by Lyn Stone
She couldn’t wait to hear Clay’s voice, but right now she so enjoyed just looking at him. It was just as she had imagined, only he wasn’t half-naked. He wore a brown shirt, jeans and boots. But his hair flew free, streaming out behind him as he leaned into the ride. Her imagination provided the feathers, leather and paint. “What a warrior,” she whispered in awe.
He reined in and dismounted before the horse’s hooves stopped moving. In a flash, he swept her up and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Nothing chaste about this one, she thought, as she got really into it. The old man would just have to look somewhere else if it embarrassed him.
“I was coming to you,” Clay murmured into her mouth as he renewed the kiss from another angle. “Today I was coming.”
“I know,” she answered when she could catch her breath, “but I couldn’t wait.”
“We are destined to be together. Thank God you realized that,” he said, hugging her to him with a fierceness that stole her breath. “Nothing could keep us apart for long.”
“Nothing!” she agreed. “I could hardly stand to give you this much time.”
“It was enough. Everything I ever wanted, I have now, thanks to you.” His eyes softened, glistened in the sunlight, and she thought he might be holding back a couple of tears.
“I love you, Clay, more than my life.” The admission came so easily it surprised her. She did love him. More than the life she’d had planned for herself. More than anything. She knew, too, that he would never require her to give up anything she really wanted to do. He would even help her continue her work with young people, broaden the scope of it, no doubt. She kissed him again for good measure, putting her very soul into it.
“Marry me now?” he asked, but it came out more of a demand.
“Absolutely,” she answered. “Now. Today if you want.”
Mr. Tanner cleared his throat to get their attention, and they reluctantly broke the kiss and looked at him.
“What is it, Grandfather?” Clay asked, love gentling his voice, giving it a quality devoid of the wariness. Vanessa had hoped he would lose that, and at least here, it was missing.
“I will take the truck and go to your aunts. We will make the plans. Today is soon. We will do this the day after tomorrow,” his grandfather said with an incline of his head.
“Not soon enough,” Clay said, laughing. “But I guess we’ll survive the wait. What should we do to get ready for the ceremony?”
“Stay here. Welcome your beloved. Then bring her to Nohwike Bagowa when it is time. We will have what you need.”
When the old man had left them there alone at his simple two-bedroom house, Vanessa looked up at Clay. “What is that place he mentioned?”
“House of our footprints,” Clay explained. “Cultural museum. Looks like we might have a very public wedding.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“What kind of hello is that, you Apache rascal? Grandpa told you to welcome me!”
Laughing out loud, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside.
Clay’s bedroom was outfitted with a wood heater, a cushy old recliner and a double bed. Clay put her down on it.
“Cozy,” she replied, shrugging out of her jacket and skinning out of her sweater. “Warm,” she added, reaching for the snap of her jeans.
“Allow me,” he growled. “My duty is to make you comfortable.” He tugged off her boots, socks, then her jeans. She lay in her new pink satin bra and panties. His hot gray gaze took in every inch of her. “Pretty as these little silk things are, the silk beneath is what I want.” He slid them off, trailing the sensuous fabric over her skin as he dispensed with them. “My, you do look relaxed now. Have to fix that.”
He kicked off his boots, popped the snaps on his shirt and tore it off. Vanessa watched, her gaze languid and appreciative as he pulled down the zipper of his faded denims and stepped out of them. “My, how cowboy of you,” she said with a soft chuckle. “No underwear.”
“As if I knew you were coming and wanted to save time,” he replied with a grin. “Actually, it was all packed except what I planned to wear on the plane. Didn’t want to greet you with odor of horse sweat.”
She rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, dash all my illusions.”
“No illusions. No pretense. Nothing between us but truth.” He came down over her and embraced her fully, his hair drifting over her face and neck as he kissed her softly. “I love you, Vanessa.”
“And I love you,” she whispered back. “I think I have since the minute I first saw you, before either of us knew who you were.” She swallowed hard and felt tears creep down her cheeks. “If you don’t take me right this minute, we’re going to have our first real fight.”
He smiled down into her eyes as he entered her slowly. “I take you as my wife. We will be forever.”
“Forever,” she repeated fervently, holding him within her without moving, feeling their oneness completely.
Clay stirred inside her, then began to move, his body lifting slightly to withdraw and enter again, as if to reclaim that rush of initial bliss. Vanessa cried out with the joy of it, knowing no one could hear but her other half.
