Warrior's Embrace

by Peggy Webb

  He sank into his chair like an old man. The sight of his infirmities saddened Kate ...and scared her. Mick Malone was supposed to be invincible.

  “I’ll get you some coffee, Senator.” Eagle left the room as soundlessly as the snow that drifted in fat flakes beyond the window.

  Kate sat in a chair opposite her father, and an uncomfortable silence descended over them. Sweat inched down the side of her face, and she wished she’d taken a chair away from the fire.

  “How are ye, Katie Elizabeth?”

  “Dirty, disheveled, grief stricken at the loss of my friend and my clinic. Other than that, I’m fine, Father.” She wouldn’t give Mick the satisfaction of seeing how hot she was by taking off her coat. “How’s Mother?”

  “She misses you, Katie.”

  What about you, Father? Do you ever miss me?

  Kate stared at him, knowing she would never ask the question that pressed upon her mind.

  “I’ll call her today ...reassure her.”

  “There won’t be any need for long distance calls, Katie. I’m taking you home.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “I’ve already bought your ticket.”

  “Cash it in. I’m staying here.”

  “This is all the doings of that savage.”

  “Don’t you dare speak of Eagle Mingo in those terms.”

  “I’ll use any terms I by God please. Do you take me for some kind of fool? I saw the two of you together when I walked into this room.”

  Kate stood up, giving herself the advantage of towering over Mick as he sat in his chair.

  “You should have knocked first.”

  “I practically tore the damned bell off the wall, ringing it.” Mick stood up to face her, his shoulders squared like a boxer’s. “Katie Elizabeth, get your things.”

  “I don’t have any things, and I’m not about to be picked up and shuffled around like a mail order package.”

  Eagle came into the room as silently as he had left.

  “Kate, go with him. It’s best.”

  She whirled on Eagle. “Best for whom? Who the hell gives a damn who it’s best for? Certainly not you, Governor.” She fixed a fierce glare on her father. “Nor you, Senator.” She jerked off her coat and flung it onto the sofa. “While both of you are bickering over my life, I have patients who are dying. As soon as I take a bath, I’m going to make a house call, with or without your permission, Eagle Mingo.” She turned to her father. “As for you, you gave up parental rights the day you told me I was no daughter of yours.”

  The look on his face might have moved her if she’d had any heart left to move. But she was stripped bare of feeling, totally naked emotionally. The only thing that mattered now was the Chickasaw children.

  “I’m staying in this land you call godforsaken with this man you call savage.”

  “Not while I have breath in my body,” Mick said.

  “She’s made her decision, Senator.”

  Kate marched out with her head held high, leaving the fighting Irish senator and the unconquerable Chickasaw squared off before the fire. Her righteous indignation got her out of the room and down the hall. In the bathroom that held the masculine smells of Eagle, in the shower that held the spicy soap still damp from his bath, she leaned against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself until she could stop shaking.

  From the den came the sound of their battle.

  “She’s made her decision, Senator. I will not allow you to go after her.”

  “I don’t need your permission to go after my own daughter.”

  “This is my house.”

  “Why, you arrogant whippersnapper. Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m a by God United States senator.”

  “You’re on Tribal Lands, Senator. Your title and power are meaningless here.”

  Kate could picture Eagle, as formidable and unmovable as Arbuckle Mountain. But Mick Malone was neither impressed nor intimidated.

  “You’ll think Tribal Lands when I get through with you. I’ll have the feds down here so fast it’ll make your head swim. When they get through investigating the fire at my daughter’s clinic, we’ll see who has power.”

  There was the sound of footsteps as Eagle crossed the room, probably showing her father the door. Then a long silence, and Mick’s parting shot.

  “You haven’t heard the last of me.”

  Only when the door slammed did Kate realize she’d been gripping her arms so hard, she’d made red marks.

  “Kate.” She hadn’t even heard his approach, and yet there was Eagle, standing just inches away from her, on the other side of the glass shower door. Kate squeezed her hands together to keep from putting them on the glass like a child would on a shop window holding a great confection.

  “I’m sorry, Kate.”

  She could withstand his coldness, but his kindness was killing her.

  “Don’t take my decision to stay here personally.”

  “I don’t.”

  “And don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you ...because I’m not.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you did, Wictonaye.”

  Was the slip accidental or deliberate? Her breathing fogged up the shower door, but still she could see him, too close, too tempting. The humming sound she used to make when she was curved into him on summer evenings under the stars started low in her throat, and she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  What kind of woman was she? Wanting her best friend’s fiancé only hours after Deborah’s death?

  Eagle’s house was sprawling, most certainly with two baths and probably three. Why had she barreled down the hall to his?

  “Kate, are you all right?”

  What if she weren’t? Would he come inside the shower and help her fog up the glass door?

  “Uhm-mmm.”

  “When you’ve finished your bath, I’ll take you home to get some of your things, and I’ll go with you on your house calls.”

  “All right.”

  He stood on the other side of the glass door for a small eternity; then he left. It must have been five minutes after he left before Kate had recovered enough to turn on the shower.

  o0o

  The horses’ hooves sank deep into the snow as they struggled up the mountainside, single file. Only the life-and-death struggle of two children could have forced Eagle to take Kate on such a journey.

