Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  Badger tried to stand up, but Viper yanked him back down beside him. "We can get these chains off tonight. He is going his way, and I am going mine. All we ask is that you stand out of the way."

  That was no request, however, but stated in so calm a tone that it carried the weight of an order. Impressed by the brave's show of confidence, Percy lowered his rifle, ^ stepped forward, and offered Viper his hand to help him* rise. "I think I've got a saw in my wagon that will take care of that chain. Spent some time in jail myself, and I don't mind helping you get away. Where are you headed?"

  Viper did not reply. He and Badger followed the man, who was of a slender build and dressed in one of the fancy suits of clothes he had found enhanced his trade. Still keeping a watchful eye on the two braves, Percy searched his gear for a hack saw, and handed it to Vif)er. "I'll let you do me work." Badger put his foot against the wagon, and with a half dozen funous strokes. Viper cut through the lock that held his end of the chain.

  Now free of his ties to his companion, Badger immediately began to back away. "You'll never find that white wife of yours. Come with me to the Dakotas instead. Little Crow will welcome us both."

  While Viper had never told Badger his i>lans, he wasn't surprised the brave had guessed them. "I wish you good

  luck, but I will not go with you."

  "Hey waiti" Percy again reached into his wagon and this time pulled out a knife. "You'll need one weapon, at least. Take this. It's a gift."

  When the peddler tossed him the knife, Badger regarded him with a befuddled frown. "Why are you helping me?"

  "Told you. Can't forget that Sioux woman of mine. Now get going before the army comes looking for you."

  As Badger took off at a run, going north where he would a^ain cross the river. Viper bent down to use the saw to free himself from the chain. When he had removed it, he carried both ruined locks and the length of chain back to the river and hurled them so far out into the water they would never be used on any man ever again. He then walked back to Percy's wagon and handed him the saw. "Thank you. Can you tell me how to reach Delaware?"

  "Delaware? Jesus Christ, man, that is a hell of a long way from here. That where your wife is?" When Viper nodded, Percy whistled softly. "That will be some trip. With the war and all, it's been a while since I went back East. Tell you what, I'll get you headed in the right direction, at least. First thing we've got to do is cut your hair, then I'm sure I've got some clodies here that will fit you. Like I said, people won't be willing to help an Indian, but with those light eyes of yours, you just might be able to walk right by without being noticed. Did you ever think of that?"

  With a slow smile. Viper admitted he had. "Yes, that is exactly what I planned to do." With Percy's help, by the time it had grown dark the Indian brave had been transformed into a charming young Frenchman who could travel where he wished without (kawing any glances save admiring ones. At dawn he and the friendly peddler set out for Delaware and the long-awaited reunion with his wife.

  With Lars's constant attention and Erica's devoted care, Mark made slow but steady progress, but he did not recover sufficient strength to return home to Wilmington until late March. Erica had hidden her pregnancy by wearing long aprons at the hospital, but at five months, the ac3itional inches at her waistline were becoming increasingly difficult to disguise. She had tried to find the courage to confide the truth of her situation to her father, but each time they were alone her resolve had swiftly deserted her, leaving her feeling all the more lost and alone. Now that she was ready to go home, however, she knew she would have to confront the matter no matter how dreadful she feared his reaction would be.

  She waited until Sarah had gone to summon the carriage, then lured her father to his office on the pretext of discussing Mark's condition one last time. Misreading the cause of her troubled expression, Lars reached out to take her hand. "I know this is a terrible burden for you, baby. I only wish that I could make the trip home with you, but it's simply impossible for me to get away now."

  "I understand," Erica replied softly, then, knowing she could expect only a few minutes of his time since he had so many desperately ill patients to attend, she simply blurted out her news. "I'm pregnant. Daddy. The baby's due toward the end of July."

