"I want you. Now. Always."
"I'm yours," Mary replied softly. "Now. Always."
Smiling provocatively, she drew the blankets aside and then, slowly and deliberately, began to unlace the ribbons that held her nightgown together. Her eyes never left his face as she slid the flimsy garment over her head and let it fall to the floor.
Cloud Walker's mouth went dry as he watched her. Never had she seemed more tempting, more desirable. Never had he wanted her more.
With a smile brimming with love, Mary reached up and tugged Cloud Walker's shirt. Wordlessly he shrugged out of his shirt, stripped off his pants and moccasins. Still, he hesitated. He had wanted her for so long, and now she was there, only inches away, offering herself to him. His eyes moved over her face, marveling anew at the quiet beauty he saw there. Her eyes, always so revealing, spoke volumes to him now.
"Mary."
Her face glowed with desire as she reached for his hand, drawing him down beside her on the bed. His arms slid around her, his hands stroking the smooth, silken flesh that was his, all his. He caressed her breasts, thrilling to the way they filled his palms, warm and alive. His fingers stroked the valley between her thighs, then moved lazily over her abdomen. His child rested there.
"It's not Frank's," Mary said.
"I know," he said tremulously. "My heart soars like a hawk." Whispering love words in her ear, he began to kiss her. "Maheo has answered my prayers."
He had thought to make love to her tenderly, gently, slowly, but Mary was on fire for his touch. Tonight she did not want tenderness, she wanted to be possessed, masterfully and powerfully. She needed his lips on hers, branding her as his, needed to yield to his strength, to blot out all memory of Frank. She offered herself to Cloud Walker heart and soul, knowing she was where she yearned to be, where she had always belonged.
Cloud Walker understood her need, and he made love to her fiercely, his hands and mouth telling her with each caress and kiss that she belonged to him; that she would never belong to another.
Their passion bound them together in a world that was beautiful and tumultuous, and Mary felt a deep sense of peace as Cloud Walker emptied his life into her, a sense of knowing who she was and what she wanted from life. She belonged to Cloud Walker now, belonged to him in a way more binding than mere words on a marriage certificate.
She knew they faced a difficult time ahead. Frank might never give her a divorce. She might never be able to marry Cloud Walker according to the laws of man, but in her heart, Mary became Cloud Walker's wife that night.
Mary woke abruptly. Had it all been a dream? But no, Cloud Walker was lying beside her, his face only inches from her own. He was here. He had come to take her home. . . .
But she couldn't go home. Frank had threatened to take Katherine from her if she tried to leave him again, and she believed him. As much as she loved Cloud Walker, she could not take a chance of losing her daughter.
Pressing her hand to her mouth, she choked back a sob of despair. Why did life have to be so cruel?
Cloud Walker's eyes opened and he smiled drowsily as he drew Mary closer and kissed her. "How long will it take you to pack?"
Mary shook her head, her eyes filling with misery. "I can't go with you."
Cloud Walker's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
''Frank. He'll take Katherine away from me. He can do it," she cried as Cloud Walker shook his head. "He has money and power and friends in high places."
Cloud Walker was about to argue with her when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Rolling over, he slid out of bed, grabbed his knife, and stood behind the door.
Mary licked her lips nervously as Frank opened the door and entered the room.
"Get dressed," Frank said curtly. "We've been invited to the mayor's house for breakfast. I would have told you about it last night, but . . ."
Frank's voice trailed off as the door closed behind him. Turning, he saw Cloud Walker standing across the room, knife in hand. "What the hell are you doing here?" Frank exclaimed, and then he snorted derisively as he glanced from Cloud Walker to Mary. "You little slut," he hissed. "Spreading your legs for that savage right here in my house. I ought to kill you."
Mary's face went white, but her eyes blazed with anger. "Slut, am I?" she shouted. "And where have you been, husband of mine?" she sneered. "And since we're speaking of sluts, how is Lila?"
Frank's face went purple with fury. In an instant he was across the room, his hand lashing out to strike Mary across the face.
