Bound by Honor

by Donna Clayton

  The seconds ticking by felt like eons as the warm sunshine beat down on her head and shoulders. Finally, he shifted his grip on the wooden pole, planting the rake's prongs into the ground. The impatience in the gesture had her nervousness sprouting to life all over again.

  Jenna had known the task at hand was going to be tough, but she hadn't realized just how tough. Now that she was face-to-face with Gage Dalton and about to ask an awesome favor . . . why, she couldn't remember a time when she'd felt more ill at ease.

  "H-how are you?" she blurted. "You hit your head during the accident, I remember."

  "I'm alive."

  She couldn't read much from his deadpan expression. Feeling the need to infuse some amiability between them, she chuckled. "That's good. Sure beats the alternative."

  Her humor seemed lost on him.

  Grasping for something more to break the ice, she looked around her, commenting, "You've got a nice place here."

  "I like it."

  So he wasn't much of a talker. She should have guessed as much, judging from what she'd learned of him. But it sure would be nice if she didn't have to work so hard.

  She had to warm things up a little before broaching the favor she needed from him. If she just blurted out her question, cold turkey he'd think she was insane.

  Jenna, my girl, a voice in her head groaned silently, you are insane.

  She tried again. "The horses are beautiful." Glancing over at the animals in the pen, she added, "I've never spent much time around horses, but I know those are pintos from the old cowboy movies I watched as a kid. They sure are majestic-looking creatures. Proud. Untouchable. They might be enclosed, but they sure do look wild."

  As if on cue, one of the horses snorted and clawed at the dusty ground with his hoof.

  "They're tame," he assured her. "What you see is attitude. If a horse is broken to the point that it's docile, it's no better than a pack mule. My horses are intelligent and strong and spirited."

  Seemed Gage Dalton possessed a healthy share of attitude himself. Life sparked in his onyx eyes as he talked about the animals he raised. Then he leveled his gaze on her.

  "Is that why you're here? You're interested in a pinto?"

  The question elicited another chuckle from her, this one completely natural. "Oh, no," she told him. "Not me. I wouldn't know one end of a horse from the other."

  She couldn't tell if the tiny crease that suddenly marred his high brow was a sign of curiosity or suspicion. He glanced down at the ground, tapped the rake absently with his foot, and then lifted his chin to meet her gaze.

  "Well, you've found out that I weathered the accident just fine," he said. "And you've complimented my ranch. And my horses. We could talk about the weather, if you like. Or how rising gasoline prices are thinning our wallets. But I'd prefer it if we cut the small talk. I have stalls to muck before I can stable those horses. Why don't you save us both some time and tell me why you're here?"

  The blunt question left her momentarily speechless. But then, before she'd even had time to think, words began tumbling off her longue.

  "My sister died. The day of the storm. The day you and I met on the road. I remember telling you I was on my way to the hospital." Anguish gathered in a tight ball high in her chest. "Her husband was killed, too. They . . . they ran off the road. The car slipped. Into a ravine. My brother-in-law died instantly. Amy . . . my sister . . . sh-she held on for several hours."

  The emotion rose to knot in her throat. It became so over-w helming that she had to glance toward the horizon as she whispered, "But she passed soon after I reached the hospital."

  Jenna blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. She would not cry. She didn't know this man, refused to show her vulnerability to him. He had to know her story, though. Otherwise, how could he understand her plight? The tribal council had forced her into a desperate situation, and that was the only reason she was here. But Gage Dalton must not see her as weak. Because she wasn't.

  It was the stark silence that drew her from her thoughts. Why didn't he say something? What kind of person didn't offer condolences after learning about a death in the family? In this case, two deaths.

  Her gaze clashed with Gage's, and the sentiment clouding his eyes shocked her. Sympathy rolled off him in waves. He didn't have to say a word; everything he felt was expressed in those soft black orbs.

  The muscle in the back of his jaw went taut, and he seemed to be engaged in a mental struggle of some sort. His tone was tight, his words grating, when he finally spoke.

