Wolf Shadow

by Madeline Baker

  Hunsacker pulled a key off the board behind the desk. “Number eight. I’ll have some hot water sent up right away.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d like to hear the story behind that get-up when you’ve got the time to tell it,” Hunsacker remarked with a grin.

  With a grunt, Chance took the key and went up the stairs. Number eight was his home away from home when it was available. It was a corner room overlooking the street. The double bed was comfortable, there was a tub in one corner, an easy chair in another. A plain white bowl and pitcher sat atop a four-drawer mahogany chest. There were a couple of clean towels stacked on a shelf, along with a bar of soap.

  Chance laid his rifle across the foot of the bed, then sat down in the easy chair and pulled off his moccasins. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. As soon as he got cleaned up, he’d get Smoke settled in the livery, and then take care of his business.

  An hour later, bathed, shaved and dressed in a pair of black whipcord trousers and a dark blue shirt, Chance knocked on Edward Bryant’s door at the Windsor Hotel.

  Rosalia Bryant opened it a moment later, her dark eyes widening in surprise when she saw him.

  “Signore!” She leaned forward to look past him. “But…where is…” She looked up at him, a thousand questions in her eyes.

  “May I come in?”

  “Oh, si, please, come in.” She stood back to allow him entrance into the room.

  “Rosa, who is it?”

  “Eduardo, it is Signore McCloud.”

  “McCloud!” A door across the room opened and Edward Bryant emerged, leaning heavily on his cane. His gaze swept the room, his brow furrowing when he saw that Chance was alone.

  “She’s not here,” Chance said.

  Rosalia and Edward looked at each another, disappointment evident on their faces. Rosalia sat down on the sofa, her shoulders slumped.

  Bryant cleared his throat. “She’s not…?”

  Chance shook his head. “No, she’s fine.”

  “Then where is she? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

  “She didn’t want to come.”

  Rosalia looked up, frowning. “I do not understand. She did not want to come home? But why not?”

  Chance ran a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid she doesn’t think of this as her home anymore, Mrs. Bryant.”

  Edward sat down on the sofa beside his wife, indicating that Chance should take the chair opposite the sofa.

  Rosalia looked at her husband. “I do not understand.”

  “It’s like this,” Chance explained as he sat down. “She’s been living with the Lakota for ten years. She’s been happy there. The couple she lived with were good to her. They loved her, and raised her like their own daughter.”

  “But she is our daughter!” Rosalia exclaimed.

  Bryant took his wife’s hand in his. “Go on, Mr. McCloud. Start at the beginning, please.”

  As succinctly as possible, Chance told them about Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance and how Teressa had spent the last ten years of his life. He told them about the attack by the Crow and how they had escaped and made their way to his people in the Black Hills. He told them everything, everything except what had passed between himself and their daughter.

  Edward Bryant shook his head when Chance finished. “I cannot believe my daughter has been living like a savage.” His face colored. “I meant no offense, Mr. McCloud.”

  “None taken.”

  “Well,” Bryant said enthusiastically. “At least we know she’s alive.”

  “I couldn’t convince her to come back with me,” Chance said, “and I couldn’t take her by force, but…”

  “Go on.”

  “What would you think about me taking you to her?”

  Rosalia stared at him.

  Bryant drummed his fingers on the table beside the sofa. “Go to her? But…is that wise?”

  Rosalia stood up, her cheeks flushed. “Eduardo, we must go.”

  “Would it be safe for us?” Bryant asked. “For my wife?”

  “I can’t guarantee it,” Chance replied honestly. “There’s always a risk when you venture into Indian territory, and not just from the Indians. It’s a wild land. Anything can happen.”

  “I do not care!” Rosalia said vehemently. “Eduardo, we must go. Now.” She looked at Chance. “How soon can we leave?”

  “That depends. I know the deal was for me to bring your daughter back here, but…”

  “Ah, yes,” Bryant said. “The reward. I believe I owe you ten thousand dollars.”

  “I was hoping you’d see it that way.”

