Desert Fire Read online

  To Dixie,

  Ahhh, the memories!

  Walks and wagons…mailboxes and homemade bread.

  The White Ranger and Wind in His Throat…firecrackers and egg hairstyles.

  Thank you for being a central piece of my heart…

  A nurturer to my soul…

  And my treasured friend.

  Copyright © 2011

  Desert Fire by Marcia Lynn McClure

  www.marcialynnmcclure.com

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this e-book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

  Published by Distractions Ink

  P.O. Box 15971

  Rio Rancho, NM 87174

  ©Copyright 20011 by M. Meyers

  A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

  Cover Photography by ©Rob Stegmann/Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design by Sheri L. Brady

  All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,

  created solely in the imagination of the author.

  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

  McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

  Desert Fire: a novella/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

  CHAPTER ONE

  She felt something on her face. It was cool, soothing, moist. Her throat burned and constricted and when she tried to swallow, she couldn’t.

  “Ma’am?” She heard the voice, but it seemed so far away. “Ma’am?” It came again, closer this time. “Can you hear me, ma’am?” A man’s voice, deep and stern.

  She attempted to speak, but found it impossible. She tried to nod in response, but her head was pounding like a drum was pinned up inside it.

  “Open your eyes if you can. Open ‘em,” the voice insisted.

  She opened her eyes just a slit and quickly clenched them shut again as searing rays of sunlight burned through her. She sensed movement and the demanding voice came once more.

  “Now...try again.”

  It was a voice not to be ignored. She tried to lift her hand to shade her face, but her own body would not obey her mind’s command. She opened her eyes slightly and when the sun didn’t blind her painfully again, she was able to open them completely. Everything was blurry for several seconds but she could make out a dark figure bending over her.

  “Can you see?” the voice asked firmly.

  She blinked several times clearing her vision slightly.

  “Yes,” she mouthed, though no sound escaped her blistered lips. A hand slipped beneath her head and lifted it.

  “Here...keep still and let this stay on your tongue for a minute,” the voice said, and she felt the first cool, life giving drops of water moisten her mouth. She couldn’t move her tongue at first, but the second time the stranger offered the water from the canteen, she was able to swallow it.

  After several mouthfuls of water she felt more alert and realized her face, arms and shoulders felt tight and hot.

  “Now...what’s your name, girl? And how’d ya’ end up out here?” the man asked.

  She could see clearly then and for the first time she looked up into the face that belonged to the voice.

  “I don’t know,” she answered in a forced whisper.

  The man let out a sigh, tipped his hat back on his head and looked around with an expression of both bewilderment and annoyance.

  “You don’t know how you ended up lyin’ out in the middle of nowhere, with nothin’ or no one with you?” he asked, still looking around.

  “No,” she whispered, feeling suddenly terrified at the realization.

  The stranger stood up and pulled his hat down into place again.

  “Well...I guess I’ll just haul ya’ on home and we’ll think on it from there.” He walked over to a nearby tree and untied a horse. “Come on Bill. Ma will love this,” he muttered.

  The man led the horse to where she was lying and she sat up more terrified still.

  “I can’t possibly go with you, sir!” she whispered as loud as possible.

  He smiled and chuckled. “Well, sweetheart...what do you plan on doin’? Feedin’ the coyotes?” He hunkered down looking directly into her face. “Or...there are all kinds of worse things you could feed...” Then his smile turned into a frown as he looked at the ground around her. “Do you feel anything crawlin’ on you anywhere, girl?”

  She thought it an odd question but answered, “No.”

  He pulled her up until she was sitting straight and began running his hand over her back and through her hair. She realized that her shirtwaist was torn because she could feel his hands on the exposed skin of her shoulders. She gasped as she looked down and saw that it was also torn in front and gaped open exposing her entire collarbone.

  As the frown on his face intensified the man quickly ran his hand over her back once more then moved to her waist. She instinctively moved to slap him, but he caught her hand and looked angrily into her face.

  “I ain’t out for a good time, sweetheart,” he growled through clenched teeth. He pushed her back down and she wanted to weep when he lifted up her skirts and began feeling her right leg. But her state of severe dehydration prevented any tears from even developing.

  “Well, you certainly ain’t from around here,” the man stated as he unfastened her bustle throwing it aside. “Women don’t bother too much with these contraptions ‘round these parts.” Then he stopped. “Don’t move,” he commanded and she obeyed as she felt something crawling on her flesh under the left leg of her pantaloons.

  She watched with utter mortification as the stranger’s hand slowly slid beneath the cloth of her pantaloons and toward her knee. His hand clamped around something and he quickly withdrew it.

  “Sorry little cuss!” he mumbled as he threw something to the ground and drew a large knife from his boot.

  She then witnessed him smashing a large, sandy colored scorpion into the dirt with his well-worn boot. When she looked up again it was in time to see him cut the palm of his hand with the knife and begin sucking on the wound. He did this several times, spitting his own blood from his mouth each time.

  “That sorry little cuss stung me,” he mumbled. “They don’t usually kill you, unless you’re allergic or somethin’. But they make you awful sick and the sting gets terrible sore.” He looked at her oddly for a moment. “You feel like you’re gonna faint or somethin’?” he asked.

