This Fierce Splendor

by Iris Johansen

  Rising Star understood, if Elspeth did not. To be permitted to give service was to belong, to be denied the giving of gifts was to be shut out in the cold outer darkness. Oh, yes, she understood very well. “She wants to keep you out of harm’s way. She does not mean to close you off from her or to hurt you.”

  Silver’s head lifted, her light eyes glittering proudly. “She did not hurt me. I did not really want to go chasing after a dream city. It is probably better that I stay here. It is more important for me to help find Torres.” She walked swiftly to the door. “Yes, I am needed more here.”

  “Silver, no!”

  But Silver was gone, the bedroom door left ajar, and the soft thud of her moccasinned feet sounding on the stairs.

  Rising Star moved slowly across the room to close the door, sympathy for Silver engulfing her. Would the girl never learn she could not force them to yield a place for her? She had received a thousand cuts to her soul, and yet she still rushed forward with reckless passion.

  No, her own way was best, Rising Star thought. Patience and conformity to the rules of the white world were the best attributes for an Indian who wished to survive and live with them. Silver would just have to learn that lesson as she had.

  Lanterns, hung on the posts of the corral so the linen could see to cut out and saddle the horses, cast a soft glow over the scene. About twenty vaqueros were mounted and waiting to ride out. Cort, Sean, and young William were strolling toward the corral from the direction of the barn and Silver could see Patrick, Joshua, and Shamus just ahead, their destination the same as hers.

  “Wait!” Silver ran across the flagstones. “I’m coming with you.”

  “The hell you are.” Shamus whirled to face her. The gray stetson on his head threw his face into shadow, and the lantern light behind him made his body look ominously large and dark. “This is Delaney business.”

  “That’s why I’m going with you. You need me to help you find that son of a bitch who shot Dominic.”

  “Watch your language,” Shamus said sharply. “You may not believe you’re a female, but I won’t have Malvina’s ears sullied by your filthy mouth.”

  Silver made a gesture of impatience. “Malvina’s still in the house. Besides, that is not important. Do you want to find Torres or not?”

  “We’ll find him,” Shamus said. “Patrick is a damn good tracker. We don’t need you.”

  “I taught Patrick,” Silver snapped. “When we were children I took him out into the woods and taught him what I had learned from my grandfather, Black Bear.”

  “That’s right, she did, Gran-da,” Patrick interjected quickly. “There’s no one better on the trail than Silver.”

  Silver shot him a glance of passionate gratitude that was immediately hidden beneath a facade of nonchalance. “You were not as clumsy as I thought you would be,” she conceded. “But you were never as good as me.”

  “Thank you.” Patrick’s voice held a note of dry humor. “I’m glad you think I’m not completely beyond help.”

  “Patrick’s good enough,” Shamus said. “You get along back to the house.”

  “Why?” Silver’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I can help you. Only a very stupid man would refuse help when it is offered.”

  “Or one who doubts the quality of the help,” Shamus said. “I told you the Delaneys have no—”

  “You do need me.” Silver took a step closer. “I can track and live off the land. I can read the turn of a stone or the way a blade of grass is crushed. I can do anything I want to do. Hell, if I wanted to, I could build a fine rancho like this one. No, a much finer rancho. And I’m a Delaney too. There’s no shame in accepting help from me. Let me find this man for you.”

  Shamus’s eyes narrowed on her face. “You think you can do anything in the whole damn world.”

  She stared back at him unflinchingly. “Why not? Don’t you, old man?”

  Shamus started to turn away.

  “Stop!” Silver’s voice vibrated with emotion. “I want to hear you say it, Shamus. Just this once, tell the truth. You know I am a Delaney. Say it!”

  He glared at her over his shoulder. “Why should I change my mind? There’s no proof you’re Boyd’s daughter.”

  “You know it, old man.” Silver’s eyes blazed. “And I know it! I want nothing else from you. You can keep your rancho, your fine horses, and your cattle. I want only one thing from you. Name me your kin.”

