Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  With a sigh of resignation, Iron Wing released her, reaching for the black broadcloth jacket he had carelessly tossed on the bed.

  He looked so handsome, it fairly took Katy’s breath away as she watched him slip into the fashionable jacket. The dark gray pants he wore outlined his muscular legs, and emphasized the slight bulge lingering in his crotch. Katy grinned as her eyes lingered on the sign of his desire. How awful to be a man, unable to hide what you were thinking. A woman could entertain all manner of interesting thoughts and desires, and no one was ever the wiser. She lifted her eyes to her husband’s face. His black jacket handsomely accented his thick black hair and fathomless black eyes, and made a perfect foil for his rich, copper-hued skin. He was perfect in every way, she mused proudly, and she could hardly wait to get him downstairs and show him off.

  Arm in arm, Katy and Iron Wing left their bedroom and made their way down the stairs.

  Entering the ballroom, Katy saw that many of the guests had already arrived. A few couples were dancing, others stood in small groups, laughing and talking over drinks. Katy saw her mother and Michael Sommers waltz by. They made a handsome couple, her mother small and dark, Sommers tall and blond. It was easy to see they were very much in love. Sarah’s face was radiant.

  Pablo Alvarado watched Katy as she entered the room on the arm of her husband, and he felt his blood flame with jealousy. Katy had been a lovely young girl, and he had always thought that one day she would be his. But then Wellingham had entered her life, and she had ignored everyone else. When Wellingham died, Pablo had thought perhaps she would turn to him for comfort. Instead, she had declared her intention to become a nun, of all things. And now, impossible as it seemed, she was back home with an Indian for a husband and a half-breed child. He scowled as Katy laughed at something Iron Wing said. It was incredible, but she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was piled regally atop her head, her lovely figure, ripened by motherhood, made his heat rise. He did not stop to think that Katy’s radiance was the result of her love for her husband, he knew only that he wanted her more than ever.

  Squaring his shoulders, Pablo crossed the floor to where Katy stood beside Iron Wing.

  “Katy, how lovely you look this evening,” he said with a courtly bow. “May I have this dance?”

  “Of course,” Katy replied, smiling up at her childhood sweetheart as she took his arm.

  Pablo danced excellently, and Katy’s cheeks flushed with pleasure as he twirled her around the floor.

  Pablo beamed down at Katy. They had always danced well together. One July Fourth, they had won a dance contest. She was a part of his childhood, a part of his memories. Looking at her, he could easily imagine her as the mistress of his house. She would add charm and elegance to the Alvarado estate. He had always insisted on having the best of everything, and now he resolved to have Katy for his wife. The fact that she already had a husband meant nothing. After all, how binding could marriage to a savage be?

  Iron Wing frowned as Pablo Alvarado whirled Katy around the dance floor. They looked well together, he thought irritably. Too well. He scowled blackly as Pablo whispered something in Katy’s ear, causing her to laugh merrily.

  Iron Wing’s displeasure grew steadily worse as one man after another asked Katy to dance. Among the Cheyenne, a man danced only with his future bride, or his wife. Katy tried repeatedly to coax him out onto the dance floor, but he was ignorant of the dances of the white man and refused to be taught the complicated steps in the presence of others. Surely they would laugh at him, and he would not subject himself to their amusement.

  Later in the evening, the guests adjourned to the patio for a buffet dinner. Juanita had done herself proud. There was ham, turkey and beef. Three kinds of potatoes. Five vegetables. Four kinds of bread. And seven desserts.

  Iron Wing remained close to Katy, his dark eyes smoldering with suppressed jealousy. The food was excellent, but he ate it without tasting it, wanting to strangle every man present who looked at his wife.

  Katy chatted and laughed amiably with her friends, totally unaware of the volcano seething within her husband’s breast. It was so good to gossip with the women and laugh with the men she had known all her life.

  When the dancing started again, Pablo Alvarez sought her out once more.

  “I had forgotten how well you dance, Katy Marie,” he said, smiling at her affectionately. “You’re like a feather in my arms.”

