by Barbara Goss
"It did disgust me at first. But you have to understand the situation. My mother, believe it or not, practically pushed him into this dilemma. It raged as a family sore spot for years. My father worshiped my mother. His first wife, your grandmother, he never loved—it was a marriage of convenience. When she died, he met and fell in love with my mother. The wedding ceremony was Comanche, not binding by white man's law.
"They were happy. When my mother complained about being the only wife—can you imagine that?—my father became furious with her. He thought he flattered her by saying he wanted no other but her. Instead he discovered he had insulted her. The battle raged for years, but that's not the worst. My mother brought other women to the ranch and practically threw them at him! Little Bird was her last attempt at matchmaking. Evidently, he gave in, tired of fighting. What we can't figure out is why he never told us about it.
Even on his deathbed he said nothing. Mother thinks it's because he didn't understand Indian ways and because of his upbringing must have thought his marriage to Little Bird should be kept secret."
"Then he did marry Little Bird?" Sarah asked, surprised.
"Little Bird claims they went through a small ceremony among a few Comanche—Black Feather and his friends."
"So you've forgiven them?"
He nodded. "And thought it my duty to take care of the girl and her baby since it was my parents' fault this all happened."
"I see. Well," she said, standing, "next time Samuel Lewis comes, be sure to call me. I have questions for him, too."
"You won't sign anything?" Storm asked anxiously, walking her to the front door.
"I won't sign anything."
Storm kissed her hands. "Good night, Sarah. Sleep well."
Though warned of Lewis's probable return, Sarah was still surprised the next day when Dawn announced her visitor.
Stepping out of her room, Sarah glanced over the balcony. There stood one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. At that moment he glanced up and their eyes locked. He appeared younger than Sarah had pictured him and more sophisticated looking. For some reason Sarah had envisioned him as a man of her grandfather's age, not this tall, handsome young man in his early thirties.
Mr. Lewis's eyes followed her as she descended the stairs. He stood tall, taller than Storm, who towered over her. But unlike Storm, he wore his light hair short, and he constantly petted a thin, straight mustache.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said cordially. "I'm Samuel Lewis, your grandfather's attorney, and yours also if you so wish." He reached for her hand and kissed it, then relinquished it somewhat reluctantly.
"Please be seated, Mr. Lewis." Sarah sat on a wing chair near the sofa he chose. "Your business in Fort Worth went well, I hope?" Samuel Lewis, she noted, certainly appeared handsome and debonair but had the look of one who seldom ventured outdoors. His perfect features, while attractive, were in direct contrast to Storm's rugged, muscular appearance.
"Very well, thank you. And your journey?" he countered, still smoothing his mustache.
"Extremely rough from Chicago to Dodge City. From Dodge to Arrow C the traveling was most enjoyable. Storm did a remarkable job."
"Storm! Yes, a good man," he said, adding offhandedly, "almost white."
"Almost white?" Sarah gasped, wondering what he meant by that.
"An expression meaning he is almost on our level."
"Almost? Our level?"
"Of course you know he's half Indian. We, that is, the entire community, rank him as Indian."
Sarah protested, "What difference does it make?"
"If your family had been massacred by Indians, would a half-breed look any better to you?" he asked with a knowing smile.
Sarah thought his smile the phoniest she'd ever seen. She disliked Samuel Lewis, his smile, his attitude, and his much-fondled mustache.
"I'll warn you Mr. Lewis, I've become close friends with the Indians here and won't hear talk against them."
Mr. Lewis shook his head. "Friends? You aren't serious? Why, the other ranchers and I thought you'd be different, coming from Chicago and all. We hoped Arrow C would finally be white, like the other ranches in the area. If we'd have known," He shook his head frowning. "So you'll follow in your grandfather's footsteps and continue to indulge these savages."
"They do a good job, why not?"
"Why not? Look here, our families—"
"Mr. Lewis," Sarah interrupted, deciding it best to change the subject, "are you aware of the possibility of a second will?"
"There is only one will, and it names you as heir."
"You're sure?"
"I would know, being Wilson's lawyer. Of course my father was his attorney for years and after he retired I became his lawyer."
