“Then I would have excused myself and come to yours,” Pure Blossom said stubbornly.
“You are a daring, beautiful woman,” Adam said. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. “I think I have to give you some sort of payment for your trouble in coming here, don’t you?”
In the cold darkness of the private car, they laughed, giggled, and touched. Their moans filled the dark spaces with passion’s bliss.
Chapter 17
Hurt no living thing,
Ladybird nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wings,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily.
—CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
Fort Defiance
The distant hills were shaded in purple and gray. The sunlight was like liquid gold as it poured its glorious, morning light across a landscape of bronze and green. Damon had discovered only a short while ago that several of his horses were missing. It didn’t matter to him that he had originally stolen them from the Navaho: any horse was his horse when it was stolen from his corral.
His arrival at the fort had awakened everyone before the morning reveille. He impatiently paced the floor as he waited for the Indian agent, Alfred Bryant, to come into his office so that a complaint could be lodged. He had also asked for an audience with Colonel Scott Utley.
Damon felt that surely between these two important men, something could be done about the damn thieving Injuns. He wanted the Navaho run off from the Arizona Territory, and along with them, their mangy sheep. He wanted the land for himself so that he could bring cattle in from Texas. With Adam’s financial backing, Damon saw a future for himself paved in gold.
Heavy footsteps behind him caused Damon to stop pacing and turn and glower. “It’s about time,” he drawled as the agent sauntered sleepily into the small, dark office. “If you’d tend to business instead of sleepin’ till noon, I wouldn’t have to be here lodgin’ complaint after complaint against the Navaho.”
“What is it now?” Alfred yawned, his rusty-red mustache quivering. The suspenders that only moments ago had been hanging lazily on each side of his waist were now being slipped over his shoulders. “My God, Damon, don’t you ever sleep? Every time you come here to pester me with your complaints about the Navaho you do it at the crack of dawn.”
Damon found it hard to hold his temper under control. With angry eyes, he waited as Alfred moved in a slow, lazy saunter and sat down behind his desk. He glared at Alfred. To Damon, the agent resembled a chicken with his long, scrawny neck and oversized Adam’s apple. His nose was long and pointed, his eyes so narrow you could scarcely see their color.
A lieutenant came into the room carrying a tray on which sat a steaming pot of coffee and two mugs. After Alfred scooted several strewn papers and journals aside, to make room for the tray, the lieutenant placed it on Alfred’s desk and left again without having acknowledged Damon’s presence.
Damon knew that no one at the fort liked seeing him come. He was a reminder of how little they had achieved against the Navaho. No one liked being reminded of their shortcomings, not even a worthless agent, and an even more useless colonel.
“Coffee?” Alfred said, pouring.
“This ain’t no damn social call,” Damon spat. He went to the desk and leaned on it with his hands. “I’ve come to lodge another complaint against the damn Navaho. Are you ready to listen, or do I have to wait until you’ve emptied that full pot of coffee?”
Alfred looked up at Damon. “You’re close to bein’ insulting,” he said, frowning. “Now, if you can’t be civil, I’d advise you to get your carcass outta here. I ain’t paid to listen to your bellyachin’ week in and week out.”
“Are you paid to take care of problems with Injuns, or ain’t you?” Damon said. “Or do I have to go and send a wire to Washington and inform them that you’re a lowdown, worthless son of a bitch?”
“Damon, I’ve taken about all I can from you,” Alfred said. He rose slowly from the chair, his face red with anger. “Now speak your mind, or damn it, get out, and . . . I don’t give a damn if you send a wire to the president. I’ve decided to take my leave, anyhow, and be an agent somewhere else, where I don’t have the likes of you jumpin’ my ass over something you’ve cooked up between you and the Navaho.”
“Do you call horse thievin’ somethin’ to be tolerated?” Damon hissed. “If so, since when do Indians get to steal from a white man without payin’ for it at the end of a hangman’s noose?”
“Which Indians?” Alfred said, easing back down in the chair, sighing impatiently.
