Wolf Shadow (18 page)

With an effort, he thrust everything from his mind but the
peaceful beauty of the Hills. People lived and died, times changed, but the
Paha
Sapa,
heart and soul of the Lakota Nation, remained forever the same. The
Hills and the grasslands below housed a wealth of wildlife. Buffalo, deer, elk,
wolves and coyotes, porcupines and beavers, ducks and magpies, hawks and
badgers and skunks, all contributed something to the People, whether it was
meat or hides or feathers. Fish and turtles were plentiful in the rivers.

Hunting was a serious and sacred business. The Lakota
revered all living things; the animals were their brothers. They took no joy in
killing. For them, hunting was a necessity, not a sport. Religious rites,
including the smoking of a pipe, were held before going hunting. When an animal
was killed, the hunter said a prayer, thanking the animal for sacrificing its
life. Later, when the meat was eaten, small pieces were set aside, to be
offered to the spirit, often accompanied by the words, “Acknowledge this so
that I may become the owner of something good.”

Hunters sometimes sought a vision before undertaking a hunt,
or asked for help from the tribal shaman.

Glancing up, Chance watched a spotted eagle soar high
overhead, its powerful wings spread wide as it drifted effortlessly on the air
currents. The sight filled Chance’s soul with a sense of peace, even though
there could be no true peace for him so long as Jack Finch drew breath.

He shook the thought from his mind.

He would take care of his business with the bank and then he
would return to his people, and to Winter Rain. He would seek a vision and hope
that the Great Spirit would help him find that which he had sought for so long.

* * * * *

In the next few days, Winter Rain came to realize just how
much she had come to care about and rely on Wolf Shadow. She thought of him
constantly, reliving every moment they had spent together. She had been happy
living with the Lakota, had never realized what was missing from her life, from
her relationship with Strong Elk, until Wolf Shadow’s arrival. His presence had
added a sense of anticipation to her life, a joy, an excitement, that had been
absent before. Strong Elk had been a good man and she had been fond of him, but
she had never cared for him the way she cared for Wolf Shadow. Was it possible
she loved him? How was she to know? She had never been in love before, but
surely it was love that made her yearn for Wolf Shadow’s return, that made her
long for the sound of his voice, ache for the touch of his hand.

She missed him desperately. As she went about her chores
each day, she frequently found herself looking toward the trail, hoping for
some sign of his return. Often, at night, huddled in her bed, she wept bitter
tears—tears of grief for the loss of Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance, tears of
loneliness and regret. Sometimes she went out to the horse herd to see the
filly. Being with the horse made her feel closer to Wolf Shadow.

Corn Woman did her best to cheer her up, even though Corn
Woman was grieving for her husband, who had been killed in the attack by the
Crow. Yellow Fawn and Leaf, both mourning for members of their own families,
also tried to distract Winter Rain. The three women, far older and wiser than
Winter Rain, were accustomed to hardship and grief. As bitter as it was to
bear, death was a part of life. They assured her that the pain would grow less
each day. Winter Rain was grateful for their company and their advice but, deep
inside, she didn’t think the hurt would ever go away. Mountain Sage and Eagle
Lance were dead, and a part of her had died with them.

Chapter Sixteen

Chance rode into Buffalo Springs just after noon. People
stopped to stare at him as he made his way down Main Street. He guessed he
couldn’t blame them. Dressed as he was in a buckskin shirt, clout, and
moccasins, even people who knew him stopped to look twice.

He nodded at Maisy Holbrook, who was sweeping the boardwalk
in front of the bakery she ran with the help of her daughter, Alison. Old man
Rumsfield was sitting in his usual place outside the barber shop, his head bent
over a piece of whittling. He looked up, his eyebrows rising in surprise, when
he saw Chance ride by. The Wilsons’ ten-year-old twins, Hester and Lester
grinned as they waved at him, then put their heads together, undoubtedly plotting
mischief of some kind.

Chance reined his horse to a stop in front of the Buffalo
Springs Hotel, which was where he normally stayed when he was in town.
Dismounting, he dropped the reins over the hitch rack, pulled his rifle from
the saddle boot, and climbed the stairs to the boardwalk.

Lyle Hunsacker, the hotel clerk, lifted a questioning brow
as Chance approached the desk.

