Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) (36 page)

Sixty

Hannah’s face hurt from smiling.
Surprising the ladies, Mr. McIntyre had arranged for the ceremony to be
performed on his ranch. The wedding had been a private affair, with only a few
people outside the family invited, such as Doc Cooke, Marshal Beckwith, Wade,
and little Terri. After the vows, quite a party had started up. Mr. McIntyre,
with the help of the other men, had provided a deer on the spit and Shorty and
Bud playing their fiddle and banjo. The girls had cooked plenty of side dishes
and promised not to turn down any dance request.

Now, leaning on the porch rail of her sister’s new home, Hannah
took a breath. The smell of fresh pine, the torches’ warm glow, and the
toe-tapping music brought her a sense of peace. Homes, hearths, and families
gathered near. No matter what the future held, she and her sisters would always
be close. A burnt-out shell of a hotel couldn’t change that.

Tapping her fingers in time with the music, she surveyed the crowd
below, dancing and swirling in the flickering light. The love-struck gaze
between Ian and Rebecca as they shared apple pie made her laugh out loud. They
weren’t going to be at this party much longer, that was a safe bet. And the
nervous way Mr. McIntyre kept tugging at his collar and casting dreamy glances
after Naomi tickled her to no end. The big, tough man of Defiance, so in love
he was fidgeting like a ten-year-old boy about to sing in church.

When her gaze fell on Emilio, though, her amusement died. She
tilted her head and pondered his feelings for her. Shoulders drooping, head
bowed, he leaned into Mollie as they danced haltingly owing to his foot. Hannah
had never meant to hurt him, and she felt guilty for the way she had sort of
tossed him aside. He deserved better from her. He had been such a good
friend—could have been more, maybe, but she was meant to be with Billy.

The thought still scared her, but she’d prayed and prayed and
finally realized that giving him a second chance was, well, at the core of her
faith. God gave her second chances all the time. Besides, God had gotten her through
the first broken heart and would do it again, if necessary. But Billy had been
noble enough to tell her to marry Emilio if he didn’t make it. Maybe, if he’d
known he wasn’t mortally wounded, he wouldn’t have made that statement, but he
had and it revealed volumes about what was in his heart.

“Well, if you aren’t the picture of deep contemplation.”

She started at Billy’s voice as he limped up the porch steps
toward her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He lifted his crutch. “Yes, in my present condition, I’m as
stealthy as a cat.” They laughed, but it died quickly, replaced with a silence
that begged for something real and deep to be spoken. “I’m going to buy Boot’s
Mercantile.”

“Oh, really, that’s wonderful. You’ll be putting those Page
business skills to work.”

She hadn’t meant that as an insult, but Billy suddenly found his
shoes fascinating. “Funny, the one girl my pa said
I
was too good for
turns out to be the one girl too good for me.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Aren’t you lucky I’m not a snob like your pa? Besides,” Hannah
moved closer to him, “I don’t think you’re the snob you used to be.”

He clenched and unclenched his fingers, licked his lips, and
finally rested a hand on her waist. She didn’t move away, but held his gaze.
Once upon a time, Billy’s blue eyes had been able to stop all communication
from her brain to the rest of her. Now, she could think past the love she saw
in them and keep things in perspective.

“Hannah,” he straightened a bit more, leaned his crutch on the
rail, and placed his other hand on her waist. “I love you. I want to be with
you. I want to be a father to Little Billy. I want us to be a family. I want—”
He stopped short, exhaled, and grinned sheepishly. “What do
you
want?”

She nodded slightly. “The same things.”

“Then will you marry me?”

Her lips twitched with a teasing smile. “In six weeks.”

His whole body sagged. “Six weeks?” She waited to see which way he
would go with that. She knew what the old Billy would do, but what about this
new man standing before her? His face fell and he sighed. “Six weeks, six
months, I’ll wait as long as you want. But, why six weeks.”

“Wade took the Reverend back to town right after the ceremony so
he could catch the last stage.” She batted her eye lashes. “He’s halfway to
Animas Forks by now.”

