by HELEN HARDT
He wiped his face with a cloth and came toward her, sat down next to her, and gathered her in his arms. The cover fell away, revealing her bare breasts. He reached for one and tweaked her nipple. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her. He took his hand away, and she whimpered at the loss.
“We need to talk, darlin’.”
“I know. We need to leave, don’t we?”
Bobby nodded. “I’m wanted for murder in Dugan even though I’m innocent. I’m also wanted for kidnappin’ you. I did murder a man at the camp, and the law’s no doubt been called by now.”
“But you’re innocent of the charges in Dugan. And you were defending me at the camp. As for kidnapping, I’ll say I went willingly, which is true, as of now, and—”
Bobby shook his head and interrupted her. “I’m not a paragon of society, angel. I’m a bounty hunter. I make a living huntin’ men. It took most of my money to replenish my supplies at the camp.”
“The dress!” Naomi flung her arms around him. “I never thanked you for the dress. You didn’t need to spend so much on me.”
“That was nothin’, darlin’. Pennies, really, and worth every one. The point is, I’m runnin’ low and I need to find a job.”
“Another...bounty?”
“It’s all I know.”
Naomi nodded. “I understand.”
“But that’s no life for a woman, so I’ll find somethin’ else. But for now we need money, and it’s the best way I know to earn it. I got some in a bank in Minnesota, but we got to get there.” He shook his head, sighing. “Staying here for the night was a chance I had to take. You needed a warm bed after what you’d been through.”
“This wasn’t a mistake was it? Will they find us? Because we stayed here? Because of...because of me?”
“You needed to be taken care of, and I was honored to do it. So stop talking like that. I know how to keep the law off my tail. Remember, I grew up stealing. Anyway, we need to get to Minnesota, where my money is.”
“All right, Bobby. I told you, I go where you go.”
He nodded, his full lips pursed in a thin line. “I’m going to get dressed and go downstairs and talk to the clerk. See if there’s any information on Jack Daily to be had. You get dressed. I’ll see that some breakfast is brought up for you.”
“Bobby?”
“Hell, angel, I’m sorry. You’re scared to stay alone, aren’t you?”
“Oh, no.” She wasn’t, strangely enough. Perhaps because it was daylight. Perhaps because she trusted fully in Bobby to keep her safe. “I was just going to say, if you’ll give me a minute I’ll come with you. I don’t want to hold you up.”
“That’d surely be a help if you can be ready.”
“Just need to put on my dress and braid my hair. I won’t be five minutes.”
Naomi dressed quickly and left the room on Bobby’s arm. He sent her into the dining room for breakfast while he talked to the desk clerk of the small hotel. The rolls with butter tasted like sawdust, and she shook her head at the serving girl offering her coffee, opting for water instead to sooth her dry mouth. What was keeping Bobby?
Finally he entered the dining room, looking handsome as ever in his shirt, trousers, and boots, his gunbelt slung low on his hips. When a young and pretty chambermaid turned her head to stare at him, Naomi winced as a jolt of jealousy struck her. Who did that woman think she was? Bobby, though, didn’t give the young lady a look.
“Ready, angel?”
“Don’t you want anything to eat?”
“I had a few slices of bread while I was doing business,” he said.
“Any good news?”
“Well, if I’m wanted by the law, it hasn’t come over the wire yet.” He snickered. “Course the fella might’ve recognized me from my description and didn’t let on, and he’s callin’ in the law as we speak.”
Her heart lurched. “Oh, Bobby.”
“I’m just teasin’. I can read a man good as a book. The fella’s clueless. Let’s go.”
“All right.” She stood and followed him out of the hotel where his horse was waiting, saddled and ready to go.
He helped her up and settled in behind her.
“Before we go— Never mind.” She’d been thinking of Ma and Pa and Ruth, and how worried they must be. But if she wired them, she’d risk Bobby’s life, and that she could not do. She’d find another way to communicate.
“We’re headin’ east, angel, to Minnesota. If I can’t pick up some money on the way, it’ll be slim livin’ until we get there.”
