Wild Dawn

by Cait London

  Mose sighed longingly and inhaled the scent of the freshly baked bread on the table. “Where’s Violet? You run her off yet?”

  “She’s hunting,” MacGregor said tightly.

  He sat and sipped his coffee. “I thought a woman would stay in the house in the winter.” He nodded at the loom. “She weaves in the morning and evening. But in the early afternoons she hunts nearby. Just until she thinks Mary Rose needs feeding. She caches her milk in the snow, in case she’s late for a feeding. I’ll be the laughingstock of the territory... my wife providing food on the table,” he grumbled. “Violet’s happy as a lark... wants another baby soon as she can.”

  Mose laughed outright. “Damn. That sounds fine to me.”

  “Let’s see that note.” MacGregor turned away, but not before Mose caught his grin.

  After tearing open the envelope, MacGregor frowned. He tossed the note to Mose, who stared at it. “You know I can’t read. What’s that scribbling say?”

  “Tiny is at the Spanish cave. Says he needs me.”

  “You leaving?” Mose asked as MacGregor began packing a parfleche with ammunition and food. “Violet won’t like if you leave before she gets back....”

  His eyes rounded. “You can’t leave now—wait! I’ll go with you. Damn it, pup! You’re planning to leave me with those babies, aren’t you?”

  “Mary Rose’s milk is cached in a wood box nailed to the aspen out front. Heat it in hot water until just warm. Don’t forget to pat her back.”

  “Great buffalo balls, man. What if her drawers need changing?”

  Two hours later MacGregor stared up at the rugged snow-covered mountain. Brush grew over the trail leading to the old mine. MacGregor bent to brush away new snow covering a big man’s tracks. The heel was worn like Tiny’s army-issue boots, a man’s heavy weight taking the boot deep into the snow.

  MacGregor unsaddled Kansas, then slung the parfleche over his shoulder. “Stay, boy,” he ordered the horse, feeding him a lump of sugar.

  The wind whistled through the aspens, an eerie sound as though the Indian slaves of the Spanish conquistadors were keening.

  According to legend, the Indians of long ago haunted the cave. Children had worked and died in the mine, and finally the Indians rebelled, killing every Spanish soldier and worker within the territory. Bear Robe of the Southern Cheyenne wore the finger bones of a Spanish soldier on his necklace of eagle talons.

  Kansas’s breath shot into the frigid air, and he stamped impatiently.

  “That’s a good hour walk up the mountain and another down. Reckon you can wait.” MacGregor looped the reins across a bush that the horse could easily snap if frightened.

  Halfway up to the mine’s entrance, MacGregor noticed a shred of cloth with blood dangling from a small bush.

  A trail of blood mottled the new snow, and MacGregor moved quickly, carrying his rifle in his hand.

  Tiny appeared at the shadowy mouth of the cave, holding his arm and bending as though he were hurt. Beneath the brim of his hat, his dark jaw was covered with blood. He leaned against an entrance beam and crumpled to the ground.

  “Tiny!” Hurrying up a slight embankment, MacGregor stumbled on a snow-covered rock and twisted his ankle.

  The blow hit him from the back of the head, and he fell face down into the snow.

  “There now,” Tall Tom crooned as he sat on MacGregor. He lashed the unconscious man’s hands. “Mortimer-Hawkes’s playacting did the trick after all. Soot and bear grease and blood and a dead man’s shirt brought you to die. The big man wants your bitch to crawl, and after that you are a dead man.”

  ~**~

  MacGregor awoke slowly, his skull pounding to the sound of Mortimer-Hawkes’s roaring laughter echoing off the mine’s walls.

  Lashed to a supporting beam of the Spanish cave, he struggled against the rawhide expertly tied around his wrists. Night swept by snowflakes veiled the mouth of the cave. “Look at the almighty, powerful MacGregor, Tall Tom. He looks too weak to possess the woman and the stone of the Mariah!”

  Mortimer-Hawkes slashed his quirt across MacGregor’s face, bringing a welt. “Regina’s spawned your brat, you bastard. I’ve let her have time to heal before playing out our charade. I’ll make her beg for your life, then destroy you as she watches....”

  MacGregor strained against his bonds, then glanced up as rocks fell from the roof of the cave. Testing the ancient beam supporting the cave by shaking it gently, he dislodged a spray of pebbles. The timbers overhead creaked and groaned ominously.

