Hannah's Half-Breed

by Heidi Betts

  He didn't answer her right away, his mind racing to think of a proper explanation. The truth was too frightening a prospect—at least to him—and not something he wanted her to know.

  He'd told her once it was the Comanche word for her name. Maybe that reasoning would work again. “I told you—"

  "You told me it was my name in Comanche, but I don't think that's right. Not the way you've been using it."

  Uh-oh. Had he been caught?

  She tipped her head to the side, gazing at him from under the wide brim of her hat. The sliver of moonlight in the night sky gilded her face and reflected in her eyes like a full moon on the surface of a lake.

  "I can ask Little Bear, I suppose. He's been trying to teach me a bit of the language. Although, from the faces he makes when I repeat the words back to him, I don't think he believes I'm doing that great a job. Still, he would probably know what notsa?ka? means. Is that how you pronounce it, notsa?ka??"

  Her arm was tucked through his elbow now and she leaned into him with every step toward the cabin where his sister, nephew, and niece waited. Whether she intended to or not, she was weakening his resolve.

  And offering to ask Little Bear what Comanche words meant was a serious threat. The boy would be more than willing to help Hannah learn his people's native tongue, never realizing why she was asking or what affect it might have on his uncle's life. His life, his relationship with Hannah . . . and his well-being if she found out from a seven-yearold what he'd been calling her these past couple of weeks.

  He took a deep breath. Better to do it himself and get it over with, he supposed.

  "It's just an . . . endearment. A term of affection we use in the village."

  "But what does it mean?” she prodded, pressing against him in such a way that the side of her breast brushed his chest.

  It was hard for him to think straight when she did that. And then he made the mistake of glancing down . . . and meeting her fathomless, well-deep eyes.

  "Sweetheart,” he blurted out before he lost his courage. “It means sweetheart."

  "It does?"

  She beamed up at him, and Walker couldn't decide where he felt it more—the lightness in his brain, the punch to his gut, or the steel-gloved clench to his groin. He only knew that she was staring at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky just to make her smile. And if she continued looking at him that way, he'd do everything in his power to ensure that she never discovered the truth.

  But the awed expression on her face worried him, too. Because he knew what kind of man he was; he knew what he'd done to deserve a look like that—and what he hadn't. It would be better for her to be a little disappointed now rather than a lot disappointed later.

  "Don't get excited,” he told her, forcing his voice to sound gruff and making sure his arm didn't purposely pull her too close to his side. “It's just a word we use in the village."

  "Oh, yes. I believe you."

  Chapter Twenty

  She didn't believe him for a minute.

  Two days after their encounter outside the Devil's Den, they packed their things and headed for Purgatory. Bright Eyes and the baby—who still didn't have a name—rode David's stallion, Thunder. The child was safely ensconced in a cradleboard David had crafted when he realized they'd be traveling with the infant. Now, David led the mount while Hannah and Little Bear walked alongside.

  She was once again wearing her pink dress. It had been clean when she'd donned it early that morning but was already covered with trail dust up to the elbows, and several pieces of lace trim dangled loose from such harsh treatment. She would have to sew them back on as soon as she arrived home.

  But none of that mattered. Not the blistering sun beating down on them, her bedraggled state, the miles they'd already covered, or the miles they had yet to traverse.

  All that mattered was David and the word he used when he spoke to her: sweetheart.

  She'd been grinning from ear to ear ever since the night he told her that was what he'd been saying each time he'd called her notsa?ka?. He claimed it meant nothing, of course; simply a general form of address commonplace among the Comanche. But she didn't believe him, and to be sure, she'd gotten Little Bear alone to ask him about it.

  The child had seemed confused by her question at first, then told her he had only ever heard his uncle use it with her. His mother, it seemed, wasn't fond of the term, nor had Little Bear ever heard of it being uttered regularly among the Comanche.

  He also wanted to know why she pronounced it so well when all the words he'd tried to teach her rolled off her tongue like gravel instead of honey. But Hannah didn't dare tell the boy she'd learned it while in the throes of deepest passion with his uncle. That wouldn't do at all, so she merely brushed off the question and let him try again to teach her a few simpler words.

  After that conversation, she was certain of

  David's motives and took great pleasure in knowing he considered her, if not his sweetheart, at least a sweetheart.

  She rather hoped it was the former, though. She was coming to realize that she loved the man desperately, and with each day that love only grew. If he felt even a fraction of the same type of affection for her, she would count herself lucky. And his calling her sweetheart was certainly a start. It heartened her and put a spring in her step, even though she should have felt exhausted and collapsed hours ago.

  "You seem awfully happy,” David commented, gifting her with a rare glimpse over his shoulder as he trudged ahead, one foot in front of the other, leading the horse his sister was riding.

  "Mmm-hmmm.” She couldn't help smiling at the sight of his broad back and muscular legs as he walked, his ebony hair glistening in the midday sun.

  "Eager to get home, huh?” he asked.