“I need a room,” Chance said, “and a bath, right away.”

“Yes,” Hunsacker drawled, “I can see that.”

“I’d be obliged if you’d send Billy over to Womack’s and get
me a change of clothes.”

Hunsacker nodded. He was a tall, middle-aged man with a mop
of curly red hair and a pencil thin moustache. Chance played poker with him
from time to time.

Hunsacker pulled a key off the board behind the desk.
“Number eight. I’ll have some hot water sent up right away.”

“Thanks.”

“I’d like to hear the story behind that get-up when you’ve
got the time to tell it,” Hunsacker remarked with a grin.

With a grunt, Chance took the key and went up the stairs.
Number eight was his home away from home when it was available. It was a corner
room overlooking the street. The double bed was comfortable, there was a tub in
one corner, an easy chair in another. A plain white bowl and pitcher sat atop a
four-drawer mahogany chest. There were a couple of clean towels stacked on a
shelf, along with a bar of soap.

Chance laid his rifle across the foot of the bed, then sat
down in the easy chair and pulled off his moccasins. Leaning back, he closed
his eyes. As soon as he got cleaned up, he’d get Smoke settled in the livery,
and then take care of his business.

An hour later, bathed, shaved and dressed in a pair of black
whipcord trousers and a dark blue shirt, Chance knocked on Edward Bryant’s door
at the Windsor Hotel.

Rosalia Bryant opened it a moment later, her dark eyes
widening in surprise when she saw him.

“
Signore
!” She leaned forward to look past him. “But…where
is…” She looked up at him, a thousand questions in her eyes.

“May I come in?”

“Oh,
si
, please, come in.” She stood back to allow
him entrance into the room.

“Rosa, who is it?”

“Eduardo, it is
Signore
McCloud.”

“McCloud!” A door across the room opened and Edward Bryant
emerged, leaning heavily on his cane. His gaze swept the room, his brow
furrowing when he saw that Chance was alone.

“She’s not here,” Chance said.

Rosalia and Edward looked at each another, disappointment
evident on their faces. Rosalia sat down on the sofa, her shoulders slumped.

Bryant cleared his throat. “She’s not…?”

Chance shook his head. “No, she’s fine.”

“Then where is she? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

“She didn’t want to come.”

Rosalia looked up, frowning. “I do not understand. She did
not want to come home? But why not?”

Chance ran a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid she doesn’t
think of this as her home anymore, Mrs. Bryant.”

Edward sat down on the sofa beside his wife, indicating that
Chance should take the chair opposite the sofa.

Rosalia looked at her husband. “I do not understand.”

“It’s like this,” Chance explained as he sat down. “She’s
been living with the Lakota for ten years. She’s been happy there. The couple
she lived with were good to her. They loved her, and raised her like their own
daughter.”

“But she is our daughter!” Rosalia exclaimed.

Bryant took his wife’s hand in his. “Go on, Mr. McCloud.
Start at the beginning, please.”

As succinctly as possible, Chance told them about Mountain
Sage and Eagle Lance and how Teressa had spent the last ten years of his life.
He told them about the attack by the Crow and how they had escaped and made
their way to his people in the Black Hills. He told them everything, everything
except what had passed between himself and their daughter.

Edward Bryant shook his head when Chance finished. “I cannot
believe my daughter has been living like a savage.” His face colored. “I meant
no offense, Mr. McCloud.”

“None taken.”

“Well,” Bryant said enthusiastically. “At least we know
she’s alive.”

“I couldn’t convince her to come back with me,” Chance said,
“and I couldn’t take her by force, but…”

“Go on.”

“What would you think about me taking you to her?”

Rosalia stared at him.

Bryant drummed his fingers on the table beside the sofa. “Go
to her? But…is that wise?”

Rosalia stood up, her cheeks flushed. “Eduardo, we must go.”

“Would it be safe for us?” Bryant asked. “For my wife?”

“I can’t guarantee it,” Chance replied honestly. “There’s
always a risk when you venture into Indian territory, and not just from the
Indians. It’s a wild land. Anything can happen.”

“I do not care!” Rosalia said vehemently. “Eduardo, we must
go. Now.” She looked at Chance. “How soon can we leave?”

