Nan Ryan

by Written in the Stars

  Diane smiled weakly at her dear grandfather. And she said, “Nothing, really. I just wondered if it might be a good idea to add a horse race to the show’s program. Cowboy McCall against Iron Shirt and Mexican Bob and—”

  “Yes! I like it! We’ll throw in a Cossack and an Arab for good measure! Ruthie, did you hear that? Our little grandbaby is a chip off the old block or my name’s not Colonel Buck Buchannan!” Gleefully he added, “At this rate Pawnee Bill will never get his hands on my show!”

  The Denver engagement was rapidly drawing to a close. Crowds continued to jam the fairgrounds. Members of the troupe were thrilled; they were actually being paid again. A holiday mood prevailed, and cast members congratulated one another and laughed more than usual.

  Even Shorty joked good-naturedly, “The Colonel don’t pay me much.” He drug his bootheel back and forth through the dust. “Twenty dollars a week and all the manure I can take home.”

  Diane laughed and thought it a shame that Shorty was unable to show more of his humorous, fun-loving side to Texas Kate. If only he could unwind a little around the constantly joking, wisecracking Kate, he might get somewhere with her.

  Diane was still smiling as she and the Kid left Shorty and wandered on aimlessly through the grounds. Accompanying them were a couple of the Rough Riders and their most recent sweethearts. One of the women casually suggested they visit the Redman’s cage.

  Immediately annoyed, Diane glanced sharply at the redheaded show girl. She said nothing, however, and went along with the group. As they approached the cage, Diane’s violet eyes narrowed as she searched anxiously for the Redman.

  His wild black shoulder-length hair billowed while he roamed his cage like a wounded animal. He sensed their presence, stopped his pacing, and stared coldly at them.

  The redhead moved up close to the bars. “My goodness. His face would scare little children, but that body …” She laughed nervously, then added, “His thighs must be made of bronzed steel.”

  “Never you mind his thighs,” warned her Rough Rider escort.

  The Redman’s cold black eyes were riveted on the fawning redhead.

  But not for long. Diane deliberately—perversely— danced by the Redman’s cage. The leaded hem of her skirt flew above her knees as she swayed her hips seductively. Without looking at him, Diane knew those black eyes now rested entirely on her.

  The Kid clapped his hands as she strutted about, and the others joined in the fun. Soon the entire group was mocking and making fun of the caged Redman, Diane as guilty as the rest. She childishly teased and taunted him, just as she did the ferocious mountain lion caged beside him.

  But even as she goaded and teased the tall Indian behind bars, she felt shame and remorse. Guilt over her mean and unforgivable behavior grew after they’d left him. She was conscience-stricken and miserable. She kept seeing his eyes. Couldn’t get them out of her mind.

  There was a brain behind those dark, wild eyes!

  Diane’s misery increased with that night’s sold-out performance. She couldn’t keep from watching what she knew would make her feel worse than she already felt.

  She sat on the arena fence and watched the Redman’s crowd-pleasing portion of the show. Pity and a deep sense of guilt mingled in her breast. Disgustedly she watched as the cage was wheeled around the arena and laughing women came down to stare and poke at the Redman. Then sadly she watched as the cage was thrown open, and the magnificent savage—prodded and baited—again tried a futile escape.

  Her eyes closed in agony when the Cherokee Kid and his Rough Riders thundered into the arena to ride the Redman down.

  She couldn’t watch anymore.

  She turned, dropped to the ground outside the arena, and walked away. She felt mentally exhausted and wished she had no after-show engagement with the Kid. With feet of lead, she trudged toward her quarters while screams and loud applause from behind signaled the recapture of the Redman.

  It was then, hearing those deafening shouts of approval, that Diane made her decision.

  She would release the Redman of the Rockies.

  Chapter 11

  Diane reluctantly joined the Kid for a late supper after the show. But she cut the evening short, pleading a headache.

  Actually it was more like a heartache.

  She was troubled. She’d made up her mind to release the Redman, and with the decision came an unsettling mixture of serenity and distress. She was sure it was the right thing to do, so she felt good about it. It would be a terrible setback for the Colonel and his troubled troupe, so she felt bad about it.

