The sun was just coming up over the tall pine trees when Breanna saw the lone rider coming toward camp. Since the blinding sun was in her eyes, she couldn't tell who it was. As he rode down a gully and up the other side into her view, she gasped. It was Dakota! But he was different.
Like Levi, Dakota wore buckskin trousers, but his chest was bare, and he wore a knife in the leather sheath about his waist. Around his dark hair he wore a leather headband. He looked so like an Indian that Breanna held her breath.
Breanna knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. She remembered the one other time she had seen him dressed this way —the fringed trousers, the moccasins, the leather headband. She stared in wonder at the bear-claw necklace he wore about his neck.
As her eyes met his, she saw indifference there. It appeared as if civilization had been stripped from him, and when he rode into camp, he dismounted with ease and agility, moving with a panther-like grace, the muscles on his back rippling with each movement he made.
"I'll be damned," John said, forgetting Breanna's presence as he stared at his cousin. "I had forgotten how much you can resemble an Indian when you are dressed like this."
"I am an Indian," Dakota said, turning away and directing the hired men as they loaded the pack-horses.
Breanna had hoped that after last night there would be some sign of affection from Dakota when they met today, but her hopes were soon dashed. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. She would have spoken to him, but it was apparent that his mind was on whatever it was that had been driving him these past few weeks.
In less than an hour everyone was mounted and the column moved out. It did not escape Breanna's notice that the men were watchful and alert. When Dakota did not ride off as was his usual habit, but stayed at the head of the column, she realized he was being cautious because of her encounter with the Sioux warrior the day before. What she did not know was Dakota and Levi were concerned lest the Sioux warrior change his mind and decide to recapture Breanna with the help of others from his tribe.
All day they rode north with the hot sun beating down on them. Breanna felt exhausted, and every bone in her body seemed to ache. The only reprieve came when they dismounted to rest the horses. She was careful not to complain, however, and pushed herself beyond endurance so she could prove to her husband that she could keep up with him.
She pulled her bonnet low over her forehead, hoping the sun would not burn her delicate skin. She kept her eyes on Dakota's rigid back, wondering what was going on in his mind. She longed for a look, a kind word, anything that would tell her he knew she was alive.
***
It was late in the afternoon, and they were riding through a canyon with steep inclines on both sides. The limestone walls were painted with a rosy glow from the setting sun, and Breanna was awed by the beauty. This land was such a contrast, with its mountain peaks, valleys, and prairies. She halted her mount to glance up at the boulders overhead, which seemed almost suspended on the cliff side. She was so engrossed in what she was witnessing that she did not notice that everyone else had ridden on ahead.
With a smile on her lips, she cupped her hands and yelled out, "Hello." The echo of her own voice reverberated back to her. "Hello . . . hello . . . hello."
She was so engrossed in the beauty around her, and she did not know that the slightest noise could easily start a rock slide. At first she did not see the danger because only loose sand and pebbles slid down the slope.
When Dakota heard Breanna's voice, he whirled his mount around, realizing that her echo had set off a landslide. Now larger rocks and earth were breaking loose, and when Dakota saw Breanna right beneath the slide, he spurred into action. Kicking his horse in the flanks, he raced forward while the others watched in horror, sure he would lose his race against time and Breanna would be crushed to death!
By now Breanna was aware of the danger, but she couldn't seem to react. Thinking she would surely be crushed and buried alive, her eyes sought Dakota.
Her horse, panicked by the landslide, wheeled around, pitched, and sent Breanna flying through the air. Free of her rider, the mare made it to safety.
Breanna felt herself rolling and sliding down the slope. Her body twisted like a rag doll as she was slammed against the rock face of the canyon.
It had all happened so fast, but in an instant Breanna knew she was going to die. In a haze of pain, she saw Dakota racing toward her, but she knew he would never make it in time.
The roar of the landslide was now deafening as it gained strength, sweeping scrub oaks and boulders in its path. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the final moments of impact.