“The Navaho, that’s who.”
“Names. I need names.”
“Runner. Sage. Thunder Hawk.”
Alfred’s jaw tightened. “Do you have any proof?” he asked. “You display an almost sadistic streak of cruelty where the Navaho are concerned. You’re always talking about ways to even a score with this man or that. So do you think I take you seriously now?”
“My word. Ain’t that proof enough?”
Alfred laughed sarcastically. “Your word be damned.”
“Are you sayin’ you won’t take my word and that the thieving savages are going to be allowed to get away with this?” He turned around and started walking toward the door. “I guess I’ll go and see what Colonel Utley has to say about this,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“You plan to see him today?” Alfred said, chuckling.
“Sure do.” Damon took hold of the doorknob.
“Then have a pleasant ride to Washington,” Alfred said. His eyes danced when Damon turned to stare blankly at him. “But I must warn you. Everyone is aware of your prejudice out here.”
“He’s in Washington?”
“Yep. Left awhile back. But I’m sure he’d make time for you if you took your complaint to Washington.”
Damon stamped over to the desk. He leaned across it and grabbed Alfred by the throat. “It’s a good thing you’re plannin’ on leavin’ the Arizona Territory,” he said with a feral snarl.
Alfred’s face grew beet red and his eyes were wild. Damon released him and left the office in a fury.
The only thing left for him to do was to speed up the plan that Adam wanted to set into motion to ruin Sage. If tricking the Navaho was his only recourse now, then so be it.
The sun was showing its full, round face just over the mountains when Runner and Stephanie arrived back at the train. Stephanie slid out of her saddle and tethered her horse to the hitching rail, then went to Runner.
“Must you go?” Stephanie asked, begging up at him with her wide, smoky-gray eyes. “If you’d stay, we could share breakfast and coffee, get some rest, go out later today to take some photographs. We could make an entire day of it, Runner. Please stay?”
“I need to go and see if my father made it safely back to the village with the horses,” Runner said. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his village, then turned to gaze down at Stephanie again. “I feel guilty for having left him last night, but he had many braves to help with the horses.”
“There is such a strong loyalty between you, isn’t there?” Stephanie said. “I admire that in sons and fathers.”
She looked toward Adam’s private car. “I know that Adam wishes his true father were alive,” she said softly. Then she looked up at Runner again. “Except for Adam getting on my father’s nerves now and then, Adam and my father get along well enough. But as far as loyalties go? I’m not sure if Adam could feel that strong a bond with anyone.”
“He seems genuinely concerned over your welfare,” Runner said, stroking his stallion’s mane. “In that there is a loyalty, as though you were his true sister, would you not say?”
“Perhaps,” Stephanie said, slowly nodding. “Anyhow, he does seem sincere enough.”
Runner reached down and touched Stephanie’s cheek tenderly. “My feelings are quite genuine,” he said softly, then leaned lower and gave her a melting kiss.
A noise drew them apart. They both gasped as they
found Pure Blossom running swiftly from Adam’s private car, obviously trying to sneak away while Stephanie and Runner were occupied.
“Pure Blossom?” Runner said, his voice drawn. He gave his sister a puzzled stare when she stopped and looked at him, guilt etched onto her lovely face.
Runner slipped out of the saddle, his eyes on Adam, who cowered on the steps of the train. Enraged, he went over to Adam and slammed a fist into his jaw. When Adam fell to the ground, Runner was there just as quickly to grab him up by the shirt collar and hit him again.
Pure Blossom ran to her brother and grabbed him by an arm. “Stop!” she cried. “Big brother, do not do this thing! Adam had nothing to do with me being here. I came to him on my own. I came to him because I wanted to. Because he loved me, he took me in. Would you rather he turn me away into the dark, to return home alone at the mercy of the coyotes? Instead, he offered me lodging.”
“And more, I am certain,” Runner said. His teeth were clenched as he stood over Adam, who was swaying, finding it difficult to stand. Blood was running from Adam’s nose and mouth. One eye was already swelling shut.
