Wolf Runner

by Constance O'Banyon

  She gave her head a quick shake. “I will just take the cider.”

  A short time later she had wrapped her hands around a hot cup of cider and took small sips, looking longingly at the platter of fried chicken.

  Wolf Runner pushed the platter toward her. “I do not really like fried chicken. I do not know why I ordered it. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. Are you sure you will not reconsider eating?”

  “I…no. I won’t,” she answered, hoping he had not heard her stomach rumbling. Licking her lips, she focused on the butter dripping from the hot corn bread.

  “Would you like me to tell you what most Indians do,” Wolf Runner asked, trying to put her at ease, “if a child refuses to eat something his mother serves?”

  Cheyenne, no longer able to resist temptation, reached for a chicken leg. “What do they do?”

  He smiled inwardly. “The father will place the serving pot in front of the child and force him to eat not only the food he left, but every morsel in the pot, even if it takes hours.”

  She licked her fingers after she’d devoured a chicken leg, and reached for another. Pride was one thing, but desperation trampled her pride in the dirt. “Why is that?” Cheyenne found she was not only hungry for food, but also for any knowledge of the Indian customs.

  “Because the child needs to learn not to waste food. When they have to eat a lot of something they do not like, they rarely leave food uneaten.”

  “Has that ever happened to you?” she asked.

  “Only once. I learned my lesson well.”

  “Not very well, it seems,” she said, nodding at the mounds of food in front of him that were uneaten.

  Wolf Runner merely smiled.

  At the moment, Cheyenne did not think she would ever have too much to eat. “Tell me again about your visit with Gram,” she said, taking a sip of cider and setting her mug on the patterned tablecloth. She listened while he explained more about his encounter with her grandmother.

  Cheyenne stared at him in stunned silence, then shook her head. “I don’t understand why she would do such a thing. And no matter what Gram said to you—I am not your responsibility.”

  “No, you are not. All the same, your troubles seem to have become mine.”

  She recognized leashed power behind those dark eyes that gazed into hers. Taking a steadying breath did nothing to quiet her racing heart. “You are mistaken. My troubles are my own. I have given myself two weeks to find employment here,” she said, thinking he deserved an answer since he’d shared his food with her. “If I don’t have work by that time, I have other plans.”

  Wolf Runner looked at her inquiringly.

  She reached into her pocket and laid coins on the table. “I will be going now.”

  Forestalling her, he grabbed her hand and forced her to look into his eyes. His tone sounded patient, but those eyes told a different story. “You do not really have anything else planned, do you? Why not reconsider and allow me to take you to my mother as your grandmother wished?”

  She tried to bury her emotions, hoping she could hold back the tears that threatened to choke her. He had a way of stripping away her defenses and seeing past her vulnerability.

  People were beginning to stare at them, and Cheyenne lowered her voice. “I’m not going with you to live with your mother,” she said decisively. After a long pause, she raised her head and stared into those dark eyes that seemed to know everything she was thinking. “Besides, it wouldn’t be proper for me to travel with you.”

  “Proper?”

  “Yes. Proper.”

  “I imagine your money will soon be gone; then what will you do?”

  She reached into her pocket and withdrew a crumpled envelope and stared down at it. “I have this letter about my grandfather. I will go to him if I have no other choice.”

  Wolf Runner studied her face for a moment. “Who is your grandfather?” he asked abruptly, remembering Ivy Gatlin had said he was from the Cheyenne tribe.

  She considered a sharp retort, but he had been kind to her, so she answered him politely. “I don’t really know him. But he is family—my mother’s father.”

  “From the Cheyenne tribe.”

  “Yes. Perhaps you know him, since you’re an Indian.”

  Wolf Runner’s eyes became piercing. “Not all Indians are the same,” he explained, surprised at her naïveté about her mother’s people. “Blackfoot and Cheyenne are different tribes and sometimes bitter enemies, but tell me about him. I may know of him.”

  “I…am not quite sure—this letter was written years ago.” Cheyenne gazed down at the crumpled paper, a faint thread of hope lingering in her mind. “The Indian agent who wrote this was a Mr. Dickens. He says in his letter that my grandfather lives on Cheyenne land in Montana.”

  Tensing, Wolf Runner stared at her. “His name?”

  “I…” She glanced down at the letter. “It says here he is Chief Bold Eagle.”

  Wolf Runner’s fists curled. Here across from him sat a blood relative of his enemy, Night Fighter, for Night Fighter was Chief Bold Eagle’s nephew. Surely this woman had been sent to test his fortitude, and he was failing the test. “I know of your grandfather,” he finally said.

  Her eyes lit up. “And he is alive?”

  “The last time I heard he was. But you must understand he is not a young man.”

  “I don’t care!” Cheyenne exclaimed, clutching the letter to her breasts. “He is my mother’s father.”

  Wolf Runner’s lip curled with disgust as he thought of her blood ties to a cowardly warrior such as Night Fighter. “How would you like to live in an Indian village?” he asked, waiting for her to object to the notion.

  “I don’t know,” Cheyenne remarked in all honesty. She raised her chin, feeling it tremble. “I intend to find my grandfather. You can’t imagine how alone you can feel when you have no family.”

  Letting out his breath, Wolf Runner gathered his thoughts. Here across the table from him sat the very person who would become his instrument to bring down his enemy. If he escorted Cheyenne to her grandfather’s village, he would finally be able to face Night Fighter.

  “If you are set on going to Montana,” he said carefully, “I will take you. It is not that far from Blackfoot land.”

  Cheyenne sat forward excitedly, for she’d had no idea how to find her grandfather on her own. She still did not think it was proper to travel in the company of a man, but since her grandmother had trusted Wolf Runner, she would too.

  He had been watching her indecision and then her excitement. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate it, and I won’t be any trouble to you.”

  “You do understand there will be no comforts on this journey?”

  “I am not a creature of comfort. Gram and I lived very simply.”

  Shaking his head, Wolf Runner was doubtful, but it would get him what he wanted in the end—Night Fighter.

  “Understand this, where we are going you will ride until you think you are too weary to continue, but you will. At night you will sleep on the ground. Your food will not be what you are accustomed to. You will not complain about how difficult the journey is. If you do, I will leave you behind.”

  “I will not complain,” Cheyenne said indignantly.

  “It is a long way from here, and winter is likely to overtake us before we arrive. We will go by horseback, and most of the time the roads will be trails, and sometimes, there will not even be a pathway. You will have to ride through thickets with thorns, dangers lurk at each turn.”

  “But the train—”

  “The train,” he interrupted, “will only take us on the first part of our journey. You will likely curse me before we reach our destination.”

  “If you are trying to make me change my mind, it won’t work.”

  “Very well. We will be traveling light, so leave everything behind that is not absolutely necessary. A packhorse can only carry so much.”
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  She thought about how heavy her valise was. “I understand.”

  “Where are you staying here in town?”

  “At that small hotel near the cantina.”

  Wolf Runner looked startled, until he realized she had chosen her hotel to save money. “Do you have a gun to protect yourself?”

  “Yes.” She took a sip of her apple cider, which had grown cold. “But I hope I don’t ever have to use it.”

  Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Wolf Runner let out an irritated breath. “I will call for you just before sunrise. Be ready.”

  “I will.” She touched his hand and he pulled back. “How much money does it cost for a horse and saddle? I want to pay my own way.”

  Wolf Runner wondered why he avoided the touch of her hand, and at the same time, he could not look away from her golden eyes. “We will discuss that later,” he said with a finality that left her nothing else to say on the matter. Standing, he nodded toward the window. “It has stopped raining. You might want to take this opportunity to leave before it starts again.”

  He was so tall she had to look up to see his eyes. He did not look at her the way Mr. Sullivan and other men did—he looked at her with irritation. She preferred to be an annoyance rather than the object of a man’s lust.

  “Thank you.”

  Wolf Runner nodded curtly to her, and watched as she moved out the door. She walked with an easy grace, her shoulders straight, her chin tilted upward. There was pride in the young woman, but he feared pride would not sustain her. Life had not been kind to her, and he was sure it was about to get a lot more unkind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cheyenne thought she would have difficulty falling asleep, but the moment her head hit the pillow she knew nothing else. She slept the first dreamless sleep she had had since her gram’s death.

  Always having been an early riser, she awoke well before daylight and gathered what she thought she would need for the journey. Wolf Runner had told her to travel light, so she would accommodate him. Her comb and brush she tucked into the corner pocket of her valise. She gently wrapped her father’s picture and placed it in the bag.

  Digging in her valise, she removed her black leather dress shoes and placed them on the floor. She was wearing her boots that laced up her ankle—they would serve her well where she was going.

  Achingly she touched the white lace her gram had sewn onto her green gown. Shaking her head regretfully, she put it with the other gowns she was leaving behind, hoping the maid would get some use out of them. Next she unpacked her extra stays and petticoats. She would make do with the ones she was wearing.

  Cheyenne picked up the gun that had been Gram’s, holding it gingerly by the ivory handle. It was loaded, but it had probably been years since anyone had fired it, and would probably blow up in her face if she pulled the trigger. Tucking it back inside her valise, she shook her head. She had just enough time to write a letter to Maria, telling her all that had happened. The Mendoza family would be upset to learn she was setting off for the unknown, but she wrote about her grandfather, hoping they would understand her need to be with family. She thought it wise not to mention Wolf Runner. She promised to write them when she reached her destination.

  Cheyenne quickly braided her hair and wrapped it about the back of her head, as she usually did.

  She kept her sewing kit and a few other treasured mementos that would mean nothing to anyone but her. Lastly, she packed the shawl Gram had knitted her and placed it lovingly into the valise.

  Recounting her money, Cheyenne kept out enough for postage for Maria’s letter.

  How much does a good horse cost? she wondered. She would also need a saddle and tack. Can I buy them with the money I have left? She wasn’t sure.

  Then there would be food and supplies for the journey. She certainly did not want Wolf Runner to buy what she needed, although he said they would settle up later.

