Bounty hunter Cale Walker arrives in Tucson to search for J.
Howard “Hank” Carlisle at the request of his daughter, Tess. Hank mentored Cale
before a falling out divided them, and a mountain lion attack left Cale nearly
dead. Rescued by a band of Nednai Apache, his wounds were considered a powerful
omen and he was taught the ways of a di-yin,
or a medicine man. To locate Hank, Cale must enter the Dragoon Mountains, straddling
two worlds that no longer fit. But he has an even bigger problem—finding a way
into the heart of a young woman determined to live life as a bystander.
For two years, Tess Carlisle has tried to heal the mental
and physical wounds of a deadly assault by one of her papá’s men. Continuing the traditions of her Mexican heritage, she
has honed her skills as a cuentista,
a storyteller and a Keeper of the Old Ways. But with no contact from her father
since the attack, she fears the worst. Tess knows that to reenter Hank
Carlisle’s world is a dangerous endeavor, and her only hope is Cale Walker, a
man unlike any she has ever known. Determined to make a journey that could lead
straight into the path of her attacker, she hardens her resolve along with her
heart. But Cale makes her yearn for something she vowed she never would—love.
After they ate and cleaned up, Tess excused herself and
went behind the mesquite for privacy, limping but determined to not use her
cane. After attending to personal matters, she paused to watch the still
nearly-full moon shining brightly in the starry sky. The horses snorted nearby,
and she went to them for a brief visit. Gideon happily greeted her with a
nudge, and to Tess’s surprise,so
did Bo.
She reveled in the affection of the two boys, but when she moved to
Moses he rebuffed her, which also made her smile.
“I can respect that,” she whispered.
As she walked back toward Cale and the fire, her foot
caught on a rock and she tripped. Falling to the side, she landed hard against
a boulder with her injured leg. She must have screamed because Cale
appeared within seconds.
“What happened?” he asked. “I was getting concerned when
you didn’t return.”
“Nothing.” Hating her weakness, she tried to push his
hands away and stand, but her leg gave out. He caught her and held her upright.
“I just fell, that's all. I'll be fine. Just give me a moment.”
Cale lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the
fire. He settled her atop her pallet and knelt before her. “Tess, will you let
me have a look at it?”
Panic swept her. “No.”
“What are you afraid of? That I haven't seen anything so
hideous before?”
A response clogged her throat.
He removed his vest, then began unbuttoning the placket
on his blue chambray shirt. Alarm snaked down her spine. “What...what are
you...”
“I want to show you my
injury.”
“Oh.” She really couldn't reconcile her ambivalence. On
the one hand, any overture by a man
that came close to indicating sexual contact set her heart to pounding and
filled her with an overwhelming urge to flee. On the other, slivers of
curiosity sometimes whispered in her ear, of what it could be like with a man
who cared, of what hidden magic such contact could hold. She carried many
stories in her repertoire, and there had been those of wild, desperate longings
between a man and a woman, of a love so fierce it changed the world. Could
those tales be believed? What would it be like to love a man such as Cale?
He pulled his shirt over his head, and shifted to face
her better. Her eyes settled onto his right shoulder. Mottled and disfigured,
it was covered with scars intersecting like aspider's
web. More marks ran across his chest and ribs, prohibiting the growth of hair
in places. He twisted his torso to show her a large, disfigured patch of
injured flesh just above his trousers.
“The attack must have been thorough,” she whispered,
stunned by what she saw. “Are you in
any pain?”
“At times, but it's almost a phantom pain, pulsing with a
memory of what it once was.”
She nodded, understanding. “Did it reach the muscle?”
“Some. I can't rotate my arm completely.”
“How can you shoot?”
“It's not bad now. I became proficient using my left arm,
for many things.”
She swallowed down her reticence, and pulled the skirt to
her waist along with the petticoat. Unable to look at Cale, she kept her gaze
down. She brought the drawers as high as she could then rolled the stocking to
the edge of her boot so that Cale could see her leg.
He shifted closer and brought a large hand to the side of
her calf, causing an involuntary flinch from her.
“Easy.” He studied her leg in the firelight.
She tried to suppress her unease, but her body began to
tremble. Shifting her focus to his close proximity, she studied his wide
shoulders, noticing the sheen of sweat on his muscled arms. Despite his
disfigurement, it was obvious he was a strong man. It both unnerved and drew
her in.
He brought his other hand to her leg and the warmth of
his touch spread across her skin. As he gently probed the long-healed injury,
the shaking of her body increased. Her heart drummed swiftly in her chest, and
she struggled to breathe.
Cale brought his gaze to hers, and for a moment their
eyes locked. The sadness reflected back caught her unaware.
“Tess, I'm not going to hurt you.” He gently repositioned
her stocking, then the pantalets, then the skirt, and scooted away from her. He
donned his shirt.
Tension began to drain from her, replaced by a
bone-draining exhaustion. “I know.” She’d barely gotten the words out.
“Your leg doesn't look that bad.” Using a stick, he
pushed the burning fire around a bit.
Tess tried to suppress the tears, but one slid down her
cheek. Thankfully, Cale pretended not to notice.
“The injury is much more than the leg,” she said thickly.
He did look at her now, but she kept her eyes on the
flames before her.
“You can recover from that, too.”
She hung her head. “How?” The sob escaped before she
could stop it.
“What do you dream about?”
She wiped at her face and frowned. “I'm not sure what you
mean.”
“What do you normally dream about?”