  She swallowed hard and shook her head to dispel the awful dizziness in it. The man slipped the knife back into his boot and pulled her up to a sitting position again.

  “Well, least you had sense enough to nearly drop dead ‘round here,” he muttered.

  She watched as he pulled an odd shaped plant from the ground and broke open a few of the strange looking leaves. He squeezed out a slimy substance and began to apply it to her face. It smelled unpleasant, but felt very cool and soothing.

  When he finished, he wiped his hand on his dusty trousers and said, “Now, let’s see if you can sit a horse.”

  He pulled her to her feet, but her knees buckled and her mind began swimming. He caught her and sat her down again.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wishing she could cry.

  “Hang on there a minute,” he said, with a hint more of kindness in his voice.

  She watched, perfectly alarmed, as he actually proceeded to remove his shirt and wet it with water from the canteen. Even more disgraceful was the fact that he wore no form of undergarment beneath! None whatsoever! He was standing there bare from the waist up! And judging from the bronze color of his torso, he paraded around in such a state often.
<
br />   When he looked at her again she covered her eyes with her sore hands.

  He chuckled. “I believe you’re blushin’ under that sunburn, girl. You’re definitely from somewhere else.”

  He draped the wet shirt over her head and shoulders and pulled her to her feet yet again. She still needed a great deal of support to stand. She tried to push herself away when her hands touched his bare chest as they searched for support.

  “Tarnation, girl,” he grumbled, taking her hands in his. “This is no time for propriety.” She thought the word sounded a little out of character with his odd, rather Southern sounding accent.

  He proceeded to run her hands from his shoulders slowly down and over his solid stomach. “See don’t feel any different than your baby brother. You must be an unmarried one as well.” He steadied her again. “Now, let’s get you home to Mama so she can see the damage.” He then lifted her onto the horse which sneezed and stomped his foreleg several times.

  “Settle down, Bill. She’s with me.” He mounted behind her and pulled her tightly against his body. “Try not to fall off...it ain’t far.”

  She was still too shocked by her recent lesson in anatomy to take much notice of the shameful way she sat astride the horse. But, somehow she knew, that until that moment, she had always ridden sidesaddle. A great wave of fatigue was overtaking her and she couldn’t help but let her head fall back against his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I think I’m going to faint.” She felt his arm tighten around her waist and the heat of his breath on her face as he spoke in her ear.

  “It ain’t far, girl. Now listen here, I’m Jackson McCall. This here feller you’re on is Bill. He don’t care much for nobody but me...so you sit real still and hang on tight.”

  She could smell leather, bacon, and perspiration...but it was somehow a pleasant and comforting combination. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, trying to keep her eyes open.

  “Yes, sir?” he repeated in an astonished whisper. “Where are you from, girl?”

  She tried and tried to pull an answer from her fevered brain. But she truly couldn’t.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, just before she gave into the need to be unconscious.

  5

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I think she’s comin’ around, Mary. Close the curtains...her eyes should be mighty sensitive yet.” A soft feminine voice was drifting into her dreams and she fought the urge to wake up from them.

  She was dreaming of the handsomest man she had ever seen. One of those rugged types that lived in the savage West that she had read about. His body was darkened from hours in the sun, brown hair lightened by the same hours in the sun, square jaw badly in need of a close shave. Perfectly shaped lips and nose, straight teeth whiter than white, and intense green eyes shaded by long dark lashes. He had rescued her from something, though she couldn’t think what.

  “Wake up, honey. Can you hear us? Oh, Mary, I do hope she’s well.” The dream swept away as awakening triumphed.

  She opened her eyes and blinked several times. They felt dry and hot. When her vision cleared she beheld two women hovering over her. One was an older woman, perhaps fifty, and the other was young, eighteen maybe. Both were smiling down at her kindly.

  “Well! Finally!” the elder woman exclaimed. “We were beginning to wonder if we should send for a doctor.”

  “Where am I?” the still recovering girl asked the two women at her bedside.

  The older woman answered, “You’re at the McCall ranch. We’re near Cortez, Colorado. I’m Maggie McCall and this is Mary Henderson, one of our dear neighbors. What’s your name, dear?”

  Tears began to trickle from the corners of the girl’s eyes, leaving moisture across her temples.

  “I don’t know. I really can’t remember. It’s so frightening,” she sobbed.

  Mary dabbed at the tears with a handkerchief. “Now, now. It’s all right. It’ll all come back to you in time. Meanwhile, you’re with the best people in the world and I could use someone near my own age around here. Jackson told us that you seemed to have lost your mind...um...memory...but we were hopin’ that some rest would help.”

  “Let’s get you all bathed and freshened up and you’ll feel much better, sweety,” Maggie said. “Let’s see...what would you like us to call you...how about Annie? I always wanted a daughter named Annie. How’s that? Just until you remember your own name,” she added.

  ‘Annie’ smiled and nodded. “It’s lovely,” she encouraged the kind woman smiling down at her.

