Winter Fire (26 page)

“So many hopes,” she said simply.

Pain twisted through him.

“Don't let hope get to you,” he said. “All it will do is hurt you.”

“No,” she said. “Memory hurts. Hope heals. Without it, we would spend our life in pain.”

Saying nothing, Case let go of her arm.

Sarah crawled around the low wall and peered into the darkness beyond.

Darkness looked back at her.

She dug beneath her poncho and carefully pulled out a tin of matches. After a moment, flame leaped at the end of a tiny wooden stick.

There was nothing behind the ruined wall but more rectangular chunks of rubble.

Disappointment went through her like black lightning.
The match burned down, flickered, and died, scorching her glove. She didn't notice.

For a long time she didn't move. Then she sensed Case crouched in the gloom just behind her.

She turned toward him.

“There are other canyons,” he said quietly.

Though she nodded, she made no move to turn and go. Her hand was clenched so tightly around the fragment of harness that even her glove couldn't soften the bite of metal against flesh.

“Were there any other ruins in this canyon?” she asked.

“I didn't see any.”

“Then there aren't any.”

He didn't disagree.

“It was a long shot,” she said after a time. “There isn't a red finger nearby. I thought maybe it came down in the last big flood a few years back.”

“When your husband died?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Hal told Conner that he would never find the silver until the old ones came back and opened their hiding places, and the red finger would point the way.”

“Did Hal talk much about his treasure hunting with Conner?”

“He only talked about it once,” she said, “when he was dying. He was always tormenting Conner.”

Hal baited him once too often
, Case thought.

But he didn't say it aloud, for he had promised Conner.

“Is this the canyon where it happened?” he asked after a moment.

“I think so. From what I saw when I was gathering wood…” Her voice died.

Case looked at Sarah sharply. She didn't realize it. She was staring out at the snow with eyes that saw only the past.

Suddenly she shuddered.

“Dead man's silver,” she whispered. “Just like you said. I'd never touch it but for my brother.”

For the space of several breaths he looked out at the snow, thinking about the huge mound of flood debris they had climbed to get to the insignificant ruins. The fingers of red stone that stuck up all over the wild land looked permanent, but he had seen proof in more than one canyon that even stone gave way over time.

“How far back do the ruins go?” he asked, looking into the darkness.

“I don't know. There's a lot of rubble about five feet in front of me.”

“May I see?”

Wordlessly she crowded against the solid stone that formed the back side of the crevice.

There was just enough room for him to squeeze by her. He set aside the shovel and eased forward. As he moved, his poncho scraped and snagged on the ragged ruins, dislodging a rectangular stone.

The rock tumbled out of the crevice and vanished into the thickly falling snow. From the sounds that came back, the stone struck the steep side of the canyon a few times, then hit the top of the flood debris and stopped moving.

Snow muffled all echoes with silence.

He struck a match and looked into the darkness just beyond the fitful flame. Once the floor had been smoothed by hands long dead. Now it was buried by broken stone once more.

Silently he measured the height of the ruins, the depth of the crevice, and the size of the pile blocking his way. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't decide what it was.

The match died.

He pushed forward until the natural wall of stone crowded him on one side, the man-made wall pushed him on the other side, and the rubble made a solid barrier in front of him.

Too much debris
, Case realized, understanding what seemed wrong.

The ruined wall wasn't high enough or wide enough to account for the heap of stone. Even if his eye had been misled by the uncertain light of the match, most of the stones that fell out of the ruins would have dropped into the canyon and vanished, as had the one he accidentally knocked loose.

It could have been like a little stone crib for storing things
, he thought.
If the structure fell in on itself, that would explain a lot of the stones
.

He lit another match and studied the mound. It didn't quite reach to the low ceiling. There might be enough room at the top for a man to look over and see what was on the other side.

The second match went out.

“See anything?” Sarah asked, but there was no real hope in her voice.

“Rocks.”

She didn't ask any more.

Case took off his hat and levered himself to the top of the rubble pile. Awkwardly he struck a match and peered into the inky black at the far side.

He didn't see anything. There just wasn't enough room for him to look over.

He blew out the match.

“Get as far back as you can,” he said to her. “I'm going to shift the top of this mess so I can look over on the other side.”

“Be careful. Some of these ruins are dangerous.”

“Are you just figuring that out?” he muttered.

“I've known since I looked at the first one,” she said indifferently.

“But you kept at it.”

