Hannah's Half-Breed

by Heidi Betts

  "They belong to me,” Lynch hissed. “I can do anything I like with them."

  David's voice grew just as cold, just as dangerous. “The hell you can."

  "The hell I can't.” In the blink of an eye, Lynch drew his weapon, leveling it at David's midsection.

  Hannah gave a squeak of horrified shock, but just as quickly, Clay, Wade, David, and Lynch's two still-mounted men all had their pistols out and aimed at different targets.

  Lynch laughed, a rusty, demented sound. “If you're here, my wife is here. Send the squaw out, half-breed, and nobody has to get hurt."

  "She isn't your wife, Lynch,” David said again. “You never married her; you stole her from her village and her family. You used her like a common trollop, and abused both her and your son. You beat her so badly she almost lost her second baby, and you'll burn in hell before I let you near any of them ever again."

  Lynch took a menacing step closer and Hannah's nails curled instinctively into the material at David's waist.

  "You can't keep them from me. And if you try, I'd be more than happy to put a bullet between your eyes, Walker.” He brought up his gun, pointing it directly at David's forehead.

  Hannah's heart stopped and she envisioned herself screaming, throwing herself in front of David and taking the bullet into her own body instead. But in reality, she merely stood there, rooted to the ground, frozen in absolute terror. The minute Lynch raised his gun, five triggers cocked, ringing in her ears like a dynamite blast.

  "You might want to remember where you are, Lynch,” Sheriff Walker put in mildly.

  Hannah didn't know how he managed to sound so calm when her lungs hadn't expanded once in the last full minute.

  "This is my town,” he went on, “and that's my son whose head your weapon is pointed at. Not only do I have enough justification right now to drag your ass to jail, but no one would think twice if I shot you where you stand."

  Lynch smirked, never taking his eyes off David. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Sheriff. Make a move against me, and my two boys, here, will testify that you killed me in cold blood. You'll be the one rotting in a prison cell . . . if they don't hang you first."

  "Don't threaten my father, Lynch,” David growled. “You've done enough damage to my family already."

  Lynch lowered his revolver to the area of David's heart but didn't back away. “I'm not leaving without that squaw and her kids."

  It was a standoff, and Hannah's pulse raced as she imagined the only way it could end—with deaths on both sides.

  And then a noise from behind caught her attention.

  She tilted her head slightly to the right and saw Bright Eyes come out onto the porch, careful to stay out of the rain. The baby was in the cradleboard in her mother's arms, Little Bear following close at her side. His small hand was clutched tightly around the doeskin of Bright Eyes's dress.

  A few steps behind, just this side of the doorway, stood Regan Walker. Her curly red hair was pulled away from her face and a forest green gown hugged her womanly curves. And in her arms she held a rifle; there was no question she was ready and willing to protect her family—extended or otherwise—in any way necessary. Her daughters and her mother-in-law, Martha Doyle, crowded around her, craning their necks to see what was going on.

  "I won't go back with you, Ambrose."

  Bright Eyes's strong voice caused Lynch and his men to whirl in her direction. David and the others kept their eyes and weapons trained on the intruders before them.

  "Come down here, woman,” Lynch ordered, “and bring those brats with you. I'm taking you all back to the Bar L where you belong."

  Turning toward Martha, Bright Eyes handed over the cradleboard and gently said something to Little Bear to keep him on the porch. Then she straightened, standing tall, and came down the porch steps into the muddy yard. She ignored the rain completely, making her way toward Lynch and halting less than a foot in front of him.

  "We don't belong with you and we won't go back,” she said firmly. “You treated us very badly, Ambrose. You don't deserve us any longer."

  "Who the hell do you think you're talking to, squaw?” His face flushed red with indignation.

  He reached out to grab her arm, and David immediately reacted to stop him. But before either of them could make contact, Bright Eyes took a step back, out of Lynch's grasp, and shook her head.

