“I do not know what Tag would have done had it not been for you, Windhawk. When he needed the guidance of a man, you were always there for him. I am very grateful to you for caring about him.”
“It is easy to love the boy; he is very like his sister,” Windhawk said, pulling her into his arms.
Joanna’s head was resting against Windhawk’s chest, and she could hear the drumming of his heart. She thought how greatly this man had touched her life as well as Tag’s. Joanna loved him with all her heart. Surely he was a man like no other. She hoped she would always be worthy of him.
“Joanna, I must also tell you that I will be going away for a while,” he said softly.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked, feeling a deep sadness that he was leaving.
“I do not know how long I will be away. The buffalo are moving in a westerly direction, and I must follow them.”
Joanna shivered in spite of the hot night, feeling a deep foreboding in her heart. She wanted to beg him not to go, but she knew, as the wife of the chief, she was expected to act the part.
“I will miss you,” she said, closing her eyes to keep the tears from seeping through.
“Come,” Windhawk said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. “I leave in the morning. I want to be with you before I go.”
Joanna’s heart was heavy as she realized both Windhawk and Tag would be going away. She managed to smile in spite of her grief as Windhawk led her into their lodge.
That night, as Windhawk lay sleeping beside Joanna, troubled thoughts continued to plague her. She couldn’t tell Windhawk that she didn’t want him to go away. He would only laugh at her fears. What did she sense? Was it only that she didn’t want him to leave her…or was it a premonition of disaster…a warning of some kind?
Joanna curled up beside Windhawk, and in his sleep he pulled her tightly against him. She tried to push her troubled thoughts aside, but she couldn’t. Reaching for Windhawk’s hand, she clasped it tightly against her. How would she live if anything should happen to him? She tried to tell herself that she was just being foolish, but it didn’t seem to help.
The next morning when she saw Windhawk on his way, she tried to smile, so he wouldn’t suspect she was troubled. The feeling of unrest only deepened when Tag left that afternoon. She sighed, thinking a woman’s lot in life was to wait and worry about the men she loved.
The uneasy feeling stayed with Joanna for days, until she finally pushed it to the back of her mind.
Joanna went about her daily tasks with a heavy heart. She hadn’t seen Windhawk for over a month and she missed him terribly. She was also lonesome for Tag. Had it not been for the fact that she had her friends to talk with, she would have been miserable.
It was apparent that Amanda was happy with Tall Bear, and it gladdened Joanna’s heart to see her friend so contented. She remembered all too well when Amanda had been captured by the Piegans and forced to live with their chief, Running Elk, until Windhawk had rescued her.
And she could share Amanda and Tall Bear’s joy that they were expecting a baby, because Joanna now knew she was going to have Windhawk’s child. She waited each day for him to come home so she could tell him the happy news. She hugged her precious secret to herself, telling no one, since she wanted Windhawk to be the first to know. If her calculations were correct, the child would be born in midwinter.
Joanna was helping Sun Woman hang strips of buffalo meat on a drying rack, while Windhawk’s sister, Morning Song, worked nearby, grinding berries to add to the meat for seasoning. Joanna felt a closeness to Sun Woman that she had never felt for her own mother, and she adored Windhawk’s lovely, soft-eyed sister. They were her family now.
Sun Woman looked at Joanna with concern. “You must rest, my daughter. You have labored very hard today. Did you not scrape the hair from the buffalo hide, as well as help me butcher and dry the meat? I would not want anything happening to you while my son is away.”
“I will rest when you do, my mother,” Joanna said with determination. Joanna was one of the few who ever dared disagree with the stubborn Sun Woman.
“Yes, but you are not like the Indian maiden who has been trained to labor hard,” Sun Woman argued.
There was a time when Joanna would have been hurt by a statement like that from Windhawk’s mother, but that was before the older woman had accepted her. She now knew that Sun Woman loved her and was merely concerned for her health.
