Kid Calhoun

by Joan Johnston

  God help her, it was what she had waited for—wished for—every day over the long hot summer and into the cool fall. She didn’t understand her desire for the Apache, she only knew it burned within her. But it had seemed wrong to turn into his arms at night. His people had stolen her son. He had stolen her and made her his slave. And she had not yet been widowed a year.

  Claire could deny to Wolf what she felt, but that didn’t mean the feelings weren’t there. Now he had told her they would couple not because he desired her, or she desired him, but to make a child to replace the one she had lost. She wanted Wolf. And she wanted the child. But to have them both she must give up the hope of returning to the world she had left behind.

  For the first time, Claire allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to live among the Indians for the rest of her life. Only it wouldn’t be the rest of her life. It was only a matter of time before the soldiers forced the Apache onto a reservation. The wild savages would not be allowed to raid and pillage the increasing numbers of white homesteads in Apachería.

  Soon Wolf’s way of life would be coming to an end. What would happen to her then? What would happen to White Eagle and He Makes Trouble—and her own half-breed children if she had them?

  We could go to Window Rock.

  But she was going to lose Window Rock. Unless Jake had found the gold that had been stolen from Sam. Or maybe Jake had figured out a way to keep the ranch without the gold. She knew Jake would welcome her back, but would he also welcome an Apache husband and half-breed children?

  Nightfall came too quickly. Claire considered running away, but knew she wouldn’t get far before Wolf overtook her. She must face her fate. She would not beg for mercy. But she would not give herself freely either.

  Claire knew when she entered the wickiup after they had eaten the evening meal that Wolf had not changed his mind. He had sent He Makes Trouble to stay with Night Crawling. They were alone in the wickiup with the entire night before them.

  “Have you thought about what I said this morning?” Wolf asked.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else,” Claire said in a quiet voice. She suddenly noticed the sheen of perspiration on Wolf’s upper lip, the pulse throbbing in his throat. He looked pale. This was not at all the conquering warrior she had been expecting. It made him seem more approachable.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Claire asked.

  In an instant all vulnerability was erased from his countenance. An Apache warrior stood where only a moment before she had seen an ordinary uncertain man. Wolf’s muscles flexed, his eyes narrowed. “I do not say what I do not mean.”

  Claire searched his face for some sign of yielding. “Have you never changed your mind? Have you never made a mistake?”

  “I am not wrong about this.”

  “You’ve never asked how I feel about your decision.”

  “Your feelings do not matter to me.”

  “Even though I would be the one to bear your child?”

  “It will be your child as well. There has been too much talking already. Come here to me.”

  “No.” Claire lifted her chin and stared back at eyes as black as night. She could not deny even to herself that she desired him. But she would not willingly take the steps that might bind her to him forever.

  “Come here,” Wolf said in a soft voice filled with warning.

  Claire waited with bated breath, knowing that she was testing the Apache’s patience. If she had thought he would back down, she was sadly mistaken. However, Wolf didn’t do what she expected, either.

  He took a step toward her, then angled his path slightly so he walked in a close circle around her. His shoulder brushed hers as he passed by her. He stopped behind her. She could feel him there, feel his breath on her neck, the heat of him along her back from shoulders to heels.

  Her eyes fell closed as he traced a hand across her shoulder and under the golden hair that fell to her waist. His fingers threaded up into the silken strands at her nape and tightened into a fist. He used his hold to turn her slowly, inexorably to face him.

  He slid his other hand around her waist to the small of her back and pulled their hips close. Then he tugged her head back, tilting her face up to his.

  “Open your eyes, Little One,” he murmured in a husky voice.

  When Claire opened her eyes Wolf’s face was directly above her. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips full, his nostrils flared for the scent of her.

  “You are my woman now.”

  Wolf had wanted her for a long time. He had lain beside her through the summer, feeling her warmth next to his. But he had not taken her, waiting to see if she would come to him on her own. She had not. But not because she did not desire him. He had seen her watching him when she thought he was not looking.

  His waiting was at an end.

  Wolf’s hunger was great, but long before an Apache reached manhood he learned patience. He took his time. His mouth lowered ever so slowly to capture hers. His body clenched at the soft sound she made in her throat.

  Wolf wanted to touch her flesh without the hindrance of clothing between them. He freed the ties on her buckskin shirt and her fringed skirt and let them drop at her feet. He saw the color streak from her throat to her high cheekbones.

  “You are more beautiful than the sunrise on the mountains,” he said as his hand cupped her chin and kissed the flags of color on her face.

  “Your skin is softer than the grass that grows in the spring.” His hand inched its way up her spine, fingers spread to touch as much flesh as possible.

  He caught her soft cries with his mouth, tasting her for the first time. She was sweet like honey, and he supped at her lips like a man dying of hunger.

  Claire had been prepared to meet force with force, but she had no defense against Wolf’s gentleness. He stole her breath as he had stolen her heart. Her body betrayed her, her breasts swelling with need, her belly curling with desire, her knees refusing to hold her upright.

