White Owl

by Veronica Blake

  A FORBIDDEN LOVE

  White Owl turned slowly around to face her again. “I do not know this man—your father, but I have known enough white men to know that he will never understand why we are together.”

  “Together?” Rose asked. “Are we—together?”

  He took one of her hands—it seemed so small and fragile in his own large, rough hand. Her porcelain skin looked even paler against his. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that I had to make you my woman. It was a feeling that was stronger than anything I have ever known before, and I am a man who goes after what he wants.” He pulled her close to him and let his gaze meet hers, as he added, “And, my Wild Rose, I want you.”

  Other Leisure books by Veronica Blake:

  BLACK HORSE

  VERONICA

  BLAKE

  WHITE

  OWL

  DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

  January 2011

  Published by

  Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  200 Madison Avenue

  New York, NY 10016

  Copyright © 2011 by Veronica Blake

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4285-1133-0

  E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0914-6

  The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com.

  Having another book published by Dorchester Publishing is definitely a dream come true, and I would like to thank my wonderful editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, for making this become a reality.

  I would also like to thank my friend, Lynne Zydonik, for her friendship and encouragement.

  A very special thank-you, as always, to my amazing family for their constant support and understanding.

  WHITE

  OWL

  Chapter One

  Owl scanned the ridgeline for the woman. He had seen her on top of the plateau every day for more than a week. If she showed up today, he planned to get a closer look and perhaps ask her what she found so fascinating about the Utes’ afternoon activities.

  In the meadow below, White Owl’s comrades were partaking in their favorite pastime. The track they had worn into the ground to race their ponies on was one of the best they had ever had, and there was no greater joy than competing with one another for the chance to be known as the Ute brave with the fastest pony.

  For the past several days, however, White Owl’s attention had been diverted from the races by the woman who hid in the bushes and watched them.

  The loud hooting and hollering of his comrades combined with the pounding of horse hooves against the hard ground nearly drowned out the sound of the approaching horse. It wasn’t until she was already in her hiding spot that White Owl realized the woman was here. From his viewpoint he could barely see the dark brown tip of her horse’s nose sticking out from the bushes. He could not see anything of the woman. But it would only be a matter of minutes before the two horses spotted each other.

  With a swift kick in his horse’s sides, White Owl and his horse lunged forward and in a couple of strides were directly in front of the woman and her pony. He pulled hard on the reins and brought his horse to an abrupt halt while the other horse snorted and tossed its head in surprise. His gaze was drawn to the woman’s eyes . . . they were as blue as the midday sky overhead.

  Although it had only been his intention to let the woman know he was aware that she was watching them race their ponies, it was White Owl who was caught off guard. The constricted feeling in his throat made speaking impossible, and his heart felt as if it was about to pound out of his chest. It seemed as though they stared at one another forever before White Owl was finally able to gain control of his senses. Then, he did the only thing that he could think of doing at this awkward moment—he gave the woman a sly smile and eyed her entire body in an obvious appraisal. With a toss of his head that sent his long raven hair swirling back over his bare shoulders, White Owl spun his horse around and with a gleeful war whoop galloped back down the hillside in a cloud of dirt and rocks.

  Rosaline Adair stared at the swirl of dust that rose in front of her face as if she was in a trance. The Ute’s unexpected appearance had left her without one coherent thought. Once her shock began to fade, her father’s heavily accented Irish voice raced through her head, “Don’t ride out alone. Them Indians will snatch you up quicker than the blink of an eye, and that will be the end of you, Rosie girl.”

  She was certain that she had just stared her “end” right in the face. He was even more terrifying since she had never been so close to a Ute warrior before. At the nearby White River Indian Agency, she had only seen Indian women and children, and occasionally one of the older Ute chiefs. The younger Ute men did not like anything that was associated with the agency or with the homesteaders who were moving in on all the surrounding lands.

  Rose pressed her hand against her chest and attempted to take a full breath. The dust the Indian’s horse had stirred up made her cough and caused her eyes to sting, but she didn’t take the time to wipe the dirt from her bleary gaze. She had to get out of here now. Her obedient mare, Molly, seemed to sense her fear as they hurried down the back side of the slope. Once they were on flat ground, she kicked the horse in the sides, and the animal lunged forward in a gallop that matched the thudding of Rose’s frantic heartbeat.

  Although there was no sign the Indian was following her, Rose’s panic continued to increase until she was within sight of the house where she lived with her parents and two brothers.

  Rose slowed Molly to a trot. She took a couple more deep breaths in an attempt to calm down as she approached the corral where her father and younger brother, Donavan, were busy filling the horse troughs with water. She yanked down the wide brim of her brown hat in an effort to hide as much of her face as possible when she rode past them.

