Arizona Caress: She Feels The Heat Of His Hot Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

"How long do you think it will be before we get to Doug?" Chance asked as he finished off the last of his food.

  "Dependin' on the weather, if it stays dry, maybe another three weeks," Burr responded.

  "Where is this place anyway?"

  "See that range off in the distance?" The old tracker pointed toward the craggy mountains that shone blood-red in the reflection of the setting sun. At Chance's answering nod, he went on. "You're going right into the heart of them."

  "Are they as treacherous as they look?" he asked as he studied the distant, menacing peaks.

  "Worse," Rori piped in, enjoying the thought of worrying him. "There ain't much water, and what there is, is usually bad. There ain't no trails either, in or out. There's been some Apache trouble, too. They believe the mountains are the home of their Gods, and they don't take to anybody ridin' in there uninvited. Me and Grampa always make it through, though," she bragged. "We know them mountains real good."

  "If they're that dangerous, how is it that you've managed to travel safely through there so often? Are you Apache?"

  "No, I ain't Apache!" Rori denied heatedly, her eyes sparking emerald fire at his suggestion. Everyone with half a brain knew the Apache were wild, vicious killers. "My mother was a Pima," she told him proudly. "They're a gentle, peaceful tribe! They ain't nothing like the damned Apache! Why, an Apache'd just as soon kill you as look at you."

  At Rori's description of the hated nomad tribe, Chance couldn't help but smile, for it seemed to him that the boy was describing himself during their first encounter.

  Rori thought he was laughing at her Indian blood, and she bristled, glaring at him across the campfire. "What are you thinkin's so funny?"

  "You have to admit that you fit the description of an Apache yesterday."

  "I was riled," she told him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Pimas may be peaceable, but they can be just as deadly as the Apache when they're riled. You should remember that."

  "I will," Chance said smoothly, wondering why their every conversation ended in confrontation. Lord knows, he didn't want to spend the entire trip at odds with the boy. He had enough on his mind just worrying about Doug.

  "Rori . . ." Burr scolded, and she sat back, scowling at them both. He then went on to answer Chance's question. "We manage to get through there because we're cautious, because we know the land and respect it, and because we know our enemies and steer clear of them."

  "That sounds like pretty good advice just for living," he commented.

  "I've been living by those rules for fifteen years now, and we're still alive." Burr's gaze was warm upon Rori as he was lost in a momentary haze of remembrance. Everything he'd said was true, except for one thing. There were enemies he hadn't tried to avoid—Jack and Atallie's murderers. In the beginning, he'd searched tirelessly for them until he'd realized how hard it was on Rori, and he'd forced himself to quit. He'd regretted that throughout the years. The memory of their brutality was still with him, and though he hadn't found them yet, he knew that someday he would.

  "If traveling up there is so hazardous, how did Doug ever manage to find a mine?" Chance was truly curious. His brother had always been the adventurous sort, but, though he would try anything once, he was not the kind who could get himself out of trouble once he was in it. His presence here now was proof enough of that.

  "Nilakla took him," Rori answered.

  "Nilakla?"

  "She's his woman," she elaborated matter-of-factly. "She'd heard the talk among her people of the untold riches hidden in the Superstitions and left everything behind to take Doug up there."

  "This Nilakla must love my brother very much."

  "She does. She's a Pima like my mother, and Pima women love deeply and only once. They're totally devoted to their men and their families." Rori was thinking of her own mother and suddenly realized how sentimental she was sounding. She gave herself a mental shake.

  Chance was not surprised to discover that an Indian maiden had fallen under the spell of Doug's blond good looks and flattery. Doug had always been a womanizer, and now it looked as though he'd used his charming ways to find the wealth he'd always been searching for.

  Thinking of what Rori had just told him about Pima women, he wondered why the boy, young as he was, was living with his grandfather and not with his parents.

  "Does your mother know Nilakla?"

  Rori stiffened perceptibly at his innocently put question. "No," she answered curtly. "My mother's dead. My father, too."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Why are you sorry? Aren't you like all the others? The only good Indian is a dead Indian?" She came to her feet.

