Heartsong

by Lynn Winchester

  Snagging his hat from the peg beside the door, Mac opened the door to the bunkhouse and stopped to peer out the door…slowly. He looked first one way, then the other, watching for any signs of Bernadette. Yesterday, she wore a vibrant blue dress. She said it reminded her of his eyes. Today…she’d probably be wearing something black…because of his hair.

  With no sign of her, he let himself relax and think on something other than Bernadette.

  Rhetta. Lord, he missed her. He ached for her; a deep, breath-stealing longing that tore at him every moment of every day. And he couldn’t do anything about it, not with Bernadette underfoot everywhere he went. He’d thought to sneak away to the clearing in the woods several times, hoping Rhetta would be there waiting for him, but each time he made to take off, Bernadette was right there, begging him to spend time with her. Yesterday, she asked him to escort her into town today, said she wanted to wire home with some exciting news.

  He shuddered to think what that news might be.

  He told her he couldn’t, that he had responsibilities he needed to see to, but she brushed it off. “You have five other men in that bunkhouse,” she said. And while Jimmy, Art, Manny, Burns, and Lee were capable men who hardly ever required direct supervision, he didn’t need to give her a foothold.

  Rounding the corner of the bunkhouse toward the paddock, Mac stopped short when he spotted Bernadette walking toward the stable. Her head was moving back and forth, bobbing to and fro—she was looking for him. He groaned and turned to duck back behind the bunkhouse.

  “Hidin’ from that lil’ slip of a woman?” a raspy voice asked from behind him.

  Mac turned to see Art lift his lips in a mocking smile.

  “Art. Shouldn’t you be out tilling the east fields?” Mac asked, squaring his shoulders and giving the older man an authoritative look he honed over the last three years. Art scratched at this scraggly, white beard.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the stable, cleanin’ the stalls…listenin’ to that lil’ miss plan yer weddin’?” he drawled, eyeing Mac with mirth-filled, brown eyes.

  Mac wanted to growl. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow and said, “I’d rather be tarred and feathered.”

  Art threw his head back and cackled, his chest-length beard waving with the motion. “Well, don’t that beat all!”

  “Just get to work, Art. Let me worry about Bernadette.” He did growl then. He didn’t want to worry about Bernadette, he wanted to worry about Rhetta and how she was doing. He hadn’t spoken to her since practically ordering her to leave him be and see to her sister. He hadn’t meant to be so stiff and cold with her, but he was in a good bit of pain, and he knew she’d been worried sick about her sister. He didn’t think she needed to worry about him, too. But that look on her face…hurt, confusion…disappointment. Her beautiful gold-green hazel eyes swam with emotions he hadn’t yet fully unraveled. She’d wanted to worry about him, and that thought had warmed him as much as it bothered him.

  He didn’t need her to worry over him. He needed her to adore him as much as her sister apparently did. Even more than that, he needed her to love him as deeply and completely as he loved her.

  Shooing Art, Mac sucked in a deep breath. He’d faced down a town of haters, murderers, thieves, stampeding cattle—he could handle one woman, no matter how determined she was to wrap him around her finger like a gold band.

  He walked to the stable and right through the large double doors, expecting to find Bernadette wandering around, looking for him. He found Rhetta instead. She was smiling, softly speaking to Ranger, who was busily eating sugar cubes from her hand.

  Never had he been so jealous of a horse.

  He took another step toward her and she tensed. He held his breath, letting his blood race through his veins, which only made his mind whirl.

  She seemed to brace herself before turning to look over her shoulder at him. She offered him a polite smile. “Mr. Solomon, I’m glad to see you’re healing and back to work.”

  Mr. Solomon? He stiffened. What had happened to make her return to formalities? Before he left to rescue Bernadette, he’d asked her if she’d let him court her…and she’d said yes. So why was she speaking to him as if they were…nothing.

  “Rhetta, I asked you to call me Mac,” he intoned, trying not to let his frustration and confusion weigh down his words.

