Tales of Western Romance

by Baker, Madeline

  Jase never missed an opportunity to demean Daniel, but there was little Jase could say against him. Daniel worked hard and even though it was obvious he had no liking for Jase, he gave Jase the respect he deserved as foreman. And no one on the ranch could deny that Daniel was the best wrangler they’d ever had.

  She applauded him as he put one of the mares through its paces, reining right and left, taking the mare around the corral, first in one direction and then the other, the lead changes as smooth as silk.

  He brought the horse to a halt, backed her up a few paces, then dismounted. He dropped the reins, then looked at Lynnie. “Do you want to try her?”

  With a nod, Lynnie slid off the corral fence and approached the mare.

  Daniel lifted Lynnie into the saddle. He knew it wasn’t necessary; she’d been riding since before she could walk, but it gave him an excuse to hold her, if only for a few moments.

  He leaned against the corral, arms folded over his chest, while he watched her. She rode easily, her movements in perfect rhythm with the mare’s. They made a beautiful picture, the dark-haired lady and the long-legged chestnut mare.

  Lynnie drew rein in front of Daniel. “You’re amazing,” she exclaimed. Leaning forward, she stroked the mare’s neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d never believe that this mare had been as green as new grass just a few weeks ago.”

  “Like I said, I had a good teacher.”

  “I wish I could meet your parents,” Lynnie said. The longer she knew Daniel, the more curious she was about the people who had raised him.

  “I wish I could arrange it. You’d love my mom.”

  Lynnie thought briefly of her own mother. Except for a letter every now and then, she hadn’t seen Jeanette in almost nine years.

  Swinging out of the saddle, she handed the reins to Daniel.

  “That’s the last of ‘em,” Blue Hawk said. “They’re all prime.”

  “I can’t believe you got done so quickly.” She blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “I know Sergeant Nichols will be pleased with this bunch.” She smiled up at him. “See you at dinner?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said with a wink.

  * * * * *

  Blue Hawk sat back in his chair, feeling utterly content as he sipped a second cup of coffee. He’d put in a good day’s work and eaten a hearty meal with a beautiful woman. Life didn’t get much better than that.

  Adele was clearing the table when someone knocked at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Lynnie said, pushing away from the table.

  “Probably that old man, Henry Russell, coming to call again,” Adele muttered.

  “Who’s he?” Blue Hawk asked.

  “He owns the ranch just south of here,” Adele said. “He’s been courting Lynnie for the last four or five months.”

  “Really?” Blue Hawk grunted softly. “She’s never mentioned him.”

  “She’s tried to discourage him every way she knows without insulting him.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Blue Hawk said, and tossing his napkin on the table, he strolled into the parlor.

  Russell was a tall, spare man with brown eyes under bushy brows, a thin mustache and long sideburns touched with gray. The man was forty, if he was a day.

  “Who’s this?” Russell asked, his voice just shy of rude as he stared at Blue Hawk.

  “Henry, this is my new hand, Daniel Blue Hawk. Daniel, this is my neighbor, Henry Russell. He was a friend of my father’s.”

  “And yours, of course,” Russell said with an oily smile.

  Blue Hawk extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said coolly.

  Russell shook his hand briefly, then rubbed his palms on the sides of his trousers, as if his hands were suddenly dirty. “Indian, are you?”

  “Cheyenne.” Blue Hawk bit off the word, his eyes narrowing angrily.

  “Please, gentlemen,” Lynnie said, stressing the word, “won’t you sit down?”

  “I’m sure Mister Blue Hawk has somewhere else to be,” Russell said. Sitting on the sofa, he waited expectantly for Blue Hawk to leave the room.

  “Actually,” Blue Hawk said, taking a place on the opposite couch, “I don’t.”

  Lynnie glanced from one man to the other, and then, murmuring, “Isn’t this nice?” she sat down next to Daniel, hoping Henry would take the hint. He didn’t, of course.

