Beyond The Horizon

by Connie Mason

  “Children will come, Little Firebird,” he teased. “They are bound to when we spend so much time trying to make one. Not that I’m complaining. I find it most pleasant work.”

  “Work! You call making love to me work?” Shannon accused him with mock anger.

  “Work that gives me more pleasure than anything I’ve ever done in my life.”

  Then he was kissing her and the room grew quiet but for the small cries and moans made during those moments of shared ecstasy.

  The year 1869 arrived, and with it more snow and cold. It wasn’t until April that severe weather finally gave way to a glorious spring. The Great Plains burst into a carpet of tall grass and flowers. Blade returned to Peaceful Valley to round up his cattle and count his losses from the severe winter. According to his calculations, he still had considerable work to do on their house. It wasn’t to be a cramped one-room cabin, but four spacious rooms built to withstand nature’s worst onslaught.

  The suffrage movement in Wyoming was bolstered by the appearance of Eastern suffrage speaker Anna Dickinson. Her lecture was well received and given fair and full coverage in both the Wyoming Tribune and the Cheyenne Leader. Shannon was so impressed that she remained after the lecture to meet the famous speaker. They spent several lively hours before Miss Dickinson boarded her train discussing the issues and the importance of women’s right to their future well-being.

  Inspired by Dickinson’s fervor, Shannon soon became a leading proponent of women’s suffrage and her work was widely recognized and acclaimed in Cheyenne and its environs. Her confidence in the cause and her unshakable belief in female independence soon made Shannon a popular speaker at local gatherings.

  One day in early summer Shannon was asked to lecture in the town hall. She was excited at the prospect, for many people from out of town were expected to attend, including legislator William Bright. Bright would introduce the suffrage bill written by Territorial Secretary Edward M. Lee to the legislature for passage later that year. Blade surprised Shannon by expressing a desire to attend the gathering and hear her speak. Usually duties at the ranch prevented him from attending any of her lectures.

  “I’ve never heard you speak, Shannon, and I’m damn proud of you. I want to be there for you this time.”

  “Can you spare the time?” Shannon asked, pleased by Blade’s obvious pride in her.

  “I’ll make the time for you,” he promised. “I haven’t said anything before because I wanted to surprise you, but the cabin is nearly completed. Next week you can choose the necessary furnishings and we can move in soon. Will that make you happy?”

  “Ecstatic!” Shannon vowed, throwing herself into his arms. “And just in time, I might add. I want our baby to be born on our own land.” She had refrained from telling Blade until she was absolutely certain that she was expecting his child.

  “Baby!” Blade exploded, the air rushing from his chest. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be. By my calculations, our child will be born in about seven months. You—you’re not disappointed, are you?” she asked tremulously. “Truthfully, I never thought it would take so long, considering how frequently we make love.”

  “Disappointed! Nothing you do would disappoint me. I’ll love all the children you give me.”

  “Even if they are all daughters?”

  “Even then,” Blade laughed. “But somehow I doubt a fiery creature like you will give me all daughters. Though I wouldn’t mind one or two if they looked like you.”

  Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her with so much feeling, such gentle tenderness, that Shannon had to blink away the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

  “I love you, Blade Stryker. If we had time, I’d show you how much.”

  “Later, Little Firebird,” Blade replied, his voice husky with promise.

  Shannon’s lecture that evening thoroughly entranced Blade—not merely because she was his wife and he loved her, but because she was magnificent. Mesmerizing, enthralling, totally inspiring, were some of the words that came to mind. If the bill for women’s rights were to be ratified tomorrow, Blade suspected every man present tonight would wholeheartedly endorse its passage. After the lecture, legislator William Bright and his wife, a staunch supporter of women’s suffrage, lingered behind to offer Shannon congratulations on her inspiring speech. When Blade joined her, she was surrounded by a large group of admirers.

  “I’d like you to meet my husband, Mr. Bright,” Shannon said, her voice tinged with pride.