  He glanced behind to see how she was making the trip. She gave him a thumbs-up sign, but he could see the tension in her face and knew she must be remembering what had happened the last time she’d braved the mountain.

  There was a certain waiting stillness upon the land, as if someone, somewhere, watched every move they made. A raven rose suddenly from its nest, sounding alarms, and Eagle glanced upward.

  Did a shadow move, or was it his imagination? If he hadn’t had Kate with him, he’d have investigated, but his primary purpose was to deliver her safely to the sick children.

  When they entered the woods, he again was convinced that he was being watched. Strange that he wasn’t picking up a sense of evil, but a sense that whoever was out there belonged to the land in the way that his ancestors had.

  Eagle scanned the woods, but not so much as the movement of a leaf betrayed the watcher.

  Chapter 35

  Charleston, South Carolina

  For the first time in years, Martha stood up to her husband.

  “I want to know about my daughter,” she said.

  “She’s living with a savage. What more do you want to know, Martha?”

  “How was she? Did she look all right? What did she say?”

  Mick crushed his cigar in the ashtray and sat down in his chair with the newspaper. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

  Martha walked over to his chair and stood, waiting for him to notice her.

  “Dammit, woman. What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “You’ve seen Katie Elizabeth for the first time in five y
ears, and all you can say is ‘She’s living with a savage.’ I never considered you heartless, Mick Malone, but I’m beginning to think that’s exactly what you are. A heartless ...son of a you-know-what.”

  “Martha, I do believe you came close to cussing me.” Mick almost grinned.

  “I do believe I did.”

  Martha could hardly believe what she’d done. Flushed with success and newfound courage, she took the paper from his hand.

  “Now,” she said. “Tell me what you said to my daughter and what she said to you. I want to know the truth.”

  Mick seemed to grow smaller as he scooted down in his chair.

  “The truth is ugly, Martha.”

  “Yes, Mick. Sometimes it is.” She sat on the footstool beside the chair and took his hand. “Tell me about Katie.”

  o0o

  Witch Dance

  Anna had grown to hate her husband. Almost.

  Looking at him now, sitting at the head of the dinner table, she could pretend for a little while that everything was normal, that they still shared the same goals, the same bed.

  “This roast beef is delicious, Anna,” Dovie said.

  “Thank you.” Anna had no appetite for roast beef. Even the smell of it made her sick.

  She felt Cole’s eyes or, her, and when she looked at him, he smiled.

  Don’t give me false hope, she wanted to scream. She’d invited his family over, hoping that their presence would restore some sense of balance and normality.

  Cole’s smile dashed all her plans. For a moment it was sincere, intimate, real. And then it became something else, something she didn’t even want to think about.

  “Eagle flaunts the pale-faced doctor,” he said.

  “I know of this.” Winston had aged terribly in the past few months. Except for his piercing eyes and the deep voice, there were no signs of the powerful, robust man Anna had known.

  “She lives with him,” Dovie said.

  “He protects her,” Winston said. “Nothing more.”

  “Black Elk sent tribal police to do that,” Dovie protested. “They are all around Eagle’s ranch. Why can’t they do their job at Dr. Malone’s house?”

  Anna wanted to throw dishes at her husband for bringing this contention to their family meal. Instead, she spooned in a mouthful of potatoes and tried to swallow them without gagging.

  “She’ll turn him away from everything he believes in,” Cole said.

  Clint shoved back his chair and ran from the room. Dovie started crying.

  “Now look what you’ve done.” Anna’s rage and frustration boiled over. “If anyone is destroying this family, it’s you.”

  Cole’s face was thunderous as he stalked out of the room.

  “We will all survive this trying time.” Winston helped Dovie into her coat then put his arms around Anna. “You’re strong, my daughter. I’m proud of you.”

  She stood in the doorway until they were safely in their car, then she went into the bathroom she shared with her husband and lost her dinner.

  Cole didn’t even bother to ask why she was sick.

  o0o

  The long white limousine slid through the night as silently as a shadow. Behind its tinted windows Melissa stared at the cottage and the charred ruins of the clinic.

  “Stop here,” she told the driver.

  As she stared into the darkness, the old rage built in her. Clayton had lived there ...with another woman. Melissa flattened her palms against the glass and imagined how it must have been, the two of them sharing meals that Clayton had cooked and laughing together ...laughing at her.

  “You won’t win this time.”

  At her signal, the chauffeur carried her back to her apartment in Ada. Inside, she dropped her purse somewhere in the vicinity of the entry hall and slid one arm out of her mink coat so that it trailed along behind her to the bathroom.

  “Hurry, hurry,” she whispered to herself. “He’ll be here soon.”

  Her hands shook as she untangled herself from her coat, then reached into the back of the linen closet to take out her supplies. When all the pots of paint were spread upon the vanity, she stripped off her clothes and stood naked in front of the mirror.

  She dipped her finger into a paint pot, then drew careful circles around her breasts.

