Spirit's Song

by Madeline Baker

  Jesse grinned faintly as he watched her. It was obvious she had led a sheltered life. There was an innocence about her that he found endearing somehow.

  It amused him that she wouldn’t meet his gaze when she brought his dinner.

  “Why?” he asked when he had finished eating.

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you go with Ravenhawk?”

  She glared at him. He had asked her that before, and she’d had no answer. She still didn’t.

  “What difference does it make?” she replied irritably. “I’m here.”

  He didn’t know what he wanted her to say, but like a dog worrying a bone, he couldn’t let it go. “Did he leave you behind?”

  She shrugged.

  “Did he?”

  “No! He tried to make me go with him.”

  Jesse lifted one brow. “Tried?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you refused? Why?”

  “My reasons are none of your business, but I’ll tell you one thing. Ravenhawk said we should just leave you here to rot, and you know what? I’m beginning to think he was right!”

  With a huff, she stood up and flounced back to the fire.

  Jesse stared after her. She had stayed of her own free will. Why? He was still wondering when sleep claimed him.

  * * * * *

  Kaylynn came awake abruptly, the last remnants of a nightmare trailing cold fingers down her spine. It had seemed so real. She could still hear Alan’s voice echoing in the corridors of her mind, see his face, distorted with rage, as he struck her again and again. Why? he screamed. Why do you make me hurt you like this?

  Wrapping her arms around her body, she rocked back and forth.

  “It was only a dream.”

  She spoke the words aloud, hoping they would dispel the terror within her. She was free now. Yellow Thunder would take her to a town, and she would go home, and she would never leave again. Never.

  She glanced across the fire, the last vestiges of her nightmare fading away when she saw that Yellow Thunder wasn’t there. Fear shot through her. Where had he gone so early in the morning?

  She scrambled to her feet, her fear dissipating when she saw that his horse was still there. He hadn’t ridden off and left her, then.

  She filled the coffeepot with the last of their water, added a handful of coffee, and set the pot on the coals to heat. She ran a hand over her tunic, thinking fleetingly of the closets full of clothes and shoes and hats she had left behind. Alan had insisted she leave it all behind, saying he wanted to buy her a whole new wardrobe. And he had. He had picked it out himself, choosing colors and styles, not asking her advice, not caring what she thought.

  Lifting a hand to her hair, she wished for the silver-backed brush that had been lost when the stagecoach was attacked.

  The roan made a soft snuffling sound and she glanced over her shoulder to see Yellow Thunder walking toward her.

  She smiled uncertainly as he knelt beside the fire and thrust a rabbit into her hands.

  “I got tired of jerky,” he said with a shrug.

  Kaylynn’s mouth began to water as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a head of squaw cabbage and a handful of wild onions. She would make stew.

  “I’m gonna go lay down,” he remarked.

  Kaylynn nodded. He looked a little better, she thought, not quite so pale. But haggard. As if he wasn’t sleeping well. She wondered if he was plagued by nightmares, too.

  She watched as he eased himself down on his blanket and closed his eyes, wondering why she found so much pleasure in watching him.

  Turning to the task at hand, she quickly skinned and gutted the rabbit, her mouth watering again as she imagined having savory stew for lunch instead of the inevitable beans and jerky.

  Later, she led the horse out onto the prairie to graze. She had been afraid of Ravenhawk’s Appaloosa, but Yellow Thunder’s blue roan was a much more tractable beast. She had big brown eyes and a sweet disposition.

  She stood beside the horse, one hand idly stroking the mare’s back while the mare grazed on the thick, yellow grass.

  How strange life was. She had been so anxious to get married, to get away from her parents, to have children of her own. She’d had such big expectations when she married Alan. Her parents were well-to-do, but Alan Summers had been rich. Their wedding had been beautiful. Like a storybook princess, she had gone off with her prince, looking forward to a life of ease and luxury and love. Instead, she had lived in constant fear of her husband’s temper. She wondered if life ever turned out the way people expected. Certainly she had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined she would wind up as a slave in a Cheyenne village, or that she would find herself out in the midst of nowhere, caring for a man who was not only a bounty hunter, but was under the illusion that she belonged to him because he had won her in a horse race.

