Renegade Wife

by Charlene Sands

  “Shall we?” Bennett said, appearing more youthful than she’d ever seen him.

  Molly took Bennett’s arm and they all walked into the parlor. Kane stood by the mantel while Bennett took a place by the door, waiting. When Penelope Rose entered, Molly’s mouth nearly dropped open. Mrs. Rose had a new hairstyle and she wore the pretty cream-colored dress they’d seen just yesterday at Miss Deidre’s dress shop. And Molly had been right, the color brought out the dark brown hues in the older woman’s eyes.

  “Good morning,” Molly said in greeting.

  Mrs. Rose glanced about the parlor, greeting her and Kane, but she didn’t give Bennett more than a quick glance. “Good morning, everyone. I brought a basket of warm biscuits and muffins to welcome you both home from your honeymoon. I take it the trip went well?”

  Kane nodded and Molly answered, “Very well, thank you. How nice of you to think of us. And don’t you look lovely this morning, Mrs. Rose.”

  “Yes,” Bennett agreed. “Very lovely.”

  Mrs. Rose blushed, the color rising to her cheeks instantly. She straightened her dress, nervously fidgeting, meeting only Molly’s eyes. Molly smiled warmly in return. “Please, have a seat.” Bennett showed Penelope to a tufted wing chair.

  When Mrs. Rose sat down, Kane came forward. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I was on my way out. I have work to do. Thank you for coming,” he said politely. Then he turned to Molly. “I’ll be home later tonight.” He bent to kiss her cheek then made a hasty exit.

  Molly frowned and followed him out the door, “But we haven’t discussed—” It was too late. Kane had taken his leave.

  She returned to the parlor to find Mrs. Rose in deep conversation with Bennett. Molly sat down on the velvet sofa and listened to the two of them while they reminisced about old times. She figured Mrs. Rose had finally eased into the situation because she hadn’t much stopped talking to take a breath. And Bennett seemed to be enjoying every word.

  Molly should be rejoicing. She had lively company this morning. Things were certainly improving with Kane. She’d heard news of her brother. Yet, that same sense of restlessness stole over her. She faced another day with nothing of consequence to do. Kane had deserted her once again, and the day would drag on until he returned in the evening. Yes, she should be rejoicing, and that’s why she couldn’t quite understand why today of all days, she never felt more alone.

  Kane strode quickly to the barn, happy to get away from another of Mrs. Rose’s longwinded stories. How that woman could talk. Kane had never met such a talker. Molly never spoke out of both sides of her mouth like that, making him wish he were anywhere but with her. No, Molly had a soft soothing voice, and most times, when she wasn’t irritated with him, he didn’t much mind listening to her.

  He saddled his mare and mounted, ready to head off for the day, but Molly’s face kept popping into his head. He hadn’t missed the unhappy look she cast him when he’d excused himself just minutes ago. Kane had more things in one lifetime to keep him busy, but Molly had nothing. And the more she dwelled on not going after Charlie, the unhappier she would become.

  Kane rode north on the same path Molly had followed last night, and he’d made it about half a mile out when her words from yesterday echoed in his head.

  I’m lonely and bored most of the time.

  Maybe it was because they’d made love last night, this morning, too, or maybe it was because keeping Molly happy meant keeping her out of trouble, but for whatever reason, Kane turned his horse around. “Ah, what the hell,” he muttered.

  He picked up the pace and rode hard until he returned to the Bar J. He dismounted and strode into the house, his boots clamoring noisily on the floor. Entering the parlor, he immediately sought Molly’s attention. She looked up, her expression changing from sheer boredom to one of curious expectancy. Witnessing her bright eyes and a face filled with hope, Kane was glad he’d returned.

  “Something wrong, boy?” Bennett asked.

  Kane shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong, Grandfather.” He kept his eyes trained on Molly. “I forgot something.”

  “Oh?” Bennett said with a bunching of eyebrows.

  “My wife.”

