Wolf Shadow (19 page)

Blowing out a deep breath, Chance settled his hat on his
head. It was going to be a hell of a long trip.

Chapter Seventeen

Winter Rain pressed a hand to her aching back. She was glad
to have something to do even though tanning hides was not her favorite pastime.
It was a long, hard process. Still, she wasn’t about to complain. Helping Corn
Woman was the least she could in return for her friend’s kindness in taking her
in. If she had one complaint, it was that tanning didn’t require much
concentration and gave her far too much time to think and, as always, her
thoughts were centered on Wolf Shadow. Where had he gone, and why had he left
so abruptly? And when would he return? Would he return?

Kills-Like-a-Hawk seemed to think so. Wolf Shadow’s cousin
had recovered from his wounds. Now, whenever Kills-Like-a-Hawk went hunting, he
always brought her a part of his kill so that there would be meat in Corn
Woman’s lodge. The hide she was tanning had been a gift from him, as well.

Winter Rain sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. And
Wolf Shadow’s image immediately sprang into her mind—smooth copper-hued skin
stretched over a tall muscular frame, hair as black as the berries that grew in
the summer, eyes as gray as thunderclouds. Eyes that smiled at her, promising
to reveal secrets she longed to know.

She lifted her fingertips to her lips, remembering how he
had kissed her, the warmth of his breath against her skin, the exciting,
frightening sensations he had aroused in her, the fantasies that had invaded
her dreams. Never before had she had such vivid dreams. Sometimes she woke in
the middle of the night feeling hot and achy for the touch of his hand,
yearning for the sound of his voice whispering her name.

“Winter Rain?”

She looked up, suddenly aware that Corn Woman had called her
name several times.

The woman smiled a knowing smile. “He will come back.”

“Who?” Winter Rain asked with feigned ignorance.

Corn Woman shook her head. “Wolf Shadow, of course.”

Winter Rain shrugged, as if it made no difference to her
whether he returned or not.

Laughing softly, Corn Woman knelt beside Winter Rain. She
ran the palm of her hand over the hide pegged to the ground and nodded her
approval. “Waiting is never easy, especially when one is young and eager.”

“What will I do if he does not return?”

“You will find another.”

“But I do not want another!” Winter Rain exclaimed, and in
that moment, she knew it was true.

“I have seen the way he looks at you,” Corn Woman replied
candidly. “He will return.”

Winter Rain smiled, her heart feeling suddenly light and
carefree for the first time in days, and then her mood grew sober once more.
Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance were dead. She feared Strong Elk was dead, as
well, along with so many others she had grown up with, boys and girls she had
played with, elders who had taught her and told her stories, beautiful little
dark-eyed babies she had held and fussed over. All gone.

She looked up at the touch of Corn Woman’s hand on her shoulder.

“Do not dwell on the past,
le mita cola,”
Corn Woman
said, her voice tinged with sadness. “
Hecheto aloe
.” It is finished.

Winter Rain nodded. “I hear your words, but…” A long
shuddering sigh escaped her. “I miss them so!” She blinked rapidly, not wanting
the other woman to see her tears.

“Weep, child, you will feel better if you do.”

Corn Woman’s kindness, the understanding in her voice, was
Winter Rain’s undoing. She had tried to be brave for so long, but now she was
overcome with a terrible sense of loss.

Rising, she hurried into Corn Woman’s lodge. Dropping to her
knees on her blankets, Winter Rain rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped
around her waist as she let the tears flow.

After a time, exhaustion overcame her tears. Curling up on
her blankets, she closed her eyes. Wolf Shadow’s image immediately rose in her
mind. With a sigh, she whispered his name, wondering if he was lying in bed
somewhere, thinking about her.

* * * * *

Chance banked the fire, then settled down on his bedroll. He
must have been out of his mind when he decided to take the Bryants to Winter
Rain. They hadn’t been on the trail more than an hour when Rosalia needed to
stop for a moment of privacy. Thirty minutes later, she needed to stretch her
legs. An hour later, Edward needed to take a break to rest his wounded leg.

They hadn’t gone more than another mile or two when they
came to a short steep hill. Instead of leaning forward in the saddle, Rosalia
leaned back. She tumbled over her mount’s rump with a shriek that would have
done a Lakota warrior proud, and sent her horse bolting for cover.

