Love in the Wind

by Madeline Baker

  Iron Wing remained quiet on the long ride back to the Alvarez ranch. How were his people faring, he wondered. Were they hungry, like the Apache? Dying slowly of starvation. Would he find Tall Buffalo in rags, his eyes dulled with hunger and defeat? Did the Cheyenne children cry for food?

  He thought bleakly of the Apache village. There was no life in the people. Once the Apache had been a proud warrior race. Now they were beaten. Only a handful of warriors still lived wild and free in the old way…Geronimo was the most notorious, and he was raiding in Mexico.

  Iron Wing glanced at Katy. In a few weeks they would leave her mother’s house and go back to the Dakotas, back to his people. He offered a silent prayer to Man Above that all would be well when they arrived.

  * * * * *

  Spring came, and, reluctantly, Katy told her mother that they were going back to the Dakotas. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

  Sarah was not surprised. Deep down, she had known this day was coming. But it was hard to accept, hard to face the fact that she might never see Katy or John again. Even Iron Wing would be missed, Sarah thought with surprise. He had become a part of her life, and she knew she would miss his presence in her home.

  Later that day, Katy went out to the family cemetery, which was located on a grassy knoll a few miles west of the house.

  Dismounting, Katy knelt beside her father’s grave, her head bowed as grief washed over her. The tears came freely, tears for her father’s untimely death, tears for Robert, for the life she was about to give up for the man she loved. She would miss the security of her childhood home, she would miss her mother and the close relationship they now shared. She would miss the creature comforts of civilization, the silly little things, like a glass of warm milk on a cold night, and scented soap to bathe with.

  But her place was with Iron Wing and she could not be happy unless he was happy. She had always felt sorry for the wild creatures that were captured and forced to live in captivity. And while Iron Wing was not a prisoner, she knew he felt trapped just the same, knew he longed for his homeland. And she loved him too much to keep him from the life he longed for.

  Their leave-taking was sad and filled with tears. Sarah wept openly as she hugged John to her breast, but she knew why Katy was leaving, and she understood.

  “You will come to visit us once in a while, won’t you?” Sarah asked.

  “Of course,” Katy said, hugging her mother. “And I’ll write every chance I get.”

  “Don’t let John forget about me,” Mike said, brushing a tear from his eye.

  “I won’t,” Katy promised.

  Iron Wing smiled faintly as he took John from Sarah’s arms. And then they were gone.

  Hand in hand, Sarah and Mike watched the trio ride out of sight.

  “Godspeed,” Sarah whispered, and then dissolved in tears against her husband’s shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Summer, 1880

  Sarah Alvarez sighed as she put the newspaper down. So much bad news, she thought wearily. Gazing at the distant mountains, she wondered how Katy and Iron Wing and John were doing. Daily, the papers carried stories of the happenings in the plains of Dakota and Montana. Always, there were vivid accounts of battles between scattered bands of hostile Indians and the Army, lurid tales of death and disease and bloodshed, of Indians slain or forced onto the reservations. Where was Katy? Was she happy, living in the wilds of Dakota with Iron Wing and John, or were they living in squalor on some godforsaken Indian reservation? There were so many stories of dishonest Indian agents, men who sold the beef meant for the Indians and pocketed the money, leaving the Indians to starve.

  Mike had gone to the Army and negotiated a beef contract just as he had promised he would. Pedro Montoya insisted it would lead to disaster, but the Apaches hadn’t caused any trouble. Quite the contrary. Yellow Deer came to the ranch several times a year, bringing a deer, an elk, a robe, a basket or some pottery.

  But she was not worried about Yellow Deer and his people. They were being looked after. She was worried about Katy. And John. He would be over three years old now, walking and talking. Did he have enough to eat? Did he remember her at all?

  She did not worry about Iron Wing. He was strong and self-sufficient, able to take care of himself. She only hoped he was able to take care of Katy and John.

  She had received only one letter from Katy in the past two years. It had been mailed from Fort Lincoln. In it, Katy said only that they were all well and hoped to find Iron Wing’s people soon. The rest of the letter had been about John. He was learning to speak both English and Cheyenne, and had his own pony.

  Sarah had read and reread the letter until it virtually fell apart in her hands.

  Nightly, she prayed for their good health, for some miracle that would bring them all safely home.

  Katy smiled fondly at her husband and son, riding double on a big bay gelding. Iron Wing looked every inch the warrior, even though his buckskin shirt was ragged, his clout smeared with mud, his leggings torn. John, dressed much the same as his father, was a handsome little boy with tawny skin, large brown eyes and straight black hair. Daily, he seemed to grow more like his father in both looks and mannerisms.