  Actually, she hadn't given much thought to returning to her little cabin in the woods, or her position as schoolmarm of the Purgatory school. She supposed she should be excited about getting back to her life there, but the truth of the matter was that she almost missed the rickety shack in Hell simply because the outlaw town was where David had first touched her so intimately and finally made love to her. Twice. Or at least on two separate occasions. And the second time, in a way she hadn't imagined possible, yet was more than willing to repeat, if only she could once more get him alone.

  She glanced up at Bright Eyes, cradling her baby daughter, and then at Little Bear trailing beside her, and knew it might be some time before she and David got that kind of chance again. She almost sighed aloud with disappointment.

  "It will be nice to be back,” she said in response to his question, taking the opportunity to skip ahead a few steps and keep pace with his long strides. “People must certainly be wondering over my whereabouts by now. Several of my older students are kept home at this time of year to help their parents’ with summer crops, but the younger ones still would have shown up for classes the first day or so after my absence. Hopefully someone went to my cabin and saw the note I left on the door."

  He gazed at her through narrowed eyes. “You left a note?"

  She nodded.

  "What did it say?"

  "Simply that I'd been called away suddenly. They'll understand, especially if I concoct a decent story about a friend falling ill in another town. They certainly wouldn't believe I'd gone to a relative's."

  She grinned and shot him a look that only another who'd grown up in an orphanage could understand. “Visiting Heaven for a couple of days would certainly be an acceptable excuse,” she continued. “Either way, I don't expect it to be much of a problem."

  "It will be if they find out you ran off with a half-breed/’ he muttered.

  This time, he didn't bother meeting her gaze. Probably because he knew she'd be scowling at him.

  "That again?” Not bothering to hide her annoyance, she raised her chin and gave a little tug to the brim of her wide straw bonnet. She tried to ignore the strip of artificial flowers that had come loose and now dangled in front of her nose in the most an
noying manner. “I thought we'd settled that nonsense back in Hell."

  "I agreed to take a closer look at things when we get back to Purgatory, but nothing's settled, Hannah,” he said wearily. “I doubt it ever will be."

  "Well, it certainly won't with an attitude like that. Don't you ever get tired of thinking the worst of people?"

  "It comes from a lot of years of experience, notsa?ka?. You've just got too kind a disposition to see it."

  He wouldn't think her so kind after she walloped him in the head with her disintegrating hat, she thought sourly, flipping the flowers out of her eyes once more. He was the most stubborn man she'd ever met and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

  Then again, he had called her sweetheart when it wasn't a typical endearment, according to his nephew. The knowledge warmed her heart and brought her forgiving nature to the fore.

  Plus, he had agreed to walk down the main street of town and see for himself—a little more clearly this time, she hoped—how the people of Purgatory truly treated him. That was something, at least.

  "Why don't we change the subject before we both get angry again?” she suggested brightly. “I, for one, am getting rather hungry, and we're not far from my cabin. What would you like for lunch?"

  Before David had a chance to answer, Little Bear piped up from several paces behind Thunder. “Anything, as long as it's not chicken or soup,” he almost groaned. “Or eggs. No chicken soup or chicken broth or cold chicken sandwiches, or fried eggs or fried egg sandwiches."

  Hannah and David exchanged amused grins as the boy listed the meager food choices he'd been forced to choke down the past several days. There had been quite a bit of chicken and eggs served, in all their many forms.

  "I guess that answers that,” David replied dryly.

  "I guess it does. The only problem is that a chicken and some eggs may be all I have at home."

  A loud, seven-year-old groan drifted across the dusty trail, followed by heavy, petulant footfalls emphasizing Little Bear's displeasure.

  David cocked his head in her direction, one side of his mouth twisting into a grin. Hannah smiled back and they lapsed into silence the rest of the way back to Purgatory.

  An hour or so later, they reached Hannah's cabin, every one of them exhausted right down to their toes. David immediately lifted his sister and niece from Thunder's back and carried them toward the tiny house while Hannah rushed ahead to hold the door open.

  Just as she'd suspected, the note she'd left nailed to the weathered wooden planking was missing. Someone had come by and the entire town must know by now that classes were postponed due to their teacher being temporarily gone.

  David laid Bright Eyes on Hannah's small bed in the corner and took the baby from its cradleboard, settling her against her mother's breast. “Rest, patsi?,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. “It was a long trip."

  "Ura, samohpu,” she replied and closed her eyes, tightening her arms around the tiny bundle at her side.

  The child had been very well behaved for being only a few days old. She slept most of the time, only fussing when she was awake until Bright Eyes nursed her or changed her soiled diaper.

  Hannah wondered why Bright Eyes hadn't named her daughter yet, but David had explained that the Comanche sometimes waited a few days before deciding what to call newborns. And names were chosen either from nature or in association with the child's clan.

  Hannah wasn't sure she understood it, exactly, but she was eager to know what Bright Eyes would call the little girl. For now, they referred to her simply as “the baby."

  David took Thunder around back to feed and unsaddle him while Hannah busied herself in the kitchen, looking for something for Little Bear to eat—something other than chicken or eggs or soup of any kind.

  Hannah found it comforting to be back in her own kitchen, with many more amenities than the shack in Hell offered, even if Little Bear, sitting at the oaken table in the center of the cabin, was kicking his feet impatiently and complaining about how hungry he was.

