by Sara Orwig
Travis tried to saw the slab of burned meat into pieces.
“It’s going to be tough,” she said, her brow furrowed as she sat down.
“I can eat it if it’s as hard as this table,” Zachary said cheerfully. “The supper tastes wonderful, and I thank you all three for taking me in. You’ve saved my life.”
“Turtle River has good medicine,” Travis said, wishing Turtle River had been caring for Elizabeth, yet knowing the Cheyenne’s natural medicines wouldn’t have saved her.
Travis sawed off another bite of meat and chewed it, hoping he didn’t break a tooth.
“This meat is dreadful,” Crystal said, flushed and embarrassed.
“It’s edible,” Travis remarked and cut another bite. “Did Ellery cook?”
“As a matter of fact, he did the cooking a great deal of the time,” Crystal admitted. The supper was a disaster, she knew, but Travis Black Eagle seemed to want to eat anyway. She was certain the man would not take one bite out of politeness or to spare her feelings. She glanced at him as he took a sip of coffee and saw his brows narrow as he set the cup back on the table.
“Something’s wrong?” she asked.
“That’s Yankee coffee,” he said in a derogatory tone. “I drink mine stronger.” He stood and crossed to the counter to the coffee grinder. He dropped grounds into his cup, stirred them, and sat down again to saw at his meat.
“I would think you’d cook,” she said.
“I have cooked when I had to.”
At his shuttered look, she inferred that he was thinking about his Elizabeth. The angles and planes of the man’s face, his prominent cheekbones, and his firm jaw gave him a rugged air that was heightened to a fierce wildness by his thick hair, stubble of beard and bloodshot eyes.
“I’m surprised you didn’t learn to cook at home,” he remarked.
“We had a servant who cooked until the last few months when I was all alone.”
He paused with his fork in midair as he studied her along with the other two males who stared at her.
“You’ve always had servants until you came out here?” he asked.
“Yes, we did until the last month before I came West. My father was shot and killed when I was thirteen. My grandparents lived with us, and I sold everything when Grandfather died and paid his debts.”
“You must have lived in a big house,” Zachary said, awed.
“It was two-storied with a large porch that ran around two sides and fancy woodworking on the porch. We had a flower garden and an iron fence around the yard. Baltimore is a beautiful place.”
“Do you want to go back there?” Zachary asked with rapt attention.
“No. Baltimore is far away and out of my life. All my family is gone now,” she said, uncomfortable because that was not the reason she did not want to return to Baltimore. As she glanced at Black Eagle, she thought of the gold in his drawer. If she were unscrupulous, she could take it and flee to California. She glanced up again to find him still watching her. One look into his dark devil-eyes and she knew she would pity anyone who tried to take something from him against his wishes.
The men became silent. Zachary ate every bite on his plate and had another helping, which made her feel slightly better. The boy must have been famished. She couldn’t bear to eat the tough meat, but she ate potatoes and drank the coffee.
“Do you live near here, Zachary?” Black Eagle asked.
“No, sir. Closer to Laramie.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Crystal was surprised to discover he was that old. Next to Travis Black Eagle and Turtle River, the slender boy looked like a child.
“You can have a job if you want to stay for a while,” Black Eagle added. His offer was a bigger surprise to her than Zachary’s age. Crystal studied Black Eagle, amazed by his kindness. She wondered where Zachary would live. Would he continue to share the cabin with them?
“You mean that, sir? I’d like that. Thank you!”
“There’s a small cabin not far from this house where you can stay. There’s not much furniture—just a bed and chest of drawers—but you can eat here with us.”
“That would be fine,” Zachary said, relief plain in his voice. “We both stay in the cabin?” he asked Turtle River, who shook his head.
“No. I have my tipi.”
Black Eagle placed his fork on his plate and studied Zachary. “Will anyone come looking for you that I should know about?”
Zachary’s smile vanished. “Someone might, but it shouldn’t concern you, sir.”