  Chance felt a twinge of pity for this youngster who'd lost so much. He looked up and met the boy's accusing gaze levelly. "No. I'm not like all the others."

  Rori saw the sympathy that was reflected in his eyes for a moment, and she reacted stormily to it. She didn't want any kindness from Chance Broderick! She didn't want anything from him! She hated him!

  "Well, you've yet to prove it by me, mister!" And with that she stalked off into the concealing darkness, her dog at her heels.

  Burr watched Rori go and understood her need to get away. He waited awhile before he broached the subject to Chance.

  "My son and his wife were murdered when Rori was three."

  "How? Why?"

  "Jack and Atallie had a small homestead off in the wilderness. Some whites decided that an Indian lover and his squaw didn't deserve to live. Rori was such a little thing . . . but sometimes I think the child remembers."

  "He was there?"

  "Through the whole ordeal. I managed to get there before Jack, my son, died. I promised him I'd raise Rori."

  "Did you catch the ones who did it?"

  "No," he said slowly. "They were long gone by the time I showed up. I had some leads, but with Rori being so young, I had to give it up. Someday, though, I'll find them. They won't be able to escape me forever." He vowed the last with a fierceness that left no doubt about his dedication to locating the villains.

  Both men fell silent, Burr thinking of the past and Chance thinking of Rori. It was easy for Chance to understand the boy's hostility toward him now that he knew his background. Despite Burr's best effort to be both mother and father to Rori and ease the pain of his terrible loss, there had been no way he could shelter his grandson completely from the bigoted hatred in the world. Rori's fight with the white boys in town was proof of that, and so the boy had grown up angry and defensive, always expecting the worst out of whites and never being disappointed.

  Chance knew, despite Rori's rough edges, that Burr had done a good job raising him, for there was a definite sense of love, honor, and caring between them. Perhaps time would change things and eventually the boy would be fully accepted into society. Human nature being what it was, he doubted it would happen any time soon.

  Chance shrugged back into his shirt and then bedded down by the light of the dwindling fire. As he lay quietly, staring into the flickering, dying flames, Chance found himself hoping that he'd get the opportunity over the next week or so to show Rori that not all white men were evil.

  Burr stretched out in his bedroll, feeling good about their first day on the trail. It was plain that Broderick had no idea Rori was a girl, and that eased his mind considerably. The pretense only had to hold up for another three weeks, and then his worries would be over. Since Doug and Nilakla both knew the truth about Rori, there was no way he could keep it from coming out when they got to the diggings. Satisfied that things weren't as bad as he'd initially thought, Burr closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

  Hidden by the night, Rori stood on the far side of the creek, staring back toward the camp. Her emotions were in turmoil as her gaze followed Chance's every move. She watched in silence as he favored his sore arm while drawing on his shirt, and she felt disappointed somehow when he buttoned it up.

  There was no denying to herself that she thought him the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He was att
ractive. But it troubled Rori that she was letting him distract her so much. So what if he was good looking? Burr had always told her that it was the inside of a man that counted, not the outside.

  Rori knew what Chance was really like, had known since that first moment when he'd butted into her business. He was overbearing and insulting and . . . and . . . she couldn't stand him! She just didn't understand why she let him bother her so much, when she hated him. Usually when she had no use for someone, she simply ignored them and stayed out of their way—live and let live. Yet with Chance, she felt almost driven to prove her worth to him, and she didn't know why.

  Rori shivered as a slight cooling breeze stirred the night. She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill that threatened and started back to camp. When she reached the site both men were already asleep. Safely alone and unobserved, she quietly moved near Chance and studied him close up, committing to memory every detail of the rugged planes and angles of his face. Unguarded in sleep, he looked strong and manly, yet somehow boyish, and she was filled with a longing to reach out and touch him. Her common sense dictated that she was crazy to even think of such a thing, and after long moments of staring down at him, she moved silently to her own bedroll.

