His calculating coal black eyes pored over her hair and clothing and Hallie cringed inwardly. Beneath the beautifully crafted quill vest his broad chest was bronzed and sleek. His arms were as big around as Cooper's, strips of leather banding his biceps. A long, bone-handled knife lay sheathed at his hip. Hallie tore her gaze from it and refused to show him her fear.
He moved stealthily until he stood behind her, out of her line of vision. She concentrated on breathing normally. What had he come for? What would he do to her?
"What do you want?" she asked again, more angrily this time. He spoke English—let him say what he wanted.
He touched the back of her hair and Hallie damned herself for jumping. With a nightmarish vision of being scalped, she reached back, only to encounter his hand and yank hers back.
Hallie sat frozen while he found the pins that held her chignon in place and dropped them on the floor. Her hair spilled down her back. He lifted it and inhaled. He moved around her side.
She stared ahead, heart pounding erratically. Jack was out there somewhere, wasn't he? Would he hear her if she screamed? Or would that only end up getting him hurt?
With an agile movement Last Horse leaned over her. She locked her gaze on his chiseled face. He leaned forward and smelled her hair again, the pouch around his neck swinging before her nose. One side of his hair fell forward. Hallie could smell him—a trace of the yucca plant, but more horse and musk, an unpleasant smell that she would forever associate with fear.
Moving back slightly, he ran a hard finger over her cheek, traced her eyebrow and caught her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.
She turned her head, pulling away from his touch, and made a move to get up out of the chair. If he had wicked plans for her, she wasn't going to sit passively and make it easy for him.
Last Horse gripped her upper arms and held her fast. "Don't move."
She glared at him then, anger sparking to life.
He bent toward her and put his nose right against her jaw. His tongue flicked out and he tasted her.
"I have many horses," he said, his breath touching her neck.
She pulled away and stared at him.
"I will make a gift of them to your father."
What was he talking about? "My father wouldn't know what to do with your horses," she said. "He doesn't want them."
He looked surprised. "Blankets? Furs? What does he value?"
"What does it matter what my father likes? He's not here."
"I would make a trade," he said.
"For what?"
"You."
Indignation swelling in her every fiber, she stared at him. Her neck and face grew uncomfortably warm, and her heart thumped frantically. Did he think she was a trinket that could be bartered for? "Well, I don't want to be traded. I'm not a horse or a blanket. No deal."
With little effort on his part, he pulled her out of the chair, still holding her arms, and placed his face inches from hers. "Your father might say different. He might be glad to have you gone."
"No, he wouldn't. My father loves me."
"If that's true, why are you here?"
"He didn't know I left."
Those merciless black eyes bored into her. "No one knows you're here."
Oh, God, she'd made a mess of it now! Fear got the best of her. "Yes! Yes, they do!" She hated the tremor that had crept into her voice, hated that he would hear her fear. "Cooper took a letter to my father. He knows I'm here."
Last Horse let go, and she stood on her own. He didn't move away. "Anything could happen to you. Bad things happen to white women."
He was right. She cursed her foolishness. "Cooper sees that I'm safe from harm."
"He's not here." He stalked her in a tight circle, the warmth from his hard-muscled body tangible through her clothing. "I want to see you without your dress."
Horrified, Hallie spun away from him and clenched her hands before her breasts. Immediately she felt silly and dropped her arms. Her strength was no match for his. Whatever happened now depended on her using her wits.
Though he could have stopped her, captured her in an instant, he allowed her to put some space between them. She faced him squarely. "I'm not breeding stock. I won't be stared at and poked. This is not the way it's done with my people. You've had your fun, now leave."
An appreciative glimmer blazed in his dark eyes. "You have a strong heart."
He wouldn't think so if he could feel it ready to explode from her chest.
"I'll go," he said.
Hallie didn't allow her gaze to falter.
"You will see me again." He walked around her, their gazes locked until she had to turn and swing her head to the other side to watch him move from behind her and approach the door.
