Reckless Love

by Madeline Baker

  "Listen, Hannah, honey, let's not talk about it any more. I don't want to upset you, and I don't want to say anything that might not be true. I know Josh loves you and no matter what you think or how you feel, you're legally his wife. I think, for now, you had best hold onto that."

  Later, alone, I pondered my father's words. What was he so reluctant to tell me? How had Joshua blackmailed me into marriage? Had I loved Joshua? If so, why had it been necessary for him to blackmail me into marriage? Had I loved the man called Shadow? Could I love an Indian? I thought of the Indians I had seen at the wild west show. They had looked savage and forbidding, yet I had been fascinated by them.

  So many thoughts, so many questions, and no answers. No wonder I had a headache. With a sigh, I climbed the stairs to the room I shared with Joshua and curled up on the bed. There were so many things I longed to remember, but now, I wanted only to lose myself in sleep, to search for that elusive man of my dreams who was, in some ways, more real than reality.

  XII

  Shadow Rebecca Matthews smiled as Two Hawks Flying materialized out of the shadows, a young deer slung over his broad, copper-hued shoulders. She had fallen deeper and deeper in love with him as the weeks went by. He was kind, thoughtful, a good provider. She marveled daily at his knowledge of the outdoors, at his ability to hunt and fish, to find water where there seemed to be none. He taught her about the plants and animals they saw in their travels, pointed out the tracks of deer and bear and coyote. To pass the time, he told her the stories and legends of the Cheyenne people.

  Late one night, sitting side by side in front of the fire, he told her of Heammawihio, the Wise One Above, who was the chief god of the Cheyenne. In the beginning, Heammawihio made people to live. When they died, they would be dead for only four nights, and then they came to life again. After awhile, Heammawihio discovered this was not a good idea. Knowing he would live again made a man too brave, too rash, and caused much needless killing. Men were not afraid to die and so they took foolish chances. They felt no grief at death, no remorse in killing. What harm was there in slaying a man when he would live again in four days? That was why people now died forever.

  Rebecca smiled indulgently at the story of Heammawihio. It was a heathen belief, yet she found it charming. Two Hawks Flying also told her about the various animals that possessed mystical powers. The badger was considered very powerful. Often, the badger advised the People what to do and how they should live.The bear possessed spiritual powers. Eagles, ravens, hawks, owls, and magpies were birds which possessed powers in matters of war. Often, the feathers of such birds were tied into the tail of a war horse. The skunk also held special powers. Medicine men wrapped their herbs and remedies in the skin of the skunk; its tail was also tied to the tails of war horses. It was believed that deer had power for good or evil. The white-tailed deer was known to have special power with affairs of the heart. The antelope's power could only be used for good. The lizard was considered good luck and rawhide cutouts of lizards were often worn as charms by men going to battle. Such charms, made by the medicine men, were believed to give the wearer courage and the power to move quickly and avoid arrows or bullets. Prairie owls were believed to have protective powers. Owl feathers worn on the head and arms gave the wearer the ability to move silently in the night.

  "Do you truly believe these things?" Rebecca asked, finding it hard to believe that a full-grown man could give credence to such superstitions.

  "Yes."

  Rebecca mulled that over for several moments. His name was Two Hawks Flying, and the Indians believed the hawks had power.

  "Your name?" she asked, "does it hold some special significance?"

  "Yes. I am called Two Hawks Flying because of a vision I had during the Sun Dance."

  "Can you tell me what you saw in your vision, or is it forbidden to speak of it to a stranger?"

  "You are not a stranger," Shadow said quietly. "The Sun Dance is our most sacred religious ceremony. In it, a man offers his blood and his pain to Maheo, the Great Spirit. Sometimes a man is granted a vision. Sometimes the vision is for the benefit of all the people. Sitting Bull offered a hundred pieces of his flesh to the Great Spirit shortly before the battle at the Greasy Grass. In his vision, he saw hundreds of white men falling into his camp.''

  "Custer," Rebecca murmured. How well she remembered the horror of reading of the Custer massacre back in '76. It had been a terrible slaughter as thousands of Sioux and Cheyenne rode through Custer and the Seventh Cavalry, destroying everything in sight.