  “Thank you, Pablo,” Katy said. “Mother tells me you’re still not married.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Can’t you find a girl to please you?”

  “I found one,” he replied, drawing her closer in his arms, “but she is wed to another.”

  “Pablo, you mustn’t hold me so tight.”

  “I love you, Katy. I have always loved you.”

  “Pablo,” Katy said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, “please. You shouldn’t say such things. It isn’t proper. I’m a married woman.”

  “You’re too good for that savage, Katy. Don’t you know that?”

  “I love my husband,” Katy said emphatically. “And he loves me.”

  “Love!” Pablo muttered disdainfully. “What could a heathen Indian possibly know about love?”

  Katy’s anger flared as she heard her husband referred to as a savage and a heathen. It did not matter that she had once referred to Iron Wing in exactly the same terms. Now she knew him to be one of the sweetest, kindest men on earth.

  Jerking out of Pablo’s arms, Katy raised her hand and slapped him soundly across the face. “How dare you!” she hissed. “Don’t you ever say such a thing about my husband again!”

  Pivoting on her heel to leave the dance floor, Katy almost ran into Iron Wing, who had come soundlessly up behind her.

  Iron Wing’s black eyes were ablaze with anger as he glared at Pablo Alvarado. “What did you say to my wife?” he demanded.

  Pablo drew himself up to his full height as he glared back at Iron Wing. “I told her she was too good for the likes of you,” the Mexican said with a sneer.

  “Perhaps,” Iron wing replied coldly. “But she is my woman, and if you ever touch her again, I will cut out your heart.”

  Katy laid a restraining hand on Iron Wing’s arm as she became aware of the silence that had fallen over the ballroom. All eyes were focused on Pablo and Iron Wing, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Michael Sommers walked purposefully toward the trio, his face set in hard lines. “Mr. Alvarado, I think it would be best for all concerned if you would say good night.”

  Pablo’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment as the host invited him to leave. Head high, back straight as a ramrod, he stalked out of the room.

  “Thank you, Michael,” Katy said in a tight voice.

  “Glad to be of help, Katy Marie,” Sommers replied, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. “Iron Wing, would you mind if I danced with my stepdaughter?”

  “No.”

  Iron Wing watched Michael Sommers guide Katy around the floor as the music began again. Too angry and tense to remain indoors, he left the house and walked around the yard, his whole being urging him to follow Alvarado and kill him. But he was a civilized man now, Iron Wing mused bitterly, and civilized people did not behave like savages.

  Pausing, he looked back toward the house. He could see Katy dancing with Sommers. How beautiful she was! Just looking at her made his heart swell with love. Michael bent to whisper something in Katy’s ear, and she smiled prettily at him. It was good to see her laughing and smiling, Iron Wing mused. Good to know she was happy. She deserved to be happy and carefree after all she had been through. She had suffered much, first with his people, and then at the hands of El Lobo and Frank Herrera. She belonged here, in her own land, among her own people.

  Seeing her in her childhood home, at ease among the white man’s wealth and comfort, he realized what an effort it must have been for her to adjust to life with the Cheyenne. The fact th
at she had managed to embrace his way of life so wholeheartedly amazed him anew. She belonged here, surrounded by her family and friends. But he did not belong, and he never would.

  With a sigh, he walked toward the stable. He would never belong in the white man’s world. He would never feel at ease in the white man’s clothes that hampered his movements. He despised the stiff white collars that threatened to squeeze the breath from his body. And the white man’s shoes that he had agreed to wear tonight to please Katy were as cruel and painful a torture as any ever devised by the Indians.

  Inside the stable, he stripped off his coat, cravat, shirt, pants and shoes, and then, clad only in his breechcloth, he swung onto the back of a fine chestnut mare and rode away from the hacienda. Urging the mare into a lope, he cleared his mind of everything but the exhilaration of riding through the night with the wind stinging his face.

