Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  “I say you are my woman,” he murmured, grinning. “What do you say?”

  “I have always been your woman,” Katy answered, nuzzling his neck.

  Iron Wing smiled into the darkness as their child moved beneath his hand. Silently, he prayed to Man Above for a strong healthy son. The child would not have an easy life. There were many, both red and white, who would despise the child for its mixed blood. Many half-breeds never found true happiness in either world and so drifted restlessly between the two, never feeling at home, never feeling wanted or accepted. A woman could not live like that and be happy. A woman needed roots, security, a sense of belonging. And so he prayed for a son, knowing such an insecure lifestyle would be easier on a man.

  His troubled thoughts were interrupted as Katy kissed him. There was magic in her touch, and he put his dismal musings far from him. The future would take care of itself. It was the here and now that mattered, and Katy was here now…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Spring, 1877

  News of Katy’s homecoming spread quickly through Mesa Blanca. In less than two days, everyone within a hundred-mile radius knew she had returned with an Indian husband, and that she was pregnant. Gossip spread like wildfire in a dry season.

  Three days after Katy returned home, her best friend, Riva McIntryre, gave a party in Katy’s honor. There were dainty finger sandwiches, pitchers of lemonade and iced tea; there was a cake with “Welcome home, Katy Marie” written in lacy pink icing. And there were questions. And looks that asked questions that nice ladies did not put into words.

  “It must have been awful,” Daphne Rogers lamented, looking perfectly horrified. “Imagine, living with savages. Weren’t you terrified?”

  “Yes, at first,” Katy said.

  “Did they…abuse you?” Melanie Grayson asked.

  “No,” Katy lied, not wishing to discuss the whipping she had received from Iron Wing, or the brutal way he had possessed her in those first months of her captivity.

  “I’m surprised you survived,” Elaine Blackwell remarked nastily. “Most women would have killed themselves.”

  Katy’s mind flashed back to the day the Apaches had attacked the stagecoach. She had thought to kill herself then. Now she was glad that fate had intervened.

  “Would anyone care for more sandwiches?” Riva said, interrupting before Katy could answer. “More lemonade, perhaps?”

  At last, everyone went home. Riva sat down beside Katy and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Katy,” she said sincerely. “I had no idea they would behave so abominably. I thought they would be happy to have you home, happy to know you had survived such a terrible ordeal.”

  “You can’t blame them for being curious,” Katy said, trying not to let Riva see how hurt she was by the way the women had treated her. “After all, I am something of a freak, you know.”

  “Katy, that’s not true.”

  “Of course it is. They all think I’m ruined because I lived with the Cheyenne and married Iron Wing.”

  “Maybe it will pass, in time.”

  “Yes,” Katy murmured. “In time.” She rose to her feet and moved across the floor with her head high, fighting back tears. “Thank you for the homecoming party, Riva,” she said stiffly, and ran out the door.

  * * * * *

  As the days passed, Katy’s life settled into a pleasant routine. She spent the days decorating the room that had been selected as the nursery, or working on dainty baby things.

  Occasionally, one of her girl friends came to call. Not all of them were as judgmental as Daphne and Elaine. Most were happy for her, even if they could not understand how she could love an Indian. A few of the girls, married to men who were as exciting as dirty dishwater, were even a tiny bit jealous because Katy radiated an inner joy and contentment that was obviously caused by the remarkably handsome man she had married. Most of the women deplored her decision to marry Iron Wing. But there wasn’t one of them who did not find him terribly attractive.

  Katy had taken Iron Wing shopping soon after they arrived in Mesa Blanca. People stared at them openly as they walked through the town, gawking at the sight of an Indian in their midst.

  Iron Wing had balked at the idea of wearing the cumbersome clothing of a white man, but Katy coaxed him so prettily, he could not refuse for long. At her insistence, he bought several colorful shirts, a half-dozen pair of trousers, a pair of beautifully crafted boots (that he wore once and put away forever, preferring his soft moccasins), and several sets of underwear, which he adamantly refused to touch. He bought a dark blue suit, a black hat, and a red silk scarf that caught his eye.

