It was on a cool spring night that Black Wind went into labor. Paulie summoned Rafe and Caitlyn and the three of them took a place inside the barn near the mare’s stall where they could watch her without being in the way.
The mare paced for about an hour, occasionally laying down, her legs thrust straight out, then rising to pace again.
Just when Caitlyn thought Paulie had made a mistake, Black Wind stretched out on the ground, straining mightily. There was a gush of water and then two tiny hooves slid into view, followed a moment later by a dark muzzle, and then the head and shoulders. Black Wind took a breather once the foal’s head had emerged, and then, exerting herself one last time, she expelled the rest of the foal from the birth canal.
Caitlyn felt tears well in her eyes as she beheld the miracle of birth.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Rafe murmured. He took her hand and squeezed it as the mare whickered softly to her foal. Scrambling to her feet, Black Wind sniffed the foal, then began to lick the filly’s neck.
“She’s as black as the ace of spades,” Rafe remarked.
Caitlyn grinned. “And those legs must be three feet long.”
“She’s a beaut!” Paulie declared.
Caitlyn and Rafe stayed until the filly had gained her feet and began nursing, then they bid Paulie good night. He would stay until Black Wind passed the afterbirth. While he waited, he daubed some iodine on the filly’s navel to guard against infection, and then he made a hot bran mash for Black Wind.
Caitlyn was subdued as they made their way back to the house.
“What is it?” Rafe asked.
“The filly’s beautiful,” Caitlyn said, choking back a sob. “Pa would have been so pleased.”
“Caty.” He took her in his arms as she began to weep.
“Oh, Rafe, I miss him so!”
“I know, Caty, I know.”
She pressed her face against his chest as her tears came faster, releasing some of the hurt in her heart. She had been close to her father. After her mother died and her brothers were killed, she and her father had turned to each other like two lost souls. They had grieved together and comforted one another, and in so doing they had forged a deep bond.
Gradually, Caitlyn’s sobs decreased and she became aware of Rafe’s hands stroking her hair, his strong, capable hands gentle as they soothed her.
“Pa had such big dreams when we started out,” Caitlyn said, sniffing. “He wanted to raise the best horses in the territory, to make a new home for my brothers and me after my mother died. He wanted to make the name Carmichael stand for something, build something he could be proud of. But he never got to see his dreams come true, Rafe. He died a little when the Indians killed my brothers, but he still had his dream. With Red and Black Wind, he found a new hope for the future and he began to think it wasn’t too late, that his dream of raising the best horses in the territory might still come true. And then those filthy savages killed him in cold blood.” Hatred filled her voice and dried the last of her tears. “I wish they were all dead, Rafe. Every last one of them.” Her anger vanished as quickly as it had been born. “I wish he could have seen the filly…”
She was suddenly aware of Rafe’s arms around her, of the fact that his muscles were taut, his jaw tight. For a moment she wondered what was wrong, and then she knew. The words “filthy savages” screamed inside her head.
She glanced up, her eyes begging for his understanding. She no longer thought of him as an Indian, but as her husband, the man she loved. But she could find no forgiveness in her heart for the savages who had killed her brothers and murdered her father and Luther. The West would be a better place if every Indian on the face of the earth was wiped out once and for all.
“Rafe…”
“It’s all right, Caitlyn.”
His words offered little comfort, not when she saw the anger in his eyes. He was half Indian and she knew intuitively that he could not separate himself from her words.
“I didn’t mean you were a savage,” Caitlyn said, wanting to erase the barely suppressed fury in his eyes. “I don’t think of you as an Indian anymore, I…” She bit off her words, knowing she was only making things worse. He was proud of his Indian heritage, proud of who and what he was.