  Mrs. Rose gasped, as if he’d said he came to strangle every last living person in the house. And if truth be told, he had a feeling she’d come over here today just to make sure he hadn’t done some grave injustice to Molly while on their “honeymoon.” Darn if that woman didn’t get on his bad side.

  Kane crossed the room to take both of Molly’s hands. “There’s something I want to show you. Something you need to see. Will you come with me today?”

  Molly swallowed. For a moment, he’d rendered her speechless. And then she smiled and looked over at her guest. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Why, um, of course, dear,” Mrs. Rose said.

  Bennett stood. “Take all the time you need.” He gave Molly a playful wink as Kane led her out the room.

  “Kane?” she asked, once they’d climbed down the front porch steps. “Where are we going?”

  “Be patient, Little Bird. Soon, you’ll know everything.”

  It was time Molly learned the whole truth.

  Molly rode Sweet Pea, the otherwise sedate horse, carefully making sure she didn’t let out a shriek as she had last night. And Kane kept glancing at her, as if making sure she was secure on her horse. Kane, being ever so mysterious, hadn’t given her any indication as to where they were going, but they traveled the same path Molly had last night.

  “Are we getting close?” she asked for the third time.

  Kane shook his head, refusing her an answer. “Just hold your tongue for a few more minutes, and no matter what you see, do not startle your mare again.”

  Molly’s heart pounded. What would give her cause to shriek out again? She couldn’t figure out why Kane was being so secretive. All he’d said when they’d first set out was that seeing is believing. And that soon all would become clear. He wouldn’t answer any questions, but rather sat on his horse quietly as they rode up to the northernmost edge of Bar J property.

  Off in the distance, a thicket appeared, a lush green wall of tall scrubs and trees amid the grazing land. Kane led the horses that way and once they’d reached a cluster of cottonwood trees, he stopped and dismounted, then helped Molly down from her horse.

  Kane held her in his arms longer than usual, their eyes meeting for a long moment. Molly smiled, her heart doing a little dance within her chest. Each time he was near, each time he held her, her body unconsciously reacted.

  She couldn’t help loving him the way that she did.

  Kane looked deeply into her eyes, his face no longer masked with indifference, but he held an expression of concern and apprehension. She knew that what he was about to show her was of great importance to him.

  “Come,” he said and took her hand.

  Molly followed Kane into the thicket, Kane parting branches to widen the path. They walked only a short while, and once on the other side, a clearing appeared. Kane stopped and Molly nearly collided into him. But Kane paid her no mind, his eyes were on something in the distance.

  Molly followed the direction of his gaze.

  And then Molly witnessed something she thought she would never see in her lifetime.

  An Indian village.

  She swallowed and blinked and looked again. Yes, a whole small village filled with tipis and cooking fires and hides hung up to dry in the sun and a string of horses, corralled in a pen.

  And people.

  She witnessed what she assumed to be Cheyenne going about a daily routine as if, as if…they belonged there.

  She turned to Kane, but his gaze was still fastened to the village, and when Molly glanced back, a small child approached, running headlong and fast right into Kane’s legs.

  The young Indian girl hugged him tight. Molly knew they were not strangers. There was obvious affection there. Kane bent to her and spoke softly in her ear. That’s when the young child glan
ced up at Molly, giving her a long curious look, before running off.

  And Molly recognized the young Indian girl from her escapade with Sweet Pea last night. This sweet-faced child had been the one who had startled her, causing her to fall from her horse.

  “She’s the one,” Molly said in wonder. It was as if they were in another world, this one so different from the world Molly had always known.

  Kane nodded. “That’s Smiling Eyes.”

  And he spoke with such pride that a cold chill traveled the length of her body. She all but froze, deep in thought, her mind spinning. She had so many questions for Kane, but this one suddenly became of utmost importance.

  She looked up at him, her mind clouding and her heart aching. “Is she yours?”

  Kane didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Molly felt such loss, such heartache. A dozen emotions coursed through her body and the impact of his admission buckled her legs. Kane, as if sensing her dismay, gripped her arm and held her upright. Then he announced with that same sense of pride, “They all are. They are my family.”

