Twin of Ice

  “You don’t own Western Union?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Kane seemed to have no idea that she was teasing him. “Not much of it. Someday they’re gonna hook up the telephones all over the country. Damn thing is useless as it is. Cain’t call nobody outside Chandler. And who wants to talk to anybody in Chandler?”

  She looked up into his eyes and said softly, “You could call your son and say hello.”

  With a deeply-felt groan, Kane turned around and started walking again. “Edan was right. I shoulda married a farm girl, one that’d mind her own business.”

  As Houston practically ran to keep up with him, stumbling over fallen branches, slipping once on an enormous mushroom, she wondered if she’d gone too far, but for all Kane’s words, his tone was not angry.

  They walked for what must have been another mile before they came to the abandoned mine opening. It was situated on the very steep side of a hill, overlooking a broad panorama of the valley below it.

  The mine went back into the earth for only about twenty feet before it collapsed. Houston picked up a piece of coal from the ground and studied it in the sunlight. When looked at closely, coal was beautiful: glossed with an almost silver quality, and Houston could readily believe that coal, with pressure and time, could become diamonds.

  She looked out over the valley at the steep mountainside below. “Just what I thought,” she said, “the coal is worthless up here.”

  Kane was more interested in the view, but gave a cursory glance to the pieces of coal on the ground. “Looks like all the rest of the stuff to me. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing is wrong with the coal; in fact, this is high grade ore, but the railroad can’t get up here. Without the railroad, coal is worthless—as my father found out.”

  “I thought your father made his money from sellin’ things.”

  Houston rubbed the coal in her hand. She liked the slick feel of it and the angles made by the way the coal fractured. Many of the miners thought coal was pure and kept a piece in their mouths to suck on while they worked. “He did, but he came to Colorado because he’d heard of the wealth of coal here. He thought the place would be full of rich people dying to buy the two hundred coal stoves he nearly lost his life bringing across the ‘Great Desert,’ as they used to call the land between St. Joseph and Denver.”

  “Makes sense to me. So he sold the stoves and got started in the mercantile business,”

  “No, he nearly went bankrupt. You see, the coal was in Colorado all right, you could mine it with a shovel, but the railroad hadn’t arrived yet, so there was no economical way to market it. Ox carts couldn’t carry enough to make a profit.”

  “So what did your father do?”

  Houston smiled at the memory of the story her mother’d told her so often. “My father had grand dreams. There was a little settlement of farmers at the foot of this mountain we’re on now, and my father thought it was an ideal place for a town—his town. He gave each of the farmers one of the coal stoves if the farmer’d promise to buy all his coal from Chandler Coal Works in Chandler, Colorado.”

  “You mean he named the town after himself?”

  “He most certainly did. I’d like to have seen the faces of the people when he informed them that they were now living in the town of Mr. William Houston Chandler, Esquire.”

  “And all these years I thought the town’d been named for him because he’d done somethin’ like save a hundred babies from a burnin’ buildin’.”

  “Mrs. Jenks at the library says my father was honored by the town for his many contributions.”

  “So how come his money wasn’t made in coal?”

  “My father’s back gave out after one year. He shoveled coal, loaded it and hauled it to the growing population, but after a year he sold the mine to a couple of farmers’ brawny sons for a pittance. A month later, he returned to the East, bought fifty-one wagonloads of goods, married my mother and brought her and twenty-five couples back to settle in the glorious town of Chandler, Colorado. Mother said that chickens were roosting on the mantel of the building that someone dared to call the Chandler Hotel.”

  “And the comin’ of the railroad made the farmers’ sons rich,” Kane said.

  “True, but by then my father was dead, and my mother’s family had already remarried her to the highly respectable Mr. Gates.” Houston moved to look inside the mine, while Kane stayed outside.

  “I guess a person gets funny ideas sometimes. This whole town thinks of your family as some sort of royalty, but the truth is, the town is named after your father only because he was enough of a braggart to want to own a town. Not much of a king, was he?”

  “He was a king to my sister and me—and to my mother. When Blair and I were children, the town decided to declare my father’s birthday as a holiday. Mother made an effort to tell everyone the truth, but after great frustration, she realized that the townspeople wanted a hero.”

  “And how does Gates figure in this?”

  Houston gave a deep sigh. “Mr. Gates’s reputation could never be of the most sterling quality because he runs a brewery, so when Queen Opal Chandler and her two young princesses were on the marriage block, he offered everything he owned. Mother’s family accepted with enthusiasm.”

  “He wanted a real lady, too,” Kane said softly.

  “And he was willing to enforce his rigid beliefs of what a lady should be on the three women under his roof,” Houston said through a tightened jaw.

  Kane was silent for a moment. “I guess the grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence.”

  Houston moved to stand close to him and take his hand in hers. “Did you ever think that if you’d been raised as a son, instead of in the stables, you’d be spoiled like Marc is, instead of a man who knows the value of work?”

  “You make it sound like Fenton done me a favor,” he said, aghast.

  “Did.”

  “What?!”

  “Fenton did you a favor. I was correcting your grammar. It was part of our agreement.”