  "No. We are through with you, Ambrose Lynch. You do not love us or you would not treat us as you have. We want nothing more to do with you. Ever."

  Grinding his teeth, Lynch sputtered, unused to having anyone—let alone a Comanche woman—refuse him.

  "Do you think I'll let you get away with this? Even if your friends here,” he spat the word, “keep me from taking you today, I'll only come back for you later."

  "Do not bother,” Bright Eyes answered before anyone else had a chance to come to her defense. “We will not go, no matter when you come or where you find us. And do not think that just because my brother has protected us until now that I cannot protect myself. When I leave here, I will take my children back to the Comanche. If you come there, I will have the warriors in the village capture you and stake you naked to the hot ground. They will cut you, many times and all over your body. They will leave you bleeding and in agony . . . and then the animals will come, drawn to the smell of your blood. First the ants, who crawl into the wounds and nibble at your flesh. And then the skunks, raccoons, and coyotes. Finally the buzzards will swoop down to pluck out your eyes and spread your entrails across the land."

  Her voice grew stronger as she went on, and Hannah suspected she enjoyed drawing a gruesome picture of torture and suffering for Lynch.

  From the look of things, it was working. Lynch swallowed hard, his skin blanching.

  "This is what awaits you, should I or mine ever see you again, Ambrose Lynch. I promise your demise will be slow and painful."

  Several long heartbeats ticked by in utter silence except for the rain pattering against the ground and the roofs of the house and barn. Lynch's fearful gaze went from his supposed wife to his children on the porch, to David and everyone who stood behind him in support of Bright Eyes. And then his gun arm began to lower and he slowly holstered his revolver.

  "You always were more trouble than you were worth. I'd be better off finding me another squaw than wasting any more time on you.” Turning his head, he spat less than an inch from Bright Eyes's moccasin-clad feet. “Go where you like, and take those bastard half-breeds with you."

  Spinning, he strode to his mount and pulled himself into the saddle. Following their boss's lead, his men replaced their weapons and awaited further orders.

  "One more thing, Lynch,” Sheriff Walker put in. “You're not welcome in Purgatory. Show your face in my town and I'll toss you in a hole so deep, you'll never see daylight again.” He paused, letting a meaningful moment pass. “If I don't shoot you first."

  Without another word and only a deep-set glower etching his brow, Ambrose Lynch turned his horse and rode off, his men close behind.

  The remaining adults and children all stood stock-still, watching the three riders disappear into the rain-streaked horizon. As soon as they were out of sight, everyone turned around, exchanging glances. And then they grinned. Grins were quickly followed by low chuckles, the chuckles blossoming into full-blown laughter.

  David grabbed his sister and hugged her close, then reached for Hannah and did the same, lifting her off the ground. Hannah buried her nose in his neck, still smiling in triumph. Even when he set her on her feet and loosened his arms from her waist, he kept her hand tightly clasped in his own.

  More than content to maintain physical contact with him, she leaned her back against his broad chest and pivoted toward Bright Eyes. “You were wonderful,” she said. “I'm so proud of you for standing up to him like that."

  "I was shaking the whole time,” Bright Eyes admitted, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what I said is true . . . I will not allow him to treat us that w
ay any longer. I will not continue to put my children in danger."

  Hannah laughed. “I don't think you have to worry. Your description of staking him in the desert for wild animals to eat scared the life out of him. He won't bother you again anytime soon."

  "He'd better not,” David growled, and she could feel the tension still vibrating through his body.

  Turning to Wade Mason, he said, “It seems we won't be needing to borrow one of your line shacks after all. Sorry to have dragged you out here for nothing."

  "Are you kidding?” Mason returned with a lopsided grin, pushing the brim of his hat higher on his head, his arms crossed over the saddle pommel. “I wouldn't have missed this for the world. Besides, I owe your father,” he added without elaboration.

