Reckless Love

by Madeline Baker

  With a grin, I glanced up at Shadow. My prince had come to me disguised as a Cheyenne warrior. No real prince could have pleased me more.

  Shadow came to a halt, and I saw that we were at Rabbit's Head Rock. It was an unusual hunk of granite, gray in color and shaped like the head of a jack rabbit with its ears laid back. It was here that I had first met Shadow.

  "Look," he said, pointing toward the grassland that stretched away before us.

  I looked in the direction he indicated. At first, I saw nothing but a sea of grass but then, to my delight, I saw a dazzling red flower illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. It was the same kind of flower that had lured me into the forbidden grassland the day I saw Shadow for the first time.

  I felt tears prick my eyes as Shadow picked the flower and handed it to me. No gift had ever been sweeter.

  "Hannah." He murmured my name, his voice deep, husky with longing. His eyes were as soft and black as midnight velvet, his mouth warm as the summer sun as it covered mine.

  I kissed him back with all the love in my heart. My hands were eager to touch his flesh and I delved under his buckskin shirt, glorying in the hard strength of his back and shoulders. Our bodies strained together, needing, wanting, as we slowly sank down in the tall yellow grass.

  Shadow's eyes seared my flesh as he removed my clothing, and then his own. I stared at him, my pulse beating wildly, my heart pounding in my breast like the beat of a Cheyenne war drum.

  Memories assaulted me, driving me to hold him closer, tighter. There had been so many times when I had almost lost him, so many times when we had been apart. But never again, never again.

  The words were a prayer in my heart as Shadow lowered his lean body over mine. There were no preliminaries this night, no leisurely explorations. Shadow possessed me boldly, masterfully, and I basked in his strength. He was Man, provider, protector, and I was Woman, helpmeet and mate, and we came together in a glorious rush, our bodies uniting, joining as they were meant to be joined.

  I closed my eyes, lost in a web of pleasure as Shadow thrust into me, making me complete. I locked my legs around Shadow's waist, my hands clutching his back, as the rhythm of our love grew stronger and more intense.

  Shadow growled my name as his life poured into me, filling me with sweet, sweet ecstasy.

  XVIII

  Fall-Winter 1885

  By late October, Pa's cabin was completed inside and out. It was a rough structure by city standards, but Rebecca seemed pleased. There was a large parlor with two windows and a stone fireplace, two bedrooms, a sunlit kitchen with a large pantry. Cheery curtains covered the windows, rag rugs covered the plank floors. There was no furniture as yet save for a table and six chairs that Pa built with his own two hands.

  Pa and Rebecca took a trip to Steel's Crossing to order a sofa and two chairs, a brass bed, an armoire, a bathtub and a cook stove from a mail order house back east. Rebecca thought it was a little foolish to buy a houseful of new furniture when she had everything they needed at her house back in West Virginia, but Pa said he wanted to start off fresh.

  "No hand-me-downs," Pa said adamantly. "No reminders of the past. This is our life, yours and mine. Besides, I can afford it."

  So Rebecca wrote her neighbor, Mrs. Poulson, and asked her to keep an eye on her house, then wrote a second letter to her daughter, Beth, advising her of her new location and her marriage to Pa.

  When the cabin was finished, Pa and Shadow started work on a barn to shelter the cow and the horses during the coming winter. It was hard work, and Pa and Shadow were bone weary at the end of the day.

  "I'll be glad when that bathtub arrives," Pa grumbled one evening. "I'd sure like to soak in a hot tub. These cold baths in the river are making my old bones brittle as kindling."

  Rebecca laughed softly. "I'll warm you up, " she murmured, then blushed when she realized I had overheard her remark.

  Shadow shook his head ruefully. He did not approve of hot baths. Cold water was invigorating, stimulating. Hot water drained the strength from a man and left him weak and sluggish.

  We didn't often disagree, Shadow and I, but I was eager for a hot bath myself. There was nothing more peaceful or relaxing than a leisurely soak in a hot bubble bath.