  Molly stared at Kane. “What do you mean?”

  “These are my people, Molly. They saved me years ago. I couldn’t turn my back on them. At least for this small band of thirty Cheyenne, life is tolerable. I couldn’t see them on a reservation. Here, they are learning to work the cattle. Here, they have a chance.”

  “Does your grandfather know?”

  Kane drew in a breath. “He knows. It was a condition I made to stay at the ranch. It’s not his choice to have them here.”

  “But surely if they saved you as a boy, he must be grateful to them. Surely, Bennett—”

  “My grandfather wishes them no harm, but you have to understand, there’s a long history here between the Indians and the white man. Early in his life, my grandfather lost many friends and follow ranchers in Indian raids. Doesn’t matter that they weren’t necessarily from this tribe. The white man doesn’t see a difference.”

  Molly shuddered. She had to admit, she, too, had always thought of Indians as only one people. Yet, she knew that some tribes were not hostile to whites, while others held fierce resentment. And as she looked upon this peaceful village, where half a dozen children ran through the grounds, their laughter filling the air, she began to see them in a different light.

  “So, Smiling Eyes is—”

  “She belongs to Swift Water and Spotted Elk. She has a brother who is older by two years.”

  “And they all live here?”

  “Yes, they are free to roam the land within our boundaries.”

  “And this is where you go when you leave for the day?”

  “Sometimes, Molly. But I help run the Bar J, too. I have duties and obligations to both.”

  Kane had said seeing is believing. And now, she understood more clearly. She saw Kane’s life with much better perspective. Torn between his white lineage and his Indian upbringing, Kane divided his time and his loyalty to both worlds. No wonder Molly had only gotten a tiny piece of him. Kane had little left to give. Sadly, she did understand his plight.

  “I’d like you to meet my…my mother. Singing Bird raised me. She’s waiting in her lodge.”

  “Oh, I’d love to,” she said in earnest, but she couldn’t help her apprehension. Even with Kane by her side, Molly felt like a trespasser, someone who certainly didn’t belong here. He took her hand as if understanding her need and led her to the village.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Molly found herself amid a circle of tipis and a swarm of cautious eyes. She couldn’t blame the Cheyenne for their mistrust, yet their stares made her uneasy. Kane had told her that she was the only other white person to enter this village.

  A small boy approached and Kane reached out to pat the boy’s head with affection. “Hey there, Moksois.” He explained, “He is Smiling Eyes’s older brother.”

  Molly leaned down a bit to come closer to the boy. “Hello, Moksois.”

  The boy stared at Molly with big round dark eyes and Kane chuckled.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Moksois isn’t his real name. I think he’s surprised you spoke to him that way.”

  Perplexed, Molly drew her brows together. “In what way?”

  “Moksois is an affectionate name for young boys. It means Potbelly.”

  “Potbelly!” Molly gasped in horror but the boy only smiled back at her. Then she glanced at Kane and shook her head. “I’ll get you for that, Kane Jackson.”

  “When—tonight?” Kane asked. Then he whispered for her ears only, “When you’re in my bed.”

  And Molly’s heart did that little dance again at the reminder of their lovemaking and of what was to come. “Maybe.”

  Kane took her hand again and as they approached his mother’s tipi, he instructed, “I’ll enter first, you follow and go the opposite way around. Sit down and I will introduce you.”

  The flap to the tipi was open and Molly followed Kane inside. Her first impression was how large the inside appeared, having all the necessities of life, without the clutter. Firewood and cooking utensils sat against one part of the lodge while at the far end she noted bedding. Closer to the center was a fire pit, and behind a fire that had long since been extinguished sat a Cheyenne woman.

  While Kane went to the right, Molly circled around to the left and sat down by Singing Bird. The woman appeared more youthful than Molly expected. She wore a dress of soft deerskin beaded with delicate intricacy, her dark hair braided down the middle of her head. A soft smile lifted her lips. “Welcome.”

  Kane sat next to his mother. “This is the woman I have married. Her name is Molly. She is small and delicate, like you. I have named her Little Bird.”