  “The Fourth of July social is day after tomorrow,” the rancher said, ignoring Daniel. “We talked about it several weeks ago. What time shall I pick you up?”

  “You never actually invited me, Henry, and I’m afraid I’ve already accepted Daniel’s invitation,” she said, hoping Daniel would forgive her for involving him in her deception.

  A dark red flush stained Henry’s cheeks. “I see,” he said stiffly. Rising, he sketched a bow in Lynnie’s direction. “No need to see me out,” he said when she started to rise.

  A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

  “That went well,” Blue Hawk remarked.

  “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings,” Lynnie said.

  “You hurt his pride. I don’t think he’ll be back.” He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, his fingers delving into the hair at her nape. “A social, huh?”

  “You don’t have to go, I just couldn’t think of any other way to get out of going with Henry.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Blue Hawk said.

  “Oh, it is!” Lynnie said enthusiastically. “They have horse races and foot races and games for the kids, and a pie eating contest, and later, there’s dancing.” She slid a glance at him. “Do you dance?”

  “You bet.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Rain dance. War dance. Scalp dance. Sweetheart’s Dance. Matchmaking Dance. Round Dance. Slippery Dance. Galloping Buffalo Bull Dance.”

  She was laughing by the time he finished. “Galloping Buffalo Bull Dance? You’re making that up!”

  “Nope. It starts in a circle. When the drumming begins, three or four women dance toward the men. When they’re close to them, the women turn their backs and begin dancing bent over, backs up, like buffalo. If there are four women dancing, four men get up and join them, also stooped over, like the women. More women join the dance, and then more men. When everyone is dancing, they form a long row, all stooped over, until the drummers call for them to make a circle. Everyone sings while they dance. It’s usually the last dance of the night.”

  “Hmm,” Lynnie said, looking serious. “That doesn’t sound much like a waltz.”

  “No,” Blue Hawk agreed, laughing. “It doesn’t.” Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek, then whispered, “I guess it’s a good thing my mom taught me how to dance like a white man.”

  * * * * *

  The Fourth of July bloomed bright and clear. Lynnie and Adele spent the morning making potato salad and fried chicken to go with the pies and cakes they had made the night before.

  As instructed, Blue Hawk had the wagon out front by ten-thirty and after loading the wagon bed with blankets and baskets of food, he helped Lynnie and Adele climb onto the seat; then, after swinging up beside Lynnie, he took up the reins and set out for town.

  He heard the sounds of merry-making long before they reached the site of the social, which was located in a wide grassy area on the outskirts of town. Banners and bunting decorated the store fronts. Tinny piano music blared from one of the saloons. Blue Hawk recognized several Slash Bar R horses tied up at the hitch rail in front of the Lady Jay.

  Kids and dogs ran everywhere, horses shied as fireworks went off intermittently.

  Long tables had been set up in the shade; a number of ladies in long dresses and bonnets were gathered around tables decorated with red, white, and blue bunting.

  Blue Hawk parked the wagon under a tree and after tethering the team, he lifted Adele and Lynnie from the wagon, then helped carry the blankets and baskets to a shady spot near the bandstand.

  “We need to go help the minister’s wife set the tables,” Lynnie
said. “We won’t be long.”

  Blue Hawk nodded. After spreading out one of the blankets, he sat down, his back against a tree, one arm draped over his bent knee, as he watched the activities around him.

  A handful of boys were playing catch. A trio of teenage girls stood on the bandstand, singing “Oh, Susannah,” accompanied by fiddle and flute. Across the way, a number of men were hooting and hollering while two stout young men engaged in a wrestling contest. A pair of old men wearing overalls and battered hats had turned a crate on its end and were playing chess. A half-dozen other men stood watching them.

  Blue Hawk turned his attention to Lynnie. Clad in a white shirtwaist and a long green skirt, she was busy helping the other women set out pies, cakes, and cookies on one of the long tables. He felt his heart swell with warmth when she turned to smile at him. He had it bad, he thought, smiling back. Really bad, when all he wanted to do was carry her away to some place private and make love to her. Until then, he was content to watch her.

