She wondered what torment her sister must endure with that man. A tight knot formed in her stomach and squeezed her like a physical pain. She took another deep breath. "Winna Mae, I just have to believe there is beauty in love-beauty that feeds the soul as well as the heart."
"I have known such a love," Winna Mae said softly.
Rachel went to her bed and sat down, trying to think of Winna Mae with a man. "You loved someone?
The older woman closed her black eyes as if she were remembering. "I had a love so pure and sweet that it is still with me, even now after all these years."
"Tell me," Rachel said gently.
"I have never spoken of this to another living soul, and it won't be easy."
For a long moment it seemed as if Winna Mae was lost in her own memories. At last she said, "My father was a white man, a buffalo hunter. My mother was of the Kiowa tribe." She paused as if gathering her thoughts. "I was named after my father's mother. He left when I was a baby and didn't come back into my life until the spring I turned sixteen. My mother had died, and to be fair to my father, he did what he thought was right. He put me into one of those boarding schools. I was miserable there. The other girls were all white, and either made fun of me or ignored me completely. I threw myself into my schoolwork, studying hard and trying to ignore the others. I did get a good education, so something good came of those years."
Rachel touched Winna Mae's hand, wanting to comfort her. "What did you do?"
"After two years I could not stand another day, so I ran away and found my way back to my mother's people. That's when I met Lone Wolf. He was so brave, so daring, and I loved him immediately."
"And he loved you?"
"I didn't think so at first. I was a woman alone, and unless someone claimed me for his wife, I would have no respect and no man to hunt for me. In the harsh Indian world such a woman cannot survive for very long." She smiled, and it softened her eyes. "I was so happy when Lone Wolf asked me to be his woman. He was considered a mighty warrior, and yet he was so gentle with me. He found no shame in the fact that I was half white. The three years I spent with him were the happiest of my life."
Rachel sensed a change in Winna Mae's mood, and she felt her sadness as if it were her own. "Don't tell me more if you don't want to."
"I want you to know." Winna Mae looked at her for a long moment before continuing. "When I lay in my husband's arms and our bodies became one, it was a precious and beautiful gift. It is because of his love that I was able to go on living when life got hard."
Rachel took Winna Mae's scarred hands in hers, hoping to give her comfort. "What happened to Lone Wolf?"
"We had a son," she said, smiling sadly. "He was dark skinned like his father, and Lone Wolf was so proud of him. He would ride through the village with our son propped in front of him, just so everyone would comment upon what a remark able son he had. We called our son Silent One, because he never cried. Of course when he was older, he would have earned his own name."
Rachel lowered her eyes, dreading what was to come and feeling it like a chill in her bones.
Winna Mae drew in a trembling breath. "On this one day, I rose early, leaving my husband and baby sleeping while I went into the mountains to pick chokeberries. I did not know when I left that it would be the last time I would ever see them."
Rachel glanced to the window, willing herself not to cry, but tears still gathered in her eyes and slid down her cheeks.
"I returned to the village around midday to find nothing but smoldering ashes and dead bodies. I saw enough to know that the bluecoats had raided the village. Those they didn't kill, they had taken as prisoners." Her shoulders slumped and she was quiet for a moment, as if she couldn't find the words to express her grief.
At last she said, "Our lodge was burned, and I searched frantically among the ashes, trying to find my husband and son."
Rachel's eyes dropped to Winna Mae's scarred hands. So that was how she'd been burned. "You didn't find them, did you?"
She shook her head. "There were so many burned bodies, and it was difficult to identify anyone. Hoping that they had been taken away as prisoners, I decided to follow the tracks. I walked many days and nights without food, following the trail left by the white soldiers. Finally I came to a fort. I inquired about my husband and son there, but the soldiers drove me away. A kind man, a sergeant I believe, came to me and told me that those of my people who had not been killed had been taken to a reservation. He explained where it was, so I walked for many more days until I came to the place he'd told me about. None of my tribe were there. It was as if they all died that day, or the earth opened up and swallowed them."
