Texas Passion

by Sara Orwig

  The first few drumbeats were so dim, Rachel wasn’t certain whether she had imagined them or not. Then she heard clearly a repetitious sound of drums. “Rachel, what’s that noise?” Abby asked while Rachel’s pulse jumped. Pray the Kiowa could and would be willing to help Pa.

  “Maybe we’re getting close to the Kiowa camp.” In minutes the noise was loud and clear, steady drumbeats and chanting that rose and fell, a primitive sound so different from all she had ever known that it sent a chill across her nape.

  At the top of a rise Dan reined in, turning in the saddle. She drew a deep breath moving up beside him. Down the slope on a level stretch of ground, was a circle of tipis, smoke rising from several of them. Fire blazed in the center of the camp and dancers pranced while drums beat loudly.

  She felt uncertain, yet hopeful the Kiowa would help Pa. “Thank heavens!” She slowed to stop as Dan rode close beside her.

  “Red, let me do the talking.”

  She nodded, willing to cooperate with him, wanting help for Pa. They rode slowly toward the camp, and she wondered how long before someone would spot them or come to meet them. Would they be friendly because of Dan?

  She realized as they entered the camp that the Kiowa knew they were coming. Women gathered and stood watching them; men turned to look at them. Dancers continued their chants, stomping their feet and moving while orange sparks danced skyward from the flickering fire. Dan rode in silence, sitting up straight, gazing ahead. The tipis were in a circle, openings all facing east, an orderliness to the camp that reassured her. A man in a feathered headdress came forward and Dan reined in his horse. Behind the man was a warrior she remembered from the trail two days earlier.

  Dan spoke to them in Kiowa, and she sat quietly waiting, seeing some of the women turn to look at the wagon. In minutes Dan climbed inside and picked up Pa, lifting him out.

  “Can I go with you?”

  “If you’ll follow me and keep quiet. The rest of you should wait here.”

  Rachel climbed down, walking behind him while he carried Pa and the crowd parted for them. A man came forward with ocher streaks painted on his face. A small bag was around his neck, ocher paint on his body. He spoke with Dan and shook a buffalo hoof rattle over Pa. Motioning to Dan to follow, he led the way. Dancers parted, and Dan followed the medicine man into a large conical tipi while she trailed behind them.

  Dan placed Pa on an elevated bed of willow rods covered by hides. Shaking the rattle over him, he began to chant as Dan moved away, stepping back beside her. Two warriors brought a flame from the campfire and started a fire, burning buffalo chips in the firepit. Smoke curled upward through the vent at the top of the tipi.

  “He’s a medicine man,” Dan explained. “They’re having a dance, because a buffalo herd is in the area and soon they’ll hunt again. The Yapahe, certain men, the dog soldiers, are holding the herd and they’ll tell everyone when to break camp to make a run on the buffalo.”

  She watched as the medicine man carried a bowl to Pa’s side to wash the wound. Pa gasped, his eyes fluttering open. Rachel started to step to his side, but Dan took her arm and shook his head. She bit her lip, standing still and watching, praying the medicine man could help him.

  He moved to the fire to place a kettle on the logs. She watched as he opened a container to remove tallow, melting it over the fire. Dan held her arm tightly, stepping in front of her as two men moved to Pa to hold him down. She realized the medicine man was going to pour the hot tallow into the wound.

  She closed her eyes and felt Dan’s hands on her shoulders while Dan gave her a squeeze. When she heard Pa’s hoarse yell, she bit her lip to keep from crying aloud.

  “He’s fainted,” Dan said, stepping away from in front of her. His fingers closed lightly around her upper arm. Pa looked pale and limp, the men moving away from him, while the medicine man worked over Pa. He placed a covering of willow over the wound in front and in back, binding it in place. Raising his arms, he chanted, shaking the rattle over Pa.

  He turned to Dan, speaking swiftly, the words that sounded strange to her ears.

  Dan motioned to her. “We’ll leave him now.”

  “You think this can help Pa?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen men shot worse than he is or warriors shot with arrows that had to be cut out and they’ve been healed by a medicine man.”

