Taking a deep breath, Hawk threw Victoria a quick look, then turned on his heel and stalked off into the night.
Horace Bannerman swung around to face his daughter. "You little tramp," he hissed. "Is that the way your mother and I raised you? To sneak around in the shadows with a dirty half-breed?"
"We weren't sneaking," Victoria replied sullenly. "I love Hawk."
"Love," Horace Bannerman sneered. "What do you know about love? You're just a child."
"I am not a child, and I wish you'd stop treating me like one," Victoria retorted. "I'm seventeen." Tears welled in her eyes. Her father had never yelled at her before, never treated her with anything but love and affection. The scorn she read in his eyes cut her heart like a knife. "I'm sorry, daddy," she said contritely. "Please don't be angry."
Horace Bannerman melted like butter in a hot pan. "I'm sorry, too, angel," he murmured. "Let's not mention this to your mother. We'll pretend it never happened."
They met late the next afternoon at the river crossing and after a quick embrace, they stretched out on the grass, gazing up at the sky. For a while, they did not speak, neither of them wanting to mention what had happened the night before.
"I see a ship," Victoria remarked, pointing at a large white cloud that resembled a ship under sail. "And there's a whale." She turned to face Hawk, her eyes thrilling at the sight of him. "What do you see?"
"I see trouble," Hawk answered glumly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Victoria said. "Not now."
"Ignoring the problem won't make it go away."
"I don't care. It's a lovely day. Let's not spoil it." Turning on her side, she pressed her mouth to his.
Hawk kissed her as though the touch of her lips was the only thing that could save him.
"I love you," Victoria murmured. "I don't care what anyone says or thinks. I love you."
Hawk's hand slipped through the layers of her clothing to close on the warm mound of her breast. Victoria gave a little gasp of pleasure, loving his touch, loving the way he made her feel all warm and tingly inside.
"Vickie." Hawk groaned low in his throat as his hand kneaded her soft flesh. "Vickie, stop me before it's too late."
"Don't stop," she murmured against his neck. "Don't ever stop."
His hands were shaking as he quickly stripped away Victoria's clothing and then his own. He was on fire for her, wanting her as never before, desperately afraid that her parents would find some way to keep them apart. He stroked her slender alabaster body, awed by the beauty and perfection of each inch of satin flesh. He drew her close, whispering to her in English and Cheyenne.
Victoria clung to Hawk, her body arching up to meet his, her hands cupping his buttocks, drawing him closer, closer, her fingers clawing at his strong back and shoulders as he emptied his life into her.
XXVI
1897
Pa and Rebecca came home in January, bringing presents for everyone, regaling us with tales of life in the east.
Rebecca was bubbling with news about her daughter, Beth. "She was a beautiful bride," Rebecca said, laughing, "and I'm not saying that just because I'm her mother."
Pa agreed that Beth had indeed been beautiful, though not as beautiful as her mother. The wedding, he said, had been first-class all the way. A sit-down dinner for over a hundred people, a wedding cake four feet high, champagne that flowed like water. He added that Jason Chatsworth was a likeable enough fellow, handsome as the very devil, with a good head on his shoulders.
"Likely be a rich man in his own right before too long," Pa mused. "If not, it won't matter. His father has more money than one man can spend."
It was good to have Pa and Rebecca home again. I had missed their company, missed knowing they were nearby.
I glanced up from the shirt I was mending as Mary entered the room. She was a lovely girl, I thought proudly. Her long brown hair was pulled away from her face by a pink ribbon, her gray eyes were serene and happy and I guessed Frank Smythe was coming to call.
Frank and Mary had been made for each other. They had been childhood friends and that friendship had grown and flowered into a deep and abiding love that was beautiful to see. Frank Smythe was a young man with ambition and I knew he would not long remain in Bear Valley. On more than one occasion he had expressed a desire to go east and make something of himself. Mary was excited by the idea of living in the east, of going to the theater and dining in fine restaurants, of being surrounded by the bustle of a big noisy city.
Now, watching her as she primped before the mirror, it occurred to me that my daughter would likely wind up living the life I had once dreamed of before Shadow entered my life.