Leaving Edward to look after his wife, Chance had gone after
her horse. By the time he caught the gelding and made it back to where he had
left the Bryants, the sun was setting and Chance decided they might as well
stop for the night.

He shook his head. He figured they’d covered about nine
miles. At this rate, it would be full on winter before they reached the Lakota
camp.

Folding one arm under his head, he stared up at the stars
scattered across the sky, shining like dewdrops at dawn, his thoughts turning,
as they so often did, to Winter Rain.

“Teressa.” He shared her name with the evening breeze,
liking the way it sounded. Was she asleep? Or lying awake, restless and aching
for his touch as he was for hers?

He swore softly. He had to stop spending so much time
thinking about her. She was too young, too innocent, for the likes of him. He
had killed two men in cold blood, and even though they deserved to die, he had
still done murder in the eyes of the law. And he wasn’t done yet, wouldn’t rest
until the fourth man was dead.

Still, he couldn’t keep her image from forming in his mind,
couldn’t stop remembering how good she felt in his arms. He closed his eyes,
picturing her on the ranch, waiting for him at the end of the day, smiling at
him from across the dinner table, sitting in the big old comfortable chair
beside the fireplace, mending or sewing while he went over the ranch accounts,
sleeping beside him at night, waking up beside him in the morning.

Damn! Where had
those
thoughts come from? He had
never even considered getting married until he met Teressa Bryant. Even if he
was crazy enough to ask her to marry him, even if she was crazy enough to say
yes, he was pretty sure Edward Bryant would shoot him dead before he let his
daughter—his only daughter—marry a half-breed cowboy. The Bryants were a
high-class couple. No doubt they expected Teressa to marry a doctor or a lawyer
and settle down in San Francisco. He was willing to bet the ranch that they
expected her to do better than marry a cowboy who had been up to his ears in
debt before her father came along.

Muttering an oath, he put everything from his mind but
Teressa. She might never be his, he mused ruefully, but he would never forget her.

* * * * *

It took the Bryants a good hour to get ready the following
morning. Since it only took Chance about twenty minutes to eat and saddle up
when he was alone, he had a good deal of time to sit and wait. They both
managed to look as clean and fresh as if they had just emerged from their hotel
room. Edward had brushed the dust from his trousers and shined his boots;
Rosalia had changed into a clean shirtwaist. This one was a yellow and green
stripe. They ate breakfast as if they had all the time in the world. Watching
them, it was obvious that even after many years of marriage, they were still
very much in love. Except for his own parents, Chance hadn’t had much
opportunity to be around married couples and it was interesting to watch the
interplay between Edward and his wife, to notice how they smiled at each other,
the way they stopped now and then to exchange a quick touch, a kiss, the way
they sometimes finished each other’s sentences or anticipated each other’s
wants.

Finally, they were all saddled up and ready to go. Settling
his hat on his head, Chance could only hope they’d make more miles today than
they had yesterday.

“Oh, Eduardo, look!”

Chance glanced over his shoulder to see Rosalia pointing at
a doe and her twin fawns, barely visible in a stand of timber several yards
away.

“Are they not beautiful?” she murmured.

“Yes, indeed, my dear,” Edward replied.

His voice, much louder than his wife’s, spooked the doe.
With a flick of her tail, the doe bounded away, the fawns at her heels.

Later that afternoon, Chance called a halt at the top of a
rise. “Look there.” He pointed westward, to where a small herd of buffalo was
on the move.

Rosalia’s eyes widened when she saw them. “
Buono cielo
,
but they are very large, are they not?”

“Very,” Chance agreed.

“I suppose you’ve hunted them, Mr. McCloud,” Edward said,
riding up alongside.

“Oh, yeah. They’re mighty good eating.”

“So I have heard. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to
taste some when we reach your camp.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Is there…that is, would I be allowed to join in a hunt?”

Chance resisted the urge to laugh out loud as he pictured
Edward Bryant, all duded up in his striped trousers and fancy shirt, riding out
with a handful of warriors clad in clouts and moccasins.

“I should love to give it a go,” Edward remarked.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Chance replied.

