Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  “Nothing,” Iron Wing replied tersely.

  “You’re lying,” Katy accused softly. “What’s the matter?”

  Rising, Iron Wing turned to face her. He was naked, and his desire for her was blatantly evident.

  Katy’s eyes grew wide as she saw his distended manhood and then she began to giggle. “I’m sorry,” she said as her giggles exploded into full-fledged laughter. “I thought you were mad about something, or in pain…”

  “There are all kinds of pain,” Iron Wing muttered.

  When Katy saw he was serious, the laughter died in her throat. His words explained so many things—why he had kept his distance from her, why he did not respond to her caresses. She had thought him preoccupied with other things.

  “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “Forgive me.”

  “Now you know why so many warriors take a second wife when the first swells with a new life,” Iron Wing said wryly.

  “Do you want a second wife?” Katy asked, no longer amused.

  “No. You are enough woman for me.”

  “Show me.”

  “We must wait until the child is born.”

  “Why?”

  “It is the Cheyenne way.”

  “It is not my way,” Katy said, smiling seductively. “I would not be a good wife if I did not try to ease your suffering.”

  “Is it wise, with the baby to be born so soon?”

  “I’m not made of glass. It will be all right.”

  How could he deny her; how could he deny himself what he had been yearning for? Gently, tenderly, he undressed her, his eyes caressing her flesh. Her breasts were swollen, her belly large with his child, yet she had never looked more beautiful, or more desirable. And still he hesitated to take her, fearful of hurting her.

  Katy smiled as she reached out to run her hand over his thigh. With a groan, he sank to his knees beside her and took her in his arms. Her hand was a flame on his flesh, her mouth sweeter than any nectar as she kissed him…

  Three weeks after leaving the Herrera fortress, they reached Katy’s hometown. It was well after midnight when they rode into the Alvarez ranch.

  Tears filled Katy’s eyes as Iron Wing lifted her from her horse. It was hard to believe she was really home at last. Hard to believe so much time had passed since she had boarded the Mesa Blanca stagecoach bound for the Little Sisters of Mercy convent. So much had happened since then. It was difficult to believe so many things had happened in such a relatively short time.

  Iron Wing had not wanted to come here. He had been reluctant to enter a white settlement, reluctant to meet Katy’s mother. But Katy had pleaded to go home, and he could not deny her anything that was in his power to give.

  They had to knock on the front door three times before anyone heard them, but finally the heavy oak door swung open.

  Sarah Alvarez Sommers stared at her daughter, too stunned to even speak her name. Shaking her head in disbelief, Sarah reached out a hand that was trembling and touched Katy’s cheek. Dear God, she was real and not a dream! With an inarticulate cry of joy, she threw her arms around Katy and began to cry. Tears filled Katy’s eyes, too, as she held her mother close and for several minutes neither woman could speak.

  When, at last, their tears subsided, Sarah noticed the man standing in the shadows on the veranda, and Katy gazed in astonishment at the tall pajama-clad man standing behind her mother. Hatred chased the joy from Sarah’s eyes as she realized the man standing behind Katy was not one of the Alvarez peons, as she had first supposed, but an Indian.

  “Who is that?” Sarah asked curtly.

  Katy stepped away from her mother and reached for Iron Wing’s hand. “This is Iron Wing,” Katy replied in a cool voice. “He’s a Cheyenne warrior.” Her chin went up defiantly. “He’s the father of my child, and I love him.”

  There was a taut silence as Sarah’s eyes moved from Iron Wing’s face to Katy’s bulging stomach. An Indian, Sarah thought bleakly. She’s gone and fallen in love with a damned Indian! Better she should have become a nun, or died, than give herself to a heathen savage… No, she thought, blinking back a wave of fresh tears. Whatever Katy had done, no matter what had happened since she had gone, she was glad to have her home alive and well.

  Before either woman could speak again, Michael Sommers stepped forward and took Katy’s hand in his.

  “I’m Michael Sommers,” he said warmly, shaking Katy’s hand and then Iron Wing’s. “Welcome home, Katy Marie. You too, son.”

