Prairie Fire.

by LJ Maas.

To CB with love.

Prologue.

Once again, the spirits visited Taano. It does not feel well, having this same vision for so long. The old shaman pushed aside the softened deer hide that served as a blanket. Taano couldn't remember a harvest season growing cold this quickly. He rose and added a small buffalo chip, a chopi, to the fire that was banked in the center of the chuka. He warmed his hands and rubbed them together. After lowering his body to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, he reached for a wooden bowl. Inside the smooth, carved dish lay his ikhish bahtushi. The small pouch held herbs, roots, and anything else nature provided to prepare his medicines.

Taano took a pinch of sage from the bag and tossed it into the fire after rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. Then the old man cupped the rising smoke with his hands. He rubbed it into his joints, which seemed to ache more every day. He added cedar, then sweetgra.s.s in the same way. His eagle feathers fanned the fire to produce the necessary smoke. Finally, he added a bit of tobacco to his pipe, sending the smoke up to the great spirits above. He began the ritual this same way every night since the disturbing vision had visited him. His prayers were in a language long forgotten by his people, with the exception of medicine men and women from kin clans who still knew the way.

He was Ankahito-his family had always been Ankahito-but the original clans had separated and traveled far and away, so that now there were many sprinkled throughout the land. It would be a long journey for an old shaman, and Taano wondered why the spirits would call on one so weak for such an arduous task.

He spent the rest of the night speaking with the spirits, sometimes friendly, sometimes arguing. The young people of the clan held their tongues as they pa.s.sed by Taano's chuka. He knew the language of the Old Ones, and it was never a good thing to question the ways of a medicine man. When the sun rose high in the sky, Taano's talks were over. He went to the elders and told them of his visions and of the task for which he was anointed. Although this would leave the Ankahito clan with no shaman, they agreed that the old man must go where the spirits directed him to deliver the warning.

The old man packed his bahtushi, taking any items he thought he would need to converse with the spirits along the way. He looked into the sky, then consulted the small painting he had created on a piece of smooth leather. The distance was great, at least for his old bones. It would take him until the moon pa.s.sed many times across the sky, when buffalo dropped their calves, if the weather stayed with him.

Taano never thought to question the images the spirits gave him. The message he had to deliver was clear; whom he would deliver it to seemed more uncertain. There were only two who were strong enough to deliver the proposal to the necessary people. He didn't tell the elders that the two saviors to the land would be women. Men and their pride. He shook his head. He had seen many things and known many powerful women in his youth. He was too old to begin to question the ways of the spirits now. The spirits told him to search for the two in the area above the flatlands. One woman was a mighty warrior, the other a powerful medicine woman. It has been many years since I have met with a medicine woman, Taano mused. He remembered the mother of his childhood clan, who was part healer, part medicine man.

The only other information made known to him was the nature of the women. The spirits whispered the same thought repeatedly in his dreams at night.

You will know them by their contrast; as the sun cannot exist without the moon, so these two are. They are summer and winter, light and dark, hard and soft. Their contrast is an enigma to man, for one is neither completely hard, nor the other entirely soft. Where one is at first light and the other dark, they have the power to become the opposite. First glance will see the hawk, which swoops down to s.n.a.t.c.h the small fish from the safety of the water for its own meal, but you must look beyond the sight of men. You must see in them the small fish, who willingly gives its entire being to nurture the grateful hawk.

Look for them with the eyes of the spirits, and you will find the Redhawk and the Salmon.

Chapter 1.

A cold blast of fall wind swirled around the two women standing on the ridge. Sarah Tolliver leaned into Devlin Brown's tall body for warmth. The weather never seemed to affect Devlin. She quickly pulled off her newly cleaned duster and wrapped it around Sarah's small figure.

"Do you want to stay a bit longer?" Devlin asked.

Sarah shook her head, turning tear-filled eyes upward. "No, we're probably worrying Mattie. I just wanted to spend some time alone with Uncle Art. It seems like the house has been non-stop visitors since the funeral."

Art Winston was killed a fortnight before. An unscrupulous cattleman had thought to acquire the old man's land, as well as Sarah's ranch. Devlin and Sarah had worked together to foil the plan.

"I surely did respect that old man," Devlin said.

Sarah smiled up at her, realizing the statement was as close as Devlin would come to expressing her emotions for Art. Sarah remembered how long it had taken Devlin to express her feelings for her. Her smile grew.

