by Heidi Betts
"This is quite different from the way I've heard these things are supposed to be. Are you sure we shouldn't find a physician to see to you?"
Bright Eyes shook her head, her teeth drawing blood as she bit down on her lower lip through another contraction. “My people do not give credence to your kind of doctors. If the medicine woman of my village were here, she might give me a mixture of herbs to hasten things, but she was not there when Little Bear was born, and I do not need her now. All will be well, Hannah. Do not worry."
It was a little late for that, but Hannah tried to do a better job of tamping down on her anxiety. Or at least of not letting it show.
She stood nearby, dabbing Bright Eyes's brow with a cool cloth, ready to assist in any way she could. When the next wave of pain hit, Bright Eyes started pushing, and from that point on, Hannah's only mission was to’ stay on her feet.
Outside the cabin, Little Bear was perched, legs swinging, on an overturned barrel that at one time had likely held rum or some other type of ale from the Devil's Den across the street. He either didn't understand the importance of what was taking place with his mother or simply wasn't concerned about the situation. Of course, he was a child and couldn't know the possible dangers involved in a woman giving birth.
Walker, on the other hand, was wearing a hip-deep gully into the dry earth, pacing back and forth along the full length of the outside wall of the shack. He strained his ears to hear the slightest noise, and even the smallest, most muted sound had him stopping in his tracks, craning his neck to try to figure out what it might mean.
Hours passed that seemed like days, and still Walker couldn't stand still. He didn't know who he was more worried for . . . Bright Eyes, who was bearing the actual pain and hazards of childbirth, or Hannah, who had looked more pale and frightened than he'd felt when he'd left her alone in the cabin with his sister. Despite her reassurances, Walker knew she was terrified and had no idea what to expect.
She was willing to stay with Bright Eyes, to help her however she could, but Walker knew darn well she'd never been thrust into a situation like this before. This was all his doing. His fault for ever going to her in the first place when he needed a place to stash Little Bear.
He should have taken the boy to his parents. Clay and Regan would have watched after him as though he were their own son. They would have hidden him if necessary, or fought anyone who came and tried to take him away.
Instead, Walker had thought to save them any trouble and go to someone Ambrose Lynch would have a harder time linking him with, somewhere the bastard would be less likely to look. And, yes, if Walker were forced to be truthful, he'd have to admit he took Little Bear to Hannah just for the chance to see her again up close.
He was a selfish son of a bitch. He should be shot. Or drawn and quartered. Or hanged, just like he'd been telling Hannah he could be.
He'd landed on her doorstep with a boy in need of protection and a bullet in his side. And how had he repaid her for her selfless kindness? By not sending her straight back to Purgatory when he'd discovered her trailing along behind him. By dragging her to this godforsaken town filled with thieves and murderers and criminals of every color, and making her hole up in a one-room shack that wasn't fit for a nest of vermin. And now by leaving her alone to assist his sister in the birth of her second child when he was well aware she knew nothing more about this sort of thing than he did.
How fair was that? What kind of man was he to ask her to do any of this? He was a disgrace to both his white and his Comanche bloodlines.
"That's it,” he all but swore, halting in mid-step. His bunched fists went straight to his hips and he turned toward his nephew, fixing him with a stinging glower. The intense look wasn't aimed at Little Bear, however, but at himself.
"Stay right here,” he told the boy. “I'm going inside to check on your mother."
Stomping around the corner of the building, he put his hand on the lopsided door panel, ready to yank it open, when a loud, newborn infant squall rent the air.
Walker's heart stuttered in his chest and he burst through the door. Hannah stood in front of a sagging Bright Eyes, a squirming bundle of blankets in her arms.
When she looked up to meet his gaze, she was smiling from ear to ear, and he thought he'd never seen anything as beautiful as this woman holding a brand-new, tiny, pink-faced child. It made him long for things he had no right to even imagine.
"Is everything all right?” he asked in a strangled voice, eyes darting from Hannah to his sister and back again.
"Everything's fine. You've got an adorable new niece, in case you were wondering,” Hannah added, beaming at him with that same bright, the-world-is-a-glorious-place grin. “Can you take Bright Eyes to the bed, please? She needs to rest."
Walker hurried forward, eager to do whatever he could, since he'd been of little help so far. He held his sister by the waist and lowered her arms, then lifted her up and carried her the few steps that took them to the narrow cot. He arranged her carefully on the clean sheets Hannah had put down before he'd left the cabin and brought the covers up around her chin. She smiled wearily and let her eyes drift closed.
Hannah came up behind him and he took a moment to study his new niece, no bigger than a minute. Her tiny lips were pursed, her face scrunched and turning red as she readied herself for a good cry.
Before the child could raise the roof, Hannah leaned down and arranged her in the crook of one of her mother's arms. Bright Eyes immediately loosened the laces at the front of her dress and took the child to her breast. The baby settled down to suckle contentedly, and Hannah and Walker slowly backed away to give mother and baby some privacy.