  She’d come out from the District of Columbia for the sole purpose of helping her aging grandfather save his beloved show. When she threw open the Redman’s cage, she would be slamming the door on the Colonel’s dreams.

  Diane lay awake in her narrow berth, restlessly tossing and turning. It was very late; she’d left the Kid hours ago. It had to be nearing three or four in the morning. In the bunk across the room Texas Kate, lying flat on her back, snored softly, making strange little whistling sounds through her nose. They were getting on Diane’s already frayed nerves.

  Sighing, she sat up, looked over at Kate, and ground her teeth. She threw back the bedcovers, rose, and lifted the silk robe from the foot of her bed. In the darkness she tiptoed to the small sitting room, pulling the compartment door closed behind her.

  Diane drew on the blue silk robe, lifted her long, tousled hair free, and moved toward the front door. She opened it, poked her head out, and looked around.

  It was so late the moon had gone down and the stars were rapidly fading. It was very dark. Every rail car in the long show train was dark as well.

  The entire troupe was sleeping.

  Tying the robe’s silk sash loosely at her waist, Diane stepped outside. The August night was surprisingly cold, and Diane wore almost nothing. Her pale blue gown and robe were of the softest silk and lace. A strong breeze from out of the east knifed right through the flimsy fabric. She pulled the robe’s lace-trimmed lapels tightly together and shivered.

  Diane knew she should turn around, go back inside, and get into bed, where she belonged.

  She stepped down off the stoop and sprinted on bare feet toward the northern end of the big arena looming before her in the darkness. She never once looked back, completely comfortable that everyone else was sound asleep.

  Almost everyone was.

  But in a darkened rail car near the very end of the train Ancient Eyes was wide-awake. In his favorite chair before an open window the old Ute chieftain sat in the chill morning darkness, staring out at the past. His broad, ugly face was expressionless.

  Suddenly his glazed black eyes widened, then focused when a slender dark-haired woman dashed across his line of vision. He gripped the worn arms of his easy chair, leaned forward, and squinted.

  Then murmured soundlessly, “Little Buck!” He swallowed hard, watched in disbelief as she made her sure, swift way around the circumference of the big arena and disappeared into the thick darkness. Again he whispered, “Little Buck!” and argued with himself about going after her.

  He rose from his chair, pulled the colorful blanket more closely about his naked shoulders. But he sat back down. Little Buck was fiercely independent and possessed a volcanic temper. She would be furious if he followed her. She was no longer a child. She was a grown woman. A grown woman who was going somewhere in the middle of the night wearing only her nightclothes.

  Ancient Eyes’ barrel chest tightened. He’d seen what was going on. Little Buck was constantly in the company of the Cherokee Kid. Likely she was going to him now. The old Ute shook his head sadly. It was painful to stand quietly by while the girl he loved as if she were his own flesh threw her life away on a man like Philip Lowery. Lowery wasn’t worthy of Little Buck.

  Ancient Eyes sighed wearily. He’d told the Colonel— right from the beginning when Philip Lowery had first joined the troupe—that he thought Lowery was ambitious and unprincipled, would caus
e only trouble. But the Colonel liked Lowery, had refused to listen. Now the Colonel seemed fully approving of the growing relationship between Little Buck and the Kid.

  So it was up to him.

  The troubled Ute threw off his covering blanket, rose, and hurriedly dressed. He silently stole from his quarters and out into the enveloping darkness.

  Diane was cold and out of breath when she reached the Redman. At the adjacent holding pen a lantern hung from a pole. The lantern cast a wide circle of mellow light which softly illuminated only one end of the creature’s cage, the end where its bars met those of the lion’s. That portion of the lion’s cage was lighted as well.

  Diane stopped and stared.

  All that was visible of the Redman were a pair of long, leanly muscled bronze legs stretched out full length. The pool of light stopped just short of where his brief loincloth began. A bare bronzed foot rested against the bars separating him from the lion.

