Cloud Walker wrapped Katherine's body in several thick layers of moss, then wrapped her in Frank's coat and placed her inside the carriage. Dragging Frank's body into the woods, he used a flat piece of wood to dig a shallow grave and dumped the corpse into it.
Returning to the buggy, he unhitched the remaining horse and fashioned a crude bridle from a length of rein. Swinging aboard the animal's bare back, he rode to where he had left Mary. She was still asleep, her cheeks stained with her tears.
Riding to the train depot, he went to the small store that supplied groceries to the local citizens and picked up a bottle of aspirin, iodine, bandages, enough food to last two or three days, and a couple of blankets.
The man in the mercantile store eyed Cloud Walker curiously. Indians were a rarity in these parts now.
''Somebody get hurt?" the man asked as he added up Cloud Walker's purchases.
"Hunting accident," Cloud Walker replied tersely.
"Hope it ain't serious," the man remarked. "Nearest doctor is forty miles east of here."
Cloud Walker grunted noncommittally, paid for his supplies, and left the store, which was the only building in town besides the telegraph office, a small restaurant, and a livery.
He stopped outside the telegraph office, intending to send a wire to Hannah and Shadow advising them of Katherine's death, but then changed his mind. There was no point in worrying them now, he thought bleakly, no point in breaking their hearts any sooner than necessary.
At the station depot he checked the departure schedule. The next train west was in five days.
His thoughts were troubled as he rode back to Mary. He had killed a white man, and they would surely hang him for that. No matter that Frank had intended to kill him, no matter that Frank had inadvertently killed Katherine and injured Mary. He had killed a white man who was rich and powerful.
He put the thought from his mind. He would worry about it later. For now, he would focus all his energy on nursing Mary back to health and be glad that he would have these few days to spend alone with her before they returned to Bear Valley.
For Mary, the next few days passed in a haze of pain and grief. Waking, she was ever aware of Cloud Walker hovering at her side, his dark eyes haunted with grief and guilt. She knew that he would hold her and comfort her if she only said the word, but she could not seem to speak past the hard lump in her throat. She had let her love for Cloud Walker override everything else, and now Katherine had paid the price for her mother's lack of self-control. Katherine was dead, and nothing would ever be the same again.
She sought refuge in sleep, hiding from Cloud Walker's stricken gaze, hiding from her own hurt, her own guilt. But even her dreams betrayed her, and she relived the nightmare over and over again, waking in tears as she saw her daughter fall, heard her child's last anguished cry.
For three days she was wracked by pain and fever and guilt. Cloud Walker tended her wounds, changing the bandages often, insisting that she eat and drink even though she had no appetite. He held her close when the fever turned to chills, warming her body with his own. She saw the hurt in his eyes, and knew that he was suffering over Katherine's death almost as deeply as she, but she could not relent, could not reach out to bridge the awful gap that lay between them.
Four days after Katherine's death, Mary's fever broke. It was only then, as she lay staring at the sky, that she thought to ask about Frank.
"He's dead," Cloud Walker told her, his voice hard and flat.
"Dead?" Mary frowned. Had she killed him?
She looked at Cloud Walker and he shook his head.
"I killed him," he said. "He's buried in the woods."
"And Castrell?"
Cloud Walker shrugged. "I do not know. He took one of the horses and lit out."
Mary nodded, shocked by the wave of relief that washed through her. Frank would never hurt her again. He would not hurt Cloud Walker again, or threaten to take Katherine away from her . . . Katherine.
The fresh realization of her daughter's death stabbed at her heart.
"Mary." He ached for the pain he saw in her face.
"Take me home," she said, her voice empty of emotion. That was all she wanted now, to go home, to lay her head on her father's shoulder and pour out the pain that gripped her heart. It would be so good to see her mother again. Hannah, too, had lost a child. She would understand.
Cloud Walker settled Mary in the buggy, a blanket over her lap. "Are you comfortable?"
Mary nodded, and he turned away. Earlier he had taken Katherine's body from the carriage and placed it under the driver's seat where Mary could not see it.
