Wolf Runner

by Constance O'Banyon

  He laughed at her plea. “That is a promise easy to make and easy to keep. Like my father, I will only have one wife.”

  “It is a vow of honor?” she pressed him urgently.

  “It is. When I return, I shall speak to your father.” Wolf Runner wondered if he should say something more to her. He had not intended to ask her to be his woman, it had just happened. Should not his heart be bursting with happiness? He remembered Fire-thorn’s great joy when he spoke of Spring Maiden.

  Should he not feel the same joy?

  When Blue Dawn pressed her cheek to his and he felt her smooth skin, he considered it might be pleasant to have his own woman.

  Then he was assailed by doubts. After they were joined, would she object to him spending time in the mountains? She had never liked the high country, or understood why he spent so much time there.

  He was conflicted.

  It would be a good thing to walk through life with a friend who was also a lover. Why had he not thought to ask Blue Dawn to be his woman before now?

  “Must you go away?” she pouted.

  “I must.”

  Her lower lip quivered. “Why does your white mother want you to leave?”

  Wolf Runner frowned. “No one in our tribe has ever called my mother white,” he said in anger. “Do not do it again.”

  She must have seen her mistake because she was immediately contrite. “It was a mistake—of course your mother is no longer white.”

  Thinking he might have been too hasty in asking Blue Dawn to be his woman, he put her away from him. “I will not see you in the morning. I leave before dawn.”

  He turned and walked toward his own tipi knowing she was staring after him.

  That night as he lay upon his robe, Wolf Runner wondered how he had become tied to Blue Dawn. It had never been his intention, or even crossed his mind. Satanta flopped down by his side, and the other three wolves joined him.

  Why did he feel such emptiness inside?

  His hand reached out to rest on Satanta’s head. “You are loyal to your mate. She never questions if you look at another wolf.”

  Satanta raised his head and looked into Wolf Runner’s eyes as if he understood his words.

  It was a long time before he fell asleep.

  Chapter Four

  New Mexico Territory

  The train steamed and hissed, chugging up the last steep incline that took the passengers within sight of Santa Fe.

  Wolf Runner stared at the sheer drop-off on either side of the train and smiled in amusement at the two women across from him who were clutching each other’s hands and turning their gazes away from the deep gully below. With the exception of his mother and Aunt Cora, he believed all white women were weak and too easily frightened.

  His thoughts went back to the last time he had been in Santa Fe. He had forgotten how excited he had been to ride with the ranch hands and learn from them the working of a cattle ranch. He remembered sitting around a campfire and listening to their tales of wild New Mexico, while one of the hands had strummed a guitar and sung plaintive songs.

  Funny, he thought, how he had pushed those pleasant memories out of his mind.

  He wondered why that was.

  The train let off more steam and slowed. There had been no train to take his family to Santa Fe the last time they had visited the ranch—they had made the journey by boat, stage, and horseback.

  In the distance the Sangre de Cristo Mountains rose ghostlike through the fog, dominating the land, the peaks shrouded by clouds. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine his grandparents, who had lost their lives in those mountains in a landslide.

  As if he read Wolf Runner’s mind, Cullen nodded out the window. “It’s a pity your never knew your grandparents. For that matter, your mother doesn’t remember them either.”

  “Yes. It is a pity.”

  Over the years Cullen had been a frequent visitor to the Blackfoot village. Discounting Uncle Matt, Cullen was the one white man Wolf Runner’s father respected and called friend. Under Cullen’s sharp eyes, their ranch had flourished.

  Watching Cullen run a hand through his blond hair, Wolf Runner noticed for the first time Cullen was turning gray around the temples. He might be a rancher now, but Cullen still carried himself with the bearing and demeanor of an army officer.

  In all the years Wolf Runner had known him, there had been a haunted look in his gray eyes. His mother had once explained that Cullen still grieved for his dead wife and probably always would. Wolf Runner wondered how a man could love a woman so much that he would dedicate his life to her memory.