“Can you tell me, old friend, that you did not share the same bed as my sister last night?” Runner said.
“I slept with him,” Pure Blossom quickly interjected, pride in her voice. “So if blame must be cast, it should be entirely on your sister.”
Runner’s eyes wavered as he looked down at Pure Blossom. “Knowing how Father feels, why would you do this?” he asked.
Pure Blossom cast a defiant look Stephanie’s way, then turned her eyes back to Runner. “Why do you, big brother, continue to have liaisons with the white woman, when you also know how Father feels?” she asked in return.
Stephanie stirred uneasily. She knew that what Pure Blossom said made good sense, yet she still did not like to be made an example of. She saw hers and Runner’s situation much differently than her brother’s and Pure Blossom’s. Sage had absolutely forbidden Adam to see Pure Blossom under any circumstances. He had made a pact with Adam, that Adam would be welcome among the Navaho as long as he no longer courted Pure Blossom.
Runner’s father had made no such ultimatum to him. Stephanie had given him no cause to, especially since she was not interfering directly in their lives.
“Pure Blossom, no matter what you say, you should not be with Adam,” Runner said, drawing her closer. “Sweet little sister, he is not right for you. He will never marry you. Do you not see that his world is so opposite ours? He would not take you into his white world with him, nor would he stay with you in yours. Time spent with him is wasted. Please see that and say a final farewell to him. You will be better off because of it.”
Runner couldn’t tell his sister how he was truly feeling: Adam might be sincere about Pure Blossom now, when only a slight hump was present at the base of her skull, but soon she would be showing more signs of her affliction which could become grotesque in the eyes of such a man as Adam.
Yet he knew that even his father would not be able to stop the love affair between his sister and this white man now. And did not his sister deserve a measure of happiness while it was still possible?
Pure Blossom went to Adam and smoothed gentle fingers across his swollen eyelid, then took a handkerchief from his breeches pocket and began dabbing at his cuts.
“You do not care that I am Navaho, do you?” she murmured. “You would not be ashamed to have a Navaho wife?”
Adam’s eyes wavered into hers. He swallowed hard, touched anew by her innocent beauty and the sincerity in her voice.
“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want everything to be possible for you. Even marriage to the man you love.”
Sobbing, Pure Blossom flung herself into Adam’s arms. “I knew that you cared,” she cried.
Stephanie went to Runner and took his hand. She led him away from Pure Blossom and Adam.
“It seems my brother is sincere about your sister,” she said softly.
“Pity your brother should he ever hurt her,” Runner said, drawing Stephanie into his embrace. Over Stephanie’s shoulder, he watched Pure Blossom and Adam kissing. His insides seethed at the sight. Yet, perhaps he was wrong about Adam. For his sister’s sake, he had no choice but to give Adam the benefit of the doubt.
Runner stepped away from Stephanie and swung himself up on his horse. “Come, little sister,” he said, his voice carrying to Pure Blossom. “Get your horse and come home with me.”
Pure Blossom retrieved her horse from its hiding place and led it over beside Runner’s. Adam lifted her into the saddle.
“Runner, if Father has not missed me, do not tell him where I spent the night,” Pure Blossom begged. “I want to give him more time. Then I shall tell him.”
She smiled down at Adam, then looked somberly over at Runner again. “When our wedding date has been planned, big brother, then I will tell both Mother and Father. Will you please allow me this time? I do not want to test our father’s wrath just yet.”
“Secrets are ugly,” Runner said, his jaw tightening.
“Sometimes they are necessary,” Pure Blossom said softly. “At least, for a short while.”
“I will think about it,” Runner said, then nodded a farewell to Stephanie and urged his horse off in a soft trot. “Come, little sister. Today I will help you sneak into your hogan without being seen. I am not sure about tomorrow, though.”
Pure Blossom drew up next to Runner. “Uke-he, thank you,” she said, her eyes smiling.
