Emma's head fell back, baring her throat and thrusting her breasts toward him. Ridge rose up to embrace her. He nipped and kissed the slender column of her neck as his hands roamed up and down her silky back and sides. Her tiny moans were accompanied by puffs of warm, moist air across his cheek.
How had he thought he could get enough of Emma in just one day? Her rising musky scent teased him and his body responded instinctively to the invitation to mate. But he recognized it as more than mere animalistic urges. He cared for Emma and admired her more than any woman he'd known.
As he gently lowered her to his bed and covered her body with his, something else pierced the lusty fog in his brain.
He was falling in love with her.
Emma fisted her hands and laid them on her thighs, willing herself to remain calm in the face of Talutah's stubbornness.
"He is my son. He belongs with me," she said, keeping her tone steady.
"He is Lakota. He belongs with his people." Talutah's dark eyes narrowed. "You take him to the wasicu's town and he will be killed."
"No one will hurt him! I will protect him."
"Pah! You will not be able to protect him from words or hate. He will wither and die."
Emma blinked back tears of frustration. "You cannot stop me. He is mine!"
Talutah studied her with a flat gaze that gradually gave way to sympathy. "Think of Chayton. Here he is free to run and play among the other children. Here he will become a respected warrior. But in your world, he will always be a half-breed." The term was spat out. "He will wallow in your whiskey and his thoughts will scatter. No longer will he be strong and swift."
"I won't let that happen to him. I will shelter him from the taunts and hatred."
Talutah shook her head sadly. "You are only a woman, Winona, and Chayton needs a leksi to teach him what it is to be a man."
Visions of Ridge instructing her son brought a bittersweet swell in her chest. She squared her shoulders and straightened her backbone. "Chayton will leave with me in the morning."
Talutah scowled, but she didn't continue the argument. Emma knew that the older woman could speak to the chief about keeping Chayton here in the village, but doubted her stepmother would. For all her stubbornness, Talutah loved her, just as Emma loved her.
Emma rose gracefully although her body twinged from the night's pleasures in Ridge's arms. Twice they'd joined and she'd flown to the stars each time. Ridge was a skillful lover, who could be gentle or fierce, whichever she wished him to be. She already longed for his touch again.
She slipped out of her adopted parents' lodge and looked around in the afternoon sunshine. Spotting Ridge and Chayton by the river, she smiled and walked toward them.
As she drew nearer. Ridge turned as if sensing her presence. His welcoming smile warmed her and sent a pang of desire through her. He was so handsome, so confident, and so gentle. If she hadn't left Sunset, or if her father hadn't hired Ridge to find her, or if he had given up after she'd escaped him, she would have never known his loving.
"What are you two doing?" she asked in Lakota.
"Searching for frogs," Ridge replied in English.
"Frogs," Chayton repeated exuberantly as he held up a squirming green and black one in his small fist.
Emma gaped at her son. "You know English?"
The slippery frog escaped Chayton and splashed into the water. The boy knelt at the edge of the stream to watch it swim away.
"He knows a few words." Ridge answered her question. "I gave him the English name for plants and animals we came across."
Touched by Ridge's considerateness and generosity, she couldn't speak. However, knowing he'd be embarrassed if she made too much out of it, she merely said, "Thank you."
"It wasn't any hardship, Emma. He's a good boy."
And she could see the sincerity in his eyes, as well as the fondness he held for her son. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to convince him it was best for all involved if Chayton returned to Sunset with them.
With that glimmer of hope, Emma smiled. "Would anyone like to go for a walk?" she asked in Lakota.
Chayton scrambled to his feet and the excitement in his eyes gave Emma her answer.
"Ridge?" she asked quietly as Chayton skipped ahead.
Ridge smiled and guided her down the path after the boy.
Emma focused on Chayton, who squatted down and intently studied something on the ground. She spotted the pile of animal droppings and wrinkled her nose.
