Guardian Bride (18 page)

followed suit, securing against his with a demand that raced

to her toes. She gasped and he reacted by kissing her bottom

lip, and then the top one. The action made her want more.

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Stretching, plastering her breasts against his chest, she

buried her lips into his.

His mouth opened, and his tongue tasted her lips before it

slipped into her mouth. Welcoming, she accepted him and

explored and tasted as long and feverishly as he. Suddenly,

he withdrew, kissing her nose, then eyes and forehead, he

forced her head to rest upon his shoulder again. His fingers

were buried deep in her hair, massaging her scalp. She ran

her hand along his forearm, and then realized it was his

injured one.

"Your arm. It should be in a sling."

"It's fine," he said against her hair. "It's fine."

Worry crept into her mind. "Did you bandage your leg?"

"Shhh, it's fine, too."

She lifted her head. His eyes slowly opened. "It'll be

sometime before they are both fine, and you know it."

A contented grin formed on his lips, but it faded into a

frown.

"What's wrong?" She wiggled, afraid her weight on the bed

caused him pain.

His hand held her still. "I'm," he sighed and started again.

"I'm sorry about what Dora said."

"About marrying her?"

"No." His lips brushed over her forehead. "About what she

called you."

"Oh, that." She hadn't completely forgotten the incident,

but had hoped he had. "There's no reason for you to be

sorry," she whispered, while believing there was plenty of

reason for him to be sorry he'd married an Indian.

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"She's a spoiled brat and shouldn't have called you that."

"Why? It's true. I'm half Indian."

"So? That doesn't give anyone reason to call you names."

She shrugged, hoping it would ease the gripping of her

heart. "I'm used to it."

"I'm not. And I won't stand for it."

Summer eased onto her elbow to see him more clearly.

There was conviction in his tone. "Why?"

"Why?"

She nodded.

"Because you're my wife."

"I'm also part Indian."

His hand cupped her cheek. "I don't care what nationality

you are. You're my wife. From this day forward. To have and

to hold. For richer for poorer. 'Til death do us part." The

calluses on his hand rubbed the side of her face. "I didn't hear

the words the other night, but I know them. I believe in

them. And I promise, I won't let someone, anyone, hurt you

ever again."

No one had ever stood up for her so ardently. The tears

slipping from her eyes made speaking impossible. He brushed

aside the droplets and then pulled her toward him.

"I mean it, Summer. I'll die protecting you if need be." He

kissed her then, forcing the sob in her throat to turn into a

moan. Infatuation filled her, and their kissing went on until

she was throbbing and wet in places never awakened before

this moment.

Their lips parted and heavy breathing filled the room. His

arms, wrapped around her like steel bands, didn't grow slack.

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He rested his chin on the top of her head, and whispered,

"Sleep with me, tonight. Just like this. All night."

Summer couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Walking

would be impossible since her muscles had turned into limp

ropes. She snuggled beneath his chin, closed her eyes, and

let the worries of the world completely disappear.

Flames flashed in every direction. Something held her

tight, wouldn't let her run from the fire. Summer twisted and

tugged from the confines. The moment she burst free, her

eyes flew open.

"What's wrong?" Snake whispered.

Gasping for breath, she glanced beside her and then

around the room. The darkness and silence of night still

cloaked the room.

Snake, propped up on one hand, asked, "What is it? Did

you have a bad dream?"

"Yes," she started to nod, but her sleepy senses awakened

fully. Leaping from the bed, she asked. "Do you smell that?"

"Wha—" he started before acknowledging the scent

surrounding them, "Fire!" He threw the covers aside. "Get me

my britches."

"No, you stay here. I'll go—"

"Summer! Get me my britches!"

The smell intensified. "No—"

"Go get the kids!" He grabbed the crutch and hopped

toward the dresser. "Now, Summer, go get the kids."

She flew from the room, but not toward the stairs. It

wasn't wood burning. The smell was sharp and smothering.

Throwing open the front door, a bright orange glow filled the

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landscape to the south. The wind whipped smoke in every

direction.

"Good Lord, it's a grass fire!" Ma screamed behind her.

"Everyone to the root cellar!"

Never one to panic, Summer didn't understand why her

feet wouldn't move, why her gaze couldn't be pulled from the

red blaze eating a wide path across the land—straight toward

the house.

"Don't just stand there, girl, get the children!" Ma tugged

on her arm. The action was effective. Summer flew back into

the house, nearly colliding with Bug who had a child under

each arm.

He planted them on the floor. "Get to the root cellar!"

Snake rushed past, grabbing Bug's arm. "We gotta get the

animals out of the barn." His crutch clattered against the

floor.

Summer grabbed it. "Snake!"

He twisted in the doorway. "Leave it. Get the kids and Ma

into the root cellar."

Chaos abound. The flames were already gobbling at the

trees planted along the driveway, and the smoke had grown

so thick breathing made her lungs burn. Summer towed

August and September in her wake, but halfway across the

yard, September broke loose.

"I gotta get Maisy!" the girl shouted.

"No, Snake and Bug will get her!" Summer insisted.

"She won't budge for them!" her sister's voice faded into

the colossal snaps and crackles filling the air.

It was like a train bore down upon them. "September! No!"

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"The boys'll get her," Ma insisted, pulling on Summer's

arm. "We gotta get in the cellar.