"What?" Devlin asked self-consciously.

Sarah shook her head in answer, her eyes filling with tears of a different kind. "I love you, Dev," she finally said.

Devlin's stern expression evaporated with the wind. A perfect smile graced her tanned face and she leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lover's cheek.

"I'll never get tired of hearing that," she whispered into Sarah's ear.

"Good," Sarah beamed back. "Because I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying it."

Sarah took the lapels of Devlin's jacket in a firm grasp and tugged gently, drawing Devlin's head down to meet her own. She pressed her lips against the warm smoothness of Devlin's mouth and felt surprised by the tension in her body.

Devlin was swept away by the gentle kiss and her body reacted quickly. She wrapped long arms around Sarah's shoulders, pressing their bodies together. Two weeks earlier, she couldn't bring herself to kiss the woman; now she was finding it d.a.m.n near impossible to stop.

Devlin groaned, somehow finding the strength to pull away.

The sound was one of sheer frustration, and Sarah wondered once more at her tall companion. She could scarcely believe that she alone could please and distress Devlin with a mere kiss. She wondered if Devlin felt the same thing she did right then. If that was the case, then Sarah well understood Devlin's need to groan.

Almost two weeks had pa.s.sed since Devlin kissed Sarah in the middle of town and proclaimed her love. They made a number of a.s.sumptions about their future together, but they hadn't spent one moment talking about what would happen or what they wanted to happen. They only knew that their futures would be as one and that everything else would work out in time.

The problem with that theory, as Sarah saw it, was that her body was saying that time was up. Of course, it didn't help that since the day Devlin first kissed Sarah, their lives and their home had been in a constant state of turmoil. Mattie and her children lengthened their stay to help after Art's death, but there were now two ranches to care for, and Sarah and Devlin were spreading themselves thin. At night, it was all they could do to sit on the couch and hold each other, attempting to stay awake until the sun set.

The kiss ended, but the two women stood there holding on to each other.

"We'd better get a move on, we're wasting daylight," Devlin said huskily, clearing her throat to remove the sounds of pa.s.sion and want. Now isn't the time, especially not in the middle of the prairie.

Sarah simply nodded, not trusting her voice. They walked hand in hand to where their horses waited. The animals pawed at the soft turf and occasionally tossed their heads. Sarah turned before Devlin could a.s.sist her into the saddle.

"We will find time, won't we, Dev? I mean, time alone...just for us?" Sarah turned away in embarra.s.sment on the pretense of mounting her horse, but Devlin laid a gentle hand on her arm and Sarah paused. She turned to look up into smiling blue eyes and felt almost ashamed for doubting Devlin's attraction to her.

"Yes, sachu-kash." The backs of Devlin's fingers grazed Sarah's pink cheek. "There will be time for us. Soon, I promise, and it will be wonderful." Devlin whispered this last into Sarah's ear, watching her face turn rosy.

Tears misted in Sarah's eyes, as they did whenever Devlin called her that. In the language of the clan, it meant "my heart." Sarah rewarded Devlin with an embarra.s.sed smile. "You enjoy teasing me, don't you?"

"Yes, sachu-kash." Devlin chuckled. "But it's because I do so enjoy that shade of pink on your cheeks."

Sarah turned to face Devlin. Devlin knew she was in trouble by the look of determination in Sarah's eyes. Sarah slipped her arms around Devlin's waist, pulling their bodies tightly together.

"You like my blush, do you?" Sarah asked with a sly smile and a gleam in her eye.

Sarah's body slid against Devlin's. Her hips pressed into Devlin in a suggestive manner. It wasn't out of character for Sarah to be so bold. When challenged, she would take any dare thrown her way, even if she was in miles over her head.

Devlin's breath sped up and a bolt of pleasure sliced through her. She could feel Sarah's b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed underneath her own.

Sarah knew she'd won when she saw the c.o.c.ky grin disappear from her lover's face, and Devlin swallowed hard.

"Hmm, I kind of like the way you blush. It starts right here at your neck..." Sarah traced a fingertip along Devlin's collar line. "...and it ends right here." She brushed the dark hair behind one of Devlin's ears and watched as the ear turned scarlet.

Devlin grabbed the teasing finger and placed a rough kiss on her lover's lips. "You," she said as she pulled away and turned Sarah toward her horse with a gentle shove, "are a wicked young woman."