  Though Iron Wing disliked his new wardrobe, the clothes fit well, and he looked good in them. But then, he was tall, dark and handsome, Katy mused, and would have looked good in rags.

  For weeks, he was the main topic of conversation, especially among the good women of the town who wondered, in hushed voices, what it would be like to be married to a savage. Not that they would ever want to share a heathen’s bed, mind you, but he was terribly attractive. He fairly exuded an aura of strength and virility, and those dark eyes…they made you think he could see into your soul. He didn’t say much, was amazingly polite. Maybe being married to a savage wouldn’t be so bad after all…

  Iron Wing spent his days on the range with Pedro Montoya, the aged Alvarez segundo, and Michael Sommers. Iron Wing had no particular interest in cattle, but riding with Sommers and Montoya gave him a good excuse to be out in the open, away from the hacienda’s confining walls. It also put a good deal of distance between himself and Sarah Sommers. Katy’s mother made an honest effort to mask her dislike, but Iron Wing sensed her hatred, and though he understood the reason for it, he was nonetheless uncomfortable in her presence, and in her house. The Indians had the right idea, he thought. Indian men never spoke to their mothers-in-law. It was forbidden for them to speak, or even to be in the same lodge. More and more, he could appreciate such a law.

  Spending the day on the range also spared Iron Wing the curious glances of Katy’s friends, many of whom eyed him as though he were a new species of wild animal. A few of her girl friends were attracted to him. He could read the wanting in their eyes when he caught them looking at him. It was flattering, but very disconcerting.

  Occasionally, Sarah invited one or more of the neighboring families to dinner. Iron Wing found such gatherings especially distasteful. Dressed in his dark blue suit, he felt ill at ease and completely out of place. Katy had instructed him on the proper use of knife and fork and napkin, but he still felt self-conscious using the gleaming silver utensils. It made little difference that he ate like a civilized man, that he spoke English as well as any of Sarah’s guests, or that Katy was his wife. He did not belong, and he felt it keenly.

  But Katy basked under all the attention that came their way. Now that her marriage had been accepted, it was nice to be the center of attention, to wear nice clothes. When people pestered her with questions about her life with the Indians, she glossed over the hardships and made light of her fears. Iron Wing was amazed at how easily she parried their questions, many of which were rude. To hear her tell it, her life with the Cheyenne had been a lark instead of an ordeal.

  Katy was aware that Iron Wing was not as happy in their new home as she was, but she was too caught up in the joy of being home again, surrounded by familiar faces and lavish possessions, to fret. She had endured so many hardships, surely she deserved a little luxury. Besides, she had adapted to Iron Wing’s way of life, surely he could adapt to hers.

  It did not occur to Katy that it might be easier for a tame creature to adjust to a wild life than for a wild thing to adjust to a civilized environment. She knew only that it was wonderful to be spoiled and pampered again. After months of living with the Indians, where every day had been a battle for survival, it was heavenly to be home, to be able to sit back and relax knowing everyone she loved was safe and secure under one roof. She did not have to fret about Iron Wing’s abse
nces, wondering if he would be killed in a raid, or worry that the village might be attacked. She did not have to worry about tanning hides, or hunting for wood, or hauling water. It was good to be waited on and looked after. She had only to mention her desire for a glass of cold lemonade or a bowl of fruit, and it was there. Best of all, her relationship with her mother had changed radically. Sarah, once so cold and aloof, seemed genuinely pleased to have her daughter home again, and she expressed her happiness in countless ways.

  And so the days passed. Spring warmed the earth once more. Flowers bloomed, cows dropped fat red and white calves, new foals ran and kicked up their heels in the corrals.

  And on a warm night in late March, Katy went into labor.

  Iron Wing paced the parlor floor, his eyes darting upstairs time and again as the hours passed. Like most men, he knew little of childbirth. Indian men were never present at the births of their children. It was a thing left to the women. He knew it often took a long time, but was it supposed to take this long?

  When he could wait no longer, he ran up the stairs and burst into Katy’s bedroom.