“I would have you treat me as any Blackfoot woman, my mother. I am stronger than you believe.”
“I know this.” Sun Woman’s words were stern, but Joanna saw the smile that played about her mouth.
Morning Song took Joanna’s hand. “You know when our mother has something on her mind, we can do no more than obey her. It will be best if you rest for a while.”
“No,” Joanna stated firmly. “I will not rest until the work is finished.”
Sun Woman looked as if she might say more, but instead, she clamped her lips tightly together. After a long silence, she turned back to Joanna. “It has been a long day and most of the work is completed. We will all stop now.”
Joanna nodded in agreement. She and Morning Song exchanged glances, knowing it had not been easy for Windhawk’s mother to relent.
Joanna and Morning Song gathered up the tools and put them away, while Sun Woman disappeared into her lodge.
“Joanna, you are the only one who can come up against my mother in a clash of wills and win. I have never seen her back down with anyone but you…except, of course, Windhawk,” Morning Song added as an afterthought.
Joanna knew Morning Song was right. As she sat down on a fallen log and looked about the camp, her heart was warmed by the peace and contentment that surrounded her. There were many campfires lit so the women of the Blood tribe could dry the meat their husbands had provided for them. It was the height of the buffalo season, a time for hard work and very little play. The meat must be cured and dried for the long winter months when game would be scarce.
Joanna’s eyes traveled to Gray Fox’s tipi, where his two wives worked in silent companionship. Gray Fox’s son toddled around happily, riding an imaginary horse. She remembered the time she had saved him from a charging wild boar. Her mind reached backward to the time when the women of the Blackfoot tribe had been hostile toward her. It wasn’t until after she had saved Gray Fox’s child that the women had accepted her as Windhawk’s wife. Before that time, her only friend had been Windhawk’s sister, Morning Song.
Joanna’s eyes traveled to her sister-in-law. Morning Song was now fifteen summers and of an age when all the young braves were looking at her with interest. So far, Morning Song hadn’t shown a preference for any one of them. Joanna wondered why Morning Song never paid any attention to the young braves, as the other maidens did. As the sister of the chief, only the young men from the more prominent families were eligible to pay her court. Joanna knew her bride’s price would be high, and no young warrior from one of the poor families would be able to meet it.
Morning Song felt Joanna’s eyes on her and smiled sweetly, transforming her lovely face with a warm glow. She was soft-spoken and always had a smile for everyone. Her midnight-colored hair was unbraided and hung down to her waist. Joanna loved the young girl, and she hoped that when Morning Song came of age and it was time for her to wed, she would have a husband who would be kind to her.
Joanna was distracted by a rider coming into the village. She recognized Farley, the grizzly old trapper who had become so very dear to her. She watched him dismount and amble toward her. His shaggy white beard and hair gave him an awesome look. His buckskin trousers and shirt were none too clean, but then that was Farley. At one time, he had tried to help Joanna escape Windhawk. The attempt had ended in disaster, but she had become very close to the old man, and he laughingly told anyone who would listen to him that he was like Tag and Joanna’s grandfather. She loved that old man and was glad that Windhawk allowed him to live in the Blackfoot vil
lage.
Farley stood over Joanna and studied her closely, then spoke to her in his colorful brand of English. “I seed yore taking it easy, Joanna,” he said, sitting down on the log beside her.
She smiled up at him. “I’m just resting for a moment. Are you going to Fort Union today?” she asked, laying her hand on his arm.
He grinned a toothy grin. “Course I am. You got many supplies you want me to fetch back to you?”
“Indeed I do, Farley,” she laughed. “You will have to take an extra pack horse just to transport them. How long do you think you will be away?”
“Ifen you don’t keep me here jawing, I ’spect I’ll be back ’fore too many weeks pass.”
“Come back soon, Farley. With Windhawk and Tag gone, I get so lonesome.”
The old man looked at Joanna speculatively—he saw the dark circles under her eyes and knew she hadn’t been sleeping.
