Tame the Wild Wind

by Rosanne Bittner

  Henry waved his hat from the rooftop of the house he was building for them. “Beautiful horses, Gabe!” he yelled.

  Gabe waved in reply, then rode over to Faith, jumped down from his horse, and gave her and Johnny a hug. “They are a good bunch,” he said. “They all look healthy.”

  “I’m glad for you, Gabe.”

  “We still need a blacksmith. In the meantime I have to study the hooves of each horse, make sure there are no deformities. For now I will brush down my own horse and be in soon for supper.” He tousled Johnny’s hair and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then met Faith’s eyes. “Maybe Johnny will fall asleep early tonight?”

  Faith felt a warmth move through her veins at the words. “He probably will. He did a lot of running today.”

  Gabe grinned the handsome grin Faith loved to see. She watched him walk off with his horse, thinking how she had not regretted one moment with Gabe Beaumont. Life was good now, and it was going to get better. The house would be finished soon—nothing fancy, a five-room frame home behind the depot so they would be close to the water pump. Fancy did not matter. It would be their first real home. Gabe had never lived that way, but he seemed eager for it. He was happy now, and she in turn never thought she could take so much pleasure in a man’s arms. Now she was already carrying their first child together. She had not told Gabe yet. She was saving the news until she was absolutely sure.

  She went inside and finished preparing supper, and soon Gabe came in, having already washed at the pump outside. “I think I will make that trip back to Cheyenne,” he told her. “I need horseshoes, and last fall I spoke with the grown son of a blacksmith there who expressed an interest in coming here to start his own business. That one who wrote you has not shown up yet, and these new horses must be shod. We also need more supplies, and with the stage line running less often, we cannot always depend on getting what we need in time. By next spring the train will begin bringing supplies.”

  “I have a lot to do here,” Faith told him. “Maybe you should go by yourself this time.” She could not tell him yet the real reason—that she did not want to do anything that might lead to losing the precious life in her belly. Gabe had already lost so much in his lifetime, and now he had a chance for a new family. She did not want to spoil that.

  “I had already planned on going alone. I want to surprise you with something when I come back, and I cannot do it if you go with me. With Henry and Buck here, I will not worry so much about you. The Sioux are at peace—for the time being, anyway—and because of those who camped here last winter, they know you are my woman and the horses out there belong to me. They will not make trouble.”

  Faith liked the way he called her his woman. Yes, he owned her, and she didn’t mind at all. Not many men cared about their woman’s dreams, but Gabe did, and he was doing all he could to help her realize that dream.

  “What on earth can you surprise me with?” she asked.

  “If I told you, then it would not be a surprise.” Gabe felt excited at the thought of selling some of his horses in Cheyenne and bringing home some furniture for their new home. Faith had carried on about a grandfather clock she had seen at the jewelry store where they had bought her wedding ring, as well as a fancy table and chairs at another store. He also intended to buy her some of the prettiest material he could find to make herself a new dress, and more material for curtains for their new home.

  Faith set a plate of venison stew in front of him. “When will you go?”

  “In a couple of days. I will try not to take too long. I do not like the thought of being apart. We have not been apart since I first rode back here to work for you.”

  Faith sat Johnny at his own special little table with a bowl of stew in front of him. She had drained out most of the sauce and left only meat and potatoes and corn. She handed him a spoon and told him to try to eat like a big boy and not make a mess.

  “Big like daddy,” he said, taking the spoon.

  “Yes, big like daddy,” Faith repeated, smiling. Gabe chuckled, and she moved back to sit down near him with a plate of stew for herself. “He loves you so, Gabe.”

  His smile faded. “And I love him.” He looked her over, and Faith dearly wanted to tell him about the baby, but she didn’t want him to worry while he was gone. If he had a surprise for her when he returned, she would have an equal or better surprise for him.

  “All this time I spent here alone, and now it will seem strange and lonely without you, Gabe, even though it’s only been six months.”

  He stabbed a piece of meat. “I won’t be long. I just hope I do not run into that fancy railroad man again. I am not so sure I could hold my temper again if he insults me.”