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open as Katy’s husband dashed into the room. No decent man ever attended his wife’s laying in. It was unheard of.

  But Iron Wing brushed Sarah’s objections aside as he knelt beside the bed and took Katy’s hand in his. She looked pale and weary. His dark eyes were full of concern as he brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Katy said, forcing a weak smile. “But I’m so glad you are.”

  Her hand clasped his in a grip of iron as a contraction hit her, and Iron Wing groaned low in his throat, as if the pain had knifed through his own flesh.

  “Talk to me,” Katy begged.

  Iron Wing frowned. Then in a soft, soothing voice he said, “Do not be afraid of the pain, Ka-ty. Ride with it. Become a part of it.”

  “How?” Katy gasped. Her fingernails dug into his forearms as another pain tore through her.

  “What cannot be changed must be endured. You know the pain will come. Do not fight it.”

  “I can’t help it,” Katy sobbed as her body tensed to meet the next contraction. “I’m afraid.”

  “No. You must not be afraid. I am here. Hang onto me.”

  Sarah Sommers changed her opinion of Iron Wing that night as hour after hour he sat beside Katy, tenderly wiping the perspiration from her furrowed brow, murmuring low words of love and encouragement, rubbing Katy’s back.

  Katy clung to Iron Wing’s hands as though they were lifelines, her sky-blue eyes dark with pain as contraction after contraction racked her body. Soon his hands were red and swollen where her nails raked his flesh.

  When ten hours had passed, Sarah sent Anna for the doctor, but Anna returned to say the doctor was out on another call and wasn’t expected back for several hours.

  Iron Wing saw the panic in Katy’s eyes as another three hours crawled by and the pains grew more severe. Outside, the sun was up and the vaqueros were riding the range. He could hear the cows bawling, hear the men shouting back and forth. But in this room there was only Katy’s labored breathing.

  “Ka-ty,” Iron Wing murmured. “Listen to me. Think of the mountains. Think only of the mountains. Picture them in your mind. Can you see them?”

  “Yes.”

  “What color are they?”

  “Different colors.”

  “Yes. In the afternoon, they are green and brown. And in the evening, when the sun is setting, they turn red like blood. Do you remember? Can you see them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look for me on the mountain, Ka-ty. I am there. Can you see me? I am alone.”

  “I see you.” Her hands tightened on his as another pain knifed through her, but she rode with it, breathing rapidly, until it passed.

  “I am a young brave of fourteen summers, Ka-ty. I am seeking my vision. Each morning and each evening I kneel in prayer to Man Above. I have nothing to drink, and nothing to eat. Do you see me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have been on the mountain for three days. My belly is like a hungry wolf, my throat is as dry as the land of the Comanche. Each day, I beseech the Great Spirit for a vision to guide me, but no answer comes, only silence. It is an awesome stillness, Ka-ty, as if the whole earth had died. Can you hear it?”

  “Yes.” Another pain tore through her, but her mind was intent on Iron Wing and the soothing sound of his voice. She could see him as a young boy, sitting alone on a mountain top, praying to his god. He was handsome, even then.

  “On the fourth day, a great golden eagle appeared to me. He promised that if I walked always in the way of the People, I would find happiness.”

  “Push, Katy Marie,” Sarah said quietly, not wanting to break the spell Iron Wing’s words had worked. “Push.”

  Katy pushed, her hands gripping Iron Wing’s, her eyes riveted on his face. “Did you find happiness?”

  “Yes, Ka-ty. You are my happiness.”

  “One more push, Katy Marie,” Sarah urged.

  “I can’t,” Katy panted. “I’m too tired.”

  “Push, Ka-ty,” Iron Wing said softly. “Hang onto me. I will be your strength.”

  With the last of her energy, Katy gave a final push, then fell back, exhausted, as her child made its way into the world, mewling softly.

  “It’s a boy,” Sarah announced, blinking rapidly as tears filled her eyes.

  Katy took one look at her son, and then fell into a deep sleep.

  “He’s beautiful,” Sarah murmured as she washed the infant and wrapped it in a warm blanket. “Just beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Iron Wing agreed, taking the child from its grandmother’s arms. “As beautiful as his mother.”