  “Hey, Sis,” Donavan called out. “Where you been?”

  Rose waved and forced a weak smile as she rode by, but she did not attempt to speak. She could not trust her voice since her entire body was still shaking from her brief encounter with the Ute brave. When her father glanced up at her, Rose avoided meeting his gaze and continued to ride toward their newly built barn. Her smile faded the instant she was inside. As she slid from Molly’s back a loud voice rang out. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to prepare herself for the accusations she knew would come.

  “You look mighty guilty. What have you been up to?”

  Rose turned slowly to face Tate, her twin brother. “W-what do you m-mean? I was just riding Molly down by the creek.” She shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant manner. “I sat on the creek bed for a spell and enjoyed this wonderful weather we are having.” She could tell that he was not in the mood for friendly chitchat.

  “Well, there are plenty of chores to be done, and you’re out gallivantin’ around. Besides, remember what Pa told you about them Injuns.”

  “I know what Pa said,” Rose retorted with an indignant toss of her head as she led her
horse into her stall. She undid the cinch and pulled the saddle from Molly’s back, then hoisted it over the rail as she fought the urge to engage in another battle with her brother.

  “That horse looks like she’s been run a lot farther than from just down by the creek.” Tate shook his head and added, “You’d best go see if Ma needs help and quit actin’ like you’re some princess who doesn’t need to work. I’ll finish takin’ care of Molly.”

  Rose clenched her teeth together until they hurt. She had the same rich red hair color as her brother and a similar shade of blue eyes, but beyond those physical traits, there was nothing else they had in common. Tate was a copy of their father. Both were unyielding and opinionated to the point that it was impossible to reason with them most of the time. Rose sighed heavily. “I’m on my way to help Ma right now. Thanks for tending to Molly.”

  She stomped past her twin without glancing in his direction or giving him a chance to say anything else. Once out of the barn, Rose practically ran to the house. She could fib to Tate, but if her father confronted her about her whereabouts, she would have a hard time lying to him. Once she was in the house and realized that her mother was nowhere in sight, she sighed with relief. She was definitely not ready to face her mother.

  Like the barn, the home that she shared with her parents and brothers was recently finished. The sprawling log cabin consisted of one large room that housed the kitchen, living and dining area; three small rooms provided one bedroom for her parents, one shared by her brothers and, thankfully, one for Rose to occupy alone. She rushed to her little sanctuary now and closed the heavy woolen curtain before tossing her hat on the bureau and throwing herself down on her bed face-first.

  What had she been thinking? She knew riding so far from home was dangerous, and she definitely should not have been on Ute land. The Northern Utes, or Noochew Utes, who lived in the mountains and plains in the nearby villages barely tolerated the whites homesteading in the surrounding areas. But lately the tension was drawn tighter each day between the Indians and the whites—thanks to Nathan Meeker, the Indian agent at the White River Indian Agency.

  Rose rolled over on her back and stared up at the roughly hewn log ceiling. The Ute’s image swam before her eyes. She clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Had it just been an accidental encounter, or had he known that she was up on that plateau?

  She had come upon the games by accident one afternoon when she had gone farther than she realized on one of her daily rides. As she had crested the ridge of a small hill, she heard loud whooping and the thunderous roar of pounding hooves. Thinking that she was about to be attacked, Rose had hidden herself and Molly in a large clump of thick aspens and bushes on top of the hill. Much to her relief, and then to her delight, Rose realized that she had just discovered the Utes’ horse races. The races were one of the most exciting things she had ever seen, and for over a week, she had been sneaking back to the hilltop to watch the fun and games. Until today, she had thought she had a good hiding spot.

  The Ute warrior dominated Rose’s thoughts again in spite of her best efforts to wipe out his memory. The brazen way his dark eyes had traipsed over her body made it obvious that he knew he could take anything from her that he wanted. A violent tremor shook through her.

  “There you are. I was gettin’ worried about you. These rides of yours are getting longer and longer, and you know that you have to be careful out there,” Rose’s mother said as she entered her daughter’s room.

  Rose quickly jumped up from her bed but had to grasp the edge of the dresser that sat beside her bed to steady herself. “I—I know, and I intend to stay closer to home from now on.” As soon as the words fell from her mouth, Rose knew that she had said more than she should have. The look of alarm on her mother’s face was undeniable.

  “Why? Did something happen to you when you were out riding? Those Indians—”

  “Oh no, nothing happened,” Rose interrupted. “Nothing at all. It’s just that I realize how selfish I’ve been lately—riding Molly so much when I should be here helping you out.”

