Randy was unusually silent on the ride back to the ranch, and for that she was grateful. She wasn't in the mood to be scolded or teased, and that seemed to be all he did lately.
But it wasn't Randy who filled her thoughts as they rode through the quiet night. It was the Indian, the look of hate and distrust in his deep, dark eyes when he stared at Randy, the softening in his expression when he looked at her, an intensely masculine expression that had caused an odd fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She glanced over at Randy. "Did you say something?"
"You're home."
She looked down the road at the big white ranch house with its high-peaked roof and wide verandah. "Thanks for going with me."
He shook his head. "You're making a big mistake, you know, keeping that redskin alive."
"I don't think so."
"Well, we'll see, won't we?"
She nodded. "I guess so. Good night, Randy."
"Good night."
Kaylee watched him ride away. Then, dismounting, she led Dusty toward the barn, taking the long way around in case Shaun was sitting out on the porch, as he often did late at night. She unsaddled Dusty and turned her loose in the corral, then crept around to the back of the house, shinnied up the tree, and climbed into her bedroom window.
As soon as she climbed over the sill, light filled the room. Knowing she was well and truly caught, Kaylee turned to find her mother sitting in the old wooden rocking chair beside the bed.
"Where have you been, Kaylee Marie?" Emma asked. She blew out the match and put the chimney on the lamp sitting on the table beside her.
Her mother was a pretty woman, a little on the plump side, with smooth, clear skin and dark-brown hair. Kaylee had inherited her father's blond hair and her mother's blue eyes.
Kaylee took a deep breath. She had never lied to her mother before, and she didn't like doing it now, so she told her a part of the truth. "I was out with Randy."
"At this time of night?" Emma lifted one brow, then frowned. "Oh, Kaylee," she said anxiously. "You haven't—You didn't let him—?"
It took her a minute to realize what her mother was asking. "Of course not!" she exclaimed. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Ma, how could you think such a thing?"
"Why else would you be sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night? Oh, Kaylee, don't . . ."
"Oh, Ma, stop worrying, it's nothing like that. I don't love Randy."
"He'd make you a good husband, Kaylee, better than Garth in some ways, even though Shaun is set upon joining our ranch with Garth's. You know that."
"Garth!" Kaylee stood abruptly and began to pace the floor. "He's old enough to be my father!"
"He's a good man, Kaylee. They both are. And there aren't that many choices, you know. Not out here."
"I don't care. I don't want to marry either one of them."
"A woman has to marry someone, Kaylee. A woman's life is defined by her husband, her children."
"Well, I'm not going to marry a man I don't love."
The words the way you did hung unspoken in the air between them.
Kaylee knelt at her mother's side, one hand resting on her mother's arm. "Why did you marry Shaun?"
"You needed a father."
"That's why you married him? For me?"
"Not entirely. Life is hard for a woman alone, especially a woman with a young child." Emma sighed heavily. "How can I make you understand how it was? I was recently widowed, with no money. I worked at whatever I could find, Kay. I took in laundry and ironing, but there was never enough money. And then I met Shaun. He was rich and single and . . . can you understand?"
"Did you ever love him?"
Emma's gaze slid away from hers. "Not the way I loved your father," she said quietly, and then she covered Kaylee's hand with her own. "Shaun is set on your marrying Garth. I know he's older than you are, but he's a good man, Kaylee. He'll take care of you and whatever children you may have."
"But I want more than that," Kaylee said earnestly. "I want a man who loves me, who can't live without me. And I want to feel the same way about him."
Emma stroked her daughter's cheek. "You're so young. You don't know what the world is like. You don't know how unforgiving it can be. Love is wonderful, but it can't put a roof over your head, or food in your children's mouths."
"Ma—"
"Think about what I've said, Kaylee. Your father was a wonderful man, but he was a dreamer, always talking about tomorrow when he should have been worrying about today. He was always so certain things would get better, but they never did. I loved him with all my heart, but love is hard to sustain when you're hungry all the time, when you have no place to call home, when you hear your baby crying because she's hungry and cold."