Frank arrived a few minutes later and Mary kissed me goodby, saying they were off for a walk in the snow. They made a handsome couple as they went off together, smiling and laughing.
With a sigh, I turned my attention back to the mending in my lap. Mary had found a good man, and I knew in my heart that life would be good to her.
During the first part of March, I began to suspect something was worrying Hawk. He was quiet and subdued. He often took long rides on the blue roan. Once, when I asked him if there was something troubling him, he shook his head and said everything was all right. But it was not all right. He continued to be sober and withdrawn. When I mentioned it to Shadow, he told me not to worry.
"Hawk is a big boy, Hannah," Shadow remarked. "He will tell us what is wrong when he is ready."
Things came to a head one dreary morning about a week later when Lydia Bannerman came to call. She came right to the point.
"We think Hawk is a very nice young man," she said. "As you know, we have had him to dinner in our home several times, but we . . . that is, well, Horace and I feel it would be better if Hawk did not call on Victoria in the future. Victoria is getting much too fond of Hawk and . . ." Lydia took a deep breath, her eyes not quite meeting mine. "There just isn't any nice way to say it, Hannah, dear. We like your family very much, but we don't want their relationship to go any further. You understand?"
"Perfectly," I said in as calm a voice as I could manage. "You don't want a half-breed in the family."
"I'm sorry, dear," Lydia said. She fidgeted with the cuff of her immaculately white glove. "I don't know just how deep my daughter's feelings are for Hawk, but I don't want it to go any further. We have great plans for Victoria's future. College back east, marriage into one of the better families in the valley . . ." Lydia's voice trailed off and she had the decency to blush. "You will speak to Hawk, won't you? I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings."
"I don't see how it can be helped," I retorted, wishing I were a man so I could punch Lydia Bannerman in the nose.
Lydia rose to her feet. "I am sorry, Hannah, truly I am. But I must do what I think is best for my daughter. You're a mother. Surely you can understand how I feel?"
"Yes," I said coldly. "I understand. Good day, Mrs. Bannerman."
I stared out the window long after Lydia Bannerman had gone. I was not surprised at how she felt, not surprised that she did not want Hawk for a son-in-law. Old prejudices died hard, old suspicions ran deep, so deep you never knew they were still alive until something like this happened and then all the old feelings surfaced.
I could understand how the Bannermans felt only too well. Hadn't my own parents once felt the same way about Shadow?
My husband scowled blackly when I told him about Lydia Bannerman's visit. There was a trace of his old bitterness in his voice as he murmured, "Some things will never change."
I didn't say anything, but I knew he was right.
We didn't speak of Lydia Bannerman's visit during dinner, but it was much on my mind and I paid little attention to Mary, who was telling about her date with Frank, or to Blackie, who was chattering excitedly about the orphan calf he was caring for. Hawk was quiet, never speaking unless spoken to, and I wondered what the future held for my son. Mary had no trouble being accepted by others, but then her Indian heritage was not so
pronounced and she rarely reminded people that she was half Cheyenne. Blackie was still a child, but I knew he would fit in wherever he went because he loved all living things, and they responded to that love, animals as well as people, friends and strangers alike.
But Hawk was his father's son. He was Indian and proud of it, and he never let anyone forget it. I knew he loved Victoria, yet I wondered if they were right for each other, wondered if Victoria could be happy married to a man who would always be a little wild, who would never be completely "civilized." Hawk would always have a need to explore, to be free, just as his father did. It was something I could live with, something I had accepted. Could Victoria do the same?
After Mary and Blackie had gone to bed, Shadow and I told Hawk what Lydia Bannerman had said. Hawk's temper flared with all the heat and intensity of a forest fire. He ranted and raved and threatened and then he sat down, his head cradled in his hands, all the fight gone out of him.
"I love Victoria," he said quietly, sincerely. "She is the woman in my vision. I have known it for months. Nehyo, what shall I do?"
Shadow shook his head. In the old days, a warrior sometimes kidnapped the girl he loved when her parents did not approve the match. Sometimes the parents relented after such a drastic act, but more often than not, the couple had to take up residence elsewhere.
