Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  Sam tucked the fact away with the others he’d gathered and joined Quanto at his fire, sitting down across the flames from him.

  “You can go back, Jimmy.” Quanto spared a kind look that grew firmer when Jimmy lingered. “Now.”

  The man huffed a sigh and fixed Sam with a look that reminded him he still had Sam’s brothers. Sam bobbed his head once in acknowledgement. He understood Jimmy.

  Hell, under other circumstances, he might even like him.

  “You must forgive my sons, Marshal Kane. They are not patient with visitors and even less so with those that come here to court their sister.”

  Whatever he’d been expecting the older man to say, that wasn’t it, so he chose to ignore it for now. “Is she all right?”

  “She is well, physically. But she is very sad.”

  Sam’s heart kicked against his ribs.

  “Did you hurt my daughter while she was in your care?”

  “No.”

  “And yet, you spanked her.”

  Uncomfortable, Sam nodded. “She endangered herself, unnecessarily.”

  “My daughter is far from helpless, Marshal Kane.” Quanto studied him, through the flames, and Sam had a feeling he was looking far deeper than just his appearance.

  “Your daughter is remarkable.”

  The Indian nodded slowly. He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a large cigar, the rolled tobacco was fat, heavy pressed and dark, even in the light of the fire. “All of my children are remarkable, after a fashion.”

  Sam leaned forward. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  Quanto turned the cigar over in his hand, studying it with the same attention he’d paid to Sam. “If you wish.”

  “How is Scarlett your daughter? I see the resemblance to Buck, but to none of the others, well to be fair, I didn’t get a look at the cold guy.”

  “Wyatt.” Quanto supplied the name easily, his face wrinkling with a smile. “He is cold, but he loves his sister and his brothers. He looks after them. You would be wise to remember that.”

  He knew a threat when he heard one. Sam nodded gravely. Waiting. The Indian would not be rushed, he took a burning stick from the fire to light the cigar, puffing bluish smoke into the flames. The pungent scents of sage and tobacco mingled in the air and Sam’s eyes watered.

  “While it is true that Buck is the son of my body, they are all the children of my heart. Do you understand?”

  She was adopted. It explained much and left him with even more questions. Tendrils of the bluish smoke reached through the flames, burning his eyes. “Yes,” he coughed. He waved a hand at the smoke, but it seemed to cling to him, stubbornly and he frowned.

  “Look into the flames, Marshal Kane.” Quanto’s hypnotic voice commanded obedience and Sam squinted through a watery haze to where the smoke danced amongst the flames. “Dream with me.”

  A dull roar pulsed through his ears. His vision wavered, the blue smoke fogging the night air, blotting out the flames. Between one heartbeat and the next, he found himself standing, gazing at his body seated across from Quanto’s, staring into the fire.

  “What the hell?”

  A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked around to find the cagey Indian grinning at him. “Peace, Marshal. We are safe enough here and there are things that I would show you.”

  Sam glanced from their bodies to the Indian and back again. Sam lifted his hand and examined it, he could see the land through it. His skin was transparent, ephemeral.

  “Marshal?”

  What the hell. With one last glance at his body, Sam turned and followed the Indian.

  “You know, maybe you should just call me Sam.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sam followed Quanto through the foggy landscape. The mountains fell away and they were on a long stretch of prairie with only the stars sprawled across the night sky for company. Quanto walked with an easy rolling pace. Sam stole a glance behind them, but saw only the prairie as though they’d walked days, not just a few minutes.

  A fire flickered in the distance, belching great gouts of smoke into the moonlit sky.

  “Something’s burning.”

  “It’s the town of Hobart’s Bend near the Red River.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “That is because it burned many years ago.” As if summoned by his curiosity, they were standing before the clapboard town’s pyre. It wasn’t much to look at. A collection of ramshackle buildings sprawling out from a central church.

