Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Lawmen [The Lost Collection] (Siren Menage Everlasting)

by Love Under Two Lawmen (lit)

  They held her tighter, their heat infusing her with the greatest sense of comfort she’d ever known.

  “We were all scared,” Warren said then. “But we’re here, together, safe. I’m so grateful to have you both. I love you both.”

  Amanda gave herself over to their care and the coddling. For this brief moment in time, she’d let herself lean, let herself be pampered, and grow strength from her temporary surrender.

  * * * *

  Warren wondered if the food tasted so good because of the way he’d spent the two hours leading up to the meal. Certainly, Mrs. Smith and her daughters excelled as cooks, and the food was scrumptious. He slid a glance over at Amanda and Adam. No doubt about it, spending a couple of hours in sensual abandon with his lovers had heightened his appetite for food.

  After dinner, they gathered together outside around a fire that burned brightly, giving warmth to the chilled evening.

  “Our people are vanishing.” Chief Smith’s voice sounded strong, and sad.

  Warren turned his full attention to the man. He’d found the older man reticent earlier. Embarrassed, if one could use such a word, because they’d been attacked by his people. Since Adam knew this man and his people, Warren had remained silent, watching and learning. Chief Smith—Warren had no idea what his first name was—held his pipe, a standard European one, and gazed into the fire.

  “I was a young warrior when we set out from Georgia to come to this new land. The trail was long and hard, and many of my people perished. My mother and my sister, and other mothers and sisters. Our chiefs did all they could. Staying in our ancestral home had become impossible. John Ross did all he could for those under his leadership, but no man, Cherokee or White, can make such an undertaking easy.”

  Above the crackle of the flames, the chirp of crickets and calls of the night owls provided a symphony to accompany the chief’s story.

  “So we came to this new land and formed a new Nation. But memories fade, and once more, I fear, we will be removed. I am too old to lead our people on another such march.”

  “I only learned of the removal of your people recently.” Amanda’s hesitant words drew a nod from the Chief. Warren wondered if she understood being given permission to speak was a rare thing for a woman, as the look of shock in the younger women’s eyes testified. Many differences existed between the Cherokee and Whites, but the general attitude toward women seemed eerily similar to him.

  “People can be cruel. This I know from my own experience. But when I read the accounts of the removal of your people…it was hard for me to know that people could be that cruel. It shamed me.”

  “We were few, and the white man, many.”

  Warren wondered at the way the Chief seemed to infer that this simple fact justified the actions of the government.

  The Chief continued speaking. “The march was hard. But no massacre had been ordered. We had the chance for life. We left behind our sacred land. Some believe this means we will cease to be. I do not. Only if we forget, will the Ani-Yun' wiya cease to be.”

  “Then you must do all you can to ensure no one forgets.” Amanda’s words no longer shivered with hesitancy, but rang with conviction.

  “So young and so sure.” He drew on his pipe, then fixed his gaze directly on her. “And unlikely to leave the comfort of Virginia for the open skies of the Cherokee Nation. You are on a quest.”

  Amanda looked at Adam, who nodded his encouragement.

  “Yes. I seek the legacy my father left me.”

  “Speak of it.”

  Amanda left nothing out of the telling, including the circumstance of her birth. She related parts of the journal and how she had fled Richmond, hoping her cousin in Waco could be of assistance. Once or twice, Warren thought the Chief’s eyes twinkled in amusement. Amanda’s voice dipped when she related the murder of the enlisted men assigned to her father’s command.

  She fell silent, and for long minutes, not a word was said.

  “There is a tale told by some near our city in the rocks, Tahlequah. It speaks of a cave, hidden near a stream, where the spirits of white men cry out, where their blood taints the earth. It is called the cave of souls.” He took his pipe out of his mouth. “My people will not enter. You could enter. You could honor the dead. Give them peace. I will draw you a map.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  Chief Smith grunted. Then he motioned to his wife and daughters. The women rose gracefully from where they’d been sitting on the ground. They’d put a kettle near the fire earlier. Now they removed it and poured the liquid into clay cups. The scent of fruit teased his nostrils and made his taste buds water.

