A Fistful of Dreams Read online

  So is my affection real or the result of his interference? Hot on the heels of this thought came a deeper, sadder one. I will have to leave.

  Jason looked at her, blue eyes sharp and assessing. He gave a quick, negative shake, but she refused to be comforted by the swift response. He encouraged her flight and when it came time for her to go…

  You were supposed to come to me and I would have made arrangements for you. His thought intruded into her mind. I promised you safe harbor and we’re not taking that away from you.

  “She’s Fevered.” Buck blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. To her utter surprise, kindness settled over his troubled features. “You’re Fevered?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded slowly. It wasn’t the entire truth—she’d never sickened like the he or Jason or any of his siblings.

  “You should be able to talk to him safely now, yes?” Jason settled onto the ground, choosing a spot between them on the circle around the fire.

  “I hope so.” Defeat slumped her shoulders.

  “You have a beautiful voice.” The compliment startled her more than the gentle forgiveness in his eyes. Freeing someone from captivation usually resulted in fear, anger, and loathing. Of all those she had seen freed, Buck traveled the gamut of emotion faster than any other.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed and stretched out her cold fingers to the fire. “It’s a curse, my voice.”

  “It’s why you didn’t want to talk?” He leaned toward the fire and not away. She avoided meeting his gaze, choosing to peek at him through the tendrils of hair falling over her eyes.

  “Yes. I knew what could happen and I don’t always know how to control it—not when I really want to be somewhere or when I am afraid.” She shook her head. “I should have warned you.”

  “You couldn’t know I would walk in your dreams.” An apology hung in the middle of those words. Contrition wrinkled his brow. “And for that, I should have warned you. My father—he took me to task for invading your dreams when you didn’t know I could.”

  “Why?” She swallowed. It was so odd to be talking after so many months of enforced silence. Her throat ached with what little effort she’d already expended.

  “Why did I invade your dreams? Or why did my father scold me for it?” The dry humor in his tone dragged a reluctant smile from her.

  “The first.”

  Buck didn’t answer at first, and when she risked looking at him directly, she found him staring. Jason snapped his fingers and the dreamwalker shook his head and blinked rapidly. “You need to focus, and yes, she has a gorgeous smile.”

  Scowling, the Indian turned to Jason. “Actually, I have a better question. How the hell did you know what was happening?”

  “Please don’t be angry with him. Jason helped me.” She rushed on, needing to defend Jason’s actions even if she didn’t fully understand the why of it all.

  “It might be easier to start this at the beginning.” The suggestion carried a simple prod in it. He needs to understand all of it.

  Does he hate me? It wasn’t fair to ask Jason the question, but in the last several months she became very fond of Buck. If he hated her—she would understand even if it broke her heart. She hardly deserved his forgiveness, even if she hadn’t meant to enchant him.

  He doesn’t hate you. Relief flowed through her at the assurance. But he doesn’t understand, and he’s not very fond of me at the moment, so it would be better coming from you.

  Stuck in the cold cave in the middle of the ranch with white snow falling beyond the cave didn’t seem like the most ideal spot for soul-wrenching confessions.

  “I’m not angry with him. Correction, I seem to be angry about a lot of things, but I need to understand this better. So, if you are willing to tell me your story, I want to hear it.” Everything about Buck beckoned to her, encouraged her to be honest, to bare the wound in her soul and pick away the bandages so he could know her. But what if he hated her when he learned the truth of it all?

  When he discovered her deception, they wouldn’t want her to stay. Why should they? Not when the man who raised her created so much grief for their family. Twisting her fingers together, she fought the fear cramping her stomach.

  “It’s okay.” Jason covered her chilled fingers with his. The air crackled with tension and she didn’t dare look up to see Buck’s reaction to the other man comforting her. “Tell him.”

  “You obviously know it. Why don’t you tell me?” While not quite hostile, Buck’s tone ranged far from friendly.

  “I know my part in it. She’s never told me all of her story.” Jason didn’t remove his hand, squeezing hers gently. “There wasn’t time.”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. She’d never told anyone all of her story, who would she tell? Who could understand? Forcing her chin up, she stared at Buck. “If you want me to go—after I tell you—I will.” It didn’t matter that she had no idea where she would go.

  “I am not going to ask you to leave.” The firm conviction in the swift declaration surprised her. Buck faced the palm of his right hand to her. “My oath, Delilah. This is your home now, too, for as long as you wish to stay with us. We accepted you before we knew you to be Fevered and we would never turn away one of our own.”

  So easy to say when he wasn’t aware of the truth, but she wanted to believe him. “I have never been sick, not the way the others were here. My parents, though, they were both Fevered.” Saying it out loud was surreal. Tugging her fingers from Jason, she turned her gaze on the fire. “I don’t remember her well, but my mother could weave illusions. She could create the most elaborate images and project them onto the landscape so everyone could see them. It was a beautiful and terrifying gift. Everyone used to say I resembled her, but she could change her appearance at will, but it wasn’t physical changes— just how others perceived her. Father told me it was why she abandoned me. She could make others see her differently, but not me.”