  Katy glanced down at her own clothes in dismay. Her deerskin dress was torn and stained, her moccasins worn through. She hated to go home looking the way she did, hated for her mother to think Iron Wing hadn’t been able to provide for them. More than once he had risked his life so that they might have food and shelter. No man could have done more.

  Iron Wing reached out to touch her arm. “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “Do you want to stop for awhile?”

  “No, we’re so close. Let’s go on.”

  Iron Wing nodded, his hand lifting to tousle the curly black hair of the baby cradled in Katy’s arms. The child stretched and yawned, then drifted back to sleep. She was a pretty little thing, only a few weeks old.

  “It won’t be much longer,” he said.

  “I know,” Katy replied. “We’re fine.”

  “How about you, son?” Iron Wing asked over his shoulder.

  “Fine,” John said, though he wanted very much to curl up in his father’s arms and go to sleep. They had been traveling since before dawn, and now it was almost dark. But warriors did not complain. What could not be changed must be endured.

  Riding on, Iron Wing let his thoughts drift back in time. They had reached the Dakotas late in the summer of ‘78. For months, they had searched for his people, but to no avail. It was as if they had vanished from the face of the earth without a trace. And then, one day in late fall, they had come across a handful of Cheyenne heading for the reservation at Pine Ridge. Yes, an old warrior said, they knew of the tribe of Little Eagles Flying. They had been wiped out the winter before. Refusing to surrender to the soldiers, they had fought to the last man. There were no survivors.

  Upon hearing the news, Iron Wing had ridden high into the Black Hills to mourn, leaving Katy and John below. He had slashed his flesh, cut his hair, rent his clothes. And wept for the loss of his people—for Tall Buffalo and Yellow Flower, for Bull Calf and Sun Dreamer, for Quiet Water. For all those who had died at Sand Creek and in the valley of the Washita…

  When his period of mourning had passed, they had sought shelter with a small band of Sioux hiding out in the Big Horn Mountains, but the Army had routed them and herded them onto a reservation. It was the worst hell Iron Wing had ever known. Alone, he could have endured it. Alone, he would have joined with the renegade warriors hiding out in the badlands. But he could not drag Katy and John into the hills to live like hunted beasts.

  Through it all, Katy had never once complained, never begged to go home, never lamented the life she had left behind to be with him. She had stoically endured cold and hunger and heartache. She had nursed the sick, mourned the dying, comforted those who grieved, kept his own spirits from sinking into a mire of depression. Sometimes t
hey had gone for days without food, giving what little they had to John, but Katy had never given up hope. Tomorrow would be better, she said optimistically. But it never was. And when he could no longer bear to see his wife and son in rags, slowly starving to death while they waited for rations that never came, he packed their few belongings and they left the reservation in the dead of night.

  Things had been a little better after that. He killed a Crow warrior with his bare hands and took the man’s horse, weapons, and clothing. Mounted now, and armed, he felt his flagging spirits rise. A deer provided meat, the hide made a dress for Katy, a coat and pants for John. A bear, found hibernating in a cave, provided them with a warm robe and a change of diet. The cave made a cozy place to wait out the last winter storm.

  They were still holed up in the cave when Katy went into labor. He would never forget the trust shining in her eyes as she depended on him to deliver their child. It had been an awe-inspiring experience, watching the tiny, red-faced girl child enter the world. Luckily, Katy’s labor had been easier this time, and the child had been born with a minimum of pain and no complications. Katy had named the child Hope.

  And now they were topping the last rise. Below lay the Alvarez hacienda, looking much the same as it had when they left over two years ago.

  Katy shaded her eyes against the setting sun as they crested the ridge. With a cry of jubilation, she urged her horse down the hill, shouting, “Mama! Mama!” as her horse raced into the yard.

  Sarah looked up, her hand going to her heart, as she saw Katy Marie come flying down the road, her long black hair streaming behind her like a banner, her smile as wide as the Missouri River at flood tide.

  Jumping to her feet, Sarah shrieked Katy’s name as she ran down the veranda stairs. Reining her horse to a dirt-scattering halt, Katy jumped to the ground and the two women hugged each other tight, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Standing back a little, Sarah blinked in surprise as she saw the baby bundled in Katy’s arms. “Who’s this?” she asked, peering at the baby, who was crying lustily.

  “This is Hope. Oh, Mama, I missed you so!”