Rafe released her and went to the hearth where he rolled and lit a cigarette. He could not blame Caitlyn for her hatred of Indians. She had ample reason to hate and fear them and yet, her words had filled him with anger and pain. People had scorned him and looked down on him his whole life because of the Indian blood in his veins. He had endured numerous insults, felt his anger rise when men called him a dirty half-breed. The women hadn’t been so bad. They had been fascinated by his Cherokee blood, titillated by the fact that he was a savage, forbidden, mysterious. He knew if he’d been short, fat, and ugly, they would have shunned him. But he had inherited his mother’s dusky skin, black hair, and ebony eyes, and Killian Gallegher’s charm and rugged good looks.
Rafe scowled as he gazed out the window. He was not unaware of his looks. Women had always fawned over him because they liked his long, lean frame and rugged countenance. He was not vain about his appearance; it was a fact of life, and if it had made him more desirable to the ladies, well, so be it.
He had thought himself past hurting, now that he had Caitlyn for his wife and a home to call his own. But her words had cut like a knife. Filthy savages. Was it possible that, deep down, that was how she thought of him, too?
He tossed his cigarette into the fire, watched it flame and die. He didn’t really have a home to call his own, he mused. The ranch belonged to Caitlyn; the deed was in her name. He was no more than a ramrod, making sure the men stayed in line, the work was done, things ran smoothly. Being married to the boss was just an extra bonus.
He was surprised at how bitter he was.
“Rafe.” He heard the uncertainty in her voice, the sadness, the regret.
“Go to bed, Caitlyn,” he said curtly.
She hesitated for a moment, wanting to go to him, to make things right between them again. But she could not bring herself to cross the short distance between them. He looked so angry. So unforgiving. So hurt.
She murmured a quick good night and left the room. She sat on the edge of the bed for a quarter of an hour, idly brushing her hair as she listened for the sound of his footsteps in the hall. But she heard only silence.
Slipping under the covers, she stared up at the ceiling, refusing to cry. Why was he being so sensitive and unreasonable? Surely he knew she didn’t think he was a savage! After the last few months, he must know that she loved him wholly and completely.
She heard the clock chime the hour and still he did not come to bed. Her eyelids grew heavy, heavier, until sleep claimed her.
When she woke the following morning, she was alone in bed. Glancing at the pillow beside hers, she was dismayed when she saw he had not come to bed at all.
Rising, she drew on her wrapper and hurried into the kitchen, hoping to find him. But the kitchen was empty. A lone coffee cup bore mute evidence that Rafe had been there earlier.
Discouraged, Caitlyn poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, then stood at the kitchen window, staring out. Darn her thoughtless tongue! He had every right to be offended.
Moments later she saw him ride out of the yard mounted on a big bay gelding.
A sense of depression settled over Caitlyn as she watched Rafe ride away. He’d be gone all day, riding the south range with Scott and Rusty Jordan. Why hadn’t he stayed for breakfast so they could settle the problem between them?
It was an effort to do the chores that day. Usually she made the bed and cooked and cleaned with a song on her lips, but today black depression followed her from task to task. She had no appetite so she skipped lunch, wondering if Rafe’s pride would fill his empty belly. He’d had no breakfast and would get no midday meal unless one of the hands had packed enough for two.
Late in the afternoon she went into the barn to see Black Wind a
nd the filly. The filly was asleep on a pile of straw, but she woke up as Caitlyn leaned over the stall door. Caitlyn could not help smiling as the day-old foal scrambled to her feet and began to nurse.
“She’s a beautiful baby,” Caitlyn told the mare as she scratched her forehead. “Just beautiful.”
She spent another few minutes in the barn, then wandered outside. Red whickered as she passed his corral and she decided to take the stallion out for some light exercise. Perhaps an hour or two in the open would make her feel better.
Twenty minutes later she was riding away from the ranch.
It was a lovely day. The air was turning cool as the sun began to slide behind the mountains, but the heavens were a cloudless blue, the trees gorgeous in their new spring green. Scattered patches of wildflowers added spots of color to the greening hills, and the river was running high and wide.
