hell, Colt. I know my life looks fancy and easy, but believe me, my enemies are just as real and vicious as yours. The only difference is you can easily point yours out and physically face them. Mine are hidden behind smiles and handshakes and fancy clothes.” A piece of her hair came loose and drifted across her face. She grasped it and pushed it behind her ear. “You and I are as different as night and day, but in some ways our worlds are a lot alike.”

  Colt thought about what he had seen earlier in the evening—the ostentatious mansion, the class of people he had met, the way Sunny had looked, the air of authority and smell of money about her. “Well, I suppose in a very abstract way our worlds are alike, but in reality I can hardly see a comparison.”

  Sunny smiled softly. “All right. I guess I have to agree with that one.”

  He turned and looked at her. “Enough of me.” He leaned down on his side, resting on one elbow. “What about you? You said I needed to talk. Maybe you do too. Tell me about your father, and Vince. You must have gone through hell the last few months, from what I read in the papers.”

  Sunny drew a deep breath, allowing herself the liberty of spilling out her emotions, the trauma of losing her father, followed by the ugly court proceedings Vince had dragged her through. “I had a nervous collapse after everything was over,” she said, swallowing back tears. “It wasn’t just Father’s death and all that hell with Vince. I think it was more from the realization that at the young age of eighteen everything would fall into my hands.” She reached out and began sifting some sand through her fingers. “I wasn’t ready emotionally. Father had taught me so much, but I thought I would be older when all this happened, maybe married, with a husband who could help me.”

  Colt could feel her pain, hear it in her voice. “Your brother should have wanted to help you, not make things worse for you. I’ve met him only once, and I can see what a bastard he is. You’re a hell of a woman to have come through it all like this.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It took me five months to come out of my grief enough to take over my duties. A person simply does what she has to do, I guess. I thought about Father, what he expected of me. In everything I do I think of him, what he would say, how he would react, how strong he’d be. That’s all that gets me through.” She turned to face him. “And your letters. I got the first one the very day I started back to work. I can’t tell you what it meant. Something about it just, I don’t know, it made me stronger, gave me more courage.” She leaned down beside him. “I don’t know why you thought I might have forgotten you, Colt. You know how I felt.”

  Their eyes held in remembered emotions, and Sunny felt the flush coming to her cheeks again in sudden embarrassment. “I mean…” She looked down at the blanket. “I was young and full of fantasies then. I know that. I acted like a silly child, but my feelings about the kind of person you are, my respect for you, and my appreciation for the things you did for me—that never changed these past five years.” She met his eyes again. “And neither have my memories of the West and how much I loved it. I can hardly wait to get back to Omaha. This whole thing is so exciting, Colt. I want to be a part of every aspect of building the railroad. I want to be right there, visit the construction sites. It’s like—I don’t know, like if I’m there, Father will be there too. He would have dearly loved to have been a part of all of it! I prayed so hard that he would stay well and that it would happen for him.”

  Colt grinned, cautiously touching her hand with his own. “Something tells me he knows exactly what is going on, and he’s very proud of you. Finishing his dream, that means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  How was it that after five years this man could instantly give her such comfort? “I think you understand that better than anyone in my whole family. It means everything, especially with all the things Vince has done to try to stop me. He even tried to stop my father before he died, tried to keep people from investing in the Union Pacific. I’ll n
ever quite understand Vince. It’s like he literally hates me, and I’ve never done anything against him. He has a strange contempt for me. Father used to say he was angry that my mother had taken Vince’s mother’s place, and Vince thought that was wrong. Stuart did, too, for a long time, but he’s changed a lot since marrying Vi. Vi and I have become very close. She’s a good woman, very sincere and honest.”

  “I could tell by her eyes in that one introduction. I’m glad there’s somebody in your family you can turn to.” He squeezed her hand. “What about Blaine? Does he support you? Can you talk to him?” Colt caught the hint of nervousness in her quick little laugh.

  “Blaine is the kind of man who can talk business all night. He’s a wonderful support as far as discussing financial problems, investments, the railroad. Sometimes I almost feel in competition with him. But it’s—it’s hard for me to explain how I feel about other things. He’s very eager to marry me, and he doesn’t understand why I need to wait. I can’t make a commitment like that until the railroad is at least well under construction. There’s so much to do, and it’s going to take a lot of my time. I think when a woman marries she should be ready to devote all her attention to her husband, ready to have children. I’m not ready for either.” Why am I telling you these things, Colt? Why do I already know you understand when no one else does?

