River Song

by Sharon Ihle

  "See how smart you can be, bucko?" Sunny turned back to Paddy and grabbed a wad of his mane.

  Just as she prepared to launch her body onto the pony's back, Cole reached out and slipped his arm around her waist.

  "Not so fast," he said as he dragged her into his arms. "If you can keep that flaming Irish temper of yours in check for a minute, I'd like to apologize. I didn't understand how limited your choices .were before, but I do now. Please forgive my ignorance and allow me to escort you to the Fort for some well-deserved rest. Who knows, our path might cross the men you're looking for."

  It was what she wanted. After spending these past few nights on the trail alone, her few moments of sleep constantly interrupted by the cacophony of desert life celebrating the darkness, the thought of resting in a quiet room safe from all predators, human or animal, was too tempting to ignore. Exhaustion made the decision for her.

  Sunny tilted her chin and looked into his hypnotic green eyes. "Thank you. My father will find some way to repay you."

  Far too aware of her softness, wondering why he'd found it necessary to gather her in his arms, Cole released Sunny and stepped back. How would her father repay him for the thoughts he was entertaining at this moment?

  He cleared his throat and nodded. "Then it's done. We'll spend one more night on the trail, and by tomorrow night we should be at the ranch." If they rode hard. If he could manage to keep his eyes and hands off of her until she was safely locked in her own room at the house.

  Cole quickly cleaned up the campsite, tied a rope around the thick neck of the outlaw's Appaloosa, then he and Sunny rode off to the east. They progressed much slower than Cole had planned, Paddy still unable to keep up with Sage, the Appaloosa, windbroken and ill-used. More than once Cole thought of shooting the unfortunate animal, but sensed Sunflower would find a way to stop him and insist on bringing the poor horse back to health. By the time they stopped and made camp for the evening, he knew they would never reach the gate of the Triple F ranch by the following night.

  Glancing over at Sunny as she stacked rocks to form a campfire, Cole considered his options. Maybe the extra time would work in his favor. Even if Paddy slowed his pace further, they would still make Phoenix by sundown tomorrow. He studied the young woman, following every movement of her fluid body as she worked to bring life to the mesquite twigs, and flinched with a new thought. How would his father, a fierce hater of all Indians, react to their houseguest?

  Although ill-fitting, Sunny's breeches afforded Cole a rare opportunity to admire her long legs and tiny waist, making him uncomfortable when she turned, giving him an unobstructed view of her neatly rounded derriere. And that tattered shirt. The thin material barely covered the swell of her magnificent breasts and couldn't begin to hide the protruding nipples he knew to be a breathtaking dusky-rose color.

  Cole took several deep breaths and turned his attention back to the horses. Nathan Fremont would never allow this disheveled Indian squaw into his home no matter how hard Cole tried to convince him otherwise. Taking a room in Phoenix would make that task much simpler. After a good night's rest in the Goldwater Hotel, he would purchase a suitable traveling ensemble for Sunny and the two would arrive at the ranch in a fresh and respectable fashion. Maybe Nathan Fremont wouldn't even notice Sunny was half Indian.

  And maybe he wouldn't notice his only son had finally returned home.

  The pair finished their supplies that evening, dining on leftover jerky, biscuits, a corn flour cake, and the few pumpkin seeds remaining in Sunny's pouch. When it came time to bed down, Cole made it a point to arrange Sunny's bedding on the opposite side of the fire from his own.

  "Try to enjoy your last night on the trail, little flower," he laughed as he stretched the length of his body across the blanket. "Tomorrow I promise you'll be sleeping in luxury."

  But tomorrow didn't interest Sunny. Tonight did. Why had he separated their sleeping quarters? She needed his comfort, the sense of security his arms brought her during the night. With a pout and a determined toss of her head, Sunny jerked the bedroll from the spot Cole had chosen and marched over to his side of the fire. She dropped the bedding next to his and began to spread it out.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Cole demanded.

  "Sleeping.As I did last night."

  "I don't think it's such a good idea for you to bed down here. Go back to your side of the fire."