“What’s got you in a fret, Joanna?”
“Nothing,” she answered wistfully.
“I ’spect your nothing is something. Wanna talk?”
“There is not much to say, Farley. I guess I just miss Windhawk.”
“And?”
“I don’t know…it’s a feeling I have. You would probably just say I was being a woman, but I feel as if something bad were about to happen.”
“You’re just being a woman,” he said, laughing aloud at what he thought was witticism on his part.
Joanna’s eyes traveled to the distant mountains and she felt a prickle of fear. “Perhaps, Farley. I pray that it is so!”
Chapter Five
Joanna’s Uncle Howard paced back and forth across the room. He was remembering the day he had read the notice in the Philadelphia newspaper listing the names of all the people who had died in an Indian raid on an ill-fated wagon train. When he had seen Joanna’s and Tag’s names on that list, he had lost no time in heading to Fort Leavenworth to find out all the details.
Howard had feared with Tag’s and Joanna’s deaths that he would lose everything. Russell James’s attorney had informed him that if Tag and Joanna were dead, he would be forced to hand the James inheritance over to some distant cousin in England. What Howard hadn’t foreseen was what he discovered when Russell James’s will was read—that the bulk of the money would be tied up until Taggart reached his twenty-first birthday—neither had he considered that, should anything happen to Tag, the money would pass to the nearest James male relative. Howard had learned too late that he could only control a small part of the estate as long as Tag was alive and under twenty-one.
So he could do nothing to get his hands on the huge shipping empire that had been left to Tag, since the court had appointed a manager to oversee the business. But there was now proof that Tag was alive, and Howard was confident he would soon be in control again.
Now he was at Fort Union, but so far, he had been unable to convince anyone to go to the Blackfoot village to make inquiries about Joanna and Tag, and he was becoming frustrated.
Howard sat down and stared into the fireplace, feeling its warmth creep into his body. Lately, he had felt a chill in his bones—even on the hottest days, he would still feel the cold. He watched the flames lick hungrily at the dry logs…somehow, the flames reminded him of Joanna’s glorious curtain of hair.
“Joanna, Joanna, because of you I have killed twice,” he said aloud. “It’s not the money I want the most…it never has been just the money…it’s you.”
He felt no remorse that he had been responsible for the deaths of his wife and her brother. He wasn’t the least bit sorry that he had killed Margaret or that he had hired a man to go to the Oregon Country to finish off Joanna’s father. Russell James had been recovering from a broken back. The man Howard had sent to Oregon had reported that it had been easy to smother the helpless man with a pillow. No, he wasn’t sorry for either deed. Howard Landon was a survivor, and he would always do what he had to to acquire what he wanted.
He knew deep inside that it would all have been for nothing if he couldn’t have Joanna. She was so hauntingly beautiful, and as elusive and unobtainable as the wealth Howard had always craved.
His face whitened in anger when he thought of Joanna’s giving herself to some damned Indian. “No matter, Joanna, soon, very soon, I will have you!” he vowed.
Claudia Maxwell stared into the hand-held mirror, trying to see her reflection. She was aware that she was pretty, and she was proud of the bright golden color of her hair. Lately, she had been unable to use her looks to their best advantage. There just weren’t any eligible men here at Fort Union, at least, not any she was interested in.
She still remembered the humiliation she had suffered last fall when she had been forced to leave Fort Leavenworth because of a scandal involving herself and a certain married sergeant. Having nowhere to go, she had accepted a small-paying job as companion to one of the trapper’s wives at Fort Union. The fort belonged to the American Fur Company and, to Claudia’s way of thinking, was not the most exciting place in the world. The only people she ever saw were a bunch of old trappers, a few buffalo hunters, and Indians.
Claudia had learned a valuable lesson at Fort Leavenworth and had decided that not the slightest hint of scandal would ever again touch her name. She hadn’t allowed any of the men here at the fort to bed her. She had decided to save herself for just the right man—a man who could take her away from this poor existence. Claudia was determined that the next time she allowed a man to make love to her, he would be the man she was going to marry.
