“Well, that is good news. And I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self in no time.” She set the periodical on the table next to her, embarrassed by the flippant words. What was his old self? Was she suggesting he go back to riding with One-Who-Cries and attacking settlers? Hannah decided the only way around the awkward silence was to plow right on through it. “Do you have any idea how you got sick?”
“The white man’s food.” Surprising Hannah with his quick answer, he shocked her further by sitting up and tossing his legs out of the bed. The sheet didn’t move with him, and he sat there, nearly naked. He tossed long black hair over his shoulder and snatched violently at the handcuff. The clanking metal jolted Hannah and she rose to her feet, ready to run.
He smiled at her, as if he enjoyed frightening her. She wanted to bolt, but decided not to give this patient the satisfaction. Slowly, her chin up, she settled back into the chair. Black Elk’s eyes widened slightly, in approval of her courage? “A white man at Horse Mesa was very sick. He smelled like death and rabbit stew. We filled his back with arrows.”
Hannah held on to her stoic expression but felt the twinge in her jaw at the nonchalant declaration of murder. “If he was dying, why did you kill him?”
The Indian shrugged with a chilling indifference. “Because we could.”
Hannah guessed that with Black Elk’s returning health also came an unhealthy sense of bravado. Young men it seemed, no matter their race, enjoyed bragging. Perhaps she could use that. “You took a girl, didn’t you? Where is she?”
“With One-Who-Cries.”
“Why did he take her?” Black Elk didn’t answer. He merely stared at Hannah, smirking. Sitting there, barely clothed, no doubt thinking he was quite the dangerous brave, Hannah wondered how he carried that big head atop his shoulders. She tapped her fingers on her knee as she tried to guess the questions that would keep him talking. “Why do you have a Christian name?”
Black Elk froze in the middle of a stretch to show off his rippled stomach and sizable arms. Regarding her coolly, as if she were a bug, he took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “My mother was a Cheyenne converted to Christianity by missionaries. She believed whites and Indians could live together in peace.”
“I take it you don’t think that’s possible.”
For an instant so fleeting she could have imagined it, a shadow of sadness hastened across the young man’s face. But it died in a curled lip. He yanked the handcuff that kept him shackled to the bed and flexed his fingers restlessly. “I believe you should all die for what you’ve done to my people.”
Hannah gulped. The hatred in Black Elk’s voice astounded her. God, please reach this man before he gives himself completely over to darkness.
“I had a woman,” he said softly. “We lived with the Utes on the Yampa River. Four moons ago, a group of miners burned the village to the ground, her with it.”
Touched by the tragedy, Hannah started to reach out to him, but caught herself. “Black Elk, I’m sorry for your loss but you can’t repay murder with murder. Then the killing will never stop.”
“Your own Holy Book says an ‘eye for an eye.’ ”
“The ‘eye for an eye’ Scripture refers to a legal punishment. The rest of the Bible is the story of a Savior who wants to share your heartbreaks with you and help you overcome them. Hate will just burn you up from the inside out … And that means her murderers will win again.”
He’d been staring off into space, but that brought his head around.
Several seconds passed as he stared at her. Hannah prayed for the words that would help him. Perhaps as repayment for her attempted counseling, he offered her another tantalizing piece of information. “One-Who-Cries met an outlaw who will trade us guns for women. The white people at Horse Mesa. They had pretty daughters. Like you.”
Hannah leaned back, startled at the revelation. Mouth agape, she asked, “Did you come here to get captives?”
He worked his jaw back and forth, as if pondering how to answer. “I came here to drink.”
Hannah frowned. The answer could be the truth, but she didn’t trust it. “You said one girl fought?”
“She fought like a warrior.” Did he almost smile? “I have never seen a woman fight like that. She made One-Who-Cries very angry and he bashed her head with a rock.”
Hannah couldn’t imagine the horror those girls had gone through. Had the older sister fought to protect her younger sibling? Naomi would do that. And wind up dead. Black Elk rubbed his temple with his free hand and slid back beneath the sheets. He struck Hannah as weary, not merely tired.
