Her Cheyenne Warrior (Harlequin Historical)

by Lauri Robinson

  Sensing there was more behind his question, things she wasn’t ready to answer, she turned the conversation back to Douglas. “So you are just going to let them go free?”

  “No.” It was William who answered. “I’ll have them transported to New York, where I will personally see that Douglas is sent back to England. I will also have Jacob’s past investigated. The likes of him is probably wanted someplace for something. If so, I’ll see he’s prosecuted.”

  There was no justice in any of this. Not for her. “Ultimately, they will both go free.” As she spoke the words, she realized she truly didn’t care. She no longer felt like a victim when it came to Douglas. What he’d done had been evil and wrong, but she’d survived it and had nothing to fear when it came to him. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter, and never would. And Lerber was nothing but a thug. He’d eventually get his due, as all thugs did. Furthermore, she believed Black Horse would see the men killed if he found them on Cheyenne land again. He was the only man who mattered to her. Indignation then grew within her. Including both men in one gaze, she said, “Black Horse won’t like this.”

  “He didn’t like it,” Elliott said. “But he is an intelligent man, wise in the ways of his people as well as the white men. He could have killed Douglas and Lerber on sight, but knew the army would respect him more for bringing them in alive.”

  With a tremendous amount of pride filling her, she said, “That sounds like him.”

  After a deep breath, Elliot said, “Fortunately, he also understood what else I had to tell him.”

  The hair on her arms stood as a shiver ripped through her. “What else did you tell him?”

  Elliot glanced at William before saying, “That I couldn’t accept his offer.”

  “What offer?” she and William asked at the same time.

  “One hundred horses.”

  “A hundred horses? For what?” William asked.

  Lorna had learned many things during her time with the Cheyenne, and her heart started to pound. “To marry me,” she whispered. A thrill shot through her. “He offered you a hundred horses for me?”

  “Yes,” Elliot answered, “I told him I couldn’t accept any horses.”

  Lorna jumped to her feet. “You have no right to tell him—”

  “Yes,” Elliot said. “As your uncle, I do. He knew that. That’s why he asked me.”

  “No, you didn’t,” she argued, heading for the door. “You don’t have any say in who I marry and who I don’t.”

  Elliot blocked the doorway. “I only have your best interests at heart, Lori.”

  “My best interests?” Fury was growing hard and fast. “You don’t know me! And don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that. Move. I need to find Black Horse.”

  “He’s not here. He left.”

  Momentarily paralyzed, she asked, “Left?”

  “Yes, he returned to his village.”

  She pushed him away from the door and flung it open. There was no line outside the trading post, nor were there any warriors standing near the building holding Douglas and Jacob. Lorna spun, glancing up and down the long walkway. Stands Tall was nowhere to be seen.

  Pivoting, she stormed back into the room. “What did you say to him?”

  “Sit down, dear, and I’ll tell you.”

  “I don’t want to sit down,” she shouted. “I want to know what you told him. I want to know why he left. Why he left me here!”

  “Here, here, now,” William said, handing her a handkerchief. “Let’s sit down and listen to what Elliot has to say. He must have good reasons for what he did.”

  “I do,” Elliot said.

  Wiping her face with the handkerchief, Lorna snapped, “And what would that be?” She was furious at both Elliot and Black Horse. One was no better than the other. Making decisions about her behind her back. Leaving without her. Asking her uncle instead of her.

  “I told him I couldn’t accept his horses, because I didn’t know if you wanted to marry him or not,” Elliot said.

  Of course I want to marry him, Lorna was prepared to shout, but Elliot held up a hand when she opened her mouth.

  “Let me finish before you speak.” He waited for her to nod before saying, “I understand you may believe yourself in love with him because of how he rescued you from Lerber. How the entire band treated you and your friends so kindly. The Northern Cheyenne are known for their generosity, but they are still Indians.”

  Irritated, she asked, “And what’s wrong with that?”

  He didn’t answer directly, but said, “The country is expanding, Lori. More and more people are moving west every day, and that is only going to continue. Making sure it’s a safe place for people to travel through, and homesteading, are high priorities for the government. They have set aside a large amount of land for the Indians southwest of here, and have been encouraging the bands to move there for years.”

  That was not new information. She’d read about the reservations the government had created, and how the tribes refused to be relocated. “The tribes don’t want to move.”

  “I know. That is why the army has started implementing new strategies, new tactics, to move all the bands to the reservations,” Elliot said. “Including the Cheyenne.”

  Lorna’s insides turned dark and hard. “Strategies? You mean battles and massacres. Full-fledged Indian wars like they had with the Sioux in Minnesota, forcing them west.” Betty had learned of that incident, and told her all about it during the time Black Horse had been on his vision quest.

  “Yes,” Elliot answered. “I can’t deny there will be bloodshed, battles, deaths. But there is no other way. People need to be able to travel safely. Stagecoaches need to be able to transport people without fear of Indian attacks. It is necessary for progress.”

  “Stagecoaches, as in Wells Fargo.”

  “Yes, as in Wells Fargo.”

