by Nico Rosso
The shadows of tall trees brushed over them. They slowly pulled apart.
He licked his lips and still tasted blackberries. “I’ll go into battle every day for the rest of my life if that means kissing you like that.”
Shade passed over her face, darkening it. “Don’t say things if you don’t mean them.”
“I don’t.” He took the charger higher, toward the peak of the highest mountain in the range. “Not anymore.”
A hint of uncertainty shook her voice. “Where are you taking us?”
“Crandall machine’s dead in its tracks for now, and we got to water the charger.” Higher and higher, the air was clean, whipping faster across the mountaintops. “We can keep an eye on them from up here, figure out our next move. Stopped like they are, their perimeter will be set. No good for an attack. But once they’re rolling again and we’re ready, we might be able to find gaps in their defenses.”
They disentangled themselves and she carefully slid back behind him. The high peak came closer. It was mostly dark rock, but there were still enough trees for shelter.
She spoke, nearly a whisper, as if to herself. “You didn’t forget this mountain, did you?”
“I didn’t.” He’d spent enough time staring up at it that he could conjure every crag and angle from memory. The same way he could close his eyes and recall Rosa from top to bottom.
The wind rushed harder as it hit the mountain and turned up. The charger wobbled through the current, then calmed as they came closer to the ground. Tom pulled off his goggles and tipped his hat back.
“Always thought the ground would be too steep to walk on up here.” But there were wide ribbons of flat territory. He brought the charger among a stand of trees and eased it to the ground. Both he and Rosa sat still for a moment, breathing in the calm.
She took off her goggles and let them hang around her neck. “My ears are ringing.”
He felt the bruises on his shoulder and leg from where he slammed into the mining machine. “Mine, too. You take any damage?”
She dismounted and stretched out her back with a little grimace. “Nothing that would get Doc Chacon excited.” Quick and precise, she unloaded the Gatling rifle and replaced it in its scabbard. “You look like you’re in one piece.”
“Like a fresh-minted fifty-cent coin.” He shut the charger down completely and unclipped its reservoir tank. It was light and sloshed with a little water. When he turned to look for any kind of water source, even snowmelt, he was captured by Rosa’s gaze on him.
“You really take a bullet?”
He put his finger over the scar on his left thigh. “Rifle round from long distance. Never saw the fella. Could still be out there, bragging about how he wounded an Upland Ranger.” He moved h is palm over his right shoulder. “This guy I got to know. Tall dude, little blond mustache. Got me with his fancy Hapsburg ether pistol.”
Her face tightened, eyes fixed on his shoulder, as if feeling his pain.
He continued. “Knocked me off my charger. Thought I was dead. But I wasn’t. Now he is.”
The dry pine needles crunched under her boots as she stepped closer. She tugged off her gloves and placed her hand over his, still on his shoulder. Hard work had taken some of the silk from her skin, but it was the most exquisite touch he’d ever felt. In their youth, their hands had searched for and coaxed a lot of pleasure, but this was different. She was sure of herself and knew what it meant to give him just this little bit of comfort.
He had to clear his throat before speaking. “Thought this wound had healed. But it hadn’t. Until now.”
She took her hand away. “I can’t do that.”
“Too late.”
Color rose in her cheeks and she cocked her head, angry. “So I get no choice? What if I don’t want to help you on the front lines? What if I don’t want you to heal?”
“Tell me to fly. I’ll go to the state law, bring them out here to help in the fight.” It would kill him to leave her, but if her mind was made up, there was no changing it.
“There isn’t enough time.”
“Or you want me to stay.”
“I don’t . . .” Her anger seemed to waver. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”
What could he say that would make her trust him again? He searched for words, but it didn’t seem like there was enough light in the world to help him see into the shadows of his mind. “Don’t put much thought to that.”
“You never did.” Her eyes softened, taking him in. “Used action for words.”
He missed her touch, wanted her warmth. Or a long night or a slow morning together. “Then I guess I’ve done all my talking.” He shook the nearly empty reservoir. “Gotta find water and get the Sky Charger straight in case those Crandall men want to start up another conversation.”
“There won’t be water up here.” She turned to look over the territory, the late day light making her glow.
“Snowmelt will do.” He trudged up the hill while she stepped along the side, deeper into the trees. As she walked, she rearranged her wild hair, pulling it back into the clip.
Her words filtered through the pine trees. “I remember when we stared at this peak, imagined all kinds of things up here. Gold, howling spirits, lost tribes.”
Seemed so easy to be an innocent fool back then. “Look at this—I promised you we’d come up here some day and we finally made it.”
He lost sight of her but could still hear her footfalls. “Never would’ve guessed it’d be under these circumstances.”
“Better this way than being some jackass kid who doesn’t know how to appreciate what he’s got.” He still didn’t have anything of his own but the saddle, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor every moment he could steal with Rosa.
“Get down here,” she called. “Get down here, Tom.”
Trouble? He drew his Rattler and hurried toward her voice, cursing himself for not reloading as soon as he’d landed. There should be two bullets in the cylinder and one shotgun shell underneath. It had to be enough. Anyone left standing he would cut down with the knife in his boot. His blood pumped cold as he rushed into the thicket of trees.
