Time's Enduring Love

by Tia Dani

  Guilt pounded on his shoulders. Matthew flexed his muscles to ease the tension. He'd caused her nightmare by putting the two of them in harm's way. The moment he'd seen the large dust clouds forming, he'd got this wild idea to frighten Libby. He'd known they couldn't make it back to Katherine's before dark, yet he still insisted they leave the Blair's homestead.

  Matthew crawled outside and climbed the bluff. As far as he could see, the ground was churned to mud. Not a blade of grass, not a flower, not a small shrub, was left standing. A calf, bawling for its mother, caught his attention. He made his way to the edge and looked down over the sloping valley. A large group of buffalo, stragglers from the main herd, fed quietly about a mile away.

  He smiled. The powerful animals amazed him whenever he saw their thick bodies set on short legs, massive heads and threatening horns. He knew their strength and seen it in action. When he noticed the dust clouds yesterday, he knew what was happening. Something had spooked the animals, and a thundering stampede, miles wide, would easily engulf two riders on horseback. He warned Frank Blair of the run-away herd, and liked to never pull Libby away from the homestead.

  An odor drifted up to him, and he wrinkled his nose. Leaning over the ledge, he saw the mangled body of a skunk several feet from the base of rocks. The animal, obviously out on a night's scavenging trip hadn't been able to find safety before the running buffalos trampled him.

  Last night, when the ground started its familiar shaking, Matthew leapt to his feet with excitement. Even though he knew the animals could destroy anything in their path, he plunged outside with the excitement of seeing a buffalo stampede from a safe distance. He had returned to the small cave expecting to find Libby frightened and confused. The woman came from the East and probably never experienced a stampede before, but he hadn't expected to find her crouched like a frightened child. When he heard her familiar whimpers he realized she was dreaming again. Not wanting her to bolt from the cave in her sleep and become trampled, Matthew gathered her in his arms and tried to understand her mumbling. Only once did she say something loud enough for him to hear, something about love.

  Was it her father she talked about with such emotion? Like last time? Or, was she speaking of someone else? He wanted it to be him. He'd discovered he needed her love when he'd learned she'd ridden off with Frank Blair to tend his daughter. Fear drove Matthew like a man possessed to get to Libby. He knew what type of house the family lived in, and after listening to the story of Getz's death, he feared the same fate for the Blairs. But he needn't have worried. Frank Blair made certain his home was safe and secure during all types of weather.

  A scratching rush of small pebbles skittering across rocks caught his attention. Freezing, Matthew listened for more sounds. Only the soft sigh of the wind came to him. Cautiously he skirted the rocks to investigate. Half-hidden by a large boulder, he found Libby with her back to him. His breath caught in his throat. Her clothing lay on the ground near her feet, and she knelt splashing water on her naked body. Her straight slim back, covered by a cascade of blonde hair curved into rounded buttocks, so creamy, so firm.

  Part of him desperately willed her to stand again and turn to face him, so he could see all of her. The other part begged her not to, for if she did, he wasn't sure how he'd react. He remembered her breasts, round, full, high and lovely.

  With iron will, Matthew turned and headed back the way he had come. Temptation waits for no man, and he already knew how weak he was around Libby. He also knew there could be no running away, not now, not this time. The horses were gone. The animals had become a liability. Tethered below the rocks they might be discovered. He hoped the horses, instinctively made it back to the farm, along with the notes he'd tied to each halter. Luke and Tim needed to know where to find them.

  Matthew climbed farther along the rocky bluff, only to have the sound of men's raised voices stop him. Their words were too faint to be intelligible, yet the tone clearly meant trouble. He dropped to the ground and scooted closer to the edge so he could scan the open countryside below.

  Along the far line of remaining buffalos, the animals began to divide. Three men rode hard. Matthew cursed under his breath. He recognized them. He'd passed them on the trail to the Blair's ranch. They offered him a drink and bragged about how much whiskey and women five hundred buffalo hides could buy. He hadn't wasted much time with the greasy marksmen, but he knew enough to see trouble on a short rope.

