IRONHEART

by Rachel Lee

  The story he told wasn't very edifying. He'd been angry and hurt because no one would believe that he hadn't stolen the car. He had, he admitted, wanted to get even somehow. On a school field trip to the atmospheric research center at Boulder, he had run into a couple of guys who convinced him that he could make a lot of money by selling drugs.

  "I wasn't thinking too good," he told the sheriff now, his voice muffled by all the swelling. "I was drunk."

  Sara gasped. Gideon instinctively moved to her side and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  "You were drunk on a school field trip," Nate repeated evenly. It was not a question, but the statement of a man who had just heard an unpalatable fact.

  "Yeah. Me and a couple other guys."

  Nate rolled his eyes. "God have mercy. Where were your chaperones? No, never mind. Just get on with this story. I'll deal with the school later. So you thought you could sell drugs?"

  "Only when I was drunk. They said I could take the stuff and pay them their share after I sold it. Later I got scared shi—you know."

  "I know," the sheriff agreed. "I take it you didn't give the drugs back?"

  "No. I was already on the bus home. I didn't know what to do about it. Finally, I buried the stuff. I figured they'd never find me, you know? I didn't give them my real name, and I never said I was from here. Somebody else must have told them."

  "Must have," Nate agreed. "For the moment, I won't ask why the hell you didn't tell your sister or me."

  "Because you didn't believe me about the car! None of you! None of you except Gideon!"

  "Shh," Sara said, stepping to the bed and taking Joey's hand in both of hers. "Hush, Joey. We're listening now. I promise." Oh, yes, she was listening, and she wanted to gather him into her arms and tell him it would be all right, but she couldn't do that anymore. Nobody could promise this mess would be all right.

  "When Sara told me Grandfather had been attacked," Joey continued finally in answer to Nate's prompting, "I was afraid it was them, but I didn't see how it could be. Anyway, I started getting real cooperative so you'd let me out of jail. I figured if I was home, and it was them, they'd come for me, not Sara or Grandfather."

  Nate nodded, and Gideon felt a strong surge of respect for the boy. He hadn't turned tail but had come home to face the problem in order to protect his family. It was the decision of an adult, not a child.

  "Then Gideon got hurt," Joey said. "I knew then for sure it was them. It had to be. Nobody else would keep coming back. That's when I decided to go out and work on the fence alone. I figured they'd know I was home by then and would come looking for me. I kind of hoped they'd take the dope and leave me alone." He fell silent.

  "So they found you," Nate pressed.

  "Yeah. They beat me up a little, even when I told them I'd give them the drugs. I took them to where I'd buried the stuff and dug it up. I thought that was it, but they came back yesterday morning. They beat me up some more and left me chained to the tree. I guess they had second thoughts that I might tell somebody, so they decided to get rid of me."

  There was more, but Gideon stepped outside into the hallway and went hunting for a coffee machine. He had plenty of his own baggage to deal with, he thought, starting with a brother he had just found, and ending with a vision he understood all too well. And that didn't even take Sara into account.

  It was kind of an unsteady feeling for a man whose balance had always been perfect, he realized. He had always known where he stood on things, had always identified himself in certain ways. For years he had been Gideon Ironheart, ironworker tough man. Cherokee half-breed, who was ready and willing to make an issue of it. Yeah, he'd always seen himself clearly, and if he'd had to draw a picture, it would have been of him standing alone on a beam at nine hundred feet, steady, sure and untouched.

  What a farce. Grimacing at his own foolishness, he dropped change into the coffee machine and then headed back toward the room with a cup of burned-smelling brew.

  Coming from the other direction along the corridor was Micah Parish. Micah looked tired, and a layer of mud still covered his boots and splattered his uniform.

  "Joey?" Micah asked.

  "He's okay. We found him a couple of hours ago."

  "I heard he was missing, and somebody said he'd been brought here, but nobody knew for certain what had happened."

  "He's okay, Micah. Beat up, bruised, but okay. Sara and Nate are with him right now. You found that missing camper?"

  "Yeah. Grizzly got her. She was in pretty bad shape when we got to her, and she'll probably need a lifetime's worth of plastic surgery." He stared past Gideon for a moment, seeing something in his mind, then shrugged it off. "You're looking ragged yourself, man."

  Gideon smiled crookedly. "It was a long night for everyone."

  "Faith said I was to ask you and Sara to come to dinner Saturday. Think you can make it?"

  "I can't speak for Sara, but I'll be there." Gideon hesitated. "Guess I have a niece I need to visit."

  Micah, who seldom smiled, smiled then. "You sure do. And you and I have a lot of missed ground to cover."

