Love's Serenade

by Madeline Baker

  Noche returned his gaze without blinking, the challenge in his dark eyes bold and clear.

  But now was not the time. He had left Sarah alone for too long.

  Turning away from the river, Toklanni returned to his lodge and packed enough supplies to last them through the winter. Catching up the gray, he rode out of the village, his heart growing lighter as he thought of seeing Sarah again.

  In the spring, he would take her to Pepper Tree Creek. She would be safe there, among her own people.

  But first he was going to spend the winter with her. And then, somehow, he would tell her goodbye.

  Chapter Nine

  Hoofbeats. Had she imagined them? Throwing back the covers, Sarah slid out of bed and hurried to the window, felt her heart leap within her breast as she saw Toklanni ride into the yard.

  She didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to consider how inappropriate it was for a man to see her in her nightdress. Her feet were as light as air as she ran into the parlor, opened the door and threw herself at Toklanni, her arms wrapping around his waist as if she would never let go.

  She’d been afraid he might rebuff her after the way they had parted. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as his arms locked around her and she buried her face against his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and buckskin and horse. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath, filling her nostrils with his scent. Here, in his strong embrace, was where she belonged, where she yearned to be.

  Toklanni held Sarah for a long moment, afraid to speak for fear of breaking the tenuous bond between them. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest, feel the tremor in her arms. It was only fear that made her so glad to see him, he thought glumly, fear of being alone. But he had no desire to let her go, not yet.

  “You came back,” Sarah murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “I was afraid you were gone for good.”

  Toklanni shook his head. “I could not stay away.”

  “You were angry when you left,” Sarah remarked, still not looking at him.

  “I am not angry any longer. In the spring, I will take you to Pepper Tree Creek. You will be safe there.”

  “No.” She drew away from him, her face set in determined lines. “I’m not leaving here. I have to stay.”

  “Why?”

  Because I’ll never see you again, she thought. But she couldn’t tell him that. “I have to stay,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “I know if I just have faith enough, I’ll get Danny back somehow.” She had to believe that, it was all she had. She thought of the phrase in the Bible Ask and ye shall receive. Knock and it shall be opened. Seek and ye shall find. If she had faith enough, she knew God would answer her prayers.

  “We will not speak of it now. I have brought enough supplies to last us through the winter.”

  “I’ll help you unload the pack horse.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “All right,” she said, puzzled by his curt manner. “Would you like something to eat?”

  Toklanni nodded, his hands clenched at his sides as he looked at her. The sleeping gown she wore was of white cotton, ruffled at the throat and sleeves. The wind was blowing in her direction, molding the soft material to her figure, so that every curve was clearly outlined.

  “Go inside,” he said, and turned away before she could see the visible evidence of his desire.

  Facing into the wind, he filled his lungs with cold air, cursing the weakness that had made him come back to her. How could he look at her, be near her every day, and not touch her? It would be torture, sweet agonizing torture. But it was a torment he would willingly bear because he knew the memories of this one short winter would have to last him a lifetime.

  Winter came in earnest a few days later. The wind howled like a banshee, battering the doors and windows, screaming down the chimney. Thunder shook the earth, lightning sizzled across the heavens, while the rain pummeled the roof like angry fists.

  Toklanni went out twice each day to look after the horses. To pass the time, he often sat on his buffalo robe before the hearth, fashioning a bridle from horsehair, or cleaning his weapons. And sometimes he just sat there, staring into the fire.

  Sarah busied herself with housework, cooking, baking, dusting, washing and ironing, mending, sweeping the floor. When there was nothing else to do, she read from the Bible, or from the works of Shakespeare.

  On this day, she sat in a chair before the fire, knitting a scarf out of red wool. She smiled to herself. It was a Christmas present for Toklanni, but he didn’t know that. Having someone to make a gift for filled a void in her. No matter what her circumstances might be, Christmas was a time for sharing, a time for rejoicing, for hope. She wondered if Danny realized it would soon be Christmas and she prayed that the good times they had shared would bring him comfort, that he would remember the laughter and the joy of the season.

  Christmas, she thought. The most beautiful time of the year. A time for miracles. She knew she would not have felt that way if she was alone, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Toklanni was here.

  She slid a glance in his direction. He was standing at the window staring out at the storm. Her gaze moved over him in a long caress. He had said he wasn’t mad anymore, but he was.

  She could feel the force of his anger, the bitterness that festered in his soul. Several times she had tried to tell him that she wasn’t repulsed by his scars, that she loved him, but somehow she could not bring herself to say the words, could not reach past his silent anger.

  She hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask about Danny, either, though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because the last time they’d discussed Danny, Toklanni had left her. But he couldn’t go now, not in this storm.

  She dropped her knitting in the yarn basket and went to stand beside Toklanni. For a moment, she stared out at the rain and then, taking a deep breath for courage, she asked about her son.