He swiped a defeated hand across his mouth. “I’ve got to talk to
McIntyre about getting a full-time preacher in this town.”

~~~

As nervous as she was about her wedding night, Naomi was tired of
the party and truly hoped this was the last event of the evening. Giggling,
Hannah gently tied a bandana over her eyes and whispered, “Now, Naomi, don’t
peek.”

Rebecca came to one side of her and Hannah stayed on the other.
Slowly, carefully, they walked her off away from the cabin toward the water.
She could tell that by the fading chatter. The sound of the river got louder as
she struggled with her wedding dress, trying to hold up her skirt and walk
blind in the tall, thick grass. “What are you all up to now?” she asked, on the
verge of losing her good humor. She wanted to tell everyone to please go home.

“You’ll see,” Hannah sang. “Now don’t move.”

They whispered behind her for a second. Naomi thought it sounded
as if one of them walked away. The rustle of a dress faded before it disappeared
altogether. “Which one of you is still here?”

“Me.”

Hannah
. “So what’s happening? Tell
me something.”

“Well,” her voice faded, came back closer to her ear. “I can tell
you that you’re definitely going to like it.”

“You’re not doing something awful like a shivaree?”
God,
please, no.

“No, Mr. McIntyre forbade it.”

Naomi fell silent and tried to listen for clues but the water made
it difficult. Once or twice she thought she caught the odor of a candle
perhaps, and maybe heard the jingle of fading wagons, but wasn’t sure. Finally,
Hannah shifted, giggled, and kissed Naomi again.

“Stand right here and don’t move a muscle.” From a few feet away,
she called, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Naomi. Maybe.”

Naomi humphed. She’d already been standing here so long her feet
were beginning to hurt. Suddenly, Charles’ arms slipped around her and he
lifted her off the ground. She clung to his neck, excited and nervous. “I don’t
remember anything about carrying the bride across the threshold
blindfolded
.”

He chuckled. “There’s something I want you to see all at once, not
bit by bit—an unveiling, so to speak.”

As he walked, Naomi was surprised by the butterflies cavorting in
her. She was deliriously happy and yet terrified. “Charles, I love you.” Saying
it made her feel better.

He slowed his walk, but carried on. She was slightly surprised he
didn’t say it back. What was going on here?

“Now, take off the blindfold.”

She did as he commanded and removed the cloth. Positioned in front
of their cabin, she immediately saw the dozens of glowing candles that lined
the stone path on both sides, trailed up the porch stairs and down the porch in
both directions, and led into the house. Full-on dark now, the glow was warm,
inviting and … she frowned. There were
a lot
of candles,
dozens
and
dozens
of candles, maybe
hundreds
.

He carried her into the cabin where candles sat in the windows and
in groups on the small table, lined the hearth, mantle, cook stove and dry
sink, and formed a wide ring around their massive, pencil-post bed. The cabin, their
home, Spartan and in need of a woman’s touch, glowed with the warm, inviting
light. Surveying the large, one-room structure, her gaze traveled up the
bedposts to the roof’s beams where she realized her new home had no roof! An
infinite host of stars twinkled and shimmered above them. A shy quarter moon
peeked between the rafters.

“We ran out of time, but it will have a roof soon.”

She brought her gaze back to him and her heart started pounding.
All the trouble he’d gone to make this night so special … so pure. In a little
while he would be all hers and she blushed at the promises of romance and
passion. “It’s beautiful.”

“There is a candle burning for every day that I have known you.”
In the glow from these lights, the tender look in his eyes had the power to
make her weep or faint. She wasn’t sure which might happen first. “You are the
light of my life, Naomi, and you pointed me to the eternal Light.” He kissed
her lightly. She tightened her grip on him and their hunger deepened. After a
moment, he pulled away. “Can you believe,” he asked, laughing, “that I am
nervous?”

She rubbed her cheek along his beard, kissed his neck, nibbled on
his ear. “Is that going to be a problem, Mr. McIntyre?” She felt a shiver shoot
through him.

“Ohhh, no, Mrs. McIntyre.” A wry grin tilted his lips as he
reached back with his foot and shoved the door closed. “No problem at all, your
ladyship.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I expect you will.”

~~~

Epilogue

A horse’s impatient grumbling filtered into McIntyre’s dreams and
his eyes fluttered open.

The open roof overhead and slate gray sky streaked with orange
bewildered him for an instant. He lifted his head and remembered with delight
that the luscious, naked creature partially wrapped around him was his wife.
Their bare limbs were entangled wildly with each other as well as the sheets.
And somehow they’d wound up at the opposite end of the bed.

Then it all rushed back. White satin slipping to the floor, soft
caresses, and tantalizing sensations, a wondrous night of pleasure. The mere
memory started his heart pounding.

Grinning like a love-struck fool, he lightly kissed the top of
Naomi’s head and dared to recall a night so perfect and pure he had no words to
describe it. Naomi’s surprising
zeal
had left him speechless and
enthralled. She’d wanted him, and wanted to please him. She’d loved him with a
passion and abandon that had ignited almost insatiable fires within him—

A horse whinnied, snatching his thoughts back to earth. He hadn’t
imagined the sound after all. Apprehensive, he quickly but carefully, worked
his way out of the bed, rummaged through a jumbled pile of clothes on the
floor, and came up with his long johns. Hopping across the floor as he dressed,
he grabbed his gun from the holster hanging beside the door and lurched to a
window. One hand feverishly worked his underwear up to his waist while the
other used the revolver to move the lace curtain aside.

Relief swept through him.