  Gideon looked straight into Micah's eyes, eyes so very like their grandfather's, and saw an acceptance there that warmed him. "In case nobody ever told you, you're the spitting image of our grandfather."

  Micah gave a small chuckle. "Knew it had to be somebody, and it sure as hell wasn't Dad."

  Together they strolled down the hallway to Joey's room, arriving there just as the door opened and Sara, Zeke and Nate came out. Nate collared Micah immediately, drawing him aside for a low-voiced conversation.

  "Ready?" Gideon asked Sara. She nodded, looking up at him with bruised eyes. "Okay," he said. "Just let me say goodbye to Joey."

  The boy was staring up at the ceiling when Gideon entered the room, and he managed a crooked smile when he saw the older man. "I was stupid, huh?"

  "Yep." Gideon shook his head as he looked down at the boy. "I doubt it's the first time a guy your age has done something stupid, though. Seems like I've done a dumb thing or two, even just last week. Did the sheriff say what he's going to do?"

  "He said he hasn't seen any drugs, and he figures finishing out my probation on the car is enough. He made me promise I'd testify if they catch the guys who beat me up, though." Joey half shrugged, wincing as a bruise protested. "He also said he can yank my chain hard anytime I get out of line, so maybe it's time I straightened up."

  "How do you feel about that?"

  "Like it's time I straightened up. Gideon?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Are you going to stick around?"

  Impulsively, Gideon touched the kid's shoulder. "You bet, Joe. And this summer we'll go do the Sun Dance together."

  "You mean that?"

  "I mean that. Now get some rest." He turned to leave and found that Sara was standing right behind him. Judging by that funny shine in her eyes, she'd been listening to every word.

  Gideon hesitated, nearly overwhelmed by an urge to scoop her up and hug her to death, but then he eased by her and left her to say whatever she needed to Joey in privacy. They had to talk, he thought, but not here.

  * * *

  "So when are you going to do the sweat and the vision quest?" Zeke asked as they neared the ranch.

  The three of them were crowded into the cab of Gideon's truck, Sara in the middle.

  "You just don't quit, do you?" Gideon remarked.

  "It's important, boy."

  "I'm still trying to absorb what happened last night."

  "And I keep telling you to stop thinking with your brain. You don't need to absorb anything. Your heart understands what happened."

  It seemed to, Gideon admitted to himself, but he wasn't in any mood to give Zeke the satisfaction of his agreement. Nor was he in any mood to discuss sweats and visions. He had more important things on his mind.

  "Leave him alone, Grandfather," Sara said. "Gideon will do what's best for him in his own time and in his own way."

&
nbsp; When, Gideon wondered, was the last time someone had defended him? Not caring what Zeke might think, he reached out and squeezed Sara's thigh. "You got that straight, Mouse." From the corner of his eye, he saw her blush. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, Zeke," he added as they jolted up the last few feet of rutted driveway and into the yard. "Tomorrow. Sara needs her sleep."

  When he had parked the truck, he climbed out and reached back in for Sara, scorning the cast on his arm and the sling he'd long since abandoned. He ignored Zeke as if he had vanished, and turned with his woman in his arms and headed for the bunkhouse.

  "Gideon…"

  "Hush, Mouse. I'm a man in need."

  She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. "In need of what?" Her question held a shiver that seemed to touch his nerve endings with fire.

  "Of you," he said huskily as he climbed the steps. "I know you're tired. We'll just sleep, but, God, I need to hold you."

  Sara's throat clogged with tears as her own yearning for this man filled her, making her ache with a longing so strong it hurt. "Oh, Gideon," she whispered brokenly. "Oh, Gideon."

  He set her on her feet beside the bed and began to remove all the "tough" layers of her rumpled uniform. The tough side of this lady delighted him, but right now, in ways he couldn't begin to describe, he needed the soft, gentle side of her. The Mouse who had come to mean so much.

  He threw her gun belt onto the dresser and pulled her shirt over her head without unbuttoning it. "We can wash up later, after we sleep," he said. He probably smelled like horse and sweat, but he didn't care. Sara smelled a little horsey, too, from their ride earlier, but he hardly noticed it compared to the sweet, warm fragrance of woman that emanated from her. "God, you smell sweet," he told her hoarsely. "You smell like heaven."

  He got her naked beneath the quilts, and moments later he joined her, taking care not to bang her with his cast. He tucked her soft bottom against his loins, wrapped his arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on her ear.

  And suddenly, for the first time in his entire life, everything felt absolutely right.

  * * *

  The digital clock on the dresser said it was just after midnight. Moonlight poured through a crack in the curtains, a slender beam of silver that found its way to Sara's shoulder. Gideon lifted his head and kissed that silvered spot.