  “I was seventeen when the fever found this group of missionaries. They came west from a place called Philadelphia. Most spoke a language from across the ocean, but they were trying to escape the battles with the English and the French. They were a peaceable lot and they made treaties with many of the tribes that roamed the region, including my own. We taught them to hunt and they shared their gardens. It was a fair arrangement, a peaceable one.”

  Sam nodded slowly as the roof to the church collapsed inwards. “Who burned the town?”

  “I did.” The simple words carried a deeper, more profound sadness. “The fever swept through the town, felling nearly every man, woman and child. All was well during one visit and when I returned six nights later, it was a town of the dead.”

  “Fever.” Sam breathed the word. It was the fear of most towns. Fevers could decimate a population, killing whole families.

  “Burying the dead is not our way, so I burned them and their town. The smoke could be seen for days, a fitting tribute to the kindness here.”

  “You said nearly everyone.”

  “You listen well, Sam.” Quanto gave him a beatific look. “Yes, I found one survivor. I took him with me, cared for him until he was fully recovered. And then I dreamed of another town, another fever…”

  “…they survived the fevers.” Sam exhaled, his phantom heart, if his spirit even had one sped up. “Your children, they survived the spirit fever.” Just naming it sent a chill up Sam's spine. Spirit fever was knew no mercy, attacking white and Indian alike and left no survivors.

  None that he'd ever heard of, until now.

  “Yes. I would dream of them and I would follow the dream until I found them, sometimes, I was too late. If the journey took too long or the obstacles were many, I would find the survivor had perished to the elements. So many were too young, our Scarlett was just a babe when I found her.”

  His heart thudded with a sick feeling as the land swirled before them, the smoke clearing to reveal another town, this one camped shabbily around the steep walls of a Fort. He recognized the bluecoats of the army uniforms standing atop the vestibules, white clothes pressed over their face.

  Fires burned in the town below.

  “Watch.” Quanto instructed. Sam found himself leaning forward, and the scene sped up to them, bringing them into the edge of the town where a younger version of Quanto stood, his expression remote. Before him was a lean man, in officer’s regalia, his face covered by a similar white cloth as though hoping to stave off the stench of burning bodies and a town turning to charcoal.

  “If any of the children survive, I will take them with me.” Quanto spoke in measured English, each word phrased as though he had learned them.

  “So I’ve been ordered.” The officer nodded. “But I don’t see how any could survive this. It felled the town in three days, taking many of my men with it.”

  “I understand. I will visit each house, I will make a note of the dead and I will burn it when I am done. You must keep your men away.” Done, the younger Quanto turned to walk away but the officer took his arm.

  “Wait. How can you walk in there? Aren’t you afraid of the fever?”

  The younger Quanto smiled, patting the officer’s hand and removing its grip on his arm. “Go Colonel Stanley, return to your men and allow me to do my work.”

  He did not answer the question, but the Colonel didn’t have to be asked twice. He mounted his horse an
d rode up the hill to the Fort. Sam watched him curiously for a moment and then followed the younger Quanto into the decaying town. From house to house, he traveled, checking every body. Some had been dead for days.

  Gorge rose up in Sam’s throat at the sight of one woman, vacant eyes hollow and missing. The rats had already found her. Quanto worked tirelessly through the day and into the evening, he missed not a single house until he came to a small clapboard with green shutters. Where color bled away in the visions, this color was bright, forceful and demanding.

  Sam rushed alongside the young Quanto, an ache of hope pressing against his ribs. Inside the door, a young man sat slumped against the wall, death his only companion. A sheet was drawn up over him, as though someone had tried to cover him.

  Undeterred, Quanto pressed deeper into the home, passed the scattering of dishes and spilled food. A cast iron pot sat over the burnt out remains of a fire. It was as if a family sat down to sup and then fell, one at a time. In the doorway between the rooms, an older woman lay on her side, one hand curled against her cheek. It hurt Sam’s heart to imagine her, just curling up on the floor to go to sleep and die.