  “I shall write you a check immediately.”

  “Much obliged.”

  After telling the Bryants to pack light and be ready first thing in the morning, Chance’s next stop was the Buffalo Springs Bank.

  Harry Conreid couldn’t hide his surprise, or his displeasure, when Chance announced he had come to pay off the loan on the Double C in full. The disappointment on old Harry’s face was far more eloquent than words. No doubt Harry had been hoping to foreclose on the ranch. Hell, Chance thought irritably, it wouldn’t have surprised him if Harry already had a buyer in mind.

  Well, that was just too bad, Chance thought as he signed the necessary papers. The ranch was his and it was going to stay his.

  He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders when he walked out of the bank, the deed to the ranch, stamped Paid in Full, in his hip pocket. His next stop was the telegraph office. From there, he went to McMurty’s Gun Shop and bought himself a new Colt and holster and several boxes of ammunition, and then he went back to the hotel.

  Returning to his room, he sat down and wrote a letter to his foreman, telling him that the mortgage had been paid in full and that the bull he’d had his eye on for so long would be arriving at the railway station at the end of next week and that someone needed to be there to pick it up. He went on to explain that he was leaving town again and would return to the ranch as soon as possible.

  Going downstairs, he gave the note to Hunsacker’s teenage son, along with a dollar to take it out to the ranch.

  That done, Chance went into the hotel dining room and ordered the biggest steak they had to offer, along with all the trimmings, and a double helping of apple pie for dessert.

  Later, sitting back in his chair sipping a second cup of coffee, he found himself thinking of Winter Rain, remembering the way she had felt in his arms, the sweet innocence of her kisses, the merry sound of her laughter.

  Muttering an oath, he shook her image from his mind. He had no time for a woman in his life, not now, not so long as Jack Finch walked the earth.

  * * * * *

  It didn’t take long for Chance to realize it would have been a lot easier to bring Teressa to the Bryants than to take the Bryants to Teressa.

  When he got to the hotel in the morning, he found that Rosalia had packed enough clothes, shoes, and hats to fill three large suitcases. By the time she cut her wardrobe down so that it would fit in a pair of saddlebags, half the day was gone.

  Rosalia pulled on a pair of gloves as she followed Chance out of the hotel. “I thought we would be taking a carriage,” she explained.

  The next setback came when Chance learned, to his dismay, that Rosalia had never been on a horse and that Edward hadn’t ridden since he’d taken that Indian arrow in his thigh.

  Standing on the boardwalk in front of the hotel, Chance regarded the couple through narrowed eyes, and then shook his head. “Listen, maybe we should just forget it. I’ll go back to the Lakota and see if I can persuade Teressa to come here.”

  “No!” Rosalia tugged on Chance’s arm. “No, I have waited so long.”

  She grabbed the reins to the chestnut gelding he had picked for her. “I will ride.”

  He had to admire the woman’s determination even as he watched her struggle to put the wrong foot in the stirrup, a foot wearing a dainty pair of shoes that wouldn’t last two minutes
out on the trail.

  An hour and a half later, after a hasty shopping trip to buy riding boots for both of the Bryants and a hat for Edward, and after a quick riding lesson for Rosalia, they were ready to go.

  Chance took a deep breath and turned to check the load on the pack horse while Edward put his hands around his wife’s waist and lifted her onto the back of her horse.

  Certain he was making the biggest mistake of his life, Chance gathered the reins of the pack horse and swung into the saddle. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure Edward was mounted, Chance led the way out of town.

  They made quite a sight, he mused ruefully. Rosalia wore a long-sleeved yellow silk shirt, a voluminous skirt that covered her legs and spread over the gelding’s rump, a wide-brimmed straw hat adorned with pink and yellow streamers, and a pair of leather gloves. Edward wore a pair of striped trousers, a matching vest over a white linen shirt, and a ten gallon hat straight out of the box. His cane was tied behind the cantle.