  "Sometimes a vision is personal," Shadow went on. "I was in great pain as I hung suspended from the Sun Dance pole. The sun was hot against my flesh and my sweat mingled with my blood as I gazed into the sun. In torment, I offered a prayer to Man Above, begging him for help, and his answer came in a rushing of mighty wings as two red-tailed hawks swept out of the sunlight to hover near my head. They admonished me to be strong and brave and promised that I should be a mighty war leader, and that I should have everything I desired."

  Rebecca gazed at him for several minutes, fascinated by his words. It was hard for her to understand such a heathen ritual and yet, sitting beside him, she could easily believe he posessed supernatural powers.

  "And did the hawks speak the truth?" she asked, still mesmerized by his story.

  "Yes."

  There was a faraway look in his fathomless black eyes, and Rebecca knew intuitively that he was thinking of his woman. She felt her heart swell with jealousy as she thought of the woman who had won the heart of Two Hawks Flying. What kind of woman was she? Was she young and fair and beautiful? Did she love the man as much as the man loved her?

  Rebecca knew somehow that the woman of Two Hawks Flying would possess more than mere physical beauty. She would have to possess great inner strength and peace to withstand the hardships of life in the west. The woman had ridden the war trails with Two Hawks Flying, had fought at his side. The thought made Rebecca shudder with horror, yet she knew she would have done the same to be with the man sitting quietly beside her.

  Now, as she watched him skin the deer he had killed, she marveled anew at his lithe grace and easy strength. He was beautiful to watch. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he sliced off a section of haunch. His face was strong and handsome in the glow of the fire, his movements were swift and sure as he spitted the meat and placed it over the fire to cook.

  Rising, he towered above her, making her feel small and vulnerable and yet so safe, so protected. Each night she yearned for his touch, hoping he would come to her blankets and take her in his arms. And each morning she woke alone and unfulfilled, her secret woman's place still throbbing for his touch.

  Rebecca's heart beat faster as he smiled down at her. Maybe tonight would be the night. Maybe tonight he would read the hunger in her eyes. Maybe tonight . . .

  Shadow was silent as he turned the meat over the fire. He was well aware of the aching need in Rebecca's eyes. He heard her toss and turn in her blankets night after night, knew what she desired of him. He had read the love shining in her luminous brown eyes; the love, and the sadness.

  Later, as they ate the succulent venison, the companionable silence of the previous nights was gone and in its place the tension grew, stretching taut as a bowstring between them.

  As was his habit, Shadow moved into the darkness after dinner, giving Rebecca time to relieve herself and wash before crawling into bed.

  This night, he prowled the darkness, his brow furrowed, his thoughts troubled. The wind was cold on his neck, and he lifted a hand to his butchered hair, mourning the loss. Like all Cheyenne males, he had been vain about his hair, yet it seemed a small loss if he could get Hannah back. Hannah. His arms ached to hold her, his mouth hungered for the taste of her sweet lips, his eyes longed for the sight of her beloved face.

  He was constantly nagging Rebecca, urging her to push the team harder, faster, in his eagerness to cross the miles that separated him from the woman he loved above al
l else.

  Rebecca. What was he to do with her?

  When he returned to camp, he saw she had spread their blankets near the fire. Tonight, instead of spreading their blankets on either side of the fire, she had placed them side by side. He could see her body outlined beneath her blankets, saw her clothes and undergarments folded to one side.

  With a sigh, he went to his bedroll. For a long moment, he stood staring down at her. Then, removing his boots and socks, he slid into his blankets and closed his eyes.

  For a time, there was no sound in the night save for the hiss of the dying flames and the soft whisper of the wind moving through the trees. And then he heard the muffled sound of her weeping.

  Turning his head, he saw that she had drawn the covers over her head. He could see her shoulders shaking beneath the blankets as she began to weep harder.

  "Rebecca." He spoke her name softly, his voice filled with tender compassion.

  "Leave me alone," she sobbed, though that was the last thing in the world she wanted.

