Reckless Desire (39 page)

Mattie had burst into tears as she whirled on Mary. “This is all your fault!” she cried, her voice thick with loathing. “If you hadn’t lusted after that savage, my Frank would still be alive.”

Mattie was on the verge of hysteria when Leland put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her out of the cellblock.

Mary spent every minute possible with Cloud Walker. Daily there were new lines of bitterness around his eyes and mouth. She sensed the tension mounting within him, lurking in the shadows of his calm exterior like a lion ready to strike. They spoke of Adam, of Shadow’s brush with death, of everything but the coming trial.

On a sunny day in early May, Harvey Castrell was tried for murder and found guilty. He was sentenced to hang, but the sentence was to be delayed until he had testified at Cloud Walker’s trial, which was set for the following week.

The day after Castrell’s trial, the marshal received a wire saying that Frank Smythe’s body had been found. A statement from a local doctor accompanied the wire, stating that Frank Smythe had been shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the chest, and that he had been scalped.

“Scalped him, too, eh?” Castrell remarked. He was sitting on his cot with his back to the wall while he watched Cloud Walker pace his cell. “That’s going to look bad in court.”

Castrell grinned maliciously. “Looks like I’ll have the last laugh after all,” he mused. “After all, it’s your word against mine, and I have nothing to lose by lying.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Cloud Walker rasped.

“Too true, too true,” Castrell agreed. He laughed softly. “Going to the gallows won’t be so bad knowing that you’ll be right behind me.”

Cloud Walker’s face remained impassive, but inwardly he shuddered. Castrell was right. No jury was going to believe that he had killed Smythe in self-defense.

Cloud Walker’s trial was set for May 15. Mary tried to put on a brave face when she saw Cloud Walker the night before the trial. She kept her voice light as she talked about Adam, and how good it would be to get back to Bear Valley after the trial, and how anxious she was to have her parents see the baby. Cloud Walker’s eyes never left her face. Each minute he spent with her was precious now, and he memorized each detail of her face and figure, wanting to carry her image with him into the next life.

Gradually Mary ran out of things to say and they stood together as close as they could with the iron bars between them.

“Well, hell,” Castrell muttered. “Aren’t you going to kiss her? Might be your last chance.”

Cloud Walker swore under his breath. Damn the man! Wasn’t it enough that his lies were going to kill any hope they had for a future? Did he have to spoil what little time he and Mary had left?

Mary felt the anger churning within her husband and she placed her hand on his cheek. “Please,” she whispered. “Just ignore him.”

Cloud Walker nodded. Reaching through the bars, he circled Mary’s waist with one arm as he bent to place a kiss on her lips. Mary pressed closer to him, the bars digging into her flesh as she returned his kiss.

For one brief moment she forgot everything but the touch of Cloud Walker’s lips on hers. And then the door to the cellblock swung open and the marshal informed her that visiting hours were over.

Reluctantly she followed the marshal out of the cellblock.

Cloud Walker didn’t sleep that night. He paced the narrow cell for hours, or stood at the tiny iron-barred window and stared out at the night. With the coming of dawn, he raised his arms above his head, his eyes lifted toward heaven, as he murmured a prayer for help.

Everyone in Steel’s Crossing turned out for the trial, eager to hear the whole sordid story of Mary’s love affair with an Indian that had led to murder.

Cloud Walker’s face was an impassive mask when he entered the courtroom. He was dressed in buckskins. His hair, long and black, fell past his shoulders. The women in the crowd murmured to one another. He was terribly handsome. No wonder Mary Smythe had been tempted into his arms. He was tall and dark, virile, and oh, so masculine.

The men nodded as Cloud Walker took his seat. One look at that face, those unfathomable black eyes, and you knew the man was capable of killing.

There were several witnesses. Harvey Castrell’s voice rang with sincerity as he told his story. Yes, he had been there the day Cloud Walker abducted Mary. Yes, Cloud Walker had taken Frank Smythe and himself into a deserted part of the country and shot Frank in cold blood. Castrell said he had been struck by Mary and then had played possum and seen the whole thing. He had been lucky to escape with his life.

