Under A Prairie Moon (18 page)

“I’m tired of waiting.”

“Shouldn’t I be down on one knee, or something?”

“You should be, but it isn’t necessary.”

“Kathy…” His gaze moved over her face. She was so lovely, and she deserved so much more than he would ever be able to give her.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I haven’t asked you yet,” he said with a growl.

“Well, hurry up so we can kiss.”

“Will you marry me, Katherine Conley?”

She frowned, as if she was thinking it over.

“Change your mind already?” he asked dryly.

“No, I just want to savor the moment. You already know my answer…”

He kissed her then, kissed her fiercely, passionately, afraid he would wake up and find it was nothing but a dream and that he was still drifting through time and space, caught between heaven and earth, empty and alone.

Kathy pressed herself against Dalton, heat spiraling through her. Never in all her life had she been kissed like this, with such feeling, such a sense of forever.

“Say it again,” Dalton growled. “Say you’ll marry me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, oh yes.”

His gaze searched hers, dark, penetrating. “I’ll try to make you happy.”

“You already make me happy.”

He kissed her again, light and quick, as the stallion moved restlessly beneath him.

“I think your horse is trying to tell us something,” Kathy said.

“I reckon.”

“We can pick up where we left off later.”

“You are a bold one,” Dalton remarked.

“Are you complaining?”

“No ma’am, just thinking how lucky I am.” He kissed her again, then deposited her, very gently, on Taffy Girl’s back. “Later,” he said.

It was near dark when Dalton drew his horse to a halt. They had ridden about fifteen miles. Had he been alone, he could have covered twice that distance, but Kathy wasn’t used to long hours in the saddle, so he had stopped often to let her rest. Watching her dismount, he knew fifteen miles had been about ten too many. “You all right?” He swung out of the saddle and took the mare’s reins.

“Fine, but I may never walk, or sit, again.”

With a grin, Dalton removed his bedroll from behind the cantle and spread it on the ground. “Sit down while I look after the horses.”

With a groan, Kathy did as bidden. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She hadn’t realized how sore she was until they stopped. She had expected her fanny and legs to ache, but so did her back and shoulders.

After pulling off her gloves, she removed her hat, tugged off her boots and wiggled her toes. They were the only things that didn’t seem to hurt.

She watched Dalton unsaddle the horses and rub them down, then tether them to a couple of trees so they could graze.

It was pretty here. The setting sun painted the sky with broad splashes of red and gold. A quiet breeze ruffled the tall grass. She could hear the faint gurgle of water from somewhere nearby. She had never realized the world was so big. Mile after mile after mile of seemingly endless country spread out all around them. There were no buildings or power poles rising toward the sky, no smoke, no smog to pollute the air. Nothing marred the stillness of the evening. She had never heard such complete quiet.

When Dalton finished caring for the horses, he built a fire, put the coffeepot on, opened a couple of cans and dumped the contents into a pot, which he placed on a corner of the coals.

And then he was kneeling beside her. “Lie down.”

She looked at him a moment, then did as he asked. She groaned as he began to massage her back and shoulders, his big hands gentle. Gradually, his hands moved lower, massaging her thighs, her calves, her ankles, her feet.

With a little moan of pleasure, she fell asleep.

Dalton heard the change in Kathy’s breathing, knew the moment sleep claimed her, and yet he continued to stroke her back, her shoulders, her nape. He liked touching her. It grounded him somehow, made it all seem real.

His fingers slid up into her hair. Soft and silky, it fell over his hand, his forearm, as he lightly massaged her scalp. It was hard to believe he was here, back in his own time. He grinned wryly. Back in his own skin. He was acutely aware of the world around him—of the sights and scents of the night, of the woman sleeping beside him, of the fragile bond between this world and the next.

His gaze moved over Kathy’s face. She was in love with him. That in itself was a miracle. Lydia had wanted him, but she had never loved him. He wondered if she had ever loved anyone but herself.

But Kathy… He sat back on his haunches and watched her sleep. She loved him, and he was very much afraid he was in love with her. The mere idea scared the hell out of him. What did he know about love? He had never been in love before, never had the time for it, never felt the need. Until now. He was sorely afraid he would fail her in some way, that he would hurt her.

He contemplated waking her for dinner, and then decided to let her sleep. She’d had a long day; no doubt she was more in need of rest than food right now, he thought as he covered her with a blanket.

He ate quickly, gathered the dirty dishes, washed them in the stream. Returning to their camp, he added fuel to the fire, then watered the horses and tethered them close by for the night.

He stood for a moment, stroking the stallion’s neck, recalling the nights he had gone raiding the Crow horse herd with his Lakota brothers, the summer buffalo hunts, the sacred ceremonies.