  Katy looked askance at her mother. Who was this stranger who had made himself so at home under their roof? And what was he doing here at this time of night?

  Sarah Sommers blushed under her daughter’s probing gaze. “It’s not what you think, Katy,” Sarah explained quickly. “Michael and I were married shortly after you disappeared.”

  “Congratulations, Mama,” Katy murmured. She smiled tentatively at Michael Sommers. “Congratulations to you, too, sir.”

  “Call me Mike,” he said, and closed the door as Sarah ushered the two young people into the parlor.

  “Are you hungry, Katy?” Sarah asked, ignoring Iron Wing. “Would you like to eat and bathe tonight, or wait until morning? I have dozens of questions to ask.”

  “I’m really very tired, Mama,” Katy said. She was not ready to answer the myriad questions she read in her mother’s eyes. “We’ve been riding since sundown.”

  “Of course. Your…friend can sleep in the guest room at the end of the hall. I’ll send Anna to make up the bed.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Katy said, blushing from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. “Iron Wing will share my room.”

  Sarah stared at her daughter in shock. No matter that Katy was carrying the man’s child and not even ashamed. An unmarried man and woman did not share the same room. It just wasn’t done.

  Sarah turned to her husband. “Michael?”

  “Let it be, Sarah. Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”

  Katy threw Michael Sommers a look of gratitude as she took Iron Wing by the hand and led him up the stairs to her room. Imagine, Katy thought, bemused, my mother asking someone else for advice!

  Sarah frowned as the couple disappeared down the hall. It did not sit well, having an Indian in the house. Especially one who was sharing Katy’s bed.

  “They’re in love, Sarah,” Michael said softly. “Can’t you see that?”

  “How can she love him!” Sarah exclaimed. “He’s a dirty Indian. A heathen! The thought of that savage touching my daughter makes my skin crawl.”

  Michael Sommers heaved a sigh as he took his wife into his arms and held her tight. He had lived with the Indians. They were not heathen savages, as most white people believed. Oh, it was true they lived a hard life in a hard land. But they had their own god, and they were kind and generous to their own people, and to those who lived long enough among them to earn their respect and friendship. Still he could understand Sarah’s feelings. She had lost much because of the hatred between red man and white. Pain and hatred did not die quickly. Sometimes not at all.

  Katy smiled as she closed the bedroom door and lit the lamp beside her bed. Her room was just as she had left it. Yawning, she pulled a clean nightgown from the chest of drawers. Fortunately, it was a flowing gown and readily accommodated her thickened waistline.

  Iron Wing stood in the middle of the room, watching with interest as Katy shed her dusty clothes and slipped the silky gown over her head. The color of the nightgown enhanced the pale gold of her skin and made her eyes seem even more blue.

  Smothering another yawn, Katy threw back the covers and slid between the sheets. How good it felt, to lie in her own bed again, to be surrounded by things she had known all her life. Lifting her eyes to Iron Wing’s face, she patted the bed beside her.

  Iron Wing frowned as he sat on the edge of the bed and felt the mattress sag beneath his weight. “Too soft,” he said scornfully. “I will sleep on the floor.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, very well,” Katy muttered. Rising, she stripped the blankets from the bed and spread them on the floor.

  “Ka-ty…”

  “If you think I’m going to sleep in that bed alone, you’re sadly mistaken,” she scolded saucily. “I don’t intend for us to ever sleep apart again.” Pulling her pillow from the bed, she snuggled under the covers.

  With a shrug, Iron Wing crawled in beside her. Katy was asleep instantly, but Iron Wing lay awake for a long time. The sounds of the house were strange, the floor beneath him as hard and unyielding as the earth he was accustomed to sleeping on, and yet so very different. He listened, eyes narrowed, as a clock chimed the hour. He missed the familiar sounds and smells of the village in the Dakotas, missing the furred softness of buffalo robes beneath him, the faint red of glowing coals as the lodge fire hissed and died.

  Turning on his side, he stared at the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. How beautiful she was, and how precious. He placed his hand on her rounded belly, smiled as he felt his child’s lusty kick. He gazed at Katy until at long last, sleep claimed him.