"Does Victoria feel the same about you?" Shadow asked.
"Yes."
"Perhaps, in time, the Bannermans will change their minds."
"Time!" Hawk exclaimed. "How much time? I will soon be nineteen. Victoria is seventeen. We cannot wait forever."
"You are both still young," Shadow said. "It will not hurt to wait. If your love is real, it will last."
Hawk's gaze shifted from his father's face to the floor. "We do not want to wait," he murmured. "My mother was not much older than Victoria when she went away with you to live with the Cheyenne."
"That was different," Shadow replied. "Our people were at war. Kincaid knew I was your mother's only chance for survival."
"The feelings are the same," Hawk argued.
I looked at my son, my heart aching. Hawk and Victoria had been seeing each other steadily since the harvest festival several years ago. They had gone riding together, taken walks in the woods. They met each other at dances and socials. Sometimes Victoria came to our house for dinner after church on Sunday. As the years went by, I had noticed the way Hawk and Victoria looked at each other, the secret smiles, the frequent touches when they thought no one was looking. I had seen and not wanted to believe.
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Is Victoria pregnant?"
Hawk's head jerked up. Slowly, his eyes met mine. ''Yes." His voice was thick with shame. "We did not mean for it to happen."
I had been standing near the fireplace. Now I sat down hard, feeling like my heart would break. And yet I could not chastise my son for what he and Victoria had done. I could not lecture him and tell him how wrong he was. I could not unbraid him for his lack of self-control and tell him he should have waited for marriage, not when I had once shamelessly seduced his father.
I saw the disappointment in Shadow's eyes. And the love. "You must go to Victoria's parents and tell them what you have done," Shadow said. "It will not be easy, but it must be done immediately."
Hawk nodded. "I will go tomorrow." He looked at his father, and then at me. "I am sorry. I have shamed you, and Victoria. I am not worthy to be a warrior."
Shadow's eyes filled with compassion as he looked at his son. "You are not the first man who could not wait until the wedding night, nor will you be the last. Do not spend the rest of your life regretting what cannot be changed. What is done is done. Your mother and I will help you in any way we can."
Hawk nodded. "I know. Thank you, nehyo."
Shadow and I were about to go to our room when Victoria Bannerman ran into the house, her eyes red with tears.
"Oh, Hawk!" she wailed, hurling herself into his arms. "My parents won't let me see you any more. They said if I dared, they would send me back east to school. What will we do?"
She dissolved into tears, her red-gold head pressed against his shoulder, her arms around his waist.
"I will speak to your parents tomorrow," Hawk said. His hand stroked her hair soothingly. "I will tell them about the baby, and we will be married."
"No! You can't tell my parents about the baby. My father will kill you!" Victoria's voice rose in panic. "They wouldn't understand. Promise you won't tell!"
"Your parents must be told," Hawk insisted. "I have already told mine."
"What did they say?"
"Ask them yourself."
Victoria stiffened in Hawk's arms. Slowly, she swung her head around. Her face reddened with embarrassment when she saw us. "Good evening," she mumbled. "I didn't see you."
I smiled at her, uncertain as to what to say. I could not help glancing at her stomach. How far along was she? Two months? Three?
Victoria did not miss my curious gaze and her cheeks grew even redder.
"It's all right, Victoria," Hawk told her, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "They understand."
Victoria began to cry then, and my heart went out to her. She was so young. They were both so young.
The Bannermans were beside themselves with anger when Hawk and Victoria told them Victoria was three months pregnant. Lydia Bannerman burst into tears, sobbing hysterically that the family name was ruined. Horace Bannerman pulled a gun on Hawk and ordered him out of the house. Hawk left because he knew it would only cause more trouble if he refused, but he did not go far, in case Victoria needed him.
"You'll be on the train east tomorrow," Horace Bannerman thundered. "Pack your bags."
"No." Victoria stood up to her father for the first time in her life. "I love Hawk. I'm pregnant with his child, and I'm going to marry him."