  Shadow listened to her cry for a few moments more, willing himself to be strong, to ignore the pain he detected in her tears, but he could not callously disregard her sorrow, not when he was the cause of it.

  Sitting up, he threw back the covers of his makeshift bed, reached across the narrow space that separated them, and drew Rebecca into his arms. She did not resist, only buried her face against his chest so he could not see her tears. Tenderly, he patted her back, gently smoothed the long brown hair.

  "Do not weep, Rebecca," he said quietly. "I cannot bear the sound of your tears."

  "I love you," she whispered tremulously. "Why can't you love me?"

  "I could easily love you," Shadow replied heavily. "But you could never be first in my heart, and you would not be happy otherwise."

  "I would," Rebecca argued petulantly. "Honest I would."

  "Maybe," Shadow said dubiously. "But Hannah would scratch your eyes out."

  "Hannah? Is that her name? I hate her!"

  "No, you would like her. And she would like you."

  Rebecca looked at him through tear-swollen eyes. "Please love me," she implored in a little-girl voice. "I've thought of no one else since you left."

  "I cannot."

  "Please." Throwing her arms around his neck, Rebecca pressed her lips to his, all the hunger and loneliness in her heart conveyed in her kiss. The heat of her breasts penetrated his shirt, searing his skin.

  Shadow might have resisted the temptation of her lips had she not dropped her hand to his groin, covering his manhood. With a low groan, he bent her back, pressing her onto the blankets, his mouth taking possession of hers.

  Rebecca was on fire for him, her hands eager as they explored his hard muscular flesh, stroking his arms and chest as she lifted her hips, arching upward, aching with the need to receive him. She was so willing, so eager, and he was just a man, after all . . .

  Afterward, he was overcome with remorse, but the damage was done. How would he face Hannah? How would he explain what he had done?

  For once, Rebecca had no trouble interpreting the expression on Shadow's face, and she was suddenly ashamed of the way she had thrown herself at him. No matter that she loved Two Hawks Flying with all her heart, he belonged to another and she had caused him to be unfaithful. She knew suddenly that what she had done had been wrong, very wrong.

  Wrapping a blanket around her nakedness, she went to where Shadow was sitting, his eyes dark and brooding as he stared into the cold embers of their fire.

  "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I was wrong. Please forgive me. Your woman, Hannah, need never know."

  Shadow lifted tormented eyes to Rebecca's face. "I cannot live with a lie between us. I will tell her and hope she will forgive me a second time."

  "You told her, about the other times?"

  Shadow nodded. "She said she was grateful you had saved my life, that she did not begrudge you the hours we had spent together." He shook his head slowly. "I do not think she will feel that way this time."

  "Please forgive me," Rebecca said again.

  "It was not your fault. I am a grown man. You did not force me into your bed."

  "Didn't I?" Rebecca asked with a rueful smile. "I threw myself at you. Practically raped you."

  Shadow grinned at her, his black mood lifting a little. "Perhaps I shall tell Hannah that you raped me against my will. I will say I fought as hard as I could, but you were too strong for me."

  Rebecca blushed, the laughter bubbling in her throat at the picture his words painted in her mind. Then, as her laughter died away, she became serious once more. "It won't happen again, I promise."

  Shadow rose to his feet, his hands cupping her slim shoulders. "If things were different, I would be proud to have you for my woman. But there is no place in my heart or my life for anyone but Hannah. She is a part of me."

  Rebecca nodded. Blinking back her tears, she walked back to her bedroll and crawled under the covers. Sleep was a long time coming.

  XIII

  Joshua Joshua Berdeen frowned when he stepped out of the bank building and found his father-in-law waiting for him. He had been avoiding a confrontation with Samuel Kincaid for weeks, but he could tell by the expression on Kincaid's face that the man wasn't going to be put off again.

  Bowing to the inevitable, Joshua put a smile on his face. "Evening, Mr. Kincaid," he said pleasantly.

  "Evening, Josh. I'd like a few minutes of your time, if you don't mind."

  "Sure. Shall we step into the Crystal Palace for a drink?"

  "If you like."