Whatever she said was lost in the sounds of stone grumbling and scraping when he started shoving debris away from the top of the mound. As much as possible he
pushed the stone away from him, into the darkness ahead.

The rattle and bounce of debris told Case that the area beyond the barrier was open. He pushed faster. A cascade of stone ran down the far side, clunking and scraping with dull sounds.

Then came a sound that wasn't stone striking stone.

“Was that your shovel?” Sarah asked.

“I left it behind you.”

“But something sounded like metal.”

“Stay back” was all he said.

He shoved more stone away from the top, pulled off one glove, and began running his fingers over the newly uncovered debris.

Stone met his touch. Then more stone, rough and cold. Then something very cold.

And smooth.

He struck a match and stared at the rubble that was only inches from his face.

All he saw was pale rectangles of rock and a few stones so dark they seemed to absorb light.

Black rectangles?
Case thought.
I've never seen black rock in these canyons, except for veins of coal
.

Is this a stash of coal?

Abruptly he plunged his hand into the rubble. His fingers closed around a black rectangle.

Cold. Smooth. Heavy.

Much too heavy for coal.

“Case? Are you all right?”

Distantly he realized that Sarah had called to him more than once.

“I'm fine,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorting through debris.”

“It got so quiet all of a sudden.”

“I'm just catching my breath.”

The match flickered out.

Case hardly noticed. He didn't need light to remember
what the heavy black rectangle looked like.

There was a cross carved into it.

With an effort he managed to free his knife from its belt sheath. Working by feel in the dark, he gouged at the bar with the sharp tip of the steel.

He lit another match.

A teardrop of pure silver gleamed out of the black rock.

“I will be damned,” he said.

“What?”

“It's here. The silver is here.”

Sarah made a startled sound and clawed her way toward him.

“Move over,” she said.

He couldn't, but he could roll onto one side.

“I can't see anything at all,” she said, frustrated. “Are you sure there's silver?”

She struggled to dig a match out of her jacket. Crowded next to him as she was, it was nearly impossible.

“Don't bother,” he said.

“But—”

“Take off a glove,” he said over her objections.

With an impatient jerk, she stripped off a glove.

“Brace yourself with the other hand,” he said.

A cold, smooth weight settled onto her palm. Like Case, she knew instantly that no stone was that heavy.

Nor was a handful of
reales
.

“Bullion,” she breathed. “Dear God. It's a bar of silver bullion!”

Disbelief and excitement raced through her. Her fingers clenched around the precious silver bar.

“There are more,” he said.

“More,” she repeated in a daze, afraid that she wasn't understanding him. “I can't believe it.”

“Give me room to dig. You'll believe it.”

“I'll help you.”

“Honey, there's not enough room for us to light a match wedged in like we are, much less dig together.”

“But—oh, blazes, you're right.”

Dragging the heavy silver bar, she eased back through the tight passage. Then she crouched a step away from the base of the rubble, balancing the bullion in both hands.

“I'll pass the bars back to you as I find them,” he said.

“How many are there?”

“I don't know.” He grunted and pushed a bar into her hand. “Start counting.”

“Oof.”

“Oof?” he said dryly. “I make it two bars so far. Here comes number three.”

“Wait!”

There was a muted, almost musical clatter as Sarah dumped the first two bars against the back of the crevice. She pulled on her glove and reached forward again into the gloom.

“Ready,” she said.

Another heavy, tarnished silver bar smacked against her palm.

“Three,” she said.

Without pausing she chucked the third bar off to the side.

“Ready,” she said.

By the fifth bar Case and Sarah established a rhythm that varied only when the silver was difficult to drag out of the rubble. Then she would rest while he muttered under his breath and lit a match and shoved rock aside until he freed more bars.

Shivering, cold without realizing it, she waited for silver wealth to be shoved into her hands so that she could toss it aside and hold out her hands for more.

Rock shifted, grumbled, and filled up the hole where Case had been digging.

“How many?” he asked.

“Forty.”

“That's more than we can take in our saddlebags. Especially with this added on.”

He backed out of the hole and turned. Black coins spilled from his hands. The tarnish didn't change the sweet chiming of silver against silver when the coins tumbled to the ground.

“Enough to fill my saddlebags, and yours in the bargain,” Case said. “We'll have to leave the bars for later.”

“What about the packhorses?”

“No time,” he said.

“We can't just leave the bullion here.”

“Why not?”