"Winna Mae, I am so very sorry," Rachel said, trying not to cry. "Did you never find them?"
"I looked through the long summer and into the fall. Years passed, I don't know how many, but I was compelled to keep looking. My aim was always to find my husband and son, but each lead proved as false as the last one. One winter, several men came upon me-they were buffalo hunters. I will not speak of what they did to me, but afterward I wanted to die, and I would have if your father had not found me and brought me here. I cry no more tears, because I have none left."
Winna Mae took Rachel's hands and gripped them tightly. "I only told you about myself so you would know that love can be beautiful. There are different kinds of love. There is the love I had for my husband and son"-she raised her eyes to Rachel--"and there is the love I had for a young girl who was the age of my son. You became the daughter I never had, Rachel. My comfort has been in looking after you. Whit is a fortunate man that I did not cut out his heart last night."
Rachel laid her head against Winna Mae's shoulder and sobbed while Winna Mae tightened her arms around her. "Do not cry for me, Rachel. I have known a love so beautiful that I still carry it within my heart."
Rachel could only guess what it had cost Winna Mae to tell her story. "Surely there is something we can do to find out about your husband and son."
Winna Mae shook her head. "I found out early in my search that the army doesn't keep informative records on Indian captives. Their ledgers would simply say Indian male or Indian female." Her face showed no emotion as she said, "I accepted long ago that they are both dead."
"There must be some way to find out for sure. If only we knew someone with enough influence to ask questions. Noble might be able to help." Rachel shook her head. "No, he would not have much influence with the Yankee army."
"They are dead." This pronouncement was delivered in an even voice, but Winna Mae's eyes held such profound sorrow that it ripped at Rachel's heart.
"I am glad Papa brought you to us. The Broken Spur will always be your home, Winna Mae."
"I know." She took her apron and dabbed at Rachel's tears. "I also know that you are special, Rachel. One day you will find a love worthy of you. When you find this love, treasure it, whether it lasts a day, a year or a lifetime."
"But what if the man I love doesn't love me?"
"That too can happen. Life carries no promise, and nothing is certain."
"How will I know if it's real?"
Winna Mae stood and picked up the tray. "You will know."
Autumn spread across the land and still no rain came to break the terrible drought that gripped West Texas. Because of the intense heat, deep cracks scarred the land. The persistent winds blew constantly, whipping the dry dust into a frenzy of destructive, choking sandstorms. These storms sometimes lasted for days, blackening the skies, bringing misery to animal and human alike.
The life-giving Brazos River was getting dangerously low, and in places it had dried up all together. Cattle were dying from thirst; each day buzzards circled in the sky, keeping their death watch, waiting to devour some hapless beast who had fallen prey to the harsh elements.
Rachel and Bud had been scouring the countryside since sunup, looking for a missing bull, Samson, who was the pride of her herd. Samson came from hardy Mexican stock, and she hoped to use him to br
eed a sturdier herd that would adapt to the harsh West Texas climate.
Now it was early afternoon. Rachel shaded her eyes and gazed at the shadows in the canyon, where it would be easy for Samson to hide. "Bud, you search the rim of the canyon and I'll ride along the river. If you find him, fire your gun twice I'll do the same."
"Yes, ma'am." Bud touched his hat, spurred his mount into a lope and disappeared down the ravine.
Rachel rode down a steep incline to the river, her gaze on the ground, looking for tracks. After she'd been riding for an hour, she halted her mount, thinking she heard a noise. There it was again-the unmistakable bellow of a bull in distress. She spurred her mount along the riverbank until she spotted the animal.
It was Samson, all right, and he was definitely in trouble. He'd tried to cross the river and gotten caught in quicksand. The more the bull struggled, the more of his body became mired in the quicksand.