  "I know grief well." He swallowed.

  His keen, too-intense focus on her made her feel as if she were the only person alive on Earth at that moment. "May your heart find healing."

  Of all the cards and letters, flowers and prayers she'd received from friends and business acquaintances since losing Amy and David, Jenna couldn't recall a more comforting wish. She found his words both simple and beautiful. Abundantly so.

  Hot tears made a fresh attack, but she blinked them back. She still had a great deal to explain before she could broach the sensitive subject of why she'd come to him for help. Losing herself in sorrow was something she couldn't afford to do.

  "Thank you," she murmured, her breath hitching between the two short words. Willing a vibrant potency into her voice, she repeated, "Thank you very much."

  Another gust of warm summer wind blew across the Montana prairie lands. The sun high overhead continued to heat her shoulders and back through her light cotton top. Slowly, she was able to push the sorrow at bay and latch onto the resolve that had brought her here in the first place.

  Amy was married to a Lenape Indian who lived on Broken Bow," Jenna told Gage. "David Collins was his name."

  "The artist?" Gage propped the metal he he'd been holding against the stable door. “I knew he lived on the rez, even met him a couple of times. I’ve seen some of his work. Very abstract-looking. Canvases that incorporate paint as well as three-dimensional material."

  "It's called mixed media."

  "He's very talented." His tone lowered an octave as he said, "I guess I should say was. He signed his works Foxfire, didn't he?"

  Jenna nodded.

  Gage continued, "I think I read somewhere that his wife was an artist, too."

  Jenna nodded. "Amy was a painter. She met David in Chicago when she attended a showing of his work. They got married shortly thereafter."

  Gage shook his head. "I hadn't heard about the accident."

  From what she'd learned of this man's solitary existence, Jenna wasn't surprised.

  "They left behind a baby," she told him. "Lily. My niece. She's just over six months old."

  Emotion softened the harsh angles of his handsome face. Could that be sadness?

  His reaction took Jenna aback. She hadn't expected his compassion. Not at all. She'd anticipated he would be completely unemotional. Relieved that she'd been wrong, she hoped his empathy might impel him to help her.

  Reaching up, she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before she spoke again. "The night of the accident, Lily had been with David's parents. I thank God every day that Lily wasn't in that car. Health problems make it impossible for Mr. and Mrs. Collins to care for my niece, so she's been staying with a sitter here on the reservation. A woman named Arlene Johnson. I went to collect Lily, but Arlene refused to allow me to take Lily home with me. Arlene said I'd have to get permission from the Council. I had no idea at the time what she was talking about. Amy and David left no will. But I'm family. I didn't need anyone's permission but the state of Montana's to take custody of my niece.

  "A lawyer in Billings told me he couldn't help me," she continued. "He said the residents of Broken Bow aren't held accountable to the laws of the United States. That Native Americans govern themselves. That I would be at the mercy of the Council of Elders overseeing the tribe." Her voice went hoarse as she added, "He didn't offer me much hope of getting Lily."

  Gage's chin tipped up a fraction. "Ever
ything you were told is true. We are managed by the Elders. There are eight men and women on our —"

  "I know. I've met them.” Her response was flat, but she couldn't help it. Those people had made the past eight weeks of her life utterly miserable.

  Evidently, he took exception to the impudent implication in her tone. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, and she wondered just how hard his pecs might feel beneath her fingertips.

  Gage shifted his weight.

  "I'm sorry," she murmured, embarrassed by her inability to suppress her feelings about the Elders — but probably more so that she'd become too aware of his physique.

  She looked him in the eye. "I don't mean any disrespect. Honestly, I don't. It's just that. . . well, I've spent the past two months feeling terribly frustrated. I've done everything the Council has asked of me. I've answered a battery of questions. I've opened myself completely. Revealed my past. My present. My dreams for the future. I've confessed that I've spent my whole life building my e-commerce business, maybe to my own detriment since I have no husband or children of my own. I've revealed my financial situation. I've proved that building commercial Web sites is profitable. I've submitted to a physical. I've laid out my philosophy of life. I've told them all they want to know. I've pleaded with them. Told them that I'm willing to change my whole life in order to raise Lily. Explained that losing Amy and David has opened my eyes to what family means. I begged them, Gage, during meeting after meeting. For two long months. Yet they continue to thwart me at every turn." Her tone grew nearly frantic. "I need some help. I need an ally. And I need one now."