He braced above her, his gaze holding hers as they loved, slowly, sensuously at first. When pleasure built so keen, so high she thought she would fly apart, he rode faster, harder, higher. Lightning flashed around and inside her as the storm broke over them together.
Clay’s groan of completion mingled with hers as they soared from the precipice and glided to the ground, replete, gasping for breath and holding one another tight. The oneness remained, stronger even than before.
Yes, forever, Vanessa thought as she lazily stroked his back. “I feel so married,” she whispered, loving the sensation of his lips against her neck, the sweet sage scent of his skin, the beat of his heart against her body.
That day and the next, Vanessa lived as an Apache. She shared the cooking and chores with Clay, and shared the bed whenever it suited them.
It was almost with regret they left the little house of his grandfather for their wedding ceremony. Vanessa wore the navy suit she had packed to wear home and Clay wore his gray pinstripe with a red tie. Not exactly wedding attire. She had always sort of thought she’d have a wedding dress of some kind.
“Do you know what to expect?” she asked him as she parked her rental car near his grandfather’s truck.
“Not a clue. I guess we’ll share a blanket.”
Vanessa giggled. “Already done that. Does that mean we’re already hitched?”
“Guess not,” he said, seeing his aunts approach with a gleam in their dark eyes and a bevy of women in tow. “Looks like they have plans for you.”
Vanessa went with the women after he introduced them. Mary and Janetta took her to a dwelling down the road belonging to one of the other women and showed her what she was to wear. Apparently this had become a community project.
“How many horses will Clay give for you, I wonder?” Mary said with a cheeky grin as she braided Vanessa’s hair. “I think he only has the one his grandfather gave him. It is not a very good bride price.”
Vanessa got right into the spirit of the gentle teasing. “I’ll see that Clay gets him a truck with many horses under the hood. My grandfather will welcome the trade, I expect.”
“Are you so much trouble then, little bride?” Janetta asked. “Is our Clay in for a wild ride all his life?”
“Absolutely!” Vanessa said, laughing with the women. “Can’t let the boy get bored!” The giggling went on until she was dressed and ready to go. She loved these women with their easy humor and wicked little grins. Clay was lucky to have found them and she knew they would be good for him. She wished she could have known his mother.
Soon Vanessa was decked out in a butter-soft white doeskin dress and cape decorated with shells and quillwork. Her feet were encased in moccasins that must have taken weeks to make. She felt as grand as any bride draped in white satin. Her hair was plaited and
the braids wrapped with soft fur. Two dots of rouge highlighted her cheeks. If only her grandparents could see her now.
When she entered the cultural-center building and saw Clay standing there in the lobby, she couldn’t help sighing. He wore an off-white tunic and leggings with knee-high Apache boots to match and a colorful woven belt. His midnight hair hung shiny and straight, bound only by a solid red headband. He held out his hands to her and she joined him before the holy man.
After they were led outside and properly smudged, covered in fragrant sage smoke to purify them, they were ready to proceed and taken back inside the center. A few curious tourists had gathered, but it was chilly November and off season, so most of those present were Apache.
“We decided the ceremony should be here,” his grandfather told everyone. “There is good medicine in the old things we have kept of our ancestors.” Vanessa understood this exception to their custom of avoiding the possessions of those who had departed. All spirits would wish them well today.
Clay’s elder aunt, Mary, stood beside him in his mother’s place while Vanessa wished for her father or someone she loved to stand with her.
A commotion nearby made her turn slightly and she saw her grandparents approaching, all smiles. Behind them came Cody, Jan and little Dilly. The women and Dilly wore tear dresses and the men had on their ribbon shirts, the traditional Cherokee dress.
Behind them strode Jack Mercier, Holly and Will Griffin and Eric Vinland. Even Dani Sweet had tagged along. She gave Vanessa a little wave and a smile.
“Jack flew them in!” Clay whispered to Vanessa. “I owe him for this.”
Vanessa felt a rush of gratitude toward Clay’s associates. They were the best. She embraced her family while Clay greeted his friends.
Her grandmother carried blue blankets to drape around her and Clay for the ceremony. Without delay, she accepted hers and watched Clay don his.