  “Wolf,” she murmured.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to his pallet where he laid her down. Before he joined her he rid himself of his buckskin shirt, breechclout, and leggings. He pulled her back into the curve of his body and held her there, relishing the feel of his bare skin next to hers.

  “I was wrong,” he said.

  “That’s quite a confession,” Claire said breathlessly. “What were you wrong about?”

  “Your skin,” he murmured huskily. “It’s even softer than the grass in spring, as soft as the petals of a mountain rose.”

  He caressed her as he spoke, and Claire’s whole body quivered in response. She knew he was aroused, and yet he seemed satisfied with touching alone. He filled his hands with her breasts, teasing the nipples until they were taut buds. Then he slid his hands down to her belly and the thatch of blond curls at the apex of her thighs.

  “There is honey here, too,” he said as his fingers slid between the golden curls.

  Claire gasped as he slid a finger inside her. He put his other hand on her belly, pulling her into the curve of his thighs as his fingers played between her legs.

  She whimpered softly. “Wolf, I can’t … I don’t …”

  His mouth found her nape and sucked lightly. Then he bit her shoulder and soothed the flesh.

  Hunger. Wolf didn’t know when he had ever wanted a woman more. Desire. He wanted her more with each moment that passed. But he forced himself to let her go. He dragged his hands up her body so that only his fingertips at her waist held her close.

  “Come to me. Be my woman,” he urged in a ragged voice.

  Claire could feel Wolf trembling. Need. She had never known such need for a man. Passion. Never had she felt such desire for a man—any man. Something that felt so right could not be wrong. With a shuddering breath, she turned to face him and found herself enveloped in his arms.

  “Mine. My woman,” he murmured.

  He twisted her quickly beneath him and spread
her legs with his knees, settling himself in the cradle of her thighs.

  Claire shivered uncontrollably. “Please … Wolf.”

  He sheathed himself inside her with one swift stroke. Tight. Hot. Wet.

  Claire clasped his hips with her legs to hold him inside her. Wonderful. She didn’t want him to move, but she knew that he must if he was to ease the ache inside her. “Wolf …”

  He made an animal sound deep in his throat as he began to thrust, slowly, steadily, deeply. His mouth found hers and his tongue mimicked the action of their bodies, tasting lips and teeth and tongue.

  Claire arched into him, seeking the satisfaction that was just beyond her reach. She bit his shoulder hard as her body clenched around him. “Wolf!”

  He was not far behind her. Wolf cried her name as with one powerful, sinuous move he spilled his seed inside her, claiming her at last.

  As her breathing eased Claire waited for the guilt to come. But she didn’t feel sorry for what she had done. She only felt the pleasure of having shared a precious moment with the man who held her in his arms, and the anticipation of loving him again and again until they made a child together.

  She reached out a hand and caressed a small mark on his shoulder. “I must have bitten you.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I did not feel it.”

  Her hand slid across copper skin. “I had forgotten how it feels to touch a man.” She felt him tremble beneath her hands as she caressed him. There was no turning back now. She belonged to him … and he belonged to her.

  She gave his shoulder a nudge and forced him onto his back, settling herself on top of him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I …” Love you. Need you. “I desire you,” she said at last. “And I am claiming you, the way you claimed me.”

  Claire laughed softly at the stunned surprise in Wolf’s dark eyes. She put a hand around each of his wrists and pinned them to the ground above his head. That put her breasts near his mouth, and he lifted his head and suckled her.

  Claire gasped and her hips arched into him, causing him to groan with pleasure. She lifted herself slightly and impaled herself upon him.

  “Now you are mine,” she whispered in his ear.

  Wolf answered with a hoarse groan as his body thrust upward into her. Wolf’s whole body shuddered as Claire’s muscles clenched around him. He had never been held captive before, and though he could easily have overwhelmed Claire, he allowed her to keep his hands bound as she made love to him.

  She drove him mad with her mouth as she kissed and licked and suckled his skin. At last he could stand it no longer. He grasped her at the waist and turned her under him. It took only a few thrusts before he heard her cry of satisfaction and spilled himself yet again.

  It took longer this time for him to catch his breath. He tucked her head beneath his chin and spooned her into his body. He was nearly asleep when he heard her whisper, “Wolf?”

  “Hmmm.” It was the most discouraging response he could think to make. This was not a time to talk.

  “Wolf?” she whispered again.

  Perhaps he must tell her what he wished of her. “Be quiet. I want to sleep.”

  She was quiet, but he could feel her body moving restlessly in his arms. He sighed and said, “What is it you want to say, Little One?”

  “Will you take me to see my brother?”

  Wolf frowned. “This is your home now. Why would you want to go to him?”

  “You never had any brothers or sisters, but if you had you’d know that it’s a very close relationship. Jake will worry about me until he knows I’m all right. I just want to see him and tell him …”

  “Tell him what?”

  “That everything’s fine. That I’m … all right. That he doesn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  Wolf was silent for so long that Claire thought he wasn’t going to speak at all.

  Wolf was leery of allowing Claire to leave the camp. He did not want to take the chance of Jake Kearney stealing her back. Then he thought of how she had made love to him the second time. He did not want to believe she would run away. But he would watch her to make sure she did not try to escape. Even if she was not truly bound to him, she would not want to leave White Eagle. Or He Makes Trouble.