  Dumbstruck by that astonishing announcement, Lars stared at his daughter a long moment before breaking into a delighted grin. "That's wonderful newsl Why didn't you tell me before now? Does Mark know? He's certainly done

  as fine a job as you of keeping your secret, if he does."

  Erica was equally amazed, for she had expected her father to regard her pregnancy as the worst of tragedies rather than as an event to be welcomed. Realizing he still didn't understand the truth, she swallowed hard, and tried to explain what the problem truly was. "No, I haven't told Mark. You see—"

  Thrilled by the prospect of having a grandchild, Lars brushed aside what he mistook as the beginnings of a hesitant apology. "I understand. He was too weak for such excitement before this, but I think he can tolerate it now. Once you get home, you'll have both Mrs. Ferguson and Sarah to help you, but you'll have to be careful you don't become overtired caring for Mark. Let's go tell him about the baby right now. His attitude is remarkably good after what he's suffered, but the prospect of having his first child this summer will lift his spirits tremendously. I'm convinced attitude has been the deciding factor in a number of cases I've seen where two men have had similar injuries but only one has recovered his health. Hope does wonders for a wounded man, sweetheart, and Mark needs every bit of hope we can give him."

  It hadn't once occurred to Erica that her father would think her child was Mark's but since she had married him the very day she had conceived the babe, the timing would lead anyone to assume her husband was the father. Anyone but Mark, that was. As her father continued to stress what a wonderful boost news of a child would be for her husband's morale. Erica tried to imagine what Mark's response would be. He was often conmsed, and terribly forgetful. He had headaches, which were at time so severe he could recall little of what had happened that day. Was it possible his memories of the first days of their marriage were so dim he would not know the child she carried could not possibly be his?

  Tom by the agonizing question of whether to lie for Mark's sake, or to tell the truth for her own. Erica allowed her father's arguments to sway her. She would tell Mark only that she was pregnant; if he assumed himself to be the father of her child then she would let him believe he was. By the time the baby was bom in July, he would surely be far more healthy than he was now and all the more able to cope with the oruth if she had to reveal it. If, on the other

  hand, he knew damn well diat he wasn't the baby's father, she knew he loved her too much to blame her or to treat her badly for having become pregnant with Viper's child.

  "I'd rather wait to tell him when we can be alone, Daddy," Erica decided at last. "There are so many people here, such confusion. I think I should be alone with him when I give him the news."

  While Lars was disappointed that he would not be able to see Mark's reaction, he understood his daughter's point of view. "Yes, confusion is a good term to describe this place, and Mark doesn't need any more of that. I keep hoping that when he gets home and gets settled in a comfortable routine, he won't have so many problems."

  Erica tried to smile, but she knew while he didn't that Mark's problems might only be beginning. Sarah found them then, and with the shyness she had never completely overcome with the physician, she thanked Lars Hanson for all he had done for her brother and bid him a fond farewell.

  When they stopped at an inn that night, Mark was greeted cordially by the jM^oprietor. He'd lost so much weight that his once handsomely tailored captain's uniform now hung on him like a scarecrow's baggy old dothes, but since he had obviously been wounded in the service of his country, he was accorded a hero's respect. He tired easily, and after the long carriage ride Erica considerately ordered supper to be served in their room. Equally ochausted,
Saran also asked to have her meal in her room, and they parted for the night at the desk.

  Once she had guided Mark up the stairs and into their room. Erica led him over to the bed. "Sit down and I'll take off your boots," she offered helpfully.

  Mark sat down as ordered, but once Erica had removed his boots he reached out to grab hold of her. "Come here," he ordered playfully. All during the carriage ride, he had clung to her hand tightly, but now that they were alone he wanted closeness of another sort. "This is the first time we've been alone in months, and I want to enjoy it." Pulling her between his legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist, laid his head upon her bosom, and hugged her tightly.