  Quanto checked her and then stepped over her into the backroom. Two younger women, huddled together fell over as the door pushed inwards. They’d passed, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding some small measure of comfort. Or at least Sam hoped they had.

  Across the room, a flash of red hair, so vibrant and alive Sam tried to push his way past the younger Quanto, to reach her. She lay on her side, her hand stretched up into a crib. The woman was dead, but the flame-haired baby holding fast to her mother’s dead hand was unmistakable.

  She took one look at Quanto and emitted a pathetic scream. Fat heavy teardrops rolled down a red face. Her squalls were hoarse, as though she’d cried for hours.

  Sam’s heart broke.

  The younger Quanto lifted the infant up, freeing her fingers from her mother’s and uncaring of her soiled state, he cuddled her close. Familiar green eyes stared around the room as she shoved a plump fist against her mouth, desperate for succor and terribly upset at the same time.

  Sam watched as the younger Quanto cleaned her, changed her and carried her away from the carnage of her family. But the vision wavered until he and his guide stood at the edge of the town. The younger Quanto was mounted, the babe snug and asleep against his chest.

  “I called her Scarlett, for her hair. I never found anything that told me what her birth parents might have called her. They had little in the way of possessions. I even searched for a family bible as some of the boys were listed in theirs by their births, but this family had nothing.”

  “And you brought her back to the mountains.” Sam watched the solitary figure ride off into the mist, the smoke rising from the town obliterating the trail.

  “It was a safe place for them. My wife helped me, but when she too was carried away by the fever and our son survived, I was glad for the home we had made here. It protects them, shelters them from the world and shelters the world from their gifts.”

  They were walking alongside a crystal clear lake. The landscape was rich and lush with life and littered with half-naked children racing in and out of the water. He searched for a splash of red hair amongst them, but they all looked the same, even the young pup gamboling with the boys at the water’s edge.

  “How old was she when she first burned something?”

  “Three.” Quanto laughed, the vision misting and changing until he recognized Scarlett’s upturned nose on a pixie haired waif. She was standing in the middle of the yard, yelling. The boys were on horseback, riding away from her and great gouts of flame shot up in a circle.

  Despite his transparent form, Sam leapt back as the flames raced out of her circle and consumed the grass beneath his feet. He caught a glimpse of wicked amusement in Quanto’s patient gaze.

  “Always when she was upset, always when she did not get her way, the fire came to her. As she matured, the fire came more readily and it took time, time to teach her how to call it and how to send it away.”

  Sam nodded gravely. He’d already seen the fire was linked to her emotions. The angrier she grew, the hotter it burned. He’d witnessed sheer beauty at the pond and when she’d caught him, it had unleashed her fury. But despite the heat, the flames never licked over his skin.

  At least not those kind of flames. He studied the girl, after the initial explosion of wrath, she was repentant, overwhelmed by the destruction her gift wrought.

  “She hates it.” Sam wondered.

  “She always has.”

  “Why are you showing me this?” The visions fed his curiosity, but they didn’t ease the ache to see Scarlett as she was now. The images blurred away, leaving the pair alone in an endless, shapeless fog.

  “Because you must understand that which you desire.” Beneath Quanto’s easy guiding tone emerged a harder edge. The edge of a man who’d walked into those dying towns, who had looked into the face of death and not turned away.

  Sam shifted, focusing his gaze on the older man. Even in this dreaming, Quanto’s age weighed upon him, the years leaving their mark in the deep grooves around his mouth, the spider web of wrinkles around his eyes crowned by a head full of silver hair.

  “Why are you here Marshal Kane?” Quanto folded his arms across his chest, the thick biceps suggesting years of hard physical labor. Sam glanced at the mottled skin on the left shoulder and how it twisted and streaked down the bicep to his elbow.