Rage filled Cloud Walker as Mary let out a cry of pain. Throwing the knife aside, he hurled himself on Frank before he could strike mary again, and the two men crashed to the floor. Cloud Walker's fists slammed into Frank Smythe's face, hammering blow after blow. Blood coated his hands as Frank's lower lip split, and Cloud Walker knew an ancient sense of satisfaction as his enemy's blood warmed his hands.
"Cloud Walker, stop!" Mary cried. "You'll kill him!"
With an effort, Cloud Walker checked his temper. Rising, he backed away from Frank, who was barely conscious.
"Pack whatever you need and let us go," Cloud Walker told Mary.
She didn't argue, but quickly donned a long gray skirt and a simple white blouse. Grabbing a small valise, she packed a change of clothing and a few toilet articles.
"I'll get Katherine while you dress," she said. She hesitated at the door, her eyes darting from Frank to Cloud Walker. Frank groaned softly as he sat up, his hand rubbing his jaw.
Mary met Cloud Walker's eyes. "Will you be all right?"
Cloud Walker nodded. "Hurry."
Frank Smythe didn't move as he watched Cloud Walker dress. A cold fury burned in his brain, but caution warned him this was not the time to make his move.
"I should have let Castrell kill you," Frank muttered under his breath.
"Yes," Cloud Walker agreed. He shoved his knife into the waistband of his pants. "I am taking Mary home, and you will not try to stop us. If you do, I will peel the skin from your body an inch at a time and leave your carcass for the wolves."
Frank nodded. "Just get the hell out of my sight," he rasped.
Twenty minutes later, Mary and Cloud Walker left the Smythe mansion. Frank stood in the doorway watching them leave, and then he went to the telephone.
The first train west left in an hour. Cloud Walker purchased their tickets, then they went to a nearby cafe for breakfast. Mary could not take her eyes from Cloud Walker, could not believe he was here to take her home, that the nightmare with Frank was finally over. She smiled at Katherine, who was babbling happily as she ate from her plate and Cloud Walker's. Katherine had been overjoyed to see Cloud Walker again, and she had refused to leave his arms.
After breakfast they walked to the depot and boarded the train. Excitement fluttered in Mary's stomach as she took a seat by a window. Home. She was going home.
Cloud Walker sat beside her, his muscles tense, his jaw rigid. Frank Smythe was not the kind of man to give up something he wanted without a fight.
Mary laughed aloud as the train lurched into motion. "Home, Katherine," she exclaimed happily. "We're going home."
"Go home," Katherine said, and clapped her hands.
The motion of the train and the constant hum of the wheels on the track soon lulled Katherine to sleep. Mary, happy and content, rested her head on Cloud Walker's shoulder and she too fell asleep.
They had stopped at a small town some sixty miles out of Chicago to take on mail and passengers when Frank Smythe and Harvey Castrell slid into the seat across from Cloud Walker. There was a .44 Colt in Castrell's hand. The barrel was aimed at Mary.
Cloud Walker's expression didn't change, though his whole body went rigid. He shook Mary gently. "Wake up."
Mary's eyes grew wide when she saw Frank and Castrell. Her hand tightened on Cloud Walker's arm.
"We're going to get up now," Frank said quietly. "All of us. We're going to get off the train, just like there was nothing wrong." He fixed Cloud Walker with
a stern look. "If you try anything, anything at all, Castrell will kill her."
Cloud Walker nodded. Rising, he held Katherine close as he walked down the narrow aisle and stepped off the train. Mary followed, her insides quaking with fear.
Castrell went to rent a buggy while Frank kept an eye on Cloud Walker and Mary.
"Why, Frank?" Mary asked. "Why won't you let me go?"
"Shut up," Frank said mildly.
Castrell arrived a few minutes later. Pulling a length of rope from his back pocket, he tied Cloud Walker's hands behind his back and shoved him into the buggy. Mary followed, holding Katherine. Frank slid in beside her. Castrell drove the team.
Mary's heart slammed against her chest as her fear grew steadily worse. It was obvious that Frank meant to kill Cloud Walker and dispose of the body where it wouldn't be found. And it would never be found out here, she thought, at least not for a long long time. They were in the woods, going deeper and deeper. Tall trees reached toward the sky, bushes and shrubs grew profusely, their long branches making the way difficult. There seemed to be no path, no trail that would indicate people had passed this way recently. It was a deserted stretch of country, populated by only a handful of people who manned the train depot.