  Some time later, she led the horse to the seep and let it drink, noticing, as she did so, that Yellow Thunder was awake and sitting up.

  Tethering the mare to a branch, she went to check on the stew, smiling at the savory aroma.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Yellow Thunder.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Smells good.”

  She filled the coffee cup with broth and carried it to him.

  “I was hoping for something a little more substantial,” he muttered.

  “Broth is better for you.”

  “Is it?”

  She nodded as she handed him the cup. She stood there, waiting while he took a sip, then drained the cup in several long swallows.

  “It’s good,” he said. “Got any more?”

  “Sure.” She refilled the cup for him, pleased that he had complimented her, though she couldn’t imagine why she should care. Maybe it was because compliments had been practically nonexistent since she married Alan. Maybe she was just hungry for a little attention, recognition, appreciation. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She’d never been one who needed praise before. She certainly didn’t need it from this man. Whether the stew was good or not was immaterial. It was all they had.

  When he’d had his fill, Kaylynn sat down beside the fire to eat. Jesse watched her, noting how gracefully she moved. She might have been seated at a fancy table eating off fine china instead of sitting on a log drinking out of a dented tin cup.

  Desire stirred within him, making him shift uncomfortably on the hard ground. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman. He watched her as she sipped the last of the broth from the cup, noticing the slender curve of her throat, the softly rounded feminine shape of her, and wondered how he had ever thought her too skinny.

  He wondered again where she had come from and how she had come to be with the Cheyenne. He could easily imagine her living in a big house, with an army of servants to answer her every need. She didn’t belong out here, in the wilderness.

  A soft sigh escaped his lips as he realized that she would never really be his. He could take her by force, now, if he was of a mind to, but he would not have what he really wanted.

  When they reached Red Creek, he would let her go. He could always buy a woman to ease his desire. In the past, Lula had satisfied his needs…

  With stunning force, he realized he wanted more than mere physical satisfaction from this woman. He wanted her to look at him with adoring eyes instead of eyes filled with fear and revulsion. He wanted her to caress him with hands of love instead of hands of mercy and pity. He wanted her to kiss him willingly, with passion, instead of mocking him with contempt. He wanted all this and more, but he would never have it. She was as out of his reach as the stars that filled the night sky, as unattainable as the moon.

  And like a child crying for the moon, he knew she would never be his.

  Sinking back on the blanket, he closed his eyes. She would never be his, he thought ruefully, but he could dream.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They stayed where they were until the food ran out and the seep
went dry. The rest had done Jesse good, and while his arm was still tender, he felt stronger than he had in days.

  Now he stood near the roan’s head, idly scratching the mare’s ears, while Mao’hoohe gathered their meager supplies and saddled the roan. He had asked her again what her white name was, but she had refused to tell him, making him wonder if she had something to hide, or if she was just plain stubborn. The Cheyenne believed a man’s name held power, and he wondered if she felt that way, felt that, by giving him her name, he would have some kind of power over her. Maybe she was more Cheyenne than she knew.

  When all was ready, he climbed into the saddle. His shoulder was still sore, but it was on the mend. Reaching down, he pulled the woman up behind him, then clucked to the mare.

  If they rode hard, they could be in Red Creek sometime tomorrow afternoon. It wasn’t much of a town, but they would be able to pick up some supplies and a change of clothes. He was pretty sure Mao’hoohe would enjoy a long soak in a hot bath. He knew he would. He enjoyed a fleeting image of the woman reclining in a tub of hot water, her hair falling over her shoulders, her skin rosy, before he pushed it from his mind.

