A Fistful of Dreams

By Heather Long

Meet Buck. Spirit brother, dreamwalker, shaman’s son—he’s never been at the mercy of his abilities nor hungered for violence…until her.

When the spirit fever struck a town, a village or an outpost, it left few, if any, survivors. The white man blamed the Indian saying they used their mojo on them. The Indians blamed the white man for angering the spirits. The survivors knew it didn’t matter. The Fevered were forever changed.

Rebuilding Dorado is only the first challenge…

Surviving a vicious attack by their enemies and an outbreak of the fever has left Dorado in ruins and the Flying K under siege, now all their resources are devoted to rebuilding their town and protecting the newborn Fevered in their midst. Buck Morning Star and his siblings divide their time between training their new family members and avoiding the threat of detection the arrival of soldiers constructing a new fort pose, but Delilah haunts the spirit walker’s dreams. When Jason Kane threatens to come between them, Buck's obsession may drive him to madness.

Her secrets could destroy them all…

Rescued from a whorehouse in Fort Courage, Delilah Rinaldi never expected to find a sanctuary populated by Fevered and their allies. Silent since her arrival at the ranch, she longs to believe in Buck and the passionate dreams they share. But she keeps dangerous knowledge of the enemy hunting them all close to her heart—information Jason may reveal and cost her the only home and man she loves.

Primitive, primal and provocative, their struggle is intensely personal…

Close contact arouses a soul-stirring passion and love. But it may not be enough to sustain a relationship forbidden by their power and the tempest it can unleash.

His dream. Her words. Their destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Long
• Release date: Apr 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301261840

Heather Long

Heather Long is a USA TODAY bestselling author who likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, and Marines. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romances as hot as her native Texas summertime.

Book preview

changed.

Prologue

Rain fell in sheets and turned the dirt road in front of the tent into a muddy river. Their visitors arrived in ones and twos, hurrying through the deluge to the damp shelter offered by the oiled canvas stretched out over long poles. Their people always set these up perfectly—shady and cool in summer and shielded and dry in the winter. Long flaps along the side had been lashed together to keep the wind out, but the water still managed to creep under the edges.

Are you ready? Father laid his hand against her shoulder and she nodded. She was the youngest of his entourage; almost a baby and practically the only female, save for Annie, Father’s latest companion. Annie acted as her chaperone—particularly when they traveled hundreds of miles from home.

Yes, Father. She brushed away some imaginary dust from the pristine white of her skirt. Always white—the brighter and the cleaner the better. She didn’t dare stain or discolor it. The fabric itched her skin; the harsh cleaning it received to keep it so frightfully bright irritated her arms. Complaining, however, would only earn her Father’s disappointment.

Take your place at the front. When I nod, you may sing. He rubbed a calloused finger along her cheek, a passing caress, and walked away. More gathered—the town of Philadelphia offered them many candidates. They had to locate them all. She walked through the crowd, weaving her way to the front. Her Father’s entourage filtered to the fringe of the newly arrived and ducked out of the tent one at a time.

The small wooden stage, a hasty construction, teetered when she stepped up onto the platform. Those gathered near the front turned to look at her, curiosity filling their eyes. She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift over the crowd, smiling a little when their lips curved and nodding politely. Over their heads, she could see Father standing at the front flap—he ushered the last pair of guests in and stepped into the gap.

He nodded to her once and stepped out into the rain, shutting the flaps behind him. The press of bodies in the makeshift room warmed the humid air. She counted to sixty, giving Father and their people time to get distance from the tent.

Her audience stared at her patiently, the low murmur of their voices and the shuffle of their feet the only sound beyond the splatter of rain thumping against the tent. Clasping her hands together, she bowed her head. She didn’t have to peek to know many others followed suit—the gesture for prayer invited company. The ripple of noise faded to silence.

Closing her eyes, she let the song in her heart free. She sang of love, forgiveness, patience, and openness. She sang of a life free from fear, snuggled safe in the bosom of like minds and when the last bars of her song faded, she lifted her head to find the audience staring at her, their bright eyes sightless and numb.

