Tyra's Gambler

by Velda Brotherton

  ****

  The hot sun and the galloping horse lent to Zach’s headache, a constant drumming that kept him close to tumbling to the ground. But he would not, could not. There was a chance she was still alive, and he had to find her.

  A few times he stopped for water, chewed on jerky rather than taking time to prepare something to eat, and rode mercilessly on, though at times his head was near exploding. Any moment he might end up lying in the dust, eyes staring into the white hot sky.

  Toward dusk he heard a familiar sound. Indians chanting, whooping, hollering. He reined in, walked the horses to a copse of bushes, and tied them. Adding Tyra’s Colt to his belt, he crept through the shadows till he had a good view of the encampment. Comanche. This didn’t bode well for Tyra. They’d love her red hair and porcelain skin, but that meant using her up fast, ’cause all the braves would want a go at her. Too stupid to realize when she was dead, they’d just keep at her. His stomach turned over.

  His beautiful Tyra. He had to save her.

  Frozen in horror, he studied the setup. How in hell could one man rescue a captive in the midst of this? Then, from the far side, from one of the crude shelters these people usually built, a woman trotted into the firelight, shouting and pointing. The braves gathered, followed her to the shelter, jabbered some more, then took off through the thick woods on foot.

  Only one thing could have happened. Tyra had managed to escape, and they were after her. What else could it be? She was nowhere in sight. Her Morgan was tied on a picket line. He slipped around to the other side of the camp, untied her big, beautiful gelding, and led him into the darkness. Then he circled around, left the horses well concealed, and took off through the woods after the braves who chased someone he presumed was Tyra. The going was rough, low growth tangling around his feet, logs tripping him. Good thing he didn’t bring the animals.

  He hadn’t stopped to think what he would do when and if the Comanche caught up with Tyra. He would be there and figure it out when the time came. With two loaded six-shooters, he might make a dent. But those braves had rifles. They might make a bigger one. Mind mulling over a possible attack, he almost walked up on them. They stood clustered at a drop-off, staring down into the shadows. With the sun hanging low in the sky, there were plenty of places for her to hide. She was smart enough to do just that. He hoped.

  Stay where you are, my love, don’t move. He sent the message even as the half-dozen or more braves started yelling at each other, brandishing their weapons and stomping the ground. A grand argument had broken out, and he hung back, praying whatever they were discussing sent them back to camp for the night. Finally two of them disappeared over the edge while the others waited. It was getting near dark when they made their way back up the steep incline. A bit later, the lot of them headed back the way they’d come. Though he couldn’t understand what they were saying, he could tell they weren’t happy.

  Best to remain right where he was till all sound of their passage faded, and so he did. He itched to get down there, see if she was hid out somewhere. Damn, he wished for a torch to light his way. His dizziness combined with the dark made it nearly impossible for him to judge direction. Still, he was determined to get down there and search for her. Gritting his teeth, he sat on his butt and slid all the way to the bottom, banging around on rocks and fallen limbs. His feet skidded through water and thumped up against something solid. The woods were quiet except for an occasional owl or two carrying on a low conversation and the sad calling of a whippoorwill.

  “Tyra? It’s me, Zach. You here?” He tilted his head to listen. Nothing. Okay, next time louder. So he tried again. Louder. Cringed. Suppose they heard him and came back?

  “Zach, I’m here.”

  His heart hammered away at his chest. She was alive. “Keep talking. I can’t see.”

  “I can come out. Are you sure they’re gone?”

  “Yep, they’re gone. Come out and keep talking.”

  Her sweet voice reached out to him, and he moved toward her, blind as a bat in the dark shadows. A hand grabbed his arm, and he jumped in spite of himself.

  “It’s me, Zach. Me. I thought you were dead. I was so afraid.”

  He pulled her into his arms. It felt so good having her snugged up against him that he wanted nothing but to hold her, kiss her, touch her. But he had to ask, “Did they hurt you?”