  Lorna sighed. Caring about other people was complicated.

  * * *

  Eventually they would have to travel to their summer camp, but Black Horse could not give the command to begin the move. He had told Poeso’s uncle he would give her five days. Just as he had declared Little One had to make her own decision, he had to agree with Elliot Chadwick that Poeso had to make her own decision, too.

  A smile tugged at his mouth thinking of the last time he’d seen her. She had not seen him. Had been too busy making sure the army gave more for their trades than in the past. His people were very happy with the abundance. Many spoke about how she and her uncle with the large hat had demanded the army make fair trade. And many missed her. Even One Who Heals sang for Poeso’s safe return.

  Black Horse told no one of his request to wed Poeso. He did not want them to be saddened if she chose to go to California. He knew, even if she did go, the rope tethering them together would still be there. His heart would be with her forever. She had taught him many things. Things he had not known he’d needed to discover until they were in his mind, in his heart.

  Lifting his face to the sky, he emptied his lungs. Never had he watched the sun so forlornly, feeling the time between it rising and setting long and empty. Not even when Hopping Rabbit died had so many days and nights felt bare and vacant. His spirit had not struggled with being the leader of his people then, either. There had been no need. Poeso had put that inside him, and he understood why. The divide inside him, that of being a man and a leader, was because there would soon be a division for all the bands. It had taken being separated from her, to feel as if someone had hunted him down and cut out his insides while leaving his body in this world, to accept the truths he had not wanted to believe.

  Black Horse turned from watching the sun fall for the third time since riding away from the army fort. His family would soon bring food to his lodge, where he would pretend to eat and then lie on his bed watching the moon travel across the sky through the top of his teepee, much like he did the sun.

  Rather than entering the village, he went to check on his herd of hor
ses corralled within a large grove of trees. He had already separated out the one hundred he would give to Elliot Chadwick. They were good horses. Worth much money.

  One of the young boys assigned to his animals met him as he approached. “Horse likes your new mare,” the boy said.

  Black Horse frowned, and searched the herd for Horse. Mystified, he stared harder and moved into the grove. Horse and a brown mare were separate from the many other animals, and they both watched as he walked closer. The mare tossed her head and nickered. He recognized her as the one from the canyon.

  “When did she arrive?” he asked the boy.

  With a shrug, the boy answered, “She was here this morning, with Horse.”

  The happiness that rose up inside him was great, and he lifted his arms into the air, giving thanks to Maheo. It was a sign. Poeso would soon arrive. He had not doubted her, but he also knew Poeso. She could be stubborn.

  She would make a good mate. A strong wife for him, and because of her, many Cheyenne lives would be saved.

  Shouts from the camp crier filled the air, but the distance and the excited replies from others made it impossible to understand the crier’s words. Black Horse hurried toward the village, but stopped near the edge. The setting sun made what he saw look like a vision, an image that wasn’t real. Yet, in his heart, he knew it was real. Very real.

  The single wagon rolling closer was pulled by two mules. Two women in black dresses sat on the seat. Keeping his stride slow and steady was difficult, but he did it as any dignified leader would. Because of Poeso, he was once again the leader his people needed. She had challenged him. Made him see with both his mind and his heart.

  He stood in the center of the village, surrounded by many happy people, when the wagon rolled to a stop.

  Poeso looked at no one but him as she climbed down and walked forward.

  Keeping his hands at his sides, he nodded toward Meg. “Where are the others?”

  Poeso bit her bottom lip, but kept her head up. “Tillie is on her way to California with Uncle Elliot, and Betty is going to New York with Uncle William.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because I need to talk to you.”

  They spoke in Cheyenne, and pride at how closely she continued to uphold his secret filled him with love. He also held much excitement and joy at seeing her. She had given him much trouble, but also much happiness. It was the way. He should never have questioned that.

  “I will be in the lodge when you are ready,” she said.

  Black Horse bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling as she walked around him and toward his lodge. He would forever feel pride in this white woman who thought she could defy him. Taking big steps, he caught up with her and took her arm to propel her faster to his lodge.

  Once inside, he spun her around to face him. “Why are you here?” he asked once again, this time in English.

  Sparkles as bright as stars appeared in her eyes. “Because I love you,” she said.

  His throat burned as he withheld the words. He loved her very much, and though his band would accept her—a white woman—as his wife if he proclaimed it, he had to respect what her uncle had said. How the white men would disown her.

  As if she knew his thoughts, she said, “My uncle should not have told you I would not marry you.”

  “You uncle did not say you would not marry me,” Black Horse corrected. “He said it was your choice.” Pushing down the regret rising inside him, he continued, “And that you do not understand the consequences of that.”

  “He was right,” she said. “It is my choice. But he was also wrong. I do understand the consequences, both of marrying you and not marrying you.”

  She stepped closer and the touch of her hands on his face made his heart thud.

  “I love you, Black Horse, and I always will. I want to be with you every day of my life.”

  He had many things to say to her, and questions. He chose to start with the ones she would understand. “What about your uncles? California? The much money waiting for you there?”