  Rhetta turned back to Ranger, rubbing the horse’s nose. “I know, but…considering what has happened since then, I didn’t think it appropriate to address you so informally.”

  He drew his brows down. “What do you mean? What has happened?”

  She tensed again, her hand stalling above Ranger’s nostrils. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see her whole face, but he could see her cheeks change from milk to snow. What was wrong with her?

  Rhetta spun on her heel and faced Mac with her chin up. “I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, completely blowing every thought from Mac’s head.

  “What are you talking about?” He crossed his arms over his chest, steadying himself for what he feared was coming.

  She smiled, her face brightening, and he stopped breathing. She was glorious—the most beautiful creature. But something wasn’t right. Her smile…it wasn’t her.

  “You and my sister…you’re to be married,” she said, a nearly imperceptible tremor in her voice.

  “Me? And Bernadette?” he asked, completely flabbergasted by the woman’s gall. She’d gone and gotten them engaged without even asking him. He hadn’t even told her he liked her! Good heavens! How was he supposed to get himself out of this one? He watched as Rhetta’s expression of faux joy flickered.

  “I knew you and she were meant to be together and…I am happy for you.” She swallowed, ducking her head. “I truly am.”

  So why didn’t she sound happy?

  “Rhetta, you don’t understand—” He took a step closer, desperate to shake some sense into her.

  She lifted her face and pasted another smile on her lips. “Please, don’t explain anything to me. Remember, I told you she was more the hummingbird than I was, that she was the heartsong you were looking for.”

  Stunned, Mac could only stare. A single tear escaped her eye but she wiped it away before it could fall to her pale cheek.

  He moved toward her, his arms out, desperate to pull her into his chest and tell her how wrong she was, but she stopped him dead with her next words. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  All the blood in his body plummeted into his boot heels. “No. You can’t leave, Rhetta,” he pleaded, reaching out to grab her arms. She twisted away from him, moving to stand just out of reach nearer the stable doors.

  “Timmy bought my ticket yesterday.” Yesterday? She’d been planning to leave for two days? “I figured that, with you and Bernie getting married, I should just go home and get back to life as it was…as is should be. And…well…there are too many memories here.”

  Why couldn’t he stop her? Why couldn’t he bellow that he wasn’t interested in Bernadette, that he loved her, only wanted to be with her? Because…he was a coward. He couldn’t understand how one woman had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. He couldn’t get around the fact that, after wanting it for so long, his heartsong had finally appeared. And she was everything he’d ever dreamed she would be. He hesitated because he could still hear the hideous words of Runner’s Creek; half-breed, worthless, child of a Lakota whore. What had he done in his life to prove that he wasn’t those things, that he was worth being loved? Nothing. And now, the one woman who could make him whole was leaving him shattered. She was standing before him, telling him goodbye.

  And he watched her run away again.

  Chapter 17

  Her heart in her throat, her lungs burning, her throat clogging with unshed tears, Rhetta rushed into Timmy and JoJo’s house, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, trying to catch her breath and force the tears back to where they belonged. She couldn’t cry. She was supposed to be hap
py for Bernie and Mac—she’d even lied to Mac, telling him how happy she was for their engagement.

  But he asked to court you, her mind cried out. It isn’t fair, he’s supposed to be with you! That’s what she got for thinking she could ever compare with Bernie. Bernie had always been the one who got all the attention, the love, the affection, the presents…and for years, she didn’t care. But now…the one thing she wanted most was lost to her.

  Pushing away from the door, she decided to find Joe and Joey and play with them a bit, maybe being with her lovely, incorrigible niece and nephew would dull the pain of rejection enough for her to breathe. She walked down the hallway toward the back of the house where she knew JoJo and the children could be found. As she passed Timmy’s office, she stopped when he called out.

  “Rhetta. Could you come in here, please? I’d like to talk with you for a moment.”