  “We drink Oo-wa-ga, which the women make each autumn from fruit. Then we will have some of the white man’s Arbuckles’.” Chief Smith smiled, and Warren couldn’t help but return the gesture. He’d thought he’d smelled coffee brewing. “It is the one thing from your people I enjoy above all others. And then we will all enjoy a good night’s sleep.”

  Chief Smith said that last with just a hint of sly humor, and Warren couldn’t hold back his chuckle. One of the Chief’s daughters moved the pot closer to the fire, and in moments the scent of brewing coffee combined with the fruity fragrance of the Oo-wa-ga.

  Warren turned his gaze to his lovers. Adam looked relaxed, at ease as Warren had seldom seen him. On Amanda’s face the reaction the Chief’s generous offer—shock and gratitude—played against her exhaustion. Despite the sleep she’d already had today, he knew she’d need more—at least another full day of rest before they’d venture on their way.

  Warren also felt at ease and, for once, didn’t have a single worry about staying with his lovers in the privacy of the small cabin. They would share drink, and maybe a few more stories, and then they all three would sleep very well this night.

  Chapter 19

  “What’s wrong?”

  Adam looked over at Warren, disconcerted to realize that man had picked up on his unease.

  “Probably nothing,” Adam lied smoothly. “For a moment, I got the strange feeling we’re being followed. It’s probably nothing.”

  Of course Warren had to look behind him. Since leaving the Smith holding earlier that morning, they’d been traveling at a steady pace, the ground less rocky, the landscape gentle hills and dales that Adam knew kept rising toward the plateau St. Louis was built upon. By the time they reached Tahlequah, they’d be several hundred feet higher in elevation than they were now.

  Warren turned back to Adam. “I don’t see anyone. Of course with the land undulating as it is…”

  “Yeah. It could be it’s just my nerves. After what we’ve been through already, maybe I’m just expecting the worst.”

  “Maybe Chief Smith is having us followed at a distance,” Amanda said. “He seemed really upset about our being attacked in the first place.”

  Adam nodded, seizing on the obvious to put his lovers’ minds at ease. “That could be it. I know when the Benedicts traveled through here heading to Denison, the Cherokee shadowed them all the way.”

  But that had been when Peter and his father had their younger warriors on a training ride. This presence behind him didn’t feel like the Cherokee. Least-ways, not the ones he called friend.

  “I still can’t believe how lucky we were,” Amanda said. “Not just that your friend Peter happened along, probably saving our lives. But that his father knew of the cave where my father hid the gold, and drew us a map.”

  “You’re not used to fortune smiling on you?” Warren asked.

  “Not really,” Amanda admitted. “I think I’m more used to fate spitting in my face.”

  “Me, too.” Warren laughed. “So maybe we were just due for some good luck. Of course, it is a kind of crude map, so I imagine finding the right cave is still going to be a bit of a challenge.”

  “He noted a couple of landmarks that will be hard to miss,” Adam said. “Enough so that I’m feeling pretty optimistic about our chances. I’m think
ing we have a dozen caves to search rather than hundreds. If the gold is still there, I believe we have a better than even shot at finding it.”

  “If the gold is still there? Why wouldn’t it still be there?” Amanda asked.

  The expression on her face told him she’d never really considered the possibility of failure. Her positive attitude could be seen as both good and bad, depending on how things turned out in the end.

  “Sweetheart,” he kept his voice gentle, “there’s always the chance that someone stumbled upon the gold sometime in the last couple of decades. It would have been pure chance, and they’d have thought their prayers had been answered, but that eventuality is a possibility.”

  “Well, damn.” Amanda scowled. “You’re right, of course. I’m just going to hope that hasn’t happened.”

  “I’ll second that,” Warren said.