“The girl you took. What will happen to her?” Hannah asked as gently as she could. “Has she been traded already?”
Again, an indifferent shrug. “I do not know. After Horse Mesa,” he shifted his gaze out the window to the mountains painted in moonlight, “I came here … to drink.” Again, something about the statement sounded less than honest. It sounded rehearsed.
“So you don’t know where One-Who-Cries is or the whereabouts of the girl?” When he didn’t answer quickly, she dangled some bait. “Black Elk, you’re in a lot of trouble for breaking up that saloon and trying to hurt Dolores. You also stabbed a man. If you tell me something helpful, or tell Marshal Beckwith something helpful, things may go easier for you.”
Fire ignited in his eyes as he turned to glare at her. Moving like a streak of lightning, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed her wrist. Fear tasted like acid in Hannah’s mouth. “The justice I get in Defiance will be of my own making.”
Black Elk squeezed her wrist tighter and tighter and sneered at her as the pain increased. As she cried out, Emilio burst into the room and pulled her out of the man’s grasp. The Indian resisted for only a moment. He let Hannah go and his sneer changed to a confident smile.
Emilio wrapped her in his arms and glared at the Black Elk. “You’re done here, Hannah.”
Black Elk laid his head on his pillow and laughed bitterly as the pair left Doc’s.
~~~
Thirty-Four
The morning sun was just sneaking over the high peaks around Defiance as Hannah and Emilio marched for the marshal’s office. Black Elk’s angry, dark eyes haunted her and her wrist still ached from his brutal grip. He frightened her now that she’d really seen the loathing he harbored for whites.
The jangle of an approaching wagon intruded on her thoughts, and a familiar voice made her turn. “Good morning, Miss Hannah. Emilio.” Silas Madden tipped his hat and pulled his wagon to a halt. “Can I give you a ride to the hotel?”
“Good morning, Silas. My goodness, you’re in town early. I thought Naomi said you and Sarah were working out at your place until next week.”
“We are, but I had to come into town for lumber, nails, and a few other things. So I’m not going to the hotel, but I’m happy to drop you.”
Hannah shook her head. “We appreciate the offer, Silas, but we’re actually going to the marshal’s.”
“All righty, then.” He tipped his hat again and slapped the reins, putting his team back to work. Seconds later, he drove across the street and around to the back of the mercantile.
As she and Emilio crossed the street, her thoughts went back to Black Elk. “I should have known he was going to do something like that. I caught him staring at me several times last night.”
“I think you should stay away from him now,” Emilio said. “If everything he said is true, maybe he came to town to scout for women to trade.”
Hannah’s steps faltered. The idea struck her as preposterous. On the other hand, towns had a concentration of women. “Would they do that?”
“Si, towns have been raided before, but only when there were many warriors. Black Elk may have come hunting to see if there were any easy targets.”
“He said he came here to drink.”
“Maybe.”
“Either way, One-Who-Cries is going to try to trade the girl, and the marshal needs to know that.”
<
br /> Hannah couldn’t help but think about the poor girl who had been kidnapped and her sister, dead now because she’d fought. The story haunted her. But for the grace of God, there go I … She prayed the girl would make it home alive.
~~~
Matthew opened his eyes but the bolt of pain that rocketed through his head slammed them shut again. His head felt like he’d been stepped on by an elephant and his side throbbed with a bone-jarring beat. He was sure his mouth had been stuffed with cotton, and his stomach was more than a little queasy.
I am getting too old for this. Scorpion stings would feel better.
Slowly, through a sludgy haze, memories came back. Cheap whiskey. A very willing Amaryllis. He touched his side and wondered what had happened to her doing all the work.
The fresh clean bandage reminded him of the Doc’s office, and Hannah. The Mexican kid had helped him back to the hotel. He didn’t remember what he’d said and if Naomi had seen them stumbling in.
