Savage storm (23 page)

Gabrielle's golden tan paled noticeably at that announcement. "No," was all she could manage to whisper.

"Oh, yes," Jason assured her. "I told him since his proposal has come as something of a surprise you would need a few minutes to consider it fully and make up your mind."

The Indians were too distant for Gabrielle to make out their faces clearly, but she remembered the young man well. "Are Indians usually as impulsive as this?"

"No. They are really very romantic creatures who like to court the young women they admire, but in this case there is

no time for such a traditional approach. My grasp of the Dakota language is harely adequate for such delicate negotiations as these, but I think I understood him well enough. The Indians have what we would call fanciful names. They do not translate at all well, but this young man is called Scream of Lightning from what I could understand."

Confused, Gabrielle tore her glance from the Indians to look up at him. "Lightning does not scream, Jason. You cannot possibly have gotten his name right."

"Damn it! That is a minor problem here!" the tall man snapped angrily. "How would you describe the sound of lightning—as a crash or a chilling rip? Why not a scream?"

"I am sorry, forgive me." Gabrielle laid her hand upon his sleeve, knowing he was right and her criticism had been inane under the circumstances. "Whatever his name I cannot marry the man but I cannot allow you to carry that message out to him alone. I will go and tell him myself if you will translate for me.

"Gabrielle"—Jason's glance grew dark as he issued a stern warning—"pride is extremely important to an Indian. You cannot simply say 'No, thank you' and expect him to go away."

Her mind was every bit as quick as his and she saw what his real concern was instantly. Although it filled her with a horrible dread, she had to ask. "Do you think if I refuse he may attack the wagon train and take me by force? Could that be his plan?"

Jason continued in the same forceful tone. "If you are thinking you'll offer to go to him to save the rest of our lives, forget it. That's a trade I won't even consider."

Gabrielle looked again toward the long line of braves. "You may have no choice but to consider it if Scream of Lightning won't take no for an answer. Do you think we should rehearse first or just try to make the best of it as we go along?"

Jason was confused by her calm acceptance of a possibility he thought most repugnant. "You would not really consider

such a marriage^vould you? Because if you are going to go out there and say yes, then I'm leaving you right here!'*

Gabrieile shook her head emphatically. ''No. I don't think we should rule that out as a last resort, but first I would like to try to refuse his proposal as diplomatically as possible. Shall we go? The longer he has to wait the more obstinate he may become."

Jason hesitated, then realizing that no matter what she wished to tell the handsome brave, he would have to translate, he nodded his consent. They rode out a short distance from the circle of wagons and Scream of Lightning again rode out to meet them, his smile wide when he saw that Jason had brought the young woman he'd asked to see.

Gabrieile attempted to smile with what she hoped was the proper reticence, but the prospect of being forced to marry such a friendly soul did not frighten her nearly as much as Jason seemed to think it should. "Please thank him for his proposal and tell him how honored I am that he would want me for his wife."

"I did not mention that he offered to give me forty ponies for you. That is an extravagant sum that not many braves could match," Jason explained before he began.

'Then please tell him how impressed I am that he considers me worth so much." It was only then that Gabrieile realized what a truly bizarre scene they were playing. Here was a man who was little more than a stranger, asking her to be his wife, while Jason, whom she adored, seemed to consider marriage an alternative to be considered only should she need a man to support a child. Which one is the savage? she thought bitterly.

Jason spoke slowly, trying to give the proper inflection to the Dakota tongue. When he paused to ask the young man if he was being understood, the brave replied that he was, so he continued. He made Gabrielle's compliments even more effusive, her praise for the Indian's gesture generous, and her refusal of his proposal as tactful as possible, but when Scream

of Lightning's dark eyes narrowed to vicious slits, he knew they were in deep trouble.