  Mortimer-Hawkes sneered, running the quirt across the new welt. “Easy on, my good man.”

  Sprawled on pelts, Tall Tom sipped from a silver flask. “You promised to let me finish him when the woman arrives, Mortimer-Hawkes. What makes you think she’ll come, anyway? A female just finished whelping is weak.”

  Mortimer-Hawkes trailed the quirt along MacGregor’s jaw slowly. “If he has this great power of the Mariah Stone, she’ll seek him out. My... woman of the Mariah is very strong-willed. She’ll come. Regina will do what I want because I am reclaiming my powers. I thought about that damned ring you’re wearing, thought about taking your finger with it. But I’ve decided that she should do the honors—it would seal our future, much like a wedding, don’t you think? With you gone she’ll obey my every wish in order to keep... Mary Rose, is it?... alive.”

  “Violet won’t leave the baby to hunt me, Mortimer-Hawkes,” MacGregor taunted softly. “She’ll send Pierre and Mose.”

  “Then they’ll return empty-handed. We’ve got enough food to wait for an eternity.” Mortimer-Hawkes shrugged carelessly. “She’ll hear your screams, and she’ll do what I want. It’s a simple matter, really.”

  “I get that big egg of a diamond and your boy, MacGregor,” Tall Tom added. “He caused me to lose this.” He held up the stub of his missing finger.

  MacGregor tested his bonds again, and the beam creaked. “I could bring this down on all of us. I will if Violet does come.”

  The marquess dusted his hands and lounged on a length of red velvet near the mouth of the cave. He kicked Tiny’s boots aside, then tossed the bloody shirt into the fire with the tip of his cane. “The entrance of the cave is well braced by rock, very sturdy. You are the one in danger, not we, my fine friend.”

  He stared at MacGregor across the fire. The smoke rose to the blackened ceiling and followed a course to the entrance, escaping into the night air. “I’ve always wondered what a woman of the Mariah Stone would do when put to the test. Regina’s mother lacked her spirit. Oh, she’ll come for you, her paramour....”

  “They’ve mated. Like wolves,” Tall Tom stated and rose to step outside the mine. Relieving himself, he scanned the snow-swept valley sprawling beneath the mountain. “I figure she won’t leave the cabin until first light. Give her two or three hours, and she’ll be coming up the same trail as the metis.”

  ~**~

  Regina returned to find Mose frantically trying to feed Mary Rose her milk. She saw the note and crumpled it into a ball. “Tell me the way to the Spanish cave, Mose. I’m going to my husband.”

  “Why? MacGregor hasn’t had time to get back yet. It’s only been three or so hours. Give the man time—”

  Regina leveled a dark frown at him. “Tiny is dead. I just found his body... or what was left of it. I fear my father—Mortimer-Hawkes—is up to his tricks.”

  “Tiny? Damn that skunk for dyin’! Now, Violet....” Mose began heatedly. ‘Two Hearts would scalp me if I let you go. I calculate it’ll be full dark in no time. How are you going to tell which way is north?”

  “The North Star. You start me out and draw the shape of the mountain. The moonlight will be good tonight—”

  Mose lifted Mary Rose. “You take the baby. I’ll go.”

  “The Marquess of Fordington wants me. He won’t hurt me, Mose.”

  “Wolves are hunting now—”

  “So am I. I’m going to MacGregor, Mose.” She kissed his cheek. “I’d a
ppreciate any instructions you could give me.”

  He studied her for a long moment, then bit off a fresh chew of tobacco. “When a skunk lays out a trap, take the back door in. If’n I was you, I’d be doing just what you’re doing... hittin’ ‘em afore they was expectin’ me. If’n I was you, I’d keep to the shadows since the moon hits the face of that mountain. The snow makes a crust that a half-pint like you can walk right over. They won’t be expecting you until a few hours after dawn. Hit ‘em before light... hit ‘em fast and hard.”

  Taking care to instruct the mountain man on how to feed the baby, Regina emptied her breasts in privacy, preparing another jar of milk.

  “I’ll put this in the cache, Mose,” she said, delving into a china teapot to pull out an enormous blood-red ruby.

  Slipping the heavy chain over her head, she crouched by Mose, who was rocking the baby.

  Caressing the baby’s plump cheek and soft black curls, she met Mose’s worried stare. “I’m going to my husband. If anything should happen... you, Lilly, and Pierre are our family now. The children and the land are yours.”

