Shaun debated the wisdom of riding out alone as he saddled his horse, then shook his head. Chances were, he was riding out on a wild goose chase, and if that was the case, he'd just as soon do it alone. If he saw anything suspicious, he would ride back and get reinforcements. Anyway, a man alone was probably better for a scouting mission.
He thought about what Kaylee had said earlier as he rode out of the yard. She was in love with a damned savage, and the Indian was hiding out somewhere nearby.
Feeling suddenly uneasy, Shaun looked out over the countryside. What if this was some kind of trap? What if Kaylee and this Injun— He swore under his breath, ashamed of himself for what he was thinking.
An hour later, he was lying on his belly on the rim of the canyon. The cattle were down there, just as Kaylee had said. At least three or four hundred head, maybe more. It was hard to tell in the dark. A few head were bunched near a campfire. Lifting his binoculars, he studied the cattle closest to the fire. One of the steers wore a Double R brand. He grunted softly. There were a couple of other brands, too: Jackson's G Slash J, Ernie Milford's Rocking M, Zeke Price's Circle P.
There was only one man riding nighthawk, walking his mount lazily back and forth across the mouth of the canyon. He saw two men standing near the fire, drinking coffee. Probably getting ready to relieve the nighthawk. He thought he saw two more forms rolled into blankets some distance away from the fire, but he couldn't be sure.
The nighthawk moved out of sight for a while. When he came back, he was leading a horse. Shaun read the brand through the binoculars: G Slash J. One of the men by the fire swung a stock saddle over the horse's back. At this distance it was hard to tell for certain, but he was pretty sure the two men near the fire had been with Jackson when they went in search of Kaylee.
Shaun grunted. When he got his men together, he'd have to send word over to the G Slash J and let Garth know that some of his men were doing a little night riding on their own time.
"Hell, I've seen all I need to," he muttered. He was about to back away from the rim when another rider rode into the firelight down in the canyon.
A rider mounted on a big gray thoroughbred.
"Garth." He swore softly. "Don't tell me you're mixed up in this."
He was still trying to convince himself it wasn't what it looked like when a harsh voice spoke from behind him. "Get those hands up, nice and slow, and keep 'em where I can see 'em."
Shaun rolled over, then sat up, his arms raised. He recognized the man who had him covered. "Sweeney! What the hell's going on here?"
"I was just about to ask you that very thing, Randall." Sweeney made a gesture with his gun. "Toss me your pistol, nice and easy, then get up."
Shaun drew his Colt and tossed it at Sweeney's feet. Then he stood, his arms raised over his head. "Now what?"
Sweeney bent down and picked up Shaun's weapon, never taking his eyes off the other man. "Get on your horse."
Shaun hesitated a moment, weighing his chances of jumping Sweeney and making a break for it. Slim and none, he thought. Bob Sweeney was a big man, with a thick neck and powerful arms. But even if he'd been short and skinny, the gun in his hand made him a giant.
Sweeney eased back the hammer of his Colt. "Don't even think about it, Randall. Mount up."
Garth Jackson couldn't hide his surprise when Shaun rode into the canyon, followed by Bob Sweeney. "What the hell—?"
"Found him spying on us, up there," Sweeney said, jerking a thumb toward the canyon rim. "What do you want me to do with him?"
"For now, just tie him up."
Sweeney dismounted. Grabbing Shaun by the arm, he jerked him off the back of his horse. One of the other G Slash J hands tossed Sweeney a strip of rawhide, and he tied Shaun's hands behind his back, then pushed him down to the ground.
Shaun glared up at him, then at Jackson. "It's been you all along, hasn't it?" He shook his head. "I can't believe it. Dammit, why?"
Garth shrugged. "Why do you think?"
Shaun snorted. "You don't need the money! You've got the biggest spread in the territory."
"Hell, yes! And I aim to keep it that way. But it takes money to keep the place up. A hell of a lot of money."
"So you're stealing from your neighbors and blaming the Indians."
" 'Bout time those damned savages were good for something, don't you think?" Jackson said with a laugh. "Keep an eye on him, Bob. We'll be moving the cattle late tonight."
With a last look at Shaun, Jackson went to join the two men by the fire.
"He said you were moving the cattle tonight," Shaun said. "Moving them where?"
Sweeney hunkered down on his heels. "I don't reckon you need to know that." A slow smile spread over his face, but didn't reach his eyes. "And after tonight, it won't matter to you any more than it matters to him."