Hannah was just beginning to clean up the area where Bright Eyes had actually given birth when she noticed Little Bear peeking his head around the doorway.
"It's all right,” she said sweetly with a wave of her hand. “You can come in now."
Walker took over clearing away the soiled blankets and linens, watching out of the corner of his eye as she took his nephew's hand and led him toward the bed.
"Would you like to meet your sister?"
Little Bear nodded, peering closely over the mound of covers to where only the baby's round face was visible against Bright Eyes's sun-brown chest.
Walker could very clearly picture Hannah teaching a classroom full of Purgatory's children. No matter the age range, he knew she would be patient and understanding with every single student in her care. She'd been nothing but wonderful with Little Bear the entire time they'd been together, and then with Bright Eyes when he'd brought her here, as well.
And with him. She'd been especially nice to him, and not only over at Cora's. She treated him like a man. Not a white man or a red man, just . . . a man.
Face it, Walker, she's the perfect woman. He wouldn't find one better in either his mother's village or Purgatory. Hell, not even if he searched the world over. Hannah Blake was it.
Hannah Blake was the one.
His mother, Regan, had always told him that he would find her. Not Hannah, specifically, but the one for him. The woman he would fall in love with and marry. A woman who wouldn't care that his blood was mixed or that he'd spent most of his childhood in an orphanage. She would love him for himself, his mother had said.
Of course, Regan couldn't have known that all the times she'd spoken of him finding his true love, he'd only ever been thinking of Hannah.
He'd never been foolish enough to imagine her as his wife, though. He knew better than to think a white woman would marry up with him, no matter what his mother claimed.
Instead, he'd always believed he would likely end up with a woman from his mother's village. She might not invoke the same gut-deep emotions that plagued him when he remembered Hannah, but he thought he could still be a good husband to a Comanche girl, and a good father to any children they might have together.
Now he knew that was impossible. He could never love another woman the way he loved Hannah. Could never come
anywhere close to feeling for someone else the way he felt about her.
Even if he went ahead with that plan, he realized the rest of his life would be a lie. He might be responsible for a wife, but he would never truly love her. That honor belonged to Hannah alone, for she already owned the biggest part of his heart.
This was bad. This was really, really bad.
Walker could almost feel that same organ shriveling in his chest like a pumpkin left too long in the sun. He loved her, all right, but there was no chance of his making a life with her, and he thought he'd rather die outright here and now than spend the next twenty or thirty years pining for her. Seeing her fall in love with someone else, marry another man, have babies with him.
He'd kill himself first. Hell, he thought he might even kill Hannah first. Either that, or he'd steal her away.
If he was already going to live in misery or hang for making love to a white woman, then he had nothing to lose by kidnapping her before she could hitch herself to another man. Some lily-livered white who'd probably do nothing more adventurous with his life than running a general store.
It sounded ridiculous, and if the law ever caught up with him, they'd string him up for sure. But he tucked the notion away in a deep pocket at the back of his mind in case he needed to pull it out someday. Like if he ever caught wind that Hannah was fixing to marry someone other than him.
"I'll take these things outside,” he said brusquely, holding up the ball of dirty linens and clearing his throat twice before the words would come out.
Hannah lifted her gaze from where she and Little Bear were oohing and aahing over the new arrival and nodded her head, giving him a smile so angelic, he wanted to hie her away then and there.
He stomped out of the cabin before the urge overtook him. Or before he could do something really stupid . . . like propose.
Chapter Eighteen
When David first left the cabin, Hannah thought nothing of it, though she had noticed he seemed to stomp out in a bit of a huff.
Why, she couldn't imagine. If anything, he should be ecstatic about being an uncle again, and happy that Bright Eyes and the baby seemed to be in perfect health.
But after a little over an hour, when he still hadn't returned, she began to worry. Hell wasn't a large enough town to get lost in, and except for the Devil's Den, there wasn't really anywhere for him to go. At least not where he could lose track of time.
She paused in the middle of fixing supper for Little Bear, who was sitting at the table pretending to be the dealer of a game of poker he was playing with himself. She was also heating a bit of broth for when Bright Eyes awoke from a much needed nap. The baby was still tucked close at her mother's side, and Hannah figured that was the best place for her.
Hannah's mouth turned down in a frown as she considered all the places David might be for this long. If he was at the Devil's Den, he'd better be downstairs and drinking rather than upstairs doing God knows what.
Well, God knew perfectly well what. As did she . . . now. And if David was in one of the upstairs rooms doing that with one of Cora's girls, she would personally tan the skin right off his hide.
She set Little Bear's plate on the table in front of him with more force than necessary and immediately smiled an apology so he wouldn't think she was cross with him. He was overly sensitive about that sort of thing, she'd noticed, because of the treatment he'd received from his father.
Little Bear's father was the second thought that popped into her head when she wondered where David could be. Her stomach plummeted at the very idea, but she had to admit that David might have taken one look at his new niece, recalled how Ambrose Lynch had treated his sister and nephew, and gone off to teach him some kind of lesson. David hadn't said anything about exacting revenge, but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it.