  And as unbelievable as it seemed, a soft, furry paw was pressed flat against the sole of the Redman’s bare foot. Diane’s fascinated gaze followed the cat’s paw up to where the lantern’s light ended at a powerful tawny shoulder. She couldn’t keep from smiling.

  For a long moment Diane stood quietly between the lantern and the cages, unmoving, not making a sound.

  The Redman sensed her presence there in the darkness even before he smelled her perfume. Silently he turned his head. And he watched her watching him.

  Her hair, the color of midnight, shimmered with blue under the flickering light of the lantern. Flailing in the wind, that coal black hair whipped around her pale, perfect face and slender shoulders.

  The Redman’s dark eyes moved down over her slender ivory throat. The lacy lapels of her blue silk robe had partially parted. Visible to his searching gaze was the swell of her full breasts, a fleeting glimpse of pale, rounded flesh.

  The muscles in his naked belly tightened. His hands, lying at his sides, flattened against the rough planks of the cell floor.

  At that instant a strong gust of night wind hit her full in the face. Her eyes automatically closed against its force, and she struggled to stay upright The loosely tied sash of her pale blue robe came undone. The robe immediately caught the wind and billowed out behind her, the sashes whipping uselessly, the lacy hem of her nightgown swirling up around her bare knees. She reached for the pole supporting the swaying lantern.

  As she stood there in the wind against the lantern’s light, her slender body clearly outlined through the soft blue silk, the Redman could see the chill-hardened nipples of her beautiful breasts piercing the gown’s filmy bodice. The soft, shiny silk hugged her small waist, clung seductively to the flare of her hips, and pressed enticingly against the soft feminine V between her pale thighs.

  Holding the pole with one hand, attempting to get a grain of sand from her watering eye with the other, Diane remained totally unaware that the Redman was awake, that his burning black gaze was riveted to her.

  The wind died slightly. She released the pole, managed to rid her tearing eye of the stinging sand, then pulled her robe securely around her body and tied it tightly. She lifted her head, looked again at the Redman’s cage.

  And stood there frozen.

  Her hand clutched her throat and her eyes stared fearfully. The Redman was sitting up, his bare shoulders and dark head dominating the pool of light. He was looking straight at her. His dark face was set; his cruel lips were a thin, tight line. He appeared sinister, like a raven on a tombstone.

  Diane was suddenly overcome with fear. She retreated from the creature, stumbling blindly backward among the painted flats and show props. Out of the light she stopped, watched him warily. He rose to his full, impressive height, staring still, searching for her in the shadow.

  Even with him chained or behind bars and standing totally still, there was something violent and unpredictable about the creature. Diane sucked in her breath at the sight of him. She felt terribly cold, at the same time uncomfortably hot. She was unreasonably frightened. She felt faint, almost dizzy.

  Her face flushed with heat.

  There was, about the mysterious Redman, a constant palpable threat of sex—intermingled with sudden violence. The savage exuded an erotic menace. And Diane, though terribly afraid of the fierce, untamed brute, was helplessly drawn by that sexual threat.

  She trembled violently. She stood there concealed in shadow, watching him, wondering if it was safe to move closer. Wondering if she should turn away. Leave this very minute. Abandon her foolish plan to release him.

  No.

  No, keeping him caged was inhumane. He was a wild and beautiful creature who should be free to roam his beloved mountains. Just like the great male cat caged beside him. Both should be free. Both would be free. And soon.

  Diane stood there in the chill night wind and stared at the harshly handsome Redman gripping the steel restraining bars. The powerful muscles were straining against his smooth bronzed flesh as if his entire being were silently screaming for release. It was appealing. It was heartbreaking.

  It was a wrong that had to be righted.

  She was going to do it.

  She still wasn’t sure just how or when, but she was going to set them both free.

  The Redman sank slowly back down to the floor. He wrapped long arms around his bent knees and bowed his head. His loose, long hair swung forward, spilling over his bare, upraised arms. In that position he seemed far less menacing. Almost vulnerable.