“It will concern me if it places any of us in danger,” Black Eagle said solemnly, and Crystal saw the blink of surprise as Zachary’s brows arched. He flushed and looked away.
“If my pa comes for me, he won’t give anyone else trouble. Leastwise, not the two of you,” he added, looking at Turtle River and Black Eagle. “He’s a coward when someone is his own size.”
“I don’t want my son to be in danger,” Black Eagle added. Crystal felt no surprise that he didn’t mention her welfare because she knew he didn’t care for her in the least, but she was curious about Zachary’s answer because she didn’t want the baby in any danger either.
“A baby won’t be in danger. Besides, I’d go with him before I’d let him bring trouble or hurt to any of you.”
“You won’t go with him unless you really want to,” Black Eagle said emphatically, turning to look into her eyes. She knew what he was telling her, but she had sworn to uphold the law and that is what she would have to do.
As soon as they finished eating, all three males left to look at the cabin for Zachary while she cleaned dishes and fed the baby. None of them returned, and she stretched on the bed, still wearing her dress, expecting to have to get up again with the baby. The next thing she knew it was morning and the little fellow was screaming and kicking.
That night Turtle River and Zachary came to eat after dark.
“Your husband is tending an ailing cow. He will be here when he can,” Turtle River said.
“Supper smells wonderful,” Zachary said, heaping food on his plate.
She enjoyed their company, Zachary keeping up a constant chatter and wanting to know about her life in Baltimore. Turtle River warmed and asked a few questions, listening attentively and nodding as she talked. She wondered about the laconic man’s past. Why wasn’t he with his own people? For that matter, she wondered the same about Travis Black Eagle.
When the men left, she cleaned, leaving beef and potatoes for her husband. Later she changed behind the makeshift blanket he had hung. She slipped into her white cotton nightgown and blue wrapper. An hour later she decided Black Eagle would not return at all, wondering whether he slept outside or at the cabin where Zachary stayed.
For the next two days, she didn’t see him. He ate and left before she was awake, not coming back at night. The temperature climbed, but the nights stayed a cool relief.
One night, hours after Turtle River and Zachary had eaten, the door swung open and Black Eagle entered. He was bare-chested, wet from washing. In spite of his muscles and fit body, he had dark smudges beneath his eyes and his cheeks had a hollow, gaunt look. She wondered how much he had slept or eaten since the death of his wife, and her sympathy went out to him.
“Evening. Supper might still be warm. It isn’t burned tonight.”
“I’m hungry enough to eat it raw.” He raked his hair from his face with both hands. “Cows are dropping calves, and I’ve been busy the last three days. We need rain desperately, but thank heaven I have water on this land,” he said, sounding distracted and concerned about his ranch. “How’s my son?” he asked, crossing to the cradle to pick up the cooing baby. She watched Black Eagle’s features soften as he talked to the infant.
“I was just getting ready to feed him,” she answered, putting down the bottle while she served a plate for Black Eagle. She placed his food on the table and took the baby from him, sitting down on one of the straight
-backed chairs.
Her fingers brushed Black Eagle’s, and she was aware of his broad bare chest as he sat facing her.
She saw no reason to try to make conversation. She knew Travis Black Eagle was not interested in her trying to entertain him. As he ate, he seemed to forget her presence completely. When he finished, he carried his dishes to the washpan. He moved around the room, hanging his gunbelt on the bedpost, looking at the baby, and finally settling down at the table with tools and a hinge he was mending.
“Mr. Black Eagle—”
“Travis,” he corrected without looking up.
“Travis,” she said, blushing, wondering if he thought she was the silliest woman he had ever had to deal with. As she watched his hands moving over the broken hinge, she felt a strange tingling awareness of him. His fingers were blunt, his hands well-shaped, and she remembered the moment his hands had closed around her waist and he had lifted her down from the wagon.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she said.
He paused to look at her. “What’s that?”