From everything she'd heard about him so far, Lynch wasn't a man to mess with. David could get hurt confronting him. Even killed.
Her pulse quickened as she pictured all the terrible things that could be happening to David at this very moment.
She needed to find him.
Straightening with determination, she finished serving Little Bear and then prepared him for her absence.
"I'm going across the street to look for your uncle,” she told him. If David wasn't there, she might have to pursue his disappearance further, but she would start at the Devil's Den. “Will you be all right here, with your mother and sister? Can you watch over them for me until I get back?"
Little Bear bobbed his head up and down, his teeth busy chomping away on a piece of chicken left over from the day before.
"I heated broth for your mother. If she's hungry when she wakes up and you think you can manage, you're welcome to feed her. Otherwise, give her a bit of bread to hold her over. I won't be long."
He nodded again before swallowing. “Don't worry, Hannah. I can take care of them."
She thought he could, too. He might be only seven years old, but he was quite levelheaded and responsible for his age. She would guess he'd been caring for his mother for a number of years now, even if he hadn't been able to protect her from his father's abuse.
"All right.” She headed for the door, tucking up her hair into the battered Stetson she was supposed to wear for protection when she left the shack. She hesitated before walking out, casting one last look toward the sleeping Bright Eyes and the baby, and Little Bear, devouring his meal as though he hadn't tasted real food in weeks.
"I won't be long,” she said again before pushing open the cabin door and heading out into the night.
Keeping the brim of the hat pulled low over her eyes, she stretched her step and walked more slowly than usual, trying to look as much like just another cowboy as possible. If anyone studied her too closely, she felt sure they would notice she was merely a woman dressed up in men's clothing. Her less than buxom figure did aid in the illusion, however. And hopefully everyone inside the saloon would be too preoccupied to care about the arrival of another stranger.
She made her way across the street, dark but for the dim light shining through the windows of the Devil's Den. Her boot heels echoed hollowly on the boardwalk for a few steps until she came to a halt at the establishment's squeaky, bat-wing doors.
She swept the room with a glance, looking for the straight black hair falling past his shoulders and buckskin clothing that would identify David. Unfortunately, she saw no sign of him. She would have to go in.
Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she pushed through the saloon doors and walked inside. Loud, lively music came from one corner of the room, where a man sat at a scarred upright piano. Men in various forms of dress, from all walks of life, sat gambling at tables covered with faded felt and velvet, curling at the edges.
And Cora's girls—dozens of them, some wearing bright colors, others in little more than a camisole or corset and drawers—hung on them, nearly one working girl to each male customer. They were rubbing suggestively along their bodies and laughing wildly, all in hopes of luring them upstairs for a quick tumble and a bit more profit for the Devil's Den.
Hannah searched the area even more carefully, studying faces and at the same time trying to keep hers half-hidden. Her gaze drifted to the stairs and the ornately carved balustrade bordering the second story. If she found David up there with one of those women, he was in trouble.
She didn't see him. He might not be in the saloon at all. But if he wasn't here, where could he be?
If he was on his way to the Bar L, she would never find him. Not only was she sure to get lost on the trail if she even tried, but she couldn't leave Bright Eyes and Little Bear for that long.
She started to turn, about to leave, when a tall, hard body sidled up behind her. Whoever it was pressed against her back, tight and warm, and a big hand cupped the side of her waist.
Her muscles tensed, waiting and wondering what in heaven's name she would do if this man accosted her. He must already know she was a woman or he wouldn't
be touching her like this. She couldn't imagine any man standing so close to another man and caressing him this way.
"What are you doing here, notsa?ka??” a low voice breathed above her ear.
The air rushed from her lungs in a relieved whoosh and the tension melted from her bones. “David!” she chastised through gritted teeth. She started to turn, but his hand on her waist held her in place. “Will you please stop sneaking up on me like that!"
"What are you doing here, notsa?ka??” he asked again, no friendlier than the first time.
"I'm looking for you. You left the cabin and never returned. I started to worry."
"Where are Bright Eyes and the children?"
"Back at the cabin, where do you think?” She was getting tired of all his questions and not being allowed to turn around. Every time she tried, his fingers flexed, digging into the tender flesh of her side.
"You shouldn't have left them."
"Why not? You did,” she snapped, and then immediately regretted it. “Besides, they're fine. I made sure of that."
"I should have known.” His words still held an edge of something she couldn't define, but his tone had eased slightly.
"So if everything's all right back there, you have a few minutes to spare. Care for a drink?” The grip he'd had on her waist lifted and he flicked his wrist toward the bar.
She shook her head. Not only did she not partake of spirits any stronger than chamo-mile tea, but she was afraid spending too long inside the Devil's Den would lessen her chances of passing as a man.
"Well, I could sure stand to finish mine,” he said dryly, taking her hand and starting across the crowded floor.
Hannah tried to wiggle her fingers free as they dodged other customers. “I don't think this is such a good idea,” she whispered, throwing nervous glances around the room to see if anyone was looking at her oddly.