“Someone might find it,” she said impatiently.

“Nobody has up to now.”

“I'll guard it. You go back for—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Anywhere I go, you go.”

“We can't both stay here.”

“Uh huh. That means we're both going.”

“But the rest of the silver—”

“Better hustle,” Case said, turning back to the leather sacks of
reales
that lay within the rubble. “It's going to be a hell of a scramble carrying saddlebags of silver down those snow-slicked rocks.”

Sarah's teeth clicked as she shut her mouth. Some of her excitement ebbed when she eyed the pile of bars and the crumbling leather bags that he was gently easing from the rubble.

Silver was unreasonably heavy.

Like lead.

“What are you waiting for?” he said.

“Wings.”

“You'll freeze to death first. Get moving, honey. You're already shivering like a sick hound.”

Clumsily at first, then more easily, she helped him get some of the bars down the steep side of the canyon, and then carry the empty saddlebags back up.

Case wanted to stop with the saddlebags.

Sarah refused.

She wasn't leaving until every last bar they had found
was loaded on. She had hunted too long and too hard to leave anything behind.

The snow had almost stopped falling by the time Case finally heaved heavy saddlebags onto Cricket's back and buckled them in place. Sarah's little mare was carrying her share as well.

The packhorses had their ears laid back. The dead weight of metal was the hardest kind of load to carry.

Cold settled over the land like a second kind of silence. Veils of snow drifted and vanished, revealing the land one second and concealing it the next. Gradually the snow stopped. The moon rose clean and bright enough to throw shadows. The tracks of the horses stood out starkly against the glittering white land.

There was no sign of raiders at the mouth of the canyon.

Sarah sighed and began to relax. As the excitement of finding treasure slowly faded, her elation became a bittersweet kind of acceptance.

Conner's future was assured.

Her half of Lost River ranch belonged to Case Maxwell.

“Are you sure you don't want to change your mind about taking half the silver instead of half the ranch?” she asked after a while. “The silver is worth a lot more.”

“Not to me.”

She didn't ask again.

In silence Sarah rode back toward the home that was no longer hers. Her eyes roved the land, memorizing its stark beauty, engraving it on her mind.

Soon memories would be all that was left to her of the ranch she loved.

R
un! The flood is coming and he's drunk and mean and looking for you!

Faster, Conner! You're too big now for me to carry you!

Sarah awoke in a heart-pounding rush. Cold sweat chilled her skin.

Oh God, Hal will catch me this time for sure
.

Frantically she looked around.

Though she was outside, no floodwater frothed around her. There were no walls, no doors, nothing to keep her from fleeing her husband.

She took a broken breath and tried to orient herself.

No moon dimmed the wild, cascading glory of the stars overhead. Snow lay silver upon the land. What wasn't covered by snow was a strangely luminous ebony as deep as night itself.

Abruptly she remembered where she was, and why. At Hunter's suggestion—order, actually—she had decided not to sleep inside the cabin as was her custom. After it was too dark for any spy to see her, she had taken her bedroll outside.

A steep canyon wall was at her back. Brush flanked her. Horses were hobbled randomly throughout the area.
Their senses would pick up intruders long before human ones would.

And Case was sleeping somewhere nearby, invisible in the darkness, guarding her and the Spanish treasure.

Sarah took another breath, a deeper one. The air was cold and sweet and free.

Just a nightmare
, she kept telling herself.
Nothing to get in a lather about
.

Hal is dead
.

Conner is safe
.

I'm safe
.

Yet even as the thoughts came, anxiety shivered through her, a fear that no reassurances could touch. She hadn't felt this way since she had realized that her parents were dead, her brothers and sisters were dead, and she was responsible for Conner's sheer survival.

The silver means that Conner never will want for food, and neither will I
.

I never will have to marry or turn to whoring simply to survive
.

So why do I feel so frightened?

Then she remembered that the price of Spanish treasure had been very high—Lost River ranch.

I've lived through worse losses
.

I'll live through this
.

Somehow
.

“Sarah?”

Case's voice was so low that it carried no farther than a few feet.

“I'm awake,” she said softly. “Is something wrong?”

He condensed out of the night beside her.

“That's what I was going to ask you,” he said. “You were thrashing around like a fish on a hook.”

His shoulders blocked out a wide patch of stars. The makeshift poncho he wore swirled around his knees like night itself.

She took a quick, ragged breath. The air was still cold
and clean, but now it smelled of leather, wool, and man.