He rubbed his temples, wondering if she was a lost cause. If she caught him in too many lies, it wouldn’t matter about the ace he had up his sleeve. Well, there was only one way to find out. Holding his breath, he forced himself to sit up. He flinched when the pain hit him from every direction.
A groan worked its way out of him and he sat perfectly still, waiting to either die or feel better. After a moment, things had improved minutely and he swung his feet over the bed as delicately as if they were newborn babes.
His head swimming, he inhaled the scent of bacon and eggs drifting up from the kitchen. For a second his stomach rebelled and he thought he might have to lunge for the chamber pot, but the sensation passed and he breathed a little easier. A soft rap at his door made him look up, his eyes rolling in their sockets like rusty ball bearings. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of willow bark or peppermint tea.
“Matthew, I just wanted to check on you. Are you all right?”
Naomi. And she didn’t sound as if she was addressing a liquor-swilling, skirt-chasing scoundrel. Matthew cleared the dust from his throat. “I’ll live. Come on in.”
The door opened an inch, stopped, and then Naomi pushed it all the way open and stepped in. He noticed she kept her hand on the door knob.
Standing tall and straight like a general, she assessed him with no emotion in her expression. “Hannah told me you busted your stitches open.”
Without waiting for a reply, she marched over to the curtains and pulled them aside. Light exploded into the room and Matthew decided firing a cannon next to his head would have been kinder. Groaning, he fell back on the bed and laid his arm over his eyes. “That all she told you?”
In the silence as he waited for her answer, the ticking hallway clock sounded like a giant Japanese gong. His head throbbed in time with it.
“Matthew, I wish …” she faded off, but he’d heard a twinge of compassion in her tone. “Things haven’t worked out between us. You have to let it go. Drinking and carousing don’t hurt me. That kind of behavior only hurts you. You’re a business owner, a respectable man.” He heard the rustle of her dress move back toward the door. “You’re allowed, I suppose, to drown your sorrows, but you can’t let your drinking spiral out of control again. I’m not worth it. No one is.”
Matthew almost smiled. Almost. “The blow—your engagement—it caught me off guard. I fell off the wagon.” He lowered his voice and tried to sound appropriately ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’m still not the man my brother was.”
“You can’t keep comparing yourself to him.”
He moved his hand to his chest and drank in her image. She stood with her back to him, but he savored the curves of her waist and hips flattered by a red, flower-covered calico dress. That long, golden braid that he’d so often dreamed of undoing trailed down her back. What he wouldn’t give to have all those soft waves rain down on him.
Holding his side, he forced himself to sit up, not making any attempt to hide his pain. “Would you pour me a glass of water, Naomi?”
“Certainly.”
Naomi strode quickly to the pitcher beside his bed and poured him a mug full. Matthew took a sip, making sure his mouth would function. Drier than the desert, he finished the water in two gulps. The water settled his stomach and did a lot to clear his head. Feeling more human now, he rolled the mug back and forth in his hands as he wondered how to continue cultivating her sympathy. She sat down beside him and he grinned inwardly.
“I’ve never been able to think straight around you, Naomi. Never.” He turned to her, wishing he could gently grasp her hands in his, but, instead, he tried to hold her gaze with a solemn expression. “I’ll never get over you. You were my first love, woman.”
He saw the slightest movement in her lips at the use of the old pet name. John used to call her that. Matthew had said it low and steely too, like his brother used to. She swallowed and he knew he was getting somewhere. Her eyes filled with unmistakable longing.
Slowly, like he was reaching out to a skittish pony, he raised his hand and touched her hair. Her chest rose and fell faster as her gaze drifted down to his mouth. He moved a hair closer, half-expecting her to pull away. She didn’t move a muscle and he continued inching toward her.
“With you beside me, Naomi …” he spoke gently, reverently. Her soft, pink lips a breath away, he promised her, “I could be a man like John.”