  As Rori drifted off to a troubled sleep, Big Jake curled by her side, her last conscious thought was of the white man and what he was going to say when he finally discovered she was a girl.

  Chapter Six

  The first glimmer of the new day found Rori up and moving. Her idea of bathing was a quick splash of cold creek water on her face, and that done, she jammed her hat on her head and hurried off to tend the horses. Big Jake stayed close by her side as she worked, and she talked to him endlessly in the loving tone she reserved only for him.

  "What d'ya think, big guy?" she was asking as she fed her pinto. "Shall we run him ragged again today and see what he's really made of?"

  The dog cocked his head, his expression almost comically serious, as if he thought there was some great significance to her conversation.

  Rori gave a light laugh as she continued her chore. "Tenderfoot that he is, I'll just bet he'll be achin' from one end to the other when he gets up." Big Jake gave a strange, throaty whine, but she didn't pay any attention. "It'll sure be interesting to see if he's even walkin' today."

  "He's walking." Though he wasn't exactly in the best of shape, Chance wasn't about to let on, and his tone was droll as he interrupted Rori's vengeful reverie. "And he's feeling fine, thank you." He bent to scratch the lolling hound behind the ears and was rewarded with a wet lick on the hand and a welcoming wag of his tail. "Good boy, Big Jake."

  Rori felt the heat rise to her face, and she shot her pet an angry glare for being so friendly with Chance. He noticed Rori's embarrassment and chuckled.

  "If you think a long day in the saddle is going to wear me down, you're wrong. I've been riding since I was young. They do have horses back East, you know, in case Burr never told you."

  "I know what they got back East! They got a heap of interferin', eavesdroppin' jackasses! That's what they got!"

  "You still angry about my interrupting your fight the other day?" Chance asked, trying to make peace with the boy.

  "I ain't angry about nuthin'," Rori sulked, turning away from him. "I just plain don't like you."

  "Well, that's honest enough on your part," he responded with good humor.

  "I'm always honest. I believe in sayin' what I think."

  "So I've learned," he drawled. "Well, listen, Burr's got a fire going, so I'll make some coffee and then we can head out. I'll be ready when you are." Chance gave Big Jake one last pat on the head and walked away.

  Rori waited until he was out of earshot and then turned on her dog. "Traitor! How could you let him pet you? And how could you lick him?!" she hissed. "Don't you know he's a white man?!"

  Big Jake gave a whimper at her harsh tone and lowered himself slowly to the ground, resting his massive head on his front paws as he gazed up at his mistress with a hurt look in his eyes.

  "I just don't know what's gotten into you, Jakie." She stood in a threatening posture, her hands on her hips, but she softened her voice a bit as she saw his distressed expression. "You're usually such a good judge of character . . ." Puzzled, she turned back to her work.

  Less than a half hour later, they were on their way again. Rori led off, and though she kept up a goodly pace across the rocky, parched land, she did not try to match her speed of the previous day. Burr had seen the two of them talking that morning, but since there had been no change in her attitude toward Broderick, he hadn't worried. Chance had mounted up and ridden out, determined to find some way to win Rori over. But as he rode along behind the boy, he could see the stiff unyielding set of his shoulders, and he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

  It was late afternoon when they finally drew near the Superstitions. The mountain range rose abruptly from the cactus-studded desert in craggy, desolate splendor. There was nothing really beautiful about the arid, volcanic peaks. There were no sparkling, snow-fed streams or full-bodied pines to soften their jagged presence. They were as harsh and unforgiving as the land surrounding them.

  Rori fell back from her distant lead so they could stay together as they started down the rocky valley that led to the interior.

  "You want to stop for the night at the watering hole?" she asked Burr.

  "We'd better. As little rain as there's been, it wouldn't do to count on there being water farther on and coming up dry."

  Rori nodded in agreement and kneed her mount to action again. They headed straight up the middle of the canyon for the only watering hole around. The afternoon shadows were already lengthening as they reached the small pool and set up camp.