She passed several head of cattle as she rode toward the pool and she made a mental note to tell Scott so he could round the animals up.
The pool was still, ringed with a carpet of new grass. She saw several squirrels scampering between the trees, heard the raucous cry of a jay.
Dismounting, she pulled off her boots and stockings and dangled her feet in the cold water. Red grazed beside her, enjoying the fresh grass. After a few minutes, Caitlyn took her feet out of the water. She had been contemplating a swim, but the pool was too cold.
She wondered if Rafe would be in a better mood when he came home that night. What could she say to appease him? She’d slept badly last night, missing his arms around her, missing his kiss that sent her off to sleep each night and woke her each morning.
She turned at the sound of hoofbeats and saw Scott, Rusty, and Rafe riding toward her, herding a dozen head of cattle. She felt her heart quicken as she saw her husband. Would he acknowledge her presence, or simply ride on?
She stood up so he would be sure to see her, saw him gesture for Scott and Rusty to go on ahead. Then he was riding toward her.
Caitlyn’s heart was beating rapidly by the time he reined his horse to a halt beside the pool, and she stared up at him, wishing she could think of something to say that would heal the rift between them.
Rafe let out a long sigh. He was tired and dusty and hungry, yet just looking at Caitlyn made him forget all that. She was wearing a blue cotton shirtwaist and a calico skirt that was damp around the hem. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, though several strands had escaped to curl around her face. But it was her eyes that held him. They were as green as the grass at her feet, filled with a silent plea for his forgiveness.
He mouthed a vague obscenity as he swung from the saddle and took her in his arms. She melted against him, her eyes welling with tears.
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know.” Drawing back a little, he cupped her face in his hands, his fingertips wiping away her tears. He felt his heart catch as she gazed up at him, her cheeks damp, her eyes filled with love.
“Caty.”
“I love you, Rafe. I never meant to offend you.”
“I know.” It wasn’t her fault she hated Indians any more than it was his fault he was a half-breed.
Gently, tenderly, he kissed her and the touch of her lips drove away all the hurt, all the hard feelings.
“Come on,” he said huskily. “Let’s go home.”
Caitlyn nodded, her heart light as Rafe lifted her onto Red’s back, then swung aboard his own bay gelding.
Side by side, they rode toward the Circle C.
Chapter Fourteen
Rafe let out a sigh of exasperation. “Dammit, Caitlyn, you’re not going and that’s that. The trail’s no place for a woman.”
“You sound just like my father,” Caitlyn retorted.
“Well, he was right. Now I want your word that you’ll stay here until I get back.”
Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with defiance, shooting green sparks at him. “I’m going, and that’s that. You seem to forget those are my cattle. I have every right to ride along.”
“You have no rights at all except the ones I give you,” Rafe snapped. “You’re my wife, and I’m telling you to stay here, at home, where you belong.”
Caitlyn glared at her husband, too angry to speak. How dare he talk to her like that! No right, indeed! The ranch was hers, the cattle were hers, and she would do as she darn well pleased. And if he didn’t like it, that was just too bad.
Rafe swore under his breath. He had tried to reason with her, he had tried to threaten her, and now he had tried to bully her, and nothing had worked. One way or another, he knew Caitlyn was determined to accompany the herd to Fort Laramie and short of tying her to the bedpost, he couldn’t think of any way to make her stay home.
“Caty, please do as I ask.”
She felt her anger drain away at his soft-spoken request. She almost agreed but then she shook her head. “I’m going.”
He knew when he was licked. “We’re leaving at first light. Be ready, or we’ll go without you.”
It was an empty threat. He wasn’t about to leave her behind. Knowing Caitlyn, she’d just follow him, maybe get into trouble, maybe get lost. He couldn’t take that chance. Besides, he didn’t really want to spend the next couple of months sleeping alone, wondering if she were all right at home.
Caitlyn smiled triumphantly. “I’ll be ready.”
