Apache Caress (18 page)

“Don’t stop, you big brown stud,” she whispered. “If this is a dream, I’m enjoying it.”

He was in that older woman’s bed. What was he to do now? She had her hands all over him, was trying to kiss him again. If he told her he’d come for Sierra, she was going to be very insulted.

Knowing he must stall for time, Cholla whispered, “I liked what I saw back at the river, decided to follow you.”

“Jim won’t be back for several days. Maybe you could stay and become part of this bunch.”

“What would Jim say?”

“Who the hell cares? He’s not much older than my son; not a man like you. You seem to be all man.” She ran her hands over his big body.

But all Cholla could think of was Sierra. He couldn’t make love to this woman, yet he didn’t dare insult her by refusing. What would he do if she yelled for her gunmen? No matter, his body didn’t want anyone but Sierra. Cholla pulled away from her.

“What’s the matter, Injun?” She tried to kiss him, but he turned his head.

“I ... I, nothing. I can’t–”

A scream suddenly echoed down the hall.

“All right, where is she?” Cholla’s feet hit the floor.

The woman sat straight up in bed. “Who? That girl–”

But Cholla was already out the door and running down the hall toward the sound.

Sierra had awakened suddenly as a hand clamped down on her mouth. She came up out of bed fighting, bit down hard on the hand.

The man swore and struck her, but she managed to scream once before he got his hand back over her mouth, muffling her cries. “Damn you, sweet thing, shut up!” he whispered tersely as he wrestled her back down on the bed. “Now just lay still and you won’t get hurt!”

Slim.
How had he managed to get into her room? Had anyone heard her cry for help? She was dizzy from the blow and had the warm, coppery taste of blood in her mouth as they struggled in the dark. In the background, she heard a big body crash against her locked door, the splintering of wood. Then the door was flung open and she saw the silhouette of a man. Heavens, there were two of them.

The man who’d broken in lunged, swearing as he grabbed Slim and slammed him against the wall, so hard a picture came crashing down amid the tinkle of glass.

“Cholla!” She’d never thought she would be so glad to see anyone. He didn’t answer but fought Slim, crashing into the furniture. All she could do was watch from the bed.

A light came down the hall. “What’s going on? Stop it! You hear? Stop it?”

But the two men continued to fight as Belle came into the bedroom carrying a coal-oil lamp, followed by the rest of the men, half-dressed and yawning.

Cholla slammed Slim up against the wall and looked around at Sierra, then toward the open window as if trying to decide whether the two of them could get out quickly enough. Slim slid down the wall and lay slumped on the floor.

Belle held her lamp high, and the glow took in the wrecked room, the bloody combatants. “What happened here?”

“I woke up with Slim trying to get in bed with me,” Sierra gasped. It dawned on her suddenly that though the window was open, Cholla hadn’t come from that direction. He had come through the hall door, and his shirt and pants were unbuttoned.

Belle set the lamp on the table and glared at all of them. “Slim, I thought I told you to leave her alone”

The man stumbled to his feet, wiping blood off his mouth. “Now, Belle, it isn’t as if that sweet thing hasn’t been givin’ that Injun all he wants. She could favor a white man with a little bit of that honey.”

Belle brought her other hand up slowly. It held the quirt. “This ain’t about the girl, Slim. It’s about disobeying me. Any man rides with me, he does what I say!”

Slim backed away, shaking his head. “You damned old, used-up bitch! You ain’t gonna whip me no more! By God, you ain’t gonna whip me like I was a bad colt!”

Belle stepped forward quickly, brought her arm back. Slim threw his hands up to protect his face, but she brought the lash down hard. It sang through the air, slashed him across the neck and shoulders, and he cried out in pain. “You old, dried-out whore, someday somebody’ll kill you!”

The quirt cracked, catching Slim across the face. “Somebody may,” Belle shouted, “you sorry sonovabitch, but it won’t be a yeller dog like you! Now crawl outa here the same way you got in!” She hit him again. “Crawl! You hear me?” She struck him again and again. Slim went to his knees, trying to protect himself from the sharp sting of the lash. He scrambled to the window, dove through it.

“That’ll larn him,” Belle said with satisfaction as she slapped the quirt against her leg.