  Blade looked so handsome tonight that Shannon felt the envy of every woman present. She was aware that Blade was being ogled by staid matrons and beautiful young women alike. They were pressing forward with shocking eagerness in order to inveigle an introduction and take a closer look at the wildly handsome Blade Stryker.

  Blade was conversing with Mr. Bright and Shannon was speaking with his wife when something so unexpected happened that it left Shannon shaken and speechless.

  A woman pushed boldly forward until she was standing nearly toe to toe with Shannon. Recognition hit Shannon like a bolt of lightning.

  “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, haven’t you, Shannon?”

  “Claire, how—how nice to see you again,” Shannon said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Is Molly with you. What are you doing in Cheyenne?”

  “Mama and I are here to take the train East for a visit. We heard you were speaking and decided to attend, only Mama didn’t feel well tonight and I came alone. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass,” Claire hinted with quiet menace. Then she directed her malevolent gaze at Blade. “Hello, Blade.”

  “Hello, Claire,” Blade returned warily. Intuition warned him that Claire intended to make trouble. He was right.

  “You’ve come up in the world,” Claire said breezily. “From army scout to a man of property. And a wife who has built a reputation as a lecturer and staunch supporter of women’s rights. You’ve even acquired a last name. I wonder,” she hinted slyly, “if these good people are aware that you are a half-breed—that you’re related to those murdering, lying Sioux who are raiding and killing again despite the treaty they signed last year.”

  A collective gasp rose from the people crowded around Blade and Shannon, and their faces contorted with shock and dismay. More than a few backed off, their admiring glances swiftly turning to fear and revulsion. Noting the effect her words had on those within earshot, Claire smiled in smug satisfaction. She had waited a long time to get even with Shannon and Blade for ruining her life, and a way had presented itself when she least expected it.

  Claire’s words about the Sioux breaking their treaty was all too true. Once again a solemn treaty had proved as worthless as the paper it was written on. By the end of 1868 the Union Pacific Railroad had crossed southern Wyoming and new towns had sprung up along its right-of-way, stretching into the Sioux reservation. Now talk of gold in the Black Hills had provoked a rush into Sioux territory, provoking anger and retaliation. The mighty Sioux had called a council and were beginning to gather together a formidable army.

  Blade could have strangled Claire for spoiling Shannon’s triumph. The men and women who just moments ago had looked at her with pride and respect now considered her an object of scorn and ridicule. One by one they turned their backs on her.

  “Why are you doing this, Claire?” Blade asked, his eyes so cold and ruthless, it wasn’t difficult to imagine him in Indian garb stalking an enemy.

  “I want everyone to know the kind of man Shannon married,” Claire replied heartlessly. She flinched beneath Blade’s stony glare but continued, undaunted. “I’ll wager your friends don’t know you were imprisoned for murdering an army officer and sentenced to die for the crime. I suspect they’d also be interested to know that you escaped the night before you were to hang.”

  “Blade was cleared of those charges, and you know it!” Shannon cried, the depth of Claire’s hatred astounding her. But Shannon might as well have shouted he
r words into the wind, for the damage was already done.

  Around them people were breaking into groups, whispering and pointing, their eyes round with shock. The room was abuzz with words like half-breed, savage, murderer, white squaw, and worse. For herself, Shannon didn’t give a fig what people said, or the vile names they called her. It was Blade she was concerned about. He didn’t deserve the hate and enmity directed at him. It sickened her to note that those very same women who only moments ago had regarded Blade with admiration now eyed him with awe and speculation—as if wondering if he was also a savage in bed.

  Mercifully there were staunch friends among the group. Elizabeth Davis, the banker’s wife, seemed unconcerned that Shannon was wife to a half-breed. So was Cora Allen, one of the women who had taken Shannon under her wing when she first arrived in Cheyenne. Both women knew Shannon incapable of marrying a killer. Blade Stryker might appear dangerous, but he didn’t look like a man capable of murder. To William Blight’s credit, he did not jump to conclusions but waited patiently for an explanation.