  Not having expected Mark to have such romantic thoughts. Erica hesitated a moment before encircling his neck with her arms. She brushed the top of his tawny curls with her lips and tried to find the words to tell him the

  secret she had kept so well hidden. They would share a bed that night, and she knew if she didn't tell him now, he would undoubtedly discover it for himself later that evening. "Mark, there's something I must tell you," she began nervously, unconsciously clinging to him all the harder.

  "Hmm, this is nice," Mark interrupted with a delighted hum. "I can hear your heart beating, thump, thump, thump."

  Erica bit her lip to force back her tears. When Mark had grown well enough to talk, conversation had often proven difficult, for he could not pursue a subject from beginning to end without changing it often. "Mark, listen to me," she tried again, hoping to gain his full attention. "I'm going to have a baby. This summer, by the end of July, I Slink. Do you understand what I mean?"

  "A baby?" Mark asked in an incredulous whisper. "We're going to have a baby?" He lightened his hold upon her momentarily, then hugged her with a fierce devotion. "I want a little girl, one who looks just like you. You'll tell me how pretty she is, won't you?"

  Erica ran her fingers through his hair as she agreed. "Of course, Mark. I'll tell you all about the baby. Boy or girl, you'll be able to hold and cuddle it. You'll be able to tell what a sweet child it is for yourself." When he did not release her, she relaxed her pose and stood in his arms until a light knock at the door signaled the arrival of their supper. But as they shared the iaaiy meal, she grew increasingly depressed. Mark had been very anxious to leave the hospital. He tried so hard to care for himself, to be independent, but he was a mere shadow of the fine young man he had once been. While her love was no longer tinged with passion, it was no less deep, and it was all she could do not to weep each time she looked at him. To let him think her child was his for even a minute seemed like a terrible sin, and yet she could not deny how delighted he had been to think they would soon become parents. Yet wouldn't the joy he felt now make his disappointment all the more devastating when she finally had to admit the truth?

  Unable to find the answer to her dilemma that satisfied both her desire to comfort Mark and her need to have a clear conscience, the troubled young woman ceased to torment herself with impossible questions. After supper

  she helped her husband prepare for bed, hoping he would fall asleep before she joined him, but he reached for her die minute she climbed into the bed beside him. "Can you feel the baby move?" he asked in an excited whisper.

  "Yes, he's an active litde tyke." Erica put his hand on her abdomen. "Wait just a minute, he's sure to give you a kick or two." Just as she had predicted, the baby soon began to stir, and with a satisfied laugh, Mark snuggled even closer.

  "Now I can hold both of you," he murmured softly against her curls.

  Erica held her breath, hoping he would have neither the stamina nor the inclination to want to make love. She knew she couldn't refuse him, but she remembered Viper's words too clearly: he would be the man in her arms, not Mark. How could she betray either of the men in her life so cruelly as that?

  "I love you," Mark whispered sleepily.

  "I love you, too," Erica replied sweetly. She put her hands over his, but she didn't begin to relax until she realized he would be content to fall asleep with her in his arms. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that tickled her ears. She did love Mark, and it hurt terribly to think how dependent upon her he had become. She was not yet eighteen years olo, but she thanked God she had the financial resources to allow her to care for an invalid husband, and the beautiful memories of love for a remarkable Indian brave who would be with her always.

  Percy McBride found Viper's dashing good looks melted housewives' hearts faster than his line of sweet talk ever had. He made twice the sales he usually did on their swing through Illinois, and his luck held as they crossed Indiana. With so many men gone to fight in the war, many a lonely woman invited them in for a meal, but the Indian quickly excused himself if their hostess's intentions turned romantic, and Percy was doublv grateful for that. When they reached the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, the j| peddler gave Viper a fair share of his profits and saw he nad stylish clothes and a sound horse to ride for the rest of his journey. They were coming too close to the war for Percy's liking, but he wished the young man good luck in

  his quest, and there were actually tears in his eyes when they parted.