  “He’s probably gone by now, on to another city to build his father’s wealth. He does so love to brag about that.”

  Gabe met her eyes. “He will probably come here next. I do not like the thought of his looking at you.”

  “Gabe Beaumont, the man knows we are married now. Besides, men like Harding marry only their own kind. Lord knows I don’t belong in that world, nor would I want to. I have everything I want right here.”

  “Men like that do not give up easily.”

  “Gabe! Stop worrying where there is no need. Besides, I’ve seen him only twice. I hardly know him. It’s not as though he was beating down my door. His real interest isn’t me at all. It’s Sommers Station and what kind of businesses he can have here. And I’ll even own the land he builds them on, so he’ll have no hold over us of any kind, which means he’s harmless.”

  “Men like that are never harmless,” Gabe grumbled. He decided not to go into it further and worry her. How could he explain the uneasy feeling he had about Tod Harding? He still could not get off his mind the way that one soldier had looked at him last spring, the fact that he’d suspected the soldier was talking to Harding when they’d left on the stage that day. He would not think so much about it if Harding had not asked him whom he’d scouted for in the army. The entire encounter had weighed on his mind ever since. Nothing more had happened, so perhaps he had nothing to worry about, after all. He finished his stew and bread, sat down with a pipe, and watched Faith clean up. He called Johnny to come over and sit on his lap, and he held the boy close as he watched Faith wash dishes. He hoped she was right that people like Tod Harding could not come between them. The Indian in him who hated men like Harding was rearing up to cause doubts and worries where there probably should be none, and he realized that part of him would never change.

  They put Johnny to bed, and Gabe barricaded the door and shutters to the depot, then retired to the back room, where they had moved their bed so they would not be too close to Johnny. Gabe sat down on the bed and removed his boots, watching Faith brush her hair. “I’ve never seen hair like yours,” he told her. “It reminds me of a sunset.”

  She smiled, setting the brush aside and unbuttoning her dress. “I’m surprised it isn’t gray already, with what it’s taken to live out here. And every day it seems I find a new line in my face.”

  He removed his shirt and walked up behind her, grasping her hair and enjoying the feel of it tumbled in his hands. “Your face is beautiful, and it will always be, even when it starts showing lines.” He leaned closer, gazing into the new mirror she had bought on their trip to Cheyenne. He ran his hands over the sides of her neck and down the front of her, reaching inside her camisole, and Faith closed her eyes and grasped his strong wrists, breathing deeply with the pleasure of his touch. “You will hurry back from Cheyenne as fast as you can, won’t you?”

  “You know that I will.” He leaned down and lifted her out of the chair in front of the mirror and carried her to their bed, a homemade pine bed with rope springs and a feather mattress. He laid her down and moved onto the bed, hovering over her. “You have never regretted marrying me?”

  Faith frowned. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  He kissed her lightly. “I am not sure. Sometimes I am afraid I will lose you, the way I have
lost everyone else in my life.”

  She reached up to smooth back some of the thick dark hair that had fallen across his face. “I will always be here, Gabe. But I have to tell you, I worry about losing you, to that wild heart inside you, the man who once rode with the Sioux and made war against people like me. Maybe someday you will miss that life and go back to it.”

  He shook his head, smiling lovingly. “Never. Not as long as I have you.”

  He met her mouth in another kiss that told her he meant every word of it, and both felt an urgent need to seal the promises. They were still dressed, and Gabe pushed up the skirt of her dress and her slips, then deftly helped her out of her drawers. He unbuttoned his pants, and in the next moment he was deep inside her, neither of them needing preliminaries this time, not even undressing completely first. It was important simply that they be together this way, that he brand her again, and that she offer herself to him in the promise of eternal love. He took her hard and fast, burying himself deep, wanting her in an almost angry possessiveness he could not explain.