Rachel reached for her rope, looped it and tossed it expertly though the air to lock onto Samson's horns. Wrapping her end of the rope around the saddle horn, she urged her mount forward. The horse strained, pulled and slipped, unable to budge the fear-maddened bull. Samson fought too, thrashing and being drawn further into the quicksand.
Rachel jumped off her horse, yanking and pulling on the rope. She had no idea how long she and her faithful horse fought to save the bull, but the situation looked hopeless. Suddenly the end of the rope that was wrapped around the saddle horn snapped, and Rachel grabbed on to the frayed rope as it slipped through her gloved hands. She had no time to fire her gun to alert Bud and without the help of her horse she was being drawn closer and closer to the quicksand.
Stubbornly she fought, digging her heels into the dry riverbed, while Samson's thrashing drew her closer to danger. Her hair came loose from the bandanna and slid across her face, blinding her.
"You've got to help me, Samson." Rachel tossed her hair to get it out of her face. She gripped the rope tighter, gritted her teeth and yanked with all her strength.
She was so involved with trying to save the bull that it was too late when she realized she was in serious trouble herself. The rope was wound so tightly about her hands, and Samson had pulled it so taut, she couldn't get free. With fierce determination, she dug her heels in, wrestled and fought against the force that was pulling her closer to a horrible death. Inch by inch she was being drawn closer to the deadly mire.
She fell face forward into the mud, and she was too dazed to react. She knew that the more one struggled in quicksand, the faster one was sucked under. She tried to remain calm, but the rope that held her and Samson together would take her down with him.
Cold fear overcome her, and she struggled and fought with renewed strength.
Suddenly she felt another presence. A knife sliced through the tangled rope that held her captive.
"Be still, Rachel," Noble cautioned. "I'll have you free in a moment." He pulled the rope from her hands and lifted her into his arms.
She was free! Her head fell weakly against Noble's shoulder. Then she remembered her bull. "Samson," she sputtered. "You must help Samson!"
Noble set her down hard on the riverbank, and she could see by his expression that he was angry. Even so, he threw a rope over Samson's horns, then threw a second rope. He quickly wrapped the first rope around his own saddle horn and the second rope around Rachel's. With the combined strength of both horses, the troublesome Samson was soon free.
When Noble removed the ropes, the bull stumbled to his legs and plunged up the bank, into the thicket.
Then Noble turned to face Rachel, his expression dark and disapproving. "Rachel, why did you do such a fool thing? What would have happened to you if I hadn't come along?"
He made her feel like an errant child being scolded for some misdeed. "I...know it was foolish. I just didn't think about-"
"No," he said, winding his ropes. "That's the trouble with you, Rachel you just don't think. You go rushing headlong into danger and damn the consequences."
"Don't talk to me that way. I'm not like that."
"No?"
"No."
She raised her hand to her face and in horror realized it was caked with mud. "I...thank you for your help. I don't need you now."
He shook his head. "You need someone to look after you. It would take a lifetime commitment to keep you out of trouble, Rachel."
She stood up, brushing mud from her clothing. "I can take care of myself."
"Si," he said with an indulgent twist to his mouth. "You proved that today."
When she took a step, her legs trembled. She was still frightened by what had almost happened, but she didn't want Noble to know it.
He took her hand and led her down the riverbed until he came to a place where water had pooled on a rock. "Wash yourself as best you can. You don't want to go home like that."
From past encounters she knew that his liquid brown eyes emitted power the power to entice, draw, enslave. So she avoided his eyes, wishing he'd just go away. He'd witnessed her humiliation, and he was the last man to whom she wanted to be indebted. "You can just leave now."
He chuckled and led her horse forward. "All right, Green Eyes."
She bent to wash her face as best she could, but mud still clung to her eyebrows and lashes.
She heard Noble mount his horse and ride up the riverbank. "I wanted to meet you here again, Rachel, but this was not what I had in mind."
She turned around, glaring at him. "Go home, or I'll ...I'll"
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going, I'm going." His eyes sought hers and the smile left his face.