  It was a Wednesday in early June when Viper finally arrived at Lars Hanson's home. That Erica haci grown up in so imposing a structure impressed him deeply, for the gracious brick house was both large and well kept. Built to reflect an appreciation of the classical architecture of ancient Greece—a popular style after the Revolution nearly a century before—the Hanson family home was as elegant as any ever built in Wilmington. The white shutters and decorative trim had been newly painted, and the flowerbeds were overflowing with bright blossoms, giving the correct impression that the owners took great pride in their residence.

  He had half a dozen stories prepared to enable him to gain news of Erica's whereabouts, but when she answered his knock herself, Viper was speechless. She was so lovely he was overwhelmed, but as his eyes traveled from her glorious blond hair and enchanting smile to her swollen figure, his delight abruptly turned to stunned dismay. Her pale pink gown was flattering, the delicate lace at the neckline and sleeves exquisite, but that she was so obviously pregnant was so great a surprise he could do no more than gape.

  With Mrs. Ferguson out to do the marketing. Erica had had no choice but to go to the door herself. With the bright sunlight at Viper's back, at first glance she could not make out his features clearly enough to recognize him. She stood aside to allow him to enter as she supplied the same greeting she had given several others that week. "Won't you come in? I'm Mrs. Randall, and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions about your qualifications for the job we've advertised." She closed the door and then turned to face the man she had just welcomed into her home. Since he was the very last person she had expected to see that day, his identity escaped her until her curious glance reached his eyes.

  "Oh, dear God," Erica gasped, and feeling faint, she leaned back against the door for support. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a frantic whisper.

  "I came to find you," Viper replied, as astonished as she.

  His shock at her condition swiftly turned his mood of elation to one closely bordering rage. "Why the hell else would I be here?"

  "HushI" Erica warned him. "You must leave," she insisted. "We can't talk here."

  Since he had planned, once he had found Erica, to do a geat deal more than merely talk. Viper found it difficult to lift his eyes from the soft folds of finely woven pink cotton that covered her well-rounded belly, "All these months, you had not even five minutes to write to me and tell me what had happened?"

  "Oh please, you must gol" Erica pleaded, but she felt too weaJc to move away from the door. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything, but I simply can't talk with you nowl"

  Fearing his surprise at her condition had made him behave rudely. Viper apologized for upsetting her. "You needn't be fcrightened, I'll not hit you." He had not meant to unnerve her so completely as he obviously had. All winter he
had thought of her as his wife; that she might have become pregnant had not even occurred to him. This was a complication he had not foreseen, but damn it all, she had been his wife before she had become Mark'sl When he heard Mark calling her name, he wheeled around to face him. He had not expected him to be there at the Hanson home any more than he had thought Erica would be.

  "Has someone else come about the job?" Mark called out from the entrance to the parlor. "You know I want to speak with any man who does."

  Viper stared at the pale, thin figure in the doorway. Mark was looking right at him, but clearly he saw absolutely nothing. When the brave turned back to Erica with a questioning glance, he found her eyes were rapidly filling with tears and she had raised her hand to her mouth to stifle the sounds of the sobs he was certain she was crying inside. With heartbreaking clarity he suddenly understood the reason she had abandoned him. Turning back toward Mark, he swiftly crossed the entrance hall and took his hand in a firm grip.

  "Bonjour, Monsieur Randall," he began with the thickest French accent he could affect. Since both Erica and Mark had mentioned something about a job, he decided no matter what it entailed, he was anxious to

  apply. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Etienne Bouchard. I am Canadian." With a hearty chuckle, he told the first story that came to his mind. "I came to your country to marry, but alas, the young woman proved so fickle she would not have me. Now I must earn the money to go back home, where, I am happy to say, I have always found the women far easier to please."

  "Finally, a man with a sense of humor." Delighted, Mark grinned happily as he replied to Viper's greeting. "As you must have noticed, my charming bride is ex-p>ecting our first child soon, and she cannot care for me and a tiny baby, too. Do you think you would like to work for us?"