  “Did you see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he well?”

  Toklanni nodded. “He has adapted to our ways very well. He has made friends with some of the boys. He has his own pony. And Noche has taught him to use a bow and arrow.”

  Sarah felt a twinge of pain. Didn’t Danny miss her at all?

  “Does he ever ask about me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Does he seem happy?”

  Toklanni shrugged. “He does not smile much. I have not heard him laugh, but he does not seem unhappy.”

  “Did you…did you ask your brother if I could have Danny back?”

  “He said no.”

  “Oh. Isn’t there some way…couldn’t you…steal Danny back?”

  It was the question he had been dreading, a question for which he had no clear answer.

  “Please, Devlin.”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “The Apache are my people. To do what you ask would be to make war against my own brother, my own family.”

  Sarah nodded. She couldn’t blame him, not really, though she wanted to scream that she didn’t care if he had to fight the whole world if it would get Danny back.

  Though her heart ached with longing for her son, she was relieved to hear that he was well, that he was making a life for himself, such as it was. She would not want him to give up hope, to turn his back on life, no matter what kind of life it might be. And she would not give up, either. She would continue to hope, to pray, to believe that her prayers would be answered.

  Toklanni saw the sadness in Sarah’s eyes, heard it in her voice. She seemed to shrink before him, as if her spirit were shriveling before his eyes.

  He felt his own bitterness dissolve as he took her in his arms. He had been foolish to be angry with her because she had not melted in his arms the night before he left. Could be really blame her? She had reacted no differently than any other woman. But he had never really cared before. That was the difference, he mused. He wanted Sarah to see past his scars, past his mixed blood. He wanted her to see into his heart and accept him
as he was.

  He felt her shudder as she fought back her tears and he drew her closer, pressing her length against his. “Do not weep, Sarah,” he murmured. Somehow, he vowed, somehow he would find a way to bring Danny home even if it cost him his life.

  He started to draw away from her, but she held him tight, refusing to let him go. He was all the comfort she had in the world.

  “Sarah…”

  “Don’t go.”

  His senses were alive, filled with her nearness. She smelled of soap and starch. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath his hand, her hair was soft against his cheek. He could feel each breath she took, feel her breasts pressed against his chest. “Sarah.” His voice was thick with desire.

  She looked up at him then, her heart quickening at the longing she read in the depths of his eyes. Slowly, she lifted her hand to caress his scarred cheek.

  “Don’t.” He caught her hand in his before she could touch him.

  “I want to.”

  “Why?”

  “To prove to you that it doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t it?” he asked, and she heard the bitterness in his voice, the fear of being rejected.

  “I love you, Devlin,” she said quietly. “The scars don’t matter.”

  “I’m not Devlin. I’m Toklanni. I’m not a white man, I’m a half-breed. Can you accept that?”

  “Can you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re Indian and white. Why do you accept your father’s people and not your mother’s?”

  “Because my father’s people have accepted me and my mother’s people haven’t.” There was no bitterness in his voice; it was merely a statement of fact.

  “Can’t we forget about red and white and just be a man and a woman?”

  “No. My people will not accept you and your people will not accept me. A fish may love a rabbit, but where would they live?”

  “Are you saying you love me?”

  It was in his mind to lie, but he could not deny his feelings for her, not when she was looking at him like that, her beautiful blue eyes filled with hope, her lips slightly parted in invitation.

  He was still holding her hand in his. He watched her face carefully as he pressed her hand to his scarred cheek, certain she would draw back rather than touch him, certain her revulsion would be mirrored in her eyes. But Sarah’s expression did not change and as her unblemished hand gently caressed him, Toklanni felt as if she’d pulled a dagger from his heart.

  “Sarah, do you know what you do to me?”

  “Tell me.”

  He shook his head, unable to put his feelings into words. She touched him and he felt whole again. She looked at him and he felt as if there was hope for the future.

  She whispered his name and he drew her into his arms again, murmuring that he loved her, that he would never let her go.

  He kissed her then, knowing he would be Devlin, or Toklanni, or whoever she wished him to be so long as he could see the love in her eyes each day, hold her in his arms every night.

  Sarah surrendered to the touch of his lips, her eyelids fluttering down as his kiss deepened, telling her more eloquently than words that he loved her.

  And she loved him. When they drew apart, she gazed into his face and she didn’t see his scars, she didn’t see a man who was a half-breed, all she saw was the man who had spared her life and renewed her hope in the future. The man she loved with all her heart.

  “Sarah.” His hands moved along her rib cage, slid down her thigh and back up again.

  “I love you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  He groaned low in his throat, wondering if he shouldn’t turn tail and run before it was too late. Loving Sarah would mean leaving his people, going back to the white man’s world. And yet, what other choice did he have?