  The afternoon passed pleasantly enough. He ate lunch with Adele and Lynnie, laughed along with everyone else during the pie-eating contest and the three-legged races.

  As the sun began to set, he snagged Lynnie’s hand and led her away from the crowd.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, hurrying to keep up with him.

  “Someplace where we can be alone.”

  “Oh? Oh...” She smiled as he pulled her behind a tree and kissed her lightly, and then more deeply. She leaned into him, loving the way his arm tightened around her waist, the touch of his hand in her hair, the hard length of his thigh against her own.

  Lost in the sweetness of her kisses, Blue Hawk groaned softly, and then went suddenly still as Fox Hunter’s voice whispered a warning in the back of his mind.

  The Great Spirit will tell you when it is time to return. If you do not heed the call, the way will be closed to you forever.

  He went cold all over with the realization that the time Fox Hunter had spoken of would soon be upon him.

  Lifting his head, Blue Hawk gazed into Lynnie’s eyes. And now it was his father’s voice he heard, telling him that when he met the right woman, he would know it. Lynnie was that woman, he was sure of it. But why had he found her here, in this time, and not his own?

  How could he stay, knowing he would never see his mother and father again? Never see Hawk or Blackie or Mary, or any of their children. His ties to home ran deep, bound by blood to his family and to the land that had nourished them. If he stayed here, his parents would never know what had become of him.

  And yet, how could he return to Bear Valley? What kind of future would he have without the woman he loved? How could he leave her when it meant never seeing her again? Never tasting her kisses or holding her in his arms? Never hearing her laughter, or seeing her smile?

  “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

  “I need to go back to the hill where you first found me.”

  Her gaze searched his and then, feeling a sudden chill, as if someone had walked over her grave, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, knowing that the day she had dreaded had arrived.

  He made love to her when they got home that night. Each touch, each kiss and caress tinged with a kind of desperation, each word edged with sadness and longing. She didn’t beg him to stay. How would she survive the night if he refused? Besides, she had no right to ask him to stay. He hadn’t come back in time to find her, but to spend time with the Cheyenne, to live in the old way. She had robbed him of that. She would not rob him of the family that waited for him back in his own time.

  He didn’t spend the night in the barn as he usually did. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Was it because he was leaving? Or because he had decided to stay? She prayed for the latter. Hoped he had changed his mind, until he gathered her into his arms and kissed her good night. His kiss was achingly tender and she blinked back her tears, knowing it was a prelude to goodbye.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Blue Hawk rose before dawn. After saddling the dun, he rode away from the ranch, his heart heavy, already aching with missing her.

  He lost track of time as he rode, his mind replaying every moment he had spent with Lynnie, every touch they had shared, every kiss and caress. Last night, in his arms, she had held nothing back. Her love had poured over him, warm and indescribably sweet.

  The sun was high in the sky when he reached the top of the hill. The brush hut was still there, looking a little the worse for wear for having braved the elements. Lifting the flap, he peered inside. The blanket, the wooden tub, and Fox Hunter’s pipe were where he had left them. His clothes were there, too, neatly folded. Although he knew it was only his imagination, he could have sworn the scent of tobacco from Fox Hunter’s pipe still lingered in the air.

  Straightening, Blue Hawk looked up, his arms reaching toward heaven. “Hear me, Maheo,” he called. “Help me to know what I should do, which path I should follow.”

  He paused, listening, but heard only the sighing of the wind.

  “Half of my heart yearns to stay here, with my woman. The other half yearns to go home to my people. I am torn between the two.”

  The wind rose, stirring the dust at his feet, rustling the leaves on the trees.

  Blue Hawk stood there, arms raised, the sun beating down on his head, sweat trickling down his back, until the sun began to slip into the west.

  Lowering his arms, he shook his head. Had he really expected an answer?

  The wind ruffled his hair, sending a chill skittering down his spine.

  Tomorrow, before the sun sets, whispered the wind. If you wish to save the woman, bring her with you.