  When had her big brother gotten so…old? He sounded just like Father did when he was trying to get her to mind. She wanted to smile at that, but her mouth wouldn’t break from its thin line.

  She walked to his desk and sat in the chair he indicated. He came around his desk and sat in the chair next to her, taking her hand in his. She shrank back, unsure what to make of Timmy’s actions. He’d always been a kind, loving brother, but she was unused to this type of attention.

  “So, what is it?” she asked, her voice sharp. There was only so much she could take, and whatever Timmy was about to tell her probably wasn’t “we’re having meat pies for dinner”.

  “Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow? I thought things were going well with you and…Mac.”

  It felt like he forced a rock down her throat. “What are you talking about? He’s engaged to Bernie. There’s nothing ‘well’ with me and Mr. Solomon.” Lord, how it hurt to speak those words.

  Timmy’s brow dipped into a V and his blue eyes filled with compassion—with a dash of smugness. “See, there are two problems with what you just said, Rhetta.”

  She rolled her eyes—a purely childish thing to do. But she was tired of being the strong, capable woman. “What’s that?”

  He let go of her hand and tapped his finger against his chin. “Well…first, Bernie and Mac aren’t engaged.”

  She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “What? She said so herself—has been crowing about it for two days. She even did his laundry!”

  Timmy chuckled. “Well, that may be true, but Mac is the honorable sort. He understands tradition and the way things ought to be.”

  “So, what does that mean?” She was going to tear her hair out if Timmy didn’t spit it out.

  “Mac never came to me about marrying Bernie…and he never once mentioned wiring to Pa about it, either.”

  The truth of his words rang out in her mind and she sucked in a breath, trying to steady her raging nerves. Could it be…had Bernie just been running off at the mouth, seeing things that weren’t there, assuming things that weren’t true? It was possible. Despite her insistence that she was the sister firmly grounded in practicality, she often went off in flights of fancy.

  “So…they aren’t engaged?” she dared to utter the question, her voice raspy.

  Timmy offered her a soft smile. “No, they aren’t.”

  Her chest exploded with sensations she’d never thought to feel again; joy, hope. She stood, eager to find Mac and tell him she was sorry for her assumptions, that she wasn’t really happy about his supposed engagement to Bernie. Maybe he’d forgive her, maybe he’d still want to court her. But you still aren’t Bernie, a low, ugly voice reminded her. She paused, her heart tripping. That voice was right…she still wasn’t Bernie. She still wasn’t the one Mac had looked at with such gentleness and concern. And really…who was she to come in between Bernie and the man she so obviously wanted to be with?

  Timmy cleared his throat and she met his gaze. “Before you go…Mac didn’t come and ask me about marrying Bernie, but he did come to me about courting you, Rhetta.”

  The floor beneath her shifted and she fell into her chair. “When?” she whispered, disbelieving.

  Timmy cocked a smile and said, “Right before we were about to walk into Cassius’ camp and rescue Bernie.”

  She shook her head, not really understanding the meaning of what he was saying.

  “In case you can’t figure it out, his last thoughts before heading into what could have been his last moments on earth, were of you.”

  That was it, she couldn’t stop them—the tears burst from their dam and she wept right there in front of her grinning brother. The wretch. He was silently laughing at her because she hadn’t seen what was so plain to him.

  That Mac cared for her.

  But what was she supposed to do about it? She already had her stagecoach ticket to Billings, where she’d catch the train to San Antonio and then another stage to Dry Bayou. She already had most of her things packed. Could she really stay and begin something fantastic and wonderful with the man she loved? And she did love him, more than she ever thought a woman could love.

  Using her sleeve, she wiped the tears from her face and shot to her feet. “I need to find him. I need to tell him—forget it, I don’t need to tell you anything.”

  Timmy gasped, pressing his hand into his chest mockingly. “Well, I do hope you tell me when you plan to marry my foreman,” he said, chuckling.

  She swatted his arm.