  Mose blinked hard, a suspicious tear oozing out of his eye. “You’ll be back. So will that sprout, MacGregor. I’ll be wanting my chocolatero filled to the brim every night for changing all these wet drawers—female ones at that. You been promising me you’d teach me how to knit. You die out there, and I’ll never know how,” he grumbled. “Take my handgun. Sling the belt and cartridges across your shoulder. Shoots a mite to the right. If Tall Tom’s tied up in this, save one for him.”

  He looked down at the baby in his arms. “Your pa is going to take my scalp over this, but I know better than to stop your ma. She’s made up her mind, and man nor beast will change it. Don’t you worry none, little Mary Rose. Your ma might be sweet, but she’s strong, too. She’ll bring him back, your pa and then poor old Mose will have to answer to Two Hearts plenty.”

  Regina kissed his gnarled hand as it cradled her baby. “I love you, Mose. Don’t forget to pat Mary Rose’s back, and don’t let Jack eat too much jam.”

  ~**~

  Regina, dressed as a boy, circled the base of the Spanish mine mountain on foot.

  MacGregor’s footprints followed the trail leading to the mine. Smoke drifted out of the mouth of the mine, and firelight outlined a man’s brawny body.

  “Tall Tom,” Regina whispered. Keeping to the shadows at the side of the path, she startled a deer nibbling on dried berries. Regina’s shoulders ached from dragging the buffalo robe and supplies; her heart ached from terror. Mortimer-Hawkes had nearly killed MacGregor once; given a second chance....

  A short distance away from the trail she found a stand of brush and made a lean-to. Kansas and Je t’aime were loosely tied nearby and would signal danger. Snuggling down inside the buffalo robe, she forced herself to eat. Her breasts had filled, dampening her camisole beneath layers of clothing. Easing and cleaning herself as best she could, Regina settled down to sleep.

  The Mariah Stone, warmed by her skin, reminded her of the past tormenting her future. Mortimer-Hawkes’s greed for the blood-red stone had ruined her mother’s life, and now it endangered MacGregor, the dark knight who had loomed out of the mountain’s mist to claim her.

  Craggy and wounded by life, he fought to keep his son safe. A man who lived by his gun, leashing his hand for her. MacGregor... courting her with his heart, wooing her with his gentleness. MacGregor, delighted by freshly baked bread and a tiny, embroidered violet on his cuff.

  Dozing lightly, she hummed Greensleeves and dreamed of MacGregor, her love. “I’m coming, my love,” she whispered sleepily and nestled to the warmth of the red paisley shawl.

  In the cave MacGregor’s blood dampened the rawhide thongs around his wrists, loosening them slightly. A spray of dirt and pebbles sifted down to his shoulders as he moved against the beam. Tom snored loudly and the marquess slept beneath layers of velvet and buffalo robes as the beam creaked ominously.

  MacGregor’s jaw tightened. He’d been tied and beaten before, but never used as bait for the woman he loved. Love had been a dream intended for others and never for him... until the Lady Mortimer-Hawkes flashed her purple eyes at him. Regina, her hair spreading around her bare shoulders, her cheeks flushed with lovemaking... taking him that first time on her own terms. A hungry, loving woman, fierce when defending her own.

  Mortimer-Hawkes knew of Regina’s deep loyalty to those she loved and played on it.

  Regina would be coming at dawn. Mortimer-Hawkes and Tom could spot her easily as she rode across the flats to the mountain.

  He had to stop them, even if it meant killing himself in the bargain.

  Bargain. Two Hearts MacGregor had made a bargain on the blanket with an Englishwoman.

  He’d found warmth and joy, basked for a time in the glow of her love.

  Regina would love again. His babies would be safe if he could just bring the cave down on Hawkes and Tall Tom—and himself...

  The tight rope around his ankles had numbed his feet, and MacGregor planned how to throw himself without the use of his legs. He turned his head slightly, and the tight rawhide bit into his throat.

  Violet.... Violet.... Don’t come... Run... Keep our babies safe...

  Another spray of dirt hit his head, and MacGregor stilled. The mine had to collapse just right or... He had to stop Tom and Mortimer-Hawkes from taking Regina and the babies.

  Mose and Pierre would rush the mine. Or snare the first man’s neck that stepped out onto the small shelf in front of the cave.

