Quicksilver Passion (4 page)

They shook hands. Here was a
yu-ne-ga,
a white man who seemed open and friendly. Cherokee said,
Honest card games?”

There was a murmur of assent up and down the bar. Whoever this Silver fella was, the miners in the area really thought a lot of him, Cherokee realized.

Cherokee blew smoke and looked around.
I been a long time up on the claim. I want a pretty girl tonight, but I don’t see one I fancy.”

He watched the painted, laughing girls moving through the crowd and thought of the blonde in the upstairs window.

Then you must be blind,” his original tormentor said, laughing.
Blind as a bat!”

He ignored the insult. Getting into a brawl would deter him from his purpose of finding and bedding that girl.
The girl I want has hair the color of a silver dollar and the most beautiful face a man could dream of.”

The bearded one stared back at him a long moment, mouth open. Then he nudged the other man.
Didja hear him, Doc? Didja hear who he’s talkin’ about?”

Oh, hush, Zeke, before you start something you can’t finish.” Doc pulled at his mustache thoughtfully.
Stranger, you can put that one out of your mind. That one—”

Is the best in bed you could want,” the tormentor interrupted, digging the other in the ribs with his elbow.
Isn’t that right, Doc? All he’s got to do is ask her when she comes downstairs to sing. Yep, cracker, you just offer that girl money and she’ll rush you right up the stairs. Ain’t that right, boys?”

Doc frowned but the others grinned. Some of them nodded.
Yeah, that’s right.”

Somehow, Cherokee had a feeling there was a joke here and he’d been left out of it. But then he’d been raised up in the hills by his grandmother and he’d never understood white people very well. He ought to go to the Indian Territory and get himself a virtuous Cherokee wife. But in his heart, he had a weakness for the white ones with light hair. That made him think of his friend’s wife. There was no way to make amends for what he’d done. Guilt haunted him.

Now he smoked his cigarette and sipped his coffee, watching the stairs. Cherokee had a real hunger burning his groin and that blonde had sparked a fire like he had never felt before. He thought of her breasts, imagined burying his face between them. Her nipples would be pale pink, her skin the color of cream beneath his bronze body. He imagined her silky long hair tangled in his callused hands, her small body writhing beneath him. No matter what she charged, he had to have her tonight.

A hush fell across the crowd suddenly, even though the off-key piano over by the small stage still banged away. Cherokee looked up from his erotic thoughts and glanced around at the faces turning now toward the stairs. He had never seen such longing and awe in men’s eyes before.

Slowly he, too, turned toward the stairs. The girl he had seen in the upstairs window stood halfway down, looking around at the crowd. She was even more beautiful and desirable than he remembered, the dress hiding yet revealing her curves, expensive jewelry on her body, the light playing on the fine features. What a perfect face!

Cherokee tossed the cigarette into the spittoon and pushed his cup away. He must ask her before some other man got to her first.

But before he could move, she came down the stairs, moving gracefully through the crowd toward the stage while the burly miners applauded and shouted, lifting their glasses in a toast:
Silver! Silver! Silver!”