Reckless Desire Read online

  I had listened to Shadow's voice, letting the sound surround me like loving arms as I grasped his hands; strong, capable hands that could take a man's lifehands that had shown me nothing but kindness and tenderness and love. I had gazed into Shadow's eyes, loving him with all my heart, as our daughter made her way into the world . . . and now she was grown and gone. How had the years gotten away so fast?

  I left Mary's room as I heard Blackie's voice calling my name.

  ''Nahkoa, nahkoa!" He burst into the parlor, a wolf cub clutched in his arms. "Look, nahkoa," he said, thrusting the cub toward me. "I found him near the river."

  I shook my head. Blackie was still wearing his good suit. This morning it had been clean, but now it was covered with grass stains and dirt. His shoes were muddy, his hands and face streaked with grime. It was in me to scold him, but the words wouldn't come. He was my last child, my baby. How could I scold him when he was smiling up at me, his dark eyes alight with excitement as the cub licked his face.

  "Better give him something to eat," I said. "I'll see if I can find a box to put him in."

  With a joyful nod, Blackie headed for the kitchen. I could hear him talking to the cub as he poured some milk into a bowl.

  I stared after my son. Since the day he could walk, Blackie had been bringing stray animals home. Snakes and frogs, raccoons and possums, a skunk, a spotted fawn, countless birds and squirrels, a baby fox. And now a wolf cub. My Blackie, child of the woods and water. He seemed to have a natural affinity for all of God's wild creatures.

  Shadow was shaking his head in wonder when I went out to the barn to find a box.

  "So," I said, smiling, "you've seen our latest addition to the family."

  "Yes," Shadow said wryly. "Perhaps we should open a zoo."

  I laughed, my spirits rising as Shadow pulled me into his arms. My body molded itself to his as I lifted my face for his kiss, and then I wasn't laughing any more, for Shadow's mouth claimed mine in a kiss that took my breath away and left my knees weak and my legs rubbery.

  "Hannah." His voice, deep and husky, caressed me even as his hands kneaded my back, then slid down to cup my buttocks.

  I nodded at the unspoken question in his eyes. Effortlessly Shadow lifted me in his arms and carried me up the wooden ladder to the loft and there, in a bed of sweet-smelling hay, we made love.

  My desire for my husband had never dimmed, and as he undressed I marveled anew that the sight of his body still had the power to excite me, that I still found his lovemaking thrilling and wonderful. My eyes moved lovingly over his face and form and found no flaw. He was tall, dark-skinned, and handsome. My fingers traced the powerful muscles that rippled in his arms and legs as he stretched out beside me. His stomach was still hard and flat, his chest broad and strong.

  Shadow gasped as my wandering hand traveled leisurely down his belly to settle on his inner thigh, and I laughed softly, pleased by his response to my touch. Straddling his thighs, I let my hands roam over his body, my fingers tracing the scars on his chest. I remembered the day of the Sun Dance, how he had stood beside Hawk while Eagle-That-Soars-in-the-Sky slashed their flesh and inserted the skewers under the skin. I had marveled that Shadow and Hawk could endure such pain without a murmur, that they had possessed the strength and courage to dance around the Sun Dance pole for hours without food or water to sustain them, until the skewers had torn free of their flesh, releasing them from the sacred pole. The Sun Dance ritual was the most sacred of the Cheyenne traditions, one that few white people ever really understood. Shadow had been the epitome of what a Cheyenne warrior should be that daytall and strong, firm in his beliefs, brave, haughty, perhaps, because he was one of the People.

  I was filled with tenderness as I leaned forward, my bare breasts brushing against his chest as I kissed him. Shadow's arms went around me, drawing me closer still, until our bodies were one.