  A bird chirped, signaling the coming dawn, and fear snaked through MacGregor. The weight of either Mose or Pierre would throw them into Mortimer-Hawkes’s covered pit in front of the cave.

  Another bird chirped, and MacGregor tensed. A long trill sounded, then another, and his heart pounded heavily, beating against his chest.

  Violet!

  A small branch snapped. Then another.

  Then silence.

  Another long, soft trill swept over MacGregor, raising his flesh. He remembered the night they lay in the meadow after lovemaking, practicing Indian calls....

  Dawn sifted through the night, and suddenly Regina’s small body stood outlined at the mouth of the cave. The scant light traced the long, thick braid snaking down her shoulder. The fringes of the shawl slid along her leather leggings, catching the dawn in fiery tints.

  In the hazy depths of shadows and smoke, her eyes sought his.

  Then Tall Tom surged out of his blankets, taking two steps toward her. Regina lifted Mose’s heavy gun, pointing it at his stomach.

  “Back,” she ordered quietly. “Step back, please. Over there by Mortimer-Hawkes, and away from my husband. Mose tells me that a shot in the stomach makes a man die slowly, painfully.”

  “Mortimer-Hawkes, the metis’s woman!” Tom hissed.

  Hawkes stiffened in his layers of heavy robes, turning his face toward her. Filled with terror, his lips opened wordlessly... then he whispered, “Mariah!”

  “Get up, Mortimer-Hawkes,” she ordered, her voice crisp. “Free my husband.”

  The marquess smiled coldly and stood to smooth his clothing. “If you fire that gun in the cave, you’ll bring tons of earth down on all of us. Your precious MacGregor included.”

  “Nothing will happen to my husband if the Mariah legend is true. He possesses the Mariah Stone and me.”

  “Let her go,” MacGregor ordered. He tugged at his bonds and the old beam swayed. “Let her go—Violet, get out of here!”

  Mortimer-Hawkes’s stiletto blade lifted MacGregor’s chin slightly. In that moment the Mariah ruby hung, glistening, from Regina’s other hand. Blood-red in the rising dawn, it swung from the heavy gold chain in a lazy arc.

  “Let my husband go, or I shall throw this bauble into the gorge. It could shatter into a thousand pieces or be lost forever.... Perhaps a bird will fly the Mariah to its nest, or a wood rat will drag it into a burrow. Just think, Nigel.... All your power resting beneat
h bird droppings.”

  She swung it side to side, taunting him, and he shrieked in horror. “Don’t let it go. All my power—”

  Tom bent to toss a burning coal into the brush near MacGregor, and it ignited.

  The Mariah sailed out into the clear mountain air, catching light in red flashing prisms as it spun...

  Terror bound Mortimer-Hawkes for a moment, then he screamed, “Mariah! I must have the Mariah!” and swept out of the cave entrance.

  He crashed through branches and snow covering the pit. The earth rumbled and the bottom of the pit broke loose, sending Mortimer-Hawkes and tons of rock plummeting down the face of the mountain.

  The canyon echoed his scream of death, boulders tumbling after him.

  The brush fire grew, crackling as a splinter of the beam ignited. “Violet, get out of here,” MacGregor ordered as the smoke curled around his legs.

  Tall Tom cursed, running at Regina with his hands outstretched. “Wolves, the pair of you. MacGregor mated with a purple-eyed witch.... You’ll die within feet of each other. I’ll have those damn rubies in your ears yet!”

  A tall man, Tom’s head hit a beam, stunning him. He staggered, reaching for Regina. She danced aside, escaping his grasp. Tom’s foot slid on a loose rock, and he went over the cliff, tearing a dead bush from the rocks.

  Fire encased the ancient beam, and MacGregor coughed, squinting through the smoke to see Regina. “Get out of here, woman. This whole mountain will come down any time.”

  “Then it will come down on us together,” she said, placing Mose’s gun in the holster and running to slash his bonds.

  MacGregor cursed, tried to move, but his feet had been too tightly bound. Regina seemed to realize that instantly, and she quickly bent to rub his ankles. MacGregor forced himself to move, stamping his feet. He stared down at her, then tenderly brushed a tendril from her cheek and smiled slowly. “How’s Mary Rose?”

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, the gentle caress lingered. “Hungry. We shall have to make fast work of our escape, dear heart.”