Fireblossom (22 page)

"I certainly hope I'll be able to manage without you," Fox said when Pym paused for breath.

"I don't appreciate your tone," Titus shot back, his voice rising in the purplish shadows. "Perhaps I'm worried about you, and perhaps I've simply done the best I could!"

Fox smiled wearily and placed a tense hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "And perhaps I'm behaving like a bastard again. I apologize."

Titus wished his friend would reveal what had been tormenting him these past days, but he knew that whatever it was was a secret. And secrets were like poison. He was about to say something obliquely along that line when the sound of gunshots reached their ears. At first both men only listened, since the rowdies who crowded the badlands often fired a few shots when drunk.

Fox was the first to walk around the cabin and out to the edge of his land, which overlooked Sherman Street. Titus followed. Main Street was too far enough north to make anything out, but the sound of shouts and screams had joined the ongoing gunfire.

"Would you mind taking a look?" Fox asked Pym, his voice absent. Odd worries pricked at him, and he tried to push them away. "I'll go next door and bid Mr. Avery farewell, then start packing the wagon."

"I'll discover what's afoot and return to help you," Titus agreed, nodding.

The evening passed swiftly into night. Fox conferred one last time with Stephen Avery, ate the chicken with biscuits and gravy pressed on him by Susan O'Hara, joked with Benjamin, and finally asked after Madeleine as he rose to leave. It was almost a relief to hear that she was sleeping. He told himself that being with Lorna would be easier if Maddie's memory weren't so fresh in his mind.

Packing the wagon properly took some time, but Fox welcomed the activity. When he put in the last wooden box of supplies and stowed blankets and his own belongings in the back, he took out his pocket watch and was shocked to see that it was eleven o'clock. Where was Titus?

A disquieting sense of apprehension crept over him. He brought Watson to the wagon, tied him gently to the back, and was feeding him a carrot when Titus appeared, riding his own bay mare. Fox called out to him, but the Cornish miner made no reply. Instead he dismounted and walked over to Fox, who then could see that his friend's face was dead white and his eyes wild.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Tell me."

Titus pulled a tin flask from his shirt pocket and took a swig. "It's—it's Wild Bill Hickok. A dirty coward walked up behind him while he was playin' poker at the Number Ten and shot him clean through the head. Poor fellow. He never knew." Pym drew a ragged breath, then continued, "The town's in an uproar, of course. I arrived right after the shootin' and left once I'd heard that the villain had been apprehended."

Fox felt as if he'd been blindsided. "Who shot Bill?"

"I heard from E.B. Farnum that he gave his name as Jack McCall. No one seemed to know him. Another of those stray tomcats who drift in and out of towns like this, intent on nothing more than breaking the law." Titus patted the younger man's arm. "I know that Hickok was your friend. I'm sorry."

Awash in moonlight, Fox looked stunned. "It must have been his time," he whispered at last.

"Who's to say? If any of us wanted to be safe and die of old age, we'd've stayed where life's more civilized."

Fox knew this was true. The West was dangerous—there was no guarantee when you woke up in the morning that you'd see the stars again. James Butler Hickok knew that better than anyone.

Dazed and melancholy, Fox bade Titus Pym good-bye, adding that if he didn't return, his friend was to own the cabin. Then he swung up to the driver's position, took the reins, called out "Gee!" to the mules, and the wagon lurched forward into the night.

* * *

It seemed that the entire town was awake and in the streets. Everyone was talking about Wild Bill's horrific death, how he'd been sitting with his back to the door, how he'd been holding "aces over eights," how the miners' court was about to convene, and so on. Fox's heart ached as he guided the mules and the heaving wagon through the mass of worked-up people.

Suddenly a girl called out to him, and he glanced over to find that he was passing the Gem Theatre. Reining in the mules, he turned his head and saw a flame-haired female running out of the dark alley. She wore a shawl around her shoulders, which came loose from her head as she waved at him, nearly dropping her carpetbag and satchel in the process.

Good God, Lorna! He'd completely forgotten her—and now, frankly, he wished she'd forgotten him, too. What had possessed him to ask her to join him? Sighing, Fox decided that he'd send her back with the first party of travelers he encountered that was Deadwood-bound. In the meantime the diversions she would offer might be more welcome than ever.

"Can you climb up on your own?" he called.

The girl nodded. Fox looked back, under the canvas that arched over the wagon, and saw her throw her belongings up in back and clamber on board herself.

"I'm... in!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"It's late and there's a lot for me to worry about," Fox replied. " Fox replied. "Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll wake you later, when we're well on our way."

Maddie nodded, then collapsed gratefully on her back. The boxes of supplies and rifles provided an effective shield between her and Fox, and obviously he hadn't recognized her. She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother a nervous giggle. The wagon rolled onward, lumbering through the crowds and then up the twisted roads that led northeast out of Deadwood Gulch.

PART 3

Press close bare-bosomed night—

press close magnetic nourishing night!

Night of the south winds—

night of the large few stars!

Still nodding night—

mad naked summer night.

~ Walt Whitman

Chapter 13

August 3, 1876

Raindrops had begun to pelt the canvas that shielded the wagon. Opening her eyes, Maddie felt confused and disoriented until, slowly, her memory righted itself.