Ridge chuckled over her shoulder. "What animal is it, Chayton? Answer in English."
"Rabbit," he replied with an impish grin.
Pride rolled through Emma. Her son was a fast learner.
She followed a few paces behind Ridge and Chayton, listening as Ridge alternated between speaking Lakota and English as he taught the boy more than just a new language. He told Chayton about ice cream and buildings taller than ten men. Maybe Ridge would spend time with Chayton when they returned and continue the informal lessons.
Her good mood vanished as she imagined Ridge being taunted for befriending a half-breed boy. Ridge had endured too much ridicule in his life, and to be seen with Chayton or herself would surely heap more on him. No, it was better if they made a clean break once they arrived back home.
Some time later, she and Ridge sat atop large rocks across from one another while Chayton stretched out on a sun-warmed bed of soft pine needles. He was asleep within moments.
"How did your talk with Talutah go?" Ridge asked neutrally.
Emma drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "Badly. She thinks Chayton is better off staying with the tribe."
"She's right."
Ridge had never been a mother. He couldn't understand the bond a woman developed for the child she carried within her womb for nine months. To abandon her son again would kill her as surely as a bullet to her heart. "What about his mother?" she asked.
"She'll be better off without him, too," Ridge said, his voice gravelly.
Enraged and terrified by his matter-of-fact words, she glared at him. "Have you ever cried yourself to sleep night after night because you missed someone so badly you couldn't not cry?" Tears filled her eyes, which she dashed away in embarrassment.
Ridge glanced away, but not before Emma caught a glimpse of soul-deep pain. "Yes. After my ma died. One night my stepfather caught me crying. He whipped me until I passed out, said it wasn't manly to cry. I never cried again."
Emma's fury vanished, replaced by compassion and empathy. She slid off the rock and went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
He wouldn't—or couldn't—look at her. "It was a long time ago."
"You're still hurting."
"A lot of things hurt, Emma." Ridge finally turned to her and clasped her hand resting on his shoulder. "A person just learns to live with it."
She tried to pull away, but Ridge held firmly to her hand, and she surrendered. "There are some hurts a person can't learn to live with," she said tremulously.
"Can you live with all the hurts Chayton will get from the other children, as well from grown men and women who'll hate him just because his father was a savage redskin?"
Although his words were intentionally cruel, she could hear his concern clearly. "I'll protect him."
"You can't be his shadow every minute of every day, Emma. And as he gets older, he won't want you beside him. He'll have to burden all the narrow-minded insults by himself. Can you do that to him? To your own son?"
She jerked out of his grip, hating what he said and hating him more for being right. "No! I'll take him far away from those kind of people. We'll live off by ourselves if we have to."
Ridge walked up behind her—she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"And how will you survive? What if one or both of you get sick? What kind of house will you live in?" Ridge pressed.
"I know how to gather food and store it, and I have my herbs if we get sick. We can live in a tipi," Emma r
eplied, her voice rising despite her intention to remain calm.
"And what'll you do when someone stumbles across your place? If it's an Indian, you'll be killed because you're white and he'll take Chayton as a slave. If it's a white man, he'll use you, then probably drag you around for a while until he's tired of you. Then he'll kill you, like he killed Chayton because a half-breed's life is worth less than a dog's."
Rage like she'd never known filled Emma and she whirled around, her arms flailing and her fists striking Ridge's hard chest. "Damn you! Why are you saying such horrible things? Why? Why? Why?"
Each "why" was punctuated by blows against Ridge, blows he didn't fend off or try to stop. He accepted them in stoic silence, which made Emma even angrier. How could he be so calm when she was losing her son?
Emma had no idea how long the blind fury burned, and then suddenly it was gone. And like the aftermath of a fire, only barrenness remained.
Her arms fell to her sides and her head dropped. She turned away from Ridge, but had no strength left for anything more. Numbness spread through her and the sunny afternoon became gray and dark as she stared at nothing.