At the station he carried Katherine's body to the baggage car. By luck there was a large empty crate inside, and the porter said he could place Katherine's body inside. Thanking the man for his kindness, he returned to the buggy for Mary. They found a seat in the last car, where there were no other passengers.
Mary sat at the window staring out. She felt numb, drained, empty of life. The wound in her breast ached a little, but it was as nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Why hadn't she stayed in Chicago? If only she had stayed with Frank where she belonged, her daughter would be alive today. Her arms ached to hold Katherine, to hear the child's happy laughter just once more, to see her sunny smile. . . .
"Mary."
Slowly she turned to face Cloud Walker. This was the man she loved. Why couldn't she feel anything for him?
"It was not your fault," Cloud Walker said, his voice filled with compassion and understanding. "Or mine. Do not go on blaming yourself, or me. It was an accident. There is no one to blame."
"An accident is when you spill a glass of milk," Mary replied bitterly. "My daughter is dead. Don't you understand? She's dead!" She jerked her hand away as he reached for her. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, tears washing down her cheeks. "Don't ever touch me again!''
"Mary." His voice was heavy with pain as he whispered her name. She was sobbing pathetically, her shoulders heaving with the force of her tears. Ignoring her protests, Cloud Walker gathered Mary into his arms and held her while she cried, and all the while he murmured to her, telling her that he loved her, that the pain would pass with time. When she wailed that it would not, he reminded her gently that he had lost a son not very long ago, and that the pain had indeed lessened.
"One day you will be able to remember Katherine and smile," Cloud Walker promised. "It will not be today, and not tomorrow. But one day." He placed his hand over her stomach. ''Soon you will have another child to love," he reminded her. "Try to think of that, for now."
Mary gazed into Cloud Walker's face, seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time in days. His eyes were red-rimmed and deeply shadowed, as though he had not been sleeping well. There were long scabs on both his arms, and she knew he had gashed his flesh in his grief over Katherine's death. He too was suffering, she realized, suddenly ashamed of the way she had been treating him. She had been so wrapped up in her own grief that she had spared no thought for what Cloud Walker was feeling, for what he had been suffering. He had loved Katherine dearly. He had been the one who had washed the blood from the child's body and wrapped her in a shroud. It could not have been easy for him. None of it had been easy.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry for the awful way I've treated you and the terrible things I said. Can you ever forgive me?"
Cloud Walker smiled for the first time in days. "There is nothing to forgive," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Mary. I will always love you."
"Show me," she whispered, and closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to hers in a tender bestowal of affection.
The tears came then, but they were no longer tears of bitterness, but the gentle tears of a healing heart.
29
Victoria and I wept softly as we listened to Cloud Walker tell of Frank Smythe's treachery and Katherine's death. My heart ached for Mary. She had known so much unhappiness in her life, and now this.
"So
," Shadow said. "What now?"
"He'll have to turn himself in," Vickie said. "What else can he do?"
All the color drained from Mary's face. "No!"
Cloud Walker's expression was bleak. "Victoria is right. Frank was too well-known to just disappear."
Shadow nodded. "That is true."
Hawk snorted. "What kind of trial do you think Cloud Walker will get? Certainly not a fair one, not in this town."
"There's not much law out here," Mary cried. "Why does anyone have to know? Please, Cloud Walker, don't leave me."
Cloud Walker ran a hand across his jaw. Hawk was right. He would never get a fair trial. Not here. Not anywhere. No one would believe he had killed Frank in self-defense. There were no witnesses. Only Harvey Castrell knew that Frank had intended to kill him, and Castrell wasn't likely to come forward in Cloud Walker's defense, even if they knew where to find him.
"If he doesn't turn himself in, it will only make him look like he has something to hide," Vickie said.
Mary went to stand beside Cloud Walker. "Please don't turn yourself in," she begged, her eyes huge in her pale face. "You're all I have left."
"Mary . . ."
"I don't want to live without you."