As silently as he'd entered, he was gone. She could still smell him. Still taste the fear on her tongue. She had no doubt that he'd keep his word and she would see him again. What should she do? What would Cooper do if she told him?
Her heart slowing back to its normal rhythm, she closed the ledger and capped her ink. It wasn't exactly flattering to be considered for trade like a saddle or a bushel of corn. Was there a culture anywhere in which women were equals? She would love to see it.
Pausing in the doorway and glancing about, she thought of the heavy gun Cooper had given her to carry the day they'd dug out the stage. She didn't like looking in every corner and shadow and wondering when Last Horse would show up again. Perhaps carrying a gun was the answer.
A few months ago she would never have thought she could aim a gun at a man and pull the trigger, no matter what he had planned for her. She'd done it once when her life and the lives of the other brides had been endangered; she could do it again. She wouldn't remain vulnerable.
Hallie hurried to the sod house.
Cooper rode hard the last several miles, eager to get back. He was obviously getting soft. Three meals a day and a roof over his head every night had spoiled him. He remembered a time when sleeping, eating and working outdoors were his life. He still slept lightly, attuned not only to each sound from outside, but now to those from the other room.
Having Hallie so close was a distraction from sleep and work.
He had realized the day Last Horse brought in Wiley Kincaid slung over a horse that the sight of himself dressed in only a breechclout had shocked her. She'd probably never seen a man—or another woman, for that matter—in a state of undress. Civilized people thought differently. They were embarrassed about natural things like nudity and mating.
He'd respected her background and tried to act civilized around her. He couldn't have worked all day in the rain in those clumsy clothes, though. She would just have to accept that this was a different land. City customs had no place in the face of survival.
And she was a city girl to the bone.
Kissing her once had been a mistake. Kissing her a second time had been stupid. What had he imagined would come of it? She was as white and citified as only a girl from Boston could be. He'd never even seen the inside of a real house or been to a school. He'd dressed in buckskin since the day he'd been born and he had more in common with the trappers and Indians than he did with her kind.
What must she think of him? He wasn't certain why she'd consented to stay on when he'd given her every opportunity to leave this time. Maybe her reporter's curiosity drove her to finish the stories. Maybe his difference fascinated her.
Fascinated and yet repelled. A ripple of unease slid through his chest. Maybe she just wanted to take a firsthand story home to win the approval she craved from her father.
He was a story.
Cooper's horse stepped over a gully and he rocked with the nimble motion. The weathered stage station came into view. He nudged the horse into a trot.
Angus saw him from a distance and met him. "Any problems?"
"Didn't see any holdup men," Cooper replied. They spoke for a few minutes and Angus said, "Coop, why don't you bring the Wainwright girl over?"
<
br /> Cooper studied the man's uneasy stance. "She'll be wanting to do that. She's writing a story, you know."
"Yeah. Well, I don't know about the story, but Evelyn is…well…"
"What?"
"I dunno. It's hard for her bein' out here with no other womenfolk to talk with."
There it was. The first sprout of dissatisfaction. Cooper didn't want to tell him it would grow huge and eat them both alive. "Yes. I'll mention it to Hallie. I'm sure she'll want to come."
"Good." Angus patted the horse's neck and watched Cooper ride on.
After rubbing his horse down with fistfuls of straw, he turned him into the corral and spotted Kincaid's horse tethered to an outside rail. Cooper found Jack oiling harnesses in the doorway. They talked briefly, and Cooper walked to the soddy. It was nearly suppertime, but no smoke drifted from the chimney. His stomach rumbled; in his hurry to get back, he hadn't eaten.
No one was in the sod house. The fireplace and stove were cold. Nearing the house, he discovered where everyone was. Laughter rang from inside.
Cooper pushed open the door and stepped in. They sat before the fireplace—Hallie, Chumani, Yellow Eagle and Wiley Kincaid.
