“Yes, it is a thing of beauty,” Sage said thickly. “The Navaho call the crescent ‘big snake,’ the Navaho’s name for the constellation Draco.”
Before Leonida could rise, the Navaho warrior moved quickly behind her, placing the necklace around her neck. Having already been mesmerized by his smooth voice and dark eyes, she felt almost swallowed whole by her heartbeats when he touched the flesh of her neck with his fingers while fastening the necklace around it.
“It is yours,” Sage said, placing a hand on her elbow and helping her to her feet. “Wear it as a token of gratitude for coming to my sister with your lovely yarns.”
Red-faced, Harold stepped between them. Glaring at Sage, he yanked the necklace from Leonida’s neck and flicked it onto the ground. “She needs no gifts from you,” he growled. “The blanket is the only reason we have come here today, and your sister will get paid well for her services.”
Leonida was stunned by Harold’s sudden burst of jealousy. She half stumbled when he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the tent. Awkwardly she looked over her shoulder, feeling that an apology was needed. When she saw the warrior’s cold contempt, she was stung to the core.
Then she turned away, ashamed and angry. The more Harold jerked her along beside him, the angrier she became. Suddenly she yanked herself free and stopped to glare at him. “Why did you have to behave so—so terribly about that necklace?” she said, her gloved hands doubled into tight fists at her sides. “You humiliated not only the Indian but also me. Was that necessary? Did you feel that threatened by the Indian’s attentions toward me? You don’t own me, Harold. Please quit acting as though you do.”
Harold’s eyebrows narrowed together into one line as he leaned down close to her face. “Don’t you appreciate anything?” he snarled. “I’m paying a lot of money for that blanket. Would you rather I go back and get the yarn and forget it? Would you rather I didn’t get you anything for your wedding gift?”
“I don’t care what you do with anything,” Leonida snapped, then stamped away from him.
He caught up with her immediately. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said, glad to be away from the Indian tents and walking toward the fort. “But, Leonida, I must warn you against being so easily swayed by the Indians. I’m being too trusting myself to believe that I will ever see anything made from the yarn I handed over to that crippled wench.”
Leonida cringed at his reference to Pure Blossom as a “wench,” but she now only wanted to get to the privacy of her house. “Who was that Indian warrior?” she asked cautiously. “It is obvious that you don’t like him.”
Setting his jaw tightly, Harold did not answer her right away, but he finally responded, knowing that he would have to sooner or later, anyhow. Leonida was not the sort to let anything get past her. Especially the name of a man with whom she was so obviously infatuated.
“Sage,” he grumbled. “A Navaho chief.” He glared over at her. “Pure Blossom is his sister.”
“He’s a chief,” Leonida said to herself, still tingling inside from Sage’s touch, his voice, and the way he had looked at her with his midnight-dark eyes.
The sound of hooves behind her drew her eyes around just in time to see Sage riding away on a magnificent chestnut stallion with a saddle of stamped leather. The silver ornaments hanging from his saddle flashed in the sun. For a brief moment he turned his head her way. When their eyes met, a silent promise seemed to be exchanged between them, yet she did not know why.
Shaken by her feelings, Leonida tried to focus her thoughts elsewhere. She stared at the fort as they approached it. The western side had a strong wall twelve feet high. Adobe rooms along the inside of the wall were used as officers’ quarters and garrison headquarters. The north end wall was similar but shorter. The south wall was a barracks that contained the main entrance to the fort. The eastern wall, called the “long barracks,” had a hospital at one end and an enclosure for cattle and horses behind it.
Stretching to the west and south was a green valley that wove toward widely separated mountain ridges. Through this valley flowed a river of sparkling blue waters. Unable to shake the Navaho chief from her mind, Leonida turned and watched him as he rode toward the river in the distance.
It was her keenest desire to follow him.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1996, 2015 by Cassie Edwards
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First published in May 1996 by Topaz, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3678-4
ISBN-10: 1-4201-3678-X
ISBN: 978-1-4201-3678-4
Wild Whispers Page 33