Seeing that the young brave was obviously insulted, Gabrielle suggested a new approach. "Jason, I want you to tell him what happened to Beau. Will you do that, please? I think if he understands that the man I loved and hoped to marry is dead, he will see there is a valid reason why I could never love him. He will realize that our marriage would bring both of us only pain."

"You made me promise never to repeat that story. Now youVe changed your mind?" Jason was appalled by her request, yet he thought the Indian just might buy the tale if he were able to make it sufficiently convincing. It was pathetic enough to make a stone weep, and since Indians had what he knew to be a highly developed spiritual nature, he was willing to give it a try. "If you can conjure up a few tears it would help me set the scene," he advised Gabrielle in a whisper. To his amazement her eyes immediately filled with huge tears which rolled down her flushed cheeks in a most convincing profusion.

Gabrielle had to do no more than think of Beau's death to weep, but that sorrow had become such a part of her now the tears brought not the slightest feeling of relief. There were several other stories Jason could have told the Indian brave, the most obvious being that she was his woman and so was not about to listen to proposals from other men, but apparently that simple truth had not even occurred to him. Gabrielle looked up at the Indian shyly. She could tell by his rapt expression that he believed every word Jason spoke.

Certain he had the brave's full attention, Jason drew the story out, providing as much detail as possible for he knew the young man would be sure to repeat it. It had been a painfully poignant story when Gabrielle had told it, but when Jason finished with it that day it had become a masterpiece of romantic tragedy. Scream of Lightning was thoroughly

convinced that Gabrielle would never again allow any man to win her heart and he sadly gave up his efforts to win her as his bride. He tore an eagle feather from his hair and handed it to her, a reminder of his love he hoped she would accept even if she would not become his wife.

Gabrielle smiled sweetly and she attempted to wipe away the last of her tears before reaching out to accept the token he offered. "Please thank him for this, and tell him I shall treasure it always." Her eyes widened in alarm then as the young brave drew his knife and gestured toward her.

"He wants a lock of your hair. You need not be so frightened; he did not ask for all of it." Jason was so relieved that the Indian had believed his story he thought this a small request to honor.

Gabrielle nodded her approval and Scream of Lightning drew his pony alongside Sunny and reached over to grasp a handful of her hair. She saw by the sorrow in his eyes that he had been hurt, but at least he had been given an excuse which saved his pride. After cutting off what she thought was a too generous amount of her auburn tresses, he smiled before he turned his pony and swiftly returned to his friends, leading them away at a full gallop.

Jason reached over to pat her hand, glad their ordeal was over. "I imagine he'll carry that lock of your hair with him for the rest of his days. It will be the proof of a major event in his

life."

Gabrielle held the feather tightly. The brave had ripped out several strands of his own hair with it, and she wound them around the tip, intending to save them. "As I shall keep this also, Jason, for I meant what I said. I do considei'his proposal a great honor even if I could not accept."

"For the reason you gave him?" Jason asked softly, hoping in his heart that her feeling for him would have prevented an acceptance.

"What other reason could I possibly have had?" Gabrielle turned Sunny back toward the wagon train, proud to think a

handsome young Indian had wanted her to be his bride, even if the man she loved didn't.

Bitterly disappointed by that cool rebuff, Jason rode off to give the order to roll. He cursed himself for hoping, even for an instant, that Gabrielle still had some small piece of her heart to give to him.

wAa^ttej^ Jl/

Rather than allow imaginative speculation free rein, which he knew would swiftly lead to rumors of dangerous proportions, Jason gathered everyone together before they broke camp that afternoon. Inspired by his success with Scream of Lightning he stated simply that the Indians had been extremely curious about the young women they were escorting, but when he had informed them they were all engaged to men awaiting them in Oregon, the braves had given up their hope of bargaining for white brides and had gone home. The story was just preposterous enough, and just close enough to the truth to be believed. Gabrielle was grateful that she did not have to describe what had happened. She told anyone who asked that Jason had conducted the exchange in the Dakota tongue and she had not understood a word of it. Satisfied that she could provide no more information, the others had ceased to mention the incident. Although it took several days for everyone's apprehension to subside, the Dakota were not seen again in the vicinity and the wagon train continued to proceed along the trail at the steady pace Jason Royal could be depended upon to maintain.