Kaylee stared up at her mother. She had always wondered why Emma married Shaun. Now she knew.
Emma rose slowly to her feet and kissed Kaylee on the cheek. "Good night, dear. Think about what I said."
Kaylee nodded. "I will," she promised, but in her heart she couldn't help feeling that her mother had been wrong to sacrifice love for a home and security.
Blue Hawk shifted uncomfortably on the cot, the pain of his wounds momentarily overshadowed by a raging thirst and the need to relieve himself. He tugged against his bonds until the skin on his wrists was raw. It was a new day; warm sunlight filtered through the window and the chinks in the logs. He had to get away, had to get back to his people.
His thoughts turned to the white girl. He had recognized her immediately as the woman he had seen in his vision. Who was she? Why had she brought him here? He had seen other white women—they had looked at him with disdain and distrust. Not so the girl with the sky-blue eyes. She had looked at him the way a woman looks at a man. Her touch had been gentle, her voice soft and compelling. He had felt the attraction that had flowed between them. Had she felt it, too?
"Kay-lee." He said her name aloud. It fell softly on his ears, like the morning birdsong that had brought him out of his fevered dreams.
Follow the woman. She holds the answer .
What did it mean? The answer to what? And even as the thoughts crossed his mind, he heard the sound of hoofbeats, and in moments she was there, a large basket on her arm. He was surprised to see that she had come alone this time.
She stopped just inside the door, looking somewhat uncertain, and then she approached the cot. Putting the basket on the floor beside her, she leaned over him and put one hand on his brow.
"You've still got a fever," she remarked. Lifting the lid of the basket, she withdrew a canteen, a cup, and a small packet. She filled the cup with water, added the powder, and held the cup to his lips.
He shook his head.
"You've got to drink this." She held the cup to his lips again. "It will bring the fever down."
He shook his head again.
"Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm trying to help you. Now drink it!"
He shook his head yet again. "I understand. No."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "You drank it last night. Why not today?"
"Because I do not want to—to—" He broke off, unable to find the word he was looking for. Instead, he jerked against the ropes that bound his wrists to the cot's frame.
"Turn me loose."
She backed up a step, her eyes widening.
Knowing that his anger would only frighten her more, Blue Hawk took a deep, calming breath. "Turn me loose. I will not hurt you. I just want to go outside."
"I don't believe you."
He stared up at her. "If you are so afraid of me, why did you bring me here?"
"Because you were hurt. I couldn't just leave you out there to die."
He thought of the white men who had stolen his horses, then shot him and left him for dead. "You could have. Others did." He shifted on the bed, his discomfort growing. "I need to go outside." He spoke the words through clenched teeth. "Now."
She suddenly understood his urgency. Embarrassment washed over her cheeks in a flood of red.
"Now," he repeated.
Flustered, she stared at him. Untied one hand. Hesitated a moment, and then freed the other.
As soon as his hands were free, Kaylee reached into the basket and withdrew a shiny nickel-plated .41-caliber Colt Lightning, a gun Shaun declared was better suited to a woman's hand. A shaft of sunlight glinted on the barrel as she tracked the Indian rising from the bed.
He spared the weapon hardly a glance as he stood up and moved none too steadily toward the door. Stepping outside, he took a deep breath, wondering only briefly if she would follow him.
He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of the girl. He sighed with relief as he emptied his bladder. Then, summoning what little strength he possessed, he took up her horse's reins and pulled himself into the saddle.
He had to get back to his people. Now.
Kaylee looked at the gun in her hand, wondering if she could have used it if he attacked her. He could hardly stand up. She doubted he was capable of doing her any harm. Still, she remembered how he had grabbed her arm the first night, the strength in his grip. Unconscious, he had seemed harmless, but now . . . She frowned. She didn't really believe the Indian would hurt her, not when she was trying to help him. But her mother always said it was better to be safe now than sorry later, and with that in mind, she put the gun within easy reach.