The two laughed and mounted their horses, then rode back toward their new home at Art's ranch.

Devlin enjoyed the playful banter. It was something new in her life. Sarah wasn't a woman to let anyone get the best of her and Devlin liked that. Devlin remembered the way Sarah's body felt against her own and wondered how long she could continue to control herself.

Like you just told her-soon.

Devlin and Sarah stepped into the ranch house in time to see William Hennessy shaking hands with Madeline, Sarah's older sister.

"Well, here they are now," Mattie said.

"I'm sorry we're so late, Mattie. Mr. Hennessy, I didn't realize you would be coming by today."

Sarah was cool, but respectful to the town businessmen. While the remaining members of the Cattleman's a.s.sociation went out of their way to offer condolences for the loss of her uncle, Sarah couldn't forget that they'd done nothing to stop the terrible events from happening. Hennessy was an old friend of her uncle's, she knew that much. She never had the time to get to know the Irishman who owned the livery stable in town and did double duty as the only lawyer between their small town and Kansas City.

"Mrs. Tolliver." William Hennessy removed his hat and shook the hand that Sarah offered. "There are certain matters regarding your uncle's will that need your attention. I thought it would be more...well, easier for you and Madeline in your own home."

"How thoughtful," Sarah said.

Devlin laid a gentle hand on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah instantly felt the connection and the tender admonition.

"I apologize, Mr. Hennessy. It really was thoughtful of you to come all the way out here. Why don't we all go into the den?"

Once they were in the other room, Sarah motioned to Hennessy, indicating that the lawyer should make use of her uncle's oak desk. She and Mattie sat beside each other in a pair of overstuffed leather chairs. Devlin closed the double doors to the room and stood a few feet behind Sarah.

"The information in Arthur's will is, of course, for the family only," Hennessy said, gazing up at Devlin.

"Devlin is a part of this family," Mattie said, beating Sarah to the punch.

Devlin wasn't sure what to do, but once Sarah offered her hand, she grinned slightly and took it.

"Miss Brown is my family, Mr. Hennessy. Actually, bringing this up now saves me a trip to your office. I'll need you to draw up the necessary legal papers for my own will. My a.s.sets and my children are to be left in Devlin's care should anything happen to me."

The hand around Sarah's tightened for a moment, then relaxed as Sarah looked up at Devlin. "I know we haven't talked about this yet, Dev, but it's something I feel strongly about."

Devlin felt a brief moment of panic at the overwhelming amount of trust and responsibility Sarah offered her. Devlin knew this relationship would be forever, but they hadn't yet talked of things so practical. This was a harsh land, and anything could happen in a season's time. Was she ready to accept the job of raising two young children should something unforeseen happen to Sarah? Devlin was an outlaw, or at least a reformed one. Staring down into the green eyes that always looked back at her with trust and love, Devlin felt the answer in her heart before it pa.s.sed her lips.

"Are you sure?" Devlin asked.

"Absolutely. If you agree, that is."

Devlin squeezed the hand in her grasp. That action and an unspoken communication that pa.s.sed between the two women was Devlin's reply.

Sarah smiled and turned back to the lawyer. "I trust that you can handle the paperwork." Her query was more of an expectation and left little doubt as to whom was in charge of this meeting.

"Um, well, yes, of course, Mrs. Tolliver," Hennessy stammered, pausing to glance between the two women in question. Finally settling his gaze on their entwined fingers, he saw it with certainty. "Well, let's get started, shall we?" he asked as a formality.

"You ladies, Sarah Tolliver and Madeline Caufield, being the next of kin to Arthur Winston, are the sole heirs to his estate and all its monies and properties. Mrs. Caufield, your uncle knew that you had a life elsewhere, so he left the majority of his properties to Mrs. Tolliver. However, he did leave you a sizable cash inheritance. To you, he left the sum of two hundred thousand dollars and the deed to the estate in Kentucky."

"Good Lord, I didn't even know Uncle Art liked me that well." Mattie looked from the lawyer to her sister. "Where in the world did he get that kind of money?"

Mattie was more than surprised. She wrote to her uncle on occasion and came out every five years for a visit, but she had never been close to the man. Sarah, on the other hand, was like a daughter to him. It was apparent that as soon as Sarah came out west, she would be the heir to the family cattle business. Mattie never thought twice about that fact.