A tremor skated over the surface of her skin. This part always scared her. But Father’s instructions were explicit and he knew what was needed, didn’t he? He’d always taken care of her. Her second song told the story of Father, of his goodness, mercy, and conviction. She implored them to trust him, confess their secrets, and let him take care of them.

The audience swayed in time to the music she created and when the last note faded, she took a deep breath and bowed her head. A minute later the tent flap opened and Father strode back inside. His men split into two columns, framing the gathered in a square. He walked right up to the stage. Catching her face in his warm hands, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and beamed.

You can go now, child. Annie is waiting for you. He never let her stay for the sermon. After all, she’d heard it all before and her work was to prepare them.

Her task completed, she needed to go.

Yes, Father. She whispered the words, careful to control the treble of notes in her voice. Her gift hummed too close to the surface after singing. He held her hand as she stepped down and waited for her to make her way to the tent edge. Annie wrapped a cloak around her to protect the dress and pulled the hood over her head. Hand in hand, they dashed through the rain, careful of splatter, and into a waiting covered buggy.

The driver clucked to the horses and they were off. Thunder boomed in the distance and she glanced back toward the great tent. Father would take care of them all.

He always did.

Chapter 1

Winter, 1851

This was the last time, Buck promised himself. The last time he would invade her dreams. The rocky landscape greened over the last several months. The barren wasteland she wandered through night after night transforming to rolling grasses as though the prairie swept through the desert to reclaim Delilah’s hope.

At least, he believed it to be the message in this dream. Two weeks since the last time he brushed across her dreamscape, two weeks since he allowed himself the simple pleasure of hearing her sing. The secret he nestled in his heart and guarded deep in his soul—Delilah possessed the most magnificent voice. A voice she never used in the waking day, no matter how much they tried to persuade her.

Oddly, instead of sunshine, the night sky stretched out across the horizon. Stars glittered against the velvety midnight black. He walked along the bank of a stream. The water twisted through the landscape, plunging down into the grass and appearing again near a rocky outcropping, only to splash down into a deeper pool.

Young trees struggled against the grass, stretching juvenile branches skyward. Oaks, cypress, and two others he couldn’t identify. They were as alien to her dreamscape as they were to the Texas hills the Flying K called home. Jogging lightly, he picked up his speed. He knew to follow the river. He circled the outcropping until he looked down into the pool of water.

Delilah sat alongside the bank, bare feet dipped into the water. Palms flat against the earth, she stared at the moon’s gleaming reflection on the watery surface. Despite the ripples from the water tripping over the rocks, it was as though some great hand scooped out the stars and filled in the bowl of the earth.

Her long black hair fell, unbound, to her waist. She wore a light chemise and an even thinner underskirt. Pristine white, the cotton glowed against her darker, richer skin as though she dressed in gathered moonlight.

A rock skittered away from his boot and she looked up. Her expression transformed from thoughtful reverie to one of warm greeting. The smile blooming on her lips tapped heels to the slow trot of his heart.

Hello. He murmured the words and slid down the rest of the path toward the pool’s edge. As in their daytime encounters, she didn’t speak. She gazed at him with liquid black eyes, dark as the night sky above. Fearless, but calm, she waited until he sat down a few feet away to drop her gaze back to the water.

Sorry I haven’t been around. He kept his voice to a low murmur, the quiet swish of the breeze through the grass and the water tripping over the rocks the only noise—not even night birds serenaded them. We’ve had a lot of work to do. I've been pretty exhausted.

It was a lame excuse. He was never so tired he couldn’t walk in her dreams, but he forced himself to stay away. She sought him out whenever he was home, closer to central life on the ranch, particularly after the events of the last summer.

The construction of a new Dorado and the arrival of the first Army detachment kept the ranch in an uproar. The Fevered worked hard to keep the ranch patrolled and the new Fevered children contained while they learned. Their secrets, hidden tightly beneath a lid, threatened to spill over with every new arrival. During the initial visit, Buck, Kid and Jimmy took a party of eight children up into the hills to camp amongst the rocks. Their dangerously unstable gifts took finesse to control, finesse they didn’t possess. Hopefully the pending arrival of the next wave would be shorter.

