When they reached the far end of the village, Blue Hawk turned downriver.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Lynnie remarked. “Nothing like I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. All I know about Indians is what I’ve read in the newspaper or heard from other people.”
Blue Hawk grunted softly. “I guess you’ve heard they’re all blood-thirsty savages.”
The pink that rose in her cheeks told him he was right.
“They’re just people, trying to get along as best they can,” he said quietly. “Sure, they’ve done some terrible things, but nothing worse than what’s been done to them. In a few years, their way of life will be gone. Children will be taken from their parents and sent away to boarding schools. Boys and girls alike will have their hair shorn off. They’ll be forbidden to speak their own language.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Yeah.”
They walked in silence for a while. When they rounded a bend in the river, Lynnie lost sight of the village. Cottonwoods and aspens grew thick here. Wildflowers dotted the landscape. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw a bear standing in the midst of a tangle of berry bushes across the river.
“It’s all right,” Blue Hawk said, following her gaze. “He’s too busy eating to bother us.”
Lynnie nodded, but she kept glancing back at the bear until he was out of sight.
She had just started to relax when Daniel stopped walking.
“What is it?” She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if the bear had decided to come after them.
“We’re being followed.”
“By who?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why would anyone be following us?”
Blue Hawk shook head. “I don’t know,” he said, but it wasn’t entirely true. He could only think of one person who would be following them, and only one reason why. He turned in a slow circle, his gaze searching the trees and brush growing near the river’s edge for the warrior who was stalking them.
He had his back to Lynnie when she let out a startled shriek. Whirling around, Blue Hawk ducked just in time to dodge the knife in Ese’henahkohe’s hand.
With a wild cry, the warrior spun around and charged again.
Blue Hawk threw himself to the left to avoid the blade, pivoted quickly, and tripped the warrior when he came charging back a third time. Before the warrior could regain his feet, Blue Hawk was on him, pinning him to the ground with a knee in the small of his back. Catching hold of the warrior’s knife hand, he slammed it against the ground until Ese’henahkohe released it.
Blue Hawk grabbed the weapon and pressed the blade against the side of the warrior’s neck, just under his ear. “Why did you attack me?” he asked, in Cheyenne.
“I want the woman. I captured her. She is mine.”
“She is not yours. You dishonor yourself by trying to take that which belongs to me.”
“You are not one of us,” the warrior said, his voice thick with scorn. “There is no dishonor in stealing from our enemies.”
And no changing his mind, Blue Hawk thought. Grabbing a handful of the warrior’s hair, he jerked his head back and laid the edge of the blade against his throat. “I will have your word that you will leave me and my woman alone,” he said, “or I will cut your throat here and now.”
The warrior said nothing, though Blue Hawk felt his body grow taut.
When the warrior remained mute, Blue Hawk put enough pressure on the knife to draw blood. “Your word,” he repeated curtly.
“You have it,” Ese’henahkohe said.
Rising, Blue Hawk backed away from the warrior, the knife at the ready, just in case.
Ese’henahkohe rose slowly to his feet, his expression wary. Then, head held high, he walked swiftly back toward the camp.
Lynnie let out the breath she’d been holding. “Why did he try to kill you?”
“Don’t you know?”
She shook her head.
“He wants you, and the only way to get you is through me.”
Lynnie stared up at him for a moment, then sank to the ground. “What did you say to him?”
“I asked him to give me his word that he wouldn’t try anything like that again.”
“And you believed him?” she asked incredulously.
Blue Hawk nodded, then offered her his hand. “Come on, I think we’d better go back.”
She let him pull her to her feet, sighed when he drew her into his arms.
“It’s all right, Lynnie. He won’t try it again.”
Taking her by the hand, Blue Hawk started back toward the village. He glanced at her from time to time. It was easy to see what she was thinking, so he wasn’t surprised when she said, “I want to go home.”
“Right now?”
She nodded. “It’s not just because of what happened today,” she said. “I know I said we could stay for a few days, but I can’t. I have people depending on me. Jase and the cowboys will be back by now. If they come looking for me…” She shook her head, not wanting to think of what might happen if there was a fight between the Indians and her cowhands. But it was more than that. She had responsibilities at the ranch, a payroll to meet, bills to pay, supplies she had ordered that were waiting to be picked up. “I’m sorry.” She bit down on her lower lip. “It’s not just that. My father loved the ranch. It was his whole life. When he was dying, I promised him that I’d look after it.”
“It’s all right, Lynnie,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ll take you home tomorrow.”
She nodded, afraid to ask if he would stay with her when they returned to the ranch, or if he would come back here and live with the Cheyenne.
* * * * *
She didn’t know how Daniel accomplished it, but the Cheyenne not only returned her horses, but sent three warriors along with them to help drive the herd back to the ranch.
Once the ranch house was in sight, the warriors turned back.
“Why did they leave in such a hurry?” Lynnie asked, staring after them. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank them.”
“They probably wanted to avoid a fight.”
