Hannah sat upright. "You're not a heathen, Jack."
He smiled. "I know. My brothers and I all spent time with the Comanche. Mama conformed to white society, but kept her heritage alive in private. Maybe I'll take you to meet her one day. I think she'd like you."
Unnerved by how easy it was to imagine a life with Jack, she countered nervously, "You're just being nice to me because I died today."
He brought a hand to her face and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch. During her death, it was the physical sensations that she missed the most. The warmth of Jack, the musky smell, the prickly stubble of his cheeks, all reminded her, achingly, how much she cherished it. What if she hadn't come back?
Turning her face, she brought her mouth to his, ignoring the twinges of discomfort from her throat. He was so careful with her that it emboldened her to press forward, instinct guiding her. Her persistence ignited—at long last—a fire in Jack, and Hannah held on tight as he kissed her with deep intentions and a passion that made her shiver clear down to her toes.
She clung to him, and Jack set the rifle beside them, then pushed her onto her back, the rocky platform barely giving them enough room. In the darkness, any shyness she might have felt disappeared. She learned his mouth with her mouth, she let her fingers thread into his hair, she encouraged the weight of him to lie fully atop her.
His hand slipped into the folds of her coat and he began to touch her breast, causing her to gasp.
"Hannah, we shouldn't." But his head dipped low and his mouth sought that same breast, still covered in clothing, but sensitive, nonetheless.
She writhed beneath him, then pulled his face to hers. "Can it be quick?"
"That's not how I want it to be with you."
"After today," she said, her voice barely a rasp, "we both know nothing is guaranteed." She kissed him soundly. "I want you, Crow."
She could feel his readiness pressed against her.
He groaned softly, and with one hand, unbuttoned the top of her shirt, pushed the camisole up, then put his mouth fully on her bared nipple. Her back arched as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. As he held her hips, his mouth came back to hers and took every last breath from her as she fumbled with his long coat to get his pants from him. In a frenzy, he helped her, then lifted her skirt and pulled her drawers clear down to her ankles. He covered her body with his, and entered her in one swift motion, pausing as she adjusted to him.
The pain was brief, quickly replaced with a mounting anticipation. He began to move, and she met him, thrust for thrust, holding tight as she climaxed. Jack's body moved in rhythm with her, filling her with everything he had to offer.
As they both tried to catch their breaths, the sensation of him against her made her feel deeply satisfied. He kissed her, raw and sensual, making her wish they were in a bed and could lie naked beside one another all night long.
He shifted from her. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I hope I didn't hurt you. Damn, I hope you're real, and not some fantastical dream I'm having."
She kissed his chin, then his cheek, then fully on the mouth. "It's every girl's dream, to be taken on a rock by a handsome stranger."
"I mean to change the stranger part, if you'll let me."
She whispered against his lips. "Only if you promise to do that to me again."
Chapter Six
Jack spent the rest of the night with Hannah molded against him, snuggled in his arms, his legs on either side of her while he sat with his back against the cliffside and his rifle handy. Thankfully, she slept, but he didn't. He wouldn't let his guard down again. All night he kept watch, equally at peace, aroused, and vigilant for danger.
Loving Hannah in an explosive episode of passion had been unplanned, knocking the wind clean out of him. He wanted her—it had been there the moment he looked into her bright green eyes—but the last thing he wanted was to breach her boundaries after she'd been through so much with the loss of her pa, then her own death.
But when she had responded to him with so much need, it obliterated his self-control with one swift kick. Usually, he was more careful—he didn't spread his seed in carelessness. He had no need of bastard children. Fancy ladies knew how to take care of such things. And with others, he'd taken more care to prevent any…complications.
But not with Hannah.
And if that hadn't been enough to show him a force greater than both of them was at play, there'd been the damn tears. Stunned by the brief, intense encounter, emotions had welled up inside that left him on the verge of weeping. He'd quickly clamped down on it, making certain Hannah didn't see, for fear it might frighten her.
What woman wanted a man crying after loving her?
What the hell had happened to him?
I found Hannah.
Despite his mind telling him such things were hogwash, he knew that he'd been waiting for her his entire life.
****
Hannah awoke with a start. Still within Jack's embrace, the chilled morning air made her nose cold. He dozed, but as she moved, he came awake.
"Mornin'," he said, and rubbed his face.
"Good morning." Stiff and sore, she shifted to sit upright.
He pulled her back and kissed her. "I like seeing you first thing."
She smiled, then grimaced. "What's that smell?" The odor carried the stench of death.
She moved from him and rounded the rocky outcrop to where the animals and Sani had been. Relief filled her when she spied the horses and mule, but panic replaced it when she saw no sign of the Navajo woman.
"Where is she?" she asked, making a sweep of the area. Jack did the same, the rifle in hand.
"Tracks lead that way," Jack said, indicating a path to the opposite cliff wall.
"Is she alone?"
"It seems so."
A thin sheen of smoke settled into the canyon floor.
"What is that smell, Jack?"
"You stay here," he said. "Let me go."
"No. Sani's in trouble." She moved past him, but he stopped her. She looked into his dark eyes, fathomless, like the black sheen of crow feathers. "Don't leave me alone, Jack."