"Art was as shrewd a businessman as they come. Punching cows wasn't the only thing he concentrated on," Hennessy said.

"Sarah, this is ridiculous for me to receive so much money. Surely, you'll need something, now that you have to run both ranches," Mattie said. "Richard's income has always been more than enough to keep us comfortable."

Sarah opened her mouth to refuse but was interrupted by Hennessy.

"Actually, Mrs. Tolliver was left the bulk of Art's estate. Cash holdings from banks in New York, Chicago, and Kansas City, totaling nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. That's not counting all his land holdings." Hennessy paused and looked into Sarah's shocked expression.

"I had no idea Uncle Art was putting away money like that. Every cent will come in handy to run this place, though. I have four hundred acres and Uncle Art has nearly a thousand-"

"Oh, there's much more than that, Mrs. Tolliver. As I said, Art was a heck of a businessman. He began buying land the minute he settled out here when you were a young girl. He owns nearly every acre of land surrounding the Arkansas River. Every cattleman for a hundred miles in any direction pays Art for water rights," Hennessy said.

"People pay him for water that nature provides?" Sarah asked in amazement.

Devlin had been quiet all this time, but now she smiled at Sarah. It was the clan way to share all of Mother Earth's gifts. Paying someone for water that flowed freely in the river seemed as ridiculous and unfair as having to pay to breathe air. Devlin appreciated that Sarah's nature was as close to the clan way as if they had raised her.

"Well, Art does own the land," Hennessy said. "Correction, Mrs. Tolliver, now you own that land. It adds up to hundreds of thousands of acres. Here in the territory, Arkansas, Missouri, up toward Kansas, and even Fort Laramie. To put it bluntly, you are now the wealthiest woman west of Chicago."

"Well, I just don't know what to say," Sarah said. "I had no idea Uncle Art...I mean, I just thought he raised cattle." She looked from one face to another.

Finally, Devlin's low, rumbling laughter filled the room. "It's okay, Sarah. You don't have to apologize for it."

Sarah smiled hesitantly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hennessy. I'm a little shocked by this news."

"It's understandable." Hennessy closed the leather binder on the desk in front of him. "I know that many of the men of this town have been less than honorable in their dealings with you, but that doesn't hold for all of us. I apologize for myself and on the behalf of many of the respectable gentlemen in town. I know," he chuckled and held up a hand, "you're probably thinking that I'm trying to cozy up now that you're a wealthy woman."

"The thought did cross my mind," Sarah admitted.

"Well, I wouldn't blame you there, young lady, but you should know that I was once a riding partner of Art's. When I was a much younger man, of course." He grinned. "Art and I, along with some old hands that have long since gone to their maker, practically built this town. I guess with a town comes progress, and that brings men like Montgomery. He was the exception, Mrs. Tolliver, not the rule. We may be getting on in years and not always able to put up as much of a fight as we did in our younger days, but there are still a few of us gents who loved and respected your uncle. All you ever have to do is call on us, and you'll have a few friends out there. There may be a little dust on us," he ran a hand through his wavy gray hair, "but don't let that fool you about the fight left inside."

Hennessy grinned amiably and Sarah found herself grinning back. She was glad to hear about this side of the men from town. She was beginning to fear that all the men in the a.s.sociation were mirror images of John Montgomery, the man who had her uncle killed. If that proved to be the case, it would be difficult for her to live and raise her children here in spite of her newfound wealth.

"Mr. Hennessy, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done. I know Uncle Art trusted you and I hope you'll forgive me if I'm still a bit skittish, what with everything we've been through recently. I do accept your apology, however, and I'll remember your offer, should we ever need it."

Sarah signed paper after paper until Hennessy declared the matter of Arthur Winston's will concluded. He shook hands all around, then made his way to the surrey rig hitched in front of the house. He waved as he gave the reins a light snap and the horse pulled away.

"Dev!" A grizzled-looking rider walked up to the front porch, nodded to Sarah, then hastily removed his hat.

"The nights are gettin' pretty cold out there. What do you wanna do with all them late calves in the herd up on the northern ridge?"

Devlin leaned against the porch railing and shrugged. "Don't ask me. She's the one you work for." She jerked a thumb in Sarah's direction.

The rider seemed nonplussed and uncertain about what to do next. He didn't know if Devlin was making a fool of him or not, but he didn't want to be the one to question her.