"So your father could have made up a previous will? Or would you destroy the old copy of a it if the beneficiary were an Indian?"
Lewis stood abruptly. "Miss Clarke, are you accusing me of something?" he asked with angry indignation.
"I'm only asking, Mr. Lewis. You're extremely defensive for someone who isn't guilty."
Samuel Lewis scooped up his papers. "And I had thought we'd get along famously. If you'll just sign these two papers, I'll be on my way."
Sarah rose and glared up at the tall man defiantly. "I won't sign anything today."
"But you must! It's just formality. These papers simply show you've accepted your inheritance and are the rightful owner stated in the will." Samuel Lewis mopped his face with his handkerchief. "Please, Miss Clarke, it's hot, I'm tired, and I'm angry—having been insulted in your home. Sign the papers, and I won't bother you again."
"I'm sorry if I've offended you, Mr. Lewis, but I only asked a few simple questions. You had only to answer them. There was no need to become insulted or angry. Have I no right to ask questions?"
Samuel Lewis shook his head and sighed. "Let me apologize then, for it's hot and I'm travel worn. I've been on the road for days. When I missed you yesterday, I spent the night at the nearest neighboring ranch, the Wade's. I'm anxious to get to my own home. But I have to settle this business first. To lose my temper with such a lovely woman is totally unlike me. Will you forgive me, my dear?"
"Of course." Sarah steadied herself. Was she falling for his charm, too? She decided to give the man another chance but also to be very careful of his charming manipulation.
"Where are my manners? Let's sit out on the porch. I'll have Rosa bring us some cool lemonade." Sarah opened the kitchen door and gave Rosa the order before escorting Mr. Lewis to the porch.
A slight breeze made it cooler on the porch, and Samuel Lewis smiled in appreciation when Rosa brought the lemonade. Although old enough to be Lewis's mother, Rosa blushed and giggled with downcast eyes while he flirted with her. Storm was right, Sarah thought. Women do like Samuel Lewis.
"Do you feel better, Mr. Lewis?" she asked after Rosa disappeared.
"Yes, much, thank you. Your beauty throws me off balance, and I keep forgetting why I'm here. The papers," he spread them out before her, smiled, and winked, "if you'll just sign here and here."
Sarah shook her head. "I'm sorry, not today."
Lewis reddened. "I don't understand. No one has ever refused to sign inheritance papers!"
"I didn't say I wouldn't sign them. I said, 'Not today.' "
"You're stubborn, like your grandfather!"
"That's odd, because Wilson wasn't my grandfather," Sarah blurted in anger, and then realized she should have waited until he'd finished sipping his lemonade, for now he was choking.
"Are you all right, Mr. Lewis?"
"Yes, yes." He coughed. "I'll be all right. Did you say Wilson wasn't your grandfather?"
"That's right. I found my grandmother's diary in the attic. She was a widow with child when she married Wilson Clarke. That child was my father."
Lewis looked uncomfortable. "Who else knows of this?"
"My aunt, Dawn, and Storm."
"You told Storm?"
"Why do
es that bother you?" She studied him carefully.
"He'll try to get the ranch from you! Why did you tell him? Don't you know he'd do anything to get this ranch? I wouldn't be surprised if he planted the diary—or tried to forge a will. I never trust a back-stabbing Indian—"
Sarah stood, and spoke carefully. "I warned you, Mr. Lewis. I won't have Storm or the others criticized, especially in that manner. Storm is the finest man I've ever met. He wouldn't think of doing the things you suggested. In fact, he knew I wasn't Wilson's granddaughter the whole time and never tried to use it against me.
"I think you had better leave, Mr. Lewis. You won't get your papers signed, because I'm not keeping the ranch. I intend to sign it over to Storm. Draw up papers of that nature, and I'll sign them!"
Dawn appeared then and Samuel's anger disappeared—he was the master of charm once again. He flirted and flattered Dawn until she looked as Rosa had moments earlier, like a smitten young schoolgirl. Sarah noticed his slick mannerisms and honeyed words. This man has his act down pat, she thought.
"Sorry I didn't welcome you sooner, but I was helping Little Bird bathe her baby," Dawn explained, blushing.
"Little Bird had her baby?" he asked.