  “Rosaline—it’s your ma you’re talkin’ to.” Colleen Adair shook her finger at her daughter as she added, “And I can tell by the look on your face that you’re lyin’ to me. But all that matters now is that you’re safe. And with the grace of the Lord above, I hope you learned yourself a lesson by whatever it was that scared you so bad today.” Turning around to head out of the door, she added, “It’s almost time to start dinner, so I’ll take you up on that offer for help.”

  Rose gave a weak nod as her mother looked back over her shoulder and said, “You do not have a selfish bone in your body, Rosie, but even a little white lie can sometimes be a person’s downfall.”

  “Sorry,” Rose mumbled. A feeling of shame washed over her. Her mother was definitely right about one thing; she had learned a huge lesson today.

  She shook her head and threw her hands over her eyes. But the Ute’s image was still there—smiling that wicked smile and looking at her as if he had no decency at all. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe away the perspiration suddenly on her brow.

  Well, it would be the last time he looked at her in that manner, Rose swore to herself, because she would never stray over to Ute land again.

  Chapter Two

  White Owl sat cross-legged at the fire pit in front of his tepee and watched the flames dancing among the logs. He expelled a heavy sigh and frowned. He had thought of nothing but the girl with hair the color of a fiery sunset and eyes as blue as the mountain lakes since he had seen her on the plateau earlier today. He tried to focus on the fire, but he could not rid himself of her memory.

  “What has my first son so angry?”

  White Owl shook his head in an aggravated manner and glanced up at his father. Strong Elk smiled down at him and crossed his arms over his broad chest as he waited for an answer.

  White Owl shrugged as he returned his gaze to the fire. “A woman,” he answered.

  Strong Elk chuckled as he sat on the ground next to his eldest son. “Is it Sunshine? I’ve seen how she watches you. Her hips are wide for bearing your sons. She will be a good wife.”

  White Owl scowled but did not immediately reply. If only Sunshine made him feel the way the white girl did today, then there would not be a problem.

  “It is another girl?” Strong Elk asked. His thick dark brows lifted up in surprise. “Well, you can have more than one wife, so you could have Sunshine and . . .” He left the question hanging as he waited for his son to reply.

  With a grunt, White Owl threw a rock into the fire. “She is not Uncompahgre.”

  Strong Elk chuckled again and smacked his son on the back. “Is she from the Yampah tribe? It would be good to have a wife from that tribe. They are very spiritual and strong.”

  “She is not Yuuttaa, father. She is white.”

  The following silence told White Owl that his father was stunned to hear that the woman his son was thinking about was not Ute.

  “How is it that you have encountered this white woman?” Strong Elk finally asked.

  “She has been coming to watch the pony races. I noticed her on the plateau and went up to get a closer look.” White Owl shook his head and gave a defeated sigh.

  “And with just a look this woman is doing this to you, or did something else happen?”

  White Owl shook his head again as he met his father’s worried gaze. “I did not do something foolish, if that is what you mean.” He glanced away and added, “But I might if I see her again. She has stolen my mind. I cannot think of anything but her.”

  The sun slipped below the last horizon and the glow from the fire was the only light left on this night of a new muatagoci—“moon.” White Owl could no longer see his father’s expression clearly, but he heard him exhale sharply.

  “There is trouble brewing at the agency already. We should not do anything that would cause the problems to get worse.” Strong Elk rose up to his
feet, then leaned down and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I do not worry about you, my son. You have never done crazy things that would disgrace me.” He straightened up and added, “Not like your brother.” A heavy sigh emitted from Strong Elk. “You can ponder this important matter during the Sun Dance. Until then I will pray to the bear to give you the strength to stay away from this woman.”

  White Owl nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Father.” He watched him disappear into the darkness as he headed toward the tepee he shared with his wives, White Owl’s mother, Sage, and also her younger sister, Cloud Woman. His father’s words echoed through his mind. For his people—the Yuuttaa, or Ute, meaning “land of the sun”—the bear was considered a close and sacred relative. White Owl knew the bear had helped him to become the strong warrior that he was today . . . he just hoped the sacred bear would give him the wisdom to make the right decision where the white woman was concerned.

  If he could be patient, White Owl could also ask the Great Spirit for guidance. In a few days the Utes would begin preparation for the most significant ceremony of their people. The Sun Dance took place in midsummer and was an important spiritual journey between the participant and the Great Spirit. After the ceremony was finished, White Owl’s medicine would be strong and he would see things more clearly. Unfortunately, White Owl was not a very patient man.

  For the past three days he had been watching for her, but she had not showed up again—that is, until today. White Owl had hidden his pony in the bushes halfway up the hillside and walked up here every afternoon, waiting for her to return. He still could not explain why he was so obsessed with the flame-haired woman, but if she was worth missing out on the races with his comrades, she must be something special.

  Watching her from the cover of the bushes now, White Owl was not sorry that he had chosen to wait for her instead of engaging in the games down below.