Wordlessly, he agreed and quickly secured their camp. He tended the animals, ground-tying them in an area that would offer shade as the sun crept across the sky.
Hannah walked behind Jack, with no weapon in hand since Sani had taken the shotgun. The odor of burning flesh, be it animal or human, was so strong now that Hannah held a kerchief to her mouth and nose. They came to the sheer, red wall rising to the heavens and found a narrow crack.
Jack entered, and Hannah followed.
****
As he neared the opening of the fissure on the other side, it was as Jack feared. A thin Indian moved about, a fire blazing at the center with what appeared to be a sheep carcass burning. He caught sight of Sani, bound and gagged, a bright stain of blood soaked into the garment from the shoulder injury Hannah had tended the previous night.
She lived, but he suspected not for long.
Then, he saw Lopez, dozing some distance from the fire. From his ripped clothing and several visible wounds, it was obvious he'd fought Hok'ee, and was most definitely worse off for it. But he wasn't a prisoner of Hastin Yazhe.
Why?
"What's going on?" Hannah whispered from behind.
With no substantial coverage—either rock or foliage—Jack thought it too dangerous to exit the crack. But what if Hastin, or Lopez, decided to leave the enclosure? While there might be another exit, they could run right into Jack and Hannah.
He turned to face Hannah. "Sani is alive, but captive. I see an Indian, who I assume is Hastin."
"We need to get her," Hannah whispered, an urgency in her voice.
"Do you think he'll kill her?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Hannah hesitated. "Sani and Hastin disagreed many moons ago, during the time of the Long Walk. So many of the Navajo were filled with such a deep sorrow that it ultimately
bred vengeance. When Hastin embraced the evil, Sani abandoned him. She refused to acknowledge him."
"Acknowledge how?" Jack asked.
"Hastin is her brother."
Jack stared hard at Hannah. "Then why in tarnation would he kill her?"
"Hastin doesn't forgive."
"That's why she left us, isn't it?" he asked. "To deal with Hastin on her own?"
"I'm not certain of that. Sani agreed to help me because no one else in the tribe wanted anything to do with him. Neither did she, for that matter, but she respected my pa and understood how important it was for me to put his soul to rest. This has been at great distress to her because most Navajo want nothing to do with the dead."
"I still can't believe that Hastin will kill her."
"Maybe he won't, but I don't want to chance it."
He saw the shadow too late. A Navajo man slipped behind Hannah and rendered her unconscious with one blow. Jack grasped Hannah's limp body and wedged himself in an effort to protect her, slamming the Indian's nose with the butt of his hand. As blood spurted, the man sagged but the one behind him aimed a revolver in Jack's face.
Jack didn't move. He wouldn't risk Hannah's life, but he feared that none of them would make it out of this canyon alive.
By his calculation, it was October 31st.
Hallowe'en.
Perhaps it was fitting to meet the Maker on this day.
It happened to be his birthday.
Chapter Seven
Hannah came awake, her eyes taking in the scene before her, and panic sank into her bones.
A body burned at the center of a huge blaze.
Not Jack. Please not Jack.
She lay on her side, feet tied and hands bound behind her, leaving a painful ache in her right shoulder. Hastin Yazhe moved past her, just as she remembered him—gaunt, his short black hair pushed back with a red cloth worn high on his forehead, and the same sinister scowl that had scared her from the first moment she and her pa had encountered him more than two years ago.
She glanced around, reluctant to move her head lest she alert Hastin that she was awake. The throbbing in her skull reminded her she'd been struck.
Was Jack already dead? Was it his body in the fire? She squeezed her eyes to block the wave of grief.
She heard Sani's voice, speaking Navajo. She and Hastin argued, and Sani attempted to bargain for their lives. The name Crow came up repeatedly.
Relief washed through Hannah. Jack lived! At least, for now.
But Sani pressed onward, all but threatening Hastin with the presence of Crow.
No, Sani. It will only cause Hastin to kill Jack faster.
Hannah moved, and succeeded in catching Hastin's attention, effectively ending Sani's conversation.
The Navajo man came to her and squatted near her face. "Hannah of Walter Dobbin, you have left me no choice."
His breath smelled of whiskey, his deerskin breeches stained with blood. A silver bracelet encircled his wrist, and Hannah knew he'd stolen it from Sani. Tension twisted in her gut. If he killed Sani and kept the jewelry, would her soul become caught between worlds as her father's was?
She lifted her gaze to his, the fire casting a pale light into the deep darkness of the night enveloping them. "There is no peace for the wicked, Hastin Yazhe."
"That is where you are wrong." He leaned closer. "I am quite at peace."
"The spirits are out tonight. Even you can't protect your soul."
His face split into a grin filled with malice. "You and your father come to live with the Navajo, and you think you know us. You know no such thing. You are just like the white men who sent us away from our homeland. You are not welcome. And now, because you cannot heed my advice, I must kill you as I did your father."
"It is you who is no longer Navajo," she replied. "You do not practice the Blessing Way. You are corrupt. You're an abomination."
He laughed. "A white girl telling me how to be one of the People. I will save you for last. You will make an excellent powder."
