Reckless Desire (35 page)

“Oh, God, help me,” she murmured, and closed her eyes as the cat’s breath filled her nostrils.

She was trembling violently as fear and panic took hold of her mind, and then, more welcome than anything she had ever known, came the wild war cry of a Cheyenne warrior, followed by the hiss of an arrow cutting through the air.

She was sobbing when the big cat fell across her body. And then Cloud Walker was there, freeing her from the cat’s weight, lifting her into his arms. His face, drained of color, was the last thing she saw before she fainted.

It was dark when she regained consciousness. Cloud Walker sat at her side, their son cradled in his arm.

“Is he all right?” Mary asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Cloud Walker said. “Only hungry.”

Relief washed through Mary as she took her son and placed him to her breast. He was so dear, so sweet. What would she have done if he had been killed?

Cloud Walker’s eyes were fathomless as he watched Mary nurse their son. He would never forget the horror of riding into camp and seeing Mary struggling with the mountain lion, never forget the scream that had filled the air, sending him back to camp as fast as his horse would carry him. It had been a near thing. Had he been a minute later, she might have been killed, and their child, too.

He glanced at her leg. The cat’s claws had ripped a long gash in her flesh. He had washed it out as best he could and bandaged it with a strip of cloth torn from Mary’s petticoat.

“Tomorrow,” he said flatly. “Tomorrow we will start for Bear Valley.”

“No,” Mary said, shaking her head. “We can’t.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, and left the lodge.

Outside, he gazed up at the vast indigo sky. He did not want to leave this place. He felt at home here, safe, free of civilization. But he could no longer place Mary’s life and the life of his son in jeopardy. It was time to go home. Time to face whatever the future held.

Chapter Thirty-Two

It took every bit of will power I possessed to be polite to the man standing at my door. It was the lawman again. Hayes, his name was. He came to our house regularly, checking to see if Cloud Walker had returned, searching our house and the lodge out back.

His presence infuriated Shadow, as did the “wanted” posters Hayes had distributed in town. The flyers contained a detailed description of Cloud Walker and stated he was wanted for questioning in connection with the disappearance of Frank Smythe. There was a one-hundred-dollar reward for Cloud Walker’s capture or for information leading to his arrest.

Mary was in my thoughts constantly. Her baby would have been born by now and I often wondered if it was a boy or a girl, if mother and child were well.

Shadow did not say much, but I knew his thoughts were much the same as mine. He always assured me that Cloud Walker could take care of Mary, that there was nothing to worry about, but I often caught him gazing into the distance, his eyes haunted and sad as he wondered where his daughter was.

Once, I suggested he go out to find Mary and Cloud Walker, to see if they were well, but Shadow shook his head.

“Cloud Walker is a warrior. How would it look if I went after him as though he were a child?”

“I’m not worried about his pride,” I had retorted. “I’m worried about my daughter.” But I knew Shadow was right.

Mattie Smythe wrote frequently, begging for news. Had I heard from Frank? Had Mary said anything about where Frank might be? As time went by, the Smythes hired a private detective to look for Frank. In addition, they offered a reward of one thousand dollars to anyone who had news of their son’s whereabouts.

I felt sorry for Mattie. I knew how awful it was, not knowing where your child was. I longed to write and tell her what had happened. It would be hard for her, knowing Frank was dead, but it would be better than not knowing anything at all.

Several times I sat down to write her, to tell her what had happened between Frank and Mary and Cloud Walker, but I couldn’t ease Mattie’s mind without admitting that Cloud Walker had killed Frank, and I knew that Mattie and Leland would never believe that Frank had been capable of the treachery that had led to his death. They would believe that Cloud Walker had killed Frank in cold blood.

I was glad when spring came. Our mares dropped their foals and soon our pastures were burgeoning with new life. Baby birds twittered in the treetops, one of Blackie’s strays produced thirteen puppies, three of our cats had kittens. The deer, which were plentiful in the woods, could often be seen down by the river early in the morning, spotted fawns at their sides. Occasionally we saw a black bear looking for grubs and berries near the edge of the woods. Two fat cubs frolicked beside her.