  “Ni’tak intaha,” she whispered. “The days appointed are finished.”

  She dipped her fingers again then raked them down her body from breastbone to pelvic bone. Her pupils dilated at the sight of so much red. Like blood.

  Clayton would be proud of her. At the thought of her lover, Melissa became almost frantic in her haste. Soon he’d be with her and they would lie together on the silk sheets sealed at the hips, sealed so tightly that nothing could tear them apart.

  The blue slash she painted across her cheeks wavered off course, and the yellow she put on her lips got out of line, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered except being ready for Clayton.

  When she’d finished painting herself, she selected a knife from the kitchen and lay down upon the bed. “Soon, my darling,” she whispered.

  She heard his key in the lock and his footsteps as he came into her bedroom. She turned herself so that the bedside light could show her handiwork.

  “My God,” he whispered.

  “Do you love me?” she asked.

  He came to her swiftly, and knelt beside the bed.

  “You know I do.” He bent over her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I love you, Melissa. I really love you.”

  “Will you do anything for me, Clayton?”

  His beautiful skin glistened in the lamplight as he stared at her.

  “Will you?” she whispered.

  He touched her breasts and his fingers came away red.

  “Anything, my love.”

  Smiling, she put the knife in his hands.

  o0o

  Every movement Kate made vibrated through him like a bowstring turned loose after the arrow has been launched. Eagle’s house had become a mine field. If he turned his head too quickly, he would catch her watching him in ways that set him aflame. If he wandered through the house in the middle of the night, he would glimpse her, struck with the same wanderlust, standing at the window with the moon washing her skin silver.

  Now, sitting across the table from her, he was surprised to see that look on her face again. He lifted his coffee cup ...carefully, as he did everything these days.

  Kate picked up her cup with equal care.

  “I’m going to the barn to check on Mahli,” she said. “She hasn’t looked good since . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I’m afraid she won’t be with me much longer. I’d like to spend some time with her.” Their eyes met. “Alone.”

  “After I check the barn, I’ll leave you. One of the guards can escort you back to the house.”

  They walked side by side to the barn, not touching. The night was cold and clear, with stars shining down on the snow and reflecting their light in patches that looked like celestial stepping-stones.

  Only a fool would try to penetrate the wall of guards around the governor’s house on such a night.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kate looked up at the sky.

  “Yes.” Her face and hair were surrounded by a nimbus.

  Waka ahina uno, iskunosi Wictonaye. Waka.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, she turned to him.

  “We can never go back,” she whispered.

  “No. Never.”

  Silently, he held the barn door open. She went straight to the stall and stood with Mahli between them while he checked for signs of intruders. Nothing was out of place. The sweet smell of hay and the rich smell of loamy earth lulled and soothed, just as the stars had done.

  “You’re safe, Kate. Just call one of the guards when you’re ready to come back.”

  “Yes, Governor.” She saluted, then came out of the stall and curtsied. “Anything you say, Gove
rnor.”

  The irony of her submissive attitude made them both laugh, and the laughter somehow saved them. When he went back to his house, Eagle’s spirits were almost light.

  He got a file folder and sat in a chair by the window, facing the barn. At his request, Martin Black Elk furnished him with copies of every report regarding Kate’s case. The latest was on Melissa Sayers Colbert, widow of suicide victim Dr. Clayton Colbert, with addresses in Boston and Ada, Oklahoma—socialite, heiress, and recently a patient at a mental institution.

  A memory stirred in the back of his mind, a memory of the look on Clayton Colbert’s face when Eagle had welcomed Kate to Witch Dance with a bouquet of Indian paintbrush. It had been the look of a man desperately, hopelessly, in love.

  Revenge was a powerful motivation.

  Suddenly the back of his neck prickled, and he turned slowly to the window. A curl of smoke rose from the barn, and the acrid smell of burning filled the air.

  Paper scattered to the floor as he raced from the room.

  “Kate!” he yelled. There was no answer except the crackle of flame shooting toward the sky

  Eagle almost stumbled over the bodies of the tribal policemen he’d left guarding the door. Kneeling quickly, he felt their pulse, then burst through the barn door.

  Smoke billowed around him.

  “Kate!”

  “Over here.” She was struggling to lead Mahli and Heloa through the flames. The black stallion reared, and his hooves smashed against the ground, cutting deep grooves.

  “Let him go, Kate! He’ll kill you.”

  “He’ll burn, Eagle. They’ll all burn.”

  Kate’s voice had the high, bright edge of hysteria. Eagle had a flashback of Deborah lying in a pool of blood amid the blazing clinic.

  Not again. He wouldn’t let the avenger win again.

  He jerked the reins away from her and carried her outside. The police guards had swarmed from their posts and formed a bucket brigade. In the distance the fire truck’s siren wailed.

  Eagle pulled the burliest guard out of the lineup and thrust Kate toward him.

  “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Inside the barn, his stallion was thrashing the air with his hooves. Mahli’s nostrils flared as she screamed with terror. Smoke burned Eagle’s eyes and lungs, and flame licked up the hay on its ruthless march toward the walls.