Tales of Western Romance

by Baker, Madeline

  Culhane lifted Winter Star onto the back of the smaller of the two horses, then swung onto the back of the other. Hardly daring to breathe, he rode away from the fort, careful to keep his horse at a walk. Once they were out of sight of the fort, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Winter Star was behind him, then he urged his horse into a lope.

  Freedom lay ahead.

  Chapter 13

  It was mid-morning when Culhane reined his horse to a halt. Dismounting, he lifted Winter Star from the back of her horse. Wordlessly, he drew her into his arms and held her close. Abruptly, he put her away from him and stared at her belly.

  “What the hell?” he muttered. Although hidden beneath her shapeless tunic, he had felt the change in her figure. Her breasts were fuller; her belly a small, hard ball.

  She blushed under his inquiring gaze. “We are to have a child,” she murmured softly.

  Culhane blinked at her. “We are?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide and apprehensive as she stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

  “Star!” Stunned, he drew her into his arms. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you are pleased.”

  “Of course I am.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder.

  “We’ll get married,” he said. “Right away.”

  “I am already married,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I thought you were dead. Young Hawk offered to marry me so that my family would not be disgraced.”

  Culhane stared at her.

  “I must go back and find out if he is still alive,” she said..

  “And if he is?”

  “Then I will divorce him.”

  Culhane grunted softly. “Did you…have you…? Dammit.”

  “We did not live as man and wife,” Winter Star said quietly.

  Culhane blew out a sigh of relief. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

  Days later, they returned to the banks of the Washita. Culhane glanced around. There was little left of the village.

  “Where would the survivors go?” he asked.

  “I am not sure. To the Black Hills, perhaps. They could find shelter there.”

  * * * * *

  As Winter Star predicted, they found the survivors holed up in a valley in the Black Hills. Winter Star wept tears of joy when she learned that her grandfather had survived the battle. Her parents, too, had survived, though her father had been badly wounded.

  Young Hawk had been killed. Winter Snow grieved for him. Though she had not loved him, they had grown up together. He had been a part of her youth, woven into the fabric of her memories.

  When the time of grieving was over, Culhane took Winter Star for his wife, knowing, as he did so, that he had forever cut all ties with his own people. Riley Culhane no longer existed and in his place stood the warrior, Braves the Fire.

  After the brief ceremony, he took Winter Star to his lodge. “Whither thou goest, I will go,” he murmured as he drew her into his arms. “And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people will be my people. And thy God, my God.”

  And so saying, he made slow, sweet love to her, sealing his promise to love and cherish her all the days of his life with his first kiss as her husband. Vowing with every touch and every gentle caress that he would love her and no other for as long as he lived.

  Culhane stared into the darkness later that night, truly at peace for the first time in his life. On the brink of sleep, he realized that Riley Culhane no longer existed. There was only Braves the Fire of the Cheyenne. Whether it was a vision or only wishful thinking, he saw himself in years to come, surrounded by his children, with Winter Star always at his side. And life was good.

  The End

  Daniel Blue Hawk is a man unsure of his place in life. He yearns for the days of old and chafes against what others call progress. Then, an unusual solution is offered by a medicine-man called Fox Hunter. Is it possible to travel in time, to visit the past? If Daniel does this, will he give up his family and all ties to the present?

  A woman finds an Indian man and nurses him back to health despite the objections of her ranch foreman. Deeply attracted to the unusual man, she gives him a job.

  Will meeting Lynnie make Daniel’s decisions about his life easier, or lead him into a danger such as he’s never known before?

  Reckless Destiny

  Chapter 1

  Bear Valley

  1921

  I sat on the front porch, gently rocking my youngest granddaughter to sleep. Marissa was a year old and a more beautiful child had never been born. Of course, I had said that about all my grandchildren, and all my great-grandchildren, but only because it was true.

  It was hard to believe that my babies were all grown and all but one of them had married and had children, and that their children were now having children of their own. We were certainly a prolific bunch, I thought with a smile. Mary and Cloud Walker had seven sons and two daughters; Hawk and Victoria had four sons and three daughters, and four grandsons.

  Not to be outdone, Blackie and Joey had two sons and three daughters and, unless I missed my guess, Joey was pregnant again. Hawk’s twin sons had left the valley. Jacob had gone to Chicago, Jason had moved to New York City. Both boys had married, and had twin sons of their own. Amanda Marie had married and moved to Boston. Several of my older grandchildren had gone back east to college.

  Our family get-togethers were louder and wilder than ever. The teenagers were an exuberant bunch, likely to bring a friend or two with them whenever they came by. I welcomed them all, glad to have my family around me. Glad to be a part of their lives.

  It was quiet at home during the week. Our youngest son, Daniel Blue Hawk, still lived with us. He spent his days helping his father on the ranch. Shadow’s horses were known throughout the territory, not only for their beauty and conformation, but for their speed and endurance. They were much in demand, not only in Bear Valley and Steel’s Crossing, but in cities as far east as New York and Boston. When Blue Hawk wasn’t helping his father with the stock, he could be found in his room, writing. He was a natural-born storyteller, our Blue Hawk. He had sold several articles and short stories to magazines back east. He hoped one day to write a full-length novel.