Ridge's solid hands settled on her shoulders and massaged gently. Part of her wanted to lean back into his touch, but she didn't even have the will to do that.
"You're Chayton's mother and you have to do what's best for him." His mouth was close to her ear, and his voice was raspy, as if he'd been hollering for a long time. "Think long and hard about your decision, Emma, because life doesn't give you second chances."
She closed her eyes, emptying her mind and merely feeling Ridge's fingers kneading the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders. She didn't want to think right now, and didn't want to make a choice that tore Chayton from her forever.
Her son awakened, postponing her decision. He relieved himself before joining Emma and Ridge.
"Walk?" he asked in English.
Despite the sharp ache in her heart, Emma smiled and nodded. "Walk," she confirmed.
Before Chayton could run ahead, she took his hand and followed the narrow game trail. As he walked beside her, he proudly pointed out plants, insects, and objects that he called by their English names.
Even if Chayton remained living with the Lakota he would need to know English in the years ahead. Years that Emma was certain would be filled with more bloodshed and an eventual conquering of many Indian tribes. If Chayton knew English, he could help his people with treaties and ensure they wouldn't be cheated.
She sniffed. Foolish thoughts. She and Ridge would leave tomorrow and nobody would continue Chayton's lessons.
Emma refused to dwell anymore on the future, but focused on the present. Chayton tugged away from her and she followed his every movement with a greedy gaze, storing pictures in her mind to bring out as cherished memories in the days, months, and years down the road.
Chayton making a face over an especially smelly pile of skunk scat. Chayton with wide eyes studying a piece of pink quartz. Chayton giggling as a furry caterpillar marched up and down his knuckles.
In some small part of her mind, she was aware of Ridge walking behind them, allowing her time alone with her son, but close enough he could protect them.
Hours later, after Chayton and Ridge had eaten, and darkness had fallen, Emma guided her sleepy son into their lodge. She settled him on the bed of skins and hugged him until he wriggled in protest. Keeping her expression bright, she tucked him in and sat beside him as he fell asleep, adding more portraits to her memory.
She glanced up when Ridge ducked under the flap and watched as he removed his hat and moccasins. He settled cross-legged on the ground and fed more pieces of wood to the fire. The flames leapt up, illuminating Ridge's handsome, square-jawed face.
"Talutah and Fast Elk will raise him as their own," she finally whispered.
She expected Ridge to smile and nod his agreement. Instead his expression overflowed with compassion and sorrow. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, then he extended a hand toward her.
She crawled over to him and he enveloped her within his arms. Her grief came in ratcheting sobs as Ridge held her close and whispered soft words that could do nothing to soothe her anguish.
Chapter 15
Ridge woke before the sun and reluctantly extricated himself from Emma's limbs. She'd cried herself to sleep, and although his grief was only a shadow of hers, he'd felt the sting of tears for the first time in years. Emma was making a sacrifice no mother should ever have to make.
He tugged on his moccasins, then paused beside Emma to study her puffy eyes and pale complexion. Aching for her, he brushed her velvet-soft cheek with his thumb and fought the impulse to kiss her slightly parted lips. "It'll get better, Emma," he whispered.
Ridge grabbed his hat and left the confines of the tipi. Pausing outside, he stretched and his backbone popped. He and Emma wouldn't get far today, not after the restive night. But it was better to make a clean break rather than stay another day and allow the wound to fester.
Talutah dumped an armload of sticks on the ground and knelt to build up her cookfire. Ridge squatted beside her. She kept her gaze averted, but he knew she was aware of him, and probably had been since he'd stepped outside.
"Take care of him for her, Talutah," he said softly in Lakota.
She stilled, then settled a leathery palm on his forearm and met his gaze. "Take care of our daughter."
Ridge grasped the hand that rested on his arm. "I will if she allows it."
Talutah flashed him a gap-toothed smile and returned to her task.