Her eyes gleamed brightly. She had heard that Joanna James’s uncle was at Fort Union and was offering a high reward to get Joanna and Tag back. She had been told that he was not only wealthy, but his wife had only recently died, making him very eligible in Claudia’s eyes.
At times Claudia’s hatred for Joanna was the driving force in her life. She remembered the day she had first met Joanna. Joanna and Tag had joined the wagon train that Claudia and her parents had been traveling with. For Claudia it had been hatred at first sight of the beautiful, flaming-haired Joanna. Perhaps it was the fact that all the men on the train seemed to go out of their way to gain Joanna’s attention. Perhaps it was because Joanna seemed to have everything that Claudia had always wanted: money, beautiful clothes, and a soft, ladylike manner. Or maybe it was that being with Joanna had always made her feel so inadequate. Whatever the reason, in her twisted way of thinking Claudia felt that Joanna was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life in the past two years. Besides Claudia, there had been only four other survivors of the wagon train massacre—and Claudia hadn’t been in the least overjoyed when she learned that Joanna had been one of those survivors.
She frowned in distaste when she looked at her faded yellow print gown. Surely, Joanna’s uncle was accustomed to women who were well-dressed, powdered, and perfumed. She shrugged her shoulders; if only she could be cunning enough, she would use her charms to her best advantage. Perhaps she would yet find a way out of this no man’s land.
In her mind she could see herself driving down the streets of Philadelphia in a fine carriage, thumbing her nose at the people she had once known.
Howard Landon crossed the room to answer the knock at the door. He was astonished to find a young woman standing outside. Her face, while not beautiful, held a certain appeal. It was the bold sparkle in her eyes that caught and held his attention more than anything else.
“Mr. Landon, you don’t know me; my name is Claudia Maxwell. I was a friend of your niece, Joanna.”
“What can I do for you, Miss Maxwell?”
“May I come in?”
He looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was about, thinking he didn’t want to start any loose tongues wagging by having a female in his room. Seeing no one, he moved aside, allowing her to enter.
Claudia gave Howard her most precocious smile as she held her hands out to him. She had heard that he was offering a great deal of money to get Joanna and Tag away fro
m the Indians, and she thought she might just be the one to collect. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, she thought, assessing him critically. He did have a certain amount of dignity, which came from having money, she supposed.
Claudia knew she must hide the fact from Mr. Landon that she detested Joanna James more than anyone she knew if she was going to get her hands on the reward money. Again, she reminded herself that if it hadn’t been for Joanna Captain Thatcher might now be her husband.
“You said you knew my niece?” Howard asked, raising her hand to his lips. His eyes gleamed as he watched her eyelashes flutter.
“Yes, I was on the same wagon train with Joanna and Tag,” Claudia said, as she felt his lips against her fingers. She reminded herself that she must not act too forward and lowered her eyes coyly.
“If that’s so, how did you escape the Indian raid?” Howard asked suspiciously, dropping her hand.
“When the Indians struck, I hid in some bushes until it was all over.” Claudia sat down in the chair he offered her, while Howard remained standing. His eyes were drawn to Claudia’s low-cut yellow gown, which offered him a fair view of her creamy white breasts.
She smiled at the older man, noticing how his eyes were fastened on her breasts.
“I understand you were only recently widowed. May I offer you my sympathies?”
Howard didn’t answer right away. Claudia watched him cautiously, hoping she hadn’t overplayed her hand.
“Why are you still here at Fort Union, Miss Maxwell? Surely you should have returned to your home by how.”
“My folks were killed in the raid, and I had nowhere else to go. One of the trappers, Ebenezer Hankins, brought his wife West. She was lonesome with so few women around, so they allowed me to stay with them.” Claudia dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s not easy being without a ma and pa, or anyone who cares about you, Mr. Landon.”
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