Cheyenne Song

by Georgina Gentry

  PASSION’S AWAKENING

  Slowly, Two Arrows pulled Glory close, bent his head and kissed her lips. It was a tender kiss, almost a caress across her mouth.

  For a moment, she was too surprised to move. Then, though she didn’t mean to, she reacted instinctively, her arms going up around his neck as she kissed him in return. At this encouragement, he pulled her hard against him, his arms holding her so close that she felt the heat of his body and the urgency of his desire.

  She didn’t think, she only reacted, clinging to him, pressing against him, returning his passion with her own. No man had ever kissed her like this and she had never responded with the fire she now felt deep in her very soul.

  Somewhere in the distance, she heard little Grasshopper calling, “Two Arrows, Proud One, where are you?”

  They jerked apart abruptly, Glory both appalled and stunned that she had returned his kiss with such ardor.

  “No wonder the lieutenant wants you back,” Two Arrows whispered. “A man would move heaven and earth to keep you!”

  “I—I must be losing my mind!” She pulled away from him and ran for the camp. She didn’t look back.

  PREVIOUS BOOKS BY GEORGINA GENTRY

  Apache Caress

  Bandit’s Embrace

  Cheyenne Captive

  Cheyenne Caress

  Cheyenne Princess

  Cheyenne Splendor

  Comanche Cowboy

  Half-breed’s Bride

  Nevada Dawn

  Nevada Nights

  Quicksilver Passion

  Sioux Slave

  Song of the Warrior

  Timeless Warrior

  Warrior’s Prize

  Cheyenne Sóng

  Georgina Gentry

  Zebra Books

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  http://www.zebrabooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  PASSION’S AWAKENING

  PREVIOUS BOOKS BY GEORGINA GENTRY

  Title Page

  Dedication

  MAP OF 1878 CHEYENNE FLIGHT

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  To My Readers

  Eternal Outlaw

  BOOK YOUR PLACE ON OUR WEBSITE AND MAKE THE READING CONNECTION!

  Copyright Page

  For my longtime editor, Carin Cohen Ritter, whose wise counsel and good editing has saved some of my books from disaster. Every writer should be lucky enough to have such an editor. Thank you, Carin.

  MAP OF 1878 CHEYENNE FLIGHT

  Prologue

  A second chance. How many of us have hoped, or maybe even prayed for another chance to redeem our pasts, correct the mistakes we’ve made? Most never get that opportunity.

  This is a love story about a rescued stallion, a failed cavalry sergeant, a drunken Cheyenne dog soldier who hates whites, a disgraced cavalry officer who hates Indians, and a beautiful woman with a scandalous past.

  More than that, it’s a saga of the northern Cheyenne tribe who made a mistake and then risked their lives to change it. In 1878, three hundred starving Cheyenne walked away from Fort Reno, Indian Territory, stubbornly determined to reach their beloved homeland, fifteen hundred miles to the north. Ten thousand soldiers were sent to block that escape.

  Along with the Indians, all the players in this drama desperately need a second chance....

  One

  Fort Reno, Indian Territory

  The night of September 7, 1878

  Two Arrows wanted the woman from the first moment he saw her. Whether it was simply desire as a man wants a woman or revenge because she was Lieutenant Krueger’s lady, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

  In fact, the Cheyenne brave didn’t care much about anything tonight as he leaned against a tree and watched her riding through the moonlight with the silhouette of the fort in the background. The full moon threw distorted shadows of the horse and rider across the prairie. Two Arrows knew the leaf shadows hid him, so he could watch her as he had done before without anyone knowing. The hated Lieutenant Krueger would not like a drunken Indian watching the beautiful Glory the way Two Arrows watched the dark-haired woman now, desire in his heart and groin.

  He grimaced and rubbed his hand across his mouth. He was drunk, he thought, but the white man’s liquor no longer took away the painful memories the way it used to. Now it only made him sad, but he was drunk more often than he was sober these days. When he was sober, he rode as an army scout. It was sometimes hard to remember that once he had been a respected dog soldier of the Cheyenne, bravest of the brave. Now his own people laughed at him, and his family was dead or scattered like the autumn leaves.

  He watched the white woman tap her gray mare with her little whip, and the fine thoroughbred broke into a gentle lope across the prairie. If she kept coming, she would be riding beneath the trees, but first she would have to pass the soldier on guard duty.

  She had dark eyes and very black hair that had come loose from its ribbon like a wild filly’s mane. Tonight, she wore cream linen—men’s pants—and she rode astride. Lieutenant Krueger would not like that. That thought made Two Arrows smile. He did not like the lieutenant, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

  The cheap liquor was pumping through his blood, and Two Arrows felt a stirring in his groin as he watched her canter up to the post guard. She was not beautiful in the way white men judged beauty, and she was no longer a young girl, but there was something about the way she carried her head high and proud that appealed to him. Two Arrows had watched her many nights and thought about her often, since he had no woman of his own. She might soon be marrying the lieutenant; everyone said so, even though the women at the fort gossiped about her past and her scandalous behavior. Two Arrows took another big drink from the bottle and moved farther back into the shadows of the bois d’arc trees.