  Shifting in his seat, Cullen rubbed the back of his stiff neck. “You will find the ranch much changed since your last visit.” Cullen spoke fluent Blackfoot, but it had been decided they would speak only English while Wolf Runner was in New Mexico.

  “Mostly I remember the house. It seemed big to me at the time.”

  “It’ll still seem big to you.” Cullen thought of the two-story adobe that had become his home since the family was not in residence. “I find myself rambling around in all that space.”

  Wolf Runner straightened in his seat. “Now that the time is here, I find I look forward to seeing the place again.”

  Cullen glanced at his companion speculatively. Rain Song had seen to it that Wolf Runner was well educated, and he could mix very well in white society when he wished, but he was pure Blackfoot at heart. The white man’s trappings he now wore were a thin veneer of civilization that barely masked the untamed warrior beneath.

  Honor had been bred deep in the young warrior’s heart, and he had benefited from the teachings of both his parents. In the past, he had had to walk a thin line between Washington political society and the Blackfoot roots he preferred.

  Cullen had observed that Wolf Runner seemed as caged in as the wild wolf that now rode in the boxcar near the back of the train.

  Wolf Runner, trying to blend in with the people he encountered, wore his buckskin trousers and a white dress shirt, with a fine broadcloth coat. His long black hair was tied back with a leather thong, and his skin was light enough that he could easily pass for Spanish. Women tossed admiring glances Wolf Runner’s way, and Cullen wondered how they would react if they knew he was a Blackfoot.

  Letting out a deep breath, Wolf Runner stood. “Since we are coming into the station, I need to see about Satanta. So far he has endured the cage better than I thought he would.”

  Yes, Cullen thought, about as easy as you endure being pressed into this mission, my friend.

  When Wolf Runner returned Cullen was looking pensive. “How was the wolf?”

  “Asleep, if you can believe that. When I approached him, he opened his eyes, regarded me for a moment and went back to sleep. I do not think he was too happy with me.” Wolf Runner dropped down on his seat. “The conductor said Satanta snarls and bares his teeth if anyone else goes near his cage. No surprise there.”

  “Satanta sleeps because he trusts you, and his instincts tell him you would never put him in a harmful situation.”

  Smiling, Wolf Runner said, “You have become quite the deep thinker, Cullen. How long have you had this insight into the mind of a wolf?”

  “I have learned much from the Blackfoot.” Cullen smiled. “Do you recall how long it’s been since you were last at the ranch?”

  “A few years.”

  “It’s been ten years since you’ve been here. Of course the rest of the family has been here several times since then.”

  Wolf Runner looked thoughtful. “Has it been that long?”

  “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? You will remember the old wrangler Doff and how he took to calling you Wolf and how the other hands began to call you Wolf as well?”

  Wolf Runner grinned. “I remember.”

  “Don’t be surprised if they still refer to you by that name. It probably makes them a little more comfortable to think of you as a wolf than an Indian.”

  “It is of little matter to m
e what they call me.” Wolf Runner shrugged, and a smile touched his lips as he remembered trying to rope a steer and how long it took him to master the craft—but he had in the end, thanks to old Doff. “Is Hattie still the cook and housekeeper?”

  “Indeed, she is. If you were to ask anyone at the ranch, they would say she’s the real boss.” Cullen gave a mock shudder. “I would not want to be the one to cross her.”

  Wolf Runner was pensive. “I remember her chasing me out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon.”

  “Be warned, she might still do it.”

  Wolf Runner had fallen silent, and Cullen could tell he had something on his mind.

  “What about Ivy Gatlin, Cullen?”

  “I’m not sure. She came to see me last spring and asked me to send word to your mother for help.”

  “What kind of help? And why my mother?”

  “I don’t know. She gave me a letter to get to your mother and I did. Mrs. Gatlin would not confide in me, and no one in Santa Fe can keep a secret like she can. She doesn’t run on with gossip like some women. She is a breed apart. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “You know my mother has asked me to look in on her.”

