Reckless Desire (5 page)

“The baby’s due the first of November,” Rebecca said. “Beth is very excited.”

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, a girl, I think. We have lots of boys in the family, what with Hawk and Blackie and the twins. I think a little girl would be nice for a change. Beth said the Chatsworths are hoping for a boy to carry on the family name.”

I nodded. Such things were important to some people.

“I’m trying to talk your father into going back East so we can be there when the baby arrives,” Rebecca went on. “But you know how your father is. He hates to leave the ranch.”

“But he’ll do it for you,” I said confidently. “All you have to do is nag him a little, and the next thing you know, the two of you will be on a train bound for Pennsylvania.”

“That’s true,” Rebecca said, her eyes twinkling merrily. “Sam’s always given me anything I ever asked for.” Rebecca smiled at me. “I’m a lucky woman.”

“We’re both lucky,” I said, returning her smile. “Very lucky indeed.”

July 4th bloomed bright and clear and hot. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun like molten gold, as we drove to the church for the picnic. Blackie chattered excitedly the whole way, waving to his friends as he pulled up near the churchyard. It looked as if the whole town had turned out. There were people everywhere, women in colorful cotton dresses and wide-brimmed sunbonnets, men in white shirts and denim pants and high-heeled cowboy boots, children running and laughing, dodging between tables and people.

Heyoka pranced back and forth on the end of his tether, his ears flicking forward and back with excitement.

“He knows something’s up,” I remarked to Shadow. “Do you think he’ll give you any trouble? He’s never been around this many people before.”

Shadow glanced at me, one black eyebrow arched upward. “Are you worried about me?” he asked, amused.

“Of course not. What is there to worry about?”

“Nothing.”

Shadow smiled at me and my heart began to pound a little faster. How handsome he was, and how I loved him!

We found a shady place and spread a blanket on the ground. Pa and Rebecca and Victoria and Hawk arrived a few moments later and spread their blankets next to ours, and we all ate together, stuffing ourselves with cold ham and fried chicken, potato salad and baked beans, fresh biscuits and honey. Rebecca had made a three-layer chocolate cake, Pa’s favorite, for dessert. Victoria had made a deep-dish apple pie, and I had made cherry tarts.

Pa groaned as he sat back and loosened his belt. “I think I ate too much,” he complained.

“Well, it’s your own fault,” Rebecca scolded. “You’ve eaten practically everything in sight.” She shook her head ruefully. “And two pieces of cake! Shame on you.”

“Is it my fault you women are such good cooks?” Pa lamented.

“No,” Rebecca retorted, grinning, “but it is your fault you don’t have a shred of willpower.”

Pa nodded sadly. “True, true.”

We were relaxing after lunch, waiting for the games to start, when one of the valley girls came by looking for Blackie.

“He’s playing down by the river,” I told her, and after she thanked me and ran off, I looked at Shadow. “Who is that, and what does she want with our son?”

Shadow laughed, amused by my indignant tone. “There are too many people in the valley now,” he said, shrugging. “I no longer recognize them all.”

“She’s a cute little thing,” Rebecca remarked.

“Yes,” I agreed glumly. “Too cute.”

“Her name is Monica Sullivan,” Victoria said. “She’s fourteen years old. She watches the twins for me sometimes.”

“Fourteen,” I groaned. “Good Lord, an older woman.”

Pa laughed at the expression on my face. “He’s growing up, Hannah. You can’t stop him, any more than I could stop you. Why, next thing you know, he’ll be getting married.”

“Blackie, married!” I could hardly speak the words. He was my baby, the last child in the nest. I never thought of Blackie as getting older. Somehow he was still a little boy in my eyes. Why, he still brought stray animals home. I had long ago lost count of the number of birds, squirrels, deer, foxes, possums, raccoons, skunks, dogs, and cats he had brought home over the years.

“He is already thirteen,” Shadow reminded me. “In the old days, he would be learning to be a warrior.”

“A warrior!” I wailed. “Why, he spends more time with his pets than he does with people.”

Shadow inclined his head toward the river. Looking in that direction, I saw Blackie walking hand-in-hand with Monica Sullivan. She was a pretty little thing, I noticed glumly. Her hair was dark blonde, her eyes were green fringed with long, dark lashes. I felt like crying. My little boy, already holding hands with a girl!