  Glory Halstead rode toward the sentry, who raised his hand. “Halt! Who goes there?”

  She reined in and smiled at the red-faced Irishman. “Mercy, Corporal Muldoon, surely you recognize me? Do I look dangerous?” She laughed, and Misty danced under her, eager as she for a swift gallop.

  The old soldier looked shamefaced in the moonlight. “Aye, of course, Mrs. Halstead, but it’s regulation, you know; I’m tryin’ to do everything by the book these days.”

  Glory nodded. “I understand. I’m sure you’ll get those stripes back.” Everyone on the post knew Muldoon had been broken from sergeant and was trying to regain his stripes. “Well, good night.” She smiled and started to ride past him.

  “Beg pardon, ma’am, but does the lieutenant know you ride out alone after dark and in men’s trousers?”

  “I’m not a callow girl, Muldoon,” Glory snapped, “and I’m not Mrs. Krueger yet, so I do what I wish.”

  “My apologies, ma’am, but your riding alone causes all the old ladies’ tongues to waggle—”

  “I’ve survived a divorce, Muldoon, so I’m already a scandalous loose woman as far as the old biddies hereabouts are concerned.”

  His beefy face softened. “Aww, don’t you pay them no mind, Missus.”

  “I don’t.” But she knew she lied. “Don’t worry about me, Muldoon, I won’t ride far.”

  Before the corporal
could object again, Glory nudged Misty and cantered toward the ragged grove of trees that grew just outside the fort’s perimeters. Riding alone at night, the wind blowing her hair, was the only pleasure she had at Fort Reno. She had thought when she came here to help her sick father in the post sutler’s store that she might leave the scandal behind her in Virginia; but it had followed her. Now she had met David Krueger, and he hinted that he wanted to marry her, scandalous divorcee or not. She was not an innocent girl anymore. Her practical side told her that at thirty-four, she might not get a better offer.

  Glory rode through the shadows of the trees, her mind wrestling with that decision. She would have security with David, if not passionate love, but then, Glory had never believed such love actually existed. Certainly with the lieutenant’s society credentials, it would end the gossip about her scandalous past.

  A man stepped out of the shadows, causing her horse to rear. Glory gasped and almost slid off as she reined in. “Mercy! Are you crazy! What do you—?”

  He caught Misty’s bridle, and the mare snorted and ceased rearing. Glory clung to the cantle and stared back into the stranger’s handsome dark face. She realized suddenly that he was Indian, one of those encamped near the fort’s perimeters, no doubt. She didn’t like the naked hunger she saw in those burning eyes.

  “I watch you all the time,” he said, but he didn’t let go of the bridle.

  “You’re drunk.” The hair rose up on the back of her neck. After dealing with a drunken, brutal husband, she was all too aware how unpredictable and dangerous a drunk could be. She must stay calm. “Let go of my horse this instant.”

  He swayed a little, looking up at her. “Or you’ll do what?”

  She recognized him now with a sense of relief. Big, rugged, wide-shouldered, dressed in buckskins; this wasn’t some stray savage. Two Arrows was one of the Cheyenne scouts who rode for David. “I shall scream loudly, and you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

  He grinned arrogantly, but he didn’t let go of the bridle. “You aren’t the type to scream for help, and anyway, it would only add to the gossip.”

  Even the Indians had heard about her. It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t fair she should be branded so. “Let go of my horse, damn you!” She slashed out with her riding crop, catching him across his dark, high-cheekboned face.

  He let go of her horse, one hand going to his injured face as the other reached out and caught the riding whip, his powerful hand covering hers as they struggled for it. The fury in his eyes frightened her, but she had too much pride to cry out for help and bring Corporal Muldoon running. For a split second, they fought for the little whip as the delicate mare snorted and danced nervously.

  Then the virile brave yanked it from her hand and broke it in half with a sneer. “If you were a man, I would have killed you for that.”

  His sultry eyes left no doubt what he would like to do to her; desire mixed with anger in his dark, handsome face. Glory had never sensed such virile, dangerous power in a man before, not from her drunken, brutal husband, certainly not from the gentle, civilized Lieutenant Krueger.

  Shaken, Glory did not answer. Instead, she wheeled Misty and galloped back toward the fort, past Corporal Muldoon, who started as if he’d been dozing at his post, and called after her, but Glory didn’t acknowledge him.

  Good, at least the big Irishman probably hadn’t seen the encounter to tattle to his commanding officer. Muldoon and David had served together many years, beginning in the Civil War.

  No, she shook her head as she rode through the silent post. She didn’t want to be reprimanded by her cautious fiancée. David had enough reason to hate Indians without her adding any fuel to his fire.

  She rode back to the stable, put her horse away, went to her small house, and flopped on her bed. Now she’d done it. Had Muldoon seen the confrontation? She considered appealing to the soldier, but she was too proud to do that, just as she had been too proud to stay in an abusive marriage. Though many women endured such silently, she had divorced her husband. Unable to find a job in her shocked small town, she had finally come to live with her father here at the post, hoping for a second chance, but the gossip had followed her. Lieutenant David Krueger needed a second chance, too, and keeping company with a divorced woman certainly wasn’t going to help him get his captain’s rank back. Still, he hinted he would soon ask to marry her, and she ought to accept. Most wives were boycotting her little sutler’s store at Fort Reno, and she was struggling for a living.