  Suddenly, the sympathy Gage had shown for her situation seemed to have evaporated like morning dew under the heat of the sun. At some point during her explanation of her dealings with the Elders of his tribe — she couldn't say exactly when — his entire body had gone rigid.

  He'd transformed back into the hardhearted man she'd met the day of the storm. This was the response she'd been expecting when she first thought to seek him out.

  "The only reason you came here," he accused, "is because I'm Indian. You think I can influence the Council in some way."

  Nearby, she heard one of the horses Whinny, She didn't dare break eye contact With Gage. Doing so would send the message that she was somehow ashamed of coming here.

  Well, she wasn't ashamed. Obtaining custody of Lily was her only concern. And she'd face a bevy of Councils to get what she wanted. She'd face one angry Lenape Indian, too.

  Her niece needed her. And Jenna needed to raise her sister's baby.

  An ache wrenched her heart when she pondered the notion of forever losing the guardianship of Lily. But Jenna swallowed the pain. She had a cause to plead. And she'd better come up with a damned good argument.

  She squared her shoulders. "I'm not going to lie to you. Gage," she began quietly. "I am here because you're Native American. Lenape, specifically. David was the only man from Broken Bow that I knew. I've done some work for Cheyenne-owned businesses. But I don't know any of those people well enough to ask for their help now."

  "And you know me?"

  "No. No, I don't. But I'm desperate, Gage. One of the reasons the Council won't let me have Lily is because I'm white. I might not like the position I find myself in, but I need help from someone of Native American ancestry. Someone from the Lenape tribe. Someone from Broken Bow. And you fit all those criteria."

  His expression turned stormy, and Jenna began to feel the first pangs of hopelessness. But she plowed ahead. "Lily and I need to be together. That baby is all I have left of Amy and David. I'm the only maternal relative Lily's got left. And David's parents aren't able to care for her. Like I said, they haven't been keeping Lily. She's been living with the sitter, for goodness' sake!"

  Despite her determination not to look weak, utter frustration made her eyes well. A huge, watery tear rolled down her face, heeling it tickle her skin, she lifted her hand and dashed it away.

  "Please try to understand," she whispered. “I love that baby!"

  The muscles in his jaw constricted. Reaching up, he rubbed his hand over his chin, then scrubbed the back of his neck, his gaze drifting off toward the horizon.

  Finally, he turned his gaze to her again. "Jenna, it's not that I don't want to help you. It's just that . . ." He shook his head and looked away again, dragging his fingers through his long, glossy hair.

  His hesitation lifted her spirits the merest fraction. Was there a chance she could make her plan come to fruition? Was there a chance she'd made him grasp the gravity of her situation?

  Gage moistened his lips then, riveting Jenna's gaze to his mouth. She wondered about his kiss. Would it be searing? Would it be sweet? Would it be soft?

  A strange current danced through her. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her nose, exhaled through her mouth. Anxiety was wreaking havoc on her nervous system, making her entertain the most peculiar thoughts.

  "Look, Jenna."

  The intensity of his black eyes jolted her.

  "I just don't see how I can help you. I do understand that you need someone to do something. You need someone — an Indian — to plead your case to the Council. You need someone to stand up for you. But this doesn't have anything to do with me. It's none of my business." He pressed his palm flat against his chest. "I'd give you a character reference. But I don't even know you."

  Oh, God. He was turning her down. Misery sank in her gut like a lead weight.

  "It's not a character reference I need, Gage." She might as well come completely clean. What could it hurt at this point? "As I told you, one of the reasons the Council won't let me have Lily is because I'm white. The other reason is because I'm single."