  Sarah leaned back, her gaze searching his face. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’ve never been in love before,” Toklanni said, his voice husky and uncertain. “Among my people, when a man desires to take a wife, his father or brother makes his wishes known to the girl’s parents. When that is done, he takes horses to her wickiup. If the girl feeds and waters the horses, it means she accepts his proposal and there is a wedding feast which lasts three days. During this time, the couple do not speak, but on the third night, they slip away. When they return a week later, they are considered married.”

  Toklanni shrugged. “You have no parents and I have no one to speak for me.”

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “So it would seem.” He let out a deep sigh. “I have nothing to offer you but two horses and my weapons. I have no gifts, no home we can share, no family to welcome you.”

  “Do you love me?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all I want.” She smiled up at him, her eyes luminous. “Although I would like to hear you say it.”

  “I love you, Sarah.” He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips.

  The words, softly and fervently spoken, made her feel as though she’d swallowed the sun. She caught his hand and pressed it to her lips. “We could go into town and be married,” she suggested, certain he would hate the idea.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Well, I would like someone to say the words over us. Would it bother you very much, to have someone say the words?”

  “Not if it’s what you want.”

  Her smile seemed to light the room and Toklanni knew that his life was about to change in ways he’d never imagined.

  Chapter Ten

  The storm blew itself out two days later; the following morning they started the journey to Pepper Tree Creek. Toklanni wore a pair of buckskin pants, his moccasins and a gray wool shirt that had belonged to Sarah’s husband. The heavy sheepskin jacket he wore had also belonged to Vern Andrews. The thought of wearing clothes that had belonged to a dead man filled him with a strange sense of unease. The Apache did not keep anything that had belonged to one who had died.

  He glanced over at Sarah. Clad in a dark blue riding habit, black boots and a hooded cloak, she looked lovely and when she smiled at him, it was like being kissed by the sun.

  When they paused at midday, he warned Sarah not to say anything about the kidnapping while they were in town, reminding her that there was sure to be bloodshed on both sides if the Army got involved. He supposed it was a measure of her faith in him that she so readily agreed.

  They camped on the trail that night. Sarah was sure she’d never be able to sleep, she was that excited at the prospect of becoming Devlin’s wife. Not only that, but they were going to town. She’d be able to window shop, to see and talk to people she hadn’t seen in months.

  Toklanni sat beside Sarah, staring into the glowing coals of their campfire. He didn’t share her eagerness to go into town. Earlier, he had tried to warn her that people would likely shun her company when they discovered she was marrying a half-breed, but she refused to believe it. Who she married was her business, she’d said, and if people didn’t like it, that was their problem, not hers.

  But later, lying beside her under the stars, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by marrying Sarah. He didn’t need the approval of other people, he didn’t care what they thought of him, but he wasn’t sure Sarah could withstand the blatant disapproval, the looks of contempt, the derision, she was sure to encounter when the townspeople learned she had married a half-breed. She’d probably never encountered any kind of prejudice in her life, but he knew she was about to confront the worst kind head-on the minute she married him.

  Almost, he told her he had changed his mind. But then he looked at her, sleeping peacefully beside him, and he knew that he could not let her go. Selfish though it might be, he needed her as he had never needed anyone in his life. He would fight for her, die for her, if necessary, but he could not let her go.

  They reached Pepper Tree Creek just after noon the following day. It was a smal
l town that owed its existence to a number of outlying ranches, most of which were big enough to withstand occasional attacks by marauding Apaches.

  Riding down the single street, Toklanni saw a number of small businesses that catered to the ranchers’ wives. There was also a blacksmith shop, a marshal’s office, a small hotel and a barber shop. And at the far end of town there was a square white building topped with a wooden cross.

  Toklanni drew rein at the hotel, knowing Sarah wished to bathe and change her clothes. She had packed her wedding dress, apologizing because she was marrying him in the same gown she’d wore to her first wedding, but Toklanni didn’t care what she wore. He knew she’d also packed a change of clothes for him, as well, and that did bother him, because the dark blue suit had belonged to her first husband.

  Dismounting, Toklanni lifted Sarah from the back of her horse, removed their bag from behind his saddle and then, taking her by the hand, they entered the hotel.

  The clerk blinked at them several time, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tried to summon the courage to tell Toklanni he wasn’t welcome at the hotel. But courage was apparently something the clerk lacked and in the end he gave them the key to one of the rooms and promised to see they had hot water for a bath.

  “Well, I declare,” Sarah had huffily. “What was that all about?”

  Toklanni tossed the carpetbag onto the bed, then closed the door. “I’m afraid that’s something you’d better get used to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that most folks aren’t going to take kindly to your choice of a husband.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  Toklanni shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Are you trying to get out of marrying me?” Sarah asked. She injected a teasing note into her voice, but deep down she was afraid he was doing just that.

  “No.” Toklanni crossed the room and took her into his arms. “But that’s what I should do. If I was any kind of man, I’d turn around and run like hell before I let you make the biggest mistake of your life.”