  I wasn't thinking of a hot bath now, as I washed in the river. I was thinking of the child growing under my heart. I had suspected for some time that I was pregnant, but I had put off telling Shadow about my condition because I didn't know if the child was Shadow's or Joshua's, nor was I certain when the child had been conceived. My monthly flow had been erratic for some time, ever since the day I had been shot by Joe Mattlock. Since then, my life had been in such turmoil, I had scarcely paid attention. From the way I felt, I was certain I was at least four months pregnant. The child could easily be Shadow's. It could just as easily be Joshua's.

  I pondered how to break the news to Shadow. Would he be glad? How would he feel if the child had been fathered by Joshua Berdeen? How would I feel?

  Suddenly depressed, I sat down in the water and watched it swirl and eddy around me. Why couldn't my life flow as calmly as the water rolling past?

  "Hannah."

  I glanced up, startled, as I heard Shadow's voice calling me. I was drying off when he reached the riverbank, and I felt my cheeks grow hot as his dark eyes perused my body from head to heel. Shadow knew every inch of my flesh as well as I did. Would he notice the slight swelling in my abdomen? Would he notice my breasts were larger, heavier?

  Guilt washed over me, making me feel as if I had betrayed Shadow even though I had never willingly let Joshua touch me.

  Refusing to meet Shadow's eyes, I wrapped the towel around my middle and climbed the muddy bank to the flat ground above. I could feel Shadow's eyes on my head, compelling me to face him. Slowly, I raised my eyes to his.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice quietly accusing. "We have never had any secrets between us."

  "Tell you what?" My voice was a choked whisper, my scarlet cheeks an unspoken admission of guilt.

  "About the baby. How far along are you?."

  "I'm not sure. About four months, I think."

  "I thought you wanted another child."

  "I did. I do."

  "Then why do you look so unhappy?"

  "Oh, Shadow," I wailed miserably. "I don't know if it's yours."

  I stood there, feeling awful, as I watched Shadow's face. He did not need any explanation. He knew what I was saying. I saw his eyes grow dark with implacable hatred for Joshua Berdeen, saw the bloodlust burn like an evil flame, making his countenance dark and ruthless. His jaw clenched and his hands balled into tight fists. And then, miraculously, his face softened and he drew me into the snug security of his arms.

  With a sigh, he rested his cheek against the top of my head. "It does not matter who the father is," he said quietly. "You are the mother and I will love the child for that reason alone."

  Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. What had I ever done to deserve such a man? I knew what those few words had cost him. Shadow was a proud man; sometimes stubborn, almost arrogant in many ways. I knew how jealous he could be, how it outraged his sense of pride and honor to know another man had possessed me, and yet he was willing to love this child because it was mine.

  Shadow held me tight while I cried, his long body pressed close to mine, his arms lovingly enfolding me.

  "Come," he said after awhile. "Let us go tell the others."

  The news that I was pregnant put a smile on everybody's face. Pa was thrilled at the thought of another grandchild, Rebecca was thrilled with the idea of a baby to love. Heecha and Mary thought it would be fun to have a little brother or sister to play with.

  Shadow and I had decided not to mention that the baby might not be his, and sometimes even I forgot that I didn't know who the father was. At those times, I was glad that I was pregnant again. I loved children and looked forward to another. But, too often, thoughts of Joshua penetrated my mind. I did not w
ant to be carrying his child. I did not want his baby. I did not want anything that would remind me of Joshua Berdeen or the unhappiness he had caused me.

  The days were busy and passed quickly. The barn was almost finished, we had laid in a good supply of firewood, and we had enough meat to see us through the winter. In the evening, Pa worked on the cradle he was making for the baby while Rebecca and I sewed sacques and gowns and quilts. While the rest. of us were making baby things, Shadow entertained Heecha and Mary with games and stories.

  I knew Shadow was not pleased with the idea that the baby I was carrying might be Joshua's, but he was unfailingly kind and considerate during my preg. nancy. He comforted me when I felt blue, refused to let me do any heavy work, insisted that I rest for an hour or two each afternoon. He never referred to the coming child as anything but "our" baby.

  Winter came in a flurry of snow and rain, turning our valley into a pristine world of unblemished white. The furniture and the window glass Pa had ordered arrived a week ahead of the first big snow storm and the cabin was snug and comfortable.