Where was she? He fought the urge to call her name. If she was in danger, he needed every advantage, including surprise. But none of that would matter if he couldn’t find her in time.
Chapter Five
TOM BURST THROUGH the low branches, pistol thrust forward. If she were a villain, it would’ve been a terrifying sight. He was deadly quick and wasted no movements. His lean, muscular body filled out the navy blue cavalry uniform. But what really shook Rosa was the deep concern etched in his face. For her.
“It’s all right.” She held up her hands to slow him. “There’s nothing wrong.”
His eyes flicked over the clearing between the trees, searching cautiously. When they came back to her, he took a slow breath and holstered his pistol. “Sounded like trouble.”
“Who could get up here?”
When he was younger, nothing seemed to scare him. Chasing her through the forest or fighting in barrooms in Porterville, he’d always had a smile. This man, though, understood loss and looked as if he’d fight to keep her. He’d already done plenty of fighting this day. What else did he need to prove?
“Found your water.”
Old snow clung to the shade next to a large jumble of rocks. Tom’s body relaxed more as he strode to it with a small smirk on his face.
“Thought I was gonna have to put more men in the ground.” He collected the snow in his long hands, compressing it until water flowed into the tin reservoir. Once it was full, he set it on the ground so he could reload his pistol from a leather pouch on his belt.
She took out her Colt and did the same. There was no count for how many bullets she’d fired. Crandall men fell, some might’ve died. It was still too early in the fight for that kind of reckoning.
With his Rattler back in the holster, Tom took another long breath. The smile came back, warming her, des
pite the chill in the shade. It was hard to forgive him, but it was easy to be near him. His steady gait and sure shoulders drew her body closer. They walked together back to the charger.
“I’ve seen other soldiers come through Thornville,” she said as he opened a valve to pour in the water. “Billy Durren, remember him?”
“Sure. His folks had that apple orchard. He on the lines?”
“I think he’s an engineer for Army Sky Trains. He had leave a while ago, to settle his nerves. A cloud followed him the whole time he was home.”
Tom nodded. “I know it.”
“There were others too. Either scared or hard like stone, dead cold.”
Memories darkened his blue eyes. “It’ll do that to you. Maybe these battles are only meant for the Man O’ Wars. All that fire and death.” He turned away, still tending the charger. “Doesn’t seem like a place for a normal man.”
She stood near him and without looking up, he leaned into her body, his hip on hers. Slowly, his hand slid across the small of her back and wound around her waist.
Leaning into him, she whispered, “Doesn’t take much strength in the hand to pull a trigger. It takes a ton of strength to keep your humanity afterward.”
He stood from the charger, keeping close to her. “It was your memory that saved me.”
“I’m not a memory now.”
They turned together, not quite ready to relax completely. Far beneath the mountain peak, the Crandall men tended to their machine. Hammers tinged on metal and portable welding machines spat fire. Unlike normal work crews, there was no shouting over the din. They were efficient, but the damage was bad enough to keep them occupied for hours.
Rosa’s breathing became slower and easier. The cool air tingled in her lungs. Every part of her was wide awake, fully aware of Tom next to her.
“We still dance well together.” His voice rumbled like thunder across her neck and shoulders, down her back.
She tipped her head toward the busted mining machine. “I didn’t like the band.”
“Don’t reckon they like you much either.”
“They keep coming, I’ll keep giving them reasons to hate me.”
He chuckled and nodded, his voice still quiet. “Never knew you like this. You could hold a storm back from up here, pushing against the clouds.”
“I wasn’t always like this.” She pulled away from him a bit, so she could see the late golden light glinting in his blue eyes. “Maybe I should thank you. If you hadn’t run, I wouldn’t have left Thornville, gotten away from my parents and learned myself.”
“Can’t thank me.” He took off his hat and shook his head, gaze distant. “There was nothing right in what I did.”
There was too much weight behind them. It was as if they were being dragged down the side of the mountain. They’d be crushed under it all.
“The past is just stories for the saloon now. What are we now?”
His gaze moved to her, searching deep into her. And he seemed to be looking for something within himself, too.
“I’m . . .” He searched for the words. “When I’m standing here with you, I’m not lost.”
He drew her into him, covering her mouth with his. She gripped his shoulders, feeling the strength there. The kiss deepened, less desperate than the others they had shared before. She savored him, this man confident enough to show his need.
His hands moved across her back, along her hips. Her own wants flared, chasing any chill from the growing shadows. She had been right—the past was only memories. The two of them were new. A tremble of excitement skipped up her spine.
Pressing closer, the buckles of their gun belts clanged together. She undid hers and slid the weapon gingerly to the ground.
She felt lighter, like Tom was the only thing keeping her standing on the ground. “I only take it off to sleep and bathe.”
Tom took the lanyard from over his shoulder and removed his gun belt. “I don’t even take it off for that on the front lines.”
Unencumbered, they closed the distance between them.
“You’re not there now,” she said.
“I’m somewhere much more dangerous, and I have no clue how to defend myself.”
“Run?”