  It was over quickly, and he rose and helped her undress, removed his own clothes, and took her again. Faith found her breath coming in gasps as he moved in hard, wild rhythm. She sensed his worry, knew this was something he needed in more ways than just a man needing sex. He was laying claim to her, reminding her she belonged to him. His life surged into her once again, and finally he relaxed beside her.

  “I am sorry,” he told her. “I was not very gentle.”

  She curled next to him. “It’s all right. But I wish you would tell me what is wrong. Something is bothering you, Gabe. Surely you aren’t still thinking about Tod Harding or considering he could have any affect on us.”

  He sighed deeply. “That is part of it, but it is not just him. It is white men in general. If this place grows, there will be many men come here who are like him—white men with education and money—men who can offer more than I will ever offer.”

  “Oh, Gabe,” she sighed. “I can’t believe you’re saying these things. You have already given me everything I have ever wanted. I thought we agreed we belong together, that we’re actually very much alike in the loneliness we knew when we met, the freedom we both love. We have so much here, so much to build on and share.” She kissed his chest. “Get some sleep, Mr. Beaumont.”

  He grinned, pulling her close. “I always sleep well with you next to me.”

  Faith closed her eyes and did not bother to get up and turn down the oil lamp. It felt too good just lying there in the safety of her husband’s arms. It was a good feeling not being alone anymore, never being afraid.

  Somewhere in the distance she heard another wail of a train whistle. It suddenly dawned on her how different it might be for a man like Gabe to live in a full-fledged town, such a contrast to anything he had ever known. Just as he feared losing her to that growth, she in turn feared losing Gabe to the Indian in his blood. Gabe Beaumont could live in and adjust to a white settlement just fine. But could Tall Bear?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Gabe pocketed the money he had made selling five horses to the livery owner in Cheyenne, confident that one thing he had learned from the Sioux that could be used in the white man’s world was how to judge good horse flesh. He had made seventy-five dollars each for three of the horses he’d sold, one hundred dollars each for the other two. Four hundred twenty-five dollars! He had plenty for supplies, plus that material he wanted to buy for Faith, and perhaps the grandfather clock and some furniture. Maybe he would buy some kind of toy for Johnny.

  He took hold of his horse and ducked into the windstorm that had arisen overnight. He bent his head against stinging sand and walked toward the supply store, holding on to his hat. He tied his horse near the supply store and stepped up onto the boardwalk, but before he reached the store, something slammed into his ribs from behind. He felt someone take his six-gun from his holster as he grunted and fell, and he grabbed at his attacker’s hand, giving a vicious tug.

  For a brief moment he caught a glimpse of Sheriff Joe Keller. He landed a big fist on the man’s jaw and sent him sprawling. Quickly he felt for his gun, hoping Keller had not already managed to take it away, but there was nothing in his holster. The sudden attack and black pain in his ribs, as well as the blinding sandstorm, kept him from gaining control of the fight before something hit him again, this time in the head. Everything went dark, and he could not move, yet he could hear voices.

  “You’re under arrest for murder, Beaumont.”

  “Let’s take him around the back way,” came another voice.

  “The son of a bitch almost broke my jaw!” came the first voice. “I ought to kill him!”

  “We’ve got to make this look more legal than that,” came the second voice.

  Gabe felt himself being helped to his feet, pain ripping through his head, dizziness and the howling wind keeping him confused. He staggered between the two men who held his arms, not sure how far they went before he fell against some steps. Then he sensed he was inside a building. His vision began to return as he was shoved to the floor, and someone removed his gun belt and rummaged through his pockets.

  “Got a lot of money on him.”

  “Keep it. You’ve earned it,” came the reply. “I’ll get rid of his horse where nobody sees it. I’ll have it shipped farther east to a buyer I know there.”

  Gabe heard a loud clank, the rattle of keys. Moments later there was only silence. He managed to pull himself to a seated position, opened his sand-filled eyes. It took a moment to focus before he realized where he was when he saw iron bars all around him.

  Jail! Darkness came over him again, and he slumped to the floor.