She poured a cup of broth, thinking he would be hungry when he returned. She laid out clean bandages and salve, wondering if Randy would keep her secret. If he let it slip that she was hiding an Indian up here, all hell would break loose. Their neighbors all felt the same as Shaun did where Indians were concerned. No doubt Garth and the other ranchers would storm the cabin and string him up without a second thought.
She tapped her foot, wondering how she would tie him up again if he refused to let her, and then thought how silly that was. Of course he wouldn't let her. She hadn't wanted to tie him up in the first place.
She ran a hand through her hair. He was certainly taking a long time doing his business out there.
Too long.
She walked to the door and looked outside. The Indian was nowhere in sight. And neither was Dusty.
He had stolen her horse! And done it so quietly she hadn't even heard them go.
She shook her head angrily, unable to believe the nerve of the man. She had saved his life, and he had repaid her by stealing her horse!
She had worked herself into a fine rage when she saw Dusty trotting toward her, head lifted high and to one side to avoid stepping on the reins.
"Easy, girl." Closing the door behind her, Kaylee walked toward the mare, one hand outstretched. "Easy, girl, easy now."
The mare tossed her head and danced sideways. There was a smear of blood on her neck and down her side. No doubt it was the smell of it that was making her so skittish.
"Easy now," Kaylee said. Catching hold of the reins, she stroked the mare's neck. "Where is he, Dusty?" she wondered aloud. "You didn't throw him, did you?"
She looked past the horse, wondering why she should care what happened to a horse thief. But she couldn't help remembering how weak he had been, how badly he was hurt.
She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and scrubbed the blood from Dusty's coat. The Indian was bleeding again, and even though he had stolen her horse, she knew she couldn't just leave him out there.
With an aggrieved sigh, she retrieved her Colt from the shack, slipped it into the waistband of her riding skirt, and swung up into the saddle. Reining the mare around, she followed the tracks, wondering what there was about the Indian that caused her to worry so.
He hadn't gotten far. She found him about half a mile later, lying facedown in the dirt, the bandages around his middle and shoulder stained red with fresh blood.
She shook her head, muttering, "Darn fool" as she dismounted. She hesitated a moment before rolling him over, fearing that he might be dead.
At her touch, his eyelids fluttered open. She stepped back and drew the Colt, not quite pointing it at him. For a moment they stared at each other, her gaze filled with wariness and pity, his with pain and self-disgust.
"Well," Kaylee said, sitting back on her heels. "That was a dumb thing to do. You're bleeding again."
He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. The expression on his face said it all.
"You'll have to stand up," Kaylee said, gesturing with the barrel of the Colt. "I can't lift you."
He nodded. She watched him take a deep breath, could almost see him gathering his strength. She offered him her free hand when he started to get up. He looked at it. Ignored it. And stood up.
Kaylee blew out a breath, wondering at his stubbornness. Or maybe it was pride.
Whatever it was, it had taken its toll. He was pale, his breathing shallow. Swaying unsteadily, he grabbed the stirrup.
"Why are you being so foolish?" Kaylee asked. "Here, let me help you."
He turned to glare at her, his dark eyes filled with disdain. "I do not need the help of a white woman."
"Fine." She took a step back, her arms folded across her breasts, gun barrel pointed skyward. "But don't expect me to pick you up if you fall flat on your face. And don't try to ride off again. I do know how to use this thing."
He turned his back to her. One hand clutching the pommel, the other braced on the cantle, he put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. She had to admire his tenacity even though she thought he was acting like a spoiled child.
She looked up at him, her head cocked to one side. "Do you mind if I ride, too?" she asked, handing him the reins. "Or do you expect me to walk three paces behind?"
She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw his lips twitch in what might have been a smile. He didn't say anything, just took his foot out of the stirrup so she could climb up behind him.
It was uncomfortable, sitting behind the cantle with the Colt tucked in the waistband of her skirt, but her saddle was too small to hold both of them. When she was settled, he clucked to the mare.
Kaylee rested her hands lightly on his waist for balance. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin even before she touched him. His fever was growing worse. She had a terrible feeling that he was going to die.