It was full dark now. Removing his hat and boots, he slid under the blanket and drew Kathy into his arms. She made a little sleepy sound of contentment as she snuggled up against him. Damn, he thought, but he could get used to this right quick.

Lying there, he knew a sense of peace that he had not known since he left the Lakota. Mother Earth was solid and comforting beneath him. Old Father Wi shone brightly in the heavens, surrounded by the Star people. From far off, he heard the faint melancholy howl of a wolf. The evening breeze carried the scent of sage and grass and damp earth. One of the horses stamped its foot.

He took a deep breath, and his nostrils filled with the scent of woman.

He was smiling when he fell asleep.

It was still dark when Kathy woke. She stared up at the sky, trying to judge the time the way Dalton did. It felt like early, early morning.

Dalton stirred beside her and she drew back a little so she could see his face. How could she have fallen in love so hard so fast? She had known Wayne for months before caring turned to affection, before affection deepened to love, yet it seemed as though she had loved Dalton from the first moment she saw him.

She stared up at the sky, thinking about the ranch, wondering if she would ever see it again, wondering what her family would think if she never returned. There were always accounts of people who disappeared without a trace, never to be heard from again. She grinned into the darkness. Maybe they had all been zapped into the past.

Her gaze drifted over Dalton’s face again. She wouldn’t mind staying here, in his time, so long as he was with her.

If only there was some way to know what the future held. Everything was so tentative…what if, in spite of all they could do, Dalton was fated to die on the 28th of July? What if he cheated the rope and they got married and then she was suddenly zapped back to her own time without him?

She never should have fallen in love with him, never should have made love to him. It had only complicated things, made her want him more than ever. She couldn’t let it happen again. Good Lord, what if she got pregnant? What if she was pregnant even now? That would really complicate matters.

“Hey.”

With a start, she realized he was awake.

He smiled up at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why?”

He glanced at the sky. “It’s only about five o’clock.”

“Well, go back to sleep then.”

“I can think of better things to do.”

“Can you?”

He slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her up against him, his gaze suddenly hot.

“It’s later,” he murmured.

His touch, the desire that blazed in his dark eyes, wiped every doubt from her mind. She might have only a moment with this man, she might have years. No one ever really knew what the future held. Maybe she would wake up in her own bed and find it had all been a dream. But he was here now, watching her, wanting her. Waiting.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely, determined not to waste a single minute of whatever time they might have.

They made love passionately, wildly, and she wondered, in a distant part of her mind, if Dalton’s thoughts had been running along lines similar to her own, if he too was aware that Fate could separate them at any time.

“Kathy, Kathy…” His voice, low and rough with desire, his hands trailing fire, his lips scorching her flesh, burning a path to her soul.

She clung to him, tighter, tighter, lifting her hips to embrace him more fully. She was chasing rainbows, flying, higher, higher, until she toppled over the brink into ecstasy. And he was there beside her all the way, his heart pounding wildly, his breathing as uneven as hers as they soared skyward, then slowly, slowly, drifted back to earth.

She opened her eyes to see his face hovering over hers, and behind him, the sun rising in a bright blaze of color, and she knew she would remember this moment as long as she lived.

* * * * *

The days that followed were like none Kathy had ever known.

The countryside was beautiful, gently rolling hills that stretched away as far as the eye could see, a sky that was a clear sapphire blue. Occasional stands of timber broke the monotony of the grassland.

Riding became easier. It no longer took all her concentration just to stay in the saddle. Racing across the prairie gave her a sense of exhilaration unlike any she had ever known, a sense of freedom and excitement. She felt a bond forming with Taffy Girl. She liked the way the mare nuzzled her shoulder, the way Taffy Girl sometimes used her back to scratch her forehead. She enjoyed brushing the mare down at night. It was soothing somehow.

And then there was Dalton. She never tired of looking at him, of listening to the stories he told her about growing up with the Lakota, of pony raids and war parties, of summers camped along the Little Big Horn and winters spent in the shelter of the Black Hills.

But best of all, she liked the nights she spent in his arms under the prairie moon. She had never known such happiness, such contentment. He was unlike any man she had ever known. He was ever aware of her wants, her needs, her desires. He seemed to know when she wanted gentleness and when she wanted passion, when she needed to be held and reassured, and when she wanted to be the aggressor. She tried not to wonder where he had learned so much about women, tried not to think of all the women he had known before her, tried to be grateful he had learned so much. Instead, she felt a deep and abiding jealousy for every other woman he had ever known, touched, desired. That, in itself, was unusual. She had never been given to jealousy until now. She was forever watching him, thinking of him, wanting him.