  But he couldn’t ignore the reality of the woman riding behind him, or the touch of her hands at his waist, or the heat of her breasts pressing against his back.

  Desire stirred within him, and he swore under his breath. As soon as they reached Red Creek, he was going to have a hot bath, a hot meal, and a hot woman, in that order.

  Kaylynn frowned as she heard Yellow Thunder curse softly.

  “What’s wrong?” She glanced around anxiously, wondering if he had seen some cause for alarm. But there was only blue sky and waving prairie grass as far as she could see.

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure? You sound kind of…I don’t know. Upset.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Put off by his curt tone, she lapsed into silence again. Men. There was no understanding any of them.

  Lulled by the rocking motion of the horse and the warmth of the sun, she dozed fitfully.

  Jesse laid his hand over Kaylynn’s as he felt her slump against his back. He had been so determined never to let himself care for another woman, and then she had come along, with her big brown eyes and her pouty pink lips. He had known from the first moment he’d seen her that she was going to be nothing but trouble. Big trouble, and yet he had been unable to resist her. He had gambled everything he’d had with him to win her in that damn race, and then hadn’t had the guts to take what he wanted. He looked down at their hands: his big and brown and shaped by violence; hers, small and delicate in spite of her calloused palms. He wondered what had put the fear in her eyes. He had seen it several times, a fear that went deeper than just being afraid of him. Mulling it over, he wasn’t sure it was him she was really afraid of, but she was afraid of something. He had seen fear enough to know it when he saw it.

  * * * * *

  They arrived in Red Creek early the following afternoon. The town rose from the prairie like a row of children’s blocks. Rough buildings of varying sizes lined a wide, dusty street.

  Jesse was familiar with the town and most of the inhabitants. It was a regular stopping-off point for him when he was in the territory. There was no law here, and he had found more than one bounty hiding out in the saloons that made up the bulk of the town’s establishments.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Mao’hoohe. She was staring at the town, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

  Jesse chuckled softly. “Not much of a place, is it?”

  Kaylynn shook her head. When Jesse had mentioned a town, she had imagined a city like San Francisco, or maybe Boston. But this…she had never seen such a collection of shoddy-looking buildings in her life. There were only about a dozen or so ramshackle buildings, and more than half of them appeared to be saloons. She read the names as they rode by: The Dirty Shame. Lady Ace. The Four Queens. The Lucky Deuce.

  “Do we have to stop here?” she asked.

  “’Fraid so.”

  She glanced up at the balcony of the Lady Luck. A young woman with dyed red hair and ruby-red lips was leaning over the rail. She wore a gaudy red-and-black silk wrapper that gaped open to reveal the tops of her ample breasts. Her eyes were outlined with kohl.

  The woman leaned farther over the railing. “Hey, Thunder!” she called, waving. “Hey!”

  Reining the mare to a halt, Jesse turned his head and looked up at the woman on the balcony.

  Kaylynn saw him smile.

  “I’ve been missing you, Big Indian,” the woman called with a salacious grin. “’Bout time you got back here.”

  Jesse winked at her. “How’s it going, Lula?”

  “Better, now that you’re here.” The woman glanced at Kaylynn and frowned. “Don’t tell me you brought your own girl this time.”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ve got enough competition.” The woman smiled again, revealing a dimple in her left cheek. “Will I see you later?”

  Jesse nodded, acutely aware of the fact that Kaylynn was listening intently to every word.

  Kaylynn glanced over her shoulder as Jesse clucked to the mare. “Is she a…you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that a sporting house?”

  Jesse cleared his throat, not liking where the conversation seemed to be headed. “Yeah.”

  There was a moment of silence. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Kaylynn’s head.

  “What’s it like? Inside.”

  “Most of ’em are a lot fancier than that one. Carved furniture, red velvet drapes, rugs on the floor, mirrors. Good whiskey, honest gambling.”

  “How does it work?”

  “What?”

  “When a man wants a woman…does he just…just take his pick?”