“I had no idea the country was so large,” Rosalia said when
they were riding again. “I have seen part of it from the train, of course, but
it seems so much grander now.”

They stopped again to watch a pair of eagles soaring
overhead.

“
Quanto bello
,” Rosalia murmured. How beautiful.

Edward nodded in agreement.

It was shortly after they had eaten the midday meal that the
Indians found them. A dozen Cheyenne warriors.

Rosalia’s face went pale. Edward’s posture stiffened as he
guided his horse alongside his wife’s.

Chance frowned when he saw Edward reach inside his coat. “If
that’s a gun you’re reaching for, leave it be.”

Edward stared at him. “Surely you mean to fight?”

“Not if I don’t have to. Just sit easy and keep your hands
out where they can see them.”

“Eduardo…” Rosalia looked at her husband, her eyes wide with
fear.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me on this,” Chance said.
“If you draw that weapon, we’re as good as dead.”

They were surrounded now. Chance forced himself to sit easy
in the saddle. The Indians were Cheyenne, a hunting party from the looks of it.
Chance raised his hand in the traditional sign of peace, careful to keep clear
of his gun.

One of the Cheyenne warriors rode forward a little. He
frowned as his gaze moved over Chance. “You are one of us,” he said, speaking
in Cheyenne and sign language, “yet you dress as our enemy.” He looked at
Rosalia and Edward. “You ride with our enemy.”

“I am Wolf Shadow of the Lakota,” Chance replied in halting
Cheyenne. “These people have come to visit their daughter, who is also daughter
to the Lakota.”

The warrior grunted softly. “I am Chases Thunder of the
Cheyenne.”

Chance gestured at the pack horses, which were heavily laden
with meat. “I see the hunting has been good.”

Chases Thunder nodded. “
Maheo
has blessed us this
day.” Riding back toward the pack horses, he took the lead rope of the nearest
one. Leading the animal toward Chance, he offered him the lead rope.

“
Hahoo
,” Chance said, taking the rope. Dismounting,
he went to his own pack horse and withdrew a pound of sugar and a sack of
coffee, which he offered to Chases Thunder.

The warrior accepted the gifts with a nod. “
Hahoo
,”
he said, and wheeling his horse around, he rode away, followed by the rest of
the hunters.

Edward withdrew a snowy handkerchief from his inside coat
pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. Rosalia’s shoulders slumped as she
blew out a deep breath.

With a wry grin, Chance tied the Cheyenne pony’s lead rope
to the tail of his own pack horse, then swung into the saddle. “You two ready?”

Edward looked at his wife. “Are you ready, my dear?”

Rosalia looked at Chance. “Were they…friends of yours?”

“No, ma’am. Just some hunters on their way home. Thanks to
them, we’ll have fresh meat for dinner.”

Rosalia glanced at the deer draped over the Cheyenne pony,
her pale face growing even paler at the sight of the carcass slung over the
horse’s withers.

With a shake of his head, Chance clucked to his horse. The
woman must have eaten meat before. Where did she think it came from?

He should have just kidnapped Winter Rain and worried about
making things right with Kills-Like-a-Hawk and the People later. It would have
been a hell of a lot easier, he mused with a wry grin. And a hell of a lot
faster.

Chapter Eighteen

As the days turned to weeks, Winter Rain gave up hope that
Wolf Shadow would return. She resigned herself to the fact that she would never
see him again, and told herself she didn’t care.

And then, quite unexpectedly, she woke one morning certain
that he was nearby. At first, she told herself she was being foolish, that she
only felt that way because she missed him so very very much.

But as the day progressed, the feeling grew stronger. There
was no explanation for her feelings but as dusk approached, she could no longer
deny them, and even as she told herself she was being ridiculous, she was
walking away from the camp toward the trail that led into the hollow.

She was out of breath when she reached the top of the rise. The
setting sun cast pale pink shadows over the grassland. Standing there, with one
hand pressed to her side, she searched the narrow winding trail that led
upward, looking for some sign of a rider. She saw squirrels running back and forth,
chasing each other from tree to tree. She saw birds flitting from branch to
branch. She saw a skunk delicately picking its way through the underbrush, but
no sign of a tall man on a bay mare.