“I dream of mi
abuela.” She shifted her injured leg to a bent position. It was sore but
this sometimes helped the pulsating pain to abate. “I dream of her a lot,
actually. I also dream of Hank. Those are usually angry, or rather I'm very angry. I act the role of a
shrew. And I dream of...Saul. I don't like those. I try not to remember them.”
“The Apache believe dreams are much more than just
stories in our heads at night,” Cale said. “Actually, I've met many Indians—and
some gringos—who believe the same.
Within dreams we can sometimes make peace in a way we can't do in the waking
world.”
“How would I do that?”
“Next time you're with Miller, try to move in the dream
differently than you normally do. Try to be more decisive. Maybe fight back.”
Rage flared inside her in an instant. “I fought back.”
“No, that's not what I meant.” He held up his hand. “I'm
sorry. I'm not insinuating anything. I just meant that slowly, while inside
that dream, try to change the outcome.”
“But what would that do? Turn back time? Make it never
happen?”
“No, of course not. But it will heal your spirit.” His
gaze met hers. “It'll take time, but it can
work.”
“Has this technique helped you?”
“It has.” Cale rubbed the back of his neck then rested an
arm on a bent knee, releasing a frustrated sigh. “But some wounds are deep.
They have to be peeled away layer by layer, much like an onion. I’m still
working on mine, and I’ll admit that the remorse and the shame never quite
disappear. But the memory doesn’t sting like a wasp anymore.
“How long do you want to keep suffering?” he continued,
his voice sympathetic. “Months, years? You’re eighteen years old, Tess. You're
a beautiful young woman with an injured leg, who's thinking of joining a
convent so no man will never touch you again. If that's what you truly want,
then so be it. But don't let that bastard take your entire life from you before you've had the chance to choose. And by
bastard, I mean not just Saul, but Hank, too.”
“You speak about it like it's the easiest thing in the
world.”
“Of course it's not easy. Life is a shithole sometimes.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry for the language, but I don't like seeing you
recoil like a frightened animal.”
Shame flooded her from the trembling earlier.
Cale moved to her and gripped her shoulders. “You can overcome this. Not every man is out
to hurt you.” He brought his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks.
She knew he would kiss her.
She wanted him to, but at the same time her body
rebelled, so she closed her eyes.
“Go ahead,” she whispered.
She was surprised by the barest brush of his lips against
hers. Slowly, he made more contact, kissing her gently, but with each pass he
deepened the connection more. For Tess, it was achingly sweet, sweeter than
she'd ever imagined. But her body shook, from head to toe, and her ragged
breathing made it difficult for her to calm down, to enjoy her first, real kiss.
He settled in closer, kneeling before her. She kept her
eyes shut as his thumb caressed her lower lip, as he nuzzled her cheek.
“Look at me, Tess.” Despite the demand, his voice was
kind.
She opened her eyes. His face hovered close to hers, and
a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He only touched her face, nowhere else.
His blue eyes held desire, but he seemed in no hurry to
move any faster.
Although he made a point to shave every few days, his
newly-budding whiskers poked her. Despite his restraint, his mouth met hers
with a growing hunger, stirring a longing that grew inside her abdomen. He
tasted of coffee and the stew they’d just eaten, and she liked it.
His mouth retreated, but she moved forward and kissed him, not wanting the contact to stop. He
responded, molding his lips over hers. Her hands grasped his wrists, wanting to
touch him but hesitant to initiate more.
The kiss became more urgent, and when Tess opened her
lips his tongue swept briefly inside, shocking her. She stilled.
He pulled back, but his face remained only inches from
hers.
“You don't have to worry,” he said. “You can set the
pace. You can always tell me to stop.”
She wanted to believe him. “Why would you do this when
there are other women with far less difficulties?”
He grinned and leaned away. “None of ’em are you.”
She didn't know what to say.
Did he mean it? Did it matter if he didn't?
Perhaps she could
learn to trust again, to decide if life in a convent was truly the best course
of action.
Cale called to her like the magic in a story, giving hope
in the words that weren't said. The
taste of him lingered on her lips, and her body hummed with something other
than panic.
“I have something that might help with the pain in your
leg,” he said. She watched him retrieve two fist-sized stones from the fire by
pushing them from the flames with a stick, then he placed them in an empty
grain sack.
He came to her and crouched, and she wondered if he would
kiss her again.
“I’m gonna put this around your knee,” he said. “Then you
should try to get some sleep. The heat will help relax the muscles.”
She gave a brief nod when he paused for her permission.
Lifting her skirt once again, he wrapped the sack and the hot stones around her
damaged leg. She settled onto her pallet as he adjusted the bundle, then pulled
the skirt back in place and settled a blanket atop her.
He retrieved a plain buckskin pouch from his belongings,
opened it and coated a finger with the yellow substance inside.
“Open your mouth,” he instructed.
“What is that?”
“Ha-dintin.
It’s tule pollen, and very sacred to the Apache. It’s also thought to aid in
healing.”
She let him slide his finger along her tongue to deposit
the substance. The dense powder left a slightly sweet taste.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She grabbed his
hand to keep him near. Impulsively, she lifted her head to bring her lips to
his.
Despite the terror that pressed in on her, she wanted
very much to show Cale that she welcomed his touch.
“I should’ve heated stones for you sooner,” he murmured
against her mouth.
“Gracias,” she
whispered.
“Sleep well, Tess. Let me guard the shadows for once.”
He slept near to her, and she was glad for his company.
Copyright © 2015 K.
McCaffrey LLC
