The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [7]
“De nada, señorita, it was nothing,” Pete answered with a slight shrug and a smile. “For me, anyways. He bought them.” He nodded his head at Quantro, who stood silent. Pete watched him, waiting for a comment.
Quantro’s left hand moved, his eyes on the toes of her moccasins peeking from beneath her dress. He held out a pair of huaraches, open sandals like the Mexican women wore. As she looked up their eyes met for a moment and he felt uncomfortable. Back up in the mountains she had been wild and free, almost a part of nature and he understood how that had been part of the natural attraction she had held for him. Now, dressed in white women’s clothes, that attraction was erased, only to be replaced by another just as subtle that drew him irresistibly. Only during that moment when their eyes met did he realize that the transformation was merely an illusion, and that in fact that same wild freedom was still mirrored in her sparkling dark eyes. She could not lose it, and in that instant he knew it would always draw him to her, a magnetism born of the sheer womanliness of her.
Her warm fingers touched his as she took the sandals. Coyly, she raised a leg and slipped off her moccasin then replaced it with the huarache. As she leaned forward to take off the other moccasin, the low neck of the peasant dress, held together by a drawstring, dropped away from her body to allow Quantro a view of the cool valley between her breasts. He swallowed dryly, turning away to look toward the fire.
“Okay, you look fine. Let’s eat,” he muttered.
The food was good and Pete’d had the foresight to fetch back a bottle of rotgut whiskey to round off the meal. After strong black coffee they drank and smoked while White-Wing continually fussed with her unfamiliar skirts, obviously happy. Pete watched the way her eyes kept switching to Quantro, seeking his approval, but the younger man paid her no mind. He merely stared out into the night, occasionally cocking an ear to the horses.
“That miner’ll have himself a bad head in the morning.”
Quantro made a face. “I will too if I drink any more of that rattlesnake whiskey.”
“Rattlesnake whiskey’s better than no whiskey at all.”
“Yeah. Maybe when we’re fixed up at the mine we’ll be able to afford something better.”
“Thought you were figuring to save all your money for a ranch?”
“Yeah, and you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re going to be my partner.”
Pete experienced a sudden flush of pleasure that he should be included in Quantro’s dream. It did no harm it was only a dream.
Quantro ground out his cigarette His fingers searched for the thong to unfasten his bedroll. “We’d better get us up to the mine pretty quick after sun-up. If we get taken on, we’ll need all the sleep we can get.”
“Sure,” Pete agreed. The two men settled into their blankets, leaving White-Wing sitting by the fire. Soon, Pete’s breathing grew deep and regular. She turned to glance at Quantro. His eyes were shaded from the flickering flames by the lowered brim of his hat, his long blond hair framing his face. She rose to her feet.
The slight rasp of her huaraches on the grass woke Quantro. He had barely slipped into a light doze. Wary, his eyes snapped open. He saw White-Wing standing by the fire, her frame sharply outlined by the flames, tinting her bronze skin even darker than usual.
As he watched she unfastened the drawstring of her dress, then turning, she allowed it to fall away from her body. Her long hair, shining like a raven’s wing, hung thickly down to the middle of her smooth back and he was clearly aware of her narrow waist that flared to wide hips bordering generous buttocks like two ripe peaches that ached to be squeezed.
He felt the hunger rise up in him.
And with the hunger came stirrings of anger. She knew what she was doing. She knew he was awake. Like a rabbit teasing a fox.
Purposefully, he turned over, his back to her.
CHAPTER 3
By sun-up there was already a long queue at the mine office. THE CANANEA COPPER MINING COMPANY, the board nailed above the window read.
“I’m surprised it don’t say Green