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to be talking about this?”

  Kaylynn nodded. “Yes.” Like most women, she had always been curious about how her fallen sisters plied their trade, always wondered what really went on in those places men whispered about.

  “Well,” Jesse said, “the first floor in a fancy house is usually a saloon. A man can get a drink there, or spend a few hours gambling or dancing with a pretty girl.” He paused, hoping she’d be satisfied with that.

  “Go on. How do you decide which…ah…girl you want?”

  “When a man’s ready to go upstairs, whatever girls are available line up.” Jesse swore under his breath. “When a man makes up his mind, he pays the madam and then he takes the…the lady of his choice upstairs.”

  “I see.” Kaylynn thought a moment. “What does it cost?”

  “You planning on going into business?”

  “Of course not!” she exclaimed, glad she was sitting behind him so he couldn’t see her flaming cheeks.

  Jesse chuckled. “The standard fee in a fancy house is ten dollars; overnight is thirty.” In most places, the madam took half of the girl’s fee, and then charged an additional five or ten dollars for room and board.

  And then there were the cribs, but Jesse didn’t think Kaylynn needed to hear about those. They were little more than one room made of rough lumber with a tin roof and the girl’s name on the door. Cribs were rented to the girls for two or three dollars a day, payable in advance. There was no bonded bourbon here, no soft bed. Usually, a man just removed his hat. The fee for a Chinese girl was two bits, a Mexican was four bits, a French tart was six bits.

  He remembered seeing one sign that had read: “Big Minnie Faye. Two hundred pounds of passion. Fifty cents each. Three for a dollar.”

  Jesse had never visited one of the cribs, but he had, on occasion, visited Lula. He breathed a sigh of relief when no more questions were forthcoming.

  “That…that girl on the balcony. She knew you.”

  He didn’t miss the curiosity, or the accusation, in Kaylynn’s voice.

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Yeah. We’re…old friends.”

  “Friends?”
/>   Jesse reined the mare to a halt in front of the hotel. Swinging his right leg over the mare’s neck, he dropped to the ground, then reached up and helped Kaylynn dismount.

  He could feel her watching him while he tethered the roan to the hitch rack, obviously waiting for him to explain his relationship with Lula.

  Jesse removed the saddlebags from behind the cantle, slid the rifle from the boot, then climbed the stairs to the hotel and stepped inside. Kaylynn followed close behind him.

  The lobby was dimly lit. Going to the reception desk, Jesse dropped his saddlebags on the floor, then rang the bell. A few moments later, a man with a pencil-thin mustache emerged from the office behind the counter.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I need two rooms. One with a bath.”

  The clerk grunted as he opened a register and slid it toward Jesse. “Rooms are a dollar a day. Two bits for the bath.”

  Jesse nodded. “Send up some hot water right away.”

  “Sure.” The clerk glanced at the register. “Mr. Thunder.”

  “Where’s Abe?” Jesse asked.

  “Got hisself killed last week.”

  “You the new owner?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d like someone to look after my horse.”

  “I’ll take care of it. How long will you be staying?”

  Jesse glanced at Kaylynn. “I’m not sure. A day or two. See that my horse gets a good rubdown, will you, and a quart of oats.”

  With a nod, the clerk plucked two keys from the board behind the desk. “Rooms 201 and 203, adjoining.”

  Jesse draped his saddlebags over his shoulder, then reached for the keys. “Obliged. Which one has the tub?”

  “Room 201.”

  “Obliged.”

  Kaylynn followed Jesse up the narrow stairway. She couldn’t believe he was paying a dollar a day to stay in a place like this. Old Mo’e’ha’s lodge had been cleaner, and smelled better.

  Jesse stopped in front of Room 201 and opened the door. “Home, sweet home.”

  Kaylynn stepped inside. It was a small whitewashed room, with a narrow iron bedstead covered by a multicolored quilt. There was a small window, a three-drawer chest and a straight-backed chair.