Sierra realized suddenly that she had been holding her breath. She let it out sharply. She also realized that the rest of the men, including Cholla, were now staring at her, that her nightdress was torn. Even Belle must have realized it. She frowned and gestured. “All right, the show’s over! Everybody get back to bed.”

The sleepy crowd of men faded away, leaving the three of them standing there. Without a word, Cholla strode to the window, looked out, then closed it. “This lock is broken.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Belle seemed to have forgotten Sierra was in the room. She picked up the lamp, smiled coquettishly at Cholla. “We can go back to bed now and finish what we were just starting.”

Cholla went over, took her hand, kissed the fingers. “I’d like that, but I’m afraid Slim might come back, so I suppose I’ll have to say no this time. Maybe another time.”

The woman turned and glared at Sierra, then looked back at Cholla and smiled. “You take my fancy, Injun. I have a weakness for young Injun bucks, and Jim July would never know the difference. If you want to change your mind ...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him.

“We have to think of your reputation. No man worth his salt, not even an Injun, would dishonor a woman like you.” Cholla gave her a charming smile. “Maybe we’ll talk about it later.”

Almost reluctantly it seemed, Belle paused in the doorway with the lamp. “If you get tired of this inexperienced little chit,” she said to Cholla, “and decide you want a
real
woman, you know which room is mine.” She glared one last time at Sierra and left.

Cholla closed the door and looked at the damage he’d done. Then he dragged a chest in front of the entrance to the room. “I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble tonight.”

Sierra was incredulous. “You intend to sleep with me?”

“I could go back to Belle’s bed if you want. I’ve had an invitation.”

She was furious. “I’d say you’ve had more than an invitation, I’d say you’ve already had a sample.”

He looked down as if he’d just realized his clothing was unbuttoned, disarrayed. “I got into her room accidently, looking for you. Then I had to pretend it wasn’t an accident, so I wouldn’t get killed.”

“You’re just like a bull, aren’t you?” Sierra pulled her torn gown up on her shoulder. “Just climb any heifer that’s handy.”

Cholla came over to the bed. “An old cow is a better description,” he said. “She reminds me of what the cavalry says about a sorry-looking horse; she looks like she’s been rode hard and put up wet.”

He sat down on the bed.

“Get off my bed.”

“Don’t order me about, Sierra.” His voice was cold. “I’m not Slim, to be whipped like a cur. You’re my captive, remember? I give the orders now.”

This is crazy, Sierra thought. She had escaped from her captor, but now he was back in control and no one around here was willing to stand up to him. Her heart sank. She wasn’t safe after all. “I don’t have to stay in this room. I’ll go into the parlor and spend the night on the sofa.” She got up, went to the door.

“You just do that, Dark Eyes,” Cholla challenged. “Who knows which of those men will sneak into the parlor if they find out you’re there?”

She paused uncertainly, her gown falling off her shoulder, her breasts revealed in the moonlight that now shone through the window. “If one of them tries anything, he’ll have to answer to Belle and her quirt.”

Cholla got up off the bed, came to the door, whirled her around. “Every man among ’em would figure five minutes between your thighs was worth being whipped half to death.”

“Is it?” She hadn’t meant to say that.

“To me, it is.” Before she could say anything else, his mouth came down on hers, his hands went to her shoulders. She tried to pull away from him, angry that he had been in Belle’s bed and was now wanting to use her to satisfy the lust the outlaw queen had built in him.

She managed to turn her face away. “No!”

But his mouth found hers again, his hands inside the torn gown now, thumbs stroking across her nipples. “I just whipped a man to keep him from touching you. When two stallions fight over a mare, the winner gets to mount her.”

She tried to pull away, but he tangled his hand in her long hair, holding her face so she couldn’t move away as his mouth ravaged hers. His body pressed against her, and she felt his heart pounding against her breast, his manhood, throbbing, hard, against her body.

He picked her up as they struggled, holding her easily as she fought him. She dared not scream, sure now that Belle wouldn’t bother to come. He carried her to the bed, set her upon it and, with one hard yank, tore her nightdress away. “I’ve had you before, Sierra. Why are you resisting me now?”

I am trying to resist my own traitorous body, she thought as she pressed back against the headboard, watched him pull off his shirt, step out of his pants. She would not give him the satisfaction of letting him drive her so wild with desire that she would claw his back and whimper. Not when he had just come from another woman’s bed.