  With pride in her eyes, Singing Bird listened to Kane and Molly realized how much affection the two held for each other.

  “It is a good name,” Singing Bird said, nodding. “I have asked Gray Wolf to bring you here. I am glad he has listened.”

  Gray Wolf? Molly had forgotten that Kane had told her of his Cheyenne name, weeks ago, when he had attempted to send her back to St. Louis. She’d dismissed the name, dismissing his upbringing as well in her mind. But now, she couldn’t dismiss Kane’s other life, his Cheyenne life. He, too, had a name, given to him by the Cheyenne when he’d been just a boy.

  “Yes,” Molly said. “I am glad he has brought me here as well.”

  “My son makes it possible for us to live.”

  Molly understood that statement more than she had realized. While she hadn’t spent a good deal of time learning current affairs, she knew that many tribes had been sent to reservations. Others, who had refused to lose their homes and their way of life, had fought and still did to regain what they’d lost. Bands of Indians, raiding parties were still feared in this part of the country. “I have just learned of your village today.”

  And Molly’s heart went out to Kane. He’d almost lost one family, Bennett being the only relation left in the white world. He couldn’t bear to lose another, this Cheyenne family, the people with whom he obviously felt a keen sense of loyalty and love.

  “Gray Wolf hopes our young boys will learn to ranch.”

  “It is a good thought,” Molly said, agreeing with Kane’s beliefs.

  “They learn fast. A small herd of cattle graze up here and we have rounded them up. They have learned how to brand. In time, I hope that our braves will work on the Bar J,” Kane said.

  Singing Bird reached behind her and presented Molly with a gift, a beaded dress so lovely in design and workmanship that she was certain she’d never seen anything quite so stunning in her life. “A gift for you,” she said as she handed over the dress. “If you married in our village, you would wear this.”

  “A wedding dress?” Molly looked at Kane with tears in her eyes. “This is so…the most… I don’t know what to say. Th-thank you.”

  Once again, guilt enveloped her. She’d lied to Bennett over and over, but Singing Bird also believed the marri
age real. And she’d made Molly a dress that obviously had taken a great deal of time. Molly hated accepting such a beautiful gift, but she knew to refuse the offer would be a great insult to the kind woman. Instead, she hugged the gift to her breast. “Thank you. I shall cherish it.”

  Singing Bird nodded, apparently satisfied.

  “My mother is a member of the Quillers’ Society.”

  Molly glanced at Kane askance. “Quillers’ Society?”

  “Women with special talent gather to perform the sacred task of decorating using porcupine and bird quills. My mother is one of a selected few who have this honor. When I was young I would watch the women perform the ceremony. Women in the society are highly respected.”

  Molly fingered the delicate beaded pattern on her dress, the workmanship unequaled. “I can see why.”

  They spoke for several minutes about the village and Singing Bird explained how Kane had sought the tribe out and urged them to move onto Bennett Jackson’s land. She credited Kane with so much of their survival up until this point, and Molly knew all that she said to be true. Kane was, despite his claims otherwise, a very honorable man.

  They spoke also of Charlie, and Molly explained that after months of wondering and weeks of searching, her brother had been located. Singing Bird seemed to understand Molly’s desperation to find her loved one. Though their conversation at times seemed stilted due to the language barrier, Kane had intervened enough to help explain what each woman meant to say. And Molly felt acceptance from Singing Bird, not so much from her words, but from clear, dark brown eyes that relayed what was in her heart.

  Shortly after, all three exited the tipi, Molly stretching out her legs and straightening her wrinkled dress. Smiling Eyes ran up to Molly and without qualm, took her hand. Molly glanced at Kane, who gestured for her to follow the little girl. She handed Kane her new wedding dress before Smiling Eyes led her to a small clearing behind the tipis, a playground of sorts, where close to a dozen children played. The boys, she noted, had a circle of their own where they played with small bows and blunt-ended arrows, and beyond them some older children seemed to be playing camp, boys and girls alike, pretending to live in a make-believe village with make-believe families.