They were on the trail shortly after dawn the following morning, eight hundred head of belligerent cattle, six men, and one woman who could hardly suppress her excitement. Paulie and Rusty were staying behind to look after the ranch.
Rafe rode up beside Caitlyn. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? This isn’t an overnight ride, Caty. We’ll be gone for weeks.”
“I’m going.”
Rafe nodded. Removing his hat, he swung it over his head and Scott started the herd moving down the trail. It would take a week or more until the herd was trail-wise and until then they were in for a lot of hard work.
An hour later, Caitlyn was wondering why she’d been so determined to accompany the herd. The cattle bawled continually, loudly protesting each step of the way, almost as if they knew what fate awaited them at the end of the trail. Great clouds of dust choked the air, and only the kerchief tied over her nose and mouth kept her from choking on the thick powdery dust. Added to the bawling cattle could be heard the shouts of the men as they tried to keep the herd moving in the right direction, the occasional whinny of a horse, and the constant rumble of hundreds of hooves jarring the ground.
The cowhands pushed the herd hard that first day, wanting to get them as far from familiar territory as possible. Tired cattle, Caitlyn knew, were less inclined to wander away from the herd, and less likely to try and turn back toward their home range. Later, when the herd was trail-wise, they would travel slower, covering twelve to fifteen miles a day, giving the cattle time to graze and fatten up along the way.
Her father’s cowhands knew what to do, they had done it several times in the past. Scott and Nate rode point that first day. Hal rode the line, while Josh and Wishful, who had been the last to hire on, rode drag, urging the herd along.
The cattle were nervous on the trail at the beginning of the drive, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Brenden Carmichael had always included a few old bulls in the herd to help calm the other animals and counteract the antics of the young steers. Caitlyn saw that Scott had done the same.
They rode hard for five hours, pausing only briefly for a quick meal at noon, and then they were on the move again.
Another six hours passed before Rafe called a halt. By then, Caitlyn was certain she would never be the same. She was positive her legs were permanently bowed, just like Web’s. Every muscle in her body was stiff and sore and she was more than a little relieved to be off the back of her horse and standing on solid ground. It took the last bit of her energy to strip the rigging from her mount and then she dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged on her sad
dle blanket, too weary to pay any attention to what was going on around her.
Web had volunteered to do the cooking on the trail. Caitlyn knew she should offer to help him prepare the evening meal, but she couldn’t seem to make her legs move. She was vaguely aware of the cowhands settling the herd for the night and heard Rafe issuing orders designating who would take the first watch, who would take the second, and so on. The smell of woodsmoke tickled her nostrils as Web lit the cook fire, and she heard the men gather round, talking about the day’s events. But, by then, she was almost asleep. Hardly aware she had done so, she lay down, curled into a ball, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Rafe shook his head when he found her asleep beneath a lacy cottonwood. If he’d had a man to spare, he would have sent her back home, but it was too late now. He debated waking her for supper, but decided she needed rest more than food. After covering her with a blanket, he swung into the saddle and rode out to check on the herd, making sure the nighthawks were in place before he returned to the fire. Web had cooked up a mess of chili and beans and sourdough biscuits that met with everyone’s approval, and Rafe let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than the prospect of spending weeks on the trail eating grub that wasn’t worth chewing. A good cook meant one less thing for the men to grumble about.
Gradually, the fire burned low and the men turned in. Then Rafe sought his own blankets. Caitlyn was still asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, her hair a golden frame for her face. He felt the familiar longing well inside him when he looked at her, but this was not the time or the place.
Wrapping a blanket around him, he stretched out beside her, his head pillowed on his saddle, his hat pulled over his eyes. Yet even then he was aware of the woman lying beside him. He could hear the soft sound of her breathing, smell the faint fragrance that clung to her hair. He was still awake when Scott shook his shoulder to inform him it was his turn to ride herd on the cattle.
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