White Fire

Her face flushed hot, she rose quickly to her feet. “I guess I should go,” she murmured, then turned to White Fire. “Come riding with me. It’s such a beautiful morning.”

Still troubled by how his feelings had gotten out of control with her, having almost gone as far as coaxing her to make love, White Fire breathed hard and could not answer her all that quickly. His fingers tingled from the wondrous softness of her flesh. He had gotten so close to touching her breasts, it made his knees weak.

And, ah, her lips. They had been so soft! The taste had been sweet, like maple syrup made in early spring.

“White Fire, should I leave without you?” Flame asked softly, slipping on her jacket, and buttoning it. “Have I been too shameful this morning? Will you always hate me for it?”

Hearing the concern in her soft voice, and not wanting her to ever feel ashamed of her feelings, he turned quickly toward her. “Do you not know that I could never hate you?” he said, seeing that she was now fully dressed again. “And, yes, I would love to go riding with you this morning.”

He paused, then frowned. “But what about your father?” he asked warily. “Are you certain you wish to go against his wishes this much? That you might be seen with me, someone he thinks of as a ’breed?”

“If I worried about my father over such things, I would never be free to love,” Flame said softly. She went to White Fire. She framed his face with her hands. “And I love you. Father might as well learn to accept that.”

He swept his arms around her waist and drew her against his hard body. Holding her in his tight embrace, he lowered his mouth to her lips. Their kiss was frenzied in its fiery passion. Their bodies strained hungrily together.

Then, again not wanting things to get out of hand, at least not yet, he eased away from her. His pulse racing, he slipped into his moccasins, grabbed his rifle, then took her by an elbow and led her outside.

After saddling his horse, they rode off together into the bright sunshine-dappled morning. Laughing and talking, telling each other of their families, and speaking of their wishes for the future, they rode through a thin growth of timber, mostly ash, with some elm, maple, oak, and birch. Wild roses vined up the trunks of the trees and wound along the ground in successions of pinks, whites, and reds.

They rode across a plain of tall, green grass. They rode past an occasional cornfield and cabin.

Fleecy clouds sailed overhead as they rode along the river, the fort a short distance away, where there was much activity as traders came and went in their canoes, and on horseback.

At the sight of the fort, White Fire wheeled his horse to a stop. Flame drew a tight rein beside him.

“I think you should get back home before your father decides to come looking for you,” White Fire said, reaching over to take one of her hands.

“I understand that he has hired you as his interpreter,” Flame said, smiling. “Before he realized that you and I had feelings for one another, he confided in me that he has tried for months to find someone as skilled and knowledgeable as you in the various Indian languages. I doubt he is eager to be put in the position of finding another interpreter. So he just might look past more than he might have, because you are so important to him.”

“I would not get that confident about anything your father feels or says,” he said, frowning. He waited a moment before telling her how he really felt about her father, not wanting to upset her.

Yet, by the different things she had said, and by her desire to take her freedom when she wished to, it seemed that she knew the true character of her father.

“In your father, I see such a deviousness,” he blurted out. “So be careful, Flame. I truly believe your father might be capable of anything.”

“That is why my mother eventually divorced him,” Flame said sullenly. “But I believe she made her decision too late. All through their marriage she was ill with one thing or another. I now believe it was because of the strain of living with my father.”

“Yet you came to live with him after your mother died?” White Fire could not help but question.

“Only because I saw adventure that I could not deny myself here in the Minnesota wilderness,” she said. She smiled slowly and her eyes twinkled. “Nor could I ever forget that you were headed for the Minnesota Territory all those years ago when I first met you.”

“You thought you might find me?” he said, forking an eyebrow at her admission.

“I never doubted for one minute that I would,” Flame said, giggling.

She sighed, gave him her most winning smile, then rode off. “I shall see you again very soon,” she said across her shoulder as their eyes locked and held. “I can hardly believe that I did find you, and that you love me!”

“Fate brought us together again!” he shouted back, waving as she rode on away from him.

His insides soft and mellow with an intense love that he had never felt before, White Fire laughed out loud and wheeled his horse around and rode back in the direction of his cabin. He was ready for that cup of coffee from the pot that she had made for them.

Then he must concentrate solely on Michael.

But he knew that Flame would always be there in his mind no matter what else he pursued while they were apart. He closed his eyes as he envisioned the time when they could both feel it was right to make love.

His cabin only a short distance away, White Fire opened his eyes and wheeled his horse to a stop when he saw a horse tied to the hitching rail just outside his cabin.

Not recognizing the horse, he drew a tight rein and slid his rifle from the gun boot at the side of his pinto.