As she wanted him now. They had paused beside a slow-moving stream to rest the horses. Dalton was kneeling beside the stream. He had removed his shirt and the sun caressed his back and shoulders as he splashed water over his face and chest.

Impulsively, she moved up behind him. Sliding her arms around his waist, she began to rain little kisses over his back, her heart aching anew as she touched his scars. She wished she could wipe them away, wipe away all the pain he had ever known. She wanted to hold him and comfort him, to erase the memory of every bad thing that had ever happened to him, wipe out the memory of every other woman…

“Hey,” Dalton exclaimed softly.

“Hey, yourself.” She ran her tongue over his back; he tasted of sun-warmed flesh and perspiration.

Before she quite knew how it happened, Kathy found herself flat on her back, his hips straddling hers, her hands imprisoned in his. She stared up into Dalton’s eyes. Eyes that were deep and black, filled with amusement and unmistakable desire.

“My turn,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Kathy giggled as he dragged his tongue across her cheek.

He scowled at her. “What’s so funny?” he asked with mock severity.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just happy.”

His gaze searched her face. “Are you?”

“Yes.” She slipped one hand from his and stroked his cheek.

“Happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

He didn’t say anything, but he looked as if he didn’t believe her.

“It’s true, Dalton.”

“No more ghosts between us?” he asked, and she knew he wasn’t referring to himself, but to Wayne.

“No more ghosts.”

He murmured, “Ah Kathy,” as he gathered her into his arms. And then he was kissing her, his mouth urgent, demanding.

His hands were hot as they slid under her t-shirt, drifting over her skin. She felt the calluses on his palms, shivered with delight as he stroked her back, brushed his knuckles across her breasts.

Her own hands were needy as they slid over his chest, his shoulders, down his arms, reveling in the heat of him, the touch of him, the reality of him. There was nothing ghostlike about him now. He was solid, vibrant, alive, so alive. His desire aroused her own and she peeled off her t-shirt and bra, wanting to be next to him, to feel his skin next to hers.

The grass was cool beneath her back, the sun was hot against her face, but they were felt only in passing. Dalton was the center of her world, the air she breathed. She drew him in, embraced him, enveloped him, until they seemed to be one flesh, one heart, one soul. She thought of a line from a Dracula movie, something about crossing oceans of time. That was what she had done, she mused, crossed oceans of time, to be here, in this place, with this man.

She gasped as warmth exploded through her, filling her, completing her. And then, like a leaf falling from a tree, she drifted down, down, spent, satiated, totally, completely, at peace.

* * * * *

It took them the better part of two weeks to find the summer camp of the Lakota.

Kathy could only stare at the village sprawled alongside a winding river, at the tipis with their smoke-blackened tops, at the vast horse herd that grazed on the sun-bleached grass, the dogs sleeping in the sun. It looked like a scene from
Dances With Wolves
.

And yet, for all that it was beautiful and peaceful, she felt a shiver of apprehension. These were real, honest-to-goodness Indians, not Hollywood extras hired by Kevin Costner. Honest-to-goodness real Indians, who made war on the whites, who took the scalps of white women. Indians who would, in only a few years, kill Custer and all his men. What was she doing here?

“Kathy?”

She looked at Dalton and knew from his expression that her fear was visible in her eyes.

“They won’t hurt you.”

“Won’t they?”

He shook his head. “We’re not savages, at least not in the way you’re thinking. You’ll like my people, if you give them a chance.”

“Maybe, but will they like me?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“You won’t leave me alone while we’re here, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She took a deep breath. Dalton would protect her.

“Ready?”

She nodded, her heart beating double-time as they rode down a gentle incline toward the village. Dogs began barking as they drew nearer; several armed warriors rode out to meet them. Other warriors who had obviously been out of sight, standing guard, rode up behind them, neatly boxing them in.

Dalton reined his horse to a halt when they reached the edge of the village. “
Hau
,
kola
.”

Several of the warriors gathered around Dalton, all speaking at once.

Though Kathy couldn’t understand what they were saying, it was easy to see from their gestures and expressions that they were beginning to recognize him. She could imagine them asking him where he had been, why he had been gone for so long, who the white woman was.

She smiled tentatively at the women and children who stared at her. The Lakota were a handsome people, she thought, with their long black hair, dark eyes and dusky skin. The women wore ankle-length tunics, many with intricately beaded yokes. Most wore belts of some kind. She was surprised to see the belts held knives. The little girls wore dresses. The little boys and most of the men wore only clouts and moccasins.

She glanced over her shoulder when she heard her name, felt a little shiver of apprehension when she saw that all the men gathered around Dalton were staring at her. And then Dalton was swinging out of the saddle, lifting her to the ground.