  Blowing out a deep breath, Chance settled his hat on his head. It was going to be a hell of a long trip.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Winter Rain pressed a hand to her aching back. She was glad to have something to do even though tanning hides was not her favorite pastime. It was a long, hard process. Still, she wasn’t about to complain. Helping Corn Woman was the least she could in return for her friend’s kindness in taking her in. If she had one complaint, it was that tanning didn’t require much concentration and gave her far too much time to think and, as always, her thoughts were centered on Wolf Shadow. Where had he gone, and why had he left so abruptly? And when would he return? Would he return?

  Kills-Like-a-Hawk seemed to think so. Wolf Shadow’s cousin had recovered from his wounds. Now, whenever Kills-Like-a-Hawk went hunting, he always brought her a part of his kill so that there would be meat in Corn Woman’s lodge. The hide she was tanning had been a gift from him, as well.

  Winter Rain sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. And Wolf Shadow’s image immediately sprang into her mind—smooth copper-hued skin stretched over a tall muscular frame, hair as black as the berries that grew in the summer, eyes as gray as thunderclouds. Eyes that smiled at her, promising to reveal secrets she longed to know.

  She lifted her fingertips to her lips, remembering how he had kissed her, the warmth of his breath against her skin, the exciting, frightening sensations he had aroused in her, the fantasies that had invaded her dreams. Never before had she had such vivid dreams. Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night feeling hot and achy for the touch of his hand, yearning for the sound of his voice whispering her name.

  “Winter Rain?”

  She looked up, suddenly aware that Corn Woman had called her name several times.

  The woman smiled a knowing smile. “He will come back.”

  “Who?” Winter Rain asked with feigned ignorance.

  Corn Woman shook her head. “Wolf Shadow, of course.”

  Winter Rain shrugged, as if it made no difference to her whether he returned or not.

  Laughing softly, Corn Woman knelt beside Winter Rain. She ran the palm of her hand over the hide pegged to the ground and nodded her approval. “Waiting is never easy, especially when one is young and eager.”

  “What will I do if he does not return?”

  “You will find another.”

  “But I do not want another!” Winter Rain exclaimed, and in that moment, she knew it was true.

  “I have seen the way he looks at you,” Corn Woman replied candidly. “He will return.”

  Winter Rain smiled, her heart feeling suddenly light and carefree for the first time in days, and then her mood grew sober once more. Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance were dead. She feared Strong Elk was dead, as well, along with so many others she had grown up with, boys and girls she had played with, elders who had taught her and told her stories, beautiful little dark-eyed babies she had held and fussed over. All gone.

  She looked up at the touch of Corn Woman’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Do not dwell on the past, le mita cola,” Corn Woman said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Hecheto aloe.” It is finished.

  Winter Rain nodded. “I hear your words, but…” A long shuddering sigh escaped her. “I miss them so!” She blinked rapidly, not wanting the other woman to see her tears.

  “Weep, child, you will feel better if you do.”

  Corn Woman’s kindness, the understanding in her voice, was Winter Rain’s undoing. She had tried to be brave for so long, but now she was overcome with a terrible sense of loss.

  Rising, she hurried into Corn Woman’s lodge. Dropping to her knees on her blankets, Winter Rain rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her waist as she let the tears flow.

  After a time, exhaustion overcame her tears. Curling up on her blankets, she closed her eyes. Wolf Shadow’s image immediately rose in her mind. With a sigh, she whispered his name, wondering if he was lying in bed somewhere, thinking about her.

  * * * * *

  Chance banked the fire, then settled down on his bedroll. He must have been out of his mind when he decided to take the Bryants to Winter Rain. They hadn’t been on the trail more than an hour when Rosalia needed to stop for a moment of privacy. Thirty minutes later, she needed to stretch her legs. An hour later, Edward needed to take a break to rest his wounded leg.

  They hadn’t gone more than another mile or two when they came to a short steep hill. Instead of leaning forward in the saddle, Rosalia leaned back. She tumbled over her mount’s rump with a shriek that would have done a Lakota warrior proud, and sent her horse bolting for cover.