  Nodding to David, Sheriff Walker, Hannah, Bright Eyes, and the ladies on the porch, he straightened, clicked to his horse, and started to leave. “If you need anything else, just give a holler."

  "Thanks, Wade. We'll see you soon,” Sheriff Walker said with a wave.

  As soon as Mason was out of sight, David gave Hannah's arm a tug. “We'd better get you two inside before you catch your death. You're already soaked to the skin.” He ran a hand up and down the arm of her dress, where the fabric clung like honey.

  "You get them inside,” Clay said, reaching for the loose reins of David's abandoned stallion. “I'll get the horses put away, then be right in."

  David followed them up the steps and onto the porch, where Bright Eyes took the baby back from Martha. The child fussed in her cradleboard, her tiny pink mouth twisting as she worked herself into a fit.

  "This is a good day to give her a name, don't you think?” Bright Eyes asked, looking over her shoulder at her brother.

  "I do. What have you decided on?"

  "Because of her and Little Bear, today I found the courage to leave Ambrose Lynch forever. To remember this day and mark her as truly free, I think I will call her . . . Laughing Rain."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The mood under the Walker roof the rest of the evening was celebratory, to say the least. Everyone was happy and full of laughter, relieved that the confrontation with Ambrose Lynch had ended well, glad that Bright Eyes and her children were safe.

  Regan insisted Hannah stay for dinner, and the three women worked side by side to prepare a feast that made the long dining table creak with its weight. Hannah enjoyed herself immensely, with the children underfoot and Regan trying hard not to pry into Hannah's relationship with her son. Hannah could tell she was dying of curiosity, especially since she and David had come into the yard together, hand in hand, before Lynch's arrival.

  But for the most part, Regan managed to hold her tongue. She didn't ask too many pointed questions and only slipped once or twice by implying that Hannah might soon be her daughter-in-law.

  Since Hannah was no more certain of her future with David than Regan was, the attention made her slightly uncomfortable, but she tried not to let it show.

  The rain let up while they were eating, and even though it was wet and dark outside, and Regan offered her a room for the night, Hannah insisted on going back to her own cabin. The Walkers were wonderful people and she enjoyed their company, but the house was full enough with Bright Eyes and Little Bear staying there. And, she admitted—if only to herself—she was hoping for a bit more time alone with David.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he offered to walk her home. Though if he hadn't, she'd have probably asked him to accompany her.

  The threat of Ambrose Lynch coming after or harming Bright Eyes and her children was past, along with David's need for Hannah—as a protective shield for his sister and a place to hide his nephew. She liked to think she meant more to him than that—much more—but unless he said so, she might never know for sure. Once she had him alone, she hoped to ask him straight out what his intentions toward her were . . . if the butterflies in her stomach settled down enough for her to get the words out.

  Saying good-bye and waving to the children, they made their way into the darkness toward the path that would lead to her cabin.

  Hannah's dress was dry now, thanks to Regan, who had lent her a conservative wrap to wear while they prepared dinner and her wet garments hung near the heat of the cook-stove. Even so, the rain had cooled things off and the evening air cut through her clothes to draw goose flesh on her arms. She rubbed them absentmindedly, faying to think of what to say to David and how to broach the topic of their future together.

  "Are you cold?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between them. Cicadas chirped and leaves rustled around them, but they hadn't said a single word to each other since leaving his mother's house.

  "I'm all right,” she answered.

  Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he pulled her close, nestling her against his side. “You look cold."

  She allowed his embrace for a long minute, wondering how she could suddenly be so uncomfortable with the same man who fewer than twelve hours earlier had been in her bed, very creatively making love to her numerous times.

  It wasn't David who made her uncomfortable, though. It was the idea that he could touch her so sweetly that she wanted to weep and then walk away. That he could push aside the heat and passion between them because of the prejudices some held toward him, imagined or otherwise.

  The truth was, people here in Texas and in the rest of the western states did think badly of Indians, regardless of the tribe or that they might also be part white. But she thought she'd shown him that the citizens of Purgatory felt no animosity toward him, at least not most of them.