  Gabe slowly regained his senses, not sure how long he had been shut up alone in this cell. His head pounded, and his ribs ached so bad, he could hardly breathe. He scrambled to think straight, remembering someone had taken his gun and money. Keller? Poor Faith would probably never see any of his money. Maybe she wouldn’t even be told where he was.

  After what seemed hours he finally heard voices outside the heavy wooden door that separated the cells from the outer office. The door swung open, and Keller stepped in, two other men standing just outside the doorway. Gabe had never seen them before.

  “You’re going on a little trip with a couple of bounty hunters,” he told Gabe. “They’ve been waiting here a few days, Beaumont. We thought you’d never show up. Didn’t want to go arrest you in front of your white bitch of a wife and the little kid. Figured you’d be comin’ back around here sooner or later. Now you can keep on goin’—south—to Indian Territory, where you’ll be hanged.”

  Gabe felt instant fury beginning to rise in his soul. He slowly rose and grasped the iron bars of his cell. “What the hell are you talking about? Hanged for what?”

  “For killing an army officer, Lieutenant Nathan Balen.”

  “Balen!” Gabe scrambled to think. “That was three years ago! How do you know I scouted for Balen?”

  “Oh, us lawmen have our ways. Besides, when you kill a superior officer, sooner or later the army will have your hide for it.”

  “I did not kill Balen! I saw him shot down in an Indian fight. If I had killed him, why has no one come for me before now?”

  “Well, maybe they just didn’t know where to find you.”

  “Who says that I killed Lieutenant Balen?”

  “Can’t say. All I know is someone saw you do it. Says he reported it, but you ran off before you could be caught. The army couldn’t find you, but not long ago a soldier recognized you when he saw you at Sommers Station. He reported it to me.”

  “To you? Why you and not his own commander? This stinks, Keller, and you know it! Harding is behind all of this, isn’t he?”

  Keller shrugged. “All I know is I’m supposed to arrest you.”

  “You know a hell of a lot more than that, you thief! You stole my money! You know this is all a farce! The army should come for me, not bounty hunters!”

&
nbsp; Keller grinned. “Life just ain’t quite fair when you’re a half-breed, is it?” He folded his arms. “Arrangements have been made to, uh, waive a hearing, you might say. I have all the proper papers here. There’s no price on your head, but the two men waiting for you are being paid well to take you to Indian Territory. You can go peacefully, or painfully, whichever way you choose.”

  Rage ripped through Gabe’s blood. “You cannot do this! I should be allowed to talk to whoever has accused me! I have a right to a trial!”

  “You’re half-Indian. Like I said, things just ain’t fair for ones like you.” Keller unlocked the cell door.

  “This is Tod Harding’s doing!” Gabe repeated. “He has arranged this, hasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keller answered. “Come on out of there. You’re going out the back way.”

  “What about my wife? Someone must tell her! Return my horse, give my wife the money I earned for selling the other horses today, you bastard!”

  Keller shook his head. “You shouldn’t have called me a thief, Beaumont. Now I don’t feel like doing you any favors. Now, let’s go.”

  The two bounty hunters entered the room then, smelling of perspiration from the hot day and from clothes worn too long without being washed. Their beards and clothes and the looks on their faces reminded Gabe of the buffalo hunters who had killed Little Otter and Running Fox. Bounty hunters! Such men were the scum of the earth, as far as he was concerned. He had to get out of there!

  He slammed the cell door against Keller, knocking him backward, then heard a gunshot before he could do anything more. Hot pain bit at the back of his right leg, and he crumpled in the doorway that led to the outer office. He looked up, and that was when he saw him—Tod Harding—standing in the outer office with a smirk on his face.

  “Bastard!” Gabe roared.

  Before he could rise, the bounty hunters began landing feet into his face, his ribs, pummeling his entire body with kicks. He was hardly aware of being dragged out the back door and thrown into the back of a wagon, cuffed spreadeagled to the wagon bed and covered with straw and blankets so no one would see him. No one bothered to wrap the gunshot wound in his leg, put there, he surmised, by one of the bounty hunters. He groaned as the wagon hit a bump when it got under way.