  “And I missed you!” Sarah cried, and they embraced again, the baby sandwiched between them.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Michael Sommers demanded, bursting out onto the veranda. “Katy!” he exclaimed, and ran down the stairs, throwing his arms around Sarah and Katy and the baby, who was still wailing at the top of her lungs.

  Iron Wing smiled faintly as he rode up to the happy group. Dismounting, he lifted John from the saddle.

  “There you are!” Sarah cried, and swept the startled boy into her arms.

  “It’s all right, son,” Iron Wing assured the boy. “This is your grandmother. She is just glad to see you again.”

  “Gramma,” John said, smiling up at her. John’s mother had told him all about his grandparents, about how grandpa had been in the Army, about how grandma ran a big ranch all by herself until she married grandpa. He knew they had a big house, and that he had been born there. Grandma was pretty, John thought as he put his arms around her neck, just like mama. And she smelled good, too, like flowers in the spring. Fresh tears of joy coursed down Sarah’s cheeks as John’s arms went around her neck. How he had grown, and how she had missed him!

  Iron Wing and Michael Sommers shook hands solemnly. Then, muttering, “I’m afraid a handshake just won’t do it,” Mike threw his arms around Iron Wing and gave him a bear hug. Iron Wing looked a little embarrassed by the unexpected show of affection, but he did not pull away.

  “How long can you stay?” Sarah asked. “We’ve missed you all so much.”

  “As long as you want us,” Katy said, trying to soothe Hope, who was still crying loudly. Sarah looked at Mike, and then the two of them looked at Iron Wing. He looked tired, Sarah thought sympathetically, and there was a deep sadness lurking in the back of his eyes. And yet, for all that, she could sense the strength and power within him and she knew she had been foolish to worry about Katy so long as she had Iron Wing to protect her.

  “The life I knew is gone,” Iron Wing explained in a voice edged with pain. “My people are gone. You are all the family that Katy has.” He paused, his dark eyes moving slowly from Mike’s face to Sarah’s. “All the family I have. I would like my children to grow up here, in the midst of those who will love them for what they are, if it is all right with the two of you.”

  Mike Sommers swallowed hard, touched by Iron Wing’s words. He was not a man given to tears, but he felt his eyes burn and he blinked rapidly, not wanting to appear unmanly before Iron Wing.

  Sarah did not try to hold back her tears as she murmured, “Oh, Iron Wing, son, welcome home.”

  “I am glad to be here,” Iron Wing said sincerely. “We are all glad to be here.”

  For a moment, the four adults stood together, aglow with the joy of being together again. Then Iron Wing looked at Katy. It had been a long time since they had been alone, just the two of them, a long time since they had made love. Now they had all the time in the world, and he did not want to waste a single minute.

  Katy blushed to the roots of her hair as she recognized the gleam in her husband’s eye, and her heart began to thud rapidly in her breast.

  Sarah and Mike did not miss the look that passed between Katy and Iron Wing, and they exchanged knowing grins. Without saying a word, Mike took John from Sarah, and Sarah took the baby from Katy.

  “Run along, you two,” Sarah said. “We’ll look after the children.”

  “Yeah,” Mike chimed in, punching Iron Wing on the arm. “That’s what grandparents are for, you know.”

  Iron Wing was grinning broadly as he scooped Katy into his arms and carried her up the stairs into the house. Behind him, he could hear Mike talking to John, promising to take the boy hunting and fishing, promising him he could have his pick of the horses on the ranch. He could hear Sarah crooning softly to the baby, telling the little girl how pretty she was.

  “Are you sure you can be happy here?” Katy asked as Iron Wing carried her down the hall to their bedroom.

  “Yes. I was wrong to take you away from here,” Iron Wing said, opening the door to their room. “Wrong to try to go back to my old way of life. You are my people, Ka-ty. My life. Wherever you are, that is home.”

  They were the sweetest words she had ever heard, Katy thought happily. And then there was no more time for thinking because Iron Wing was kissing her, his mouth searing hers in a way that made her toes curl with pleasure, blotting everything from her mind but the love they shared and the joy that would be theirs in the years to come.

  About Madeline Baker

  Madeline Baker started writing simply for the fun of it. Now she is the award-winning author of more than thirty historical romances and one of the most popular writers of Native American romance. She lives in California, where she was born and raised.

  Love in the Wind Copyright © 1986, 2013, 2016 Madeline Baker

  Published by Butterfly Kisses Press

  Cover design by Cindy Lucas