Yet. They will. We have to be patient. Surprisingly, of all who worked with them—or maybe not so much given his gift with emotions—Kid stabilized the worst of the children, balancing out their fears and their grief, so they could focus on the lessons.

But it took a toll on the youngest Kane and backslid him into old habits–using sex to distract himself from the pain he took away from others. Twice in as many months, Jimmy and Cody turned away irate husbands from distant ranches hunting the younger Kane. The number of women in the area was few and Kid refused to go to the mountain. Not yet, he repeated over and over like a mantra. Not until the ranch was safe.

The landscape around Buck shimmered, and twisted. He jerked out of his reverie and forced his mind to calm. He could hold a dreamscape stable, but this wasn’t a dangerous shift. Delilah no longer sat on the edge of the pool, but in a curved back, mahogany chair before a great mirror. Although he never stepped foot inside her rooms at the main house, he knew the construction around him.

Riding out the shift, Buck perched on the end of a trunk tucked up against the foot of her bed. Delilah hummed to herself and her low melody wrapped around Buck’s soul and soothed the ache of lonely exhaustion. She ran a brush through her hair, gazing distantly in the mirror as though she continued to look farther away.

The soft music and the swish-crackle of the brush sliding through her hair lulled him. He clasped his hands together and enjoyed being with her. The light knock on the door intruded on their serenity. He expected Delilah to walk over and answer it, but the door opened as if by its own accord. Delilah’s dark gaze tracked up, focusing on the mirror and she smiled, a heart wrenching, dazzling grin of pure joy.

Buck jerked his head around and stared at the intruder. Anger fisted in his gut and he rose, blade appearing in his hand as though summoned by a thought.

Jason Kane held his hand out, as though unaware of Buck’s presence, and Delilah rose, walking over to take it.

No.

Lunging forward, Buck raised the blade, but it never struck. A hard hand locked around his wrist and jerked him backwards. Delilah, Jason, and her room evaporated for the mountain, soaring pines and the smell of snow. He landed in the dirt next to a far more familiar stream and Quanto loomed overhead, staring at him.

What are you doing? His father demanded.

The rage inside of him didn’t quiet. He met the wisdom and disappointment in the elder’s eyes and flinched. I—

What the hell had he been doing? Attacking Jason for knocking on her door?

Or because Delilah looked so happy to see him?

Why the hell is she dreaming about Jason Kane?

Buck. Quanto lowered himself into a slow squat. In the dream, the man’s ancient features softened and his body didn’t seem as weak, but there was no mistaking the weight of his hand on Buck’s shoulder as his father steadied himself. Calm yourself.

I am calm. The lie tasted sour on his tongue. Or at least I will be.

Quanto gave his shoulder a squeeze. Why would you attack the Kane boy?

I wouldn’t. But hadn’t he been about to do exactly that? Scrubbing a hand over his face, he avoided his father’s eyes. But I—he was in Delilah’s dream.

The young woman you have taken a fondness for.

It wasn’t a question, but Buck answered anyway. Yes. I know you advised against spending so much time there. But she doesn’t—she still isn’t willing to talk. At least, in her dreams, I can hear her and sometimes she will talk to me.

Because she isn’t aware you are walking in her dreams. She believes it to be her own imagination and until you are willing to confess your knowledge, you are abusing your privilege. The quiet patience in Quanto’s voice added to the sting of his reprimand.

I can’t abandon her. Buck’s temper flared and he scowled at his father.

She is not property for you to use at your whim, and respecting our laws isn’t abandoning her.

A breeze stirred the air around them. Cold winter wind, carrying the chilly bite of a storm, burned his throat. She’s lonely and I don’t count her as property. Truth be told, I wish to be her friend.

Then be her friend in the waking world or tell her the truth.

Buck could find no fault with the advice. It was the honorable choice. His only choice, really. So why resist it?

A telling question. Why are you resisting it? Quanto wasn’t a mind reader, no matter how much they might have believed it growing up. Their father knew them—sometimes better than they knew themselves.

His anger deflated. Torn between shame for his choices and regret for his harsh words, Buck shook his head slowly. She’s different. Everything about her is so different and it’s been hell—coping with the new children and struggling with their gifts. She never stops trying to help, only she won’t talk.