  There was silence in the room for the next few moments as Sarah washed Katy, collected the afterbirth, and dressed Katy in a clean gown. From time to time, she glanced at the man standing by the bedroom window. His eyes were warm with love as he gazed at the infant cradled in his arms.

  “You love my daughter very much, don’t you?” There was a note of wonder in Sarah’s voice, as if she could not quite believe an Indian could be capable of such a civilized emotion.

  “More than my own life,” Iron Wing answered.

  “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you,” Sarah murmured. “Indians killed Katy’s father. I’ve hated all Indians ever since that day. Please forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Iron Wing replied. “Old hates die hard.”

  “Yes. Shall we go downstairs? Juanita will fix us something to eat.”

  “You go. I want to be here when Ka-ty wakes up.”

  With a nod, Sarah left the room. For years, she had hated Indians. She had thought them cruel, heartless savages, incapable of love or tenderness. How wrong she had been!

  Iron Wing sat beside Katy, occasionally reaching out to stroke her cheek, or touch her arm. Never had she looked more beautiful. Never had he loved her more. He gazed at the tiny infant sleeping peacefully in his arms. The child had thick black hair and tawny skin. A son, Iron Wing thought exultantly. I have a son.

  When Katy woke, the first thing she saw was Iron Wing sitting on the edge of the bed, their son cradled in one strong arm. It was a sight to stir any new mother’s heart and she smiled happily.

  Seeing that she was awake, Iron Wing placed the baby in her arms. Bending, he kissed her cheek. “I love you, Ka-ty,” he whispered in a voice thick with emotion.

  “And I love you.” Her eyes caressed her child as she guided the baby’s mouth toward her breast. “Isn’t he beautiful? He looks just like you.”

  “Am I beautiful, Ka-ty?” Iron Wing asked, grinning down at her.

  “To me you are.”

  “Have you a name for our son?”

  “I’d like to call him John, after my father, if it’s all right with you.”

  Iron Wing nodded. “Whatever you want, I want.”

  Katy smiled drowsily, a
nd then, with a sigh, she fell asleep again.

  Two weeks later, they took the child to church to be baptized. Iron Wing had never accompanied Katy to church before, though she went with her mother every week. Now he stared in awe at the elaborate edifice, at the colorful stained glass windows, at the life-sized statues of the Catholic saints, at the figure of a half-naked man hanging from a cross.

  Bemused by it all, he stood near the font cradling his son in his arms while a priest dressed in flowing black robes blessed the child and bestowed upon him the name Katy had chosen, John Iron Wing Alvarez.

  Katy was positively glowing as they left the church. Never had she been happier than she was now, safe and warm within the circle of those she loved.

  A party, Katy thought excitedly as she stepped into her dress and smoothed the ruffled skirt over her hips. Standing before the mirror, she smiled at her reflection. The dress was new, a gift from her mother. China blue in color, the gown made her eyes glow like sapphires, and the thrill of being dressed up made her cheeks flush with color. It was a beautiful dress, Katy thought. The neck was low, but not too low, the skirts so full it made her waist tiny in comparison. The sleeves were full to her elbow, then fitted tight to her wrists. Her hair, black and shiny, was wound in a knot atop her head save for one long curl that fell over her left shoulder. Laughter bubbled in her throat as she twirled before the mirror. Oh, but it was wonderful to be home again, to see old friends, to be spoiled and pampered, to know you were loved…

  She felt her heart flutter as Iron Wing came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. How handsome he was! And how she loved him.

  Iron Wing felt his heart swell with emotion as Katy swayed against him, brazenly grinding her softly rounded buttocks against his groin. Bending, he kissed the soft curve of her throat, felt his manhood rise as Katy turned in his arms and pressed her lips to his. Her breasts pushed against his chest provocatively.

  “Must we go downstairs, Ka-ty?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

  “I’m afraid so,” Katy said, pleased by the love and longing she saw reflected in the depths of his dark eyes. “After all, the party is for us.”