  Rori was down by the water's edge letting her horse drink his fill when she caught sight of a jackrabbit a short distance away. The thought of a hot meal appealed to her, so she went to get her rifle after unsaddling and hobbling Patch.

  "I'm going to catch us some dinner, Grampa," she told Burr, who was building a fire. "There's some good-sized rabbits around."

  "Hope your aim is steady tonight," he teased. "It seems to me that the last time you went out to hunt us up some dinner, we ended up eating hardtack."

  She gave him a dirty look that was tinged with humor. "How was I supposed to know that there was a damned coyote around who was faster than I was and hungrier? There wasn't much of the rabbit left by the time I showed up, and what there was, the ornery, selfish creature took with him."

  "Well, I hope you have better luck this time."

  Chance had been listening to their conversation and asked, "Mind if I go along?"

  Rori almost threw her hands up in frustration. Why in the world would he want to go along? Just because he'd proven to her that he could ride didn't mean he could shoot. The last think she needed was a rank amateur hunting with her.

  "I hunt alone," she declared. "C'mon, Jakie."

  Chance watched Rori stalk off with something akin to amusement. The boy was as prickly as one of the damned cactus that surrounded them.

  "Jakie?" Rori had gone some distance before she realized that her faithful companion was not following her. Looking back, she saw the disloyal mutt sitting halfway between Chance and her.

  "C'mon dog!" she ordered, but her traitorous, four-legged friend totally ignored her. Getting up, Big Jake trotted off after Chance, who was heading away from camp in the opposite direction, his rifle in hand.

  Rori scowled blackly as she watched Big Jake go after Chance, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes at the thought that he had chosen the white man over her. Determination filled her as she fought down the hurt of his desertion. Since Broderick was so sure he could hunt, she'd just go on out by herself and show him who the best shot was around here. She'd bag the biggest rabbit and enjoy watching him eat crow all night. Her course of action decided she moved off into the desert in search of her prey.

  Chance moved with a quiet, cautious tread through the low
-growing brush. The dry sandy Arizona countryside was a far cry from the lush greenery of his New England home state, but he figured that hunting a rabbit was hunting a rabbit. It couldn't be any more difficult than it was at home.

  The thought that Big Jake had come with him pleased Chance, and he wondered if the dog had any hunter in him at all. As they traveled far afield, it became evident to Chance that the mutt was not exactly of the setter variety. Though he stayed quietly by his side, he did not run ahead to flush any of the furry, fast-footed animals out so he could get a clear shot at them.

  Finally it happened. A well-fed hare darted forth from the underbrush and paused motionlessly about fifteen feet ahead of them. Chance could almost taste his dinner . . . roasted rabbit. He moved with the utmost of care, slowly bringing his rifle to bear upon the unsuspecting, soon-to-be meal.

  It was almost as if it had been planned, and it definitely left Chance wondering. He had the rabbit dead in his sights, and an instant before he squeezed the trigger, Big Jake barked and charged at the animal. Alerted to their presence, the hare fled to safety in a bramble bush as Jake dashed toward it. Chance's shot missed, whizzing by harmlessly.

  Chance's expression was one of disbelief when he turned to look down at the dog as he came strolling leisurely back to him. "Why in the hell did you do that?" he demanded.

  Jake, however, was unthreatened by Chance's annoyed tone, and he sat down easily beside him, wagging his tail. The expression on his face was ridiculously innocent, yet Chance sensed that there was nothing innocent about this animal. He was smart, much too smart. Chance could see it in his eyes. He seemed almost human.

  "That was dinner you just scared off, you ornery mutt!" He couldn't resist the temptation to reach down and pet him.

  A shot sounded in the distance, and Big Jake cocked his head as if considering the source. After a moment's pause, he gave a little bark and jumped to his feet. He circled Chance excitedly a couple of times before racing off back toward their camp.

  Chance shook his head incredulously, wondering if the dog had deliberately sabotaged his shot. Dismissing the idea as preposterous, he took one last look around in hopes of spotting another rabbit. The area was completely deserted now, so he gave up. Annoyed and empty-handed, he followed after Jake.