Chief Ouray sat atop a sorrel and stared stoically at the cabin
door, as if time had no meaning. Beside him, a young boy, not much more than
ten or twelve, dozed fitfully on a pinto’s back. Sensing McIntyre, the chief’s
gaze moved to the window. The men nodded and McIntyre dropped the curtain. He
looked back to make sure Naomi hadn’t stirred, deposited his gun in its
holster, and slipped outside.

“Chief. It’s good to see you,” he said, stepping down off the
porch to reach his friend. The two shook hands, but McIntyre was instantly
taken aback by the great sadness in Ouray’s face. Lines that told many stories
had deepened noticeably since their last meeting and his leathery brow puckered
with misery. His coal black hair had gone gray and he looked thinner, his
shoulders more bent. He and the boy both looked exhausted, as if they’d been
riding for days. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Hopping Bird is dead,” Ouray answered solemnly. The boy’s head
jerked up. Unveiled rage flared in his young, dark eyes when they lit on
McIntyre.

Puzzled by the glare, McIntyre took a step back and let Ouray’s
loss sink in. He hadn’t given the chief’s daughter any serious thought in
years. She had been his squaw for a short time, before he’d had enough sense to
realize the path to destroying One-Who-Cries could not go through Ouray, not if
he called the man his friend. The girl had been a pawn, another woman to use
and throw away. McIntyre had made amends with her father for that, but not with
her. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to him he should even try.

“I am very sorry for your loss, Chief. She was a good woman.”

McIntyre let his gaze drift to the boy. He reminded him of Hopping
Bird. Slender, black hair cropped at his shoulders, he had soft, round features
like his mother, near as McIntyre could recollect. But gray circles smudged the
skin under his eyes. He was clearly weary from travel. And, yet, the lad held
on to that venomous scowl. Trying to shake off a sense of foreboding, McIntyre
motioned toward his cabin. “Come down. I’ll fix us all some breakf—”

“I have come because of your promise.”

There was much history between the chief and himself. And he owed
the old man. No matter what he was about to ask, McIntyre knew he couldn’t
refuse. He tightened his jaw, furled and unfurled his fingers, but in the end,
nodded, freeing the chief to continue.

“White Mountain is a bad place now for the Utes. More trouble is
coming. The new agent Meeker fusses like an old woman and only causes hardship
for my people.”

“One-Who-Cries is dead, Chief.” The old man’s eyes darted to the
boy, as if looking for a reaction. The child didn’t flinch or waver in his
hate-filled stare. A little unnerved by its steadiness, McIntyre shrugged.
“Maybe things will settle down without his rabble-rousing.”

The chief sighed, the sound weary and hopeless. “Others will rise
up to take his place. There will be no peace on the White Mountain Reservation.
In the end, there may be no Utes.” He turned to the boy, who still hadn’t taken
his eyes off McIntyre. “This is my grandson, Two Spears … so named,” Ouray
swung back to McIntyre, “because he comes from two worlds.”

The intensity of the Chief’s somber gaze explained his meaning …
and the favor. McIntyre felt light-headed.

Surely, he’s not asking—

“I cannot lose any more to the blue coats. I want my grandson to
live—” Ouray, his voice strangled, clenched his jaw until he regained control.
“Hopping Bird did not want this, but it is my decision now. If Two Spears is to
live, I fear he must do so as a white man. I give him to you to raise in your
world, Charles McIntyre. He is your son.”

~~~

Dear Reader, if you were moved by the story of my sisters and their men
in Defiance, I humbly ask if you would consider leaving me a review on Amazon?
Authors live and die by your words. I would be more grateful than you can
imagine. You can click here to share your thoughts:
http://www.amazon.com/Hearts-Defiance-Romance-Rockies-Book-ebook/dp/B00MR11OPA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408192515&sr=1-1&keywords=hearts+in+defiance

More importantly, I hope you’ve come to realize nothing can separate
you from God’s love. So accept it, ask His forgiveness for your sins, and move
on. His mercies are new every day!

I would love to hear from you if you enjoyed
Hearts
. You can
hook up with me several ways:

https://www.facebook.com/heatherfreyblanton

https://twitter.com/heatherfblanton

And by email at
[email protected]

Final
thoughts:

To
craft a story, sometimes an author plays with the facts a bit. For example, I
take a few liberties with Colorado geography. But I wanted to mention a bit
more about Chief Ouray, a real Ute chief who worked hard to protect his people
from extinction. As a result, some Utes loved him and others hated him.

A
dismal failure, the White River Reservation did, indeed, breed unrest and a
rebellion broke out in September of 1879. Indian Agent Nathan Meeker and ten
male employees were killed by renegades and Meeker’s daughter and wife were
kidnapped for ransom. Ouray and his wife Chipeta negotiated their release. If
you’d like to learn more about this event and the pivotal role Chipeta played,
please check out my blog at
http://ladiesindefiance.com/2014/08/06/like-a-phoenix-queen-of-the-utes-rose-from-the-ashes/

And
thank you for reading about all the
Hearts in Defiance!