Cloud Walker kept his eyes on Frank. What did the man have in mind? The answer burned in his brain even as the question took shape. It was obvious that Frank meant to kill him and take Mary back to Chicago.
An icy calm settled over Cloud Walker as Castrell reined the team to a halt. They were deep in the heart of the forest now.
"Get out," Frank said.
Mary looked at Cloud Walker, her face as pale as death, her eyes wide with fear.
"Do as he says," Cloud Walker said, his voice betraying none of the apprehension he was feeling. "It will be all right."
Clutching Katherine to her breast, Mary climbed from the buggy, followed by Cloud Walker and Frank. Castrell jumped from the driver's seat and came to stand beside Frank.
"What are you going to do?" Mary's voice was a hoarse whisper.
Frank grinned maliciously. "I'm going to castrate that sonofabitch, and then I'm going to kill him. But first I'm going to beat the hell out of him."
"No." Mary shook her head. "Please, Frank."
"'Please, Frank,'" he mocked. "It's too late for please, my dear."
Mary's heart filled with despair as Frank drove his fist into Cloud Walker's midsection. "Nobody takes what's mine," Frank growled, his fist smashing into Cloud Walker's face. "Nobody."
"Frank, stop!"
"Shut up, you slut!" Frank roared. "Or you'll be next."
Smythe hit Cloud Walker again, and Katherine began to cry. Choking back her own tears, Mary covered her daughter's eyes.
At last Frank stepped back. He rubbed his bruised knuckles, his eyes bright with satisfaction when he saw the damage he had done.
"Ready, Frank?" Castrell asked.
Frank nodded, and Castrell yanked Cloud Walker's trousers down around his ankles, then shoved him to the ground.
Mary felt the blood drain from her face as Harvey Castrell pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt and handed it to Frank.
Cloud Walker began to struggle as best he could with his hands tied behind his back until Castrell jabbed the barrel of his Colt under his chin.
Frank knelt beside Cloud Walker, his lips pulled back in a venomous grin. "Spread 'em," he said curtly.
Cloud Walker was breathing heavily. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth and a dozen minor cuts, but he was hardly aware of the pain. His eyes glittered savagely as he glared at Frank Smythe. Sweat poured down his face as he eyed the skinning knife clutched in Frank's right hand. He could hear Mary sobbing, and he felt suddenly sorry that she would have to witness what was about to happen.
"Spread 'em," Frank said again. "When I get through with you, you'll never bed another white woman, or any other kind."
Cloud Walker closed his eyes, his jaw rigid, as he felt cold steel touch his genitals. It was going to happen, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was suddenly glad that Frank meant to kill him when it was over. Death would be better than living the rest of his life as half a man.
Mary watched what was happening, unable to believe her eyes, unable to believe that even Frank could be so cruel. She saw Cloud Walker flinch as Frank pressed the knife to his flesh, and she knew with awful certainty that Frank meant to do it. In an instant, she placed Katherine on the ground, scooped up a sturdy tree limb lying on the ground next to her foot, and ran forward.
"Mama!"
At Katherine's cry, Frank swung around. Muttering an oath, he dropped the knife and scrambled out of harm's way. Castrell was not quite so fast, and Mary struck him across the side of the head with the makeshift club. He fell sideways without a sound, knocked unconscious by the blow.
Katherine stared at her mother. Frightened by the violence she feared and did not understand, she started toward Cloud Walker. He would protect her.
Tossing the club away, Mary dropped to her knees and grabbed Castrell's gun from his holster. Scrambling around, she aimed the gun at Frank, felt her blood turn cold when she saw that Frank was smiling. There was a gun in his hand now, and the barrel was aimed at Cloud Walker.
"Tell him good-bye," Frank said. His voice was raw, his eyes filled with a lust for blood as his thumb drew the hammer to full cock.
There was no time to think. There was only time to act. She knew that Frank meant to kill Cloud Walker and that she had to stop him.
