“Would you have liked me better if I were a warrior?” Katy teased, wantonly pressing herself against the length of his body.
Iron Wing ran his hands seductively over her hips and buttocks. “What do you think?”
Katy uttered a little squeal of pleasure as Iron Wing bent and kissed her neck, his hands grinding her hips against his.
“Do you still want to swim, Ka-ty?” he asked huskily.
“Later,” she murmured breathlessly. “Later…”
Sarah smiled at her husband as Katy and Iron Wing rode by the house on their way to the barn.
“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Michael remarked.
“Yes,” Sarah agreed. “Much as I hate to admit it, I think Katy has made a fine match. I doubt Pablo Alvarado, or even Wellingham, would have been as good for her.”
“You’ve been very good for me,” Mike said, squeezing Sarah’s hand. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“Nor I,” Sarah murmured, smiling. She gazed fondly at the infant sleeping in her lap. At last, she had everything she had ever wanted. Her relationship with Katy was everything it should be, she had a darling grandson, a kind and loving husband. The ranch was prospering.
“Do you think Iron Wing is happy here?” Mike asked.
Sarah glanced over at the barn. She could see Iron Wing unsaddling the horses while Katy looked on. They were talking and smiling, apparently content.
“Yes, he seems happy,” Sarah said. “Don’t you think so?”
Mike shook his head slowly. “No.”
“Has he said anything?”
“No, it’s just a gut feeling.”
A cold chill washed over Sarah as she watched Iron Wing and Katy rub down their horses. If Iron Wing decided to go back to his own people, Katy would go with him. Sarah glanced down at the child in her lap, gently smoothed his dark hair. She could not bear to lose him. He was so precious, so very dear to her heart. She longed to see him grow to manhood, to watch him learn to walk and talk and ride. She wanted to share his birthdays and see his face light up at Christmas. Impulsively, she picked him up and hugged him close to her breast.
Michael Sommers chewed on his lower lip as he watched Sarah and the baby. He knew what she was thinking, and he could have kicked himself for worrying her, perhaps needlessly.
“I could be wrong,” Mike said. “I’ve been wrong before.”
“I don’t know how I’d bear it if Katy left home again,” Sarah said, her voice edged with pain. “Not now, when we’ve only just really found each other.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sommers suggested, wishing he had kept his big mouth shut.
Sarah nodded, but it was a thought that was never out of her mind from that day on. She made a conscious effort to include Iron Wing in everything they did. She instructed Juanita to serve his favorite foods more often. She asked his advice about ranch affairs, asked him to be in charge of the remuda.
One evening, after dinner, she asked him when his birthday was, and when he said he didn’t know, only that it was in the early summer, she picked the date of June first and planned a small surprise party for him.
And Iron Wing was surprised beyond words the night he entered the dining room and saw it decorated with colored streamers and a large handpainted sign that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IRON WING.” There were three gaily wrapped packages beside his dinner plate.
“They’re for you,” Sarah said, smiling at the astonished expression on his usually impassive face. “Tonight we’re celebrating your birthday. It’s an American custom.”
“But I have nothing to give you in return,” Iron Wing protested.
“It isn’t necessary,” Katy said. “This isn’t a giveaway feast. It’s your birthday. How old are you, anyway?”
“I am twenty-seven summers.” He looked at Katy, a bemused smile on his face. “How old are you?”
“A woman never tells,” Katy said, shaking her head.
“Surely a husband has a right to know.”
“I suppose so. I’m twenty-two.”
“When is your…birthday?”
“It’s past,” Katy said, her good mood shattered.
Iron Wing’s eyes searched hers, and he knew intuitively that her birthday must have occurred during her stay with Miguel. Or perhaps it had been when they were fleeing across the desert toward her home. Somehow, he would make it up to her.
Mike cleared his throat. “Uh, Iron Wing, why don’t you open your presents?”
“Yes,” Katy said, forcing a smile. “Open them.”
Nodding, Iron Wing unwrapped the packages. There was a blue checked shirt from Sarah, a finely crafted knife from Mike, a pair of soft moccasins from Katy.