“A fight? I don’t understand…” Her words trailed off at the sound of horses coming up fast behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jase and a half-dozen cowhands riding toward her, their rifles drawn.
Lynnie held up her hand as they drew closer. “Stop!”
Jase reined his horse to a dirt-scattering halt and the cowboys pulled up behind him. “Dammit, woman, they’re getting away!”
“They returned our horses,” Lynnie said. “Put up your rifles.”
Jase stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Adele said they kidnapped you and ran off the rough string.”
“It’s true,” Lynnie replied calmly. “And then they let me go and returned the horses.” She smiled at Daniel. “Thanks to our new hand.”
“Redskin was probably in on it,” Jase said, his voice thick with accusation.
“That’s enough, Jase,” Lynnie said curtly. “Get these horses corralled. Now.”
Jase’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Lynnie to Blue Hawk and back again. “You heard what the boss said,” he hollered. “Let’s round ‘em up.”
“I don’t think he likes taking orders from a woman,” Blue Hawk remarked as he watched the cowhands drive the herd toward home.
“I know.”
Blue Hawk grunted softly. Jase Abbott was going to be trouble, no two ways about it.
Blue Hawk rode the remaining distance to the house beside Lynnie. Dismounting, he tossed the dun’s reins over the hitching post, then lifted her from the saddle of the palomino.
“Thank you. Will you come to dinner?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll see you then,” she said. “Right now, all I want is a hot bath.”
Blue Hawk grinned at her. “Sounds good.” Conscious of watching eyes, he took up the re
ins of both horses and headed for the barn, wondering how long it would take before Abbott confronted him.
Not long, as it turned out. Blue Hawk had just finished locking the door on the palomino’s stall when Abbott barged into the barn, flanked by two of the cowhands.
“We don’t want you here,” the foreman said, his voice flat. “Ain’t no place on the ranch for a dirty half-breed.”
“Is that right?”
Abbott nodded. “Take one of the horses and ride on out of here. Do that, and there won’t be any trouble.”
Blue Hawk shook his head. “I don’t take my orders from you.”
“No? Well, you’d better by damn start if you know what’s good for you.” Abbott took a step forward. “I’m aimin’ to marry the boss and I don’t like the way you’re sniffing around her skirts.”
Blue Hawk blew out a deep breath. “I’m not leaving. If that means I have to fight you and every cowboy on the ranch, then let’s get started.”
Abbott glared at him.
“What are you waiting for?” Blue Hawk asked, gesturing for Abbott to come closer. “Let’s do it.”
Abbott took a step forward.
Blue Hawk waited until Abbott cocked his fist, and then he broke the foreman’s nose.
Abbott howled as blood sprayed from his nose. And the fight was over.
Blue Hawk rubbed his knuckles as Abbott and his cronies hurried out of the barn.
Grinning, he muttered, “Thanks, Neyho.” His father had always told him the best way to win a fight was to draw first blood.
His father had been a hell of a warrior back in the day. Two Hawks Flying had been a name to be reckoned with. He had taught Blue Hawk how to read trail sign, how to find food and water, how to navigate the prairie using the sun or the stars as his guide.
In the old days, Cheyenne males had been taught from childhood that war was the noblest pursuit, the only road for a true warrior to follow. Blue Hawk recalled the stories his father had told him, stories recounting the thrill of battle. Among Cheyenne warriors, the bravest feat of all had been to count coup on a living enemy and live to tell the tale. Blue Hawk had often heard the story of his grandfather, Black Owl, who had ridden out in front of his people. Alone, and armed with only a coup stick, he had ridden through the enemy line, counted coup on one of the Ute warriors, then turned and ridden back to his own people. It was a story Blue Hawk and his brothers had heard many times while growing up.
They had been taught that dying in battle was not to be feared. A man who died in battle was spared the miseries and frailties of old age. In the old days, when a man was very sick or had lost the will to live, he would decide to give his body to the enemy. He would then ride into battle unarmed, counting coup on as many of the enemy as he could before they struck him down.
For as long as he could remember, Blue Hawk had yearned to be a warrior like his father. Shadow had known Crazy Horse and Gall, Sitting Bull and Geronimo, Laughing Wolf and Calf Running and Black Elk. Great warriors, all.
And now he was here, torn between his yearning to ride with the Cheyenne and his desire for a woman.
If only it was possible to have both.
* * * * *
Lynnie dressed with care that night in a navy blue dress that flattered her figure. She brushed her hair until it shone, then pulled it back with a pair of tortoiseshell combs that had belonged to her grandmother.
After a last look in the mirror, she made her way downstairs and went into the kitchen where Adele was putting the finishing touches on dinner.
“Smells wonderful,” Lynnie said.
“My best pot roast,” Adele said, “with new potatoes and freshly shelled peas. And apple pie for dessert.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Lynnie said. A knock at the door made her heart skip a beat. “He’s here!”
“Dinner will be ready when you are,” Adele said.