  “I think he’s supposed to be working in the stable, but who knows with Bernie dogging his steps. He just might be in hiding.” Timmy’s smile could blind the blind, and she found herself smiling right along with him.

  Just then, a thought surged in her mind. She knew just where to find Mac.

  She squealed excitedly, kissed her brother on the cheek, and rushed from his house, headed toward the hill that led to her own secret haven. She hadn’t been there since that night with Mac, but now...she couldn’t ignore its call.

  Mac was there, in the clearing. She just knew it. She urged speed into her legs and hit the hill at a full gallop. Once at the top, she stopped to look down the hill. This was where it all began—it’s where Mac first saw her, racing down the hill to the tree line, her hair flying out behind her, her face turned up to the sun. Just as she would now. With a shout, she ran, full speed, not even stopping once she reached the thickness of the forest. It took more agility and stamina than she’d used before but she couldn’t stop. She refused to slow down; she needed to get to the clearing. Needed to get to Mac.

  He didn’t know why he came to this place. He could only guess that, in his heart of hearts, Rhetta wasn’t really leaving him, that she’d be waiting for him here, where his love for her had blazed through his soul like a wildfire under the ethereal light of Wiyohipeyata, the overseer of the night.

  Sighing, he rolled his shoulders, cringing at the prick of pain from the bullet wound. It was nothing, really. If saving Bernie and keeping his promise to Rhetta meant that he’d have to take a bullet in the shoulder, he’d do it. A million times, he’d take a bullet if it meant Rhetta and those she loved were safe.

  Those she loved…not him. She didn’t love him. She couldn’t. He was a worthless half-breed, son of a whore, wasn’t he? “Mahkah, my wičháčhaŋte, my heart. You are a child of my heart, the very hum of the heartsong your father and I shared. You are precious, my son. You are more than these men could ever be. Remember this and, someday, you will find your own heartsong to sing.”

  As if a sheet were pulled back from his eyes, he saw the truth. He wasn’t what those men called him. He was an accomplished tracker, an experienced and appreciated foreman, and a strong and honorable man—a man who loved his own heartsong with every fiber of his being. He’d been worthy of Rhetta all along, he just never stopped to consider that he’d always been. It wasn’t his birth or his parents that made him the man he was, it was his desire to be better, to live an upright life, and to find and cherish the woman he was always meant to be with.

 
Rhetta.

  His fist clenched, he hit it against the top of the stump, ignoring the pain racing up his shoulder. He had to find Rhetta, had to make her stay, had to tell her the truth about him and Bernadette—that there was no him and Bernadette.

  Before he could run to find Rhetta, she appeared before him, her face flushed, her glorious hair in a mussy halo around her head, her chest rising and falling, her eyes bright, and her mouth…smiling.

  He blinked, unable to believe that she was there, standing before him. “Thanáǧina…” he murmured, hoping that if this was a vision from the spirits, it would never go away. He took one hesitant step forward. If this really was his thanáǧina, he didn’t want her to run again. She’d done that too many times already. He didn’t know if his heart could take it again.

  Her smile remained and she took a step toward him. Her face, still flushed, was tipped up at him, and her autumn eyes glimmered at him. And what he saw in them made his heart leap. Love. He saw love there.

  “Mac…I knew I’d find you here,” she said, still winded. She took another step forward. He took another step forward, unable to ignore the desire to be closer to her.

  “You found me, Rhetta.” His hoarse response seemed to break something within her. She surged forward and threw her arms around his neck. Shocked, it took him a full two seconds to realize that…Rhetta…was in his arms. And she’d put herself there. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He stared down into her beautiful face and grinned like a fool.

  “If you’ll still have me, I think…well, I think we could still go courting,” she said, ducking to hide the new blush on her cheeks. He let go of her long enough to grip her chin in his hand and lift her face.

  “Don’t ever hide your face from me, thanáǧina, I won’t have it,” he ground out, the urge to kiss the lips so close to his like a battering rain from a summer storm.