  “You’re changin’ the subject. You know, I oughta send you to New York to do business for me. You’d destroy some of those men.”

  She put her arms around his neck. “Could I perhaps destroy you instead?”

  Chapter 18

  As Houston put her arms around his neck, she saw by his expression that he seemed to be fighting something within himself, almost as if he didn’t want to kiss her but couldn’t keep from it.

  He put his hand to the back of her head and came down on her lips as if he were a dying man. Houston clung to him, loving the feel of his big body next to hers, the power of him taking over her body.

  “Kane,” she whispered from somewhere deep within her throat.

  He pulled away to stare down at her, his dark eyes black with desire. “What have you done to me? It’s been years since what’s between my legs ruled what’s between my ears. But right now, I think I could kill any man that tried to take you away from me.”

  “Or any woman?” she asked, her lips against his.

  “Yes,” was all he could manage to say before he began to tear the big shirt off her.

  Before, Houston had felt that Kane was withholding something in his lovemaking, that part of him was remaining aloof, not with her but somewhere else. But now he was different, no more reserve of coolness, no more holding back and watching.

  With all the passion of a charging bull, Kane swept her into his arms and carried her into the opening of the abandoned mine shaft. As Houston glanced at his impassioned face, she thought, this is the man who has made millions in a few short years. This is the Kane Taggert I knew was inside. This is the man that I love—the man whom I want to love me.

  Kane seemed to have no thoughts as he lowered her to the ground, his lips reclaiming hers while his hands clawed the rest of her clothes from her body, exposing her soft skin to his touch. He was ravenous as his mouth tore its way down her body.

  No more was he the ki
nd, patient, considerate lover, but in his place was a man starving with want of her. Houston thought she’d responded to him previously, but now her mind left her and she became one mass of raw, pulsating feeling.

  Kane’s mouth on her flesh was like a fire travelling up and down, seeping into her very bones until she was sure she’d be consumed by him.

  His strong fingers clutched at her waist and pulled her close to his skin, so hot it felt as if the fire in her were searing him also. He rolled to his back, holding her and moving her body as if she were of no more weight than a child.

  In one swift, fluid motion, he lifted her and set her down on his manhood. Houston gave such a half-scream, half-moan of pleasure that it echoed off the back walls of the mine and swirled about them.

  Her head was thrown back, there was sweat on her neck that dampened the tendrils of her hair about her shoulders and, as she put her hands on his shoulders, she let the emotion of their lovemaking take over. She had no thoughts; at that moment she only felt—as she’d never felt anything in her life before.

  Kane’s hands dug, into her skin as he lifted her, as she lifted herself to the frenzy of movement that their passion inspired.

  Once, she opened her eyes and saw him, saw the expression on his face, his mouth partly open, his eyes closed and the deep, consuming pleasure she saw there refired her own feelings.

  The pace increased.

  “Kane.” She thought she had whispered, but again the sound reverberated about them, swirling in the cool air, wrapping around them.

  Kane didn’t answer but lifted her up and down with lightning speed, and when he brought her down for that last, blinding thrust, Houston felt her body tighten as her back arched and her thighs gripped Kane’s hips.

  An earthshaking shudder passed through her and when it was done, she fell forward against his sweaty chest. Kane’s arms held her so tightly that her ribs threatened to break, but she curled her arms against his chest, kept her legs inside his and tried her best to be even closer to him.

  They lay together, the only movement being Kane’s hand gently stroking her hair.

  “Did you know it’s started to rain?” he said softly after a while.

  Houston was oblivious to anything but his body next to hers and the extraordinary experience she’d just been through. She managed to shake her head but didn’t look up.

  “Did you know that it’s about forty degrees out there, and that I’m layin’ on hundreds of those sharp little pieces of coal that you find so fascinatin’, and that my left leg died ’bout an hour ago?”

  Smiling, her face buried in his warm skin, Houston shook her head.

  “I don’t guess you have any plans of movin’ within the next week or so, do you?”

  Laughter was building inside Houston as she kept her face hidden and shook her head.

  “And it doesn’t matter to you that my toes are so cold that if I knocked ’em against somethin’ they’d probably fall right off?”

  Her negative response only made him hold her closer. “Could I bribe you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “How ’bout if we get our clothes on, and then we stay in here and watch it rain, and I let you ask me questions? That seems to please you the most, as far as I can tell.”

  She raised her head to look at him. “Will you answer them?”

  “Probably not,” he said as be gently pushed her off him, but stopped midway to kiss her lingeringly, softly, and caress her cheek. “Witch,” he murmured before turning away and reaching for his pants.

  When he moved, Houston saw that pieces of coal were sticking to his broad back, and she began to brush them away. By some odd chance, her breasts grazed his skin repeatedly.

  Kane turned around and grabbed her wrists in his. “Don’t start that again. There’s somethin’ about you, lady, that I don’t think I can resist. And you can stop lookin’ so pleased with yourself.” Even as he spoke, his eyes travelled down her bare body. “Houston,” he half groaned as he released her and turned away, “you ain’t like what I expected at all. Now, get dressed ’fore I make a fool of myself . . . again.”

