Love's Dream Song (17 page)

She went very still as his words rapped out. The fire crackled. He stood and paced before grabbing another piece of wood to place on the small fire.

“I wouldn’t know.” But she needed to.

“It’s no great privilege.”

“It is if you believe it. It can be hell if you believe that, too.”

Jess refrained from sneering in disgust. “What do you know about the realities of growing up in two separate worlds in this country?” He gestured toward the rocky terrain. “Part of each, but not accepted by either.”

“Unfortunately, I’m finding out.” He heard the discouragement in her voice. “But I refuse to be bowed by the hatred. Real Tall Man taught me that when you let hatred affect your life, it then exists.”

Jess clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. She sounded like Daya. Was he destined to hear that crock of bull again? He’d tried hard to forget his grandmother’s philosophy. It hadn’t washed in the cold light of reality.

“So, do you get your kicks out of playing the martyr? Do you think you can change anything by hanging around and trying to fit in?”

“I don’t want to change anything.” Hurt sounded in her voice and softened his anger somewhat. “I just want to be accepted.”

“And what do you think that’s going to get you? Arlo and the others are probably doing you a favor by not welcoming you.”

Her head shot up. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you honestly want to be pegged as a breed? You heard Riker the other day. He’s just one of hundreds.” He knelt in front of her and grasped her shoulders. “Is that what you want?”

She straightened beneath his hands, her expression filled with resistance. He had to admire her courage, but he wanted to shake some sense into her.

“What happened to make you so bitter?” Her words were spoken quietly but they jolted him as if they’d been shouted.

He dropped his hands from her shoulders. How could he explain the endless fights in school? Or the way the children ostracized him at the age of ten for defending his grandmother?

He could have survived the taunts and prejudice, he admitted as he sat down with a thump. It was his father’s failure that had broken his pride in his heritage.

Jess settled in the sand. It was still warm from the day’s heat. The fire crackled but he barely registered the sound or the dance of the flames. His mind reeled as if it had been doused with alcohol—like his father’s must have.

As if it were yesterday, instead of many years ago, he remembered the confusion he had felt as he watched a man he’d always believed to be strong crumble in the dust, bottle in hand, eyes reddened and speech slurred.

Just another drunk Indian.

The taunt echoed and Jess tried to shut it out. He heard those words every time he drove to town. The fact that so many Indians succumbed to alcoholism terrified him. He wouldn’t let that happen to him, nor would he bring a child into this world who might suffer as he had.

A movement to his side brought his attention back from the hell of his childhood. Autumn had moved beside him; her quiet presence reassuring. She held her turquoise nugget between her fingers and quietly worked the stone. Firelight reflected on her olive skin. Beautiful. Her body sang with beauty.

Jess shifted, just as uncomfortable with the new direction of his thoughts as he’d been with his past. He tried to think along another track, but his mind locked onto Autumn.

Images flashed. He’d love to show her the wildness of the desert again, the speed of the horses, his home at night. Autumn always saw the beauty in nature, like he did. Maybe she truly wouldn’t care about the talk in town. Autumn had an inner strength that would carry her through every situation. He admired that.

Her scent drifted around him and he inhaled it with pleasure. He could easily lean over and kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he traced his finger along the smooth line of her jaw. Her breath caught.

“I can sense the hurt in you,” she said as she moistened her lips. “You mustn’t let the past tear you apart.”

“I could forget the past.” He stared at her mouth. “If I kissed you now.”

“I wouldn’t stop you, but forgetting the past won’t solve your problems.”

He slid his fingers around her neck and bent to taste her lips—moist and sultry. Her breath mingled with his. The mists of passion took control. She smoothed her hand against his chest. The heat of her skin pressed against the pounding of his heart.

He reluctantly let go of her and leaned away. He was right. Touching her made him forget the past, the drug operation, and the gunman who was possibly lurking nearby. He needed to think of the present.

“When this is over…”

His voice trailed off. She didn’t pursue the conversation.

Silence settled between them, but not an easy one. Currents of tension electrified the air. In the distance, a coyote howled, but Jess made no comment about their shared stories. Nor did she. The fire crackled, but the sparks didn’t capture his attention.

Her presence filled his senses. Her scent drifted to him in spite of the food and wood smoke. Each breath she took tightened the material across her breasts. His fingers tingled with memory of her soft skin. He ached at the thought of what could happen.

He shifted. His insides tied into knots.
Think about something else or you’ll never make it through the night
. In vain he pictured his ranch hands around the chuck wagon, and even made an attempt to worry about the roundup. It didn’t last long. Thoughts of cattle, his foreman, and the long list of chores waiting at the ranch could not hold his attention when Autumn sat this close.

* * *

Autumn watched Jess’s restlessness and understood its cause. The tension between them crackled. Every nerve focused on the man beside her. If only she knew more about him. After the discussion tonight, she knew something in his past was linked to his reluctance to pursue the strong feelings between them. She had to make him bring it into the open. It had to be resolved before they could let their emotions run free.

Jess stretched. “It’s going to be a long night,” he predicted. “You’d better hit the sack.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she straightened her bedroll on a spit of soft sand. Sharp awareness of his presence made a lie of her outward calm.
What a couple of actors we are—pretending everything is normal.
But what else could they do? Certainly not make love like they both wanted—not with a gunman possibly nearby.

She stretched out on her sleeping bag and waited for Jess to set his traps in the canyon. While he was out of sight, she longed for his presence. It wasn’t just the uneasiness of knowing danger lurked. She wanted to recapture the moments of shared concern. Earlier, when they’d lunched in the canyon, it had been like old times.