Her words mean so much to you? Quanto eased himself down and sat. A fire appeared next to them, the heat of it pushing back the chill. Buck gained enough control over himself to divert the wind away. While they may be sitting on a dreamscape of the mountain in winter, his father did not need to freeze.

I—I don’t know what words she keeps bottled up inside. Kid swears she spoke when he met her, and Cody says the same, but since arriving at the ranch—not a word passes her lips. She is quiet as a mouse, yet she helps, and Scarlett told me she’s heard her sing to the babies. Only when she’s alone or thinks she is… Stress tensed his lungs and his breath came in hard puffs, as though he fought to speak.

You hoped she would speak in her dreams. Does she?

Not exactly. She sings and she has the most amazing voice. Sparks danced up from the fire, the crackling flames licking up the fresh dry wood and releasing the scent of cedar and wood smoke. I have never heard anything like it. It’s beautiful and haunting and uplifting and tragic.

His father said nothing and Buck dragged his attention away from the ascending flames. A troubled expression twisted Quanto’s features.

What? The longer he spent at the fireside, the easier his mood became and the anger knotting his belly relaxed.

"Is she Fevered, Buck?"

He opened his mouth to deny it immediately, but caution stilled his tongue. They saw no evidence of special abilities, but not everyone possessed a visible ability. Buck’s own was easily hidden, as were Jimmy’s, and Noah’s—only their actions betrayed them. She didn’t get ill.

My point exactly.

No. The fact she didn’t succumb to the fever or even get ill didn’t mean anything. Many on the ranch didn’t sicken. As far as we could tell, it began in Dorado itself and only those who came into direct contact…

Of course. But did she not look after the other woman—the mother of Scarlett’s son?

Antonia.

Buck sighed. He’d nearly forgotten about her. They all had, really. So many dead to mourn and she was still something of a stranger to them. Her accusation, that Kid was the father of her unborn child, brought strife to the ranch. Her death was unfortunate, but her babe survived. Scarlett and Sam adopted her son to bring up with their Molly. He didn’t much think of little Cobb as Antonia’s child.

None of them did.

But neither Sam nor Micah sickened—nor Jed. And they all had contact with her as well, to a point. Micah’s lady did—

She was a target, from what you have all been able to put together. Quanto sighed. "Check the girl. If she is Fevered, it would explain the allure."

You think I would only be attracted to her because of some ability? It hardly seemed a fair accusation, or one that spoke highly of Buck.

You barely know her. She does not speak, which means you do not have conversations, and your expression becomes nearly entranced when you speak of her singing in dreams. Quanto laid out the information as though dealing cards. Your desire to hear her sing drives you to act against your conscience and with spite toward one who has done you no injury.

I— But the world shifted sideways and Buck jerked awake. Jason Kane stared down at him with a hard-eyed expression.

We need to talk.

Jason eased back a step. Buck glared up at him, expression erupting from consternation in slumber to cool fury awake. Scarlett’s brother shot up from the bunk and balanced on his bare feet, one fist around the same knife he’d lunged at Jason with in the dream. Holding his hands up, the Kane brother took another step back. He wasn’t a brawler like Sam or Micah, and he wasn’t much of a scrapper like Kid. Those talents skipped him, but he had his own abilities and the knowledge of how to use them.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. He kept his voice steady and his manner calm. As disconcerting as his presence likely was to Buck, he didn’t mean him any harm.

Unlike his brothers, Jason hadn’t spent much time with Scarlett’s family. He’d avoided them initially, particularly after the revelation about their abilities—which hit too close to home for him. He would have thought Kid would do the same, but where intellect most often drove Jason, passion drove his younger brother.

Why are you here? Hostility edged the growl in Buck’s voice, and the low burning kerosene lamp left his face hidden in shadows.

Like I said, we need to talk. I’m going to back out onto the porch and let you calm down. The small cabin had been co-opted by Scarlett’s brothers and expanded—well, partially expanded. The work they’d put into it halted with the outbreak and the attacks. Since then, the only work getting done on the ranch was what absolutely needed done. The half-finished interior spoke to that.