Shaun followed Sweeney's gaze, felt his stomach knot when he saw a body lying a short distance away. The clothing, as familiar to him as his own, belonged to Tom Grady, one of the Double R cowhands. It was the only way to identify the body, though—the head was a bloody mess. Shaun felt his gorge rise. Grady had been scalped. Dried blood caked his head, looking black in the firelight.
Shaun looked back at Sweeney. "Why the hell did you kill the kid?"
"Caught him snoopin' around earlier."
"So you killed him? And scalped him?"
Sweeney shrugged. "He shouldn't 'a come poking his nose in where it don't belong," he said, rising. "And neither should you."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Shaun swore softly. Why the hell had he come out here alone? He worked his hands back and forth, trying to loosen the rope. He had to get out of here, and damned quick!
He could see Jackson's men saddling their horses, getting ready to move the herd. Move it where? He frowned. Mexico? He didn't think so. More likely to Canada, he mused. It was closer. And Canada was a ready market, needing beef for the railroad workers who were laying track across the country.
Shaun shifted his weight on the hard ground. Damn, but time passed slow when a man was waiting for something unpleasant. Or when he was just downright piss-in-his-pants scared. He told himself that Jackson wouldn't kill him. Hell, they'd been friends for almost twenty years. But he couldn't forget the way Jackson had gunned down that Indian kid, or the look in his eyes when he did it. Couldn't ignore Tom Grady's body lying only a few feet away either.
Fear was a hard lump in his belly, the taste of bile in the back of his throat as he continued to work his hands back and forth, trying to loosen his bonds, but Bob Sweeney had done a helluva good job, and the rawhide wouldn't give at all.
And time was running out. Jackson's men were rounding up the cattle. A thick layer of dust rose in the air, punctuated by the sound of bawling cattle and the shouts of the cowhands as they drove the herd toward the canyon entrance.
Shaun's mouth went dry when he saw Jackson and Sweeney walking toward him. Heart pounding, he gained his feet. If he was gonna take a bullet in the back, he'd by damn take it standing up.
"I'm sorry you had to find out about this," Jackson said.
"I'm sorry you turned out to be no better than a damned thief."
Jackson shrugged. "I'll wait for you at the entrance, Bob. Don't be long." With a last glance at Shaun, Jackson turned and started walking toward his horse
Sweeney drew his gun. "No sense drawing this out."
"You're right about that," Shaun said, and lowering his head, he charged Sweeney.
Sweeney's gun went off on impact. Shaun grunted as the bullet slammed into his left side. Thrown off balance, Sweeney stumbled backward and went down hard. Unable to catch himself, Shaun hit the dirt beside him, felt lights explode inside his head as Sweeney brought the butt of his gun down on the back of his skull. Dazed, Shaun rolled onto his side.
Scrambling to his knees, Sweeney lifted his gun and aimed it at Shaun's chest.
Shaun blinked up at him. "Go ahead, you bastard," he said, gasping for breath. "Do it." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his heart thundering in his chest. Not now, he thought. Dammit, not now! Not when he and Emma were reaching out to each other again.
The bullet he expected didn't come. He heard a thud, and the ground beside him shook slightly. Opening his eyes, he saw Sweeney lying beside him, his hands clutched around an arrow protruding from his chest.
Shaun's vision blurred as an apparition rose up out of the dust several yards away. A nearly naked savage, his bronze skin gleaming in the firelight.
At least I'll be unconscious when they scalp me , he thought ruefully, and sank into a black sea of oblivion.
Blue Hawk slung his bow over his shoulder, then walked toward Kaylee's stepfather. He paused to retrieve his arrow from the man he had shot. He jerked the arrow out of the man's chest, knew a moment of satisfaction when the wasichu cried out and then went limp. For a moment he considered taking the man's scalp, then shrugged. There was no honor in taking the scalp of a coward.
Blue Hawk knelt beside Kaylee's stepfather. The man was still breathing. Blood oozed from the wound in his side. He groaned as Blue Hawk pressed a handful of dirt over the wound to stop the bleeding.
Rising, Blue Hawk went to get the horse that had been left behind for the man called Sweeney. After untying Shaun's hands, Blue Hawk placed him facedown across the saddle, then secured his hands to the stirrups to keep him from sliding off the horse's back. Taking up the reins, he led the horse toward the entrance to the canyon.
In the distance, he could see the dust churned up by the herd. It took only a few minutes to walk to where he had left his own horse. Vaulting onto the back of his pony, Blue Hawk turned north, toward Kaylee's lodge.
Kaylee had been unable to sleep, waiting for Shaun to return. She sat up in bed at the sound of hoofbeats. Two horses, she realized, moving slow. Seized by a sudden foreboding, she grabbed her robe and ran down the stairs and out of the house.