"Yes, a daughter. In fact, she wants me to bring you up to see her and the baby."
"I'd love to." He followed Dawn into the house and up the stairs.
Relieved, Sarah fled to the stables, saddled and mounted Red, and galloped to her quiet place.
Amid the babbling of the brook, Sarah tried to calm herself of the hostile feelings brought on by Mr. Lewis. She cringed, remembering the things the man had said. How dare he attack Storm! Why Storm was ten times the man Mr. Lewis was or could ever hope to be. Why couldn't Rosa, Dawn, and Little Bird see him as she did?
The brook sparkled and gurgled, the birds sang, and Sarah began to feel the calming effect. How this place could soothe her! Even Mr. Lewis couldn't spoil—
The sound of hoof-beats broke into Sarah's thoughts. Her heart pounded. Storm! Afternoons he came here for his quiet time. She smiled. He always managed to appear just when she needed him most! She anticipated running into his arms to be comforted and soothed from her unpleasant encounter. The figure dismounted and walked toward the bridge. Sarah noticed the stiff, arrogant gait and felt disappointment surge through her. It wasn't Storm.
The tall, thin man strode to the base of the bridge, hat in hand. The thin lips beneath the sly mustache smiled. "May I join you?"
How had Samuel Lewis found her and for what purpose? She'd thought her insults had sent him off Arrow C for good.
"At your own risk, Mr. Lewis," she replied coldly.
He approached cautiously. "I've come waving a white flag. I'm calling a truce. Please cease firing."
With arms akimbo, she replied, "I'll stop firing when you stop insulting my friends."
He held up his right hand, "I promise."
"Very well." She leaned over the bridge rail. "Why did you follow me? What do you want? I meant what I said. I won't sign anything today."
"I've come to beg you not to do anything foolish with the ranch just yet." He leaned against the railing and gazed down at the trickling, swirling brook. "This is a lovely spot. Do you come here often?"
She nodded, wondering what his next move would be.
"I can see why. It's lovely—as you are! I've been looking forward to our meeting, Miss Clarke, but now wish I'd waited until I was well rested and less irritable. I'm afraid we've gotten off to a bad start." He smiled flirtatiously. "Let's begin again."
Sarah studied him. What could he possibly want from her? Would he go to this much trouble for her signature on a few papers? Though she'd been rude, he crawled back for more. She'd made it clear she didn't want to hear insults about her friends, but what seemed to rile him most was her intention to sign the ranch over to an Indian. Was he now trying to initiate a friendship so he could talk her out of it? Or as it were, "charm" her out of it? Was Storm's owning the ranch such a threat to the community? Was it merely friendship this man was trying to develop with her—or something more?
Sarah spoke cautiously, "I select my friends very carefully."
"I know. That's why I'd be fortunate to be considered one."
"The Indians weren't my friends at first, but they proved their worthiness in almost no time at all." Sarah measured him thoughtfully. "And if you're proposing something more than friendship, I'm not interested."
"You're very frank, aren't you?" He laughed, fingering his mustache nervously.
"If being frank is the same as being honest, yes."
"I think honesty is a bit more subtle," he chuckled. "Usually blunt people, such as yourself, appreciate the trait in others, so I'll be open with you. I'm interested in becoming very close friends. I find your frankness amusing, your opinions interesting, and your personality refreshing." He put out his hand to touch her hair. "To say nothing of your loveliness."
Sarah heard his honeyed words, observed his obliging smile, but noticed that somewhere in between, his eyes remained detached.
She stepped back from his hand and smiled indulgently.
"What is it you really want, Mr. Lewis?"
"How can we be friends if you call me Mr. Lewis? My friends call me Sam." He raised his eyebrows dramatically. "May I call you Sarah?"
"You may, if you stop insulting my friends."
"Very well, Sarah." He moved closer and whispered, "A lovely name for a lovely lady."
Sarah had the urge to laugh. Did he really think she'd fall for his phony lines?
He continued, "I'd like you to accompany me on calls to neighboring ranches. They're most eager to meet you. Say, tomorrow?"
"None have made an effort to meet me, but if you're certain they are anxious, what time should we be ready?"
"We?"
"Yes, Storm, Dawn, and myself."