  Her soul ached with the memory of her mother’s abandonment. The morning she woke and discovered her mother left was the worst day of her life. Or so she believed.

  But Father came for her. Father took her into his household and raised her as his own. He saved her.

  Or so he lied all those years.

  “How old were you?” Buck prodded her from the dark reverie.

  “Four—maybe five? I don’t really remember. Most of what I remember of her are fragments. She played with me when I was young, creating the most magical images for me. And then she was gone. No more fairy tales or pretty pictures.” She reconciled herself to the grief years before. It shouldn’t clog her throat with tears.

  “But your Pa took care of you?”

  “No.” A wistful notion. “Father—Father wasn’t my Pa. I don’t know how to explain this.”

  The two men staring at her couldn’t be more different. Jason was lean where Buck was broad shouldered and thick in the chest. The Indian’s darker skin, rounded jaw and ever so slight tilt to his eyes gave him an exotic beauty, a fine blade masterfully crafted. Like his brothers, Jason’s jaw was squarer, blunted, but crowned with gentle eyes and wheat-colored hair. Despite their differences, they both stared at her with kindness and acceptance. They wanted to understand.

  “My Pa died before my birth. I know very little about him. He could charm others with music. Not song, but the notes he played on his fiddle. My Ma said I was like him in that.” Melancholy filled her. It would have been good to know her real father, to talk to someone who understood what she could do. “He was a piano player back East and he even went to Europe. He composed the most beautiful music. She used to say he drew the notes in the air and then put them to paper. But he didn’t need them, all he needed was an instrument and magic happened.”

  “You got your talent from both your parents, then?” Buck frowned. She could only imagine his thoughts.

  The family discussed Scarlett’s children in low tones. Antonia died of the fever, so her son may not be curse
d with an affliction.

  Molly was borne of Buck’s sister, a woman Delilah knew to control fire. She could summon it, control it, and some said extinguish it with a thought. Scarlett’s husband, Sam, was not Fevered. The meaning for their daughter was anyone’s guess.

  “I cannot weave illusions as my mother did. Well, not exactly the same way, but I can with a song. I can—” She didn’t want to say it. “I can control what you see when I sing, what you feel, and I can open a mind to suggestion.”

  The harsh exhale from across the fire dragged her gaze to Buck’s. “So what I feel for you—is the song?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No—I don’t know. You shouldn’t be feeling anything. The song—I wanted you to be free so I sang it to you, it doesn’t always work out for me when I free someone from the need to be with me. But I don’t even know how I sang you into it in the first place. I haven’t sung—”

  “Except in your dreams. I loved the way you sang and I wanted to hear it again.” Buck’s mouth flattened into a thin line. The confession explained a lot, but still…

  “My dreams? I don’t understand.” She transferred her attention between the two men. She knew the Fevered were gifted. She’d already seen Cody and his wife’s wolves, she knew Scarlett controlled fire and whatever gift belonged to Kid tortured him. But she hadn’t suspected Buck’s ability.

  “I can walk in dreams. My father can as well. It’s a Shamanic gift.” Using a longer stick, the Indian stirred up the flames and then fed more wood to the fire. The increased heat warmed her chilly hands. The smell of damp crept into the cave. Beyond the cave, the snow fell harder and coated the landscape in a frosting of white.

  “How is that possible?” What did walking in dreams even mean? And what did he see in mine?

  “How is anything possible?” Jason reminded them both he was there. “Fevered abilities come in a wide range from the spirit to the mental to the physical. Spiritual and mental are more closely linked. How can you captivate someone with a song?” How can I project thoughts to others and pick up thoughts from them? “It is all so very different for each of us. Learning control and mastering the ability before it masters us is the key.”

  “How did you master yours?” Buck turned the questioning on the Kane. “Your family didn’t know about your abilities, so how did you hide them?”

  Shrugging, the younger man tossed a stick onto the fire. “Much the same as you, I would imagine. Trial and error. My talent isn’t visible. Regardless of which, this isn’t about me…”

  “Actually, it is. You knew about Delilah—what she could do—and you didn’t warn anyone.” The accusation in Buck’s words stung her. In all fairness, she should have warned them, but like Antonia, she feared being turned out. Saying nothing—it protected everyone, herself included.

  “She wasn’t supposed to come to the ranch and I didn’t arrive until after she was settled in.” Blunt and to the point, Jason didn’t shy away from Buck’s hard gaze. “It also wasn’t my secret to tell. She was doing everything she could to protect my family and didn’t mean any genuine harm. You’re afraid of her now—is it better to know the truth?”

  Her stomach rippled and ice crept through her veins. Buck was afraid of her? Folding her arms, she hugged herself tightly. Her nightmare coming true—she wanted to belong, but how could she when holding herself aloof was the only way to protect the people around her. I will need to leave.

  No. Jason shook his head. He needs time to adjust to the information. They are good people, but whether he can accept it or not—this is my father’s ranch. He will not turn you out.