  It almost cheered her, remembering how quiet and sullen he'd been the last time they'd been alone together in this room. The boy was blossoming, she thought. Or at the very least opening up to her and becoming more comfortable in her presence.

  David came in through the rear entrance just as she was setting a plate of cheese and dried bread on the table before Little Bear. And the child who had bragged to her when they first met that his uncle had taught him to track prey and live off the land by eating bugs and dirt if need be, whined about the bread being stale and crunchy. He finally stopped complaining and settled for plopping chunks of cheese in his mouth when Hannah promised to make him a cup of cocoa so he could dip the bread.

  Walker watched the exchange with amusement from across the room. Turning his back to Hannah and Little Bear to hide his smile, he pumped water into the metal kitchen basin and scrubbed his hands.

  On her way to make hot chocolate for the boy, Hannah brushed much too close for his comfort. The moment the sleeve of her cotton dress made contact with the leather of his shirt, a rush of pure desire shot through his veins. That was all it took, a single innocent brush of limbs with two layers of fabric between, for him to be hard as a rod and randy as a rabbit.

  If that wasn't bad enough, being in her house, watching her interact with his nephew, brought to mind future scenarios he had no business imagining. Living here with her, watching her prepare meals for him and their children. Spending evenings with her in the narrow bed his sister now occupied.

  No matter what vision appeared in his mind's eye, it always led back to the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And since that was impossible, he had no business dreaming such stupidity.

  Deciding it was a good thing his buckskin shirt reached to mid-thigh so it covered his rather blatant condition, he cleared his throat and turned, leaning back against the edge of the cast-iron sink.

  "After Bright Eyes wakes up and gets a bite to eat, I thought I'd take her and the children over to my parents’ house. Regan and Clay should know of a safe place for the three of them to stay until we can get this trouble sorted out, and I can describe Ambrose Lynch to my father so he and his deputies can be on the lookout."

  "You . . . you'll be back, though, won't you?"

  He didn't miss the catch in her voice or the way she wound her fingers together at her waist.

  Avoiding her gaze so he didn't have to see the hurt in her sky blue eyes, he said, “I don't think that's such a good idea, Hannah. I've caused you enough trouble. It might be better if I just take my sister and her children to Clay and Regan's and stay away from you for a while."

  "What if Lynch finds you, though? What if he asks around town and they tell him where your parents live and he tracks you there?"

  "I hope Bright Eyes and the children will be hidden somewhere else by then, and I won't stay at my parents. Ill probably go back to the Comanche village."

  Hannah's fidgeting stopped as abruptly as it had begun. She crossed her arms over her chest beneath the gentle swell of her breasts and stared daggers at him. “What you're saying, then, is that you're leaving and I'll probably never see you again."

  He'd been trying very hard not to say those exact words, but they both knew it was what he meant. Seeing her was hard enough. Being with her without touching her was damn near impossible. And making love to her without knowing he would wake up beside her for the next thirty years was enough to rip the heart right out of his chest and stomp it into the ground.

  Better to leave and never return. Ride away and never look back. Find refuge in his parents’ support and forget he'd ever experienced even a hint of heaven in this woman's arms.

  It would be better that way.

  Even if it burned like hell and felt like his guts were being torn out and stretched across the land like barbed wire.

  "It's better this way, Hannah. Trust me."

  "I do trust you,” she said simply, her l
ips pursed in disapproval. “But I also disagree with your reasoning completely. Take your sister to your parents, if you must. Tell them what's going on and let them help you. Bring Bright Eyes and the children back here if you need to, or leave them there if you think it's best. But whatever happens, I want you to come back, do you understand?"

  "Hannah—"

  "No. I don't want to hear it. I want you to come back—alone or with your family, I don't care. And when you do, we're going to sit down and talk. We're going to walk through town and see how Purgatory's citizens react to us being together. And we're going to talk,” she repeated.

  Having said her piece, she uncrossed her arms and moved to the stove, where the milk for the cocoa was beginning to boil.

  "I waited ten years for you to come back, David Walker. I'm not going to let you get away again."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  By the time David collected his sister, niece, and nephew and set off for his parents’ house, Hannah was still shaking. With fury, with anxiety, with disbelief, with dread.

  How could he even think of just walking away? He'd come to her when he was injured and in need of someone to look after his nephew, dragged her to that outlaw town and made her live in little more than a hovel for nearly two weeks, and now he thought he could return her to her cabin and abandon her without a backward glance. After he'd made love to her, too. Twice!

  If the man thought she was going to tolerate that kind of behavior, he had another thing coming. She knew where the Walkers lived and would follow him there, if need be. She would even ask someone to point her in the direction of his Comanche village and track him there if she had to.

  Honestly! She didn't tolerate this sort of pigheadedness from her students, and she wasn't going to put up with it from David, either.

  Slamming back into the house, she began clearing the table and ended up cleaning the entire cabin. From top to bottom, she dusted and scrubbed, changed bedclothes and washed curtains. Her body had an excessive amount of energy to burn off, it seemed, fueled mostly by anger and frustration.