Cloud Walker shook his head helplessly. She looked so frail, so distraught. How could he leave her? Drawing Mary into his arms, he looked over her head toward Shadow.
Shadow shrugged. "I have no love for the white man, and no faith in his laws. But the decision must be yours. If it were me, I would wait to see what happens."
Cloud Walker nodded. He had no desire to spend time in jail, no reason to believe he would get a fair trial, or any trial at all.
"You won't go to the law then?" Mary asked hopefully.
"No. We will wait and see what happens," he said heavily and knew deep inside that it was a mistake.
Later, when Victoria and Mary were out of the room, Cloud Walker told us he had scalped Frank, a detail he had omitted earlier.
The thought sickened me, but Shadow nodded his approval. "About time someone took the bastard's hair," he muttered under his breath, and I saw Hawk smile.
We buried Katherine on a windswept hill under a tall pine tree. Cloud Walker held Mary while she cried, and I prayed that the two of them might find happiness together at last, for the price of their love had come high.
News of Mary's homecoming spread rapidly through the valley. Eyebrows were raised when people learned that she had left her husband for Cloud Walker. And when people discovered that Mary was pregnant, the rumors spread like wildfire. The gossips had a field day then, speculating on whether the baby was Frank's or Cloud Walker's.
Six weeks later, Mary and Cloud Walker were married by an old medicine man Shadow had summoned from the reservation. The wedding was held at the river crossing late at night, with only our family present. Mary wore a doeskin tunic I had made for her, Cloud Walker wore a pair of buckskin trousers and a fringed buckskin shirt. The rest of us also wore traditional Indian garb.
It was like taking a step back in time. Night Owl took Cloud Walker's hand in his and made a shallow incision in the palm of his right hand. Then, taking Mary's hand, he made a similar incision in her palm. His wrinkled face was grave as he joined their hands together. Solemnly he gazed from Mary to Cloud Walker, his deep-set black eyes as old as time.
"Now your blood runs together," he said in a quiet voice. "You are now two people, but one blood. What happens to one, happens to the other. When one feels joy, both will share it. When one feels pain, the other will know it. You will be a help to each other, nevermore to be alone, nevermore to be alone. Be kind to each other, and always remember that Maheo is with you."
Standing beside Shadow, I felt as if my own marriage vows had been renewed. As Cloud Walker tenderly kissed Mary, Shadow kissed me. And then Hawk kissed Victoria. We all laughed, our hearts filling with joy for the first time in weeks, as Jacob turned to Jason and kissed him soundly on the cheek.
Mary and Cloud Walker moved into the lodge behind our house so they could have a place of their own. I was sorry that Mary could not have a big wedding and a home of her own, but such a thing was out of the question until the matter of Frank's death was resolved.
Mary was suddenly, unaccountably shy as she followed Cloud Walker into the lodge. She watched as he touched a match to the kindling laid in the fire pit, and doubts began to fill her mind. What if this marriage didn't work either? She had been so sure she loved Frank, and look how that had turned out.
But then Cloud Walker came toward her, his dark eyes filled with tenderness, and all her misgivings vanished like smoke in a high wind. She must put the past and its tragedies behind her. Her heart swelled with such love it was almost painful as he took her in his arms and kissed her gently.
"Mary," he said huskily. "I cannot believe you are truly mine."
"Believe it," she whispered, and drawing his head down, she pressed her lips to his. A warm sense of belonging washed over her as her heart assured her that this was right. She didn't need a big wedding and a fancy dress, didn't need a white cake and champagne. Cloud Walker was her husband now. Her child would be born to its true father.
How tenderly they made love that night, heart speaking to heart and soul to soul. Mary let her eyes and hands roam over each precious inch of Cloud Walker's flesh, reveling in what she saw and felt, telling herself again and again that he was hers now, hers forever.
"I love you," Mary whispered.
"Ne-mehotatse," Cloud Walker replied, repeating the words in the Cheyenne tongue, and Mary was certain she had never heard a more beautiful phrase in all her life.