"Oh, I had a more intimate traveling party in mind. Like just you and I."
"I'm afraid that's impossible." Sarah studied him. It wasn't disappointment evident on his face, but frustration.
Suddenly Lewis grabbed her shoulders and bent close with lips puckered. She leaned away from him until she thought her back would snap. "What are you doing?" she cried. "Stop, at once!"
"Look Sarah, I'm attracted to you, so let's not waste time on amenities. I think I've fallen in love with you. I find you irresistible. Come here," he grabbed for her again, smearing his thin, dry lips over her face, trying to target her lips, which Sarah managed to move back and forth too swiftly for him to hit.
Sarah's back hurt from arching away from his awkward embrace, and her neck ached from pivoting her face away from his determined lips. If it weren't so painful, she'd laugh over the spectacle they must have made.
Both froze at the sound of a man's loud, angry voice. "I think, Mr. Lewis, you've finally worn out your welcome."
Continuing his assault on Sarah, Lewis laughed, then sneered, "Not now, Injun boy, can't you see I'm busy?"
Scowling, Storm dismounted and stood, hands on hips, a few feet away. "Take your hands off Miss Clarke!"
Lewis gripped Sarah's shoulders painfully. "It isn't Miss
Clarke anymore, it's Sarah. And it isn't any of your business. Go build a teepee, do a rain dance, or whatever you Indians do."
Between clenched teeth Storm warned, "This Indian will do what Indians do best, if you don't unhand Miss Clarke. Now!" he added sharply.
Lewis dropped his hands.
"I think you'd better leave Arrow C, Mr. Lewis," Sarah said, rubbing the grip marks from her shoulders.
"I will, but only because I know he has about a dozen Indians hidden in the brush to assist him. Indians never attack alone; they're not brave enough for one-on-one combat."
Sarah watched Storm's eyes flash and his nostrils flare angrily, yet he made no further comment.
Lewis swaggered toward his horse. "You're a very foolish woman, Sarah."
"Miss Clarke," she corrected.
&
nbsp; Sarah and Storm silently watched Mr. Lewis ride away. Storm crossed the bridge with several of his long strides and took Sarah into his arms. She laid her head against his chest tenderly.
"I was wrong," he said, stroking her hair lightly.
"Wrong?"
"You didn't like Mr. Lewis's company."
"He's a persuasive man but had no luck getting me to sign the papers, so he tried using charm. Poor Mr. Lewis! He had no way of knowing his charm would have no effect on a woman already hopelessly in love." She gazed up at him, stroking his cheek. "By the way, just what is it Indians do best?"
"Let me show you," he whispered, bringing his lips down gently on hers.
The next evening Sarah knocked softly on Dawn's bedroom door. At Dawn's welcome, Sarah entered cheerlessly.
"What's wrong, Sarah?"
"I haven't seen Storm all day. Do you know where he is?"
"Not exactly." Dawn patted Sarah's shoulder affectionately. "He's all right though, somewhere on the ranch."
"But he hasn't come in for meals, and Aunt Emily said he hasn't eaten with the men at the bunkhouse either," Sarah fretted.
"He may be praying and fasting. He does this once in a while when greatly troubled or burdened. I don't understand, but it always does him good. He seems to get the answers he needs, for afterwards he's always in a better mood."
"You're sure he's all right?" Sarah asked, her forehead still creased.
"It breaks a mother's heart to see the woman her son's not marrying so much in love with him. Come, sit down," she urged gently.
"Dawn," said Sarah hopefully, "you mentioned that you were working on something that might help Storm and me—
"Oh, that," Dawn frowned. "It came to nothing. I'm sorry."
"May I ask what your plan was?"
"Hunter and I thought if we snooped and asked around at the reservation we'd hear something useful. Deep inside, I still doubt Tiny Bird is Wilson's baby. I have for some time. I know it's foolish, but,” She bit her lip nervously. "Anyway, we had a few leads, but no proof. Hunter discovered Little Bird had a few romances during the time in question. Two of the three questioned denied any intimacy. The third Hunter couldn't locate to question." Dawn shrugged. "We were wrong. Little Bird was a good Indian girl with a virtuous past."