  “Mary, go tell Baker to bring the wash tub in here so we can have some privacy, would you?” Maggie said, helping Annie to sit up.

  Mary nodded and left. Maggie sat down on the foot of the bed, smoothed her apron a bit and began chatting. Annie knew that she was trying to help her to feel comfortable and it was working.

  “Well, a little about us. I’m Maggie McCall and I’ve got me three beautiful little boys. Their daddy, Colonel Robert Jackson McCall was the love of my life and the handsomest man on this earth. He passed three years back and it hasn’t been easy on us. We miss him more than anythin’. We came here after the war and started ranchin’ and loved it. My boys are hard workin’ gentlemen...even if I can’t get their grammar the way I would like it. The oldest is Jackson...then Baker and then Matt. They’re just itchin’ for you to wake up. When Jackson rode up two days ago with you on Bill...I nearly dropped my teeth!”

  “Two days ago!” Annie interrupted.

  “Yes, dear. You’ve been in here with a fever and restin’ for over two days,” Maggie explained, looking concerned. “We all took turns the first two nights sittin’ with you for fear you’d quit on us. Your skin is lookin’ so much better! It’s almost completely peeled off now and I’m sure that feels nicer to you.”

  There was a knock on the door and when Maggie said, ‘Come in,’ a tall, very handsome young man that Annie judged to be in his early twenties, entered carrying a large metal tub. He looked familiar to her somehow when he smiled, removed his hat and offered her his hand.

  “Baker McCall, ma’am. Glad to see you feelin’ better.” His smile was radiant and she smiled back as he shook her hand instead of kissing it as she had expected for some reason. He nodded, kissed his mother’s cheek, winked at Mary and left the room.

  “I’ll bring in the water, Mrs. McCall,” Mary said and left also.

  “Baker. Your middle son, Mrs. McCall? He’s so very tall!” Annie commented as Maggie helped her stand.

  “Oh my, yes! All my boys are tall as redwoods. Though Baker is the tallest. Six feet three inches he is...even! And call me, Maggie, please.” Then she went on.

  “Jackson says you must be from back east...says you kept calling him ‘sir’ and were near to dyin’ of embarrassment when he was checkin’ you for critters. And a bustle, even! I never could understand why a woman would want to make her backside look bigger! Mine’s big enough on its own.”

  Annie giggled. Everything felt good here. The air was dry and there was a cool breeze coming through the window.

  After Mary had filled the tub with warmed water, the two ladies left and Annie soaked for a long time before getting out and dressing in the calico dress that Maggie had laid out for her. She sensed that she had never worn anything quite so simple and comfortable, though she felt a little under dressed without a sturdier corset.

  Maggie knocked on the door and Annie asked her to come in.

  “My! You do look like you feel better, dear. May I do your hair? My fingers are just itchin’ to work with that mane of yours.” Annie smiled and let Maggie braid her hair.

  Maggie marveled at the lovely hair on their nameless guest. It was long, thick and so black that it seemed to hold blue light. This girl’s eyes were an unusually light shade of blue and flattered by thick black lashes. Her mouth was perfect and still held the lovely natural wine color of youth. In fact, the girl was physically perfect in every respect. Maggie had also noticed an unusua
l grace possessed by the girl. Even her simplest movements were lovely.

  “What do you think, dear?” Maggie asked as she finished.

  Annie looked in the mirror and studied the long French braid. It was so divinely simple! She loved it. Her attention was drawn to the reflection of her face. She frowned for a moment not really recognizing herself.

  “Who am I, Mrs. McCall?” She felt hot stinging tears begin to fill her eyes. Maggie reached out, turning her and facing her sternly.

  “Now, don’t get discouraged, dear. It’ll all come back to you...and even if it doesn’t...you’ve got us now.”

  Annie smiled and the tears escaped her eyes. “I can’t just live here forever, Mrs. McCall! You don’t even know who I am? What if I’m a murderess...a criminal...what if…” she cried.

  “Now, you stop that. That couldn’t be. You’re too nice a girl. Don’t be worryin’ about it. I’m sure you’re no murderer.” Maggie smiled. “Now, come on out for dinner. The boys will be in any minute bellerin’ for food.”

  Maggie took Annie’s hand and led her out into the brightest looking room the girl had ever been in. Even though she had no memories to draw upon, she knew she had never been in a cheerier room. The walls were brightly whitewashed and there were three windows through which the evening sunshine poured. Jars and jars of freshly canned peaches lined one counter and their sweet aroma still lingered heavily in the air. The curtains were red checked as was the tablecloth on the table in the center of the room. Annie smiled from the pure delight that it sent through her. This was a home! Not just a house with a mother and her three sons. A real home.

  Baker was the first one through the squeaky screen door.

  “Mama! That ol’ Root tore up the north fence again! I am sick and tired of chasin’ down that ol’ ornery bull. I gotta tug myself to death on that ring to get him to stop. I tell you his nose is made of steel...’cause tuggin’ on that ring in it don’t slow him down one lick,” he said with a frown. He looked over at Annie. “Well, good evenin’ to you, miss. You’re as pretty as apple blossoms in spring time,” he said, his frown turning to a radiant smile.