"Oh, no," she whispered. "Shaun!" She turned on Blue Hawk "What happened?"
"He has been shot."
"Shot! Is he still alive? Shot? By who? Oh, Blue Hawk, not by you?"
"Not by me. We will talk of it later. He is badly hurt."
Blue Hawk lifted Shaun from the back of his horse and carried him up the steps to the porch. Kaylee ran ahead to open the door.
"Where shall I put him?"
"Follow me," she said, and hurried up the stairs. She opened the door to Shaun's room, pulled down the covers on the bed, lit the lamp.
Blue Hawk lowered Shaun to the mattress. Blood still leaked from the edges of the wound.
"I need to heat some water," Kaylee said. "Will you stay with him while I'm gone?"
Blue Hawk nodded. He waited until Kaylee left the room, then removed the wasichu's boots and foot coverings and tossed them aside. He took the man's shirt, belt, and pants off, shook his head as he removed the long red shirt he wore underneath his other shirt. No wonder the wasichu were always so irritable, he mused. Not only did they live in the same place summer and winter, they wore too much clothing. He glanced around the room, amazed again at the size of the wasichu's lodges.
Kaylee returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray. She set it on the table beside the bed, frowned when she saw the dirt packed over the wound. She looked up at Blue Hawk, a question in her eyes.
"To stop the bleeding," he said.
"Oh." There was a time when she would have questioned such methods, but no more. Since living with the Indians, she had learned there was a lot she didn't know.
Soaking a cloth in warm water, she gently rinsed the dirt from the wound.
"The bullet is still there," Blue Hawk said.
"It is?"
He nodded.
"I'd better get Mama," Kaylee said. "She's better at this sort of thing than I am."
Leaving the room, Kaylee hurried down the hall and knocked softly on her mother's door. "Mama? Mama."
"Come in, dear."
Kaylee opened the door and stepped into the room. She could see her mother sitting up in bed.
"What time is it, Kay? I thought Shaun would be back by now. Kay?"
"He's back, Mama, but he's hurt—"
Emma was out of bed before Kaylee finished speaking. "What's happened? What's wrong?"
"He's been shot. Blue Hawk brought him home."
"Shot! Merciful heavens. Where is he? How did it happen?"
"He's in his room. I'm not sure what happened."
Emma slipped on her robe and hurried toward the door that connected her room with her husband's.
Kaylee followed her mother into Shaun's room.
Emma paused, her eyes widening in recognition when she saw Blue Hawk standing beside the bed. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you," she said somewhat distractedly. "Thank you for bringing my husband home."
Blue Hawk nodded, unable to hide his surprise. Among his people, a woman did not look at or converse with her father-in-law; a man did not look at or speak to his mother-in-law. When a man's mother-in-law came to visit, he left the lodge and politely stayed away until she went back to her own lodge. Apparently it was not so among the wasichu .
Emma quickly overcame her surprise at seeing him there and went straight to her husband's side, giving him her full attention. Lifting the cloth Kaylee had placed over the wound, she examined the injury, which was raw and red and oozing blood.
"Kaylee, go downstairs and bring me a thin-bladed knife. Boil it first. Then get my sewing kit. Oh, and bring a bottle of whiskey. The one Shaun keeps for special occasions. And some sulfur. And some more clean cloths."
"Yes, Mama," Kaylee replied, and hurried out of the room.
"Mr. Hawk, I'll need your help."
Blue Hawk nodded.
Emma smiled her thanks, then brushed a lock of sweat-dampened hair from her husband's brow.
At her touch, Shaun's eyelids fluttered open and he stared up at her. "Emma? Emma—is that you?"
"Yes, I'm here." She pushed him back when he tried to rise. "You're hurt, Shaun. Lie still."
"Thought I was a goner for sure. Jackson—"
Emma frowned. "Garth? What about him?"
Kaylee bustled back into the room. "Here, Mama, I think I've got everything."
"Emma—listen," Shaun whispered hoarsely. "It's important. Damn important."
"Later, Shaun," Emma said gently. "You're bleeding all over my good sheets."
Kaylee yawned as she gathered up the soiled linens and other supplies and carried them down the stairs. Blue Hawk followed her. Emma was going to spend the night in Shaun's room. There were a lot of unanswered questions, but they could wait until tomorrow. Shaun was home and resting as comfortably as possible. Emma had managed to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding, and he was sleeping now. Emma was pretty sure he was in no immediate danger. For now, that was all that mattered. She was too tired to think straight.