  He was up before the sun. He smiled at Katy, still sleeping soundly, one hand tucked under her cheek. At last, she was home where she belonged, where she had longed to be.

  Quiet as a drifting shadow, he left Katy’s bedroom and padded through the sleeping house. It was the largest dwelling he had ever seen, bigger, even, than the Herrera hacienda. There was the parlor, a spacious dining room, a large sunlit kitchen, a room filled with plants and potted flowers, another room filled with books, a smaller room dominated by a mahogany desk.

  He was standing in the kitchen when Juanita entered the room to fix breakfast. The woman uttered a shriek of terror when she saw an Indian looking out the window.

  Iron Wing whirled around, his hand reaching for the knife at his belt.

  Juanita’s face turned pale as death. Her mouth moved in prayer, but sheer terror trapped the words in her throat so that no sound emerged.

  Michael Sommers, roused by Juanita’s scream, flew out of bed and ran down the stairs into the kitchen. He came to an abrupt halt, his lips twitching in soundless mirth, at the sight that met his eyes. Iron Wing stood near the window, his expression one of amused disgust as he stared at the woman kneeling at his feet, her face buried in her hands, her whole body trembling.

  Iron Wing looked beseechingly at Mike. “Juanita,” Mike said softly. “It’s all right. He won’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, señor!” Juanita wailed. “Save me!”

  “Juanita, it’s all right.” Taking the woman by the shoulders, he lifted her to her feet. “This is Katy Marie’s…friend. He won’t hurt you.”

  Juanita risked a glance at Iron Wing. Though he was dressed in the baggy white clothes of a peon, there was no mistaking the fact that he was an Indian, and her expression clearly revealed she was in fear for her life.

  Sommers grinned wryly. He’d never seen anyone look so scared in his life. “Juanita, fix us some coffee.”

  “Sí, Señor Mike,” she said shakily.

  “Come on, Iron Wing, let’s go into the dining room and wait. I think she’ll work faster if we leave her alone.”

  Katy woke slowly, stretching luxuriously. Then, as she recalled where she was, she came fully awake. Home! She was home, in her own room. And Juanita was frying bacon. The rich aroma tickled Katy’s nose, reminding her of all the times she had yearned for Juanita’s wonderful cooking and marvelous coffee.

  Suddenly famished, Katy jumped to her feet, then frowned when she saw that Iron Wing was not in the room. A sudden weight replaced the hunger in her belly. He had not wanted to come here, and only her gentle pleading had persuaded him to enter a white man’s dwelling. Surely he wouldn’t leave her without a word of farewell!

  Going to her closet, she opened the doors, then frowned. None of her dresses would fit her increased girth. Still, she ran her hand over the smooth silks and satins as her eyes roamed over the hats and shoes and petticoats that filled the wardrobe to overflowing. She’d wear them all again soon.

  Grabbing her robe, Katy ran down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Relief washed over Katy when she entered the dining room and saw Iron Wing sitting at the table, lazily sipping a cup of Juanita’s heavenly coffee. Sarah and Michael sat across the table from Iron Wing. Sarah’s face was stern, her eyes faintly red-rimmed, as though she had spent the night crying.

  “Good morning, Mama,” Katy said, dropping a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Mr. Sommers.”

  “Mike,” he reminded her.

  “Mike,” Katy said, liking the man for his friendly smile.

  Katy sat down beside Iron Wing and reached for his hand. It was obvious her mother and Iron Wing had been having a heated discussion. She could feel the tension in the room and in the grip of Iron Wing’s hand. Katy bit her lower lip. She had forgotten, in the joy of being home and safe, how much her mother hated Indians.

  “Good morning, Katy Marie,” Sarah said, her tone measured and reserved. “We were just discussing your future.”

  “Oh?” A million butterflies danced in Katy’s stomach. She slid a glance at Iron Wing, but his face was wiped clean of all expression. She looked up at Mike, and he winked at her as if to reassure her that everything would be all right.

  Katy sat up a little straighter. “If you want to discuss my future, don’t you think you should discuss it with me?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said. “About the baby…”

  “What about my baby?”