I warned Blackie not to try to steal one of those cubs from its mother, and when he seemed reluctant to obey, I told him of the time, long ago, when I had yearned to hold just such a cub, and how it had almost proved fatal to the boy who had blithely gone after the cub. Finally Blackie promised me he would leave the bears alone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I did not like bears.

It was the first of April, and Shadow was plagued with restlessness. I could see it in the depths of his eyes, hear it in his voice. I had rarely known him to be irritable, but he was downright cranky now, and nothing seemed to please him. I knew he needed to get away from our place, away from too many people and too much civilization. In addition, I knew he was worried about Mary, that he fretted over the fact that he could not help her, and so I suggested he take a few days off and go hunting. Some fresh venison would taste good, I said.

And so it was that on a cool April morning Shadow threw some supplies in his war bag, kissed me goodbye, and rode off toward the distant mountains.

The house felt different with Shadow gone, and though I had many chores to occupy my time, I still missed him. It gave me an odd sense of loneliness to know that he was gone, that he wasn’t just out checking on the stock or working in the barn, but away from home.

Hawk and Victoria came over later that day. Vickie and I made two apple pies and baked several loaves of bread while Amanda Marie slept peacefully before the hearth and the twins played outside with Hawk.

The house seemed even emptier after Hawk and his family went home. I kept busy far into the night, cleaning and mending and ironing things that did not need ironing simply because I dreaded going to bed alone. I was sorry now that I had let Blackie spend that night away from home.

Finally I ran out of things to do and went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Instead I gazed out the window into the velvety darkness, wondering where Shadow was and what he was doing. Was he happy out there on the prairie all alone? Was he thinking of me as I was thinking of him? It pleased me to think so.

Agitated because I couldn’t sleep, I punched Shadow’s pillow, angry with myself for suggesting that he go hunting, and more angry with him because he had gone.

It was after midnight before I finally fell asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Three

They traveled as before, crossing the prairie by night and sleeping by day. Cloud Walker pushed the horses hard, for Mary’s leg had become infected and nothing he did seemed to help. Mary did not complain, but he knew she was in pain. Her leg was red and swollen, and no matter how often he lanced the infection and drained the thick yellow pus from the wound, there was always more.

He had nothing to give her to combat the fever that grew steadily worse, stealing her strength, until she was too weak to ride alone.

He traveled now without resting at all, Mary held in one arm, his son cradled in the other. Now, when he would have welcomed help, there was none.

He paused periodically and placed his son to Mary’s breast, but the fever seemed to dry up her milk and the child fretted constantly. He gave Mary as much water as she could hold, sponging her fevered flesh as they rode across the plains.

The last two days he rode without stopping. Mary was barely conscious when he reached Steel’s Crossing, his son too weak to cry.

Dismounting in front of the doctor’s office, he pounded on the door with the toe of his boot until at last a gray-haired man clad in a long nightshirt opened the door.

Dr. Marvin J. Harley did not waste time asking questions. It took but one look at Mary and the child to know there was little time to waste.

“In here,” the doctor said, and led the way through the house to his office in the back.

Cloud Walker placed Mary on a long, sheet-covered table, stood grim-faced as the doctor examined her leg.

“How bad is it?” Cloud Walker asked.

“Very bad,” Dr. Harley replied. He glanced up at the Indian holding the baby in his arms. “That child looks like it needs some nourishment. Two doors down there’s a woman just gave birth to a baby. She’s got more milk than she needs. Tell her I sent you.”

“My wife—”

“I’ll look after her. There’s nothing you can do here.”

Cloud Walker nodded. Tenderly he brushed wisp of hair from Mary’s cheek, his dark eyes haunted with the thought that she might die and it would be his fault. Swallowing hard, he left the doctor’s office.

Melinda McBain felt a moment of panic when she opened her front door and saw a buckskin-clad Indian standing on the porch, a baby cradled in one arm.

“Yes…” she said, taking a wary step backward. “Can I help you?”

“The doctor down the street said you might be able to help me.”

“Help you?”

“My son needs milk. His mother is ill and cannot feed him.”