  I was eagerly anticipating Christmas this year. It would be such fun to spend the day with my father again, to reminisce about holidays past, to hear him tell Heecha and Mary the stories he had once told me.

  Pa and Shadow made snowshoes for all of us so we could go outside when the weather permitted. We took long walks between storms, looking around for the perfect Christmas tree.

  It was on one of our walks that Rebecca was attacked by a mountain lion. She had fallen behind to fix one of her snowshoes when a terrible roar filled the air. I turned in time to see a large tawny shape drop from a snow-covered branch onto Rebecca's back. I quickly grabbed Heecha and Mary and pushed them out of sight behind a large fir tree.

  With a wordless cry of alarm, Pa raised his rifle but couldn't fire for fear of hitting Rebecca who was vainly trying to avoid the cat's claws and teeth.

  It was then that Shadow sprang into action. The shrill, ululating war cry of the Cheyenne echoed through the wooded hills as Shadow hurled himself at the snarling cat, his powerful arms locking around the animal's throat.

  In an instant, the cat turned from Rebecca to defend itself against this new threat. I watched in horror as Shadow and the mountain lion rolled back and forth on the snow-covered ground. The cat's angry growls and Shadow's labored breathing seemed extraordinarily loud.

  I glanced anxiously at my father who was still sighting down the barrel of his rifle, waiting for a clear shot.

  Shadow grunted with pain as the mountain lion's razor-sharp teeth sliced through his shirt and into his back. I felt suddenly sick to my stomach as Shadow's blood turned the snow from white to red.

  There was a sharp retort as Pa fired a round at the mountain lion. The bullet took the animal clean between the eyes, killing it instantly.

  I ran to Shadow's side while Pa hastened to help Rebecca. Shadow was bleeding from a multitude of cuts and scratches on his face, neck, shoulders, back and chest. He groaned softly as he pushed the mountain lion off his legs and stood up. I knew he was in pain, but his first thought was for Rebecca.

  ''How is she?" he asked.

  "I don't know."

  Together, we went over to where Pa was kneeling beside Rebecca. Her eyes were glazed with pain, and I could see she had been hurt much worse than Shadow. The cat's claws had gouged a deep gash in her right shoulder and it was bleeding profusely. She had a dozen minor scratches on her face and neck, several deep claw marks on her back.

  Pa took a handful of snow and pressed it against the wound in Rebecca's shoulder, then wrapped his scarf around her shoulder. She whimpered pathetically when he lifted her in his arms.

  The sight of so much blood made Mary cry. I picked her up, my heart heavy with concern as we made our way back to the cabin. Heecha ran ahead to open the door.

  Inside, Pa placed Rebecca on their bed.

  "We need some warm water," I told Heecha. "Mary, bring me all the clean cloths you can find. Pa, get Rebecca out of that dress and put a blanket over her so she doesn't get a chill. Shadow, you sit down before you fall down."

  As I searched for our medicine kit, I sorely wished there was a doctor close by, but the nearest one was in Steel's Crossing over a hundred miles away.

  While I waited for the water to heat, I took a closer look at Shadow's wounds. None appeared to be serious and I offered a silent prayer of thanks to Man Above as I wiped the blood from Shadow's cuts. Later, I would disinfect them, but for now Rebecca must come first.

  Her eyes were closed and I thanked God she was unconscious as I began to wash the wound.

  "It'll need stitching," Pa said, his eyes searching mine. "Can you do it, or shall I?"

  "I'll do it. You'll have to hold her down."

  I disinfected a needle and some silk thread, poured disinfectant over the wound in Rebecca's shoulder, took a deep breath, and began to sew. The years melted away and I recalled standing in our old cabin while my mother deftly stitched a nasty wound in Shadow's leg, her needle drawing the raw edges of skin together with the same neat even stitches she used to mend Pa's shirts. Now, as I did the very thing I had seen my mother do, I wondered how'she had managed to remain so calm as she pushed a needle through living tissue. Sweat dripped from my brow and I flinched each time the needle pierced Rebecca's ivory skin, each time she groaned with pain.

  Pa spoke to her in a low voice, telling her to stay calm, that everything would be fine, just fine. I prayed he was right, that I would not do more harm than good, that Rebecca's arm would not get infected. So many things could go wrong, and we were so far away from a doctor.