  But Sunny continued to make the area beneath her blankets soft and rock-free. When she was satisfied with the arrangement, she curled up beside Cole.

  "Didn't you hear me? This isn't a good idea."

  "Oh?" Sunny leaned up on one elbow and propped her head with her hand. "Is it a good idea to leave me alone, unprotected on the other side of the fire? I would be at the mercy of the cougar and other men like the outlaw."

  Mercy. She didn't know the meaning of the word or she would show him some. "Oh, all right," he complained, also knowing she was right, "but stay on your own bedroll and try to hold still. I'm beat."

  Remaining propped on her elbow, Sunny stared down at his closed eyes, his tousled blond hair, the inviting silky mustache, and softly whispered, "Goodnight, Cole."

  In spite of the little warning at the back of his mind, Cole opened his eyes and found his gaze immediately locked in hers. "Goodnight, little flower. Sleep well," he managed through a suddenly thick tongue.

  "I would sleep even better if you kissed me the way you did last night."

  He stared at her for a long moment, surprised by her boldness, then shook his head. "Don't test me, Sunflower, I'm only a man, and a pretty weak one at that right now. Roll over and go to sleep. I won't be held accountable if you don't."

  Although she didn't understand what he meant by a test, Sunny was determined to feel his mouth on hers again, to know if she'd imagined the wonderfully delicious feelings or if they were indeed real.

  She leaned over and slid her hand across his chest. "If you will not kiss me goodnight, then I shall kiss you."

  When Cole opened his mouth to launch a feeble protest, Sunny lowered her head and took her fill. The moment their lips met, his reluctance vanished and she felt his hungry tongue searching her sweet mouth for some unknown fulfillment. The sensations she sought thundered throughout her, and her heart soared with the pleasure of his touch.

  Again flames of passion licked at her, teased her with promises and left her eager and desperate to know how this inferno might be quenched. She wriggled across the bedroll until half her body lay draped over Cole's, then reluctantly pulled her mouth away from his.

  Leaning back just enough for a clear view of his handsome features, Sunny struggled for air and moaned breathlessly, "Umm, that was wonderful. Kissing you is very pleasant. Can we do it some more?" And then she puckered her lips, tilted her chin, and closed her eyes.

  Caught off balance, Cole was temporarily at a loss for words. He'd usually been the seducer. Even on those few occasions when some bold female had chosen that role for herself, never had he been approached so brazenly and yet so innocently at the same time. The effect nearly drove him mad.

  "You don't leave a fellow much choice," he said with a throaty growl. "I've tried to play the gentleman, but I guess you don't appreciate the effort."

  Cole laced his fingers across the back of her neck and pulled her within inches of his mouth. "I always try to oblige a lady. You'll get everything you want and more." With that, he quickly flipped her over on her back and straddled her, promising as he covered her body with his, "But we'll do it my way."

  Startled, but still waiting for another kiss, Sunny did nothing to stop him when Cole began nibbling moist kisses behind her ear. All she could think of was how her skin responded to his hot breath, how his touch made her tingle all over—and how badly she wanted him to kiss her again. She drove her fingers into his thick hair and tried to pull his head to her waiting mouth, but he jerked her arms to her sides and continued the assault with his fiery mouth, this time journeying into
the valley between her breasts.

  Then he slid his hand between their writhing bodies and deftly untied the knot in her shirt. When his fingertips followed the contours of her body from her flat tummy, across the soft dunes of her ribs, and finally to her throbbing nipples, an alarmed Sunny fought her way through the fog of pleasure and gasped, "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing you didn't ask me to do," he moaned just before he took her exposed breast in his mouth.

  Sunny tried to squirm away. "Stop this. I only asked you to kiss me."

  Disoriented, feeling as if he were slightly drunk, Cole muttered thickly, "What do you mean, stop? You started all this. What the hell are you talking about?"

  Embarrassment flooded her cheeks when Sunny realized what he must have thought she wanted. She pushed him away and sat up.

  "I am sorry if you misunderstood. If you think I intended to mate with you, you are mistaken. No, thank you very much."