Breanna felt a rock smash against her left shoulder, and she waited for another impact, but it didn't come. Instead, strong arms went around her waist and she was yanked from the jaws of death as Dakota pulled her up on his horse.
He whirled his horse out of the way just in time to avoid the falling debris. Breanna's body trembled with relief as she buried her face against Dakota's chest and he pressed her tightly against him. He had saved her, she was alive!
When Dakota lifted her down into Levi's waiting arms, she cried out in pain and grabbed her shoulder. They were quickly surrounded by the other men, who were anxious to see that Breanna had not been harmed.
It was Levi who pronounced that Breanna's shoulder had been dislocated.
Dakota ordered the men to make camp. Breanna was placed near the fire, her back braced against a boulder, while a tent was quickly erected under Dakota's supervision.
John was seated beside Breanna, and he poured a glass of the wine and held it out to her. She was in so much pain that she didn't realize John was talking to take her mind off what was to come. "Here, drink this," he ordered. "I brought three bottles with me, and this is the last of the lot. I doubt there will be anywhere I can purchase good wine in this forsaken country."
When she tried to settle herself more comfortably, she cried out in pain. "I don't want to drink wine, John," she said, wiping away the beads of perspiration that gathered on her brow. "Save it for yourself."
His eyes were sympathetic. "I would advise you to drink as much of this as quickly as you can, Breanna."
She glanced from him to where the tent was now erected and several lanterns were being lit. "Why? What . . . is going to happen to me?"
He shoved the glass in her hand. "Drink up."
"Is he going to hurt me?"
"Breanna, if your shoulder is not properly tended, you will suffer with it all your life. Now drink the wine," he said kindly.
She nodded and quickly drained the glass, then held it out, indicating she wanted John to refill it. "Will it hurt?" she wanted to know.
"Not if you drink enough of this," he assured her.
That was all Breanna needed to hear. After the third glass, her head was swimming and the pain in her shoulder had dulled a bit. She even managed to smile at Dakota when he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the tent. She saw that several lanterns lit the interior.
When Dakota placed her on the cot, Levi moved to one side and John knelt at her head, while Baxley held a lantern so Dakota could see.
Dakota's hands moved over her shoulder tentatively, touching the place where the bone was dislocated.
Levi saw Dakota hesitate. "Do you want me to do it?"
Dakota glanced down at Breanna, feeling guilty for what he was about to do, because she was looking at him so trustingly. "No," he said grimly, "I will do it myself."
"She drank almost half a bottle of wine, and that should take the edge off the pain," John said.
Breanna gritted her teeth. Even with the wine dulling her mind, she could still feel the pain.
John placed his hands on either side of Breanna's head, while Levi braced her arm. "Don't watch them," John said encouragingly, trying to take her mind off what was about to happen. "Think about Weatherford Hall. Try to imagine yourself in the library, watching as the waves are spraying against the windows."<
br />
Breanna swallowed convulsively. She was trying to imagine the picture John had painted, but the reality of her pain throbbed in her mind. She wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly, and she screamed out in pain when Dakota jerked her arm sharply. She was sure she had felt the bone move back into place. Blackness closed in on her, and she fought to hold it at bay.
John dabbed at her face with a damp cloth while Levi made a sling and slipped Breanna's arm into it.
Dakota spoke to her, his voice seeming to come to her from a long way off. "It's over, Breanna," he assured her. "You can rest now."
Suddenly the heat from the lanterns became too much for Breanna and she tried to sit up. "I cannot breathe in here. I need air," she said, looking beseechingly at Dakota.
Gently he lifted her into his arms and carried her out into the night air. She rested her head against his shoulder, wishing the ache in her own shoulder would go away.
John handed her another glass of wine, and after she drank it, the pain lessened.
The Americans looked on with concern, their eyes kind with understanding. One of them pulled out his old battered guitar and began strumming a tune. His voice was high and sweet as he began singing an old Irish ballad, his gift to Breanna.