  Shamus gazed back at her, anger, defiance, and an odd element of pride illuminating his harsh features. He turned away. “We’ve got no time for this nonsense. Go back to the house and tell your aunt I told her to teach you some manners.”

  “Tell me.”

  He stopped and was silent for a long moment, his expression hidden from her. Then he looked back over his shoulder. “You’re no Delaney. I said it fifteen years ago and I say it now.”

  Silver’s lids fluttered for the tenth of a second, her body tensing as if it had received a blow. Her eyes shimmered in the lanternlight like crystal under clear water. “Then you lie,” she said slowly. “And I am done with your lies.” She turned and strode majestically toward her mare tethered at the corral. “And I am done with the Delaneys. I will not return here.”

  She ignored the silent vaqueros as she mounted then walked the horse up to where Shamus, Patrick, and Joshua stood watching her. She looked down at Shamus. “What a fool you are, Shamus Delaney,” she said clearly. “Can you not see what you have lost in me?” She turned and kicked the mare into a gallop, her straight dark hair streaming behind her in a wild silken pennant as the mare stretched out in a dead run.

  Patrick muttered a curse beneath his breath and took a step toward his horse.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Shamus asked sharply.

  “After her,” Patrick said as he swung into the saddle. “She meant it, dammit.”

  “No.” Shamus mounted his own horse.

  Patrick frowned. “Gran-da, Silver shouldn’t—”

  “I said no! I still run Killara and this family, don’t I?”

  Patrick didn’t answer, gazing mutinously in the direction Silver had taken.

  “Don’t I?” Shamus asked again with dangerous softness.

  Patrick nodded jerkily. “But you’ve made a mistake.”

  “And now children are teaching their elders,” Shamus drawled. “Next, young William will be telling me how to run my family.”

  “I’m no youngster,” Patrick said, stung.

  “Then concentrate on tracking Torres and on keeping him from killing your uncle.” Shamus kicked his horse, and the animal bounded forward. The vaqueros fell in behind him and the stableyard was suddenly filled with clouds of dust and churning earth.

  “You’d better catch up with him.” It was Josh’s quiet voice beside Patrick. “It will be daybreak soon and he’ll need you when we reach the foothills.”

  “He was wrong, Josh.”

  Joshua’s hand grasped Patrick’s shoulder in silent support. Then the reassuring touch was gone and Joshua was gone, too, moving through the column of vaqueros to ride beside his brothers and Shamus.

  Patrick could feel a little of the tension drain from him. Joshua always had that effect on him. Since he was a kid younger than William, Joshua’s quiet strength had always seemed to spread a tranquil balm when he was at his rawest. It had been Joshua who had taken the time to teach him to throw a lariat, to mend a fence, to ride the wild range ponies. Joshua who had been neither father nor brother but something in between. How many cattle drives, how many nights in the hills had they spent together in quiet companionship? Nights that Rising Star must have spent alone, Patrick realized suddenly.

  His gaze flew to Joshua, riding now beside Shamus. Joshua’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, a faint smile lifting his lips at the corners at something Cort had said. He didn’t look back at the house where Rising Star waited for him. Why didn’t he just look over his shoulder and lift his hand in farewell? Rising
Star would be standing at the window watching Joshua leave; Patrick had seen her there a hundred times since she had come to Killara. And Joshua must know she’d be there tonight.

  It wasn’t any of his business why Joshua didn’t acknowledge her presence, Patrick told himself desperately. Perhaps she wasn’t at the window, maybe Joshua knew she was tired and had gone to bed. There wouldn’t be any sense in Joshua looking back if he knew she wasn’t there.

  But she would be there, Patrick thought, prepared for bed, her hair brushed to hang straight and shimmering around her. She would be dressed in something loose and soft and white and the light behind her would reveal the grace and strength of her body. Joshua should know, no matter what she said, that she would be at the window watching them leave.

  They would be out of the stableyard soon and it would be too late. She would turn away, her shoulders would slump with disappointment. She would turn out the lamp and go to bed. Alone. Hell, why didn’t Joshua— Joshua wasn’t going to turn around.

