excerpt – The Queen of Paradise Valley

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She woke, her hand on her mouth, her stomach quivering. Peculiar smells filled the forest glade: woodsmoke and food. Real food.

Heartbeat quickening, she grabbed the shotgun and crept through the brush, emerging in a small clearing. A circle of flat stones surrounding a campfire supported a steaming black pot and a pan of biscuits. Biscuits! She wanted to run to this feast and fall on her knees before it. But the food hadn't appeared there by magic. Someone was near. Someone human.

An animal yelped behind her. She whirled. A black beast vaulted at her, knocking her down. The shotgun skidded across the grass. Gasping, she lifted her arms to fend off the monster and stared in consternation at the hound trying to lick her face.

"Ebony." Her alarmed cry sent the dog to his belly. Panting, squirming with excitement, he gazed at her with eager, inquisitive eyes.   

Del came from the direction of the stream, a battered coffee pot in his hand. Happiness washed through her, then vanished. He was looking at her with much less excitement and pleasure than Ebony had. His eyes, half-closed, glimmered; his mouth formed a firm line.

She swiped a hand across her mouth. "Dammit, how did you find me?"

"Ebony tracked you. Remember him? Maybe you don't remember me?"

"Go away, Del. Back the way you came."

"Not without you." He squatted by the fire and set the pot on a flat rock.

She sat and crossed her arms. "You can't force me to go back."

"I can. Roped like a maverick if necessary." He picked up the shotgun and gave her a hard stare. "Be ready to leave in one hour. You can sit here till then. I'm having my dinner."

No. This wasn’t happening. She remained seated. Soon the aroma of coffee mingled with all the other tantalizing cooking smells. Her mouth filled with saliva; her stomach cramped and groaned. She didn’t need Del. But when he loaded a tin bowl with heaping spoonfuls of stew, broke a biscuit out of the pan, poured himself a mug of coffee and sat back in cross-legged comfort, tears stung her eyes.

With bated breath she followed the movement of his hand as he dipped a spoon into the bowl and delivered it laden to his mouth. His teeth flashed tearing into the biscuit, his jaw worked as he chewed, his throat contracted as he swallowed.

She wiped the corners of her mouth on her sleeve and rose to her feet. Her gaze on the black pot, she crossed the clearing and sank down beside Del. He handed her a bowl and she filled it, finding to her delight the stew contained chunks of meat and tuberous vegetables in tomato broth. She sat back on her heels, rejected a spoon, lifted the bowl to drink the broth, and picked up the meat and vegetables with her fingers, stuffing her mouth full.

He stopped eating. "You been living with wolves?"

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. Unmannerly, unladylike--she didn't care. Like in her dream, she wanted to eat everything and take pleasure in doing it the most basic way. But when she leaned forward to refill her bowl, her stomach did a somersault. She dropped the bowl, jumped up and bolted across the clearing. Everything she'd devoured rose to mock her; basic pleasure was replaced by the taste of sour bile.

 

--Cat

 

The Queen of Paradise Valley - new excerpt

From chapter 35

The honesty Del hoped for didn't happen the next day, or the several days that followed. Moving at a hard pace over rugged terrain, a distance he estimated at near a hundred miles, they were both too weary to do more than exchange occasional sarcastic remarks or belligerent glares.

Summer in the high country meant crisp nights and hot days, the heat intensifying whenever they descended into a protected valley. Despite the rigorous schedule, Del took time every third morning to shave, and every evening to wash layers of sweaty grime from his face, neck, and chest. Diana watched with her customary tight-lipped defiance. The dirt growing on her clothes and face, the pine needles and bits of grass webbing her hair, the mud on her boots--these were symbols of her independence, her freedom. What a monumental trial she was!

"I'm tired, Del. Can we stop and rest?"

He stopped and turned. Bathed in sweat, she drooped in the saddle, silent pleading in her eyes. Her bandanna hung at her throat like a limp rag, her stained shirt clung to her body, molding to her breasts.