Melinda glanced at the baby again, and then into Cloud Walker’s eyes. “Of course,” she said, her heart going out to the child and its sad-eyed father. “Come in.”

Cloud Walker paced the McBain parlor restlessly, hardly aware of his surroundings. Melinda McBain had taken the baby into the bedroom to nurse him, and now all he could think of was Mary.

He whirled around as the bedroom door opened.

“He’s asleep,” Melinda McBain said, smiling. “I think he’s going to be all right.”

“Thank you,” Cloud Walker said. “I can never repay you for what you’ve done.”

“It isn’t necessary. Why don’t you leave him here for a day or two and let me take care of him?”

Cloud Walker shook his head. “I could not—”

“I’ll take good care of him. He’s going to need a lot of nourishment to get his strength back, and I…” She blushed prettily and looked away. “I have plenty of milk.”

It was the perfect solution, but he did not like being indebted to this woman, or to anyone else. Still, his child’s life was at stake and he had no one else to turn to.

“I will do as you say if you are sure it will be all right.” Cloud Walker agreed reluctantly.

“Fine. Why don’t you go see how your wife is doing, and then get some sleep?”

Cloud Walker nodded. Murmuring his thanks once more, he left the house, his steps hurried as he made his way back to the doctor’s office.

It was then he saw the “wanted” poster tacked to the bulletin board on the front of the newspaper office next to the doctor’s office. Cloud Walker’s name was on the flyer in bold black type.

He let out a long breath, then hurried up the steps to the doctor’s house. Dr. Harley smiled as he opened the door.

“She’s going to be fine, just fine,” he said, stepping back so Cloud Walker could enter the room.

“Can I see her?”

“Of course. She’s asleep now. I had to give her a sedative so I could patch up her leg, but she’ll be fine. All she needs now is a few days’ rest.”

Cloud Walker blinked back his tears as he gazed at Mary. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed with pain and weariness. Her leg was bandaged from her knee to her ankle.

“You’re welcome to spend the night here,” the doctor offered. “I’ve got a spare room down the hall.”

“No,” Cloud Walker said with a shake of his head.

“Well, suit yourself. I’m going to bed. Did you find Mrs. McBain all right?”

“Yes. She was very kind.”

“She is that,” the doctor agreed. “Good night.”

Cloud Walker gazed at Mary for a long time, his hand gently stroking her hair, his heart filling with love and gratitude. She would be all right. Thank all the gods, red and white.

Leaving the doctor’s office, he walked to the outskirts of town and there, in the stillness of the night, he lifted his arms and offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Great Spirit for sparing the life of his wife and child.

Later he walked through the darkness, his mind in turmoil. Mary would be better off without him, he thought bleakly. Shadow would look after her and the baby much better than he could. As long as he was a wanted man, he could not settle down in one place. And he could not keep Mary with him. The danger was too great. Next time she was hurt, they might not be so lucky.

And yet, how could he leave her? She was his life, his reason for living. Without her, he would as soon be dead.

At last, overcome by weariness and a sense of hopelessness, he stretched out under a tree and fell asleep.

The sun was high in the sky when he awoke, and with the dawn of a new day came a new resolve. He would send Shadow a wire advising him that Mary was in Steel’s Crossing, and when Shadow arrived, he would bid Mary goodbye and ride out of her life.

Rising, he walked back to town, determined to act before he could change his mind. He was nearing the telegraph office when the town marshal fell into step beside him. He had been so preoccupied, he had not even been aware of the man’s approach.

“Just keep walkin’,” Marshal Dunhill said. He gave Cloud Walker a gentle nudge in the ribs with the barrel of his Colt. “The jail’s at the end of the street.”

Cloud Walker nodded, his steps slow as he walked toward the marshal’s office. He was keenly aware of the gun barrel nestled against his ribs, and aware that once they reached the jail, his chances of escape would be virtually nonexistent.

Better to die of a bullet in the back than kicking at the end of a rope
, he decided, and without warning, he dropped to his knees, grabbed the startled marshal by the ankles, and fell backward, pulling Dunhill with him.