  Chapter 13

  If you wish to save the woman, bring her with you. Blue Hawk pondered those words and what they might mean as he rode back to the ranch. He shook his head. Save Lynnie? Save her from what? Hoping for enlightenment, he had stayed on the summit for an hour after hearing those ominous words, but the wind had died away and silence had reigned on the top of the hill.

  It was dark when Blue Hawk rode into the yard. After unsaddling the dun, he took the porch stairs two at a time and stepped into the house.

  He found Lynnie sitting on the sofa in the parlor, a handkerchief in her hand, her eyes red and swollen. “Lynnie, what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling in front of her.

  “You’re here.”

  “Of course, where else would I be?”

  “I thought…” She sniffed. “I thought you went back.”

  “I wouldn’t go without telling you goodbye.” He reached for her and she slid off the sofa into his lap. “Lynnie.” He kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “Please, don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Blue Hawk sucked in a deep breath. “I love you, Lynette Richardson. No matter what the future holds, don’t ever forget that.”

  “I…I won’t. I…love you, too.”

  He crushed her close, his hand stroking her hair. How was he going to get her to go back with him? Would she believe him if he told her the wind had spoken to him? Hell, now that he was away from the hill, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

  * * * * *

  Lynnie slid a glance at Daniel. Earlier, she had fixed him dinner; now, they sat side by side on the sofa, an awkward silence between them.

  “Where did you go so early this morning?” she asked.

  “I went back to the hill where you found me.”

  “Oh.” She took a deep breath, certain her heart was breaking. She didn’t have to ask why. She knew. His time here was almost up.

  “Lynnie, I’ve got to go.”

  She blinked rapidly to hold back her tears. “I know.”

  When she started to rise, he took hold of her hand, pulling her back down beside him. “Lynnie, I went there to pray.”

  She stared at him. She hadn’t prayed much lately. After the deaths of her parents, she hadn’t been sure anyone was listening. “What were you praying for?”

&nbs
p; “Guidance. I want to stay here, with you,” he said, squeezing her hand, “but I feel like I need to go home.” He took a deep breath. “And you should come with me.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “God told you that?”

  “In a way.” He closed his eyes for a moment and in that instant, he saw the ranch house. It was engulfed in flames. Cowhands lay dead in the yard. Ese’henahkohe and dozens of young Cheyenne warriors were silhouetted in the fire. Blue Hawk shook his head. Had he caused this by coming here? Or had he been sent here to save Lynnie? Either way, he had to get her away from the ranch before tomorrow night.

  “What are you talking about? Daniel? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “You have to trust me, Lynnie. We have to leave here. Everyone has to leave here tomorrow, before sundown.”

  “Daniel, you’re scaring me.”

  “I know.” Springing to his feet, he began to pace the room. “The Cheyenne are going to attack the ranch tomorrow night. If we don’t get out of here, they’ll kill us all. You have to believe me.”

  She stared up at him. His face was lined with worry, his eyes dark, haunted. She had no doubt he believed what he was saying. “How can you know this?”

  “The wind told me,” he said.

  “The wind?”

  “The Great Spirit spoke to me through the wind,” he clarified. “I know it sounds crazy, but you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I believe in you,” Lynnie said. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  * * * * *

  Lynnie went to talk to the cowhands first thing in the morning. Jase and the other men looked at her as if she’d gone insane when she ordered them to pack up their belongings and go into town, and instructed them to take Adele with them.

  Grumbling, the men went to do as bidden.

  Returning to the house, Lynnie went into her bedroom and packed the few things she owned that were important to her – a tintype of her mother and father on their wedding day, her father’s silver pocket watch, a delicate figurine of a ballerina that had belonged to her grandmother. Lynnie glanced around her room, adding her mother’s pearls and wedding ring to the pile. There were surprisingly few mementos she cared about, she thought, but then things had never been important to her. She folded her favorite dress and put in into her valise, along with her hairbrush, pins, and a change of underwear.