She made a dive, trying to get off the bed. “Damn you! Let me go!”

In answer, he pushed her over onto her back, fell en top of her. “You want to play it this way? Want me to beg your forgiveness? Beg to be allowed the privilege?” he said against her lips. “I’m a man, Sierra. A
real
man. I don’t beg, but I’ll wager I can make you beg for it!”

“Damn you!” She tried to twist out of his hands, but his mouth was ravaging hers, sucking her tongue deep into his throat, and his hands were all over her. When she fought him, he caught both her small wrists in one big hand, brought her hands down to his manhood.

“This is what you want, Sierra. Tell me.”

“No!”

“No, you won’t tell me, or no, you don’t want it?”

He was hot and throbbing under her fingers. She arched up against his lips, trying to remember what he had asked. “No ...” she whispered again, “Don’t ... don’t stop.”

She was only vaguely aware that he had turned loose of her wrists and that she was pulling at him, wanting him between her thighs, digging her nails into his wide shoulders and lean hips.

“I won’t stop,” he whispered. “I’m going to brand every inch of you.” He came into her with one hard, long stroke, his lips on hers, so that when she felt him ram deep, her cry went into his mouth and she didn’t know whether it was a sound of pain or pleasure. She only knew that she couldn’t let him go until she had reached whatever zenith of feeling her body was rising to. Nothing mattered but this sensation of him inside her, the ecstasy of her body locking onto his.

He was still in her as they both dropped off to sleep.

The next morning early, as they drank coffee at Belle’s table, Cholla told the older woman they were going to leave.

Belle glared at Sierra. “You goin’ with this Injun?”

Sierra considered the question. Not willingly, she thought. But if she stayed, she’d be in danger the first time Belle turned her back. Being Cholla’s hostage was better than that. She thought about asking Belle for help in contacting the authorities, decided she would be wasting her time. Belle was a bandit. She wouldn’t contact the law.

“Well?” Belle demanded.

“I ... I think I’ll go with him,” Sierra stammered.

Belle gave her a black look. “Now if you ain’t sure–”

“No, I’ll go with him.”

With a glum shake of her head, Belle stood up. “In that case, I’ll have someone pack you some supplies, give you a couple of horses.”

Sierra and Cholla looked at each other in surprise.

“Why not?” Belle shrugged. “I have a reputation for hospitality. Just don’t tell anyone I did this, okay? If anyone asks where you got the stuff, say you found the horses or something like that?”

They nodded.

She went to the door, yelled. “Hey, Joe! Slim ever turn up?”

“No, he’s hightailed it for someplace else, I reckon.”

“This pair is leaving.” Belle looked back over her shoulder at them. “Saddle up those two palominos and pack some grub.”

“The palominos, boss? But–”

“No ‘buts’, Joe; just do like I tell you.”

Sierra could hardly believe her eyes when they went outside into the cold, crisp dawn. “These are two of the finest horses I’ve ever seen.” She traced the Running B brand on the mare’s rump, “They are worth a lot of money. I can’t believe you’d be so generous.”

Belle smiled thinly. “I can afford it, and Belle Starr has a reputation in these parts for being generous.”

Cholla gave her a grateful nod, then helped Sierra into the saddle and swung up onto the other horse. “Thanks, Belle.”

For just a moment, Sierra thought she saw jealous rage cross Belle’s face, and then it faded. Of course she could be mistaken about the woman. If Belle was angry about Cholla ending up in Sierra’s bed, this was a strange way to show her displeasure.

Cholla said, “We don’t know the country, Belle, which way is best?”

Belle hesitated, then pointed. “If you’ll ride in that direction, you’ll do just fine.”

They thanked her again, turned the horses, and rode out.

Belle stood looking after them a long time, until they were only small dots on the far horizon.

Joe stood with her, scratched his head. “Belle, I don’t understand you. The directions you gave them, they’ll be damned lucky if they don’t end up riding into Sundance, and that’s one tough town.”

“Ain’t it, though!” She stared after the pair, still angered because the man she’d tried to seduce was interested only in the younger woman. “Joe,” she said, “get over to Fort Smith. See if Judge Parker is looking for an Injun named Cholla or a woman named Sierra Forester. If so, let the law know which way they headed, just in case they don’t ride into Sundance.”