  “Your sons stole a great deal of gold.” He held up his hand to ask for more time to explain the charge. “I caught Scarlett in the bank and many in Dorado know she was arrested. I also sent for the circuit judge and cannot undo the charges against her.”

  Quanto cocked his head to the side, musing. “I did not approve of my sons’ choices. The land is not something that can be taken or granted by any one, yet they feared the loss of their home.”

  “And I appreciate the distinction. My brothers and I would die to the last man to protect our ranch and our father.” Until the words slipped free from his lips, Sam didn’t realize just how much he empathized with the gifted little gang of thieves. Quanto reminded him of his father, after a fashion, a wisdom earned through years of hard living and focused expectations. “But it doesn’t change the consequences of their actions and that the only known capture is Scarlett. There will be bounties and men who will want to collect them.”

  “You believe you can protect her better than we can?” The cagey question was a dangerous one. From what Sam had already witnessed, Scarlett could easily defend herself, but would she? And how many would die if her brothers waded into the fray?

  “Times have changed, Quanto.” Resignation slumped his shoulders. “The Federals are here to stay, they will enforce their laws. But my father has influence and he’s already taken up Scarlett’s cause.”

  “And you?”

  Mouth twisting into a smile, Sam laughed. His father had taken up her cause on first hearing of it. Even Micah and Kid wanted to help her. He was slower on the uptake, but Sam couldn’t get her out of his mind and even if he was charged with bringing her in. he would shoot the first man who offered to put the noose around her neck.

  There had to be a way to repair the damage his arrest had wrought. To clear her name.

  Quanto said nothing, letting Sam sort through his thoughts. His unease at the dreaming had passed. If he could accept that she could set water on fire and control that volatile element, he could accept her father’s gifts. Surprisingly, that was easier to accept than the crimes her brothers had committed.

  “Yes.” He nodded slowly, finding the echo of truth in his chest at the commitment.

  “What if her cause is best served by you taking your brothers and returning home? Never to see her again?”

  His heart squeezed in his chest and despite his seemingly ephemeral state, Sam’s stomach rebelled. He had to see her again. He wanted to see her agai
n.

  “Before you answer hastily, Sam. Consider that Scarlett’s gifts are also a curse. She will never be free of them. She will always have to control her temper, control her abilities and that she can be a threat to those around her when provoked. Consider that there are those in this world that would use her for their own purposes, who would seek to take control of her gifts and her, whether to create mischief or power.”

  Sam nodded solemnly. Scarlett had told him that.

  “Protecting her, championing her cause, is a lifelong commitment. One you will not be able to just dismiss when the burden becomes too heavy, when your frustration is too difficult to bear. To be close to her is to risk the wrath of her flames and to accept that any children she may bear may be so gifted.”

  The last statement drew him up short. The soft, pliable lips that beckoned his kisses in the cave, the ease with which she fit to him and the desire to fill her belly with those children crashed over him.

  “You carry passion for Scarlett, but passion, like fire, is fleeting and must be fed throughout the years to sustain its warmth. If you cannot grasp this, then it would be better for she and for you, to leave our mountain, to never return. She will never know you were here and her heart will mend in time.”

  Her heart.

  Sam frowned.

  “Does she feel the same way?” It was an awkward question, a step off the precipice into the unknown. She’d seemed eager enough in the cave, but her eagerness had been tempered by caution and reluctance. The more he learned of her brothers, the more he thought he understood that reluctance.

  An odd smile turned up Quanto’s lips and Sam felt the world step sideways. Smoke bruised his lungs, filling his eyes with tears until he had to lean away from the fire to cough.

  He was in his own body. The muscles in his back shivered with the force of his coughs, his legs were numb and his hands like lead at the end of his wrists. Quanto leaned away from the fire, tossing the remains of the cigar into the flames.

  “Allow your spirit to accommodate itself back into the body.” The older man advised. He rose with the grace of one half his age and circled the fire to offer his hand.