  He rubbed a thumb across the back of her hand. “Do you love him?”

  She looked down at the strong fingers that held her hand. “I honestly don’t know. Sometimes I think I do, or at least that I should. As you could tell at the party, everyone thinks we’re the perfect match.” She looked into his eyes and smiled nervously again. “Vi thinks just the opposite. She thinks we’re too much alike for it to work. He would want to take over everything that’s mine, and I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t let anyone do that. Vi says that if I’m so full of doubt, I must not love Blaine. She says when the right man comes along—” My God, Colt, she says I’ll feel about him the way I have sometimes felt about you! No, she argued inwardly. This is ridiculous! She pulled her hand away from his. “That I’ll just know,” she finished.

  “She’s probably right. Just don’t go marrying a man because everybody else thinks you should, or because you think it’s time to marry. You ought to really want him. It makes the things that come after easier.” Colt immediately regretted the remark. Jesus, why did I say that? What the hell am I doing talking to her about marriage and sex? He watched Sunny turn away, and he knew he had embarrassed her. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I had no right saying that.”

  “It’s all right. You care, and that’s nice.” She allowed her eyes to meet his own, feeling a desperation, realizing this might be their only chance to talk for a long time to come, maybe forever. “It does scare me sometimes, but if I really love a man, it shouldn’t, should it?”

  Colt searched the blue depths of her trusting eyes. “No,” he answered in a near whisper.

  Sunny swallowed, shivering with the need to say it. “I wouldn’t be scared with you.” Why did she say it? Why? She covered her face with her hand and started to sit up, but he grasped her arm, pulling her back down, gently taking her hand from her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s so easy to talk to you, so easy—”

  Colt put a big hand to the side of her face. “Maybe Blaine doesn’t know how to treat a woman so she’s not afraid,” he told her. “And maybe I can’t stand the thought of him doing that to you.”

  Part of her wanted to run, but Sunny lay still as he came closer. Yes, they were older now, and both had suffered great loss and heartache. Such a good friend he had become through his letters. Why shouldn’t they have the right to take comfort in each other? Neither of them had any real ties to another, and there was something they both needed to know, wasn’t there?

  In a moment his warm lips were pressing against her own, so gently, searching with a feathery touch, making her mouth open just slightly. No, there was no fear here, only a wonderful desire to taste his lips back, to let this wild, dangerous, forbidden man pull her tight against him as he was doing then, to let him move his weight on top of her, let his tongue search deep in a kiss that was becoming hotter, more demanding.

  Sunny thought of the night Blaine had kissed her neck and breasts. There had been a kind of forcefulness about it that frightened her. Yet nothing Colt did made her afraid. The kiss became almost desperate, and Colt made a soft groaning sound as he finally left her mouth, his lips traveling to her eyes, back to lick her lips, down over her throat, and to the open neck of her shirt.

  “My God, Sunny,” he groaned, pressing a strong hand against her side, moving it to the fullness of her soft breast. “You looked so beautiful tonight. I’ve never in my life seen anything as pretty as you.”

  She grasped his hair, whispering his name, part of her screaming that she should stop him, that this was wrong, yet finding no strength or any desire to say no. What was this wild, foolish thing she was doing? She had not seen him for five years! But the letters…his terrible need. She whimpered when he moved his hand to the opening of her blouse and ran a thumb inside over the white of her breast. He moved it farther inside to feel her taut nipple, and both of them shivered from the thrill of the touch.

  Colt whispered her name and gently pushed the blouse and her camisole away to expose one breast. He leaned closer and took her virgin nipple tenderly into his mouth, tasting it gently, his tongue rubbing over her hard ripe fruit. Sunny grasped his hair, her whole body on fire, painful urges surging deep inside that Blaine had never roused in her. She thought how right Colt was. A woman should never be afraid if it’s the right man touching her.