  As they headed toward the wagon, skirting the dancers and observers, a warrior loomed up in front of Dan. His face was streaked with paint, and he wore eagle feathers in his hair; silver plates were fastened to his long braid that hung to his waist. Looking fierce and handsome, he gazed steadfastly at Dan.

  They exchanged words, and she wondered what was happening. Was Dan welcome here? The man glanced at her and back to Dan, nodding and suddenly smiling. She felt a shock, because he bore a resemblance to Dan that hadn’t shown until he smiled. As he turned away, Dan took her arm.

  “We get the wagon and follow him.”

  “Who is he?” she said in a low voice as they followed the man. He strode across the campgrounds, people moving out of his way.

  “He’s a chief, Spotted Wolf. He’s my cousin.”

  Dan swung her up into the wagon and climbed up beside her. Picking up the reins, he drove the team to the edge of the circle of tipis where he jumped down.

  “We’re guests,” he said, lifting her down. “They think you’re my wife and there’s no need to convince them otherwise.” He glanced past her as Josh jumped down. Lifting Abigail down, Dan handed Lissa to her. A slender boy only inches taller than Josh appeared.

  “Josh, get the team unhitched. This is Running Bird, and he’ll show you where to take the horses,” Dan said.

  Looking at Abigail, Chief Spotted Wolf said something to Dan. Rachel waited while Dan answered him, and the chief turned to stride away.

  “They’ve given us a tipi,” Dan said. Rachel stepped inside a tipi twenty feet in diameter, far more inviting than she would have guessed. Near the entrance were rawhide storage containers and cooking utensils. Hide beds were placed along the sides and back with rawhide storage boxes behind them.

  “We’ve put someone out of their tipi.”

  “It’s their hospitality. Accept it,” Dan said. “After spending a year with them, when I left to go back to Louisiana, I gave Spotted Wolf all my possessions. I gave him my tipi, three horses, all the things I had. So he feels he is returning some of that now. He wants us to stay in his tipi.” Dan held her arm. “The custom for living in a tipi, is men to the north, women to the south. When families gather in the tipis, it is considered polite to go behind people rather than between them and the fire.”

  He set down a trunk from the wagon. “Get what you need and if you have a dress in all those trunks, you should put it on. They won’t understand your clothing.” He motioned toward the storage boxes. “Those hold weapons and riding gear on the north side. The utensils, food, women’s belongings will be to the left.”

  Gazing around her, Rachel was amazed at the size of the tipi and the appealing interior. Pictures were painted on the hide lining. She touched a large bag hanging from a pole.

  “That contains water,” Dan said, placing Eb’s Winchester against a storage box. He turned to face them. “Josh, come with me. The women will appear soon to get you,” he said to Rachel. “You and Abigail and Lissa will go with them. Don’t be afraid, because they’ve welcomed us.” He left with Josh and returned in minutes with something folded in his hands.

  “The women are waiting. They have gifts for you and Abigail,” he said, handing them each folded buckskin. Rachel took what he offered and unfolded a buckskin dress and soft, deerskin moccasins. Silver earrings were with each dress.

  “This is an elaborate gift! They don’t even know us.”

  “They think you’re my woman and they know Abigail is your sister, so that makes her my woman too. Do you have anything to give in return?”

  “I need to look in my trunk.”

  He nodded. “C
hange to the dress. I’ll tell them it will take time.” He stooped to leave through the narrow opening.

  When she stepped outside, Dan was waiting. He turned to look at her and smiled, his features softening, his dark eyes warmly appraising. Self-conscious in the dress that was so different from anything she had ever worn, she blushed. Her ankles were bare, something new that made her feel partially exposed.

  “You look pretty,” he replied in a deep voice that played over her nerves.

  “Thank you,” she answered quietly while she felt a rush of pleasure at his compliment. “The dress is more comfortable than I would have guessed.”

  “Let’s go look in the trunk. They’ll be back soon.”

  They crossed the short distance to the wagon and he sprang up, lifting her up easily. As he set her on her feet in the wagon, she rested her hands on his forearms and looked up into his eyes.

  “You look beautiful in buckskin,” he said quietly, keeping his hands on her waist.