The man at the train depot testified that he had seen Frank Smythe, Harvey Castrell, Cloud Walker, and Mary leave the train together.

The porter testified that he had seen Cloud Walker and Mary board the train several days later. No, he had not seen Mr. Smythe or Mr. Castrell.

A hush fell over the courtroom when Mary took the stand. Her eyes never left Cloud Walker’s face as she told her story. Yes, she had married Frank Smythe, but they had been unhappy together and she had returned to Bear Valley. She had met Cloud Walker there and fallen in love with him. She told how Frank had blackmailed her into going back to Chicago, that he had refused to give her a divorce even when she told him she was pregnant with Cloud Walker’s child. She told how Cloud Walker had come after her, how Frank had followed them and forced them to leave the train.

The spectators gasped when she related that Frank had threatened to castrate Cloud Walker and then kill him. She had tried to interfere. She had hit Castrell with a branch and grabbed his gun, intending to use it to make Frank go away, but Frank had a gun, too. She had shot Frank in the arm and he had dropped his weapon.

Mary’s voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes filled with tears as she told how Frank’s gun had gone off when it hit the ground, killing Katherine. That was all she remembered.

And then Cloud Walker took the stand. Why had he run away if he had nothing to hide? Why hadn’t he gone to the law and confessed? Why had he scalped Frank Smythe?

He answered the questions in a voice that was hard and flat. He had run away because he was an Indian who had killed a white man, a very rich and powerful white man. He had not confessed because he knew that no one would believe he had killed Smythe in self-defense. And he had scalped Frank Smythe because it pleased him to do so.

In the same flat voice, he told his version of what had happened. It was the same as what Mary had said.

“Frank reached for his gun at the same time I reached for the one Mary had dropped,” Cloud Walker said in conclusion. “My aim was better.”

Mary looked at the faces of the jury as Cloud Walker finished his story. They didn’t believe him. She knew it without doubt.

The marshal took Cloud Walker back to jail, leaving Castrell in the custody of one of his deputies as it didn’t seem wise to let the two convicted men get close to each other.

Rising, Mary went to stand before Harvey Castrell.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Castrell growled.

“Please tell the truth. Please don’t let them hang my husband. You know he’s innocent. You’re the only one who can help us.”

“I ain’t in the helpin’ business,” Castrell retorted.

Tears streamed down Mary’s cheeks. “I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what you want,” she cried. “Please, Mr. Castrell. I love him. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

Harvey Castrell looked away. Of course he’d been in love. Once, a beautiful young woman had begged him to give up his outlaw life and settle down, but he had refused, and when he finally changed his mind it was too late. She had died, sad and alone.

“Please,” Mary said again. “We have a son who needs a father.”

Castrell looked deep into her eyes. “Deputy,” he called to the man standing behind him. “Get the sheriff. I’ve got something I need to say.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I ran into the bedroom, tears of joy streaming down my face.

“They’re coming home!” I cried, throwing my arms around Shadow’s neck. “Cloud Walker’s free and they’re catching the next train home.”

Disentangling himself from my grasp, Shadow took the wire from my hand. Harvey Castrell had changed his story at the last minute. He had seen the whole thing, and Cloud Walker had killed Frank Smythe in self-defense. Cloud Walker had been acquitted. Castrell’s sentence had been carried out the next day.

Mary and Cloud Walker arrived on a sunny afternoon four days later. Shadow wasn’t supposed to be out of bed yet, but he refused to stay home, and our whole family was there to welcome Mary and Cloud Walker home. Tears of joy flowed freely as we embraced each other. The whole ugly incident was over at last and Mary was back home where she belonged.

Mary and Cloud Walker immediately began making plans to build a home of their own. They chose a piece of land near our place and decided to get started on the building right away. Fred Brown and Porter Sprague and several of our other neighbors offered to help, and they began the following Saturday.