  “No, not really. I’m afraid I might have killed one of them, though. He was going to ravage me, but I stuck a stick in his throat. Oh, Zach, I think he bled to death. All over me. But I fell in the creek.”

  “Good enough for him. You did right, girl. Let’s get away from here and those heathens before daybreak. I think we can climb back out of here. Two of them did. They were so close to you. So glad you had enough sense to hide instead of running.”

  His throat burned and his eyes stung thinking about what could have happened to her.

  “Zach, you’re squeezing the waddin’ out of me.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He took his arms away but captured her hand to keep her close while they made their way up the steep, slick incline.

  It took forever to reach the top. One or the other kept sliding back down a ways. If it weren’t for the horses, he’d have suggested they hide out at the bottom and wait till daylight. But every thought urged him to get as far away on horseback as they could before those savages decided to head out after them.

  He hated that they had to get so close to the camp to retrieve the animals, but it couldn’t be helped. Once within hearing distance, though, he sighed with relief. The braves were quickly getting soused on illegal white lightning. The more the government urged white traders not to sell liquor to the Indians, the more they got their hands on the stuff. And it was like poison to the red man. From the camp came the sound of drunken shouts and laughter.

  He reached the spot where he’d left the horses, but they were gone. He turned in circles, examined the area in case he’d gotten confused.

  “Those damned savages,” he said under his breath.

  “What is it?” She came up close, tugged on his arm. “Are you lost?”

  “Nope. They took ’em, put ’em in with their own. Over yonder, right close to their drunken partying.”

  “Well, let’s go get them. You bring my Colt?”

  “Shh, Yes, but wait. Not that way. We’ll have to wait till they all fall into a stupor, then sneak in and fetch ’em.” He laid a hand over hers, helped her put the six-shooter away.

  “I’m plumb wore out. Let’s find a place to rest for a while.”

  He nodded, took her hand, and led her toward some low bushes. “Sort of scootch back under there, in case one of ’em decides to come back here to relieve himself.”

  “You coming with me?”

  “I sure am. We can wrap up with each other way back in there and wait till they all pass out.”

  He dropped to the ground and turned to darn near bump up against her bare bottom. On her knees, she wiggled deep into the darkness.

  “Hope we don’t get on any snakes in here.” She made a bit of noise getting settled, and he snuggled up close to her, touching some interesting places.

  “Much as that feels tempting, I guess we’d better tend to business, don’t you think?” She moved his hands away from her breasts. “We could get all involved and get caught.”

  He hated to admit it, but she was right, and so he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She tilted her head against him. Having her close, the warmth of her breath against his shoulder, the sweet aroma of her hair and skin, calmed him.

  Tyra snuggled into the muscles of Zach’s sturdy chest. One day she would ask him how a gambler became so strong. Sure didn’t happen sitting at a table playing poker. He’d been somewhere else doing something else in the not-too-distant past.

  “Zach?”

  “Shh, best not to talk. Close your eyes and get some sleep. I’ll watch out for us.”

  She did as he suggested and was awakened by a gentle shake to
her shoulder. Early morning sunlight turned the sky from an ashen gray to streaks of pink and gold that quickly melted into a soft blue.

  “Time we got out of here.” He rose to a stoop and peered out through the bushes in which they’d hidden the night before. Without another word he took her hand and dragged her into the open. “Good God, girl. You need to put some clothes on.”

  “Where would I get some?”

  “I’ve got the horses here already, and your stuff from the campsite is in your saddlebags. Probably time you made use of that shirt and britches again.” He dragged them out, tossed them to her. “Hurry it up, now.”

  “Turn around.” She gestured at him.

  He chuckled. “I pretty much had my hands on all of you last night. Is there more?”

  “Don’t be silly. I just feel strange dressing in front of you.”

  “Well, I’ll fill the canteens and make sure the horses are ready to go.”

  Soon they were picking their way out of the thick woods.