  Still, I was worried about Blue Hawk. He never complained, but I knew he wasn’t happy here. The sad thing was, I knew he wouldn’t be happy anywhere else either. It wasn’t his location that depressed him, it was the century. All of our children had strong ties to their Cheyenne heritage, but none more than our youngest son. He wanted to be a warrior. He wanted to live in the old way. He never tired of hearing Shadow’s stories of days gone by, of battles fought long ago, of buffalo hunts and horse raids.

  I watched Daniel now as he put a temperamental chestnut stallion through its paces. My son bore a striking resemblance to his father, both in looks and mannerisms. He was good with horses, soft spoken, filled with the same quiet confidence and self-assurance his father had always possessed in abundance.

  At twenty, Daniel Blue Hawk was tall and lean, broad through the shoulders and narrow in the hips. His thick black hair fell half way down his back, the envy of many a young woman. He had dark gray eyes and skin the color of copper. Women old and young turned to stare at him whenever he went into town. Any number of them had tried to win his attention and his affection. They made excuses to stop him on the street, sent him cakes and cookies by the dozen, asked him to dances and church suppers, but to no avail. He was polite and friendly; he rarely refused their invitations but, so far, none of them had held his interest or won his heart.

  “He rides like a warrior.”

  I glanced to my left to see Shadow standing near the porch rail at the foot of the stairs. My gaze moved over him, noting the fine lines around his eyes and mouth, the iron in his hair. For all his years, he was still tall and straight, still the only man I had ever loved.

  “He rides like his father,” I replied, smi
ling.

  “He is not happy here.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear my thoughts on Shadow’s lips. After so many years together, our thoughts often traveled the same path. “I wish I knew what to do.”

  “I have been thinking about it,” Shadow remarked. “I think he should go spend some time on the reservation with Fox Hunter.”

  Fox Hunter was a much revered medicine man. No one knew for sure how old he was, though Shadow figured the old man had to be at least ninety.

  “What will that solve?” I shook my head. The reservation was a dreary place. “How will that help Daniel?”

  “There are many other Old Ones who might be able to help him.”

  “Help him how? What can they tell him that you can’t?” I frowned, disconcerted by a sudden sense of unease. “Shadow? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “There are ancient ceremonies that might be of use.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “What kind of ceremonies?”

  “Similar to the sweat lodge,” Shadow replied. “Similar to seeking a vision.”

  “Have you discussed this with Daniel?”

  “Not yet.” Shadow came around the porch and climbed the stairs, dropping into the rocking chair beside mine. “He is not happy here, Hannah. It is time to let him go, time for him to find out where his heart lies.”

  Chapter 2

  Daniel rode the big chestnut stallion around the corral one last time, then opened the gate and rode away from the house toward the greening hills. The stallion tugged on the reins, impatient to run, but no more so than his rider. He gave the horse its head, and the stallion lined out in a dead run.

  Daniel leaned forward, relishing the sting of the wind in his face, the power of the animal beneath him, the rhythmic pounding of the stallion’s hooves over the hard ground. Riding across the open range, it was easy to pretend that the year was 1851 instead of 1921, easy to forget that Bear Valley was a civilized town now, with a population of more than two thousand people. Many of the residents had replaced their horses with automobiles. Men no longer openly carried guns in town.

  With a shake of his head, Daniel urged the stallion further into the hills. Up here, away from any trace of civilization, he could pretend that the Cheyenne still roamed the hills and prairies, that he was a warrior on the scent of game. It was foolish, and he knew it, especially for a man his age. And yet it was what he yearned for, dreamed of, to be a warrior, a real warrior, like his father. It was what his brothers had once longed for, as well, until they married and had children. Long ago, Daniel’s brother, Hawk, had met Sitting Bull. Hawk had been on the reservation that day back in 1890 when Sitting Bull had been killed. It was a story that had been told often when Daniel was a boy, a story of sadness and loss.

  Daniel reined the chestnut to a halt at the top of a ridge. Leaning forward, he patted the stallion on the neck as he looked out over the valley.

  His brothers and his sister had found their place in the world. As sheriff, Hawk was held in high regard by the citizens of Bear Valley. Blackie’s veterinary practice was thriving. Mary and Victoria were busy with their children and their husbands. His parents were wrapped up in each other, as always. Daniel knew they loved him, knew his family loved him, but he often felt as if he didn’t belong anywhere, as if he didn’t quite fit in, not in his family, not in the town, and not in the world around him. He had no interest in the future, didn’t care for the present. What called to him was the past, those long ago days when the Cheyenne lived wild and free, when the buffalo covered the plains in numbers so vast that it took days to ride around the southern herd alone. The old days. He didn’t want to hear about the Shining Times. He wanted to live them.

  With a sigh, he turned the stallion back toward home.

  His father was waiting for him at the corral when Daniel returned. Swinging out of the saddle, he began to walk the chestnut to cool it out.