“I made them myself,” Katy said. “Are they all right?”
“Perfect,” he declared, touched by her thoughtfulness. His old moccasins were just about worn out, and Katy knew how much he disliked boots.
“Thank you,” Iron Wing said, touched by their gifts and warm wishes. “Thank you all.”
Juanita served his favorite dinner that night, and then Katy, Sarah and Mike sang him a song, while Juanita lit the candles on the cake.
Iron Wing felt a little embarrassed by all the fuss, but he dutifully blew out the candles.
“What did you wish for?” Katy asked.
“Wish for?” Iron Wing said.
“You’re supposed to make a wish,” Mike explained. “But don’t tell what it is, or it won’t come true.”
Sitting across the table, Sarah prayed fervently that Iron Wing’s wish would not come true, for she knew in her heart that he had wished to be home with his own people.
Iron Wing went into town the next day. He had been touched by the gifts he had received, but he felt guilty that he had given nothing in return. So now he shopped, buying a black lace mantilla for Katy’s mother to wear to church, a box of fine cigars for Sommers. For Katy, he chose a delicate gold heart on a fine chain, a pair of pearl-drop earrings, and a wide gold wedding band. He hoped she would be pleased with the gifts and that, somehow, they would make up for the birthday she had missed. She must never feel cheated of anything because of him.
There was another birthday cake on the dinner table. Katy looked at her mother, her expression one of bafflement.
“Is it Mike’s birthday?” Katy asked. “I know it isn’t yours.”
“No,” Sarah answered, shaking her head.
“It’s your birthday, Ka-ty,” Iron Wing said. “Tonight we are having all of your favorite foods.” Turning, he picked up a parcel from the sideboard. “Sit, all of you,” he said. “Sarah, this is for you. Michael, this is yours. And, Ka-ty, these are for you.”
Katy blinked back her tears as she opened the gifts. The heart was lovely, the gold chain exquisite, the earrings worthy of a duchess. But the gold band was her undoing. “Oh, Iron Wing,” she breathed, touched to the depths of her heart. “It’s beautiful. Will you put it on my finger?”
He nodded solemnly. Taking her hand in his, he slid the wedding ring on her finger.
“Now a kiss,” Katy said.
Sarah felt the tears start as she watched Iron Wing bend down and give Katy a heartfelt kiss. How could she have ever thought her son-in-law incapable of love? His feelings for Katy were clear in his eyes, in the way he thought always of her happiness.
For Katy, it was the best birthday she’d ever had. And later that night, when Iron Wing took her in his arms, her joy was complete.
Chapter Twenty-Five
One Saturday morning, Katy woke to find herself alone in bed. Rising quickly, she checked on John. He was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, his little legs bunched underneath him, his fist jammed into his mouth. She paused a moment to place a kiss on his cheek. How fast he was growing!
Smiling, she went to her closet, pulled out a dark blue skirt and a white blouse. Dressing, she hurried downstairs to find Iron Wing. She expected to find him in the kitchen having coffee, but he
wasn’t there. Frowning, she checked the parlor and the den and when she couldn’t find him anywhere in the house, she went outside, shading her eyes against the early morning sun. It was unlike him to leave without telling her where he was going, and she grew more and more worried as she left the front yard and walked rapidly toward the barn. She knew she was behaving foolishly. After all, he was a grown man, and quite able to take care of himself.
Katy came to an abrupt halt as she neared one of the breaking pens. Relief erupted in a long sigh as she saw Iron Wing leading a tall blue roan into the corral. Recognizing the animal, she felt her relief turn to apprehension. The horse was a wild stud, caught off the range only a few days ago. All efforts to break the horse had failed; three wranglers had been injured, one had been killed. Ordinarily, such a rank stallion would have been gelded or disposed of, but the blue roan was an exceptional animal. His conformation was close to perfect, and Michael hoped to breed him to some of the ranch mares.
Katy watched with awe as Iron Wing swung agilely into the saddle. A prayer rose in her heart as the big blue horse began bucking wildly.