  I sensed Shadow's presence behind me even before I felt his hand on my shoulder. He didn't say a word, only smiled reassuringly, but some of his strength seemed to flow into me, giving me the courage to do what had to be done.

  At last, I was finished. I placed a piece of gauze over the wound, bandaged it lightly. Rebecca lay quiet on the bed, her eyes closed. Pa's eyes were wet with tears when Shadow and I left the room.

  In the parlor, Shadow sat down on a chair while I poured some water in a bowl and cleaned his wounds. He winced a little when I began to daub disinfectant on the many cuts and scratches the cat had inflicted on him. I hated to add to his pain, yet the thought of infection spurred me on and I applied more of the stinging medicine than was probably necessary.

  It was dusk when I finished. Admonishing Shadow to stay put, I went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was a sober meal. Heecha and Mary were solemn and quiet, their eyes reflecting concern for Rebecca, whom they had grown to love in the past several months. Pa could not eat at all. He swallowed three cups of strong black coffee and then went back to sit at Rebecca's side.

  I washed the dishes and put Heecha and Mary to bed in the spare bedroom, and all the while I was conscious of Rebecca's shallow breathing and her occasional moans of pain.

  "I think we should stay here tonight," I told Shadow. "In case Pa needs us."

  Shadow nodded and I spread some blankets on the floor near the fireplace. He sighed heavily as he sank down beside me.

  "Are you all right?" I asked. "Are you in pain?"

  "Do not worry about me, Hannah. I will be all right. I am afraid for your father. He loves Rebecca very much."

  "Yes." I knew what Shadow was thinking. It would break my father's heart if Rebecca died.

  In the morning, Rebecca had a high fever. She tossed restlessly, sometimes crying out, sometimes mumbling incoherently. Once she called for her daughter. Pa refused to leave her side. As gently as a mother tending a loved child, Pa bathed Rebecca's face and body with cool water to bring her fever down. He spooned broth into her mouth, coaxing her to eat just a little more when she said she was full. He held her hand while she slept, talked softly to her even though she couldn't hear him. He begged her to get better, pleaded with God to make her well.

  Rebecca's fever was worse that night. About midnight, Shadow left the cabin. He returne
d a short time later carrying a small otter-skin bag, a bowl, and a handful of damp tree moss. Lifting the bandage from Rebecca's shoulder, he packed the raw, angry-looking wound with the moss. Then he poured the contents of the sack into the bowl, and placed the bowl on a box near the head of the bed. Striking a match, he dropped it into the bowl, igniting the contents. Immediately, a pungent aroma filled the room. Standing beside the bowl, Shadow passed his hands through the whitish-blue smoke, drawing it in Rebecca's direction while he uttered a soft Cheyenne chant.

  Pa looked up, frowning. Then, recognizing the chant as a prayer, he smiled faintly and bowed his head. Heecha and Mary entered the room on quiet feet. Going to Shadow, they stood on either side of him, their heads bowed.

  When the smoke died away, Shadow raised his arms toward heaven and offered a prayer to Maheo, beseeching the Great Spirit to heal Rebecca. Bowing my head, I added my own prayer to Shadow's.

  In the morning, Rebecca was much improved. The fever was gone, the wound was no longer red and angry-looking.

  I looked at Shadow with new respect.

  "My people have lived in this place for a long time," he explained with a grin that was a trifle smug. "We were healing our sick long before the white man crossed the Missouri."

  I nodded, but secretly I wondered what had brought about Rebecca's miraculous cure. Had it been the healing power in the green tree moss, Shadow's mysterious herbs and prayer smoke, or our heartfelt prayers to the gods both red and white? I concluded it was probably a combination of all three.

  The glow in Pa's eyes could have lit up the city of New York, he was that pleased with Rebecca's miraculous recovery. He gave Shadow a bear hug, then apologized profusely when he realized he was causing Shadow's wounds considerable discomfort.

  "Shadow, I . . . hell, what can I say? I'm beholden to you for what you did for Rebecca. And you too, Hannah. You'll never know how grateful I am. If there's ever anything I can do . . ."