  He let the horse run until she slowed and stopped of her own accord. By then, they were far into the hills that rose to the south of the Alvarez rancho. Dismounting, Iron Wing dropped down on his haunches and out into the darkness. His nostrils filled with the scent of damp grass and earth and sage, reminding him of home, of Cheyenne lodges rising against the sacred hills, of milling pony herds and shaggy humpbacked buffalo. He thought of Little Eagles Flying, and wondered if the old chief were still alive. He thought of Tall Buffalo and Yellow Flower. Were they still alive?

  The Sioux and the Cheyenne were mentioned often in the newspapers since the death of Yellow Hair Custer. People in the East were crying out for the extermination of the red man, declaring the West would not be a fit place for decent people to live until the last Indian was wiped from the face of the earth. The Army was in full agreement. Bent on revenge for the Custer massacre at Little Big Horn, they were pushing the tribes with a vengeance.

  Iron Wing wondered if his tribe had been wiped out, or if they had somehow managed to elude the soldier coats and their big guns mounted on wheels. His blood burned to be with his people, fighting with them for their freedom, but he could not leave Katy and the baby. She was his heart, his soul. To leave her was to die inside…

  It was near dawn when he swung aboard the chestnut mare and rode back to the hacienda.

  The house was quiet as Katy nursed her son. The party had ended hours ago and still there was no sign of Iron Wing. It had been most embarrassing, trying to explain his sudden disappearance to their guests.

  She finished nursing John, changed his diaper, and laid him in his bed. When she was certain he was asleep, she went downstairs to see if Iron Wing had returned, but there was still no sign of him anywhere. Knowing she would never be able to sleep until she found her husband, she went outside, her anger at his unexplained absence turning to worry as the minutes ticked by. Where was he? Why had he gone off without a word to anyone?

  She was standing on the veranda staring into the distance when he rode into the yard. He was naked save for his clout, his hair windblown.

  Katy felt a thrill of desire race down her spine as she stared up at him. How proud and arrogant he looked sitting there with the sun rising behind him. Her heart began to flutter wildly as he walked his horse toward her. He looked savage and formidable as he closed the distance between them.

  Katy’s eyes lingered on his broad chest and shoulders and she remembered the first time she had seen him in the Cheyenne village and how frightened she had been.

  He was beside her now, his face impassive, his black eyes unfathomable. For a moment, they gazed at each other. Then, slowly, Katy lifted her arms. She knew with a sudden intuition where Iron Wing had been and why, knew deep in her heart that he needed her.

  Iron Wing smiled as he reached down to lift her to the back of his horse. Then, uttering a low-pitched cry of victory, he drummed his heels into the horse’s flanks.

  Katy wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly as they galloped into the hills. It was a wildly exhilarating feeling, being carried through the night with her face pressed against Iron Wing’s bare back. The wind whipped through her hair and stung her cheeks, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but being alone with the man she loved.

  High in the hills, Iron Wing reined the chestnut to an abrupt halt. Dismounting, he lifted Katy from the back of the horse and set her on the ground. His dark eyes burned into hers as he tossed his breechcloth aside to stand naked before her. The sun turned his skin to flame and Katy felt her insides melt with desire as his hand reached out to draw her close. His eyes never left her face as he slowly unfastened the bodice of her gown and pulled it down around her hips. Her chemise went the way of her dress, her pantalets also, and then she was naked before him.

  The grass was soft as he laid her down, his hands like fire as they played over her quivering flesh. There was no tenderness in him now, no gentle wooing. He was a warrior and she was his woman, and he claimed her fiercely, savagely, his mouth branding her flesh as his, his whispered words enforcing the possession of his hands upon her body as she willingly surrendered to his strength.

  Katy thrilled at his touch, reveling in his power over her, in the way his hands fired her passion. She could feel his whole body quivering as he held back his own release until she had reached hers, and then there was a warm flood of satisfaction and pleasure as his manhood spilled into her.

  Sated and content, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Mike and Sarah were standing on the veranda, their faces lined with worry when Katy and Iron Wing rode up to the house.

  “Looks like we did a lot of worrying for nothing,” Mike remarked, grinning.