“I’m a preacher’s daughter. I’m used to going without. I don’t mind.” And she didn’t. “As long as I’m with you.”
He kissed the side of her neck and kneed the horse into a canter.
* * *
Bobby kept off the beaten trails, hoping to avoid any lawmen or bounty hunters who might be headed his way. He knew how to cover his tracks—a necessity in his line of business—and took extra care. He was now carrying precious cargo.
How could he ever become worthy of the gift Naomi had given him? Somehow he needed to find a way to make an honest living. Not that bounty hunting wasn’t honest. No sirree. He prided himself on a job well done. The fewer criminals in the world the better. But it was no life for a woman. No life for his woman.
They’d been riding a while with only a short stop at noon to gnaw on some hardtack and drink from his canteen, when his ears perked at the rustling wheels of the afternoon stage. He slowed the horse and stayed off the trail, hiding in the tall grasses and cottonwoods, not wanting to attract attention.
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“You feel like a rest?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, I think a rest would be good. There’s a stage behind us, and I’d just as soon let it get ahead of us, if you understand my meanin’.”
“You don’t want to be seen. I understand.”
He stopped the stallion and helped Naomi down. “Let’s just lie low for a bit. Have a drink from the canteen if you want.” He handed it to her and then dismounted himself.
Her thirsty gulps echoed in his ears as he concentrated on the approaching stage. It seemed off, as if it were coming up quicker than normal. Damn. Had they found him? He was ready to put Naomi on the stallion and tell her to ride like the wind when a gunshot rang from the direction of the stage. “Stay here,” he hissed to Naomi, and he bounded through the grasses to get a better look.
The stage rolled into his view, the horses whinnying. A mounted gunman trailed them. He fired again. A lone stranger.
Only one robber worked these parts and worked alone.
Jack Daily.
Within sight. He could get him.
He raced back to his horse and his woman. “Naomi, stay here. No matter what happens. Do not be seen.”
“Bobby...what is it?” Her beautiful eyes were round as new nickels.
This bounty would give him the means to start a life with Naomi. A new life. The life she deserved.
“There’s a gunman chasing the stage. He’s alone. I know him. There’s a bounty on his head of five hundred dollars. This is our chance, Naomi. Our chance. I can get him. I know it. Stay here and wait. I’ll be back for you. I promise you that.” He kissed her lips hard and fast, swung up on the horse, and galloped toward the action.
Bobby tried never to kill his prey. Live men were much easier to transport. He could tie them up and make them walk in front of him. One time, though, he’d inadvertently killed the man he was hunting. He’d tied him behind his horse and dragged him to the nearest town with wiring capabilities a hundred miles away. By the time he got there the body was so bedraggled to be nearly unidentifiable, and he’d had to fight for the right to collect his bounty. After that he took care to keep his quarries alive.
Daily, though, he’d have to kill. He couldn’t risk keeping the dangerous man alive, not when he had Naomi to think of. He couldn’t leave her vulnerable.
He didn’
t like to kill. Naomi would like it even less.
But it would be the last time.
The last bounty.
In a few seconds, he overtook Daily, who hadn’t yet managed to stop the stage. They were perilously close to where Bobby had left Naomi, and that unnerved him, but it couldn’t be helped. This was his one opportunity, and he’d learned long ago to take what fate offered.
Daily’s revolver was trained on the driver of the coach, and though he turned to see Bobby and a flash of recognition crossed his stern features, Bobby was quicker. At this angle, he didn’t have a good shot at the outlaw’s heart. His Colt already drawn, Bobby aimed for Daily’s upper arm, to dislodge him from his mount. He’d finish him off later.
He fired, and Daily fell to the ground, cursing. His horse galloped away, whinnying into the afternoon.
The stagecoach slowed, and Bobby shouted to the driver to pull back. That he was no threat.
Clearly the passengers weren’t convinced. An arm stretched through the window, pointing a gun in Bobby’s direction. Bobby swerved Thor to the right, missing the shot. No harm done.