  Her heart missed beats as he stared at her. An excitement coursed that she didn’t want to feel because Dan Overton was dangerous. How easily he had changed to his Kiowa ways. How easily he might revert to bounty hunter. “You were good with Pa today. And you were right about the ambush.”

  “And you took my orders,” he said with amusement, his warm brown eyes seeming to draw her closer. They stared at each other and the moment became tense between them. His lids lowered a fraction as his gaze drifted down to her mouth. He pulled her against him. With her heart racing, her hands came up against his bare chest, touching his warm skin. She ran her hands across his chest, hearing his sharp intake of breath.

  As her hands fluttered over his muscled chest, over his shoulders, she wanted his kisses. During the moments of danger today, they had all been near death, and afterwards, she realized she had missed so much during the war years. She was older now, a spinster and she would never know nights of love and a man’s arms. She wanted to be kissed and held if only for a moment and even if Dan was a threat. There was a part of him that was good and kind to her family.

  With a soft cry, she melted against him, sliding her hand to his nape, her fingers winding in his long hair. For a heartbeat he watched her. Surprise, pleasure, she wasn’t certain what flared in the depths of his dark eyes. His head bent, his mouth covering hers, opening hers. His tongue touched hers and thrust deep into her mouth and she felt as if she would faint from the sensations that rocked her. Warmth started low in her body, filling her with a heated lethargy, with a need to move her hips closer against him.

  Dan tightened his arm around her; his shaft was hard, thrusting against the confines of his trousers, against her softness pressing him. He wanted to shove her down and reach beneath the buckskin, but even if she would allow it, there wasn’t time.

  He slid his hand down the loose neck of the dress to touch her soft breast. When she moaned in his arms, he shook with a burning need. She wanted to be loved. She responded to his lightest touch and she returned his kisses, matching his passion, making him hard.

  Knowing he had to stop, he released her. He stared through the darkness at this woman who had fought him constantly, who would haunt his dreams when he arrested her father. He wanted her more than he would have believed possible and she should be as forbidden to him as the apple to Adam.

  “Where’s the damned trunk?” he asked in a raspy voice that was strained by desire and anger over circumstances.

  She turned away and knelt, shoving aside a stack of books and opening a trunk. He saw her hands were shaking, and he drew a deep breath as he realized the intensity of her desire.

  Rummaging wildly, she tossed things out of the trunk. When he caught her hand in his, she looked up. “Calm down, Red,” he said quietly, wanting desperately to hold her, to spend long slow hours loving her, to ease his aching desire in her warm softness. Yet if he did, he would find a hell that might be unbearable. He could not get entangled with her and then turn her father in to hang. And he was going to arrest Eb soon.

  Embarrassed, Rachel glanced up at Dan, aware of his fingers lightly holding her wrist, of him standing so close to her. He released her, and she picked up a box. In minutes she had necklaces, bracelets, two shawls, a music box, and a hair brush.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind parting with all of those things?”

  “No. The wagon is loaded with things from home and if your people save Pa, I will be grateful forever.”

  He stared at her, hating himself, knowing he was going to hurt her and she didn’t deserve it. She was caring and responsible, giving completely to her family. Clamping his jaw closed tightly, he jumped down and lifted her down, his hands lingering on her waist as he looked at her. “I’ll take the music box to Chief Spotted Wolf and tell him you want to give it to his wife.”

  “Take whatever things you want,” she said, more aware of him and his fingers brushing against hers than of what he was taking for gifts. Along with the music box he took a shawl and a gold locket.

  With his fingers lightly on Rachel’s arm, they went back to the tipi where women waited. Dan said words she couldn’t understand, pointing to Abigail and to her, to Lissa who was held in Abigail’s arms.

  “Give them the gifts. Try to learn a few words. Morning Cloud will stay with you,” he said, nodding toward a woman who stared at her. The woman was inches shorter than Rachel, her skin darker, flawless and smooth, her silky black hair parted and braided.

  “Rachel,” Abigail whispered. “Will they hurt us?”

  “No. They’re friendly. Here, give one of them a necklace.” She thrust a necklace and bracelet into Abigail’s hand and then she turned to the woman Dan had called Morning Cloud. She took the woman’s hand to give her a pewter necklace with a sapphire stone.