  “Where we going?” She hurried to catch up with him.

  “Marcy’s Trail.”

  A quick glance told her all she needed to know. Zach was unhappy, even though they had escaped being scalped and worse by the Comanche. But ask him why? Not now. Maybe tonight when they sat out under the stars beside a campfire. Being out under the open sky created a peacefulness for him. For her too. Holding hands didn’t hurt, either. So she waited. Asked him a more important question.

  “Won’t they look for us there?”

  “The Comanche? Not enough of ’em. No. Besides, the more company we have, the safer we’ll be. Now, let’s make tracks.”

  At noon they rode past a train of maybe a dozen or so covered wagons, women and children walking along on either side. All but one had oxen in the harnesses. The other had sturdy mules, the big ones known as Missouri mules. Men with whips walked alongside the teams or rode one of the lead oxen, once in a while snapping the leather over the plodding oxen.

  “What are those men doing?” She turned in the saddle when they passed by the train, the sharp snapping echoing back from the distant hills. “Why are they hitting them?”

  “They’re bull whackers. They keep them moving.”

  “Doesn’t it hurt them?”

  “They’re not hitting them, just popping the leather braids over their heads to keep those lazy bovines moving. You let cattle come to a halt, they’ll get to thinking that’s what you want of them. They’ll just stand there staring at you.”

  She stood in the stirrups to get a last long look at the wagon train. “Is it hard to learn?”

  He laughed. “What? You want to be a bull whacker?”

  Lowering herself into the saddle, she studied him a while. “Not exactly. I’d like to learn to crack a whip like that.”

  “Well, one day you will, if that’s what you want.”

  “You think so?”

  “Tyra, I’d bet on it.”

  That evening, after he chose a spot for the night, she climbed down, rubbing her bottom. “I’ll bet if I looked at my backsides they’d have big old callouses.”

  “Want to let me see?” He laughed and ran a hand over her shoulder.

  She did indeed want to let him see. But for the past few days he’d been so far away, his eyes sad and with only an occasional laugh, that though they lay down together, they had not made love. It was time, and tonight she would make the first move if he didn’t.

  Settled beside the fire, they let time trickle on, and she waited for a chance to show him she wanted to make love. Women didn’t do things like that, Wilda had told her. But that was a long time before she ran off with that handsome outlaw, Calder Raines. Bet anything she didn’t hesitate to tell him when she wanted him to cover her in bed. Determined, she sneaked a quick peek at Zach.

  He stared into the flames, seeming a hundred miles away.

  “What you thinking about? Missing playing poker?”

  He tossed a stick into the fire. “Naw. Just sorry we couldn’t go back and find that son of a bitch who shot Josh. Them damned Comanche, anyway.”

  “You think they did it?”

  “The Comanche? Naw, but they kept us from going back and seeing if we could pick up a trail.”

  She moved over beside him, ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. Maybe someday we’ll run across him. Things have a way of working out like that sometimes.”

  He covered her hand with his, pulled it down, and kissed her wrist. “It’s really a nice night. Want to lay down and look up at the stars awhile?”

  Look at the stars, her foot. About time, you old fool. What a relief she wouldn’t have to think of a way to be the aggressor. She crawled into his lap, cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, opening her mouth so he could taste her deeply.

  With her in his arms, he turned and laid her on the ground beneath him. Made contented sounds down in his throat. His hand moved up under her shirt tail, found a breast, and fondled it while he nipped her flesh and tried to get into the open neckline.

  “Get this thing off.” His big fingers fumbled at the buttons. “Oh, goddammit.”

  “Here, darlin’ Let me do it.”

  He rocked back on his heels while she unfastened the shirt, then unbuttoned his and slipped it off his arms. His chest gleamed in the firelight, the muscles tightening while he unbuttoned the waistband of his jeans and leaned forward. His hardness pressed on her stomach, and she lifted her hips to slide her britches off. She wore nothing beneath.