  Shadow was not a young warrior anymore, but a man in his prime, and I gloried in his touch as he possessed me, satisfying my desire even as he satisfied my need to be a part of him. Now, for this moment, I was complete. I let out a long sigh as his life spilled into me, my whole body slowly relaxing as waves of pure pleasure engulfed me. How I loved him, this wonderful man who had been a part of my life for almost thirty years.

  2

  I went to church with Victoria the following morning. Hawk and Shadow never attended church services with us. I understood how Shadow felt, and I never tried to persuade him to accompany me although I would have loved to have him there beside me. Sometimes he rode along with me into town, then spent a quiet hour near the river while I went to church. But this day he stayed at home, and Blackie stayed with him.

  Victoria and the twins were ready when I stopped by to pick them up. Marriage had agreed with Vickie, I thought. She was more attractive than ever, though she looked a trifle unhappy just now.

  "What is it?" I asked as she settled onto the seat beside me, a baby in each arm.

  "Nothing," she answered petulantly.

  "Did you and Hawk have an argument?"

  "No, not really, but he makes me so mad. I asked him to go to church with us, just as I do every week, and he refused, just as he does every week."

  I nodded, wondering if I should try to make her understand, or if I should just keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to be a meddling mother-in-law.

  "It wouldn't hurt him to go to church with me once in a while," Victoria went on. "It's only for an hour."

  "That's true," I agreed. "But to Hawk, it's an hour wasted. He doesn't believe in the white man's god. Hawk and Shadow worship Maheo, and I don't think anything will ever change that."

  "I know," Victoria said with a sigh of resignation. "And I don't want to change him, not really. But it just seems as though he could do it for me. I gave up a lot for him."

  That was true enough. Victoria had given up a lovely home, an education in the East, and a lot more to marry Hawk. Her parents had deserted her when they discovered she was pregnant and that Hawk was the father. Bitter and ashamed, Horace and Lydia Bannerman had sold their home and left Bear Valley, apparently for good, leaving their daughter behind to get along as best she could.

  "Have you ever heard from your parents, Vickie?" I asked.

  "No," she replied softly, but I heard the hurt in her voice. I had never understood the Bannermans. I could not imagine leaving my only child when she needed me most, yet that was what the Bannermans had done.

  I glanced at my two grandsons, cradled in Victoria's arms. They were lovely boys, sweet of disposition. I supposed that Horace and Lydia Bannerman would have been ashamed of Jason and Jacob because they were a quarter Cheyenne, but I thought they were wonderful.

  Victoria's spirits picked up when we reached the church. She had many friends in the valley, and they all clustered around her, eager to fuss over the twins, eager to chat and make plans for the church social to be held the following month.

  We saw Pa and Rebecca at church. As usual, we all sat together, taking turns holding the boys when they got restless. Sunday was my favorite day of the week, a day to rest and worship, a day to take life easy. Usually Hawk and Victoria came by for a visit; sometimes we went to their house. Occasionally Shadow and I went to visit the Smythes or the Browns or the Tippitts. One Sunday a month, our whole family got together for dinner at Pa's house.

  I smiled as Jacob crawled into my lap and made himself comfortable, then turned my attention to what the minister was saying. We had a new preacher in the valley now. The Reverend Thorsen had passed away shortly after Hawk and Victoria were married. Our new minister was a man in his early fifties. He had gray hair, long sideburns, and a closely-cropped gray beard. He was a widower, rather nice-looking, with regular features and light brown eyes. His name was Thomas Edward Brighton, and he preached fire and brimstone at his Sunday services. No one ever dozed off during one of his sermons, for he had a voice like thunder. Two of the widow women in Bear Valley had their eye on the Reverend Brighton, and
it was a source of amusement to the people in the valley to watch Leona and Claire primp and flirt, trying to catch his eye. Thus far the reverend had avoided becoming entangled with either one, though it was noted that he was gaining a few pounds due to the many dinners they invited him to, and the numerous cakes and pies that were delivered to the parsonage in their efforts to outdo each other.