  Patrick’s hands tightened on the reins until his knuckles were white. And Patrick certainly wasn’t going to turn to look up at the window either. It was loco for him to get upset like this over such a little thing. Joshua’s wife. She was Joshua’s wife. Could she distinguish which rider was Joshua in the darkness? She had been married to his uncle for fourteen years. Surely she knew him well enough to recognize him at a distance. But perhaps not, perhaps he could make her feel a little less lonely if he— Patrick dropped back a few yards behind the last rider and looked back over his shoulder.

  Rising Star was standing at the window.

  He slowly lifted his arm and waved it in an arc. He could see her stiffen. Did she think he was Joshua? Oh, God, did he want her to think he was Joshua?

  Her hand lifted in a gesture of farewell. Sweetness flooded Patrick’s being, followed immediately by hot guilt.

  What the hell was he doing? He spurred desperately and his horse leapt forward until he was riding beside Joshua at the head of the column.

  Joshua looked at him and smiled. “You in a hurry?”

  “No.” Patrick swallowed. It had not been a betrayal. He had taken nothing from Joshua that his uncle had wanted. “You said Gran-da might need me up here.” He kept his eyes on the foothills, away from that lighted window framing the glowing beauty of Rising Star. “So I thought I’d better come up and show you tenderfoots how to tell the difference between a horse’s tracks and a jackrabbit’s.”

  18

  “Will you stop being foolish and let me help you?” Elspeth’s voice was tart with exasperation. “You’ve demonstrated how strong and stoic a Delaney can be. I think it’s time you exhibited a little intelligence as well. You’ve made camp, cooked our meal, watered the horses, and treated me as if I were incapable of buttoning my own shoes. I may not be experienced on the trail, but I am not entirely stupid. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  “There’s nothing left to do. It’s late. Crawl into your blankets and get to sleep. I’ll just scout around on our back trail and make sure—”

  “No,” she said clearly. “Torres couldn’t be after you yet, and I won’t let you exhaust yourself. Sit down and let me take a look at your wound. With all this moving about you’ll be lucky if it hasn’t started bleeding again.”

  “It’s not bleeding.” He started to turn away.

  “Let me see.” Her fingers were quickly unbuttoning his white shirt. “Any man who would jump out of a sickbed and carry on as you’ve done is hardly to be trusted,” she muttered. “Daft. Positively daft. Sit down.”

  “I’m not blee—” He inhaled sharply as her fingers slipped beneath the bandage, exploring the tender flesh around the wound. “Ouch! What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

  “Reminding you that you were shot only this afternoon. I thought it time someone did.” She deliberately pressed again on the sore flesh. “Sit down.”

  He sat down.

  She immediately knelt beside him on the blanket and quickly loosened the bandage. “That’s better.”

  “In your opinion,” Dominic said dryly. “It feels like someone stabbed me with red-hot splinters.”

  “I didn’t really hurt the wound.” She unscrewed the lid from the small jar of salve Rising Star had given her. “You weren’t listening to me again. It was necessary I get your attention.”

  “I think you succeeded.” He gritted his teeth as she carefully applied the salve. “You must have been taking lessons from Silver. The women of her tribe are very good at this kind of torture.”

  Her gaze lifted. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Good.” She swiftly replaced the bandage and fastened it in place. “Then you’ll have to take care that it will heal swiftly so you’ll no longer need my clumsy nursing, won’t you?” She sat back on her heels and met his gaze. “We’ll start by avoiding putting unneeded strain on it. There are many things I can do to help. Patrick showed me how to saddle a horse. From now on I will do that. I can gather wood and I’ll learn how to build a fire.”

  “It seems you’re taking charge of everything,” he said sardonically. “Am I allowed to do anything?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “I don’t think I could kill or skin a rabbit as you did. I would appreciate it if you would continue to provide for our meals.”

  He studied her. “Yet you ate with good appetite.”

  “I realize it’s foolish to be squeamish.” She buttoned his shirt. “We must eat. If you think it unfair that I don’t share in the preparation, then of course I will do so.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I think I can handle it by myself.”