"Do you want me to carry you in now, Breanna?" Dakota asked.
"No, I want to hear the music." Suddenly she felt giddy and lightheaded. "I want to dance."
John smiled, while Dakota frowned. "Don't worry, cousin," John told him. "That's the wine talking. Chances are she will not even remember in the morning."
"Put me down, Dakota," Breanna insisted. "I want to dance."
Dakota gave John a heated glance. "You did this to her," he said accusingly.
"Yes, and because I did, she was able to bear the pain."
Angrily, Dakota turned away, carrying Breanna into the tent. When they were inside, she became aware that Dakota was silent. When he set her on her feet, she swayed and then covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. "As my brother would say, I'm in my cups." She backed up to Dakota, and feeling frivolous, she spoke with a slurred imitation of a Cockney accent. "Unhook my gown, will ya, ducks? There's a good chap. I suppose you will have to cut the gown, but no matter."
Dakota had never seen Breanna like this, and he was not amused.
He unhooked her gown and then carefully removed her injured arm from the sleeve and tied the sling back in place.
Breanna stepped out of her petticoats and kicked them aside, leaving her dressed only in her chemise. With her hand over her mouth, she eased herself back on the cot, her head spinning drunkenly. When Dakota sat down beside her, she tightly clasped his hand, wishing the world would right itself.
"Why do you not have a glass of wine tonight?" she asked, noting the dark look of displeasure on his face. "It will make you feel better."
"I do not drink wine. As an Indian, I never understood why the white man indulges in false stimulation when it tastes so foul."
She sat up and made a face at him. "Oh, so you are an Indian now, are you, my lord? I know what is wrong with you. You never learned how to have fun," she mocked, giggling at her daring statement.
"I did not have fun watching while you were almost crushed to death today. I did not enjoy the fact that I had to cause you pain so you would not lose the use of your arm."
With a forwardness that came from the wine, she walked her fingers up his arm to his bare chest and brazenly ran her hand over the mat of black hair that covered his chest. "But I know how to make you enjoy yourself," she said, leaning forward with parted lips.
Dakota didn't want her this way. He wanted to push her away, but the sparkle in her golden eyes drew him to her, while the softness of her caress held him spellbound.
Gently taking her in his arms, very aware of her injured shoulder, he held her so tightly she could scarcely speak, but she didn't care. She moved forward and caught his bottom lip with her teeth and nipped playfully at it.
With a muttered oath, he grabbed her chemise and ripped it down the front, exposing her body to his gaze. In a frenzy, he disposed of his own confining clothing, but he was tender when he pulled his wife under him.
"You asked for this, Breanna," he said in a thick voice. He spread her legs and gently plunged into her, driving against her again and again, trying to expel the demon that had hold of him. His lips bruised hers with savage kisses.
When he tasted the saltiness of her tears, Dakota softened his movements. Ashamed of his brutality, he started to withdraw, but she touched his cheek.
"Love me, Dakota," she whispered in a pleading voice. "Please love me."
With an unquenchable ache in his heart, he used her body, while allowing her to use his. He did not like the taste of wine on her lips, and he mistakenly interpreted her cry for love as a sign that he was hurting her, so he gentled his motions even more.
The only sound in the night, besides the wind rippling against the canvas tent, was Breanna's soft breathing.
Dakota held his sleeping wife in his arms, loving her with all his heart. He realized his fear for her today had caused him to speak sharply to her, when all he really wanted to do was hold her, assuring himself that she was alive. Here in the darkness, he also admitted to himself that he had wronged John. How could he be angry with John, when he admired the very beauty that Dakota admired in Breanna.
"I love you, my heart," he whispered against her ear. "I am only alive when you are with me."
Breanna smiled in her sleep, unaware that her husband had just confessed his love for her. She did not see the look of pain in his eyes that was brought on by the knowledge that they must soon be parted.