  “My uncles will continue to oversee my money, and send it to us as needed.”

  “I have no need for money.”

  “Not now, but someday we will.”

  “Hova’ahane,” he answered.

  She smiled. “My uncles also understand how much I love you. How only you will make me happy. You showed me what is in my heart, and what I see is you.”

  He did believe that. She filled his heart, too. “There are many things that could change that, Poeso,” he said. “The white people would not like you married to me.”

  “I don’t care,” she answered. “The white people were never as kind to me as the Cheyenne. They never allowed me to be me. To live without walls confining me, without a ceiling over my head or a floor beneath my feet. That is how I feel here. Free. Free to live. Free to be me. Whatever the future brings, whatever people say or do, we will face it together. Because I am strong when I am with you.”

  The smell of her was filling him, making his blood swirl and fueling desires so strong his insides quaked. The idea of kissing her, taking her to his bed, was so strong his thoughts grew cloudy. He had to warn her before he could take her. “There will be divisions, Poeso, great divisions of the people.”

  “I know, and I have brought you much information about that.”

  He frowned, and opened his mouth to question what she meant.

  She put a finger against his lips. “I’ll tell you all that later. Much later. Right now, I want you to answer one question.”

  He pressed his heels into the ground for power from mother earth, the strength to contain his desires as she asked her many questions.

  “Do you still want to marry me?” she asked.

  “Heehe’e.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, and when they opened, she said, “I want to marry you. You showed me the happiness in my heart. Now it is time to show me how to keep it there.”

  Her request was one he could not deny. Now or ever. He leaned down, and the touch of her lips broke loose all the love in his heart, all the desires he’d been holding back.

  As Black Horse’s arms encircled her, held her tight, Lorna knew she’d made the right choice. Despite all the warnings and reasons her uncles had declared, this was truly where she belonged. The only place she’d ever be happy.

  Their kisses grew demanding, and wild, and sent a heated thrill clear to her toes.

  “I will protect you, Poeso,” he said gruffly as their mouths separated briefly. “From all others. All dangers.”

  “I know,” she gasped before pressing her lips to his again.

  Their shared desires took precedence over all else, and the next thing she was fully aware of was lying on his bed, completely unclothed. He was poised above her, having already tempted and teased every part of her body into a desperation that left her with no control. Here, though, she didn’t need any. Not with him. Not when it came to loving him.

  “Claim me, Black Horse,” she whispered. “Claim me as The Woman Who Sleeps in Black Horse’s Lodge forever.”

  Surprisingly, his entrance was slow, exceedingly so, and she arched her hips upward, accepting him with the perfection of two beings created for one another.

  “You are mine, Poeso,” he whispered. “You have been mine since I claimed you in the cave, and I shall proclaim it to all, until the end of time.”

  His words were a ceremony in themselves, a declaration of their love as binding as any vows ever spoken. “I love you, my husband.” Fully committed, she began to move beneath him, rising up and lowering back onto the buffalo robe with an age-old knowledge that came from deep within her. Planted there upon her birth for this very moment. Pleasing him, making their union a joyous, fulfilling venture for both of them, she increased her boldness while pinpointing all of her awareness on nothing but the two of them, the love they shared, and forever would.

  Later, much, much later, as they lay with their arms and
legs still tangled, their bodies once again heaving from yet another amazing excursion, Lorna’s gaze roamed upward, to the moon shining brightly down upon them. The smile on her lips increased as she turned to Black Horse. “What is the Cheyenne word for moon?”

  “Taa’é-eše’he,” he answered.

  “Taa’é-eše’he,” she repeated. “I like how that sounds.”

  He chuckled. “I like how you sound.” Kissing her neck, he added, “Especially when I do this.”

  She giggled. “Are we going to get any sleep tonight?”

  “Hova’ahane,” he answered.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “Epeva’e.”

  Epilogue

  There were no flakes, but the light of the moon reflected in the tiny particles of moisture in the cold and crisp winter air, making it look as if stars fell all the way to the ground. Standing on the porch of their home, Lorna leaned back against her husband as he wrapped his arms around her. It had been more than thirty-five years since this amazing warrior had saved her life, and the love she felt for him had never faltered. Just as she’d known it wouldn’t.

  “It has been a good life,” he whispered in her ear as if reading her mind.

  “Heehe’e,” she replied. Although he never appeared to, she asked, “Do you hold any regrets?”

  “Hova’ahane,” he answered.

  It would soon be midnight, at which point not only would the year end, but the century, too. “Many things have changed,” she said. “And will continue to do so.”

  “Heehe’e,” he answered. “This will be the world of our grandchildren. The next generation. Just as Maheo promised.”

  All four of their children were married now, and providing them with grandchildren each year. Two lived on this very land, but the other two and their families lived in California. Despite the distance, they visited often. “One that is very different from what we knew.”

  “But it is good.”

  Lorna twisted about to look up at him. He was now in his sixties, or around there, and still as handsome, as strong and proud, as the young warrior chief he’d been when they first met. “Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we hadn’t come here? If we’d joined the others to fight the soldiers?”