  They stopped for a brief rest and to eat some cheese and fruit Mrs. Smith had given them for their journey. The day stretched out, sunny and warm, the sky taking on that slightly paler blue of autumn. Throughout the afternoon, Adam split his attention between the banter of his lovers and the growing sense that they were indeed being followed. He trusted his instincts completely and decided that later, while Warren and Amanda, and likely whoever followed them, slept, he’d backtrack and have a look.

  They made camp for the night by a small pond, the broad leaf trees offering shade and fire wood by the water’s edge. They went about their usual chores, and Adam had to focus on appearing relaxed. He wasn’t certain how well he did with that, as Warren kept shooting curious looks his way. They made a fire, and Adam managed to snare a rabbit to roast for their dinner.

  He smiled as he prepared the small creature for the fire. Amanda had already proven she didn’t really care to witness what she referred to as the “murder of the dinner,” though she was quite happy to eat the roasted meat.

  “It’s going to be a colder night,” Warren said much later as he finished stowing the cooking gear. “We should gather a lot more wood.”

  Dinner was eaten, the horses fed, watered, and tethered closer than had become their custom—a legacy of the Cherokee attack. Adam surveyed the stars overhead and knew Warren was right.

  “Mandy? Let me have Pocahontas, will you?” Adam said.

  She withdrew the knife from her boot and handed it over, then went back to helping Warren put things away. While the coffee brewed, Adam wondered if whoever followed them salivated over the aroma, since the light breeze that had kicked up at sundown seemed to be carrying in that direction.

  He didn’t take long to hack a few more branches from amidst the stand of trees that grew along the banks of the pond. One tree had fallen over, likely the year before, and was barren of fresh growth. He chopped that first, then took a few smaller green branches.

  Mixing the green judiciously wouldn’t put the fire out.

  Before long, a large pile of brush stood beside and upwind of the fire. When he’d hauled the last of it, Warren handed him a cup of coffee.

  They’d ridden a good distance that day, and that, plus the full night of fun yesterday, combined to tire them all out.

  “Let’s just get some sleep tonight,” Adam said.

  He’d spread out the blankets, including a nice blanket Ellen Smith had given them. Their bed wasn’t as comfortable as the night before, but they lay down together, and that was all that really mattered to Adam’s mind.

  “I am exhausted,” Amanda said. “I wonder when I’m going to get used to the riding so I’m not so tired every day?”

  “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Warren said.

  “Damn right.” Adam lay on his side, spooning Amanda whom Warren had gathered close. “We came a lot further today than I thought we would.”

  “Is the livery owner back in Denison going to be very mad when we give him these horses instead of the ones we rented?” Amanda asked

  “Mad to receive fresher, better trained, and younger horses than he had? Not likely,” Adam said.

  He fell silent, wide awake, and waited. It didn’t take his lovers long to fall into sleep.

  Still, he waited until he felt certain their sleep had become solid and deep. Easing away from Amanda, he tucked the blanket in close to her back, then got to his feet. He stood, looking down at them for a long few minutes, just in case they awoke. Satisfied they slept on, Adam picked up his boots and walked toward the horses.

  The animals showed their training by standing still and quiet. Not bothering to saddle the animal, Adam by-passed his gun belt, pulled his boots on, and took up his rifle. Then he swung onto the horse. He turned, taking one last look at his sleeping loved ones, then softly urged his mount forward.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark of night, his horse easily picking its way back along the trail they’d followed so recently. No moon yet shone over head—it likely would rise in another hour, two at the most. Adam ignored the chilly air and focused instead on the trail. When he’d ridden for a half hour, he slowed his horse, looked around for a place to tether the animal.

  He was close, he could feel it.

  Best to go the rest of the way on foot.

  The horse seemed content to rest alone in a stand of trees, its stillness almost unearthly. Adam looped the reins over a low branch then checked his Colt, ensured the chamber was full. Holstering the revolver, he slid his rifle from his shoulder, where he’d carried it. With his rifle cocked and ready, he set out, his steps quiet as he made his way forward. He’d keep to the tree line, keep out of sight, until he knew exactly what he was dealing with.