True to his word, Jason backed up to the door and onto the porch, pulling it closed behind him. Not even the wood separating them let him relax. He wanted his mental shields good and tight. The wind raced around the building and sent a chill up his back.

He practiced this speech in his head twice in as many days, but Buck was not his first choice—especially not given the active level of dislike in the man’s manner. The door opened behind him, but Jason refused to turn. Trust began somewhere—Sam trusted Scarlett’s brothers.

Well, not all of them. The two he liked least weren’t on the ranch, and the eldest Kane brother was a solid judge of character.

Buck cleared his throat. It’s cold out here and there’s a fire inside.

True, but the cold keeps a mind focused and sharp. It neared midnight and the swish of wind was all that stirred the quiet. Not even the horses in the stalls of the lean-to barn made more than a faint whuffling in their sleep.

Okay. Buck appeared next to him and Jason jerked.

He moved as silently as the mist and the faint smile around his mouth told Jason he knew it, too.

I’ll repeat my earlier question—what do you want?

Not the most polite soul, are you? Jason preferred to deal with men head on, but he avoided locking gazes. In intense situations, the insights into their minds could become a floodgate.

"You show up at my cabin, in the middle of the night, standing over me—and you’re worried about my politeness?" Dry humor crackled beneath the irritation ruffling the Indian’s tone.

You make a fair point. Planting his hands on the railing, Jason studied the darkened landscape. I could have waited till morning, but—in fairness—you attacked me first.

The wind lashed at them again and the frigid chill soothed him. Buck shuddered and tightened his jacket. It was a dream—

And if you kill me in a dream, I die in real life. I’m thinking it’s not an unfair assumption to say you tried to draw first blood. He might not spend much time with her family, but he paid attention to the information his brothers gathered. Quanto told Sam about dying in dreams during a dreamwalk when they met.

Jason wouldn’t mind meeting the older Indian—a journey for another day, however.

Buck didn’t respond, but tight lines whitened around the edges of his mouth.

It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it or apologize. He could afford to be generous. We both know you went for me and we both know you would have killed me.

So you were in her dream… Buck turned toward him.

No, I was in her mind when you were in her dream. He prepared himself for the violence of the reaction and the dreamwalker didn’t disappoint. Gripping Jason’s lapel, the walker drove him back against the wall.

You leave her alone.

I’m not going to hurt her. He remained calm. But she might be a threat to us.

She wouldn’t hurt anyone. The wild conviction brooked no arguments. The man was well and truly invested in the mute girl.

Not on purpose, but we both know you don’t have to have bad intentions to make something happen. Jason covered the clenched fists with his hands. Let me go.

Buck stumbled backwards and blew out a breath. He blinked and gave Jason a harder look. He was quick. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. You’re not actually here.

Nope. I’m at the house.

But you— Buck turned to where Jason’s horse should have been, but it evaporated. The key to a good mental illusion was belief. Jason knew exactly how to arrive at the little house so he made sure all the elements came into play. What the hell are you doing in my head?

Making a point. He smoothed down his jacket and met the Indian’s gaze squarely. We do have a lot to talk about, the young lady at the house being a primary subject. But I want it clear—you go for me again, I will defend myself. You need to sleep to use your ability…I don’t.

He let go of Buck’s mind and rushed back to himself. Jason opened his eyes to the bedroom he grew up in. He sat in this same room the first time he discovered that once he touched a mind, he could return to it. Fishing the watch out of his jacket pocket, he checked the time. The next move would be up to the dreamwalker. He wouldn’t head for the house until dawn. He’d want his brothers with him.

A shushing of footsteps whispered up the hall underscored by the soft sound of a baby’s cry. Scarlett was up. So was Delilah. He could make out the former’s voice, telling the other girl to go back to bed. Delilah, of course, said nothing. Clicking the watch closed, he considered getting some sleep, but noise erupted outside—horses thundering into the yard carrying unfamiliar minds.

Hell. Minds winked awake around him. Micah and Kid were up. Sam rode a circuit tonight, with Jimmy. The others were out with the stable boys—where Buck should have been. His father would need him downstairs.