"But you can't stay here," Lydia Bannerman wailed. "What will people say?"
"I don't care what anybody says," Victoria retorted.
"How can you be so ungrateful after all we've done for you?" Horace Bannerman shouted. "We've given you everything you ever wanted and this is how you repay us? By sneaking off with that dirty half-breed like a damn squaw! Get out of my house, you harlot!"
"Daddy!"
"Get out," Horace repeated. "You've made your bed, now go lay in it."
I was appalled by the Bannerman's behavior and even more stunned when they sold their house and moved out of Bear Valley, leaving Victoria behind.
I had never heard of anything so cruel. Naturally, Hawk brought Victoria home. We all welcomed her with open arms. Mary gave her a hug and a smile and assured Victoria that she didn't mind sharing her bedroom with her future sister-in-law.
Victoria was deeply hurt by her parents' actions and she needed Hawk's reassurance that he loved her, that everything would be all right. I did my best to make Victoria feel at home, to let her know we didn't think she was terrible. But it wasn't until Shadow took her aside and told her we would be her family from now on that her spirits picked up.
It was late on a Friday night shortly after Victoria had moved in with us that we were roused from bed by the sound of someone pounding on the door. I followed Shadow to the front door, my heart in my throat. Only bad news or a calamity of some kind would send someone to our home so late at night. Good news could wait until morning.
Shadow called, "Who's there?" then opened the door when Morgus Tillman identified himself.
I threw Shadow a worried glance. Morgus Tillman was a big man. He stood six feet eight inches tall, had stringy brown hair, yellow eyes, and a temper said to rival that of a grizzly roused from its winter sleep. What could he possibly want at our house in the middle of the night?
I stared at Morgus as he pushed Hawk into the house ahead of him, gave a small cry of alarm when I saw my son's face. He had been badly beaten. His left eye was swollen shut, his whole face was bruised and discolored.
As Morgus loosened his hold
on Hawk's shirt collar, Hawk dropped to his knees, and I screamed as I saw the blood crusted on my son's back.
Shadow's face was like granite, his eyes like black pools of death. "Who did this?" he demanded.
"I did it," Morgus replied blandly. "My daughter's pregnant, and your boy's responsible."
I stared at Hawk. He was still on his knees, his body trembling with pain.
"Hawk?" Shadow's voice was low, commanding.
My son raised his head and met his father's eyes." I never touched her," Hawk said clearly.
A small cry drew our attention. Turning, I saw Victoria standing in the bedroom doorway, her face almost as white as the demure cotton nightgown that billowed around her ankles.
Hawk's eyes met Victoria's, begging her to have faith in him. "I never touched her, Vickie, I swear it."
Morgus lifted a meaty fist. "Damn you, you son-of-a-bitch, stop your lying! Morgus swung around to face Shadow. "I caught him kissing my little girl in the woods not two hours ago. It's true!" Morgus swore, seeing the doubt in Shadow's eyes. "Ask him yourself."
"It wasn't how it looked," Hawk said stonily. "I was worried about . . ." He glanced at Victoria and quickly looked away. "About something and I went out for a ride. I stopped at Rabbit's Head Rock, and I was sitting there when Mercy showed up. We started talking and she told me she was in trouble and had to get married. I told her I was sorry, and she begged me to marry her. When I refused, she started to cry, and then she started kissing me, saying she would do anything if I'd marry her before it was too late. That was when Morgus showed up.''
"He's lying!" Morgus roared. "I know all about your son. Mercy told me how she saw him diddling that prissy Bannerman girl in the woods, how he was hot for any white girl he could get his hands on. Mercy told me Hawk got her alone in the woods and when she refused to do what he wanted, he raped her. Then, tonight, when she told him about the baby, he refused to do the right thing by her."
"That's a lie!" Hawk shouted. "Mercy was terrified of what you'd do to her when you found out she was pregnant. She would have said anything." Hawk looked up at his father. "I tried to tell Morgus I wasn't the one, but he pulled a gun on me, and when I still wouldn't confess, he hit me a couple of times and then whipped me with his belt. I never touched Mercy, nehyo, you must believe me."
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