Her grandfather held one of her grandmother’s intricately woven baskets that contained ears of corn. Vanessa knew she was to give this to Clay. His aunt handed him a ham of venison, the traditional gift to the bride.
“I give you this with a promise to love you and provide for you as my wife for as long as we live,” he said quietly.
She took it and handed it off to her grandfather, then placed the basket in Clay’s hands. “I give you this corn to symbolize my vow to love and care for you as my husband for all of my days,” she said sincerely.
They exchanged the wedding gifts as happily as they swapped the silver rings his aunts provided. The entire ceremony was a wonderful mix of old traditions and a few new twists, like the rings, that made it truly theirs.
Once the gifts had been dealt with, the holy man said his words in the language of Clay’s people and then bound her hands to Clay’s with a crimson wrapping, symbolically tying them together for a lifetime.
They were offered the sacred pipe next. His aunts had explained that it was the holy object in which both the men and women had a hand in making. The men carved the pipe itself and the women decorated it with bands of quillwork.
Vanessa took a few small puffs, surprised at the flavorful taste of the sacred tobacco. Clay blew his smoke so that it mingled with hers.
The blue blankets were removed and folded as the holy man placed a white woolly robe around them both. He raised his hands and declared them wed.
Clay kissed her soundly and everyone present seemed to sigh as one. Their wedding had blended the traditions of her people and his so beautifully, she knew their marriage would do that, as well. As they had improvised throughout their wedding, they would improvise their way through life, employing what worked best from three cultures for them as a couple.
The hoopla would begin now. She heard the drums strike up outside. Still Clay would not release her until she gave him a slight push and laughed. “Shall we dance?”
And dance, they did. And feasted. And met so many well-wishers she began to see all the faces in one long blur. The day wore on and they endured the crowd until they could politely sneak away.
Someone had constructed a large new tipi for their wedding night and that’s where they went. The small, traditional Apache wikiups stood like little stick-and-wattle sentinels around the spacious, more modern dwelling many now used for temporary lodging when attending powwows. He lifted the flap for her and she saw the wonderful effort carried out on their behalf.
There was another basket from her grandmother containing fruit and little treats wrapped in cellophane. Stacked against one side of the bedding were other gifts still in their wrappings.
Little Dilly had added to the display with a framed crayon picture she had drawn of tipis, a feathered warrior, a spotted horse and the woefully misspelled caption reading Red Durt the Apace Brav.
“Wow! Would you look at this? Art, presents, furs, candlelight and the handsomest groom alive. What more could a bride ask?”
“Flattery runs in the family, I see. Dilly drew me even larger than the horse,” he said, pointing at the picture.
Vanessa laughed out loud. “Hey, I’m not touching that line!”
“So what do you think tradition requires us to do now?”
he teased, running a long finger along the neck of her doeskin dress and playfully flipping up several of the cowrie shells.
“Shuck the corn?” She tossed off her cape.
“Not a chance.” He untied the woven belt, tossed it aside and skimmed off his shirt.
“Cook that ham?” She untied her dress and let it drop.
“No way in hell.” He loosened his leggings, let them drop and stood there in nothing but a loincloth. My, he was some sight to behold!
She pretended to wince at his size, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a nap.”
Laughing, he grabbed her and tumbled her to their bed of furs. “Go on to sleep, then. I’ll start without you.”
“An empty threat if I ever heard one. Come here, you.” She loved this playful side of Clay, one she suspected he had suppressed since boyhood. “I love your laugh,” she told him as she lay beneath him, held his face in her hands and kissed the corners of his mouth.
“You taught me how, you little fox, but this is no laughing matter. I am seriously in need of comfort and you did promise to take care of me.”
“And you, to provide what I need,” she reminded him as she ran her fingers through his hair and looked at him with all the love in her heart. “All I need in the world is you.”
“I am home whenever I’m with you,” he said softly, all trace of humor gone. “If you want to stay near your people, I’ll be there with you. Where I go will never matter to me as long as we’re together.”
Giving was his way and he made her want to give back. She would go with Clay to Virginia and work beside him. He had told her once that the world was their hunting ground and humanity their tribe. It was their mission to keep the world safe.
Wrapped in sumptuous furs inside their borrowed lodge, Vanessa held him and loved him throughout the night, this man who had turned her life around and would alter his own just to make her his.
In the distant hills of the White Mountain people, a big cat kept watch.
* THE END *