“Just a bad dream,” she said.

“The flood or your husband?”

“Both, I think. I don't remember much except the fear.”

Though Sarah's words were matter-of-fact, her voice still trembled with echoes of terror.

Saying nothing, Case sat on the foot of her bedroll. Gently he lifted her into his lap, wrapped a blanket from her bedroll around her, and held her against his chest.

“Sometimes it takes a while for the nightmares to fade,” he said.

Giving up Lost River ranch, like the death of her family, wouldn't fade. But she didn't refuse the comfort he offered. She gave a jerky sigh and leaned against him.

Silence and the soft whispering of their mingled breath filtered through the night.

“Look around you,” he murmured after a time. “The land is as beautiful as a meadowlark's song.”

She didn't have to look. The land filled her eyes, her heart, her soul.

“The snow will melt tomorrow,” she said quietly. “But until then, everything will be like a Christmas angel, all sparkling with light.”

His breathing hesitated, then continued evenly despite the memories running like razors through his heart.

“Did your family have an angel at the top of their Christmas tree?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of all the decorations, it was my favorite.”

“Emily loved the angel best, too.”

The echoes of pain in his voice made Sarah ache. Saying nothing, she shifted until she could put her arms around him. His arms tightened around her in return.

Snow shimmered like the wings of angels, white and glistening, feathery veils of innocence that both softened and emphasized the stark beauty of the land.

How can I leave this?
she thought.

Breath squeezed raggedly from her lungs.

“Still afraid?” Case asked quietly.

“I know the difference between nightmare and night” was all she said.

He pulled her closer and tucked her head beneath his chin. With each breath he inhaled the clean scent of her hair.

Tenderness and desire fought within him.

Both won.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked after a time.

“Land and silver and Conner.”

“He was so excited he was dancing in place.”

“Until I started talking about sending him back East to school,” Sarah said.

“Conner was thinking of spending that silver on good cattle and digging wells and such.”

“He can do that after he has a university education. If he still wants to.”

Case opened his mouth to point out that Conner's future was her brother's decision, not hers.

Yet in the end he said nothing.

“Hunter wasn't very excited about the silver,” she said.

“It means trouble.”

“We were poor and had trouble. Now we're rich and have trouble. I'd rather have the silver as well as the misery.”

Again, Case held his tongue.

Then he thought better of it. If Sarah understood just how great the risk had become after the Spanish treasure was found, maybe she would grab Conner and get the hell out while the rest of them took care of the Culpeppers.

“We were followed once we left that side canyon,” Case said flatly.

“We've been followed before.”

“We were carrying firewood then.”

“So?”

“We come out of that canyon with no firewood in sight, yet our animals all cut deeper tracks than they did on the way into the canyon.”

Sarah stiffened.

“Ab Culpepper is a good tracker,” he said. “So are most of his kin. They know you were hunting for Spanish treasure.”

“And now they know we've found it,” she finished bleakly.

“That's what I would think, if I had been the one watching and tracking.”

“Nobody knows where the silver is hidden now but the two of us,” she said fiercely.

“You wouldn't last long once Ab started questioning you. Neither would I. He's a man of rare cruelty.”

“Then you'll just have to keep me out of his hands until I get that silver to a bank.”

“I have a better idea. Take Conner, four bars of silver, and six horses. Run without stopping for Santa Fe. Ute will go with you as a guard. You can come back once the raiders are taken care of.”

“Conner won't go,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I'm not a complete fool. I want my brother out of here in one piece. But he won't leave. When I told him I wouldn't give him any silver if he stayed, he just shrugged.”

“Damnation,” Case said through his teeth.

“Amen.”

She sighed jerkily.

It's all coming apart, all my plans for the future. Why did Conner have to grow up so stubborn?

Starlight glittered across snow like frozen tears.

Sarah closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the comfort of Case's body so solid against hers and his arms
strong around her. A shiver that was both sadness and pleasure went through her.

“Don't think about the nightmare,” he said softly.

“I wasn't.”

“You trembled.”

“I was thinking about how fine it would be just to stay here in the night with you and let the rest of it slide away, all of it, all the bad memories and the fear…”

His eyes closed. The longing in her voice was echoed in his own heartbeat, his own soul.

“Just live here and now?” he asked.

“Yes. Like a good dream, the kind you wake up from smiling instead of sweating.”