“Never again.”
Leaning down, he brought his mouth to the side of her neck. He kissed her there, bit her skin. She wound her fingers into his shirt, pulling him tight against her chest. Her sensitive nipples hardened, needing more sensation. When his mouth found her earlobe, she sighed and laced her hand into his hair.
Pleasure had been hard to come by in the last few years. She felt herself come alive with the possibilities. His hands ran down her back and onto her ass. She swiveled forward to bring their hips together. There was no denying his arousal. Thick in his trousers, his cock stood out. She ground herself against it.
Their breath came quick. Gravity took over, as if they were falling down the mountain. No stopping them now. She unbuttoned the placket of his shirt and slid her hand inside to feel his flesh. He sighed, a broad grin on his face.
“You’re not ticklish, are you?” she asked.
“Might be.” The smile showed wicked intent. “Don’t rightly remember feeling anything this good.”
His muscles were firm under her touch, more developed than she remembered. She needed more. Tugging and pulling, they got him out of his shirt, exposing his chest to the late daylight. With just her fingertips, she drew his contours, watching him concentrate on the sensation. When she knew his body before, he was a little lanky. Perfect for barn dancing and climbing trees and chasing her through the forest until they found their hiding spot by the river. Being a soldier, going to war had thickened him. She ran her hand over the expanse of his chest, broader than she remembered. His more defined muscles all had purpose now. Her hand paused over a scar on his right shoulder, just below the collarbone.
He murmured, “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
The scar was dense in the center, radiating out in a jagged spiderweb. Laced through the scar tissues were hard threads of metal. They glinted in the late daylight, like silver jewelry set in his flesh.
He saw her staring and explained: “When you get shot straight on with an ether-powered round, it burns traces of the shattered bullet into the wound. It’s easier to heal around it than to try and remove all the pieces.”
She shuddered. “How did you survive this?”
“Already told you, I knew you were watching.”
A chill started to creep around her. “But I wasn’t.”
“Didn’t matter. What matters is now, like you said. Maybe I thought I’d see you again.” He shook his head, put his hand over hers and all thoughts of cold went away. “That ain’t right: I had to come back. Even if you were shacked up with someone. I had to see you. Just to know you were alive. As long as you’re alive, I am.”
He kissed her cheek, her neck. His fingers stroked her hair, knocking out the clip and letting it fall free around her shoulders. She felt the muscles of his back as she gripped him. The heat of his skin made her want to burn her clothes away so she could feel all of him.
“I wasn’t watching,” she said softly, “but you were always there. Even miles away from Thornville. I wandered up and down the coast, throwing myself into any job I could find in order to forget you.”
His mouth moved just an inch off her sensitive throat. “You going to chase me off?”
She slid her hand to the back of his head and urged him back to her. “I’m going to find out who you really are.”
Hot breath singed her skin. Every nerve yearned for more. It wasn’t easy taking her hands from him, but she had to get the buttons undone on her vest. Tom helped when it came to undoing her blouse. The fabric fell to the ground, yet she was still careful to not let her badge touch the dirt.
Only her flimsy chemise stood between her skin and Tom’s. He moved his hands along her ribs as he leaned down for another kiss. She met his mouth just as he palmed her breast
and he swallowed her soft sigh. The soft fabric of the chemise was a whispered tease, holding back the full heat of Tom’s hand from her firm nipple.
She pulled away from the kiss, breathless. “Get this off me.”
His smile was quick against her cheek. “Who am I not to oblige the sheriff?”
The chemise was gone in an instant. She held her breath. His hand moved back to her again. This time the calluses of his palm rasped against her nipple. The breath she’d caught was released with a moan. His skin was rough. Every ridge of his hand resonated through her nipple and breast.
She took his flames and built her own. Her flesh shimmered with it. And when he took her mouth with his, drawing her chest to his, hot, wet heat gathered between her legs.
Their breath came together, quickening. His hands skimmed down her back until he caught her hips and tugged her close. She drew her fingers along his flat abdomen until she could hook them into his belt and pull him tighter to her.
He kissed her once more, then gave a small laugh with his hands on her ass. “These britches look mighty fine on you, but they’re a bit inconvenient.”
“I’m not the girl I was. Haven’t worn a skirt in a long time.”
“Don’t want what you were.” He fixed her gaze with his. “I want you now.”
His nimble fingers unbuckled her belt. She did the same to his, then moved lower, undoing the buttons of his fly. The coarse wool of his cavalry-issue trousers peeled away. Beneath were simple cotton drawers. And under those was his skin.
She reached for him, but he stopped her with his hand. “Take off your boots,” he said. “Spent too long thinking of you naked to rush things.”
“That’s all you thought about?”
He hurried to his charger and pulled one of the saddlebags off. From inside he pulled out a rolled up piece of canvas. “You know that ain’t true. But they weren’t all pure thoughts either.” He spread out the fabric and she saw it was lined with thin wool. “Ditched my bedroll in town, but I’ve got this poncho.”
Hopping on one foot, he pulled a boot off. After repeating the process he stood at the edge of the improvised blanket. Hand outstretched, he waited for her.