  As the reverend's sermon came to an end, the choir stood to sing. I thought about what Victoria had said earlier and I glanced around the church. Most of the married women had their husbands by their sides; whether the husbands wanted to be there or not, I couldn't tell. But when I compared the men in the congregation to the man who waited for me at home, I knew I wouldn't have traded places with any of the women present. Let them have their civilized men clad in store-bought suits and ties, men who ran grocery stores and banks and newspapers. I had a man at home who was a warrior, a man who had fought for me, a man who had risked his life to protect our family from harm.

  I said as much to Victoria on our way home from church.

  "Would you trade Hawk for any of those men at church today?" I asked.

  "Heavens, no," Vickie said, laughing as she hugged her sons. "Hawk is worth a dozen of those men."

  "Exactly," I agreed. "Can you imagine being married to an old fusspot like George Williams, or a penny-pinching grouch like Harvey White?"

  "No," Victoria said, laughing all the harder. "And what about that old stick-in-the-mud, Clarence Flagg?"

  I laughed, too, though my conscience bothered me a little at poking fun at my neighbors. They were all nice men in their way, honest and hard-working, but they could never compare to Hawk or Shadow.

  Victoria was relaxed and happy when I dropped her off at home. She asked me to come in for tea, but I was eager to go home to Shadow.

  Hawk came to help Victoria and the twins down from the buggy, and we chatted for a few minutes about the weather and how big the boys were getting, and then I bade them good-bye and clucked to the team.

  "Thanks, Hannah," Victoria called as I pulled out of the yard.

  I waved and smiled at her, glad that she was Hawk's wife. I couldn't have been more pleased with my daughter-in-law if I had picked her out myself.

  That night, lying in Shadow's arms, I told him about Victoria's wish that Hawk would attend church with her.

  "I can understand how she feels," I remarked, snuggling closer to Shadow's side. "But I think she'll be all right now."

  "Does it bother you that I do not attend the white man's church and worship your god?" Shadow asked.

  "No. I know you worship Maheo, and though you don't think so, I believe that God and Maheo are the same being." I kissed Shadow's cheek. "It would be nice to have you there beside me, though."

  "Why did you not tell me this sooner?"

  "I don't know. It's not important."

  "If you want me to go with you, I will go."

  Was there ever such a man? My heart swelled with love as I kissed him again.

  "It isn't necessary," I murmured. "I know you like to worship Man Above in your own way. I've never asked you to change for me. I'm not asking now."

  Shadow smiled at me, his dark eyes moving over my face like a caress. "I know. I think that is why I love you so much."

  "Show me," I whispered. My hand stroked his chest and flat belly, then slid down to his hard, muscular thigh.

  Shadow groaned low in his throat as he grabbed me and gave me a fierce hug, crushing my breasts against his chest. His mouth possessed mine as his hands stroked my back, then slid around to caress my breasts.

  "Hannah, I think you have bewitched me," he murmured, his voice close to my ear. "I can never get enough of you."

  Ah, sweet words to hear. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself completely to the man who was my husband, thrilling to his touch, to the sound of his voice, low and husky with desire, as he whispered, "Nemehotatse, Hannah. Nemehotatse, forever."

  "Nemehotatse," I replied, barely able to speak as our bodies became one. "I love you, too, forever."

  3

  The first rays of dawn were lighting the eastern sky when Hawk left the house and walked a short distance to the narrow stream that watered their property. Standing near the water's edge, he raised his arms toward the vast blue-gray sky and began to pray, pleading with Maheo to protect his family from harm, to bless his sons with health and strength, to smile on Victoria, who was pregnant again.

  Some twenty minutes later, he finished his prayer. Stepping out of his buckskins, he walked into the stream to bathe. His solitary prayer and bath afterward were a daily ritual that he never missed, no matter what the weather.