  Leaving Edward to look after his wife, Chance had gone after her horse. By the time he caught the gelding and made it back to where he had left the Bryants, the sun was setting and Chance decided they might as well stop for the night.

  He shook his head. He figured they’d covered about nine miles. At this rate, it would be full on winter before they reached the Lakota camp.

  Folding one arm under his head, he stared up at the stars scattered across the sky, shining like dewdrops at dawn, his thoughts turning, as they so often did, to Winter Rain.

  “Teressa.” He shared her name with the evening breeze, liking the way it sounded. Was she asleep? Or lying awake, restless and aching for his touch as he was for hers?

  He swore softly. He had to stop spending so much time thinking about her. She was too young, too innocent, for the likes of him. He had killed two men in cold blood, and even though they deserved to die, he had still done murder in the eyes of the law. And he wasn’t done yet, wouldn’t rest until the fourth man was dead.

  Still, he couldn’t keep her image from forming in his mind, couldn’t stop remembering how good she felt in his arms. He closed his eyes, picturing her on the ranch, waiting for him at the end of the day, smiling at him from across the dinner table, sitting in the big old comfortable chair beside the fireplace, mending or sewing while he went over the ranch accounts, sleeping beside him at night, waking up beside him in the morning.

  Damn! Where had those thoughts come from? He had never even considered getting married until he met Teressa Bryant. Even if he was crazy enough to ask her to marry him, even if she was crazy enough to say yes, he was pretty sure Edward Bryant would shoot him dead before he let his daughter—his only daughter—marry a half-breed cowboy. The Bryants were a high-class couple. No doubt they expected Teressa to marry a doctor or a lawyer and settle down in San Francisco. He was willing to bet the ranch that they expected her to do better than marry a cowboy who had been up to his ears in debt before her father came along.

  Muttering an oath, he put everything from his mind but Teressa. She might never be his, he mused ruefully, but he would never forget her.

  * * * * *

  It took the Bryants a good hour to get ready the following morning. Since it only took Chance about twenty minutes to eat and saddle up when he was alone, he had a good deal of time to sit and wait. They
both managed to look as clean and fresh as if they had just emerged from their hotel room. Edward had brushed the dust from his trousers and shined his boots; Rosalia had changed into a clean shirtwaist. This one was a yellow and green stripe. They ate breakfast as if they had all the time in the world. Watching them, it was obvious that even after many years of marriage, they were still very much in love. Except for his own parents, Chance hadn’t had much opportunity to be around married couples and it was interesting to watch the interplay between Edward and his wife, to notice how they smiled at each other, the way they stopped now and then to exchange a quick touch, a kiss, the way they sometimes finished each other’s sentences or anticipated each other’s wants.

  Finally, they were all saddled up and ready to go. Settling his hat on his head, Chance could only hope they’d make more miles today than they had yesterday.

  “Oh, Eduardo, look!”

  Chance glanced over his shoulder to see Rosalia pointing at a doe and her twin fawns, barely visible in a stand of timber several yards away.

  “Are they not beautiful?” she murmured.

  “Yes, indeed, my dear,” Edward replied.

  His voice, much louder than his wife’s, spooked the doe. With a flick of her tail, the doe bounded away, the fawns at her heels.

  Later that afternoon, Chance called a halt at the top of a rise. “Look there.” He pointed westward, to where a small herd of buffalo was on the move.

  Rosalia’s eyes widened when she saw them. “Buono cielo, but they are very large, are they not?”

  “Very,” Chance agreed.

  “I suppose you’ve hunted them, Mr. McCloud,” Edward said, riding up alongside.

  “Oh, yeah. They’re mighty good eating.”

  “So I have heard. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to taste some when we reach your camp.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Is there…that is, would I be allowed to join in a hunt?”

  Chance resisted the urge to laugh out loud as he pictured Edward Bryant, all duded up in his striped trousers and fancy shirt, riding out with a handful of warriors clad in clouts and moccasins.