  “Perhaps we will go in the spring,” he said at last. By then he hoped she would have his seed growing inside her. By then he hoped she would no longer wish to leave him.

  “Thank you,” Claire whispered. Her body melted into his, and she pressed her lips against his shoulder.

  Wolf felt an ache in his throat. He wanted more than her thanks. He wanted her love. But he would not ask for it. Ever. He could only hope that someday she would freely offer it to him.

  19

  When they first began the search for the Apache encampment Jake took the lead. Anabeth didn’t offer her help tracking because Jake didn’t seem to want it. Jake didn’t even have the advantage of Dog’s nose to help him, because the animal still wasn’t well enough to travel any distance. Eventually, as the weeks passed and Jake got more frustrated, he asked for Anabeth’s opinion of the signs he found.

  Often Jake found moccasin tracks, but they inevitably disappeared onto rocky ground. They heard a wolf howl once, and Anabeth explained it was a signal used by members of a scattered party to contact each other. They rode toward it, but again the tracks disappeared into the rocks.

  Jake was excited the day they saw smoke signals, but Anabeth explained that the distance to the signals was so great that the Apaches would be long gone before they got there.

  “Can you tell what they’re saying?” Jake asked.

  “If the smoke comes from a mountaintop like this does, it usually signals that strangers are around,” Anabeth said.

  “Do they mean us?”

  Anabeth watched the smoke. A second fire was lit to the right of the other. “They’re asking who we are,” she said. “Whether we’re friend or foe.”

  Jake pulled his hat off his head and shoved a hand through his hair. “Can we answer them?”

  “What would you answer? Are you friend … or foe?”

  “Neither,” Jake muttered.

  “Then it would be better not to answer,” Anabeth said.

  “We’re never going to find Claire,” Jake said disgustedly.

  “Not if Wolf doesn’t want her to be found,” Anabeth replied in a quiet voice.

  “I’m not giving up.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” Anabeth asked. “The last tracks we were following disappeared up into the mountains.”

  “To the source of that smoke signal.”

  “There won’t be anyone there.”

  “There’ll be a sign,” Jake snarled. “Someone’s going to make a mistake sometime, and I’m going to be there to see it.”

  Anabeth didn’t argue further, just mounted up and followed after him. They made it to the far mountain by dusk. There was too little light for Jake to see whatever trail might have been left. The air was cool, but not cold. And it was quiet. Too quiet.

  Jake searched the countryside with wary eyes. The hair prickled on his neck. Someone was out there. Not too close, but close enough. “We’ll camp here tonight,” he said.

  “All right.” Anabeth was exhausted. It had been a long day, but she had endured longer days over the past few weeks they had been on the trail without feeling so tired. She wasn’t about to admit her weakness to Jake and give him the excuse he needed to take her back to the ranch.

  “I’ll gather some wood,” she said.

  Jake unsaddled the horses, rubbed them down, and picketed them close in. Anabeth hadn’t yet returned, so he made a circle of stones for the fire and set out ground sheets and blankets for bedding. When she still hadn’t returned, he went searching for her.

  Jake found Anabeth unconscious, an armful of firewood by her side.

  “Kid? Anabeth?” He
shook her, but her eyes remained closed. His heart skipped to his throat. He looked quickly around for evidence that someone had attacked her, but there were no moccasin prints on the sandy ground. He scooped her up into his arms and hurried back to camp, where he laid her down on one of the pallets he had prepared. He left her long enough to dampen his bandanna with water from the canteen, then returned and pressed it to her brow.

  When that had no result he picked her up and rocked her in his arms. “What’s wrong, Kid?” he whispered. “What happened?” Her face was pale, lifeless, her pulse thready.

  He thought then of snakebite. He looked her over from top to booted toe, looking for some sort of wound that would explain what had happened to her. He wet the bandanna again and pressed it to her lips, forcing her to swallow a few drops of water.

  Finally her eyelids flickered. She shook her head from side to side, and her hands came up to push away the cloth he was once again using to cool her brow.

  “Jake?”

  He stared into eyes that were confused and a little frightened. “I found you unconscious. What happened, Kid? Did you fall? Were you attacked?”

  “No … I …” She had bent over to pick up a piece of wood and had gotten dizzy and then … she must have passed out.

  “Kid?” Jake’s voice was impatient, anxious. “What happened?”

  “I … must have fainted,” she admitted.

  “Why? Did something frighten you?”

  Anabeth tried to rise, tried to get away from Jake’s perceptive gaze, but he held her captive in his arms.

  “I want an explanation, Kid.”

  “I don’t know!” she said. “I leaned over and I felt dizzy and I fainted.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sick? You look awful pale to me.”

  “A little upset stomach,” Anabeth said. “It must have been something I ate.”

  That seemed to satisfy Jake, and he heaved a sigh as he loosened his hold on her. “Be careful what you eat from now on,” he said gruffly. “Are you hungry now?”

  Anabeth felt famished. “Yes. I’ll help make supper.”