  Below him, high yipping sounds followed the pounding hooves and yelling voices. Matthew located the yips, almost immediately. A band of Indians chased the buffalo hunters. Soon their arrows felled the three white men.

  Matthew left his perch and ran in a half-crouch back to Libby. He had to get her inside the cave. With the horses gone, there was a fair chance they'd be safe in and among the rocks.

  He skidded around the large boulder, and found her leisurely unaware of the approaching danger. She still wasn't completely dressed. Strange looking pieces of lace hugged her lower body and covered the tips of her breasts like a halter.

  Matthew muttered under his breath, as he recognized one of his old shirts in her hands. Where in the devil did she get it? The faint sound of gunfire galvanized him into action. He crossed the space between them and spun her around. Without a word, he grabbed the rest of her odd choice of clothing, lifted her over his shoulder, and started for the cave.

  "Hey! What...what do you think you're doing?"

  "To the cave."

  "Oh no we're not. Put me down, now."

  Matthew winced. "Shut up, Libby." He kept his voice to a hoarse whisper, hoping she'd understand his need for her to be quiet.

  "No, put me down. Or you'll be sorry."

  He let her slide half-way down his body. With one hand at the small of her back, crushing her to him, he slapped another hand over her mouth. "Libby, shut up. There's—"

  Hot, white, poker-like pain shot through his groin. Matthew released Libby and dropped to his knees, doubling over in waves of agony. There was no doubt in his screaming mind what she had done. Goddamn it all to hell!

  Stifling his low moans of pain, Matthew cupped his hands over his groin. Why he bothered to remain quiet, he wasn't really sure. Death by the hands of the Indians or woman-starved, drunken buffalo hunters would have been more acceptable than what he experienced now. He curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes tight against the waves of agony. While the pain paralyzed his body, Matthew vowed the next time he put his hand on her it would be around her neck. He finally opened his eyes, only to have sweat pour over them in a stinging stream. "Woman," he snarled, focusing on her. "You'll pay for this."

  Through the loud buzzing in his head, Matthew heard her voice hiss in his ear. "It's your own fault. I told you to put me down. I swore back in college no one was ever going manhandle me again."

  "Manhandle?" Matthew curled back into a ball and tried breathing slowly. The pain gradually lessening.

  "Try and take me when I didn't want it."

  He wondered if the blow she had given him affected his thinking, along with hearing and feeling. "Want what?"

  "Want sex. This...this guy, a blind date, thought he was brutish enough to take me by force. I stopped him with a well-placed knee."

  Affronted she would even think he'd be that vulgar, Matthew lifted his head and glared at her. "I only wanted to take you back to the ca—"

  "Excuse me," she interrupted. "You had that same look. Like you were going to—"

  "I wasn't, dammit, so please shut up. I—"

  "Matthew," she sighed. "We're going to have to stop interrupting each other all the time. It's hard on conversations."

  Her hand came up to touch him, and he jerked his head away in anger. "Don't touch me."

  "Oh, stop it. You're acting like a baby. I didn't hit you hard. It could have been worse. I'm a doctor, I know. Be grateful I only gave you a light tap.

  Matthew struggled to sit up, keeping his hands pressed over his groin. If this was a light tap, he w
ondered if the blind brute ever recovered.

  Gunfire, closer this time, caught his attention, and Matthew groaned. They were running out of time. "Get...get in the cave. Now."

  Libby shook her head at him and turned, staring in the direction of the gunfire. "Hush, was that gunfire?"

  "Dammit, Libby, get in the cave. Indians are on the other side of these rocks."

  "Indians?" To his disbelief, she started crawling toward the small deer trail curving between the rocks. "I want to see them."

  "You can't." Matthew lunged at her, managing to capture a bare foot.

  She slapped at the hand holding her foot. "Stop pulling on me. I want to see the Indians."

  "Libby. You can't."

  "Don't be silly. I'm only going to look, not talk to them. They'll never even know I'm up here."