  David's beliefs were deep-rooted, however, and even the support of the townspeople might not be enough to convince him to give their love a chance.

  And what if he didn't love her as much as she loved him? What if he didn't love her at all?

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes and her heart thundered against her rib cage at the very thought. And yet that was what had been bothering her all along. What if his Comanche blood was only an excuse not to stay with her?

  Heaven help her, if that was the case and he'd seduced her, never truly feeling anything for her, she would take a page from Bright Eyes's book and stake him spread-eagled in the desert for wild animals to devour. She might even stick around to watch.

  Red-hot rage replaced the fear and uncertainty that had swamped her earlier. “David, there are a few things we need to discuss,” she blurted suddenly, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath, then let it out, never breaking stride.

  "I know,” he said simply.

  She waited, tense, for him to elaborate.

  "Bright Eyes wants to return to the Comanche village. Lynch won't be troubling her again, so she and the children will be safe there."

  "I'm glad.” Hannah wasn't sure what that had to do with her and David, but she was as relieved as everyone else that his sister would no longer be under Ambrose Lynch's heavy, aggressive thumb.

  "She's asked me to escort her,” he continued, “and I've said I would."

  "Of course,” she said quickly. “You should take them back. It will give you a chance to visit your family and friends in the village, too."

  David's words made sense, as did her response to them, and yet she felt as though she was wading through a knee-deep mire of confusion. There was something else going on, another point to their conversation that she couldn't seem to comprehend.

  This wasn't what she'd intended when she said they had things to discuss . . . and she thought David knew as much.

  "I . . . may not be visiting,” he said finally, his low, rough voice reluctant.

  A surge of dread swept over her body. “What do you mean?"

  "I may. . ."

  She looked up in time to see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

  "I may stay, Hannah."

  His declaration stopped her in her tracks. He went another step farther, then turned to face her when he
realized she wasn't with him.

  "So that's it,” she said, her tone cold and unemotional. “You're leaving and you're not coming back."

  "I didn't say I was never coming back. I just think it would be best if I stayed away for a while, gave us both some time to think."

  Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, she fixed him with an angry glare. “What is there to think about, David? You either love me or you don't. You're either willing to stay and marry me and take whatever comes, or you're not."

  She hadn't meant to put it that way, to say quite so much. But now that it was out, she felt better. She was also giving him a chance to fall on his knees and declare his undying love for her.

  So far, he wasn't falling, and her chest hitched painfully at the idea that he might not.

  "I love you,” she went on, knowing she had to get out everything she had to say now or hold it in forever and watch him walk away. “I'm willing to marry you and take whatever comes. I don't care what anyone thinks or says. I don't care if all your worst nightmares about the two of us being together come to pass. If the citizens of Purgatory band together against us and run us out of town, if I lose my job and we have to live in one of those squalid little shacks in Hell. I don't care, because I love you, David. I want to be your wife and the mother of your children and die in your arms when I'm an old, old woman."

  With each word, she saw David's cheeks grow paler in the dappled moonlight. His teeth grated together and a muscle in his jaw spasmed erratically.

  "The question is, do you love me?” She waited for a single heartbeat to pass, and then asked again, softly, “Do you love me, David?"

  "More than my own life,” he answered, his voice ragged, as though the words were being dragged from the very depths of his soul.

  Closing the distance between them, he grasped her shoulders, clutching them tightly. “You have no idea, Hannah. It seems like I've loved you forever, since we were kids in that damn orphanage. And in Comanche, I've told you a thousand times. But it's not that simple. I'm a half-breed, Hannah, and no matter where we go, people will only see a man with red skin and long black hair standing beside a woman who couldn't be whiter if she bathed in lye, with her cornsilk hair and blue, blue eyes. People will stare and point and taunt. And even if we were strong enough to ignore all that, our children would suffer even more."