"Coop!" Yellow Eagle shot up and barreled into Cooper's chest. Cooper caught him and gave the boy a fierce hug. Chumani, wearing a fancy green shawl, greeted him softly.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked.
"Hallie," she replied.
Cooper turned to Hallie.
"She said my name!" Hallie said in surprise. Chumani smiled at her. "She made me moccasins, see?" Hallie lifted the hem of her wool skirt and showed him the moccasins with Chumani's distinctive quill pattern across the toes.
What had been going on in his absence? His Oglala sister-in-law was wearing a store-bought shawl, Hallie wore deer hide footwear, and Wiley Kincaid had made himself right at home among them.
Kincaid stood. "You've been working long hours."
Cooper glanced from one face to the other, understanding they hadn't told the man he'd been gone. Kincaid could have figured it out on his own, though. "Yes," he agreed. "And I haven't eaten all day."
"Oh!" Hallie jumped up and hurried to the other end of the room. "It will only take a few minutes."
Chumani joined her.
"I'm going to bathe." Cooper brought clean clothes from the other room.
"I'd better be goin'," Kincaid said.
"You might as well stay and eat with us," Hallie called.
Kincaid looked to Cooper.
"Stay," Cooper said. "We'll make plans to put that building up in the next few days."
"All right. Much obliged." He sat back down.
Cooper washed in the river, wondering why Kincaid visiting while he was gone disturbed him. The man treated the women with respect and had done business with Cooper in a forthright manner.
The smell of cooking met him when he returned. The women had fried salt pork, thin and crispy, with smooth and creamy brown gravy. There were even johnnycakes and hot maple syrup.
"We made an applesauce cake earlier," Hallie said, clearing the table and presenting the golden brown confection.
Cooper looked at her in surprise. He didn't know if he'd ever tasted an applesauce cake.
"Mr. Kincaid found me a cookbook at the trading post," she said with a bashful smile. "At home we always have dessert after a special meal."
What made this meal special? Company? Cooper accepted the spicy-smelling slice she handed him. He sampled a bite. It tasted wonderful. "What are these spices?"
"Cinnamon and nutmeg mostly," she answered. "You're not familiar with them?"
"I knew they were in one of the last shipments."
"Now you know why Magellan and Cortez got rich," she said.
"Who?"
"The explorers who sailed across oceans to bring spices from faraway lands."
"Oh." How did she always manage to make him feel inadequate? Her head must be full of knowledge.
"Certain foods are traditional with different cultures," she said, "but people are always eager for a new taste experience."
"I'll have to remember to offer spices for mining camps and settlements," he said, thinking aloud.
"You could be onto something there," Kincaid said. "'Course, settlers don't have much to spend on anything other than the necessities."
"But the mining camps will pay any price for supplies," Cooper said. "I've been able to take over supplying a lot of the camps because I charge them a fair price."
"You mean other freighters take advantage of them?" Hallie asked.
"All of 'em," Cooper replied. "They figure the miners are horning in on the land and water. If they're foolish enough to leave families behind in the hopes of getting rich, they're foolish enough to pay unfair prices. And they do."
"But you don't," Hallie said after a moment. "Even though you don't like them on the land."
"I've made my way without stealing anything from anybody," he said.
She looked up at him, the gold centers of her eyes bright with unvoiced questions. Had she taken his words with more than one meaning? Of course, he meant the whites encroaching on Sioux land, but had he also been thinking of his money and stage ticket she'd used without permission? He had no reason to trust this woman, and plenty of reasons not to. Everything he knew about her pointed out how inappropriate her presence was. He'd be a fool to let things go any further than they already had.
When Kincaid suggested they go out for a smoke, Cooper drew his long pipe and tobacco from his bag and left with him. They walked from the house. Kincaid lit a cigar. Cooper tamped tobacco into the bowl of his pipe and lit it. For the first night in days, the cloud cover had disappeared and a half-moon hung against the night sky.