“You need to give your son a name.” Again the shuttered look distanced him from her, and his stony countenance made her want to drop the matter, but she persisted. “I’ve been thinking about it. You can’t name a boy Elizabeth, but what about Elizabeth’s father’s name?”
A muscle worked in Travis’s jaw and he stood up abruptly, walking to a window to stare into the darkness, and her gaze drifted down over his back to his trim hips, the dirt-smudged denim pants that hugged him snugly. He had long legs and stood with them apart as he stared outside.
“Elizabeth and I talked a little about it,” he said gruffly. “She preferred Jacob or Joshua.”
“And what do you prefer?”
With an angry scowl on his features he turned to look at the baby in her arms. “Elizabeth’s father’s name was Irwin. I suppose Jacob Irwin Black Eagle.” His dark gaze swung to her and silence spread between them.
“Jacob is a fine name,” she said emphatically, pleased by his choice. “Jacob Irwin Black Eagle. Would you prefer the name of a relative of yours?” she asked, wondering about his heritage. “What about your father’s name?”
His dark eyes stabbed her, and she felt a shiver slither down her spine.
“My father was Tall Bear. Tall Bear Black Eagle would sound too strange for him to be accepted anywhere. I will give him my name—Black Eagle. Jacob Irwin Black Eagle. It would please my father for him to be called Black Eagle.”
“Is your father living?”
Travis shook his head. “No. He was killed by soldiers years ago. My mother was a captive, but she came to love my father. When I was twelve, soldiers raided our camp. They took my mother and Brett, my brother, and me back with them. I never saw my father again, but I heard when he was killed.”
“So you lived all your early years with your father,” she said, easily imagining him in that life. She placed the sleeping baby in his cradle. “Good night, little Jacob Irwin Black Eagle,” she said softly, kissing his cheek, happy with the name. “We should have Reverend Nealy christen him.”
Travis’s gaze shifted to the cradle and the sleeping baby. “I’ll speak to him when I go to town.”
A mental list spun in her mind of more things she wanted Black Eagle to do, but she had pushed it far enough for one night. Every bit of conversation from him seemed pried out against his will. He rarely gave her a direct look, and she sensed he was holding himself in check; yet he didn’t look like a man who would give in to his emotions easily.
She watched him. Had she married a man who had had too many losses? Maybe it wasn’t just Elizabeth’s loss that had made him so hard and angry. Still, there was no point in offering consolation. She suspected the less she said, the better he would like it. She knew she wasn’t the woman he wanted helping him name his baby.
She folded clothing while he mended broken tools, and finally he leaned back in the chair and stretched. She glanced at him as he held up his arms, her gaze sliding over the bulge of his muscles and the veins standing out in his forearms. His long legs were stretched in front of him, and he seemed to radiate power just sitting still in the chair. Again, she felt fluttery, a strange sensation she had every time she gave him her full attention. She went back to folding and stacking clothes that she picked up from the floor.
She turned as he strode across the room and buckled on his gunbelt. He jammed his hat on his head and his dark gaze swung to her.
“I’m going out and I’ll sleep outside. Go ahead and go to bed and sleep in your gown. It’s too hot to sleep every night in all your clothing. I won’t be back tonight.” At the door he paused. “Crystal,” he pronounced grimly as if reminding himself that she was now his wife. “I won’t notice whether you’re in a dress or a gown and I won’t care. I feel as numb as this damn door.” He clamped his jaw closed and left, slamming the door behind him.
She blinked and let out her breath, her heart hammering from his words and the fierce look he had given her. He might be numb, but she wasn’t. Great heavens, how could she go around in her nightgown in front of a man whose looks stripped her to her soul?
As if fleeing a monster, she rushed to the cradle and knelt beside it, reassuring herself with the sight of the baby. Her baby now. Jacob Irwin Black Eagle. It was a fine, strong name and she liked it. “Jacob,” she said quietly. “My darling little Jacob.” She leaned down to kiss his soft cheek and then stood up, going to the crate that held her clothing.