  Houston didn’t ask him what he meant about making a fool of himself again, but her heart raced with pleasure as she pulled on the loose clothing she’d borrowed from him. There were several buttons ripped from the shirt and the torn places made her smile.

  She was barely dressed before he pulled her into his arms, and sat her on his lap as he leaned back against the wall of the mine tunnel.

  The soft rain outside came down slowly, as if it never meant to stop, and Houston snuggled back into Kane’s arms.

  “You make me happy,” Houston said as she moved his arms closer about her.

  “Me? You didn’t even get the present I got for you.” He paused. “Oh, you mean just now. Well, you don’t exactly make me sad, either.”

  “No, it’s you who makes me happy, not the presents and not even the lovemaking—although that does help.”

  “All right, tell me how I make you happy.” There was caution in his voice.

  She was silent for a moment before she spoke. “When Leander and I had just become officially engaged, we were going to a dance at the Masonic Temple. I was looking forward to the evening very much and, I guess as a reflection of my mood, I had a red dress made. Not a deep, subdued red, but a brilliant, scarlet red. The night of the dance, I put on the dress and felt as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  She paused to take a breath and to remind herself that she was here in Kane’s arms and safe now. “When I walked down the stairs, Mr. Gates and Leander stared at me, and I stupidly thought they were in awe of the way I looked in that red dress. But when I reached the bottom, Mr. Gates started shouting at me that I looked like a harlot and to go back upstairs and change. Leander stepped in and said he’d take care of me. I don’t think I ever loved him more than at that moment.”

  Again, she paused. “When we arrived at the dance, Leander suggested that I keep my cloak on and tell people that I’d caught a chill. I spent the entire evening sitting in the corner and feeling miserable.”

  “Why didn’t you tell both of ’em to go to hell and dance in your red dress?”

  “I guess I’ve always done what people expected of me. That’s why you make me happy. You seem to think that if Houston’s climbing down the trellis in her underwear, then that’s what ladies do. Nor do you seem to mind that I make very unladylike advances toward you.” She turned her head to look at him.

  After a quick kiss, he turned her back around. “I don’t mind the advances, but I could do without your public appearances in your underwear. I don’t guess you remember the puppies, do you?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

  “At Marc Fenton’s birthday party—I guess he was about eight—I took you into the stables and showed you some black-and-white spotted puppies.”

  “I do remember! But that couldn’t have been you, that was a grown man.”

  “I guess I was about eighteen, so that would make you . . . ”

  “Six. Tell me about it.”

  “You and your sister came to the party together, wearin’ white dresses with pink sashes and big pink bows in your hair. Your sister went runnin’ into the back and started playin’ tag with the other kids, but you went and sat down on a iron bench. You didn’t move a muscle, just sat there with your hands folded in your lap.”

  “And you stopped in front of me with a wheelbarrow that had obviously once been full of horse manure.”

  Kane grunted. “Probably. I felt sorry for you there all alone, so I asked you if you wanted to see the pups.”

  “And I went with you.”

  “Not until you’d looked me up and down real hard. I guess I passed ’cause you did go with me.”

  “And I wore your shirt, and then something awful happened. I remember crying.”

  “You wouldn’t get near the pups, but stood way back and looked do
wn at ’em. Said you couldn’t get your dress dirty, so I gave you a shirt of mine to put on over your dress—which you wouldn’t touch until I swore three times that it was clean. And what you remember as the great tragedy was that one of the dogs ran behind you and bit your hair ribbon and pulled it undone. I never saw a kid get so upset. You started cryin’ and said that Mr. Gates would hate you and when I said I’d retie it you said that only your mamma could tie a bow properly. That’s what you said, ‘properly’.”

  “And you did tie it properly. Not even Mother knew that it’d come untied.”

  “I was always braidin’ the horses’ manes and tails.”

  “For Pam?”

  “You’re damned curious ’bout her. Jealous?”

  “Not since you told me you turned her down.”

  “That’s why you shouldn’t tell women secrets.”

  “Would you like me to be jealous?”

  Kane considered this. “I wouldn’t mind it. At least you know I turned Pam down. I ain’t heard nothin’ like that about Westfield.”

  She kissed the hand that was idly fondling her breast, knowing quite well she’d told him about Leander several times. “I turned him down at the altar,” she said softly.

  Kane tightened his arms a bit. “I guess you did at that. Course, he ain’t got near as much money as me.”

  “You and your money! Don’t you know anything else? Like kissing, perhaps?”

  “I have unleashed a monster,” he laughed but showed no reluctance in obeying her wish.

  “Behave yourself,” he said when he at last turned her back around. “I ain’t got as much stamina as you have. Don’t forget that compared to you I’m an old man.”

  With a giggle, Houston wiggled her bottom in his lap.

  “And I’m gettin’ older by the minute. Now sit still! Gates was right to lock you two women up.”

  “Will you lock me away?” Houston whispered, leaning her head into his neck and chin.

  He took so long to answer that she turned to look at him. “I might,” he finally answered, then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, he said, “You know, I ain’t talked so much about stuff other’n business in years.”