Dakota now realized he could no longer keep her with him. Today she had almost been killed by the landslide, and yesterday she had almost been abducted by the Sioux warrior. There was no telling what new danger tomorrow would bring.
He thought of Black Otter, and what he must do. It was tearing at him because he was being forced to go against his promise to his father. But Black Otter had to be stopped.
Dakota rested his lips against Breanna's temple.
Black Otter was nearby. He could feel it. He knew Levi would have posted a guard, but still he would sleep lightly. When Black Otter learned that Dakota had returned, it would only be a matter of time before they met in battle—and one of them would die!
32
Breanna awoke with sunlight streaming into the tent. When she tried to move, pain reminded her of her injured shoulder. When she turned her head, her stomach churned and she felt as if she was going to be sick.
"Ohhh," she moaned, knowing the amount of wine she had consumed the night before had made her nauseous and made the inside of her mouth feel like straw. •
"Good morning, my lady," Baxley's voice called out just outside her tent. "I have your morning coffee."
"I don't want any coffee," she called out weakly.
"Very good, my lady. Will you require anything to eat?"
She clamped her hand over her mouth. "No, nothing."
"Can I come in?" Levi called out. "I need to talk to you."
Breanna pulled the covers over her and called for him to enter.
When Levi stepped inside, his eyes were wide with concern. "You're feeling rough this morning, aren't you?" he asked.
"Oh, Levi, I don't know which is the worse, my shoulder or the symptoms of too much wine."
He propped his foot on a camp stool. "I suspect you will battle both of them for most of the morning. If you want my advice, I'd say don't move about too much until the sickness leaves."
"I won't have any trouble doing just that. I couldn't move if my life depended on it."
"I don't suppose you want any coffee?"
She clamped her hand over her mouth. "Please, don't say that word."
"Dakota wanted me to tell you that he had to leave you."
"He's not here?"
"No. He left about midnight. When you are feeling up to it, I'm su
ppose to take you to Murphy's Trading Post to await Dakota's return."
Breanna felt hurt and betrayed. "Why didn't he tell me himself?"
"You should know by now that he doesn't like good-byes."
Breanna closed her eyes, but not before a tear rolled down her cheek. "Can you tell me where he's gone?"
Levi's eyes grew sad. "I think it's time someone told you something. I'm going to take it upon myself to do just that."
"I know he's come to kill a man, Levi. He admitted that much to me."
"Did he tell you who the man is?"
"No."
"He is being forced to face his brother, Black Otter, and it's tearing him apart on the inside. You will have to understand that the two of them grew up together. There was a time when they were very close, until the time Black Otter became jealous of Dakota."
Fear for Dakota tightened her nerves. "But why? I do not understand."
Levi looked inward, searching his mind. "Actually, it goes back a long way. Did Dakota ever tell you how he got that scar on his chest?"
"He said something about a bear."
"Yes, but did he tell you that he battled that bear when he was ten years old, with nothing but a hunting knife, to save his mother and Running Deer?"
"No, he did not," she admitted.
"That's just like him, he's never been one to brag. He almost lost his life fighting that bear. He was honored by his father and the whole Arapaho tribe, and Black Otter was shamed that day because he acted like a coward. That's when things began to go wrong between them."
"Did both of them love Running Deer?"
Levi hesitated. "That's not for me to say. But it was Black Otter who killed Running Deer in a jealous rage, and she died in Dakota's arms."
Breanna felt her heart ache at the picture Levi drew. "How tragic," she said. Breanna now thought she knew why Dakota could not love her—he loved a dead woman. "Why must Dakota be the one who faces Black Otter? Is there no law to punish him for his crime?"
"Not any law as you know it. However, Black Otter was supposed to die for slaying Running Deer, but he escaped. He has been terrorizing the countryside, making sure word got back to Murphy so he would pass it on to Dakota."
Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) Page 30