She pulled out her nightgown and wrapper and took her hair down, brushing it, her thoughts on the strong man she had married. Her gaze ran over the cabin and she felt a rush of satisfaction. Travis Black Eagle was a tiny part of her life and he was keeping his bargain. She had a home and was no longer in debt. She had a baby who would know her as his mother. Zachary was a cheerful friend and Turtle River in his own quiet way was becoming a friend. The only enigma was the man she had married.
She stretched on the bed and was asleep in minutes.
The next morning dawned with sunshine and blue skies, but by noon the air was heavy with heat. They needed rain and whenever she stepped outside to the pump, she scanned the horizon. By midafternoon heat lightning streaked the sky and dark clouds gathered along the horizon. Crystal prayed the rain would blow their way.
She unfastened the top buttons of her red calico dress and pushed the neck open, fanning herself. She stood outside, digging a small garden and watching the approaching storm while the baby slept blissfully in his cradle only yards away from her.
When lightning popped and crackled close at hand, she picked up the cradle and carried Jacob inside, setting him down and fetching a cool wet rag to wipe his face and then hers.
Lightning zagged across the sky, streaking to the ground with a pop. It struck in the field of grass stretching away to the west from the cabin.
Crystal stretched high, getting down a large iron skillet from a shelf, dreading building a fire in the already-stuffy cabin. She stepped outside on the porch to get kindling for the firebox and glanced in the direction of the storm clouds.
Across the field that stretched away from the house to the west, a bright orange tongue of flame flickered in the dry grass.
Crystal gasped, terror galvanizing her into action as she raced into the cabin. Wildfire!
Seven
Panic swept her as swift and hot as the tongue of flame already dancing across the grass. She remembered the terrifying fire that had swept Cheyenne last year, burning most of the town.
Grabbing up her skirts, Crystal ran to the door, standing on tiptoe to retrieve the heavy revolver. She rushed outside, firing two quick shots, and then she dashed back to return the revolver to the shelf. Jacob slept undisturbed through both shots, and she prayed that the men had heard them.
She picked up the cradle and carried the sleeping infant to the porch. Then she ran to the shed to search for anything to beat out the fire. She found two buckets and gunn
ysacks and raced to the pump to fill the buckets.
The line of fire had spread with terrifying speed. As she pumped she looked at the dark clouds building in the sky and she willed rain to come. Lightning popped, causing her to jump. She tossed the sacks across her shoulders and carried both buckets, water sloshing as she hurried toward the flames that were too close to the cabin. She would have only minutes to fight the fire before she would have to get Jacob and flee.
Ignoring an urge to run, she moved as close as she dared and set down the buckets. A fierce need to protect the cabin gave her the courage to fight the flames. This was her home now, and little Jacob’s, and it was worth fighting to save. Shaking with worry, she dipped a sack in the water and beat the flames.
Almost immediately her arms ached and smoke stung her throat. The wind blew the flames toward the cabin, and she struggled desperately to stop their hungry path.
Beyond the dancing flames dark forms loomed into sight, and her heart jumped as she saw the men riding toward her. Travis reined his horse and leapt down.
“Where’s my son?” he shouted.
“He’s on the porch, asleep.”
“Take the horses to the house. Get them away from this. Take the baby and get away from here!”
She grabbed the reins and mounted, swinging her leg across the saddle to sit astride, forgetting her dress was hiked up to her knees as she turned the big gelding and gathered the reins to Turtle River’s pinto. At the shed she saw Zachary jump off a horse and run to help fight the fire.
The storm clouds had darkened the sky and rain was coming, but would it reach them soon enough to save the cabin? Debating whether to take Jacob and flee now or go back to help, she tethered the horses beyond the house. With another look at Jacob, who still slept peacefully, she decided to stay.
She grabbed a pot from the house and pumped more water, rushing to carry it to the men, who beat wildly at the flames. While thunder rumbled and the wind tore at her, dark clouds covered the sky. Curling flames and sparks blew across her, and black smoke stung her eyes as she swung a wet sack.