Once the threat of an attack by Indians seemed unlikely, the days became placidly calm. Gabrielle felt as though they had been traveling forever and would continue their journey into

eternity. The tiresome monotony of their routine made time seem to stand still, for each day was an exact replica of the last, a preview of the next. Finally the trail left the North Platte to follow the Sweetwater River which flowed by a huge granite formation known as Independence Rock. There the wagon train stopped briefly to make repairs and to rest.

Jason looked forward to the stop at the landmark as much as the emigrants did, for he shared their restless mood in full measure. At this point at least a few men usually seriously considered turning back; yet on this trip none had approached him to discuss leaving the group. He'd kept no record of past journeys, but it seemed to him as though he'd broken up less than the usual number of fights and he'd been called to only one scuffle between husband and wife, for which he was truly thankful. In many respects this was the best trip he'd ever made, but that provided him scant comfort when he saw Cabrielle walk by without giving him more than a slight wave. He longed to caress the soft curve of her cheek or to bring her palm to his lips for a gentle kiss, but he thought himself a fool for dreaming of so little when they had been the most passionate of lovers. He felt no differently toward her now. The pain of his desire made his nights sleepless, but it brought the lithe redhead no closer to him. That she had such great restraint amazed him, for upon more than one occasion he had caught her looking at him with a hunger every bit as strong as the aching need which gave him no peace. She had always turned away quickly, a deep blush coloring her cheeks, but he'd not attempted to force her to speak aloud what she was clearly loath to admit even to herself.

When the wagon train made camp near Independence Rock, Barbara wanted to read all the names painted upon the granite before they added their own. Paul mixed up a concoction of grease and gunpowder to be used as paint and the vivacious blonde quickly volunteered to supervise the project.

'They say everyone who has come along the Oregon Trail has added a name. This rock is a giant register of those moving

west. Isn't it exciting to think our grandchildren might pass this way someday and read our names and know what an adventure we've had?" Barbara chattered happily as they walked toward the enormous rock.

"What will our grandchildren be doing traversing this accursed trail? I hope mine will remain in Oregon after what Fve suffered to reach it." Iris punctuated her complaint with a toss of her raven-hued curls. "Besides, how long could this sort of homemade paint possibly last?"

Knowing how impossible grease spots were to remove from any surface they stained, Gabrielle was confident their names would remain on view for many years. "I like your idea, Barbara. I hope some descendant of mine sees my name here and appreciates what I've done. That's a very romantic thought."

Iris again disagreed, thinking the project impossibly silly. As usual she did not want to be left out, however, and went along with the others who scampered over the granite to find a place for their names to be written.

Jason had stationed himself midway up the jagged rock to turn back any souls foolhardy enough to want to climb any higher. When he saw that Gabrielle's group planned to read all the names before inscribing their own he called down to them. "There must be five thousand names on this rock, ladies. You've barely got enough time to print your own initials let alone read all the other signatures."

When her friends disregarded his teasing rebuke and continued to read the names aloud to each other, Gabrielle left them and climbed up to sit beside Jason. She knew the only traveler's name she wanted to read had perished long before that point in the trail. "Where is your name, Mr. Royal? Is it way up at the top?"

"Yes, it is," Jason admitted with a sly grin. "Don't tell me you want to see it either because I won't allow you to climb up that far."

"I used to be a very skilled climber, better than most boys at

climbing trees, but I've had little experience with boulders of this size." Gabrielle looked up toward the summit, certain if he could reach that she could, but she had no wish to argue with him when they were chatting so pleasantly.

"I didn't picture you as the tomboy type." Jason's voice was low, barely carrying over the happy chatter of those moving on the rock below.