The house was about half done when Shadow had recovered enough to help. Daily I thanked God that my husband was his old self again. His face, that handsome rugged face I loved so well, healed without a scar. The lacerations and abrasions on his arms, legs, back, and chest left several long white scars, but I didn’t care. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

With life back to normal, I had more time to dwell on my pregnancy. I was cross a good deal of the time, but Shadow was unfailingly patient and supportive. I had not planned to have another child. Much as I had always wanted a large family, I had always had trouble getting pregnant. I had assumed that Blackie would be my last child, and though I had hoped for more children when I was younger, I had resigned myself to three and been grateful that they were all healthy and happy.

Blackie and Shadow continued to humor me when I was cross and out of sorts. They took over many of my chores so I could rest, and that made me even more irritable. I wasn’t an invalid, I was just pregnant. Pregnant and fat and unattractive.

Shadow found me crying in our room one day. He quickly came to my side, his eyes dark with worry at the sight of my tear-streaked face.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously.

“Nothing,” I wailed. “Leave me alone.”

“Hannah, what is wrong?”

“I’m fat. I look like a pregnant heifer. How can you stand the sight of me?”

Shadow chuckled, and the sound of his amusement angered me. He could laugh! He wasn’t the one who was pregnant. He didn’t have morning sickness. He hadn’t lost his shape. The smell of cooking meat didn’t make his stomach turn.

“Go away,” I said petulantly. “Go away and leave me alone. This is all your fault.”

“Hannah.”

I was instantly contrite. His voice was filled with such love and compassion, how could I stay mad at him?

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“You are not fat,” Shadow said quietly. “You are pregnant with my son. Our son. Are you sorry?”

“No, of course not.”

“You know that I love you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you unhappy?”

I shrugged my shoulders, ashamed to look at him because I had been acting like a spoiled child.

“We have been blessed, you and I,” Shadow said, stroking my hair. “You have often said you wished for more children, and I have always longed for another son.” Shadow smiled at me, his eyes dancing merrily. “Or even a daughter.”

“I know. But I didn’t want to be having children when I was too old to take care of them.”

Shadow laughed, and I laughed with him. We had been blessed, and I put the blues behind me where they belonged and instead thanked God for the new life growing beneath my heart.

In October we received a letter from Rebecca. She was doing well. Her daughter, Beth, was expecting again. Twins, the doctor said. Rebecca sent her love to each of us and talked about a visit, perhaps in the spring.

When Thanksgiving came, our family had much to be grateful for. We were all happy and healthy, surrounded by those we held dear.

As I gazed at the people sitting around our table, I felt my heart swell with joy. Hawk was busily trying to get Jacob and Jason to eat the food on their plates, but the twins, now four years old, were more interested in throwing it at each other. They were handsome boys, full of mischief. Victoria shook her head at the twins, leaving them to Hawk while she nursed Amanda Marie.

Blackie only grew more handsome as time went on. He was a good boy, dependable, level-headed, witty, and ambitious. We all expected big things from Blackie.

And Shadow…he was cradling Mary’s son in his arm, his dark eyes glowing with pride as he glanced around the table.

Our eyes met and held, and then we smiled at each other. Truly, we had been blessed.

A month later, on the day before Christmas, our son was born. Mary and Victoria were there to help me, but I wanted only Shadow beside me.

“I’m too old to be having a baby,” I gasped as a contraction knifed through me. “I’m a grandmother!”

Shadow laughed softly as he squeezed my hand. “You will never be old. Having a baby in the house will keep us young.”

“Easy for you to say,” I wailed. “You don’t have to give birth, or get up in the middle of the night to take care of it. Oh, God, it hurts.”

The laughter left Shadow’s eyes and his brow grew lined with concern. “I would bear the pain for you if I could,” he said in a ragged voice.

“I know you would.” My nails raked his arms as the contractions came closer together. “Talk to me. It doesn’t hurt so bad when you talk to me. Tell me about you.”

“You know all there is to know,” Shadow chided softly. “You have lived most of my life with me.”

“Tell me,” I begged.

He could not refuse, so he began to tell me of the day we had first met, of how he had felt when he saw me near Rabbit’s Head Rock.

“You were just a child,” Shadow said, his voice as soothing and gentle as sweet summer rain. “Just a skinny little girl child with a handful of wildflowers and a scared look on your face. You stood up to me, though,” he said, smiling. “You even offered me a cookie.”