They had spent hours in scalding sunlight on a difficult descent down a bare escarpment, and now the trail threaded through a shadowy forest. Dense young pines and shrubs muted the splashing sounds of nearby water. It was early afternoon, too soon to stop for the day, but in a shady clearing, Del dismounted and trudged through a row of aspens toward the sound.

A stream slid over a smooth rock bank and formed a gentle current around the perimeter of a small shimmering lake. A sandy delta fanned out below the rocks; on the other end the stream continued on its restless way. The margins bristled with cattails and reeds, beyond which orange marsh flowers dotted the green.

A lush corner of paradise. Del dropped his hat, rubbed grit from his eyes, and released his hair from a rawhide cord. Diana tossed her hat next to his, tugged off her boots and, rolling her breeches to her knees, waded into the water. Del shed moccasins and shirt and ran, lifted her by the waist and plunged into deeper water. They fell beneath the surface.

She rose gasping, streaming water, and batted at him. "You son of a--"

His laughter startled a flock of shorebirds into flight. "Even savages take baths." He returned to shore, shook himself, and squeezed water from his hair. She swam out, turned to stare at him. He bunched up his shirt and tossed it to her. "Wash this, will you?" The shirt floated in the water and sank. "I'll make camp in the clearing. You took a hell of a chance sleeping beside a stream. Where there's water, there's wild animals. Or wild mountain men interested in more than food." He paused. She had assumed a blank expression, her way of looking at a person that diminished everything he said and did.

Damn woman, crazy woman. What was she trying to prove? Why couldn't she once--just once--bend a bit? Why couldn't she--hell. If one of them had to crack, it wasn't going to be him.

He found her rolled blanket and returned to the lake, tossing it onto the shore. She watched him and turned away. Some gratitude would be nice.

--Cat

New Excerpt!

From chapter 31, The Queen of Paradise Valley

Del told her only that their cargo needed guards, so he and Clem and some hands would form an armed escort for the wagons. But as the days sped by it became harder to convince her to remain behind. A week before departure she still badgered him, declaring at breakfast, arms crossed, "You haven't given me one good reason why I can't go."

He stirred his coffee. "If there's trouble someone could get hurt, even killed."

Killer eyes, full force. "You know I shoot better than most men. If you’re riding shotgun, why can't I?"

He flashed an equally harsh gaze back. "Because no matter how hard you work at it, you're not a man,. Stop being unreasonable. I'm riding with the shipment. You're staying here." He set down his spoon. "Shouldn't you be out telling the men where to drill the seeds?"

"Stop changing the subject. Why don't you admit you don't want me along?"

Was she testing him? "Diana, I don't want you along."

She dropped the subject but her pique continued to fester. It did not seem unreasonable for her to be with Del when the copper was delivered and payment changed hands. Were they equal partners, or not?

Two mornings later she woke well before dawn to sounds of Del packing saddlebags. She dressed and followed him down the stairs. In the office he selected a pistol, shotgun, and boxes of ammunition from the gun cabinet, stepping around her as if she weren’t there.

She trailed him to the stable, where Clem and four others were mounted and ready to ride. Darkness cloaked the valley, the air was heady with the sweet fragrance of green growing things, underlaid by the ever present smell of thousands of warm-bodied cows. Birds chattered, a lightening sky above the eastern horizon indicated daybreak was imminent.

Del led out his horse and turned to her. "Aren't you going to say good-bye?" He tied back his hair and lowered his hat, rendering his features indistinct.

She linked her hands behind her back, muttered, "Good-bye."

He dropped the reins, strode to her and folded her into a hard embrace, his hands sliding down her arms to her wrists, pinning them to the small of her back. While she wriggled to escape, he bent his head and kissed her half-opened mouth with possessive ferocity. She responded with a dark passion that left her gasping.

One by one the mountain peaks erupted with bright vermilion light. Del's eyes were silver lamps burning beneath the brim of his hat. She pulled back. "Let me go. This is--indecent." Over his shoulder she saw the men gazing at the sky, at the ground, grins on their faces.

Rather than release her, Del tightened his hold. His face now bathed in warm golden light, he winked at her. "How can this be indecent after the things we did last night?"


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--Cat