Until a sound ripped through him.
The sound of heaven.
And of hell.
Naomi’s voice.
Naomi’s scream.
He turned toward it and his vision clouded. Naomi swayed, the blue fabric of her dress rippling in the soft prairie wind. Blood poured from her shoulder.
“No!” Bobby shouted, and raced toward her.
* * *
Blinding, piercing pain shot into Naomi, and she heard Bobby’s voice, deep and guttural.
“Noooooooooo....”
He rode toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, or was that in her mind? His beautiful face blurred, and then there were two of him, both catching her as she fell to the ground.
Her love.
The pain throbbed. She reached to touch it, to soothe it, and a sticky substance coated her fingers. Blood. Had Bobby been shot? Didn’t matter. If he was leaving this earth, so was she. She wouldn’t stay here without him.
She gazed into his amber eyes. Were those tears? Was he in pain? She reached to cup his clean shaven cheek. Drops of water tunneled through the red on his face. He was hurt. Her man was hurt.
“Whither thou goest...” she said, her own voice unrecognizable.
And then the curtain fell.
Chapter Eleven
“Naomi! No! No!” He shook her, trying to will life back into her body. “Damn it, woman. You can’t leave me now!”
The stage rolled away rapidly, its wheels kicking up dust.
“Help me,” Bobby shouted, cradling Naomi in his arms. But the stage kept going, and he knew the driver couldn’t hear him anyway.
He touched her neck. Her pulse, though weak, lingered. Thank God. Quickly he reached under her skirts for her petticoats, ripped them, and tore them into strips. He bandaged Naomi’s shoulder and then checked her pulse again.
The next town was over four hours away on horseback. Naomi wouldn’t make it four hours, especially at the pace he’d need to keep.
There was a closer place to get the help she needed. Bobby grimaced, but he had no choice. He would go three miles north, to a Lakota encampment.
There he would beg the people he hated to help the woman he loved.
* * *
Harnessing his anger and hatred, Bobby rode into the Lakota camp. Years had passed since the Dakota uprising, and though he wasn’t certain it was the Sioux who had attacked his family all those years ago, he had his suspicions. He’d heard not all Indians practiced scalping, but that didn’t matter. They were still red savages. He gritted his teeth and rode firmly. These people were all that stood between Naomi and death.
Conical tents surrounded the tamped down grasses of the camp, and several maidens carried water, lowering their eyes to Bobby’s gaze. Barely clothed children stopped scurrying about and hid behind the women’s fringed skirts. Braves, dressed in buckskins, met his gaze with mistrust and uncertainty in their dark eyes. Could they speak to him? Would they?
One large man, his ebony hair twisted into two thick braids, approached Bobby and held out a bronze hand to touch Thor’s nose. His stern brown face exhibited an aquiline nose and high cheekbones.
“Why do you come here, white man?”
Bobby swallowed. He would not succumb to fear, doubt, or hatred. “I come for help. My woman has been shot.”
The Indian nodded. “I am Standing Elk. My wife, Summer Breeze, is a healer. Come. I will take you to her.”
Bobby followed on the stallion, ignoring the stares of the Indians. When they stopped in front of a large tipi, Standing Elk took Naomi from his arms. Bobby dismounted.
“You stay here,” Standing Elk said. “This is the healing tent. I will take her to Summer Breeze.”
Bobby shook his head. “I can’t leave her.”
“You must. My wife will not harm her.” The Indian extended his arm forward, still holding Naomi. “Stay.”
Though Standing Elk looked like a young man, possibly younger than Bobby himself, something in his demeanor commanded authority. Bobby nodded, and Standing Elk disappeared into the tipi with Naomi in his arms.
Everything in Bobby’s soul screamed at him not to trust the Indian, but he had no choice. Naomi wouldn’t have made it to the nearest settled town. These people were her only hope.
A young Indian boy, no more than three or four, appeared and scrambled around Bobby’s legs and into the tipi.