  “She told me.”

  Wolf Runner retied the leather thong about his hair. “Perhaps the situation will turn out to be of little matter.”

  Cullen glanced out the window and noticed they were nearing the station, and he let out a long breath. He had not asked Wolf Runner what he had decided to do about selling the ranch. Cullen knew he would abide by whatever Wolf Runner decided without comment. The ranch had become such a part of him, and he did not want to see Mesa del Fuego go to strangers, but that was not his choice to make. He did not want to hold on to the ranch for selfish reasons.

  “Cullen, may I ask you a personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know you still love your dead wife, but surely you get lonely sometimes.”

  The foreman was silent as he tried to think how to answer. “I have loved but one woman. She is dead and lost to me these many years, yet the memory of her smile is as real and fresh to me as the first time I saw her. Yes, I am lonely, but I would be more lonely with the wrong woman.”

  Wolf Runner did not really understand how the memory of a woman could stay with a man after she was gone.

  Shaking himself out of the melancholy mood that threatened to swamp him every time he thought of Susan, Cullen managed a faint grin. “I heard you are going to take Blue Dawn for your woman.”

  “How did you hear that? I only decided myself the night before we left.”

  “I suspect Blue Dawn told the whole village because I heard many of your people discussing it that selfsame night.”

  Frowning, Wolf Runner stared out the window, focusing on the cornfield rows that had tasseled. He did not feel as strongly about Blue Dawn as Cullen had about Susan. His own mother and father were very devoted to each other, and he had always thought that was how it should be when a warrior chose his woman. No great passion burned in his heart for Blue Dawn, but once they had lain together, surely that would change.

  Would it not?

  He pushed his nagging doubts aside. Blue Dawn would be his bride and he would do everything in his power to make her happy. In irritation, he pushed her out of his mind and turned back to Cullen. “What can you tell me about the family who wants to buy Mesa del Fuego?”

  “I have met Juan Rivera on occasion. He is from a wealthy family in Albuquerque. He told me he’d had his eye on your ranch for some time.” Cullen frowned. “He has offered a fair price and even agreed to buy every head of cattle at market price. I guess you could say he wants Mesa del Fuego real bad.”

  For some reason Wolf Runner did not like the idea that strangers would be living in his mother’s house. But there was no time to dwell on it because the train was pulling up to the customs house. With a loud puff of steam it came to a jerking halt.

  Wolf Runner stood to his full height, which was two inches over six feet, and waited for several women to move down the aisle before stepping into the aisle himself. When he took the last step onto the wooden platform, he drew in a breath of balmy air. People of all walks of life were either boarding or departing the train. His gaze went to the mountains in the distance, knowing Mesa del Fuego lay at their base.

  First he sought the conductor and made arrangements for Satanta and his horse to be delivered to the ranch. Bending down beside the cage, Wolf Runner reached inside and rubbed the wolf’s ear while speaking quietly to him. “You will not have to endure the cage for much longer. But you see I do not think the people of Santa Fe would take well to a wolf running among them. Even one so well trained as you.”

  Satanta licked Wolf Runner’s fingers, showing there would be no recriminations for having been kept in the cage. At least that was the way Wolf Runner saw it.

  He stood and pressed money into the conductor’s hand. “Take care of my animals,” he said.

  The tall, gray-haired railroad worker looked concerned. “He won’t bite, will he?”

  “Not without cause. Whoever delivers him to Mesa del Fuego needs to handle the cage with great care.” Wolf Runner adopted the white man’s custom of shaking hands. “Special care.”

  When Wolf Runner joined Cullen he heard someone call out, “Wolf. Over here.”

  It took a moment for Wolf Runner to recognize the grizzled-haired man waving at him and holding the reins of three horses.

  Wolf Runner smiled. “Doff has not changed much. But his hair hadn’t been as white back then, and there was more of it.”

  Cullen lowered his voice because the old man was ambling toward them, leading the horses. “As you see, he is still just as bowlegged. The man must have been born on a horse. But I’ll say this—no one knows more about cattle than he does.”

  By now the old man had drawn close enough to grab Wolf Runner’s hand and pumped it in a vigorous handshake. “Wolf, I do declare you was a boy when I last saw you—now you’re a man full growed.”

  “How are you, Doff?”

  “I’m right well—thank’e for askin’.”

  Suddenly the old man stepped back, realizing the young man he had addressed so casually was now his boss. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so happy to see you. How’s your ma?” He looked confused for a moment. “And what should I call you?”

  Wolf Runner met Cullen’s gaze and they both chuckled. “Call me Wolf, like always. And my mother is in good health. She sends her regards to you and the others.”

  “Bless you, young sir. I knowed your ma when she was a babe. Been riding for the Mesa del Fuego brand for nigh on to fifty years.”

  Another prickle of unease touched Wolf Runner’s mind. If he sold the ranch, the new owner would surely let Doff and Cullen go. As eager as he was to have the matter settled, there was more here to consider than just the selling of a ranch—people’s lives were involved and they depended on the work for their living.

  Wolf Runner had a lot of thinking to do.

  Cheyenne Gatlin, named for her mother’s people, walked beside her grandmother, holding Ivy Gatlin’s arm to help her down the boardwalk steps. Lately her gram had not been steady on her feet and had even fallen—luckily there had been no broken bones. Gram tried to hide the fact that she was forced to stop every few steps to catch her breath, and Cheyenne pretended not to notice.

  “Mrs. Glass gave you a good price for your apple jam, Gram. And she told me if we made more she could sell it. We still have a bushel basket of apples in the root cellar.”

  “We’ll have to cook up some more, won’t we? Why I—” Ivy Gatlin broke off what she was about to say as three riders approached. Her gaze centered on the tall one in the middle. “From the look of him, I think I know who that is,” she said in amazement. “I hope it’s him—he’d be about the right age.”

  Cheyenne gazed at the three riders that had caught her grandmother’s attention. Two of them she knew, they worked for the
Mesa del Fuego ranch. The other man she did not know, but her eyes widened as he drew even with her. His dark gaze brushed Cheyenne for the briefest moment before he looked away. Old Doff tipped his battered hat to them and Cullen nodded.

  Cheyenne’s heart was thudding in her chest—not because the stranger was handsome—though he was—but because he was…different. Even though he wore the trappings of a white man there was no mistaking he had Indian blood in him.

  He’s a half-breed like me!

  “Do you suppose he works for Cullen Worthington?”

  Grinning as the three men rode out of sight, Ivy shook her head. “If I’m right about who he is, it would be Cullen who works for him.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I wonder if Marianna told him—”

  “Who, Gram?”

  Ivy shook her head. “Never mind, child. Don’t bother your head about it.”

  Cheyenne was puzzled by her grandmother’s interest in the well-dressed half-breed. “Do you know his name?”

  “Nope.”

  “I wonder what he’s doing in Santa Fe.”

  “Family business, I suspect.”

  “What kind of business would bring him here?”

  “Who can say?”

  Cheyenne knew her gram was deliberately being vague, and she would get no more answers from her on the matter. She was still thinking about the beautiful half-breed as they approached their small house. Who was he, and why had her gram showed so much interest in him?

  There was supper to cook and coffee to grind for the morning breakfast, and a garden to tend.

  Soon the handsome stranger was forgotten and Cheyenne’s mind moved on to other matters.

  But as night fell, and she climbed into her bed, the image of the handsome stranger stayed with her until she fell asleep.

  Chapter Five

  It was the hour just before sunrise and the sky was tented with a soft rosy glow as Cheyenne Gatlin stepped out the back door and hurried toward the well to draw water. The day would be a scorcher because it was already hot. Pushing a damp tress of hair behind her ears, she dropped a wooden bucket into the well, watching it descend and hit the water with a splash.