August stumbled. Summer reached down and hefted him

on her hip. His sobs filled her ear. "We're gonna burn,

Summer. We're gonna burn."

"No, we aren't," she promised. Heat made her believe

flames scorched the back of her gown and sticks and stones

dug into her bare feet as they raced around the tool shed

toward the hill that held the door of the root cellar. Bug

arrived moments before them and threw the wide door open.

"Quick! Get in!"

Ma raced in and Summer paused briefly. "September!"

"Snake has her. They're coming!" Bug shouted above the

roar.

Half falling down the steep steps, they all landed on the

dirt floor seconds before blazes raced over their heads.

Summer dropped August to his feet, staring at the underside

of the flames consuming the door in record time. "NO!" she

screamed. "No. No. No."

She was dragged backwards and planted on the ground. A

tarp fell over the top of all of them. It felt as if the fire was

inside her. Summer tried to push the heavy material aside.

"No!" Bug said. "We got to stay under the tarp."

"But Snake and September!"

Bug grabbed her face. His nose was inches from hers.

"August is right beside you, Summer, and we need to stay

under the tarp."

His words weren't for comfort, they were for survival. She

squeezed her eyes shut and growled at the pain consuming

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her insides. When her lids lifted, the pain in Bug's eyes was

crystal clear.

He patted her cheeks and said, "August."

She twisted and gathered her little brother close.

Through the dark, swirling smoke, Snake wondered if he

truly saw Bug ushering everyone into the cellar or if it was a

vision of his imagination. His leg and arm screamed, and he

knew he'd never make it up the hill in time. September clung

to his side, and though slight, the extra weight was more

than he could handle.

Survival instincts took over where doubt flashed, and he

shouted to the girl, "Hold your breath!"

He thrust with both legs, and the pain made him shout

with agony as he dove over the top of the large bathing tub.

They sank beneath the water. Seconds later, he tightened his

hold on September and tugged her head above the water line

for a breath of air. Smoke filled his lungs. The canvas tarp

they used to cover the water to keep debris out when not in

use partially hung over the edge. He snatched it and pushed

it beneath the water. "Grab a corner!"

September did, and moments before the flames caught up

to them, they plunged beneath the water again. Once the wet

tarp was over their heads, Snake pulled September to the

surface again. With just their heads sticking above the water,

they stared at one another. Thuds and indentions of sparks

landing on the canvas surrounded them.

Snake wondered what he'd do once the flames ate the

wooden barrel holding the water they sat in, but chose

assurance instead. "We'll be fine."

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"Did—" Cry filled hiccups snatched the rest of her question.

"The rest of them made it to the root cellar. I saw them go

in."

She wiped at the water running down her face.

"And Maisy flew out the back door along with the rest of

the horses." He pulled her closer as a hole flamed in the

canvas beyond her shoulder. "Let's dip the tarp under the

water again. On the count of three?"

She nodded. He counted off, and as one they ducked

beneath the water. Spitting and sputtering, they surfaced

again and settled the tarp over their heads. He sat on the

bottom of the tub, but she being much smaller balanced on

her knees.

"Are you doing all right?" he asked.

With eyes sad enough to make a grown man cry, she

answered, "Yes, thank you."

Her answer, calm, as if she wasn't in the depths of peril,

made him grin. He hugged her miniature shoulders. "That's

the girl."

"How long will we be here?"

He was about to say he had no idea when a new sound

happened. For a second he thought it was the barrel

collapsing around them. But as the sound came again, he

recognized thunder rolling overhead. Moments later splatters

hit the canvas with deafening force.

"Not long! It's raining!"

September's gaze shot up to the canvas. Shock quickly

turned into joy.

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"It is!" she exclaimed. Little arms looped around his neck.

Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "It's raining, Snake, it's

raining."

"Yes, sweetie, it is!" He threw back the tarp, and they both

lifted their faces to the blessing being sent down from above.

The downpour of rain smothered the smoke, leaving the air

entering their lungs fresh and clean. They sat, together for a

few moments, just breathing.

Snake helped September rise to her feet, and she in turn

helped him. "Here, give me your hand," she said. "I'm

stronger than I look."

He held her hand, but also used his other arm to push off

the side of the tub. Not even the pain tearing his shoulder in

two slowed his rise. Small fires blazed around them, but the

rain, pouring straight down dowsed them before his eyes.

Beyond the cellar, the once raging line of flames was little

more than a trickling stream, shrinking every second.

September climbed out first. "I'll help you," she offered.

He once again accepted her aid and was just lifting his bad

leg over the edge when Bug walked out of the hillside. "You

two all right?" he shouted.

"Yes! We're fine!" September yelled in return.

It was Summer who arrived at their sides first. She hugged

September and then threw herself in Snake's arms with

enough force they would have toppled into the tub if the sides

hadn't been so sturdy.

Her lips, wet and hot, kissed his face over and over. The

salty taste told him her tears flowed as hard as the rain. His

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grip on her tightened, and he returned her kiss, long and

hard.

"Oh, good Lord, the house is gone."

The agony in his mother's words broke the kiss. As one, he

and Summer turned to the smoldering structure that had

been the Quinter home for decades. The barn, tool shed, and

chicken coop, had damage no doubt, but they hadn't been

completely consumed by the flames. Not like the house. As

they stood in the rain, staring with disbelief, the stone

chimney tumbled.