  “Well, I think that, under the circumstances, perhaps you should go away somewhere until the child is born. Perhaps to the convent in Mesa. I’m sure the good sisters there will be able to find a home for the child, perhaps with its own kind.”

  Katy winced as Iron Wing’s grip on her hand grew painful. He stood up, his bearing proud, almost arrogant, his black eyes flashing with anger.

  “We will not give our child away,” he said, each word cracking across the room like a pistol shot. “If Ka-ty is not welcome here, we will leave.”

  “Katy, be reasonable,” Sarah pleaded. “What will people say?”

  “I don’t care what people say,” Katy retorted. “I love Iron Wing, and I’m proud to be carrying his child. I was foolish enough to think you would be glad to have me home again, pregnant or not. I had forgotten how cold and selfish you always were.”

  The color drained from Sarah’s face. “Katy, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. It’s only your reputation I was concerned about. Pregnant and not married. It will cause a horrible scandal.”

  “I don’t care,” Katy said defiantly. But she did care. She did not want people gossiping about her behind her back, calling her names. But she could endure it if she had to. She could endure anything to be with Iron Wing.

  “Perhaps we can make everyone happy,” Michael Sommers said. “I’m sure we could find a priest to marry Katy and Iron Wing. Nothing fancy. Just a quiet ceremony here at the house.”

  Sarah bit back the words of protest that sprang to her lips. Katy, marry a savage! It was unthinkable. Nice girls from good families did not marry Indians. And yet, she dared not voice her objections, for to do so would surely drive Katy out of the house. And that she could not bear.

  “I’d like that, Mike,” Katy said, loving him the more for his calm manner and good sense. “If it’s all right with Iron Wing.”

  Iron Wing shrugged. If Katy wished to be married by one of the black robes, it was all right with him. In his heart, she was already his wife, even though no formal words had been said.

  “Very well,” Sarah agreed in a resigned tone. She gestured at the food Juanita had placed on the table. “Sit down and eat, you two. I’ll send Juan after Father Diaz. Perhaps he can marry you this morning.”

  “Your mother does not approve of me, or of this marriage,” Iron Wing said when he and Katy were alone at the table.

  “I know. But don’t take it personally. Indians killed my father, y
ou know. My mother has hated all Indians ever since.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay here, Ka-ty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, we will stay.”

  The priest came that afternoon just before lunch. He was cordial and polite, but it was obvious from his expression that he, too, was opposed to such a match. Of course, the Indians were God’s children, too, but it was better for all concerned if they remained with their own kind. No good ever came of mixing the races.

  Katy did not care a fig whether the good father approved of her marriage or not. She loved Iron Wing and she meant to marry him with or without the church’s approval.

  Dressed in a high-necked light blue dress that had been altered to accommodate her pregnancy, Katy stood beside Iron Wing and spoke the solemn words that made her his wife. He looked wonderfully handsome, Katy thought, dressed in a pair of tight brown twill pants and a white silk shirt that emphasized his bronze skin and dark eyes.

  Iron Wing spoke the vows slowly and distinctly, his eyes never leaving Katy’s face. Now she was truly his. No other man could ever dispute his right to have her, no one could take her from him.

  Sarah tried not to look displeased as Katy and Iron Wing exchanged the vows that made them husband and wife. But as they knelt before the priest for his blessing on their marriage, a vision of Katy’s dead father rose vividly before Sarah’s eyes, and she felt her hatred for the whole red race flare anew.

  Katy felt her insides melt as Iron Wing helped her to her feet and placed his first husbandly kiss on her eagerly waiting lips. Now, at last, she was really his woman.

  There was no celebration following the ceremony, only a quiet lunch shared by Katy, Iron Wing, Sarah and Mike. Father Diaz had declined to stay, saying he had to return to the parish to perform a baptism.

  Iron Wing keenly felt the disapproval of his new mother-in-law, but Katy seemed oblivious to everything but the man beside her. Again and again she reached out to touch him, her eyes filled with love and reassurance.

  That night, alone in Katy’s room, Iron Wing hold Katy close.