  Confusion knit his brow. Jenna bit back a frustrated sigh. He still wasn't getting it. She was going to have to spell it out.

  "What I need —" she spoke slowly and succinctly, "— is a husband "

  Chapter Two

  Gage gaped at the woman standing before him. Staring was rude. His parents had taught him that long ago. But he couldn't help it. The request Jenna Butler had made shocked the words right out of him and made him forget good manners.

  "You're looking at me like I'm nuts," she said. "My idea isn't all that crazy, you know."

  Nuts. Crazy. Perfect adjectives to describe her and her suggestion.

  "For weeks, the Council has used my ethnicity as an excuse for why I can't have Lily."

  Nervous agitation had her clenching and unclenching her fists. Gage could tell she wasn't even aware she was doing it.

  "I met with them last week. And that's when they claimed that if I were to take her from Broken Bow," she continued, "and raise her in the 'white world,' as they put it, that Lily would lose touch with her Native American heritage, that she'd forget who she is and where she came from. That she'd forget she was Delaware. I promised them I wouldn't let that happen. But evidently, they don't believe me."

  Gage's gaze strayed over her lovely face. Her features were delicate — gracefully arched eyebrows, thick lashes framing almond-shaped eyes, a pert little nose. Her pale skin glowed with the iridescence of moonlight, fresh and shimmery. The noonday sun burnished her shoulder-length auburn hair, the ends curling softly and testing against the topmost part of her full, rounded breasts.

  Awareness tightened deep in his belly and made his mouth go dry. Gage frowned. Admiring this woman's body was the last thing he should be doing. He forced his gaze back to her face and immediately noticed that her eyes were doe-brown, soft and dewy. Shadowy half circles smudged the skin beneath them, evidence that she'd spent many a sleepless night wrestling with her problem.

  "Finally, I became so frustrated that I lost my temper," she continued. "I reminded them all that Lily was half white. I told them that it was wrong to keep me from raising my niece because of my race."

  His brows rose heavenward. Customarily, deeming what was right and wrong was the lob of the Elders, not those who stood before them.

  "I
told them that I loved that baby, and that I would treat her as my own. Gage, she is my own. I was so angry. My tongue got away from me. I blurted out that if they didn't give me custody of Lily, that it would be a sin. One that they would have to answer for."

  He imagined the Council receiving a good dressing-down from this woman and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Luckily, he wrestled it under control.

  Jenna Butler was a fighter. That much was undeniable.

  "How did the Elders respond?"

  Fire sparked in her eyes. "They called a halt to the meeting, then and there. I phoned every day for nearly a week. I thought I'd lose my mind. Finally, they agreed to see me again. Just yesterday. That's when I discovered their trumped-up concern that I was single and unable to give Lily a stable upbringing."

  She shook her head in aggravation, her hair brushing those luscious mounds of —

  Gage cut his eyes to the ground, studying the toes of his dusty work boots.

  "It's not fair, Gage. And it's not right! I'm not going to let them do this to me. Or to Lily."

  He couldn't help but admire her determination and strength. She had a will of iron. That was good. Going head-to-head with the Council, she would certainly need it.

  Her chin tipped upward. "I don't want to lower myself to begging. But if that's what it will take to get you to help me, then I will. Please, Gage, I need you."

  What the hell could he possibly say to this woman?

  Reaching behind him, he pulled a kerchief from his back pocket and swiped it across his brow. Not that he was hot or perspiring. He was stalling for time. He needed to think. He needed to come up with some way to let Jenna Butler down easy.

  "Gage."

  Something in the way she said his name eased the tension in him. "Please."

  "Look," he began, "there's a big difference between asking for my help and asking me to —"

  His throat caught, making it impossible for him to voice the words he never thought he'd utter again.

  "Marry me," she supplied. "I'm asking you to marry me, Gage, so that I can get eustody of Lily. If you'll do this for me, the Council can't possibly refuse me. Their excuses will be worthless, for I'll no longer be single, and my husband will be Delaware."