  "Mmm…" Sara stirred and twisted onto her back. "Gideon…" It was little more than a sigh. Reaching up sleepily, she looped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer. "Love me…"

  The sleepy, husky request electrified him. Every nerve in his body woke to sizzling life. Love her? Yes. Absolutely.

  She didn't want foreplay. When his hands began to wander, she caught them and tugged him closer. "Now," she whispered in his ear. "Like this…"

  With her still warm and cuddly from sleep. Feeling soft and dreamy as if all the hard edges were gone from life. He sank into her slowly, oh, so easily, until he was buried completely in her welcoming warmth. There was no urgency in him, or in her, but rather a gentle, tender heat. He slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and pressed his face into her neck and began to rock them both like babies in a cradle. Soft. Warm. Easy. And oh, so good.

  Together they climbed the pinnacle slowly, almost lazily, and when they tumbled over the top it was in a deep, satisfying haze of golden warmth.

  * * *

  "Zeke's going to come looking for me with a shotgun."

  Sara laughed softly and grabbed a handful of Gideon's long, silky hair. Dawn's light was easing its way around the curtains now, a fragile, pink glow. "Not likely. His view of these things is decidedly unconventional." She tugged gently on his hair and for her efforts received a gentle kiss.

  "I need to feed you," he said. "When was the last time we ate?"

  Sara shrugged a smooth, naked shoulder. "Who cares?"

  "I thought so. Too damn long. And the chores… Damn, I clean forgot them last night. Zeke—"

  "Zeke handled them," Sara said. "The same way he handled them before you arrived. Gideon, are you trying to get away from me?"

  He froze just as he was bending to nibble her shoulder. Trying to get away from her? Was that what she thought? Was that how he sounded? But the truth was, he was scared she wanted to get away from him, and he was trying to sound as if he didn't care.

  Slowly he lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. The vulnerability in those soft, warm depths made him ache. She had asked the difficult question and now was awaiting his judgment. Sara Yates, who had never wanted to be a fool again, had just stepped out onto a limb and handed him a saw.

  "Sara Jane Yates," he said, his voice cracking with unaccustomed feeling, "I don't ever want to get away from you."

  Her breath caught, and her eyes filled. "Ever?" she repeated brokenly.

  "Ever. Do you … want to get away from me?"

  "Never."

  Never. That one whispered word was the answer to a lifetime of prayers he hadn't even known he was making. "Hug me, Sara. God, just hug me and hold me … forever."

  * * *

  Two weeks later, surrounded by Gideon's relatives from Oklahoma, his new relatives in Wyoming, and by Sara's friends and neighbors, they faced each other across twenty feet of meadow up behind the ranch house. Aromas of roasting meat rose from below, where Jeff Cumberland was supervising the barbecue.

  Sara still wore the white peasant blouse and prairie skirt in which she had married Gideon that morning at Good Shepherd Church. Gideon, too, wore white. White denim, white shirt, and a white head band to hold back his hair. Sara held a blanket and an ear of corn. Gideon held a blanket and a string of jerky.

  Then Sara and Gideon walked toward each other, slowly, one step at a time, marking the solemnity of what they were doing. This morning they had made solemn vows. This afternoon they made an equally solemn gesture in the old Cherokee way.

  When they stood only a step apart, Gideon handed her his blanket. Sara folded his blanket and hers together, then handed him the corn. He handed her the jerky.

  Chester stepped forward and shook a gourd rattle. "The blankets are joined," he announced, and cheers filled the meadow.

  "I love you, Mouse," Gideon said huskily, so full of the feeling he thought he would burst. In finding Sara, he had found himself, and now he was embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.

  "I love you, too," she murmured back, her eyes shining with joy and wonder.

  "Good," said Zeke, throwing one arm around each of them. "Now we'll have new life and laughter around here."

  Gideon glanced at him and grinned. "You better believe it, old man."

  "Lots of great grandchildren," Zeke continued cheerfully. "All that an old man could ask for … except one thing."

  Gideon turned and looked down at the old man. "Not now," he said.

  "You really need to do the vision quest, boy. Before you do the Sun Dance."

  Gideon sighed. "First I need to do a honeymoon."

  "When you get back, then."

  "Yes, damn it, when we get back!"

  Sara's laugh suddenly pealed out gaily, and Gideon looked at her. "He did it, Gideon. He did it!"

  "Did what?"

  "Got you to agree. When we get back, you said."

  Suddenly Gideon was laughing, too. "I always knew he was going to get his way. He's an irresistible force."

  "Like you," Sara said, leaning close as the whole world seemed to recede. "Like love."

  Gideon hauled her into his arms and hugged her until she squeaked. "Thank God for that, Mouse. Thank God."

  * * * * *

 

 

 
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