  Cautiously Diane approached. His head immediately snapped up. He sniffed the air as an animal does. He had caught the scent of her body. She forced herself to remain calm, to continue moving closer. Bravely she stepped up very close to his cage, expecting him to leap up any second and frighten her half to death.

  To her relief the beast remained seated. He lowered his long legs, crossed them, and then crossed his arms over his chest. She advanced even nearer. He stared straight at her. She was snared, perversely enthralled by him. Their gazes locked.

  After a long tension-charged moment of silence, Diane softly asked, “If I set you free, you wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

  The Redman gave no reply. His arms came uncrossed. He reached up and with long, tanned fingers touched the wide beaded band encircling his throat. His dark eyes flashed. He made strange desperate, groaning sounds but didn’t speak a word.

  Diane shook her head. He didn’t understand. Or did he? She had to be sure. She tried another tack. She goaded him, baited him, tried to make him angry.

  No response.

  She grew bolder. In mock seduction she flirted with him. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, puckered, and made little kissing sounds in the air not a foot from his hard-featured face. She drew in her breath, put her hands on her hips, and bent one knee forward in a provocative pose.

  Nothing.

  She smiled and whipped her head around, sending her long, tumbled hair down over her right shoulder. She drew a section of that shiny black hair up in her hand and presented it to the staring creature for his closer inspection. Boldly she reached right through the bars that separated them while her heart pounded with fear.

  Still no response.

  Only those strangely beautiful eyes staring at her. Dark, flashing eyes which she had never been this close to before. Cold, measuring eyes that held her in thrall. Deep, fathomless eyes which at odd moments appeared to be a deep navy blue instead of black.

  Chapter 12

  Texas Kate yanked a wire curler from her hair with a balled fist, dropped it on the vanity, and stared at herself in the oval mirror, one stringy curl dangling down on her forehead.

  “Lord, it must be nice to be so young and pretty; you don’t have to do anything but wash your hair.” She glanced in the mirror at Diane, dressing hurriedly behind her.

  No sooner had she spoken than another close clap of thunder rattled the rail car windows, drowning out Diane’s reply. Kate flinched, then shook her curlered head. The morning had been
bright and clear. Now, shortly after lunch, dark, ominous clouds had boiled up over the mountains and were moving steadily eastward. The sun had completely disappeared.

  It was Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of August. The final performance of Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Wild West Show was scheduled for this very afternoon, not an hour away. The Denver engagement would then be completed. Unless the threatening afternoon thunderstorm postponed the show until evening.

  “That lightning’s movin’ this way and—hey, you’re getting decked out a little early, aren’t you?” Kate wrinkled her brow. “Lord, child, it’s still an hour till show time, and it looks like it might come a downpour any minute.”

  Stepping into her black leather trousers, Diane said, “I have an errand to run.”

  “Errand? Why, honey, if you want something done, get one of the boys to do it. Need something from town? Send Shorty; he’ll be glad to help out. He’s always obliging me that way.”

  Diane sucked in her breath, buttoned the last button of her tight black leather pants. She stepped up behind Kate, laid her hands atop the older woman’s stout shoulders, smiled at Kate in the mirror, and said, “Now I wonder why?”

  Kate’s eyes met Diane’s in the mirror. “Why, you know Shorty. That skinny lil ol’ animal wrangler is as good as they make ’em, that’s why.”

  “Yes, he is,” Diane agreed. “But don’t you think it’s a bit more than that?” A perfectly arched dark eyebrow lifted.

  “Oh, get on out of here! You know I’m a respectable married woman and my Teddy Ray’s a jealous man.” Kate chuckled heartily, her springy gray-brown curls jiggling with her laughter. “You young folks … all the time thinking about love and romance.”

  Romance was the last thing on Diane’s mind that hot, cloudy August afternoon, but she grinned and nodded as she presented her left wrist to Kate. Kate quickly fastened the cuff of Diane’s black satin blouse, then picked up a hairbrush and pulled it through the tight curls framing her face. As a final touch, Texas Kate took a rabbit’s foot dipped in rouge and dabbed it generously on both fleshy cheeks.