  Shadow fell into step beside him. “How is he handling?”

  “Better,” Daniel said. “I think Mr. Henderson will be pleased with his progress.”

  Shadow nodded.

  Pausing, Daniel offered the reins to his father. “Do you want to try him yourself?”

  “There is no need. Your word is good enough for me.”

  With a nod, Daniel resumed walking.

  “You are troubled,” Shadow said, coming up beside him once again.

  “I’m fine, neyho.”

  “I think it would be good for you to spend some time on the reservation with Fox Hunter.”

  Daniel stared at his father. “How much time?”

  “As much as you need.”

  “But what about the ranch? The horses…”

  Shadow lifted one brow. “I am not yet too old to look after what is mine. If you wish to go, I will arrange it.”

  “What will nahkoa say?”

  “We have already talked about it. She does not like it, but she knows it is for the best. The decision is yours.”

  “I want to go.” He couldn’t wait to go, couldn’t wait to spend time with the old ones, to hear the stories of days gone by.

  With a nod, Shadow turned back toward the corral. Daniel fell into step beside his father. For all his outer stillness, Daniel’s insides were quivering with excitement. Soon, he thought, soon he would be living with the Cheyenne, and while life on the reservation was nothing like living in the old days, it was as close as he was likely to get.

  * * * * *

  I didn’t like it one bit when Shadow told me Daniel was going to the reservation to stay with Fox Hunter “for as long as necessary”. I would have argued, I would have tried to talk Daniel out of it, but how could I, when the arrangements had already been made, when my son’s eyes glowed with an excitement I had never seen before?

  The whole family came to dinner the night before Daniel was to leave. I knew it was selfish of me to want him to stay. He was a man now, old enough, and hopefully wise enough, to make his own decisions. But, like mothers everywhere, I was reluctant to see my youngest child leave the nest. Mothers never stopped worrying. I remembered the first time I had watched Daniel ride one of our old mares around the corral when he was no more than two or three years old. Shadow had stood nearby, smiling and encouraging him while I had looked on from afar, worrying that the old mare might bolt, that my son would fall, that he would break an arm or a leg or worse. Shadow had assured me that the old mare was as reliable as the sunrise, that Daniel was old enough to learn to ride, and even though I had known Shadow was right, I had worried anyway.

  And now Daniel was going away. For the first time in his life, he would be living far from home. In spite of Daniel’s excitement, in spite of Shadow’s assurance that there was nothing to worry about, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was losing my baby, that he would be a different man when he returned to us.

  I felt a shiver of unease as the words, If he returned to us, whispered through the back of my mind.

  Shaking off my gloomy thoughts, I gazed at my family. As always, I was filled with wonder by the number of people at our table. Our sons and son-in-law were good men, strong, honest, and hard working. They were men who revered the land, men who knew who they were and what they were about, who treated their wives and children with love and respect. My daughter and daughters-in-law were wonderful wives and mothers, loyal, supportive, and courageous in their own way, never afraid to stand up for what they believed in.

  And my grandchildren! Words failed me. I knew all grandmothers thought their grandchildren were the handsomest, the prettiest, the smartest, but mine really were.

  I listened to the conversations around me – the men talking horses and cattle and prohibition, the women discussing recipes, the upcoming dance at the Grange, and the latest fashions. A couple of the older boys were talking about Al Capone, a gangster who had made quite a name for himself in Chicago.

  Times were certainly changing, and I wasn’t sure they were for the better. I was
glad to be living in Bear Valley. Though we were still lacking many of the latest inventions, we didn’t have to worry much about gangsters or strikes or anyone opening a speak-easy.

  Still, progress was slowly making its way to our small valley. Our children no longer met in a one-room schoolhouse. Our newspaper had carried the story of the wedding between Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford. Our older girls had oohed and aahed over the photograph in the paper and spent several days imagining how wonderful it would be to live in Hollywood and socialize with movie stars, or live at Pickfair, the Fairbanks’ twenty-two room mansion in Beverly Hills, or to meet Rudolph Valentino.

  Yes, times were changing. Just last year, on August 18th, women had been given the right to vote by the 19th Amendment to the Constitution. Some of the men in the valley were still grumbling about that.

  Steel’s Crossing had a brand new movie theater. It wasn’t anything like the grand movie palaces built in California by Sid Grauman, but it was bigger than the old nickelodeon. Shadow and I had gone to Steel’s Crossing to see John Barrymore in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. in The Mark of Zorro. All the women in the family were looking forward to seeing Rudolph Valentino in The Sheik.

  So many changes and inventions since I was a little girl growing up in this place. We had gone from the horse and buggy to the Model T. From the pony express to the telegraph and telephone, from living in a buffalo hide lodge to living in a house with running water and electricity.

  I looked down the table at Shadow. He had grown up with the Cheyenne. The changes that seemed so amazing to me must seem even more remarkable to him.

  I saw Daniel and Blackie with their heads together, laughing at something one of the children had said, and all thoughts of the past fled my mind.

  Tomorrow, my baby was leaving home for the first time.