He left her. An excellent powder? What did that mean? Dark whispers in her mind told her, but she didn't want to believe it. There was talk of corpse powder, always in hushed tones, the fear of it palpable among those who spoke of it. Were there actually Navajo who made such a substance?
With mounting anxiety, Hannah suspected that Hastin dared to practice even more sinister arts than she'd suspected all along.
****
Jack could see Hannah's feet on the opposite side of the huge fire from where he sat, immobile. He was grateful when she moved, reassuring him that she lived. He sat upright, but his hands were bound behind him and his feet roped together.
A body burned in the fire, replacing the charred remains of the sheep from earlier.
"That is Ramirez," Lopez said.
Jack's blood ran cold. His brothers chased Ramirez. They'd split up outside of Phoenix when the trails diverged. Jack took this route because he knew Lopez was the more ruthless of the two. He was right.
"I take it you and Ramirez didn't see eye-to-eye," Jack said.
"I don't take kindly to a double-cross."
"Why burn the body?"
Are Cal and Kit near? He wasn't a praying man, but he'd say a prayer if it kept his brothers safe.
"That is Yazhe's idea." Lopez still nursed wounds on his arms, face, and neck from Hok'ee.
"Why are you with Yazhe?" Jack asked.
"I guess you call it black magic."
Jack scanned the area around the blaze. He had sight of Hannah. He wished she were closer. Sani was also visible. The three Navajo men who'd jumped him and Hastin sat together to his far left.
"I have been trying to decide what to do with you, Crow," Lopez said, kneeling before him. "You have been on my trail for some time. I admire that. In fact, did you know that I left that gringo woman for you outside of Phoenix? It was my gift to you."
When Jack found the woman, beaten and bleeding, she'd barely been alive. Lopez had mutilated the husband and shot two children in the head. Jack had watched the life drain from the woman's eyes. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to stay, after the unspeakable loss of her family, but still, he'd hoped to save her, to salvage something from the violence that Lopez practiced so casually.
There were times he wished his memory would fade, to erase the atrocities that weighed heavy on his soul, but those moments of selfishness left him quickly. Without him, and men like him, there would be no one to stop the likes of Lopez.
Whatever might come of this night, he couldn't let the Mexican walk out of here alive.
Chapter Eight
Hannah struggled to a sitting position and caught sight of Jack across the fire. She nodded to him and his hooded gaze softened slightly.
She coughed and tried again not to inhale. The acrid stink from the burning body filled the air, nauseating her. It smelled like an animal cooked too long, with a sharp metallic stench rolling off it.
Her eyes watered, and the tears threatened to become real.
She could see the three Navajo who had jumped her and Jack earlier—Ahiga, Manaba and Tse. She didn't know them well, but they were also dissenters. The first two were middle-aged, having suffered through the Long Walk, while Tse was Manaba's son.
Would they kill Jack and Sani before placing them in the fire? Or would they be burned alive?
Hannah thought losing her pa had done her in, but now she desired to live. Even more, she desired Jack to live.
Watching him, she wished they'd had more time.
She hung her head and suppressed a sob.
Her eyes snapped up when she heard a gasp from the Navajo men. In fast succession, they all dropped to the ground, arrows protruding from their chests.
Hastin dove toward her. She fell to the side and tried to scoot away from him.
He yanked her to her feet, his arm around her throat choking her as he kept spinning them around, clearly not certain from what direction the attack came.
"I will kill her!" he yelled.
She felt the point of a knife in her side. Her legs threatened to collapse as she sucked in desperately needed air. Hastin would end her life if she couldn't get away.
Could Jack bring me back from the dead a second time?
From the inky night came two men with dark features and a lethal glow in their eyes. They both held pistols, one in each hand.
Jack?
Were they ghosts?
Or crows in the night...
Hastin held her tighter. With her hands twisted behind her, she had no weapon, no way to fight him.
She sunk her teeth into the flesh on his arm, drawing blood. A bellow came from him, and she slid to the ground.
Gunfire erupted over her and she wished she could cover her ears as the crows killed Hastin Yazhe.
Booted feet moved past.
"Find Jack," one of the crows said.
Hannah grunted as she rolled so that she could see where they went.
Searching across the fire, Jack was gone. All that greeted her was the heat from the fire, the foulness of an over-cooked corpse, and Hastin's lifeless body several feet away.
She noticed Sani beyond, still bound and gagged, appearing frantic and upset.
"Sani," she yelled. "Are you all right?"
The Navajo woman nodded.
All they could do was wait until Jack or the crows returned and freed them, or the man Jack hunted found them. Terrified, she knew this time Lopez would kill her for good.
She thought she heard something, far beyond in the dark. The fire began to die down, the charred skin sunken onto the bones of the body that had been cooked for much of the day. Blood oozed from Hastin's unmoving body, but Hannah couldn't muster any remorse for the man.
Shadows moved just beyond, and Hannah held her breath, fearing that it wouldn't be Jack. Winged creatures flew. Logic told her it was bats. She blinked several times, certain her mind played tricks.
The Crow and the Coyote (The Crow Series Book 1) Page 3