  The two men were silent as they walked the two blocks to the saloon. Inside, Kincaid headed for a table in a far corner of the room. Joshua ordered a bottle of rye whiskey and two glasses, his insides slowly knotting with tension as he waited for Kincaid to say what was on his mind. He didn't have to wait long. The man came right to the point.

  "I want to know what happened between you and Shadow and Hannah," Kincaid said curtly. "All of it."

  "How much did Hannah tell you?" Joshua answered evasively.

  "What Hannah told me is neither here nor there," Kincaid retorted. "I want to hear your side of the story, and I want the truth."

  Joshua licked his lips nervously, his eyes darting around the saloon as he tried to gather his thoughts.

  "I . . . I was in charge of the men sent out to hunt Shadow down and bring him in," Josh began slowly. "I didn't know he had Hannah with him. I thought she had been killed back in Bear Valley when the Sioux attacked your place. I couldn't believe it when she came tumbling out of that cave. She was pregnant, in labor, but the baby was born dead. As soon as I saw Hannah, I knew I still loved her. Knew I'd always love her. But she was infatuated with that damn Cheyenne buck, couldn't talk about anything else."

  "Infatuated?" Kincaid muttered dryly.

  "Okay, okay, she was in love with the bastard. But the Army wanted him out of the way. He was scheduled to be hanged the first of the year. The thought drove Hannah crazy. She came to me, begging me to do something to save his life. Maybe it was a rotten thing to do, I don't know. But I loved her so damn much, so I told her I'd set him free if she'd marry me. And she did.''

  Josh poured himself a drink, downed it in a single swallow, and poured a second.

  Kincaid ran one brown finger around the rim of his glass, his eyes thoughtful. "You didn't keep your end of the bargain, did you?"

  "I kept it," Josh answered harshly. "I promised I wouldn't kill him, and I didn't."

  Kincaid's blue eyes filled with disdain. "But you cut him up and left him tied up out in the woods, prey to the cold and wolves."

  Joshua didn't answer, but his eyes betrayed his guilt. Muttering an oath, he emptied his glass.

  "I should have killed the bastard," Josh murmured bitterly. "Every time I took Hannah in my arms, I knew she was thinking of him, dreaming of him, pretending I was him. Wishing I was him! It drove me wild. I loved her so much, I would have done anything to
make her happy, anything to make her love me."

  "Is that why you threatened to give Heecha away? Kincaid sneered. "To make her love you?"

  "You don't understand! What was I supposed to do, let everyone know my wife had slept with that filthy savage while he was in prison? Did you expect me to let her keep the brat, to look at it every day and know I wasn't the father? How could I face my men with that half-breed brat tagging at Hannah's skirts? How could I face myself?"

  There was real anguish in Berdeen's voice and Kincaid felt an unwanted wave of sympathy for the man.

  "When she ran away from the fort, I went after her," Josh continued in a hopeless tone, "determined to win her love, to make her know how much she meant to me. When I found her, I could have cried, I was so relieved. But she refused to go with me. She was going home, she said, home to the Cheyenne. I don't know, I guess I went crazy. I . . . I slapped her. And then that damned Indian showed up." Joshua's blue eyes turned dark and ugly at the memory. "He shot me twice, then staked me out and left me to die."

  "As you had left him," Kincaid murmured.

  Joshua nodded, his face contorted with rage. "The wolves came when the sun went down. They licked the blood from my arms. One of them took a chunk out of my left leg. I was nearly out of my mind with pain when a dozen troopers showed up. A few minutes more and they would have been too late . . ."

  Sam Kincaid shivered as Berdeen's voice trailed off. The man had been through hell, there was no doubt about that. But so had Shadow. It was obvious both men were in love with Hannah, and equally obvious that neither one would willingly give her up to the other. Sooner or later, the two men would meet again. He hoped, for his daughter's sake, that the right man won the last battle.

  With a sigh, Kincaid sipped his drink. Perhaps there wouldn't be another confrontation. Shadow had been wounded back in Nebraska Territory, and might, even now, be lying dead out on the prairie.

  "So what now?" Kincaid queried. "What are your plans?"