  She felt Colt begin to tremble as he sucked lovingly at the breast as though it was something delicious. Finally his lips moved back over her throat, met her mouth again in a near-savage kiss. Both of them groaned when he moved a hand down to her skirt and under it, over the scar left on her thigh from when he had burned out her infection years before. Their kiss grew deeper and hotter as she felt his strong hand move over her bottom, between her legs, pushing gently so that she whimpered his name. He moved the hand to the waistline of her bloomers and down inside them, and Sunny cried out with ecstasy at the feel of Colt Travis touching private places. It was so easy to let him touch her intimately, as though she already belonged to him. He began working wonderful magic with his fingers.

  “It has to be you, Colt,” she whispered. “Love me. Just love me. It doesn’t matter what happens after tonight.”

  After tonight, Colt thought. After tonight. He stiffened. What the hell was he doing, using this sweet woman to soothe his own sore heart, taking advantage of this moment when he knew he was going off to war tomorrow, a war from which he might never return? Part of him wanted her to be LeeAnn, and that wasn’t fair to Sunny. He relished the feel of her satiny juices on his fingers, would like nothing more at this moment than to plant himself in her virgin depths. But it was wrong, and he damn well knew it!

  He took his hand away and pulled down her skirt, kissing her eyes as he did so. He gently moved her camisole and blouse back over her breast, kissing her ever so lightly then as he squeezed and caressed her breast once more. “Not like this, Sunny. My God, I’m sorry. It’s so wrong. So goddamn wrong.”

  “Colt—”

  He moved away from her, sitting up, then rising and half stumbling off into the darkness for several minutes. Shaking, Sunny sat up herself, still feeling the fire in her blood, licking the taste of his sweet kiss on her lips, the smell of him lingering in the air, on her clothes. Her insides throbbed with aching, newly awakened desires.

  “Colt?” Had she made a fool of herself? Did he think less of her now? Her breast burned from his touch, and an even hotter fire swelled deep in private places, places only Colt Travis had been allowed to touch. Did he think her brazen, perhaps as easy as the whores he visited? Why had she let him do that? N
either of them had said anything about love or commitment. They were as wrong for each other as fire and water. Blaine was the one who should have been allowed such privileges, and yet with Colt it had been so easy.

  In the moonlight she could see him moving around near his horse. He brought the animal closer, and she could see that it was fully saddled. He leaned down and picked up his saddlebags.

  “Colt, what are you doing?”

  “Leaving—right now—before I do something we’d both regret.”

  “Colt, please don’t go. I—I’m sorry if it was something I did or said.”

  “You’re sorry!” He turned to face her, a fire still in his eyes. “Sunny, I had no right doing what I just did. No damn right! I’m the one who’s sorry! The state I’m in right now, I probably shouldn’t have come here. You’re beautiful and sweet and understanding, and for a man in my emotional condition, that’s dangerous. God knows there couldn’t be a much worse match than the two of us, or a worse time in our lives to be getting all mixed up like this.”

  He leaned down and picked up the blanket, shaking out the sand and folding it. He threw it over Dancer’s rump and rolled it up to tie it.

  “I know what you’re saying, Colt, but please don’t let this end our friendship. I shouldn’t have come down here. I shouldn’t have let you—”

  “It was my responsibility to know what was right and wrong to do, Sunny. And it’s Blaine O’Brien who should be down here with you, not the likes of me. My God, we’re totally wrong for each other. Besides that, I don’t know what the hell I want right now. I’m just reaching out, trying to find answers, trying to stop thinking about LeeAnn. It isn’t fair to use someone as sweet and innocent as you for something like that.” He tied the blanket with hard, jerking movements, then turned to face her.

  “Let’s face facts, Sunny. We’ve always had an attraction for each other that goes beyond friendship, and it’s dangerous, for both of us.” He pointed to the bluffs above. “Up there. That’s where you belong. That’s your world. Like the man said earlier tonight, Sunny, together you and Blaine could buy all of Chicago. He understands your world, shares your dream of a railroad. He loves that life and he belongs in your world. I not only don’t belong in it, I don’t even want it! You have a railroad to build, an empire to run, and even if you wanted to, you could never walk away from any of it. It’s in your blood. It’s what you live for. You don’t belong down here on the beach with a lonely drifter who right now would enjoy the feel of any woman in his arms, whether she was proper or a—” He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of disgust. “Damn!” He turned away. “Sunny, right now is not the time for me to be around somebody as pure and untouchable as you.”