  Gram had taken care of their expenses, and Cheyenne was beginning to understand just how little she knew of finances. Gram had raised her for a life of privilege, while she was headed for a life of great want.

  With a resigned sigh, she lifted her valise, which was now considerably lighter. Stopping by the front desk, she paid her bill and gave the clerk Maria’s letter and the money for postage.

  Stepping outside, into the clear light of dawn, Cheyenne questioned her sanity for attempting such a journey.

  I must be out of my mind to start on such an excursion with a man I hardly know.

  Still, what else could she do?

  Like Gram always said, “Let Providence take care of today, and let tomorrow take care of tomorrow.”

  Wolf Runner watched Cheyenne come down the steps in front of her hotel, feeling a slight pull at his heart because she looked so forlorn. Who wouldn’t feel pity for a young woman who faced such an uncertain future? The life she had led with her white grandmother had not prepared her for what awaited her among the Cheyenne in Montana.

  When she paused on the bottom step, he drew in his breath as the sun shimmered across her face, and he could not help but think how delicate she appeared.

  When their gazes met, he could tell that she did not entirely trust him. In fact, he could feel the chill of her gaze all the way to his bones. If she only knew how safe she would be with him. He was not attracted to her—she was too much like a white woman to interest him. She was much too opinionated—always saying the first thing that came to her mind. She was going to give him trouble, he knew it.

  Yet he had never seen a woman with such a steadfast fortitude, other than his mother. If he had been a betting man, he would wager Ivy Gatlin had had iron in her backbone, and had passed it on to her granddaughter. He would just see if Cheyenne Gatlin’s fortitude lasted throughout the rigorous journey ahead of them. The first part would not be difficult—but the true test would come when they left all comforts behind and traveled through the mountainous wilderness.

  As Cheyenne approached, he noticed her valise was lighter. He recalled when she boarded the train she had had trouble lifting it. He was satisfied she would do as she was told.

  “Let us go. The train is due any moment.”

  In no time they were seated on the train with her valise between them. Wolf Runner watched her as she glanced out the window.

  “I can guess what you are thinking.”

  “I imagine not,” she said, turning to him.

  “You are thinking you are leaving everything behind that is dear and familiar to you.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “I had somewhat the same feelings when I left home to go to school in Washington. I wanted the days to pass quickly so I could return home. I still have those feelings whenever I am away.”

  She turned back to the window and said so quietly he could hardly catch her words, “But you had a home and a family to return to. I will not be coming back.”

  Through the day, the train chugged up steep hills and passed wide mesas. Cheyenne watched the countryside roll by, feeling numb inside as the familiar scenery changed to flat bushes and hilly land.

  When night descended, Cheyenne closed her eyes and slept, gripping her shawl tightly, not knowing Wolf Runner watched her in the dimly lit car.

  He wondered what she looked like with her hair loose. She always wore it braided and twisted around the back of her head primly. Her long lashes lay like shadows against her cheeks. Her features caught and held his attention—she was perfect in every way, her nose just the right size, her lips full and beautifully shaped. He had seen many pretty women in his life, but none with Cheyenne’s haunting beauty.

  He shook his head and turned away from her. He was promised to Blue Dawn, and he should not be thinking of another woman in such a way—especially not this woman, who carried the blood of his enemy in her veins.

  Three days later found them in Silverland, Colorado, and the mountain air had a bite to it.

  Wolf Runner had left Cheyenne
in the lobby of a hotel while he went to the blacksmith shop to buy a packhorse, and Cheyenne a horse and saddle. Then he went into the general store and purchased the supplies they would need.

  Cheyenne watched out the front window of the hotel as the town of Silverland came to life. The day was overcast and it looked like it might rain. She hoped not.

  Glancing down at her heavy muslin traveling gown, she wondered if it was appropriate for a journey where she would be spending hours in the saddle. It must do—she had nothing else to wear.

  The lobby clock chimed the eleventh hour and still Wolf Runner had not returned for her. For just a moment she panicked. What if he abandoned her—what would she do? Placing her hand on the window-pane, Cheyenne glanced nervously down the dusty road. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Wolf Runner leading a packhorse loaded with supplies, and two other horses.

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw a large dog lumbering along beside him. She had known his horse traveled in the stock car, but he did not tell her anything about a dog.

  Breathing deeply, she stepped out of the hotel and waited for him on the steps. Her heart was beating wildly—it was one thing to be with Wolf Runner on a train where there were people about, and quite another to be alone with him on the trail.

  As he approached, Cheyenne noticed he was appraising her, no doubt speculating how serviceable her wearing apparel was for a trek in the wilderness. Then he stared straight into her eyes, and she dropped her gaze against his intense gaze, so dark and seeking.

  They had been together for three days, and in that time he had said very little to her, but his eyes said much—she just did not know how to interpret his moods.

  Cheyenne told herself she could still back out and return to New Mexico.

  She shook herself mentally; no she could not. She would only go forward, so she walked down the steps toward Wolf Runner.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I insist on paying for my horse and my share of the supplies,” Cheyenne said as she came down the wooden steps, eyeing the dog that had come to heel at Wolf Runner’s feet.