Within minutes, Standing Elk emerged with the boy.
“Your woman is in the care of Summer Breeze and her mother, Laughing Sun, who is also a gifted healer.”
“I need to see her.”
“No. You must stay out here. They will fetch you when you can see her. They must remove the bullet from the white man’s weapon. It is...a difficult task.”
Bobby shivered. He knew what a difficult task it was. He’d had a few bullets removed from his own body in this lifetime. Agony coursed through him at the thought of Naomi having to endure such torture.
The little boy jabbered in Indian language to Standing Elk. After he responded, the boy ran away.
“My son, Silver Raven,” Standing Elk said. “He wants his mother and doesn’t understand that she is occupied.” The Indian sighed. “Come.” He gestured. “Let us see to your horse, and then we will speak.”
Bobby nodded. What other choice did he have?
When Thor was taken care of, Bobby sat with Standing Elk. “It was right for you to come here,” he said. “We have medicine that the white man does not. Your woman...what is her name?”
“Naomi.”
“Naomi...will have all she needs to survive.”
“And if she doesn’t? Survive?”
“Then it is the will of the Great Spirit, and we have no choice in the matter.” Black rubbed his temple, regarding Bobby with his black eyes. “What are you called, white man?”
“Morgan. Robert Morgan.”
“Are you hungry, Robert Morgan?”
Bobby’s stomach churned with a dull ache. “No.”
“You must eat. You must remain strong for your woman. I will take you to my father, the chief of our tribe. His name is Black Wolf.”
“I...I don’t have much to offer him for Naomi’s treatment. He can have my horse. My guns.”
“He will not ask you for such.”
“But...he is entitled to payment for his healers’ services.”
“We do not follow the way of the white man. We do not demand payment for what is our duty to give. The Great Spirit gifted Summer Breeze and Laughing Sun with their abilities to heal. It is their duty to use those gifts. To give where they are needed.”
Bobby struggled to maintain composure. Worry for Naomi overwhelmed him, coupled with his inability to understand the philosophy this Indian man spouted. He spoke of duty, yet his people had raped and killed Bobby’s ma, scalped his pa, stolen from them, set fire to their barn.
None of this made any sense at all.
None of it mattered anyway. All that mattered was Naomi.
As they readied to meet the chief, an Indian maiden rushed from the tipi. She spoke to Standing Elk in her native language.
“Your woman, Naomi, lives for now,” Standing Elk said to Bobby. “Summer Breeze has removed the bullet from her shoulder and sealed the wound. She is weak. But she lives.”
Relief swept through him, but fear for what lay ahead consumed his innards. His bowels clenched, and he fought the nausea that rose in his throat. “I need to see her.”
“She is with Laughing Sun. Summer Breeze says to expect fever. She will need to be watched closely.”
“Damn it, I need to see her!”
“You will. She cannot be moved, so you may stay with her in the healing tent.”
“Thank you.” Bobby fidgeted, unsure of what else to say. “Why do you help me?”
“Because you need my help. Your woman needs the help of my healers.”
“But you...your people...they’ve massacred white men. They’ve—”
“They’ve done what’s been done to them. But not me, and not this tribe. We have chosen to abide the white man’s laws, even if we do not agree with them. We have sought guidance from the Great Spirit. We move on when we must. We wish only to exist in peace.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you judge all white men by the actions of some?”
“No. Of course not.” Certainly not, in his line of work. Bobby knew some men were pure evil.
“Then why should it be so with red men?”
Bobby had no answer. Such a notion that had never occurred to him, and his mind was too full to ponder it now. He cleared his throat. “How is that you speak my language?”
Standing Elk turned, and his chin quivered slightly. “My mother, who learned it from her mother, my grandmother. She was the daughter of a white man.”
* * *
As darkness set in, Bobby sat on a fur in the corner of the healing tent. Summer Breeze, her long hair plaited into an onyx braid that hung nearly to her feet, tended Naomi. Summer Breeze did not speak English, but Bobby read her facial expression.