Ridge disappeared into the brush, and after taking care of his personal business, he saddled Paint and Clementine. After nearly a week of lazing around, the two horses were spirited and didn't want to take the bits. But with a little friendly persuasion from Ridge, they finally gave in, then he left them in the rope corral with their reins wrapped around a bush.
He dragged his feet, unsure how Emma would react this morning. After her grief was spent last night, she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep. He'd lain awake long after, savoring her warmth but only wanting to comfort her.
As Ridge rounded a corner, he spotted Emma standing beside Talutah. It was strange to see her wearing a gingham skirt and blouse again with a wool coat over them. Her hair was no longer braided but was pulled back and bound with a leather tie. The only remaining sign of Winona was the moccasins on her feet.
She glanced up at him but quickly averted her gaze. Ridge sighed. Peace would be long in coming for her, and he doubted she'd ever feel whole again. But she'd made the right decision, difficult as it had been.
Ridge nodded at Talutah and Emma, and slipped into their lodge. Chayton lay on his back, his mouth open as he continued to sleep. The familiar soft flutter of his breathing brought an unexpected lump to Ridge's throat. He, too, would miss the boy. Although Chayton was more Lakota than white, he possessed many of his mother's traits.
Blanking his thoughts before he became too maudlin, he quickly shoved his belongings into his saddlebags. After a last look at Chayton, Ridge left the lodge. An old woman with scraggly gray hair hobbled toward him. As she drew closer, he recognized her as the chief's first wife.
"Akecheta wishes to see you before you leave," she said to Ridge, her lively dark eyes belying her age.
Ridge nodded once, and she turned away, satisfied with his answer.
"What did she want?" Emma asked as she joined him. "The chief wants to see me."
She crossed her arms and watched the elderly woman duck into the tipi in the center of the village. "I'll go with you."
Ridge didn't bother to argue. Emma had more right than he did to visit with the elder one last time.
Talutah handed him some pemmican, which he washed down with water. Emma refused to eat, which earned her a concerned glare from her adopted mother. Instead, Emma returned to their lodge to say her final goodbye to her son.
"Her heart will take time to heal," Ridge said to Talutah.
"Ha. But you will help her," Talutah replied firmly.
Ridge doubted Emma would allow him to. What would she do? Bury herself in her father's house and never come out? Or maybe leave Sunset altogether?
The last choice would be the best for Emma, yet Ridge couldn't find it in himself to favor it.
There was a third option, one he'd wrestled with long into the night. He could marry her.
However, his place wasn't big enough for a wife, and all the money he made was to be put into cattle to start his herd, and to buy back the land Hartwell had basically stolen from his stepfather. He couldn't afford a family yet. Would Emma wait for him? Did he want her to?
In all the plans he'd made lying on the hard ground near battlefields and in the wilderness over the last dozen years, he'd never imagined marrying someone like Emma. It had always been someone like Grace Freeman, a gentlewoman whose father was a respected member of the community. Of course, in the eyes of the townsfolk, that applied to Emma's father, too, but Emma herself had lost her respectability the moment she'd been rescued from the Lakota.
Ridge rubbed his aching brow. He had to separate pleasure from practicality. Leaving Sunset would be best for Emma and, despite her claim about never marrying, she'd have no trouble finding a husband.
So why did his gut feel like he'd swallowed glass when he thought of her lying with another man?
Emma ducked out of the tipi and Ridge was relieved to see her eyes were dry. She'd probably cried all her tears last night. She picked up her saddlebags that she'd left lying outside the lodge.
"I'm ready," she announced in a surprisingly strong voice.
But when Ridge looked into her amber eyes, he read the depth of her sorrow. He quickly turned away and nodded to Talutah in farewell. He'd spent an hour talking with Fast Elk last night, and in their own way, had traded unspoken farewells. The Lakota believed all were connected through the earth, and even if they were apart, they were never truly separated. It was a comforting thought, but Ridge wasn't certain he believed it. A belief did little to soothe a mother's loss of her son.
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