  “From me to you,” she said and smiled.

  Morning Cloud turned the necklace in her hand and smiled, revealing even white teeth as she held up the necklace. She turned it in her hands, murmuring over it.

  Rachel unfastened the clasp and placed it around Morning Cloud’s slender neck. For the next few minutes they distributed gifts and when a woman reached for Lissa, Abigail handed her over. Morning Cloud took Rachel’s hand to lead her toward a fire where a pot of boiled beef bubbled. Women crowded around, touching her hair, her arms, chattering in words she couldn’t understand.

  They ate and watched the dancers, men and women shuffling their feet and prancing. She noticed Dan and her breath caught as she looked at him. He wore a breechcloth on a leather thong that circled his waist, leaving most of his lean, muscled body bare.

  She couldn’t look away, her gaze running over his bare back, the curve of his firm buttocks, his long, muscled legs. He wore moccasins, and his face was streaked with ocher paint. Looking fierce and virile, he took her breath to watch him. He moved with an efficient, masculine grace as he joined the dancers, and as she watched he turned and his dark eyes looked into hers. Could he see what she felt? Her body tingled in response, nerves coming to life, her breasts feeling full. The warm ache low inside her came, a need for completion, for his hard body against hers.

  Lissa tugged on her skirt and Rachel turned back to give Lissa a bite of beef.

  All evening she spent with the women while they cleaned up after everyone had eaten. She learned what she thought were names of three women, but little else of the language.

  Finally Morning Cloud led them back to their tipi and left them.

  “Do we sleep in these dresses?” Abigail asked.

  “Sleep in your nightgown,” Rachel said while she changed Lissa.

  “Dan Overton will sleep within yards of us,” she said. “It isn’t proper to wear a nightgown.”

  “Abigail, it isn’t proper for us to sleep only feet away from him, but we have no choice.” Rachel slipped off the buckskin, pulling on a white cotton gown. Within minutes after she stretched on a hide, she heard Abigail’s steady breathing. Rachel had closed the tipi flap, but could see a tiny patch of sky t
hrough the smoke vent at the top of the tipi.

  How was Pa doing? When would she be able to see him again? She thought about the moments in the wagon with Dan Overton. He was a complex man and she was seeing another side to him now, yet he still kept part of himself shut away from others and she knew the dangers in the importance he was beginning to hold for her.

  The tipi flap opened, and Josh entered. She felt a shock looking at him because he wore a breechcloth and looked like one of the children of the tribe.

  “The others are going to sleep. I like it here, Rachel.”

  “Can you understand anything they say?”

  “No. But we played some games that were fun.” He flopped down on a hide and in seconds she knew he was asleep and she realized then that he had stretched out closest to the tipi flap, leaving only one other place for Dan to sleep. The empty hides were only yards from hers. She stared at them, hoping she would be asleep when he returned to the tipi.

  Over an hour later she heard a noise and shifted to raise up. Dan Overton was silhouetted against the moonlight outside, his broad shoulders filling the opening. His long muscular legs were bare, and she drew a deep breath, sitting up.

  “Dan?”

  He entered, crossing to her and kneeling beside her. He wound his hand in her hair, his almost naked body only inches from her. Her entire body was reacting to the sight of him, her nipples feeling taut, desire burning like a disturbing flame.

  She drew a deep breath, looking into his dark eyes, questions and words forgotten as she felt the attraction burn hotly between them. He bent his head, leaning the last few inches to kiss her, his mouth brushing hers so lightly.

  She trembled, wanting to pull him close, wanting him to kiss her. She closed her eyes and tilted her mouth up.

  Dan looked down at her, feeling conflicting emotions, aware of her innocence and knowing she was vulnerable, knowing each time he touched her, it was more volatile than the time before. For both their sakes, he should stay away from her, yet he had to sleep in this tipi only feet from her. And she was ready, eager for his kiss. No mistaking her face turned up to him. He glanced at the sleeping Abigail and Lissa. No matter how soundly they slept, with the two so close and Josh sleeping behind him, all he could do was take a few kisses.