White Owl (6 page)

“White Owl,” Rose repeated. “That is a noble name.”

That strange yearning erupted inside her again. They were close enough to kiss . . . again. She cleared her throat and attempted to turn away from his piercing gaze.

“I am a noble man,” he said. “And I have named
you Wild Rose.” He tenderly took her chin in his hand once again and turned her face back toward him. “Your lips are the color of the sweet pink wildflowers that grow in the meadows.”

Rose swallowed hard again, and looked into his dark gaze. “W-well, Rose is my . . . I mean—Rosaline is . . .” Her words faded away as White Owl dipped his head, bringing his lips toward hers.

“My Wild Rose,” he whispered as his mouth claimed hers once more.

Although she had waited for this kiss, there was no way Rose could even begin to imagine how deeply his touch would affect her. She became lost in these new emotions. Her lips responded as though they were insatiable. She returned his kiss with no thought of the consequences; that is, until a tiny bit of reality seeped into her spinning thoughts. She pulled back slightly, and with a trembling breath, whispered, “I shouldn’t be—we shouldn’t be doing this a-again.”

White Owl’s fingertips gently traipsed along the outline of her kiss-swollen lips. “It is what a man and woman do,” he said softly.

“But it’s not right for us to be doing this,” Rose responded in a raspy voice. The way he was touching her mouth was almost as sensuous as his kiss, and it was making her entire body grow weak with desires that she had never known before.

“If you want it, Wild Rose, it is right,” he said as his fingers slid up the side of her face and into her
hair, pulling out the two hairpins that held the bun at the back of her head. The long red tresses tumbled down her back in reckless abandon.

Rose gasped. His touch was so gentle. Everything she’d ever heard about Utes told her she should run. Yet it was impossible to pull away. “Even if I did want this,” Rose said in a shaky voice, “it is not possible for us to be together, not now, not ever.”

“Why? Because I am an Indian?”

Rose heard the cold edge of his voice, and the gentleness of his touch hardened as he gripped the long hair that hung down her back. “Because you, a white woman, are too good to be with an Indian?” he spat gruffly.

“No, no! That has nothing to do with it,” Rose gasped. “I do not care that you are an Indian, but my father—”

“Him again,” White Owl said through gritted teeth. He started to say more, but instead, he released his tight hold on Rose’s hair and stepped away.

His unexpected retreat left Rose more confused than relieved. She watched him mutely when he turned away from her. Presented with his back—and his silence—Rose knew that she should be worried that her words would make his threats to kill her father even more of a reality.

“Please don’t hate my father. He doesn’t understand that we are all the same, Indians and whites alike.”

A cynical chuckle was White Owl’s reply as he continued to stare off in the distance. Even as Rose stepped closer to him, he did not turn around to look at her again.

“I will make him understand,” Rose added as she put her hand up on his shoulder. Even as she said the words, her mind was in turmoil over how she could ever hope to achieve this impossible task. Paddy Adair was not going to understand any of this . . . Rose didn’t even understand any of it herself. She should be scared out of her wits to be here alone with this dangerous man, but all she really wanted to do was feel his gentle touch again.

White Owl turned slowly around to face her again. “I do not know this man—your father, but I have known enough white men to know that he will never understand why we are together.”

“Together?” Rose asked. “Are we—together?”

He took one of her hands—it seemed so small and fragile in his own large, rough hand. Her porcelain skin looked even paler against his. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that I had to make you my woman. It was a feeling that was stronger than anything I have ever known before, and I am a man who goes after what he wants.” He pulled her close to him and let his gaze meet hers, as he added, “And, my Wild Rose, I want you.”

Rose’s thoughts were spinning nearly as frantically as her heart was pounding in her breast. This was happening so fast. She still had to come to terms with all that it would mean to her and to her entire family if she and White Owl were truly going to be together. And what did “being together” even mean? She leaned back before he had a chance to kiss her again. “We need to talk more about this. My father, he—”

“That man again!” White Owl interrupted with clenched teeth. His anger glistened in his raven eyes. He pulled his arms from around her waist and dropped them down at his sides.

“Please try to understand why we have to take this slow,” Rose pleaded. “You’re saying things like ‘the rest of our lives’ and that you are going to make me your woman, but—”

White Owl turned away from her. “I understand enough,” he answered. He started to walk to his horse.

As Rose watched him grab his reins, her uncertainties continued to race through her mind. “Wait,” she called out. “Don’t go—please?”

White Owl was about to climb on the back of his horse, but now he stopped and turned slowly around to face her again. “Don’t tease me, woman,” he said flatly.

Rose attempted to ignore his arrogant attitude and reminded herself that she should be counting her lucky stars that he hadn’t acted like the savage that he was supposed to be—a thought that made her lips throb with the memory of his kiss and her knees grow weak and shaky again. She drew a deep breath as she tried to calm the racing of her heart. She wished he would leave; she wished he would stay; she wished he would kiss her again. “I want you, too, but—,” she shrugged and exhaled sharply.

White Owl’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not speak for a few seconds. Then he turned and pulled himself onto the back of his horse. He urged his mount forward. As he passed Rose, he said in a nonchalant tone, “You will come to me next time.”

His smug smile made her want to scream, but her voice came out hoarse and shaky when she called out after him, “I won’t come.” She cleared her throat gruffly, and yelled out louder, “I won’t come to you.”

But he was already halfway across the creek.

“I won’t,” Rose repeated in barely more than a whisper.

She watched him ride away. His long hair flowed away from his back in the gentle breeze, and his muscled body moved gracefully with his horse as
though they were one unit. An odd feeling overcame Rose as she watched him disappear from view, a strange tightness in her stomach that seemed to grow more intense once she realized that he truly was gone.