For a long moment they stared at each other.
His voice was deep with feeling as he said, "I'll be waiting for you tonight. You know the place."
She watched him ride away, wishing him in hell, then wishing he hadn't left her.
"Noble, I won't be there tonight," she cried out, but her protest was carried away by the wind, and he had already ridden out of sight.
Mud splattered and sore, she mounted her horse and galloped in the direction of the Broken Spur. Noble could wait all night, for all she cared she wouldn't go to him. He'd chosen the wrong sister this time. She wasn't like Delia.
When she reached the house, she dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to a startled Zeb.
"Samson got stuck in quicksand. He's all right now," she said, hurrying away before he could ask her to explain.
The sun had gone down hours ago, and everyone was in bed but Rachel. She sat at the desk, her head bent over a ledger, trying to concentrate on the blurred column of figures that danced before her eyes. At last she closed the book, extinguished the lamp and decided to go to bed. She walked to the stairs, turned back and looked at the front door.
She thought of Noble waiting for her at the river there was no doubt in her mind that he'd be there again tonight. She'd tried to push thoughts of him to the back of her mind, but it was impossible. He pulled at her, enticing her to come to him as surely as if he were in the room with her.
And she wanted to go.
She shook her head, trying to hold on to her resolve. She felt adrift, removed from reality, yet she had never felt more alive. Her mind was attuned to the night sounds the constant chirping of crickets, the occasional hooting of a barn owl somewhere in the distance. She listened to the lonesome howl of a wolf and, moments later, the answer of its mate. She closed her eyes and leaned against the stair post, digging her fingernails into the soft wood.
Noble was by the river, waiting for her, just as the wolf was waiting for its mate.
She hurried to the door, ripped it open and ran to the barn. Moments later she rode off into the night in the direction of the river. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe. She didn't know what force was driving her, but there was no turning back now.
Rachel rode beneath a crystalline sky, and the rising moon seemed as if it were suspended above her like a bright, polished ball, drawing her
under its spell. The warmth of the night wind caressed her cheek. She was set on a path that would take her to Noble, and nothing was going to stop her.
A jackrabbit jumped in front of her horse, but she easily controlled the startled mare and continued onward. Fireflies blinked and flitted on the wind, but she paid no heed. She had only one purpose in mind. She needed Noble. She wanted to melt into his arms, to be a part of him.
When she reached the riverbank, she slid off her horse as a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
Noble appeared beside her. He did not touch her, but just looked down at her for a long moment. "I waited here tonight just as I did the night of the dance. You didn't come then, and I waited until dawn."
A sudden breeze rustled the leaves above them and riffled through his dark hair. Rachel's lower lip trembled and unwelcome tears gathered in her eyes. She said in an unsteady voice, "I'm here now."
He reached for her and she went willingly into his arms. His hungry lips slid across her face, nudging her ear, nipping at her lashes and at last covering her mouth. His arms held her gently at first and then tighter, more possessively.
Rachel melted into him, feeling the swell of him against her. It was as if she were a lightning rod and Noble was the lightning. His magnetism streaked through her with such intense energy that it left her weak with longing.
"Rachel, Rachel," Noble murmured against her lips. "I have dreamed of the moment when you would freely come to me." His strong arms closed even tighter about her. "Only you can take away this emptiness inside me."
Her fingers slid into his midnight hair and she brought his lips to hers. She was drowning and could not even save herself. Only this moment ex isted, this night, no tomorrow just the touch of his body, the feel of his hands, the sensuous mouth that came nearer, touching her lips, featherlike. Then his lips were hot, devouring, glorious, dragging all resistance away from her.
Caught in a powerful deluge of desire like nothing she could have imagined, Rachel did not protest when Noble began to undress her. Slowly and expertly he unlaced, unfastened and removed her garments until she was naked. Strangely, she felt no shame as he stared at her, his eyes brightened by passion.
Texas Proud (Vincente 2) Page 16