  Maybe Muldoon hadn’t seen anything. At the moment, she didn’t want to think about Muldoon or solid, dependable David Krueger. Her mind went to the Indian scout, Two Arrows. He must have been very drunk to throw caution to the winds the way he had done and grab her bridle. What would have happened if she hadn’t slashed at him with her little whip?

  Glory shivered at the possibilities. Would he have dragged her off her horse if she hadn’t broken free? And if so, then what? Had he watched her before? Yes, now that she thought of it, she remembered seeing him staring at her from a distance. The Indian scout knew her pretty well if he sensed she was too proud to scream for help.

  Two Arrows. Glory had seen the emotion in his dark eyes above the whip welt and felt the virile strength of his hand as he tore the riding crop from her fingers and broke it. There was something dangerous and disturbing about him. Raw power, that was it. He could just as easily have pulled her from the dancing mare and broken her in his two strong hands, or carried her deeper into the shadows and ... no, she wouldn’t imagine those possibilities. Yet she had a sudden image of herself lying in the shadows with her pale cream riding coat torn down the front and the savage, muscled Cheyenne lying between her thighs, his brawny body dark against her white skin as his big, hard hands cupped her breasts.

  She took a deep breath and put her fingertips over her eyes to block out the thought. The thought of sex revolted her. Howard Halstead had been a drunken brute and she had dreaded it each time he forced her to perform her “wifely duty.”

  Maybe that was why she was still not certain about David; she dreaded the marriage act. David was gentle and kind, perhaps he would be patient and not insistent on claiming his rights too soon.

  Gradually, Glory drifted off to sleep and had troubled dreams wherein she seemed to feel the Cheyenne brave’s callused hand covering hers again, the smoldering heat of his dark eyes. This was no gentle male, this was a stallion of a man. In her troubled dreams, he pulled her from her horse again and again, carried her into the woods to strip the cream fabric off her and cover her pale body with his dark one, his hot mouth claiming hers, his tongue deep in her mouth and his big, throbbing manhood probing her velvet places, his seed coming warm in her womb as she dug her nails into his hard-muscled back and urged him deeper still.

  Glory awakened suddenly and sat up, breathing hard, startled and disturbed. She’d never had dreams like that before; was she losing her mind? Glory got out of bed and went to stare out the window at the warm night. Off in the distance, the Cheyenne tipis were stark against the moonlight, drums throbbing in a rhythm that seemed to call to something very deep and primitive within her. Was Two Arrows sleeping off his drunk somewhere, or was he lying on an Indian girl’s dark breasts, satisfying the hunger Glory had seen in his smoldering eyes? Glory returned to bed, putting her hands over her ears to block out the sound of the distant drums. Sleep was a long time returning.

  Glory slept heavily. The light was streaming in her window and onto her face, warm as a man’s fingers trailing across her cheek. Mercy! Where had a thought like that come from? She got up, knowing she must open the store, even though she had fewer customers all the time.

  Quickly, she dressed, thought about putting on the black of mourning, decided it was too hypocritical, selected a simple blue calico instead. She put her black hair up in a respectable twist of curls, remembering wistfully the feel of it blowing loose in the wind last night.

  After a quick cup of coffee, she walked across the fort�
��s grounds through the mild September warmth.

  The other women seemed not to see her as she hurried through the busy post, but Glory carried her head high and ignored them. She knew when she passed, there would be a buzz of disapproving gossip, but she didn’t care anymore. She and her father had been on the worst of terms, so she hadn’t worn black since the day she buried him, and that had only added to the scandal.

  As she expected, business was slow. Glory busied herself with restocking shelves of merchandise. Her stocks were low, but she might not be in business much longer anyhow. She would have to make a decision soon about moving where she wasn’t known and starting fresh or marrying David. The gossip would probably follow her to a new town. People just weren’t willing to give an independent and divorced woman another chance. Perhaps that was why David was hesitating; a captain needed a proper society wife. Marrying Glory would make it even more difficult for Lieutenant Krueger to regain the rank he had lost at Powder River.

  Glory looked around at the bolts of cloth and boxes of nails and small tools. A barrel of crackers and another of pickles added their scents to the still, warm air. Her thoughts went to the dark man who had grabbed her horse last night. Next time, she should avoid that shadowy area near the Cheyenne camp.

  The bell on the screen jingled, and she looked up as a small Indian girl peeked shyly at her.

  “Hello, there.” Glory smiled. “Come on in.”

  The child hesitated, then entered, barefoot and ragged. She looked hungry, Glory thought. She ought to run the Cheyenne urchins out when they ventured in to stare at the merchandise, knowing they had no money to buy anything and the ladies of the fort disapproved of them coming into the store, but Glory didn’t have the heart for it. “How are you today?”

  The child stared up at her with wide, dark eyes and slowly smiled. “Me Hah’kota, Grasshopper.”