"Seems peculiar that any husband would leave a woman like that out here in the territory," Kincaid commented finally.
Cooper remained silent.
"This isn't exactly a stopover on the way to Mexico, if that's really where Mr. Lincoln is."
"What are you sayin'?" Cooper asked.
"I'm just saying a husband would have left her in the East where she'd be safe." He puffed on his cigar, and the tip glowed orange in the darkness. "Only women out here are runnin' away from something or don't have any means of support except doing what men will pay for."
Cooper jerked his attention to the man's face in the moonlight. "You're thinking wrong if you're thinking that. She's a respectable woman from a good family."
"Seems that way."
"It is that way."
"Don't get riled, DeWitt. I have good intentions."
"Like what?"
"Like every other man in the badlands. I want a wife."
Cooper absorbed the words calmly, rationally.
"I don't think you're her cousin. And I don't think there's a Mr. Lincoln," Kincaid stated. "But I understand why you all made him up." He turned to face Cooper. "If there's something between you and her, say the word and I'll back off."
Chapter Nine
Something between them? Like those kisses? Like the things he'd shared with her by the fire that night? Something between them?
No, there couldn't be anything between them. They were from different worlds.
"If not," Kincaid went on, "I'm interested myself."
"There's nothing between us," Cooper said flatly. "She'll be going back to Boston in the spring."
"Maybe," Kincaid said. "Maybe not."
"That'd be up to her," Cooper said.
Kincaid ground out his cigar beneath his heel and stuck out his hand. "Thanks for the meal."
Cooper shook his hand. "Give me a day to get the men lined up and we'll be out to put up your building."
"Much obliged."
They walked to the corral. Kincaid mounted his horse and rode off.
Cooper knocked his pipe against a corral post and scraped the barrel clean. He tucked it into its bag and touched the pouch around his neck that held his spirit stone. His was
a particularly powerful stone, found near an anthill, having been pushed from beneath the earth.
He didn't know what to ask his guardian spirit for. He only knew that Wiley wanting to marry Hallie disturbed him when it shouldn't. There was no reason for him to care. The only thing that mattered was that she teach Yellow Eagle the skills he needed. And she was doing that.
Whether she went home to her rich father or married Kincaid meant nothing to him. He only knew he wouldn't hang around and watch her dissatisfaction bloom and ruin them both.
Cooper released the stone and headed back to the house. He needed a good night's rest.
The following morning Yellow Eagle was back to his churlish self. The favor Hallie had won in her face-off with the bear had worn thin. He was silent and uncooperative, and Hallie was glad for lesson time to end.
During Cooper's absence, she and Chumani had spent evenings together, and Hallie had hoped the woman's son had grown more accepting of her, but his ambivalent attitude matched that of his uncle's.
She hadn't had an opportunity to mention Last Horse's visit and didn't want to bring it up in front of the others. Earlier, the ponderous sounds of mule teams and heavy wagons had reached the house. Glad to see a sunny day and grateful to have Cooper back, Hallie crossed the yard to the freight building. She found him stacking crates against an inside wall.
"Hi," she called.
Cooper turned and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "Hi."
"Get a shipment today?"
"Yep. Got the lamp. Go look at it on the desk."
She went to look at the lamp he'd ordered. It was rather ordinary, like lamps she'd seen a hundred times. She wandered back. "Almost done there?"
"A few more."
She watched him finish the chore. "Can I show you a few things?"
He nodded and followed her through the doorway.
"Here's what I wanted you to see." She flipped open one of the ledgers and pointed.
"Do you like the lamp?"
She looked at it and back, realizing it held some significance for him. Had he bought it to please her? So her eyes wouldn't tire? Hallie glanced again at the milk glass shade and recognized that the lamp was an extravagance out here where practicality meant survival. "It should give off a lot of light."
Badlands Bride Page 13