Unconsciously, Rose rubbed her stomach and exhaled the breath that she hadn’t even known she had been holding. She swiped angrily at a teardrop rolling down the side of her face. She had no intention of going to him as he had so boldly predicted. But now, a crushing feeling of sadness washed over her at the idea that she might never see him again.

“Rosaline! What the dickens are you doing way out here?”

Spinning around at the sound of her father’s booming voice, Rose almost lost her footing and fell over. At the last instant, she was able to steady herself and stay upright. She glanced at her father and twin brother riding toward her, then back over her shoulder. Thank the Lord above, White Owl was nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, girlie, you are just lookin’ for trouble,” Paddy Adair yelled as he and Tate rode up to her. He did not give her a chance to say a word before he slid down to the ground to stand in front of her and began to shake his finger in her face. “I’ve told you again and again how dangerous it is out here with them savages still thinkin’ they own this entire country.”

“Father, I was just going for a ride.” Rose stole a
quick glance up at her brother and noticed the smirk on his lips. She quickly looked back at her father. His pale complexion was flushed dark red.

“You just don’t understand, do you?” Paddy said in a voice that barely controlled his fury. “I am trying to save your hide, and if you keep defying me every chance you get, you’re gonna end up being kidnapped and . . .” Paddy shook his head vigorously and added, “I don’t even want to say the words out loud.”

Rose lifted the long skirt of her dress and took a step closer to her father. “I am not in any danger here. The Utes are not violent peop—”

“You really are crazy if you believe that,” Paddy interrupted. “They’d rather slit your throat than look at you, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.” Paddy glared down at his daughter.

Rose opened her mouth to disagree, but the expression on his face convinced her to remain silent. She lowered her head down and gave a weak nod. If they had ridden over the ridge just a few seconds sooner they would had seen her talking to the Ute warrior. A shudder shook through her body. This time she had been so lucky, but she could never let it happen again.

“Get yourself home,” Paddy said in a softer tone. “Tate will go with you.”

Rose tossed her head back up and without looking at her brother stated, “I don’t need him to take me back. I promise I will go straight home.”

Paddy shook his head. “No, old man Raymond said he saw a Ute buck ridin’ down here by the creek earlier today.”

“What?” Rose gasped. Paul Raymond was their nearest neighbor, and somehow he must have seen White Owl. “That is not . . . I haven’t seen anyone.” Rose heard the quivering in her voice as she lied once again to her father.

“Thank the Lord for that. But,” Paddy shook his finger at his daughter again, adding, “next time you might not be so lucky.” He motioned with his hand in an impatient gesture. “Tate, get your sister home, now.”

Rose saw her father’s hand move up to where his rifle was holstered on the side of his saddle. He unhooked the safety strap before pulling himself up into the saddle.

“Where are you going?” Rose asked. She feared she might start crying once again.

“I’m going after that Injun to make sure he never trespasses on my land again.”

The stricken look on Rose’s face was lost to her father since he wasted no more time before kicking his horse in the sides and galloping off in a cloud of dust along the creek bed.

It was apparent to Rose, however, that Tate had not missed her reaction. His narrowed blue gaze was leveled directly at her, and his expression was not the least bit friendly.

“What are you up to, Rosaline?” he asked bluntly.

Rose grabbed Molly’s reins, and then swung up onto her back. “I’m headed home. Are you coming?” She did not give him time to reply as she urged her horse forward.

Unfortunately, Tate did not let it end there as he rode up next to her. “I know you. There is something goin’ on and you’d better be lettin’ me in on your secret or else—”

“Or else what?” Rose halted Molly so that she could stare directly into her brother’s face. “You’ll tell on me?” Rose shook her head and gave Molly a gentle nudge to go again as she added. “You need to grow up, Tate. We’re supposed to be adults now.”

“Well, you sure ain’t actin’ like an adult. How many times does Pa have to tell you not to ride out here alone?”

It was hard to argue with her twin when he was right—this time. She sighed and nodded her head. “I know, Tater. Pa is just worried about me. But there’s nothing to worry about. The Utes are not violent Indians.”

A snide chortle escaped from Tate. When they were younger he would laugh hysterically whenever she called him Tater.

“Have you been hidin’ under a rock? Haven’t you heard what Pa has been telling us about the trouble at the White River Agency?”

“As long as we don’t get involved in that situation, why would it have anything to do with us?” She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping that she could hide her fear. What would happen if her
father caught up to White Owl? “Do you think it is wise for Pa to be out there alone?”

“You’re worried about Pa being out here alone, but you think it’s all right for you?” Tate shook his head in an aggravated gesture. “That Injun is the one who needs to be worried if Pa catches him on our land.”

Rose could not catch her breath for a moment. Her father was a brave man, but she doubted that he would be any match for the powerful Ute warrior. She kicked Molly in the sides to urge her into a gallop. All she could pray for now was that White Owl was far enough away that her father could not catch up to him. Then she had to pray that she was strong enough to stay away from White Owl before she caused any more trouble for her and the rest of her family.

Dinner was a quiet occasion that night. Her father—thankfully—had not seen any sign of the Indian he had been looking for, and he seemed too preoccupied with his upcoming trip to the White River Agency to focus on the fact that Rose had disobeyed him again.

“Tate, I want you to go with me tomorrow. Donavan, you can look after your ma and sister,” Paddy said as they ate a dinner of chicken soup and homemade bread.

“Can I go with you?” Rose asked, as she did every time he went to the agency. In the entire time they had lived here, she had only been allowed to go to the agency twice with him.