It had been a long night. Emma had poured whiskey into Shaun until he was past feeling, then Kaylee had held the lamp while Emma probed for the bullet lodged in Shaun's side. Emma had asked Blue Hawk to hold Shaun down, even though Shaun had argued against it. As it turned out, it was a good thing Blue Hawk was there. The whiskey had numbed some of the pain, but the bullet had been buried deep. As Emma had probed and twisted delicately with the knife, Shaun had come half off the bed. Blue Hawk had needed all his strength to hold the injured man still.
For all that it had been a long night, it had also been one of revelation as Kaylee realized that Emma truly loved her husband. She had watched her mother tending Shaun's wound, noticed the gentleness in her touch, the worry in her eyes, the tenderness in her voice when she spoke to him, reassuring him. She had once accused her mother of marrying for security, not love, but she knew now that she had been mistaken. Emma loved Shaun and, she realized, with some surprise, Shaun loved Emma. How had she missed seeing it before? Had she purposely ignored the little signs, the touches, the veiled glances? Or was it just that she saw more now that she was in love herself? How often in a day did Blue Hawk find an excuse to touch her hand, her arm, her shoulder? How many times, when they found themselves alone, did they share a hurried embrace, a quick kiss? How many times did she look up to find him watching her, his dark eyes filled with love and desire?
Kaylee lit the lamp in the kitchen, filled a pail with cold water, and dropped the soiled sheets in it.
She turned to find Blue Hawk standing in the doorway, watching her. His presence seemed to fill the kitchen. "You'll spend the night here, with me, won't you?"
"If you wish me to."
"I do. Why don't you sit down? I'm going to make Mama a cup of tea. Do you want some?"
With a nod, Blue Hawk pulled out a chair and sat down. He looked uncomfortable in a chair. He watched with interest as Kaylee moved about the kitchen, filling a kettle with water, stoking the fire, putting the kettle on to heat. She pulled a tray and three cups from a shelf and set them on the table.
"Do you take milk or sugar?" she asked, and then smiled self-consciously, certain that no one had ever asked him that question before.
He grinned back at her, then drew her down in his lap. She went willingly, her arms twining around his neck, her eyelids fluttering down as his mouth sought hers. His hand moved slowly up and down her back, then slid around to cup her breast. She sighed with pleasure, her heart racing as she thought of spending the night with him. She didn't feel sleepy anymore.
He deepened the kiss, his arm tightening around her, his desire evident in the tremor in his arms, the quickening of his breath.
She drew away reluctantly when the water began to boil. She kissed him on the cheek, then went to make the tea. When it was ready, she poured three cups, added sugar to all three, a bit of milk to one. "I'll just take this up to Mama."
Blue Hawk sipped the hot beverage while Kaylee was upstairs. It tasted different from the willow-bark tea Kaylee had given him before, different from the tea his grandmother had given him when he was a child and had an upset stomach. The thought filled him with sadness, reminding him anew that, save for Kaylee, all those he had loved were gone. So much killing, so much violence. And it was not yet over. Kaylee had almost lost her second father tonight.
Rising, he went outside.
Kaylee found him there a few minutes later. Coming up behind him, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. She sensed the tension in him immediately. "What is it?" she asked quietly. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head.
"Tell me," she said. "Maybe I can help."
"No one can help."
She heard the sorrow in his voice and knew, in that instant, what he was feeling, thinking. "I love you," she murmured. "We'll be your home, Hawk, your son and I, for as long as we live."
He turned in her arms and hugged her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. A long, shuddering sigh went through him.
"Blue Hawk?"
When he didn't answer, she took him by the hand and led him into the house, up the stairs, into her bedroom. She lit the lamp, gave him a gentle push to make him sit down on the bed. She removed his moccasins and his clout, then removed her robe and her gown and sat down beside him.
"I love you, Hawk. Please don't shut me out."
His arm curled around her waist, and he buried his head in the cleft of her breasts. "Hold me, Kay-lee," he said, his voice hoarse. "Just hold me."
She put her arms around him and held him tight, rocking him as a mother might rock a child. "It'll be all right," she crooned. "You'll see. Everything will be all right."
Yet she was beset by doubts even as she spoke the words. They had no money, no home, no place to live if Shaun refused to let them stay on the ranch. Sitting Bull had taken his people to Canada. The Lakota had scattered. And as much as she had loved living with the Indian people, she didn't want to have to worry about being attacked by soldiers while she was pregnant, and she didn't want to spend the winter hiding out in the mountains, wondering if there would be enough to eat. Even as those thoughts crossed her mind, she was plagued with a sense of guilt and shame. Blue Hawk had lost so much. If he told her he wanted to go back to his people, how could she refuse?
"It will be all right," she murmured again, and prayed to God that it would be so.