The Army was here.

Chapter 2

Micah, see to garrisoning the colonel’s men. Jed waved his second son out the door. Kid, head down to the barn to help stable the horses. Scarlett, take my granddaughter back upstairs and get some sleep."

You worry more than Sam. But the firestarter pressed a kiss to Jed’s cheek and walked up the stairs, Molly gurgling happily in her arms. Jason waited for any instructions, but the colonel waved him over and he followed the two men into Jed’s study.

I wasn’t expecting you for another week, Miles. The senior Kane opened the liquor cabinet and removed a bottle. He filled three glasses and handed them around. The Colonel removed his blue hat and set it aside before accepting the drink and taking a chair opposite Jed’s usual seat. Jason remained standing.

Considering the rumors beginning to circulate about the outbreak, I thought it better to be on site. Men tend to mind their tongues when a senior officer can hear them. The Colonel glanced at him, but Jason merely smiled and made a show of sipping his whiskey though he did little more than let the alcohol brush his lips.

He didn’t tend to do well with it.

Sons weren’t usually invited to private drinks with his father’s oldest friends. Not unless the men had questions for him. Tiredness nagged at him, but he pushed it aside. If the older men planned to stay up much longer, he would have to brew some of the chicory coffee.

Sit down, Jason, and stop lurking there like you’re in trouble. Jed stretched his legs. We discussed this before, Miles. The fort is a good idea and I will support its construction, but I don’t want your regiment riding all over the Flying K.

They need a warm bed for the night. I’ll roust them to building their new barracks over the next couple of days and you’ll have your property back, Jed. If he was put off by Jed’s attitude, the colonel didn’t show it. But I will need to talk to Jason and Mrs. Miller.

Mrs. Kane. Jed corrected.

I thought you said she was married to one of those behind the outbreak. Miles frowned.

She was, but she married Micah a week ago Saturday. Satisfaction stretched through Jed’s words. Any conversation the colonel wanted to have with Jo would be done under strict supervision of her new family. Jason didn’t smile, but when the letter arrived from the colonel, his father took Micah aside for a quiet word. They rode together to San Antonio for a civil ceremony. A larger wedding would take place in the spring, but for now, Josephine Kane would have the full weight of the Kane family behind her.

You realize I wanted to ask her about the men he worked with and what, if anything, she knows about their accomplices. Impatience crept through Miles’ voice.

Then it won’t be a problem, will it? Jed wore satisfaction well and, although his tone suggested mild conceit, Jason knew his father was far from certain. In all their dealings with the colonel, they often held the upper hand. The threat posed by Miller’s gang of thugs and the outbreak highlighted a very substantial fear in the non-Fevered…one with a possibly terrific backlash if they did not manage it properly.

Miles shook his head slowly. Jed, we’re too old to play games. If you and your sons want to sit in on the questioning, I’m not trying to hide anything from you.

Jason sighed. Those words were a mistake.

Excellent, Jed rubbed a palm against the arm of the chair and leaned forward, locking gazes with the colonel. Then you can explain why you used my son to investigate this group in the first place.

No, his father was most certainly not over Jason’s confession about why Jo came to the ranch or how he encountered her in the first place.

Kid kept his focus on the horses, methodically stripping their tack, rubbing them down, and tucking them into the stalls in the largest of the three barns on the property. Thirty men arrived with the colonel—and forty horses, including those hitched to wagons. Most of the stalls already boasted fresh water buckets, hay, and feed. The stalls stood ready for any occupants, at any time, and they knew the regiment was on its way, even if they made better time than expected.

He stored the tack and flipped the saddle blankets to let them dry, but he wasn’t repairing their gear. His father said get the animals settled. Two hours of sweaty labor in the middle of the night didn’t improve his disposition. A sense of Micah drifting up to the barn calmed him down though. His brother hadn’t wanted to square the men away any more than Kid wanted to throw on warm coats and bundle out into the chill for the horses—but they wanted less to be at the house with the colonel.

And their secrets.

Good to go? Micah caught the last saddle and Kid turned to the horse, scraping off the sweat with one cloth and rubbing the gelding down with another.