  Meanwhile, satisfied that she had done all the damage she could for one day, Claire slipped quietly away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Blade was well aware of the hostility directed at him, and the knowledge that it included Shannon nearly tore him apart. There were elements in Cheyenne that would go to any lengths to do them harm, and he felt overwhelming relief that their new home was nearly habitable. Soon they would be safe and snug in their own little valley where Shannon and the babe she carried would be free from abuse and ridicule. Suddenly Blade became aware that Mr. Bright was still standing beside him, looking at him with unfeigned curiosity. Blade was somewhat shocked that the man had remained after Claire’s venomous attack and felt duty-bound to offer an explanation.

  “There is an explanation for all this, Mr. Bright.”

  “I’d be interested to hear it,” Bright replied.

  Blade then launched into a brief but concise telling of the events that led to his arrest for murder. Not only did Mr. Bright hang on Blade’s every word, but his wife and both Elizabeth Davis and Cora Allen appeared enthralled. Everyone else had left, eager to spread gossip about the half-breed married to a white woman and mixing socially with the townspeople.

  “You fought with the Union Army,” repeated Bright with a hint of admiration. “A captain, no less. Few of us have had the privilege of meeting the president. I, for one, am proud of your work. You are a credit to our great country, Mr. Stryker, and I find scant sympathy in my heart for people who despise you for your Indian blood.

  “And you, Mrs. Stryker, are a courageous woman. Few women are brave enough to flout tradition to marry the man they love. It’s no wonder you make so brilliant a spokeswoman for women’s rights,” Bright concluded. “I wish you both the best. You deserve it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bright,” Blade said with heartfelt gratitude.

  “Don’t fret, dear,” Mrs. Bright added, “the townspeople will come around in time. Those that matter, anyway. Your work for woman’s rights is more important than petty prejudices.”

  Her words were endorsed by both Elizabeth and Cora. Soon afterwards they all left for their respective dwellings.

  It was only a short distance to their hotel, but Blade and Shannon couldn’t help overhearing the snide remarks directed at them as people passed them by on the street, or fail to notice the scornful glances following in their wake. Blade’s fierce black looks soon discouraged the most persistent of their revilers, but Shannon was nevertheless grateful when they reached the hotel

  To their dismay, they learned just how fast gossip traveled in Cheyenne when they were detained by the desk clerk on the way to their room. Though his words were politely rendered, his tone held a definite sneer.

  “The management requests that you vacate your room by the end of the week. We are a high-class hotel and do not cater to half-breeds and their squaws.”

  Blade went still, his mouth a thin white slash in his bronze face. The chords in his neck bulged and his huge hands clenched into fists at his side. Shannon felt his anger building and feared the explosion that was bound to follow. Her restraining hand on the taut muscles of his shoulder brought Blade’s temper slowly back to merely simmering. The clerk blanched. For a moment he had thought he was about to meet his maker. Then he began to breathe again when he saw the violence drain out of Blade. Color returned to his face, but instinctively the clerk knew he still trod on dangerous ground.

  “I suggest you apologize to my wife,” Blade said tightly, his tone barely civil. “I don’t care what you think of me, but my wife is a lady and deserves to be treated as one.”

  The clerk swallowed convulsively, smart enough to know when descretion was called for. He turned to Shannon, his voice properly obsequious. “I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Stryker. I’m merely following orders.”

  “And enjoying it, I’ll wager,” Shannon snapped with bitter emphasis.

  “We’ll be gone by the end of the week,” Blade said curtly, much too incensed for prolonged conversation.

  If not for Shannon’s delicate condition, he would be demanding satisfaction for the insult to his wife. Taking her arm, he propelled her toward their room with all the calm of an active volcano.