Adam and Stephanie stared at one another for a moment, then Adam took her into his arms. “Thank you for not voicing an opinion,” he said, stroking her hair. “I could see it in your eyes that you did not approve of what I’m up to.”
“What are you up to, Adam?” Stephanie said, taking a step away from him. “Are you truly in love with Pure Blossom?”
“With all of my heart,” Adam said, then turned to walk away from her, toward his private car.
“But that isn’t always enough, is it, Adam?”
Adam turned and gave her a steady stare, then continued on.
“Good Lord,” Stephanie said to herself, growing cold inside, “he’s not going to marry her.”
She slowly shook her head. Her brother was playing a dangerous game, but she could only wait and see how he played it out. She silently prayed that somehow he might change his mind and be true to Pure Blossom after all.
Love sometimes conquered all—even greedy, conniving brothers.
Chapter 18
Love, to endure life’s sorrow,
and earth’s woes,
Needs friendships’ solid
masonwork below.
—ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
By noon, Stephanie and Runner were together again. She followed his lead, taking advantage of whatever he allowed her to photograph, thankful for at least that. Adam had caused enough problems for Runner and his family; she wanted to continue being the peacemaker. Most certainly she did not want to be labeled the antagonist.
Today she had followed Runner on frightening climbs, zigzagging upward, across saguaro-studded slopes and along barren ridges sparsely dotted with cedar. She had seen tarantulas the size of saucers scuttling slowly across the land. She had been horrified at the sight of rattlesnakes sunning themselves on rocks. She had seen all sorts of colorful lizards.
Riding in a slow lope across sand dotted with various cactus plants, Stephanie edged her horse over closer to Runner’s stallion.
“Runner, I’ve heard of a place called Canyon del Muerto, where there was a Spanish massacre of Navaho people in 1805,” she said. She winced when she saw an angry fire light his eyes.
Yet she proceeded to ask about it. “It is called the Antelope House Ruins, is it not?” she prodded. “I read that a large number of Navaho women and children were killed there. Would you take me to see it?”
“It is a place where if you stand among the ruins, you will still hear the wails of those mothers long ago as they stoo
d watching their children being slain by the Spaniards,” Runner said, giving Stephanie a tight-jawed look. “Canyon del Muerto forks off to the east from Canyon de Chelley. I will not escort you to either place.”
“Canyon de Chelley,” Stephanie said, nodding. “I read many accounts of that, also. I had hoped that you and I could go there. I so badly want to see it.”
“If you went there, you would be tempted too much to photograph it; it is a place of sheer beauty,” Runner said, nudging his horse into a faster pace.
Stephanie did the same and caught up with him. “I hear that it is breathtakingly beautiful,” she said. “I read all about it before coming here. The cliff walls are full of ancient dwelling places, and there are mysterious carvings and wall paintings all over the canyon.”
The more she talked about what she had learned while studying the Arizona Territory, the more intrigued she became over Canyon de Chelley. And she feared that Runner was wise not to escort her there. She would most certainly be tempted to take photographs of it. Those particular photographs would be all that the Santa Fe Railroad would need to lure passengers to travel to a mystical land scarcely seen by tourists.
“This sacred place, which lies at the heart of the Navaho Indian reservation, has more than beauty that touches one’s soul,” Runner said, giving Stephanie a pensive look. “To the Navaho it is the rift in the earth where the gods entered our world long ago to teach the Navaho. Sometimes when I go there, I seem to hear their voices echoing off the canyon walls. It is not only the home of the Navaho gods, but of the ancient ones who inhabited this land before us. The Anasazi. They are the ones who left behind the ancient drawings. This is why the place must be treated with reverence.”
“I understand,” Stephanie said sullenly. “I won’t ask you again to take me there.” Then her eyes brightened. “Perhaps we can go to a place that is called Spider Rock? I would love to photograph it. I hear that it rises eight hundred feet from a canyon floor. What a sight it must be!”
Wild Desire Page 15