  Both his hands caressed her hips, and he nibbled his way down her bare middle, his breath hot between her legs. Anticipating him, she moved to let him in. His tongue licked her where fires were built. The pleasure of his warm, moist probing tilted her world so the pinpoints of light from heaven raced across the black sky like shooting stars. She clung to his rigid arms to keep from falling off the edge of the earth. He went deeper, and her cry filled the night air.

  Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, lending a wildness to this act that set her insides vibrating.

  He tugged her britches off her legs. Hot and hard, he found where his tongue had earlier been. To give him more access, she wrapped her legs around his waist. In he plunged, so deep she thought she’d burst. Then she did, and it was as if she shot to heaven. He held on for one more plunge, then filled her, his cry challenging that of the wolf.

  For a long while they clung together, each one panting, him kissing her all over, her holding on tight with both arms and legs so he couldn’t escape. Nor did he appear to want to. At last he collapsed onto the blanket beside her. She missed him inside her as if they were one person, and straddled him so that she sat on his bare legs.

  One arm over his eyes, he took several deep breaths. “Did I hurt you?” A hoarse croak, as if he were just learning to speak.

  “It didn’t feel like hurt to me.” She squirmed around a bit. He responded by rising between her legs. “Oh, yes.” Once more she tried to fit him back inside her, and it seemed to be working.

  “Uh, you gonna wear me plumb out?”

  Cheek lowered to his chest, she hugged him. “I’ve never felt anything so glorious in all my life. No wonder the nuns said what they did.” He grew some more and slipped inside so slowly she shuddered with delight. To lock them together, she sat up and rocked gently back and forth.

  “Ah, Lord, that feels good.”

  “Yes, indeed.” She took one of his nipples in her mouth and continued to move while she sucked. Achieving what she wanted, she shifted forward, leaned down, and offered him a pebbled nipple. “Now, you do mine. They hurt.”

  His mouth closed around her aching breast, and he rubbed the other between his fingertips while she lifted her hips, almost releasing him, then came down hard. Once, twice. Stopped just before he came to offer him the other breast.

  “Now this one.”

  His mouth around her breast fanned the raging fire inside her. “You’re driving me insane, girl. Come on, before I—
uh.” Knees gripping his sides, she rode him hard until he came inside her, their juices mixing while their souls entwined. The rush of emotions was so spiritual she wondered at the stupidity of nuns. This might be as close to heaven as she could ever get.

  She would have a baby, that much she’d learned from the nuns who cautioned against such sinful frivolity. A baby with his gorgeous eyes and fine features, his kind personality. And they would name him Josh. And they would love each other and their child forever.

  ****

  Thank God and the angels for giving him this beautiful woman. After making love, Zach held her so close for so long his arms cramped. She appeared to have no inclination to move away from him. A waning moon rose, bathing the rolling hills in a tranquil glow. Still she lay in his arms, not asleep, just relaxed, her fingers playing over his chest.

  “Want to go in the creek in the moonlight?”

  “Mmm, I’m almost too comfortable to move, but that’s a good idea. This loving can be quite sticky, can’t it?”

  He laughed and kissed her on top of the head. “Indeed it can, darlin’. But it’s worth it, don’t you think?”

  “You bet. Let’s go, then. The cold water will feel good on such a hot night.”

  Unraveling from each other, they gathered up their clothes and carried them down to the creek and into the water. Without soap, washing would only take out the sweat, but the stink would go with it. He kept an eye on her every minute, she was so beautiful a creature, haloed in moonlight and naked as the day she was born.

  After they spread their clothing over bushes to dry, he followed her into a deeper hole, where she lowered herself into the water up to her ears so only her tousled red hair was visible.

  He’d rather have gaggled at her a while longer, but he settled for rubbing her all over. One hand explored between her legs until her lovely eyes grew smoky and she nibbled her lip and made contented sounds followed by a long “oh.”

  “That’s nice, huh?”