  "Blast it, woman, come back here." He grabbed for her again, this time managing to grab hold of a well-shaped thigh.

  "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see what 1800's Indians looked like."

  "Goddamn it, Libby, you don't understand." Gritting his teeth, Matthew closed his eyes. While half of his brain struggled with her efforts to be free of him, the other half responded to the feel of the soft, silky skin within his grasp, skin he'd been dreaming about. "If they find us, I mean, if you're found by either the Indians or the buffalo hunters, you—"

  Rapid gunfire and screams of pain ricocheted off the rocks. Pleading voices punctuated more screams.

  Libby's face went ashen, and Matthew reacted. "Go, go now. Get in the cave."

  For once, Libby did as he ordered. She scrambled toward the cave then stopped. "My clothes. I dropped them."

  "Go, go. I've got them."

  Matthew grabbed her clothing and sprinted after her. His mind worked fast. Somehow he had to think of something that would keep them safe.

  As if in answer to his prayers, the wind picked up and Matthew sniffed. He knew how to increase the odds in their favor. It wouldn't be pleasant, and Libby would probably never forgive him, but it was worth it. Keeping to the shadowed sides of the rocks, Matthew crawled back down the winding trail.

  His nose found it before his eyes did. A hundred yards beyond the rock formation, Indians had their prey surrounded. Two white men, filthy and unkempt, were bound hand and foot. A third, with blood dripping from several wounds, was being shoved between jeering Indians, several of which held knives in their hands. The man babbled incoherently, sobbing with each word.

  Matthew crept slowly toward the dead skunk, keeping his eyes on the scene taking place within the circle of men. Nothing he could do would save the three hunters. His sole concern was keeping Libby safe.

  Holding his breath, Matthew wrapped his fingers around the dead skunk's tail and pulled it back with him. Inch by inch, he carefully backed himself into the shadows of the rocks and safety. The Indians attention had remained centered on torturing their captives.

  A few minutes later, he approached the cave. Dropping the skunk, Matthew covered their tracks with dirt and debris. Once he was satisfied their trail had been obliterated, Matthew grabbed the skunk and ducked into the cave. Sharp pain shuddered through his skull.

  A cry of surprise followed, and a rock tumbled at his feet. Libby knelt at his side in an instant.

  "Oh, Matthew, it's you. Your poor head. Your stitches. I'm so sorry. I heard this sound and thought—oh, my God—what's that smell?"

  Matthew shook his head, trying to dissolve tiny white stars from his eyes. He gritted his teeth and said in a low growl, "What is it with you? First you knee me in the—"

  Her finger touched his lips, and she whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. What's that horrible smell?"

  "This." Matthew lifted the dead skunk and held it directly in front of her face. When he saw her blanch and start to gag, he smiled. At times, he thought, getting even could be very, very nice.

  "Take it away."

  Matthew's smile turned into a full grin as she slapped a hand over her mouth and nose and stumbled back. "Take it away."

  He chuckled and placed the skunk at the entrance of the cave. Anyone coming within four feet of the creature would smell it before seeing it. He artfully positioned the carcass.

  "Seriously?"

  In the corner, as far away as she could get, Libby looked at him in disgust. She had two fingers pinching her nose and her other hand cupped over her mouth. "You can't bring a dead animal in here with us!"

  "I can." Matthew, surprised he could still understand her. He stacked small rocks around the dead animal, hoping it looked vaguely alive. "This may save our lives. Anyone who comes along and smells him will think differently about entering."

  From her corner came only silence. He could tell she was mulling over what he'd said. He smiled and backed away, rubbing his hands with dirt to absorb the odor. "That should do it."

  "I'll never be able to stand it."

  "Yes you will. I have. Breathe through your mouth. After awhile, you won't even notice he's here."

  "You have to be joking." She came out of her corner, still pinching her nose with her fingers.

  "No. I never..." Matthew looked around and paused. In the dim light at the back of the cave, he could barely make out her features, yet he had little trouble seeing her body. He'd forgotten she still wore mere scraps of lace. The two scanty pieces of material she had around her, covered the two places most men would kill to see. They were more intoxicating than any other form of clothing he'd ever seen on a woman.