With a wordless cry, she squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed into Frank's shoulder, numbing his arm so that he dropped the gun just as Katherine reached for Cloud Walker. The gun discharged as it hit the ground. The heavy .45 caliber slug passed through Katherine's body on an upward trajectory and came to rest just under Mary's right breast.
Mary let out an anguished scream as she saw her daughter collapse, and then she toppled to the ground.
Frank Smythe's face paled as his daughter fell, and he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
Rage pumped adrenalin into Cloud Walker's limbs as he watched Mary and Katherine fall. With a mighty effort, he burst his bonds.
"You bastard," Cloud Walker hissed, his hands reaching for Frank's throat.
Smythe recovered quickly. There was death in Cloud Walker's narrow-eyed gaze, and Frank dived for the gun he had dropped as he rolled out of harm's way, cursing as the movement sent a shaft of pain darting through his wounded shoulder.
Cloud Walker was moving, too, his hand grabbing the gun that had fallen from Mary's hand.
Two gunshots cracked in the stillness, and when the smoke cleared, Frank Smythe was dead.
Grief and anger warred in Cloud Walker's heart as he gazed down upon the man sprawled at his feet. This was the enemy, the man who had killed everything he loved. With a wild cry of pain and rage, he grabbed Castrell's knife and lifted Frank's scalp.
It was only then, as he stared at the grisly trophy in his hand, that his rage cooled and reality set in. Flinging the bloody scalp away, he knelt between Mary and Katherine, unmindful of the tears that dampened his cheeks. Katherine was dead, and Mary too. . . .
His heart quickened with unreasoning hope as Mary's body jerked spasmodically. She was alive! He moved quickly now. Using matches he found in Smythe's coat pocket, he lit a small fire. Wiping Frank's blood from the knife, he heated the blade in the fire to sterilize it, then let it cool. The bullet that was lodged in Mary's breast would have to be removed, and it would be easier to do it now while she was unconscious.
Cutting into Mary's tender flesh was the hardest thing he had ever done. She groaned, her face contorting with pain as he probed for the slug. Her eyes flew open as the tip of the blade located the bullet.
"Lie still," Cloud Walker said.
"What happened?"
"You've been hurt. Just lie still."
"Katherine. I want Katherine."
He could not speak, could not s
ay the words that he knew would shatter her world.
Mary stared into Cloud Walker's eyes. His silence said it all, and she began to cry, great wracking sobs that came from the depths of her heart and soul. Her daughter was dead. So great was her pain at Katherine's death that she hardly felt the knife as it pried the slug from her flesh. She cried as Cloud Walker wiped the blood from the wound and then bandaged it with a strip of cloth torn from her petticoat.
She pushed him away when he would have gathered her into his arms. "No," she sobbed. "Leave me alone."
"Mary." The pain in his voice was only a little less acute than hers, but she did not hear it. Her daughter was dead and it was all his fault. If he hadn't come after her, Katherine would still be alive.
She wept until exhaustion claimed her.
Lifting Mary in his arms, Cloud Walker carried her deeper into the woods until he found a place beneath a tree that was smooth and carpeted with grass. Gently he placed her on the ground and covered her with his jacket. He sat beside her for several minutes, silently thanking Man Above that she was alive.
Sitting there, with the tension slowly draining out of him, he became aware of the aches and pains that Frank's beating had inflicted. Lifting a hand to his face, he grimaced as his fingers encountered bruised flesh. His left eye was swollen and sore.
He could hear the soft trickling of water rolling over stones some yards away. With a grunt, he stood up and made his way to the shallow stream where he washed the blood from his face and hands, and then took a long drink. The water was cold and sweet.
It was peaceful near the stream and he would have liked to stay there longer, but there were things to be done. Smythe had to be buried. Castrell would have to be taken care of. He thought briefly of killing the man, but enough blood had been shed for one day. And katherine . . . tears stung his eyes as he thought of her running toward him, her arms outstretched, only to be killed by the same bullet that had wounded her mother.
When he reached the bodies, he saw that Castrell and one of the coach horses were gone, but there was no time to worry about Harvey Castrell. With any luck, he would die before he reached help.
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