“I was but twelve summers the day I first met you,” Shadow whispered so only I could hear. “That did not turn out so bad.”

The thought did little to cheer me, but then I smiled as I remembered that day. So much had happened since then, yet I had only to close my eyes to summon Shadow’s image to mind as he had looked that day at the river crossing back in the spring of 1868. I had been gathering wildflowers, going deeper and deeper into the woods until I found myself at Rabbit’s Head Rock, a place I had been forbidden to go. It was there I met Shadow. Our life had come full circle, I mused. We had started in Bear Valley, and we would end here.

Lou Simpson picked up his fiddle and the strains of a lively polka filled the air. Shadow and I watched Jason and Jacob while Pa, Rebecca, Hawk, and Vickie went to dance. Hawk and Victoria made an enchanting couple. They smiled at each other as they twirled across the floor, and I thought how handsome Hawk looked in a light gray shirt, black twill pants, and moccasins. Victoria’s face was flushed with pleasure, her lovely blue eyes shining with love and happiness as Hawk spun her around.

I saw Lydia Bannerman stroll by on her husband’s arm, stopping here and there to chat with a member of the congregation. She waved at me, and I waved back. Lydia made the perfect preacher’s wife, I thought. She had always liked to be in the center of things, and now she was one of the most important women in town. Most of the dances and socials were held at the church, and Lydia reigned supreme. As the minister’s wife, she was privy to all the problems and secrets that came to the Reverend Brighton’s attention, and many of the women came to Lydia with their problems, feeling more at ease discussing private matters with a woman instead of a man.

Yes, Lydia looked happy now. The dark shadows were gone from beneath her eyes and the tension lines had disappeared from her face. It was obvious she adored her husband, and I was glad that her life had turned out so well after all.

It was amazing how our little valley had grown over the years. Once I had known everyone by name, but now, looking around, I saw many people I did not recognize. Though we were still just a Western town without many modern conveniences, we were a thriving community. Many families on their way to Oregon or California passed through Bear Valley and decided to stay. I couldn’t blame them, for it was a lovely place to live. Still, I was glad that our homestead was a good distance from town. I liked the feeling of solitude it gave us, liked being able to look out my front door and see only the river and the mountains and pine forest. I cherished the feeling of space around me, the sense of privacy that came from being the only family for miles around.

The afternoon passed quickly. There was a pie-eating contest, won by Gene Smythe, a potato-sack race, a baseball game. Ruth Tippitt won the blue ribbon for the prettiest quilt, Mattie Smythe won first place for the best apple pie. Carol Simpson won a prize for her strawberry preserves. As usual, the blacksmith won the arm-wrestling contest. Blackie and Monica Sullivan won the three-legged race.

I studied my son more closely than usual as the day wore on. Shadow was right. Blackie
was
growing up. As I watched him share a slice of chocolate cake with Monica, I caught a glimpse of the man he would become, kind, considerate, affable, slow to anger and quick to forgive.

Except for Shadow, no man in the valley could match Hawk’s riding skills, and he easily won the bronc-riding contest and the bull-riding contest. Victoria cheered loudly, her face beaming with pride as the judge awarded Hawk an enormous blue ribbon. I glanced at Shadow, standing beside me, and frowned at the melancholy expression on his face. What was he thinking?

“Is anything wrong?” I asked, touching his arm.

“No. I was just thinking how quickly the years have gone by.”

I nodded. They had passed quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that Hawk was riding a horse made of wood, and now he was a grown man, with a wife and children of his own. Mary was away in Chicago with her husband, and Blackie looked as though he was well on his way to being in love.

I was feeling suddenly melancholy myself when Shadow gave my hand a squeeze. “I did not intend for you to grow sad,” he chided. “Nothing lives long but the rocks and the mountains.”

“And my love for you,” I said, smiling. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big race?”

Shadow nodded, and we walked hand-in-hand to where Heyoka was tethered to our wagon. As usual, Shadow would ride bareback, and after brushing the stallion, he slipped a bridle over the horse’s head and vaulted lightly onto its back.

We had left Jason and Jacob with Rebecca, and now I followed Shadow to the starting line. There were sixteen horses in the race. I recognized Gene and Henry Smythe and Jeremy Brown among the riders.