  Blade felt little concern for his own feelings, it was Shannon he worried about—Shannon and his unborn child. He had known when he married her that he was courting trouble by placing her in a potentially explosive situation. What he had failed to consider was his volatile temper. When Shannon was insulted and degraded because of him he wanted to lash out, to punish. He should have never married Shannon, never have placed her in a situation where she was open to ridicule by her peers.

  Once inside their room, Shannon sagged against Blade’s broad chest, shuddering with emotion. It hurt, hurt dreadfully, to see Blade treated in so disparaging a manner. She could kill Claire for bursting the bubble she had existed in these past months. Though Blade hadn’t deliberately tried to hide his Indian heritage, the subject just hadn’t come up. Blade was a proud man, and it saddened her to hear him belittled and insulted by people not fit to wipe his boots.

  “Don’t worry, Little Firebird,” Blade consoled, hugging her tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you or our child. I’d kill first.”

  “What are we going to do?” Shannon asked. “If we have to be out of here by the end of the week, that doesn’t leave us much time.”

  “It’s no longer safe to leave you in Cheyenne while I tend to our ranch,” Blade decided.

  “I still have friends,” Shannon reminded him.

  “And enemies. No, love, we’re moving out to the ranch. The house is nearly completed and we can make do. During the next few days, we’ll buy furniture and supplies and be ready to move by the end of the week.”

  “I’d hate for people to think they are running us out of town,” Shannon said, her head tilted at a stubborn angle.

  “It doesn’t matter what people think,” Blade vowed with tender concern. “Nothing matters but you and our child. I shouldn’t have placed you in this intolerable situation. I knew from the beginning that our marriage was a mistake, but I loved you too much to consider the consequences.”

  “There is no way I’d let you get away from me, Blade Stryker! Now kiss me and forget all about that little unpleasantness.” Twining her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down to hers.

  Blade needed no encouragement to kiss his beautiful wife. His eyes smoldering like brilliant black ebony, he took her mouth, lavishing tender attention on the moist corners before sliding his tongue between her teeth to taste her sweetness. Then he began to undress her, his hands trembling in his great need to lose himself in her sweet flesh.

  “Each time I make love to you is like a wonderful new experience,” Blade groaned against her lips. “I’m shaking like a boy with his first woman. I love you, Shannon Branigan.”

  “You talk too much, Blade Stryker. Please take me to bed.”


  “Are you sure my loving won’t hurt the baby?”

  “Positive. My mother had six children and continued to—to share my father’s bed until the final weeks of her confinement.”

  “Six children,” Blade repeated, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Shall we try to beat that number or merely match it?”

  “Let’s concentrate on this one before we make any decisions,” Shannon returned tartly.

  She squealed as Blade lifted her high in the air and placed her square in the center of their big bed. Before he followed, he quickly stripped himself bare as Shannon watched in rapt appreciation, her eyes frankly admiring as she studied the enormous width of his bronze chest, then lower, to his loins. She saw that he was ready for her, more than ready, his manhood throbbing against her hip as he positioned himself beside her.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Little Firebird, or our evening will end before it begins.”

  Shannon giggled. “Do I always affect you like that?”

  “Always.”

  “I’m glad, because you do the same to me. Now love me, my magnificent warrior.”

  “That’s something you’ll never have to beg me to do,” Blade assured her and grinned with wicked delight.

  Then he joined their bodies, filling her so full of himself that Shannon thought she would explode from the joy of it. Then she did, shattering into a million pieces as she soared to the stars.

  During the following days, Shannon prepared for their move to the ranch. Blade insisted on accompanying her on her errands and shopping trips, refusing to allow her out of his sight. On the street, people went deliberately out of their way to avoid them, and it was impossible to ignore the crude remarks directed none too subtly at them. Shannon thought Blade’s restraint remarkable. The thin line of his mouth and smoldering black of his eyes gave mute testimony to his rage.