  In spite of his frustration, Cole had to laugh before he said, "That's precisely what I thought, although I wouldn't have used those terms."

  He sat up behind her and draped a length of her hair across one magnificent breast. Stroking her nude shoulder, he whispered against her dusky skin, "If it's not what you had in mind, why did you lead me to believe you wanted to make love?"

  Had she done that? Did merely kissing a man lead to this "making love"? Sunny shrugged off his kisses and pulled her shirt back over her shoulders.

  "If making love is the same thing as mating," she said with a confident air, "I know all about it and it does not interest me one bit. All I wanted was a kiss goodnight."

  Cole's brow furrowed as he tried to understand, and when it occurred to him that her only experiences may have been with white men who used her only for their own pleasure, Cole moved to her side and reached for her hand.

  "Has no one ever really made love to you?" When she didn't answer, but drew her brows together instead, he came to his own conclusions and softly murmured, "If all your experiences with men have been little more than what you call mating, I think it's time you learned the difference."

  "I do not need experiences with men to know I won't be joined to one," she sniffed, cutting him off. "I learned of mating by myself."

  "By yourself?" Cole shook his head and strangled on a burst of laughter.

  "Why do you laugh?" Sunny demanded. "I am not stupid. I can see dogs and bulls slamming against their helpless females. I need no man to show me that which I can observe for myself."

  Shocked into silence for several minutes, Cole just shook his head again and again. How could he have been so wrong about her, misread her boldness for promiscuity and overlooked her obvious inexperience? Whatever made him think she was anything but innocent?

  But he already knew the answers, could almost hear his father's voice sneering, mocking the immoral behavior of all Indians. And Nathan's only surviving son had listened well. Cole shrugged off a wave of self-loathing before he brushed Sunny's cheek with gentle fingertips and eased her back down on the bedroll.

  "We've both made some mistakes tonight, my sweet little flower. Some day you will find out how wrong you are about what passes between a man and a woman," he breathed. "I only hope you are lucky enough to find a man who knows how to please a passionate woman like you."

  "Then there is a difference between this making love and mating?"

  At his abrupt nod, she said, "Then I would ask you to please tell me about this difference."

  Cole laughed before he said, "It's not really something I can tell you about. Making love is something that is best explained by showing."

  Sunny considered this for only a moment before she said, "Then I ask you to please show me what these differences are."

  Unprepared for her answer, Cole stared down into dark eyes wide with curiosity and trust, and knew he could take her now—that she was ready and eager for her first lesson. But how could he? She needed, deserved, something more than he could offer. She was entitled to a man who wouldn't see the arrow-riddled body of his brother every time he looked on her dusky skin. A man who could offer her a happy future, a husband whose family would welcome her as one of their own. Cole Fremont could offer none of those things.

  "I wish I had the right to show you the difference, little flower, but I don't. Just let me say goodnight. It will be easier for both of us that way." And before she had a chance to protest, he quickly kissed her forehead then rolled over onto his own bed.

  More confused than she'd ever been in her life, but knowing from the rigid outline of Cole's back she would get no more answers from him this night, Sunflower breathed a heavy sigh. If only she'd accepted the advice and information her mother had tried to give her, maybe she would be able to understand what had happened just now. But, stubborn and independent as she was, Sunny had convinced Moonstar she knew all she would ever need to know about what goes on between a man and a woman. Insisted she knew more than she ever wanted to know. She'd been so wrong. How she longed to have one more conversation with the gentle woman who had raised her.

  Sunny rolled over on her side and wiped a sudden tear from her cheek. She missed her mother, the comfort and understanding Moonstar would have given her at this junction in her young life. And she missed her father, his boisterous Irish brogue, his strong, protective arms. Where was he? Still fighting the strong current of the mighty Colorado, or breaking his back in a pointless search for gold? If only she could see him and talk to him, the confusion she was feeling would evaporate and she would be in control of herself once again. If only her thoughts could reach him.

  That night Sunflower Callahan dreamt of her beloved Colorado River, but she swam in the murky depths, unable to see or find her way to the surface.