  His progress was slow and silent. He figured he’d walked maybe a quarter mile when objects on the ground just ahead snagged his attention.

  He squatted, focusing his gaze on those objects. Bedrolls. Four lumps of bedding, huddled around a couple of rocks. No fire, of course, because that would have alerted their quarry. Adam frowned. Something seemed odd about one of the piles, the one closest to him. Too late he realized what it was.

  The press of cold metal to the base of his skull froze Adam in place, even as he cursed his own carelessness.

  “Well, now, Bodine’s gonna be real happy I had to go take a piss in the middle of the night.”

  * * * *

  Amanda wiggled her bottom, her body seeking out Adam’s heat to complement the furnace that was Warren snuggled against her chest. She blinked slowly when she realized Adam wasn’t there. She drifted for a few moments, certain he’d gotten up to answer nature’s call. Finally, she opened her eyes, the realization slow that he’d been gone from her too long just to pee.

  Wiping sleep from her eyes, she sat up, her gaze automatically going to the horses. She doubted her eyes at first. Then a shaft of dread stabbed her heart.

  She laid a hand on Warren’s shoulder and gave him a small shake.

  He came awake instantly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Adam’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Warren shot up to a sitting position, his head turning left and right as he confirmed the truth of her words.

  “Damn it. God damn it all to hell!” In seconds he was on his feet. “I knew something was bothering him. I fucking knew it. Damn him and his Goddamned need to always protect and take care—”

  Warren stopped because Amanda grabbed him and gave him a good shake. “At least you knew there was something bothering him. I didn’t even know that much. What the hell is going on?”

  “Remember Adam sensed we were being followed? Sometimes, it’s like he knows things he couldn’t possibly. So I can only assume…”

  “He went to check on who was following us. I wonder how long he’s been gone?”

  “Long enough. I’m going after him.”

  Again Amanda reached out, but this time Warren tried to shake her off.

  “Why are men so strong and so stupid? What if he’s in trouble? Serious trouble?”

  Warren ran a hand through his hair, his impatience practically vibrating off him. “That’s why I’
m going after him. Damn it, Amanda, I love him!”

  And I don’t?

  She didn’t speak the words. She understood Warren had known Adam longer than she had. She loved them both, but she doubted she was really more than a temporary passion for them. They’d never shared a woman. They’d already admitted that much. Likely sharing her was just one more way for these two incredible men to be closer to each other. And she accepted that. Hadn’t she been thinking lately that they were getting a little too sentimental, a little too attached? Hadn’t she been reminding herself, over and over, that she had a home to go to?

  She belonged in Richmond, Virginia, not Waco, Texas.

  So if you know that, why does thinking about it hurt?

  Amanda pushed away the unwanted thoughts and focused on Warren.

  “We’ll both go after him.”

  Warren looked like he was about to protest, but when she just raised one eyebrow and waited, he nodded. “You’re right. He might need both of us.”

  Amanda nodded. She skimmed off the chemise she’d slept in, pulled on her boy-clothes. She took a moment to pull on fresh stockings before she donned her boots. Pocahontas sat sheathed just inside the leather, waiting.

  “I don’t have a good feeling,” Warren confided as he finished dressing. He checked his hand gun, slid it into his holster.

  “Neither do I,” Amanda said. “So I guess that means we just have to go and rescue him.”

  She didn’t feel very confident, but she did feel determined. She thought that maybe she and Warren had that in common.

  It took only moments to saddle their horses. They both noted Adam’s saddle resting where he’d set it earlier that evening.

  “He left it behind rather than use it because he didn’t want to wake us,” Warren said.

  Amanda swallowed hard. Then they were on their way, following the path, instinctively staying close to the trees as they backtracked ground they’d covered that day. Worry ate at Amanda the farther they rode. He had been gone a while, as she could see no signs anyone had been in the area.