  “And you will let me do the other tasks until your shoulder is less sore?”

  A curious smile tugged at his lips. “What will you do if I don’t?”

  She smiled back at him with angelic sweetness. “Then I’ll find it necessary to dress your wound five times a day instead of two, and we’ve already established how clumsy I can be.”

  He suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “My God, I’ve changed my mind. I think you could give Silver lessons. When I remember what a meek little miss you were when you first came to Hell’s Bluff—”

  “I was never meek. Unsure, perhaps, and frightened.”

  The grin faded from Dominic’s face. “You didn’t show it. You always stood up to me.”

  “I didn’t want to be a coward.” She gazed into the blue-orange heart of the flames. “My father always told me a MacGregor must never be afraid.” She tried to smile. “Besides, it wasn’t only you I feared. Everything was so new and strange to me and I felt very much alone.”

  “Did you?” Dominic didn’t look at her. “I guess we all feel like that sometimes.”

  “And then so many things happened. I was injured, Andre—” She closed her eyes as that memory came back to her. “Poor Andre,” she whispered. “We were alike, you know. Two strangers who couldn’t understand this wild country.”

  “You’re not like Marzonoff. Not any longer.”

  She opened her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re beginning to understand us now.” He smiled faintly. She looked surprised, he thought. Perhaps she didn’t realize how much she had changed in these last weeks. Determination, courage, and dogged endurance had probably always been a part of her character, but now those qualities had been refined and sharpened. “Aren’t you, Elspeth?”

  She thought about it. Then she nodded slowly. “I guess I do understand you better than when I first came.” Her lips tightened. “That’s not to say I approve of the barbaric way in which you westerners accomplish your ends. I believe you need a great deal of civilizing.”

  “Uhmmm …” His lips twitched. “Like the civilized way you accomplished your purpose tonight? As I remember, you used both pain and intimidation.”

  “I didn’t—” She stopped. “Well, perhaps I did, but it was the only way I could deal with a stubborn m
an who insisted on—”

  He held up his hands to stop the flow of words. “I’m not quarreling with your methods. I thoroughly approve of them.” He grinned. “I’m used to them. That’s the way we do things out here.” He added softly, “The barbaric way.”

  “It’s not the same. I didn’t …” She trailed off as she noticed the amused smile on his lips was deepening by the second. It was definitely time to change the subject. “How long will it take us to get to Kantalan?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps three or four weeks.” He reached into his back pocket and drew out a piece of soft deerskin and unfolded it to reveal a crudely drawn map.

  Elspeth felt a flicker of excitement. “This is the map White Buffalo gave you?”

  He nodded. “I dug it out of my saddlebags before we left Killara.” His index finger tapped a spot at the top of the map. “Here’s where we are now.” His finger traced a line down the smooth leather surface. “We cross the Mexican border here and then bear southeast until we get to the Sierra Madre range. Kantalan is encircled by high mountains which White Buffalo said were impassable.” His finger tapped a small X on one of the inverted V’s forming a circle around the largest X on the map. “Except for a pass right here on the third mountain to the east of the Sun Child. It’s hidden by a waterfall and, according to what Cadra said, we’ll have to swim the horses thirty yards or so before we get to the shallows.”

  “No wonder no one has discovered it in all these years,” Elspeth said. She pointed to the tallest of the mountains indicated on the map. “The Sun Child?”

  Dominic nodded.

  A shiver went through her, but she didn’t know whether it was from excitement or fear. “In only a few weeks we’ll see it. We’ll see Kantalan.”

  Dominic folded the map and put it back into his pocket. “If there’s anything to see.” He picked up a stick and stoked the flames of the fire. “Lie down and go to sleep. I want to get an early start. I’d like to be halfway to the border by tomorrow night.”

  “Very well.” She obediently stood up and moved the few yards to where Dominic had fashioned her blankets into a pallet. She settled her head on her saddle and found it made a fairly tolerable pillow. “Good night.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes.