Reckless Desire

by Madeline Baker

  Still laughing, Shadow dropped down on top of me.

  ''What are you doing?" I asked irritably. "I turned to you for sympathy and you laugh at me."

  "I am going to make love to you," Shadow said, his eyes glowing with amusement. "I am going to make love to you now, before you turn into a wrinkled old hag right before my eyes."

  "And will you still make love to me when I'm a wrinkled old hag?"

  "Yes," Shadow said gravely. "But I will close my eyes."

  "Oh, you!" Grabbing a pillow from behind my head, I began to hit him with it. We tusseled on the bed for several minutes, wet flesh sliding deliciously against wet flesh as we wrestled in wild abandon. Then Shadow took my face in his hands and his mouth slanted across mine and all thought of fighting left my mind.

  "Hannah, my sweet Hannah," Shadow murmured in my ear. "I will always love you. Skinny or fat, gray-headed or bald, young or old, you are my life, my heart. I cannot live without you." Drawing back a little, he gazed down at me, his beautiful black eyes warm and loving. "I want to grow old with you, to share every day that Maheo grants us."

  I blinked back my tears as Shadow lowered his head toward mine and kissed me again, a kiss filled with love and promise that would last forever. I never worried about getting old again.

  Mary knelt beside her daughter's grave, carefully arranging a bouquet of flowers. It was still hard to believe that Katherine lay sleeping in the ground, hard to accept the fact that her little girl was dead. She smiled through a mist of tears as she felt Cloud Walker's child stir within her womb, and her arms ached with the need to hold a baby again.

  Sitting there, she bowed her head and prayed that this child would be strong and healthy. More than anything, she longed to give Cloud Walker a son. He rarely spoke of the little boy who had died, but she knew that the hurt had not healed completely. Perhaps this new child would help them both.

  She knew he was there even before he spoke. It didn't seem at all strange that she could sense his presence. He was a part of her, after all.

  "I am going into town," Cloud Walker said, squatting down on his heels beside her. "Come with me."

  "I'd rather not."

  "You cannot hide forever."

  "I'm not hiding," Mary replied defensively. But, of course, she was. She was hiding from gossip and prying eyes. The townspeople's curiosity had been merciless ever since she'd returned from Chicago.

  "We will have to face them sooner or later."

  "Can't it wait until later?"

  "No. I am not ashamed of our love."

  Mary placed her hand in his. "Let's go and face them, then," she said, smiling bravely.

  Mary was conscious of being stared at as they drove into town. Without being aware of it, she sat up a little straighter and placed her hand on Cloud Walker's arm.

  It was Saturday and the streets were crowded with men, women and children who had come to town to shop and visit. There were half a dozen women gathered on the porch in front of the mercantile store and they all turned to stare at Mary and Cloud Walker as they drove by.

  Cloud Walker drew the buggy to a halt at the feed store. "I will not be long," he said, then frowned as Mary alighted from the buggy. "Where are you going?"

  "I need a few things from the mercantile store," Mary said. Head high, she marched down the street. She could hear the women talking about her as she climbed the stairs.

  " . . . some nerve, coming to town."

  " . . . left her husband for that Indian."

  " . . . I wonder who the father of that baby"

  "Good afternoon, ladies," Mary said loudly. She looked each of them in the eye. All the town's biggest gossips were present.

  "Good afternoon," Ramona Claxton said stiffly, and the other ladies nodded in Mary's direction.

  "Lovely day," Mary said.

  "Yes, lovely," Donna Durning agreed.

  "I couldn't help but overhear your remarks," Mary said, her mild tone belying the anger raging in her breast. "And since you're all determined to talk about me, I think you should know what you're talking about."

  The women glanced at each other, their faces flushed with embarrassment. It was good to see them squirm, Mary thought uncharitably.

  "In the first place," Mary went on boldly, "my marriage to Frank Smythe was a failure long before I met Cloud Walker. I don't wish to speak ill of Frank, but suffice it to say I had good and just cause for leaving him. You may believe it or not, but I tried very hard to make my marriage work, and I failed." Mary lifted her head a little higher. "I love Cloud Walker. He's a brave and honorable man. We have the same blood, the same heritage. I'm proud to be his woman, and proud to be carrying his child." She had not thought to let that slip, Mary thought in dismay, but it was out now. She granted them a cloying smile. ''I know you'll be kind enough to tell everyone in town what I've said. Good day."

  And with that, she swept past them into the store.

  "Well, I never!" Donna Durning exclaimed.

  "I think we've misjudged her," Muriel Harding remarked. "None of us know mary very well, yet we were all willing to believe the worst."

  "Nonsense," Carol Wilke retorted. "You heard her. She's carrying that Indian's child."

  "He is terribly handsome," Muriel Harding mused. "Well, he is!" she insisted as the other women gaped at her.

  "He's an Indian, Muriel," Ramona Clayton said derisively. "An Indian!"

  "And here he comes," Carol Wilke said, lowering her voice.

  Cloud Walker glanced up at the women standing on the porch and knew immediately that they had been talking about him. A guilty flush stained their cheeks, and they refused to meet his eyes. The thought of being the center of their gossip stirred his anger, and then he shrugged. You couldn't change human nature. People always feared or belittled what they didn't understand.

  He flashed them his most beguiling smile. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said politely.

  "Good afternoon," they chorused, and muttering hasty farewells to one another, they scattered like chickens before a fox.

  Cloud Walker was laughing when Mary joined him. "What is it?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

  "People," he said, lifting her into the buggy. "People can be very funny."

  Mary frowned and then felt her cheeks grow hot as Cloud Walker kissed her soundly, right there in front of the mercantile store and about two dozen witnesses.

  "That will give them all something to talk about," he said, and jumped into the buggy beside her.

  They were smiling when they drove out of town.

  The next day there was an item in the paper that gave the gossips still more to talk about. The story stated that Frank Smythe, prominent Chicago businessman, had been missing from his home for several weeks. There was speculation that he had left on a mysterious business trip, as well as the hint of foul play.

  The following day, Hannah received a wire from Mattie Smythe asking if she had seen Frank and Mary.

  "What are we going to do?" Mary asked, showing Cloud Walker the newspaper and the wire that evening.

  "I do not know." The trouble he had foreseen was bearing down on them, he thought bleakly, and he was powerless to stop it. He would have to face the white man's law, or make a run for it. Either way, Mary would be lost to him.

  Murmuring her name, he gathered her into his arms and held her tight, his lips moving in her hair. He wished he could tell her how much he loved her, how very dear and precious she was to him, but the words seemed inadequate. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently massaging her cheeks, his dark eyes gazing tenderly into hers. And then he kissed her with all the love and need in his heart.

  Mary closed her eyes as Cloud Walker's lips brushed hers. Her stomach began to flutter and her whole body grew warm and tingly as Cloud Walker's hands moved slowly downward, caressing her arms and shoulders, then sliding down her ribcage to stroke her buttocks and thighs. Mary swayed against him, the newspaper dropping from her hand, everything else forgotte
n as she swayed against him, eager for his touch, for the fulfillment only he could offer.

  With a low groan of desire, Cloud Walker carried her to their sleeping robes and there he made love to her, slowly, tenderly, his hands and lips trailing fire, his eyes dark with adoration as he kissed each silken inch of honeyed flesh.

  "Ne-mehotatse, Mary," he murmured.

  "Ne-mehotatse," she breathed softly, and then sighed as he cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the taut pink bud.

  She felt his breath, warm upon her skin, as he began kissing her again, making it hard for her to breathe. She spread her hands across his chest, feeling the heat generated by his body. The present mingled with the spell of remembered passion, the one feeding on the other as his mouth slanted over hers. Her lips parted under the pressure of his kiss, her tongue meeting his, causing timeless sensations to swirl like liquid fire to the very center of her being, filling her with an age-old need that only he could satisfy. She closed her eyes as his life filled her with sweet warmth and contentment.

  A gentle rap on the wall of the lodge roused Cloud Walker. Rising, he lifted the lodge flap to see Hawk standing outside.

  "What is it?" Cloud Walker asked. But he knew. In the back of his mind, he knew.

  "I was in town this evening. There is a man asking about you. He has the look of a lawman, though I did not see a badge."

  Cloud Walker nodded. He had been expecting something like this for days.

  "What are you going to do?" Hawk asked.

  Cloud Walker shook his head. He could not bear the thought of leaving Mary, could not give himself up if it meant prison or the hangman.

  "What is it?" Mary asked, pulling a blanket around her and coming to stand beside Cloud Walker. Her face turned ashen as Hawk explained.

  "We've got to get out of here," Mary said urgently. "Now. Does neyho know about this?"

  "Not yet," Hawk answered. "I came here first."

  While they stood deciding what to do, the sound of hoofbeats reverberated through the night. Mary held her breath, her eyes and ears straining toward the front of her parents' house as the horse came to a halt.

  "We've got to go," she said, and began to dress.

  "I will stall as long as I can," Hawk said. "Take my horse."

  Things were moving too fast, Cloud Walker thought, but at Mary's urging, he quickly slipped on his buckskins and they left the lodge. Mounting Hawk's horse, they rode away from the house.

  It was madness to run, Cloud Walker mused bleakly. Winter was coming and Mary was pregnant. But in his mind he could hear the sound of hoofbeats coming from behind like the echo of doom.

  "Hurry," Mary whispered, and Cloud Walker urged the horse into a gallop, guiding the animal through the darkness with the familiarity of a man who knew the land as he knew his own name.

  Cloud Walker reined the horse toward the river crossing, felt Mary shiver as the cool spray kicked up by the horse washed over them. When they cleared the opposite bank, he urged the horse into a lope.

  Mary clung to Cloud Walker, her eyes closed, her face buried in his back. She shivered uncontrollably, chilled by the cold night air and by the fear that gripped her heart. Even in death, Frank would not let her go.

  They rode for hours, now at a gallop, now at a walk to rest the horse. She knew, without asking, that Cloud Walker was heading for the Black Hills, onetime home of the Sioux and Cheyenne.

  They traveled for days, hiding out when the sun rode the sky, traveling beneath the moon and the stars. It was eerie, crossing the endless prairie in the dark, never seeing another human being, listening to the coyotes serenade the night. She felt a new pride in her husband as they journeyed toward their destination, not only for his courage, but for his cunning. He had managed to steal a horse for her to ride, as well as a couple of blankets and a rifle. She had not asked where he managed to find such necessities.

  At any other time she would have been appalled that her husband was stealing, but not now, not when it was a matter of life and death. She would have committed the thefts herself to save Cloud Walker.

  She felt his eyes on her face, and she turned and smiled at him. He was worried about her, she knew, and she was careful never to complain about the cold or the long hours they spent in the saddle. She did not tell him how her back ached, or how utterly weary she was when they bedded down. Instead, she assured him that she was fine, just fine.

  She marveled at his ability to find water and shelter, at his skill in finding game. They never wanted for food or water, and she never wanted for his love. Indeed, she had never felt so loved or so protected in her life. Whatever the future held, she was confident that Cloud Walker could handle it.

  Cloud Walker drew his weary horse to a halt, his heart beating fast as he gazed at the steep gorge that was the entrance to Hell Canyon. Generations of his people had wintered here, finding shelter from the harsh winter of the plains.

  Turning in the saddle, he smiled reassuringly at Mary. She had not complained once on their long journey, but he saw the weariness in her eyes, in the slight hollows of her cheeks, in the way she often pressed her hand to her back.

  "We'll be there in a few minutes," he said, and Mary nodded, too tired to speak.

  Cloud Walker sensed the spirits of his ancestors as he guided his horse through the gap between the high narrow walls. It was a rugged but beautiful land. Ponderosa pines and mountain cedars swayed in the night wind that blew softly through the canyon. A tiny creek bed meandered through the rugged landscape and rocks that littered the canyon floor. The cry of a coyote sounded from the cliffs. There were elk here, bobcats and black bears, mountain lions and eagles, deer and rabbits. They would not want for food.

  Cloud Walker drew rein in the lee of a high canyon wall. In the moonlight he could barely make out the symbols and pictures that had been etched by his ancestors many years ago. The pictures recorded a part of their history, as well as showing the way to convenient campsites and water holes and buried caches of food and supplies. Later, perhaps he would explore some of the ancient campsites, but for now he needed to look after Mary.

  With gentle hands he lifted her from her horse and stood her on the ground. When she started to unload their supplies, he caught her hand.

  "I will do it. You sit down. Rest."

  "I can do it," Mary protested. She did not want him to think she was weak, did not want to be a burden.

  "I know, but I will do it."

  She was too bone weary to argue. Eyes brimming with gratitude, she crawled under the covers he spread for her and was soon asleep.

  Cloud Walker gazed at Mary, his dark eyes troubled. He had been wrong to bring her here. She had never lived in the wilderness, had never known hardship or deprivation. And she was pregnant. His eyes lingered on her swollen belly. His child rested there. How would Mary react when her time came and she had no woman to help her? He had delivered many mares, but never a woman. Would he know what to do? How would he live with himself if anything happened to Mary or the baby?

  He shook such morbid thoughts from his mind. Unsaddling the horses, he turned them loose to forage in the canyon. He placed their supplies on a flat rock, then, using a large flat stone, he dug a firepit. Dry wood was plentiful and he soon had a small warm fire blazing brightly.

  There was nothing else to be done until daylight. Sitting cross-legged on his blankets, he gazed at Mary, watching the firelight play in her hair, watching the shadow of the flames dance on the canyon wall. Almost, he could hear the voice of his ancestors. "Welcome home," they seemed to say.

  30

  It started with a fever and a sore throat, followed by weakness, an increased fever, and then the telltale signa tough, dirty gray membrane on the throat. It was a deadly disease and its name was diphtheria.

  It spread through Bear Valley with astonishing speed, hitting nearly every family. Dr. Henderson turned the church into a hospital and worked there day and night, assisted by Chester Cole and Blackie a
nd several women who had previous experience with nursing.

  It was a terrible thing. Ruth Tippitt's husband died. Mary Crowley's baby died, and three days later two of her other children slipped away. Helen Sprague was one of the lucky ones; she developed a mild case and recovered, but that was rare.

  I worried constantly that the disease would strike my grandchildren. I prayed day and night, beseeching the Lord to spare our little ones.

  And day after day the number of crosses on our little hillside cemetery grew.

  I was glad now that Mary and Cloud Walker were not here, that they would not be exposed to the dread disease. Not a day went by that I didn't think of my daughter, wondering where she was, if she was well and happy.

  We had heard no more from the lawman who had come to our house in the dark of night. He had asked if we had seen Frank Smythe, if we knew of Cloud Walker's whereabouts. Shadow had replied that we hadn't seen Frank Smythe in months and that Cloud Walker was not in the house. The lawman had stared at Shadow for a long time, and then asked if he could search the house, and then had gone outside and searched the lodge and the barn. Finally he had ridden away toward the river crossing. Hawk had materialized out of the shadows after the lawman took his leave.

  ''They have gone," he had said quietly, and Shadow had nodded, his eyes gazing off into the distance across the river.

  "Where would they go?" I had asked.

  "Who can say?" Shadow had replied with a shrug. "There is a lot of country out there, hills and valleys where a man could hide and never be found."

  Never be found. Those words haunted me. Mary and Cloud Walker could be killed and we would never know it.

  But my immediate concern was for Blackie and the awful disease that was decimating Bear Valley's population. He came home at night bone weary. Sometimes he was too tired to eat and fell into bed still dressed. I worried about him continually, but he insisted that Dr. Henderson and Dr. Cole needed his help, and I couldn't keep him at home.

  As the days went by, we heard of whole families succumbing to the disease. Daily Victoria swabbed the throats of the twins with iodine. She kept them inside the house, fed them well, made sure they got plenty of sleep. I don't know if that's what kept my grandsons healthy, or if it was the fact that we lived a good distance from town, but our family remained untouched.