White Owl (12 page)

A worried frown tugged at Strong Elk’s mouth. “There will come a time when someone will know. What if she carries your child? How will the two of you hide that?”

White Owl had thought of this possibility a
couple of times in the past few weeks, but he had been too overcome with desire to let it deter him.

“White women are not like Ute women,” Strong Elk continued. “Our women do not produce easily, but whites are fertile and already this woman could carry your seed in her.”

White Owl had to exhale the breath that was lodged in his throat. He knew that what his father said was true. Ute women rarely had more than one or two children, and many of them never bore children at all. Most white women, however, seemed to have been blessed with the ability to bear hordes of children during their lifetimes. His father could be right . . . it might have happened already. For the past few weeks, they had spent nearly every night exploring and learning more sensuous ways to pleasure each other than he had ever imagined possible. And he was also discovering how much he loved her in every other way.

She was obviously passionate and anxious to learn every way to please him, but they had also spent much time talking and finding out each other’s deepest thoughts.

White Owl was amazed many times over by how she loved this great land as much as his own people did, and she honestly felt that the white men were wrong to try to take it away from the Utes. Her compassion for the plight of his people endeared her to him even more. Every time they were together, he found something else about her that made his love for her expand. A child born of their love would bring him more happiness than
he could even begin to envision. But it would also mean making their love known to everyone.

With a hard swallow, White Owl turned away from his father and brother and pulled himself up to Niwaa’s bare back. “We will face whatever comes.” His voice was firm, but inside he was tormented by thoughts of what the future might bring for him and his Wild Rose.

Two Feathers did not bother to respond. He threw his hands in the air and stalked away.

Strong Elk looked up and met his son’s worried gaze. “This woman, this . . . ?”

“Wild Rose,” White Owl answered.

“Wild Rose,” Strong Elk repeated. “She must be special.”

As he slowly nodded, White Owl looked off in the distance. “She is, Father. She is.”

He nudged Niwaa forward without waiting for a response. He needed to be with Wild Rose as soon as possible, and the sun was already growing low in the western sky. It would be dark by the time he crossed Milk Creek.

The ride seemed longer tonight than it had in the past, perhaps because the conversation he had just had with his father and brother only intensified the feelings he already had for Wild Rose, and he knew that these passionate encounters could not last forever. Soon they would have to think about the future.

As the sun dropped below the horizon, the heat of the late August day finally began to fade. If they didn’t get some rain soon, the entire land was
going to burn up. He had heard that there were wildfires burning in numerous places around Colorado, and in some instances, the whites were trying to blame the Utes for starting the fires. White Owl grunted with disgust. His people would never destroy the land they loved so dearly. But he could not remember a drought that had lasted so long in this part of the country.

As a child he had lived for a time with his mother’s family, the Jicarilla Apaches, in New Mexico. The unusually hot weather this summer reminded him of the heat in the desert of New Mexico. But at least here they had the welcoming shade of the tall oaks and cottonwoods, as well as clusters of aspens that covered the countryside with abundance.

By the time he had reached the secluded area in a thick grove of cottonwoods where he would leave Niwaa, the nighttime temperature had grown cooler. He approached the Adair ranch slowly as his gaze carefully observed every detail that he could make out in the darkness. As had become the habit, Pepper ran out to meet him, tail wagging. White Owl took the time to give the animal a couple of pats on the head.

Everything seemed to be the same as it had been for the past few nights, and knowing that he would soon be holding Wild Rose in his arms made a tremor of excitement race through his body. When he slipped into the dark barn, he was prepared to climb up into the loft to wait for her. She usually showed up a short time after he arrived.

He had barely entered the dark quiet barn, however, when he was almost knocked to the ground. Wild Rose threw herself against him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a strangling hold. White Owl had barely recovered from his shock when he realized that her attack was not an excited reaction to his arrival. The sound of her sobs made his insides twist. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her closer.

“What has happened?” he asked. He was afraid to think that her father had found out about them, because if this was the case he could probably expect to be shot dead at any moment. He glanced around the dark barn nervously.

“You have to take me with you tonight,” she finally choked out through her sobs.

White Owl pushed her away slightly. “Why? You must tell me what has happened? Your father knows—”

Wild Rose shook her head. “No, but it doesn’t matter.” She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “H-he’s taking me back to Denver, and I won’t go!” She stepped back far enough to point at the brown leather satchel that sat by the doorway. “I’ve packed my things, and I’m going with you tonight. I left my parents a note telling them I had fallen in love with a Ute warrior and that I was going far away from here with him and not to bother looking for me, because they would never find me.”

Her words did not sink in to White Owl’s thoughts for a moment. But as they did, he realized there was no way he could agree to her plan. If her
family found out where she really was, they—and every other white man—would think he had abducted her. “No, that is not possible,” he said in a panicked voice.

Even in the shallow light he could see the expression on her face. She turned loose of him and backed away.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “I—”

“You don’t want me to go with you?”

The disappointment and hurt in her voice was obvious. White Owl felt a pang of guilt in his chest. “Yes, I always want you with me. Do you have any idea how it pains me to leave you every morning?”

She drew a trembling breath. “Then why—“

“Your father and dozens of other whites will come after you,” he interrupted. “He will not believe that you came with me willingly, and he will tell the others I took you captive.”