Iron Wing grinned as the stallion bucked and pitched, now sunfishing, now swapping ends, now jumping straight up and landing with jarring impact on all four feet. Several times the horse reached around, big yellow teeth bared as it tried to sink its teeth into Iron Wing’s leg.
A minute passed; two, five. Katy wrung her hands together as she watched Iron Wing. The horse bucked without tiring, its fury mounting as it failed to dislodge the man clinging stubbornly to its back.
Iron Wing was sweating profusely as he fought the stallion. And yet, for all the struggle, the battle was invigorating, filling him with a sense of exhilaration he had not felt in months. As a warrior, he had been needed, important to the survival of his people. His bow had brought down the enemies of the Cheyenne, had provided food and clothing for those who could not provide for themselves. Men had sought his advice, boys had imitated him. He had been respected and admired. Here, living as a white man, he was of little worth. His knowledge of the wild was unimportant. There were no enemies threatening the survival of the ranch or its inhabitants. Food and clothing were readily available.
Now, as he fought the wild stallion to see who would be the master, he felt vitally alive again. It was good to pit his strength against the strength of the horse, good to feel his blood flowing hot in his veins.
Another five minutes passed, and at last the big horse began to show signs of tiring. Its sides were heaving mightily, yellow lather covered its sleek hide, foam dripped from its mouth. Abruptly, the horse reared straight up on its hind legs and pitched over backward. Katy held her breath as Iron Wing threw himself out of the saddle, rolling sideways to avoid being crushed under the heavy stock saddle and a thousand pounds of irate horseflesh.
Man and beast sprang to their feet, facing each other warily. Slowly, Iron Wing walked toward the horse. Right hand outstretched, he talked softly to the stud. He was reaching for the dangling reins when the stallion let out a scream of rage and lashed out with its front feet. One unshod hoof caught Iron Wing in the leg just below his knee.
Iron Wing gasped with pain. Then, with a mighty cry of his own, he grabbed a handful of the stallion’s mane and vaulted into the saddle. As soon as the horse felt Iron Wing’s weight on its back, it began bucking wildly again, squealing with rage and pain as Iron Wing lashed its flanks with the ends of the reins. When the horse started to rear, Iron Wing was ready. Raising his fist, he brought it down hard between the stud’s ears.
Katy grinned as the horse let out a grunt and dropped its forefeet to the ground. Serves you right, she mused, and then frowned as she noticed the ribbon of blood staining Iron Wing’s pant leg.
Some twenty-five minutes after the battle began, the horse gave up. A last, halfhearted buck and then it stood still, its front legs spraddled, its head hanging in defeat. Yellow lather dripped from its heaving sides, gathering in dirty puddles on the ground.
With a grin of triumph, Iron Wing dismounted. Patting the horse on the neck, he pulled off the heavy saddle. Using the saddle blanket, he began to rub down the stallion.
“You were wonderful!” Katy exclaimed as she climbed up on the top rail of the corral and sat down. “Just wonderful.”
Iron Wing smiled at her, pleased by her words of praise. “I think he will make a good horse after all,” he said, scratching the roan’s ears. “He is a fighter.”
“So are you.”
“Not anymore,” Iron Wing murmured, and there was such a note of unhappiness in his voice that Katy winced.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, pointing at his leg.
Iron Wing glanced down at the blood and shrugged unconcerned. “I did not notice.”
“Come up to the house and I’ll bandage it for you.”
“I am all right.”
“Iron Wing, you can’t just stand there and bleed all over the place,” Katy scolded.
“I am all right, Ka-ty,” he said sharply. “Go back to the house. I will come when I am ready.”
Katy looked at him reproachfully, then jumped to the ground and walked briskly back to the house, brushing at her tears as she went. What had she said, to make him growl at her like that? She only wanted to help.
John was awake when she reached her room. Lifting him, she kissed his downy cheek, smiled as he grabbed a handful of her hair. She hummed softly as she changed his diaper, then sat on the bed to nurse him, but her heart was heavy. She and Iron Wing had rarely spoken crossly to each other. Their trials and heartaches had always been caused by others, and they had found comfort and solace in the love they shared. But lately, Iron Wing had seemed withdrawn and alone.