“That depends. I know the deal was for me to bring your
daughter back here, but…”

“Ah, yes,” Bryant said. “The reward. I believe I owe you ten
thousand dollars.”

“I was hoping you’d see it that way.”

“I shall write you a check immediately.”

“Much obliged.”

After telling the Bryants to pack light and be ready first
thing in the morning, Chance’s next stop was the Buffalo Springs Bank.

Harry Conreid couldn’t hide his surprise, or his displeasure,
when Chance announced he had come to pay off the loan on the Double C in full.
The disappointment on old Harry’s face was far more eloquent than words. No
doubt Harry had been hoping to foreclose on the ranch. Hell, Chance thought
irritably, it wouldn’t have surprised him if Harry already had a buyer in mind.

Well, that was just too bad, Chance thought as he signed the
necessary papers. The ranch was his and it was going to stay his.

He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from
his shoulders when he walked out of the bank, the deed to the ranch, stamped
Paid
in Full
, in his hip pocket. His next stop was the telegraph office. From
there, he went to McMurty’s Gun Shop and bought himself a new Colt and holster
and several boxes of ammunition, and then he went back to the hotel.

Returning to his room, he sat down and wrote a letter to his
foreman, telling him that the mortgage had been paid in full and that the bull
he’d had his eye on for so long would be arriving at the railway station at the
end of next week and that someone needed to be there to pick it up. He went on
to explain that he was leaving town again and would return to the ranch as soon
as possible.

Going downstairs, he gave the note to Hunsacker’s teenage
son, along with a dollar to take it out to the ranch.

That done, Chance went into the hotel dining room and
ordered the biggest steak they had to offer, along with all the trimmings, and
a double helping of apple pie for dessert.

Later, sitting back in his chair sipping a second cup of
coffee, he found himself thinking of Winter Rain, remembering the way she had
felt in his arms, the sweet innocence of her kisses, the merry sound of her
laughter.

Muttering an oath, he shook her image from his mind. He had
no time for a woman in his life, not now, not so long as Jack Finch walked the
earth.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for Chance to realize it would have been
a lot easier to bring Teressa to the Bryants than to take the Bryants to
Teressa.

When he got to the hotel in the morning, he found that
Rosalia had packed enough clothes, shoes, and hats to fill three large
suitcases. By the time she cut her wardrobe down so that it would fit in a pair
of saddlebags, half the day was gone.

Rosalia pulled on a pair of gloves as she followed Chance
out of the hotel. “I thought we would be taking a carriage,” she explained.

The next setback came when Chance learned, to his dismay,
that Rosalia had never been on a horse and that Edward hadn’t ridden since he’d
taken that Indian arrow in his thigh.

Standing on the boardwalk in front of the hotel, Chance
regarded the couple through narrowed eyes, and then shook his head. “Listen,
maybe we should just forget it. I’ll go back to the Lakota and see if I can
persuade Teressa to come here.”

“No!” Rosalia tugged on Chance’s arm. “No, I have waited so
long.”

She grabbed the reins to the chestnut gelding he had picked
for her. “I will ride.”

He had to admire the woman’s determination even as he
watched her struggle to put the wrong foot in the stirrup, a foot wearing a
dainty pair of shoes that wouldn’t last two minutes out on the trail.

An hour and a half later, after a hasty shopping trip to buy
riding boots for both of the Bryants and a hat for Edward, and after a quick
riding lesson for Rosalia, they were ready to go.

Chance took a deep breath and turned to check the load on
the pack horse while Edward put his hands around his wife’s waist and lifted
her onto the back of her horse.

Certain he was making the biggest mistake of his life,
Chance gathered the reins of the pack horse and swung into the saddle. After
glancing over his shoulder to make sure Edward was mounted, Chance led the way
out of town.

They made quite a sight, he mused ruefully. Rosalia wore a
long-sleeved yellow silk shirt, a voluminous skirt that covered her legs and
spread over the gelding’s rump, a wide-brimmed straw hat adorned with pink and
yellow streamers, and a pair of leather gloves. Edward wore a pair of striped
trousers, a matching vest over a white linen shirt, and a ten gallon hat
straight out of the box. His cane was tied behind the cantle.