  His heart beat double-time, and his sore groin sprang to life. Only the memory of her determination, kept him from crossing the small distance and taking her into his arms. Shock and desire was no match for common sense. Hell, there could have been the entire Cheyenne tribe outside, and he wouldn't care. All he wanted to do was place his hands on those two pieces of lace and remove them slowly.

  Matthew took a step toward her. A man's agonizing scream echoed from below pierced his desire. He fumbled in his shirt and pulled out her clothes. "Here, put these on, now." He handed them to her, and avoided another tempting look.

  Her hands shook as she took her clothes. "Why is that man screaming?"

  Matthew decided to be blunt. The last thing he wanted was for her to think this was some sort of game. "Cheyenne have captured three buffalo hunters. They're torturing them to death."

  "White men? Why?"

  Her question surprised him. He wasn't sure what he expected from her, but it certainly wasn't another question. "I imagine they were caught killing buffalo."

  She didn't say anything for several seconds. He could hear her dressing. Suddenly, she said softly, "You mean they were slaughtering more buffalo than they could eat."

  Matthew turned and looked at her, really looked at her. She had dressed, except for buttoning up his shirt.

  Her face appeared neutral, and he couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "Yes. They were killing for money. The government pays highly for buffalo hides."

  She nodded. "I know. And, I know why the government pays a high price for them, too. Once all the buffalo are slaughtered, the Indians will be forced to leave or face starvation. You know, those men may be getting what they deserve. You probably hate me for saying it."

  "I don't hate you."

  "That's good. Because I don't get it. What makes people in your time destroy others lives because they don't think like you or because they're in your way?"

  Matthew frowned. In my time? Starvation was a known military tactic during war...to control an enemy. Many high ranking officers believed a starving enemy was easier to defeat than a well-fed one. He crept to the mouth of the cave and stared outside. Whatever Indians may be, he didn't wish starvation on them. His choice would be to fight the enemy face to face, with even odds.

  Even after finding Andrew's body, he hadn't hated the Indians, he pitied them. He knew Andrew's senseless death was the act of starving, frustrated people, who saw their world being destroyed by a white man's powerful h
and.

  Matthew sighed, knowing there wasn't anything he could do about changing what was to come either, any more than he could have changed Claude Getz's attitude toward beating his wife.

  The screaming had stopped. Instead drunken laughter drifted up to the cave, followed by high yipping sounds and gunfire. "I think they found the liquor in the hunters' supplies." Matthew took his rifle and ammunition from the packs. "I'm going outside to watch the path leading here. If anyone comes, I'll be back. Stay inside, and be quiet." He motioned toward his saddle bags. "Take inventory on how much food and water we have. We may have to stay hidden here for several days."

  Without waiting for a response, he crawled out into the sunshine.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  With a heavy heart, Libby watched Matthew leave. His mood seemed somber. Was he disappointed in her for believing the Indians were right in torturing men? As much as she disliked having Matthew think less of her, she couldn't change her mind on this. Not after listening to her Arapaho college roommate tell about some of the atrocities committed against her ancestors. Granted, she didn't feel comfortable, as a doctor, that men, white or brown be forced to go through unspeakable pain, but, as a human being, she had to go by her belief of human dignities and rights. Everyone, no matter who they were, deserved the right to live a life of peace and harmony.

  A tiny voice in her mind chided her. Her feelings came from 1966 attitudes, with Civil Rights being a major issue. Would she feel the same if she had been born in the 1800's and raised like Matthew? What right did she have to tell him how to think, or to accuse him of not caring when he'd never had to think of his life in those terms before?

  Thoughtfully, Libby went to Matthew's saddle bags and pulled them into the small beam of light coming from the entrance. The immenseness of this whole experience humbled her. A few hundred yards away, men filled with anger and hate let those emotions rule their lives. It didn't matter what she believed or how she felt. If they found her, they would look at her as an enemy possibly even torture her as they were doing with the men.