When the baby had taken his fill, she put him back to bed, then went to the window and looked down at the corral where Iron Wing was cooling out the stud. There were any number of hired hands to care for the horse, she thought irritably. There was no reason for him to do it. He was limping now, she saw, his pant leg was soaked with blood. But still he walked, determinedly leading the horse around and around the corral until the animal was cool enough to be put away without danger of colicking. Lord, what a stubborn man, she thought, shaking her head in disgust. And how she loved him.
She was waiting for Iron Wing when he entered the house. “Can I take care of your leg now?” she asked quietly.
Iron Wing nodded. Hobbling into the kitchen, he eased down onto one of the chairs and closed his eyes. His whole leg throbbed with pain.
“For goodness sakes, what’s going on in here?” Sarah gasped moments later when she stepped into the kitchen.
“Iron Wing broke the blue roan,” Katy explained.
“Looks more like the roan broke him,” Michael observed, coming up behind his wife. “Is his leg broke?”
“No,” Katy said. Using a knife, she slit Iron Wing’s pant leg up the seam, exposing the wound. Blood trickled from an ugly gash where the stallion’s hoof had gouged the skin. The area just below his knee was a hideous shade of purple, the leg swollen to almost twice its normal size.
With a look of concern on her face, Sarah put some water on the stove to heat. Taking a rag from a cupboard, she handed it to Katy. “It’s clean,” she said. “You can use it to stop the bleeding.”
Katy nodded. Taking the cloth from her mother, she pressed it over the gash in Iron Wing’s leg. He winced involuntarily as she touched his leg.
Sommers left the room, returning a moment later with a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. “Here,” he said, handing the bottle to Iron Wing. “I think this might help ease the pain.”
Iron Wing grinned wryly as he uncorked the bottle. “Don’t you know it is against the law to give firewater to Indians?” he said before taking a long swallow. The amber liquid burned a fiery path to the pit of his stomach, then suffused him with a warm glow that did indeed cause the pain to recede a little.
Sommers grinned knowingly. “I thought that would help,” he said, chuckling.
Iron Wing grinned crookedly. He took another drink as Sarah and Katy worked over his leg, wiping the blood away with a rag soaked in hot water, then applying cold cloths to reduce the swelling.
“I don’t think that cut will require stitching,” Sarah remarked. “But he’d best stay off his feet for a day or two. That’s a nasty bruise.”
With Michael’s help, they managed to get Iron Wing up the stairs. He was slightly drunk by then, and offered no resistance as Sommers and Katy put him to bed. He was asleep almost instantly.
Katy turned troubled eyes on Sommers. “I don’t understand him anymore,” she said. “Why did he have to ride that mustang? What was he trying to prove?”
“I don’t know, Katy,” Mike answered kindly. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t claim to know much about Indians, but I do know that Indian men set a high price on their pride and their manhood. In the wild, a man knows he’s important. His life is dedicated to protecting his people, to fighting their enemies and providing food and shelter. Perhaps Iron Wing doesn’t feel like he’s contributing anything here.” Sommers shrugged. “Hell, Katy, I don’t know. Maybe he was just trying to prove he was stronger and smarter than the horse.”
Standing on tiptoe, Katy kissed Sommers on the cheek. “My mother was smart to marry you.”
“Thanks, kid. Be patient with Iron Wing, Katy. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that he loves you very much.”
“I know. And I love him.”
“Then I guess everything will work out,” Sommers said. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. I think he’ll be asleep for quite some time.”
Iron Wing refused to stay in bed the next day. After breakfast, he limped down to the corral and saddled the blue roan, then rode the animal out of the yard and into the hills.
Katy was on pins and needles waiting for him to return. When he had been gone for over two hours, she began to imagine everything that could have gone wrong. The horse had thrown Iron Wing and trampled him to death. The horse had bolted and run off a cliff, killing them both. A snake had spooked the stallion, Iron Wing had been thrown and bitten and was even now slowly dying as the deadly poison coursed through his veins.
Love in the Wind Page 28