"Ne-mehotatse," she murmured tremulously, and Cloud Walker's smile warmed her to her soul. "I'll try to be a good wife," she promised.
"You are already a good wife," Cloud Walker said, nuzzling her breast.
"Is this all it takes to make you happy?" Mary teased.
Cloud Walker nodded, his hands stroking her hips and thighs as his tongue tickled her ear.
"I'll hold you to that," Mary vowed. "When the house is dirty and the kids are underfoot and there's no supper on the table, I'll just take you to bed and you'll have no complaints coming."
"Just one," Cloud Walker said, grinning. "You talk too much."
"Do I?"
"Yes," he said, and silenced her with a kiss.
He wanted her. Mary could feel the need in the tautness of his muscles, in the rasp of his breathing, in the press of his manhood against her belly. His desire sparked her own and she drew him close, her hands roaming over his flesh, her nails raking his back and shoulders as he possessed her. They moved together rhythmically, gracefully, like dancers, and Mary moaned softly as her own need for fulfillment soared upward. She strained toward him, feeling as though she would die if he did not give her that which she sought, and then it came, that sweet, sweet release that was so satisfying, so fleeting.
She closed her eyes, sighing with contentment as Cloud Walker shuddered convulsively, then lay still, his head pillowed on her shoulder.
For a time they did not move, then Cloud Walker rolled onto his side, taking Mary with him. She was soon asleep, but he remained awake for a long time, his face buried in the wealth of her hair, his hand cupping her breast. She was his wife now, his woman, and he would live and die for her.
Later, lying there beside her, he felt his child stir beneath his hand.
His child. Closing his eyes, he offered a silent prayer to Man Above, beseeching Him to bless the child with health and strength. And then, remembering Katherine and his own dead son, he prayed that the child might be blessed with a long and happy life.
I sat in the tub relaxing, my thoughts reliving mary's wedding the night before. Mary had made a lovely bride, despite the hint of sadness that remained in her eyes. I understood the pain she felt at Katherine's loss. It was a hurt that would not heal quickly.
I was thinking of leaving the warmth of the tub when Shadow entered the room. I c
ould feel him watching me and I was suddenly glad that Blackie had gone to spend the night with Hawk. Through the veil of my lashes I watched my husband pace back and forth, his eyes lingering on my water-covered body as I reclined in the tub.
I smiled as I saw the rising evidence of his desire. It wouldn't be long now, I mused with happy anticipation, and indeed, in a matter of moments Shadow had shucked his clothes and joined me in the bathtub. It was a tight fit, but we managed, and we spent a few pleasant moments cuddling in the tub.
"I pray Mary will find happiness now," I remarked.
Shadow nodded, his eyes wandering over my submerged flesh.
"I'm glad she's home again," I went on. "I like having our children close by."
"I like having you close by," Shadow remarked, and we began splashing each other. I was brushing my hair out of my face when I saw it, a single gray strand among the red.
"What is it?" Shadow asked, seeing my distressed expression.
"I'm getting old," I lamented. "Look. A gray hair."
Shadow started to laugh, but then, seeing that I was truly upset, he wrapped his arms around me instead.
"You will never be old, Hannah," he said sincerely. "You are young in spirit and young in heart. A gray hair cannot change that."
"But I don't want to get old," I said sadly. "I want to stay young and thin. I don't want you to be married to a wrinkled old crone with gray hair and sagging breasts."
"What of me?" Shadow asked, amused. "Do you think I am not growing older?"
"You don't look any older to me," I said, studying his face critically. "You're still tall and strong and handsome. Your hair is still black as sin. You hardly have a wrinkle. Oh, it isn't fair! Why do men get better looking as they get older? Women just get ugly and fat!"
He was laughing at me now, his dark eyes twinkling merrily. In spite of my protests, he dunked my head under the water to rinse the soap out, then lifted me from the tub and carried me dripping wet to our bedroom. For a moment he held me above the mattress; then, grinning roguishly, he dropped me. I landed on my back, my wet hair spraying water across the bedspread.
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