  Back in Yuma, Lieutenant Andrew Wallace pointed a manicured fingernail at a man in the chair across from his desk. "Your heart will explode if you don't calm yourself, Patrick, my friend." He pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open. "Maybe a sip from what's left of my private stock will cool your temper."

  "Thank ye and I'll be acceptin' yer kind offer, but nothin' except justice will cool me temper." Patrick Callahan dropped into the chair and slammed both palms against the desk. "Now will ye be helpin' me or nay?"

  "And how am I to do that, Patrick?" Andrew poured two glasses full of amber liquid and slid one across the polished walnut desk top. "My troops pulled out of here four months ago and all I got left is a half-dozen infantry who are more boys than men. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't spare them."

  "Then borrow some troops." Patrick took a swig of whiskey and swished it around in his mouth before he swallowed. "Fort Mohave's still running at full strength, is it not?"

  "Yes," Andrew said with a heavy sigh, "and no."

  Patrick squinted an ice-blue eye at the lieutenant and leaned across the desk. "We’ve a sayin' in the old country. 'Tis a dark day indeed when a cloud obscures an Irishman's smile." Patrick's expression was grim as he added a warning, "If ye and that miserable excuse for a sheriff do not stop the malarkey ye've been ahandin' me, I'll be makin' bad cess for the pair of ye 'til I'm lyin' beside me faithful wife."

  "Take it easy, friend," Andrew comforted. "Star was a fine woman, and Mike was a son any man would be proud of. I'd do anything to help you, but my hands are tied."

  "Then untie 'em. Wire the commander at Fort Mohave."

  "You're not listening to me, Patrick." Andrew refilled the Irishman's glass but bypassed his own. "There are no available troops. Forty-six companies of infantry and forty companies of cavalry—the entire army—have been called to Fort Bowie, orders of President Cleveland himself."

  "What fer?"

  "To rid Arizona of Geronimo and the Apache problem once and for all." The lieutenant's laugh was caustic as he added, "That figures out to be around one hundred and twenty-five troops per Indian. What do you think of those odds?"

  Patrick took a large gulp of whiskey as he did a little arithmetic in his head. "Five thousand troops ch
asin' forty Apaches? And Geronimo with 'em? I heard tell General Crook brought him in this past month."

  "He tried," Andrew grunted. "Geronimo and his followers surrendered to General Crook at Canon de los Embudos in Mexico, but on the way to Fort Bowie, some idiot bootlegger sold them whiskey and convinced them that as soon as they crossed the border into Arizona, the army planned to shoot them all. Can't say I blame Geronimo for waiting until nightfall, then heading back to his hideout in the Sonoran Mountains."

  "Nor kin I," Patrick agreed, "but I do not understand why Crook needs so many men fer so few Apaches. Ye'd think he could spare a few for me troublesv"

  The lieutenant laughed at this, but more due to the irony of the situation than the humor. "Just between you and me, the orders from Washington are from men working out of West Point textbooks. They don't seem to understand we're facing a small but clever band of Indians who do not stand and fight on a broad front, who do not think it honorable to fight to the death rather than retreat. This war could go on forever."

  "Aye," Patrick agreed with another swig of his drink. "But Crook is a good man. He understands the way the Apache think and they seem to trust him. I still do not see the need for so many troops."

  "There lies the problem, friend. It no longer matters what the general wants to do. President Cleveland has relieved him of his command at the Department of Arizona. He wants those Indians rounded up and turned over to civil authorities to stand trial. The new commander, General Nelson Miles, will be conducting the latest attempts at surrender."

  "Then I'll not be wishin' him luck." Patrick tossed the remainder of his whiskey down in one swallow, then pushed his chair back and rose. "I thank ye for yer time, if not yer aid."

  After getting to his feet, Andrew circled the desk and took Patrick's hand. "I know it's not much, but I can promise to keep my ears open and make a few inquiries around town. If those animals are still in Yuma, they'll be bragging about their adventures, and sooner or later I'll hear about it."