“Like a dream,” he said. “Nothing before and nothing after. Just a sweet dream…”

His lips whispered softly over her hairline, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the corner of her mouth.

“Case?” she whispered.

“Just a dream,” he said. “That's all. Just a dream.”

The tip of his tongue traced her upper lip, then her lower one, leaving a delicate fire in its wake. Her breath caught and her heart turned over at the tender caress.

Then she remembered his blunt warning.

Don't tease me into making you pregnant. I would hate both of us for it
.

The leather poke that Lola had given Sarah was back in the cabin. She knew if she went to get it, Case would withdraw again behind his carefully built walls.

Only now, this instant, was he vulnerable.

Like her.

It doesn't matter
, she thought.
I'll be gone from Lost River ranch before either one of us knows if I'm pregnant
.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get so far inside those walls of his that he can't shut me out ever again
.

She didn't really believe it, but she hoped…

Her teeth nipped his lower lip. The startled breath he
took was the opening she wanted. Her tongue slid into his mouth and began exploring.

Without knowing it, she shivered and made a throaty sound of pleasure when she tasted him.

“I love your taste,” she whispered. “I love the way your teeth feel so slick and hard and your tongue is all velvet and warm.”

Case made a low sound. His arms tightened until he held Sarah in a powerful, warm vise.

“You shouldn't say things like that,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“You'll make me lose my head.”

“Just for a while. Just a dream. That's all,” she whispered. “A dream.”

Before he could pull away, she shifted in his lap, trying to get even closer to him. As she moved, her hip rubbed over his aroused flesh.

He was full, hard, ready.

She made another low sound and moved again, frankly caressing him, knowing at some deeply feminine level that this was the way to reach past his barriers, if only for a time.

Just a dream
.

He tried to speak. All that came out was a throttled groan when her mouth slanted over his. The taste of her as she met and matched his hungry tongue, the feel of her moving in his lap, and the ragged catch in her breathing told him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The knowledge was like raw whiskey in his brain, stripping away his control. He fought against himself even as his tongue stabbed into Sarah's mouth again and again, seeking her as deeply as she was seeking him.

Yet no matter how fully their mouths joined, it wasn't enough. He needed more, much more. He needed all of her.

Her name was a husky question on his lips.

Her answer was a hungry movement of her body that inflamed him.

Case stopped fighting against what he needed more than the blood in his veins. Beneath the blanket he had wrapped around her, his hands sought and found the feminine weight of her breasts.

He stroked her urgently, but it was skin he hungered for, not clothing. Quickly he unbuttoned her flannel shirt and undid the ties of her chemise.

His fingers were cool from the night. Sarah gasped when they plucked at her nipples. When he hesitated, she put her hands over his and held them to her breasts.

“Don't stop,” she whispered.

“My hands are cold.”

“Cold?” she laughed raggedly. “They're fire. Pure, wonderful fire. I want them all over me. But most of all, I want to have you inside me again.”

He made a deep, broken sound and pushed her back onto the bedroll. Together they fought their way through clothing until she felt him opening her naked thighs.

The scent of her arousal pushed him over the edge. He caressed her once, deeply, and felt liquid fire spill over his hand. He tried to say her name but couldn't. She had taken his breath.

Long legs wrapped around his hips. He yanked at his pants until they were open, then barely managed to throttle a groan when her hips lifted to him, touching him with fire.

He rubbed against her slick heat. She shivered with pleasure and returned the caress, sliding over his hungry flesh. He guided himself to her, testing her readiness. As he stretched her, more of her intimate heat spilled over him.

It was like setting fire to a torch.

His body corded. He sank into her as far as he could go. He drank the startled, sensual cry she made before it went any further than her lips. His hips moved, then
moved again, driving him faster, harder, deeper into her sultry, clinging center.

Sarah's legs tightened and her hips moved in return, urging him, arousing him until he knew nothing but the sensation of her living fire surrounding him. He wanted to slow down, to regain his self-control, but he could no more do that than he could resist the satin heat of her passion in the first place.

Her nails sank into his thighs as she twisted up to meet him. The night came apart around him in a series of deep, wrenching pulses that left him shaken and light-headed, fighting for breath.

Uncertainly Sarah held Case, stroked him, gently kissed his forehead and eyelids and lips.

After a long time he lifted his head and looked down at her with glittering eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“I thought I was hurting
you
,” she said unhappily. “You sounded like you were dying. Did I—did I disgust you again?”