A gunman had threatened their lives today, but there had been shared glimpses of peace with their surroundings. They’d seen the mountain sheep and the eagle. Jess tried so hard to be Anglo, but his Indian values surfaced whenever he was out on the land.

Jess outwardly appeared so confident that she hadn’t realized his inner turmoil over his mixed blood. What a pair they made. She’d been brought up Anglo and was trying to embrace some of her Indian heritage. Jess was trying to reject it. No wonder he didn’t want to pursue their relationship. What he wanted was a blonde who would make him forget his ancestry. Maybe Connie Turner—no. She shook her head. She couldn’t begin to picture the two of them together. Jess could fight his Indian values, but they were an integral part of him. He’d hate the flashy life Connie craved.

Real Tall Man had told her that the conflict between the Anglos and Native Americans had its roots in the way each related to the natural world. The Anglo viewed the earth as something to conquer and subdue. The Indian viewed the earth as his mother, and his greatest desire was to live in harmony with it. She’d seen traces of this conflict in Jess. Now she knew what they were.

“You’re not sleeping.” Jess’s voice broke into her thoughts as he returned to their camp. “I can hear the wheels spinning in your head.”

“There’s a lot to think about.”

“You aren’t afraid?” The concern in his tone touched her.

“No. I was wondering what Dr. Davidson and the others were doing. They must be worried about us.”

“They’ll probably head for the ranch tomorrow. They’ll send us some help.”

“I wish we knew what was going on.”

“There are no answers tonight, so give it some rest,” he advised.

He appeared so relaxed, sprawled out on his bedroll. She resented his calm until she sensed that his inner turmoil matched hers.

“Why don’t you sleep? I’ll keep watch and then wake you later for a turn,” he offered.

Sleep was definitely a good idea. She hadn’t had much these past days and she’d put her body through a grueling test of stamina. “Wake me at midnight,” she conceded.

Jess rose to put a piece of wood on the fire. She was asleep before he sat back down.

She struggled in the early morning hours to keep her eyes open. After Jess had turned over his watch, he had fallen sound asleep. He was as tired as she. What she’d give to curl up next to him and catch up on more hours of lost sleep.

The moon shifted from one horizon to the opposite as time crawled. The sky sparkled with new constellations as the earth rotated. Crickets chirped their night song. Often she arose to put more wood on the fire. Those moments were the best. The crackle of renewed flame would sharpen her dulled senses, while the activity would spark new life into her tired body.

Her bottom lip stung where she’d bitten it to keep awake. Several times, she stood and poked at the fire, but it did no good. As soon as she sat back down, her head drooped. The ten-pound weights on her eyelids became twenty. How could she stay awake?

Just before dawn, the black velvet of sleep tempted her beyond endurance.
Just for a minute
, she thought.
I’ll let go for just a minute.
Her muscles relaxed and warmth enfolded her until an odd snap woke her up.

Her eyes flew open, but she commanded her muscles to remain motionless. She could hear the rustle of clothing behind her. Jess was moving. Perhaps he was getting more firewood. She remained silent in case it was just an answer to nature’s call.

There was no familiar thump and crackle of wood being tossed on the flame. In fact, she heard nothing at all. She started to roll over, but stopped. His footsteps sounded like they were heading away from camp.

She listened. They crunched again, now father away. In a flash she stood and searched the campground. He was gone and had taken the rifle with him. She waited for five minutes, in case he might return. As soon as she knew he wasn’t going to, she followed in the direction he’d gone. It was pitch black; the moon had disappeared below the horizon hours ago. Of course, it hindered Jess’s movements also, but that proved to her advantage. Several times she located him by the sound of his footsteps.

It surprised her when he didn’t head down the gulch toward the caves. He moved in a steady direction toward the rocky piles along the west side of the canyon. What was he up to?

Ahead, an open space yawned, and Autumn stopped at its edge. She studied the shadows for endless seconds. Nothing moved. Had Jess crossed here?

On her hands and knees she circled the rim of the clearing. She couldn’t feel any human footprints in the sand, only the tracks of several small animals. She listened as she rocked back on her heels. The usual night calls echoed in the stillness, but she heard no strange noises. She’d lost him. Her shoulders slumped.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. Her last reserves of inner strength were in there somewhere. She must find him, or she’d worry.

Smoke.

She straightened to her full height and focused on the faint whiffs that drifted in the breeze. Were they from their campsite? No. The wind came from the west ridge.

She took care not to make a sound as she circled the clearing and moved toward the source of the smoke. A large pile of rock blocked her path, forcing her to move the long way around it. She hoped she hadn’t traveled too far to the east. She’d pass right by, and without the aid of the smoky smells, she wouldn’t even know it.

Then she saw a flicker of light. Her knees weakened with relief. She’d found the campfire. She moved toward it with utmost care.

She went several yards and paused. The faint murmur of male voices reached her ears. She couldn’t tell how many were there, or if they had a guard posted. She could be walking into a trap.

For long moments she studied her surroundings. Nothing stirred. Every muscle strained in readiness while her heart raced. She inched closer to the camp. Finally, a few feet from the flaming light, the path opened into a clearing. Autumn plastered herself against the last protective boulder.

She willed her heart to calm and her muscles to cease their straining pull. A scrappy juniper stood between her and the fire. She prayed it would be enough protection for her to escape notice as she eased around the rough edge of the rock.

The second she saw them, she froze in place. Her vision blurred with pain and anger. Arlo stood with his back to her, talking to a stranger. So he
had
betrayed them.