With a nod, Lynnie hurried into the foyer. She paused, taking a deep, calming breath, before opening the door. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” He whistled softly. “You look lovely.”
She smiled, pleased by his words and the admiration in her eyes.
“I would have dressed for dinner,” he said, crossing the threshold, “but this is all I’ve got.”
“We’ll have to go into town and buy you a change of clothes,” Lynnie said, leading the way into the parlor.
“No need.”
At his words, her heart skipped a beat. Did he intend to return to the Cheyenne then?
He winked at her. “I’ll buy my own when I’ve earned my keep.”
“You’re already earned it,” she said, relieved that he intended to stay. “A change of clothes is a small price to pay for rescuing me and saving the herd.”
Blue Hawk thought that over a minute, then nodded. “Okay, boss.”
“Dinner’s ready, if you’re hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely am.”
* * * * *
Lynnie was as good as her word. Next morning, after breakfast, she had one of the hands hitch up the team and she and Blue Hawk drove into town.
He glanced from side to side as she drove down Elm Creek’s main street. The post office and the sheriff’s office were made of brick. Most of the other buildings were made of wood; many had false fronts, giving them the appearance of two-story buildings. Times hadn’t changed much, he thought. Most of the businesses here were similar to the ones back in Bear Valley – clothing stores, shoe shops, candy store, doctors and dentists, a lawyer’s office. The main difference was in the number of saloons.
Lynnie brought the team to a halt in front of Crosby’s Mercantile. Blue Hawk tied up the team, then lifted Lynnie from the wagon seat, his hands lingering at her waist. She looked as pretty and fresh as a daisy in a yellow shirtwaist and long brown skirt.
With a murmured, “Thank you,” she stepped up on the boardwalk.
Blue Hawk followed her into the mercantile. There were rows and rows of shelves and counters filled with all manner of merchandise, cook pots and pans, barrels of sugar and flour and pickles, a cabinet filled with cures for all manner of diseases, many of which he’d never heard of, boxes of cigars, sacks of tobacco and papers for cigarettes, a shelf that held a number of firearms and a variety of knives.
Lynnie by-passed them all and headed for the back of the store where several shelves held men’s pants, shirts, and footwear. “Pick out whatever you like,” she said.
With a nod, he selected a pair of black whipcord pants and a gray wool shirt.
“I like this one,” Lynnie said, picking up a dark blue shirt.
With a nod, Blue Hawk started to put the gray shirt back on the shelf, but she stayed his hand. “I think you should have both.” She held up her hand when he started to object. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“You’re the boss.”
“That’s right,” she said, grinning. “See that you don’t forget it.”
The proprietor wrapped his new clothes up in brown paper tied with string. Blue Hawk tucked the package under his arm, held the door open for Lynnie, then followed her outside.
They had only gone a short distance when a young woman came hurrying toward them. “Lynnie!”
“Hi, Audrey,” Lynnie said, smiling. “How’s your grandmother doing?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Old Doc Somerhalder said it was just a bad sprain and she’d be as good as new in a week or so. He told her she was getting too old to climb up in the loft looking for eggs. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit very well with grandma and she threw a vase at him.” Audrey laughed merrily.
“Serves him right,” Lynnie said, sharing her friend’s laughter. “Imagine telling Grandma Hetty that she’s old.” Of course, Grandma Hetty was over eighty, but apparently Hetty didn’t consider that old.
Audrey nodded, her gaze moving over Blue Hawk in a long, assessing glance. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Audrey, this i
s Daniel. Daniel, this is my best friend, Audrey Cach.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Cach,” Blue Hawk said politely.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Audrey replied archly. “Are you new in town?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lynnie moved closer to Daniel and slipped her arm through his. “Daniel’s taken, Audrey.”
Audrey took the hint with good grace. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Daniel. Lynnie, we’ve got to get together soon.” She gave Lynnie a hug, waved at Blue Hawk, and hurried down the boardwalk.
“Taken, am I?” Blue Hawk asked with a wicked grin.
“Only if you want to be,” she retorted with a saucy toss of her head.
“Honey, you can take me any time,” he drawled. His words brought a flush to her cheeks.
“Are you ready to go home?” she asked, not meeting his gaze.
Home, he thought, and wondered if he would ever see his home in Bear Valley, or his parents and siblings, again.
Chapter 12
The next few weeks were the happiest Lynnie had ever known. The more she got to know Daniel, the more she came to love him, until she couldn’t imagine her life without him. He was kind and polite, sweet and funny. He treated her with respect, always mindful of her feelings. He took his meals in the house with her and although they sometimes made love, he never spent the night with her, always returning to his place in the barn. Although she would have liked him to spend his nights with her, he demurred and she knew it was to keep her reputation intact.
Lynnie hurried through her chores in the house each day so she could go outside and watch Daniel work the rough string. Sometimes she was certain he had some sort of magic touch. No matter how rank the bronc, or how distrustful the animal was of people, Daniel always succeeded in gentling the horse and winning its trust.
Tales of Western Romance Page 23