  “How do you two know each other? And where was she supposed to go? The whore house Kid found her in?” Tension crackled in the words. The cold air crawled up her spine, chilling her to her bones—or maybe it was the dislike in Buck’s face. But he wasn’t turning his expression on her, his attention seemed wholly focused on Jason.

  “He helped me to escape.” Delilah murmured.

  You don’t have to explain it to him. Surprisingly, there was a great deal of dislike in Jason’s mental voice. While not quite angry, it was hard and clipped.

  “Jason—Mr. Kane—” She had no idea why she amended her address, but the ghost of a smile touched Buck’s lips and encouraged her. “In all fairness, I have done a wrong to Buck. He does deserve an explanation.”

  “If he hadn’t invaded your dreams, no wrong would have been done to him.” Bald and to the point, it was Jason’s turn to smile as the other man winced. “Perhaps you should examine your own motives, dreamwalker, before you hurl charges at either of us.”

  The temperature in the cave plummeted. Cold burned in her lungs.

  “She needed help. She wouldn’t speak and she was obviously lonely. We help our kind, Kane. We don’t abandon them to the wild and hope they survive.” Buck’s hostility returned, vicious and brutal. “You’re really good at sending women out into the wild with no warning or anyone to protect them. After all, it’s your fault Miller followed Jo here in the first place.”

  “Stop.” Delilah whispered.

  “I didn’t abandon her nor did I send either into the wild. I sent Jo to my family because I knew they would protect her—”

  “And got an entire town slaughtered. How many of the dead have you to thank for that protection?” The men rose to their feet.

  “Stop.” She tried again, but the two were so intent on each other neither seemed to hear her.

  “If I could have stopped them, I would have. I fought them for months. You were all free and you had a healer—”

  “Oh, so now it’s our fault because we didn’t know they were coming? Or, we had someone who could have stopped them? Or is it Noah’s fault because he damn near died trying to save those he managed?” They were both shouting now.

  “It’s no one’s fault, save those who brought the danger here—”

  “Exactly. And you’re the one who brought it. You sent Jo here. You sent Delilah the gods only know where and danger followed them both.” As if by some silent communication, the men took a step toward each other.

  “Stop!” Delilah sang the word, her voice rising on a trembling warble and the music pierced the bubble of tension expanding around the two. They jerked around to look at her. Jason’s scowl pushed her back a step and the bared teeth grimace on Buck’s face shook her to her core. He really didn’t care for her anymore.

  She fought the tears swimming into her eyes, blinking rapidly to hold them back. “If the fault belongs with anyone, it is me. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know—I didn’t want to be used as a weapon. If I’d known I could have stopped what happened, I would have.”

  “Delilah—“ Buck reached out to her, but Jason reached her first. He caught her hand and pulled her back to the fire. The cold boxing them in retreated and he held up his hand to ask for silence.

  “No. It’s not your fault.” His breath came in fat, white puffs as though he’d been running. “It’s not. It’s not mine and not Bucks—it isn’t any of the family’s fault either. Adam MacPherson is a man bent on controlling all Fevered. He wants power and he hungers for it, he will fight to take what he wants and those he trusts most—they follow him blindly. Miller was one of his pets.” The harsh sound of their breathing punctuated the silence.

  “He’s right.” Buck agreed, almost too readily, and she worried her single burst of song forged this fragile accord. The dreamwalker ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m furious. At the situation, not either of you.”

  “Agreed.” Jason squeezed her hand and urged her closer to the fire, shuttling her between the two of them and they all sat. “We should get you back to the house.”

  Buck nodded.

  “You’re going to have to tell the others about me. And I need to stop talking…”

  “No.” Buck caught her free hand in his. Her heart stuttered. Sandwiched between the two, hope flickered back to life in her. “You need to keep talking, but you
need to learn the extent of your gift and how to control it—”

  “It’s too dangerous. You saw what happened here.” She couldn’t risk their family. In the few short months she’d been on the ranch, she found a depth of caring and security she never before experienced in her life. She would not take that from them. If Father discovered she was on the ranch—no. Not acceptable.

  “I did. I also see it as result of not being honest. My father taught Scarlett how to control her gifts—he taught us all. We can help you. If you’ll let us.” How could he be so confident? Moments before, fury ripped through him. He and Jason should be friends, not enemies.

  “You were never taught to control it.” Jason threw his support behind Buck. “The dreamwalker is right. Your Father used you, Delilah. He used what you could do and made you terrified of acting against him. But you did it—you broke free and you’re not with him. No one here will ever ask you to manipulate others. If you learn control, then you can have a life, a real life.”

  Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. She longed to believe them both.

  Trust me. It’s hard, I know. But I asked you to trust me before, and you did. You were able to get free. Trust me now—the dreamwalker is right, he and his siblings know how to train gifts. They’ve been working with the children and those kids are making great progress. Let them help you.

  No, it was too risky. What if they failed? What if they all turned against her, as so often happened, or worse? She could turn them on each other. She bit her lip. If she agreed, she could plan her exodus. The Army was here. There were strangers she could convince to take her away—protecting the ranch.

  “She’s thinking about running because we would all be safer if she left.” Jason stripped away her privacy.