Naomi blinked and pulled away, leaving his hand floating in mid-air. Her mouth fell open but she didn’t make a sound. Matthew saw the panic growing in her eyes and reached for her hand. “Naomi …”
She stood and backed away, raising her hand to stop him. “Matthew, no.” Her panicked expression changed into sorrow. “You’re not John. I’d give anything if you were, but you’re not. We both have to move on.”
She turned and fled from his room. If he’d been in better condition, he would have lunged for her, pressed her against the wall and kissed her until she forgot John Miller, and that scoundrel Charles McIntyre too.
He sighed. She’d almost let him kiss her.
Clearly, she was still vulnerable.
He figured he had one more shot at Naomi … if Amaryllis could be trusted.
~~~
Naomi raced to the end of the hallway at the back of the hotel, the closest, darkest corner she could find. Furious with herself, she leaned her head against the wall and tried to keep from pounding on the wood with her fists. Oh, she had come so close to doing something unforgivable. The temptation, the promise of just one kiss to remind her of John …
Oh, Lord, what was I thinking?
She splayed her hands on the wall trying to hold back the shame. Just as she felt Matthew’s breath brushing her lips, Charles’ face had flashed before her. Matthew said he could be a man like John. No. He could not. Neither could Charles. They should not be compared to John or ever asked to measure up. They were their own men. And that was precisely why she loved Charles McIntyre. He wasn’t trying to be anyone but himself.
A liberating sense of resolve enveloped her soul. She would not fall prey to Matthew’s charms ever again. Only one man mattered to her now. Nearly betraying Charles had brought that home like a lightning strike.
Raising her chin, she stepped out of the shadows and ran into Hannah coming out of her room, Little Billy on her hip. Her little sister jumped back, clutching her son.
“Good grief, Naomi. You startled me.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached over and tickled her nephew’s ribs. “Good mornin’, Dumplin’.” Little Billy’s eyes lit up with glee and he reached for her. Melting into a gooey lump of love, Naomi took her precious nephew from his mother and kissed his forehead. “How are you this morning? Is Mama done feeding you? Ready to get the day started?”
Hannah chuckled and ruffled her son’s hair. “He was still asleep when I got back from Doc’s, so I took a little nap, too.”
“Good. You needed the rest.” Naomi ran her fingers up and down Little Billy’s chest. “Uh, oh, it’s the tickle spider!
” Little Billy laughed wildly and swatted at her hand but that spider just kept coming back for more.
“You’re so good with children. I hope you and Charles can have a bunch.” Like an arrow piercing her lungs, Naomi felt the deflating sting, no matter how unintentional, and apparently the pain showed. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She bit her lip and handed Little Billy back to Hannah. “No, it’s fine. I am not going to worry about it. The doctor said I was capable, so either we will have a bunch or we won’t.” She rubbed her nephew’s back and smiled at her sister, trying to force the illusion she was not concerned about conceiving children. “So, what are we doing today to get ready for this wedding?”
“You have a fitting, right after breakfast.” She put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” Naomi dipped her head in agreement. “And Mollie and I are going to the mercantile to get a few things.”
They walked down the hall toward the stairs as Hannah switched her son to the other hip. “By the way,” Hannah stopped at the first door along the hallway and stared at it, frowning. “You haven’t seen Amanda this morning, have you? I knocked earlier but didn’t get an answer.”
That was puzzling. Although, considering the way the girl had worked last night, Naomi wondered if she was still sleeping because she was exhausted. “Try again.”
Hannah rapped on the door with the back of her hand. After several seconds, she repeated the action, but much louder. When they still received no response, Hannah questioned Naomi with a look. Naomi nodded and Hannah slowly opened the door. “Amanda?”
Hunching her shoulders in a prepared apology, Hannah widened the door and stepped into the room. Naomi stayed in the hallway but she could tell from the darkness that Amanda hadn’t opened the curtains. Hannah crossed the room and moved one aside to let in the light. Naomi stepped through the doorway and knew immediately Amanda was gone.
Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) Page 22