A few minutes later, Hawk rode up on the blue roan. Like Shadow, Hawk rode bareback. He made a handsome sight, sitting straight and tall, easily controlling the roan as it pranced nervously beneath him.

I glanced at Shadow, saw the excitement dancing in his dark eyes as he waited for the race to begin. Heyoka stood quiet, his nostrils flared, his eyes wide, his fox-like ears constantly twitching back and forth.

Pa, Victoria, and Rebecca came to stand beside me. One of the Simpson girls was taking care of the twins so Victoria could watch the race.

The horses were all at the starting line now. Sheriff Bill Lancaster raised his gun and the riders leaned forward, hands tight upon the reins as they waited for the signal to begin. Lancaster fired his pistol and sixteen horses surged forward, their hooves churning up a great cloud of yellow dust.

It was a long race, plotted for speed and endurance. From the churchyard, the riders would head past the schoolhouse to the far end of town where they would cross the river, then follow the narrow trail along the river back toward town. Crossing the river again, they would round a sharp bend in the road and finish back at the churchyard.

The horses were bunched as they headed past the schoolhouse toward the edge of town. As they neared the river crossing, I could see that Hawk, Shadow, and Jeremy Brown had pulled ahead. Heyoka and the blue roan plunged into the water without losing a stride, but Jeremy Brown’s big black gelding hesitated for a moment, and Gene Smythe rushed past him. Reaching the far side of the river, Gene’s horse lost its footing in the mud and went to its knees. Jeremy Brown gave a victory shout as his horse leaped up the bank and back into third place. The other riders all made it safely across the river, lashing their mounts in an effort to catch Shadow and Hawk.

Heyoka and the blue roan were running neck and neck along the narrow river trail. My hand went to my heart as they approached a large log that lay across the trail. Heyoka and the blue cleared the obstacle effortlessly and I wished I could capture that moment forever. It would have made a beautiful picture, the horses rising gracefully into the air, heads high, forelegs tucked under, the riders leaning over their horses’ necks, their faces intent.

The air was filled with yells and cheers as the townspeople hollered for their favorites. Pa was yelling so loud I thought his lungs would burst. One time he shouted for Shadow, the next for Hawk. Victoria had her hands clasped together, and I heard her murmur, “Faster, Hawk, faster!” Rebecca’s clear brown eyes were shining with excitement. In my heart I knew she was cheering for Shadow. Once, the thought would have made me jealous, but no more.

For a short time the riders were out of sight behind a stand of timber, and then we saw them again. Shadow was in the lead, with Hawk close behind. The remainder of the riders were strung out behind them. Jeremy Brown was still in third place, Gene Smythe in fourth. I couldn’t make out the others.

My heart swelled with pride as I watched my husband and my son. They rode superbly, their bodies in perfect rhythm with their horses. There were no better horsemen in all the world than the Cheyenne, I thought. Not even the Comanche could beat them, though they came close, I admitted, and then smiled. I was a bit prejudiced, after all.

As they splashed through the river, Shadow lifted one hand over his head and cut loose with the Cheyenne victory cry. The sound, long, ululating and loud, filled my soul with such joy I could not contain it, and the thrill of it poured out of me in an exuberant shout of my own as I ran forward to meet Shadow.

He did not slow down as he thundered toward me. I heard several people gasp as Shadow leaned over Heyoka’s side, reached out one long arm, and grabbed me around the waist. With ease he swung me onto Heyoka’s back, and then we were racing away from the churchyard.

I laughed as the wind stung my cheeks, remembering a day long ago when Shadow had swept me onto his horse’s back. I had been young and frightened that day, but I was not frightened now, only tingling with anticipation as he guided Heyoka into the pine forest that grew thick along the edge of the river.

Pulling the lathered stallion to a halt, Shadow swung me to the ground, kissed me soundly on the mouth, and then began to dry the horse with a handful of grass.

With a wry grin, I sat down on the ground to wait. First things first, I mused, and watched as Shadow dried Heyoka, then walked the horse until it was cool.

“My turn now?” I asked as he tethered the stallion to a tree a short distance away.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling roguishly. “Do you mind the wait?”