“You want me to go to Denver, then?” Another sob shook her body.

White Owl closed his eyes for a moment as the desperation of this unexpected situation twisted through his heart and filled his mind with confusion. He could not even begin to imagine not having her near. The conversation he had with his father kept echoing through his mind.

He opened his eyes and reached out to pull her up to him again. She came without hesitation and placed her cheek against his chest as her arms encircled his waist. “We will have to figure something out.” He buried his face in the sweet aroma of her
red tresses. No, he could not let her go to Denver, or anywhere else, not without him at her side.

“I can’t leave you,” she whispered.

“You have stopped riding out alone. Why does he still want to send you away?”

She squeezed him harder. “He thinks there’s going to be more trouble between the settlers and the Utes soon. He said he doesn’t want to have to worry about me deciding to take off on one of my rides. I promised I won’t, but he said his mind was made up. He wants to leave tomorrow morning.”

The spot on his cotton tunic where she rested her cheek had grown wet from her tears. White Owl began to caress her long hair in comforting strokes. “Tomorrow?” he repeated. His voice was hoarse, and his heart felt as if it had just ceased to beat.

His thoughts were racing with indecision. He knew the consequences would most likely be dire if he took her to his village tonight. But if he didn’t take her with him now, there was no telling when he’d see her again—if ever. This was not an option.

“We should go now,” he said in a voice that sounded much more certain than he felt inside. “Get your pony and meet me on the top of the ridge.” He turned her loose and started toward the door, but then stopped and turned back around. In two strides, he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up roughly against him. He brought his mouth down on hers with a sense of urgency that he couldn’t explain even to himself. She seemed to sense his mood and threw her arms around his
neck again, enslaving him in such a tight embrace that he could barely breathe. Their lips pressed together, hard and demanding.

White Owl wished that they could just climb up to the loft and lose their cares in the pleasure of lovemaking. But tonight change was in the air, and he could only hope that it would not be the beginning of the end for their forbidden love.

“I’m worried,” Rose said as they rode to his village. “I don’t want to cause trouble for your family. Maybe we should go up into the mountains for a while.”

White Owl gave a sarcastic chortle. “My family—my people—have much worse trouble than us, Wild Rose.”

Rose heard him sigh. She felt a deep ache in her heart. She had no idea what to expect when they reached the village, and she didn’t want White Owl to know how terrified she was of facing his family and friends. He had talked some about his childhood and the customs of his people, but he had told her very little about his family. Her fear of meeting them was not because they were Indians, but rather because she was afraid that they would not approve of her—a white woman.

They spoke very little as they rode, which only increased Rose’s worries. She needed White Owl to reaffirm that they had made the right decision to come with him, but he was solemn and silent. She wanted nothing more than to be with him,
but to be with his family and the rest of the Utes in his village was another matter altogether.

“It will be late when we reach the village,” White Owl said after a long silence. “We’ll sleep tonight, and you will meet my family tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Rose answered, relieved. The few things he had told her about his family had completely evaporated from her mind. Back then, she had been anxious to meet them. Now that their meeting was imminent, she was not nearly as excited. She clutched Molly’s reins tighter in her sweating hands as White Owl led them into the quiet village.

Rose had seen Indian tepees before near the White River Agency. But the village at the edge of the agency was only about a third the size of White Owl’s village. Rose was amazed to see hundreds of tepees crowded into this encampment. She fought back panic and glanced at White Owl for reassurance. He was staring straight ahead; his expression was tense. She swallowed hard and wiped away the perspiration on her brow.

The air was thick with a mixture of smells from campfire smoke to cooked meat, but all the fire pits were nothing more than cold ashes at this late hour. She was certain this had to do with the drought. It wouldn’t be safe to go to bed and chance a stray spark starting a fire. Still, she was amazed that there was no activity in the village, because it couldn’t be much past midnight. The howling of a lone dog somewhere in the distance was the only sound, until she heard coughing coming from one
of the tepees. She held her breath until they had ridden past. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet.

As much as she wanted to be with White Owl, she was beginning to wonder whether she had made a mistake by insisting that he bring her to his village. She trusted White Owl with her life, but now she was among hundreds of other Utes who might not be as friendly toward a white woman. A sense of dread overcame her, but she straightened up in the saddle as she braced herself for whatever was waiting for her when the sun rose.

“This is my tepee,” White Owl announced as he halted Niwaa at one of the many dwellings. “You can wait here, and I will take care of the horses.”

“O-oh, all right,” Rose stammered. He sounded so strange—so much like he regretted bringing her here. She climbed down from Molly’s back and grabbed the leather satchel that held the few personal belongings she had brought with her. He grabbed the reins from her without further comment and led her horse away. She stood mutely in front of his tepee, watching him until both he and the horses had disappeared from her sight.

Unconsciously, she reached up to touch her gold heart necklace. She clutched at the bare skin at her neck . . . in her rush to leave the house earlier she must have forgotten to put it on. A deep sadness filled her at the realization that she had left her cherished memento behind.

Alone, the insecurities that she had been trying to avoid began to overcome her. She started to shake and she had to clench her teeth together to
keep them from chattering. The temperature was probably seventy degrees, but she felt as though an icy wind had just engulfed her. Did White Owl feel forced to bring her here with him? Could that be why he was acting so strange now? Maybe he had been content to just see her at night to please his manly urges.