  Sarah nodded curtly. It took but one look at Katy’s rumpled gown and flushed cheeks to know what had kept her out all night.

  Dismounting, Iron Wing helped Katy to the ground. His arm went around her waist possessively as he faced Mike’s knowing grin and Sarah’s disapproval.

  “I’m sorry if we worried you,” Katy said in a small voice.

  “It’s all right,” Mike replied, still grinning broadly. “But the next time you two get the urge to…uh, see the hills in the sunlight, you might leave a note.”

  “Yes,” Iron Wing said. “Next time.”

  Sarah bit back the angry words that rose to her lips as Iron Wing took Katy by the hand and led her into the house. It was none of her business if Katy wanted to cavort in the hills with her husband like a common trollop.

  Sarah looked at Mike. He was still grinning foolishly, and it riled her that he found it all so amusing.

  “It’s scandalous,” Sarah said stiffly. “Going off into the hills like a couple of animals.”

  “You think so?” Mike said, drawing her into his arms. “I was thinking it might be kind of romantic.”

  “You’re not serious!”

  “Tonight, maybe,” Mike proposed, kissing her ear. “About midnight?”

  Sarah looked shocked. Pleased, but shocked. “Are you sure you aren’t part Indian yourself?”

  “There’s a little of the savage in all of us,” Mike said, winking at her. “Be ready at midnight.”

  Inside the house, Katy and Iron Wing smiled at each other.

  “Imagine my mother having a midnight rendezvous,” Katy exclaimed. “My, how things have changed!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Several days after the party, Katy left John with his grandmother and rode out on the range. It was a beautiful spring day, balmy and clear, and she urged her dainty gray Arab mare into a lope. She laughed aloud as the wind brushed her cheeks and played in her hair.

  After the long months of confinement in Miguel Herrera’s fortress, and then months of pregnancy and limited activity, it felt divine to be riding across the grassland with no cares and no worries. She loved Iron Wing. She loved her mother, was fond of Michael Sommers, adored her son.

  Topping a rise, Katy drew her horse to a halt. She felt her heart beat a little faster as she spied Iron Wing in the shallow valley below. He was chasing a cow and calf, and Katy watched with pride
as man and horse worked together. Iron Wing rode flawlessly, moving as though he were a part of the horse. He had removed his shirt, and his long black hair flowed down his back. He almost looked like a warrior again, and she felt her heart thrill with excitement as her eyes lovingly went over the powerful muscles rippling in his arms and legs and back. His skin was sheened with a fine layer of sweat, his dark eyes intent upon the fleeing calf.

  Katy grinned as he cut the calf from the milling herd, marveling that he had so quickly learned to rope and tie cattle. Effortlessly, he vaulted from his horse, threw and tied the calf. Moments later, its hip carrying the Alvarez brand, the calf jumped to its feet and ran, bawling loudly, to its mother.

  Katy was still grinning when she rode down the hill. “Hi, cowboy,” she called to her husband. “Working hard?”

  Iron Wing shrugged. “Not too hard. Is something wrong?”

  “No. I just thought I’d ride out and say hello.” Katy waved to the three cowhands squatting beside the fire. Until now, she had not even noticed them, or the other two cowhands riding through the herd, so absorbed had she been in watching her husband.

  The vaqueros touched their hats respectfully, then reheated the branding iron as another wrangler cut a calf from the herd.

  Katy looked up at Iron Wing, a smile playing over her lips. “Can I talk you into taking me for a swim in the lake?”

  “You must know by now that you could talk me into anything.” Iron Wing muttered drily.

  “Good. Race you to the lake,” Katy shouted, and drummed her heels into her mare’s flanks.

  With a loud cry, Iron Wing vaulted into the saddle and gave chase, but his cow pony, while agile and fleet of foot, was no match for Katy’s desert-bred Arab.

  She was waiting for him at the lake, a broad grin on her face, as he drew rein beside her.

  “You would have made a fine warrior,” Iron Wing mused, dismounting. Placing his hands around her trim waist, he lifted her from the saddle and placed her on the ground.