  Floating on his back, he thought of Victoria. He had not meant to get her pregnant again so soon. The twins kept her busy from dawn until dark, and though she rarely complained, he wondered if she were truly pleased to be having another child so soon. It was all his fault. He had vowed not to touch her until the twins were weaned, as was the custom among the Cheyenne. But he loved her so much. It was impossible to be with her every day, to see her and kiss her and hear her sweet voice, and not make love to her. Her body had changed since the birth of the twins. It was rounder, fuller, more feminine. He had not been able to keep his hands off her, and now she was pregnant again.

  Emerging from the water, he slipped into his clothes and padded barefoot to the barn where he fed and watered the stock. Returning to the house, he saw that Victoria was in the kitchen preparing his breakfast. The twins were sitting on a blanket on the floor, playing with some brightly colored blocks that Leland Smythe had carved for them.

  Victoria smiled as Hawk came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. ''Good morning," she said cheerfully, and giggled as his tongue tickled her neck.

  "Good morning," Hawk replied. He gave her a squeeze, then stooped to cuddle one child and then the other. My sons, he thought proudly. They had the look of the People in the color of their hair and skin, and Hawk was glad. He was proud to be Cheyenne, proud of his Indian heritage.

  They shared a pleasant breakfast, then Hawk went outside to check on the five horses that were corralled in a small box canyon not far from the house. They were all mares ready to foal, and as he slipped through the fence, he saw that two of the mares had given birth the night before.

  The horses whickered softly as he walked among them. They had all been broken to saddle and were accustomed to his presence. Approaching the mares that had foaled, he checked the afterbirth to make sure it had all been expelled, then checked the foals, a filly and a colt. Both were reddish-brown with spotted rumps. His own stallion had sired both foals.

  After making certain the mares and foals were in good condition, he checked the pasture to make certain there was enough grass, and then left the canyon to check on the four yearlings corralled behind the barn.

  With the stock taken care of, he threw a bridle on his stallion, fetched his rifle from the house, gave Victoria a lingering kiss, and then rode into the woods in search of a deer.

  Bear Valley had grown considerably in the last few years, he mused, but the woods remained virtually unchanged. Tall trees reached toward the sky, their branches so thick in some places that they blocked out the sun. It was quiet within the forest, dark and primeval. A chipmunk skittered across his path, a gray squirrel scolded him from the safety of a tree limb, a blue jay shrilled raucously as it flew past his head.

  Lost in thought, Hawk rode deeper into the forest until, without realizing it, he was at Rabbit's Head Rock. Reining his horse to a halt, he gazed out at the vast sea of yellow grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. Once the Sioux and the Cheyenne and the Arapahoe had roamed the endless prairie. Once the buffalo had darkened the earth like a curly brown blanket. But now all was quiet. The Indians languished on the reservation; the buffalo were nearly extinct.

  He glanced at the huge gray rock. His mother and father had met near Rabbit's Head Rock almost thirty years ago. Even now, they sometimes cam
e to this place to be alone.

  Hawk grinned, remembering the time he and Victoria had sat against the rock, hugging and kissing, until Mercy Tillman showed up. Mercy had been a wild girl, rumored to have slept with most of the men in the valley. When she got pregnant, she had accused Hawk of being the father, certain everyone would believe he was guilty because he was a half-breed. There had been a confrontation at the Tillman shack, with Shadow and Hawk insisting that Hawk was innocent and Mercy Tillman's father Morgus arguing that Hawk was guilty as hell, and that Shadow had probably been sweet on Mercy as well. A fight had erupted between Shadow and Morgus, and when it looked as if Shadow might lose, Hawk had reached for Tillman's rifle, but Mercy got it first. They had struggled over the gun, and then it had gone off. The bullet hit Morgus, killing him instantly. To this day, Hawk didn't know who had pulled the trigger, nor did he care. He would gladly have killed Morgus and a dozen like him to save his father's life. Mercy had left Bear Valley shortly thereafter. He wondered, without really caring, what had happened to her.