Where were they? The wagon was stopped; Watson had been untied from the back. Throwing off quilts, Maddie crawled tentatively to the back of the wagon and peeked outside, terrified that Fox might come around the corner and surprise her.

They were in a clearing of pine trees. The moon shone fitfully overhead, dimmed by the silvery rain clouds scudding across the night sky. The air was warm, sultry, and pine-scented. The world seemed to have shrunk, consisting only of the clearing and the wagon filled with wooden boxes, frayed quilts, and Maddie. She felt thrillingly alive as she lay back in the dark and listened to the spattering raindrops, waiting to discover what would happen next.

After a few minutes the occasional rustling sounds outside became more focused. Maddie heard Watson stepping through the clearing, followed by Fox's whispered reassurances. The very sound of his voice acted on her like an aphrodisiac. She didn't care what the consequences might be. She didn't care if he cast her aside afterward, sent her home on foot, vowed never to speak to her again. As long as she could have him this one time, she cared for nothing else. There was no other man in all the world save Fox, and tonight he would lie with her.

Even the quest for Sun Smile was forgotten as Maddie feigned sleep, listening as Fox tied Watson to the back of the wagon. He must have taken the horse to a nearby creek and brought water back, for she could hear liquid pouring into a tin pan, then splashes and muffled sighs. Fox was washing. She opened her eyes, peeking just enough to see him haloed in moonlight, shirtless, running his hands through his damp hair. Crystal droplets fell onto the tapering splendor of his chest. Fox drank deeply then from a canteen and climbed up into the back of the wagon.

Maddie's heart thundered as she felt his gaze linger on her. Could he see the color flooding her cheeks? A moment passed and she peeked again, just as he was pulling off his trousers. She caught a glimpse of bare, muscular flank, the hard arc of his buttocks... and felt herself responding with a shock of hunger mixed with panic. Dear God, what now?

Fox, of course, shared none of her apprehension about the situation. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman, and he was done with holding back. Little Bighorn, Maddie, Wild Bill... a storm of conflicting emotions swirled within him, clamoring for relief. Well, Lorna would be happy to accommodate him—and with no strings attached. She would numb his feelings and demand nothing for herself, which was lucky because he had nothing to give.

Stretching out beside her on the rumpled quilts, Fox marveled again at the uncanny resemblance Lorna bore to Madeleine. She lay on her side toward him, her shadowed face partially hidden by loose curls. In the darkness it would be so easy to pretend... and the mere thought sent desire's hot blood coursing through his veins. He touched her cheek with the back of his forefinger. When her eyelid fluttered, he whispered, "Hello," and felt for the tiny buttons down the back of her gown. He smiled to himself when he found that she'd done up only every other one. "Don't worry, honey, this won't take long. I'd just like to see a little more of you."

He'll know as soon as he looks into my eyes,
Maddie thought
,
and then everything will be different. He'll be with
me
then...

But Fox had no time to waste on romantic gazes. He buried his face in her tumbled marmalade curls and allowed himself to believe that it was Maddie's scent he inhaled. It was easier if he kept his eyes closed...

How warm the night air was! His mouth was hot on her brow, temple, and the tenderer spots that trailed down her neck. Almost roughly he pulled the faded calico gown from her body. When he realized that she wore no undergarments, he made a low sound of approval that only fanned the fire of Maddie's misgivings.

He bared her breasts and touched them softly, marveling at their beauty. When his mouth teased a puckered nipple, the feel of it against his tongue made him suddenly mad with need. With an urgency that left no room for any gentler sensibilities, he finished undressing her and pressed her back into the quilts. Her warm, lithe, enticingly curved body was all that he had fantasized, and more. She even smelled like Madeleine. The other day, outside the Gem Theatre, she'd reeked of the same strong, cheap scent that all the whores seemed to share. Tonight, though, in the misty, rain-washed, dark woods, her skin was pure and unmarked and smelled faintly of fresh flowers.

Her waist was nearly as narrow as the span of his two hands. Her hair was like liquid silk. Her mouth was delicious. Even her ears, delicate as buds, were clean and sweet. Fox began to feel as if some fairy had cast a spell on this clearing in the trees, granting him the fulfillment of his most extravagant longings.

Desire raging more fiercely by the second, he at last surrendered to the fantasy. Deft fingers found her secret places, and each touch revealed delicate beauty. "My God," he whispered, "you're beautiful...."

There was no reply, merely a soft sound that struck him as vaguely tragic. But when he kissed her, he tasted the salty warmth of tears. He would have pulled back then, but she stopped him. With a tiny hand she reached down and touched him, guiding him toward her essence. And when she arched her hips against him and opened her thighs, Fox released the animal he'd kept leashed inside for so long.

The sensation of entering her body, which was soft, snug, warm, moist, and welcoming, was bliss beyond his experience. She clutched his back, gasping, as he thrust deeper. Cupping her bottom with work-roughened hands, he fused their bodies completely and then drew back, repeating the movements until they were caught together in a pounding rhythm so primitive that all thought was obliterated.

"Ah, Maddie..." Fox breathed against her ear.

Madeleine felt a burst of joy when she heard her own name.
He
does
care
,
she thought triumphantly. Giving herself over at last to the act of love, she met his thrusts, running her fingertips over Fox's shoulders and the chiseled lines of his face. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her in the darkness, she gave him an incandescent smile and whispered, "Yes, yes, it's me... Maddie!"